"Granted." JD nodded sternly. He looked straight ahead at Dr.Cox. "Is this real?"

"I'm afraid so." He replied with a sorry smile.

"Damn." JD replied. Dr.Cox got a chuckle out of this, as it struck him as cute. "Just when you think you're gonna wake up at home beside Kim… to the sound of Sammy crying… the dream you're stuck in throws you another curveball."

Dr.Cox listened as his past came back to sit in his lap in the form of a Depeche Mode great entitled 'I Want You Now'. How apropos. He thought to himself. The sighs, groans, and synth-rhythms wrapped themselves around him and more than likely caused his jeans to tighten the slightest bit. "I think I can bring this all into perspective for you, Dr. Dorian." His tone was flat, as though even through the statement a lot of thought was being applied.

He stood from his spot and moved to JD's side of the table, sitting comfortably beside him. He pulled the boy's chair between his knees and leaned against the side of the back of JD's chair, breathing in his scent. Dr.Cox released a warm sigh as he gathered his courage and pushed the looming fear aside, taking JD's earlobe gently between his teeth. He tugged on it carefully, and then let his lips slip against it as he pulled away.

JD bristled and turned toward Dr.Cox, looking shocked. Both now stared each other down in provocatively close proximity to one another. Neither moved, both merely letting their eyes dart over features they had never been able to see so close before.

"My god…" JD muttered…. "Your eyes are so gorgeous…"

Dr.Cox felt fear rise up in his chest. It gripped his heart tight and the only thing it would allow him to do is look away.

"D-don't bring me out this far just to strand me, Perry." He warned. He leaned in and took rare initiative, hoping against hope that Dr.Cox would turn and complete the link in the chain of fools. Instead he knocked back another shot and went to the dance floor, letting JD's heart shatter. It wasn't an unfamiliar sound, so it didn't faze him a bit.

JD got up. Fuck you then. He thought. Proclaiming this aloud would only alert them all to the fact that he was perhaps soon to cry. He paid the tab and headed toward the back door. Nobody left through this door, and veteran club-goers would tell you that this is because directly across the way was the entry to a country-western bar. Activities included shit-kickin', line dancin', and queer stompin'. No exclusions. The only veteran club-goer was Dr.Cox, and he had not told the young doctor a thing.

JD exited the club, pulling his collar up against the cold and stuffed his hands in his pocket, hunching up against the chill. It had become inexplicably nippy for a summer evening. "I bet we're gonna have an Indian summer this year." He thought aloud. That in its small, thoughtful volume was missed by the ears of everyone inside the gay bar, even with the door still swinging closed.

"Lookie there, boys. Ain't he perty? What're you doin' out here all alone?"

JD straightened his back, shocks of peril warning his body into a careful stance. He began to speed his steps down the alley, toward his safety beneath the bright street light ahead.

"Hey, faggot! We're talkin' to you."

His swift walk turned into a half run. The light and the warmth of a cab was within easy reach.

The door of the gay bar had barely clicked closed when the sharp, angry, hateful resonation of the word faggot hit Dr.Cox's ears. "Shit…" He looked around and saw nothing of JD. "Shit!" He ran toward the back door. It clicked shut, and worse still, jammed tight. He tried all he could to take the near exit, even kicking the press-release, hoping to unstick it with a swift jar.

His heart sank as he realized he would have to wade through the thickening crowd to get to the front exit… And damn it ALL if the DJ didn't decide to play YMCA at that very second. He sped up, dodging and ducking, even avoiding people he had known just to get to the door. He grabbed the bouncer and brought her along. Nothing, after all, was more beneficial toward the prompt cessation of a fight than the sight of an eight foot tall drag queen with a nine millimeter handgun that matched her size fourteen platform heels. Wow.

Dr.Cox could hear the onset of the confrontation as he neared the mouth of the alley. JD was strong of heart where body failed him, and that was a problem that could potentially display his life to the rednecks, settled all dainty-like on a silver platter.

"Leave me alone… There's no reason for this at all… all you have to do is forget you saw me, and I won't tell anybody I saw you. It's easy, guys."

The inebriated, cowboy booted men began to laugh heartily at this. JD turned and took off running, missing the sight of one of them picking up a stray pipe in the alley. Another pried a nail-riddled board from the window of a condemned building behind them, joining back up with the good ol' boy super-group. They smiled carnivorously as they began to take chase.

The man with the pipe hurled it at JD. It tore noiselessly through the onslaught of rain, end over end until it glanced off the side of the young doctor's head, causing him to topple forward to the alley pavement. He was not knocked out, however, and he made a brave attempt to scramble to his feet, clutching at the oozing flesh wound with his free hand. They rounded up on him as though there was never space between them and began kicking and spitting.

"This is just the first course, princess!" One of them drawled stupidly, going to his knees to achieve balance and to add leverage to what were already hard and direct punches. One of them met with JD's mouth, his full, bountiful pout not being enough to shield his teeth from loosening from the impact. His lower lip split in two places, his teeth slicing through the inside of his upper lip, causing blood to roll from the corners of his mouth. He could not catch a breath to scream as fists and feet kept pummeling his stomach.

This was definitely far worse than any pink-belly Turk could ever give.

A weak gurgle was all he could manage, blood obstructing his speech. In his mind it was a valiant cry for Dr.Cox as he saw the familiar, welcome stance at the end of the alley. He found himself struggling for breath, curled up into a ball to try and deflect some of the kicks. That in itself was excruciating as every rib had suffered at least a crack if not a break.

With JD's last ounce of strength, he put his arms out in front of his body, his nerve endings all raw and screaming so loudly that he did not feel the nail sink in. He did not even feel the board that would be leaving a large, angry bruise around the puncture wound in his side.

His arms dropped from the air, and he was out before he had the pleasure of hearing the gunshot. This shot, however, did not come from the drag queen, nor did it come from Dr.Cox. This shot came from behind, killing one of the rednecks point-blank, and the man behind the trigger was Janitor. The time to enjoy victory as the others scattered was short.

The drag-queen parted ways from the scene to go inside and call for an ambulance (besides, baby, she jus' got her damn nails did), and Dr.Cox sprinted to JD's side.

He was soaked by the warm rain that was washing the spit and booze away from JD's wounds. Dr.Cox had no coat, nothing to shield the young doctor from anymore rain, so with great care, he used his own body, leaning over the boy, ashamed yet glad he was unconscious so that the tears couldn't be seen or used later to his (dis)advantage.

Janitor, shaken, dropped the gun.

"Get over here. If you want a nuisance to follow around and torment, you'll help me keep him alive." The Janitor stood frozen to the spot, frightened. "NOW!" Dr.Cox insisted. He removed his outer shirt, leaving him with just a white undershirt and tore the other into strips, trying to stop JD's bleeding before the ambulance arrived. Janitor eventually found his way over.

"What can I do?" He asked, looking fearfully and curiously down at the battered young doctor.

"What do you have on you right now that might be useful?" Dr.Cox asked, doing an above the clothing check for any muscle, tendon, or skeletal distortion.

Janitor briefly patted down his person and found a small Mag-Light flashlight. It was in a cheerful red… brighter than the blood all over the curled up body that it lit. "Where do you need this?" Dr.Cox took a second to reach up and adjust the light, Janitor standing solid as a statue to keep the beam in its bitter path.

Dr.Cox whimpered, he began to feel helpless as he saw clear liquid trickling from the puncture wound in JD's side. He leaned in and whispered to the young man:

"Don't sabotage me …"

The flashing lights were blinding as the ambulance roared down the alley.