DISCLAIMER: Scrubs is owned by the fantastic Bill Lawrence and the ABC network (as of Season 8). I own nothing, perhaps not even any semblance of a plot, because whenever I go into Sci-Fi, it always turns out a little Stargate-like. Lyrics are owned by the fantastic Coheed and Cambria, as this arc of the story is best suited to their fantastic words.

AUTHORS NOTE: My brain is screaming at me for this, as I'm notoriously known for having extreme writers block, being completely timid to write anything in fear that it's out of character, and almost never update. I've decided to continue on with this story despite what my brain says. The idea just pulled me in, I guess, although any and all plots I've developed pertain to the second half of the story, not the first, so production might be slow for a while. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I hope this installment does your kind words justice.

Lyrics adapted from the song Fuel For the Feeding End by Coheed and Cambria.

PART I—PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE.

CHAPTER I: THE TARGET

The better end of all to come—
The truth be now here one by one,
I am to you extend to none
The memory that fuels the fire.

ONE WEEK EARLIER.

In his dream—a dream so realistic he could feel it in his bones—he was standing on the roof of a building placing him high above the city, eyes downcast as he observed the streets. People were scattered, moving like ants across concrete. They were so small from this height, so fragile. He, in comparison, felt like a giant, something he knew was all a trick of the mind. Still, he watched them from his pedestal, wondering if this was what God did day in day out.

What a heinously boring job...

The world shifted, somewhat. His peace was disturbed by a sudden ringing in his ears. He knew what it was—the name of the sound, it was on the tip of his tongue—but he couldn't for the life of him say it out loud. It started as a simple buzz, a dull throbbing. It was annoying, but bearable, until its frequency increased with its volume and it crashed against his ears. His mind reeled, his vision spun in a whirlwind of colors and his world tilted violently off axis.

The next thing he knew, he was falling—off the top of the skyscraper and into the proverbial ant-farm below. He fell fast, at freefall speed, and only had a brief few seconds to consider how hard he would fall before he did.

JD woke up with a scream, body covered with sweat and the sound of his alarm still pulsing in his ears.

He sat up slowly, riding out the dizzying aftershock of his dream, which had become no more than a faded memory. He blinked irritably for a few seconds as his vision returned to him and, once he got a sense of where he was, threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood. His vision swam for a moment before it righted itself and JD was able to walk briskly out of the room to glance blearily into the kitchen.

5:55AM.

Fifteen minutes later, JD was hopping out of his apartment, swinging the door shut behind him as he tried desperately to fit his foot in his shoe. "What ever happened to accurate alarm clocks?" He mumbled, though he was very well aware that it wasn't the alarm's fault, but his own. If he had woken up when it actually started to beep, then he wouldn't be late. It was the first time in a long time, too.

I guess I'll just chalk it up to a bad day, then.

Of course, the moment he admitted it was a bad day, it simply got worse. He managed to get to the hospital unscathed, only to be berated by a ruffled Chief of Medicine, who not-so-politely informed him that they had a crisis on their hands. A multiple-car pile-up on the throughway meant that the hospital was being flooded with patients, making Sacred Heart under-staffed and more than a little overwhelmed. JD was all but forced into the locker room to get changed before he made the ultimate mistake of talking to Carla, who had apparently gotten on Doctor Cox's last nerve and was yelled at in front of the entire nursing staff. A stack load of patient's charts later, and JD felt not unlike a human yo-yo.

The only shining beacon of the first half of his day was that he had managed to avoid his mentor, something he had punctually decided was best for everyone. There was definitely something wrong with the older doctor if he yelled at Carla, of all people. She was probably the only one at the hospital Doctor Cox actually liked. And me, of course, JD thought with an amused smile, even though he'd never admit it...

But all good things had to come to an end, especially on a day like this.

"SHEILA!"

After intubating Mr. McGowan, JD found himself walking down the corridor to check up on one of his pneumonia patients, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by the sound of his mentor's voice booming down the hall. He turned to see Doctor Cox stomping towards him, a look of pure murderous rage stretched over his face. JD gulped, wondering what he had possibly done to deserve such anger.

He found out a moment later, when Doctor Cox stood right in front of him before growling: "You've done the smart thing for the first time in your life, Gladys, and avoided me for the first half of the morning—which is definitely the best idea you have ever had, well, ever. And while I re-he-heally enjoyed a morning without your constant jabbering, I am forced to place myself in your presence."

JD wasn't sure he was hearing right. "Wait, are you saying that you need my help?"

If looks could kill, JD was sure that the look Doctor Cox gave him at that moment wouldn't just be the death of him, but probably every living being in a five mile radius of him. His mentor fumed.

