I know its a lame, over-used plot device. But I'm not a sit-com writer just doing it because I can't think of anything else, I'm actually going to use it to tell a story with some character development, I swear! And if you don't know what I'm talking about, you will by the end of this chapter.

Just a couple of notes: This chapter is kind of angsty, but there won't be any more of that after this chapter, I just needed to set up how JD feels about his life. Also, our one fantasy of this chapter is in Italics.

Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own Scrubs or its characters.


Why does life never turn out how you plan it? Why can't things just go the way you want them to. What's the point planning for anything in life when you know that the universe is going to do its own thing, regardless of whatever the hell you want.

Okay, maybe that's a rather dramatic and/or depressing way of looking at things, and makes me sound like a severely depressed person. Which I'm not, really. Sure, I'm a doctor which means I have to deal with death on an almost daily basis, and my life hasn't turned out exactly how I planned, but a lot of people have it much worse than me. No, I don't have a bad life by any means. It's just…complicated.

I've been awake for the past ten minutes; thinking, but the alarm that I set last night still startles me as it goes off. I hate that alarm. Its not like those ones that just go straight to the radio, or just you're average beeping alarm. It just emits this shrill, ear-splitting noise that forcefully jerks me out of my slumber every time. I quickly lean over to turn it off, and then lazily drag myself out of bed to get ready for work.

I'd rather not describe my shower to you. Not that it was particularly horrible, quite the opposite. I just wouldn't feel comfortable describing myself naked, that's all. So let me cover the shower and dressing portion of my day by further clarifying why I'm feeling a little down lately. 'Lately' being the key word there, because things weren't always like this. Seven years ago, the only thing complicated about my life was my slightly dysfunctional family, and everybody's family is slightly dysfunctional.

But then I came to Sacred Heart, and that's when it started; that's when things slowly but surely became complicated.

You're probably waiting for me to stop blabbering and just tell you what's so complicated, right? Well, let me walk you through my day and you can see for yourself.

When I reach Sacred Heart and change into my scrubs, I walk to the nurse's station to see Carla.

"Good morning, Bambi." Carla greets me as I reach the front desk. I smile at the nickname. Even though she might be a factor in one, Carla herself isn't one of my complications. She's become a really close friend since I started here. Sometime's she feels like my Mom, other times she's like my sister. I like that balance, it comes in handy.

I make small talk as I look over the charts she hands me, until Turk arrives. He gives his wife a kiss on her cheek, and pats me on me shoulder.

"Mornin' V-bear." he says.

Before I even have a chance to reply, he's off down the hall and on with his day.

I sigh slightly. Because that's complication number one.

Chris Turk has been my best friend for years. I honestly didn't think this type of bond or closeness was possible with another human being without them being your family member or someone you're romantically involved with. But me and Turk just clicked the moment we met. We always made each other laugh, we always felt comfortable around one another, and we were always there for each other. Once again, note the past tense. Because there was a time when Turk would have stayed at that nurse's station. He would have Hi-Fived me first, and then we would talk for a few minutes about stupid stuff, what we watched on TV last night, what our plans for the weekend are, how awesome the Gilmore Girls is. That's how it was when we first started here. Even though our new jobs were exhaustingly demanding, we always made time.

I know he has a wife, and I knew when he married her that our time together was going to take a serious hit, even more so when they had a baby. But even so, I feel like I see my 'best friend' a lot less then I should. I also feel like I'm the only one making an effort to change that. I'm always there when Turk and Carla fight, but Turk wasn't there when I broke up with Kim; I was there when Carla gave birth to Izzy, but Turk was only in the building to finish a video game when Sam was born. I know I'm being dramatic, and I've been told on many occasions that I love to make myself suffer. But, sometimes it just seems like I'm his best friend when he needs me to be, but not when I need him to be; like he takes me for granted.

"Something bothering you Bambi?" Carla asks.

I smile again, because I know that Carla doesn't take me for granted. Or anyone for that matter, because Carla looks out for everybody here.

"No, I'm fine. Just a little tired." I lie.

