AN: Whoot, we're halfway there now! Alright so this chap is pretty much JD angst but it's not all bad, there's some good in it too. I know he might be a bit OOC here but keep in mind he has forgotten everything about himself so I think anywhere he strays off seems at least understandable in context. And this time it won't be as long before there's another JD chap, I promise. Enjoy! ~Artemis

Chapter 11 – My Little Things

I don't think anyone appreciates just how spectacular lives are. When bad things happen everyone seems to wish that they could just go back and erase some portion of their life, but they don't realize just how sweet those memories are. The contents may not be happy but they are what shape us into the people we are. We take things for granted, like that last dinner we had with our parents, or the time we got beat up at summer camp, or even just a simple night at the bar with your best friends. Everything, the good and the bad, is who we are. And that's so much more significant when it's suddenly gone.

I reclined in the bed, watching the television aimlessly. Normally I would watch the people in the hall, trying desperately to remember anything I could about them but coming up with nothing more than what I'd been told by others. However it was getting late and most of the doctors had gone home so the halls were quiet. Elliot had spent an hour with me at the end of the shift before getting teary-eyed and practically running away. Turk and Carla had come by to say good-night and Dr. Cox stopped by for a few minutes to check on me but had to leave to "go back to my cave and slave for the Jord-ominable Snowbeast and her face-sucking spawn," which I assumed was Cox-speak for "go home to his family." This all left me alone, mourning the fact that there seemed to be nothing good on television.

I hated being alone, it made everything about my situation worse. The rest of them all had families and friends to go home to. I had nothing. Or at least nothing I could truly remember. I knew I had friends and my son, but for the most part everything seemed empty to me. Just knowing that they were there didn't replace that hollow feeling when I tried to recall our histories together. Relationships weren't conjured out of thin air, but that was what all of my friendships felt like right now.

Shaking myself to get rid of those depressing thoughts, I forced my eyes to focus on the television again. Without noticing, I had settled the channel on some doctor show with a main character who reminded me a lot of Dr. Cox, only with a cane. I imagined Dr. Cox prowling the halls with a cane, popping into rooms and diagnosing the outrageous, one-in-a-million-chance diseases, half of which I had never even heard of before. (The fact that I remembered any of them still weirded me out to no end, by the way.) It was almost more amusing than the actual show. Not to mention it gave me a really strange sense of déjà vu. Had I at some point seen Dr. Cox doing that? It didn't seem too preposterous, I suppose.

"Hey JD." The loud whisper jerked me out of the fantasy and I glanced at the doorway in surprise. A young girl was there, a papery hospital gown fitting loosely on her frame and her dark blonde braid falling over her shoulder. She was sitting in a standard hospital wheelchair and her smile was big as she stared at me companionably. The only problem was I yet again had no idea who she was. "I found you. Mind if I come in?"

"Um, no, go ahead," I said and I quickly found the remote to turn off the television. The girl smiled gratefully and I watched as she laboriously rolled the chair to my bedside, apparently having to struggle with getting one of her arms to respond because the chair kept trying to spin in little half-circles. Once she seemed to be content with where she was, she leaned forward and rested her arms on the edge of my mattress, still grinning.

"I wasn't sure I was gonna be able to find your room," she confessed with a laugh. "Dr. Cox wouldn't tell me where it was, just that you were up here in ICU. He seemed to want to not tell me what happened to you but I don't know why. I knew you'd want me to come visit. We always have so much fun talking."

I could only stare dumbfounded, trying to figure out how I knew this girl. She looked to be about ten or eleven, so I supposed it was faintly possible that she was my daughter but I didn't want to consider that. Something about it just didn't seem right. Besides, surely Dr. Cox or Kim would have told me if I had another, much older child. Not to mention one who was also a hospital patient. So who was she? When I looked at her I felt some sort of empty happiness stir in my chest but there was also an inexplicable sadness. What sort of person conjured that sort of feeling?

"I – I'm sorry, but who are you?" I finally asked.

The girl let out a hesitant laugh, her smile faltering as she looked up at me. Her expression was still carefree and childlike but her eyes had gotten dark with confusion. "What?" she gasped out, trying and failing to keep her tone as light as the half-smile on her face. "JD, whaddya mean?"

"It's nothing personal," I said quickly, realizing I had somehow hurt her feelings and regretting it. Apparently when she said Dr. Cox hadn't told her much she wasn't kidding. "I hurt my head. I can't remember anything."

This made the girl's eyes go wide and she gazed intently at me, flicking back and forth between the bandages around my head and my eyes. She seemed to trust what she saw. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "Dr. Cox didn't tell me that. He just said you were in a crash. You probably don't want strangers bugging you, I can leave if you like."

