--NOTE TO ALL PEOPLES--READ THIS BEFORE CONTINUING---
This is not my plot! RainyDayz, another author on fanfic, came up with the whole thing. I just wrote it under her request. The plot is entirely her original work, and I have to thank her for her ingeniusnessness! YAY RainyDayz! So email/review/whatever her a pat on the back, because this is all her doing. I just slapped a song on it and wrote her idea down.
Disclaimer: Don't own Scrubs OR the plot of this story, which is an original plot by RainyDayz (in case you didn't see the above note, in which case you are a BAD note-noticer). I own the word discombobulated, though...well, actually, the dictionary owns it, but I very much like repeating it over and over and over again...Oh, the song is by Good Charlotte, by the way... :D :D
Warning: I switch POVs. A lot. Look at the underlined name and you'll see who's narrating. Sorry if there's any confuzzlement (no, that word ISN'T in the dictionary).
Down
Dr. Cox's POV
"My dad flaked on me again."
I double-take at him, just to make sure he really is talking to me. Wow. These fleas really need to get off of my case if I'm ever going to get any work done around here. What do I look like, the resident shrink? Was medical school even worth it?
"I 'm sorry, um, you're not on drugs, are you?" I ask him. Anything to get rid of them. Anything.
"What? No!" Newbie exclaims, appalled at the idea.
Well, that certainly did look suspicious. I'm checking the drug cabinet. "Are you in jail?" I continue to prompt him sarcastically. "Have you been beaten? Are you malnourished?"
He flinches. Typical Newbie, I think to myself, even though it was certainly an odd reaction. Hmmmm. Definitely checking that cabinet.
"I skipped lunch but I've been snacking all day," he says once he's recomposed himself.
I raise my eyebrows. "You are, in fact, a perfectly healthy twenty-six-year-old doctor who keeps crying about how horrible his father was," I tell him, rolling my eyes.
"Well, he did some considerable emotional damage, so..."
I scoff, moving on to more important business. The interns give me enough to deal with—I don't need any more trouble. Especially from Newbie. Damn, can he get annoying.
He walks away and I almost sort-of-not-really feel bad somewhere deep inside. On second thought, I'm hungry. That's probably why. And today they're serving pizza…
Ooohhhhh
Ooohhhhh
JD's POV
When my shift is over, I crank up the radio and take a deep breath. There's really no way Dr. Cox could have known. It was just normal for him, being sarcastic and crabby. It was a long day. He has no idea.
I pull out of the hospital parking lot, his remark still ringing in my ears. Have you been beaten?...keeps crying over how horrible his father was…
Then I shudder, glad that those days are over. Now that I'm an adult, my relationship with my father has changed considerably. Aside from the fact that I haven't seen much of him for the past, well, nine years, I'm sure that he isn't as bad as he was when I was a kid. I know he's changed. He came all the way out to visit me, didn't he? He cares. Otherwise he wouldn't bother.
Right?
Convinced that he's turned a new leaf, I park my car outside the apartment and climb up the stairs. I hesitate before I open my own door. It's dark out now. My mind immediately reverts back to the last times I'd seen my father in the dark, late at night in the living room.
It's different. I'm too old for him to pull that whole "angry guy" thing again.
I can't hear you anymore
I won't let you in, I'll ignore
The things you say, they really bring me down
I've found my happy place is on the ground
When I let myself in, I call out his name. No response.
"Dad, you here?" I ask again. I check the rooms. I guess he went out for dinner or something. I can't help but feel a little hurt that he left without me, but for all I know he's bringing back take-out. Lightening up, I flip on the television and flip through the channels. Tonight's my night off. Time to make the best of it, with or without my dad.
The hours pass by. I stare at the hands of our clock, watching them tick. Maybe he's left already. The office supply business had to be demanding. I look around the kitchen to see if he's left a note, and I find it.
Off to see the neighborhood. I'll be back late. –Dad
"Well, Rowdy," I sigh, leaning down to the dog's height. "I guess we wait."
So I wait. And wait. And keep on waiting. He doesn't come. A feeling of dread settles in my stomach, because I know where he is and I know he's going to be home later than "late." That's the way it had been since I was young. It's what drove my mother to divorce him and take full custody of me and Dan. Well, Dan visited Dad. It wasn't the same for him, because Dad didn't pick on Dan like he picked on me. I was afraid back then.
