Disclaimer: Not mine

Flashbacks in italics

JD's POV


Two days later...

"Nice knife you got there. You fish a lot?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Oh. I haven't gone fishing in...well...ever."

He laughed, and the corners of his eyes crinkled up. Suddenly he looked far less scary then he did just a second ago. I found myself laughing too, even though I had no idea what we were laughing at.

"I'm Tim."

He held his hand out to me. It was thick and calloused with dirt under his short nails. There was something in his voice that made me trust him, that erased that first intimidating impression of him. I shook his hand.

"JD."

We both stood up.

"I mostly hunt, but I do a fair bit of fishing."

"Is that what you do...for a living I mean?"

Tim laughed again, I smiled instantly.

"No, not really. Well, it does keep me alive, yes, but I don't get paid for it. I used to work on Wall Street, actually. Made six figures a year with a five figure bonus every year for Christmas."

My jaw dropped.

"And now you...?"

"Now I live in cabin in the middle of nowhere about two and a half hours from here and live off the land, so to speak."

He smiled a warm, gentle smile.

"I'm a doctor."

That didn't sound as cool as it usually does. Tim clapped me on the shoulder with one of his beefy hands and laughed again.

"A doctor? Good for you. I could have used you a while back, when I got this." He gestured to the scar on his face. "Got in an argument with a local. He got a good swing in before I shot him and made him into the carpet in my cabin."

Whhaa?

"A bear. He had been getting into my bee hives. I chased after him, with my gun in my hand, like a fool. I should have just stayed clear and shot at him. What can I say...he made me mad. I stitched it up myself."

"Ahh..g-good work..." No way that sounded sincere.

Tim threw his head back and laughed again - a laugh that bubbled up from his stomach.

"So...what made you leave Wall Street...and-"

"The six figures a year?"

I smiled and nodded.

"It wasn't worth it. I was 28 going on 70. I worked every waking hour and had driven everyone I loved away. The people left in my life, that I called friends, were only out to get my position and my salary. My health was going down the tubes...and it was all for what? A fancy car and a silk suit. Empty."

"So, you moved out to the wilderness to live the simple life."

"Yep. Built myself a cabin, bought a 15 year old truck...I grow and catch my own food. I come to town a handful of times a year to stock up, and that's it."

This guy was so interesting. I wish I was going back to his cabin with him to just hang out on his bear skin rug by the fire to hear him tell stories.

"Wow. You're like Grizzly Adams."

There's that laugh again.

"No beard though."

Oh yeah...it seems like he should have a beard.

"You should definitely grow a beard."

"I wish I could...but for some reason I've never been able to grow one."

Me either, we're like twins. I wonder if his last name starts with a D...TD and JD. TD just sounds wrong...never mind.

"I'm 41 years old and I still can't grow a beard...which is sad really because I could use it to cover this scar."

I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms to settle in to our conversation.

"So, Tim, how long have you been living like this?"

"About 11 years."

"By yourself?"

"Yep. Just me and creation."

"Doesn't it ever get lonely?"

"At times, yes. But I've found that it's better to be lonely than let down."


"JD. Hey, JD. Hellllooooo!"

"And now I've let him down..."

"What?"

Oh, wow. I was completely spaced out there.

"Sorry, Elliot...just, uh...what were you saying?"

Elliot put her hand on her hip and sighed in frustration at me.

"You have been so out of it lately. More than usual I mean."

I scratched the back of my neck and could feel myself blush.

"I'm sorry. A lot on my mind, I guess."

She throws her arms up onto the counter of the nurse's station and drops her head into her hands.

"Tell me about it. My mom is coming to visit tomorrow and I haven't told her about Keith yet, and he's practically living with me now! I just know she's going to ruin this for me somehow."

I rub her back and smile...trying to be reassuring.

"Elliot, I've known you for what...5 years now?"

Elliot nodded into her hands.

"You have grown so much in that 5 years. You are a strong, independent, sexy doctor now. You practically run this place! I know you could totally take her. Just warn Keith ahead of time and then give her hell if she acts out."

Elliot just groaned and whimpered.

"Thanks, JD, but I'm not so sure I am capable of giving my mom hell. And even if I do warn Keith, who's to say he's not going to take one look at her and think that's what I'm going to be like in another 20 years? What if he spazzes out and leaves me?"

