A/N: this chapter touches briefly on homophobia.
I don't know why I ended up at Sacred Heart. I guess when you can't go home, you're bound to be drawn to the only other place that's ever felt like it. Plus, I really needed to talk about last night, and everyone I knew seemed to be working at the same time. Unfortunately, in my haste to get away from Keith, I'd forgotten what he said about the day before.
Until I walked through the front door.
"Hey." A familiar voice calls out. I raise my head, tucking my scooter helmet under my arm. The Janitor. Of course.
"Out of my way, Chewbacca." I dare to snap back (I say 'dare' because he usually perceives aggression as a challenge) "I'm not in the mood."
"Chewbacca," Janitor echoes, followed by a condescending chuckle, "Because I'm hairy, that's funny."
It isn't, and if his tone is any indication, he was gonna make that clear. Just ignore him, you've got more important things to deal with.
Nonetheless, I stop and turn around. "No, because you're, like, nine feet tall." Sometimes I wonder why I never listen to myself.
He scowls. "Chewbacca was only seven feet. How come you don't—"He cuts himself off, raising a hand as if to emphasize. "You know what? It's not important."
Here it comes. I brace myself, awaiting whatever brand of freshly brewed revenge he planned to throw in my face.
To my surprise, Lurch folds his arms; it's then I notice the malevolence I've grown used to seems absent from his eyes. Instead, there's something else. I'd venture an exact label, but this bizarre display puts me on edge. A malicious Janitor I know how to deal with. Anything else is uncharted territory.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" Continues the older man, and I see it again, this… concern..?.. flickering in his gaze. That's new… and slightly unnerving. Was yesterday really so bad I made him worry about me? "I thought Kelso gave you time off."
"I—" actually, I hadn't heard that, before now. Something else I'll have to ask about, I guess. However, I couldn't let the Janitor know this, and as there was a fifty-fifty chance he wasn't being rhetorical, I decided to skirt around it. "For your information, I'm here for some answers." There's an uneasiness in my tone I pray he doesn't pick up; if I can just get through the hall, I can latch onto someone and prevent him from interrogating me.
Until then, I'd have to be careful.
"Answers about what?" There's the accusation I'm used to, although it's still missing hostility. His eyes drop from my face to my encased arm. "Didn't stunningly handsome intern-doctor fill you in?"
Stunningly handsome intern…Keith, he means Keith. My stomach freezes, and for a second, so does the rest of me. Calm down, scolds the voice in my head, there's no way he'd have found out about that. Still, this is the Janitor we're talking about. Anything is possible.
"He didn't get around to it." What with being so busy seducing me and all. I'm unable to hide the grimace that follows, nor the sudden burn that usually indicates a rising flush. Stay cool, I tell myself, although I feel like I've a belly full of snakes. Nobody, including invasive custodial staff, could have seen me and Keith… I can't finish the thought. However, my face must have betrayed my previous efforts to conceal this emotional influx, because the Janitor's brow goes up, and that feeling I correctly identified as worry shines more prominently.
"You alright there, Dorian?"
'No' was about the biggest understatement I could make, as well as a potential doorway to a conversation I didn't want to have with the man who regularly tortured me. Even if he was essentially expressing interest in my well-being…
"I'm fine, thank you." I retort, hoping the smugness I was aiming for comes through over anxiety. I didn't go to theatre camp for nothing.
Janitor's scowl returns. "You don't look fine."
I match his glare with one of my own, abandoning theatrics because apparently 'insightful' also means 'a difficult audience.' Plus, I can taste bile in the back of my throat. "Who asked you?" I growl, sharply turning to again face the corridor. Before he can reply, I'm off, heading to wherever my friends are, and wherever here isn't.
"This is a bad idea!" He hollers after me, but doesn't give chase.
"Not listening!" I throw back over my shoulder. I'm done playing this game of twenty-questions. I need to talk to someone who isn't completely insane.
