Disclaimer: I don't own Scrubs.
Crap. Newbie was coming. Uh…Sorry your Dad's dead, kid? No, no. Let's see. Welcome to the club? Okay, that was a little too insensitive…Aw, screw it, I was better off booking the hell out of the ICU and avoiding him all together. Turned out I didn't need to—Barbie spotted him first.
"Hey," she greeted him with a sympathetic look on her face.
"Hey." Newbie didn't look too upset, but I knew by now Newbie wasn't the type to go sobbing about his troubles. Eerily enough, we're similar in that respect. Oh, gross. Did I really just compare myself to Newbie?
The blonde looked like she was having some serious trouble forming words. Great, that's Newbie's support system, I thought. "I just wanted to…" she trails off.
"Yeah," Newbie finished for her, sparing her the trouble.
"Look…" she started again, obviously feeling that her obligation to his loss had not yet been fulfilled.
"Thanks."
She sighed, smiling sadly. "Kay," she said, cocking her head at him.
"Kay." Newbie walked right past me. Like I said, not one for sympathy. I let him go. After all, what was I going to say? Besides, it was time to heckle blondie over there.
"Say, Barbie," I said callously, "for a second there, I thought you were being a bit cold, but then you save it with the—" I sighed girlishly and mocked her by saying, "Kay."
She scowled at the sight of me. "What are you going to do, hide from him all day and call him Ginger?" she challenged cockily.
I hated it when past interns lost the fear. I looked straight into her eyes for a moment; they really had grown up, these newbies of mine. It almost made me sick. They'd never care about anyone in this hospital in a few years, when they decided to go off into another hospital and leave the rest of us in this dump.
I guess Newbie needed me now, though, even if he would never need me again afterward. Funny, though; it was the one thing I couldn't seem to do, was confront him about it.
So I rolled my eyes at her. "No, it's Monday, which of course means it's Ethnic Day, so I'll be going with Rosalita," I corrected with indignation. "And besides, I have a plan," I lied.
"Which is?" she prompted.
"Yeah, unfortunately, the first part of the plan is not to share it with people who annoy me," I stalled, trying to think of "The Plan." How could I be there for Newbie without actually…well…being there for him? "Want to hear the second part?"
Barbie threw her hands up impatiently. "Sure."
I sucked in a mock-sorrowful breath. "I can't," I admitted. "My hands are tied by the first part."
Then I saw it in her face. Disappointment. Normally it wouldn't matter to me what other people thought, but I had to admit that she was right. I wasn't being fair to Newbie. Something…oh, God, was it my conscience…? Something was gnawing at me. I had to do something.
I knew exactly what, too. I could take all of his patients. "Yo, Carla," I said, whistling to get her attention. I really did have a plan.
When the day is long and the night
The night is yours alone
When you're sure you've had enough of this life
Well, hang on
I walked into the hospital, feeling sort of numb. I'd had two days off by some freak chance, and I was so desperate for any human contact beyond Dan's drunken singing that I'd actually gone into work. It was really starting to hit now that everything was slowing down—my dad was dead. He wasn't going to come back. I'd always assumed that I could just call him up whenever I needed him, but now he was gone.
I found Dr. Cox first. Maybe he'd suck it up and actually talk to me for once.
"Hey, Dr. Cox, can I talk to you for a second?"
He was on the phone, rolling his eyes slightly at the sight of me. "Uh, no."
I bit my lip. Nobody else would talk to me. It was too awkward with Elliot, and Turk was preoccupied with the whole pee-fest Devil Woman thing. Dan was…Dan, drunk and mindless. I couldn't find Carla.
"Really?" I asked, feeling a bit dejected. "Not even just like two seconds to talk to me."
"Look, Newbie," Dr. Cox said distractedly. His pager beeped and he scowled. "Oh, for God's sake," he muttered. Then, without making eye contact, he said hurriedly, "I'm a little swamped here." A nurse handed him a case report and he glanced at it for a moment before setting it down. "Thank you," he said as she left, hanging the phone up.
It was hopeless. Nobody wanted to talk to me. And here I was thinking I had friends.
