AN: #9 in The Great One-Shot Expulsion series...Tissue-issue warning.
Disclaimer: I do not own the television show Scrubs. I do not own the characters of the television show Scrubs.
Playing the Hero Just Isn't Becoming If These Scars Don't Fade:
"He was brought in early this morning," Carla explains quietly, staring solemnly into the ICU hospital room, Perry at her side. "There was a fire in his apartment building. He tried to make sure everyone got out."
"Why wasn't I called?" The doctor's voice is low, husky, and he swallows hard, turning his back to the window and staring in the opposite direction.
"We were swamped with all the other victims," the nurse replies. "We only just got a break ten minutes ago."
"How many survived?"
"All but a little girl. She was the last one JD carried out. The coroner says she probably asphyxiated before JD found her."
Perry closes his eyes and grits his teeth. "And how is he?"
"He has third-degree burns on more than ten percent of his body." The words are said quietly, her tone laced with tears. "The surgeons did everything they could—" Perry's gut turns as he thinks of Gandhi having to remove dead, blackened skin from his best friend's body "—but he's not expected to survive the night."
At this, the doctor leans heavily against the wall, sliding to the ground and linking his fingers behind his head. Carla leans down beside him, placing a hand on his shaking shoulder.
"Perry," she whispers, "you need to go see him.
Perry shakes his head.
"Perry. He needs you to go see him. He doesn't have much longer."
"I don't..." The doctor covers his mouth and lets loose a muffled sob. "I don't think I can see him like that."
"It doesn't matter." Carla shakes her head. "He needs you. And if you don't go in there now, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life."
Perry draws in a deep, shuddering breath, slowly standing to his feet and wiping his face. The nurse offers an encouraging smile, and he nods, swallowing before entering the room.
It's silent except for the heart monitor and the ventilator helping the young man breathe. And everything just oh-so white. It takes Perry a moment to soak it all in—things that he deals with everyday seem so foreign to his eyes now—before he quietly steps forward and seats himself in the chair beside the bed.
"Hey, Betsy," he mutters with a forced smirk. "Looks like you got yourself into another mess, huh?" he closes his eyes, shaking his head. "Only...they're saying you might not make it out of this one." He sniffs and shifts uncomfortably. "Can't say I'm surprised. All these scrapes you've gotten yourself out of, it was only a matter of time, right?" JD's chest rises and falls in time with the machine pumping air into his lungs. "But it's not your time, kid. You've got a long life ahead of you. Don't tell me you're going to spend what's left of it dying in a hospital bed."
Somehow, Perry's fingers find their way to the young man's unbandaged hand. "Don't you leave me, JD. I'm not saying goodbye...Not yet."
The fingers in Perry's hand slowly curl around his own and squeeze.
AN: This one, I think, has an alternate ending...A sad one, though, so I didn't put it in.