Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan or any part of its production. It all belongs to Tim Kring, et. al. I do this just for fun and no profit is made. Believe me.

There's no doubt that Jordan has changed and matured through the years. What we've seen on the episodes may have only scratched her psychological surface. What if there was more to her reactions and relationship-phobia than we know? Her mother's death happened while she was still very young. Surely by the time she was 34, she at least had some ability to put it in perspective. What if there was another event…an event that only select people knew about…that spurred her reactions and phobias?

Just to make you think….

Spoilers:The Gift of Life

Jump, Push, Fall

Road Kill

Chapter One

Snow

It's snowing again, Jordan thought to herself as she stared out of her office window at the morgue. Snowing and snowing and snowing…will it ever stop? It's so damn cold… she shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms to ward off the chill. Still it was January in Boston…and snow was to be expected. As well as the cold.

And the cold seemed to be everywhere…not just outside. Her relationship with JD was over. After she discovered that the tabloid reporter had planted a tracer in her cell phone to not only track her calls, but her location, she had unceremoniously kicked him to the curb, as she had done with every other man in her life that violated her trust. What little warmth and affection the rebound-from-Woody relationship had offered her was now history. Her heart, as well as her bed, was now ice cold.

Her relationship with the detective could be called chilly at best, too. She had been reeling from Woody's rejection when she found herself nearly pushed into JD's arms just to get a little comfort. Still, despite everything…despite the fact that her heart and her body still found themselves responding to the mere sound of Woody's voice … she had maintained her respect of Woody's wishes…that she leave him alone and stay out of his life.

Sometimes those boundaries would blur…and she would struggle. If they worked late together and he walked her out to her car…a laugh over a shared joke…a victory in a difficult case…they could look at each other and the hopes and dreams of a thousand "if onlys" would rear their heads to haunt both of them. She would find him looking at her with something akin to fondness in his eyes…her heart would soar…only to crash and burn moments later when Woody reverted to his cold attitude with her. It's really better this way, she thought to herself, allowing her fingers to lightly trace the paths of the snowflakes on her window. It's probably all for the best…that part of my life is over…and I just need to keep moving on…

Across the street at the nineteenth precinct, Woody was also staring out of his window…wondering just how much the snow was going to snarl traffic on his way home. I hope not much…I want to get home and catch the game on TV, he thought, turning his attention away from the stack of folders on his desk. He currently had six open homicides, a robbery, a carjacking, and an assault case vying for his attention…which was sorely lacking these days.

He kept telling himself it was because he was overworked and still healing from his injuries. That the wounds he suffered from took more out of him than he realized…but deep inside, he knew that wasn't the case. Deep inside, he knew that his lack of attention, as well as his lack of personal relationships, was due to him severing his bond with her. Jordan had been his reason for living, staying in Boston, remaining a homicide detective for so long, that now he wasn't sure how to function without her. His emotions had wavered from being depressed, to sad….to what they were right now…anger, tempered with need to remain cold and aloof to the woman he had once wanted to warm his bed.

At least that's what his head kept telling him…his heart was a different story. It broke a little more each time he saw her and the look of hurt that would sometimes flash in her eyes at him when she thought he wasn't watching her.

But somehow, he was always looking at her. He'd catch himself, and promptly glance away, telling his heart that she no longer mattered…but she did. And his heart knew it better than his head. He worried about her…how much time she was spending by alone, retreating behind the walls she had so carefully crafted for herself to avoid being hurt. Walls that he had spend years trying to tear down, only to find she rebuilt them nearly the moment he had kicked her out of his hospital room. Jordan stayed close to her morgue family, but since she had dismissed JD from her life, she had little outside contact.

JD. Now there was an anomaly if ever there was one. Woody smiled grimly to himself. An Aussie in a Yankee world. The detective had been surprised when Pollack asked his permission to pursue Jordan.

Woody had been just as surprised to hear himself say, "Knock yourself out."

He was even more surprised when Jordan had said yes to Pollack.

And he had been completely delighted when she had given the reporter his walking papers after discovering that JD had put a tracer on her cell phone. As a matter of fact, Woody knew who had given Jordan the information. He did. He had gotten suspicious of Pollack showing up everywhere Jordan was at working on a case. Woody had made a few phone calls, a few discreet inquirie,s and got the information on the tap. He had squirreled the papers away away, taking them to the morgue after nearly everyone had left, and put the forms on her desk to find the next morning.

By noon the following day, Woody had the satisfaction of finding out that all hell had broken loose between the couple and Jordan had kicked JD to the curb. Woody's smile widened. Served the man right….

Served Jordan right, too.

Woody had told himself that it was all over between them and that he was better off now. He could now pursue a real relationship with a woman without being hindered by her…but somehow that didn't happen. He had dated scores of women since he had regained use of his legs….slept with several of them…but somehow he couldn't get her out of his head or his heart. So he resorted to the next best thing.

He wanted to hurt her. Hurt her as much as she had hurt him.

Getting rid of JD the way that he did was one of the ways. The other way was to treat her with such a cold aloofness that he saw her heart break a little every time they worked together. Part of him took sadistic joy at seeing her wince inwardly at his tone of voice.

Another part of him….the part he did his best to ignore … wanted just to hold her.

No wonder I can't pay attention to my cases, he sighed, turning away from his window and back to the files on his desk. Even now, she still is in nearly all my thoughts…

"Hoyt!" came a stern voice from the doorway.

"Yes, Captain?"

"I need you to take a call at Thirty-Fourth and Bessemer – the Green Hotel…"

Woody was acquainted with that part of town…drug trafficking, prostitution….not even remotely the best section of even South Boston. "What do we have?" he asked, getting up from his desk and grabbing his jacket.

"Dead baby in room 302."