Guys... it's the final countdown! Um, I mean... chapter. It's the final chapter. Yeah. I really hope you've all enjoyed this story and that you brought tissues, 'cause this one's gonna get you! I have little else to say, aside from thanks to those who stuck with it from the very beginning and... wow, 72 reviews not including this chapter? That's just so great of you. I love you all. Enjoy! xxxNTxxx

A/N: Major POV switching, every time I change scene there's a new POV. It was just so I could get every main character in there. Also, hardly any dialogue, hope you don't mind. Thanks.

Chapter 23 – Three Years Later

Gabby Dorian was nine and a half years old when her daddy died.

She knew that her daddy had been very poorly and that sometimes he had to go to see a doctor to get some medicine but usually he would be okay after that. And then daddy was getting tired a lot, which made him angry a lot, but Gabby didn't mind. Most of the time he went straight to sleep after work and didn't talk very much, but Gabby still didn't mind. As long as her daddy got better, that was all she could hope for. Then one day daddy never woke up, and mommy was crying. She said that he looked so peaceful but his heart wasn't beating. Aunt Carla and Uncle Turk came round and then they started to cry, and Gabby didn't understand. All they had to do was take daddy to his doctor and get the medicine, right? They did take daddy to the hospital, but Gabby had to stay in the waiting room with Aunt Carla. She kept rubbing her arm and telling her everything would be okay. Gabby knew that, she didn't need to be told.

But Uncle Turk didn't look happy when he came back into the waiting room. Daddy had died and there was no medicine in the world that could save him now. That's when Gabby realised – maybe daddy wasn't going to come back after all. Maybe she'd never see his grumpy face ever again.

That's when Gabby cried.


Elliot Dorian tried to be strong. She had to be, because she had a daughter now, so she couldn't act like she had when JD had been in a coma. Oh God, she wished that he was just in a coma right now. Things would be so much simpler if her were – she would visit every day and then one day he'd wake up, simple. But this situation was far from that of course; JD hadn't woken up. The memory still haunted her, as she relived stretching in the bed and nudging her husband. He didn't moan under his breath like he always did, but assuming that it was just his heavy sleeping that was the cause, Elliot had got up and made breakfast for them all. He didn't get up then either.

She called his name and he ignored her, so she went back into the room and noticed how eerily still he was – no, wait, he wasn't breathing! Elliot had dived towards him, checked his pulse and heartbeat before collapsing into tears and dialling for Carla. Whilst she waited she tried CPR but nothing was helping. And then Gabby had wondered in because of the noise waking her up, so Elliot had to try to explain as best she could.

So now Elliot's eating habits were slowing yet again, but that didn't mean that she was feeding little to Gabby too; she gave her daughter the full amount needed, but always felt too sick to eat her own. This sickness was just grievance, she knew that, but there was no stopping it. If she took more than five bites, her stomach literally knotted and her projectile vomiting would start. Carla knew that this would happen and was at the ready with help and advice in form of leaflets and phone numbers, so Elliot tried to stay optimistic like this wouldn't carry on. But how the frick can anyone be too sure what the future would hold? They had all been sure that JD would beat this monster. And look how that had turned out.

Elliot sighed and tried to eat her spaghetti, hypocritically complaining to Gabby when she didn't eat all of hers. So this is what it would be like now.


Chris Turk felt a little surreal, if he was honest. Like none of this was actually happening, you know? To him, all of this could easily just be a dream. Izzy was old enough to understand what was happening and even she was taking it better than he was. Their baby had been born three years ago, a lovely little son just like Turk had wanted and so Johnny was now his name. Lately, that name bugged Turk. It was a constant reminder of his best friend, whom he missed so much sometimes that it physically hurt to get up in a morning. How could that be? It wasn't like they were married, or brothers. They were just friends. Best friends. A sacred bond between two guys that couldn't be destroyed. Until now. That's probably why it hurt so much.

So it hadn't really hit Turk as hard as everyone else – big deal! He'd be okay. Reality could wait for now, but being numb felt just great right now and that's how he'd like it to stay. It was rare that the little things annoyed him, but sometimes he wouldn't react to Carla the way she'd like due to the lack of feeling in his heart, which would inevitably make him sad, and then he would be feeling something. But that emotion wasn't the kind that most people liked.

He had loved JD but he needed to get over this. Carla tried to help him, offering advice here and there and telling him it would all be okay, but that wasn't working. He just needed time, right? Time is a good healer. It hadn't been that long since the phone call from Elliot... he just needed time. After all, if Elliot was allowed to work and yet he wasn't, then something definitely was up. Maybe it was the silence the befell him and anyone who came near him.

He wanted so much to wake up from this dream, even if the dream was reality. Who knew which was which? Without JD it all seemed to same to him. Time would fix this, he was sure.


