Hello again!

Many thanks to all who reviewed!

Now, read chapter two, which is in Elliot's perspective.

BEEP BEEP

BEEEEEEEEP

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

I really, really didn't want to get up this morning. It was one of those mornings when you feel like you'd be better off starving to death instead of just getting up for breakfast.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

But since I feel like this a lot, I had come up with a foolproof way to get myself to wake up.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

My alarm clock was halfway across the room, on my dresser, so I'd have to get out of my bed to get it, and that brings me back to what I really, rea-

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

-lly didn't want to do.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

I banged my head against the wall lightly and just stood there for a second before turning off the alarm. I shook my head to try and get myself to wake up a little more, but it didn't work at all. If anything, I felt more tired than before.

Well, it wouldn't hurt to skip most of my make-up today, would it? I don't think so... I shook my head again and headed towards the bathroom for a shower.

I got as far as my bedroom door when I decided to forgo any and all pointless beauty rituals in order to get some sleep.

So, that's why I was in the bathroom at the hospital putting my eyeliner on. I only got a few weird looks for that, but all the women in there (and there were a lot, for some reason) drew the line when I pulled out my giant case of blusher.

After being kicked out of the restrooms, I decided just to go to the locker room and put it on in there.

After being kicked out of the locker room before I even had a chance to put up my extremely heavy backpack in my locker, I dragged myself to the front desk.

"Lavern, do I look different to you?" I asked.

"You look like you've tanned," she replied. Frick!

The Todd suddenly came up to me. "Tan-five!"

"No, I will not tan five you because I have not tanned!"

"Prove it," Todd said.

"How?" I asked, only somewhat curious as to how I could prove it. But then I realized who I was talking to and that the next thing out of his mouth would probably be some version of, 'You could show me your boobies.'

"You could show me-" he started. Yay me, I was right.

"No, Todd. I have a better way to prove it." I reached into my backpack and pulled out my blusher. "I usually wear this."

"Prove it," Lavern butted in.

"Yeah, prove it."

"Okay," I sighed. I jumped up onto the counter and crossed my legs. "Does anyone have a hand mirror or something?"

This question was directed towards the audience of nurses with nothing better to do but watch me put on make-up, but it was the Todd who answered by handing me a small mirror.

"I do not want to know," I told him as I took the mirror. When I looked in, I realized just how much it looked like I had tanned. I grabbed the applicator and carefully rubbed it against my face.

Todd leaned toward Lavern. "That's hot, isn't it," he whispered in what only passed as a horrible attempt at flirting. She scooted her chair away pointedly, but Todd only saw this as an invitation to lean closer over the desk.

I was busy watching them, so I didn't see exactly how much blusher I had put on until I turned back to Todd's mirror. "Frick, Frick," I said under my breath. "Frick!" My entire face was the palest white, and looked like it belonged to a different person, maybe a ghost. I tried rubbing it away with my much darker hands, forgetting what I was holding. A cloud of the powder floated in the air, causing me to cough.

That's when JD and Turk walked in.

"What the hell are you doing?" Turk yelled, keeping his distance.

"I had to prove to these two idiots that I didn't tan!" I said in what I hope was a calm, steady voice.

Turk looked confused. JD accused me of being a flying mammal. They both walked away trying not to laugh.

I knew right then it was going to be the worst day ever.

For some reason, JD was holding an ice pack on his head. He looked like he needs to get out of this place as much as I needed to, so I asked him if he wanted to go out to get some lunch.

He agreed. I was about to go outside, because, guess what? It was one of the worst days ever and I couldn't stand to be in this horrible place for one more second.

Just as I was about to make my escape, the worst thing that could happen did happen.

You know the saying 'prepare for the worst and you'll never be surprised'? I'm just wondering, but what in the world could have prepared me for that moment?

Not meeting Carla?

Having my own gun?

A bulletproof vest?

Giving Carla a bulletproof vest?

None of the above?

I'm going with the last one, although the bulletproof vest might have worked... No, she wouldn't have worn it.

Cause I'm pretty sure this surprised her, too.

I yelled in what I'm pretty sure was my squeakiest voice ever, "Oh my god! JD! Call 911!"

Stupid JD didn't do what I told him to, not that it would have made a difference either way. He just wandered over, in slow motion, it seemed. "Why, we're already at a hospital. Is somebody hurt?" Clueless JD, would I have told you to do that if I didn't mean it?

