Disclaimer: I don’t own Scrubs (belongs to NBC and their syndicates), and I also don’t own the poem I’m using at the beginning. Property goes to Blizzard Entertainment and Metzen. I’m not making anything off of this, so please don’t sue.

Pairings: JD/Cox, Jorliot, Turla

Warnings: AU…so AU.

Author’s Notes: Okay. So I’ve been writing this original fantasy novel for about ten years now (my math teacher kept taking away my notebooks XD), and with all of the interest in AU fantasy fics, I thought I’d try my hand at it. While I’ll warn that there are a lot of OC’s that’ll be coming into this, none of them are Mary-Sue-esque. Trust me. I’ve taken great pains (and many of Merlin’s Mary-Sue Litmus tests over and over) to make sure they weren’t. Still, like this story, the characters are ever-changing and I’d be more than welcome to hear any suggestions if they are coming off as Mary-Sue-ish. I hate Mary-Sues more than the next gal, so I’ve never wanted to do that to a reader XD

Okay, that being said. Fantasy fics aren’t for everyone, so if this isn’t your bag of tricks, go find a new magician XD I don’t normally introduce everyone by name, but ::shrugs:: I thought I’d try it out. Sorry if it’s irritating.

Without further hubbub, I hope you enjoy!

XXXXXXXXX

What fires burn beneath my breast and force me to contend,

With the perils that await me at this tragic journey’s end?

I have walked the roads that led to hell, I have challenged all but fate.

I have fought and bled and carried on just to reach this final gate.

And now the task before me looms, this dire deed undone.

I shall my stand against the three, until the battle’s won.

What fear or wound could ever still this last defiant cry?

As I stand against the shadow ‘neath the endless sky?

The pastures here weren’t green, and neither did they roll with gentle winds that carried the forgotten scents of a lost spring. The trees didn’t sway merrily in the breeze, and children didn’t play in the grass. The sky wasn’t blue, and there were no white clouds hanging in the sky with the promise of hot weather.

The pastures here were stained with blood, and sat still. The acrid smell of death rolled off of the stagnant air, clinging to anything that went near it. The trees were bare and naked, and there wasn’t a living soul to be found. The sky was a glassy, smooth gray, and snow had begun to fall in the frigid weather.

Walking decrepitly, a man with a walking staff made his way through the mass of dead bodies lying in the ground. Some of the bodies didn’t look injured at all, but the old man knew they were dead all the same.

There was no life force here, none at all.

The man was old, even by most standards, and his white hair had thinned on his head. His scraggly beard was dingy and a rag was tied around his skull to hide his missing eyes. He held a hand out, moaning and crying as he counted the loss of lives.

Still, as he walked, he searched. So far, the glimmer of hope still beat weakly within his heart, and even the staggering number of dead (both enemy and friend alike) couldn’t bring him too far down.

Suddenly, and without warning, the man froze and dropped to his knees. The staff he carried hit the ground with a dull thud, and his hand fell upon the armored chest of a decapitated man.

The old man let out a keening howl, and the wind blew past him just briefly enough to carry that outcry on its tail. The sound was nearly unnatural, even for a mere animal, so full it was of desperate agony.

A figure came through the dingy atmosphere almost immediately, and kneeled beside of him. It was a woman, with long brown hair that was pulled tightly into a braid. She clasped a pale hand to the old man’s thin shoulder as she too placed her free hand to the decapitated man’s metal-clad chest.

“It is he,” the woman confirmed softly, her voice raspy and almost annoyed. The grief wasn’t apparent in her, but then, it never was.

The old man looked blindly in her direction, wondering if her sadness was felt at all. He wondered still, until the breeze did pick up again and roared past him so quickly that he pitched forward and fell face-first onto the dead body his hand rested upon.

The man turned his face back up to the sky. “He was the last living.” He gingerly stood. “Were they all beheaded?”

“As is our enemies’ custom.” The woman placed both hands just above the beheaded man, and the body slowly lifted into the air without benefit of support. The wind carried him by the woman’s command, and followed her as she began to walk out of the bloody battlefield. “We must report to the Council.”

“But the bodies are barely cold, Captain Hale, and-”

Captain Hale turned her coldly aloof face back to him. “We need the Others. We will not win this war without them. And the Council will agree.”