"No," I said firmly. "I could use the company, if you don't mind hanging around for a while." The girl beamed and then stood shakily from the chair and perched herself on the edge of my mattress. I scooted over as best I could to make room for her. "So, who are you?"

"My name's Lily Marks," she said, nodding as if to confirm it as true. "You're my doctor. Or were, I guess."

"Oh," was all I could say in response. I had been this little girl's doctor before my accident and then suddenly she had gotten shipped off to another doctor without any answers. However it was flattering that she had come to find me when she found out I was here and hurt. I must be a really good doctor. A little bit of smug hope filled me at that. "Hopefully you didn't have to sneak away too far or you'll get in trouble trying to get back."

"Nah, I'm just on the floor below," she said with a shrug. "It was easy getting up here, there's like no one out there. This place always gets empty and creepy at night." She surveyed my injuries, from the head bandage down to the cast on my leg and then grimaced. "You got beat up pretty bad, didn't you?"

"Awful," I agreed with a laugh. Something about this little girl made me feel lighter and the smiles and laughter came easier. She seemed to be brimming with optimism and happiness. "But I'll take all the pain over being empty up here," I added, pointing to my forehead for emphasis. "It's weird being around all these people who know me and remembering nothing."

"I'll bet," Lily said in a sort of horrified awe. "So, like, did you just forget everything about other people or did you forget your family too?"

"I even forgot who I was," I answered grimly, although not as grimly as I had felt before. That cheerfulness was contagious or something, it made my problems seem less daunting. "It took forever to remember my name and that's about the only thing I can remember. I didn't know I was a doctor and I don't know anything about my family except what my friends have told me. They brought in a bunch of photo albums and have been practically teaching me my life."

"Weird!" Lily said with enthusiasm. "Still, I think it would be just a little bit cool. Like you could forget all the bad things that happened and then just relearn all the good stuff. Could make life a lot happier."

"You'd think," I said slowly. "But honestly, I'd just like to remember anything right now."

"At least you can 'member how to talk," Lily pointed out. "That's something. You could be stuck, like, completely unable to talk or understand what people are saying. Then you'd be in a whole lot of trouble."

I laughed. "That's a good point," I eventually conceded. I glanced down, noticing that her arm was twitching in her lap and her feet would roll sporadically. "So, what's the matter with you? If you don't mind my asking, I mean."

"Oh, I'm dying."

The bluntness of this statement, said as off-handedly as though she were once again telling me what her name was, stunned me into silence. I stared blankly at her, trying to grasp onto what she'd said, but my mind refused. This little girl, too young to even be a teenager, was perfectly accepting of the fact that she was mortal. Unbelievable.

Sensing that I wasn't about to conjure up a sentence, Lily continued without me. "Well no one has actually told me that but I know it's true," she admitted. "No one has even told me what I have, even though I know that my parents and the doctors know. Or I guess you don't anymore. But the day before yesterday you pulled my parents out and you were talking to them all serious-like."

"That doesn't mean anything, I could have just been being professional," I offered.

Lily shook her head and laughed. "No, I know you, JD," she said. "You're just like me, you're only serious when it's something really, really serious. Otherwise you're smiling, even if it's only with your eyes." I clamped my mouth shut, trying to find another argument, but she had a point. That did sound a lot like me, or at least who I felt I was. "Besides, after you left my parents came back in and they were acting sort of – fake. Like overly-calm and happy, like they were forcing it. It was like the way they acted when they were trying to tell me my grandpa died. And then yesterday only Mom came in. She said Dad was stuck at work even though he wanted to be with me, but there were those puffy red rings around her eyes like she'd been crying. Neither of them came in today."

She shrugged, toying with a loose string on the hem of my blanket and still talking as calmly as before. "So I decided I would get answers from a doctor," she said. "I was a little freaked that you didn't come back because the other doctor that came in the next day wouldn't talk to me much. But then Dr. Cox came in today and I knew I could get an answer from him. So after I found out where you'd gone, I made a joke about thinking you'd run away 'cause I was dying, and he got that really closed off look on his face and didn't talk much after that. I figured it was the truth and no one wanted to tell me."

As much as I wanted to argue with her until she changed her mind, I couldn't do it. There were no real holes in her reasoning except the fact that no one had confirmed it. Of course the way she had described it sounded like as close to proof as she could get without someone outright saying it. Especially Dr. Cox's reaction, because that sounded very much like the way he would behave. It was the same way he always got really professional and quiet when we touched on something awkward with my situation. So all I could say was "Sorry."

"So am I," Lily said and for the first time her smile faded just slightly. "I mean I've pretty much accepted that it's coming but that doesn't mean I'm really ready. I'm only twelve." She paused and sniffled. "I wanted to go to high school and learn to drive and go to the prom. Then I'd graduate and go to college and get married. I wanted to play on a softball team and swim in the Olympics."

