AN: Requested by the lovely wibbi. It's not exactly what you wanted, but it's what I felt I could write and I truly hope you like it! Actually, I hope y'all like it! ..

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He opens the bottle, dropping the liquid on a used glass for the third time that night. Then, raising one hand up to this collarbone, he finally manages to throw the bow around his neck to the side. Grabbing the bottle of old scotch off the marble kitchen counter tops as he starts to walk away, he crosses the room leading the full glass to his lips. Taking a long sip, he closes his eyes, tripping on his own feet, barely standing at this point. Alcohol helps him forget, numb the pain and the heaviness in his heart. His soul aches, the agony is still there, but for tonight, he'll allow himself to let it go.

Sitting on the living room couch, he tilts his head back, struggling to open the first couple buttons of his white shirt. The wedding was fine, and the party was fun for some, entertaining. The liquor kept coming and the music only got louder. April wasn't there, though, and he had no clue where she could be.

The day was tough for all of them, but somehow tougher for him. Actually, this whole crappy year was tougher than he'd ever thought it would be. He lost everything and everyone he cared about once again. There was no excitement anymore, no passion, and the light went off. April came home, but she's not the same, and he's afraid she will never be the same again. The thought scares him, terrifies him, because his wife is the only thing left, and somehow she isn't his wife… not anymore.

He doesn't like to call it an ultimatum, but in all fairness that's exactly what it was. If she goes, so does he, and just like that, it's all over. How could it be over when he loves this much? If he isn't enough for her, perhaps he should let her go, set her free, even if it kills him. It's an uncompromising demand, a set of terms he's not willing to give up, and her rejection… well, her rejection will lead to the final rupture.

It's late. Really late. Yet, he doesn't know where she is or where she's hiding. Maybe she needs space, but damn… she's so distant now he doesn't know how much more space she's going to need. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Any of this! And she's supposed to be home with him right now. But then again, she was his home and he was hers, but home isn't home anymore. These four walls feel much heavier now and the room is darker, emptier too. Home has no meaning any longer, and he's homeless.

Opening the first three buttons of his shirt and holding the glass in one hand, he grabs the bottle he set in between his legs to finally kick off his shoes. Crazy thoughts cross his mind. Maybe he should burn it all, put it into the fire and send it all to hell. This house is filled with memories too painful to even handle. But all these memories are only memories now. There's no life anymore, no spark, no desire. Shaking his head, Jackson puts those thoughts to the side. If she leaves, he'll move as well. He won't be able to live here if she does, remembering every day where it all begun and where it all ended.

That's when he hears a key unlocking the front door open, followed by her steps. He prepares himself for another fight, but he's too tired for that. Actually, the alcohol is kicking in, and his ideas are all messed up. He doesn't know what is going to happen, or even the state he's in. He doesn't want to fight, though, he can't.

"Hey." Her voice is weak, like she shadow of the woman she used to be. "Are you okay?"

Taking another sip, he licks his lips feeling the bitter taste on his mouth match the bitterness of his heart.

"Jackson?"

She interrupts his thoughts, but he gives her a fake, dry laugh. It quickly turns into a sad expression of his own sorrow. "Am I okay?" He shakes his head again, moving his arm in a way that makes the whisky fall on his pants. Her heels crack the hard wood floors of their dark apartment then. Slowly and carefully, she stops by the couch, looks down, and crosses her arms against her chest in a protective manner. Jackson moves his stare up and for a second he can almost swear he sees the eyes of the woman he fell in love with. The innocence is lost, and her soul is damaged, but he can see it, he can see her. However, her hazel eyes are red now, and he knows she's been crying. Placing both hands on his lap, he reveals the bottle of old scotch he's still holding on to. The glass is almost empty again, which is not surprising since he drank most of it and spilled the rest. His grandfather gave him this bottle of scotch the day he graduated from college. It was a rare and expensive gift. One he treasured for all these years, waiting for the right time to finally open it. Perhaps he's not that drunk yet, because he remembers that day almost clearly. Harper Avery gave him two advises that day: Work hard and be polite; don't waste the scotch, but use it to celebrate when you're truly happy.

He works hard every day, he's also polite, but he's not happy.

"I was going open this bottle when we ended our residency. But Charles was dead and so was Reed. Lexie died. They all did." Jackson speaks at last. Clearing his throat and, noticing she doesn't move, he goes on. "Then you failed your boards and… you walked away from my life soon after."

