Hey everyone! I finally have time to get around to writing this. This fic is a oneshot and also the fourth story in my Dead Like Me/ Scrubs crossover series, taking place after "Shadows of the Grave"

(If you haven't read any of those, this one won't make much sense. For those who want to know the order of the previous fics, it goes "My Deadly Little Secret", "My So-Called Afterlife", "Shadows of the Grave", and then this one.)

There are some significantly important parts in here, but I mostly just wrote this oneshot for funsies. Cameos by George and Mason from Dead Like Me. Enjoy!

Lawyers: Our client does not own Scrubs or Dead Like Me, nor is she gaining any profit by writing this story. Don't sue her.



His Freefall

Hundreds of headstones cast their shadows across the evenly cut grass as the sun set over the spacious cemetery. The last few visitors hopped in their cars and went home for the night, or so the guard thought as he did a quick visual scan of the large cemetery before locking up the front gates and heading off to the small building where he would spend the rest of his shift 'guarding' the cemetery from trespassers.

Security was poor at Greater Hills Cemetery, but the man known as Steve Harris wasn't complaining. From his spot behind a thick tree trunk, he watched and waited until the guard was out of sight. When the coast was clear, he left his hiding spot and strode across the cemetery, passing by many headstones.

Steve Harris, as he was known by to the press, the United States Homeland Security Council, and his recently divorced ex-wife, had miraculously woken up from a coma just a few months back and with a new accent to boot, Australian to be exact. Foreign accent syndrome, while uncommon, was not unheard of, but what the world didn't know was that Steve Harris had been misdiagnosed and was discharged from Sacred Heart Hospital in a condition that's inconceivable to all but two reapers in the plague division.

According to the press, Steve Harris and his wife divorced due to 'irreconcilable differences.' What the previous Mrs. Harris wasn't telling the press was that ever since Steve woke up from his coma, he had drastically changed. He had a whole new personality; his attitude and even his goals in life seemed to have changed. It was as if he was an entirely different person, someone who wasn't the Steve she fell in love with.

Mrs. Harris couldn't have been more right.

Feeling right at home in the brain-dead body of Mr. Harris, Cade Davies confidently made his way toward the center of the cemetery, passing by many curious gravelings that could somehow sense something different about him, something familiar. Having nothing better to do besides vandalize the headstones they were perched on, the gravelings decided to follow Cade. Seeing the little beasts following him out of the corner of his eye, Cade's lips quirked up into a smile.

He came to a stop deep in the cemetery, satisfied by the attention he had gained, and much to the gravelings' shock, he turned to face them. They could tell he wasn't a reaper, and yet he could see them clear as day; even better than a reaper could see them. Such a feat was nearly impossible for a human. This new vulnerability made them wary, but their curiosity made them stay.

"My friends," he said. "Do not fear me, for we are more alike than you realize. You sense it, I can tell. I was once like you, what they call a graveling; hiding in the shadows, forgotten, and seeking my revenge on the grim reaper who wronged me. I thought I'd be stuck like that forever, but then an old friend showed me the way." he paused to smile in remembrance.

"I have a proposition for you all," he continued. "We enforce the rules, do we not? I've been watching and I have seen you punish reapers who step out of line, ones who break the rules. However, continuing like we are will get us nowhere. Grim reapers don't fear us, they look down on us, and they will continue to break the rules that were so carefully set in place. What do they have to fear, after all, besides the annoyance of a few falling objects?"

He had their attention, and from the looks of it, even more gravelings came to hear what he had to say.

"We need to make them fear us again, make them not dare to ever break another rule again. No longer will we remain in the shadows. They're beneath us! They should be the ones hiding in the shadows! I know of a way to bring this fear back. As you can see, I've gained myself a second form and I achieved this by possessing the body of a feebleminded human. You can do the same thing. Join me and together we can bring the reapers down!"

They stared at him in silence, as if deciding whether he was brilliant or crazy. A few scattered grunts and growls passed among them. Coming to a decision, they turned and left.

But five of them stayed, watching Cade with a look of interest and respect.

It wasn't many, but it was enough, and there were plenty of other cemeteries he could visit if he needed more comrades.

