Title: Our Long Journey

Summary: A week after J.D's leave, something terrible happens making Dr. Cox realize that he can't work without the kid.

Rating: T for minor swearing, quite a bit of angst too.

Pairings: J. father/son relationship. (I love the whole father/son thing :D)

Author's Note: Okay, so this is my first Scrubs fanfic. So I decided to start with an easy topic that is J.D gets hurt and Dr. Cox comes to the dramatic rescue. Of course, most fanfics I've read have Dr. Cox there when J.D comes in and he treats him, but I tried to stray a bit away from that. This first chapter is more of an insight, or prologue, about Dr. Cox's feelings about J.D leaving and such. The second chapter will be the actually start of the story, but we just needed to get this part out the way.

His Week After

I had just finished my first week without that puppy trailing two steps behind me. Of course that had slightly changed when I became Chief of Medicine, but he was the person who came in to demand things, almost the way I had when Bobbo was chief. I guess that was the idea. I had become that pain in the ass and Newbie – God forbid – had become me...

I shook my head at the thought. I mean come on! Newbie as me? You have got to be kidding! The kid has barely any backbone. Yet, he had somehow managed to get things out of me. He would storm in the way I used to and demand anything no matter how many times I told him to get lost. But now there was no one doing that. Sure enough, Carla had come in and tried her best, but I found myself saying no to her so much easier. It struck me as odd since she was the one person – other than Jordan – who I could ne-hever say no to. The tables had turned.

I kept my eyes firmly planted on the road, though my mind was starting to drift off into those memories I shared with the kid and the ones I hadn't. How that made sense I haven't a clue. Yep, everything had changed and possibly it could have been for the better. The kid had gotten practically what he wanted: my confession that he was my friend. Thankfully, only that sunshine intern had heard it which meant that if the twit went around bragging that hardly anyone would believe him. This had me starting to smile at his pouted face as he tried to explain how he wound up getting that hug. But dare I recall it.

I slowed the car down to the halt to stop at the umpteenth set of traffic lights. Honestly, did the God of cars have it in for me? Hugh Jackman was going to pay for this. Finally the lights turned green and I slammed my foot down on the accelerator, speeding off into the freeway. Not long now until I could go home and reside in the comfort of a scotch and decent hockey game where the Detroit Red Wings were sure to win, again.

I soon returned to an empty home since Jordan and the kids had gone to that devil of woman who so called herself Jordan's mother. Thank you restraining order! I sank down into the couch and grabbed the television remote. Ah yes, just what the doctor ordered: a prescription for hockey and... More hockey.

The night ended with Jordan calling me and giving me an earful about Lord knows what, because I had no intention of listening. I bid my two kids good night and hung up. I then began to drift back into my mind again. I still just couldn't let up about that missing person. I was still rather bothered about how this was his first job offer he had been given since he joined Sacred Heart and how he just blew right out of there just like that. No one just gets to spend eight years butting into my life and then just suddenly deciding to leave it on a whim. No one, I say no one, gets to do that, not even Jessica.

Sometimes I wondered if I had been different towards him, if I had given that pat on the back on his first day, that he would have stayed. Still in the end he knew and I'm pretty positive he knew throughout the whole time. His brother was right; he was smart kid. Air headed, but smart. Hell, he was a good doctor. I bet somewhere the kid is smiling just at the thought of me complimenting him.

The next morning, I got up and ready for work. It didn't take all that long and soon enough I was on the freeway to work. There was signs up everywhere about diversions and whatnot. I saw the wreckage of a few cars which indicated that there had been an accident the night before. Great, that just meant more work for me. Not that I was unhappy about treating people, but car crashes got so old after a while. That's why I loved the ICU, because you could find new and interesting cases all the time and if it was curable than that was all the better. Maybe that's why I became a doctor. Hell, I just wanted to help people since as a child I couldn't be helped.