"No. No, Newbie, I am not asking for your help. In case you didn't hear me before, I am being quite literally forced to indulge in your girlish chatter about how that boy-band is just so fab—" The word was accompanied by a look of mock-awe that flitted across Doctor Cox's face before he finished his rant. "—Because the absolute devil of a man in room 308 refuses to answer any of my questions until he talks to 'Doctor Dorian.' Now you better come with me, Newbie, before I permanently redecorate this floor with your teeth." In the end, JD had no choice in the matter, as the last of Doctor Cox's words were followed by grabbing hold of the front of his scrubs shirt and pulling him back down the hall into room 308.

He found himself at the foot of a bed containing a rather handsome man in his mid-twenties. His hair was pitch-black and his eyes were a dull brown. They scanned JD's face, a recognition sparking deep within them as the man straightened. He was slim and pale, but muscular—definitely more buff than JD could ever get—and there was something about him that screamed danger, although he couldn't pinpoint what. Of one thing JD was absolutely sure, though.

He had never met this man in his life.

The patient, however, had a different idea. His face formed a devilish smirk. "Doctor Dorian, so good to see you again."

The man's voice was like velvet and immediately supported JD's theory that this man was nothing but trouble. He grimaced. "I'm sorry. Am I supposed to know you?" From the corner of his eye, JD saw Doctor Cox's eyebrows rise. Instead of cocking his head towards the older doctor's as he usually would when identifying that look, JD kept his eyes on the man in front of him. A small voice in his head told him to retain eye contact at all costs.

Despite his better judgment, JD listened to it. He didn't move.

The man's smirk grew wider. "Of course you wouldn't remember." He said it like it was some sort of joke, as if the concept was amusing to him. It sent shivers down JD's spine. "My name is Daniel Knott." He stuck out a hand, which JD hesitantly took. He was just thinking about how strange it was that Doctor Cox was being so quiet—the man was, really, anything but—when the patient, Knott, wrapped an arm around his and pulled JD towards him ferociously.

JD was jolted into an awkward stance, his cheek pressed firmly against Knott's. He could hear the sound of the other man breathing in his ear, a feeling that chilled him to the bone. Something about this man was really starting to bother him. The cold, calculating look in his eyes and the threat within his smirk were the least of his problems against his strength. He had thrown JD towards him as if he were a rag doll.

His mind ceased any and all thought in the next second, however, when Knott whispered against him.

"You've been targeted."

JD froze at the three words that came out of the other man's mouth. Luckily, after that moment, reality seemed to kick in and JD was pulled clean out of Knott's grasp by an exasperated Doctor Cox, who was glaring daggers at the man in the bed. His mentor's voice was full of outrage as he regarded Knott. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He yelled.

Without another word to the man in the bed, Cox pulled JD out of the room.

"You alright, Newbie?"

JD nodded, subdued. He knew that if he wasn't so shaken, he'd probably be grinning at the possessiveness in his mentor's actions. However, whenever his mind flitted across the idea that Doctor Cox was concerned for him, instead of feeling gleeful like he normally would, his mind replayed those damning three words in his head: "You've been targeted." He grimaced, head tilting to the side. What the hell did that mean, anyway?

The dark-haired doctor was knocked out of his thoughts by Doctor Cox's sudden exclamation: "Just what the hell were ya doing in there, Bethany? That man's a creep, if you didn't figure that out already. I don't care if you know him, or if you guys were BFFs in that beauty school you attended when you were eighteen, I'm not keeping you on as his resident!"

JD grimaced, feeling just a tiny bit unnerved at the tone of his mentor's voice. Despite his rant, JD knew he was serious, and for some reason that scared him more than their usual bickering did. So he replied, in all honesty, "I have no idea who he is, Doctor Cox, or how he knew my name. I've never met Daniel Knott in my life." He shuddered. "Nor did I want to."

His mentor just nodded at him, then broke eye-contact to crane his neck to the side and holler: "BARBIE!" He whistled towards the blonde receding down the hall, who stopped in her tracks.

Elliot came barreling towards them, looking as frazzled and neurotic as ever. She blew her bangs out of her face before asking, in a maddening rush of words, "Yes, Doctor Cox?"

Doctor Cox handed her Knott's chart. "Take care of this patient in 308." Elliot nodded and disappeared into the room. JD knew he should have felt bad for her, at that point, but he didn't. Instead, his mind stayed on those words.

You've been targeted.

JD worked through the rest of the morning treating the other patients involved in the crash. Some of them had managed to escape relatively unscathed, like five-year-old Lisa Whitelaw. Her mother Diana, however, wasn't so lucky. Extreme trauma to the head had put her in a coma, and she had yet to wake up. Both Lisa and Diana were his patients, so JD was the one responsible for telling the small girl the news about her mother.

It had gone remarkably well. He sat down on the end of Lisa's bed, watching the small, blonde-haired girl watching him and said softly: "Your Mom's in a deep sleep because she hit her head, but we're doing the best we can to get her to wake up. You just have to be patient, okay?" The little girl had nodded with a small smile, pressing into the fluffy white pillows surrounding her head. JD had checked her monitors, waved to her goodbye, and left the room.

