// SAVING FACE //

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm not a doctor, but I tried to research the medical terminology online. Still, everything won't be perfect, so sorry in advance! J.D.'s point of view this time, the other side of the coin... enjoy!

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Chapter I: My Daily Schedule

J.D.'s POV

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Things at the hospital never really change much. I learned that during my first week. The patients change, obviously; you're always dealing with something and someone new every day, 'cept for those ones that hang around for a while. But the atmosphere in the hospital in general, the people you work with, the dreary day to day tasks, they stay the same. Even when something does change and it's all fresh and fun and new, it just becomes monotonous and repetitive after a while.

My daily schedule's always pretty much the same. I drag myself outta bed at five-thirty, shower, shave, brush my teeth and deodorize. This gets me to about six 'o'clock, and I spend the next twenty minutes pulling on my scrubs and aiding my hair in its daily mission to defy gravity.

If I'm having a lucky day, Turk's up by this time and he'll already have started breakfast. If I can smell toast while I'm slicking wax through my hair, I know I'm kinda on my own in the food department. Let's just say this is a day Turk hasn't slept in, is in a pretty good mood 'cuz he's getting in on some super-intense procedure, and wants to kick-start his awesome day by making pancakes. His timing's pretty slick too, so as I'm coming out of my room there'll already be a plate waiting on the counter for me.

Goddamn it, I love living with Turk. He's totally the King of Pancakes. 'Cuz, see, he puts this special ingredient in which I'm totally forbidden to tell you, but yeah, you have to try 'em to believe 'em!

Anyway, back to my daily schedule. I'll usually sit and eat with Turk, which means I'm running the risk of being a few minutes late for my shift, but... it's kinda stopped being such a bad thing. Like, y'know, it's a bad thing, but it's not at the same time. I can't really explain it.

I end up leaving the apartment at about quarter to seven, giving me just fifteen minutes to get to work. I guess I'm pretty lucky I don't have to deal with public transport every day like some of the other interns at the hospital. Travelling by bike is slower, but totally worth it.

By seven I'm at work, and by five minutes past I'm on the floor, full of pancakes and coffee and ready to start my day.

I only get a few minutes to catch up on things before rounds. I don't like to brag, but I'm Doctor Kelso's favorite intern, so rounds are easy for me. It's always me and Elliot duking it out but I'm still the best, even if she does stay up until three in the morning studying. So, I walk away from rounds with a big smile on my face, feeling good and ready to face the day!

The rest of my daily schedule is pretty choppy. I know the things that are gonna happen, I just never know which order they'll pop up in. I know that, before I head home that night, I'll take someone's temperature, sign about a billion patients' charts, send someone for some kind of scan, hopefully save someone's life, hopefully not lose someone, and irritate the living hell out of Doctor Cox.

I don't mean to annoy him that much... well, I didn't at first. Now I kinda do, I guess. Well, really, can you blame me? He likes it when I annoy him. He must do, right? If he didn't, wouldn't he just ignore me and pretend I don't exist like he does with most of the other people in the hospital he hates?

I guess deep down I'm partially guilty... I do kinda like the attention. Yeah, I know, laugh it up. It sounds sick, right? There's just something about standing there in front of him when he's red in the face and that vein in his temple is throbbing, and he's spitting insult after insult at me. Sometimes I find it almost impossible not to grin like an idiot while he's going off on one of his rants.

What can I say? I guess my teacher in fourth grade was right... I'm an attention seeker. I always have been. Needless to say, Doctor Cox gives me more than enough attention when he's hitting me with over-animated rant after over-animated rant to keep me feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

I guess this is the part where you expect me to say, 'that all changed when Doctor Cox hit me for the first time'. Sorry to say... that's kinda not the case. I don't know why, but when Doctor Cox dragged me into that closet and kicked the crap out of me (well, not when he did, because I was too busy crying like a freakin' girl...), I actually walked away smiling. Shaking and bruised and possibly with minor concussion, but smiling.

I'm sure a shrink would have a field day with me. 'Cuz that's pretty messed up, right? Enjoying that?

I guess I didn't like all of it, if that helps my case. I did keep outta his way for the rest of the day and have nightmares about him chasing me around the hospital with a baseball bat and a mace, and I was crying in that closet for about an hour after he left me there. But there was something about what had happened that day, something that made me feel special and important, and victimized in the best and worst way ever.

I was important enough to Doctor Cox that he'd taken time out of his day to give me the attention I'd kind of been pining for from the first time I started annoying him deliberately. Sick as it sounds, that made me feel pretty damn proud of what I'd accomplished.

