Disclaimer: After much negotiating with Tim Kring we decided that it was him and not me that actually owns Crossing Jordan. What a bummer, huh?

AN: Wow, can you believe that I actually updated? I bet you thought I forgot that I even had a fic on here. Well, apparently I do. This chapter's a little longer than the rest, so that makes up for its inexplicable tardiness. And the end of the chapter is a tad sappy, but I figured I was due for a small amount of sap. Uh…that might be all for the note then. Quick replies for the reviews after the chapter!

Enjoy!

Jordan sat in her office, her chin cradled in her palm, her other hand rapidly drumming a pen against her desk. She stared at the autopsy reports in front of her, all stacked neatly in piles. Jordan had given up on work about half an hour ago when she had decided it was simply impossible to catch up on her own and began to formulate a plan to dump some of the mess on Nigel.

She hadn't seen Woody in a week or so, since their last disastrous conversation. He was too busy with the 'Slash and Dash' case, which for the moment had seemed to subside. But Jordan knew from around the office that he was spending all hours of the night at the station. The morgue had been somewhat crazy too. Between everyone pulling their weight with the serial killer case and a bus that had crashed just outside of Boston, producing several casualties, it was a pretty hectic and chaotic few days. Hence the mounds of paperwork.

The sudden buzz of her cellular phone vibrating at Jordan's hip caused her to jump. And the pen, an old fashioned fountain pen that her father had purchased for her, slipped from her fingers and sent ink spraying in all directions. Jordan made a desperate jerk for her phone before the caller hung up, but it too dropped from her hand and landed under her desk with a small thud.

"Shit," she mumbled under her breath.

She grabbed a handful of tissues and began to furiously blot at the now growing stain on her white shirt. Realizing she was doing more harm than good, Jordan threw the tissues into the wastebasket and heaved a sigh.

"Dr. Cavanaugh?" Emmy poked her head through the doorway, her own ever-present heap of paperwork in her arms.

"Huh? Oh, hey Emmy," Jordan greeted in an absent manner.

"Dr. C, Dr. Macy would like to see you in his office," she told her in rush. Emmy usually spoke in hurried, clipped sentences. She just had too much to do and she wasn't going to waste her time on talking. Or lingering after the fact, as soon as she'd said her piece, Emmy scurried down the hall.

"Great," Jordan ran her fingers through her hair and made her way to Garret's office. She hoped to God that all he wanted to know was if she had any updates one of her cases. Or maybe if she was incredibly lucky, he was calling her to his office to invite her to a drink after work. She could really use a drink.

"Wanted to see me boss?" she announced stepping into the room and taking a seat in front of his desk. Jordan always had a familiar feeling of being sent to the principal's office whenever Garret needed to talk with her.

"Jordan, remember a few of weeks ago, when I had asked you if something was wrong?" he questioned, leaning back in his chair, his fingers laced behind his neck.

"Yeah, sure," Jordan nodded.

"And then you proceeded to tell me that there wasn't," he continued, leaning further back.

"Where you going with this Garret?" she cocked her head to one side.

"Jordan, what did Mrs. Rhodes die of?" Garret inquired, his chair snapping forward as he grabbed a file from his desk.

"Mrs. Rhodes? Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis, she was waiting for a liver transplant and never received one," Jordan answered, curiously.

"So you do know the cause of death?" he clucked his tongue and handed her the file that he was looking at. "I thought I would check, seeing as how you didn't fill that out in your preliminary report."

"What?" she exclaimed and scanned the sheet of paper in front of her. It was mostly blank and the cause of death was indeed missing from the report. "I…uh…"

"Jordan, you're one of, if not my best, ME. But lately you're behavior…" Garret sighed. "If you don't want to talk to me about, maybe you should see Dr. Stiles."

"Garret," Jordan waved her hand. "I told you I was fine. I don't need Stiles' professional opinion telling me otherwise."

"I'm not trying to give you cajoling advice as a friend here, I'm telling you as your boss, if things don't change…" he shook his head. "Listen Jordan, I know you've had problems before and you let it affect your work."

"Wow, that's some compassion you got there," Jordan smirked.

"I am concerned about you Jordan. But it's hard being your friend and your boss at the same time. Sometimes it just doesn't work that way," he told her. "If there is something that's bothering you, tell me and we can work something out."

"It's really more of a personal thing Garret," she replied, wiping her palms on the front of her pants.

