Disclaimer: I don't own tv shows, are you kidding?!

Dr. Cox's POV

Another day in this God forsaken hell hole. I really, really don't want to be here today. Truth of the matter is though, I'd rather be here than at home. I love Jordan, (if you believe that I am capable of that emotion) but we do so much better when we see each other in small spurts. I love my son, but since he is a tiny human that I can not begin to comprehend...pretty much the same goes for him. Here at the hospital I am: the best, the smartest, the fastest, the most feared, the king of the hill. Here I can pretty much get away with anything and still go home at the end of the day able to respect myself. Not everyone can say that and really mean it. I get to saves lives for a living. Not a bad gig if you really think about it.

On the other hand...I have to work with a bunch of sniveling, whiney, incompetent, evil bastards. Since I am here more than I am at home, that doesn't always put me in the best of moods. Of course, I could probably count on one hand the number of days in my adult life that I have been in a good mood, but hey. Who's counting anyway?

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

Now, see there. It's Barbie clapping her freakishly cold hands because someone got flowers. Susan got flowers. I roll my eyes and stuff my hands in my pockets, casually strolling over. Actually, Barbie isn't being completely moronic. It is quite noteworthy that Newbie had flowers sent to him here. I am the slightest bit curious who they're from. Not that I would ever admit that. So, instead I think I'll just pretend that I have found yet another opportunity to emasculate the kid. Oh, who am I kidding...I have found another opportunity to emasculate the kid. I don't need to pretend.

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

I'm smiling a fake giddy smile. Well, partially fake. I do get a little giddy at the thought of a fresh humiliation. Here comes the part where he gives me that look. Now, which one will it be? The one that says, "Yeah, I get it. I'm a little girl. Could you hurry up and finish your dehumanizing speech already?" Or the wide-eyed innocent look that tells me he's still surprised after all these years at the way I treat him.

Ok. Or maybe he won't really react at all. Maybe he'll just sort of turn away a little and open the card with his head down and...shaky hands? Oh give me a break. He can't be that thrown off by the flowers can he? I mean...shaking in anticipation? That's just supposed to be an expression. Someone should really tell him that. Normally, I would be that person, but something tells me to keep my mouth shut about the shaking. I don't plan on thinking about it too much, but I have the unsettling suspicion that he's not actually shaking in anticipation. That doesn't leave many possibilities as to why. Most of them aren't too good, either.

That's why I'm not going to say anything. I can rip people a new one all day long, but when it comes to the real issues…I'd much rather pretend I didn't notice. It's like when I used to find my mom crying at the kitchen table when I would sneak down to get myself something to drink in the middle of the night. I would tip toe out of the room so I wouldn't have to deal with it. Give me someone with severe liver disease and I know what to do, but actual human emotions?

Newbie is reading the card. He doesn't seem to want anyone else to read it. He's been a lot more secretive than usual lately. It's unnerving. Before this alien took over the kid's body he could never keep anything to himself. If he had gotten flowers before he would probably announce it over the intercom and make copies of the card to post all over the hospital. Now he's hunched over it so no one else can see it, and he just did this weird laugh thing that sounds like he's really about to cry. If he even starts crying, I'm out of here. I can't handle tears.

Ok. Yep. He's definitely shaking. Maybe he just skipped breakfast and had too much caffeine on an empty stomach. It's not a bad theory. The kid hasn't been eating as much lately, and he has been hitting the caffeine pretty hard.

"Well? Who's it from?"

Good question Barbie. I cross my arms and wait with everyone else for the answer. While Newbie takes his sweet time answering I glance around. Great. I am standing here with Barbie and her Ken doll, waiting to find out who sent our little Princess flowers? Have I gone mad?! Since when do I give a rip?

"It's a thank you bouquet..."

That was vague.

"Ohhh...from a patient?"

