Note-I'm uploading this chapter a day earlier because of a trip to France tomorrow (I have to get up at 4:30 in the morning...god). Thanks to all my luvely faithful reviewers! Enjoy!

It was bang on the dot of one am when Perry woke, suddenly, with no explanation. He sat up in bed, and put his hand to his thumping head. The alcohol was making him hallucinate. He could see a bright light, burning into his head.

"Damn scotch…" he muttered. But then something clicked. Hang on a second. It wasn't his mind producing the light. The fierce glow was coming through the crack in the door, from the front room. Someone was in his apartment. Now very much awake, Perry swung his legs silently out of the bed, and reached out for a weapon, and ended up grabbing hold of the alarm clock. Oh well, it would have to do. He crept out through the room, and, brandishing the…ahem, alarm clock, he opened the door. The person on his couch turned to face him, and Perry dropped his weapon his surprise.

"C-Carla?!"

It was indeed Carla, complete with floral scrubs and her wide smile. Only, somehow it wasn't her. There seemed to be a bright light surrounding her, which was being violently omitted from a candle she was carrying. Perry blushed as he realised he was in his pyjamas in front of the person he used to like. She stood up off the couch, and faced him.

"Hey! I'm the ghost of Christmas past!"

Perry was taken aback, to say the least.

"You're the what now?"

"Didn't Kelso tell you about me?" Carla pouted. Perry just stared at her, calculating the facts of the last few hours in his brain. Maybe Kelso wasn't just a dream…

"Hello? Dr Cox!"

Perry snapped out of his thoughts to see Carla waving her hand in front of his face.

"What the hell is the time?" he mumbled to himself. "This is a dream…"

"Oh you did not just call me that!" said Carla, putting her hand on her hip and pointing at him. Perry almost laughed out loud. This whole thing was, quite frankly, absurd.

"I'm going back to bed…" he muttered, and turned away. But then he felt Carla's hand on his sleeve. And suddenly, the whole world went fuzzy and out of focus. Perry blinked hard, and suddenly he was standing in…a bedroom. A young bedroom. Posters of the Detroit Red Wings hung, curled and faded with age, on the walls, and clothes and toys were strung over the floor. A young boy sat at a desk, writing.

"What the…?" Perry muttered as Carla let go of his arm. "What just happened?"

"Oh my God! Is the supposed genius Dr Cox stumped?" exclaimed Carla in mock horror. "Don't you recognise this place?"

Perry was silent. He did recognise the room.

"It's mine…" he whispered. "That's me…"

Indeed it was. The little boy writing at the desk sported the beginnings of wild red curls and the hard jaw line of the older man. Perry turned back to Carla, with a questioning look on her face.

"Ghost of Christmas past, idiot!" she scoffed fondly, motioning to the boy's calendar. December 24th. "Don't worry, he can't hear you"

Slowly, nervously, Perry reached out and touched the boys shoulder, and a shiver of déjà vu ran through his body. He drew his hand back as if bitten. He could remember what was about to happen.

"Carla, let's go" he mumbled, looking back at the nurse. Carla shook her head. Perry sighed. And then it started. The floor started to shake as a door slammed downstairs and someone pounded up the stairs. Young Perry turned towards the door, terror etched into his expression. Then the door burst open.

It was like looking into a fairground mirror, Perry thought. The man standing in the doorway was like an older, fatter version of him, with wrinkles and a splash of grey in his blonde hair. Anger was smeared on his face. The man was Arthur Cox. Perry's dad.

Growling the same growl that was visible in his son, Arthur strode forward, right through Perry and Carla, and grabbed Young-Perry by the collar, hoisting him out of his chair. The next few minutes Perry shut his eyes tight as his father beat the crap of his younger self for the first time. Then Arthur dropped Young-Perry and stormed out. Presently a door slammed downstairs, and a young girl ran into the room.

"Paige…" muttered Perry as he stared at his little sister.