"Then if you don't want to talk to me or Stiles, talk to Lily. Or Nigel or Bug. Just talk to somebody Jordan. You can't continue on like this. I've seen first hand what happens when you bottle up your emotions Jordan. They all spill out at once and you end up doing things you regret."

Garret walked out from behind his desk and took a seat in the chair next to Jordan. He adjusted it so he was facing her and rested his elbows on his knees.

"It's been a long while since I've seen you like this Jordan," he remarked sadly. "Are you sleeping well? Last week you looked pretty run down, and I know you used to have those nightmares…"

"Are you gunning for Howard's job?" she eyed him critically. "Because right now I feel like I should be lying down on the couch telling you my darkest secrets. I thought you'd know by now that I don't do well when provoked."

"Come on Jordan, it's not a sign of weakness to accept help from people who care about you," Garret said.

"I've heard the speech before Garret, and trust me when I tell you that I can work this one out on my own."

"Jordan do you ever just listen to anyone? I'm saying that I'm worried about you and I'm trying my best to help here," he told her, a slight amount of anger laced in his voice.

"Yeah, but as my boss or my friend Garret?" Jordan sneered and stood from her seat.

"Jordan, don't," Garret replied, exasperatedly.

"Maybe it's not hard being both at the same time, but favoring one over the other," she suggested with a shrug.

They watched each other silently for awhile, before Jordan ran a tired hand across her forehead and shrugged once more. She took a step towards where he sat, perhaps making her way over to apologize, then decided against it and turned on her heel, out the door. Jordan walked briskly back to her office, thinking Garret just might chase after her. They were both horribly stubborn people and butted heads more than either of them liked.

It took all of Jordan's willpower not to slam the door behind her. Reminding herself that her and Garret never fought for long and that she still needed to find some way to rope Nigel into taking at least half of her reports, she shut it gently behind her and flung herself into her seat.

She began rearranging her desk and practiced a plea in her head that might make her British friend just sympathetic enough to her cause to lend her a hand. The sudden knocking on her door interrupted Jordan's thought process of whether it was necessary to add two or three "Please Nigel's" to further aid her.

"If you're Garret, I don't want to hear it!" she called out sternly.

"Not Garret," Lily said, poking her head through the door. "Does that mean I'm welcome?"

"Sure, Lily," Jordan's face somewhat softened.

"What happened to your shirt?" the redhead gasped.

"Oh this?" Jordan tugged at the front of her shirt. "I call this icing on the cake."

"Then I'm not even going to ask," Lily shook her head.

"Thank you," Jordan mouthed.

"So where've you been? I stopped by here a few minutes ago, but you were nowhere to be seen. Thought maybe you'd fled the ever growing pile of paperwork," she smirked and perched atop Jordan's desk.

"Contrary to what I've heard people say around the water cooler, I don't in fact live in my office," she told her smartly. "Besides, why didn't you try my cell phone…"

Jordan barely finished her sentence when her eyes flew to the floor under her desk, where her phone rested in two pieces at her feet.

"I did," Lily said, "Except I couldn't get through."

"Figures," Jordan murmured, picking up the case, as well as the battery, which had popped out.

"My guess would have something to with that," Lily pointed to the dismantled phone.

"Mine too," she said. "So, what's the big crisis?"

"Crisis?" Lily inquired, her forehead creasing as she asked the question.

"Well, yeah. What did you need me for?" Jordan asked, sliding the battery back on.

"Nothing really, just thought I'd check up on you," she gave Jordan a smile that verged on sympathetic.

"When did I become the resident charity case?" Jordan mused, almost to herself.

"Well, now that I see you're still the same old Jordan, anger a-blazing, what do you say we grab a drink in a few?" Lily offered, her grin now reaching her cheeks.

"I'd say you read my mind Lily," Jordan sighed as her eyes landed on the stacks of files on her desk and then glanced upwards to meet Lily who was seated among said files.

"Forget paperwork!" she exclaimed defiantly, hopping off the desk and making a grab for Jordan's hand in the process.

"You know Lily, I always liked you," Jordan said with a grin of her own.

Both girls walked out of Jordan's office, coats in hand, determined to have at least one night of something that resembled fun. If they even remembered what that was.

"Where are you two heading?" Nigel asked, strolling towards them.

"Lily and I are taking the night off," Jordan replied, decidedly with a nod of her head.

"And no one thought to ask me?" he placed his hands over his heart, his best wounded expression gracing his face.

"Sad to say Nige, but it looks like you've got a lot of paperwork to do," Jordan hinted heavily to the mounds of paperwork on her desk, almost visible from where they stood.

