Standing Accused (Part Two)
A Crossing Jordan/House Crossover Fanfic
Chapter Two: Who Wants to See the Dead Guy?
Rating: PG-13 (I think)
Word Count: 1,865
Disclaimer: I own House. Um, right. That was a lie. I don't own anything. Except seasons 1 & 2 on DVD and my own insanity. I can't even claim to own DVDs for Crossing Jordan.
Summary: When the man who shot House turns up dead in his Boston hotel room, House turns to old friends to prove his innocence.
Author's Note: Okay, I can't really hide behind the "this is my first fanfic" to excuse any mistakes and OOC anymore. That's scary. Still, the characters may be very, very OOC. It is possible. I have no medical or forensic experience, therefore anything I write is probably very wrong. This is set somewhere after season 2 of House and season 5 of Crossing Jordan, and after my other fic "Sickness and Health," though I'm not sure you'd have to read that one to get this one. This is an AU fic, diverging from canon after season 5 and season 2, but also assume that in between "Sickness and Health" and this story, House has recovered/reverted to his cane like he did in the first episodes of season 3. However, I am not necessarily going to use anything canon from either season 6 or season 3.

This has also not been beta'd...if it's not perfect, that's 100 percent my fault.

So...I'm not happy with this chapter... I feel like the House characters are out of character, and I don't really like the ending... Maybe I'm just being overly critical again. Or maybe it does suck. I don't know.

Chapter Two

Who Wants to See the Dead Guy?

"Cameron," she said angrily, putting the phone to her ear. It had to be House. Only House would call her at this time of night. She'd tried to ignore the phone, but it had been over half an hour and the ringing just wouldn't stop.

"Oh, good," Jordan's voice came over the phone. "I was starting to think I had the wrong number. Cameron, it's Jordan. Listen, I just thought you should know. House found a dead man in his hotel room. Woody really didn't want to have to arrest him, but—"

Cameron sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Wait. House was arrested?"

"Not officially, not yet. But he might end up being arrested…Tell me, were you there when House was shot?"

Cameron found herself nodding. But then she remembered that Jordan was in Boston. She couldn't see it. "Yes, I was there. We were all there. We were in the middle of a diagnosis when it happened."

"And you saw the shooter?"

"Yes, I did, but he disappeared afterwards. They never found him. We don't even know who he was."

"Actually," Jordan cleared her throat. "We think we did find him. Boston P.D. does, anyway. They think the man in House's room was his shooter. Except Woody. He's in denial. But that's why I called, Cameron. I think you and the rest of the team should come to Boston."

House was in trouble. Cameron knew that she had to go. She nodded absently. "I'm coming. Where should I meet you?"

"Go to the Medical Examiner's office. If I'm not there, talk to Bug or Nigel. They'll know where to find me," Jordan told her. "Oh, and, um, don't say anything to my boss. He doesn't know about this."

"Jordan," Cameron began, but the other woman had already hung up. Cameron set down the phone and turned on the light. She rose, walking to the closet. She took out a suitcase and began to pack. She had no way of knowing how long she would be gone, but she packed for a week, just in case.

After she closed the lid on the suitcase, she realized that she had better call someone to cover for her. She picked up the phone and dialed Chase's number.

"House, go away."

"It's not House," she told him. "House is in Boston, remember?"

"Cameron? What the hell?"

"They think they found the man who shot House."

"That's bloody great, Cameron. Why did you call me? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"He's dead. They found him in House's hotel room."

It took Chase a minute to process that, and then he demanded, "What?"

"I just got off the phone with Jordan. House is a suspect."

"Are they daft?" Chase asked, fatigue and frustration in his voice, "House didn't care. He wouldn't kill anyone. Maybe a patient with one of his insane theories, but not like that. He wouldn't even tell the police who the guy might have been, and we all know he had to be a former patient or something."

"Jordan and Woody are willing to prove that House didn't do it, but she wanted someone to identify the shooter," Cameron explained.

"Cameron, you're not—"

"I'm going to Boston," she interrupted. "I need someone to cover for me."

"Cameron, House isn't going to appreciate this. He won't help you. He won't help them. And he won't want your help."

"Jordan did say that you and Foreman should come, too, but I should have told her that you wouldn't come."

"Damn it, Cameron. I'm coming. I'm just tired. Have you talked to Foreman?"

"No. I didn't think either of you would come. I just called to cover—"

"You weren't going to tell us, were you? That House was in trouble in Boston? You were just going to go without telling anyone," Chase accused softly.

"You said House wouldn't care, right?" Cameron countered defensively. "If he did, he would have summoned us already. So he doesn't want me. But even if he doesn't want me there, I still want to go. If I told you, you'd try to talk me out of it. Because you think I'm doing this for House, because you think I have feelings for him—"

"It's too bloody early to argue about this right now. We can argue about it in Boston. I'll call Foreman."

"I am going to kill myself," Woody moaned, coming into Jordan's office. "Walcott wants to push House, to get him to talk. He denies knowing the man he found, but you say he matches the description of the man who shot him. I tried to get off the case, but House and my captain won't let me."

Jordan looked up at Woody. He was tired and worn, his chin dotted with stubble, his shirt rumpled. His tie was undone, and his eyes were heavy. "Poor baby. Did you bring breakfast?"

