This time Nina is being written by NCCJFAN and jmkw. She's also being especially fluffy. This fic is basically meta. It has no direct links to current state of events laid out in Push, Jump, Fall. There is a reference to From Harry... and Jordan's disapproving, disappearing, friend Kim.

So...Disclaimer No. 1: We don't own Crossing Jordan. But we sure wish we did.

Disclaimer No. 2:Do not be surprisedif a cold shower is needed in the reading of this story.

Chapter 1

Confessions of a Recycled Bridesmaid.

For Jordan, it started out as a bad hair day and went down hill from there. Two insurance mandated autopsies and one octogenarian who had apparently boycotted personal hygiene of any type since the Carter administration. Add Slocum hanging over her shoulder making sure she had dotted all her 'i''s and crossed all her 't''s and Jordan was more than ready to end her shift.

When she let herself into her apartment that evening she wanted nothing more than a long shower and a good book. What she got was reading of a totally different sort. In her mailbox was one of those odd shaped, double sleeved envelopes that always meant somebody is getting married and by opening it the recipient was supposed to drop everything and relish in their joy. Jordan knew this one was on the way, but it still didn't make actually finding it in her mailbox any easier.

Her friend, Kim, was getting remarried and from what she had told Jordan, he was perfect. Jordan looked at the parchment in her hand and idly wondered if there really was such a thing as her perfect man. She had to admit if it was any consolation, Kim's man sounded like a nice guy. Heaven knew Kim deserved it. Her ex was a prince of a man who thought Kim's only worth was to bring home the cash to keep him in a style he wished to be accustomed. Now, it appeared like she had found someone who would treat her like a queen.

Jordan still didn't feel the need jump up and down in elation. She wanted to wish her best friend all the happiness in the world, but still want to strangle her. Kim addressed the envelope: My Dearest Friend: Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh and guest.

Jordan kicked herself for not being upfront with Kim when she called the week prior. Sheepishly, she admitted to herself that being caught in a fib was just what she got for being such a close friend.

When Jordan first came back to Boston, she and Kim swore they'd get together at least once a week for lunch. That lasted for...about a week. Jordan couldn't put her finger on what happened. It seemed like months would go by before they could meet up. Then before Jordan knew it, even phone calls were far and few between. The last time Jordan could remember getting together with Kim, she had just started dating her future fiancé and Jordan was spending her lonely nights calling late night radio shows.

Jordan had to confess she was a little jealous, even though she couldn't honestly find a legitimate need for a man in her life. She looked around her cold empty apartment and admitted it would be nice having some help warming the sheets every once in a blue moon. But other than the occasional pickle jar, she really doesn't see any other use for a man. According to Jordan, they were always been more of a hassle then they were worth.

Jordan thought back to that notorious phone call. She had pulled a double and had just finished debating on her dinner choices; a week old box of Thai in the fridge or a lone can of pastaroni in the cupboard. She ended up opening a bottle of chardonnay that she had received as a secret Santa gift the last Christmas.

Kim's phone call came out of the blue. Engaged.

Jordan jokingly told Kim to live with him for awhile. The lack of tax breaks didn't mean squat when it came down to a divorce decree. Kim laughed her off and said she was ready to settle down. Her biological clock was ticking.

Jordan wondered if that really happened. Sure, she sometimes thought about having a baby. Happily, the feeling usually disappeared as fast as it would come. Outside of the fact that she didn't think she'd make a very good mother, she don't think she could handle the strings that are attached to motherhood...more to the point, the baby's father.

That's when Kim and her ticking clock caught her off guard...

"Jordan, would you be my maid of honor...again."

At Kim's first wedding, Jordan stood at the front of the church wearing a light pink satin dress with shoulder pads that would have made Tom Brady jealous. In argument, Kim reminded Jordan that they were barely legal and living on college scholarships and the cotton candy number was the only dress the consignment shop had that fit. Kim promised something a little more understated this time. All Jordan had to do was say yes.

There was no way out. Her friend, the litigator, had Jordan's back against the preverbal wall with a belly full of cheap wine. Jordan gave in and said yes.

"You'll be bringing this mystery guy of yours of course. I'm dying to meet him."

Jordan had to bite back a groan.

Ever since Jordan's disastrous experiment with anonymous sex, Kim had been vocal about Jordan's taste in men...or as Kim quaintly put it...her "piss poor lack of it."

Over time, Jordan grew tired of her suggesting she meet every single man, or woman, Kim could think of.

...So Jordan made one up.

She never gave Kim a name. Nor did she ever come right out and tell her she was actually dating someone ...but Jordan may have stretched the truth just a little. Okay, she admitted to herself, she exaggerated a lot. It felt like a good idea at the time. Kim was pacified and Jordan was able brush up on her thinking-quick-on-my-feet skills. Jordan justified her actions to herself by acknowledging not everything was made up. Over the last year or so it wasn't like Jordan's life consisted of solely going for work to sleep and back to work again. She went out every once in awhile...and with people...Woody. Jordan was only guilty of embellishing those outings by calling them dates and painting Woody as someone special. Jordan assumed the odds of her ever having to actually produce this fabricated boyfriend were slim to none.

Jordan's first instinct was to drag Nigel to the wedding. Off the top of her head, Nigel was the only person she felt she could by totally comfortable while wearing pantyhose and pretending she was actually enjoying herself. The problem was, Kim knew Nige. She knew no matter how much Jordan loved him...the idea of them being a couple is about as likely as Boston letting the Soxs move to Jersey.

Jordan realized she was screwed. She needed to find a long term relationship and find it quickly. The engagement wasn't going to a long one. The wedding was going to be in two weeks.

Jordan briefly wondered if that power dating thing worked. She had to believe there were a few good ones left out there somewhere. It's that hope that keeps single women, everywhere, shaving their legs. Not that that was an issue. She'd settle for breathing a believable. It was only for one night after all. Not a life time.

Jordan tossed the envelope on top of a pile of bills she was constantly avoiding. Month after month she hoped the pile would mysteriously vanish. It never did...just like she knew the invitation wouldn't. Jordan dug deep and found her inner Scarlett O'Hara and made the choice to ignore it for as long as she could.

"I'll think about it tomorrow..."