But I'm not afraid now, I think to myself. I've been a sissy about this for way too long. He can't hurt me. I'm a doctor, after all. How weird would that be? Let him have his drinks—he's allowed to enjoy himself as much as the next guy.
Misunderstood out in the cold
I am so young but I feel old
The things you say, they really bring me down
I've found my happy place is on the ground
Dr. Cox's POV
Nothing like settling down with a nice, cold beer at the end of a long day. I swear on Kelso's grave, the people in that hospital are driving me nuts. All I can possibly think of doing right now is staring at a wall until a small hole forms in the wood. Though I wouldn't like to pay a fine for that, now, would I?
Some old man sits down next to me, smelling like way too much whiskey. I cringe. Well, it's a bar. Half the people here are drunk. I can hardly move now that I've already sat down—might as well enjoy myself. I grin.
"So, buddy, how many drinks have you had tonight?" I ask my new friend.
"Do…do I know you…?" he slurs in a stupor, his head practically lolling.
I stifle back a laugh. "Yup, I'm your great aunt Sally. Nice to see you, sonny," I greet him. Well, this is turning out to be more fun than I thought it would be. I don't think I'll even need a drink to get out of my funk.
"Great aunt…what…" He shakes his head. "Whatimesit?"
"What's that? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you through the alcohol clogging your throat."
"I said…what….time….'sit?"
I make a dramatic showing of raising my sleeve up and checking my watch. "Seems to be about, say, one in the morning. Got someplace you need to be?"
He nods. At least, I think he's nodding. He could be napping. "Gotta get ta the 'parment."
I sigh. Being a good civilian, I ask him, "Need a taxi, buddy?" As a doctor, it's my curse to fulfill the needs of drunken morons at bars. Less injured people to treat that way. It's like my gift to whoever's working the night shift.
"Nah…just gotta…walk down the street, I think…" He hoists himself off the chair with great effort, smiling to himself stupidly. I don't even want to know what he's thinking about. Once he's gone, though, I can peacefully enjoy the solitude of my drink and once again dig deep into the depths of the meaningless repetition of my life. Ah. I love the bar.
I am down
I am down
I am down
I am down
JD's POV
The clock strikes one-thirty and the door creaks open.
"Dad?" I ask hesitantly as he stumbles into the entry.
My heart skips a beat as I rewind to all those years back. Every nightmare I've relived, how I've thought of it over and over again in my head, like a constant broken record player repeating itself over and over. It starts with him stumbling through the door. And it ends…
"'Lo, kid," he manages through his obvious intoxication.
"You've been drinking."
"So?" he asks me, an absent grin on his face. "What're ya, scared?" His eyes flash. I wonder if he's kidding or not.
"You know that it's bad for your health," I warn him. "You're going to hurt yourself if you keep doing this."
"Whaddayou care? 'Snot like I'm dead."
"Dad…"
"Get outta my face, kid," he grunts.
I oblige, turning to go back to my room.
"Just like your mom," he groans to himself, "always harping…bitches, the two of you…oughta be like your brother, I said, but no…"
My fists clench. "It's not like that. We're just worried about you," I explain. "You know that, don't you?"
Barely managing to balance himself, he gets up from the couch, a menacing look on his face. "You just never…learn, do you…? Oughta leave me 'lone, but you never learn…well lemme teach you a thing or two…"
No sound is found when you come around
No sound is found when you come around
No sound is found when you come around
No sound is found when you come around
Dr. Cox's POV
BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP.
"C'mon. You're kidding me," I moan, digging in my pocket for the pager. "I'll kill whoever…" And I was just starting to relax, too. Everyone in the bar is staring at me like I'm the weirdest freak in the world for opening a pager and doing business at one thirty in the morning. I scowl at one of them and flip the contraption open.
Bambi, Turk told me to tell you there's a moonlight shift available on the ambulance for three hundred fifty bucks tomorrow. Wants to know if he should sign you up.
Seeing some kind of sticker that resembles a hamburger on the pager, I realize it isn't mine. At first I'm relieved—they aren't paging me, after all—but then I realize that this stupid thing's gonna be bleeping all night for someone else. Hmmmm. Who was Bambi?