"I propose a pact..."



Perry's POV

The kid and I only had one reap each to deal with today. You'd think something like that would be simple, right? We'd each go to our respective reap's house, send them into the afterlife and then have the rest of the day off. Nice and easy, or so I first thought. Apparently a break from the job was too much to ask for if the two plane tickets Barbara sent us were anything to go by. Granted, the destination was Hawaii, but the five to six hour flight between here and there was less than desirable and I highly doubt we'll be able to stick around and enjoy the islands afterwards.

I stood in a long line of people, waiting to show someone who looked like a flight attendant my ticket so that I could board the plane that was supposed to be taking off around one in the afternoon. I looked down at my watch for the forth time in the last half-hour. It was 12:45 and Newbie still hadn't come yet. He had called a little while back, saying that he was running late but that he'd be here soon. If he didn't hurry up, he'd miss both the plane and his reap.

By the time the line had dwindled down to the last few people, Newbie came racing over with his ticket in hand, huffing and puffing the whole way.

"Took you long enough," I said.

"Sorry," he panted. "Had to convince Kelso... to let me have time off. 'Family emergency' I told them."

He paused for an extra minute, hunched over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"You can rest on the plane," I said. "If we don't hurry up, we'll miss the flight."

He nodded before standing up straight and following me over to the flight attendant. We were the only ones left that hadn't boarded the plane yet and the flight attendant looked quite annoyed that we kept her waiting.

Before I could even hand my ticket over though, the kid said in a shocked voice, "George?"

Startled, her gaze snapped up from looking at her watch and she must not have been paying us too much attention before because when she saw Newbie, a smile spread across her face and she said in a surprised, but happy tone, "JD, what are you doing here?"

"I'm on a job," he said, holding up his post-it, much to my surprise, before stuffing it back into his pocket. Giving 'George' a quick once-over, he asked with a raised eyebrow, "Why are you dressed up like a stewardess?"

"I prefer the term 'flight attendant' and it was Rube's idea," she said, looking annoyed. "He said it'd be easier because I could read everyone's ticket and find out their name."

I vaguely wondered if it was the same Rube I met back at the New Year's Party.

"Is anyone else here?" Newbie asked.

"Just Mason," she said before turning her gaze on me and asking, "Who's your friend?"

"George, this is Perry, he's part of my division. George is in the external influence division, Perry, I met her a while back at one of the New Year's Parties," Newbie said, introducing us.

Shaking her hand, I asked, "'George'?"

"Short for Georgia," she said.

She reminded me of Elliot, or a younger Elliot, mostly because of the male name and her long blonde hair. Of course, having only known her for a minute, I couldn't really judge what her personality was like.

"Perry, go on ahead of me, I'll catch up in a minute," he said, waving me away.

I rolled my eyes but boarded the plane nonetheless. If Newbie gets too distracted catching up with his friend and misses the flight, then so be it. It's not my job to baby-sit him after all. As I walked among the narrow aisles as if looking for my seat, I glanced down at my post-it. The person's name was F. R. Swenski and he or she wasn't going to die for another two hours, but I wanted to get it out of the way as soon as I could so that I could just relax for the rest of the flight.

As I moved between the aisles, carefully scanning each person for some form of identification, I could help but notice a man who looked to be in his thirties passing out small bags of peanuts to certain passengers while claiming that they won some sort of random seat raffle.

Holding a small piece of yellow paper in his hand, he spoke with a British accent and would say, "And our next winner is..."

When each person claimed their prize, the man's hand would linger on their own before he pulled away and called out another name. Although I wasn't close enough to see the ethereal glow that accompanies a reap, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that this the 'Mason' George spoke of outside.

'Clever' I thought as I watched him call out another name.

From what I saw, he handed peanuts out to a total of five people, but before I could think anymore on the matter, a man standing to my side cleared his throat and said, "Excuse me, sir."

Looking over at the man who was trying to squeeze past me in the narrow aisle, my gaze drifted down to the small name tag clipped on his shirt that said, 'Francis Swenski.' I stepped to one side of the aisle and patted him on the shoulder as he walked past me and towards the cockpit, releasing his soul for when it was ready to go in two hours.

