AN: Hey there, Kats and Kittens! How's things, eh? So, this is probably my first actual Scrubs fic. I have another, but it's only a one-shot, so I thought I'd try my hand in a longer plot line. Go me, yea? Anyway, I guess I should stop bothering you with the small talk and just get on with it, neh? Good dealio. Hope this first chapter intrigues you . . . at least a little bit. I don't know if it's any good or not, so review and tell me if I should chuck it or continue it.

Recommendations: Some quick little recommendations (as if you haven't heard of these authors already, but please take a look at their profiles if you haven't). These peeps are seriously amazing at Scrubs fics, so absolutely visit their profiles and check them out! Really!

Elise Davidson
Little Tiger Stripes
running in circles
saltoftheearth

Disclaimer: I do not own the television show Scrubs. I do not own the characters of the television show Scrubs . . . Could disclaimers be anymore depressing? I mean, we already know that we don't own the show or the characters, so now we've got to announce to the world-wide web that we do not, in fact, own anything of importance and that we have no money, so it wouldn't matter if we're sued or not . . . Okay, done rambling.

My Newbie's Suicide

Chapter One:

Life sucked.

Life sucked so much, in fact, that JD found himself climbing fully-clothed into a bathtub full of freezing water, the faucet still spouting cold liquid until the basin was full and the water spilled over the curved, porcelain edge and splashed almost noiselessly onto the oval-shaped shag rug. He found himself staring at the ceiling and wondering why God – if there even was one – hated him so much that he would take away the only person who he had been looking forward to getting to know a little better – especially now that things had been worked out between them. And he found himself borrowing one of Turk's razor blades and hoping that his chocolate bear wouldn't be too angry with him for getting it dirty.

He had come home in a very vulnerable state, hoping upon nonexistent hopes that he would have someone to talk to, only to find that Turk and Carla were still working and his brother, Dan, had vacated and drained the bathtub, empty beer cans overflowing in the trashcan. And so he lay on the couch for more than an hour, concentrating on the ugly, brown water stain on their ceiling so that his thoughts would not wander somewhere unchecked. His next conscious thought came when he began shivering as the cool water surrounding his soaked form seemed to seep past his skin and fill the void in his chest cavity as the blade made several shallow cuts on his left forearm and a deep, jagged cut on his right wrist – so deep that he cut the tendons, and his hand fell limply into the slowly-reddening bath water.

0 o 0 o 0

Doctor Cox burst into the apartment noisily, Dan following closely behind with several six-packs in his clutches. Both wore red hockey jerseys, Perry clutching a white one loosely.

"Newbie?" The man called, searching the small expanse of the kitchen and living room and receiving no response. "Carol, I know you're here. Your prissy little man-bike is parked outside, and we all know you don't go anywhere without the comfort of that thing between those girly chicken legs of yours."

The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom and Dan shrugged, saying, "Maybe he needed time with Captain Bubble-Beard and his crew of rubber duckies." Perry rolled his eyes as the other man toddled into the kitchen – his legs still lacking any real muscle strength – and set his load on the counter. "JD? Little brother? We brought beer! Come on, we're gonna watch the game!" Dan made his way to the bathroom door, raising a hand to twist the knob but stopping as the carpet squished wetly beneath his shoes. His eyes widened as he realized that not only was the floor sopping . . . but it was stained a deep red color as well.

"Shit," he murmured, his head jerking up to meet Perry's gaze with wide, frightened eyes. He hurriedly tried the knob, finding the door locked, and began pounding on the thin wood. "JD! Let me in! What's going on? Johnny!" Perry took one look at the floor beneath the other man's feet and pushed him out of the way, pounding on the door himself.

"Jessica, you had better open this door, or I swear to God, I'm going to break it down!" No response came after the threat, and the doctor cursed under his breath, beginning to shove his weight into the barrier keeping them from the younger man. It only took three tries, Perry's shoulder barely throbbing as he stumbled into the bathroom, nearly slipping on the water that coated the tiled floor.

The sight that greeted him caused his breath to catch in his lungs, his throat constricting as a lump formed on the back of his tongue. JD lay lifelessly in a tub full of murky, red water, his head having slipped nearly all the way beneath the overflowing mess. Perry leapt forward, hooking one arm under the younger doctor's knees, the other around his shoulders, and pulling him out of the tub and into his lap.

"Little brother?!" Dan asked hysterically, falling to his knees beside the two and stringing his fingers through his hair. "Coxy, is he okay? Is he alive? Oh, God, he's dead! He's dead! What have I done? He's dead!"

"Dan!" Perry shouted, glaring at the other man in frustration. "Go find a first aid kit, and call the paramedics."