Oh, right. Newbie. Carla had called a different intern some kind of fairy tale name every year and Newbie happened to be her latest victim. How did our pagers get switched? I think back over today, and it vaguely occurs to me that I put down my pager before he came to annoy me with some father issue. I snort, reflecting on my stupidity. He probably has my pager now. Serves him right.
BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP.
"Ugh," I growl, snapping it open again.
So? Are you in?
Frustrated, I type in, This is Dr. Cox. I've got Pamela's pager for some reason that is beyond me, so quit sending messages unless you want to see a very angry person in the morning.
Dr. Cox? Ha! Carla responds. Do you have your pager? Because people have been paging you all night without you answering. You'd better get it.
"Damn it," I mutter. Well, I knew that Newbie didn't live too far from here, and I really needed that pager. Stupid intern was probably sleeping right through the noise. Well, we'll just have to see if he can sleep through me knocking on his doors in the early morning. It's his fault, after all. If he hadn't annoyed me with his stupid…
BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP.
"Shut up," I snap at it. "I'm going, okay? Just quit beeping!"
I am down
I am down
I am down
I am down
He rounds on me, and I freeze. It's funny. I'm perfectly able to defend myself. One good punch in the face and he'd be out like a light.
But it's wrong. I know it's wrong to do that. My mom taught me better than that; besides, it would only be stooping to his level. Doctors aren't supposed to cause pain, they're supposed to heal pain.
"Never listened…didja?" he asks me.
I don't answer. I've listened. All my life; very word, every sound, every bruise and ache is etched into my existence. In some ways, I know it's changed me. Maybe that's why I'm so goofy and weird all the time. It explained a lot of the bruising. Oh, JD? Yeah, he's just klutzy. Typical JD. Don't think anything of it, he'll just go bang himself up again.
"No, I didn't," I admit, my voice barely louder than a whisper. He doesn't hear me. He's too far gone in his drunken fantasy to hear me now. Tomorrow he wouldn't remember any of this; just like when I was a kid, he'd "forget" and my mom would be too scared to bring it up until the divorce.
I should've known better. I didn't.
He raises his fist at me, swinging it at my head. The blow hits with surprising strength, more than I remembered, and the surprise sends me to the ground. Paralyzed by the utter shock of it all, the realization that the past I'd worked so hard to forget is coming back to haunt me, he continues to kick me from my position on the ground.
I manage to get myself off the ground between the hits. "Q-quit it," I stutter, tasting the metallic blood in my mouth from the original punch. "You can't do this."
"Oh yeah?" he yells, his voice raising. "Watch me!"
I can't move. I'm fully capable of smacking him back, knocking him out, punching out his lights. Why can't I just do it?
Maybe because when I look at him, I see myself, eight years old, reflected in his eyes. I see myself pleading with him to stop. I hear his words.
You're worthless. Why can't you be more like your brother? How did I raise such a suck-up, always getting As? Aren't you ever going to grow? Damn it, I don't know how I got saddled with you. Can't even take a hit, can you, boy? Stop those tears!
I don't cry this time. The rational part of me knows that he'll leave tomorrow morning as soon as the hangover lessens, and by that time I'll be gone to work. There won't be a note, but I'll be okay with that. I'll tell everyone I tripped on Rowdy and fell on the lamp.
Just like when I was little. And then the crushing pain that constantly is mounting with every blow seems to die down with the sense of calm. Tomorrow it will be over. Tomorrow it will be fine.
Tomorrow I'll be JD, the annoying, random intern—the best I've ever been.
No sound is found when you come around
No sound is found when you come around
No sound is found when you come around
No sound is found when you come around
Dr. Cox's POV
Their apartment is on the ninth floor. I am so not in the mood for this. The stairs keep going and going and going until finally I reach the top, more annoyed with Newbie than I ever have been with any other intern.
He's lucky he's smart. Otherwise he'd be mincemeat by now.
I hear something slam in his apartment. At least, I think it's his apartment. I grimace, imagining him crushing my precious pager. My evil, conniving, precious pager.
I knock on the door. "Newbie, you'd better answer," I call out.
Another slam.
"Dad, move. I have to answer the—"
Something cracks loudly in the room. I hear someone grunt and that's the end of it. For a moment I hover at the door, unsure of what to do. Obviously nobody's devouring my pager.
"That's what ya get, stu…stupid kid," someone slurs inside. That confirms it. Something's going on in there. Without thinking, I turn the knob of the unlocked door and burst inside, not expecting it to be that easy.