Judging by Susan's mumbled, "Well, sort of." I'd say Elliot's guess wasn't exactly on target. It seems pretty obvious, though, that whoever they were from, he doesn't feel much like sharing with the rest of the class. There's that odd secrecy again. Where is this coming from? I know I usually go out of my way to avoid finding out personal information about Newbie...or anyone else. Really, I should be thanking the Lord that I don't have to hear about the damn flowers.

To tell you the truth, I've never had to go prying into the kid's life. He always follows me around, even when I'm yelling at him and practically running away, and chats my ear off about the littlest damn thing. Drives me freaking crazy.

Never thought I'd miss it. I've always thought I would be as close to heaven as possible if everyone would just stay away from me and let me just do my job and mind my own business. Now I'm not quite sure. For one thing, I actually derive some pleasure out of yelling at these people. If no one ever gave me a reason to yell at them I just might go insane. Another reason, believe it or not, is I have become aware of the infuriating fact that I need people. I need to have people in my life to talk to, who need me, like me, respect me. From time to time, even I need some advice or a listening ear. One of the most constant people in my life these past 5 years has been Newbie. As much as he drives me crazy, I need that.

Ok, Barbie is starting to whine about not getting flowers. That's my cue. I may have come to the conclusion that I do in fact need some form of human contact in my life, but that doesn't mean I have to listen to Barbie whine about how unfair it is that Priscilla got flowers instead of her. I snarl at the girl and turn to walk away. At least her whine-fest isn't affecting Priscilla. Sometimes I truly envy his ability to let things roll off his shoulders. It would make my life a lot less stressful. There may have been a contradiction in there somewhere.

I catch him touching the flowers before I walk away. I have to say he looks less than ecstatic about his special delivery. I shake my head and force myself to stop watching him. He keeps getting this creepy far away look in his eye. Now, I know it's Newbie I'm talking about and he is forever taking these little trips into his vapid and child-like mind, but this is different. If he were having one of his day dreams he would be tilting his head to the side with his mouth pursed in thought.

Whoa - hold the boat. What am I doing?! I might be ill. It can't be healthy to be thinking about this as much as I have been. Maybe the world is about to end. I'm actually wondering about someone else's life. A lot. Ug.

I think I'm going to check out the lobby. You can usually tell what kind of day it's going to be based on what kind of people are hanging around the lobby. Ooook. What do we have here...expectant mother, bum, guy with a nail through his hand, snotty nosed kid, a couple of police officers...

Police officers? Is our favorite con artist/drug addict back? I don't see him handcuffed to a chair anywhere. I wonder what these two clowns want.

"Morning officers. What can I do for you?"

I hope Bob-o did something horrible and is getting slammed for it. Oh, that would just make my decade.

"Yes, we're looking for a Doctor..." The man looked down at the envelope in his hand, "Dorian. Dr. John Dorian."

Whoa! I did not see that coming! Newbie may be klutzy and moronic, but I can't see him as a criminal. I wonder if this has anything to do with why he's been acting so strangely lately. What the hell did that damn kid get himself into now?

"He's not in any trouble or anything. We'd just like to speak with him."

The other officer must have read the huge question mark on my forehead. Good for him.

"And give him this."

The first officer, officer...Price (according to his name tag) waves the envelope in the air. It looks too small to be something hugely significant. I wonder what it is. Didn't Newbie say something about losing his cell phone and pager or something? I can't imagine two policemen would take the time to hand deliver that. Something's not adding up.

"I'll let him know you're here."

I pull out my pager as I walk away. He's probably still ogling those damned flowers with that idiot look on his face. He's not answering his page. I make it to the Nurse's Station. His flowers are still there, looking far too cheery for this place - but no Newbie.

"Barbie, where did Mable skip off to?"

She stops her animated (and no doubt pointless) conversation with "Ken" and looks at me with her head cocked and her mouth hanging open. Ok, people don't understand why I've never cared for Barbie - this is why. Somewhere my rational mind understands that to have come this far in her career she can't be completely brainless. But, God help me, when she gets that vacant look on her face I just want to hit something…hard!

