"Frick!" Elliot Reid slammed her fist onto the horn of her car. It made sense that, on the first day in over a month that she had stayed late at work, her car would break down. Blowing her bangs out of her eyes, she flipped out her cell phone. "Easy, Elliot. Breathe. You can just call information and get someone to tow your car to the nearest auto shop. See? It's all fine."

About ten minutes later, she had managed to get someone to tow her car- if she were willing to wait an hour. Naturally, everything that could go wrong was. That was the way her life worked. If one bad thing happened, she might as well prepare herself to be in for the long haul because there was no way the rest of her day would go well.

She should have predicted something like this when she first got up in the morning. Her hair hadn't been very cooperative in its straightening- and looked horrible all day. She had slipped on some coffee when she first walked into the hospital. It was just one of those days.

"Double frick!" She groaned as she knocked over her coffee into her lap. The blonde jerked open the door, and hurried to get under the street light to get a better look at the stain. It would be fine, with three washings in bleach. With a sigh of relief, she realized it was a surprisingly warm night (God, she had never stayed three hours late before!), a peaceful place by a park. She leaned against the car, drumming her fingers lightly on her arm.

And she paused. Were those-

"If you scream, you're dead!" A voice hissed in her ear as a hand clamped over her mouth. Whoever it was, his other arm had jerked across her chest to pin her arms still. She froze. "I have a gun, and I will kill you. Got that?"

-footsteps.

She gave a short, terrified nod, and the hand released her. Without thinking, she let out a loud shriek and tried to jerk away from the arm clamping across her chest. She prayed someone- anyone!- was close enough to hear her scream, to come and save her from whatever was about to happen. The man- as she had easily realized he was- grunted as she elbowed him in the gut with her newly freed right arm.

Thank God for apple thieves.

She ran forward as he released her completely to press a hand to his stomach. He grabbed at her hair as she darted forward, jerking her onto the ground. She twisted around, desperate to make him let go of her. Her hair tugged painfully at her scalp. She shrieked again.

Why didn't I just stay in the car?

"Shut the hell up!" The man grunted, shoving her to the ground. She tried to kick at him, but he had a strong grip on her and held her down. "Just shut up!"

Her breath came in short gasps- she needed to think. What could make him leave her alone? He obviously didn't care about the car- wouldn't he have just shoved her to the ground, and gotten in?

"I called someone to tow my c-car!" She gasped out. Were those tears? Not surprising. She had always cried easily. "He'll be here soon, any minute!"

She flinched when the felt the barrel of a gun pressed against her back, and sucked in her breath.

"I warned you, bitch!" His voice spat in her ear. "I warned you, I can kill you, I will kill you!"

In that moment, Elliot Reid realized that these might be her last moments alive. He kicked the back of her knees, and she fell against the sidewalk. She cried out softly, and the man crammed his hand against her mouth to silence her. At the foreign object shoved in her mouth, she followed instinct- and bit him hard. It was a natural reaction, a stupid mistake. She hadn't even really meant to.

"Fuck!" The man howled, jerking backwards and firing the gun.

As the bullet struck her arm, she found herself wondering if it was an accident or if he had done it as punishment. Had the trigger just slipped? Had he planned on shooting her if she disobeyed? She screamed again, and grabbed her right arm. She could taste blood on her lips- had they scraped against the concrete?- and wondered if it would swell. Her arm was burning- was the bullet still in, or had it simply grazed her? She wasn't sure, and she prayed it had just cut her.

"Shut the hell up!" He jerked her up again by her uninjured arm. She stumbled along numbly. He was going to kill her. She would die. Oh God, she couldn't die! She wasn't ready, she hadn't married anyone, she was too young!

Calm down, Elliot, calm down! You'll make it through this. Just, offer him your stuff!

"I have twenty dollars in my back pocket!" She twisted desperately. "I- I have credit cards in my car!"

"I don't want your money!" He laughed. "Come on."

She slammed her fist into his stomach, and tried to jerk away. He tightened his grip on her arm. She flinched back, terrified of another gun wound. She found herself thinking of her friends (yes, anything but what was happening, so unreal, it wasn't happening, no). How would Carla have handled this? Oh, Turk was always with his wife when they went home (wasn't he?). He would keep her safe. Even if she were alone, she would find a way out of it. What if it were J.D. or Turk under attack? They would be strong and fight! They wouldn't have been reduced to tears from just a few shoves.

