Carla quickly put a bagged oxygen mask over the boy's mouth and proceeded to breath for him. Meanwhile, J.D finished inspecting his injuries. His torso was bruised. J.D gently pushed on his abdomen. He was alarmed by what he felt – softness, almost like a socket underneath his right lung. Dr. Cox calmly watched his young colleague. "What do you feel, Newbie?" he asked in a softer tone, having cooled down a little.

"Internal bleeding." J.D replied hesitantly.

Putting all of the injuries together – the large cut on his head, the broken nose, the broken neck, internal bleeding, in addition to a broken left leg, J.D sighed as if in defeat. "I really don't this kid can survive . . ." he thought out loud. No sooner had J.D finished speaking did the heart monitor beside the table change from a regulated series of beeps to one high-pitched, continuous ring. Everyone paused and looked over at the screen in horror. The boy had flat lined.

"C'mon!" J.D shouted. "Just because I said I didn't think you can survive doesn't mean you actually have to die!"

"Shut up!" Dr. Cox ordered.

He hastily stepped to the doorway and poked his head out. "I need that ventilator, now!" Turning back to the medical team, Dr. Cox clapped his hands as if to get them all together. "Charge the paddles, and someone please get a brace on his neck."

Dr. Cox watched the heart monitor for a change but there was none. He then grabbed the paddles, placing one on the boy's chest and the other on his side. He and Carla exchanged looks, telling the other that they were ready.

"Clear!"

As the machine whistled to a climax, J.D closed his eyes tight. He always hated to see the procedure. To him it was the worst form of electrocution to witness following the electric chair itself. It wasn't so much the feeling that bothered J.D, though he had been shocked before, but because of his own stupidity (and partly Turk's), but because it was painful to watch. To see someone on the brink of death and their body to convulse so violently for hope of a sign of life was heartbreaking. And the sound . . . the sound it made was gut wrenching. J.D felt his own stomach churn upon hearing the shock itself and again when the boy's lifeless body fall back to the table. Carla quickly put the mask back onto the boy's face and forced two breaths. Nothing changed.

"Clear!"

The horrendous thwack was heard again, causing J.D to flinch a little. Nothing changed, and hope was beginning to fade away from everyone.

"Clear!"

The third time was a charm – the boy's heart started to beat. Though faint, it was a beat nonetheless, leaving the team with no time to celebrate, but another chance to save him.

"Alright, his blood pressure is still dropping. Get a blood sample and find out what his type is. In the meantime get a bag of AB+ running. If we can get him and keep him stable then we'll be able to get him up to surgery, but to do that we've gotta get some blood in him, and would someone please get a ventilator in him?" Dr. Cox started to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Carla called after him.

"Carla, please. I can't do as much as the six of you can to save this kid. You've been around here for years, same for you, Newbie, so quit depending and start working. The only one doing any depending in here is him," he said, nodding down at the kid, "so are you gonna let him down? I'll leave the decision up to you."

"Dr. Cox was definitely in a teaching phase. Whenever things get tough with a patient he'll come in and help, but won't see it all the way through. I can't tell if it's because he just doesn't want to be around to watch someone die, if he really was too busy to stick around, or if he actually trusted us enough to give us room to learn and practice. A part of myself doesn't even believe that I'm a very trustworthy doctor yet. A perfect example; while everyone else was working on much more complex things, like gaining access to the boy's bloody airway, I was busy plucking the little pieces of glass out of his face. The discouraging thing was that I was assigned to do that which made me wonder . . . did the other doctors not trust me either?"

"The boy survived long enough to make it to surgery. I walked alongside him as they wheeled him into the operating room, but I stopped there and turned around. Even now I don't know if he's still alive, but Turk is in charge, so I'm feeling hopeful."

J.D made his way to hospice to see Elliot. Of course she did not work in that department, but a patient she had drawn close to was spending the remainder of her life there. She was an elderly woman with Alzheimer's disease. Hospice doubted she would live to see the next weekend. J.D rounded the corner and saw Elliot's figure standing just outside of a doorway. The moonlight coming in from a nearby window lined her shape like a bright essence of something good, and yet darkness overpowered, and a sense of sorrow and grief loomed over her. J.D could see it even from behind. He stopped when he was about ten feet behind her and looked beyond into the room. A woman's lifeless body laid on the bed, with three people on either side, all crying, and one holding the deceased's hand up to her tear-streaked cheek. Elliot's patient – her friend – had died. Very slowly, J.D approached her and gently took her by the arm, leading her further out into the hallway. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Elliot replied, pushing a lose strand of her long, golden hair out of her face. But her voice was weak, and even in the dark J.D could see that her eyes were red as a result of tears that had already been shed. "You know, I'm just waiting around to see if the family needs anything."

"Isn't that what the hospice worker is supposed to do?"