"You know what sucks? I thought you were actually going to come through for me this time," I said bitterly, before I could stop myself.
"In a minute!" Dr. Cox yelled at his pager. Then he turned to me furiously. "Hey, Newbie? Just in case you didn't actually notice, I have been covering all your patients, answering all your pages and pretty much everything shy of picking up your sundress from the drycleaner's," he fumed, glaring even harder.
I recoiled defensively. "Well, I didn't ask you to do any of that, did I?" I retorted. So he had been the reason why my shift had kept changing. He was the one who'd stuck me with Dan, made me slow down and…
My eyes were watering. Hell, no. Not in front of Dr. Cox. Never in front of Dr. Cox.
I stormed off before I could embarrass myself anymore than I already had.
"Outstanding! You're walking away like pissy little ingrate. I mean, bravo!" I hear Dr. Cox start clapping, but as the doors shut behind me, his voice fades out. I didn't know where I was going to go. Not the apartment. Not the bar.
Who the hell cared? I just wanted out of here.
Don't let yourself go
Everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes
"What are we clapping for?" asked Ted, slapping his hands together like the true bimbo he is.
The sarcastic smile was nearly wiped off my face. "His dad just died," I said, and I immediately felt guilty. How is it that Newbie managed to do that? Make me feel bad? He needed to be terminated.
Ted's eyes widened, his hands falling to his sides.
"Dammit," I muttered. Newbie was right. I hadn't been there for him—in fact, I'd been avoiding it by all costs, especially because Barbie wouldn't lay off about it and she bugged the hell out of me. Hypocrite. Little miss "'kay" with the cutesy smile, getting away with whatever the hell she wanted. But no, I had to actually talk to the kid, because I was the "responsible adult." What was I, his father?
I did owe it to him, though. He followed me around like a puppy all the time and though he annoyed the hell out of me, at least his heart was in the right place. He was a good kid. I hated him for it, sure, but he was a good kid.
So when I saw Newbie entering the doctor's lounge a couple of hours later, I decided to follow him in. He sat down in a chair exhaustedly; I could tell he hadn't been sleeping. He looked like a wreck, now that I was actually seeing his face.
"Hey, Wonder Bra? Do you, uh—do you have a second?" I managed to say. God, this was going to be as awful and awkward as that time at summer camp one of the counselors thought I was gay. Well, that wasn't the awkward part, really; the awkward part was explaining why I'd knocked the seventeen-year-old unconscious and left him on the trail and then getting shipped home a week early. Huh.
Newbie looked up, his eyelids dark and sleepless. "For what?" he asked.
"I'm giving you a hug," I said as bluntly as possible.
He frowned. We heard screaming. I looked out the window and saw Ted and that weird janitor swinging past on the crane, Ted shrieking for dear life. Okay, that was unusual.
"I was wondering what that crane was for," I said offhandedly, trying to skip the small talk and get right to the point so I could relieve my conscience. "So now, how would you like this whole 'hug' thing to go down? Do you wish to remain seated, would you like to stand? I, of course, don't care, as long as it's under three seconds and I don't feel your breath on my neck."
He looked as though he'd been stung. "So now you're making fun of me because I need a little help getting through this?" he said bitterly.
Whoa. I'd never heard Newbie bitter before. "No, I'm—I'm really trying," I said seriously.
The kid stood up, his posture furious and indignant. "You know what, I am sick of getting dumped on, and I am sick of you!" He shoved at my shoulder.
I didn't care if he was mad now. Newbie shoving me—now that just wasn't right. I laughed tensely, then said, "Newbie, don't shove me."
"Oh, really, why not?" he yelled, shoving me again.
I looked at him straight in the face. This wasn't a comforting session as it was supposed to be; I had managed, as I usually do, to turn this into a full scale battle. Except he was really angry. It almost freaked me out, but I supposed everyone had to get pissed off sometime.
"Because whenever someone shoves me more than twice, my mind goes blank and all I see is this white hot flash of fury," I explain through clenched teeth.
"When someone shoves you like this?" he mocked me, shoving at my shoulder a third time.
