This is, obviously, my first Scrubs fic. So...er...yeah. REVIEW, PLZ! And hopefully I'll inspire more J.D.-fans to write. Please? I've run outta J.D. fics to read!

Disclaimer: Don't own Scrubs...but I may just own your SOUL now...MWAHAHAHA.

Look right. Look left. Look right again.

When you look from the outside, Sacred Heart seems like a perfectly normal hospital. But really, when you walk in, it's sort of like crossing a street. Well, actually it's more like jumping blindly into six lanes worth of traffic during rush hour, but that aside it's a pretty cool place. Unless you run into, say, Dr. Kelso or Dr. Cox or something.

Or, you know, the janitor, who luckily enough just happens to be fixing the heating vent by the door.

J.D. runs into busy freeway and gets violently smacked by a humungous truck; the camera slides over to reveal it's a mushroom packaging company...

I hate mushrooms.

"Hiya, Scooter," he says amiably as I walk by.

I look around the lobby. Three people, two looking okay and one with a particularly bloody nose that another was trying to quench it, sat watching us. I narrowed my eyes at him. Maybe he just doesn't want to look bad in front of the patients.

"I'm J—"

"Look, Scooter, all I wanted was to be your friend!" he cries out loudly. "If you really think I'm a lousy janitor and I should go to hell, then fine! What kind of a doctor are you, anyway?"

"Uh…"

I've learned in the past few weeks just to let these things go. It's not like anyone cares, right? Nobody's watching. The patients don't take notice.

"You bastard," the man with the bloody nose says to me. "I was a janitor a' an ebemendary schoo' 'or seben years! Id's not a' eaby job!"

"Sorry, sir," I mumble, just racing out of the lobby as fast as I can.

"Hey, Bambi," Carla greets me. "How's it going?"

"Um, good?"

Carla laughs. "Well, good for you. Could you do some kid's stitches in room eight over there? I can't find Elliot anywhere and I'm too busy."

"Sure thing. Seen Turk anywhere?"

"Oh, he's on lunch break," she says vaguely, reading something and brushing me off.

I check my watch. It's not even nine o'clock. "Riiiiighty, then. I'll just go do those stitches, I guess."

"You do that, Bambi."

"Aliens attacked my room last night," I added just for good measure.

"Oh, that's wonderful. Keep it up, alright? I'll be in over in room three if you need me." She walks off and I try to hold in a laugh.

Fantasy of aliens poking Carla in the back…aliens see she is unresponsive and suck her into their mothership, carrying her away while she still reads her reports...

"What? What's so funny, Annie?" asks Dr. Cox, coming up behind me from nowhere. "Do share. I'd really like to know what goes on in the minds of hormonal, teenage girls. Did you use the wrong color of nail polish? Forget to pluck your eyebrows? Heaven forbid, Tammy."

"Um, no, sir, I was just going to…"

"Brush your hair? Have fun with that, Sue."

"Sure."

See? I've gotten used to it by now. There's a flow here at the hospital. Do what you're supposed to do, try not to say something stupid to anyone, and basically be the doctor. I'm having a problem with the second one.

Suddenly my head twangs with a sharp pain. I pause for a moment by the doorway, but it passes as suddenly as it comes. I shook it off. Just one of those morning headaches.

"Well, as soon as we manage to get that cast back on you should be free to go, Mr. Richards," I tell the man in my chirpy-peppy-doctor voice. It's funny how talking to your patients makes you feel like that little fourth-grader trying to impress the teacher all over again. You don't want to come off rude or like a suck-up.

So I opt for suck-up.

"Alright," he responds, staring at the blank television on the wall and not making eye contact. "Thanks, then."

"You're welcome," I say in the cheerleader persona again. "Oh, hey, J.D. How are you feeling today?"

He looks up at me, his eyes off-focus for a moment. Then he snaps back. "Elliot, turn it off," he scolds me.

"Turn off what?"

"Your patient voice," he sighs, exasperated. "I'm not one of them, you can turn it off now."

I blush. "Shut up! We're still in earshot."

He makes a scoffing noise. "They can't hear us, we're like twenty feet away."

I roll my eyes. "What do you want, anyway?"

"Well, excuse me, I just came to stitch up the little guy over there, if you don't mind. See you later, then."

"Hey," I catch his arm as he walks past me. "Are you alright?"

He frowns. "Yeah. Why?"

"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "Just seemed a little off."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean? Don't you walk away from me! Take that back!" J.D. calls after me. I smirk, rolling my eyes again. Sometimes you just can't help but laugh at that guy.

The hours pass by relatively smoothly. There were a couple of emergencies earlier in the day—a single car crashed into a ditch, a man burned himself pretty badly making spaghettios, a little kid swallowed a penny. But now comes my favorite time of the day.

Lunch.

"Hey, over here," Turk waves to me. I grimace, seeing "The Todd" sitting next to him. It's my lucky day.

"So, how's it going?" Turk asked as I sat down.

"Fairly well. Nothing too extreme. Elliot and I played cards for about fifteen minutes before that freakish intern Bobby smelled Kelso coming down the hall."

"Smelled?"

"Smelled," I confirm, nodding. I look down at my lunch and suddenly feel grossed out. "You know, I'm not that hungry. I'm just going to go watch TV or something until lunch is over."

"Man, I know how that feels," Todd interjects, his face dawning that dreamy look that I dread so much. Ding ding! Sex reference alert! "Last night, when this girl and I were—"

Told ya so.

"Um, uh, wonderful, I think I hear Elliot calling me," I lie. "Yeah? Yeah, I'm coming!" I pretend to call out to her.

I feel a poke on my back.

Oh crap. She's right behind me, isn't she? Master plan SO failed. Why? Why can't I get ONE decent break around here?

Mythical figure descends from the sky, saying in a booming voice, "J.D., you have received your gift of the day…Bobby's gift of smell." Suddenly he frowns, no longer looking mythical but looking pissed. "Now shut up and leave me alone, I'm trying to shop online." It ascends again

"Sorry," I mutter to it.

"Huh? Did you just say my name?" Elliot asks. "I thought I heard my name."

"Your name? I—er—thought you were calling me."

She looks down and sees The Todd. "Ah. I see. Maybe it was Carla. You'd better get going, then, they might need you."

"Right. Exactly," I agree, mouthing a 'thank you' before turning to run and escape out in the hall.

As soon as I'm out of the cafeteria, though, that headache thing comes back. Where are you now, buddy? I ask my mythical figure. Inches from the lounge, I have to stop and lean against the wall for a moment. It doesn't stop this time for a full minute, and all I can hear is the sound of my heart beating in my head like an obnoxious metronome straight from band hell.

Finally it stops. I sigh in relief and manage to recollect myself.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, it was slow, but you know, first chappie and everything. RnR, pretty please! I'll love you LOOOTSSS!