I knew it was going to be something bad, but what I see is completely unexpected. Of all the scenarios I've ever imagined happening in my life—some of them particularly disturbing—this never qualified as something that I'd even perceive as possible. To me, at least, interns were indestructible. They got colds and the sniffles and generally annoyed the older doctors.
I never imagined any intern—especially my intern, the one that followed me around all day that, scarily enough, I'd grown somewhat attached to—backed up against the wall, half of his face masked with blood, and not making any attempt to get up.
"Newbie?" I manage, aghast. This couldn't be happening. It was typical, though, wasn't it? Don't let Perry get attached to anyone. They'll suffer too.
He doesn't answer. A fleeting thought occurs to me—could he be dead? Before I know it I'm leaning down and shaking him. "Get up," I plead, wondering if this was a nightmare. "C'mon…Newbie! Don't do this to me…"
He groans. I don't think I've ever felt so relieved in my life. I've handled death before; patients die in front of me nearly every day, as a matter of fact. But this was different. If anything had actually happened to him, I don't think I'd be able to forgive myself.
Because of this morning. Because he came to me for help and I turned him away. Because now, looking over at the sleeping, drunken man with a broken, jagged beer bottle in his hands—the same man I'd seen and taunted at the bar—I realize that this was what he'd been talking about.
Too bad it's a little late now to change what's happened.
I am down
I am down
I am down
"Newbie, say something," I order.
He takes a pained breath. "D-Dr. Cox? How'd you…?"
"Your door was unlocked. You have my…" I stop. It doesn't matter anymore. "What happened?"
He grins ruefully. At least, I think that's what he's doing. Most of his face is red with blood coming from several gashes on his forehead. There's a black circle forming around his left eye, and his work scrubs are bloody and torn.
Why would somebody hurt JD? I've known him for almost a year now. He isn't a bad kid. He was always trying to do the right thing. This doesn't make any sense.
"I…uh…fell over," he says, coughing in an attempt to laugh.
"Not funny," I snap. "Can you even move? This…this is serious," I tell him, even though I don't want to believe it. I want to block it out, rewind, and be back at the bar. But I know that if I hadn't shown up just now, Newbie would be as good as dead.
"I'm fine. I just have to…" His arm shakes as he brings his hand to his head and feels the blood forming. "Ow."
"I'm calling 911," I say worriedly as his eyes daze out. I think part of him has registered what I'm doing, but most of him is off in the middle of nowhere. I hope that means that he isn't in too much danger. It's good that he's awake.
I call in and let the dispatcher know what's going on. They say they'll be there as soon as they can be; looking over at the intern, I really hope that they hurry. Stupid ninth floor.
"That's your father?" I ask him once I hang up, trying to engage him in conversation so he doesn't drift off.
"Yeah." He takes a moment before he speaks again, trying to catch his breath. "What…what are you doing here?"
"Our pagers were switched," I explain. It almost makes me laugh out loud. Here I was worried about a pager five minutes ago—then this. "Newbie…how could this happen to you? I mean, what did you do to deserve this?"
He shrugs with one shoulder, wincing. "It's just been like this. Since I was little. I thought…" He snaps back into reality, looking at me and realizing that it was Dr. Cox—not a friend. "I don't know," he says quickly, moving his eyes to the floor.
"Well, just…don't move," I tell him, even though it's obvious that he won't be opposing me on that matter. "I think you've got some broken bones. Just…hold on. They're going to be here any minute." I swallow hard. The words feel like sandpaper on my throat. I don't want this to be happening. It shouldn't be happening—not to someone like Newbie. Not to someone like JD.
I turn to stare at the half-conscious man and smell the reek of alcohol. How could he do this to his own kid? How could anyone be capable of hurting another being like this? He probably worked pretty hard to do that much damage.
"Newbie…I'm sorry."
He shakes his head. "It's my fault. I should've known."
I should've known, too, I think to myself, sighing.
"Dr. Cox?" he asks. I can hear the sirens coming. Never before has that obnoxious wail been so soothing.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks…for everything."
I am down
And that's the end! Everybody thank RainyDayz for coming up with this wonderful plot! It was fun to write up, but she's got all the intelligence and eternal Scrubs greatness, so be sure to tell her how much you like it :D :D.