The old man sighed as he sat still in the battlefield. The glimmer of hope had died within his chest, and he turned his face back up to the glassy sky. It hadn’t rained in years; only blinding snowstorms.

He couldn’t remember the feel of the sun upon his face.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Jordan Sullivan tapped her foot irritably on the carpet. Her three-year-old son gave her a questioning look, but returned to coloring with a contented smile. Jordan, however, stood to pace instead.

This was the fifth time in less than three days that he was late.

The door opened, and Jordan whirled around. “You’re late,” she said accusingly. “I almost had to call the nanny.”

Dr. Perry Cox jerked his key from the door and rolled his eyes as he pocketed them. “Heaven forbid you take more then three steps in any direction. Honest to god, Jorderoo…that might ju-hust be too much work for you there, huh?”

“Don’t get smart with me; we both know otherwise,” Jordan replied breezily and followed him into the kitchen. “What kept you?”

Perry paused at the fridge from where he’d been preparing to pull out last night’s leftover pizza. “A patient died.”

Jordan bristled angrily. “So what else is new? Patients die. You’d think you’d be used to that by now, especially when they’re under your care.”

Perry rolled his eyes again, and pulled the pizza out. “I love our evening argument just as much as your divorce attorney does, but can we cut this short? Now spread your talons, breathe some fire, and make your way to the door.”

Jordan glared at him as she snatched her purse from the kitchen counter. “If you’re going to drink, don’t do it in front of Jack. If you get drunk, call someone to watch him.”

“And where are you headed on this fine evening?” Perry asked her mockingly. “Just in case I need you or something. After all, we never know when the stove will go out and we’ll need that fiery breath of yours to stay warm, won't we?”

“I’m going out, that’s where. Just because you don’t have a life doesn’t mean I can’t have one either.” Jordan whirled and slammed the door behind her.

Perry sighed as he walked with the cold pizza back into the living room, even though he knew if Jordan were there, she’d have his head for feeding Jack "such crap". Food was still food in his book, left-overs or otherwise.

Jack looked up at him curiously.

Sighing again, Perry sat down on the floor and opened the pizza box. He picked up a slice and bit into it. It tasted like stale cardboard, but it was the first real food he’d had in hours.

Thoughts running through his head, Perry sighed and realized that Jordan did have a point; patients died every day.

But this patient had been special. The ICU just wouldn’t be the same without Mrs. Wilk, and while Jordan didn’t understand that, well…Newbie sure as hell had.

Perry stopped mid-chew. The devastation had been apparent in his protégé’s eyes, but the talk on the roof had done them both good. After, however, talking to what little family Mrs. Wilk had (that had bothered to show up), had put them both back in a bad mood.

Which had been the reason Perry was late; the kid had asked him out for a drink, and Perry had accepted for just this once. While Perry had barely gotten through one glass of scotch, the kid had plowed through vodka shots like no one’s business.

By the time Perry had gotten him home, he knew he was in for it with Jordan, but had come home anyway.

“Daddy!”

Perry almost jumped at the plaintive voice, and turned back to his son. “Yeah?”

“I’m thirsty.”

“Just a second, Jacky.” Perry stood, wiping his co-worker from mind as he fixed Jack a sipper-cup of apple juice. A thud and a loud cry drew his attention back to the living room, and he was there in a flash. “What happened?”

Jack was sitting near the coffee table, holding his elbow. Tears rolled down his face. “I have an owie!” he wailed miserably. “Fix it, doc!”

Perry had to smile internally at that as he inspected Jack’s elbow carefully. It only looked a bit red, but Perry leaned over and kissed it all the same.

“Special medicine, Jacky. All better?”

Jack nodded and wiped his tears away. His father looked sad, and Jack leaned forward to plant a wet, sloppy kiss on his father’s face.

“All better?” Jack inquired.

Perry smiled. “Sure.” He handed the juice to Jack and went back to his pizza. If it were only so simple to cure with a touch, to smooth away pain with a kiss.

Shaking his head, Perry bit into the pizza. Wishing never did anything more then take away brain space in his head.

XXXXXXXX

Nursing his head with an icepack the next morning, Dr. John “JD” Dorian groaned in misery. He’d had way too much to drink last night. He always seemed to forget his level of liquor-compatibility after a few, but this headache was surely going to be the death of him.