She was one of the most important people to ever walk away from his life without even a proper goodbye. They were still friends back then. Yet he had no idea what that meant, because close friends, best friends don't sleep together and they did. When she left the first time, he had no courage to pick up the phone and tell her he missed her. They made such a mess of what was supposed to be just a friendship, resulting in her freaking out more than once. Those were some turbulent times, with her best friend leaving the State and his mentor dying. That plane crashed and he got involved in so many different kinds of ways.

Surprisingly, she came back and that made things better for a while. Keeping his eyes on the bottle, he notices the stain on his pants, but he doesn't care enough to pay attention. "I thought about the bottle again when you came back. I was so in love with you, April." He confesses. He had strong feelings for her, but he didn't know exactly what they were. The sex was nice, the company was even better and they were getting along just fine. "And when we thought you were pregnant, we were getting married, raise a baby… But of course there was no baby." He was happy then and yet things had a 180º turn once again. She was so glad she didn't have to marry him. Maybe he took it and gave it another meaning, but it still hurt seeing the relief on her face, the smile she exuberantly exhaled once the scare wasn't confirmed.

When they broke up and started seeing other people, he wondered what he did wrong, what happened along the way, and why he couldn't seem to forget her. It was pretty obvious, though, and he had to wait 'til the last minute to see it.

Taking the bottle and dropping another portion of alcohol on his empty glass, Jackson doesn't bother looking up. April's still standing there, frozen like an ice statue, melting away with his memories of their untold story. The dim light of the room makes everything sound darker, sadder. It's a sad story, nonetheless, and if you think about it, it can as well pass as one of those romances you read in books filled with drama and bad intentions from its author.

He's wearing his wedding band. It shines with the reflection of the moon outside. Pausing, Jackson takes a long look at it before finally putting the bottle to the side and closing his eyes never minding her presence. "When we got married, I was the happiest I had ever been." Jackson continues, lost in his daydreams. "I loved you and you loved me and… you were my wife." He thought about opening the bottle back then, but it wasn't the right time. "We got married in secret, far from home. We hurt people to be together and… everybody was mad."

Stephanie. Matthew. Their families. Some of their friends too. They messed up big time when they ran from that barn and took their vows in complete secrecy. Celebrating would only be rubbing salt on the wound.

Some people call it karma, some people call it fate. Perhaps what they did backfired on them. Perhaps that's why they couldn't be a married couple for long. But perhaps he shouldn't be thinking about this at all or it would drive him crazy. So, he opens his eyes, blinking a couple times to adjust them to the soft light coming from the nearby lamp. Lowering his head, his mouth meets the glass. Drinking wasn't a solution, but it was the solution for now.

April doesn't speak. Instead, she listens for the first time in a really time to his worries, to his feelings. It's been a long journey for the both of them. A journey they should've taking together, but somehow things fell apart.

"I was gonna have a big celebration when our baby was born." Jackson retorts, mumbling with his upper lip resting against the cold glass. "I was gonna be a father, we were going to have a family, I-" He nods, resigned with his own misfortune. He had so many plans and they all went downhill. Drinking his own resentment again, he takes a long sip before putting the glass down. He lost his way somewhere along the bitterness but there was nothing he could do to bring back Samuel, or even the spark of those early joyful times. "He died and a part of us died with him."

All there was left was love. But even love lost its cause. Everything was broken, unfixable, and there was no mending left to do. "Then you went to freaking war!" He said, almost too aggressively. The seasons passed, and she never came home. It was the most painful year of his life and yet he had no one to share it with or to carry that burden with. He was alone… all alone, living in a constant limbo of worries and fear of losing her. Little did he know, he had already lost her.

Scratching his nose with the back of the hand he is using to hold the scotch, Jackson shakes his head. A sense of disgust and loneliness takes over him. Remembering those nights spent in pure solitude, he also resents her actions. What was she thinking? What is she thinking now that she wants to leave again? "I was so supposed to open this bottle when something nice happened, when I was truly happy." He goes on, trying to sit straight on the couch, and reach for the coffee table in front of him to put the bottle down on it. Then, standing up with the help of his free hand, he moves his eyes to April. She has her arms tightly wrapped around her body, shaking, not able to contain her sobbing any longer. The tears burn her cheeks, turning them red, her lips are trembling, and yet, he doesn't feel sorry. At least she's feeling now. At least, she's not acting like the robotized version of her that came back from that battle zone. She might not be happy, but neither is he. Opening that bottle tonight represented just that. Licking his lips, he tries to find a balance and stand up. Then, extending his arm, he shows her the drink. "I don't think I'll ever be happy again, so… cheers to that!"

