Title: Silent Symptoms
Author: mindreader208
Pairings: Some Turk/Carla and Dr. Cox/Jordan, but nothing really much.
Summary: One realization leads JD into the dark, as he faces confrontations about himself that he didn't want to know.
Feedback: Is loved! Remember, all flames will be printed out sent to my dad's paper shredder, but all constructive criticism will be loved and praised!
Timeline: JD and Elliot are single, but have already gone out with each other. Dr. Cox and Jordan are still divorced but are still seeing each other; and meanwhile Turk and Carla are dating. Also, JD, Elliot, and Turk are no longer interns.
Disclaim: Did you know what "disclaimer" really means "a denial or renunciation, as of responsibility." I do take responsibility for this fanfiction. I do not, however, take any for Scrubs.

Moribund Symptoms

I feel depressed. So depressed that I want to run to my room and cry. Honestly, I can't remember when this started, and truthfully I didn't even know about it until now. Well, maybe I did, but I never knew what it necessarily was until now. I think I've always felt this way, but I never realized it. Maybe life got too hard and when I finally stop to think, I realized just how depressed I was. But I don't want to think about it. I wish I didn't have to think about it, I wish it was buried in the back of my head again.

How the hell did I dig it up anyway?

I laid my head against the wall, listening to the small thud it made as the hollow wall made contact with the back of my skull. My dark brown hair fell in front of my face, I made no motion to try and push it back. I just groaned. My hand flew up and covered my face as I tried to hide my melancholy expression from the passing doctors and nurses.

Maybe now I didn't look so out of it. I mean, it isn't like it's uncommon for a doctor to suddenly rest in the hallway for a few moments. Is it? It was a hospital after all, and mental breakdowns were bound to happen. But yet, I didn't want to stop and rest here, I didn't want to get that look, that sympathy and pity look from people I barely knew.

What gave them the right to come up and see what's wrong with me? I mean, they didn't even look at me usually, but when I'm a mess, they apparently feel like it's their duty in society to suddenly come and mettle into my personal life. That was a lovely thought, only pay attention to me when I'm mess. I love you guys too.

I was just… tired. Emotionally. My nose burned as a few tears began to form in my eyes. I removed my hand from my face, feeling a tear roll down my eyelid. I didn't wipe it away, it was strange and somehow comforting to cry. It dripped down to my cheek, leaving a trail of teardrops. On second thought, I didn't want anyone to see me crying. I desperately tried to hide it by coughing, but I was never good when it come to telling lies, verbally and physically.

Could someone tell I wasn't just having a coughing fit?

The blank faced interns and doctors and nurses ran pass me, not even looking my way. Some chatted with others, in especially large groups. Others walked alone, absorbed in their work, and others didn't bother look at me. "Maybe there is a plus side to being invisible," I thought bitterly to myself.

After an eternity it seemed I escaped the busy hallways and found sanctuary in an empty closet. The closet wasn't very big, maybe the size of the shower back at the apartment, but it was packed with more cleaning supplies than the supermarket got in a year.

My legs felt like rubber. I leaned against the door before slowly sinking down onto the ground and curling up into a tight ball. It was like being suffocated. No, it was like being suffocated in a two by four room. No, it was like being thrown off Mount Everest with no parachute, and then being suffocated in a two by four room.

I didn't want to look at myself, I was too ashamed. Ashamed and embarrassed that I could no longer get through a day of work without a mental breakdown. I tried to tell myself I was just jumping to conclusions. It had been a long day and I was losing it. I'm fine, right? There was nothing wrong, nothing at all. Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'M FINE, I'M FINE, I'M FINE, I'M FINE!

My screams echoed in my head, playing back and forth in the silence of the closet. Its haunting to have an emotional breakdown in a closet, unsure if someone will suddenly open the door and see you. Even worse, someone who you know will open the door and see you. It's almost like being in a horror movie just waiting for the killer to come and stab you to your bloody death. I swear I felt my heart sink into my stomach.