"Per-Per!" squeaked Paige. She knelt down to her brother's level, and started to dab at the cuts and bruises with some cotton wool. Perry squeezed his eyes shut, and then he felt Carla take his arm again. The room spun again, and Perry felt dizzy as he watched his young self and Paige slowly vanish in a whirl of colour.

Suddenly they were standing, again, in another room. It was a large hall, with white pasty walls. Decked across the room was a large banner that said "Happy Christmas Doctors!", and a buffet table was groaning with food in a corner. There as an open bar in another corner, and although there were speakers, the place was silent.

Perry gasped, and grinned. He knew this place as well. Just as he predicted, a group of people in scrubs came in.

"My med school…" Perry grinned.

"Happy Christmas, doctors!" yelled the older man at the front.

"It's Dr Fezziwig!" Perry smiled gleefully, like a child getting a bite of candy. He looked at Carla, but instead of sharing his excitement she just looked bored.

"Let the annual Christmas party begin!" Fezziwig yelled, and a blare of bad 80s music pumped out through the speakers. The group of young students cautiously began to dance. A young man with tight ginger curls sloped off to the open bar.

"Dr Fezziwig was great" Perry grinned. Carla yawned.

"Yeah, yeah. Could I speak to the normal Dr Cox for a couple minutes, thank you?"

By now the various people were dancing wildly around the hall, not really caring what they looked like. Student-Perry was dancing and trying to drink a beer at the same time. The alcohol slopped all over his top, but he didn't care. He was just having a good time. On the contrary, Perry had frozen to the spot when he saw who was strutting haughtily up to his younger self.

"Hey, curls, you got a pen?"

It was at that moment that Carla grabbed his arm again. Perry groaned, nausea kicking in as the room spun like JD in one of his Eagle moments. Then the ground felt solid again, and Perry was standing in his apartment.

"Magical mystery tour over already, Carla?" he asked. Carla shook her head sadly, and Perry turned back to the scene. His eyes clouded over.

"Carla…" he whispered. "Please…please don't make me watch this again"

It was all rather confusing. He was standing in his own apartment, watching himself only yesterday. Past-him was talking to Jordan. Jack was on the floor, playing with some massive Lego bricks, and Jennifer Dylan was gurgling contentedly in a corner. Perry groaned as he watched the scene replay in front of him.

"Perry! What the hell?" Jordan was saying. "I've spent all day trying to avoid the nanny and her new boob job! Suck it up and blow it out your ass!"

"I've been at the hospital, Jordan, you know that!"

"So that means you're too tired to put your son to bed?"

Perry listened as the fight of all fights broke out. Jack sat on the floor, staring blankly at his toys. Perry felt a rush of pain flow through his alcohol-soaked veins. He desperately wanted to pick his son up and hold him. If only he'd just put him to bed…

"All you care about now is that stupid hospital! You don't even give a crap about your kids…"

Jordan had threatened to leave many times before. But when Perry woke up from a drunken stupor on the couch, she was actually gone, and so were Jack and Jenny.

"You egotistical, arrogant jackass!"

Carla laid a gentle, caring hand on Perry's shoulder, and he anticipated the whirlwind that he was sure was to come. But instead, Past-him, Jordan and his children faded from view, and when he blinked, he was back in his present apartment.

"Carla…why did you do that?" Perry grunted, turning on the ghost. She shrugged.

"I'm the ghost of Christmas past. It's what I do" she said. Perry shook with rage. How dare she have the right to show him these things like he was just another guy on the road to hell (which, granted, he was, but it didn't really help his point).

"You…" he growled. He picked up the bottle of scotch on the table, and, not sure what else to do, threw the liquid at Carla. The effect was instantaneous. The candle in Carla's hand flicked out, her mouth screamed silently, and suddenly, as if in a gust of wind, she had vanished.

Terrified, Perry stumbled back into his room, muttering "Just a dream, just a cra-ha-hazy dream…", and fell into his bed, pulling the covers tight around him as if to protect himself. Then, straight away, he fell back into a deep sleep.