Disclaimer: As stated previously, I hold no claim to Crossing Jordan. I do hold claim to Jerry O'Connell, but alas I don't have it in writing, meaning it's not even remotely close to legal, just the word of a crazy lady.

That and the song lyrics in this chapter are quite obviously not mine either.

Author's Note: So here's the second chapter in all its glory. Oh, and excuse the lame summary (though if you're reading this, you might not have thought it was all that lame, hmm…). It's sort of late at night, and I've always sucked at summaries. I know, excuses, excuses. Anyway, enjoy!

Boston City Morgue, ME's Break Room.

3:19 am.

"Nice line with the coffee thing there," Woody nodded, his hand already tangled in Jordan's hair and his lips already pressed to her neck.

"Who said it was a line? You've seen me without caffeine and it is far from pretty," she replied.

"Jordan, you have got to be kidding me," he pulled back and sighed.

"Oh, relax," Jordan patted his cheek affectionately.

"You could kill a man Jordan, sincerely," Woody told her, joining her in the search for Styrofoam cups.

"Trust me, there are days when I'd like to. You specifically," she jested.

"Come on Jordan," Woody sighed again.

"Woody, you knew when we got into this that—" she began to remind him.

"Yeah, I knew it then and I know it now."

The cups were found as well as the coffee, which percolated slowly in the Mr. Coffee maker, the noise from the drip seeming to encompass the silence. From time to time, the situation would turn into a mildly serious discussion that neither of them quite knew how to deal with. Especially when it seemed like feelings were getting involved.

"Remember it was you who started this whole mess," Woody said after the silence was too much to bear.

"And remember you were more than willing," she responded.

"Yeah, but think about for what reasons Jordan," he shrugged, sadly. It was harder play by her rules, when he wasn't supposed to know about them.

"Well, do you want to call it off? I mean, it was never a permanent thing," Jordan offered, trying to think sensibly with her head, rather than her heart.

"Is that what you want?"

"Don't answer questions with questions Woody," she instructed, shaking her head.

"Fine," he said flatly.

"Fine? That's it? Just fine?"

"I don't know what you want me to say Jordan," Woody moved closer to her, his hand once again finding its way up to weave through her hair. "I don't know what you want me to say and I don't know what we're doing here, but I do know that I—"

Woody's sentence was cut short by the interruption of Lily backing her way through the door, singing loudly and off key.

"…his kiss is sweeter than an apple pie. And when he does this crazy, rockin' dance, man, I haven't got a chance. I call him—" Lily turned around at that moment and saw the pair, who broke apart rather quickly, staring at her. She clutched her chest and let out a shaky breath. "You guys scared me half to death! What are you doing here?"

"Possible homicide in Autopsy One," Woody said. "That was some performance. 'Lollipop', an old favorite of mine."

"I didn't think…the song was on the radio. I-I didn't know anyone would be in here," she stammered, beginning blush.

"You know I could never do that pop thing at the end," Jordan stated. "I always ended up fish hooking myself, you know." She then placed her finger inside her mouth and pulled.

"No, you have to kind of puff out your cheek. Like this," Woody explained. He then demonstrated, his resulting in a loud 'pop'. "My friends and I used to sing that all the time back home."

"Right," Lily nodded. "So, possible homicide and you guys are…?"

"Oh, making coffee," Jordan pointed to the coffee pot. "Sustenance."

"Coffee which is actually ready," Woody observed and poured two cups. "We should probably get back to Bug anyhow."

"Is Bug here?" Lily inquired. "I'll go with you, I need him to sign some forms."

"Should we bring a peace offering of coffee for leaving him?" Jordan asked.

"Maybe Lily could just serenade him," Woody suggested with a smile.

"Coffee it is," Lily decided.

Boston City Morgue, Autopsy One.

3:41 am.

"Took you guys long enough, grind up the beans yourself?" Bug asked, lifting his face shield.

"Sorry Bug," Jordan apologized and handing him a cup of coffee.

"It's alright. But if you really want to make up for it, you could get into some scrubs and help me out here," he replied, placing the cup on the table next to him and pulling down his face shield.

Jordan smiled another apology and left the room to change, Woody noticeably following her out of the room. Both Lily and Bug exchanged a questioning glance, but shrugged it off.

"Bug, I need you to sign off on this. It's a—" Lily began but was cut off by the loud slap of the door.

"Here, kitty. Here, kitty, kitty."

Lily looked down to see Detective Matt Seely, currently crawling on the floor of Autopsy One.

"Oh, right," Bug raised his hand, mid-incision, the scalpel waving around in the air. "We have a visitor, I almost forgot," he deadpanned.

"Why hello Miss Lebowski," Seely greeted her.

"I'd ask, but I'm afraid to," she commented with a smirk.

"I seem to have misplaced a cat," he informed her.

"You really don't have the best luck with that, do you?" Lily asked.

