A/N: Ye, Yes, I know... There still not mine... sigh...

Chapter Five

Kindest Cuts

Take care, don't fight, and remember: if you do not choose to lead, you will forever be led by others. Find what scares you, and do it. And you can make a difference, if you choose to do so.

J. Michael Straczynski

I promised Carla that I'd make it a point to talk to Turk today, however somehow it slipped my mind until after his shift. Busy hospital, lots of patients… coupled with me avoiding him like the plague… Hah, who would've thought!

Okay so it's not like I don't wanna talk to Turk its just I really don't wanna talk to him about this. He and Dr. Cox it's the whole; oil, vinegar, honey, water thing… Sounds like I'm making salad dressing, you know what I mean though.

"It's open Georgina…" It seemed a little odd to me, but as I pushed open the door nothing seemed to out of place. Dr. Cox was slouched in the middle of the couch, feet propped up in front on the glossed coffee table. His son is resting against his chest working his way through another bottle. Everything seems normal, well as normal as it even gets with Dr. Cox.

Still there's this kind of odd sense of dread knotting the muscles across my shoulders. Okay so I've gone a little paranoid, realistically I should have been expecting this. It's not exactly awkward though-or embarrassed… Am I actually nervous? Now see this is what's happens when-

The stark red against the florescent white bottled formula cuts off the internal rant- Bloody fingerprints… JD felt a sickeningly icy jolt below his stomach.

"Hey Dr. Cox, anything wrong…" In truth he didn't want to know, because just the possibilities were nasty enough.

"Nope."

"Hey- ah how's about I take- him and put him down to-" JD moved closer to the couch rubbing his hands nervously. Dr. Cox looked up frowning.

"Put him down? He had Jordan as a mother, what could you possibly say that was worse." He turned his son around in his arms and JD was relieved to see blue eyes part with an almost irritated look and surely only their child could manage the expression at such a young age.

"Come on level with us-" Perry addressed the small child.

"You had Jordan as a mother, now you have no mother, no father- except for me and gosh isn't that a swell consolation prize and to top it all off you have Justine here as a- crazy kind of an aunt. So tell me, is there anything, any other way that you can possibly be put down, anyway at all?" There was a long string of milky dribble from the small mouth.

"I'll take that as a no."

"Very funny." JD glared taking the blue suited child.

"You know eventually you are gonna have to cut the umbilical cord Helena. Just telling you now, so you'll be ready in time for college." JD rolled his eyes as he moved passed the kitchen and into the nursery. He set the sleeping boy in the cot, stunned to see the jumpsuit unmarred besides a few light smudges, too light to have come from the boy himself. JD checked over the delicate limbs, guilt settling in deep in his stomach. He returned to the lounge feeling embarrassed again this time over thinking that Perry would actually hurt his son, or any child for that matter.

It was a simple equation though and if his son wasn't injured then the blood must have come from Perry himself.

JD actually noted the kitchen as he tracked back passed it this time, it was hard not too. The room was trashed, in every possible sense of the word. Cupboards were hanging open pots and pans out and lying haphazardly across the floor. Glasses, plates and bowls were out in pieces littering the white tile between the bulbous bits of stainless steel. Some of the shards were bloody.

"Hold out your hands." JD ordered, moving back into the lounge, standing beside Perry outstretched legs.

"If this is a proposal Erica I really can't accept." He lifted his hands from his knees and JD ignored the comment, turning his palms face up. There were a few stray nicks, a deeper slice near his thumb, they barely needed bandaids.

"OH yeah-" Perry looked over his own hands as JD released them, as though he'd only just noticed he had them.

"I did some renovations on the kitchen. How do you like the new look?"

"It's nice… very insane rampage meets post apocalyptic war." JD sighed dropping down onto the coffee table by Perry's bared feet, the tension knotted across his shoulders eased slightly. JD winced and slid over a little as something cool soaked into his pant leg.

"Fabulous just the look I was going for." JD swiped at the cold patch of fabric, frowning as his hand came away red.

"Why?" He asked absently as he shifted further and looked down at the dark surface. There was blood puddled in small pools and smears, JD's eyes flicking up to Perry's feet.

"OH no." He winced, then shifted closer and pulled the pulped appendages up onto his knees.

"Fiona, rubbing my feet? Touch domestic even for you isn't it?"

"I'm not rubbing them." He snapped tension coiling again.

"You walked through the kitchen…" He sighed, frowning at the look of indifference.

Sally-Ann tells me like I'm not supposed to have noticed that my feet are torn to shreds. I've noticed, but I just can't seem to care, actually the shard near my little toe kind of stings anytime I move it and I swear to god it's the only thing that's keeping me from tearing apart another room in this god forsaken purgatory.

He disappears for a second and comes back carting Jordan's rather large and paranoid-ly overstocked first aid kit. Fantastic- and I would like my wildly sarcastic voice noted on that one!

"So- do you wanna talk-"

"God no."

He's finished with the first foot before I realise that I don't want him here. My skin prickles with irritation, hairs on my neck twitching, poor-fucking animals, now I know how bristling feels.

"You don't need to stay Rachael." He pulls the shard from beneath my little toe.

"The kitchen would disagree with you." There's an odd set to his shoulders and a definite edge to his voice.

"The kitchen's none of your business." I flinch as antiseptic is rubbed on none to gently. I clench my toes in frustration.

"Stop moving." And the tones not one I've heard before.

"It's not that difficult." I wrench my foot from his hands and quickly loop the bandage around the last few times, clipping it in place.

"And now you can go Cynthia." I press my feet into the carpet as hard as I can, thrilled that it hurts so much to walk.

"You shouldn't be walking around when your feet are like that." Again I'm suppose to not know this?

"If I throw a little rubber ball toto, will you leave?" I turn my back to him so I won't have to see that disapproving expression, I can't avoid the sigh though and it irritates me more than anything else he's ever done. I grab for the nearest unemptied bottle.

"Please don't start drinking again." I grind my teeth in frustration. This is what happens when you joke with them. I only have myself to blame, I let it slide the other day and now, he thinks that sad kind of disappointed voice will have an effect on me.

"Would you go home!" I keep my voice as even as possible, since there's not going to be any argument over this.

"You know Dr. Cox I really don't get you." When I turn he's standing arms crossed, legs spaced.

"Music to my ears."

"You have a child to worry about."

"NO, Jordan had a child to worry about… so take the trip to hell and go whine at her." His mouth drops open and then snaps closed, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

"You're a huge pain in my ass." I wonder what he decided not to say.

"You know Carla and I are the first to defend you usually, but everyone's right you're a selfish, self-serving, narcissistic, arrogant, egomaniac, who's just-" A headache's starting to curl along the base of my brain and every word out of his mouth feels like someone stick glass beneath my eyes.

"Jor-" My teeth are biting into my cheek before I realise why. His eyes actually drop to the floor, head bent, arms now wrapped around himself more than crossed, the argument having taken an uncomfortable turn. My chest feels tight and worse I actually wish for the tingling left arm.

Of all the stupid things he's ever done, all the stupid questions, mistakes- jokes, they've all irritated me. But this makes me hate him, he's done something unfixable and I don't think he understands even that much.

"And you're not very nice."

"You're a moron." He doesn't mean to throw the decanter, but it hardly changes that he does. The thick crystal crumbling against the wall, there's a hiss from JD as a splinter flies loose; nicking the back of his hand.