A/N: Sorry for the delay. This is a response to nccjfan's challenge on the Coffeerooms board awhile back, and now it probably makes (slightly) more sense. Chapters will be longer and more frequent, ONLY if there are more reviews. This fic takes place long after Jump Push Fall.

II. Sinking Ship

"Africa? You're going to Africa?"

Nigel quietly motioned for Jordan to lower her voice as they walked down the hallway of the morgue, dropping his head while his curious coworkers wordlessly questioned Jordan's sudden outburst. When they reached Jordan's office, however, Nigel made all of his enthusiasm apparent.

"I leave in two weeks," he declared.

"Wait a minute," she said, holding up her hands in protest. "You're going to the Africa – that place halfway around the world with lions and tigers and bears oh my?"

"That's the one."

She stared at him for seconds with a look of combined shock and fascination, when a knock at her door caused her to shift her attention.

"We'll finish this conversation later, Nige," she said pointedly as she reached for the door handle.

Waiting impatiently behind the door was none other than an excitable Detective Hoyt, holding files in his arms and squirming with the anxiety of a five year old boy about to ride a bike for the first time.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything here," Woody said as he made his way into Jordan's office.

"Absolutely not, Woodrow," Nigel replied, welcoming the distraction.

"This isn't over yet, Safari Boy," Jordan said, creeping closer to Nigel and resting her hands on his shoulders. "Maybe Farm Boy can tell you how dangerous wild animals can be when they're aching for some hearty, human flesh…"

Nigel looked unimpressed. The dramatic effect, however, was not lost on Woody, who found himself perplexed beyond belief, and frightened. "Nigel, I told you that I don't like hearing your vampire stories; you know – childhood trauma –"

"Oh, no, Woody," Jordan interrupted, making her way over to Woody's side. "Nigel's going on safari."

"Fashion tip, Woody," said Jordan, noticing Woody's surprised expression. "Mouth looks better closed."

He ignored her advice, and his mouth continued to hang open.

"Safari? Where do you go on safari?"

"Gee, I don't know, Woodrow," Nigel teased. "New York City? Or, if you're feeling really adventurous, check out the wild creatures in Los Angeles!"

"Excuse me, Mr. I'm-One-With-Nature, but I've never exactly desired sleeping with hyenas. So, where are you going? China? Belize? The Cayman Islands?"

"Africa," Nigel said.

"Africa," Woody echoed with a grin spreading across his face. "What part, Nigel – Nigeria?"

"Ghana," he replied, looking not amused.

"All right, Woody," Jordan said, standing in between the two men. "I think we should go hit the crime scene, where we were supposed to be –" she glanced at her watch "ten minutes ago. And maybe, while we're gone, Nigel will find the brain that he's obviously missing."

She wore a satisfied smile as she strolled swiftly out of the office; ignoring the death glare that Nigel was throwing her way.

The weather didn't surprise her.

There was snow on the ground, just as her dream had predicted; a pallid blanket with holes and stains where people and cars had tread. The air was thick with a ubiquitous chill that seemed to leave her paralyzed, and she felt frost seep into and underneath her bones. She wondered briefly if frostbite still left your blood red, because now, she couldn't fathom anything that wasn't an icy, cerulean blue.

"Cold?" Woody asked, his lips pink.

"A little," she murmured, the most that her frozen jaw would allow.

"Want to get a hot chocolate after all of…this?" He pointed to the lifeless body that hovered above them, held in place by a firmly knotted tie that was attached to a hook in the wall. Policemen lingered around the scene, a dank basement in a South Boston townhouse, and, based on accounts by all that knew her, a quiet, unassuming girl of twenty-two with wide blue eyes hung directly above them.

"Do you want to come to my apartment instead?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't even get dinner first?"

"Not like that," she said quickly. "I just have something there that I have to…attend to."

He hesitated. "Okay," he relented. "But you better have some heating system."

"I think the temperature might have gone down about twenty degrees," Woody said, rubbing his hands together. "If that's even possible."

"I'm sorry!" Jordan repeated, for about the umpteenth time, as they sat in her weathered El Camino that, to put it nicely, had seen better days. "I just haven't had any time – shit!"

A sudden gust of air blew in front of their faces, and Woody quickly retreated into his scarf while Jordan winced and continued to try and start the car.

"I'm glad your air conditioning still works," he said, as he glared at her from underneath his pink scarf covered in sky blue polka dots. (He had told her earlier that it was his niece's – Cal had a daughter? – but she didn't believe him.)

She offered him a sheepish smile. "This car has its quirks but it's a good friend to – Hallelujah!"

The car awoke with a quavering start and Jordan gave Woody a reassuring pat on the back. "See, Farm Boy – everything is going to be just fine."

"I'll get over you, I know I will! I'll pretend my ship's not sinking…and I'll tell myself – "

"Jordan!"

"I'm over you because I'm –"

"JORDAN!"

"WHAT?" she shouted over the music that was currently blaring in her car.

"Can we turn that down a little bit, please?" Woody asked, wincing.

She feigned hurt and begrudgingly turned off the music. "Not a Pretty Woman fan, Woodrow?"

"I'm not a 'King of Wishful Thinking' fan, thank you."

"It's a great song. Helped me through quite a few breakups."

"I'm sure." He paused. "Was I one of them?"

"Maybe," she said, glancing out of the corner of her eye as she drove. "But you were different than a breakup."

"I was?"

"Well, I felt that four years deserved something more than this" she pointed to the stereo, "so I used the theme song from Titanic instead."

"That's a comforting thought."

"Celine is there for me in times of need."

"You shop at Victoria's Secret?" he asked, pointing to the familiar pink bag in her backseat.

"Do you want the bag?" she asked. "It would go very nicely with your scarf."

"Very funny," he deadpanned. "I told you, it's –"

"—Your niece's, I know," she finished unconvincingly. "Since when did Cal have a daughter?"

"Since he met a Japanese model and impregnated her about nine months ago – or do you need me to tell you that story, too?"

"No need, Woody, I know all about the birds and the bees." She winked.

He sighed. "Can we cut back on the innuendos, Jordan? You know – since we're just friends and all?"

"Hey, you brought up the Victoria's Secret bag, not me."

He cast her a sideways glance. "What's in that bag, anyway?"

Jordan grinned. "Besides the pink polka dotted thongs and lacy negligee, absolutely nothing. Anyway, that's not your business anymore, right?"

"It never was my business," he muttered.

"For peace of mind, Woody," Jordan began, resting a hand on his knee. "I bought a Victoria's Secret Angel Bra just for you."

Notes: "King of Wishful Thinking" borrowed from Go West and Pretty Woman Soundtrack, "Fashion tip" line is the standard witticism from Buffy. Oh, and thanks to Vicki's Secret for allowing me the name-drop.