"No it wouldn't appear so," he agreed. "I already begged for help from your esteemed colleague here, but he says he doesn't recall seeing a cat. And isn't exactly willing to help in the search."

Seely shook his head and stood up, brushing the dirt off his knees and coat. Bug, too, gave his head a shake and resumed with the autopsy of Aaron Reilly.

"Chasing after felines isn't in my job description," Bug announced, finishing the incision.

"Okay I give," Lily said. "Exactly what is a cat doing running around the morgue?"

"It's the reason I'm busting my balls at such an ungodly hour. Came in with the family of my vic earlier this evening. Guess it got lost it the commotion or something. I didn't even notice it was missing until the girl's family wanted the thing," he told her. "Anyway, as always my ass is on the line and will be fried if I don't find it."

"I fail to see where that would be a problem," Bug stated.

"Yeah, well," Seely seethed.

"Look, I'll help you," Lily conceded. "Bug could you just sign this before you leave?" She put the papers down in front of him.

"You're seriously going to go run around after this cat?" he queried.

"Well, what's the other option? It stays lost here?" she asked, one hand set upon her hip.

"Shouldn't Boy Wonder clean up his own mistakes?" Bug questioned.

"Thank you Lily," Seely replied ignoring Bug.

"I want to make it clear that I'm not doing this for you," she warned, pointing a finger at him and glancing over at Bug.

"Gotcha," Seely answered.

"Here kitty," Lily began calling.

Boston City Morgue, Employee Change Room.

3:53 am.

"We never did get to finish our talk back there," Woody informed Jordan, leaning up against a set of lockers while she changed into her scrubs.

"Well, when Lily interrupted us, I don't think you had your mind set on talking," she said with a sly smile.

"Be that as it may," he began, the corners of his own mouth creeping up into a grin. "It would be kind of nice to know what we're doing here."

"What, like here in the morgue?" Jordan asked, her face screwed up with mild confusion.

"Yeah, like here in the morgue," Woody nodded with a smirk.

"Okay, I get it. No need for the sarcasm," she held her hands up in mock surrender.

"Why do we keep doing this?" he asked.

"Doing what?"

"This," Woody stressed pushing his shoulder away from the lockers, so he was standing upright. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and then pulled them out, unsure of what he should be doing with them.

"Woody, speak in full sentences," she told him.

"Why do we keeping doing this to each other? Why do we keep hurting each other?" he questioned, his voice dropping to a low, saddened tone.

"I-uh…" Jordan stopped and licked her lips. She ran her fingers through her hair, she too, not exactly where to place her hands. They ended up on her hips, when she shrugged slowly. "Do you…do you think that's what we're doing?"

"Sometimes it feels like it," he admitted with a shrug of his own.

"What exactly do you want out of all this Woody?" she asked.

"You," he answered with a smile. "Only you."

"Woody—" she began.

"Yeah, I know," Woody nodded again. "See, maybe we're not hurting each other. Maybe it's just me."

"You who's doing the hurting or you who's getting hurt?"

"Jordan," he sighed. "I'm sick of pretending. I want this to be real."

"How is it not real?"

"Jordan, I never see you in the daylight unless it's pertaining to work. What kind of a relationship is that?"

She shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"See…" Woody sighed again.

"Look, we'll figure this out later, right now I should really get back to Bug," Jordan told him, her words so rushed that they slurred together.

"Yeah, of course," Woody agreed. "I should probably head down to the precinct anyway."

"Good," she feigned a smile. "Then…later."

"Sure, later."

Boston City Morgue, Crypt.

4:02 am.

"So what's the, uh, deal with you and what's his name?" Seely asked, his eyes lifting from the floor to meet Lily's.

"What's his name? You mean Bug," she guessed, her eyebrows raising slightly.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"There's no 'deal' with Bug. Kind of like there's no 'deal' with you and me," she told him.

"Oh, really?"

"Exactly what are you implying?"

"Nothing," Seely said with a quick jerk of his head. "Just you know. You and I have had some…moments."

"Moments?" Lily repeated, her mouth hanging open in temporary disbelief after she spoke.

"You're telling me that not once have you thought about us, a vat of whipped cream and—"

"Please, whatever you do, do not finish that sentence," she ordered him.

"Alright," he shrugged.

"Here kitty," Lily called, resuming the search for the missing cat. "It might help if we knew the poor thing's name."

"Because that would make a difference," Seely agreed, a sarcastic edge to his voice.

"You really don't have any sort of feelings do you?" she queried.

"What's that have to do with the name of some dumb cat?"

"Never mind," Lily heaved a frustrated sigh.

"Okay," he answered. "Maybe it says somewhere in her file or something," he suggested after a beat. "Yeah, actually I think I remember a mention of her taking it to the vet yesterday before she died. The thing was infected or had I don't know, it was sick."