Elliot didn't respond. Instead, her lower lip began to quiver. J.D hummed a sound of sympathy for his friend, and comfortingly put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close and stroking her arm. Elliot inhaled sharply, clearly trying hard not to burst out crying.

"I hate hospitals." she spoke softly, resting her head on J.D's chest.

"No you don't. You work too good to hate it here."

Elliot sniffled. "What do you mean?" she took a step back and looked up at him.

"I watch you." J.D replied. "Not in a creepy stalker way of course, but I observe how you go about taking care of people here. It's like all of your patients are adopted into your family, and you care for them like they're your own sisters or brothers . . . or third cousins."

Elliot smiled, which assured J.D that he was doing something right to improve her mood. He decided to continue. "Seriously, I want to know what you do be so good with your patients."

She nodded her head, turned slightly, and began to slowly walk down the hallway, resisting the urge to look back into the room where she formerly stood. J.D followed closely.

"Well, first you have to stop referring to them as patients as much as you do. This was actually the first thing Carla ever told me about connecting with people here, is that you have to acknowledge their individuality. Gosh, I can't remember the last time I called Mrs. Jones a patient. I just always called her . . . Mrs. Jones." Elliot paused and collected her thoughts, not wanting to think about her friend who had died less than thirty minutes earlier. "And you can't be afraid to get to know them, or to let them get to know you. If you hold back, they'll be nothing more than a sick body to you. But if anything remotely close to a friendship forms, well, then you've got yourself a connection."

"Does that help you to take better care of them?" J.D asked.

"More than anything else." Elliot turned to face J.D. "I know how hard you tried to keep yourself from drawing close to Ms. Mitchell, but doesn't that make you feel like you never had what could have been? As far as a friendship goes, I mean."

J.D shrugged. "I guess I do." He shrugged again, this time with a sigh. "I can think back to a few times when I wanted to contribute more to our talks, and maybe ask a question or two."

"And now you have a void to fill."

That was all too familiar to the both of them. Locked away were their feelings and thoughts regarding each other, and the relationship that could have been. In fact, it was in the back of each of their minds, but they'd never tell.

Four hours later, J.D received word that the young boy came out of surgery alive, and immediately went to go see him. His skin was grimly pale; his cheeks lacking even the smallest hint of color. It was almost scary for J.D to see his complexion alone. His eyes were sunken in with exhaustion, and his eyelids were an even darker shade of purple than when J.D had last seen him. A machine breathed for him, and a monitor kept everyone aware of his heart rate and blood pressure – both of which were weak and low, yet stable. J.D sighed, leaning against the inside of the doorway and rubbing his bare chin. Elliot's words had really been insightful to him, and for some reason, he was wanting to put them into practice. He looked at the boy and tried to imagine him as someone he had known for a long time. Not quite a family member, but a friend at best. This sparked a small sense of compassion, but nothing more than what J.D normally felt.

What else did Elliot say…? J.D tried to remember. Then suddenly, it hit him. Individuality.

J.D brought himself to acknowledge that the boy was his own person – with his own friends, relatives, interests, strengths, weaknesses, identity . . . identity!

Without a moment to spare, J.D rushed off to find Dr. Cox, who was still working busily on the first floor. He found the man bending over a clipboard, reviewing the medical history of another patien… person.

"Dr. Cox." J.D said as he approached, all seriousness in his tone of voice. "Did we ever find out who the car accident kid was?"

Dr. Cox's lips moved into his typical half smile, half frown look. His brow raised a little, and he even let out the smallest hint of a scoff. But it was all because he was stalling. Moments after his expression changed – confusion and dismay written all over it. He shook his head and scoffed once more, but this time in a disgusted/angry manner. "You know what, we never even bothered to learn his name, and no one's come to visit him. As far as I know, no one has even been alerted that he's here. We don't know anything about what insurance coverage he has . . ."

He suddenly realized how ridiculous his words were. Here was a prime example of a small and unfortunate loophole, that somehow the boy had managed to slip right through. Annoyed, and deep in thought, Dr. Cox placed his head on the back of his head and took a deep breath. "Looks like we got ourselves another John Doe."

J.D rolled his eyes. He hated cases like these. They were such a hassle to handle, but he tried not to think of the boy as such. Just the fact that at the moment he had absolutely no known identity. This meant that if something happened, and for some reason his condition went downhill and the boy died, then none of his peers and loved ones would know. Not for a while at least, which certainly wouldn't go over well.

"Listen, I'm swamped for the rest of the night," Dr. Cox began, "can you at least try to find out something about him? His name, age, favorite animal . . . anything?"

"Yeah, I can do that." He replied with a nod of his head, reflecting on what Elliot had told him.

"Well get on it. Somewhere someone knows this kid and needs to know what's happened. Start with the police and work from there."