My Last Kill Chapter 10, a scrubs fanfic

A/N: So I decided to update this sucker earlier than usual. My main reasons being because it's definitely the longest chapter I've ever written, so I thought I'd give you guys more time to read it, and two, well…I don't want to get beaten up. lol Seriously though, thank you guys for the amazing feedback and hanging in there. I know the last chapter ended on quite a cliff hanger, so on that note, I'll shut up and leave you to it. Enjoy!

Warning: Chapter rated T (or maybe M) for language.

Chapter 10:

"When I counted up my demons – saw there was one for everyday – with the good ones on my shoulders, I drove the other ones away."

-Everything's Not Lost, by Coldplay-

"Who the fuck are you, John Doris!?"

JD's hands went up instinctively, blue eyes wide with horror as he stared down at the barrel of the gun. But what horrified him more than just the possibility of death was the image of Perry Cox wielding a fatal weapon. To have a gun pointed at him by Dr. Cox, of all people... This man was not a killer. He was a healer. Despite his intimidating mannerisms, despite the usual angry way in which he carried himself, this was not how Dr. Cox was ever supposed to appear. Not his Dr. Cox. Not his Perry.

Of course, he wasn't really Perry's JD now, was he?

"ANSWER ME!"

JD flinched, backing up till his frame was pressed against the door. "D-Doctor Cox. I…I'm not –"

"I know you're not John Dorian, so you can skip that part!"

"Perry –"

"NO! Don't you even think of calling me by my first name! Tell me! Tell me right now! Who the fuck are you really? Who the fuck have I been sleeping with for these past four months!? And who the fuck have I fallen in - !?" Dr. Cox stopped, shaking his head in more than obvious disgust, and amidst the anger and the confusion and the betrayal, JD finally saw what he originally missed. The hurt. The pain. The total devastation that was this man's entire demeanor. Was it obvious? Not at all. Was it obvious to JD? Very.

It just took him a second to figure it out…

Swallowing his shame, JD nodded, doing his best to keep his voice level. "Okay. No first name. No lies. Just…please put the gun down…?"

"Put those damn baby blues away. I'm not buying that disguise anymore."

JD bit the inside of his mouth. This was not a good time to cry, but God, did that sting. Whatever about his eyes that had apparently captured Perry's attention was never a disguise. In fact, not a single part of JD's admiration for him was a lie; how much he respected him, how much he cared, how much he really –

"Stop welling up, damn it! I'm not buying it! I just told you that!"

"I-I'm sorry."

Dr. Cox swallowed. Hard. JD watched him with bated breath has his grip around the gun lessened just a little. Maybe it was the way he had unintentionally choked out his "I'm sorry." The way it poured from his mouth, undeniably real, that caused the older man to suddenly nod him over to the couch, though he was apparently not ready to stop pointing the gun in the assassin's direction.

And quite frankly, JD couldn't blame him.

"Sit," he ordered sharply, voice still laced with anger.

JD did as he was told, hands still out in the open, as Dr. Cox pulled a chair from the kitchen table over to the living room; placing himself, and the gun, right across from the brunet. "Now talk."

"What a –"

"You know damn well what about, John Doris. I want to know who you are. Now."

"I…I don't really know where to start, Pe – Dr. Cox."

"Fine. Let's start with some simple questions, then. Are you a doctor?"

"…No."

Dr. Cox frowned, eyebrows drawing together in quiet observation. "So what are you really…?"

"I… I don't even know how to start this."

There was a long pause, in which the anger on Cox's face slowly slipped into a look of deep contemplation; the wheels in his mind turning visibly beneath his hardened stare. "Last week when you had your panic attack, do you remember what you said to me in the locker room?"

It was JD's turn to frown now. He'd been kind of out of it. What had he said? "No," he confessed quietly.

"I asked you if you wanted to tell Gandhi and Barbie what happened. I told you that you didn't have to, but you said you wanted to tell them. You said you wanted to tell them everything; wanted to tell me everything. I thought it was just the anxiety talking, but I'm guessing you were actually going somewhere with that one, huh? Well here you go then, John; your chance to tell me everything."

JD swallowed, throat uncomfortably dry. He remembered now. Not only did he remember saying that to him, but he remembered meaning it, too. But how to start? Where to begin? There was really no easy way into it, was there? The best way to start was to get the main elephant out of the room; the answer to Perry's main question; the one he hadn't formed word for word, but the one that, if he had really examined JD's file down to the T, he probably already figured out…

"I'm an assassin."

Dr. Cox nodded, jaw tight, confirming the brunet's unspoken musings. "Okay, next question: I'm assuming you're undercover, right?"

JD nodded.

"Okay, so how many of these…'undercover missions'…have you gone on?"

JD tried not to cringe. Anything but that. Please. Any question but that. He didn't want to tell the person he watched save lives everyday just exactly how many lives he took in his lifetime. Stalling, JD tried asking a few questions of his own. "How do you know this isn't my first mission? I mean…what makes you think I've done this before?"

"Please. You don't have to be a part of whatever sick club you're a part of to figure certain things out. 'John Dorian?' Strikingly similar to your real name now, isn't it? No way you'd be given such an easy connection to your real identity if this was your first go around. And c'mon…sneaking out in the middle of the night without waking me up? You've done this before."

"I've never slept with anyone on any of my undercover missions. The last relationship I had was in high school."

