Disclaimer: I have yet to own Scrubs, but JOIN MY C2 for Zach Braff listed under Scrubs! Lol.

"Bambi," I say harshly as soon as he's in the apartment.

He shields his eyes with a grocery bag that's sitting on the counter. "You wanna go change?"

"They're only pajamas!" I snap at him. And they're silky soft—but hardly revealing with long sleeves and pants. Ugh. Men. "Where were you? I thought you had the day shift! What possessed you to stay out all night?"

"I was on call," he protests, eyes widening. "What, you think I was partying? Woo, yeah, Mr. Lance! Party till dawn and we'll get you an extra kidney!"

"You were on call?"

"No. I told you. I was partying."

"Yeah! Sarcasm!" Turk runs up and high-fives him.

I roll my eyes. "Bambi, I just expected…you know, you'd call. After everything that's happened over the past few days, I couldn't help but think that you'd…"

He looks down at the floor, purposefully avoiding my eyes. "Well, you know Dr. Cox. Couldn't find a moment to call with him around. Besides…Dan's gone."

"We don't know that," I remind him. Though I am relieved that Dr. Cox seemed to have been watching him. Maybe he does have a heart. Or maybe, as usual, interns—this time JD—are the only people at the hospital stupid enough to think that older doctors are allowed to send them to get coffee. I see a brown stain on J.D.'s scrubs. Yup, he was definitely Coffee Slave Number 5394.

He shakes his head. "No. I know he's gone." Then he stretches, yawning loudly. "I'm beat. Move over," he says to Turk, who's sitting on the couch. Turk obliges reluctantly, taking his legs off of the cushions.

"You missed Grey's Anatomy last night, man!" Turk whines.

"I did?" J.D.'s eyes snap open, inches from drifting off. "Aw, crap. What happened?"

"Man, it was the episode with the woman and her quintuplets! I can't believe you missed it! I was hanging off the edge of the couch the whole time…Dude? Dude…?"

J.D. snores softly from his position on the couch, and I laugh out loud. "Gee, Turk, that was pretty fast," I tease him, flopping down on the couch with them. "You knocked him out faster than I could swat a spider!"

"There are spiders in the apartment?"

"…No." I look over at J.D. "I really wish I knew what was going on in that head of his," I say aloud.

"Yeah," Turk agrees. "Ever notice how he randomly blanks out and occasionally starts dancing or doing something stupid? He's been doing it since the day I met him!"

"I have noticed that!" I giggle. I poke him in the gut. "You're the surgeon, baby. Why don't you get into his head…"

He pokes me on the shoulder, grinning. "Lemme get into yours, first…"

The door knocks. Damn. There goes another perfect moment wasted.

Sighing, I get up from the couch and look into the peephole. Two men stand there, one older, maybe in his sixties, and the other in his late twenties.

"Yeah?" I ask before answering. This is a bad part of town, so occasionally we get drunk bums knocking on the door and stumbling in.

"Uh…is John around?" asks the older man.

"John? Sorry, sir, I think you've got the wrong apartment."

"No, no—I'm Johnny boy's Uncle Carl, and this is his cousin. I'm sure this is the address."

"Carla, they're asking for J.D.," Turk informs me, grinning.

A light bulb goes off in my head. "Oh! You mean J.D.?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're here to see J.D., my nephew. Been a while, you know? He said it would be nice to hear from us, and we were swinging into town…"

I look over at Bambi, sleeping peacefully after the Hell Shift. "I'm sorry, sir, but he's resting right now. He just had a really long shift."

"Wake him, would you? I'm sure he'd be glad to see us."

"But…"

"Just wake him," he says, a little too forcefully.

"Hey, I don't know you, mister," I snap at him, "so don't get stuck on your little throne up there."

"Who is it?" Turk asks.

J.D. stirs and I groan. Mission failed.

"What—oh. Who's at the door?" he asks, yawning again.

"Your Uncle Frank."

J.D. frowns. "Uncle Frank…? But…oh my God," he gasps, "don't answer it."

"Sir, he's really tired. Maybe another day," I tell the man at the door, immediately obeying. J.D.'s eyes are filled with so much fear it seems unnatural. My heart starts to race, glancing into the peephole again. These men aren't kind. And they definitely aren't J.D.'s family.

"I heard him talking to you!"

"That was my boyfriend, Turk. J.D.'s in his room asleep. Now please leave."

"Well, you tell J.D. we'll come back later. We're waiting for him," says the older man menacingly.

A chill runs up my spine. I don't say good-bye, but I hear them walking down the hall.

I turn back to J.D. He's pale and sweating, staring at the door as if it's going to come to life and eat him. The terror in his face is enough to send me into full-blown panic mode.

"Explain," I command.

He takes a few deep breaths, deathly pale and shaking. "I can't believe this," he finally mutters, getting up off the couch and completely ignoring me. He heads into his room and closes the door.

"Get back here!" I shout, running up at his door and pulling the knob. It's locked. "Damn it. He'd better explain himself or I'll…"

"Calm down, baby. You're blowing this out of proportion," says Turk, though I notice he looks as weird-ed out as I feel. "Just leave him alone for a little while. I'm sure he's tired. Just…wait till later tonight."

The frustration bubbles. "But—but—"

I can see he's right, even as I stand here pouting like a child who didn't get her lollipop. "It's just…"

"I know. You worry too much," he says, rolling his eyes. "Those are just creeps. They'll be gone within the hour and find someone else to annoy."