"Oh, no," Nigel shook his head. "I don't think so Jordan. Not this time."

"Please Nigel?" she asked, her hands covering his.

"Sorry love," he apologized with a smile. "You would not believe what Dr. M has me doing already. That and the added stuff Woody has me working on, and I'm completely swamped. I barely have enough time for my work."

"Don't worry about it Jordan," Lily shrugged. "Papers will still be there in the morning."

"What does Woody have you doing?" Jordan questioned, sidestepping Lily.

"Secret," Nigel whispered with a mischievous smirk. "Now you two go play."

Jordan stood there for a moment as Nigel returned to his work, a slightly bewildered look across her features before Lily tugged at her arm, leading her towards the elevator.

"Uh, Lily you go ahead," Jordan said and gestured to her shirt. "I've got to go home and change, I'll meet you there."

"Okay," Lily reluctantly agreed. "But if you're not there, make no mistake, I will send out a search party."

"I'll be there," she assured her friend.

xxx

Jordan did hurry home to change and made it to the bar in record time. She prided herself on being able to keep a promise for once in her life and stepped out of her car into the alley leading towards the back entrance. Jordan didn't make it a few feet when a small, but rough hand, clamped down on her shoulder.

"Look buddy," she started, turning around.

The man stared back at her with an almost frightened look and removed his hand slowly.

"I don't want any trouble lady," he said quietly. "Really I don't. I just need a favor."

"A favor?" Jordan scoffed. "Like what?"

"You're an ME right? I saw you come out of the building. Do you work there?" he asked, nervously wringing his hands together.

"Yeah," she answered hesitantly. He looked somewhat familiar, but in the dark she couldn't make out his face clearly.

"I wasn't watching you or anything, I'm not a stalker. I just thought if I could get somebody to listen to me. To help me out…"

"You're Jack Kelly aren't you?" Jordan asked.

"I need your help," was the low reply. "I didn't do it. I didn't kill all those people."

"And what makes you think that I'll help you?" she questioned, her eyebrows raising as she spoke.

"I-I don't know. You don't have a reason to really," Kelly admitted. "Look, you don't have to, but I just…I need someone to listen to me."

"Exactly what do you want me to do?"

Kelly pulled a thick manila envelope from beneath his worn out jacket, his hands shaking as he handed it to her. He removed his baseball cap and scratched his head before shoving them deep in the pockets of his jeans.

"What's this?" she asked, weighing the contents in her palm.

"It's not mine, I swear it isn't. That's all the information on the murders. All that 'Slash and Dash' stuff, it was left for me, for somebody, and it has everything. I told that detective guy about it. He said something about turning it over to the police, my lawyer told me that they could get a warrant…" he paused and for a moment Jordan thought he might cry.

"You know that I'm a medical examiner right? It's different than the police, I'm not sure what you want me to do with this," Jordan swung the envelope lightly.

"Can't you gather evidence or something from it? I just…" Kelly stopped again. "I don't want to end up there. I need proof that it wasn't me. I just wrote a-about it. I wasn't me."

"I'll see what I can do," she offered.

"Please don't tell anyone, I'm in enough trouble," he pleaded.

"I won't," she said.

"Thank you. For everything," Kelly told her. He tipped his hat as he walked away, then his hand quickly went back into his pocket.

"Oh boy," Jordan breathed, looking down at the information that rested at her fingertips.

She slid her finger underneath the flap, and pulled out the first thing that she touched. It was a black and white photograph, who Jordan recognized as Ethan Gregory from the long night she spent absorbing every detail of the case with Woody. She was itching to spill out the contents right there in the back alley and root through the entire envelope, but Jordan knew that it probably wouldn't be one of her finer moments if she did. Instead she tucked it beneath her coat, jumped into her car and drove back to the morgue.

xxx

Woody sat behind desk reviewing the information that he had gathered on Ian Tracy, Jack Kelly's lawyer, during the past week. Unfortunately there wasn't much in the file that he held. Tracy was the Kelly family lawyer and had worked for them for a number of years. He played golf with Kelly's father every second Saturday and his wife went to bridge with Mrs. Kelly regularly. Besides the flash in the pan relationship that Tracy's daughter, Lorraine, had with Kelly when they were teenagers, nothing seemed terribly out of the ordinary.

He made a quick note in his messy scrawl to bring Lorraine Tracy in for a little chat the next day when his phone rang.