"He was just here. Keith, did you see where JD went?"

Keith gives Barbie a run for her money with his own doofy look. You know what...it looks far more infuriating on him. God these people make me homicidal.

"Oook. Thank you. I'll be sure to write to Matel and let them know their experiment to construct life-size Barbie and Ken dolls was a tremendous success. I just can't figure out how you got out of the plastic. Huh. I think I'll go rent the movie Mannequin..."

I trail off as I walk away. No doubt they're staring after me with matching "I was born without a brain" expressions. I page Newbie again. Give me a break. It's only been a few minutes. How far could he have gone?

"Hey - Janitor. Have you seen Martha?"

"Who?"

"Newbie."

"Scooter?"

"Sure."

"No."

"Ok."

I'm glad we had this time together.

Damn you, Newbie. Where the hell are you? I haul out my pager and page him again. Still nothing. However...is that beeping? I page him again. Yep. Beeping. It seems to be coming from the...supply closet? What in God's name...?

I sigh and fling open the door. I expect him to be…I don't know…making out with someone, making a private phone call...something. I expect him to yelp and jump to attention when I fling open the door and then make some lame excuse about why he hasn't answered any of my pages. But he doesn't do any of those things. Instead he's just standing there staring at the floor. I can't really see his face, but considering he didn't so much as twitch when the door opened, he's either asleep or he's off to Neverland. Since he's standing up, I'm going with the Neverland theory. I bet he has that far away look on his face again.

Ok, I've been standing here for at least 10 seconds, which is actually quite a long time for someone to be standing this close without the other person realizing it. For some reason this pisses me off...well, pretty much everything pisses me off. I don't have all damn day to stand around waiting for Knuckle-head to snap out of it. Besides, if he's not in trouble with the police now, they probably won't be too impressed if he keeps them waiting forever. Oh who am I kidding, I just want to know what's going on!

I sigh again and grab him by the arm, a little too roughly I'm guessing, and I drag him out of the room. He lets out a girlie yelp which I'm going to go ahead and assume is from surprise and not pain.

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

"Four? I thought it was only twice..."

The kid even has a far away tone to his voice to go with the look! Good God. He's staring off at the door to the closet now, oh, and now he's looking at his pager. Oh for crying out loud, this is taking way too damn long. So, I snap my fingers in front of his face. I think I should change my nickname for him to Skipper since he is acting more like Barbie and Ken. He is actually scratching his head in confusion. And he seems to be actively avoiding any sort of eye contact.

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

Do I need something? Is he kidding?! He must be kidding.

"Oh, Betty. Betty - need something? From you?" I'm laughing now, "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?"

I throw my arm around the boy and start heading toward the lobby. I am bound and determined to get him to do something "Newbie-like" since I can't stand this new guy he's turned into. Maybe one of my little speeches will snap him out of this...whatever it is.

"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."

I pat him on the shoulder then fling my arm off, shooting him one of my best "you are nothing to me" looks. That ought to get some sort of reaction out of him. Now, I glare and wait for him to give in and spill his guts like he always does.

Finally, eye contact! Oh shit. Are those...tear tracks? Hold on - red, puffy eyes - check - flushed cheeks - check - eyelashes still clumped together - check. Damn it. He's been crying. That's what he was doing in the supply closet. That's why he's been avoiding looking at me directly.

Maybe I should ask him what's wrong. Maybe I should...nonononono! What the hell am I thinking? I should do what I always do when faced with crying people - nothing. Well, that's not true. I am quite good at finding their weakness, their most vulnerable spot, and twisting it to oblivion. But this time, I'm just going to go ahead and slip some kind of irritated Cox expression on my face and not let on that I've seen anything. Maybe he has allergies or a cold or something.

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

Oh, yeah. And here I almost forgot about why I dragged him down here. I nod toward the officers behind him.

"Those men are here to see you."

I watch him turn to look at them. He looks nervous...scared.