"That pathetic piece of information aside, I wasn't referring to that…"

Desperate to avoid having to answer, JD pressed on, wondering how far he was pushing his luck against a distressed man wielding a gun. "If I didn't wake you up when leaving though, then how is this even happening?"

"This is happening because I'm forty-one years old, and sometimes, I need to get up in the middle of the night to take a leak. And when I wake up to find someone I fell asleep with not there, I tend to wonder where they went. Of course, the assumption was my own destination, but when I knocked and found nothing, you start wondering things like, 'Where the hell did he go?'"

"So," JD began slowly, a little angry but knowing he really didn't have the right to be, "You went through my stuff?"

"No, you idiot. I called your cell phone. I'm assuming you're not a particularly smooth assassin, since you left it in your sock drawer, of all places. I followed the ring and found your phone. Of course, in the process, I found that."

JD turned around to where Dr. Cox gruffly nodded, indicating the strewn papers from the brunet's assignment on the floor. "And the gun?"

For the first time since their conversation, Cox's face lost its anger long enough to look genuinely surprised. "'The gun?' It's your gun, moron. Where do you think I got it from?"

If the situation at hand wasn't such a severe one, JD would've laughed. Amidst all the chaos that had awaited him upon returning home, the assassin had failed to examine the gun or even question, up until that point, where it was Perry had gotten it from. Of course it was his gun.

"You haven't answered my question."

"What que - ?"

"Stop. You know damn well what question. I played along and answered some of yours, so don't you even think about throwing more out there again. How many? How many of these missions have you gone on before?"

JD closed his eyes. He hated this. Oh, how he hated this. Quietly, he answered. "Ninety-nine."

"…Ninety-nine?"

Stomach turning, JD could only nod his head yes, face burning red with disgrace.

"And those missions…you were successful in all of them…?"

Sinking further into the chair and wishing more than anything that the ground would swallow him whole, JD merely nodded.

It was a moment before Dr. Cox spoke, but when he did, it was most definitely not the response the brunet had been expecting. "Newbie."

Shocked, JD opened his eyes. The gaze that met him back was a sincere one. Blue orbs looked directly into his own, some of their earlier anger lost, but the desire for answers was still definitely present. Yet his eyes held something else now, too. Something genuine that JD didn't quite know how to place.

"When I asked you if you were a doctor before, it took you a second to answer. Why? Were you thinking of lying?"

Rapidly, JD shook his head no.

"So then…?"

"'Cause I…I really wanted to be… A doctor, I mean."

"So why didn't you? Why choose assassinating over doctoring?"

And suddenly, JD knew. Even if it killed him inside, he was going to do it. Even if Perry didn't believe him, he was still going to try. "It's not…it's not a simple answer," he managed.

"Well then what do you want to do?"

It was another long moment before JD responded, but when he did, the hesitation from only a moment ago was gone. "Just like I said a week ago," he answered softly. "I want to tell you everything."

Most kids his age loved gym class. Eighteen year old John Doris hated it.

Waiting awkwardly with the rest of his peers, the senior year student squirmed, hoping that whatever sport their teacher assigned to them wouldn't be one that required him to be in a position where he'd be relied upon. He knew he was bad at activities that required a great amount of physical skill. He didn't need to be reminded of just how bad he was by being humiliated in front of the class or by having the jocks pound on him later for having missed the ball.

So when their teacher came up to them, clip board in hand, it was hard not to feel nauseous.

"Since you're seniors this year," their balding coach started up, "you'll be given a choice as to what sport you'll be taking part in."

The brunet's eyes widened, clearly not having expected that announcement. Of course, he couldn't get too excited. Choices were great, but not if they were all similar in terms of him getting wailed on afterwards for playing badly. Basketball, baseball, football – they all led to the same outcome…

"I'm going to pass around the list of options. Sign your name next to the one you want to participate in. I'll collect the list afterwards then tell you where to go from there."

John waited anxiously for the list to make its way over to where he sat, both nervous and excited when he finally did get his hands on the item in question. Chewing at the bottom of his lip, the student skimmed through the various choices.

Ugh… Basketball, baseball, football, hockey, weight lifting… Actually, weight lifting wouldn't be too bad. It wouldn't hurt to gain a little muscle, right? Of course, he'd be surrounded by guys who already had their fair share of muscles; guys who would undoubtedly taunt him for having to start with weights much lighter than the ones they were sure to start out with. Okay, moving on…

Tennis, volley ball, karate… Hmm…karate, huh? That might work. Even if some of the more built kids decided to join, none of them, unless they had taken it privately, would know what they were doing without an instructor. Not to mention it was more of an individual effort than a team effort. If he kicked incorrectly, it would fall on him and him alone. There'd be no teammate to get mad at him afterwards if he failed.

Unclipping the pen from the top of the board, John quickly signed his name next to the very last option on the list, both nervous and eager to begin.

Only a few weeks into the course and karate was already becoming one of John's favorite classes. While it was true it required a certain amount of physical strength, John was quickly learning that it asked for much more than brute force. It required vitality, determination, patience, listening; all of which John had. It was also the kind of sport that deluded you from realizing how strong you were actually getting in the process. You were focused more on the procedure of landing a good punch to the given target, rather than the amount of strength it would take. And when all was said and done, their instructor would lead them in a round of meditation; deep breathing that left John feeling clean and refreshed. It was the first sport he ever found himself not only capable of, but exceeding in.