We silently worked together as a tight-knit unit to make sure no one noticed. I think he was impressed at how good I was at hiding it. He stopped going for my face, just for the areas no one would see, and I started wearing long-sleeved shirts underneath my scrubs to hide the bruising. We worked more efficiently as a team at this than we did as doctors together, and it excited me to know that we shared this secret nobody else knew about.

Despite the pain, I liked being on the receiving end of it. It reminded me that he did notice me, and that he did feel something for me. I wasn't just a nobody to this misanthropic, hard-faced antihero. I was a somebody. I was important and I mattered.

Honestly, at the end of the day, that's all I want right now – to be important, and to matter. Until I become the most amazing and incredible doctor Sacred Heart has ever, ever, ever seen, all I can hope for is not to fade into the backdrop with all the other interns they've already labeled as failures, and to stand out in some way.

: :

"Newbie!"

The shrill whistle snapped me out of my daydream, and I jerked visibly as I woke up. I was stood over Mr. Quinn's bed with a clipboard in my hand, my pen against the page in the middle of the sentence I'd been scribbling down, which I couldn't remember how to end now.

I'd been at the hospital for just over two months now, and the illusion of what being a doctor would be like had already been wiped out of my head for good. It wasn't all swanky offices and cute nurses, and spending your days wrist-deep in blood and skin and bone, helping people and saving lives so that you could tell the waiting family that, yes, they'd made it and, yes, you'd brought their loved one back from the brink of death and saved their life. Not even the doctors who had been at Sacred Heart for decades had lives like that, and it was kind of depressing to have that dream shattered right in front of your eyes.

I jerked myself to attention and tried to look on the ball as I felt rather than heard Doctor Cox storm into the room behind me. I turned around to face him, but he had already slammed into me, shoving me out of his way. Now I was back in the real world, I could hear the alarming beeping of the patient's heart monitor as it tried to warn me that she was going into cardiac arrest.

"What the hell's wrong with you?! Get outta the way!"

I was forced back out of the way as two nurses joined Doctor Cox around the bed, crushed against the wall of the small private room. They were all quick and practiced, as if they'd done this a thousand times before, which they probably had. Shocked, I just stood against the wall and watched, clipboard clutched against my chest.

The man was dying. He had been fine just a few minutes ago, I'd been taking down his readings and admiring the card his kids had made him which now sat on the bedside table with a bouquet of flowers, and now he was dying.

"He's going into cardiac arrest," the doctor barked, snapping on a pair of latex gloves before moving to yank out the defibrillator. "Newbie, get over here, CPR now!"

And then, all eyes were on me, and my heart leapt into my throat. Doctor Cox wanted me to assist him in the defibrillation. My mouth dropped open, and although my mind was screaming at me to move, every muscle in my body had completely shut down. I was frozen against the wall. All I remember seeing was the look of disgust and rage in my mentor's eyes as he turned to the Latino nurse instead, whom I now recognized as Carla, and nodded at her.

Doctor Cox already had the defibrillator paddles in his hands, rubbing them against each other quickly as the other nurse pulled open the front of the man's gown and dried off his chest with a towel. Carla did what Doctor Cox had wanted me to do; she snapped an oxygen mask onto his face and began to pump his chest hard, counting the compressions. Hands were everywhere as the three medical personal fought to save a patient's life.

"Clear!"

Everyone moved back as Doctor Cox's sharp warning echoed around the room, quickly followed by the beeping-crunching sound of the machine as it forced the electric shock through the paddles and into the man's chest. His eyes darted up to the heart monitor as Carla went back to pumping his chest. The line was still flat, and he snarled in determination as Carla finished and he placed the pads against Mr. Quinn's chest again.

"Clear!"

Watching Doctor Cox work always has this weird effect on me. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and my stomach fill will butterflies. He's so amazing in the heat of the moment, with beads of sweat gathering on his brow, biceps tensing and bulging beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white coat, his face twisted in this... this tenacious look, so serious and determined. It makes me so proud to be a doctor, watching him, that no matter how bad the situation is I can't help smiling to myself.

Eventually, I forced myself out of my state of shock. My hands tightened around the clipboard and I took a step forward. "D-Doctor Cox, can... can I help with...?"

"Too late, Michelle," he growled back. "You blew it. Now shut the hell up or get the hell out, we're trying to save the man's life...!"

I shrunk back into my corner and watched in silence. After what felt like hours, the beeping of the monitor calmed down and Doctor Cox drew himself up, setting the defibrillator paddles back on the machine. "His vitals are good, for now. Keep him under observation and page me if anything changes."

