April, feeling uneasy, but ignores it walks into the ER. A paramedic hands her a chart and starts talking about the patient. Once she sees the patient with an arm inside a meat grinder, she couldn't stop the vomit rising out of her. She throws up on the floor.

"Whoa!" The patient instinctively moves away, as if he's actually near April.

"Dr. Kepner!" One of the nurses says. He moves closer to April, trying to see if she's okay.

The other nurses and paramedics all stare at her, some even shaking their heads; a trauma surgeon with no strength for these kinds of cases. Embarrassed, she brings her head up, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand while handing back the chart to the nearest nurse, who hesitantly takes it.

"Page Dr. Hunt and Dr. Torres." She manages to make her voice steady and clear, despite the strong urge to run out of the room. She looks at the patient again but looks away quickly. She adds, "Dr. Avery, too."

Not looking at anyone anymore, she walks away. Once out of the ER doors, she feels another wave of nausea and quickly bolts for the restroom.

Getting out of the stall, she washes her hands, mouth and then face, thankful that no one is there with her. No one would ask the questions she didn't know the answer to. After, she stares up at the mirror. She looks the same—all pale skin with red hair and blue eyes. And yet, she feels different. Something is definitely wrong.

Ever since the other day, she's been feeling uneasy. Maybe it's stomach flu. She could only guess. Her pager beeps—Hunt asks for her. Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, she takes once last look at her unchanged reflection and finally exits the restroom.

She knocks on the opened office door. Chief Hunt is on the phone and when he sees her, he waves her in and points to the chair in front of his desk. April takes a sit and waits for him to finish.

Owen puts the phone down and then meets her eyes.

"You paged, Chief?" She asks meekly.

"Yes."

The deep voice of her mentor is one of the most familiar things for her. The numerous times he taught her in her choice of field – she had spent most of her time listening intently to that voice. And right now, with that certain tone, she's sure that he's about to bite her head off.

He laces his hands on the table and clears his throat before speaking again.

"Would you mind explaining what happened today, Kepner?" His jaw is tight and set. "Why you couldn't do your job as a trauma surgeon and had to pass it on to me, the Chief of Surgery, who had so many other important things to attend to?"

April swallows hard.

"Is the patient—?"

"Dr. Torres and Dr. Webber are in the OR now with him. Dr. Avery is also there to tend to the patient's numerous skin damages due to the fire. Badly burnt, he was."

And now, it's starts – her apologizing to no end. "I'm really sorry, I swear. It won't happen again—"

"It better. I've personally trained you because I see a great potential in you and never expected you to blow chunks in front of a distressed patient." His blue eyes are wide with expectation. She feels embarrassed all over again.

"I'm sorry, sir. I really am."

Owen sighs. "Alright, but I'm watching you." He points a finger to her before leaning back on his chair, lacing his fingers on his abdomen. "Now, what's wrong with you?"

April scrambles her mind for a viable excuse. "Food—food poisoning, I bet. I think—" she nods her head a little, as if agreeing with herself "– yeah, I think that's it. F-from that deli soup a few nights ago."

She lies. Well, she has to come up with something. Otherwise, people would think she's pregnant or worse, a weak doctor. And she simply can't be one of those things.

•••

Cristina, Alex and Meredith are all at the second floor nurse station.

"I heard Kepner threw up in the ER today—the second she saw that patient whose hand is stuck in a meat grinder." Cristina says with a laugh.

Alex joins her as he writes down on his chart. He mutters without looking up, "What a pathetic excuse for a trauma surgeon, Kepner is."

April walks in and hears his comment. "And you, Alex, are a pathetic excuse for a man."

He looks up at that, raising his eyebrow.

She grabs a chart on the shelf. "Which is just as bad."

Alex opens his mouth to speak but April cuts him.

"And I just had food poisoning, so drop it or I'll blow chunks at you instead." She says as she opens the chart and starts writing.

Meredith leans over the counter across from her. "How did the surgery go? Did you get the hand out of the thing?"

April looks up. "Oh, I didn't scrub in."

"That's 'cause you are not cut out for the job." Alex mutters.

April looks up but she bites her lip as she feels her mouth turn sour. She closes the chart and then walks away.

Cristina, who is watching her, says warily, "I think she's gonna throw up."

"You should go home and rest, April." Meredith suggests.

April just waves a hand at her and continues walking. When her breath hitches, she breaks into a run and goes inside to the attending lounge. She runs to the bathroom and didn't have the second to close the door when she falls to her knees and starts vomiting her lunch. She didn't even notice the person in the doorway until he speaks up.

"April, what's...?" Jackson's voice fills the small bathroom.

April just shakes her head lightly and then continues to vomit. She grips the porcelain. Jackson kneels beside her, holds her hair and runs his hand on her back.

Finally done, she reaches for the toilet paper and he hands her some. Wiping her mouth, she stands up and rinses her mouth at the sink, using the mouth wash there.

"April?"

He's worried, she could tell.

She turns around and finds him standing too close to her. She suddenly feels nervous when she meets his worried eyes but she quickly reminds herself that they are done. It absolutely can't happen again, for both of their sakes.

"I'm fine."

She walks out to the empty lounge, falls on the couch and brings her hand to her face. She sighs. He sits next to her and rests his hand on her knee. She stares at it and he feels awkward about it so he draws it back, clearing his throat.

"No, you're not fine. What's wrong?"

"Just some food poisoning, nothing big."

"From what?" Jackson presses on.

"The, um, soup I bought at the deli the other night." She shrugs nonchalantly.

"What soup? Which deli?"

April laughs. He's actually serious with that question.

"You're too touchy with the details, Jackson." She says.

He laughs, also. "Well, you should go home, then."

She sits up. "Oh, that's not necessary—"

"No, it is. You can't walk around with patients everywhere and barfing every now and then."

"I'll be fine."

She pats his arm lightly and then walks out of the room.

•••

Author's Note: I know I used that "meat grinder" thing from one episode on season 8. I couldn't think of anything else to fit the story. Sorry.