I parked my car in the parking lot and strode into the hospital. For eight thirty in the morning, the place was buzzing. Then again there had been a big collision on the freeway, so what was I to expect? I saw weeping families and doctors trying to comfort kids. There was a man with his arm in a sling and a pregnant woman quickly losing blood, but she was getting helped by another doctor. Why did I go in through the emergency entrance?

I walked up to the locker room and pulled out my scrubs and lab coat, before putting them on. It was going to be one hell of a day. I stepped outside the locker room and my eyes quickly latched onto a frantic Gandhi rushing down the hall. I wondered if he was late for surgery or had missed a call from his wife – Newbie.

I made my way up into the ICU and just as had expected it was like a traumatized ward in World War Two. Doctors and nurses rushed from one side to the other, fighting against time to keep some people alive, while others did die. How many people had been in that car crash? A nurse walked up to me, looking just about ready to answer that question for me.

"The freeway had a mass collision last night as I'm sure you observed from driving here," the red head informed me.

"Yes, yes. Just get on with it," I growled.

"Well we have two truck drivers with serious injuries, four car drivers – two have massive head injuries, but the other two were quite lucky – we have one down in OR and there are two comatose patients. A few of the people died last night, unfortunately."

"Alright, well let's get to work!"

The red head sprung off, already trying to help a coding patient. I was about to step in but another doctor had it. I stormed over to the nurse's station and picked up a few charts. Two of them were the truck drivers and the other was one of the comatose patients. I had to feel sorry to any family these guys may have had, because no one wants there son/daughter/father/mother/cousin/everything-else-under-the-bloody-sun to through something so deadly and pathetic as a car crash, especially on the freeway.

I wandered over to the far away rooms. The blinds were down, making it impossible to see inside, but I knew it was one of the comatose patients. We usually closed the blinds just in case they woke up and the light was just a bitty too harsh for their precious eyes. But when I saw Carla coming out of there, looking a bit lost and distraught, I could sense something was wrong.

"Carla!" I called over to the Latina nurse.

She jumped with the call and turned her head around, leaning back in the doorway. Her brown eyes were wide and was she crying? I furrowed my brow and walked up to the window, looking Carla in the eyes.

"Are you okay?" I asked out of politeness, because this was Carla and if I wasn't nice she would bite my head off.

Before she had a chance to answer, Bobbo – What the hell – walked out the room, hands deep in his pockets an a forlorn expression over his face. He glanced up at me, almost reluctantly.

"Perry..." he began, his voice sounding thick and compassionate.

Compassion? That was something that Bob Kelso barely or never did. It was never like him to take sympathy on other people, especially me. Though, like me, he had his moments.

"What is it there, Bobbo?" I asked, placing a smallish grin on my face to hide any worry I had, "Why all the long faces? Did some celeb just die? Was it Hugh Jackman?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but then quickly shut it into a firm line. A speechless Bobbo was never a good sign. He motioned for me to follow him and stepped back inside the doorway. Seriously, what the hell was going on? I followed in after him, that grin still firm on my face, but it was quickly taken away from the patient lying in the bed with a tube stuffed down his throat. Black, thick hair that was still somehow in it's bounce, white pale skin and the grin that was no longer there. It was Newbie. It was my Newbie.

"Oh..." I whispered hoarsely.

On the other side of the bed was Gandhi and Barbie. Now I knew why Gandhi had been running so fast. He had just heard that his girlfriend was in a coma. That usually meant something bad for everyone. I planted my hands in my pockets and bowed my head over to look at the ground and also to hide my face somewhat. Newbie... It really was him, no one else. I could practically feel my heart beat in my throat.

You can easily distance yourself from patients and not get attached to them, but when it's someone you know or a friend or family, then it's always harder to help them, because your own personal feelings get in the way. And when you're a doctor, you feel it's your moral obligation to help them no matter what the costs are.

But here Newbie was, lying there lifeless with only just the small movement of his chest going up and down. And even there, it wasn't him breathing, it was the ventilator. Oh God... Why are you so cruel?