Months later and John was at home. It was a Saturday night, and while most of his peers were out partying, he had much more important things to do. Graduation was around the corner. He was happy, of course, but very busy. It was time to start looking for colleges; schools that had what he wanted while still being affordable.

A bit of a challenge, considering his major…

"Johnny?"

The brunet tried not to wince at the voice behind his door. He honestly couldn't stand that nickname, but didn't have the heart to tell his mom otherwise. Not when she relied on him so much; not when she was always so depressed.

"Come in, Mom."

Quietly, Barbara opened the door, smiling weakly at her son who sat with crossed legs on the bed. "Hi, Sweetie. Um…I'm going out with Bill tonight, but dinners in the fridge, okay?"

"Bill…he's the one with the blonde hair, right?" It had been a genuine question. His mom had so many "potential husbands" that it was hard to keep track, but the minute it left his mouth, he regretted it. He saw her wince as she nodded, his heart sinking in both shame and anger. Shame by his foolish blunder, and anger that he was made to feel guilt stricken in the first place. It wasn't his fault she went through so many guys so quickly to the point where it was hard to remember who was who. He wanted her to be happy, he did, but half of the creeps that she associated with… John closed his eyes for a fraction of a moment, inhaling the way he'd been taught to in his martial arts class. "I hope you have fun tonight," he spoke softly, giving her his best smile. "Is Dan around?"

The older woman shook her head. "No. He's out with that girl he's been talking about lately. Why?"

"I've been looking at colleges, and was going to ask his opinion on which one would be the best route financially." He'd been getting ready to add, "Though I'm not surprised he's not around," but held his tongue, not wanting to make two slip ups in one evening. Besides, he was used to doing this kind of thing alone. A second opinion would have been helpful, but it wasn't really that big of a deal…

"'Colleges?' Honey…didn't we talk about this? I thought you were going to wait a bit before going; get some money under your belt."

John held back a sigh as he went to respond, silently cursing himself for bringing up school to begin with. The last thing he wanted to do was get into it with her tonight. "I-I know, but I'm applying for financial aid and a load of scholarships. I have straight A's and did well on the SATS, so I think I might get a few offers, you know?"

"You took the SATS? Don't those cost money?"

John nodded wearily. "Yeah, but I saved up in order to take them. I told you that, remember? You seemed proud of me…"

"Oh, well…I am. Sweetie, I am, alright? Honest. I'm just…worried. Have you…have you decided what you're majoring in…?"

Oh God, no. "Um…yeah. I think I'm more interested in medicine than in surgery, so –"

John was cut off by a sharp slam of the door, followed quickly by his mother's foot stomping angrily into the floor boards. "No! John, this is getting ridiculous! Now I've told you for years that this just can't happen, okay!? I'm not belittling you or questioning your abilities! It's just –"

"It's just what?" he interrupted in a rare moment of disobedience. "I've been working really hard! Hard in school for grades good enough to get in, hard at work for enough money to be able to go. You won't have to pay a dime, Mom, I swear! I've been working this hard not just for me, but for you too! So you won't have to do anything! Mom, please! This is all I've ever wanted. I've come so far. Can't you just –"

"But you don't have to be a doctor! There are other professions just like it! What about nursing? What about being a pharmacist?"

"I don't want to just hand out pills! I want to be able to prescribe them; to know what they do and how they affect the patient. I want to be able to help!"

"Your aunt was a pharmacist. Are you saying her job was meaningless?"

"No! God, Mom, that's not what I meant!"

"Okay, fine! What about nursing?"

"Nursing's great, but they're not allowed to do all the stuff doctors do. They're only taught a certain amount of –"

"Oh, please. You're just sexist, aren't you? Just like your father!"

John stopped. It felt like someone just punched him in the stomach; a feeling he was all too familiar with. His father? Sexist? Him!? Quite frankly, he didn't know if his mother's claim in terms of his dad were true, but to call her son a sexist simply because he wanted to be a doctor? Because she was mad at his dad for something he knew nothing about? Because she didn't want to spend her money on anything other than booze and cheap dates?

He tried not to well up while his mother's expression filled with obvious regret; her eyes clearly startled by her own words. "Johnny, I…I didn't mean that. Sweetie…sweetie, please. It just slipped. I know you're not sexist, okay? Honestly, honey, it just –"

"Have fun with Bill tonight. Leave a note for Dan to lock the door when he comes home though, if you can. He usually forgets, and I'll probably be sleeping by the time he gets back…"

Getting the hint, Barbara merely nodded. It wasn't until John heard the apartment door close did he fall back onto his mattress, letting his tears overtake him completely.

"I'm so proud of you."

John smiled as his mom leaned in for a hug, her arms gripping him tightly through the black robe that was his graduation gown. When she pulled back, her eyes were misted, causing the younger of the Doris brothers to smile. "Thanks, Mom."

She nodded, turning away for just a moment to call over her eldest. "Dan! Come over here for a minute! I want to take a picture of you and your brother!"

John watched Dan kiss his girlfriend – the same one he'd been seeing for weeks now – before gallivanting over towards where they stood. "Hey, little brother!" he greeted cheerfully. "You know you look like a dork in those robes, right?"

"Come on! You had to wear them too."

"Yeah, but I made them look cool. …Johnny?"

"What's up?"

"I'm proud of you."

