Title: My Performance
Author: The Newest Message (Call me Nessa!)
Rating: M- violence, language, m/m, disturbing psycho, disturbing situations, peril...
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing.
Summary: Elliot gets herself a stalker who promptly finds himself jealous of JD and messes the kid up. Dr. Cox feels guilty and upset and whatnot, and more bad stuff happens that is... really bad. I don't want to tell you it all now! Just read!
Warnings: JDA, DCA (Torture in the somewhat near future). And I love cliffhangers!
Pairings: JD/Cox. And Turla by default.
A/N: This is going to be a hella long Scrubs fic. I try to make my chapters longer, and I'm only working on this one fic for now (I have four FFNet accounts), so updates should come easily enough. Each update will have a chapter, and a response to each of you reviewers! (That is... if I get any.) Lastly, the parenthesis next to each chapter show who's perspective it's in, if anyone's.
Bit of a slow start. Stuff happens in this chapter though.
start/
My Performance
Chapter One (JD)
"Creep-o"
I was doing that thing I did.
I was, but Dr. Cox was doing that thing he did, too, and he wasn't hearing a single one of the exited words that fell out of my mouth. He sat stiffly beside me, stabbing into his salad hard enough that his plastic fork was threatening to snap in half. Carla was frowning at him, thinking what, I didn't know, because I was still doing that thing I did.
That thing I did. You know- talking.
I didn't notice that he wasn't listening. In fact, at that point I probably didn't really remember who I was supposed to be talking to, anyway. I didn't even know what I was talking about.
Neither did Dr. Cox, because Dr. Cox was doing that thing he did. You know- ignoring me.
Elliot collapses into a chair beside Carla and blows her piece-y, blonde hair out of her face in that tell-tale way. Dr. Cox didn't look up from his abused salad, "What's wrong with you?" he quipped, without a hint of concern in his voice. Elliot glared at him briefly before turning in her chair to Carla. She inhales deeply- big story on it's way.
Dr. Cox knew he didn't want to hear this big story and, finally, turns to me, "Melissa!"
I stop talking, as he knew I would, and feel my lips twitch into a tiny, sheepish smile.
"Shut... up," he shoved lettuce into his mouth, then, finishing that.
His words didn't hurt or anything. I mean, I've heard them a million times! Dr. Cox has nothing on me! Still, I wilted inside, just a little, not really noticeably, and went on to listen to Elliot as she did that thing she does.
That thing she does. You know- whine.
Her voice gets faster as she gets more panicked, and I have to really focus in order to catch up. Carla is just nodding, as usual, although this time she's a bit more intrigued.
"Dear God," I hear Dr. Cox mutter. He begins to stand up, but sits down again because something has caught his attention.
"...and I think he's stalking me, Carla! He's such a... a creep-o!" She squeals. Dr. Cox just gives her an eyebrow, then dubs the situation harmless and strolls off, dumping his entire tray arrogantly into the wastebasket. I sigh, and get up to follow. I had no tray- I wasn't eating lunch today.
"Dr. Cox!" I catch up easily enough- it was not as though here were sprinting from the cafeteria.
He doesn't say anything, but he does begin to whistle.
"Dr. Cox, shouldn't we go see how Mr. Branley is?" I almost grab his arm to slow him down, but I catch myself. My heart literally leaps into my throat- that was a close one.
Dr. Cox stops and wheels around to face me, and I just stand there and wait for the insults, or whatever other crap he's gotten for me, "Sally, you're a doctor, too! Soooo-!" he takes a deep breath to continue, but he ends up shaking his head, pivoting where he stands, and stalking off. I give his receding figure an upset look, but there's really nothing I can do- he must be upset about something.
Whatever.
I turn around and run into Turk, who's hand is instantly in the air, "J-dog!"
I high-five him, a smile instantly on my face- who needs Dr. Cox? "Hey, T-dog! What's up? Why aren't you in the cafeteria with Carla?"
His face immediately falls, "Baby's mad at me for takin' Rowdy to the groomer's again. I just don't get it, Vanilla Bear! She complains about how bad he smells, then complains about me takin' him to the groomer's!" then he leans in and gives me a look, "But he does smell nasty, man. 'You know what happened?"