"Hey, keep your chin up," I said, recognizing the trembling lower lip as a sign that she was caving. "They didn't give you a deadline yet, you might still get to do all that." She nodded but that didn't stop the quivering. "C'mere," I said softly and lifted my right arm. Lily lay down next to me and curled into my side. I was silently grateful that my injured ribs were on the other side as she let out a choked sob and buried her face in my chest, releasing her tears. As she cried into my shoulder I curled my arm around her narrow back and rubbed in small circles, making quiet shushing noises.

It had gotten completely dark outside before she finally quieted and to my surprise I realized she was asleep. Smiling, I turned the television back on and lowered the volume, gaze darting between the screen that was so quiet I only caught half of it and the girl curled up beside me.

In an almost morbid sort of way, having Lily visit me had eased my tension. It wasn't just her glowing optimism or obvious adoration of me, although those certainly helped. The plain truth was simply that next to her, my problems seemed minimal. So I had lost some memory and was a little banged up. I could recover; there was still some hope for me. There is no recovering from dying. No hope left there.

A male nurse poked his head in and his brow furrowed when he saw Lily laying with me. When I noticed the other man opening his mouth, I frantically put a finger to my lips and the man nodded, still looking confused. "Don't wake her, she just fell asleep," I whispered to the approaching nurse.

"Family?" the male nurse – murse, I thought with amusement – asked in a hushed voice.

"Lily Marks, patient downstairs," I replied. "She was my patient and we became friends. She just needed someone to talk to. She's dying."

The murse crossed his arms, looking disapproving. "We have grief counselors for that," he said, shaking his head.

I scowled at this comment. "A good friend is way better than any shrink," I countered. "It doesn't take a Ph.D. to console a friend."

"Whatever, Dr. Dorian," the murse said, once again shaking his head. I wondered if I'd had some sort of conflict with this guy before the accident. Maybe I'd called him a 'murse' to his face. This almost made me smile but I hid it. "I'm gonna have to take her back to her room. Visiting hours ended an hour ago, patients are all supposed to be in their rooms."

"Just don't wake her," I said, carefully sliding my arm from around Lily's shoulders as the murse set her gently in the wheelchair. She groaned in her sleep but didn't rouse. "Oh and hey, if she does wake up can you tell her that she's totally welcome to come visit me when she wants?"

"I'll talk to your doctor about that," the murse said blankly and then left the room without another word, shutting off the light as he went. I watched him go, a little perplexed by his behavior but brushing it away. If I'd done something to piss the guy off there was nothing I could do about it now. Besides, he might just be ticked because he is stuck in the hospital at night dealing with rule-breaking patients. This time I actually did laugh.

Not feeling particularly tired at the moment, I lifted one of the photo albums down off the table, wincing at the sharp pain it sent through my left side when I moved, and turned on the bedside lamp. This book was new to me; Turk and I had only gone through the older and rather battered looking one while Dr. Cox and I had stuck to the shoebox of pictures. This album seemed to be much newer, judging by the condition of the cover, and when I flipped it open the glossy photos featured faces much more similar to the ones I saw around here.

There was Turk, the man who was supposed to be my best friend since college. That jazzin' high-top was gone, instead sporting the shiny shaved head he wore now, but he was still looking as cool as ever. I envied that guy's ability to be totally chill at, like, all times. Except for when he saw a sugary sweet. Apparently being a diabetic really makes you miss sugar. And there was Carla, her curly hair all around her face and that sweet smile. There was something so soft and maternal about her, she treated me like I was her own baby. Speaking of which, there was a picture of their actual baby, Izzy. Turk had informed me that her nickname was Mocha Cub and I had to admit I liked the ring to it.

Then down below that was a picture of Elliot, looking much more put together than in any of the pictures from the shoebox. No more straggly bangs and ill-fitting scrubs, now she had that rockin' haircut with the crisp makeup and all those pretty dresses under her lab coat. She had apparently left the hospital at some point and become a private practice doctor, something that Dr. Cox said as though it were some sort of conversion to the dark side. My head slanted sideways thoughtfully.

Dr. Cox was dressed in a flowing brown Jedi robe and had a fluffy beard. He was staring down Elliot, who had curly buns on the sides of her head. "Do not go over to the dark side, Barbie," Jedi Cox said in an echoey sorta voice.

"But I won't have to wear the ugly scrubs that make my chest look flatter," Elliot whined dramatically. "And they will pay me more so I can afford to buy pretty outer spacey stuff."

"Do not give in to the temptation," Jedi Cox said solemnly. "The greed and the vanity is a path to the dark side, and once you follow it you will never be a good Jedi Doctor again."