Carla Espinosa came in with a grin and a glass of water. “I’ve brought you some medicine, Bambi,” she said as she sat beside of him.

JD took both gratefully and gulped from the water as he swallowed the pill. “I’ve got a hangover that could kill a walrus,” he groaned, and settled the icepack back on his forehead.

“What’d you drink so much for then?” Carla replied simply. “You know what happens when you drink too much.”

“It was okay until I talked to Mrs. Wilk’s family,” JD finally mumbled. “They almost seemed…glad that she was dead. Like it was a burden they didn’t have to care for anymore.”

“She was a special lady,” Carla offered as she walked into the bathroom to fix her hair for work. “Sometimes family members can’t see that.”

JD shrugged, hoping his hangover would be gone in the next three hours so he could be ready for his shift. He put the ice pack down and sipped more water.

“Yeah,” JD finally agreed. He’d seen it enough, but that didn’t make it right. “Hey, Carla…you think I could catch a ride to work with you?”

“Your shift starts two hours after mine, Bambi.”

“I’ve got paperwork I want to catch up on,” JD replied with a shrug, but it was more because he wanted to make sure Dr. Cox was okay too.

Carla poked her head out of the bathroom. “Dr. Cox is fine, Bambi.”

JD raised an eyebrow, suddenly seeing Carla as an evil pod person who could read the minds of everyone so that she could better instill human qualities in her fellow pod-people.

“Evil pod person, you,” JD said suspiciously.

“Say huh?”

JD shook his head. “Nothing. And I really just want to catch up on paperwork.”

Carla shrugged. “Sure. Just stay low; I heard there was a big pile-up on the interstate, and they’ll be looking to call people in.”

“I’ll be alright in an hour,” JD waved off, mostly because he knew it was true. As he sat back down to finish his water, however, his pager went off. A musical harmony began to sound when two other beeps began singing rhythmically in the room.

JD’s best friend and Carla’s husband, Dr. Chris Turk, stepped out of the room with bleary eyes. He had just spent the better half of his night being on-call as it was, but the hospital waited for no man.

No matter how handsome he was.

Turk turned his beeper off and plopped down in a chair with JD. “You look awful, V-bear.”

JD glared at him. “You don’t look so hot yourself, SCB.”

Carla clapped her hands in a mother-hen fashion sharply. “Come on, boys. Up, up! Scrubs on; patients wait for no one.”

“But Carla…” Turk whined. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

Carla threw a muffin at him.

XXXXXXXXX

JD entered the hospital with a yawn, dodging gurneys and patients who had come in from the pile-up Carla had spoken of. On his way to the elevator, he was blindsided by his friend, Dr. Elliot Reid.

Elliot glared at him and blew a piece of blonde hair from her face. “Frick, JD…watch where you’re going,” she muttered, and viciously hit the elevator button.

“What’s got you all worked up?”

Elliot shrugged as she shifted from foot to foot. “Other than three patients spilling more than one bodily fluid on both outfits I had in my locker, nothing.”

JD surveyed the light blue scrubs she wore. “Scrubs aren’t bad.”

Elliot blew another piece of hair from her face, and dug around in her pocket for a hair-band. “It is when you can say you’ve had blood, puke, and something else on you in less than thirty minutes.”

JD raised an eyebrow as he wandered off mentally. He didn’t finish it as Elliot slapped his shoulder. “Owie!” he yelped. “What was that for?”

“Because I know exactly what you’re thinking,” Elliot grumbled and stepped into the elevator with him.

JD rubbed his shoulder. “Evil pod people…they’re everywhere!” He shot a glare at Carla.

“For the last time, Bambi…I’m not a pod person!”

“That’s what they all say…right, choco-bear?” JD asked Turk.

Turk felt torn suddenly between wife and best friend. “Dude…I do care about how much I get in the next week, so Carla’s not a pod-person.”

JD crossed his arms. “Don’t come crying to me when she sucks out your brain.”

The elevator dinged before Carla could reply, and the ICU was packed.

The next few hours blew by in a whirl of patients, deaths, and miracles. JD didn’t have a chance to track Dr. Cox down to ask him if he was okay, but by the look on the older doctor’s face, JD was okay with that for the moment.

