Sickness and Health (Part One)
A Crossing Jordan/House Crossover Fanfic
Chapter Ten: The Gift Horse Has a Potty Mouth
Rating: PG-13 (I think)
Word Count: 1,865
Disclaimer: I own House. Um, right. That was a lie. I don't own anything. Except seasons 1 & 2 on DVD and my own insanity. I can't even claim to own DVDs for Crossing Jordan.
Summary: Bodies in the Boston Morgue have ties to dying patients at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital.
Author's Note: This is my first Crossing Jordan fanfic & my second House fanfic. The characters may be very, very OOC. It is possible. I have no medical or forensic experience, therefore anything I write is probably very wrong. In fact, I'm almost positive it is wrong. But I wrote it anyway. This is set somewhere after season 2 of House and season 5 of Crossing Jordan, written without seeing any of season 3 or 6 respectively, so... It's not canon... no siree... This has also not been beta'd...if it's not perfect, that's 100 percent my fault.

So I'm unhappy with this chapter. I only really like the stuff with Woody and Cal. The rest sucks, in my opinion. Suggestions are welcome...I'm willing to rewrite it. The title of this chapter may not make sense, but I thought it was funny, so it stayed. Oh, and...this is the second-to-last chapter.

Chapter Ten

The Gift Horse Has a Potty Mouth

"Woody?"

He opened his eyes, looking at his brother. Cal looked different. Older. Cleaner cut. They'd given him lighter highlights in his hair, and in his suit, he looked transformed into a dot com employee, a yuppie. Streetwise, but professional. He looked good, better than Woody had expected.

"Cal."

Cal smiled. "You don't know how good it is to be called that again. Hell, I'd love to have you call me Knucklehead. I'd hug you, but I don't think that's a good idea right now."

Given that their hugs were more like wrestling takedowns, Woody had to agree. "Yeah. Probably not. Cal, you shouldn't have come. You're just getting your life back together."

"Hey, you gave me everything I have. Let me make it up to you, Woods."

"You don't have to do this, Cal. You should have stayed in the program. Jordan told me that dialysis could keep me alive for a while. I could have gotten a different kidney. Or waited until your time was up. Cal—"

"Stop arguing, Woody. I'm giving you a kidney. You'd be stupid to refuse. And you can't. Not when I've already come this far."

"I'm not," Woody said softly. He'd known the minute Jordan said it that he'd never be able to talk either of them out of it. Both Jordan and Cal were too stubborn for that, too stubborn for their own good. "But you're still an idiot, Knucklehead."

"Right back at you, big brother," Calvin's grin was huge. "They're checking me in today, getting me ready. But I had to see you first. I wanted to see for myself that you were okay."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, I can see that," Cal observed dryly, pointing to the equipment that Woody was doing his best to ignore. "They got you on morphine?"

Woody narrowed his eyes at his brother. "I thought you were clean."

"I am! Woody, sometimes I swear you—Never mind." Cal took a deep breath. "The FBI has me seeing a shrink. Guy's a real head case. Says I have a complex about you. You know, that I see you as some kind of saint, know I can never live up to it, and sabotage my life on purpose."

"Are you saying the drugs and gambling are somehow my fault?"

"No. I'm saying the guy's a dickhead. But the FBI is doing everything they can to make sure I don't screw this up. Therapy. Routine drug tests. Big guys with guns that watch over me. My life turned around, Woody. I swear. And you know the best part, Woody?"

Woody wasn't really sure how to respond to that one, so he said nothing. Cal's smile grew wider, if that was possible. "I don't need any of it. I want to stay clean. I want to hold down this job. I want to make you proud."

"Cal," Woody began, knowing he might not get another chance at this. "I already am. Proud, I mean."

Cal turned away. They were never very good at this, talking about their feelings. Sure, Woody wore his on his sleeve and Cal took advantage of that, but that wasn't what anyone would consider talking. When Cal finally looked back, the moment had passed. "Thank you."

It was so soft Woody barely heard it. But he smiled anyway. Cal stuck his hands in his pockets. "So…where's Jordan?"

"Forget it, little brother. She's still the only woman in Boston you can't have," Woody told him.

Cal laughed. "We're not in Boston."

Woody gave him a dirty look. "Cal—"

"All right, all right," Cal held up his hands. "But you don't deserve her, Woody."

"I know."

"Jordan?" Lily's familiar, tentative voice asked, causing her to turn around.

With a smile, she wrapped her arms around Lily, Bug, and finally Nigel. Everyone was here. She'd wanted them to come, but she knew that she couldn't ask them to; she knew they were too busy to drop everything and come to her for moral support. And she'd needed them on this case. They'd all had a part to play in it, and it was what she needed them to do. And now she had to wonder—who was running the morgue?

"Guys," she said, feeling herself tear up again and hating it. "I'm so glad you're here. But while you're here…?"

"Ah, well, we left Sydney there and came to see you," Nigel answered. "He kept insisting he was ready for the responsibility."

"Nigel saw Simmons coming and headed for the hills," Bug corrected. "Telling Sydney he was in charge was an afterthought."

Nigel ignored him. "How is he, love?"

"The drug that House gave him stopped any further damage. House won't tell anyone what's in it, keeps claiming it's going to make him rich," Jordan explained, a faint smile on her face. "Woody's kidneys are shot, though. He needs a transplant. So thank you for finding Cal, Nige."