'That was easy,' I thought, and as I watched the man leave, I wondered why someone who was so sick with the plague would even bother coming into work. His symptoms must not be too strong if he was still up and walking around. Poor bastard probably doesn't even realize he has the plague.

"Perry!" Newbie called as he quickly made he way over to me. Looking unnerved, he asked, "Did you get your reap because we have to be off this plane in three minutes."

"What? Why?" I asked, and yet, remembering all of the reaps Mason had, part of me already knew why.

Lowering his voice so that only I could hear him, he said, "George and Mason have a total of fifteen reaps between them. So, logically, that means that the plane's going to crash and I don't know about you, but I don't want to be on it when it does."

"I got my reap, but what about you?" I asked.

"George is helping me find mine," he said.

It was at that moment that George walked over to us and said in a hushed voice, "There are no passengers by the name of M. M. Drakeson."

"It must be a worker then," I said, remembering my reap's name tag. Turning to George, I asked, "Don't you know your co-worker's names?"

"This isn't actually my job," she said. "Rube just pulled some strings and I'm filling in for someone."

Over the intercom a cheerful female voice announced that the plane was about to take off and that everyone was to please be seated. At the front of the plane, another flight attendant was finishing up her little spiel on where all the emergency exits are and what people should do in case of an emergency.

"You know guys," Newbie said, it seemed that the gravity of the situation was sinking in. "There's no need for all of us to be stuck on this plane. You finished your jobs, you should get off now while you still can."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I said in exasperation, "Don't be such a martyr, Josie, I'm not leaving you here to go down alone."

"But I'll be fine," he reminded me, frowning.

"Yeah, and so will I," I pointed out.

Before the kid could protest any further, the British man from before who had been handing out peanuts walked over to us and said, "Couldn't find Drakeson, Joey, sorry. You should probably get off the plane now, Georgie, before it takes off. I think I'm going to stay behind though and ride this flight out to the end."

"You want to stay on the plane?" she asked suspiciously. "Why?"

"Oh, uh, I'm just so loyal to Joey and I want to stay behind with him," he said unconvincingly as he threw an arm over Newbie's shoulders. Changing the subject, he looked over at me and asked, "Who's the bloke?"

"Perry, he's in my division," Newbie said as he slid out from under Mason's arm and took a step back.

Over the intercom, the female voice said once again that everyone was to please be seated.

"Moment of truth, kid, are you staying behind or going with us?" I asked, turning my attention to George.

"Oh sure, no pressure there," she said, crossing her arms with a huff. "Dammit," she grumbled than threw her arms up in the air, "Fine, I'll go with you guys. Now get into your seats and buckle up like good little passengers or no pillows for any of you." Turning on her heal, she stalked away into one of the small back rooms.

The three of us took our respective seats. Mason was sitting an aisle down and Newbie had a seat next to me. We buckled ourselves in as the small seatbelt sign directed and sat back as the plane began take-off. Newbie's reap didn't happen for close to another four hours, so logically speaking, we didn't have much to worry about in the meantime.

As the plane rattled slightly and the pressure changed around me the higher we went, a part of me wondered why I agreed to stick around on the plane with the kid. It wasn't like he could die or anything and yet here I was, sitting in the seat next to him making sure he didn't get in over his head. I knew though that if I had decided to stay behind at the airport, not only would I feel rotten, I also wouldn't be able to relax until he contacted me somehow to tell me he escaped unscathed as I already knew he would. Then again, for all I knew, another freak of nature could happen like when he got sick a month or so back.

Next to me, Newbie turned on the small TV screen that was built into the back of the seat in front of him and clicked onto an option that showed you how much further the plane had to go before it reached its destination. Since we had a ways to go, I closed my eyes and leaned back against my to try and see if I could get a little shut-eye.

"Wake me if we get close to the time," I told the kid and he nodded silently.

I must have managed to drift off because about an hour had passed before I was woken up by the intercom.

"Attention passengers, this is your Captain, Drakeson, speaking..."