First, I need to find the nearest restroom. I think I might actually be sick…
Thankfully, I've worked here long enough I could probably navigate this hospital blind-folded. Cupping my good hand over my mouth, I duck— well, scramble, it's more like a scramble by the time I actually reach it— inside the first bathroom I see. Throwing open a stall, I nearly topple into the toilet below me, just catching myself on my knees. Breathe, JD, come on, through your nose, there's no reason to throw up over this. Besides the growing fear I'd been suspended and the whole… Keith thing. At this point, I don't know which was worse. Oh, and I hadn't eaten since last night, either. That was probably part of it…
"Ugh…" I gurgle, trying to settle my stomach. I wish I knew why I couldn't remember yesterday. The images had grown stronger than they were this morning, but everything still felt jumbled, and some memories I didn't want to come back. Like why I'd seek out my arch-nemesis for comfort. Or why I'd let things escalate. I know I'm not the epitome of the manly heterosexual, but I think I'd know if I were attracted to men. I mean, it's not like he's Turk, and we've known each other forever.
Are you implying you'd sleep with Turk?
No!
What about that period of 'Turk fever' in college?
This isn't about whether or not I'd sleep with Turk (which I wouldn't because we're best friends and I am very attracted to women) this is about Keith and whatever circumstances led up to us… led up to that happening.
Uttering a small groan, I finally stand back, convinced, for now, the nausea's gone away. Note to self; locate nurse's muffin basket. It should still be early enough, and Carla would hopefully be there as well. Two birds with one stone.
I comb through my hair as I step out of the stall. I didn't notice it this morning, but now that I've had some time to calm down, I am mildly horrified I haven't washed or moussed my hair. Not as horrified as waking up and realizing you've spent the night with a man for the first time, but still enough to earn a pout into the mirror.
"Dammit..." I murmur, aloud this time, scratching my head. I consider splashing water on my face, fixing my hair; were it not for the cast on my arm, I probably would have. Since I didn't have anything to cover it with, and it wasn't waterproof, I settled for wetting one hand and running that a few times through my bangs. Wasn't perfect, but hopefully looked more presentable. Given what I'd hoped to discuss, I thought it mildly important.
Also, I might be stalling.
"Okay, you can do this." I tell my reflection, and briefly imagine it nodding back, as if it were its own person. I feel like that would get annoying after a while… the fantasy ends abruptly, and before I know it, I'm face to face with the door.
Right. I can do this.
Sucking in a breath, I push past the exit and re-enter the hall. For about ten to fifteen seconds, everything ran pretty smoothly. Despite whatever mess I'd apparently caused, I still managed to walk past people, unnoticed.
Then the whispering started.
I don't know if it was going on before, and I just didn't notice it, or someone singlehandedly pointed me out, but all of a sudden it hit like a swarm of bees.
"What's he doing here?"
"Aren't there rules against this?"
"I heard they're going to suspend him."
Cheeks burning, biting the insides of my cheeks, I try my best to block it out. Any sensible person knows never to listen to rumors; it's easier advice to follow when you're not the one they're talking about. Especially when they're not actually rumors, but pieces of a memory you're still fitting together.
Rounding the corner, part of me wonders if I'd made a mistake, leaving the bathroom so soon. Come on, you wouldn't have accomplished anything, doing that. I haven't accomplished anything by not doing it, either, besides picking a fight with the Janitor, and that was before.
At least the nurse's station was close by. Another turn, one more hallway, and hopefully I'd get away from this.
… unless Lavern was there. I don't know what she knew, already, but what I did have to talk about would probably make it around the hospital and back before I finished explaining. My pace begins to slow, an unsettling knot unrelated to hunger in my gut. Come to think of it, Carla was a gossip, too. Very few things confided in her stayed solely her knowledge, for long. At least fifty percent would be shared with Turk, another fifteen percent or so with me, and the rest she'd probably tell Elliot.
…slowed pace comes to a stop in the middle of the corridor. I didn't want that. I didn't want everyone to know.
"Shit…"
Hand rakes through my hair, backing into the wall. Okay, the nurse's station is out. I need a new plan. What about Turk? He usually hangs around Carla when you're not there. Alright, maybe I don't need a new plan; I just have to modify this one. If Turk was there, I wouldn't need to say more than a few words to Carla. She'd never have to learn anything.
