Okay, this fic is rated for character death and violence. Even though this chapter might seem funny (and if it does, thank you. I love you. Will you marry me?) it gets darker. M'kay? Anyway…
Disclaimer: If I owned Scrubs, there would be a character that was Ben's daughter.
And I would play her.
Death is everywhere. Always. As doctors, we skirt around it and try not to make eye contact. But occasionally, you just gotta start a stare-down with him (her? it?) and see how long you can survive. Everyone breaks eventually, and the only variable is when.
And in the end, that determines your fate.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Ghandi?" said Dr. Cox, storming in.
Turk was sitting on the couch of the doctor's lounge, drinking a bottle of soda and staring at the TV like it was magic.
"I mean," Cox continued, "do you even know what starts in less than two minutes?"
"Yeah," JD said from the table, looking up from a large, blue textbook. "I've been looking forward to it all day!"
"What?" Turk said, barely listening.
JD and Cox spoke at the same time. "My soap!" "Mythbusters reruns!"
You guess who said what.
"And anyway, C-Bear, why are you watching the news?" JD raised his voice. "Think! Explooooooooooooooooosions!"
"Patricia actually makes a good point. I mean, I doubt the world issues have even penetrated that big waxed ball you call a head." Cox reached up and covered the bottom of the television screen. "What's the name of the reporter? Five… four… three--"
"Haley Gardener!" Turk jumped in.
Cox lifted up his hand. Leslie Stevens. "Will the real Haley Gardener raise their hand?"
A nervous, dark-haired nurse making herself coffee raised her hand.
Dr. Cox glanced up to the screen where the illustrious Miss Stevens was saying enthusiastically, "Just think what you could do with fifteen million!"
"Oh no," Cox said, and plopped down on the couch next to Turk. He put his hand on the surgeon's forehead.
Turk took his eyes away from the TV. "What are you doing to me?"
Perry had a look of fake concern on his face. "Elevated temperature, addicted to the television, not being terrified of me..." Cox called into the hallway.
"Carla! Get in here!"
Carla, looking annoyed in her pink scrubs, rushed in. "What is it, Perry? One of Elliot's interns messed up an IV…"
"I've told him a million times! Frick!" Elliot strode in.
Cox, remaining serious, said, "Your husband… he has… lottery fever."
Turk turned around. "Baby, fifteen million!"
JD said, "I know what I'd do with fifteen million…" He tilted his head, off in his fantasy world.
Turk sighed, then perked up. "You know what we should do?"
"Kill Ava before she gets back from Candy Mountain?"
"Make a pool! Fifteen million divided by five-- that's still four million each!"
"Actually, Turk, that's three million." Elliot said. "Minus taxes."
There was an awkward silence, broken by JD's, "We'd need to find a way to get rid of the cockroaches…"
"Fantastic." Cox sighed.
"Here," Carla said, and grabbed Turk's now empty bottle of Sprite. "Everyone get in a circle."
"Well, gee, thanks Carla for the offer but my parents say I can't play spin-the-bottle until I turn sixteen." Cox said (sarcastically, it goes without saying).
"Whoever it lands on has to go get the tickets." Carla said. "Come on, guys, this'll be fun!"
"Baby, the last time you said that I ended up stuck at the top of a Ferris wheel with a bunch of squirrels attacking me." Turk said, but gave in and sat next to her. "JD?"
All four of them besides Dr. Cox sat in a circle.
"Fine," he said, tiredly, and took a place next to Carla, refusing to sit.
"Can I give it a spin?" Elliot said, excited.
Dr. Cox made a "bing" sound; "Things Elliot Reid says before wrecking her dad's Porche."
Carla gave Cox a look. "Go ahead."
Elliot reached out and gave it a good spin. It slowed and stopped.
They all looked at who it was pointing at…
Ha! Cliffhanger! But it sorta has to be a cliffhanger. You'll get what I'm saying later.