This is my first Scrubs fic, so any bitch about how much I suck with be ignored, as always.

Warnings: Suicide, Charactor Death, Very Mild Cursing.

This is a oneshot, so no, there will probably not be a sequl.

Rating: R for suicide with a gun.

Do You Need Me?

When Perry Cox walked into the bar late at night after an eleven-hour shift at the hospital, the one thing he did not expect to see was his (inwardly, he cringed,) protege, John Dorian. The dark haired doctor was slumped over the bar's counter lethargically, bottles, glasses and absurd amount of empty shots scattered around his head, apearantly pushed away to make room to rest his head.

Even as the curly-haired doctor stood staring, JD waved over the bartender, ordering another round. The barkeep handed the alcohol to him with a pitying look, which JD promptly ignored.

Perry strode quickly over to the younger man's position, plopping down none-too-gently onto the stool next to him.

"What the hell are you drinking so much for, Karen?" He said gruffly. He cringed. That was not how that was meant to come out. Something along the lines of What seems to be the problem, Newbie?' should have come out, but of course,anything actually intended to be nice just had to get lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth.

The kid just grunted noncommittally, taking another large sip from the hard scotch clutched in his pale hand. Looking closer, Perry could see that it was shaking ever so slightly.

Perry nudged him a bit.

"That was a question, kid. One which requires an answer." His tone softened a bit, "C'mon Newbie, what's bothering so much?" That was better.

Newbie sighed, and finally lifted his head up from the cold wood of the counter. It was bleached paper white, either from lack of circulation, or the still-unknown problem he was facing. It stood out starkly in the shadowy bar, bathed in the unnatural light of the flashing neon signs surounding them that threw it into stark relief.

He was silent for a moment, staring into space in a solemn mockery of his usual carefree daydreaming. Then he shook himself back to earth, letting out a small laugh. The older doctor didn't like the sound of that laugh. It had a hollow, empty ring to it that made it echo in his ears. It screamed 'something is wrong!' to him, but before he could comment, JD turned suddenly to him.

And stared.

Just stared.

"...What?!" The older doctor snapped finally at him, loosing patience.

JD smiled. "You're concerned. I'm not used to it." Perry blinked at the unusual statement, but agreed. It was unusual for him to be so concerned, but he had a bad feeling about the whole situation. Some how, stepping into the room... felt like he was setting foot in the morgue.

"I got a cake delivered to me today," JD spoke up randomly. "From Patterson's Bakery. It was from my grandma. Grandma Dorian."

The phisicians tone was annoyed and puzzled all at once.

"You're drinking yourself into a supor... because your granny bought you a cake." He sneered, "What, was it the wrong flavor? Jezus, Ellen, if you aren't going to be clear then just shut up and drink."

And he did, for a while. They sat there for at least an hour, doing nothing but slowly nursing their separate beers. Finally, the larger man got tired of waiting and stood up stiffly.

"See you at work, Newbie. Bright and early."

And he started marching away. He had not gotten three feet from his stool when JD's voice, remarkably clear dispite the absurd amount of alcohol he consumed, drifted to his ears;

"She is the only one left, you know."

Perry blinked, once again, confusedly, before he understood. "What, you mean your grandma? Hate to break it to you there, Newbie, but Grandmas are old. They die."

"No." The kid's voice was a dry monotone, "She's the only one left... alive. My family..." He trailed off again, seemingly unable to finish his sentence.

"What? What about that deadbeat brother of yours, Dan? And your mom?" He prompted logically.

All that greeted him was an empty silence.

The man's eyes widened impossibly. He stumbled back to the younger doctor, grabbing him by his still scrubs-clad shoulders, and yanking him around to face him.

"Newbie..." He muttered desperately, "JD... they're not..? Both of them, they're...?"

His protege looked at him with his large, dead, tearless eyes. The were empty. There was no dam breaking or flood of sorrowful tears; if anything, it seemed that JD had no more tears to shed. He looked around his at the endless sea of empty cans and bottles, and realized that JD was trying to fill his dam up again. He had tried it more than once - if you drink enough, eventually, you'll have enough water to cry, right?

Wrong.

"Their plane's enigine was faulty. It crashed into the Pcific Ocean. There weren't any survivors. They found their bodies... or what was left of them. They were a bit scattered.

They were coming to visit me." He spoke again in that dead, emotionless voice. "Dan finally convinced Mom to talk to me, after... about twelve, thirteen years..."

He looked up at him with large blue-grey eyes that expected nothing of him, and yet so much. A half-smile curled his lip.

"A lot of good that did her, huh? Now we're both dead, and neither of us can talk."

Perry shook him from the shoulders he held in a tight grasp.

"Don't talk like that, JD! You're still alive." He hesitated, "You... you know that, right? You are still alive, JD."

The black haired man just shook his head, smiling sadly.

"No, Dr. Cox... I died with them."

"No, you didn't!" The taller man said forcefully, dragging him up from his seat, "You still have plenty to live for, JD! Turk, Carla Elliot, all your interns, hell, everyone in that damn hospital! They still need you!"

"Even you, Perry?"

He froze, staring at the broken man before him. His mind was processing the words slowly - too slowly.

What little light that had suffused into those blue-grey orbs dimmed, flickered, and died. Killed by his silence.

"Goodbye, I'll see you some time soon."

And he walked past him, slowly, a dead man's walk, to the bar door, out into the cool autumn night. Perry stood there, frozen by the younger man's farewell. Precious seconds passed before it sunk into his mind, a cold, hard thought, what those words had meant.

He dashed to the door, throwing it open. It banged shit, the harsh noise echoing in the still night air.

JD stood there, his back to him, his ebony hair fluttering in the chilling breeze.

He turned to the source to the noise. A small black handgun was held in his hands.

He raised it slowly to the side of his head, burying its tip in his ebony hair.

Those blue-grey eyes bore into his own desperate hazel ones, but he wasn't there. John Dorian was long gone.

"No." Perry whispered, "I still need you."

"No you don't, Perry." He whispered back quietly, gently. "Not anymore."

He smiled, and pulled the trigger.

John Dorian died that day.

And Percival Cox died with him.

So, how was it? Any reviews will be met with huggles and a big 'ol mental cookie, and of course, and constructive criticism is apriciated. Any bitching, as I said before, but be ignored.

I feel that there aren't enough Scrubs fics out there. To any readers, I encourage you to write your own. Or not. I honestly couldn't give a shit.

R&R, bitches!!!

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