And if Turk confides in her?
He wouldn't, he's my best friend, the Chocolate Bear to my Vanilla Bear. He's kept my secrets before.
Could he keep something like this to himself?
"Yes." I reassure myself out loud, stepping away from the wall. I trusted Turk more than probably anyone else in the hospital, and I knew he knew it, too. He wouldn't turn around and—
"Holy frick!"
With a shriek, I stumble back, reflexively extending my arm to prevent another unforeseen return to the wall. That plan inevitably backfires as it's the one I've currently injured, and agony splinters through my hand.
"Aack!"
Cast recoils, hugging it to my chest. Dammit dammit dammit!
"JD..?"
Despite the pain stapled to my face, I look up at a very startled Elliot. "…oh hey." I manage, cracking a strained smile. "Didn't see you, there."
She continues staring for a second or two more, then offers me a hand. "It's…fine." She says, and even though I detect hesitation, I grasp on, letting her ridiculous strength help pull me into a more upright position. Once I'm standing again, she follows up with the same question I've heard since arriving, this morning. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh I don't know." I try to shrug, nonchalantly, which hurts more than I thought it would. "Guess I got lonely at home." For a moment, I considered ditching my Turk-hunt in favor of the friend in front of me. Then she said this:
"Isn't Keith with you?"
I couldn't talk to Elliot, Keith was her booty call. And even though that meant things remained strictly physical, I can't imagine she'd react well to the news he'd spent the night with me—who ironically, she also used to date. It was like a weird form of cheating, and an even weirder form of maybe-betrayal. I didn't want to get caught in the middle, so I pulled out my default reply when dealing with all things Keith.
"You know I can't stand that guy."
As I expected, she frowned. "Yeah well, tough tuckus. If Doctor Cox finds out you're here, hell's going rain down."
I wish I could say hearing that lifted some kind of hope that Doctor Cox took an interest in my well-being. I probably would have, if not for the knowledge I'd picked a fight with him. "Doctor Cox doesn't have to find out." I replied, then brushed past her. I figured I had a fifty percent chance of being followed.
Judging by the a frustrated and squeaky but equally frustrated "JD!" echoing behind me, she'd be at my side in approximately—
"Hey!" I nearly tripped over myself, forced to stagger back as she grabbed my left arm. "Broken hand here, Elliot!" I turned to glare, only to find a flatter but still troubled expression on her face.
"JD, the cast is on your right arm."
"…I know that." I sigh, tension slowly unfurling from between my shoulders. I did know that; I'm a doctor, after all. I just didn't expect her to grab me, and I reacted with the first excuse I could think of.
While I searched my head for a better explanation, she'd gradually begun to slow down. I didn't realize it until I felt a tug against my elbow. That's odd… I thought. As I did, that familiar icy feeling threatened to bite me again. I doubled back, trying to read her expression.
"What's wrong?" She didn't seem upset by the traditional definition; still, something was off.
What she said took me by surprise.
"…are you sober?"
"…yeah." I nodded, the word raspier than I intended. I should be angry, but I'm not. I'm…I think I'm ashamed. "Yeah, I'm sober."
Her brow pinches, eyes darting back and forth, like she's trying to see for herself if I'm telling the truth. When she speaks again her voice is lower than before. "Then why are you here?"
I blink, looking away before settling on her. I don't have a mirror handy, but that burning in my face has returned, and everything feels much tighter. "I … I need to talk to Turk. It's important, and I can't wait, okay?" I bit the insides of my cheeks, hoping she wouldn't ask why, wouldn't press me for information, wouldn't question why I couldn't just tell her, instead.
"…Fine, JD, I'll help you." She relents, rubbing her temples. "If you promise me you'll leave after you do."
"…Fine." I intentionally use the same word; I'll leave, but I'm not going back home. Maybe Turk will let me stay at his place. We can make up some excuse for Carla. Unless he's become so married he'll go back on his word. Stop it, you guys are stronger than that.
"JD?"
Thought train derailed, bringing me back to the present. "I said fine, Elliot, let's go."