"This is Hoyt," he answered.

"Woody, it's Lily," he heard Lily's voice cut in and out of the static.

"Lily?" he plugged one ear with his finger and pressed the receiver closer to his other one. "I can barely hear you."

"I can't find Jordan," she answered. "She said she'd meet me at O'Shaughnessy's. And she's not here."

"She said that she'd meet you there?" Woody questioned, an uneasy feeling coming over him.

"Yeah, that was an hour ago," Lily's voice echoed the panicked sentiment that Woody's just had. "I didn't know who else to call. I'm really—"

The phone cut off in the middle of her sentence and Woody was met with silence.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered as he hung up the phone. He quickly grabbed his jacket and headed out of the precinct. "Christ Jordan," Woody said to himself.

He got into his car and haphazardly pulled out of the space, speeding around the corner. Woody decided that starting around O'Shaughnessy's would be best if he wanted to find Jordan, but his mind kept flashing to her dead in the gutter somewhere. Not that she couldn't take care of herself, he knew that Jordan was more than capable, but the thought plagued him nonetheless. His phone rang again, and Woody swerved as he made a quick grab for it.

"Lily?" he asked.

"No, it's Nigel," came the voice from the other end. "And here I thought you only had eyes for our Jordan, playing the field a bit Woodrow?"

"Nige, I don't have time for this. Lily called me a couple of minutes ago and said that Jordan's missing. She was supposed to meet Lily and she didn't," Woody informed him.

"Jordan's not missing," Nigel said with a surprised tone. "She's here."

"What the hell is she doing there?" Woody demanded.

"I don't know. She went straight into her office," Nigel shrugged, even though Woody obviously couldn't see him. "She seemed a little worried about being behind on some reports before she left, figured she came back to finish them off."

"Look, I'm coming over there. Can you call Lily and tell her that Jordan is alright?" Woody asked.

"Sure thing mate," Nigel replied.

xxx

Woody tapped his foot impatiently the entire elevator ride, drowning out the music that happily played out of tune. His hands were clenched in fists and shoved deep in the pockets of his coat. He just couldn't believe that Jordan would do something so stupid. Actually he could, but it bothered him still. The doors of the elevator swung open and Woody raced down the hall.

"Where is she?" he asked Nigel, who merely pointed to her office, with a slightly apprehensive look.

Woody didn't even bother knocking, but instead threw back her office door and began his tirade.

"What were you thinking Jordan?" he shouted, his hands flying from his pockets and waving frantically.

Jordan's face twisted with confusion as she quickly tried to hide the contents of the envelope that Jack Kelly had entrusted her with earlier.

"Nice to see you too Woody," she told him with a shake of her head.

"Jordan you can't do stuff like that! Lily was worried sick—" he continued.

"Oh no. Lily," Jordan sighed.

"Jeez Jordan, there's some psycho serial killer on the loose and you go off doing God knows what, don't tell your friends where you are…"

"I…I'm sorry," she murmured.

"I don't want an apology Jordan—" Woody stopped. The conversation had taken an all too familiar turn.

"So, why are you here Woody?" Jordan questioned.

"Do you even have to ask?" he breathed slowly, crouching down next to her.

Jordan didn't know what to say. Thing had been way beyond complicated for them during the past few months, hell during the past few years. But as he knelt in front of her, his hands resting on her knees and his eyes full of worry, Jordan almost felt the only right thing to do in that moment was to kiss him. She didn't think about it, try to rationalize it, reason out the after affects or the consequences, because they didn't seem to matter. He loved her and right now that was the only thing that mattered. So she leaned forward, her fingers curling around his neck and placed a light kiss on his lips.

"No. I guess I don't," she answered.

Jennifer: Yay for hearing that's it's a story worth reading. And would you believe the Jillian Clare thing was coincidental? I was on a naming board of sorts that day and somebody had wanted to name their daughter that…so I stole it, 'cause most days I'm terribly uncreative.

Elisabeth Carmichael: Thanks! Okay, so they kissed at the end of this chapter, but don't look for it to be all neat and wrapped up in a bow. There'll be more turmoil, I mean it is Jordan and Woody.

FrenchKissingWoody: Hola! Major props to you for reviewing pretty much if not all chapters! You rock girl! Thanks for all the support.

Moonbebe: Well that was chapter five. Tell me if it was worth the wait :wink:

l'ilmissnitpick: Anyone else who even knows of The Tea Party is totally awesome in my book! And I love a good sticky situation also, hehe.