Fandoms: Scrubs / House crossover (Set in Sacred Heart Hospital, my money's on Sacramento, CA)
Characters this chapter: Dr. Cox, JD, Carla, Elliot
Chapter rating:PG-13 for draaaaama and language
Overall story rating: NC-17 in parts, if I can make myself stop blushing, but relatively plot heavy overall.
Genre: Humor, angst, romantic, smut, I think I hit everything but horror.
Warnings: Language, possible OOCness, and OH the angst.
Spoilers: Up to Scrubs Season 6, episode 7, "My Musical" and House, M.D., up to "Fools for Love," Season 3, episode 5.
The Guest Lecture 11/??
Chapter Narrator: JDizzle.
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, "Right Out of Your Hand"
Please forgive me (it's impossible to see)
If I appear unkind (it's impossible to know)
But any fool can tell you,
It's all in your mind.
[Chapter narrator: JD]
"I know you do, champ. I know you do. Take it in the on-call room," Dr. Cox said.
I stepped into the on-call room, ignoring the no phones sign and putting Dr. Cox's cell phone to my ear.
"Hey JD," I heard Kim's voice say.
"Hey, sweetie!' I said, breaking into a smile for the first time that day. "How are you feeling, how's the retreat thing going?"
"JD, we have to talk."
Oh no. At that moment, Dr. Cox's expression made sense in my head. He didn't hand me the phone looking sad because there was something wrong with him. There was about to be something wrong with me.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Look… something happened between me and Jordan."
"Did that devil woman hurt you?" I asked as my heart leapt up into my throat. "Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"
"We're fine. JD… I can't do this anymore. I can't be with you."
I don't really remember the rest of the details of the conversation. I'm pretty sure I said some horrible things. I came away from the conversation knowing that Kim was still pregnant, as was Jordan. Kim wanted to give the baby up for adoption. We agreed to discuss that matter further, later, when we'd both had time to calm down.
For a minute there, I thought I was calm, until I heard the phone crunching under my foot.
"I guess I don't need to find a urologist job in New Jersey," I said quietly to myself. I leaned down and picked up a little piece of the cell phone, remembering that it wasn't actually mine. I picked through the pieces till I found a chunk with the model number on it and came out of the on call room. Dr. Cox stepped in front of me, and didn't say anything. I couldn't blame him—there wasn't a whole lot to say.
"I owe you a phone," I said to him walking back towards the Nurse's station to pick up my charts.
"Newbie," Dr. Cox called, following me. I paused and turned around.
"Do you… wanna… talk?" he asked. I looked back at him.
"I'm good," I said carefully, as obviously someone was simultaneously working on throwing their voice doing an incredibly convincing Dr. Cox impression. "Do you wanna talk?"
"I guess if you're good, I'm good there, Gwend—" he stopped. "Newbie."
Gwendnewbie, I thought. Must be Welsh. I shrugged and turned away from Dr. Cox to try and get some work done.
"Carla, have you seen my interns?" I went and asked upon giving up and going to the nurses' station, approaching the desk in front of her.
"They all went to the panel that blonde kid that's been hittin' the Todd is hosting. What's that?" she asked, pointing at the chunk of plastic in my hand.
"Oh…. It's a chunk of Dr. Cox's phone."
"He killed another one?" she sighed.
"No, I killed this one. I'll have to get a replacement tomorrow," I said, sticking the chunk into my pocket."
"Bambi, why did you kill Dr. Cox's phone?" Carla asked me gently.
"Oh," I said again. "Kim dumped me."
"What? Why?" she cried, coming around the nurses' station and grabbing my arms. "Bambi, sweetie, do you know you're crying?"
"I am?" I asked, just as a drop of liquid splatted down on my charts. "Huh. How about that."
"Janice, I'll be back in just a minute," Carla said to the other nurse manning the station. Womaning the station.
"This is so bizarre," I said. "Does my voice sound normal?" After all, if I couldn't feel myself crying, maybe I wouldn't hear it, either.
"Yeah, not as perky as usual, maybe, but you sound pretty normal. You even look fine, there's just water coming down your face."
"That's so weird," I commented.
"Ah crap, I was hoping we could avoid him," Carla said. I looked up from examining the tears on my fingers to see Dr. Cox walking towards us.
"Newbie, go home. I can cover for you," Dr. Cox said grimly.
"We can't leave, who's gonna stop Mickhead and whatever dog he thinks is telling him to kill all his patients?" I said.
"I didn't say 'we,' JD," he said. "You're in shock, you'll get sued like this."
"I'm not in shock, you're in shock," I replied indignantly.
"I am not!" Dr. Cox scoffed.