JD stood in a patient’s room now, checking the vitals machine next to the bed. The man in it had been one of the luckier victims; he’d only suffered a few broken ribs, a mild concussion, and light, internal bleeding.

His wife hadn’t been so lucky; she was in surgery at the moment.

“Where’s my wife?”

JD jumped at the man’s voice, which held a thick, scottish accent. “Your wife’s in surgery, Mr…” JD flipped the chart open. “Hale.”

“Ethan,” the man replied and gave a cough. “Is she going to be alright?”

JD shrugged as he checked the morphine drip. “I can’t tell you, honestly. I wasn’t her doctor.”

Mr. Hale tensed slightly in the bed and attempted to sit up, only to be gentled back down by JD. “Can I speak with her doctor then?”

“You need to rest right now, Mr. Hale.” JD flipped the chart closed and slipped it back to the foot of the bed. “You’re going to be just fine though.”

“I’m not worried for me.” Mr. Hale tried once more to sit up when he thought his doctor wasn’t looking, but was once again pushed gently back down. “What about my wife?”

JD sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed as he kept an eye on the man’s vitals. “She’s in surgery, Mr. Hale. She’s suffered some internal injuries that the surgeons are trying to repair. You, however, really need to rest. I’ll check on her for you, okay?”

Mr. Hale seemed to be somewhat satisfied by this, and lay back. But then he tensed again. “Our children; someone needs to call them.”

JD nodded impatiently. “I’ll see to it myself, Mr. Hale. Just sleep now.”

“Ethan.” Mr. Hale’s head nodded off to the side as he fell asleep.

JD sighed and rubbed his neck as he checked the next-of-kin sheet. He jotted the number down on a slip of paper and left the room without really looking where he was going.

A hard shoulder knocked straight into his chest, sending JD spilling to the ground in a pile of limbs.

“Oh, come on, Tiffany. I know how much you like to daydream there about sugar, spice, and everything nice because that’s just what you’re made of, but honest to god, Newbie, I think I speak for everyone here when I say pull your damn head out of the clouds, get off your ass and look where the hell you’re going,” Perry snapped at him, giving a swipe of his nose.

JD stood back up again, rolling his shoulders as he caught up to the man. “Hey, Dr. Cox.”

Perry whirled on him, lab coat flying around his legs. “What, Newbie, what?”

“I just wanted…to…uh,” JD stammered. “I just wanted to ask if you were okay after yesterday.”

Perry growled at him and turned back around to keep walking. “Let me know when your big black wife gets out of surgery; I’m waiting on a patient.” He slammed his way into the lounge room before JD could formulate an answer.

JD sighed and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. As he turned to keep going down the hallway, he ran into another tall body.

“What? Just because I’m a cleaning guy means I’m invisible now?” Janitor asked evenly, and held a mop to JD’s face. “I’m coming for you. You won’t know when, you won’t know how, and knowing you, you probably won’t even know why. But I’m coming for you.”

JD backed away with an odd frown on his face, and took off to find Carla. He hadn’t eaten anything today, and she always had the best snacks.

On his way to her though, he managed to run into a kid who had a pile of candy jewelry, and that took care of the “hungries”.

Munching happily on a candy necklace, JD leaned on the nurse’s desk. “Hey, Carla…have you heard how that accident even started?”

Carla came over, writing something down as she did so. “I heard a semi-truck driver was driving drunk or something. I don’t know; you should ask Laverne.”

JD gulped and shuddered. “Last time I asked Laverne something, I ended up at her church, dancing around and singing to “this little light of mine”.” JD shuddered again at the memory, but he was only shivering because it was fun.

Who didn’t like a church full of clapping, singing people?

Carla whapped his shoulder. “Bambi, you do that when no one’s looking anyway.”

“Do not.” JD waited for her to turn before he danced around a bit just to get it out of his system.

“Caught you!” Elliot razzed him as she walked by without looking up. She stopped at the desk and handed a chart to a nurse. “You can’t hide it from us, JD. We all know you dance and sing crappy songs when you think no one’s watching.”

“Now that’s just not true,” JD replied, but his lip quivered on the lie as he thought of the awesome breakdancing he’d done in his room the previous night. He winced and rubbed his back; breakdancing while drunk just wasn’t a good idea.

