Redone version of 'The Clock'. Dark, depressive, weird. Parallel to Countdown, where the cancer has been found too late and JD is dying. I hope it's okay!

The first thing I hear is the ticking of a clock.

"Are you okay?"

"Are you alright?"

"Oh my god, JD!"

"Is he okay?"

"What the hell happened?"

"He just fainted….."

"Again?"

The words mix with the continuous click, click click of the clock.

It's soothing, a continuous, steady beat. I focus in on it. I'm on a stretcher, I'm in a bed. But everywhere there's still a clock, still ticking, As long as the clock is ticking I'm breathing. But not for long.

I'm dying.

Every inch of my existence is buzzing, on a high, waiting for the inevitable to happen, trying to use up every bit of energy it has. It's working. I just wish I wasn't so fucking tired all the time. No one told me I'd be sleepy when I was dying. But I am. And it sucks.

"Why me, Brown Bear?" I ask on a whim. He looks at me oddly.

"What do you mean?"

"Why is it me with cancer? Why not-" I point. "Him? Or her? Or them?"

"I don't know, JD."

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"JD-"

"I must have done something."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Being so pessimistic all the time. It really gets me down."

"I'm dying, Turk. Remember?"

"How could I forget, JD?" He looks at me with wounded eyes and I curse. Getting angry isn't gonna make me better.

It might.

Shut up, voice. I'm not listening to you.

Why ever not? I give you hope.

Hope is nothing. Why hope when hope will get me nowhere?

Hope will always take you somewhere. Perhaps not where you want to be, but somewhere.

Oh, shut up. I'm not in the mood.

You're never in the mood. What happened to 'I-might-get-better?'

The same thing happening to my kidneys. Now scram.

I bounce the red rubber ball against the wall. Like that game, brick buster or something. I'm hitting my problems and bursting them into oblivion. First, the obvious- my cancer.
Next, kidney cancer in general.
Then all cancers.
Then all disease.
Then… him. The way I feel about him. The-

The ball rolls across the floor and it all swirls away in one big explosion.

I wish. I wish…

Dreaming's the worst. I dream of the strangest things. The doe eyed bracken stares up from the deepest pits of flame, the eagle dives into the swirls of electric purple fog. Always weird. But then I wake, excited. The cancer, the chemo, all a dream! Then a raise my hand and there's no hair on my head and I slump back down.

I've done this three times, five times, twenty seven times, forty five times. You think I'd learn. But I don't. Because there's always that nagging voice. I call her Faith.

I knew you hadn't given up on me yet.

Hearing voices probably isn't a great thing to admit, so I keep it secret. Faith helps me. She gives me hope. And I help her. How do I help Faith?

Simple.

Faith is just a voice, but voices hurt too. With no body, how does a voice let out it's pain?

Through me. Through the knife blade.

11 slits on my wrist, 11 scars. Blood will keep me alive, blood shows I'm still alive, heart still pumping, blood still bleeding. Faith wants me to be alive, I want her, I want Faith alive so I cut and I bleed and I bandage.

But I live another day.

"Patricia!" Another nagging voice, but this time not Faith.

"Why is Mr Turner's cat scan not completed?"

"I fainted again." I say, eyes trained on the floor. I look up. He looks concerned, but he can't be concerned. Dr Cox doesn't do concerned.

"Where?"

"Cafeteria."

"When?"

"Yesterday lunch break." He whistles.

"And you're back already? You're ill, you should be resting."

"Yeh, because Renal Cell Carcinoma will all go away with fluids and bed rest." I snort.

It might do.

Shut up, Faith.

I hate how snarky I've become. I hate how I'm so bitchy. I guess I've stopped caring.

"Seriously. Go and take a nap, Sally."

Sally. The six year old girl at the hospice, on my visit. The pretty flowery bandana, the sparkling blue eyes, the ever present lollypop. On my first visit, she had strawberry. My second visit, orange. When I went to stay there, blackcurrant. When I left, nothing. Sally was gone, nothing but a pink coffin and old lolly sticks in the bin.

