Disclaimer: Mehhhh. I don't own Scrubs.

Blur

Chapter Thirteen

I found Elliot in the cafeteria, looking into an open container of red jell-o as if she were trying to read all the secrets of the world in its contents. She was shaking slightly. I could tell from a distance that she was still crying.

I pulled up a chair and sat next to her. She twitched, obviously having heard me sit down, but didn't say anything. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, lost in our own thoughts, mutually thankful to have the other sitting next to us as an excuse to passerby. I was so distracted that after a while I forgot to be mad at Dr. Cox for being such an ass. All I could think of was JD's pale face, the whine of the heart monitor, the terrifying fear that it wouldn't start up again—

"You've known him for twelve years," Elliot squeaked out through her tears, still staring into the dessert intently, her hair covering her eyes. "You probably feel a lot worse than I do right now."

I nodded to myself even though I knew she wasn't looking. "We're both friends with him. Of course we both feel…" I couldn't explain it, I was just a man, for god's sake. Wasn't it the women who were supposed to pinpoint emotions so as-a-matter-of-factly? I missed Devil Woman. We needed her more than ever, with that tiny scratch of power she managed to give us through her eerie analysis of our behaviors. Even Carla was breaking down.

And now Elliot was silently asking me for help. What the hell could I do? I was the jerk who dreaded going to visit his own sick best friend. I'd gone, though, four times; better than Dr. Cox could say he had. But still, I felt like the world's biggest jerk.

"It's alright," I said numbly, only because it was what I'd been trained to say in situations like this.

Elliot shook her head. I guess I wasn't exactly helping her.

"I miss him. I feel like a selfish brat—he's in there dying, and all I can think about is how much I miss him. How terrible I feel."

I chuckled softly. "Don't worry about it. I feel the exact same way," I said, and for a moment I felt a little better. And then I remembered that it would only take one ring of my pager, one code blue, and JD could be dead like an unsaved gameboy game with dead batteries.

"I just need to get out of here," Elliot said, her voice breaking. She picked up her untouched fork and jabbed it violently into the jell-o, sending little globs of it flying. She didn't acknowledge it.

I stared at a glob and sighed. "You know what? Let's go get Rowdy and bring him to the hospital. JD could use him right now."

She offered me a small smile, finally looking up from the table. "You're right. Let's go."

"Hey, Johnny," I started. But I had no idea where the one-sided conversation was going to go. I sat on the chair silently, ever aware of the two adults' eyes burning into my back from outside. I was selfishly glad that they hadn't come in with me, so they couldn't see my face or hear me talking to him.

For a while I just looked around at him and the room. It was uniform white, the walls all decked out in that same color, and had a window with the blinds down. JD's dark hair was almost a shock in contrast to his surroundings. There was a tube going down his throat and several machines in the room, beeping. I knew one was a heart monitor. I stared at it for a moment, then turned back to my brother.

"Guess we haven't talked in a while," I admitted. I wished he could hear me, but if he could, then it would be even harder to say. "Sorry about that. I got caught up in things."

I felt a twinge of guilt. Got caught up in what, exactly? Even with Caleb and the bartending, I wasn't all that busy. I could have spared a few moments to call.

"Okay, maybe I didn't. But I said I was sorry." Might as well be perfectly honest with him. "I mean, it's not like we call each other a lot…I couldn't have known. But I guess I should tell you—Mom remarried." I paused and laughed. "Yeah, big shocker there. Not like it's happened twenty times before. But this time…they adopted a kid. His name is Caleb."

I bit my lip. "I really want you to meet him. Cute kid. And I'm not just saying that because I have to share a room with him…" I sighed. "Even if Mom doesn't, I think you should get to see the kid. You're a good influence. He'll need that when he's older, cuz hell knows I'll never be a role model."

I listened to the hum of the machines and tapped my foot on the floor distractedly. Finally I just blurted it out. "You know what? I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for walking you to the wrong school and sabotaging your lunch box, I'm sorry for stealing your homework and making fun of you in front of all the kids we knew, and I'm sorry—" My breath caught. I was getting a little too ahead of myself, so I slowed down and continued, "And I'm sorry for ignoring it when those guys beat you. I'm sorry for not trying to help. I'd do anything in the world to make it up to you now."

My eyes were watering, but I knew I wasn't going to cry. It took a lot to actually make me cry. I just wasn't born with the tear-duct gene like Johnny was.

"Now I just…I just wish you could actually hear everything I just said," I sighed. "Because now I'm going to have to repeat it to you when you wake up and I don't know if I can do that again."

"So, pardon my asking—well, on second thought, don't pardon anything because I really don't give a crap—why haven't you seen your kid in twelve years? Cuz last I checked, when people were related—"

Her knuckles were clenched and white, her eyes glaring at me. "You don't understand," she said in a hard voice.

I shrugged. "A lot of people say that, but hating the world and all of its inhabitants as I do, I actually understand quite a bit more than you would think."

"Who the fuck are you?"

I grinned. "Nice mouth," I said. "Are you sure you're related to Miranda in there?" Then

I forced a laugh. "Don't ya think it's funny that the f-bomb can be used as a verb, noun, and adjective? I even heard it used as an adverb once. Go figure."

