AN: Alright so this is to balance out the horrible angstiness that was the last chapter. This was definitely my favorite chapter to write, and it features a brand new guest star to the fic! Yay! It's a little bit weird, but when it came to me I just couldn't bear to ignore this idea. That special guest is persistant, lemme tell ya. So I rearranged the schedule just so I could post my favorite chap on the day when I get to celebrate the fact that I survived another year without provoking anyone into killing me! Yay again! And without further ado...

Oh another quick disclaimer, I do not own the three songs, one movie, two sports teams, or television channel mentioned in this chapter any more than I own Scrubs. Which I still don't.

Chapter 18 – His Reality Slap

We deal under a lot of misconceptions in life. We create these little safety circles that are comprised of only what we want to see or acknowledge, usually to protect ourselves from potential harm. In doing this we can blind ourselves to even the most obvious things. And it always takes a good slap, be it in the form of an unexpected turn of events or a blunt observation from someone else's mouth, to shatter that sphere of denial and bring us back to the real world.

I never made it home. A block and a half away from the hospital, I swerved into the car park of the bar and shut off the engine. It had been a long day and by God I needed a drink. Or twelve. Normally I would just go home and do this, but Jack's voice saying 'Daddy dwinks a wot' was still haunting me and I knew the bar was just safer. I hadn't drank as much as I intended to tonight in front of my children since then and I was not going to wreck that now. Besides, right now I just wanted to be left alone.

Slipping out my phone I dialed a number and after a minute Jordan picked up. "Whaddya want?"

"Hey Jordan," I said, too exhausted to lay on the bitterness. "I'm just letting you know I'm not coming home tonight." When Jordan protested loudly I launched into explaining the events and by the end she was thoughtfully silent.

"Kid can't catch a break, can he?" she asked with a faint stab at humor. I didn't respond. "Okay, but be careful. If you die I can't raise our kids and still afford to go to the spa every weekend."

This time I actually almost smiled. "Thanks for the concern. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Perry?"

"Yeah."

"I–" A hesitant pause. "I loathe you."

A smile snuck onto my face. It may seem completely unromantic but the alternated words sounded close enough and I knew what she meant. "Loathe you too, Jor." There was a moment of peaceful silence and then the sound of the dialtone. I closed the phone and tucked it back into the pocket of my coat.

The bar was just starting to work itself into full swing when I walked in. It looked like the typical college bars I had frequented in med school; musty air, scratched felt on the pool table, dart board with darts stuck in the wall all around it, and a retro style jukebox in the corner that was currently playing some song that was old even when I was in high school. Clusters of people, all looking to be between twenty-five and forty, were unwinding over their beers and chatting each other up. I was grateful I still looked a few years younger than I was because it drew less attention. Thankfully I had mustered up the common sense to strip off the blood-spattered dress shirt in the car, and was now wearing only my gray cotton tee. That would have attracted a lot of unwanted looks.

I sat down at a stool on the end of the bar and gestured to the bartender, who brought me five shot glasses of scotch and a beer. I grunted and instantly downed the first glass, reveling in the way it burnt down my throat. I took a swig of beer and then threw back another shot. This pattern was repeated until the drinks before me were empty, at which point I gestured to the barkeep again and they were replaced.

"Perry?"

I growled and ignored the speaker, swishing a mouthful of beer between my teeth and swallowing it.

"Perry? Wow, long time, no see. I haven't talked to you in forever! How ya been?"

Growl. Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone slipping up onto the barstool beside me. Once again I had the barkeeper fix the lack of alcohol in front of me and I eagerly set in on making this disappear as well.

"Not speaking to me? Yeah, that's the mature way to deal with this. Good idea."

Growl. I noticed that the glasses were all empty again and looked up at the bartender. He glanced down at the line of upturned glasses and shook his head. Ugh, not what I wanted to hear. I regretfully drained down the last of the beer I'd been allotted.

"Pee-rrryy."