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

Now I'm actually nervous and scared for him, which makes me mad that I'm having sympathetic feelings. I will forever maintain that I therefore had no choice but to say in scathing tones:

"I'm not your secretary, Newbie."

He's shaking again. Damn him. Why is this getting to me so much? It doesn't make sense! This is not me. Ok, so it is me. But damn it - I hate me!

"I hope whatever you did was worth it."

Yep - time to look amused at his fear and trepidation. Make fun of it...maybe then it won't be anything serious.

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

"Oh, Newbie. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Ok, good. I think I've made him irritated. Irritation I can handle. Crying and shaking? That would be a resounding NO!

I watch him walk slowly up to the policemen like he's walking toward his executioner. A part of me wants to walk up there with him, stand there like his body guard. I actually want to protect him. Of course, I also just want to know what the hell they want with Newbie. Good God. I hope no one has died. The last time that happened I psyched myself up to give the kid a hug and ended up punching him in the face instead. Either way, I don't see how this can be good.

JD's POV

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

"Doctor Dorian?"

Oh God oh God oh God...that's me. It's not a mistake, they are looking for me.

"Y-yes?"

"Officer Price." The man held his hand out for me to shake. I watched my shaky hand reach out and take his. He had a quick, but firm handshake.

"Officer Daniels." The man with Officer Price shook my hand as well. Is that normal? Do cops generally give out hand shakes like this? I don't know how this works.

"Doctor Dorian-"

"JD. Sorry, you can call me JD."

"Ok."

Officer Price clears his throat. I can hear Dr. Cox's pager go off behind me.

"JD,"

The officer continues as I catch Dr. Cox's white coat out of the corner of my eye heading off quickly down the hallway. I wonder if a patient is coding or something.

"I understand that a few weeks ago you were involved in a hostage situation in Palmyra."

I swallow and shift positions. My ears start to ring and I can feel my face flush.

"That's right."

"I've had a chance to look over the statement you provided. Thank you for that by the way, it was very helpful."

I nod and wait for what is coming next. I notice Officer Price has an envelope in his hand with my name on it. I scratch my cheek and try not to stare at it.

"Doctor Do-sorry, JD, the reason why we came to see you in person was to...well, first of all, we came to give you this."

Officer Price hands over the envelope to me. I don't know if I'm supposed to open it or not, so I just hold it in my hand and stare at my name. It looks like my dad's handwriting.

"You'll find your..." Officer Daniels pulls out a piece of paper and reads off of it, "your cell phone, pager, and wallet."

I hear myself laugh. That's great - now that I've replaced basically everything. Well, except for my cell phone. I guess it's nice to have it all back, but it just seems like a waste now.

"Oh, wow. Thanks. H-how did-"

"We received an anonymous call that there was an abandoned car with the belongings that were stolen from those involved in the hostage situation inside."

I wish he would stop calling it that. It sounds so...impersonal. It doesn't sound like what I experienced.

"The car happened to be the car you had rented and reported as stolen by the suspect."

"The suspect? Does that mean you know who it was?"

The two officers exchange glances.

"JD, is there a place where we can talk...privately."

"Um...sure. Just one moment."

I turn and slowly walk to the receptionist's desk. My heart is beating so hard I swear it's going to fly out of my chest. They want to talk privately!

The receptionist smiles at me.

"Can I help you, Doctor?"

"Hi. Yes. Is there an empty room where we can talk?" I motion to the policemen standing behind me. She glances at them, looks curious, then starts typing away on her computer.

"Oook. It looks like Conference Room 3 is available. Would that be ok?"

I guess. I don't see why it matters.

"Yeah, that should work. Thanks. Is that the one with the snoopy border on the walls?"

She smiles super sweetly at me, "That's the one!"

"Ok. Thank you."