Her lips clenched shut and she turned away from me. "Stay away from John."

I snorted. "John? Hell, I hardly ever call him anything short of a demeaning nickname, but even I know he calls himself JD." I got an eyebrow raise at the "nickname" part. "I'm his boss," I explained, as to eliminate any porno ideas she was getting in her head.

That didn't work for her. "JD?" She tested it out. "Used his father's last name."

"Yeah, a lot of kids do that," I pointed out mockingly. "Turns out I got saddled with my father's last name too, as did your other son, if I recall."

"Why are you trying to piss me off?"

"Don't flatter yourself, I do this to everyone." I looked at Dan in the chair, his back slightly slumped and his head in his hands. Was it so hard? Why couldn't I just bring myself to do that?

In all honesty, though, I was trying to piss the woman off. See, in people's most furious states, they reveal more than they intend to—I would be a clear cut witness such events, usually because I messed up and blurted something out. And—whether it be because Lavern was turning me to the dark side or I was sickeningly plagued with boredom—I was curious about Newbie's mom. She looked withdrawn from him, a separate world.

"It's just…I was mad at him for so long, and now that I remember why…"

Ah. Here we go. It worked every time: piss 'em off, let them boil for a moment and deflate, and then sit back and enjoy the show. It was how I blackmailed half of my roomies in college, which ultimately led to me passing chemistry that semester before I got kicked out of the dorm.

So I didn't say anything, because I knew that if I stayed quiet, she'd spill it all in the end.

"Do you have kids?" she asked me.

"If a two-year-old monster counts, then yes," I replied, wondering what she was getting at.

There were tears in her eyes. "You know how it feels with kids, then." She shuddered as she took in a breath. "It's all so absurd. It shouldn't have happened this way. Reuniting because he's dying, getting guilt-tripped to see him by a bartender who usually doesn't give a crap about anyone or anything to come see him."

"Bartender Boy's your son, too," I reminded her. Then I silenced myself. She'd keep going; I was sure of it. I could milk anything out if I waited long enough.

She nodded. "Yeah…but he'd moved out of the house by the time…"

"By the time…?" I prompted her.

"By the time her boyfriends started beating Johnny so bad he landed in the hospital every other week from 'running into doors' and 'tripping on his shoelaces'," came an outside voice, bitter and angry. I turned to see Dan standing outside of Newbie's room, his face tight.

"Dan!"

"What?" he said sharply. "You weren't going to say it. You were going to make up some lie. But the truth is you ditched my little brother because he 'ruined your relationships' with your freaking boy toys. They beat him, and he didn't say a word, not until he finally busted his leg up so bad at the end of his junior year that he could barely hobble around on crutches." Dan immediately looked shaken up by the time he'd blurted all the words out, but relieved at the same time. Exactly the reaction I'd been looking for, exactly the reaction I'd gotten from a million victims of the Cox-provocation before him.

Tears started rolling down the woman's cheek. "But…"

Dan shook his head. "Don't start with that. You know I'm telling the truth. Hell, I'm the only one who knows it, because he kept telling me over and over…and I didn't do anything…"

I swallowed hard. I'd expected a confession, yes, but not one that was quite so dramatic, and definitely not a direct accusation from Dan, Beer King of Alcohopolis. I tried to imagine a teenage JD getting beaten, and the idea was so easy to conjure up I wondered why I hadn't thought of it before. The kid was six feet tall, but there was absolutely nothing threatening about him. He couldn't scare a fly, and he definitely looked like the type a drunk guy would beat on.

When I looked up from the floor, Dan was gone and their mom was still standing next to me, clutching at her purse.

"Well?" I said.

She was too embarrassed by now to be mad. "That pretty much sums it up," she said weakly. "Twelve years. I didn't even go to their dad's funeral because I didn't…I didn't want to see him."

And then I did something I thought that I'd never, in all circles of hell, force myself to do.

"Look—that kid in there? Obviously not the kid you knew way back when. He's ours now. We look after him. So unless you're planning to fix your mess I suggest you leave this hospital right now."

I blew out a breath, wondering if I could possibly, even sub-consciously, have meant a word I just said.

At least it got her to stay.

Okay, okay, okay! I have so much to say, lol. First off, I'm sorry for the delay in update, but I promise it'll be worth your while because I am in the process of creating an angsty one shot song fic (my specialty :D) that has hindered my updating ability. No worries, though. The show must go on (aka I'm a JDA addict).

OMG! Who's seen the promo for Scrubs season six?? I have, suckers! And boy, is it FUNNY. Confirmation: Kim is pregnant (scene--JD: You're pregnant? You're sure?... Kim: -holds up twenty stick tests- Yeah, I'm sure). And you know that Scrubs musical episode?? (Of course you do, who wouldn't???) One of the lines JD sings is something along the lines of "We can figure out what's wrong with you/ by looking at your poo!" SO FUNNY. And the janitor inhales ammonia...huh. Anyway. Had to get that out. Huh-larious!

Now review!