"Shit shit shit

"Shit shit shit!" he muttered, dragging the near lifeless weight of his brother behind him. He could feel the sweat trickle down the back of his neck as he made his way down the alley where (hopefully) the cops wouldn't look.

This was not in the plan at all. His mind screamed at him, he had left too many holes in the plan, and everything that had happened was his fault. Yes, granted, it was a bank robbery. You couldn't expect every detail to go according to plan. There were always those little situations that cropped up on you when you were actually in the moment. The dead bank teller, for example, wasn't in the plan. He shuddered as he thought of the unnecessary death. He had never killed anyone before, but it wasn't as hard as he had expected.

Even besides the death, the bank robbery hadn't gone smoothly at all. First problem: he and his brother had got away with absolutely no cash (so forget any chance of bribery). Second problem: his brother had been shot.

Seriously, what did he know about gunshots? Nothing, that was what. He was trained as a damn plumber. Leaky pipes, no problem. Leaky people, he wasn't so good at. What the hell was he going to do about his brother?

Every fiber of his being that was crying out for self preservation was telling him to leave his brother behind, to die. He could get away a lot faster without him. Plus, no one had seen his face; he could just set up a new identity in some other state, and be safe. His idiot brother was the one who took off the mask when the teller had died. Stupid stupid idiot. He was soft, that's what he was.

"I knew I should have picked a better partner, even if he is my brother," he thought to himself, cursing his poor decision.

"But come on," he thought to himself. "He's my brother, that's got to mean something." And unfortunately for his safety, it did. He couldn't just leave him, softie or not.

"Besides," he thought, with a hint of irony, "mother would never forgive me."

As he drove away in the car they had parked for their getaway, he thought frantically, his mind racing through a whole slew of ridiculous, moronic, and dangerous ideas. Finally, he settled on a plan. It wasn't the best plan he had ever come up with, and it certainly wasn't foolproof. However, he admitted to himself, he and his brother had believed the bank robbery was pretty damn near foolproof.

Okay, so true, in his newest plan someone would probably get hurt, but he and his brother would be fine. And his brother couldn't possibly screw this one up, he was damn near unconscious. Blood was thicker than anything else, and his brother was bleeding pretty badly. Yes, this was starting to seem like a fine plan…

"So that's what being covered in chocolate sauce would be like," JD thought to himself, coming out of his daydream. He glanced at his watch, and momentarily cursed his daydreaming habit.

So, with the speed of an incredibly fast bunny (okay, maybe not quite that fast, he admitted to himself, but close, and he was narrating this part, after all) he headed off to check on Mr. Davis. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him yet (the tests kept coming back negative, curse those tests!) but he was pretty sure he could get Dr. Cox to help him out.

"Newbie!" came a voice.

"Ah yes," thought JD, "the voice beckons me. Wait! Hark, do I hear a girls name being uttered from his lips?"

"Susan," Dr. Cox said, turning to face him.

"Score," thought JD. "My ability to predict Dr. Cox's next move has prove accurate again!"

"I know you have a lot on your mind right now. 'Does he love me? Is he only using me, or does he really want a relationship?' But re-he-healy, could we focus on the matter at hand? You paged me, and there had better be something really damn important about to happen, because I'm not seeing any emergencies."

JD swallowed the smile threatening to come up on his features. The ranting was just kind of funny today, but he had Mr. Davis to think about, and he didn't have time for a rant right now. Maybe later though….focus! Okay, Mr. Davis.

"I was wondering if you could check out this chart for me. Mr. Davis is presenting with achy joints, kidney problems, a fever, and a rash, but I can't figure out what could be causing all four of those symptoms," JD said, being serious for a minute.

"Check the dictionary under L, princess."

"Ummm….legionnaires?"

"Try again…L…U"

"Lupus??"

"Bingo, way to go Sally."

"He's using names that start with "S" today," JD thought to himself. Out loud he said, "But its never lupus."

"I know you're a big fan of TV, but just because it's never lupus on House, doesn't mean it can't happen in real life. Now, hop to it Shirley, and do something about it. Let me know how it goes." Dr. Cox turned and walked away, a slight smile on his face. JD was right; it never did seem to be lupus. But it was this time, and he took pleasure in pointing that out. He never got tired of the kid hanging around, needing advice. Or calling him by girls' names and ridiculing him while doling out said advice.

"Oh suck it up, Cox," he thought to himself. "Any more emotional, and you'll have to be calling yourself by girls' names. Though it was a good idea to go with "S" names today."

JD was pleased with himself. He had gotten Mr. Davis started on a course of medicine that would help with the lupus (and played a couple of hands of crazy 8 with him, while he was at it), and he was ready to head home. Turk and Carla wouldn't be off for a couple of hours, so he was just going to try to grab some sleep before maybe heading out for a drink.

A couple of feet out the door, on the way to his scooter, a man came up to him, frantic. He was sweating and slightly dirty—he looked like he had been running though alleys or something.

"Hey doctor," the guy said to him. "My brother's hurt, and I can't get him out of the car. Can you help me?"

JD cocked his head slightly to the side, temporarily lost in a daydream, in which his huge muscles carried the guy's brother into the hospital to a cheering crowd. He was wearing a cape too. SD (for super doctor) was written across his chest, in spectacular super-hero fashion.

"Sure," JD said, snapping out of the daydream quickly—there were people to be helped! When they got to the car, JD poked his head in the back. He felt the guy's arm reach around him, smelled something sweet, and thought no more about rescue or anything else. He had been chloroformed, and was out cold.

"Well, it didn't come in handy for the bank robbery," the guy thought to himself, putting the chloroform away and climbing into the driver's seat, "but it really worked out for this situation."