My eyes flew open when I heard the name. Newbie and I exchanged a glance when the male voice on the intercom paused to cough before continuing with his announcement.

"We will be flying into a small storm soon. We may experience some minor turbulence, but there's no cause for concern. Enjoy the flight and thank you for flying Aero California."

"It's the Captain," Newbie finally said after a long moment of silence.

"That explains things," I muttered.

Sighing, Newbie hunched over and buried his face in his hands, and I didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking.

"Stop that train of thought right now, Pricilla," I told him firmly as I leaned closer to him and spoke quietly. "I know you sometimes can't fight that emo, guilty hero complex you have going on, but you just can't save them all and there's no way that this is your fault unless, of course, you were the one who went into those factories and infected all of those antibacterial bottles with the plague virus, in which case I would have to say that you're more of an evil genius than a doctor... with a guilty hero complex. The point, Newbie, is that you didn't give that man the plague and you also can't be held responsible for that man stupidly putting his passengers in danger by coming into work sick."

"I know," he groaned.

"Well, you know who he is," I said, sitting up straight. "Aren't you going to go take care of him?"

"I... not yet," he said, sitting back up. He turned his attention back to the flight path screen that showed us we were currently flying over the ocean. "Later. We still have a few hours."



Third Person POV

Francis Swenski was not feeling good at all. He had already been feeling bad when he came into work that day, but he had fallen behind on the amount of hours he had worked that month and he couldn't afford to take the day off. He just needed to get through one trip to Hawaii and then he could rest before the flight back.

"Would you stop coughing Swenski, you're going to make me worse," Captain Drakeson said from beside him.

"Sorry, sir," Francis said, clearing his throat to try and soothe his need to cough. Wiping the sweat off of his forehead, he put all his focus into monitoring the different flight instruments. However, it wasn't long before the coughing came back full force. "Permission to use the bathroom, sir?" he asked in-between coughing.

"This isn't the army, Swenski. Relax a bit, will ya?" Drakeson said. "Go ahead, I can handle things in here for now, but make it quick. I can't go too far without my co-pilot, now can I?"

Nodding, Francis got up from his seat and hurried off to the bathroom. Flipping the lock in the small stall to 'occupied,' he hunched over the small sink, coughing.

'I'm okay,' he kept telling himself. 'It's just a cold.'

The coughing didn't let up though and he found himself sinking to the ground. His chest felt tight and heavy, and he just couldn't seem to get enough air in. Soon his coughing turned to wheezing gasps and the world around him faded. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head and it was on the second hour into the flight that Francis Swenski died of respiratory failure.



Perry's POV

I saw my reap go racing off to where the bathrooms were and not too long after that, I saw him go wandering back to where he came from with a mildly dazed look on his face. Shrugging it off, I turned my attention to two flight attendants who were trying and failing at getting the in-flight movie to play. I didn't know what movie they had planned, but watching them struggle with the equipment and try to figure out what was wrong was much more entertaining than any movie they could be playing.

All around me I could hear people's scattered complaints about the lack on an in-flight movie. A child's crying soon accompanied the complaints and usually something like that would piss me off to no end, but dammit, there were children on this plane, a plane that would never reach its destination.

Looking over at Newbie who was still staring at the small screen that displayed the plane's flight path, I asked him, "Do you have any Valium?"

"What?" he asked, coming out of his stupor.

"You know, Valium. Chill pills, anything of the sort?" I asked him.

He blinked and then shifted to the side so that he could reach into his pocket.

"I figured you might want something like this for the flight, so I grabbed some from the hospital before I left," he explained as he pulled out a small prescription bottle with several pills in it. "You don't seem like a good flyer."

"It's not me, it's everyone else that's the problem," I insisted as I snatched the bottled out of his hand.

Stupid child-safety caps.

Just as I managed to get the bottle open, the plane lurched in the air. Several people let out startled shrieks and my heart switched places with my stomach which tried to escape my mouth before the plane leveled off. We were seated in the central aisle, but from my vantage point I could see that it was dark and stormy outside the small plane windows. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. For a second there-

"I thought that was it," Newbie said quietly, following my train of thought. "And then I thought of Drakeson and how he would be trapped in his body at the bottom of the ocean forever."