"Fuck!" He hissed, shoving her into the ground again. Elliot let out soft cries as he slammed her face into the pavement, beating the back of her head. After what seemed like an eternity- though it was actually just a minute or so- he released her, and flipped her on her back, wrapping his hands around her throat.

She squeaked softly as her airflow was cut off, digging her fingernails into his wrists. She felt the skin give a small pop beneath them and soon felt the familiar warmth and stickiness of blood on her fingertips. For a second, she went limp, blacked out. He released her throat, and pulled her to her feet. She dazedly stumbled forward as he dragged her. Once she had regained her bearings, she screamed and kicked the back of his knee, turning on her feet to flee. His fingers snatched at her hair, and she lost her balance, falling in front of him again.

"Damn! Come on," He pulled her further into the park. She suddenly realized what was going to happen.

"Please, don't do this!" She cried softly, trying to hold back the tears. "Please, don't rape me, please!"

He ignored her.

"Please, oh God! I'm begging you, I'm still in college, I can't have this happen!" She cried out. Yes, it had been a lie, and a damn good one. If he felt sorry for her, wouldn't he let her go? She hoped so.

"Come on."

"I am gonna kill Barbie for leaving me a barely stable patient to watch the whole damn night." Perry Cox growled as he leaned against the counter, running his hands through his hair. "Four hours, I have had to watch his vitals, whereas my patients don't get any attention from their doctor."

"Oh, don't whine so much!" Carla smirked at him. "We've all got the night shift, too. Bambi'll keep you company. And we all know you like the whole 'feeling needed' thing."

"I would, however, take Barbie over Martha." The man insisted with a frown, pausing to consider if he had used that name before. He had. Damn.

"Mm-hmm. If Elliot's patient is stable now, then focus on your patients." Carla rolled her eyes at the obvious solution. "My God, you're sometimes more dramatic than her."

"Um, Dr. Cox?" A nervous intern, obviously working in the ER, approached him cautiously.

"Yes, peon?"

"There's a rape case downstairs." She fiddled with her hair.

"And I care because?"

"Well, we, um, don't know what to do. Should we admit her for, um, injuries or just keep her downstairs until someone can see her?" The intern was obviously terrified. "We're re-really swamped, and, um, well…"

"And where, may I ask, is Dr. Morrison? He is in charge of you tonight, yes?" He crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow.

"Um, we don't really, um, know where he is." She cringed, expecting a fierce rebuttal. "Th-That's why no one knows what to do. We think that the doctors, um, kinda left to get drunk or something. We don't really know where any of them are."

"My God, do I have to do everything around here?" He rolled his eyes, and brushed past her without a word.

"He's in a bad mood." Carla explained to the girl.

"So, why exactly didn't you know what to-" Dr. Cox snapped at another intern working the ER as he approached the room they had moved her to. He stopped short, obviously caught off guard.

"Um, sir, to what?" The intern asked softly. He noted that the (in)famous doctor in Sacred Heart was starring wide-eyed at the blonde crying on the table. He peered at her himself. She was pretty beat up. Her lip was cut, and her eyes swollen (either from crying or blows, he couldn't tell which). She was gripping a blood-soaked spot on her shirt, and blood was showing decently through her pants as well. The red imprints of fingers would leave a butterfly bruise on her neck. Her clothes were on inside out, and her hair tousled. Small scratches and bruises littered what skin was visible.

Even so, no one ever saw Dr. Cox pause like that. It was likely close to losing control for him (though, he had to admit, he had heard stories of reactions worse than this).

"Barbie."

"Dr. Cox?" Elliot looked up, eyes red from crying and mascara running down her face.

"Why did no one tell me that it was Barbie?" The doctor glared at the young intern, whom tried to stammer out some reply. "Don't answer. Just go find Kelly and her better, blacker half. Now."

The intern hurried away, too afraid to try to understand who the hell Kelly was.

"Hell, I'd better do it." Perry Cox turned to leave. His solution to awkward situations was always the same- avoid at all costs.

"No, I really do think that would be a good idea-" J.D. found himself interrupted from his riveting conversation with Turk by a familiar whistle.

"Rachel, Gandhi, we have a situation downstairs that the interns are too dumb to deal with." Dr. Cox began. "So-"

"What is it?" J.D. turned towards him mentor, silliness with his best friend only half out of his mind.