I shake my head somberly and clap a hand onto his shoulder, "I dunno, C-bear." But I do know. I'm the one who got lasagna all over the poor guy. I'd tried to bathe him, but there wasn't any soap, so I just ended up scrubbing him down and then spraying him with a lot of Carla's perfumes. Perfumes which Turk just described as "nasty".
Turk gestures for his path and I let him go reluctantly- now I've got to face whatever's wrong with Mr. Branley on my own. This kind of thing happened all of the time, but I was really worried about Mr. Branley. Not only had I been unable to diagnose him, but his attitude was one I was having trouble with. Obviously, I'd had other jackass patients like him before, but this guy was very... Cox-esque. And we all know how well I deal with Dr. Cox.
"Rebecca! Get in there!" Cox had come back from wherever he had gone, and he was still chugging ahead at full speed, "Go, go, go, go, go, go, shoo, shoo!" he didn't slow down one bit as he shoved the clipboard into my hand and me into the room, "You can diagnose this puppy," he growled into my ear. I felt a chill go up my spine and I shuddered as soon as the door closed behind me. Mr. Branley snorted.
Well, that told me that Dr. Cox knew what was wrong with this guy- he really was just making sure I could do this on my own. Fine! I would! No sweat!
"Well? What the hell are in you in here for?!" Branley barked. I jumped, even though the fifty-year-old was very much unable to do anything to me- his muscles were weak and twitchy. Atrophied, by now, for sure. Standing up wasn't even remotely feasible. Perhaps why he was so damn pissed at me and everyone all the time.
Well, he got on enough with Dr. Cox- they seemed to see eye-to-eye.
Which made me wonder if the only way to get Dr. Cox to respect me was to just be a jackass.
I sighed and looked over Mr. Branley's charts as I approached his bed, "All tests are negative, Mr. Branley. We're going to have to start from scratch. Are you sure there is something you're not telling me?"
He thinned his lips, and I could see rage boiling and building away behind his eyes.
I stopped him before he could detonate, "Right! Well, I'll go run some more tests, then!" I scooted out of the room and shook my head- there were no more tests to take. I'd tested for every possibility so many times- nothing.
I glanced to the nearest clock and ran my hands through my hair. Just another hour and I could flee.
Carla came bustling by. I was going to say something, but she only pressed a chart into my hands, "Second floor." She hurried on.
I shrugged and inspected the new chart on my way to the elevator. It was lifted free of my hands then, and I ran into the blue wall that was the Janitor. He smiled strangely.
"I need that," I stated simply, looking up to it longingly. Janitor looked at it, but it was too far up for me to reach- I just frowned and waited for the Janitor to do whatever it was he wanted to do.
"Oh, I know- that's what inspired me to take it from you," he looked at it a little longer, eyes squinted. He made a sound that announced that this whole thing was boring him, then smacked my head with the clipboard and flung it a few feet to the side. I just stared, a bit indignant, and sneered at him as he strolled away with his trusty mop, grinning genially, whistling good-naturedly.
I sighed and fished my papers up from the linoleum, then hurried to the elevator to check out the new patient. I frowned as I looked it over. Just some guy- Raymond Lynch. But there was nothing much else on the charts. Must be some poor bloke without insurance.
I find him quickly enough. He lays there on his bed, seeming very casual, very laid back, almost amused by something. Or maybe excited? He's fully clothed, and his hands are set behind his head as he sits there dazedly, lost smile plastered on his pale face. His eyes are dark enough to pass as black from a distance, and his hair is a dishwater-brown type of thing. I notice how sickly he looks as I get closer- his eyes are slightly bloodshot. His skin has a strange, tinted pallor. I guess this was regular for anyone too attached to a computer or something, though. Perhaps he just had a stressful job and was a bit overworked. I wrote that down. Still, despite all of this, he seems very fit. As fit as Dr. Cox maybe. Curious.
"Hi, Mr. Lynch! I'm Dr. Dorian, I'll be-" he stops my words with his sudden change in behavior. He sits up straight, his hands fly to his sides and he becomes instantly tense and alert. He looks about a bit before his eyes settle on me.
He asks, "Who are you?" His voice is low. I can tell he wants to intimidate me.