For some reason, Dan's validation hit John more than his mother's earlier congratulations. He knew his mom was proud of him already. Supportive, not so much, but proud? Yeah, that he knew. But Dan…he'd never really been able to tell. He spent most of his time out of the house or making him feel, well…not so confidant in himself… But the look in his older brother's eyes was genuine; a rare moment of sincerity that left the younger of the two swelling up with pride. "Thanks, Dan."

Dan grinned before pulling his brother into his side, winking at the camera as it flashed in their smiling faces.

It was late at night when it happened.

Weeks after graduation and John lay on his mattress, eyes towards the ceiling; too nervous to fall asleep. Every one of the colleges he had applied to had accepted him, but the money… Wearily, the brunet scrubbed his hands over his face. He'd gotten a few good scholarships, yeah, but the loans were going to leave him in mounds of debt; mounds of debt that his mom would see and completely freak out over, even if she didn't have to pay. John had been confident, however, that she wouldn't have to help; that he'd earned enough to pay it all, but now…? He really wasn't sure. How was he going to afford this? What was he going to do? Maybe his mom was right. Maybe nursing would be the better way to go. He'd still be able to help people. He just wouldn't be able to help them as much as he wanted to… But maybe he'd befriend a doctor who would teach him the stuff the program wouldn't…? No, not likely. Even if that did happen, he would still, under law, not be permitted to perform those procedures.

God, what was he going to do?

A frantic series of knocks had the brunet jumping up and out of his mattress, heart racing wildly. Alarmed, John turned towards the clock. 2:00am. Who the hell was knocking on his bedroom door at 2:00am?

Nervously, and with his back foot in a fighter's stance, he opened the door, surprised to see Dan standing in its frame; his entire body shaking.

"Dan? What happened? What - ?"

"S-She lied to me. She lied to me, Johnny!"

"Who lied? Mom? Dan, she was probably drunk. I wouldn't –"

"No!" The older brother charged into the room, panic stricken. Frantically, he began pacing; his arms hugging himself tightly as his eyes screamed in silent horror.

John swallowed. He'd never seen his brother look that upset. "Dan…what happened? I want to help, I do, but you have to tell me."

Still pacing, the older brother responded in a rush of words; voice hysterical as his hands flew around wildly. "She lied to me!"

"Who?"

"Leslie!"

"Your girlfriend?"

"Yes, yes! S-She lied to me! She…she wasn't… Oh, God, Johnny – she wasn't legal!"

John froze, his face adapting the look of horror his older brother had been wearing upon his late night arrival. "What did you just say…?"

"She wasn't legal! Shit, shit, shit! Little brother, please! You have to believe me! I swear I didn't know! When I first met her we were at the bar. She was drinking, you know? So I assumed she was twenty-one. How the hell could she be drinking if she wasn't twenty-one!? So one thing led to another and we started dating, but even then, we didn't have sex until a month or something in. But Johnny, I swear! I swear it was consensual! But then tonight when I went to her place she was shaking and crying. I asked her what was wrong and she said that I had to leave – that I had to leave for my safety. She told me her real age – seventeen, Johnny, seventeen! – and that her older brother knew what we did. Oh God, please! I'm so scared!"

John stared at his brother – the pinnacle of cool – as he shook and paced before him. Dan was a lot of things, some of them not so great, but what he was being accused of? No. John knew – by the look in his sibling's eyes, if not by anything else – that Dan would never have done what he did had he known the truth. "Okay," he exhaled finally, trying to stay calm for the both of them. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. We're going to call the cops. We're going to tell them everything you just told me, and then we're going to give a description of this guy so they'll know."

"I can't!"

"Dan, you don't have a choice! I know you're scared, but if you tell them what you just told me, you have a really good chance of coming out of this thing alright! You're right about Leslie drinking – no way the bartender didn't ask her for an ID. She probably has a fake one, so when the cops see that, they won't punish you, okay? And the fact that you're confessing to begin with –"

"No, Johnny, it's not that. I'll tell them what happened in a heart beat, I will, but I can't give the cops a description of her brother."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know what he looks like!"

John stared at him, bewildered. "You don't know what he looks like? You've gone over her house every day for the past two months and you've never seen her brother?"

"That's just it! He's never there! I didn't even know she had a brother until two weeks ago! Fuck, Johnny, I don't know if this guy's four or six feet tall! I don't know if he's blonde or bald! I don't know anything about him!"

"Okay. Okay, okay, okay. We'll tell that to the cops too then, alright? We'll tell them that –"

"You're not listening to me! I don't know what he looks like, but he knows what I look like."

"What? How is that even possible?"

"Because he's already after me, little brother. I…I know he is."

"But you just said this all happened tonight. How can he already be –?"

"He is! When she told me to go home, I got into my car, but the tires… Oh, God, the tires were slashed! I tried not to freak out, so I just started walking towards home, you know? Real casual. But I felt him, Johnny, I felt him there. My skin startled prickling and everything. I could feel him watching and I just…I flipped! I ran all the way home. I didn't even look back!"

It was a moment before the true meaning behind Dan's words really sunk in; something that, knowing his older brother, the elder Doris had not previously considered. "Dan…" John started slowly. "Did you…did you lock the door when you came in tonight…?"