"JENNIFER! Listen to me!" I snap out of it, stare him in the eyes. Bad move. His eyes are brilliant, dazzling. There's a whole world in them, a world I want to be a part of. He begins to rant and I watch his mouth move, not listening. He speaks in perfect synchronisation to the clock, ticking away in the background. Always present, never noticed, always missed.

The clock ticks on and so does my heart.

I push the sandwich away, the smell of cheese making my stomach turn. I should eat, because otherwise I'll faint and the others will worry. Again. But I can't face food, so I get up and leave. I head to the roof. Faith wants to have a conversation.

You've been ignoring me.

No, I haven't.

Yes, you have.

I have?

Yes

Sorry Faith.

Just me?

Sorry Turk, Carla, Elliot, Dr Cox. Sorry world.

That's better.

I'm worried, Faith.

Can you hear a clock?

I lower my ear to the watch. Tick, tick. Small and high pitched but there.

Can you?

Yes, Faith. I can.

Then you're okay.

Thank you, Faith.

It's a long drop down from here, from the roof.

Yeah, I guess so.

You are going to throw yourself, right?

What?

You want to. You need to.

I won't, Faith. I can't.

You must, you must. I want you to.

Faith…

Don't let me down.

She's said the magic words. I've let everyone else down. I don't want to let Faith down, not my Faith. So I nod.

Okay, Faith.

Good. To the edge then.

Toes touch the edge, feel the cool expanse below. Nothing but air. Clean, pure air.

Faith?

Yes?

Will it make me pure?

Of course it will.

Of course it will. How could I doubt her? Of course it will. Closer. I look down.

The ground is hard, Faith.

Yes, but I promise you you won't feel it.

You promise?

Yes.

She's promised, so it must be alright. I close my eyes. I take a step.

There's a hand on my shoulder.

"Faith?"

"What?" The hand's voice is gruff. Not silky, smooth talking Faith.

"Oh, Dr Cox. Hi."

What do I do?"

"Look, I'll cut the crap. If I know myself and you- and I think I do- you were going to jump."

Lie.

But he might help, Faith.

You don't want help, you want purity.

Oh, I forgot. I'm sorry.

"I wasn't. I was just… looking at the view."

"The car park view?"

"Yup." Now I think about it, it's beautiful. The cars glisten and gleam and people talk and run and laugh. It's brilliant. Why don't I spend more time up here?

"I'm worried about you." The words are plucked from nowhere. Did I hear them right?

"Why?"

"Why shouldn't I be? You faint, you run off, you try to commit suicide…."

"I wasn't going to."

Liar.

You told me to lie.

That still makes you a liar.

She screams the word around my head. It hurts. Stop it, Faith.

She stops. I think she feels sorry for me.

"What's stopping you from telling me the truth?" He demands. And he's so close and he's so strong and he's so him that I mutter "Faith."

Traitor.

"Faith?" I nod dumbly.

"Never stopped Paige from talking to me." He looks me in the eye, like an equal. When was the last time someone treated me like an equal? I take a deep breath.

"I was going to do it."

"I know." He half sighs, half hisses.

And suddenly I'm angry, really angry.

"How would you know? Do you know what it's like, dying?" He looks up at me silently. It's almost an invite to continue. I take it warily.

"You… you see tomorrow as a day you won't see, yesterday as a last chance. A lost chance. You wish every song was a second longer, so you could stay in the beat for another second, in the story for another moment. You know that-

"You know the end is coming, and that it could be any time." He interrupts. "So every minute could be your last. There's the constant fear of it all being over in a blink. And you have to be strong and you have to be calm when deep down all you want to do is curl up and cry?"

I blink.

"Dad's beatings got worse and worse." He says, openly, casually. "From a fist to a belt to a baseball bat." I wince. "I knew that one day he'd kill me- hell, he said so himself often enough. I just wasn't sure when. Then one day he hit me too hard. Broke two of my ribs. I lay on the floor. All I can remember is that there was blood everywhere, on the carpet, walls, my new t-shirt, and I remember being worried it wouldn't come out again." He laughs, even though it's so far from funny I can barely fathom it. "I guess I knew I was dying." He stops talking and just stares ahead.