Suddenly a man in a black cape with a hood that hid his face appeared beside Elliot. "Elliot, you will be able to have steady hours and not have to stay all night with patients," he said. Elliot gasped, again very dramatically. "And, when you leave you may drop all of your patients onto Jedi Master Cox, like he used to do to you."

Elliot jumped up and down, clapping. "Yay!" she cheered. "Suck it, Dr. Cox." She picked up a stack of charts and threw them all at Jedi Cox. He disappeared when they hit him and his empty robes fell in a heap on the floor, while Elliot strolled away arm and arm with the man in the black hood.

And for some reason I felt that déjà vu again. "I wonder if Dr. Cox was a Jedi at one time," I mused aloud before glancing down at the page again. I didn't fail to notice there were very, very few pictures of Dr. Cox in the book anywhere. There were plenty more people I didn't recognize though. One of a lanky guy with familiar blue eyes, a lopsided grin, and mussed brown hair caught my attention but there was no label on it so I pushed it aside for later. There were photos of me with a few different but all very pretty women, and I slid them out to read the names off the backs. Julie, Alex, Gift Shop Girl (what a weird name), Kylie, Danni. I smiled at each of them but nothing triggered in my mind. The women were quite a strange collection, from a preppy brunette wearing a wizard's hat to the slightly aggressive looking blonde, but I still felt nothing. No memories of meeting, of dates, of fights, of endings. It was blank.

Groaning in frustration, I slammed the book shut and pushed it aside, ignoring the noise it made as it fell off the bed and hit the floor, pages crinkling under the weight. In my mind I was running over all the things I had learned over the last few days. Not the big details like the names and important events. No, I was focused on the little details that stood out in each of the people I'd re-met.

The way Turk was always chiming in "now that's what I'm talkin' 'bout" and always playing the part of being cool, or how he seemed to be craving my attention as much as if they were a couple, or the various weird but cool nicknames he used for me, or the way he would sometimes appear with a saltine cracker behind his ear that he seemed to completely ignore as if it were usual.

The way Carla called me different Spanish pet names or 'Bambi' but in a way that made them seem endearing instead of condescending, like she was used to taking care of me, or the way she seemed to be the only person who absolutely no one stood up to, or the way she butted into gossip and just had to give out her own opinion and try to give everyone advice, or the way she confessed that her husband might love me more than her as if it was common knowledge and not totally strange and depressing like you would think.

The way Dr. Cox constantly seemed to have to stand like he was proving he was the boss, or his attractions to girl's names, touching his thumb to his nose like some old gangster sign, and elongating words beyond reason, or the way that occasionally, just occasionally, his tone would soften into something less than sarcasm and he'd say something with real meaning to it. Before of course instantly finishing it with some mocking insult.

The way Elliot was always fidgeting and seemed to move her hands, which were always freezing ass cold by the way, too much when she talked, or the way her voice got faster and higher when she was getting upset, or the way she constantly blew her hair out of her eyes, or the way she said "frick" or some variation of it all the time, or the way she avoided using the proper names for anything sexual. Or that beautiful look of pure compassion I saw every time I met her eyes.

I found myself wondering if I had ever noticed that look before the accident. Or any of those things for that matter. They seemed to be things that all of them did subconsciously, so I reasoned it wouldn't be that strange if I just silently accepted them and never noticed all the little secrets they gave away. The subtle hints of comradery, of friendship, maybe even of love.

Annoyed with myself and suddenly exhausted, I finally decided to sleep. My dreams were frightening.

I was walking through a room of people but they were all shadowy, like the lighting in the room was very poor, and it was impossible to tell who any of them were no matter how close I got. I could hear voices calling my name; Turk, Dr. Cox, Elliot, Carla, and even a few that I did not recognize even though they gave me a sense of comfort. But every time I turned to see where they were I found only more shadowed shapes. I tried talking to them but all they did was continue saying my name and telling me to come back to them.

Getting frantic, I began running through the crowd, screaming their names. Their voices were getting fainter but even when I turned around and headed back the way I'd come they kept getting dimmer until I could barely hear. The dark figures were pressing in around me, making it harder to push through until finally I was trapped in the middle of the group with my friends' voices hardly more than sad, longing whispers in my ears.

The words, 'just a dream,' came to me in a recognizable voice and I felt panic rising higher in me. Were those friendly voices just dreams? Was there really no one waiting for me outside the darkness? I fought to get free but the shadows closed in on me despite my sobbed pleas and calls for help. 'Hear me?' the same voice asked. 'Just dreams.' That was it, the voice had said it. The voices I heard, the comforting ones trying to call me back to something, were just dreams. There was nothing for me out there. Everything outside this empty shadowland was gone. The darkness completely overcame me, silencing everything, and once again my mind knew nothing.