And suddenly, it dawned on him. Dan's face blanched in total devastation, his mouth opening to form a proper response, but the door to the younger sibling's room burst open with a crash. John was quickly tossed – literally tossed – to the other side of the room, as a blur of ember moved past him.

Somewhere in the back of his throbbing head, John wondered where in God's name his mother was, until he remembered she was out with Bill again. Or maybe it was Roger. He couldn't remember. He could never remember.

"JOHNNY!"

The sound of his name being shouted in complete and total horror awoke him from his too-stunned-to-feel-pain like state. What awaited him upon his return to reality was a pounding headache and the sound of shattering bones. That last one wasn't him though, was it?

"LITTLE BROTHER!"

Fear coursed through his veins as he watched the man in black repeatedly kick his older brother's side, Dan's desperate cries to both him and his attacker. "I SWEAR I DIDN'T KNOW! I SWEAR I DIDN'T KNOW!"

And all at once, it hit him – really hit him – what would happen if he did not get up; if he did not remove himself from his defensive position on the floor of what was supposed to be his safe haven.

Dan would die.

Adrenaline coursing through his veins, John sprang from his place in the corner, ignoring the stabs of pain through out his limbs as he all but pounced on the attacker's back, clawing at the man's face with strangled cries.

The man in question let out a noise of obvious surprise, but merely threw the young boy off. He spared him a look of disgust before turning back to his sibling, kicking where he'd been for the last few seconds. Or minutes. John didn't know. But what he did know was that his brother's pleas were coming far less frequently…

The brunet ignored the tears in his eyes, summoning lessons not yet forgotten. This guy's bigger; built. This guy's maniacal. I can't rely on brute strength, I just can't. I can rely on maneuvers and methods. I can rely on kicks made to bring anybody down…

John pushed himself up off the floor, running over to his brother's attacker yet again. Only this time, he did not pounce on the deviant's back. This time, he crouched down upon getting closer, thankful that one of the man's legs was currently raised, getting ready to kick and leaving him unbalanced. This time, at the very last second, John threw out a leg of his own, sweeping it with a strength he did not know he possessed against the intruder's unbalanced limb, sending the attacker to the floor with a crash.

"Little fucking prick!"

John scrambled over to his brother, ignoring the invader's cry. With shaking hands, he reached out for his sibling, wanting more than anything to feel for a pulse, but a sudden grip around his collar prevented him from doing so. The hand that held him in the air swung him violently against the wall opposite of the room. John cried in pain, tears streaming down his face, as his back hit the wall with an earth shattering crash. The earlier toss was nothing in comparison to this.

By the time his vision cleared, the attacker was already making his way over to him, eyes aflame with hatred. The man's fist drew back, ready to stick a landing into the teenager's face, until a new voice infiltrated the room. It was calm – cool, even – yet it was absolutely and undeniably filled with rage. "I demand to know what is going on here."

Through the haze of blinding pain, John was surprised to see the invader's face morph into that of total fear. Who was so frightening that would leave someone like their attacker looking so mortified? "S-Sir. I…what are you doing here?"

John turned his head as best he could. In the doorway, a man stood watching, blue eyes sharp and menacing as he stared at the brothers' attacker. Another man was there too; hazel eyes looking on at the scene as a whole, rather than just the person who had broken into their apartment.

"You!" the intruder shouted, having noticed the hazel eyed man John had noticed just seconds ago. "I trusted you! You were supposed to cover for me!"

"There are no friendships in the Organization," he responded casually. "You know that. Our allegiance lies with the Superior; to our missions. Don't blame me for your own idiocy."

"That's enough, Sean," the Superior cut in. "I want to know right now," he started up again, turning back to their attacker, "What it is you're doing here. I know nothing of these two boys, which means they were not a mission assigned to you or to anybody else. Whatever it is they've done to acquire your wrath is in no way related to the Organization."

"Agreed! So then why can't I finish them off? They deserve to die, anyway, don't you see? They're what we hate, Sir. They're evil."

From his strewn position on the floor, John swallowed a mouth full of nausea. He'd been called a lot of things in his life, but evil? Never.

"They may not be associated with the Organization, but you are. You are responsible for your actions here today. You have used your training to fulfill a personal vendetta. These are mere boys; not killers. You, on the other hand, are."

"Fine! These kids may not be murderers, but us? We're all killers! That's what the Organization is! And just because these pathetic punks haven't killed anyone doesn't make them good. Do you know what that miserable excuse for a human being over there did?"

"He fucked your sister," Sean cut in.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"You told me that's what he did, did you not? I believe you also once told me your sister, through various means that we won't get into here tonight, acquired herself a fake ID. Is it not possible that –"

"My sister would never - !"

"Your sister's a whore."

"YOU LITTLE –!"

"Sean, that is quite enough now, thank you," the Superior intervened, voice still collected. "Tell me something though," he pressed on. "Let's say, for the sake of an argument, that the boy did indeed have sex with your sister. May you do me a favor and explain to me what it is that that boy did?"

And suddenly, all eyes were on him. The brunet averted his gaze, not being able to stomach their stone like stares as they took in the image of his worn and beaten body.

"Well?" the Superior coerced.

The attacker in question swallowed, his anxiety over his boss's appearance returning all at once. "I…he came after me."

Much to John's surprise, the Superior seemed vaguely shocked by this response. The other man, Sean, seemed a little startled too. "He came after you…"

"You see these marks on my face? That was the damn kid! And the only reason I went after him again was because he fucking drop kicked me to the floor!"