He set a bag on her desk. "I thought you only wanted this in bed."

"Yeah, well, neither of us is going to see a bed anytime soon," Jordan said, digging into the bag. She pulled out the doughnut he'd brought her and smiled. "My favorite. Thanks, Woody."

He shrugged. "You mind if I hang out here, pretend you're chasing down a possible lead for me?"

"That bad, huh?"

"House and Walcott in the same room, Jordan. Think about it."

She grimaced. "Sure. In fact, I do have something for you."

He looked at her dubiously. "You do?"

She smiled widely, nodding. "Nigel's still working on trace, but I have for you three witnesses to House's shooting. I figured if our dead guy was really the one who shot House, they could tell us."

"Jordan, you didn't. How am I supposed to explain this to Walcott?" Woody asked, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. Jordan rolled her eyes. He was acting like she'd ruined everything with one phone call.

Hurrying through the rest of her doughnut, she followed him out to greet Chase, Cameron, and Foreman. She hugged Cameron, who had just finished being hugged by Lily. Woody exchanged nods with Chase and Foreman. Foreman looked around the morgue with his hands in his pockets.

"So, Woody can take you to see House later," Jordan began.

"Jordan, I am not talking anyone to the precinct," Woody said firmly. She smiled at him. "Oh, no, Jordan. Don't look at me like that. I am not—"

She looked at House's team and smiled, letting them know that Woody only thought he was saying no. His phone rang. "Hoyt."

Jordan put her hands together as Woody walked away to take his call. "So, who wants to see the dead guy first?"

Cameron, Chase, and Foreman looked at each other. Jordan watched them carefully. Okay. This was her decision. "Foreman, why don't you come with me? Chase, Cameron, you two can hang out in my office until Foreman's done. Since this is semi-official, I have to ask you not to talk about the man you see or the case. If you do, I have to separate you."

"Jordan," Garret Macy's voice boomed over the entire morgue. "You want to tell me what's going on here?"

Jordan smiled. "Uh, not really."

Cameron looked around Jordan's office. It was rather like Jordan herself, disorganized to the casual observer, but with a focus and dedication that would surprise people. It was what Cameron admired most about the woman she'd come to call a friend. She paced the small room. She'd told Chase she was doing it because the couch was covered with Jordan's papers, but she really just wanted to pace.

Chase looked up from the magazine he'd taken from the pile next to him. "House will be fine."

"I know. Jordan and Woody will prove he didn't do it," Cameron agreed. "It's just… We're about to see the man who shot House."

"Maybe," Chase said. "But we don't know that it's House's shooter. We're here on a wild goose chase. And when House finds out about this, he'll send us all home. And if Cuddy finds out about this, we just might be out of a job."

"Would you really go back if House did send us?" Cameron asked, stopping to look at him. "We told Cuddy we were here to assist on a case."

"And so we are," Chase agreed. "But there's not a whole bloody lot we can do until after all of us have seen the body. So you might as well sit down."

"Chase—"

"My dear Dr. Cameron," Nigel began, coming into the room. "That naughty Jordan failed to inform me that you were here. But I must say, I've missed you."

"Nigel," Cameron smiled at him, glad to see him and grateful for the interruption. She crossed the room to him and accepted his embrace. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm great, love. I've got my teeth into a program now that—"

"Nigel, Dr. M wants you to run trace on our Jane Doe," Bug interrupted from the doorway. He looked at Chase and Cameron. "Hey. Nice to see you."

Chase nodded. Cameron smiled. Bug didn't really sound happy to see them, but Cameron hoped he was. Nigel kissed Cameron's hand. "Duty calls, love."

She watched him go and turned to the entomologist. "Bug. Do you have any new butterflies?"

"I've got quite a collection if you'd like to see them," Bug offered.

"Any purple copper butterflies in your collection?" Chase asked, setting aside his magazine and getting to his feet. Cameron looked at him. Chase was one of the last people she'd expect to ask about butterflies.

"Ah, the paralucia spinifera, also known as the Bathurst copper butterfly, native of New South Wales," Bug said, nodding in agreement. "They're quite rare. Are you interested in butterflies, Dr. Chase?"

"My mother liked them," Chase answered, surprising Cameron. She hadn't heard much about Chase's mother. She knew that Mrs. Chase had died of liver failure due to her alcoholism, but this was a chance to hear about the woman that Mrs. Chase had been. Cameron's curiosity got the better of her as she followed Chase and Bug to where he housed his collection.

Chase pointed to one of the butterflies on the top row. It was beautiful, at first green but also bronze, iridescent in the right light. No wonder Chase's mother had liked them. "My mum used to look for them in September. She would take me. It was before my dad left."

Cameron opened her mouth to ask more, but then Jordan came around the corner. "Ah, I found you. Who wants to be next?"

Cameron looked at Chase. He was studying the display. "I'll go."

"Great," Jordan said with more enthusiasm than the statement deserved. "So, let's get this taken care of, shall we?"

"Jordan, what are you doing?" another man demanded. Cameron had to assume this was Jordan's boss. He was the same one that had yelled at her earlier.

"Me? I was just talking to Bug here," Jordan said innocently. She looked up at the collection she probably passed daily. "Wow, nice…um…butterflies."