Standing Accused (Part Two)
A Crossing Jordan/House Crossover Fanfic
Chapter Five: Forwards, Backwards...Next Time Try Sideways
Rating: PG-13 (I think)
Word Count: 1,894
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: Most of what I know about medicine and forensics I learned from tv. 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, still 100 percent my fault.

I can't think of anything to say about this chapter...Don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing...

Chapter Five

Forwards, Backwards...Next Time Try Sideways

"…So, question is, who hated House enough to frame him? Was Moriarty just a convenient corpse, or did our killer want to kill Moriarty and chose House as a scapegoat as an afterthought? Or was it premeditated on both sides?" Jordan asked, thinking out loud.

"If you're asking if someone hated House, that's a rhetorical question," Chase said as he opened the door to the lab.

"Just think of how many people he pisses off on a daily basis," Foreman added as he came in. Both he and Chase were carrying cardboard trays loaded with hot, brimming cups with a very recognizable logo.

Jordan smiled at them. "Morning, guys. I see you brought coffee. Thanks. You're real life savers."

Cameron distributed the coffee to Bug, Nigel, and Lily. Jordan had already swiped one from Chase's tray. She took a deep breath, inhaling the sultry aroma. She looked at the final cup that Cameron left in the tray and set on the counter. "Garret might like that. I think he got about the same amount of sleep as the rest of us. Speaking of which it wasn't the accommodations that brought you here so early, was it?"

"Oh, no, they were fine," Cameron assured her. "After all the hotels were booked… I didn't know what we were going to do, but—"

"Don't thank me, really," Jordan said waving away the gratitude. She looked at Nigel's computer screen again.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure we should thank Detective Hoyt," Chase said, rubbing his neck. Guiltily, Jordan recognized the kink from Woody's couch. "That is his collection of robots, right? His apartment."

"You gave House's team your key to Woody's apartment?" Lily asked, causing the others to choke on their coffee. Bug and Nigel hadn't even known that Jordan had that key.

She shrugged. "What? It's not a crime."

"It is if you didn't tell Woody you did it," Bug muttered.

"They needed a place to stay. Woody wasn't using his apartment. I don't see a problem," Jordan protested. "Let's get back to who killed Mr. Moriarty, shall we?"

"Wait. Woody didn't know we were at his apartment last night?" Cameron asked, shocked.

"And that's how it's going to stay," Jordan said loudly, ignoring the objections. "Back to our dead guy. The man tried to kill House. He was found dead in House's hotel room. We all know House didn't do it. We know someone must have framed House. The suspect list on who would want to hurt House is too long. We need to narrow it down."

"If we found someone who had a reason to want revenge against both House and Moriarty, we'd have our killer," Foreman put in, and Jordan silently thanked him for ignoring the whole thing with Woody's apartment. It was no big deal. They needed a place to stay, and she'd known Woody's apartment was free. Woody probably would have offered it himself. It was not the crisis everyone seemed to think it was.

"The connection is Moriarty's wife," Chase said. "She's the reason Moriarty shot House."

"But Moriarty's wife is already dead," Bug objected.

"But her family…" Nigel began, turning back to his computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "Bingo. Emma Moriarty's parents are dead, but she has a brother who's alive and kicking."

"And her brother has a reason to hate both House and Moriarty," Jordan concluded, nodding with a grim smile. "Where is he?"

"That's the part where it gets tricky," Nigel said, shrugging apologetically. "Bruce Miles, Emma's brother, is doing time in upstate New York."

"I think I'm beginning to agree with you," Walcott said as Woody joined her in the observation room.

"About House's innocence?" he asked, frowning. His conversation with House hadn't been very productive. House had sat, twirling his cane, and refused to answer any questions, even for a vicodin. And Woody never wanted to hear his own name again.

"For that man to have killed someone, he'd have to care," Walcott remarked dryly. She turned from the window and looked at Woody. "Cut him loose. And remember to be at the courthouse at eleven."

Woody nodded absently, turning to leave. Then he stopped, looking back at her. She smiled grimly. "You forgot, didn't you?"

He had, actually. He'd closed the Killian case eight months ago, long before Jordan became a fugitive, before the Williams case, before he met House. He knew the trial was coming up, but he'd forgotten the exact date. "I'll be there."

Walcott didn't say anything as he left. He walked out, straight into House's cane. He caught the doorframe and managed to stay upright. House moved the cane. Woody caught his breath and looked at him. "I should arrest you for assaulting an officer."

"If you give me back my vicodin, I'll share," House offered.

Woody shook his head. "I don't do drugs, House."

"Oh, right. Your brother, the addict," House nodded. Woody had forgotten that House knew. The medical histories they had taken at Princeton Plainsboro had the information about Cal's drug use. Cal wouldn't understand why Woody enabled House's addiction after being so hard on Cal, but then again neither did Woody.

He ignored House and dug his car keys out of his pocket. House limped after him. "What, I get a ride down here and no ride back?"

"I'm not a chauffeur, House. Call a cab."