John, who had been nervously peering over to the two men in his door way, was quick to avert his eyes, yet again, when both of said men gave him curious looks. Quicker than the one named Sean, the Superior shook the news off, turning back to the invader with that same, cold hearted stare. "So besides defending himself and who I am assuming is his brother, can you tell me what crime he has committed here tonight? What crime he has ever committed?"

It was a very long moment before their attacker finally answered, but when he did, his voice was shaking; as if he knew full well what was going to happen once he did. "No, Sir, I cannot."

"Then I hereby claim you a killer, as you have so obviously tried to accomplish here tonight. You are a menace to society, and by associating your actions with the Organization, you have tarnished our good name, hereby giving us permission to do what it is we do with murderers such as yourself."

The cry lasted for a mere second, having been cut off by the multiple gun shots – Sean's gun shots – as they rang through out the small space that was John Doris' room. The young teen shrank in on himself, unable to contain his sobs, as the body hit the floor with a sickening thud.

John winced as a set of footsteps approached him. Oh, God. This was it, wasn't it? He was going to die. He was going to be shot. Selfishly, and hating himself for it, he hoped to be shot before his brother. He hoped he would not have to witness his sibling's death. That is, if he wasn't dead already…

"What is your name?"

Shaking, John opened his eyes, hoping his sharp intake of breath wasn't noticeable as he took in the icy blue eyes that stared down at his quivering form. "J-John D-Doris."

"It is unfortunate that you and your brother were injured tonight, and more unfortunate that you were here to witness this exchange take place. As much as it pains me to say so, we are required to assassinate both you and your sibling, as you have both seen far too much."

John closed his eyes, tears upon tears streaming down his face, as he remained as still and quiet as possible, hoping the cynical man above him would just get it over and done with.

"However," the Superior continued, "I am amazed to have heard what it is you managed to accomplish here this evening. You have marked, and apparently taken down, one of my most accomplished assassins. How old are you, if I may ask?"

If John wasn't so terrified, he would have scoffed. "'Ask?'" He wasn't asking. He was demanding. "E-Eighteen."

"You're young. Vitality in strength and spirit is more than appreciated in our Organization. You are skilled, which you've made very apparent, yet you are still weak. We can fix that, though. John Doris, is it?"

The brunet nodded.

"I would like to extend to you an invitation. Join our Organization; my Organization. You have great potential."

John closed his eyes, an odd sort of calm taking over him for the first time in what felt like hours. If he joined, he would live. But he would live solely by taking away the lives of others; something that went against every fiber of his being. To say yes would be to forgo all of his morals; all of his standards. To say yes would not only be giving up on his dream of saving lives, but it would also be agreeing to actively and willingly partake in the exact opposite of what he stood for.

And all at once, he knew. He couldn't do it. He just…he couldn't. Right now, right here, John Doris was going to die.

"I forgot to mention," the Superior added quite suddenly, "that if you do accept this particular invite, my assassin Sean will not only spare your life, but the life of your brother's."

John's eyes shot open at once. His brother? "Alive…?"

The man above him frowned, as did the boy himself. God, did he sound awful. "'Alive?'"

"My brother…alive…?"

He watched as the gaze of the Superior shifted over to Sean, giving him a small nod. The assassin nodded in response, kneeling down to the older sibling's level and checking for a pulse. "Alive," he confirmed.

"Want to feel it," the brunet mumbled, shocking both himself and the man who currently felt his brother's pulse. "Want to feel it for myself…"

"Does he think that I'm lying?" Sean demanded, clearly offended.

But the Superior remained unfazed, reaching down and assisting the young teenager over to where his brother currently lay unconscious. Eagerly, John reached out, fingers shaking as they clamped around his sibling's wrist.

Relief flew through him as he felt the steady pulse of his older brother Dan. A little slow, yes, but undeniably present. "Alive…"

"Yes, Mr. Doris, alive. And he'll stay that way too. If…"

Not believing what he was getting ready to say, but too afraid to hesitate any longer and thereby giving himself a chance to change his mind, the young man whispered his response. "Yes…"

"I'm sorry?"

"Yes. I-I'll join your…your thing…"

"Very good. Sean, you will carry his brother. Cradle him by his legs and his shoulders, since it looks like his ribs are in need of serious repair, and I'd rather not add a punctured lung to our long list of worries. I'll carry young Doris. From here we'll –"

But he didn't hear any more than that. Over come by pain, relief in his brother's existence, and shock that his only fear in just a little less than an hour ago was money, John succumbed to unconsciousness, not wanting to know where it was he and his brother were being taken to.

When he next woke up, the first thing he noticed was pain. Pain in his head, pain in his back, pain in his entire body. It was like his blood was made of nothing but pain; coursing through him and filling every molecule of his being.

But that didn't stop him from sitting up and looking around, which led him to discovery number two.

Someone had placed him in a bed. A moderately comfortable one, too. Through puffy, blood shot eyes, John looked around the room in which his bed was placed. Besides an empty closest, it was blank, though it definitely held the appearance of a bedroom. It just wasn't furnished.

"You don't really need dressers."

The brunet startled, head turning sharply to the door. Instantly, he regretted it, choosing to ignore the indifferent look the Superior wore upon seeing him put his head in his hands.