"Okay. If you say so." She shoots me a look that tells me if I need to talk, she's waiting.

I push off from the counter I'm leaning on and start making my way to my first patient's room. Unfortunately, something suddenly sticks out in front of my leg, I lose my balance on a freshly cleaned floor and fall to the ground.

I pick up the chart that fell with me, tasting the bitter flavour of whatever he's cleaning the floor with, no doubt made especially slippery for this occasion.

"Any particular reason for tripping me?" I ask when I get to my feet, knowing I won't get a satisfactory answer. I never do.

The Janitor, smiles smugly as he leans on his mop.

"Payback." is his quick reply.

"…payback for what?" I ask again, wondering why I bother.

"For that time you wrecked my bike." he says, giving me a hate filled glare as he leans on his mop.

"That was you who wrecked my bike." I clarify, just as he hoped I would.

He fakes contemplation.

"Oh yeah, that was fun." And with that, he's gone.

Janitor's a funny case. Not so much a complication, more like an inconvenience. See, in the beginning he really did hate me. But I'd like to believe that he's gotten over the whole 'penny in the door' incident. We've even worked to together a few times. And he seems to be playing pranks on me a lot less frequently than he used to. Now I really think that he just does it out of habit. And I wonder: If I hadn't met him in that doorway seven years ago, if I had met him in a completely different, none confrontational way, would he even play pranks on me at all?


It's a few hours later that I have my first meeting of the day with Dr Cox. He's at the nurse's station, his hands covering his face. He looks exhausted.

"You okay?" I ask when I approach the desk.

"I'm fine Newbie, just dandy." he says, taking his hands down and picking up his chart.

"You look exhausted." I tell him honestly.

"It's a side-effect from the lack of sleep." he shoots back. "Y'see Jordan decided to switch her Bitch-O-Metre to full blast last night, which meant the insults from inside the Cox/Sullivan residence could be heard throughout the whole building."

"Wanna talk about it?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"With you?" he says, with an amused grin. "No thanks, Nancy. I'd rather throw myself off a cliff than have a hear-to-heart with you."

He picks up his chart and walks away.

He's just being Cox, I know that. But, man, that still stung.

This is our next complication, which is something that's been bugging me for about 8 years. I've idolised Cox since the moment I started here. And everyone thinks that I've achieved my dream of being his protégé and gaining his respect. But that was only part of the dream. The other part was to be his colleague, and maybe a friend who he could confide in, too.

But Cox only opens up, on rare occasions, to Jordan and Carla, and sometimes his shrink. I wanna be a part of that group. I want to be more than just the protégé, I want to be his equal.

Unfortunately, even though it would be rare if the others did, this is the complication that can never change, that can never be fixed. Cox, although he respects me as a Doctor and has told me that's he's proud of me, will always see me as beneath him. Personally, I still think its because I hesitated putting that damn IV in on my first day.


The cool evening air catches me off guard as I exit the doors of Sacred Heart a few hours later, finally done for the day. I stick my cold hands in my pockets and take the first few steps of my journey home, but a voice stops me going any further.

"JD, wait up." the voice calls out.

Turning around, I see that I've walked straight past Elliot, who was leaning on the railings in front of the exit.

"Hey." I answer, walking back up the ramp to where she's standing.

"I've been waiting for you; wanna get a beer?" she asks.

10 minutes later, we're sitting on stools at the local bar. Elliot's talking about…something; I'm not really listening.

Instead, I'm debating whether or not she's the biggest complication of all. When she told me that she had be waiting outside the hospital for a half hour, because she'd had a rough day and felt like getting a drink with me would cheer her up, I got a familiar feeling in my stomach. The one that I've been getting off and on for the last seven years. But on the way to the bar, when we started laughing uncontrollably because we saw a drunk guy fall over, I scolded myself for nearly ruining a close friendship with the same funny feelings.

"You've been to New York, what's it like?" Elliot asks, dragging me out of my thoughts.