Yeah, because sing-song voices are always so charming and get people to be nice. Rolling my eyes, I tossed a handful of bills onto the counter and stood up, eyes widening as I stumbled slightly. Not cool. Normally that much alcohol hardly phased me, but then again it had been a long time since I'd had that much and I was pretty tired.

"You alright there?"

Grunt.

"Hey, I think that qualified as you answering me. Are we finally speaking?"

Ignoring this, I stumbled out of the bar. I couldn't drive home, and to be frank I didn't want to go there anyway. My feet steered me in the opposite direction and I followed them without question.

"Okay fine, don't talk. But I'm not going away." Foot falls directly beside me, keeping pace. Someone seriously doesn't know how to take a hint. "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves." Oh God, please no. "Everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves." Please, whatever higher power there is up there, just kill me now. "I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, and this is how it goes."

I groaned loudly and saw a smile out of the corner of my eye.

"Ah c'mon, that's a classic!" I growled again. "Okay, how 'bout… It's a small world after all, it's a small, small world." Louder growl. "Ooh, I know – Once more, you open the door, and you're here in my heart, and my heart will go on – "

"Now you're just being an idiot." So I hadn't meant to say anything, but someone had to shut that racket up. Honestly, that song is horribly annoying enough on its own and that voice sounded like cat's being tortured.

"Ha, knew that would get you to talk." My steps faltered slightly as I stepped up to the hospital's automatic doors but then I swallowed and continued on. "Why are we here? I thought you were off duty." Hoping that maybe if I didn't say another word then I might get some peace, I walked into the elevator, ignoring the eyes watching my progress. The doors closed and it jerked upward. I had to grip the side rails to stop from buckling. I saw my follower reach toward me but then stop when I straightened up. As the doors slid open I kept on to nurses' station. Pausing, I raised an eyebrow and the closest nurse instantly pointed to a room across the hall. I grunted and nodded, making my way to the door she's indicated.

"Seriously, you gonna tell me why we're here?"

I stepped into the room and my eyes fells on him. He was bleached white again, more than his natural paleness, and there were thick bandages around his bared torso. A clear tube was between his parted lips and three stitches ran across the base of his throat. There were IV stands beside the head of the bed, and an array of machines were whirring quietly while their wires were attached to the still figure.

"Ooooohhhh, got it."

Sighing heavily, I collapsed down in the plastic chair and rubbed my hands over my face. This sight had sobered me a lot more than I wanted to be. Damn it, this was the whole reason I had gone to the bar.

"Doesn't look too bad. Not good but not horrible."

"Looks can be deceiving," I answered dully.

"You mean like how you look like you might be sane?" I glanced up. "I take that back. Bad example, because you currently look very much like the not sane that you are."

"Thanks." I straightened up in the chair and turned to the doorway. There he was, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest. Same blue eyes watching me and he had that typical, goofy grin on his face despite the seriousness of the situation. "Why are you here?"

"Hmm, nice to see you too."

"I'm serious."

"I'm never serious."

"I know, Ben, that's why you're dead."

My best friend rolled his eyes at me. "No, Perry, I'm dead because I had cancer."

"No, you're dead because after being diagnosed with cancer you went skipping 'round the world and neglected to peek inside and check up on it in the entire year you were gone."

Ben frowned, but even that didn't seem angry. "Is this why I'm here? So I can get this lecture again? Because if so I'm heading back upstairs to see if I can find some more lesbian action to watch."

"Lesbian action in heaven?" I asked, instantly distracted. Damn, maybe I should follow Paige's example and put some effort into gettin' in to heaven.

"No, sorry, meant up to the fifth floor," Ben corrected. "I was gonna go up and see if those two lesbian gynecologists are still here, see if I could catch them in an on-call room or something."

It took a lot of will power to not laugh, although I couldn't fight the smile. "Nah, they both quit two years ago to move to Canada so they could legally get married."

"Lame!" Ben exclaimed, looking crushed. He pouted and came over to sit on the edge of the hospital bed, swinging his legs as he watched me. "So, I'm gonna go ahead and assume that this – " he pointed at the unconscious Newbie in the bed, " – is why I'm here."