"Wow, Rachel, I sure don't know. I wasn't going to tell you anything, but just felt like announcing it because I am so obviously as idiotic as the rest of you peons! You see, I just love to be interrupted when there is news that may or may not be important because…"

J.D. suppressed a groan. It was nearly impossible to derail Dr. Cox any time he was preaching at anyone, particularly his would-be protégé.

"Why the hell didn't you come tell me that Elliot was that rape patient?" Carla stormed into the lobby, her glare softened by worry for her friend.

"What?" J.D. stared at her. That would have been one of the things to stop him.

"Barbie's downstairs. I want you and Gandhi taking care of her." Dr. Cox glanced down at Carla. "I didn't get the chance."

"I'm gonna go check on her." Carla headed after her husband.

"Elliot, what happened?" J.D. hurried into the room.

"Can we talk about it later?" Elliot looked at him. He glanced at her state, and paused.

"What's that?" He pointed to the arm.

"The ra-" She paused, unable to get the word out. "Guy shot me."

"Elliot." Carla hurried into the room, followed by Turk. "Are you okay?"

"Believe it or not, I've been better." Elliot flinched as J.D. lifted her sleeve to check the gunshot. A bullet was buried in her arm. He was glad it wasn't too deep, and would be easy to fix.

"Man, Elliot. Is there anything I can do?" Turk looked at her. She met his eyes, and shook her head. Turk touched her hand, which stiffened under his touch. "He was black, wasn't he?"

The room was silent. She nodded briefly.

"I'm so sorry. You know that we're not all like that."

"I know, Turk. It doesn't change anything between us."

J.D. glanced down at her. Rape patients frequently were like this; often focusing on friends and family to avoid the crime. It was a common reaction to try to seem like everything was normal, but he was surprised it was the one Elliot was showing. She was a drama queen, wasn't she? She had claimed it herself once. He would have expected her to be one of the victims that was in hysterics.

Then again, he had never really seen her in an event quite like this.

"I think you might need some stitches. Would you rather have a female doctor for the examination?" He asked his friend. God, it was weird to talk to her like she was a patient.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

Oh, thank God! He had no desire to see her battered and broken.

"I'll go find someone. Turk?"

"Coming, buddy."

Carla stood to leave with her husband.

"Um, Carla? Could you just sit with me for awhile?" Elliot asked softly. "I know, you have to go help out with the patients, but… I could really use a friend right now."

"Sure thing." Carla sat back down.

The rest was a blur for Elliot. She answered questions numbly, as if it weren't her voice speaking.

As if she weren't the victim.

Carla looked her over as the doctor made her remove her shirt. A few shallow cuts skirted her back, less frequent than the bruises. The imprint of fingers on her upper left arm was already darkening, leaving way to a nasty bruise. The nurse noted that her inner thighs were darkening as well once she had stripped down.

"Where did these cuts from?"

"Beer bottles." Elliot answered. "I think there were a couple of broken ones littered throughout the tunnel thing."

"So, we'll probably want to give you a tetanus shot."

"Alright."

Numb, broken, ruined. Dear Lord, who would want her now? Keith- no, Keith deserved better. She was just the girl that couldn't even spit out her feelings to him, let alone deserve all the love he gave her. She flinched and gasped when the doctor gently pried the bullet out of her arm.

"Dr. Reid?"

"Yeah?"

"We'll keep you overnight to make sure no lead stayed in the gun wound. Other than that, you'll need some painkillers and stitches, but you should be able to leave by tomorrow morning."

"Thank you."

Elliot sat silently with Carla for a few minutes, neither girl quite sure what to say.

"How'd it happen?"

"I…" Elliot frowned, bunching the hospital gown in her hands. The morphine had blurred her memory- she had seen the gynecologist, hadn't she? Had she taken a shower yet? She hoped so, because she wanted him off her. "I don't want to remember right now, kay?"

"Yeah, got it." Carla paused. "Look, Elliot, I'm so sorry. Have you talked to the police?"

"Yeah."

"I-" Carla paused, glancing at her pager. Its beeping had interrupted her next thought. "I gotta go. You okay? Do you want me to send someone else to sit with you?"

Elliot paused. Was she okay? She didn't really know, the numb fuzziness of morphine having overtaken her mind. She gave a brief (and sleepy) nod. So much for a romantic evening with Keith, like she had planned.

"Alright. I'll send J.D. or Turk in to hang out with you. Should you call your parents or something?"

"Not tonight, Carla."

"We'll get you transferred upstairs soon, okay?"

"Yeah…"

And then sleep.

It was definitely one of those days.