"You still have time," I reminded him.

The kid's eyes darted back down to the flight path monitor and I looked over too. We were still over the ocean and about halfway to our destination.

Apparently I wasn't the only one whose stomach didn't appreciate the sudden lurch for several people got up from their seats and raced to the bathrooms. Mason was among them and somehow I wasn't surprised to see the British reaper pushing people out of the way to get there first. After all, he did just con people into giving him their names so that he could collect their souls.

Remembering the Valium, I tipped the bottle over into my hand only to find that it was empty. The pills must have fallen out when the plane lurched. Growling in frustration, I stood up and pushed past the kid, telling him that I need to get up and walk around for a bit.

Walking down the narrow aisles, I bypassed the bathroom stalls. Apparently there were only two stalls, both were occupied, and there was a line of people waiting to use them.

"Other people need to go!" Mason shouted to the stalls as I passed. His face was pale and his hand was wrapped around his stomach.

Part of me wondered how it was even possible for him to be sick with our metabolism being as strong as it is. Deciding it wasn't worth my time to tell him to man-up, I moved on into the back rooms where I last saw George go. When I found her, she was in a curtained-off area that served as the plane's supply closet (pillows, blankets and other things of the sort), and she was downing bottle after tiny little bottle of whatever alcohol the plane had in stock.

"I don't usually drink," she said, glancing over at me. "There's too much effort in getting enough of it and it tastes bad. We're going down though, so what the hell, right? I'd like to dull the senses as much as possible before we're torn apart."

She made a very good point.

"Give me some of those," I said and she passed several of the small bottles over to me.

The two of us stood in that small storage area for who knows how long. Gritting out teeth past the taste, we drank bottle after bottle and went through several boxes full of the plane's drink supplies, trying to beat our metabolism. We managed to achieve just enough of a buzz that couldn't even manage to look sheepish when another flight attendant pulled back the curtain and pretty much caught us stealing airline property.

"What are you doing?" she snapped, looking flustered.

"What does it look like?" I asked as I unscrewed the top off another little bottle.

"You can't drink all of those," she said, looking surprised that we were still standing after drinking as much as we did if the empty bottles were anything to go by. "That's Aero California airline property and they're for the passengers."

"He's a passenger," George said, pointing at me.

The plane shook again, knocking over bottles, and we had to lean against the wall to keep from falling over. When the plane finally steadied, George said, "Hey, we should make that a drinking game. Every time the plane shakes, we take a drink."

"We're just experiencing a little turbulence," the flight attendant attempted to assure us while stressfully running a hand through her hair. "Look, I can't deal with this right now. I need to find the co-pilot. Millie, have you seen Francis Swenski anywhere?"

'Millie'? Huh, must be her alias for the living.

"Nope, haven't seen him," George said, shaking her head.

Sighing in frustration, the flight attendant said, "Keep an eye out for him then, the Captain needs him."

The flight attendant left and it wasn't a moment later before Mason came racing unsteadily down the hall, looking even more sick than the last time I saw him. Catching sight of George, he stumbled into the storage area with us and pulled the curtain closed behind himself before grabbing a nearby waste basket and throwing up in it.

"Gross! Do you have to do that in here?" George snapped.

"Your concern is overwhelming, Georgie," Mason finally managed to drag out once he finished vomiting.

It must have been some sort of morbid curiosity, almost like stopping to gawk at a bloody car wreck, but both George and I couldn't help but glance into the waste basket. Being a doctor, I have a lot of experience dealing with vomit and I've seen all sorts of colors and textures, but I've never seen anything quite like this. Sitting among the different stomach fluids in the waste basket were several small balloon-like object that were filled with an unknown substance.

"You're transporting drugs again?" George asked incredulously. "I can't believe you! You think you would have learned something after the last time."

"I did, I learned to transport them in my stomach rather than my bottom" Mason said indignantly.

Although I've only known him for a few hours, I've already pegged Mason as a bit of a moron. A clever moron at times, but still a moron. Without the risk of death, it's understandable that being a drug mule would seem like a quick way to get money, but why put yourself through that? You'd still feel it if one of the little bags of drugs broke inside your stomach.