I didn't wait for her to keep up, this time, once she'd let go of my arm. My destination was right up ahead; hopefully, my Brown Bear would be too.
Rounding a final corner, a thin little smile claims my mouth. Ah, the nurse's station, always a welcoming sight. Sort of a check in point for my friends and I. Everyone comes by here at least twice, during the day. It's a good way to keep in touch when things get busy. Plus, they've got that muffin basket. I don't actually get a chance to take my pick of this morning flavors; the moment I set foot into the area, all eyes are on me.
It's a funny feeling, being simultaneously judged by everyone around you. Like an ant under a magnifying glass, awaiting the inevitable burn. Sadly, none of those magnifying glasses belonged to my best friend. Great. My heart climbs into my throat. So much for that.
If there were any upside to this situation, it was that most of these people were at best acquaintances. Nameless (and nicknameless) faces who probably heard what happened yesterday through a secondhand source. Nobody I really needed to worry about…except for Lavern, of course.
"Good morning, Lavern." I pipe up, with as confident a grin as I can muster. She keeps right on staring at me, forehead gradually creasing as I finish my greeting. "I couldn't help but notice Turk and Carla aren't around; you don't know where they are, right now, do you?" Come on, hold your smile. I said no to twenty questions with the Janitor, I wasn't going to play it with Lavern. Nonetheless, I expect a reply in the same vein as everything else I'd heard so far.
What I don't expect is her addressing Elliot.
"Does he know he's not supposed to be here?"
Smile drops. I open my mouth to reply, but a swift (and scolding) hand against my chest cuts me off. "Yes" my fellow attending explains, "but he'll be on his way as soon as we find Turk."
"And get one of those muffins." I chime back in, pointing to the basket. It's a failed attempt to lighten the mood. I can't help it; today has been nothing but a nightmare. I could use a pick me up. Also, I'm slightly worried the nausea will come back. I bet that'll do wonders for my sobriety claim.
"… and get one of those muffins." Elliot adds, with a scrutinizing look in my direction. I offer a sheepish one in return. It's all I can think of, in the moment. I'm still shocked she's helping me, when seconds ago, she was the one interrogating. That's the great thing about our friendship; we can usually sense when the other's in need of support. Or she's trying to move you along.
I'm going to go with the support thing.
Lavern's gaze roves back and forth, like she's searching for more. When this proves unsuccessful, her lips purse, but she brings the breakfast basket forward. "Take one, Q-tip."
I know she's probably saying that because I have a tendency to sample all of them at once. Still, it hurts.
"…thanks." I murmur, shuffling forward to swipe a blueberry one on top. No sooner do I snatch it up does a bellowing voice shatter my balance. The muffin topples to the floor; were the counter not there to catch me, I might have, too. As it is, I curl my fingers securely over the edge, because the man that voice belongs to does not look happy.
"NEWBIE!"
Elliot was right: Hell hath no fury like Doctor Cox scorned. Bearded and disheveled, he looks like he hasn't slept all night. Beady eyes shoot in my direction, filled with a dangerous fire. "I thought I'd heard tell you'd shown up, here." He snarls, storming over. "Didn't think you were dumb enough to actually do it."
I'm not normally afraid of Doctor Cox. I was, briefly, starting out, but working with him day in and out eventually helped me get over it. Facing the eye of the storm, it almost brought me back to that first year.
"D-Doctor Cox—" I manage, desperately scraping together a smile. Oh shit, shit shit, what did I say to him, yesterday? If he's noticed I've spoken, he makes no acknowledgement, instead stalking over to me. He's right in my face now, and it's all I can do not to flinch under his glare. I never once believed his occasional, casual threats to kill me if I pissed him off. I wish I had. Might've been useful, right now.
We share a minute of excruciating silence before he speaks again.
"Go home, Newbie." It sounds like a warning. Go home, get out of my hair and I might just let this slide. Unfortunately, my slowly building panic decides now is the perfect time to break free. Chest constricts, stomach heaves, and the next thing I know, I'm doubled over, expelling my last meal onto Doctor Cox's scrubs.
Uh-oh.