This takes me by surprise, needless to say. Either he hasn't had sleep for much too long, he has a psychological problem, or he is on drugs. That is my instant conclusion, and I'll be damned if I don't find one of those true after this little chat.
"I'm... Dr. Dorian..." I respond dumbly. I had just said that, hadn't I?
Lynch sits back again, irritated, "Oh. Well, I asked for Dr. Reid. Go get her," he says, as if it were not rude to do so. I frown and look at his chart. It doesn't say anything about Elliot, and I was pretty sure her shift had ended.
"She's not... in right now?"
His dark eyes narrowed, "I just saw her a little while back. Go get her."
He was such a... creep-o. I sit my chart down at the end of his bed and leave the room, determined to find Carla and ask her what the hell is up with this patient she just handed off to me.
I run into Elliot as soon as I leave the room, "Oh! JD! Is he gone?" she asks me this as though I am supposed to know what she is talking about. She looks past me, through the open door, and sees Lynch there, just grinning.
She squeaks and ducks, but Lynch is already up, "Elliooot!" He strides over and holds his arms out, asking for a hug, "What took you so long, honey?"
I look to her curiously, and find her swallowing down the contents of her stomach bravely. She doesn't say anything, and her mouth is closed tight, her eyes wide.
I intervene, "Uh, Mr. Lynch, please remain in your room until we have an attending assigned to you."
He glares and I fear for my life. Where was Dr. Cox, again?
"Shut up, lady," he sneers, clearly at me. And that creepy smile is on his face as he looks at Elliot, "Baby, come on!"
Finally, Elliot clears her throat. She grabs my sleeve and moves forward. Raymond sees her hand and I an feel the rage radiate from him, "Um... Mr. Lynch?" her voice shakes, she shakes, "I don't know you."
I can see some sort of impact hit him, but I don't know what it is, yet. I squint, trying hard to figure out the situation.
He smiled anxiously, desperately trying to get her to look at him, "Elliot, baby, what do you mean? We-" at this point he puts a hand on her shoulder, and I feel her tense. She screams sharply and jerks away, pulling my sleeve and me back with her. Shock is evident on Lynch's face and I get defensive. There's definitely something wrong.
"Don't!" She warns shrilly as he comes for her again, "I have my rape whistle!" She pulls it out and shoves it into her mouth. I frown- she has me, too. I'm here. Her hand is wrapped in my sleeve and she still doesn't know that?
Dr. Cox strolls up behind us and I feel relief flood trough Elliot. And me.
"What's happening here, Shirley?" he asks me, eyeing Mr. Lynch warily.
And I know they've never met each other, never even seen each other, but there is so much hate in the atmosphere at this point that I'm choking on it. I can smell Dr. Cox's cologne behind me as he steps forward, and Elliot shrieks, "That's him!! He's the creep-o!!"
Dr. Cox is angry now, but Lynch is laughing nervously, desperately trying to get Elliot to understand something. Still, I don't trust him, and I step forward, too, but Elliot is really clinging to me now, and I can't really go far. Dr. Cox ushers Lynch back into his room and closes the door, and Lynch is submissive, he can't handle Dr. Cox- he's so much more firm with his attitude. Still... I can't help but notice that they're about the same size.
Elliot spits out her whistle, and looks at me, and realizes that she has both of her arms wrapped around mine. She smiles, a little, "I have to go find Carla. Bye, JD." I just let her go. She'll tell me about this later, after she's talked to Carla.
I wait for Dr. Cox, because he's in there talking sternly to Lynch, who doesn't seem to be paying attention. He just watches Elliot go, then glares at me. Dr. Cox comes out a few minutes later, "Who's patient?" he quips.
"Mine."
"Send him home- he's fine."
I can only question with a look, but Dr. Cox ignores me and strides away purposefully. I wilt- I didn't really feel like going into Mr. Lynch's room. Like, at all. Still, all I had to do was send him home.
That doesn't convince me, but I stroll into Mr. Lynch's room before I'm able to lose my nerve. I pick up his charts reflexively and say-
He speaks before I can, "I saw her back there, you know," he's spitting the words. I have no idea what exactly it is that he is trying to tell me, and I keep my mouth shut. I simply clutch the clipboard tightly and wait for him to explain himself.