"And what happened?" I gently coax him. I don't know why it matters. It just does. Faith is quiet.

"Paige found me. She called 999 and she prayed and prayed and prayed. It took them an hour to get past Dad- he threw punches and locked doors and all other things. By the time they reached me, I should have been dead. But I wasn't. Because of Paige and her prayers." He pauses for a second. "Don't ever tell her I think that."

"So you lived."

"It seems so." He laughs.

"Because of Faith." I whisper.

"Not your kind of faith, whatever twisted faith you're believing in. Not some kind of thing that makes you want to do things to yourself. That kind of faith… it's not real."

She is, she is, she must be. "It is."

I am.

"It's not."

I. AM.

"She is." I protest weakly. He shoots me an odd look.

"No. It's- she's not."

I am I am I am I am I am I am I am

"JD. Look at me." He's said my name, and now I'm looking at him, my eyes and his eyes. And now he's pulling me closer, and it's his lips and my lips, and we're kissing then he pulls away and murmurs into my ear

"No, JD."

The screeching whine of Faith disappears. I don't know how I know she won't come back but I do. She's gone. And for a minute I'm lonely. Empty.

But he's here and I realise, for the first time in months that I'm crying. And he's not teasing me; he's just holding me. On the roof, in front of everyone, air whipping through me and cleansing my sins- making me pure. And it's just what I need, just what I've always needed.

He clambers into the hospital bed, arm around my waist. Is that even allowed?

"Not long." Meh, who cares?

"No. Not long at all."

"It's been a good three months."

"The best." I agree. "But it'll all be over soon"

"Yeah." He doesn't sound sad. But then again, neither do I.

Silence, and then there's nothing but a calm, comforting sleep.

Happiness is waking up and there's someone there and it's someone you love. Someone you've always loved, even if you've only just found out that you love them that way.

The clock ticks, the constant click soothing as always. I follow it, my eyes tracing the hands. Another second is gone; another second passes with me doing nothing. But nothing is something I'm going to miss doing. I like nothing, it's soothing and calm and predictable. Nothing is the best kind of something.

Happiness is not having to worry about the future or regret the past- because it's all here and now, and it's me and him. It's everything it ever could have been, and everything that is.

"Heya." My eyelids flicker open.

And 'what is' pretty damn fantastic, if I'm honest.

"Hi yourself." I say sleepily.

"Nice dreams."

"I dreamt about you."

"Brilliant dream, then." He laughs, a great sound. I love laughing, I love him laughing. Laughter is a brilliant thing. Giggling, chuckling, or even just smiling.

I hope angels laugh.

Don't tell Perry I said that. I told him I believed there was a heaven once. He spent three days mocking me before confessing that he sure as hell hoped I was right.

Happiness is someone being there. They don't even have to do anything- just as long as there's someone to listen, and wipe away the tears, and make you smile, and cheer you up.

Happiness is the best feeling because it doesn't have any bad effects. Just a warm glow that surrounds you and makes you and everyone around you feel brilliant, on top of the world.

Happiness is him and me and me and him and ginger curls and a snarky smile and a loud strong whistle.

Happiness is now.

The clock is still going.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Still there.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Always there.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

He's here too. Perry. He's always here, by my side. My Perry. I like that, the 'my'. He's my Perry and I'm his Newbie and I like it like that.

I try to talk, but the tube down my throat stops me. Words and plastic don't mix that well.

"Shh." He soothes, stroking my hair. "Almost time now."

What? It can't be time, the clock's still going.

The clock, my heart, my breath, the ticking, the monitors, the doctors the nurses the machines the hallways the mop the ceilings

I'm gonna miss it all

Because Perry was right

Hell, he's always right

Don't tell him I said that either

I've always known he'd be right

Someone calls out "Hey, the clock's broken."

The last thing I hear is a clock stopping.

The flat beep sounds across the hospital, filling every room, every inch.

"He's gone." An on-call doctor sighs, beginning to announce the time of death.

Through tears he tries hard to supress, Perry smiles at the man in the bed.

"See you in heaven." He chuckles, and walks away.

There's a wail as a new baby is born, somewhere in Maternity.

The clock's just started ticking again.