"You're a moron," I said, feeling the need to tell him this.

"Do you have any toothpaste back here?" Mason asked, ignoring my comment.

"You're going to re-swallow those?" George asked, her face scrunched up in disgust.

"Buddy, we're going down. I really don't think getting those things to Hawaii should be your main concern when this plane's about to get torn apart," I said, and as if to emphasize my point, the plane shook again.

When the plane steadied itself and we all regained our balance, Mason looked from the drugs up to George and I before finally saying, "Good point."

Grabbing one of the little balloons out of the waste basket, Mason broke it open on top of a stack of boxes and, making a thick line of the drug, he snorted about half of it.

"You're disgusting. That just came out of your stomach," George said.

"They were in a bag!" Mason said defensively, sniffing as if his allergies were acting up. "Besides, booze can't hold a candle to this stuff. Good luck getting the numb high I'm feeling with those Barbie bottles."

The curtain to our little storage area was pulled back again and we all froze. It was one thing to be caught drinking, but to be caught with drugs? I don't think a flight attendant would look the other way on something like that.

"So this is where you've all been hiding," Newbie said and we all relaxed.

"Ah, here's someone who gets me," Mason said as he threw an arm over Newbie's shoulder and led him into our little gathering place, as if it wasn't crowded enough in here. "Joey, would you like a hit?"

Suddenly Newbie looked very nervous, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a stern stare that seemed to ask, 'Is there something you'd like to tell me?' Granted, there was really no reason for me to be getting angry and annoyed like this. Newbie was a grown man who had about a hundred years over me and it wasn't like the drugs would have any lasting effects or anything. Still, it wasn't like I could just turn off that damn paternal switch inside of me that stated: drugs are bad and Newbie's still that nervous intern with potential and his whole future ahead of him.

"No, I'll pass," Newbie said with a nervous laugh, his eyes briefly darting over to me. "I have a strict policy against trying something that comes out of your body, Mason."

"It was in a bag," Mason felt the need to repeat.

Newbie pulled his post-it out of his pocket and, fiddling with the small yellow piece of paper, he said, "I just came to tell you all that you should probably get back to your seats because my guy's time is almost up."

Clapping his hands together once, Mason said, "The moment of truth." before leaving the storage area and going back to his seat.

"George, I need to borrow your flight attendant badge and a drink to bring the Captain," Newbie said.

Nodding, George handed the kid what he needed and as Newbie went to go take care of the Captain's soul, George and I buckled ourselves in to our seats to wait for the inevitable. Up ahead, the flight attendants finally got the movie started. 'Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' is what they said it was. To make up for the delay, the volume was turned on for everyone.

I've never seen the movie before, but for some reason, a bunch of dolphins started singing and dancing and all I could think was, 'Great, this is the last thing we're going to see before we go crashing into the Pacific Ocean.'

Looking down at the flight path that was still displayed on Newbie's screen, I could see that we were close to the islands, but not close enough. The plane seemed to rattle and shake more than usual, but everyone distracted themselves from it by watching the dolphins.

It wasn't long before Newbie came walking away from the direction of the cockpit as quickly as he could without looking suspicious. Dropping down into the seat next to me, he buckled himself in and stared straight ahead at the movie playing on the big screen, but I could tell he wasn't really watching it.

"It's done," was all he said.

"If I had just one last wish, I would like a tasty fish," one of the dolphins sang.

"It's the flight from hell, Ginger," I said.

The plane continued to shake, its shudders growing stronger by the minute. It wasn't long before the red seatbelt sign came on telling us all to buckle in.

"What's the ETD?" I asked as turbulence continued to get worse.

"Five-fifteen," he said.

I looked down at my watch to see that it was already five-ten. One of the flight attendants speed-walked down one of the aisles, looking to be in a bit of a panic. They were probably still looking for the copilot.