"Elliot," he goes on, bitter, "I saw her clinging to you. Don't think I don't know what that means, you prick."
Again, he's really surprised me. I set his charts down, "Mr. Lynch, I don't-!"
Again, he's eager to cut me off, "I don't want to hear it!" he's snappish, and I really don't know what to do. I see Dr. Cox in my peripheral (I know he wanted to make sure this Raymond guy wasn't going to be violent) and he rolls his eyes and stalks off. This kicks me in to gear.
"Look, Sheila, I don't know what has yourpanties all up in a bunch, and I don't have time to find out! Now, Dr. Cox tells me you're fine, so you... just scoot!" I pivot, and stomp out of the room, probably with much too much attitude. I look over the scene that just went on in there, and realize quite easily that I was a very bad Dr. Cox. My rant was two sentences long!
I go only a short distance, shaking my head and scorning my own poor performance, before running into another body. This is something I seem to do on a frequent basis.
I look to see who it is this time- Kelso, the Janitor, Cox...
Ugh. Janitor.
"Scooter! Short time, have seen!"
I squint.
"You know... like, 'long time, no see'... only... since I just saw you upstairs..." He sees me not getting this, and waves me off before moving on. Dodged!
Something hits me in the back of the head. I turn around and rub at my hair reflexively, to see the Janitor giving me an enthusiastic thumbs up. I spot a muffin on the ground. Because I'm a good citizen, I pick it up to dispose of (actually, I think I was planning on eating it) and I hear the distinctive roar of Bob Kelso somewhere near.
"And when I find who stole my -!" he spots me and locks his glare. A sarcastic smile is perched on his features at this point. My feet tell me to run. My mind tells me to scarf down this chocolate delight before Kelso can get a step closer.
"Oh, hello, Sport," he snatches the treat away from me as I am poised to shove the entire thing down my gullet. I admit, something inside me hurt at that moment, "I see you stole my muffin. Well, let me tell you, next time something like this happens I'll just have you cook more for me! And I'll make sure you don't like that!"
And suddenly I'm dreaming, staring dazedly into a light fixture as images of Kelso forcing me to cook him fifteen pounds of bacon, shirtless. I shake my head and I shudder, then skip down the halls as though I'd never left planet Earth. Gah, I hate cooking bacon! That hot grease burns!
Again, I don't go far before finding myself interrupted.
"Bambi! I heard about what happened with the patient! Are you alright!?" Carla was calling to me from the nurse's station. I immediately head for her, and I see Elliot it there, too. Dr. Cox is hovering in the background, as usual, just to be with us, and, of course, to insert his occasional, smart-ass remark.
"Oh, I sent Mr. Lynch home," I say, matter-of-factly. Really, the whole thing was weird, but I'd already shaken it off. Weird stuff happens all the time, but it doesn't last long. I had nothing to worry about.
"So he left, then!?" Elliot squeaks, still shaken, apparently.
I don't know if he left- I didn't stick around to make sure. But... he did, right? He wouldn't be stupid enough to hang out around here, right? I couldn't really know- he seemed to be quite the psychopath. I knew that even though I'd only associated with him for, maybe, seven minutes.
I shrug, "Yeah, I'm sure he left," I say, wondering who to check up on first. I only have about thirty minutes left on my shift, but I, unlike the other doctors, will work though them!
Elliot turns to Carla, who speaks to me one last time before I float off to find another patient, "Bambi, I want you to watch out for that guy, okay? Elliot tells me he's a real weird-o."
"Creep-o," I hear Elliot correct frankly.
Carla rolls her eyes and begins to go back to her own job as Elliot begins to work herself up again, "Bambi? Okay?"
I nod, "Sure thing, Carla!" I sing. As I leave, Dr. Cox rolls his eyes and goes on to his own business. I'm pretty sure he's heading to the on-call room to sleep some more. Or, try to sleep some more- there's almost a line of interns following him around. I'm fairly positive that they're all trying to muster the courage to ask him something. I almost go see what they need, but I can't pass up the opportunity to have Dr. Cox tormented by someone's hand other than my own. We all know he blames every hindrance in his life on my existence.