As I lead the officers down the hall to the conference room, I can't focus on anything else around me but my thoughts. I don't even know who I've passed or if anyone has said anything to me. If I had been thinking about it, I would be telling everyone I passed that I'm not under arrest and had done nothing wrong. Instead I must look like I belong in shackles by the expression on my face and the way my head is angled down. By the time Officer Daniels closes the door behind him I'm fairly certain I'm going to pass out any second.

"Have a seat, JD."

A seat? No no no no! Not good! I don't want to sit!

I sit down anyway and swallow again. I have horrible cotton mouth. What I wouldn't give for a tall glass of water.

Officer Price clears his throat and begins. Maybe it's a good thing I don't have water. I might pee my pants.

"JD, we believe the anonymous caller and the suspect were the same person. We received a similar anonymous call yesterday morning giving us a lead where the suspect would be located at 5:00 this morning."

Officer Daniels pulls a chair up next to mine and leans in close.

"We followed the lead and found the suspect in a hotel room in Palmyra. He had shot himself in the head."

He pauses, I guess to let me take the news in. But, how do you take something like that in? What is my reaction supposed to be? Am I supposed to be happy? Because I am not happy. I am frozen. Shocked. I just sit there while my ears start ringing again.

"His name was John Emerson Andrews. He was 25 years old. He left a note, apologizing for the pain he had caused that day."

Another pause. I put my head in my hands. My head is pounding. He left a note? A suicide note?

"If you would like a copy-"

"No!" Oops, I didn't mean to yell that. I glance up at the officers. I've startled them. "No." I say softer now, "No, that's ok."

They nod and look concerned. I doubt it's real concern.

"Ok. That's fine."

Officer Price clears his throat and stands up, Officer Daniels follows his lead. I wonder if they are partners. I wonder how long they've worked together. Suddenly I am struck by the similarities between the news they just had to give me and the bad news I have to give my patients. I never really thought of that before. This must be so awkward for them. But they've probably had to do this sort of thing a hundred times before. They must have a routine by now.

I feel a hand land on my shoulder. "Doctor Dorian, it was a pleasure meeting you. Here is my card. Please, don't hesitate to call either myself or Officer Daniels with any questions or concerns you might have. You should be receiving some paperwork shortly for you to sign and send back. It's basically just to show that we did in fact have this conversation with you. If you wish to file charges against the family of Mr. Andrews, let us know."

"Oh, no. No, that won't be necessary."

Why the hell would I do that? They had nothing to do with this. Besides...they just lost someone in their family. As if they need to deal with some jackass suing them along with the knowledge that their brother or son held up a store and then shot himself in the head after returning the belongings he stole. Who would do that?

Officer Price sets his card down in front of me and shakes my hand. I numbly shake it back before Officer Daniels' hand replaces Officer Price's and I numbly shake his as well. I must have mumbled some sort of "thank you" or "goodbye" but I can't think straight. I can't believe what I just heard. I'm practically hyperventilating, I'm breathing so hard. I grab my head and close my eyes. My head hurts so bad I can barely stand it.

This is awful! It wasn't supposed to end this way! I would have preferred that he had never been caught - if he was just a nameless face out there somewhere, never to be seen or heard from again. Or even if he just turned himself in! But, then again - who knows how long he would be in prison if that happened. What would his life be like there? Would he ever recover from that?

He'll never recover from this, that's for sure. He's dead. I'll never be able to visit him in prison to ask him why he did it. I'll never be able to apologize to him for not listening to him when he told me not to move. I'll never be able to tell him I wouldn't press charges against him, anyway. I don't see the point. It wouldn't change anything. By the time it was over the guy had been a complete mess as it was. I guess I should have seen this coming. He really didn't seem like the type whose conscience would let him get away with this.

I feel like I can't breathe. I need to sneak outside and get some fresh air. I feel nauseous. How the hell am I supposed to function today? I push my chair back and blindly stumble out of the room and down the hall to the nearest exit.