As the last few minutes ticked down and my heart sank down into my stomach, I couldn't help but feel like I was on a roller coaster. Waiting in line for hours thinking it was a good idea, that I might have fun. When I finally get on the thing and it begins its slow ascent, at first there's excitement, but the higher it gets the more wary I become until finally it's at the top of the arch and I realize that 'Wait a minute, I hate roller coasters! Why the hell am I on this ride?', but it's too late because they can't turn the ride back now.

Five-fifteen glared up at me from my watch and the shaking plane suddenly lurched in the air, as if struggling to keep flying. Another flight attendant, who could probably tell that that wasn't normal turbulence, went running down the aisle toward the cockpit. Before she could make it there though, the plane lurched violently again and the flight attendant went crashing to the ground. She cracked her head against someone's seat and was out cold.

Mason chose that moment to yell, "We're all gonna die!" probably for humor's sake though because he was laughing.


The plane lurched one last time before it did a nose dive. People were screaming or crying as we dropped hundreds of feet toward the ocean. Objects that hadn't been strapped down in some way were flying around the plane and that goddamn movie with the dolphins was still playing. The kid and I reached for the life jackets that were under our seats and struggled to get them on as quickly as we could.

Once we had the life jackets on, we sat with our heads down against our legs. Newbie's hand suddenly latched around mine and usually I would go on a big rant on how much of a girl he was, but I let it slide. Now just wasn't the time.

"So long, so long, and thanks for all the fish!"

We crashed into the ocean and as expected, the plane was torn to pieces around us and water exploded in, flooding everything in mere seconds. I couldn't see anything through the dark water. My seatbelt came undone and the current was so strong from the storm. Newbie's hand was torn from mine and I was pulled away by the current, going... somewhere..

I couldn't hold my breath any longer...

I blacked out...



...I hate the following: Hugh Jackman, Christmas, the plague, losing patients, Dane Cook, this whole reaper thing, can't forget Kelso, religion, and finally I would have to say that dolphins have been added to that list.

Not a big fan of plane rides either at the moment.

My chest felt heavy. Hell, my whole body felt heavy. There was a sudden pressure on my chest, almost like a pounding movement, and then something cold was shifting around inside of me, moving its way up my throat. Coughing harshly, I forced the ocean water out of my lungs. Someone rolled me to the side so that it would be easier for me to cough up the water onto the... sandy beach?

I quickly became more aware of my surroundings. I was soaking wet and lying on dry sand. I slowly opened my eyes to see a clear dark sky. I didn't know how much time had passed since the plane went down, but it looked like the storm cleared up. Suddenly someone was leaning over me, but I couldn't quite make out who it was in the dark.

"Are you okay?"

Newbie. Looks like we washed up at the same place.

"Fine," I grunted while sitting up and looking around. As my eyes adjusted, I could see that we were in fact on a beach and that apparently we weren't the only ones who washed up on shore. Not too far away I could see Mason hunched over on the ground, whining about something, with George sitting next to him half-heartedly patting him on the shoulder.

"Looks like we all got caught in the same current," Newbie commented, plopping down on the ground next to me.

"It's gone, it's all gone!" I could faintly hear Mason whine.

"What's wrong with druggie over there?" I asked

"I think a piece of the plane tore into his stomach and emptied out the rest of the drugs," Josie said with a shrug.

Rolling my eyes, I turned my attention back to the beach. It was nice and big, but there didn't seem to be any signs of human activity on it aside from us.

"Know where we are?" I asked, looking over at Newbie.

I froze and had to blink twice to make sure I was seeing things right.

"One of the Hawaiian islands, I assume. We should probably wait until morning before we go looking for civilization," Newbie said. Noticing me staring, he quirked an eyebrow and asked, "What?"

"Jenny, does your head hurt at all?" I asked carefully, eyeing the piece of metal sticking out of the back of his head.

He frowned, "Now that you mention it, I do have a bit of a headache."

I can only imagine.

"Why?" he asked.

"Newbie, go like this," I said, scratching the back of my own head.

"What?" he asked, confused, but still followed my lead. When his fingers brushed against the metal shard, he yelped and swore loudly. Still whining, he tentatively touched the metal shard, asking, "What- what is it? Get it out! Get it out!"