"But Turk…didn't you see J.D.'s face? He was scared. He was really, truly scared." I shudder, his face at that moment embedded in my thoughts.

J.D.'s POV

That's it—I'm leaving. Tonight. Screw Dr. Kelso and his on call schedule. There isn't any time to call in sick anyway; besides, I can't hold a job as a doctor carrying some horrible plague.

My eyes water. So, I guess I wasn't hallucinating. Those men are real, I'm not a hypochondriac or schizophrenic (the good news, at least), my brother really did try to sell me out to madmen and I'm carrying a disease that could be used for warfare.

Could this day get any worse?

I swipe at my eyes, leaving no trace of the weakness. This is no time to be getting weepy. I have to pack and get out of here, preferably before Turk and Carla get back at seven o'clock tonight.

As I pack, I'm truly not even thinking about anything that goes into the crappy, torn apart suitcase. Toothbrush. Underwear. A couple of shirts and pants. I pack a pair of scrubs, though I don't really understand why. In goes some of the old family photo albums. I wonder if my mom wants them back. She loaned them out to me a couple of months ago and hasn't said anything. Doesn't matter now, though, they're probably contaminated since I've touched them. Same with everything in the room. I swallow hard.

How am I going to get out of the city? Where am I going to go? Is there a place I can survive without making contact with other human beings?

Then it occurs to me. I'm not going to need to find somewhere to live. I don't really have to pack all of these clothes and albums, because I'm not going to be using them.

I'm going to die.

At the thought I immediately sink to the floor. My head's still pounding and every muscle and bone seems to be aching. I'm so tired. I'm not ready to face this, I think to myself, closing my eyes and leaning back against the bed frame. I'm not ready to die. I've just gotten out of college and med school, I'm finally doing everything I've dreamed…

Just a quick nap, and then I'll get out of here.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Damn that woman! Who does she think she is, his secretary? I don't think they're even related!"

"You sounded completely unbelievable, though. Uncle Frank? Where did that come from? I thought you said we had a background on him."

"What was I supposed to do, leave the door and go check it? Better than what you were doing, standing there like a blubbering fish without anything to say."

"You spoke first. If you'd ever let me get in a god damn word, then maybe I would've been able to cover for us! I actually read the background on him and memorized it! There isn't an uncle. Well, there was, but he died five years ago. He has two aunts on his mother's side—"

"Quit your yapping. I don't give a damn what you've researched. I'm the authority here, don't you question me."

"You're doing it wrong, Dad."

"Don't call me that! I'm not your father here. I'm your superior."

"Because you never were a father. You were—are—an idiot. You just never listen. You can't stand it that someone might be better than you. Well, let me tell you, there are plenty of people better than you are. Just because you want to play God and infect half the people in the world for power doesn't make you the greatest thing ever."

"You get the hell back in this car if you know what's good for you!"

"No. I quit."

"You can't quit! You have nothing else!" A mirthless laugh sounds.

"I have everything else. I can do anything I want to do. Just because it's too late for you—just because you're entire life revolves around one innocent stranger's demise—doesn't mean that it's too late for me."

A door slams.

Silence.

"Bambi," I call into the room. It's been a few hours, and Turk and I need to leave for our shifts. But I just need to know what's going on before we go. It'll be on my mind for the next eight hours otherwise.

"Bambi, open up, please?"

Turk and I exchange a look. "Here, I'll pick the lock. He's probably just sleeping," he offers, recognizing my worried look. I'm so glad I've found someone who knows me inside out. I don't even have to speak to communicate with him; he's just there, a part of me.

In an instant the lock is undone.

"How'd you learn to do that?" I marvel, looking over his handiwork.

"Years of practice, baby," he says, grinning cockily. "Years of practice."

I open the door. J.D.'s sleeping on the floor against the bed, wincing as he clutches a hand to his chest. An open suitcase with clothes and various items sloppily thrown in sits to the right of him. My eyes widen.

"J.D., wake up," I say loudly.

"Huh?"

His eyes snap open, bloodshot. He rubs at them, clearly annoyed. "God…what happened?" he groans, breathing hard.

"What's going on here?" I ask him, indicating the suitcase.

"I…" He winces again. "I'm sorry."

"What, you aren't going to explain?" I kneel down to where he's on the floor so I can gage his temperature by feeling his head. He squirms out of my way with a force that knocks the air out of him, causing him to gasp for air.

"Don't…touch me," he manages to say, looking quite panicked.

"Dude, you're acting crazy," says Turk. "Calm down. She knows what she's doing."

"I know that!" J.D. snaps. "I…I'm contagious."

I scoff. "Oh, c'mon. I was right in the car with you the other day and you don't see me keeling over, do you? Sit still. You look awful. They shouldn't have released you so soon…"

"Carla, I can't…go back there." He's struggling to speak, but forcing out the words. Before I can interrupt to protest, he holds up a hand. "For real. I can't. I'll…I'll kill people if I do."

I laugh. "J.D., you wouldn't…"

"No. I wouldn't. That's why I can't go."

"He's delusional. I'll get the car ready," says Turk, ready to bolt.

"Wait!" J.D. halts him. "Wait…I'll explain. Just…listen."

DUN DUN DUN...!