He slowly looked over my shoulder. I could swear I heard his heart skip a beat. Or maybe mine did, I don't know.

All I know is that Carla was shot. Right in front of us. And the man that did it, he just walked away. Like nothing was wrong.

But everything is wrong now.

"Hello, Mr. Supply closet! Did you miss me?" I closed the door to the closet and sat on a conveniently overturned bucket that was probably put there by the newest batch of interns.

Oh, who am I kidding? I put it there.

It was over a year ago, though. I also grabbed the tissues from behind the cleaning supplies the janitor claims he uses, five unlabeled bottles and a yellow mop with a red ribbon barely hanging on to it. I wondered for a second why he doesn't use that mop, it was so much nicer than the one he was using.

Remember Carla? A voice in my head asked.

"It's nothing," I said aloud, wiping at my tear covered face.

You know it's something.

"Shut up."

The voice went silent.

The bullet probably just went into her arm, I didn't really see where it went... when I finally get out of this closet, Carla's just going to have a bandage on her arm. She'll wonder why it took so long for me to come see her. She'll be back at work within the week!

Then why didn't the guy shoot again if he missed

"I said shut up."

The voice left again, and I realized what I was doing: talking to myself in an empty closet. I'll never stop becoming more and more like my mother, will I?

I suddenly hear the door creak open. "Dr. Reid?" Stacie, one of my interns, asked. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Stacie. I was... just leaving." I got up and placed the tissues back on the shelf. It didn't look right, so I moved it a little to the left. Then to the right. I pushed it back a little. Scooted it forward. Over left some more.

"Dr. Reid, it's okay. I know about your friend. Carla, right?" Stacie said. "We, well, I just came to check on you. The janitor told me to, and he can be pretty scary with that mop."

I was sort of glad for that; I didn't really want to leave the closet quite so soon. "Thanks." She started to close the door. "Wait."

"What?" She hesitated with only her head sticking in the small room.

"How is she?"

"I don't know. The janitor said she's in room 210 if you want to check on her," she replied.

"Thanks. Goodbye." I grabbed tissue and tied it into a knot around another one.

She disappeared behind the door. I decided to try to do the same.

I stepped forward and turned the knob. I took a deep breath to prepare myself, and stepped out into the hallway.

I don't know what I thought would be out there. A big sign declaring 'Carla's been shot, all events postponed until further notice'? Probably not. A bunch of crying people? Maybe. Everything going on normally? It doesn't really matter how likely I thought that was because that was what was happening. That's when I realized really how unimportant Carla was, how little would change around here when she was gone.

I meant if. If she was gone

Carla's not going anywhere. Right?

I hurtled myself back into the supply closet, ignoring Janitor, who was frantically mopping the whole room with the yellow mop I noticed in there earlier. I sat down on the bucket again and grabbed my tissue box. I used three tissues right away.

I tried, but I couldn't get the image of Carla's lifeless body out of my mind, all the machines hooked up to her, whirring, buzzing, beeping.

She looked just like a patient. I had seen people in her condition before so what was bothering me?

It was Carla

"Thank you, voice," I mumbled to the room. The janitor (I forgot he was there) glanced at me but didn't say anything. He was to busy mopping.

You aren't used to seeing her like that.

That wasn't it, I knew, no matter how much since it made. I had imagined everyone close to me in her place thousands of times before, wondering what I would do if something were to happen to them. I just never thought anything would happen to Carla. She was so solid... strong...

You don't want to see her like that. You don't want her to be so weak. She's supposed to be the strong one. You never expected this.

"Thank you, voice," I said again, and this time I was partway serious. Janitor seemed to understand. He didn't look at me, just sat on the floor next to me, still mopping the rather wet floor with the yellow mop.

We were quiet awhile, mopping and crying.

"Is Pretty Nurse going to be okay?" he finally asked in the general direction of the mop.

If someone were to ask me this a moment before he did, I would have said it wasn't true. This all seemed like some kind of dream before I said that one word: "No."

And even though he didn't say anything, I knew he understood.

This turned out radically different than what I origanally wrote, but I think it'll work.

Maybe.

Just in case you didn't get it, the yellow mop was supposed to be the one JD gave him...

Remember, I like reviews, cats, and ice cream.