It then that I realise I don't have an answer for her, because I haven't listened to a word she said, distracted by her both her status as a complication in my life, and by how her pretty her hair looks when she wears it up like that.

She recognises my blank look and presumes I've been daydreaming instead of listening to her. In fairness, it's the most likely answer; I daydream way too much these days, but God I love it!

She sighs and rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. I guess she's used to it by now, and sees no point in getting angry over it. Instead, she just repeats herself.

"I'm being sent to a Med convention in New York tomorrow." she says.

"Oh."

"I really don't feel like a trip to Manhattan but, I don't make the rules. So, what's it like?"

When did I tell Elliot that I'd been to New York? I've never been to New York!

Unless…

2001, JD's 3rd day of Sacred Heart.

A much skinnier JD and an Elliot whose in scrubs sit across from each other in the cafeteria.

"My dad has worked all over the country; from California to…"

It's then that Elliot starts to list everywhere in the United States, and JD just trying to get a word in, suddenly says:

"I've been there!"

Elliot stops and stares.

"You've been to New York?" she says, as that's where JD stopped her.

"Y-yeah, sure."

"Oh, cool. Anyway…"

Damnit! I said a lot back then, just trying to impress her.

"It's er…nice." Is the best I can come up with.

Her grin disappears, replaced with her eyebrows furrowing.

"You okay?" she suddenly asks, her voice full of concern. "You look… different"

"Different?"

"Yeah. Like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders." She puts her hand over my one that's resting on the bar, and asks again: "What's wrong."

Like I said before, I'm not usually a depressed person. Far from it. So, people asking me why I look so down, is a little uncomfortable for me. That's why I pulled my hand out from under hers.

"I'm just tired." I lie again. I don't know if she bought it or not, so I try and change the subject to what time she's flying out.

We stay at the bar for about another hour, just talking, winding down from crappy days. We've been doing this a lot lately. Maybe its because, like me and Turk, Elliot's doesn't get to see Carla as much as she used to, or maybe its something else.

Before she gets in her cab, Elliot gives me a long hug, which isn't something we do much anymore. Maybe its because she's going away for the next couple of days, maybe its something else.

I don't know what to think about her anymore.

I watch her cab drive around the corner, out of sight, and start walking home.

Whether Elliot's the biggest complication or not is debatable, but she's definitely the most confusing one. We've been through a lot over the last seven years, and we've hurt each other badly more times than I can remember. We've alternated between being madly in love, to hating each others guts; gone from platonic friends to significant others. There are times when I've been sure she's the one, and others when look at her as my second best friend, joint with Carla and behind Turk. I was convinced she was the latter for the last couple of years, after I drove her away from her perfect boyfriend and we decided to just be friends. But then that night in the on call room happened, and the confusion returned. After about three years of just being buds, I can't deny I wanted to kiss her. Ever since, I've had moments like the one while we were walking to the bar, we're I jump between feelings.

How do I feel about her, right now? I honestly don't know.

Sometimes I wonder if I was ever in love with her, or if I was just idealising her the whole time. Maybe I've always been in love with her, but my chronic fear of commitment kept us as just friends.

I just wish I could remember, before the on-call room incident, before any false declarations of love, before any sex buddies, before we crushed each other at every chance we got; I just wish I could go back in time, before all that, and remember how I truly felt about her.

Unfortunately, no one has invented time travel yet (though the Janitor says he's close to doing so), which means all the drama from over the years is clouding what my basic feelings were.

I finally reach my apartment, and don't feel up to doing anything else except sleep.

And that's my day. Still think it's not so complicated? No? Didn't think so. Like I said before, I know there are a lot of people in this world who have a much crappier life, but the fact that mine sucks right now is still getting me down. Wanna know the worst part? I have no clue how to make things right. I can't talk to Turk or Dr Cox, because let's face it (and as I've already said about Cox), they're not exactly 'Let's sit down and about your problems' kind of guys are they? I can't talk to Elliot because, well considering I don't know how I feel about her, I don't know what I would say, and a few wrong words might do irrevocable damage to our shaky-at-the-best-of-times friendship. I could talk to Carla about all of the above, but she'd just tell me to talk to them.