I turn around so I can lean against the counter on my elbows.

"Ok, I highly doubt that will happen...but if it does...well...then he's obviously not ready for this relationship."

Elliot leans into me and puts her head on my shoulder.

"My mom is a train wreck. And she normally pulls anyone who passes by into the wreck with her." She sighs. "Keith is doomed."

"I'm doomed? Why am I doomed?"

Oops. Everyone has the craziest timing in this place.

"Hey Keith."

"Hey Dr. Dorian."

I push off the counter and Elliot clings to my scrubs sleeve, "JD, help!"

I pat her hand and smile at her, "Elliot, relax. Just talk to him. Tell him why he's doomed."

Keith let out a tiny shriek.

I walk away and say to Keith under my breath as I leave, "If it means anything, I don't think your doomed. Whatever she says just tell her, 'you are not your mother'."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Ah, Elliot and her mom related freak out sessions. I shake my head and realize I'm smiling. Huh. I'm smiling. Since when did that become a strange sensation? Oh great, now that my idiot brain realized smiling has become a rarity - the smile is gone. Damn it. My pager is going off, I guess it's time to officially start the day. Oh, it's Lavern. I turn back and see her looking at me from the top of her glasses at the nurse's station. She's pointing to a small bouquet of flowers on the counter. Are those for one of my patients?

I walk back over to the desk, past Elliot and Keith who are talking quietly (yet intensely) about Elliot's mom.

"Hey, Lavern. You rang?"

"These are you for you." She sounds a little perturbed.

"Oh...thanks..."

Weird. Who would send me flowers? It's not my birthday, is it? I look at the envelope and my breath hitches.

"Oh my God."

It's from Linda and Abbey.

"I don't know why you're so upset about it. At least you got flowers." Lavern huffs and walks away mumbling, "No one ever send me flowers."

I stare at the envelope, my hand is shaking. My mind is going crazy with reasons why they would send me flowers. Did Gary die? I was just there again yesterday... when did he have time to die and when did they have time to send me flowers to tell me? Why would they tell me with flowers? Maybe he woke up! Maybe they found out about me and are using flowers to gloss over the restraining order.

"Awwww...you got flowers? Keith, JD got flowers!"

I glance up at Elliot, still holding the unopened card in my hand.

"He looks shocked." Keith stage whispered to Elliot.

"He does look shocked. Well...he did just get flowers. It is kind of shocking." Elliot stage whispered back.

"Oh, Bridget - did your mommy send you flowers? Did someone take a boom boom in the potty for the first time?"

Oh, good. Add Dr. Cox to the mix of on lookers. Why is it that when I actually want privacy it's nowhere to be seen?

"Open the card!"

Tremendous, now I have an audience.

I turn slightly toward the counter to try to keep the card from their prying eyes. I hope no one can see my hands shaking. I tear open the envelope and close my eyes for a brief second just to prepare myself.

It reads: "Thank you so much for coming to see us, and Gary, again yesterday. It means so much to us that there is someone else out there watching out for Gary. We don't know what we would have done without your quick thinking that day when he was shot. Before you came we were finding it difficult to translate all the medical jargon. That alone we appreciate more than you could know. We hope to see you again soon, JD. Gratefully yours, Linda and Abbey"

A bark of a laugh burst out of my mouth, then catches in my throat on its way back in. The card in front of me grew blurry. Great. I am tearing up. I don't cry in front of people! I turn away and stuff the card back in its envelope while trying my hardest to blink away the tears. My hands aren't working properly and it takes me a few tries to get the card in without bending it all the hell.

"Well? Who's it from?"

"Uh..." I blink a few more times and practice smiling before I turn around to answer Elliot. "It's a thank you bouquet..."

"Ohhh...from a patient?"

I don't really look up at anyone. I just stuff the card in my pocket and mumble, "Well, sort of."

Elliot's too busy sticking her face in the flowers to hear me, and no one else is really paying attention anymore. I can't believe it. Why would they thank me? Why would they take the time to send me flowers while their loved one is lying in a hospital bed in a coma because of my thoughtlessness? Why?

I vaguely hear Elliot babbling in the background about how she's never gotten flowers from a patient before and how it's not fair. I'm just staring at the flowers. I reach out slowly to touch one of the blooms. I don't know anything about flowers. I don't even know what these are? They're beautiful, though.