"Yes, doctor," Carla replied, shutting down the AED and turning back to me. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she stayed quiet. I stumbled forward, extending a hand as my mentor stripped off his gloves and headed for the door.

"D-Doctor Cox! I'm sorry, I..."

His shoulder hit mine hard as he walked past me and I flinched. When my eyes opened again, he'd kept walking, not even bothering to look back at me. My chest heaved out a sigh and I leaned back against the wall, suddenly becoming very interested in the ground underneath my feet.

"Bambi..."

"It's okay, Carla. I fucked up." I felt terrible; I'd really let Doctor Cox down. He'd actually trusted me to help him save a man's life, and I'd frozen up. We could've done it together, and I would've been a part of the reason that patient was still alive and breathing. I sighed again and ran a hand through my hair.

It sounds kinda psycho, but at that moment I wasn't as upset at myself for freezing up as I should've been. The only thing I can think of that's more satisfying than Doctor Cox being pleased with me, is Doctor Cox being mad at me.

As I left Mr. Quinn's room, there was a spark of excitement in the pit of my stomach at just how much I must've pissed him off. And what's more, if I focused all of my attention on it, it was strong enough to blot out the feelings of guilt and shame at how happy I was despite the fact that a patient had nearly died right in front of me.

::

"Doctor Cox, I... I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened back there."

Of course I'd sought him out. Any sane person would've run off with his tail between his legs and hidden in the supply closet for the rest of the day, but I guess if you think about it I can't be that sane. The exciting part of making him angry is the aftermath, where he rants and raves and yells at me, and even though I hadn't deliberately done anything to piss him off this time, I felt like I should take the opportunity to get a little of that attention I crave from him so much.

He was in the on-call room, laying on his back on one of the bottom bunks with his arms folded behind his head. I'd asked around until someone had told me he'd taken a ten minute break – as opposed to his usual half-hour – to just chill out before he had to prep one of his patients for surgery.

That was a tell-tale sign that he would be in a tetchy mood. His patient was about to undergo a liver transplant, a procedure that could easily go wrong, and he would be tense and stressed out about it. That was probably the reason I was shivering with nerves and excitement as I stood outside the door of the on-call room... a feeling which only deepened once I stepped inside and realized we were alone in there.

"Newbie, I see your lips moving, but all I can hear is this... really, really annoying high-pitched whining sound, which kind of sounds a little something like this..." He then proceeded to keen at the top of his lungs, a sound that hurt my ears, until he was certain I'd had enough and finally closed his mouth again. I swallowed and pulled back out of my flinch, fingers twisting awkwardly behind my back.

"Look, I know you're mad at me for freezing up..."

"Freezing up?"

Doctor Cox rolled into a sitting position, his hair sticking up a little at the back, and he fixed me with a disbelieving glare.

"Lemme get this straight, Hannah... you think the only reason I'm pissed at you is because you got a lil' case of stage fright when a patient really, really, re-he-heally needed your help?"

In an instant, he was on his feet. My stomach churned again but I held my ground, the darkness of the room falling across his face as he glared down at me.

"You were stood there." His voice was dark and gravelly and serious, and had lost all of its usual humor. It sent shivers up and down my spine, made my teeth stand on end. I shivered as I stood in front of him, close enough that I could feel his breath on my nose. "You were right there, in the room with him, and... God, Newbie, he was dying and you just stood there! Did ya even hear the machines trying to tell you that he was on his last leg? Or were you too busy daydreaming about fluffy kittens and those little pink umbrellas you put in your Goddamn virgin martinis?!"

My heart stood still as pain exploded from my arm all the way across my shoulder and chest, and it took me a few seconds to realize he'd hit me. His hand was balled into a fist and my flesh was throbbing beneath the long-sleeved shirt I was wearing.

I glanced up in shock, though I'd been expecting it. My stomach rolled over again and my breathing became shallow and quick. As much as I enjoy it, it doesn't mean I'm not afraid of him. He's really hurt me before, turning my skin various shades of grey, blue, purple, green and yellow. The attention I love so much comes at a price, which sucks, but it's a price I'm willing to pay.

It's worth it, in the end.

Doctor Cox's nostrils were flared as he glared at me, eyes narrowed dangerously. I knew this session wasn't going to last long; we were both busy, and anyone can walk into the on-call room at any time, so it wasn't going to be drawn-out by any means. Still, I take what I can get when I can get it, so...