The rest of my shift goes normally. The Janitor trips me, once, but that's a lot better than what he could have done- so I think everything went well enough. The one time I see Dr. Cox he does nothing but nod and give me an acknowledging, "Newbie". I'm almost glowing by the end of a game of checkers with Mrs. Layton.
Ah, I loved Mrs. Layton. Her only goal seemed to be to help me out and know how I was doing, even though all she did all day was sit in an unwelcoming hospital bed and think about the horrible case of leukemia she'd been diagnosed with two weeks ago. Still, I like to think that she's simply at peace with her inevitable fate, and not just trying her hardest to get her mind off of it all.
"Be nice to that Miss Elliot! Rude boys never get dates, JD!"
I laugh good-naturedly, "Alright, Ellen! See you tomorrow!" I hope.
I hear a snort and know I'm in for something. Dr. Cox is standing in front of me. "Dr. Cox? I thought your shift ended three-" He hushes me with an insistent finger. He is going to talk. I can see several different, though equally degrading, lines run through his mind. He takes a deep breath and settles with, "Drinks?"
He takes me by surprise, but I know better then to question him. I nod, and follow him silently to the lockers, where I change into my street clothes. He waits patiently, but sneers at me when I start to lost my balance while hiking up my jeans. I grab my bag and silently follow him out of the hospital.
I'm nervous- he and I both know the only reason for him to ever invite me out for drinks is if I lost an especial patient, or he does. Or, you know, something else equally or more tragic.
He holds the door open for me, and I have to admit feeling a little perk at that, but I don't say anything. We all know he's not in the mood for some 'girly' remark on my behalf. He really needs me right now!
As if reading my mind, Dr. Cox gives me a disgusted glare and shoves me so he can close the door behind him. I stare and he throws his arm in a hasty gesture for me to move over to the bar counter. I take a seat and drop my bag to the floor.
Dr. Cox pulls up a hand to the bartender, who nods and lines up a good number of shot glasses on the counter. I eye them apprehensively- this is going to be a long night. I have a long shift tomorrow. I know he knows that, and I know he doesn't care. In fact, I'm pretty sure he has got one, too.
I just order a beer. Ordering Appletinis with Cox around is just... not smart.
I think he rolled his eyes anyway. I actually smile at that, a little.
The drinks follow soon, and we occupy ourselves with those for a while.
"So, what's up?" I ask him quietly.
He grunts.
Not ready yet, I suppose.
I know he hates this.
I know Jordan just wouldn't come with him for these sorts of things. Ben's... not around anymore. And this isn't Carla's job. It's me or no one, and we both know it. It just makes it all worse.
"So how was your day, then, Lucinda?" I'm not looking at him, but I know he's not looking at me, either, so it doesn't matter. He drowns another shot and grimaces as it burns his throat in that way he loves too much.
I shrug, "It was a good one."
"You send the Lynch guy home?"
Why'd that matter? "...Yeah."
He laughs, once, and drowns another, "No, you didn't. He was still wandering the halls."
Oh.
I'm not good with the psychos, I admit. I don't understand them. I can't even begin to understand them. Consequently, I can't predict their actions.
"...Sorry," I mutter, rolling my drink around in the glass.
"Know what he was doing?" He asks, with a little laughter in his voice. Like it's the darndest, most amusing thing.
I look at him now, but he's still just staring ahead, "N-no, I... oh."
I do know what he was doing. I shudder.
"That's right there, Newbie- Barbie."
Psycho, psycho, psycho.
"She doesn't even know him!" I protest.
Dr. Cox laughs again, dryly, "Exactly, Newbie."
My stomach feels weird. I wonder if Raymond is dangerous or anything.
"And you know who he had with him?"
The way he asks the question makes me want to cry. But, still, I have no idea what he's talking about. I have no idea who he had with him.
I shake my head.
He's silent for a moment. He drowns another and shakes his head, "Forget it," he chokes, still amused.
Another hour passes, at least, and nothing much happens. I try a few times to ask Dr. Cox why he's drug me here, but there is not even the slightest success. Eventually I just content myself with my second and final beer- I can't be hungover tomorrow. The fact that it's past midnight and I'm out at a bar is bad enough.