I was so going to hell for this, but at the present moment I didn't give a damn. Before I knew what I was doing, my fist was in the air and barreling into his head. The impact was more dramatic than I thought it would be; the instant I swung, I realized I'd miscalculated, but it was too late by then.
"Dammit…" I muttered for the second time that day. I'd knocked him onto the floor. For a terrifying few seconds I thought he might be unconscious; then he groaned and started to get up. I would have helped him. I should have apologized right there and helped him up after being such a bastard.
But I knew that I wouldn't be able to control myself—I'd punch him again after one smart alecky comment. So I left. Fast.
Sometimes everything is wrong
Now its time to sing along
When your day is night alone (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go (hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life
Well hang on
I blacked out for a couple of seconds—when I opened my eyes, I was on the floor on my head was pounding massively. I groaned. The room was swaying back and forth and I felt sick to my stomach at the sight of it.
What had happened? I couldn't even figure out where I was. My ears were ringing and I could hardly get myself up. I managed to back up against the wall and sit.
My eyes were stinging and I could feel myself crying. But why was I upset? What the hell was happening? Why did my head hurt so much? I winced, putting a hand to my head. It felt as though I'd run into a truck.
I looked out the window and saw the Janitor and Ted swing past, screaming. Oh, god, I was hallucinating, wasn't I? Something was wrong. Maybe I was dreaming. Yeah, that was it—a nightmare.
I grabbed at the wall, hoisting myself up and looking around the room. My eyes couldn't focus on anything. It was frightening. This nightmare was a little too real for comfort; the whole room was spinning and the pain wouldn't go away. And I was so tired. Why was I tired? Why hadn't I slept? Why was I in the lounge, anyway? How did I even get to work?
I attacked my brain with questions, but received no answers in return. I merely stood there with what must have been the dumbest expression ever on my face, more dumb looking than the time I let Dan borrow my pocket knife and he ended up carving "idiot's room" on my door.
"JD, are you alright?" Elliot said worriedly, rushing in urgently with a concerned expression.
"Yeah," I said dazedly. "I guess…I mean…"
"Geez, he really nailed you, didn't he?" she said sympathetically, putting a hand on my shoulder. I flinched away, unable to look at her. Her face was swarming in front of me.
"JD?" she asked softly.
"I'm sorry…" I muttered, backing up. God, my head hurt. I wished she'd just leave. I felt like I was going to collapse or something, I was so confused.
"I know it's hard. You're dad…I know he meant a lot to you."
"Is he here?" I asked bewilderedly. What made her think of my dad? "I thought he was in Oregon…"
Elliot frowned. "JD, what day is it?" she asked.
I shrugged. "I never know the date," I reminded her, swearing to god that I'd never steal another nickel from Turk's stash if she just left me alone.
"Look at me," she ordered suddenly.
I looked over in her…general direction. She was hazy, but she was blonde, so I knew it was her.
"At my eyes, JD," she said more forcedly, sounding worried.
I couldn't. I couldn't look her in the eye.
"What's happening?" I asked her desperately. "How did I get here?"
Everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts
Don't throw your hand
Oh, no
Don't throw your hand
If you feel like you're alone
No, no, no, you are not alone
I honestly was feeling guilty. Now, take this into account—it is me we're talking about, and I never, ever, ever, and I mean ever when I say it, feel guilty about anything. But I practically shoved Newbie right into the wall and smashed his head in. I felt compelled to do something.
So I invited myself into the kid's apartment and found the bartender in the tub.
"Hey! Where's your brother?" I ordered, wondering why I wasn't referring to Newbie with another demeaning name as usual. Eh, probably karma…if I torture him more today, I'll surely be dead within the hour.
Dan took a deep breath. "JD!!" he screamed. A few seconds passed. "He's not here," he reported.
"Look, Dan—" I started.
Dan cut me off, pointing the beard he'd crafted out of soap suds. "Captain Bubblebeard. Avast, matey! Shut yer scupper and bare yer steel, we should be seeing laAHHH—"
I shoved his head under the water. He came back up, spluttering, the beard gone.
"There. Now you're Dan again," I said to him resolutely.
He coughed in response. Mental note to self: killing the brother of the person you're trying to help out is not the world's best strategy.