He hit me a few more times, pain dancing across my ribs. I wound up against the post of the bunk bed, curled into as much of a ball as I could muster, trying to keep myself as quiet as possible so that no one would walk in and catch him.

My beating was cut short when the doorknob twisted and the door was pushed open. Without saying a word or bothering to see who it was, Doctor Cox pushed his way out of the room and disappeared, not even looking back at me. My heart was pounding in my ears with adrenaline as another on-call resident walked into the room, glancing back at Doctor Cox in confusion before looking over at me.

I was still pressed against the post of the bed. I forced a casual smile and nodded at him, before excusing myself and scurrying out.

The light was bright out in the corridor, and it was so busy with life that I was amazed no one had heard anything from inside the on-call room. I looked around for a moment before scratching the back of my head, my chest aching terribly as I stretched my arm up, and hurrying in the direction of the men's locker rooms.

"Hello...?" They were empty, so I quickly moved inside and hurried into the shower room, catching sight of myself in the full-length wall mirror there, the one The Todd would do countless sit-ups in front of while Turk and I were forced to watch and tell him how every one defined his abs even more. I swear, one time I actually saw one pack pop out of his stomach! I scooted over to the mirror and looked around nervously to check I was actually alone before grabbing the hems of my scrubs and shirt and peeling them both up over my chest to survey the damage.

The left side of my chest was bright red, fist-shaped marks stamped all over previous bruises of different colors. I blushed a little, even though no one was there and no one could hear what I was thinking, as I admired how it looked against my pale skin. I wasn't as beaten as usual, because we'd been interrupted halfway through, but it still looked and felt good.

I lifted one hand, even though it hurt to flex my ribs, and touched my fingers to the red marks that would later leave bruises... or at least, I hoped they would. I got so caught up in tracing the outline of one of the fists that I didn't hear anyone walk into the locker room, and so Turk's voice startled me. I jumped, yanked my shirts down, and spun around on the spot to face him.

Turk laughed casually. "Trust me, man, those abs ain't gotten any bigger since you spent an hour last night in the bathroom starin' at 'em in the mirror."

I forced myself to mirror his laugh, putting my hands on my hips and shifting awkwardly as I tried to act as cool as he was. Like, y'know, I hadn't just spent five or ten minutes admiring the bruises my mentor had given me like they were pop art.

"Oh, c'mon, chocolate bear... I rode around the block a few times on my bike this morning before coming in, and I think you can see my six pack more now..."

"The invisible one?" Turk cocked his head a bit, still smirking. "Yeah, sure, man. Hey listen, I'm goin' on a date with that hot nurse tonight, so make sure you're in your room when I get home, if y'know what I'm sayin'..."

I didn't realize back then just how serious the Turla – or Cark, it's personal preference really – thing was going to end up, so I shook it off like she was just another in a string of a thousand hot chicks Turk had gotten his wicked, wicked way with and then said adios to. I was probably still nervy as I rolled my eyes and grinned at him, because he asked me, "Hey, dude, you feelin' okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I answered, a bit too quickly.

Turk just shrugged, spreading his hands out toward me as he did so. "I dunno, man, just Carla told me you froze up on a patient this mornin'."

"Oh, that." I scoffed with a smile and waved my hand carelessly. "That was nothing."

Turk raised an eyebrow. "Didn' seem like nothin'. She said y'all just stood there with your mouth open while everyone else saved the dude's life."

I cursed inwardly at Carla for being such a goddamn gossip. She was probably just concerned, which actually made me happy – it was nice to have someone looking out for me who really cared – but still, it was a pain in the ass now that everyone in the hospital was gonna find out about me making a giant ass of myself.

I choked out another laugh and just shrugged, hands on my hips again. "Well, y'know. It happens, right? Right, dawg? Dawg?" I reached out and cuffed him on the shoulder, trying to loosen up the atmosphere, and Turk just smirked a bit and shook his head.

"Well, all right, man. Just checkin' up on ya. So yeah, man, make sure you ain't layin' out on the couch in your Spideyman Y-fronts again, don't be killin' the mood. Got it?"

I fashioned my hand into a gun and pretended to fire a shot at him. "Got it."

Much to my annoyance, Turk didn't leave. Instead, he turned around and pulled his scrubs shirt up over his head, tossing it into the laundry chute. Despite my desperate urge to check whether the marks on my chest were bruising up yet or not, I was forced to leave the room.

It didn't matter, I could check when I got home or on my lunch, and by then the entire left side of my chest would hopefully be purple. Hopefully. If it wasn't, it wouldn't be too hard to poke and prod Doctor Cox into finishing the job.

It never was.

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// FIN //