"He's dead! He's dead!" Dan continued, tears streaming down his face. Grabbing JD around the middle and holding him close to his chest, Perry freed one of his hands to roughly clamp down on the distraught man's shoulder, shaking him eagerly.

"Dan! Go call an ambulance and find a first aid kit! Now!"

Dan nodded, attempting to curb his emotions, muttering, "Okay. Okay. C-Call ambulance. Find first aid kit. Okay. God, Johnny, don't die. Don't die!" He scurried from the bathroom nearly on all fours, trying his best to hurry while keeping himself from falling face-first into the crimson liquid that still surrounded them.

Perry then turned to the limp young man in his arms, a look of worry taking his face. Truthfully, he had no clue how the kid was doing. He'd only wanted to get Dan out of the room so he could check his vitals without a manic older brother on his hands. Pressing trembling fingers to JD's neck, he held his breath, letting it loose in a frightened gust as he found no pulse.

He gently laid the younger man on the red-stained tiles and stared for a moment at the crimson streaks streaming across JD's pale face, lost in the fact that the kid looked younger than he was supposed to. He actually looked rather sad, and Perry wondered if he always looked like that when he was sleeping – if he was sleeping. Shaking his head, he remembered that Newbie was in trouble and hurriedly pumped JD's chest five times before leaning down and covering JD's mouth with his own to release two quick breaths.

"Come on, kid, don't quit on me now," Perry mumbled, repeating these actions a few more times. Dan, suddenly, came running back into the bathroom, splashing to a halt and falling to his knees again.

"Found it," he held a white box in front of the older man. "Ambulance is on its way."

"Great," Perry growled between a set of breaths. "I want you to bandage his arm and wrist as tightly as you can."

"But-" Dan looked thoroughly confused and lost, like a puppy looking for its owner in a crowd. The older man had seen that look on JD's face all too often, and, until now, he hadn't realized he might never see it again.

"Dan, I'm kinda busy. It's real simple. Take out the gauze and wrap it around his arm and his wrist as tight as you can get it. Okay?"

"Okay, okay," Dan took a deep breath and released it slowly, setting the box down and opening it to find a white roll of gauze amidst the mess of medical supplies. Gently taking his brother's right hand in his, he turned it so the ugly scar on JD's wrist faced him. He whimpered, having to look away and squeeze his eyes shut for a moment before taking another breath and lifting the younger man's arm into his lap and tightly bandaging the freely-bleeding wound.

"Come on, Newbie, breathe for me," Perry whispered. "Come on, JD. Damn it, don't do this!" Perry sat back on his heels, running a hand through his hair and glancing towards Dan, who stared at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Giving a sigh, he leaned forward once more, beginning to apply pressure to JD's chest again.

"Come on, little brother. Don't give up on us yet," Dan sobbed, tying off the already blood-soaked bandage, laying JD's limp arm back down on the floor, and shifting to the other side of the younger man to start on the shallower cuts.

"Shit," Perry stopped pressing on JD's chest, checking his pulse and sitting back once again to lace his fingers together behind his head.

"What? Why are you stopping? Why aren't you helping him?" Dan demanded, finished with his brother's arm and attempting to make eye contact with the other man. "Why'd you stop? Coxy-"

"I still don't have a pulse, Dan," Perry replied quietly, his gaze never leaving the lifeless young man before him. "We don't know how long he was in that tub . . . He's lost too much blood." He stared in disgust at the crimson liquid that surrounded them, vaguely aware that the faucet in the bathtub was still running.

"Well, keep going until you get a pulse!" Dan screeched, shaking the man's shoulders from behind. "Th-The paramedics will be here soon! They'll be able to help him! Don't give up on him yet!"

"Dan-"

"I can't be the only one left! I can't be here by myself!" The older of the Dorian boys yelled, throwing himself at JD. He fisted the red-soaked shirt and shook JD violently. "Johnny! You can't leave me here! Don't be gone! Don't . . ." He trailed off into a fit of sobs, collapsing onto the motionless form and burying his face into his younger brother's chest.

Perry glanced at his watch, noting the time and pushing it to the back of his mind to tell the paramedics when they arrived.

Time of death – 0432, he thought out of habit.

0 o 0 o 0

JD found his surroundings confusing. He was standing in the living room of the apartment he shared with Turk and Carla, but it was full of people in black clothing and sniffling colleagues dabbing their eyes with tissues. Hadn't he been in the bathroom not a moment ago? Hadn't he been taking a bath or something? Hadn't he . . . Oh . . . Oh no.

He frantically glanced around the room once again. He heard his name mentioned in several conversations and saw dozens of pictures of him and his friends lining almost every flat surface. Some people were crying, some were attempting a laugh at a silly story told by someone else, but most were just standing around, staring off into nowhere.

