AN: I'm so terribly sorry for the incredibly long hiatus. I know I've used this excuse before, but real life has once again taken priority over fandom. Unfortunately. But now I've updated! And this is the last chapter, so now I can finally say that I've finished a multi-chapter fic, something I've never accomplished before! To anyone who is still reading this, THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for not giving up on me. Please, enjoy! And as always, I own absolutely nothing.
PS. I turned 21 yesterday and ordered an appletini at dinner. Now I know why JD likes them so much! :)
Perry starts as Carla lays a hand on his shoulder, the gentle touch unexpected. He lifts his red-rimmed eyes to meet hers. She smiles sadly at him, and he turns his head, unable to bear the look of pity crossing her face.
"Go home, Perry," she whispers hoarsely. "You can't do anything for him now."
He shrugs her hand off angrily and stands, joints screaming in protest at this first movement in many hours. He kicks the hard plastic chair he'd just vacated, sending it skidding across the room. Carla simply watches him, accustomed to the older man's tendency to unleash his anger on inanimate objects. Cox's rage subsides as the chair rebounds off the wall, the dull thump reverberating throughout the small room. The muscles in his neck and shoulders untense—if it were anyone other than the formidable Dr. Cox, he would have been described as drooping. He looks at the floor as Carla calls his name softly.
"Go home, Perry," she implores as she crosses the room to stand in front of him. "He wouldn't like to see you so stressed. Please?" Once again, their eyes meet, and this time Cox gives in.
"Fine, Carla. I'll leave. Are you happy now?" he asks gruffly, though she's known him long enough to tell that his tone of voice is a cover, masking his true sentiment. As she ushers him to the door, he turns pleading eyes towards her.
"Carla," he begins, to be cut off by her nodding her assent to the unasked question.
"I know, Perry," she says, and watches as his retreating form disappears around the corner.
Cox doesn't leave the hospital right away, instead detouring to the locker room to shower. He opens his locker, hanging up his white lab coat and toeing off his sneakers and socks to slip into sandals for the shower—there's no way he'd stand on the tile floor barefoot. Who knew what hospital employees did in there? He represses a shudder as an image of the Todd and his banana hammock sprang to his mind. Maybe he should have gone home after all…
Too late to change his mind, Perry steps into the shower, thankful that it's the middle of the night shift and it's unlikely he'll be interrupted. He turns the tap as far as possible, the superheated spray of water pounding into his shoulders. He knows the hot water is turning his skin bright red, but the stinging sensation proves a welcome distraction. The rhythmic sound of cascading water is soothing, allowing him to drift away in his thoughts.
Only when the water turns cold does he realize how long he'd been in the shower. He turns off the tap and steps out, nearly slipping on the wet tiles. He dresses quickly, methodically. Grabbing his lab coat and pager, he heads downstairs for the lobby of Sacred Heart. He's pushing open the door, heading out to the parking lot where his Porsche is waiting, when his pager buzzes, signaling missed pages.
He holds the black box up to his eyes, squinting in the dim light, and is surprised to see he has four missed pages, all from Carla. His heart plummets to the floor and he doesn't even pause to read them before he takes off at a sprint up to the third floor ICU.
The door to his room is wide open, the lights on, and Perry can see the backs of Carla and a gray-haired woman whom he presumes is the hospital's attending cardiologist. Janitor is standing just outside the door like a facsimile of a bodyguard, though his expression is one of forced nonchalance. Turk is running down the hallway, Elliot skidding around the corner behind him. The three reach the doorway at the same time, and after a momentary bottleneck, they burst through.
Perry's eyes scan the room anxiously, finally connecting with JD's. The younger man is awake, though drugged to the gills by the look of it. And though he is undoubtedly grateful to be alive and amongst his friends in the land of the living once more, he appears overwhelmed by the sheer amount of attention being dumped on him.
An earsplitting whistle quiets the dull roar and everyone turns to look at Cox, startled that he would be so loud in the room of a recovering patient. "Everyone except for the heart doctor and myself, get out. NOW." There's an odd note of tension in his voice, and though Turk looks as though he's going to protest being kicked out, Carla's hand on his forearm shuts his mouth, and he files out without a word. JD smiles, apparently amused by the attending's antics.
For the life of him, Cox can't remember the cardiologist's name, blatantly staring at her name badge, which unfortunately for him is flipped over. She raises an eyebrow and says, "It's McCoy." Before Cox can make a smart-ass response, she continues. "I finished the initial post-transplant check-up before I paged the head nurse. He's all yours." To whom she was addressing was unclear—Cox got the distinct and horrifying impression that she was speaking to JD, who was grinning wider than before as McCoy exited his room, shutting the door behind her.
An uncomfortable silence descended, and maybe that was because Newbie was actually quiet for once, waiting for Perry to make the first move. He crossed his arms and paced at the foot of the bed. "So, how's the new ticker treating you?" An inane question, masking the concern he felt at the younger man's near-demise.
"Fine." Newbie's voice is quiet and tired, but the fact that he's speaking at all is a reassurance. Maybe his relief shows in his eyes, because Newbie takes on a knowing expression.
"I'm glad you're alright," Cox admits, staring at the ground. JD smiles.
"Thanks. Me too." JD is quiet for a long while, staring at his hands folded in his lap while Perry paces around the room. The only sound is the scuffing of Cox's sneakers and the regular beeping of the heart monitor. The latter is a sound that Perry could listen to all day--proof that the young man that he'd started to (heaven forbid) have feelings for was alive and well, or at least on the road to recovery.
"You know, I thought you were going to..." Cox doesn't finish the thought. He doesn't need to--JD is nodding solemnly.
"Me too," he says again. "I was so sure I wasn't going to make it. But you want to know what kept me alive?" Cox turns his head, unable to look into those impossibly-blue eyes anymore. The impending revelation will be catastrophic, and he's not sure if he can survive the fall-out. But JD pauses until Cox is forced to look at him, already knowing the answer. "You."
He'd never have thought Newbie capable of such emotional maturity—the man always seemed like an overly excitable puppy--but this discussion wasn't dissolving into a mushy and confessional love fest like he'd been fearing.
Against his better judgment, Perry blurts out, "You know I'm not big on hand-holding, and I'm not going to start drinking appletinis, and you most definitely have to cut back on the amount of coconut-scented hair product you use because dear god Newbie I can smell you from a mile away and no, I won't be cutting back on the nicknames and the whistling." He realizes after a pause how harsh that sounded, and tacks on a feeble, "Just so you know."
"I know, Perry."
The fact that JD just called him by his first name and he's not seeing red tells him he's made a big mistake. But it just might be the best decision of his life.
They're going to be okay.