"I-"

"No, don't. I don't want to hear you, I don't wanna hear your voice, I just… I just wanna be alone. I'm used to it now."

"Jackson…"

"You left me, April, and all you had to do was stay. The first time you left, all you needed to do was stay and be with me, be my wife. I-" He pauses, looks at the floor and realizes the empty hole in his chest is only growing deeper as he goes down memory lane. "I keep losing you, losing every one. I can't. I just can't deal with…"

"I lost him."

"I know you did, but you seem to forget I lost him too." He replies. Samuel needs to stop being her excuse for everything. It's not fair for their boy or for him either. "That day, I woke as a father and I went to bed childless." Jackson acknowledges, thinking about the moment she gave birth to their fragile little baby. It was the worst day of his life and he knows their pain could never compare. But he lost a child just as much as she did. Then he lost his wife, feeling like a widow, an orphan, an undesired human being. "If it wasn't fair for you, it wasn't fair for me either." Taking a couple steps, he passes by her. "So… just go, already. Just go."

He's had enough for tonight. And she if wants to go, she should go. No one's gone in vain and even if she's not here to stay, he's not going to put up a fight.

…

Two weeks later

She's gone. She didn't choose him, she chose her calling instead. Jackson can't even stand the thought of going back to an empty house, alone once again.

She left about two hours ago, and the plane should be flying across the State by now. They barely talked about it for the past week, but it's over. It's all over and they both know. Yet, none of them had the courage to say it out loud.

Stepping out of the elevator, he tries to take a deep breath before walking across the hall and going home. He knows he probably won't sleep all night, worried about her, fighting the need to call her when she lands somewhere, and he's not even hungry. Maybe he should start packing, planning his move. He can't be here. He can't live here when all he sees are images of her; when she's everywhere, in every room; when her laugh still echoes through those walls and her cries haunt him at night.

Standing by the door, he puts the key on to unlock it, but it's already open. Strangely enough, he doesn't find it weird. He didn't take her to the airport this time, didn't help her with her bags, didn't hold her in his arms one last time to say goodbye. Maybe she simply forgot to lock the door on her way out.

When he steps inside, the lights are on, though, and to his surprise, she's standing in the middle of the room. His heart races and for a second Jackson thinks he's having a hallucination. He's not and she's real. Without being able to move or make a sound, he tries to understand what's happening. He's sure she'd be on that plane, running away from their problems once more.

April takes a steps, keeping her hands behind her back, heavy breathing as well. "I couldn't." She finally says, gulping, trying to keep her throat from drying out completely. "I went to the airport, I stood there thinking about you and I…" She takes another step, coming closer each time. "I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even breathe, Jackson."

She's not here by choice, because there is no choice for her. He's the only thing that matters and the thought of losing him proved just that. She's been quite unfair and things didn't work out as planned, but she didn't have a choice to make, because her choice has always been him. He's the love of her life, her best friend, her happiness, her other half, a part of who she is. Life has no meaning at all if he's not by her side. She doesn't know what to expect from now on, or even how she feels, but she finally feels something and that has to mean a lot. "I want you. I love you, Jackson." Three little words she's been having trouble saying and meaning, but she loves him more than words can tell. She wants the whole damn thing, she wants it with him, and she's going to fight for it. The road was long and the journey is nowhere finished. However, sitting on that airport alone, thinking about him, about his embrace, about his kiss, about her life before and after him made her realize that maybe her grieve was slowly turning into grace, like a seemingly effortless beauty changing her from inside out. Nothing was like it was before and nothing seems to come easily for her either, not even him. Why let this love go to waste?

Dropping her hands and shrugging, April tilts her head to the side, not sure what's crossing his mind. "I'm home." It's what she manages to say behind her teary eyes and low tone. She's home and there's no place she'd rather be. Home is where your heart is and hers belong to him. And maybe with him, she will finally find some peace.

Jackson opens his mouth, taking a second to let it all sink in before speaking at last. "Yes... you're home."