Eventually, Dr. Cox dubs it time to leave (I noticed him checking the time a lot, actually) and lifts himself from his barstool. He turns, and begins to leave. I hastily pay the tender and bustle after him. He hadn't said anything! Why hadn't he said anything? He didn't get anything off his chest with that...
He seemed effectively drunk, though.
My hand hovers over his shoulder, and I'm waiting to have to support him. He shrugs me off, and I see his lips are pressed tightly together.
I pause and wait to start following him. Give him a bit of space, just for a second.
He opens the door, and he's almost spontaneously in an intense conversation with someone out of my line of sight. I speed up and hang my head out to see who it is, but as soon as my tall hair even clears the doorway, a rough, strong hand grabs the shoulder of my jacket and rips be from the bar. I yelp. The door slams behind me.
"Woah, come on! You didn't say anything about this!" Dr. Cox is tense, and bent. He doesn't move and I squirm a bit to try and see who the hell it is that's got such a hold on me.
I admit, I thought it was Dr. Cox- the strong hold seemed a lot like his.
I squirm, but then something cold presses viciously into my temple. It freezes me easily.
A pained expression burns Cox's face for just a fleeting moment, "Newbie, don't panic," he half-begs.
I feel like I should be telling him that- he looks like he's about to vomit all over the pavement.
"...What?" is all I manage to choke out, and I begin to struggle instinctively. The arm that had found its place around my throat tightens and my captor kicks me sharply.
"Don't... fucking... move."
Oh.
Oh.
Him? I feel sick to my stomach- this is just... crazy. Raymond Lynch? Okay, fine... he was a psycho. But why the gun? And why my head?
Dr. Cox eases forward as Raymond kicks me. His hands are still stretched out- he's reaching for me. I feel so sick.
"Hey!" Lynch threatens. He adjusts his aim, and I can feel him tense- I think he's going to shoot.
And just like that the gun is gone from me, to Dr. Cox. I see it in my peripheral and a horrible pitch of rage rushes through me. I duck out of Lynch's hold and spin all in one movement. I grab my own fist and, with the strength of both of my arms, shove my bony elbow up under Raymond's ribcage.
"JD!" Dr. Cox doesn't sound concerned. He sounds surprised, and reprimanding. He starts for us but stops to wince and shield his head as Lynch squeezes off a round from the impact of me as he falls. I hear it ricochet off of a nearby light pole and almost faint with relief when I hear no signs of Dr. Cox hurting.
Lynch's shoulder blades hit the cement hard, and the gun flies out of his hand and comes to a stop against the bricks of the bar. I hear a few people come out of the building to investigate.
I look at them, briefly, and then stare at the gun and rush for it desperately.
"JD!" Cox shrieks again, frustrated. I hear him come after me, and I anticipate his arms around my waist. I just need to get the gun! This guy is going to shoot you, Dr. Cox! I can't let him shoot you!
Lynch pulls himself forward and grabs my ankle. I fall, as I'm known to do, and crack my head on the brick building. I dazedly watch as Raymond grabs the gun in the same second and stumbles to his feet.
I hear something, I think.
And then Dr. Cox has grabbed the shoulders of Raymond's shirt and thrown him roughly to the sidewalk. He kicks him, twice, in the ribs.
I run my hands over my shirt, and writhe, choking painfully on the air. Dr. Cox hurries over and I protest weakly as I see Raymond scramble to his feet and escape. There are people everywhere. Dr. Cox won't stop yelling. Stop yelling, Dr. Cox.
Oh.
And I can't breathe, I can't breathe. I'm choking. Dr. Cox. Dr. Cox, I'm choking. Perry.
Finally, I inhale sharply and feel a horrible, horrible pain. I'm gasping. It hurts. It hurts.
And I realize.
Perry was just a second too late.
Because there are three dark pools of blood blooming from my chest.
I can't breathe.
/end
A/N: By, God, am I horrible? This was originally three long, drawn-out chapters, but I wanted to get this done so bad. I'm horrible. You don't have to tell me.
Also... quite the cliffhanger, if I do say so myself.
One last thing- JD has not fucking passed out. By God, I am sick of JD passing out in other fics. Passing out is bad. Blah.
Next chapter... when? Couple days, probably.
REVIEW, MONKEYS.
-PEACE OUT
NESSA