"Why, you the Angel of Death now?" I asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Ben put on an overdramatic act of making faces and extending a hand curled like a claw toward Newbie's chest. "I am here for your ssoooouuulll," he growled out, very convincingly channeling Andre the Giant's line from Princess Bride. Then in an instant he had snapped back to normal. "Angel of Death? Seriously? You have that high of expectations for me, do ya?"

"Well I just can't think of why else my dead best friend would be hanging around a coma patient's room," I said and shrugged.

"I'm not," Ben countered. "I'm hanging around you. Not my fault you brought us here."

"Fair enough." I joined my hands behind my head, resting back into them in an attempt to relieve the pounding that was building inside my skull. Didn't help much. "So why, exactly, are you hanging around me?"

Ben shrugged. "Don't ask me, I'm just the hallucination," he said nonchalantly, still swinging his legs alternately like an overactive child.

"You're helpful," I said, rolling my eyes again. Ben shrugged again, now staring at me beneath that ridiculous fringe that always seemed to be falling in his eyes. God, how could he handle that? "How did this all get so out of control?"

"What? We're just sitting here–"

"No, this mess with Newbie," I clarified, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees and cradle my face in my hands. "It was never supposed to get like this, Ben. I was just trying to be nice and let him get some sleep, and now look at him. Car wreck, broken bones, amnesia, nearly dies. Then I try to help him cope by letting him go to that girl's funeral. Fever, pain from lack of drugs, arrhythmia comes back. Turn my back for one second and he's in anaphylactic shock and collapses a lung, and now he's in a coma that it's very unlikely he'll come out of. I try to help him out and now he's practically dead." I groaned loudly, coming out as more of a growl of frustration, and stood up to pace the room. "You see, this is what happens when I let myself get close and care about people. Jordan and I cared about each other once, and we destroyed everything we had and it killed who both of us really were. And then there was you, who actually died. And now the kid."

"Sounds like maybe you're the Angel of Death." I stopped and looked at him. "Hmm, might be just a little too soon for jokes. You're right. I'll shut up now." Ben mimed pulling a zipper across his lips.

I sighed again and tucked my hands behind my head again. My head was really starting to pound, from the stressful day and the alcohol and now dealing with this annoying hallucination in the form of my dead best friend. "I just don't know what to do now," I confessed, lifting my gaze to meet Ben's. I was grateful to see that beneath his typical spark there was a seriousness rarely seen, and I knew he was really listening. "How do I fix this?"

"Mmmm mmm mm mhhhmm mmmmrrrm."

I reached forward and pretended to undo the zipper on his mouth. "You're an idiot," I informed him, laughing. Damn it all if Ben wasn't the greatest at lightening a situation.

Ben acted offended for a second. "As I was saying," he said in a huff, and then dropped back into a more natural tone. "First off, quit spazzing. The amount of time you spend worrying about all this is pretty unbelievable. Secondly, stop blaming yourself. All of this, not your fault. And I'm pretty sure if he was awake he'd be telling you the same thing. And thirdly, quit obsessing about this thing between you and him. You're the mentor, he's the mentee. End of story. But on top of that, he's also your friend. Hell, since I've kicked the bucket I'd say he's probably the closest you've got to a best friend."

I opened my mouth but Ben scowled and shook his head, silencing me. "Lastly, stop arguing with me, Perry. I'm a hallucination from your head, I know what's going on in there. Even if you don't want to admit these things out loud and you keep trying to push them away, they're there. I should know. So just quit being such a hard ass and accept it so we can get over this. I wanna watch some hockey before I disappear again."

Chuckling quietly, I leaned up against the bed next to where Ben was sitting, crossing my arms loosely on my chest. "He's not my best friend, Ben, that was you," I said bluntly.

"I'm flattered," Ben said, batting his eyelashes. "But seriously, you can have more than one best friend in your life. Think about it. Who is the one who is most successful at cheering you up when you get all cranky?" I started to answer but Ben interrupted again. "I mean since I've died." I grumbled. "Who is the one who's there in a heartbeat if you really need someone, regardless of what he's got going on? Who is the one who takes all the crap you shovel out 'cause he knows it's just who you are and generally accepts that fact?"