"I'm just as good a doctor as JD is, and no one has ever given me flowers! It's just because he's such a brown-noser. I could get flowers from my patients, too if I started smooching their butts the way he does with his whole 'go the extra mile' crap."

Keith is trying to reassure Elliot that she is a good doctor that deserves flowers. Normally I would find the site of him petting her while semi-frantically blubbering out compliments infuriating, but I'm not focused on that right now. I'm more worried about the surge of emotion I can feel welling up in my gut. I can probably count on one hand the amount of times I've cried in front of anyone other than my absolute closest friends and family. Even then the number would be rather low. I don't see any reason why I should add one more to the count.

I mumble a quick, "Excuse me" and walk away. I'm not sure where I'm going, but as I walk away it becomes frightfully clear that I have to get there fast. One tear has already escaped. I can hear the janitor, he must be close by. What if he's coming this way? Ah! I have to hide! In a panic I duck into the closest room - which is ironically a supply closet. Great. The janitor could easily be heading to this room anyway!

I don't know why, but I hold my breath and wait. I can here him whistling to himself, and I can hear the wheels of the mop bucket squeaking as he wheels by. He doesn't stop. They fade away and I let my breath out slowly and slump down on the floor and rest my head against the wall.

My body seems to instinctively know when it's safe to let go and before I know it the tears are flowing. I can feel my face contort in an ugly grimace and my shoulders shake from the power of the sobs. It always amazes me that even when my whole body convulses I can still cry without making a sound. So here I am, hiding in the supply closet crying like a little boy - crying like Elliot used to.

I can't even pin point why I'm crying. If Dr. Cox or someone were to ask me if I was ok or if there was anything wrong now, I'm not sure what I would even say. Am I ok? I'm here. I'm alive. I'm not lying in a hospital bed in a coma or recovering from a heart attack. I guess I'm ok. So, what's wrong? Why am I crying? Because someone sent me flowers as a thank you? I should be smiling.

I feel so many things right now, I don't think I could begin to name all the emotions. I feel helpless, useless, unworthy of Linda and Abbey's praise. I feel tired and stretched, guilty, vulnerable yet hidden. I feel grateful and overcome, responsible, secretive, scared, sad, weak. So many things. And all I can do is cry and shake. My nose is starting to run.

After a few minutes the sobs subside and the tears stop flowing. Now I just feel wretched. I need a tissue. It's been a long time since I've looked at myself in a mirror after a good cry, but I remember my eyelids being bright red, my eyes blood shot, and my face blotchy. I bet that's how I look now. I wish I could remember how long that lasts before my face goes back to normal. I sit in silence for a minute, sniffing every now and then, trying to figure out what my next move should be.

My pager beeps. I sigh and rub my eyes before looking at it. Dr. Cox - of course. Now what? Tissues. I should look for tissues. I stand up and start rummaging through the various boxes on the shelves. Crap. No tissues. Oh, wait! Toilet paper. That will do. Ok. I've blown my nose...I don't know what else to do. I wish I could sneak into a bathroom without anyone seeing me so I can look at myself. Maybe I can find something with a reflective surface in here.

My pager beeps again. Damn it. Dr. Cox again. I take it from his "Judith - where the hell are you?!" message he's getting impatient. I can't go out there yet! My face will give me away. The best thing to do is sit and wait a few more minutes and hope Dr. Cox doesn't kill me when I finally appear. It's quiet in here. I hate waiting. I hate standing still. I stare at the floor. There is a ring of wetness left by one of the mop buckets in the corner. It reminds me of something.


Someone spilled their drink on the floor over by the trash can. It looks like someone was about to clean it up judging by the mop bucket and the mop left discarded on the floor. I didn't notice that before. I bet that job was interrupted by all of this. Looking at the spill on the floor I can't help but feel disgusting sitting here on the floor. I would rather be made to stand for hours on end doing nothing then sit on a dirty public floor doing nothing. I wonder what the drink was. A cola of some kind. That's going to be sticky. I wonder if he would let me clean that up.

