So sorry for the long wait! I have this entire story planned out (in my head) but not written down. Plus exams and other things were eating up writing time. So here is the new chapter.

Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed and voted in the poll. Thanks to you guys it was a huge success and I now know exactly in which direction the story is headed. You can go check out the results in my profile page, but here is a summary in a nutshell:

The overwhelming majority voted that Kim should leave on her own. Many who PM-d me with this choice said they voted for this because it was a new idea as opposed to her getting killed/dying. A couple just don't like Kim at all and others said it would be more angsty for J.D. if she abandoned him (also, I sort of made sure of this because of what J.D. was going to do had she stayed, a clue for this action can be found in the first chapter). So, in response to a fair election, I have decided that Kim will leave on her own, as this chapter illustrates.

Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I own no Scrubs.


J.D. had no idea how long he'd stood there in the kitchen. It could have been seconds or minutes or hours as the numbness and shock wore off and he could once again hear his son crying, albeit softer, but still discomfortably close to his ear. J.D. put himself on autopilot, a dangerous yet useful trick he used to deal with painful situations, ever since he'd been a kid and up till now, when being the kind of doctor that he was just got to be too much.

Sam seemed to notice the change in his father. The hands changing his diaper were cold and systematic, the arms and chest supporting him as he drank from his bottle felt withdrawn and clumsy. And for all these things, Sam continued to cry.

I have no idea how long I've been sitting here with Sam, rocking him to try to get him to stop crying and go to sleep. The memory that catches me off guard plays inside my tired mind.

"Hey Kim, do you think I should get this? I mean our house isn't going to be this gigantic mansion with lots of space but hey, it would be nice for Sam's nursery."

Kim ran her hand over the smooth, polished wood.

"It wouldn't look half bad," she offered after a while.

J.D. smiled briefly at the memory. But then he couldn't help but wonder, had she been planning to leave all along? Had she, even at that point in time, secretly been scheduling her absence? The words of her note overwhelmed him then, crashing inside his head like powerful gale driven waves.

J.D.

J.D. ran a delicate finger over his son's face, aware that Sam was still awake yet had now become quiet.

I'm sorry it had to turn out like this. To end like this.

He shifted Sam a little and brought the small baby closer to himself.

I don't love you.

He brought the young face closer to his own until his cheek touched that of his son.

I don't think I ever will.

Until Sam could feel his father's hot tears mix with the ones he'd spilled moments before.

I wasn't really ready for this.

J.D. stood up.

I know you're not ready. I'm not sure you ever will be.

J.D walked to Sam's crib and took a deep, shuddering breath.

Do what's best for Sam.

J.D. tried to stop. He tried to steady himself and tried to be strong for his son.

Kim.

J.D. couldn't. Another sob tore through his throat. He stood like that for a while, crying, letting it out. He tried to imagine that all his worries; his problems were being washed away with his tears. That once he finished this moment of self-pity, his energy would come back and he'd be able to plan everything out. That his life would go back to what it was before and that he would walk into work tomorrow with a smile on his face. But when the tears wouldn't stop J.D. was left with a feeling of emptiness, a void in his self. Fountains of energy didn't bubble and spill over out of nowhere. A weary exhaustion took him over and hung from his shoulders, clouding his mind and hope. Everything back then, even raising a child, seemed easier because there had been a "we". There had been two people to raise a baby, two people to pay the bills, two people to tackle any obstacle. Two people who could lean on and depend on each other, the way he'd seen in Turk and Carla and even in Jordan and Dr. Cox.

But "we" was gone. From now own, there would only ever be an "I".

An "I fed Sam and changed his diaper."

An "I took Sam to school and helped him with his homework."

An "I paid all the bills."

Before, Kim was there to take care of Sam while J.D. went to work. Before, Kim had received maternity leave payments from the hospital she'd worked at, and helped to pay for the construction fees of the house. Before, both parents could balance things out.

How am I going to do this all on my own? How can I raise a child and still go to work? How can I even be a good father?

And then, just as J.D. was drowning and sinking fast, Sam's little hand wrapped around his father's fingers in a centuries old gesture of comfort and affection. J.D. felt this and brought the bundled baby close to himself, arms strengthened by love and fiercely protecting that which would become the young doctor's strongest objective for existence.

J.D. kissed his son's hand and made him a promise.


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