HAT: This is my first Scrubs fanfic so cut me some slack, okay? Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing other than the plot.

"You're going to be alone and you're never going to have anyone to blame, but yourself."

Dr. Perry Cox has never been so hurt in his life as he stares down at the fiery Latina in front of him. Her dark brown eyes are blazing and her cheeks are flushed with anger. The worst part is that it's all directed at him, something he hasn't experienced before. After coming to her defense constantly and even giving her up so she could be happy, he never expected this. He doesn't know why he never did, it was bound to happen at some point. Still, the words cut deep in him and no matter how much they do he refuses to show any sign of it.

"Listen," he says sharply, his eyes wide in that "crazy" way while his teeth grind behind his tight lips, "I don't give a damn what you or anyone else thinks of me. Run off with Ghandi and Newbie and Barbie and cry your eyes out for all I care, I was just trying to do my job!"

When he finishes he can see the hurt in her eyes and he nearly takes it all back. This woman has been his friend for a long time, his only genuine friend that can keep him in check and sooth his tempers, and seeing her like this tears him up inside. He's not heartless, he just can't afford to show his heart or give it to anyone because if he does he'll get hurt.

He turns around and storms off, growling at Tina when he opens his mouth and is more than grateful that this is the end of his shift. He clocks out and knows that he's too angry to drive home without doing something reckless. Instead of that he decides to go to a nearby park and lie in the grass to gaze at the stars in attempt to reign in his raging emotions and go over piece by piece what just happened between him and Carla. It was all going so well before-

You dumb ass! he thinks as his fingers thread through his curly brown hair and tugs so hard it hurts, but not enough to pull his hair out like he almost wants to. The urge to just scream is very hard to fight because now he's in a park and not in the hospital where it's more normal. With long, deep breathes he realizes that she's right. As much as he hates to admit it, she's right. Despite what he does he cares about people. The others know he cares about his patients and not their insurance like Kelso, and sometimes feel like he cares about them despite how much he pushes them away, especially that ever so persistent Marie constantly, but he's never considered this before.

I don't want to be alone, some small part of him says.

And it's true. He doesn't want to be alone. He's been alone, it seems, all of his life. Even when he's surrounded by people or near kindred spirits or family, he still feels like he's utterly alone in the world. He's never admitted it and never to himself either. To admit it now makes emotions well in his chest and tear prick in his eyes. Loneliness is a bitter pill to swallow. He breathes deeply and pushes himself into a sitting position and then stands.

Go home, he orders his body, but it doesn't want to move even when he feels the beginnings of rain touch his skin. If he's out here when it's raining, then no one will see-

"No," he growls aloud, making one of the little kids that had wandered close to him jump in surprise and run off.

Good thing, too, the kid was about to pick up a very dangerous flower that grew in the park. That reminds him that he needs to file another complaint for the city to get rid of these, there are plenty of children that play here, one of them being his own son (though it's rare he takes his son anywhere near where the plants usually are). He shakes his head and the water begins to soak his clothes as it falls from the sky. He watches as the large, black clouds block out the stars and eventually the moon and soon the rain is pouring and he hasn't even moved.

Weak.

The tears are rolling out of the corners of his eyes to his hair and into his ears. They have a different feel than the rain, but that's because of its salt, he's sure... or the amount of sadness and pain he's finally been able to let out after decades of keeping it in.

He doesn't know how long he's been out there by the time he walks into his lonely home, soaked in water and mud. He leaves the clothes at the door and goes into his room and gets changed into some dry clothes. He figures he might as well deal with mess now and cleans up while his hollow chest echoes his heartbeat.

Home is where the heart is, so this begs the question... where is his heart? It's not even with himself, so how can he have a home?

He sighs and collapses on his bed and falls asleep. No need to dwell on such thoughts.

When he wakes up he doesn't open his eyes, but instead, stays curled up in bed. His throat is dry, his entire body aches, and he feels like crap to say the least. Still, he'll call into work later and lie and say that he had more important stuff to do. He sure hopes Kelso won't answer the phone, the bastard wouldn't even let him take off if his son were sick, probably. Say it's the mother's job to look after the sick child and not the father's.

After what seems lie a few minutes he hears his phone ringing. He frowns and buries his face into the warm fabric of his pillow. This happens enough to make him turn his ringer off and he curls back up into the covers and tries to go back to sleep even though he knows that he won't end up going to sleep.

A knock on the door causes him to want to find Marjorie and tear him apart. He swears if it's Sally, he's going to ignore all that's in him that tells him to just sleep and kill Newbie! This is not the best of days for him to be messed with, especially after yesterday sitting on his shoulders and making his chest ache like the night before. Not the time to think about it, now's the time to murder whoever's pounding on his door so insistently.

He opens the door and al rage bleeds out and he stares at the one in front of him. "Carla..."

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" she demands, the same anger as last night.