Sighing, I shuffled around behind him and, putting one hand on his shoulder to keep him from squirming, I said, "Hold still, alright? We don't want to make it worse."

"Quick like a Band-Aid," he pleaded quietly, his shoulder's tense and his fingers digging into the sand.

"On the count of three," I warned him with my free hand raised up, hovering over the metal shard. "One... two... three!"

Quickly wrapping my fingers around the shard, I tore it clean from his head. His scream could probably be heard throughout the whole island. Sleeping birds scattered from the nearby trees.

"Fuck," he whispered with the last of his breath before falling over in a dead-faint.

Noticing George and Mason looking over at us, I called over reassuringly, "He's fine. Just give him a few minutes."

It was a huge piece of metal. He probably couldn't feel it because it dulled most of his brain functions, but then what else is new?

Tossing the metal shard to the side, the doctor in me took over and I moved to check on the kid's head. Everything appeared to be healing up as it should be. Skin and bone healed and fused back together. His hair grew back afterwards.

'I'll never quite get used to that.'

Although he was all back together again, the kid didn't look like he was going to be waking up anytime soon, so I dragged him above the tide line and let him sleep it off for the rest of the night. George and Mason joined us soon after and we all just hung out on the beach for the rest of the night. All four of us woke up to the sun rising the next morning and immediately headed out to find civilization.

"How's the head?" I asked Newbie.

He shuddered at the memory of the pain.

It didn't take us too long to find civilization. The first thing we came across was what looked to be a popular tourist spot with lots of little shops on both sides of the road. We attracted quite a few stares from the locals which was understandable considering it looked like we escaped from hell. Our clothes were torn, soggy and dirty, and we all looked like we could use a shower.

Stopping at the first hotel we came across, I rang the bell at the front desk and said, "Two rooms with two beds in each please."

The man at the front desk looked to be holding back a sneer at our appearance but typed us into his computer and handed us the keys anyway.

Barbara can handle the cost. Besides, I think we deserve a minivacation.



Third Person POV

While Perry and JD were away at Hawaii due to a 'family emergency,' an emergency they would return from by boat rather than by plane, back at Sacred Heart Hospital a rather disgruntled lawyer sat in his office with the door shut and locked.

Staring at his laptop that sat open on his desk before him, he popped open the CD/DVD disk drive and carefully placed what looked to be a blank disk inside. Closing the disk drive, he waited for a media player window to open up. When the window opened up, he clicked 'play.'

A scene of the hospital's Men's locker room came life on the computer screen. For a while, nothing happened, but then a familiar someone walked onto the screen. Sacred Heart's own Dr. John Dorian walked over to his locker and entered in his locker combination. Pulling the lock down, he opened his locker door, and as soon as he did, a gun went off.

A spray of blood hit the lockers behind him as the gun blew a hole into the side of Dr. Dorian's head. His cry of pain was muted on the laptop, and he fell against the lockers behind him, sinking to the floor. As Dr. Dorian sat limply against the lockers, at first it seemed that this was a horrific act of murder, but then something amazing happened.

The bloody wound on his head healed, as if by magic, until it looked as if nothing had even happened. Dr. Dorian got to his feet, perfectly fine, and wiped off the excess blood with a pair of scrubs, showing to all who might be watching that the wound was in fact one hundred percent gone.

Jack Castello paused the video footage and just sat there for a moment, reveling in his own private victory. A smile spread across his face as he clicked 'rewind' and then clicked 'play' again.

John Dorian opened his locker, and as soon as he did, a gun went off. He fell back against the lockers, bleeding profusely, and yet it wasn't fatal.

Pause. Rewind. Play.

Something amazing happened. The wound healed, as if by magic.

Pause. Rewind. Play.

He got to his feet, perfectly fine.

Pause. Rewind. Play.

Wiping off the excess blood with a pair of scrubs, he showed all who might be watching that the wound was one hundred. Percent. Gone.


That's all for His Freefall, folks! Yay! All that's left now is one last multichapter fic called... wait for it... 'Don't Fear the Reaper.'

Sweet, right? I'm sure you can all guess what direction that story will be going in.

Review please!