Heh. I can just picture the janitor standing there by the mop bucket, mop in hand, giving me that look that says he knows I was the one who spilled it. I feel a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth. Right about now I would love to see him walk through that door. I bet he would scare even this guy into giving up the game and letting us all go. But the mop isn't in his hands. It's lying on the floor. The janitor would never leave his mop on the floor like that. He's not coming. I wish someone would clean that up.


"AH!"

What the hell? Someone grabs my arm and yanks me out of the closet. When did the door open? I must have been daydreaming...again.

"Sheila, just what do you think you're doing? I paged you four times!"

I feel really disoriented. I can hear myself say, "Four? I thought it was only twice..." but the rest of me isn't really paying attention. I'm looking at the door to the supply closet trying to figure out what just happened. Then I check my pager. Oh. He's right. I didn't even hear it. Huh. When I zone, I really zone.

Dr. Cox snaps his fingers in front of my face. Oh. Right. Dr. Cox.

"S-sorry, what...what, uh...did you need something?"

I scratch my head and point my face down and to the side in hopes that he doesn't get a good look at it. I can feel my face burning up with the very thought that I may have been caught "post cry fest".

I can see Dr. Cox bouncing on his heels with his hands stuffed in his pockets. I'm not looking, but I'm sure he has that smile - the one that's not really a smile but a "I'm going to kill you if you so much as breathe too loudly" snarl.

"Oh, Betty. Betty - need something? From you?" He laughs. "That's just...that's got to be one of the best jokes you have ever made. You know, a few more of those hum dingers and you could really take your little show on the road. I'm telling you, I think you really have a future here. I know you don't want to leave the comfort of your mother's womb and all just yet, but you've got to do it sometime, right? And what time like the present?"

He puts his arm around me and starts walking me down the hallway toward the lobby. I imagine that we could look like two buddies walking down the hall the way his arm is draped across my shoulders - to anyone who didn't know better that is. He seems to fake friendly gestures when he's particularly annoyed...or leading you to your death. Oh Lord, what am I in for now? Am I late to something?

"Bridget, what you do in your free time is none of my business and so help me I really don't want to know why you were in the closet staring at the floor instead of answering my pages or - God forbid - working. But, what can I say - girls will be girls."

He pats me on my shoulder, almost like a dad would his child. Then of course he roughly swings his arm off me like I was made of cow dung and scowls at me while shaking his head. We're in the lobby now. I think he's finished his little tirade. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me. I forget that I don't want him to see my face and look up at him. He looks irritated. He blinks and there is a different expression on his face for a second, but he blinks again and it's gone before I had a chance to put a label on it.

"Um...why did you page me?"

He nods his head at something behind me. I turn my head. The usual looking crowd is hanging around, but I don't see anyone that has anything to do with me. There are a couple of police officers over by the desk.

"Those men are here to see you."

Oh. I swallow hard and look at them again. Why would the police be here to see me? Unless...they had some news to give me...and it probably would be bad news.

"Me? Are you sure? Did they say why?"

Dr. Cox looks bored. "I'm not your secretary, Newbie." He spits out.

Oh God oh God oh God. Someone died I know it. I can feel the blood drain from my face. I'm shaking again. I can't do this. I can't go talk to them.

"I hope whatever you did was worth it."

I swallow again and turn to look at the men. They haven't noticed me yet. I know I should be moving. I should be heading over there, but I'm stuck. For a fleeting second I wonder if the janitor has glued me in place again. I realize that Dr. Cox is still behind me. Do I want him to hear whatever it is these men are going to say? I'm thinking no, mostly. I clear my throat and turn to look at him.

"Uh, are you really just going to stand there while I go talk to them?"

His mouth stretches into a wide grin and he laughs, "Oh, Newbie. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

I roll my eyes and nod. Yep. Figures.

Ok, here goes. My legs feel like lead - wobbly lead - as I slowly make my way over to the two officers. They are laughing and talking like old friends. Their casual postures don't do anything to alleviate my own anxiety. I'm breathing heavier than I should be. Finally one of the officers notices me standing there and they stop talking and look at me.

"Uh, good morning officers...uh, I was told you were looking for me."


Author's Note: I feel like this chapter was too short and uneventful. With the holidays and everything I had very little time to work on it and I just wanted to submit what I had. I think I'll do a Dr. Cox POV next - or at least his POV for part of the next chapter. I hope everyone had safe and pleasant holidays. Welcome to 2007!