A little bit of sense comes back to him and he growls. "Get the hell away from me," he growls, moving to close the door, but she holds it open. "Carla. Back. Off."

The worst part of this is that he's too weak to slam it with her holding it open. He hates that and the face that he feels like he's going to pass out or throw up any second. He groans and turns around and goes to his couch because the bed is too far. He manages to wrap his blanket around his body, though his feet are exposed. He doesn't bother to register that Carla's walking into his home. He just wants to be left alone for one day. One day is all he asks!

"Perry... Perry, my God, what'd you do?" she demands as she touches his forehead with the back of her wrist only to get it slapped away, but unfortunately for him he gets slapped back. "Don't hit me! Now, what the hell is with you?! I've been calling you all day and you didn't show up to work. I should kill you!"

"Give it a break," he grumbles, squeezing his blue eyes shut. "Do you know how exhausting it is to listen to your insistent whining?"

"Oh, shut up," she snaps.

He can't look at her, yesterday starts plaguing his mind once again and he buries his face into arm and groans. "You've come to yell at me again?"

"No... I'm sorry for everything I said yesterday."

"You told me I'm a sick human being without a heart that would be alone for the rest of my life and you were only speaking the truth," he grumbles as he tries not to let the tears be heard.

Damn, you're so weak! he thinks to himself.

"Perry, I didn't mean anything. I was just angry... and you're not gonna be alone for the rest of your life because you have me."

He shakes his head. "No I won't. You'll leave me because of what an ass I am."

"Yeah, but you're my ass of a friend and I can't leave you," she murmurs before taking the hand hanging limply off the side of the couch.

"How can we be friends when you hate me?"

He feels her squeeze his hand and hears her voice soften. "You think that I can't hear that you wanna cry? That I don't know that what I said hurt you? You're my best friend, Perry."

"Spare me the pity," he groans.

"Listen. You're just wallowing in self-pity and that's not a good look on you."

"Why don't you go talk to Rhonda or Gandhi or Barbie?"

"Because I want to talk to you, you ass. Please, talk to me."

He sits up despite the nausea and looks into those big, beautiful brown eyes and finally finds his words. "You want me to talk? Fine!" he says animatedly, but unlike usual it seems to be less animated with a weakness and slowness to his movements. "I do give a crap about people. I care about you, I care about Newbie, I care about Barbie, I care about Gandhi, I care about my patients... I care, damn it, but I can't risk it!"

"What can't you risk?" she asks, dark eyes watching him with such concern it makes his sewn lips come apart.

"My heart, damn it, my heart! I can't put it out there again! Any time I give my heart, it gets stepped on and I'm tired of getting hurt," he sighs before he shows weakness that would've never happened if he weren't sick and whimpers, "I don't think I could take it if it happened again..."

She hugs him instantly and he hugs her back despite how his skin burns where she touches, yet if she moves he knows it will feel cold. Stupid fevers and confusing the body on what it wants. Under the covers or not, body warmth or not? Stupid, stupid. His head hurt like he couldn't believe.

"I won't hurt you, I promise."

"How can I believe that?"

"Because I'm a woman of my word."

He guesses he'll have to take her up on that. He feels his stomach churn and strength surges through his limbs and he darts into the bathroom and hurls his insides out into the porcelain bowl that was never meant for his face. When he feels her hand rub his back he feels just a bit better, but he'd really like some medicine, some ginger ale, and such. He's a little shocked when he's sent into the living room while she cleans up. He hears her talking to Gandhi and rolls his eyes.

"How'd you get sick?"

He lifts his head and looks at her. "I was in the rain for a while."

She frowns. "Doing what?"

"One step at a time, sweetheart," he mutters and a condescending smile on his face. "One step at a time."

He curls on the couch and closes his eyes and soon his shoulders and head are lifted and resting on a warm pillow. He opens his eyes a crack and finds it's Carla's lap. As her fingers run through and occasionally ensnare in his curly light brown hair he slowly drifts off, glad to have a rock in his life. God knows he needs it and he actually sends a "thank you" up to heaven as he drifts off for the woman with him at the moment.

HAT: I don't know how I did, but I hope I did it well. Dr. Cox is my favorite (male) character and Carla's a close second (Laverne is so irresistible, though so it was hard to choose between her and Carla. She's got something about her that makes me laugh and smile every time she's on screen... I think it's because she's like my aunt(s)).

Dr. Cox: *whistles sharply* Curly-Mix! Hurry up!

HAT: Just because I've got curly hair and I'm mixed doesn't mean-

Dr. Cox: I don't care, just hurry it up!

HAT: You're the one that's gotta say it anyway.

Dr. Cox: *growls and glares* Review.

HAT: Why're you my favorite character again?

Dr. Cox: *grins sarcastically* Because I'm a sexy beast with a great personality! *frowns then turns and walks away*

HAT: ... sarcasm wasn't needed you butt... *sighs* While I figure out exactly why he's my favorite character, ya'll better do what he says. *walks out*