"This is the thanks I get for saving your life?" House demanded.

Woody turned around angrily. "The thanks you get for saving my life is me not arresting you for Moriarty's murder. It's me spending twenty-four hours trying to prove you didn't do it. I spent all day tracking down a name you could have given Princeton P.D. months ago. And I just spent the last two hours listening to you make fun of my name. My gratitude is a little strained at the moment. You want a ride? I'm going to morgue. Otherwise, call a cab. 'Cause I'm done here."

"Hmm. I wonder if this was how you reacted when Dr. Cavanaugh was a suspect."

Woody shook his head and stalked off to his car. House limped after him.

"What are you morons doing here?" House demanded.

Chase looked up from Moriarty's autopsy file. Cameron had jumped in surprise. Foreman rolled his eyes. They'd all known that House wouldn't want them there, know this was coming—all except for Cameron, who had probably fooled herself into thinking that House would be glad to see them. Chase had always known that House would be pissed, that coming her was daft as hell, but he had actually enjoyed discovering who Moriarty was and working with Jordan and her friends again.

"Someone had to save your ass," Bug muttered as he walked out of the room.

"Then why haven't you done it?" House asked in the same demanding tone.

"It took us thirty chocolate shops to find out who this guy was," Foreman explained. "You want to tell us how you could do better?"

"You could have tried asking," House suggested. He started wandering around the lab, poking into the specimen containers.

"Yeah, like that worked," Chase muttered. "You didn't tell Hoyt or the DA."

"You didn't send someone pretty enough."

"The pretty ones round here are taken, mate," Nigel said. "Lily's with Bug and Jordan's with Woody."

"Cameron's free," House observed smugly, watching her blush. "Unless Chase has something to say about that?"

"God, House, let it go," Chase moaned, cursing under his breath.

"Why? It's so much fun beating a dead horse."

Nigel moved to intercept House before he destroyed an expensive piece of machinery. "Let's take this discussion to the conference room, shall we?"

House shrugged and followed Nigel out of the room. Foreman went with them. Cameron started for the door and then stopped, holding it open. "Aren't you coming?"

"For what? To have House yell at me again? No thanks." Chase closed the autopsy file and grabbed his coffee, going over to Nigel's computer. Cameron let the door close and came over to him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking over his shoulder.

"I read Jordan's autopsy report. The marks don't add up," Chase explained. "And I thought maybe it was a symbol or something."

"A signature?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "Maybe nothing."

"No," Cameron shook her head, admiration in her voice. "It's brilliant."

"Jordan."

She grimaced. "Garret. Listen, I—"

"I think it's way past time you told me who these people are and what they're doing in my morgue," he said, folding his arms over his chest.

"An internship?" she suggested. When Garret continued to stare stonily at her, she shrugged. "They're helping with my case. Woody's case. The case."

"So you're telling me these people are certified medical examiners?" Garret asked sarcastically.

"No, but they are doctors," she said with a smile. "Look, Garret, I know it's a little unorthodox, but I owe House. Woody owes House. And if his team wants to help us prove he's innocent, who am I to refuse?"

"Jordan—"

"You have no idea how helpful they've been. If any of them ever decides to stop working for House, you should hire them, really. Just give me a week, Garret. Please. I promise, even if we don't know who killed Moriarty, I'll send them home."

Garret looked at her. He started to protest, but Emmy interrupted him. "Dr. Macy? Renée Walcott's on the phone. She says it's urgent."

"I'll be right there," he told Emmy. Then he pointed at Jordan. "This conversation isn't finished."

"I love you, too," Jordan called after his disappearing back. She closed her eyes, leaning against the wall. They had to find a way to exonerate House. Fast. It was times like this that made her really miss her father, the Pogue, and the way things used to be.

"Jordan?" Woody asked, touching her shoulder gently.

She opened her eyes with a smile. "Hey. How are you, Farm Boy?"

"You know, you've been calling me that a lot lately," he remarked. He touched her cheek lightly. "I'm not saying I mind—House has ruined my name for me—but I'm curious. Why?"

"Because I can," she smiled again, stifling a yawn. "So we thought we had a possible suspect for you, but he's supposed to be in prison in New York. We could take a trip…"

"Not today," Woody said. "I have to testify in the Killian case."

"Already?"

"Eight months." He saw her look of disbelief and shook his head. "I suppose that mean you also forgot about our plans?"

She winced. "Plans? What plans?"

"We made them two weeks ago, before this case. I know things are crazy right now, but this is important. It's a big day for us," he told her. He was giving her that look that was half puppy dog eyes, half pure lust, and her stomach did a flip-flop. "It's our anniversary, Jordan."

Trust a guy like Woody to keep track of that. "You are so sentimental. It's only four months."

He shook his head. "Six years."

She started to laugh, but he covered her mouth with his. She forgot her objections, that they weren't alone, where she was, and was close to forgetting her own name by the time he let her go. "Eight thirty. You'll be there, right?"

She nodded, still incapable of coherent speech.