The air hits my face and I feel marginally better. I'm still breathing like I've just run a marathon, but hey. I don't really know what to do with myself now that I'm out here. I don't think I've ever used this exit before. It's just an ugly cement platform with metal railings with peeling turquoise paint. I grab onto the railing with both hands. I feel all this pent up adrenaline course through my arms into my hands and I find myself practically ringing the metal bar like a rag. My jaw is clenched tightly and I'm breathing in and out through my nose.

"FRRRIIIICCCKKKK!"

Oh Good God. That was me! I just yelled that at the top of my lungs! I feel...better...actually.

"Bad day?"

"AH!"

I jump half a mile and spin around. There's a woman standing there, leaning against the wall. I don't recognize her, but she's wearing scrubs so I guess she works here. She's smirking at me. I guess that must have looked pretty comical. She has one arm crossed in front of her, loosely holding a box of Marlboros. Her elbow is resting on the arm across her middle and a cigarette is dangling from between her fingers. She pushes off the wall while exhaling a thin line of smoke, making sure to blow it away from me.

"Sorry. I didn't know anyone else was out here."

"That's ok. I'm the only one who uses this exit. You look like you could use one of these."

She holds out her cigarettes to me.

"Oh, no thanks. I don't smoke."

She shrugs and goes back to leaning against the wall.

"Did you kill someone or something?"

"What?"

"You're a doctor, right?"

"Yeah..."

I'm not really in the mood for conversation. I find myself mesmerized by the way she inhales and exhales the smoke. She looks like she could be a couple of years younger than me. She's pretty, but there's something about her face that looks older than it should. Maybe it was all the cigarettes. Maybe she's just seen way too much in her life. Her eyes look like they're full of stories.

"Are you sure you don't want one?"

"Huh?"

She laughs through her nose.

"You keep staring at my cigarette."

My eyes travel down to the pack in her hand. I have never had a desire to smoke. Especially not after the lungs I've seen these past 5 years, damaged and blackened from the smoke. Right now though, in this moment, it just seems like the thing to do.

"Sure. I'll take one."

She laughs through her nose again and holds the pack out to me. I open it up, there is only one left. The lighter is in the box.

"Oh...there's only one left. Are you sure-"

"I have a whole carton in my car, don't worry."

Wow. A carton. How many cigarettes is that? I wonder how many she smokes a day.

"Thanks."

I pull the last one out and light it up. It takes me a few tries. I wish I didn't look like such an amateur. I know it's stupid, but I don't want it to be obvious that I've never done this before. I awkwardly hand her lighter back and throw the empty box in the trash can next to me. Of course, I automatically start coughing with the first drag I take. My eyes are watering. I feel like an idiot.

"Smooth." I cough, trying to put on a cool, tough guy face. What the hell am I doing? I'm coughing up my lungs and I still think I'm going to fool her into thinking I'm the kind of guy who smokes a pack and a half a day and swigs Jack Daniels on my lunch breaks?!

She smirks, but doesn't call my bluff.

"Well, Doctor..." she squints at my name tag, "Dorian, I hope your day doesn't suck as hard as you're sucking that cigarette."

I try to suppress another coughing fit after another unsuccessful drag. Of course, it doesn't work and the moment I try to say anything back to her I'm coughing and hacking again.

"Yeah, thanks.." cough, "Uh..." cough.

"Tess."

"Thanks, Tess. Me too." Cough.

She smirks and waves as she goes back inside. I don't want to waste the cigarette she gave me, so I proceed to choke and cough my way through the rest of the cancer stick. By the time I'm done I feel like I just read through Moby Dick while winding through the back roads of the Appalachian Mountains in a bus. I think I'm going to be sick. That probably wasn't the best idea I ever had. The funny thing is, even though I'm pretty sure my face is now a sickly shade of green, I feel better. My mind isn't racing anymore. My head...well, my head is still pounding... but at least I don't feel so out of control.

I think I might have a fighting chance of making it through the day. Only I think I'm going to puke. Now if I could just make it to a bathroom in time to throw up the coffee I had for breakfast, and try to wash the smoke smell off my hands...