"You're the one—" he stuck his thumb out wiped it across my cheek and tasted it, which in better times might've struck me as damned erotic, or at least kinda sweet, weird at the absolute worst. "—crying!" he finished.
"Why would you taste that?" I asked, looking at him sidelong. These were not better times, and thus it just seemed stupid.
"I had to make sure the janitor didn't just mop you again, because that sure as hell isn't kosher today!" he said, though he was looking at his thumb like he wasn't sure what the hell he'd just done.
"So you just licked what you thought could reasonably have been mop water?" I asked. "You're in shock."
"But I hate Jordan, how are you still not getting this?" he asked, grabbing my shoulders.
"What does Jordan have to do with anything?" Carla asked.
"She dumped him," I said.
"For your girlfriend, and this is so not about me!" he retorted.
"What?!" Carla squeaked.
"It's just as much about you as it is me!" I pointed out, poking his chest. He still had his hands on my shoulders and shook his head vigorously.
"No no no, because you are in shock!" he sang at me. I reached out and grabbed his shoulders, trying to shake him and failing.
"This isn't an operetta!" I said, which caused his eyebrows to knit together, glancing at one of my hands. "And you're in shock!"
"So's your face!" Dr. Cox said, then released one of my shoulders to slap his hand over his mouth.
"You just said 'so's your face,' you're so in shock!" I said triumphantly. "In your face, Perry!"
"You're both in shock!" Carla snapped, grabbing the elbow of the arm of the hand that Dr. Cox had over his mouth and my left, yanking him off me and hauling us down the hall.
"I am not!" both of us said simultaneously.
"You're gonna throw us out and let Mickhead kill everybody? Jeez, Carla, Pee-Pants might wanna help out, why don't you call him on up and have him start tagging toes now?" Dr. Cox railed.
"I will keep Mickhead from killing his patients," Carla said, dragging us over to Elliot's office and knocked.
"Oh my god, you bastard," she spat when she opened her door. "Did you fucking make JD cry?"
"Yes," Dr. Cox said defiantly.
"No," I corrected.
"Sort of," he said, looking at me. "In a way."
"What?!" I asked. Dr. Cox shrugged.
"I honestly don't know… at this point," he answered, shaking his head.
"Both of you shut up," Carla said. "Elliot, Kim and Jordan dumped these two for each other."
"Ohhhhh my god," Elliot said, eyes getting even wider than Dr. Cox's usually are (and thus looking even more like Gary Busey than usual).
"Yeah, and something's up with Mickhead, he's been writing crappy orders all day. Can you page Keith and a couple interns who have it together and cover for them?"
"Interns?!" Dr. Cox howled. "You're going to replace us with interns?!"
"I'm also not very comfortable with that," I added.
"No problem," Elliot said, ignoring us both. "Keith's around here someplace, and I think Dr. Kim's at the panels today, I can probably coax him into coming up if I take my lab coat off."
"Oh, hey, Dr. House could help out!" I said, very nearly causing Dr. Cox to tackle Carla trying to get at my throat.
"Barbie, don't you dare let any of the Jersey girls touch my patients! Or his!" Dr. Cox said as Carla tried to drag him away.
"You two can either come along quietly and let me send you home in a cab, or I'll call Leonard and he'll hook your asses right up to psych," she said. The thought of a rectal hooking was enough to shut both of us up. Dr. Cox kept staring at me as Carla called a cab from the nurses' station, stopping us when we tried to go outside to wait for it.
"Oh hell no, I'm not risking you jumping in front of an ambulance and getting yourself run over," she said, looking at me, "or you hijacking one and running over everybody else," she said looking at him.
"Gnnnh," Dr. Cox said, another noise that he makes when he's aggrieved. We sat down in chairs in admitting and looked at each other.
"You know, there's no shame in being upset about something like this," I said to him finally.
"I'm not upset."
"Of course you're not. That would entail feeling anything at all, wouldn't it?" I sighed.
"I get that you're lashing out," Dr. Cox said. "But you can't keep all this bottled up or it's gonna kill ya."
"I'm so glad therapy is working out for you," I started.
"At this point you are abusing sarcasm,5 you realize," Dr. Cox broke in.
"—but the fact that you're the craziest bastard here doesn't make you a licensed therapist!" I finished. Carla's phone rang.
"That's your cab," she said upon hanging up. She'd apparently decided we weren't trustworthy enough to go catching a cab on our own, because Leonard the hook-handed security guard came up and escorted us from the building.
"Don't do anything stupid!" Carla called after us. "I'll call each of you when my shift's done!"
We sullenly got into our cab.