Elliot waved a hand in front of his face.

JD sighed. “I need to write that down…” He saw a hand waving in front of his face and jumped. “Don’t do that! I can feel the frigid air and it’s freezing my lungs!”

Elliot glared at him and suddenly slipped her hands to his neck.

JD yelped and scrambled away.

“Oh, that was just precious, Stick.” Jordan sauntered up to the desk next, taking JD’s vacated spot. “Still hopping around the “will they, won’t they” bush and all of its angst-ridden berries?”

Elliot rolled her eyes as she signed her name to a chart. “Still hopping around the “post-divorce sex” bush with all of its “keep it together for the kid” berries?”

Carla threw a pencil at her, hitting Elliot square in the neck.

“Ouch, Carla! What’d you do that for?” Elliot squeaked.

Jordan glared at Elliot, and knocked her coffee over. “Thanks, Carla,” she grumbled and stalked off.

“Too mean, Elliot! Too mean,” Carla pointed out. “That’s like me pointing out that the only sex you’ve gotten for the past three months was from some intern you had to fake it for and that you should’ve hung up the ovaries when the pharmacy girl got engaged.”

Elliot’s eyes widened. “Still too mean!”

Carla shrugged as Elliot slapped the chart closed. “It’s complicated for them.”

Elliot snorted derisively as she brushed Carla’s comment away. “Just because she wants everyone else to be miserable doesn’t mean I have to feel sorry for the screw-up she’s made of her marriage.”

Carla hit her lightly again. “That’s just hateful. Besides, she had a point. Didn’t you learn the last time you and JD tried to get together?”

Elliot laughed sarcastically. “No, I honestly can’t recall the train wreck that we always end up as.” She snatched a chart. “Please, remind me, oh-knowing one.”

Carla rolled her eyes. “Hey, it’s not my fault I know more about you than you do.”

As Elliot stalked away, Carla sighed. Bad day.

XXXXXXXXX

JD sniffed his bowl of chili appreciatively. The candy necklace had only stretched so far, and this had been the first time in three hours that he’d been able to sit down and really eat.

Turk plopped down in front of him with a bowl of his own. “Hey, J-dog.”

“C-bear,” JD nodded in acknowledgement as he crumpled one saltine cracker into his soup and placed the other on the nape of his neck. “Find the cracker!”

Turk looked up and peered at him for a minute. “Back of your neck.”

JD snapped his fingers. “You always win.” He pulled the cracker from his neck and crushed that one over his soup as well. He had barely taken the first bite when he looked back up. “Say, Turk…did you operate on a Mrs. Hale?”

“Dude…you know I barely know their names.”

JD struggled to recall the injuries on her chart before Perry had snatched it away. “She had a lot of internal injuries. I think a ruptured spleen was one of them?”

“Dude, there was a nine-car pile-up on the interstate. You know how many spleens I’ve thrown into a basin today?”

JD shrugged in concession. “Yeah, I guess, SCB.”

Perry dropped a chart beside of JD’s elbow. “What part of come get me when my patient comes out of surgery didn’t you get, Gina?”

“But I didn’t know…”

“Your big black wife was operating on her less then fifteen minutes ago.” Perry glared at him and swept the chart away. “Go call her kids; I know you talked to her husband, Newbie. Way to be on the ball.” He stormed off.

JD let his head hit the table. “That sucked.”

“JD, I don’t get why you let him get to you like that.”

“Well, I don’t get why you don’t get why I let him get to me like that,” JD replied smartly.

Turk shook his head with an irritated frown. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

JD stood with his bowl of chili. “So’s your face. Burn!” He hurried away from the cafeteria.

Carla sat down in JD’s vacated spot. “What do you look so confused about?”

Turk shrugged and sat back. “I have no idea.”

XXXXXXXXX

“Right this way, guys,” JD said reluctantly. “Your mom’s still asleep, but your dad’s probably awake.”

The two teenagers exchanged quick glances as JD steered them into Mr. Hale’s room. They immediately sat with their father, and began exchanging words in a musical language that JD didn’t understand.

JD stood uselessly to the side for a minute before he pointed awkwardly to the door. “I’ll just get your mom’s doctor.” He grumbled on his way out; Janitor had stolen his bowl of chili and it still hadn’t turned back up yet.