"Your wardrobe will consist of black pieces only, and will fit just fine in the closet. As for pleasantries, that's really up to you. You won't be here too often once you're done with your training, as you will be sent on a number of missions, so it seems pointless to even bother purchasing something like a television. That is, however, for you to decide."

Hoping he wouldn't be punished for not dwelling too much on his new manager's words, John let his questions pour forward, too worried and too shocked to care. "Where am I? Where's Dan? How long am I going to be a part of this group? Where's Dan?"

"You're in your new room; here at the Organization. Your brother is in the room opposite of yours, and is requesting he see you. Yes, he's up. As to how long you're going to be here…that's really up to you now, isn't it?"

"Dan's up? Can I see him? What do you mean it's up to me…?"

"I am going to let slide that you are asking a multitude of questions at once and say, for now, that it is the night's events that have you behaving so rudely."

John swallowed as the Superior's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, looking down at his lap and hoping he would either go away or answer his questions.

"Your brother, as I have stated earlier, is up. Yes, you can see him. I will answer your third question by adding to your second. You can see your brother, as I have just stated, but it is a visit I would cherish, because it is the last time you are going to see him and everybody else in your life for a very long time."

"I…what…?"

"After you and your sibling converse, we will be taking him to another hospital. He is bound by both his life and your own not to tell anybody what went on here tonight."

"So if he tells, you'll –"

"Yes, Doris, we'll kill you both. Moving on: After being transported to the hospital, he will call your guardian and provide her with an excuse as to why you are, and will be for quite some time, absent from their life. If you cannot think of one yourself, we are very prepared to give him one. We are quite good at coming up with convincing alibis here at the Organization."

John swallowed. Hard. His father, his mother, Dan… He would have to leave them? Leave all of them? Looking away and hoping that the Superior would not notice his eyes misting over, the teenager merely nodded. "I can think of one… But, I…just one more question, please?"

A nod.

"You said how long I remain here is up to me. What…what did you mean by that?"

"Sir."

"Huh?"

"What did you mean by that…"

Getting the hint, John swallowed another mouth full of disgust before answering. "What did you mean by that…Sir?"

"What I meant, young Doris, was that each assassin here has a goal to reach. It is equal for all, and what I consider a very fair amount of times to ask of someone's service to the Organization. It will depend on how fast you complete your missions – one hundred, to be exact – that will, if you choose to do so when the time comes, allow you to depart from us."

John nodded, choosing to ignore the number that made his stomach roll over in complete and total revulsion. He wanted to get out as soon as possible, but it didn't appear that would be happening any time soon… "Dan," he finally responded. "Can I go see him now?"

The Superior stepped aside of the doorway, indifferent, as John removed himself from the bed, trying but failing at not wincing from the pain, as he made his way over towards his brother's room.

"Hey, little brother…"

The blue in Dan's eyes were surrounded with mist, much like his own. The spark that laced his usual greeting was completely and utterly gone, yet with what John could only describe as raw determination and a desire for normalcy, the corners of his sibling's mouth were twisted up into the tiniest of grins.

"Hi, Dan."

It was a long moment before either of them spoke after that, but when the silence was finally broken, it was the elder Doris who did it. "I'm so sorry…"

"Dan –"

"No, Johnny, please. If…If I had known. If I had known anything: her age, her brother, anything. God, I wouldn't have touched her with a ten foot pole!"

"I know. I know that, I do. And you…you can't blame yourself for this, okay? You didn't know. I know you didn't. No one would have known! Even Sean said she was a whore."

"'Sean?'"

"One of the, um…one of the assassins."

"Of course…"

Another moment of silence stretched by, John looking at his feet and shifting about awkwardly. He wanted to run over to his brother and give him a hug. He wanted to tell him how much he loved him; how much he would miss him and how he was to never, never blame what happened here tonight on himself. But he knew if he opened his mouth, he would lose it. He would break down and cry, and it wasn't the last image he wanted Dan to see of him. He wanted him to remember the goofy awkward kid, even if it was the one he always picked on. He wanted him to remember that person and that person alone.

"Johnny…?"

The younger sibling nodded, but didn't look up.

"Little brother…I-I'm not going to see you for a long time after this, am I?"

Wildly, the brunet shook his head no, still refusing to make eye contact.

"Then I…then I'm going to tell you something, okay? I'm going to tell you something I should've told you a lot more growing up, especially when dad left, but Johnny? I…I love you. I love you a lot."

And that's when he lost it.

Forgetting that his brother was in pain, John ran over to the head of his cot, burying his face into his sibling's shoulders while his arms clamped tightly around his middle. Over and over he sobbed out his name, crying harder when he realized that Dan had forgone his physical ailments long enough to raise his arms and embrace him back. Never in his eighteen years of existence could he remember such intimacy between him and his older sibling, yet here they were now. Through pain and through desperation, they clung to one another like a life line, Dan's own sobs following shortly after his brother's. "I'm so sorry," he repeated.

"No, Dan. It's not your fault. It's not your fault."

"I should be in your position. I should be paying."

"No. It has to be me, it has to. Mom relies on you more, I think. And your friends…they'd miss you so much."

"But I'm going to miss you! Mom and Dad and –"

"I'm going to miss you guys too," he sobbed back, "But friends? I don't have those, Dan. You do, and they need you. It has to be me. It just…it has to be me."

"But it shouldn't! It shouldn't be –"

"But it has to."