"Let's break down the kid's support system, shall we?" I jumped right in, saying the words before I chickened out. "He has me, an emotionally-crippled narcissist; and, he's got you, an emotionally-crippled narcissist who's soaking in a tub which by now has to be mostly your own urine."
"I believe the ratio has shifted that way, yes," Dan admits without hesitation.
"And I have got to believe that the two of us, together—together, Dan—we can make it at least half-way to one legitimate adult," I prompted him, waiting for a reaction.
"You're right, Coxy!" he says in a sudden burst of inspiration, throwing down the can of beer in his hands and standing up. I looked away. "Dammit, Coxsmith—crybaby time is over! The kid needs us, and he needs us—"
My pager beeped. Barbie. Aw, crap. I really wasn't in the mood to deal with her right now.
What did u do 2 JD, u bastard? the page read. Get over here NOW.
Dan collapsed on the floor before I could even throw a towel at him. "I may have lost some muscle mass in my legs."
How hard did u hit him? came the next page.
I ran a hand through my hair, grimacing. "Fantastic."
If you're on your own in this life
The days and nights are long
When you think you've had too much of this life
To hang on
Elliot grabbed my arm, leading me into the handicap bathroom (it's unisex!) just in time for me to throw up in the toilet. I felt awful, like my insides were being ripped apart. The room started spinning again.
"Geezus, JD, what happened?" Elliot asked for the billionth time.
"I don't know," I said miserably. "I don't know…where is everyone?"
"JD, I think Dr. Cox punched you in the face," Elliot said somewhat guardedly. "I thought he was kidding…but…you're really sick. You can't remember, can you?"
"Remember what?" I asked, my mind fuzzing over. "What happened?"
"You're dad…?" she prompted me.
I frowned. "What?"
Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, god, JD. Oh, god…"
"What?" I asked again, my heartbeat louder in my head. I could feel my blood rushing. "What is it, Elliot? Tell me!"
"We need to get you admitted, you need a CT scan or…" Her hands started twitching in that way they do when she's really nervous about something. I grabbed her hands, trying to focus on her face so I could ask again.
"I'm fine. Tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing, now we've got to go," she said, pulling me away. I couldn't go with her. No, I mean I physically could not follow her. I couldn't quite figure out where the ground was.
"I'm tired," I complained. All I wanted to do was sleep…
"That's fine," she said, her voice tense. "You just have to come with me first, okay? Come on, we've got to…"
"Tell me what happened first," I demanded.
She took a deep breath, realizing that there was no way to get me out of the bathroom until she spilled her guts. "You're dad died last week, JD, and Dr. Cox punched you in the head so hard that you can't even remember."
I sat there for a moment, stunned. I closed my eyes. "What?" I managed to gasp out.
"I'm so sorry," she choked. "I'm so sorry."
Well, everybody hurts sometimes
Everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes so, hold on, hold on
When I got there, I saw Barbie trying to single-handedly pull a rather astonished looking Newbie away from the bathroom. There was a large bruise forming around his head where I'd hit him; I cringed at the sight of it. He didn't even see me coming until I walked right up to Barbie and started talking.
"Well?" I pressed her. "If there's something so te-herribly wrong with Cassidy here that you had to drag me away from pressing matters of my own, then tell me what it is before I'm forced to lock you in a looney bin for extreme hair dysfunction," I said snidely.
She self consciously touched her scarecrow hair and then glowered at me in fury. "You're asking what's wrong with him?" she hissed. "Look at him!"
"I'm fine," Newbie said, "now let go of me."
"He can't even remember you hitting him," Elliot stressed.
The kid couldn't seem to focus on anything in front of him, swaying slightly. He didn't say anything in response to Barbie's accusation. He looked like he was in pain.
"Newbie, do you remember me hitting you?" I asked, trying to make a point to the annoying blonde.
He stumbled slightly, Barbie still trying to support him. I grabbed one of his arms, jerking him up a little more violently than I meant to. Why did I keep torturing him?