I wasn't about to answer that, but it seemed I didn't need to because Ben kept going. "He'll go to any lengths to make you happy. He blows off dates and his friends just to have drinks with you when you're being moody. You pulled him out of bed in the middle of the night and dragged him out to the bar in his pajamas to keep you company, and he did it. He puts up with you calling him girl names and pretending you hate him, even if it's not his favorite thing, because he knows that by degrading him so much that you're giving him special attention and that it means you care for him more than other people. He's been there for you with all the bad things. When you fight with Jordan, when I died, when Jen was sick before even being born. When those patients died he was the only one who managed to get through to you."

Ben was staring at me intensely, his arms folded in a way similar to my own. I could only focus on his arms because I couldn't make myself look him in the face at the moment. He had hit way too close to home. But wasn't that exactly what he was here for?

"Thanks."

"No problem," Ben answered and shrugged. Quite suddenly all the seriousness had left his face and he was grinning that same ridiculously wide smile. It occurred to me, not for the first time in my life, that he looked like some sort of cartoon. "What else are dead best friends for than a good slap in the face, right?"

"You really think I can fix all this?" I asked.

Ben smiled wider. "Of course you can," he said. "After all, you're the one who's had all these ideas and advice to begin with. I'm just the figment of your imagination that you use to tell yourself the truth. So long as you stop talking for a second of your life and just listen to yourself for once, you'll be fine." He paused and added, "Provided you're capable of not talking for a full second, that is. I dunno, you like the sound of your own voice too much."

"At least I'm not so in love with my face I'm constantly taking pictures of myself," I returned. We broke down into laughter, exchanging insults for a few more minutes before we started running out of steam. We stared at each other, our faces inches apart, and our smiles slowly relaxed. We were leaning in toward each other and I saw Ben's lids fluttering, hiding his eyes beneath a fringe of lashes. Two inches more.

"Augh!" I growled in defeat, turning my head away. Beside me I could hear Ben whooping in victory.

"Still the king of Gay Chicken!" Ben shouted, jumping down off the bed and raising his arms above his head in a little victory dance. "God, Perry, I'm not even real and you still can't do it." I just shook my head, fighting back the urge to smile. "I've missed you, buddy."

"I know, I've missed you too," I admitted, my smile faltering slightly.

"But you know, I'll always be right here," Ben said in an overly heartfelt voice, pointing to my forehead, "for whenever you get crazy enough to bring me out again." I chuckled appreciatively. "And you know, for when I'm not here…" He trailed off but his gaze slipped past my shoulder to fix on something else. I didn't have to look to understand what he was saying, and I gave a nod. "Glad to hear it. Now, how 'bout the BFFs see if we can catch at least the final highlights of tonight's game. It'd make my day if the Penguins are one step closer to the Stanley."

"Oh God, how were we ever friends?" I asked in disgust, shaking my head. I turned to look for the television remote on the side table and added, "And please do not say BFFs, that's a little girl thing. Acceptable from Newbie but worrisome from you and sickening to me." Finding the stupid remote, I swiveled back, expecting to see Ben laughing at the comment. He wasn't.

He was gone.

"Always gotta leave without saying good-bye, doncha?" I said aloud, just a bit disappointed. I knew he wasn't real, but I had hoped to spend just a little more time pretending that he was. After a moment, I relocated myself to the hard plastic chair and once again set my crossed ankles on the corner of the bed. "Whaddya say, Rachel, wanna catch up on the hockey game?" I glanced at Newbie's unresponsive face and then pressed the power button, watching the screen blink into life. After a little channel jumping I found ESPN and the highlights from today's game were playing. A glance at the scoreboard in the corner made me grimace.

Red Wings: 3

Penguins: 5

"Damn you, Ben." Still, I was smiling as I relaxed back and watched the replays of my team's gruesome defeat.