Deciding to give the teens a few moments alone with their father, JD did a brave thing. He went to look for Janitor in an attempt to find the chili he really wanted to eat.

Meanwhile, Perry sat with his barely-awake patient. “So that takes care of the injuries the surgeons took care of,” Perry finished up and crossed his arms with the chart against his chest. “Any questions?”

Mrs. Hale looked up blearily at him and swallowed hard. “When can I leave?”

Perry raised an eyebrow. “Well, I guess if you just have to get out of here right after that big car accident you were in that lost you your spleen and put a nice nifty little stitch along your liver, I guess you can leave in the morning.”

Mrs. Hale nodded approvingly and leaned her head back. “That’s good. Do I need to sign anything? Where’s my husband?”

“Dear god, woman, I was being sarcastic. They don’t have that where you come from?” Perry sat on the edge of the bed. “Your husband’s fine; he’s down the hallway. One of the idiots around here that calls himself a resident called your children; they’re with him now. You’re going to be here for a while.”

Mrs. Hale shook her head at that. “I can’t. I’ve got important things that I have to do.”

“Those things are just going to have to wait. Get some rest; you’ve got some recovery before you.” Perry began to stand, but felt a cool hand grip his wrist.

The hand dropped almost immediately, as if the woman had been burned.

“That was smart to let go quick,” Perry muttered, and turned back around. “Look, Mrs. Hale, you’re going to be fine. You just have a lot of recovery time, and I’ll get your brats in here momentarily. Clear?”

The unnerving gaze on the woman’s face was beginning to make Perry feel more grouchy than before. Her look was one of near-recognition.

“I guess they don’t teach that staring’s rude where you come from either,” Perry muttered and rapped the chart against his head. “I always get the crazy ones.”

“What’s your name?”

“Did you miss that part of my long-winded yet witty speech?” Perry replied succinctly. “Dr. Cox.”

“Dr. Cox,” Mrs. Hale repeated, as if memorizing the name. “You’re my doctor?”

Perry looked at her like she was insane. “I’m going to grab you a big shot of something that’ll put you to sleep.” He left the room, and returned with gloves on and a syringe. He picked up her wrist again to inject the clear liquid.

The oddest thing happened then, though Perry would later chuck it up to being tired, hungry, and inattentive.

Perry injected the liquid slowly, hand gripping Mrs. Hale’s wrist gently and firmly. As he pulled the needle away, she grabbed his wrist and stared at him.

“Could you let go there, Mrs. Grabs-a-lot of Grope-shire?” Perry asked, but then the woman’s brownish eyes seemed to shift colors in the dim lighting of the room.

They’d been brown, but seemed to slide into a blue. And then Perry remembered mostly that his skin felt oddly warm where her hand had once been cool. He looked down slowly to where she gripped his wrist, and jerked it out of her hand.

He’d yanked it away, mostly because there had been a soft, barely visible glowing white light around his wrist, and even as he stared at it now, it was still just barely there. He shook his hand almost comically, as if that would shake it off.

The woman looked pale now, and stared at him. “You’re one of them.” Her head nodded off into sleep.

Perry stared at her and scraped a hand over his face and through his hair. He looked at his wrist again, and tentatively touched the tanned skin. Nothing happened, so he poked it again for good measure, just to make sure.

It was how Carla found him. “Something wrong, Dr. Cox? Or did I miss the annual meeting of “roll around in poison ivy for fun”?”

Perry stared at her oddly, still not sure if he’d really seen what he had or not. “Yeah. Sure you did.” He walked off, dropping Mrs. Hale’s chart into her hands as he went.

Carla stared after him, and raised an eyebrow. That’d been weird.

Perry stood outside of the hospital now, coolish breeze sliding over his face as he stared at his regular wrist with its regular skin and regular bones. It still felt warm, and even a bit tingled, though he wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened.

Linking his hands over his hair, Perry stared up at the sky. He shook his head as the words died on his lips, and shook his arm out again. The feeling would fade eventually.

But man…that’d just been flat-out strange.

XXXXXXX

Author’s Notes: So that’s about it for the first chapter. I’m trying to ease into this whole “magic” thing so that it doesn’t seem “Boom” here it is kinda like. Hope it’s working XD And of course, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading::grins::