I imagine that this fic takes place about 2 years after the end of season 7. Couples are canon except for Elliot being married to Sean. There is no slash. No main romances except for Turla and Selliot.
DISCLAIMER: Scrubs isn't mine. It's not mine. I don't own it. It's not mine. It's not mine.Not mine. Get it?
He forced himself out of bed, though he would have liked nothing better then to lie there until he died of dehydration, or starvation, or a combination of both.
Nothing really seemed to be worth it anymore. He didn't see any of his actions doing him any good in the long run. He felt like he was just wasting time and waiting for eventual death.
JD put 99 of his energy into his career. 99 of what he had left went into Sacred Heart. He had nothing else to put energy into. So he drowned himself in seminars and textbooks and extra college courses, just so he would have some way to pass the time.
It wasn't like he enjoyed his job anymore. For JD, being a doctor was like driving Sasha in a hailstorm with no place to take shelter. He was being relentlessly pelted with all kinds of junk, unable to protect himself.
He could see himself headed down a road toward an inevitable breakdown, that would most likely end in his driving Sasha off of a cliff and falling to his death.
It's not like he had anything specifically important that was keeping him on earth. He had no ties, nothing to do, nothing to look forward to and nobody to share his life with.
Kim had moved to Alaska. Sammy was with her.
Carla and Turk were trying to have another baby and they had absolutely no time to noticed the changes that their close friend was going through. Not to mention that Carla had Turk on a very short leash, and the best friends were not allowed to do anything together.
Elliot was a newlywed who was so obsessed with doing everything right in her marriage, that she rarely even talked to JD.
And Dr. Cox? Well...
He was just himself.
Though none of his friends or collegues saw the differences, JD could see the signs in himself. He looked forward to nothing. He slept as long as he possibly could. He was fatigued, filled with dread all the time. A constant cloud hung over him, and he always felt like he was drowning. A sob constantly sat in the back of his throat, threatening to burst out at anytime.
He was a doctor, not a psychiatrist, but he could still make the unfortunate diagnosis.
Clincal depression. A sad, yet very real illness in the world today. And he was one of the unlucky 3 of American men who suffered from major depression.
When he'd finally caught on, it didn't surprise him a bit. Depression ran in his family. His dad had suffered it. His mom tried to hide her's by jumping into bed with every man she met. Dan had it so bad at one point that he let it run his life. He used to lay in bed half of the day and tried to disappear into oblivion. The feelings eventually had faded, but they were never really gone.
JD knew that it wouldn't go away. He knew that anti-depressants could make it worse, and that they would probably do more bad than good in the long run.
So, he decided to wade it out on his own. Maybe if he put up a really good front, nobody would notice, and one day, he'd wake up feeling better.
And as much as his 4 years of college, 4 years of med school and 9 years as a doctor told him that his plan was dangerous and ridiculous, JD didn't care.
He wasn't going to get help. He needed to do things on his own time, not follow the advice of some shrink who probably had no clue of how he was feeling.
JD was going to take it step by step.
And that included his first task of the day.
It was time to get into the shower.
He dragged his feet on the way there and hoped that the water was extra hot today. The burning sting of scalding liquid usually took his mind off of the intense dread that constantly lingered in his stomach.
Once in the bathroom of his tiny apartment, he turned the knob and stripped his clothes off. In the mirror, JD examined his body. It wasthe first move in what had become a daily ritual for him. Take off clothes, stare at nude body, pick out every imperfection, cry a little bit, roll eyes, repeat.
He did that until the steam from the shower fogged up his mirror. With clenched teeth, JD stepped quickly in the tub.
The unbearable burn quickly transformed into a numbing sting. It was pleasantly distracting and JD actually found himself feeling calm for the first time in awhile. He was generally jittery and anxious, but something about the shower brought him peace.
He remained undereath the stream until the water became cold and much less soothing. Jumping out quickly to avoid the shock of ice water of his flushed skin, JD tripped on a puddle and fell to the ground.
The crack that he heard as his bottom hit the tile was less than reassuring. As the pain shot from his lower back to his neck, JD couldn't help but roll his eyes.
Getting injured while nude was just his kind of luck.
This idea started harassing me from the moment I wrote a song called Innocent Bystander. I'm really excited and I hope that people actually read this, cause I'm going to work really hard.