But at the same time, there something comforting about being in the world's smallest closet on a Saturday afternoon when you are suppose to be working. Maybe it was the isolation? "Kelso is going to kill me." It was a thought with no response. Surprisingly Kelso didn't scare me at the moment, I felt too sick to be scared.

"Sick? More like emotionally drained." That was for sure.

The great thing about recuperating in a closet -that probably hasn't been cleaned in years- is the fact that a box of tissues is not hard to find. As a matter of fact, an unopened box was lying on the ground right next to my left foot. I blew my noise, trying to unsuccessfully not make so much noise. I also got the chance to spit out all of the gunk that was finding its way up my throat into my mouth.

"Now what?" It was a strange thought. I had been gone for who knows how long, and nobody had paged me. So they didn't need me--how surprising. Come to think of it, did they even know I was gone? That was a laugh, mostly because they didn't.

For the past few months, things have not been the same. Elliot and I, even though we have rebuilt our friendship after the breakup, still aren't as close as we had been. It was strange, we would hang out like usual, but we could both tell that there was nothing behind it. As for Turk and me, well, we had always been close… until now. Carla is nice and all, but her and Turk have been spending more time with each other than I have in the hospital--and that is really saying something. Actually, they've been spending double their usual time together now that Carla has moved it with us.

So, long story short, I haven't seen my best friend in forever, my other best friend might as well be an acquaintance, and I haven't had someone to talk to in while now. Not even Todd, he and some blond nurse with glasses the size of grapefruits have been attached from the hip lately. Literally. Even Ted and his singing group have been busy rehearing. Dr. Cox even, he's been swamped with work lately and I can't ask him something without getting insulted and called a girl's name. Actually, I get insulted and called a girl's name whether I talk to him or not, but my self confidence doesn't need anymore hits at the moment.

I mean, I'm not saying that I would usually care if someone paid attention to me, but I'm finding that the only people who ever acknowledge are the ones who I hang out with. Now that they're all busy, I'm finding that I'm alone.

Really, alone. Like my stupid high school years that I spent as the goofy nerd, or like when I go visit mom and Dan and they try to shove me out of the house the day after I get there, or like when I get back to the apartment an hour before Turk and Carla. There's no one there.

"But it's not their fault. It just… happened." It's not their fault, is it? Maybe I'm to blame. I am the only one making a big deal out of this.

I dabbed at my eyes briefly; the tears had stopped, but I had a lump in my throat that wouldn't go away no matter how much a swallowed. Not that it mattered, my mouth was dry and it felt like I had been eating sawdust. Correction, it tasted like I had been eating sawdust.

Let's face it, I was overreacting. They still cared for me, I knew that, didn't I? But, that wasn't the point, was it? I wanted to cry, and my nose began to burn. I blinked rapidly and tried to keep it all in, but I couldn't stop shaking. I needed to get a grip. I tried to convince myself that there was nothing to cry about, but it wasn't working.

Heh, what if Dr. Cox were to see me now? I let out a muffed laugh, it sounded more like a dying pig's squeal. If Dr. Cox were to see me now, I was sure that the name calling would never end. I could see his face, a grin from cheek to cheek just as he persuaded to call me a girl's name. Elliot would try to help, but end up complaining about her own life, Carla would give me a prep talk, and Turk wouldn't know what to do. God, I swear my friends are so predictable.

My head hurt, it felt stuffy and light, and a throbbing pain was right in the middle of it. As for my heart, it had risen back to were it was suppose to be, but my stomach jumped and swayed, aching incredibly. I tried to gather myself up, tell myself there was nothing to worry about, that I was being a stupid idiot and my friends cared for me, but it wasn't working.

"That's not the problem." Stupid brain. I must have a dark half to it; I was obviously overreacting. But, the words were still haunting.