One of these people was Elliot, a drink clutched firmly in her hand that she'd probably been carrying around for a while but had yet to bring to her lips. Her eyes stared out the small window, her gaze far away as she swayed back and forth unconsciously. JD walked over to her and tried to put a hand on her shoulder, only to find that his fingers slid straight through her form. She shivered and backed away from the window to find the group that Turk and Carla were standing with, their arms around one another and tear tracks on their cheeks.

"Not much fun, is it?"

JD turned abruptly at the voice that seemed so much louder than all the others and stared dumbfounded at the familiar figure sitting on the couch beside a very mournful-looking Dan.

"Grandpa?" He asked in a whisper. "What are you . . . What do you mean?"

"Dying," his grandfather said matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders and standing before patting Dan on the head – to his obvious unknowing. "Not much fun."

"I . . . I don't know," JD shook his head, still stunned to see the man that had died nearly ten years ago standing here before him. "I don't really remember much."

"You will," the older man smiled sadly, walking forward and pulling him into an embrace. "By God, it's good to see you, boy."

The young doctor hesitated a moment before returning the gesture and burying his face in the other's neck. He even smelled like he remembered. This caused a smile to break out on his face.

JD sighed as they pulled apart. "Grandpa . . . What's going on? Why am I here?"

"John, you've been given an opportunity here," his grandfather explained slowly, as if to make sure the younger man retained all the information he was giving.

"I don't understand," JD shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing.

"It's called a 'window.' Not many people get them, so consider yourself lucky," the old man waved a finger in his grandson's face with a rueful smile. "You get some time to find out why you died." JD stared at the man in confusion.

"I . . . thought it was rather obvious why I died," he said slowly. "I slit my wrists. Though, I think I probably drowned before I could bleed to death . . ."

"John," his grandfather gave him a patient but withering smile. "This isn't about how you died. It's your chance to find out what was troubling you so much that would cause you to do such a thing." He held up a finger as the young man opened his mouth to respond, silencing him. "Yes, Johnboy, your father's death had a hand in it, but that was more of the 'final straw.' Something inside you made you want to do this. And this is your chance."

"How are we supposed to do that?" But the look on his grandfather's face told him that the we was actually an I. "You're not going to help me on this one, are you?" The old man shook his head sadly and took JD's hands in his own.

"But you won't be alone," he said seriously. "There will be someone to help you when the time comes."

"Who?"

"You'll know when you see them . . . or when they see you, I should say," his grandfather chuckled, but the joke was completely lost on the younger man.

"Grandpa . . . Why isn't my dad here?" JD asked timidly, glancing once more over the crowded apartment.

"Oh, Johnboy, he'd be here if he could," his grandfather reassured him, "but he has a lot to think about himself."

"Is he stuck here too?" The younger man's eyes shone hopefully, but the other only sighed.

"He's not stuck anywhere," he replied quietly. "He's up there-" He pointed towards the ceiling. "-with your grandma and me. His heart attack wasn't unexpected, boyo . . . at least not for us. But you . . ."

"I made a big uh-oh, huh?" JD's form slumped, and he felt as if he was six-years-old again, having spilt his cereal bowl onto his mother's favorite sundress or tripped over one of dad's suitcases, its contents flying everywhere.

"Yea," the older man attempted a smile at the childish saying. "A huge 'uh-oh.' That's why you're getting a second time around to try and fix that uh-oh before it really becomes trouble."

JD sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and saying, "So, what do I have to do?"

"Only you know the answer to that, John," his grandfather smiled, patting him on the shoulder. "I have to go now. Don't worry. You'll do just fine . . . but just remember this, boyo. You're on a schedule."

"Yea," the younger man nodded. "I got it. Stroke of midnight thing, right?" The other man laughed heartily.

"You've got a little longer than that . . . But I wouldn't push my luck. Get as much information as you can as soon as possible."

"What happens if I don't find out . . ." JD trailed off at the look his grandfather gave him – an almost frightened sheen shrouded his face.

"Believe me, John, you don't want that to happen." The old man saw the unease start to slither onto his grandson's face and gave him an assuring squeeze on the shoulder. "Don't worry so much. You'll do just fine. We're so very proud of you, John. You have no idea." He pulled the younger man into a tight hug, but JD soon found himself standing alone in the center of a room of people who couldn't see him before the hug had ended.

AN: Questions? Comments? Vague disregard for any or all words written and established in the mind of one who has no sanity?

I LOVE reviews, people, so bring 'em on! I'm truthfully not sure how often I'll be able to update this fic what with school, but I'll do my best. PROMISE! Hope you liked, yea? Later, Gators! Catch ya on the flip side.