"So, we're looking for a sick cat whose owner just passed away and we don't even know what to call it. At four in the morning…" Lily moaned and her fingers reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Pretty much sums it up, yeah," Seely nodded.

"Well, where's the file?" she asked.

"I left it at the front desk. Or maybe in the autopsy room," he forehead crinkled as he thought.

"I guess it doesn't matter," Lily decided. "Cat's not here anyway."

The pair wordlessly got into the elevator, Lily making sure to distance herself from Seely. He could be a nice enough guy, but spend more than a few minutes with him and he could become downright nauseating.

"Hey, lick my hand," Seely instructed.

"Excuse me?" Lily asked with an incredulous look. "Could you be more repulsive?"

"Yes," he answered. "Lick my hand." Seely placed his hand, palm down, in front of her face.

"Detective, I'm sure you've attended more than your fair share of sexual harassment seminars, but did you ever actually retain anything?" she inquired. "Or have you ever heard of tact?"

"Fine," he clasped his hands behind his back and rocked lightly on his heels.

"God," Lily breathed, shaking her head.

The elevator doors opened and they both walked out, much as they had walked in. Silent. It was Lily who broke it.

"Okay, I'm developing a problem with curiousity," she said. "Probably because I've been spending too much time with Jordan, but what was all that back there?"

"Jessica Simpson's Body Desserts," Seely replied with a grin.

"What? I mean…what?"

"My hand," he further explained. "According to Ms. Simpson, it should taste 'dreamy'."

"Was licking it yourself out of the realm of possibilities?"

"Hey, I was just inviting you to partake," Seely shrugged and grabbed the file off the front desk, where he had indeed left it. "Cat's name is Whiskers, how imaginative."

Lily gave him a disapproving look.

"So, I think I can find the cat by myself," he said with a nod at the scowl that was beginning to grow on her face. "But thanks for all your help."

"See you around Detective," Lily shook her head and walked back towards her office.

"Right, you too," he called after her. "Here Whiskers, here kitty. Whiskers…"

Boston City Morgue, Autopsy One.

4:13 am.

"Hey Jordan," Bug nodded in her direction, holding up Aaron Reilly's hand. "What does this look like to you?"

Jordan stepped closer to Bug and the victim, leaning in to see what Bug was asking her to examine. Aaron Reilly's fingertips were slightly bruised, and there was dried blood around his nails.

"Looks like he was clawing at something," she guessed.

Bug removed a fiber caught beneath the nail on Reilly's index finger and placed it under the microscope.

"My bet is that this matches the rope that killed him," he stated. "Maybe he was grabbing at it, trying to free himself?"

"And go plummeting to a watery grave instead?" Jordan's eyebrow quirked as she asked the question.

"He could have panicked," Bug reasoned. "If it was suicide or if it was murder."

"Yeah, but his fingers would be more raw, not bruised," she told him. "It's almost as if he was grabbing something."

"The bridge?" Bug said. "Trying to climb back up?"

"Maybe," Jordan answered slowly. "But why?"

"Well, if it was suicide, he could have had second thoughts. Tried to make his way over the railing and back up," he suggested.

"And homicide, well I think that's pretty self explanatory," Jordan smiled. "Ah, but which of the two?"

"I think that's what we're supposed to figure out," Bug nodded.

"Hey, what's this?" Jordan asked him, and ran a gloved hand over Aaron Reilly's left wrist.

"Residue from some sort of glue," he told her. "Tape?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "Same with the right. Nothing on the insides of his wrists though."

"They were taped together."

Bug lifted Reilly's arms and held the two hands together, the palms facing in. The tape residue only visible on the outer side of his wrists. He put Reilly's arms back down and frowned.

"So why would his wrists be taped together?" Jordan questioned. "Unless, of course it was to restrain him."

"Could be," he answered with a frown. "When he was pulled onto the bridge, were his wrists taped?"

"No, I don't think so." Jordan walked over to the computer where the crime scene photos had been digitally uploaded to confirm. She pointed to the screen. "Clean as a whistle."

"What about his ankles?" Bug moved towards Reilly's lower body. His ankles seemed to be free of the tacky film that was on his arms. "He's kind of a big guy. How would somebody throw him off a bridge with a rope around his neck if he was mobile?"

"Maybe he wasn't mobile," Jordan supplied. "Did you run tox yet?"

"Yeah, right here," Bug handed her the printout.

"Acetaminophen, Pseudoephedrine Hydrochloride," she read from the sheet. "High levels of Dextromethorphan."

"Cold medicine," he informed her. "I've been downing the stuff like water."

"He also had Diphenhydramine in his system."

"Isn't that commonly found in sleeping pills?" Bug asked.

"Yeah. Think we just confirmed if he could hold his own or not. Enough of this stuff in his system and he'd be more than a little tipsy."

"So he was drugged and hung from a bridge?" Bug concluded with a shrug.

"Hell of a way to go, huh?"