I truly wanted to stay in that little closet, cramped up in fetal position, until my shift was over, but I knew good and well that sooner or later someone would wonder where I was. I stood up, my legs felt like mush as I tried to stretch them out. My back ached as well, probably from curling in a ball and hugging my knees. Dr. Cox is right, I am a girl, and now thinking about it, I must have been a sight a few minutes ago. I just needed to get to a bathroom and wash my face, fix my hair, fill the water to the brim the sink and scream as loud as I could…

God, I'm such a girl. Maybe I was suppose to be one and God forgot and made me a guy at the last moment. Or maybe God hated me, or maybe I was gay. No, I wasn't gay, and God apparently hated a lot of people. Nah, he couldn't hate that many people, so maybe I was just cursed.

I shook the thoughts, this was no time for that, I needed to get to the bathroom and get cleaned up before lunch. No way two hours could have passed, but by lunch more than half the staff was off and privacy was hard to come by even in the bathrooms.

I first opened the door a crack and stuck my head out, slowly looking down both ends of the hallway. My eyes wondered to the clock down the end of the hallway. Twenty minutes had passed since my mental breakdown. If it had been any other occasion, I would have been cheering since it had meant I had snuck out of almost a half an hour of work. But in this case, I wish I had been working.

The door unexpectedly took the liberty of opening half an inch more. I jumped out of my skin, a shiver traveled up my sore spine. As though the movement meant someone was close by, I made a mad dash to the bathrooms at the end of the hallway. My heart beat so madly against my chest that it hurt. Panicking, I pushed open the door as fast as I could and ran inside.

"Please, oh God, please…" I checked under the stalls and found no one was here. Thank goodness. After I muttered a quick praise of thanks, I turned around to the mirror.

I froze, shocked to see myself. I knew it was bad, but I swear, I looked like I had been mugged or something. My hair was a mess, and I could only guess it was from pulling and ruffling it so much. As for my eyes, you could tell I had been crying, they were red and puffy and disgusting looking, I thought they looked inflected. My doctor senses kicked in and made a detailed guess that the darkness in the closet made my pupils dilate when they so suddenly come in contact with light. There was tearstains on my face as well.

After I stared at my expressionless face for God knows how long, I pulled off my stereoscope and set it on the counter. I blinked, and finally began to wash my face. The warm water felt good, almost relaxing. The liquid soap however didn't, it had that medical smell that made me feel like I was around a dying patient. I splashed my face a numerous amount of times, quite sloppily might I add, and the water did get all over my scrubs. Not too much fun when it turned ice cold and sunk through my shirt, under my scrubs, and met my skin.

Finally I stopped. I wasn't in a rush to do anything, I could relax. My forehead fell against the mirror as I panted. The carbon dioxide from my breath hit the glass, leaving a trace of fog for about half a second before disappearing. My arms supported my lower body as they crossed with each other and let me lean against the counter, very uncomfortably might I add. After forever it seemed I pulled away and took another look at myself.

I looked a little better, except now I had a red spot on my forehead. Water tickled down from my hair to my chin and then onto my clothes. It felt cold. I would also need to stop by my locker and grab some of my extra hair jell to fix my hair, as it was now clinging to my head quite annoyingly.

I took a few rough paper towels and dabbled at my face and hair and clothes. My hair stopped dripping, but began to fizz, my face dried off, but turned red from rubbing it so much, and my clothes didn't dry.

At that moment, I almost wished that I was a girl. If I was a girl, it wouldn't have been such a big deal that I had been crying, and I would have had a purse, and in that purse I would have had a brush and maybe even my hair jell.

But, I wasn't a girl, no matter what Dr. Cox said. So, I would just have to put my girlish feelings aside and get back to normal. I just felt so exhausted, even though I knew I shouldn't. My friends still cared for me, even Dr. Cox, although he would never admit it.

But that's not the problem.

No, there was no problem! I was just overreacting, Elliot was still my friend, Carla still cares for me, Turk is still my chocolate bear… But that's not the problem!

That was it, I didn't have a problem. I didn't, I really didn't! How many times did I have to say it? But yet, I couldn't shake the thought. "Quit worrying about it, there is no problem!" Then why won't the thought stick? Why can't I convince myself that maybe, just maybe, I could actually be right for once in my whole fucking life?