"Stay outta trouble," Leonard said, tapping the glass of the window next to Dr. Cox's head. Dr. Cox grunted balefully.
"Who do I drop first?" the driver, a rail thin woman with her hair up in strange blonde twists, asked, looking at us in the rearview mirror. "Or is it just one stop?"
"I live closer," I said, giving the address of my half acre. The cab driver plugged it into her OnStar and drove out of the lot.
"It's okay if you wanna lash out, but could you do me a favor and just lash the hell out already instead of this weird defensive passive-aggressive thing you're doin'?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I glowered.
"Ohhhh sure you don't. Come on, I'm perfect for lashing out at. Take a swing at me!" Dr. Cox said, twisting around and looking at my side of the back seat.
"Do not start fighting in this cab or I'll leave you both here!" the cab driver said sharply.
"No one's going to fight anyone," I sighed. "And I'm not lashing out."
"Ya should be!" he argued. "You're traumatized."
"I'm not traumatized. There can't even be trauma without cake," I said.
"Take us to Mitcham-King's bakery," Dr. Cox said to the cab driver, who rolled her eyes and ordered him to sit down, but did take a turn in that direction.
"Please, can we not go to the bakery?" I said, rubbing my eyes.
"We're goin' to the bakery and I'm caking the hell out of you until you lash out at me like a big girly rattlesnake," he said, all big eyed and scary-like. The cab driver shot us another look.
"Be real careful, you don't have your hockey jersey or a six pack, you might pull something!" I shouted after him as he dove out of the cab as soon as it slowed and charged into the bakery. I watched the cab driver's eyes flick back to me in the mirror.
"You trying to make that man hit you?" she asked me. I shrugged.
"At least that'd be normal," I said. "You know I used to go to an improv class that met back there."
"Just promise not to get blood or buttercream on my upholstery," she said.
"Done," I said. "Unless we're in a wreck of course, and then all bets are off."
Dr. Cox returned a short time later with a box sized to hold a half-sheet cake.
"Terrific," I said to the box. "Now if you go back southbound on S Street—"
"Whoa whoa whoa, where's my damn meltdown?" Dr. Cox interrupted.
"Shut up. Right at the third traffic light and my place is just past the house with the whimsical large mouth bass mailbox on the left," I finished.
"God damn it, JD, what's wrong with you?" Dr. Cox railed.
I didn't say anything, just shutting my eyes and leaning my head against the window. He ranted and raved and foamed at the mouth, but I just wasn't listening. It probably wasn't anything new; maybe I was useless at hanging onto a girlfriend, or useless at getting dumped, or useless at melting down. I turned and looked at him briefly, and his eyes were a little desperate. Did he need me to be more broken up than he was? Was that it? Was he trying to get me to be weak so he could feel like he was still strong?
I turned away again, sighing. Sorry Perry, I don't owe you anything.
The taxi driver pulled up to my half-acre, and I opened my door and picked up my cake so I could get out and pay.
"Wait," Dr. Cox said, grabbing my elbow. "You can't spend the night in a tent!"
"I've spent the last week in a tent," I said. "Let go."
"You shouldn't be alone," he insisted. Terrific. Another vague declaration with nothing at all behind it.
"Where should I go instead?" I asked. He opened his mouth and then closed it. I waited for a moment to see if he'd actually put his sofa where his mouth was.
"To Carla and Gandhi's?"
I rolled my eyes and got out.
"Good day, Dr. Cox," I said primly, setting the cake on top of the cab and fishing out my wallet.
"Damn it, JD—"
"I believe I said good day, sir!" I snapped. The cab driver got back into the cab, and I stopped her.
"Here's an extra twenty. If you bring him back here I'm calling the cops."
"Oh what the hell!"
"Got it," she said, then accelerated away. I watched the cake box slide off the top of the cab, flip three hundred and sixty degrees, and hit the pavement. I walked slowly to where it had landed, wondering what kind of cake it had been, and whether it said anything. He'd been in there a while… maybe "Yes your girlfriend dumped you for my crazy evil ex-wife who may eat your baby and possibly our own, but I'm incredibly sick of you being such a big girl about it, why don't you just pound your chest and get drunk like a man?" That would have to be pretty tiny writing. I reached the point on the pavement where the cake had landed and opened the lid. It was yellow cake with white buttercream frosting, decorated in light blue curlicues and roses.
I'm sorry, was written across it in blue cursive.
"Oh…" I said, leaning down and picking up the box and the rumpled cake. I picked up a small blue frosting rose with my fingertip and stuck it in my mouth. It was so sweet it made my heart hurt a little.
5. This quote so nicked from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, "Never Kill a Boy on the First Date."