"You…you didn't…" He flinched, reaching for his head and gasping slightly in surprise. "I can't…" He looked over at Barbie and his eyes filled with tears. "Why'd you say my dad was dead? Elliot, that's not…that's not funny…"
I felt my heart skip a beat. I'd never even seen Newbie cry before—as sissy as he was and as much as I patronized him with girl's name after girl's name, he had really never been the type to cry in front of anyone. Something was definitely wrong. Barbie and I exchanged glances of worry.
"See…" she said pathetically.
"Look at me," I said with my trademark get-the-hell-over-here whistle.
"Already tried it," Barbie interrupted. "He can't focus on anything."
"Would you leave me alone?" Newbie asked, sounding exhausted. "I'm just tired, okay? I just need to sleep. Let me go home…I'll remember when I wake up."
"JD!" Barbie squealed as he fell over, completely unconscious.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I could melt through the floor. You know what, I am sick of getting dumped on, and I am sick of you! His words rang through my mind. Now, as he was half-sprawled on the ground and completely knocked out from the punch I'd landed into his skull, I could see why he was so mad at me—I was never there for him. When he needed me most, I literally threw it right back in his face.
I felt like if there was a heaven, Mr. Dorian would be scowling from it at me right now.
Hold on, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on
When I woke up again, I was in a hospital room. Except I wasn't seeing it from the angle I usually see it at. Actually, I was lying down on the bed where the patient usually was, with eight interns and Dr. Kelso hovering over me.
"Concussion, sir," one of the interns reported.
God, my head hurt. And holy crap, were the lights in this place bright or what?
"Um, hi," I said awkwardly.
"Oh, good. You're awake. And when will you be getting back to work, sport? You only have five sick days," Dr. Kelso reminded me, a smile plastered to his face.
"What?" I asked, confused. "What the hell is going on?"
"And we're moving on…" Dr. Kelso said, dragging the interns behind him and ignoring my question. The crowd of nervous, jumpy interns cleared and I was alone again, trying to work out my thoughts. I was so desperate for answers that I reached for my pager, only to discover that I was in a patient gown now, not my scrubs.
"Confused, Skipper?" asked Dr. Cox, entering the room.
Finally, someone I knew! "Yeah. Like, who drugged me and how did I end up with a sticker that says…oh, Doug, I'm gonna kill you…" I muttered, grabbing the morgue identification tag off my toe. It had a smiley face on it. I couldn't tell if that was because Doug liked me as a person or if he was happy to see someone die.
I looked up at Dr. Cox and realized that he definitely wasn't himself. He looked almost deflated, and somewhat ashamed. I frowned.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
He shook his head. "You," he muttered.
My eyes widened. "What did I do?" I honest to god could not remember anything, like how I landed here or why my head hurt or…or…wow. This sucked. What if I'd done something really terrible?
"You mean what did I do," he said forcefully. "You came to me for help and I acted like a bastard."
I frowned. "You do that every day," I reminded him.
"No, this was different, otherwise I honestly don't give a crap."
"What, did a patient die?" I asked worriedly.
"No. No one's dead." He paused. "Well, your father is, but I'm guessing you don't remember that, seeing as I punched you in the head."
What did he just say? "My father's not dead," I told him. "And…and when did you punch me in the face?"
"Yesterday afternoon," he admitted. "You've been out since, and I know this is going to be hard, but you can't remember much of the last week. It will come back," he said, as if he were dreading it.
"What…?" And then it hit me. He'd told me my dad was dead. "When did my dad die?" I asked softly, realizing that even Dr. Cox wouldn't stoop so low as to joke about a thing like that.
"About a week ago…" Dr. Cox looked strained, like he couldn't think of what to say. "I'm sorry, kid. For what it's worth. This is my fault—that you got a concussion, I mean—because I was being a jerk. You didn't deserve it."
My eyes filled with tears, which I immediately choked down. No way in hell was I going to cry in front of Dr. Cox. He seemed to sense my need to be alone, because he made to leave the room.
"Wait…why did you hit me?" I asked.
He stopped. "Honestly?" he asked, without making eye contact. "I just don't know."
I nodded and he left me in the room, wondering if anything would ever be the same.
(everybody hurts
you are not alone)
Ta da...? Review and I might potentially find a way to continue this...I have torturous ideas...mwahah!