One stupid time, where I could actually be the one who gets noticed? Not Dr. Cox when he dissolves an intern to tears, not Elliot when she answers a question that is two times above her level, not Turk and Carla with their love problems, but me. Me.

For God's sake, was I that invisible? So invisible that I couldn't even be mentioned in a passing conversation, not even once? I mean, people talk, people talk about everyone they know, whether or not they talk to them personally. Not even being mentioned, its like being… dead. My stomach launched. I wanted to throw up. I just tried, so tired of it all. So tired of trying and fighting for just a little bit of attention.

A wave of dizziness passed over me, making me consider eating lunch early. But that thought died before I could finish it, the thought of food made me sick. I was exhausted, and the worse part was it was for no reason.

That's not true.

Yes it is. It is! It's not their fault, it's not anyone's fault. It just happened.

It just happened?

I frowned and wanted to vomit, just to get my thoughts sorted out and to get out of the hellhole I had jumped into.

"Turk didn't mean to start ignoring me, Carla didn't mean to stop talking to me, Elliot didn't mean to start treating me like dirt, and even Dr. Cox, he was just being himself. It just happened." It was true, they had all been themselves, it had just happened.

Right?

They didn't mean to intentionally hurt me, it had just happened. I felt sick, too sick to throw up. I didn't want to think "it just happened" anymore, because that might be the story, and it might even be the truth, but it sure as hell didn't feel that way.

My head suddenly snapped up and down, a little too fast for my liking. My beeper went off, startling me. I fiddled with it for a few moments until I finally pulled it off the waistline of my pants. My grip was bad and shaky, I was having a hard time holding it in a position I could read what it said.

Dr. Cox needed me. Shit. I wasn't in the mood to listen to him trail off about how worthless I was. But yet, duty called. My paycheck called. Maybe if I kept myself busy enough, I could make it out of work in one piece, I only had six more hours.

I brushed my hair back out of my face with my hand, trying to look presentable enough. Maybe I just looked tired, that wouldn't be too uncommon in a hospital. Having a mental breakdown was a whole different story, and must be kept a secret at all cost. I looked at myself again, wanting to vomit. I still looked stressed out, my eyes were red and bloodshot, my skin pale and nasty, and my pupils were still dilating. Actually, I looked more high than stressed out. But when my pupils stopped dilating, I would probably just look stressed out.

I had to get out of here. My beeper went off again, but I didn't bother to read it. It was probably Dr. Cox getting more impatient. I turned and left the sink area, making my way to the cheap wooden door. I had to met Dr. Cox by the nurses station, which was just down the hall. I pushed open the door, a little out of it, and walked out of the men's bathroom.

"Ugh!"

Without warning, I fell to the ground, losing all balance I had gathered up moments before. My back hurt as it made contact with the floor, not able to break the fall my head made when it hit the ground. Oh, God, it hurt. My vision blurred as I tried to get up, I couldn't. I couldn't even sit up. But, I saw blood, a lot of blood.

What the heck was going on?

"Oh, my God. JD!"

Elliot? Yes, that was Elliot, but her high pitched screams seemed so very distant from me, it was almost like being in a dream.

"Damn it, Newbie."

Dr. Cox? He was saying something, the chances were strong he was yelling at me. But I couldn't focus on the words, as a matter of fact, I couldn't focus on anything.

"Don't--"

Don't what?

"Stay… awake…"

Stay awake? Don't stay awake?

"Stay awake… don't sleep…"

"Get some help…"

"Can you hear me…?"

It was all so far away, the panicked screams and cries. Someone shook me, I groaned. I wanted to sleep, the pain was so unreal. I couldn't move, it was hard to breath, the pain in the back of my head wouldn't go away. Everything hurt, everything was sore. I didn't want to stay awake, to slip into a deep wonderful sleep seemed to be the only way out of this pain. The words died, so did all the noise. I finally let the voices trail off and allow myself to as well. What happened didn't matter to me anymore.