So sorry for the looooooong lack of update. Hopefully the next chapter will be up within the next few days.
And for those who have been waiting for the angst, it starts from here on out.
Disclaimer: I don't own Scrubs.
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As soon as my shift ended I was out the door and inside my new car. I didn't do a last checkup on my patients like I always do. I didn't stay and wait for Turk and Carla. I didn't try to give extra help to Elliot. I didn't even stop when Dr. Cox ambushed me in the hallway and tried to dump his remaining patients on me.
My phone call home had been weird and worrying enough to shake my supposedly permanent happy mood. The strange, buzzing feeling at the pit of my stomach didn't cease, not even when I finally got into my car and began the almost long drive home. I kept looking at the clock. Every red light and stop sign became my enemy. Even the sigh of relief as I pulled up into the driveway sounded chocked and forced.
Two things were wrong with this picture
One, Kim's car was gone.
Two, as I neared the door I heard crying, muffled a little by the solid wood door.
I quickly took out the keys and tried to open the door.
That was when I discovered the third thing that was wrong with this picture.
The door was perfectly open.
I pushed past the unlit hall, past the living room, past the kitchen, directly into the nursery.
Sam was sitting in his crib, wailing for a reason that I didn't know. At least not at the moment. I quickly scooped him up into my arms and bounced him a little. The crying lessened but continued.
"Where's mommy?" I asked him softly, willing him to understand my urgent panic.
Sam just cried harder again.
I forced myself to shut out his cries and left the nursery. I rushed into the master bedroom and stopped dead in my tracks. Drawers were half open, hangers were strewn across the floor around the closet and the bathroom door was ajar. I went in there next, observing the opened and disorganized cabinets with a growing sense of dread.
The air suddenly became intoxicating and I left, past the nursery and hall closet, into the kitchen. My foot connected with something and I turned n the lights just in time to see a large kitchen knife skid across the floor and disappear under the stove.
The kitchen was like the bedroom. Drawers were half open, some of their contents scattered inside or outside on the floor. Sam's bottles and Kim's and my breakfast dishes lay still in the sink, untouched and unwashed.
Everything was starting to make sense. A sense that I wanted nothing to do with. I suddenly wished that I had stayed at the hospital. I wished with all my heart that I had stayed to wait for Turk and Carla, helped Elliot, taken all of Dr. Cox's patients and checked my own a million times.
As absurd as it sounded, I wished that I had never come home.
All the clues and signs were there for me to see. And yet I still denied it.
Kim's probably gone shopping. Yeah, that's it. She had a craving for something and she left to the store to get it. All the mess is probably her looking for her purse. She's forgetful. It can happen to anyone.
And then I remembered Sam.
No. She wouldn't just leave our son like that. Maybe one of her friends had an accident and she had to go to the hospital right away. She probably called me to say that. I had my cell phone turned off. Yeah, that's what happened. I'm sure she'll call in few minutes. Yeah, that's what's going on.
And as I went to get the phone, my foot connected with something again. Only this time there was a crunch as I stepped on it.
I bent to pick up the broken pen and I saw it. It was there, next to the grocery list and the cheap, plastic calendar from the realtor who'd sold me this land 2 years ago.
I took it down from the refrigerator, seeing the reason behind the disaster in my house in the hurtful, shocking words.
I read the note.
I read it again.
I read it until the words were etched into my mind. Angry lines that bled and crushed out the true joy I'd been feeling lately, in a matter of chaotic seconds.
Almost as is he could hear his father's heart fall and splinter, Samuel Perry Gilligan Dorian began to cry harder, and made J.D. understand.
His son had been answering his question all along.
Where's mommy?
Kim had left. She was gone. Left him behind with their son. His son now.
And right then and there, as soon as J.D. admitted the painful truth to himself, he wanted nothing more than to open his own mouth and join his son in the loud, shrill howls that flooded from the young throat, mourning the loss of a mother and lamenting the shattered heart of a father.
What will J.D. do now? Stick around to find out :D