Nigel shook his head. "I'd love to take credit for that, Jordan, but it wasn't me."

Jordan blinked. "What? If you didn't find him, who did?"

Nigel shrugged. "Haven't a clue, love. Where is he?"

"Are you here to see Detective Hoyt?" Cameron asked, coming up to them. Chase and Foreman were with her, but Chase looked rather green. Jordan remembered seeing him come into Woody's room earlier, start to speak, and leave abruptly. Ordinarily, she would have followed him and demanded to know what that was all about, but she was still waiting to know if Woody would pull through or not. Those few minutes might have been the last ones he had, and she knew that she would never have forgiven herself if she left to satisfy her curiosity.

Now, Cal was busy distracting Woody, and the others would be going up to see him soon, so she wouldn't be able to finish the conversation she needed to have with him. She could have the conversation she wanted to have with Chase instead.

"Yes, we are, love," Nigel said, turning on his charm on Cameron. "Are you here to show us the way?"

"I'm Dr. Cameron, this is Dr. Chase, and Dr. Foreman. We're going to sneak past security. Officially, Detective Hoyt's only visitors can be family—"

"Oh, love, we're family," Nigel protested. "I'm his crazy step-uncle, Bug here is the result of a little side trip that no one will discuss, and Lily is the love of Bug's life."

Jordan couldn't help her laughter at Nigel's description. Cameron's open mouth was pretty amusing, too. Bug rolled his eyes. Lily giggled. Foreman just shook his head. Nigel grinned. "Just lead the way, dear Dr. Cameron."

Jordan followed at the back of the group. Nigel dominated the conversation, telling Cameron far more than she ever wanted to know about forensics. Cameron surprised Jordan by countering with a case where they'd actually killed a patient to diagnose her.

"Wicked," Nigel agreed.

They reached the door to Woody's room, and Cal came out to meet them. He greeted everyone enthusiastically, especially Jordan. She got the works, lifted from the ground and squeezed so hard that she almost broke. She smiled at him and rubbed her bruised ribs, laughing at Woody calling out for Cal to leave Jordan alone. His voice was possessive. Jealous. Maybe there was hope for them yet.

Cal happily introduced himself to Foreman, but the big surprise came when he saw Chase. Cal hugged him fiercely, as Jordan had seen him hug Woody. "Thank you for telling me about my brother. I owe you one."

If it was possible, Chase got even greener.

"Dr. Chase!"

Bloody hell. He'd known that this would catch up with him, but somehow he'd hoped that he would have more time before it did. No, he was not so lucky. He turned to find Jordan Cavanaugh looking at him. She shifted nervously.

"Listen, uh, thanks," she began. "You know, for finding Cal."

Chase nodded. "Least I could do."

She looked at him. It was a look he'd seen on her face before, right before she pulled the truth kicking and screaming out of someone. At least then it had been Hoyt, not Chase. "How did you find him?"

"Companies like the one Calvin works for insist on physicals. He had a condition as a child that would be noted on any physical. It's not too common, not too rare. But I pretended that I was compiling a study, got enough information on people who'd had the condition. Matching blood types and physical description, I narrowed it down. I called a few, asking about their medical history," Chase smiled a little. "You might want to talk to him about his cover story. He told me about his mother and father, how they died. Then I told him if he knew Woodrow Wilson Hoyt, he should know that he was at Princeton Plainsboro in critical condition. Cal didn't believe me, but I guess he talked to someone who confirmed it."

"Nice," Cavanaugh complimented. "I'll have to remember that."

"Might not work as well for you. I did have my father's reputation to help me."

She laughed. "I get it. You posed as Rowan Chase to make it more official."

Chase shrugged. "Most people haven't realized he's dead."

"Right," she agreed with a wince, obviously remembering how she'd made that mistake. "One question left. Why?"

"Casey Williams. She came here for revenge against me. She wanted me to watch helplessly as the patients died," Chase confessed. "I disagreed with her on a case before I turned her in. I said she was killing the patient. She said I couldn't save them all."

"Wow," Cavanaugh breathed like it was a curse. "She was one messed up woman."

Chase didn't say anything. He couldn't. He looked away, but he was still aware of the way she was studying him. "You're thinking this is your fault. That you should have done something years ago to prevent all this. But, tell me, Chase, were any of the things you saw or suspected homicidal?"

"No…Unethical, but not life-threatening, not before that last case," Chase answered slowly. "She'd given people treatment that they'd refused out of ignorance or fear. She saved lives. But she was still dangerous. God, how can I bloody say that about her and still work for House?"

Cavanaugh considered. "Checks and balances? House has a team. You, Foreman, and Cameron. He has people to answer to, people to stop him if he's out of line. Could that have saved Casey? I don't think so. You got the information to the program. They chose not to pursue criminal charges. Maybe if they had… But there are no guarantees, Chase. Maybe she would have killed you years ago, and we wouldn't be having this conversation. And the man I lo—Woody would be dead right now."

Chase looked at her. "I appreciate what you're trying to do. I still feel…responsible."

"Do me a favor, huh?" she asked, patting him on the back. "Ease up on that guilt. I'm still looking for proof that it kills, but I know it sure doesn't help."

Chase looked at her. "You're bloody crazy, you know that, right?"