His mind, however, was still there. It lingered on the mother and daughter, sorrow stirring in the pit of his gut when he considered the situation. His sadness, however, was overshadowed by his immense guilt. Guilt, because he was really only thinking of them to stop himself from thinking of someone else—namely, Daniel Knott and the number he had pulled on him.

There was only so much guilt he could take before he exploded, so come noon, JD found a chair at the Cafeteria and settled in for the long haul.

I don't understand any of this, he thought as he took a bite of his tuna salad sandwich. Even if I discredit the entire "You've been targeted" thing, there's still the fact that he knew my name when we clearly haven't met before...

JD sat up straighter. Or have we?

He spent the next ten minutes of his break scanning his mind for any and all references to Daniel Knott, or even someone who looked similar to him. His search, however, came back negative. When he looked at that man with his dark hair and even darker eyes, he had seen nothing that brought on that tingling feeling that they had met before. There was no indication, no sign, no spark. He had honestly never seen Daniel Knott in his entire life.

So how did he know who I was?

Halfway through pondering the question, with theories branching from word of mouth to kryptonite, JD was interrupted by the sound of a tray hitting his table. He looked up from his musings to see a ruffled-looking Elliot, who just nodded at him before she took a large bite of her egg salad sandwich. He was about to plunge straight back into his train of thought—which had something to do with Janitor mind control—when he realized that Elliot was, second to Doctor Cox, the perfect person to talk to.

"How did it go with the patient in room 308?" JD asked, keeping his tone casual, though he was finding it hard to blanket his curiosity.

Elliot swallowed and cleared her throat before answering, with widened eyes, "That Knott guy is creepy."

JD nodded. "Isn't he ever..." He paused before asking his next question, not entirely sure if he should. "Did he say anything to you—out of the ordinary, I mean?"

Elliot shook her head.

"No," the blonde replied with ease, although she still looked a bit disturbed. "He just kept... staring at me."

JD raised an eyebrow, which clearly said: Elaborate.

Elliot delivered. She fell into one of her rants. "Like, not in a checking-me-out way, which would still be really creepy, but at least a little flattering. He was looking at me as if he was in on some big secret, that he knew something I didn't. I mean, I know I'm not the shiniest knife in the shed, but I'm not completely oblivious." She fixated her eyes on him then—blue and bulbous. "I'm not, am I, JD?"

JD knew the appropriate response. He sighed, "No, Elliot. You're not."

She looked relieved. "Thank god. I was really starting to worry. Guess that means that he's just freaky, then."

"I guess," he replied, subdued.

Elliot looked up at his tone. "Is something wrong, JD?"

He shook his head.

"I'm fine. There's just someone I've got to talk to, is all."

And there was, which was how he found himself walking down the corridor to room 308. He was determined to ask Daniel Knott exactly how he knew his name and what the hell he meant by saying he had been targeted. After spending most of the day with his head in the clouds—more than usual, of course—and pondering this conundrum, he was going to get his answers.

Only he wasn't prepared for what he found when he walked into the room. At Knott's bedside was Carla, Doctor Cox and Nurse Roberts, all working on reviving him. Their hands were a flurry of movement as Cox prepared the defibrillator and called out the customary "CLEAR!" before thrusting the paddles down onto Daniel Knott's chest. The body arched upwards and everyone glanced up at the heart monitor—JD included—to see the result. No change. They paddles were charged again and after a second time, the heart monitor flat-lined and Knott's body fell motionless onto the bed. It was Doctor Cox who announced him.

"Time of death, 12:10."

JD walked into the room and towards the lifeless body, not sure what to think. The man might have been different, scary, but that didn't mean he deserved to die. Going over his charts, JD knew it was heart failure and as everyone cleared the room, he found himself pulling the sheet over Knott's head. There was nothing he could do for him now.

As he readied the body, JD's hand brushed against Knott's side. A shudder ran through him then and the patient's chart fell to the floor with a resounding clack. After a moment of simply staring at the body on the bed, JD dismissed the feeling as an involuntary reaction, picked up the chart and left the room. As he passed through the threshold of the door, he strengthened his resolve to let the issue go and walked down the corridor to visit Diana Whitelaw.

From underneath the sheet in room 308, a trickle of blood fell from Daniel Knott's closed eyes.

Watching his tale with words he unfolds,
Conscious and cold we'd never know—
They scream as he laughs off the blood from his eyes,
The words will now learn of the dreams in his mind.

AUTHORS NOTE II: Just to clarify, the One Week Earlier at the beginning of the chapter means that these events take place a week before the Preface, which is what the first installment of this story has now become. Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews, and I really hope you won't be afraid to tell me what you think. All comments are appreciated, even those that are constructive or even negative in nature. Everyone has an opinion, and I'd love to hear yours.

-- Exangeline.