Sometimes I remember the wide-eyed, happy go lucky kid I was when I first started at Sacred Heart, and I wish I could go back to that time. Because I don't hate my job, or wish that I'd never came to this hospital, but maybe if had a fresh start to do things differently, they wouldn't be so complicated.

But like I said, that's exactly an option. And tomorrow morning, I'm going to have to get up and deal with this all again.

Don't believe me? I'll prove it.


The Next Morning

See? Told you.

Anyway, I make my way through the parking lot, towards the hospital, trying to stay positive. I reach the bottom of the ramp outside the entrance, but something stops me going up. Something tall and wearing a jumpsuit.

"Well, well, well. Look who's returned to the scene of the crime."

I sigh once more. The Janitor is blocking my path. He's carrying a large, heavy-looking plank of wood over his shoulder.

"What are you talking about?" I honestly don't know why I keep answering, its exactly what he wants me to do.

"It was in this very spot not so long ago," he announces arrogantly "that you wrecked my precious bike."

I'm too tired to even bother playing his games, so I sidestep him and try to keep moving up the ramp way. I'm just past him when I hear his voice again.


"Crime doesn't pay, Scooter!" The Janitor said. He wanted to make sure his nemesis heard him, so he swirled around to face his retreating form, swinging the giant piece of wood around with him.

JD rolled his eyes at the taunt, but in doing so missed the plank of wood approaching from the right.

With a nasty crack, the wood collided full force with the side of JD's temple, sending the doctor instantly to the ground.

The Janitor laughed, staring at JD on the floor and thanking God for that unexpected bonus.

"I told you, Scooter: crime doesn't pay!" he said.

The Janitor waited for the groan, or the sissy call for help, but it didn't come. Nothing did. In fact, JD wasn't moving.

"Scooter?" Janitor said nervously.

He lightly nudged the doctor with his foot to see if he would move, but he didn't. However, the Janitor noticed something trickling away from his head. Something crimson.

"…Uh-oh."


Dr Dickinson watched as his patient's eyes flickered open, reacted to the light streaming in from the window and then closed again. It was a few seconds before they re-opened. He looked around the room, taking in the surroundings, and inevitably stopped when he saw Dr Dickinson.

Dickinson opened his mouth to talk, but didn't get a chance. The door to the patients room burst open, and three people entered. Two of them, a surgeon and a nurse who he had seen around the hospital but who's names he did not know, were looking at Dickinson's patient with eyes full of worry. The third person was someone Dickinson did know, who it was impossible to work in this place and not know: Dr Cox. Cox did not share his companions worried expressions, instead looking slightly uninterested and cranky, as if he was here against his will.

"JD, are you are alright?" the nurse was saying now, approaching the bed where Dickinson's patient was lying.

"V-bear, you okay buddy?" the surgeon said.

"Newbie, what the hell did you do now?" came Cox's voice.

"Hey, hey, hey." Dickinson interrupted, instantly getting in between the three people and his patient's bed. "Lower you're voices and stop asking the man with the head injury so many questions at once."

They obliged and took a step back.

Dickinson turned back to face his patient, who looked completely overwhelmed. "Sorry about that. Now, as standard procedure for head injuries like this, I'll have to ask you some simple questions to rule out brain damage, okay."

The man gulped, but nodded his head, and Dr Cox let out a 'This is pointless, he's fine' sigh.

"Okay, first: Can you tell me your name?" Dickinson asked, which was met with a similar sigh from Cox.

"Uh…" the kid looked at all four people in the room, embarrassed by the answer he was about to give. "Not really, no."

A gasp from the nurse, a jaw drop from the surgeon, an 'Are you serious?' stare from Cox.

Dr Dickinson just tapped his pen on the clipboard, not able to tick the 'Knows own name' box on the form in front of him.

"These next few question might not be so simple after all, then." he said.


Hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and I'll update as soons as I can, but PLEASE drop me a review if you liked this.

Peace.