Jordan- though she would never admit it- was afraid of death. How ironic was this that she had been married to a doctor- someone who stood before Death and laughed- or even more ironic, clung to that doctor even after divorce.

That's why she would cry a little before every surgery; pray to the God she didn't really believe existed. Why, she inwardly cringed every time Perry sloshed down another Whiskey. Bourbon. Merlot. A brown-bagged Colt 45.

Jordan very rarely commented about his drinking. She was aloof as a cat; someone who tried hard to seem- even though the word made her shiver- dead to the world. But still, there were moments when the humanity inside her slipped out.

"We all die Jordan, why not from liver disease?" he would grin crookedly after she told Perry enough was enough. But still, there was always a flask in his hands.

We all die; Perry didn't understand the look on Jordan's face after he had said this. He was confused as she crumpled like a coat onto the loveseat. Perry stared with eyes like a mirror as she wept into the sleeve of her blouse.

He had dropped his glass onto the floor- those floors he had paid thousands and thousands for- and curled up next to her.

"Jordan," he said in a husky whisper, "What's the matter with you?"

She understood what he meant, not, "What's the matter with you?" but, "What's wrong?"

"We all die," she repeated, taking in the fermented smell of him, "We will die."

Again, one of them said what they did not mean. "We will die," was really, "You will die."

And she cried again with new tears.

-x-

Dr. Cox was not a sap. Let me repeat, Dr. Cox was not a sap. He had always been a stone; chilly and unfeeling. This was no different.

But as something wriggly and alive was handed back to Jordan, Dr. Cox felt his eyes sting with sentimentality. His breath hitched. He- just this once- had trouble stringing the right words together.

Perry cut the cord, and held the squirmy bundle like a good father. Seamlessly, he memorized the way her button nose wrinkled, and the way her hands felt so small. He secretly vowed to himself something: I will be the best father that this child could ever have.

And then frowned at the memory of his own father. Not me, I'll never be him. I will never put a goddamn hand on her.

And while still holding his crying daughter, he bent down and kissed Jordan flush on the mouth. "Thank you," he said grinning like the Cheshire cat, and then smoothly coached himself into his emotion boundaries.

Dr. Cox was not a sap. Dr. Cox, isn't, wasn't, and never will be a sap.

No, he's just a good father.

-x-

Somehow, protégés always seemed to cause friction in their marriage. Hell, one dissolved it completely.

And yet, this time, a protégé came through, and saved the relationship instead. By… sleeping with Jordan.

Yeah, JD over the years has saved Dr. Cox and Jordan's relationship. Well, only after screwing it all up first.

-x-

"I can't do this Perry," Jordan sighed into her coffee, "I can't live with you anymore. This thing…"

"It's not a thing, Jordan, it's a relationship," Perry slammed his fists down onto the table; the morning paper cast to the tiled floor, "It's a fucking marriage!"

"Well, Per, this relationship- or whatever- isn't working," she gathered up the contents of her purse, "I'm sorry."

Though, Perry noticed, she hardly acted that way. The way there was no inflection in her voice. The way she rolled her eyes as he begged her to stay. His insides- though Perry knew it was medically impossible- seemed scarce, like he was hollow; a cannonball straight through his middle.

At his breaking point, he managed in a tinny voice, "You're right, Jordan. We should take some time apart."

Jordan sighed again, a little sympathy peeking out, "Perry, I don't think you understand."

"What's not to understand? You need some time away; you'll move into your mother's house for a week, and then call me up…"

"You don't understand, Perry. Really," Jordan said, "I don't want 'some time apart.'"

It all happened so suddenly then, the emptiness was replaced by a crushing weight.

"I want a divorce."

Perry didn't reply, just sat there like a scarecrow. Without feelings. Without a brain.

He was so much in shock, he didn't see Jordan crying as she pulled out of the driveway.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. That's all that was left.

-x-

Jennifer, Jack, Jordan. Perry didn't know if Jordan had purposely done that; left him out of the tradition, or if it had been fate.

Of course, there wasn't much to do with a name like Percival.

-x-

Perry's father had died from a massive heart attack. One that Perry felt a little guilty for. He had wished this- on stars, birthday candles, anything- upon his father at every chance.

But despite the years of thinking about the death of his father, he had been unimaginative. He had never- or even could have- thought of the way his father bit the dust.

Right there, on a ten-step ladder, and his heart had just given out; fell right on his skull. A jagged cranial fracture, in the shape of a frown. Just what he had deserved.

Since Perry had his own cranial fracture; from when his father had tossed him onto concrete, snockered beyond reason.