Finally, and with a great amount of effort on both of their parts, the brothers pulled away. They stared at each other, eyes red and puffy, before picking up where they left off. "What do you want me to tell mom?"

"Tell her I took her advice. Tell her I took the money I saved up and decided to go on a road trip instead of going to college. I think…I think I'm going to be sent to a lot of different places, so it won't be a hard lie to live up to. I can pick up a post card each place I go; send it to her, and that way…that way you can know I'm okay too."

Dan nodded, swallowing hard as he did his best to prevent any more tears from coming through. "God, Johnny…"

"I know. And…and Dan?"

"Little brother…?"

"I love you too."

Before he could break down completely, before he managed to only prolong their departure, John turned on his heel and left. It wasn't until he reached his new room did he let the tears overtake him yet again, the reality of the situation hitting him all at once. He wouldn't see his father, his mother, his brother – he wouldn't see any of them until he killed one hundred people.

He had to kill one hundred people.

Panic stricken, John sank to the floor. He was going to be there for a very long time…

"I swear I didn't know!" Even through the crying, JD couldn't help but reflect on the irony that was his brother's words from so long ago as they came spilling out of his mouth and reaching the ears of one Perry Cox. "I didn't know how many people they'd want me to kill! I just wanted my brother to live!"

JD's hands covered his expression in both embarrassment and shame. His body had begun shaking about midway through, and when it came time to tell Dr. Cox about the attack…when he talked about his last goodbye with his brother… He'd closed his eyes completely, not wanting to risk looking at Perry's expression as he spoke aloud, for the first time in his life, about what had happened to him eight years ago. And now here he was; spilling his story to the man he'd come to care for more than he ever thought possible; more than he had ever cared for anyone! And now, this same man was going to reject him. Disgusted by his behavior, by how easily he caved into their demands, that same man was going to kick him out of his life.

But when JD leaned further out of the chair, his sobs having over taken him completely, two arms reached forward before he could even notice his stumble. And as JD continued to cry – loud and hard and full with emotion the assassin thought he had dealt with years ago – the arms that caught his fall kept their place around his shaking form, their owner quiet but the occasional, "It's okay, JD, it's okay," as they drew smooth, soft circles onto his back.

He had know idea how long they laid like that; legs intertwined with their arms snaked around each other. JD kept on waiting for Dr. Cox to throw him off; to growl angrily before getting his stuff and storming out of the apartment all together. But Perry never moved. In fact, it wasn't until JD's tears died down completely did he even begin to speak. "Why didn't you stop me?"

Face still buried in the older man's shoulder, JD frowned. "Why didn't…why didn't I stop you?"

"When you walked in tonight; when you saw me pointing that gun at you. Why didn't you stop me? I'm assuming you were taught how to get out of situations like that."

"Yeah, but…but I didn't want to."

"But you're supposed to."

"Yes."

"So why didn't you?"

It was a long moment before JD answered, but when he did, it came out in a mere whisper, voice laced with hesitance as he confessed to Dr. Cox the one truth he had yet to confess to him that evening. "Because I didn't want to hurt you more than I already have. Because I…because I love you."

The arms that he could have sworn were going to push him off only gripped him tighter. "Yeah, Newbie. Same here."

JD let the words wash over him, not quite believing what was taking place. "But I lied to you; a really big lie. How can…how can you even trust me right now? How can you even touch me? I'm the symbol of everything you hate."

And for the first time since the middle of JD's recollection, the brunet met the eyes of Dr. Cox, his hand having reached down to turn his face upwards. They stared at each other for what felt like hours before the older man finally responded. "Newbie…I'm an emotionally crippled narcissist who fights death on a daily basis, because one – I have a giant ego, as established, and kicking death's ass makes me feel really good. And two – I actually give a rat's ass about what happens to those people. Yes, even those morons who cause their own dilemma. I want to see them get better. Which, you know, could very well be because once they get better, people who actually didn't ask for their illness can get a bed and get some help. Now what does any of this have to do with you? Well here it goes: You've not only looked death in the face ninety-nine times, but you caused it. No. Don't turn away, Newbie, listen. I said you caused it in that you pulled the trigger, but it's your boss that I hate, JD, not you. Nor did I ever say you liked it. And that's what amazes me, genuinely amazes me. Despite the hell storm that life managed to throw you in, you still care so much about people. Not just your patients, but people in general. You're coming out of a life that would have left most people viewing the world through a haze of black and white, and somehow, miraculously, you still give a damn. I hate what happened to you, kid. Honest to God, I do, yet the fact that you care so damn much after all of that? It…it really makes me love you. More than I already did."

JD, for the first time all night, felt his eyes well up with an emotion other than misery. "Perry…"

"We'll talk more tomorrow, okay? Sleep first; for both of us."

JD nodded as the two of them got up from the floor; limbs stiff and aching. When Dr. Cox reached for the long forgotten gun, the brunet immediately winced. "Be careful," he blurted, voice still scratchy from the night's events. "If you don't know how to handle those things, you can accidentally set it off."

He was surprised, to say the least, when Perry's response was a small yet noticeable grin. "Please, Newbie," he answered wearily. "It wasn't even loaded."

A/N: I know that was a long read. I've had JD's past planned from the beginning, but I didn't know until I started writing the chapter how long it would be, and I really didn't want to split it up into two parts, so thanks for hanging in there. Anyway, that's about it from me. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Until next time!