Perry Cox was a hard drinker, ask anyone. But right now he couldn't find comfort in alcohol. It tasted sticky and acid-like in his throat, and the whiskey just burned. A part of him knew that JD had never liked beer or whiskey, and that he was probably just compensating for him not being around to say those girly things anymore, but that didn't help the alcohol go down. So Perry stopped drinking, there and then, choosing instead the more healthier route of just staring into space at any moment (or was that unhealthy? He could never tell). The stares were unplanned, unannounced and very, very long. He would be working, or watching TV, or simply just talking to his son and then it would happen. He would look off into the distance and see JD waving at him sheepishly, asking for one last hug.

And, boy, Perry would give him one. God, he missed that little idiot so much and he couldn't shake him from his head. That day when Barbie and Ghandi had come rushing into the hospital with an unconscious JD, Dr Cox had sighed and rolled his eyes, grabbed them a stretcher and even lectured them on wasting his time. It looked like a simple faint or loss of conscious had scared them a little bit, but then as they lumped JD's surprisingly cold body onto the bed, Elliot had explained his lack of heartbeat and pulse. This was what scared Perry.

He tried, he really did try, to save JD but he was already dead before they had even got in their car. They had been wheeling his corpse around the hospital unwittingly and now they were desperately trying to save his lifeless body. Even after it was pronounced, Dr Cox continued to initiate CPR, almost violently, so that the nurse had to pin his arms behind him and hold him back before he did any damage.

Perry closed his eyes at the painful memory and remembered how much he missed his whiskey. Jordan was laid beside him, stroking his arm comfortingly and watching the TV in silence. She knew not to disturb him at the moment. She knew, God bless her, that he would snap out of it one day. But seriously, the last two times he had almost had a breakdown, who was it that helped him?

Who was it who made him see that Ben's presence was just a memory?

Who was it who gave him a speech that brought him back from the brink of insanity after losing those three patients?

JD. That's who.

So who was going to get him out of this one? Perry sighed and rubbed his head, earning a glance from Jordan. He just nodded at her to tell her he was fine and she continued to watch the TV. He didn't want to bother her with his thoughts when she didn't deserve it. It would only end up like a hurricane, sweeping everything and everyone he loved into a frenzy of mindless destruction. He would be okay in time; without alcohol, the healing process may even come quicker than it would of done before. All he had to do was hope.


The Janitor hadn't wanted anyone to see his undeniable distress upon hearing the news of JD's untimely death. He had heard it from Lady, who had been called during the day, interrupting little Nadia's bottle feeding. She had heaved herself up from the wooden chair at the table in the kitchen, as yet again she was pregnant, and had almost fainted when she was told. The Janitor had known that something was wrong because when he came back from work, she had made him his favourite meal and was smiling disconcertingly. He had demanded to know what was wrong.

She broke the news quickly, like ripping off a band aid. This still did not sooth the pain that splintered through him at those very words. Weird, seem as though he'd spent eight years of his life trying to hurt the mousse-haired idiot. But the unbelieving agony made him think that perhaps he cared a little about JD deep down – after all, he had helped him wake up with his present, right? And JD would know that he cared a little before he died, yeah? It had to mean something, ain't that true? Aw, dang it, he really should have been nicer to JD. Now he just felt to guilty for words.

The only way that he could redeem his evils was to name his next child for him. But that stupid Black Surgeon and his Latina wife had already done that. So the Janitor would call his unborn son Michael. That way, whenever JD looked down from heaven (you know that goody-goody will end up there) he would see that the Janitor truly did care; at least, thinking that way made him feel better about himself.


Carla Espinosa-Turk felt the worst out of all of her friends. Bambi had meant a whole lot to her, from the day they had met and throughout all of their battles together. She had always felt so motherly towards him, but more than she did towards others. There was a weird yet natural gravitational pull that made her love him like he was a part of her family.

Yes, Carla felt like his death was too much to handle and yes, she felt like she could jump off a cliff any minute because she missed him so much. But no, she would not let the situation drag her down and no, she would not fall under the pressure. Everyone else needed her too much, and being the mother-hen that she was, it was her duty to make sure that everyone else got through this before herself.

She had given Elliot leaflets, Turk advice and comfort, babysat Gabby whenever it got too much and still looked after Izzy and Johnny all of the time. Sometimes she felt like no one wanted to take care of her, but it wasn't that at all – they were all grieving, and she was so strong that they didn't notice when she sneaked off to the toilets to cry. If just for one second Carla was to break down in front of the others, then hell would break loose and the world would fall apart. They needed the seams to be pulled by someone; it was just a shame that she didn't get a break every once in a while.

She would miss JD. But what kept her going was the look on his face if she was able to slap him and tell him off for running her off her feet. Poor Bambi.

Bye, John Dorian. See you on the other side.

Oh my God... that was so sad for me. I hope you lot didn't cry too much either. e-Tissue? I know I need one! Thanks for everything, final reviews please! There is some fan art available on my profile related to this fanfic, please check that out too! Thanks xxxNTxxx