A/N: Hello again, friends! Here is that angsty Japril story I promised you. Now, I want to warn you all right now that this story has essentially all the elements of a Japril worst case scenario. It is angst and it is supposed to hurt a bit. But I promise you it will be a good and interesting read. Bear with me and come along for the ride! All will be revealed. Thank you so much for reading, and please feel free to let me know what you think!
Harper Avery was dying.
Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow.
The legendary surgeon had made it to the ripe old age of 93, but he was on his last legs. Harper knew it and Jackson knew it. Catherine Avery knew it. As the three of them sat together in a hospice room, going over the final candidates for this year's Harper Avery Awards, he knew that they were all thinking the same thing. This was the last year they would vet the nominees together. All the board members and foundation members from various hospitals across the country had made their initial nominations and voted the candidates down to ten.
Of course, only five could win per year. Only five. The five best surgeons in the country for the year 2023. There were a lot of good candidates, and the final say was going to leave some of those excellent surgeons out of luck. Harper, Jackson, and Catherine were charged with choosing who was best. Which was far from easy. Not just because of Harper's declining health.
For Jackson, some of the difficulty also related to who exactly was nominated. That whole 'time heals all wounds' thing? Totally bogus. Especially when it came to your own mistakes. But he didn't like to dwell.
But of course, there were some mistakes he couldn't get out of his mind, no matter how much he wanted to.
"Don't," Jackson groaned. He wasn't happy to see her. Not after the night he'd had. "Whatever's bugging you, just keep it to yourself, alright?"
April was standing in front of him, eyes wide, muscles taught, as her whole body rocked slightly. She was shifting from foot to foot, like a diver standing on the edge of a platform contemplating some distant pool below. And looking at him like...looking at him so intently that it was everything he could do not to flinch from the intensity. Instead he blinked.
When April didn't respond to his words, Jackson lifted his eyebrows and a thumb in question. What was her deal? And how many times had Jackson asked himself that very question in exasperation over the past year? Even today. He'd watched her agree to some lame flashmob proposal from her boyfriend, and then she'd tried to beat him up. He'd been in an explosion. His ribs hurt. He was tired.
Jackson really didn't have the energy to deal with the seesaw emotional whirlwind that was April Kepner right at this very moment. Or maybe any moment. He was tired. He was done.
Finally, shoulders rising, and with a quick, audible inhale of breath, April spoke,"I want you, Jackson. I want you."
Words that should have changed everything. And they had, in a way. But looking back, the change was as far as it possibly could be from what he actually wanted. And at the time, he'd been so very wrong in his estimation of what he really wanted.
Jackson shook himself. Don't go there, man. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned his attention back to his mother and grandfather. They had a job to do. Over the years Jackson had been slowly brought into the fold of the Harper Avery Foundation. Getting his God damned legacy on.
It all started with the Foundation's purchase of Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital in Seattle back during his fellowship. He became the foundation's representative on the hospital board. His mother had forced him to essentially become everybody's freaking boss. Just what he always wanted. Not. But it wasn't like he could have said no. The hospital would have shut down if not for his mother's investment. And as far as he knew, Catherine had only brought the foundation in so that Jackson could begin to follow in the family footsteps. She pretended it was all about Richard Webber, and maybe it was, but Jackson knew that wasn't the whole thing.
He'd had no choice. Right? Jackson felt at peace with at least that part of things. He really felt that Grey Sloan deserved to stay in business.
The move had saved the hospital where Jackson had spent most of his residency, and a place that he had grown to love, but it had also marked the beginning of a huge change in the trajectory of his medical career. Because Catherine and Harper Avery kept buying hospitals in distress. And Jackson kept accepting board memberships. It was easier than putting his foot down.
Now, he was a fully active and important member of the Harper Avery Foundation, representing them on the boards of 6 hospitals on the western seaboard, including being based at Grey Sloan in Seattle. He was being an Avery, in a way he'd never relished, and at least it satisfied his family. He also had surgical privileges at all the hospitals whose boards he sat on. That was Harper's idea to sweeten the deal, since Jackson had never wanted to be on the board of any hospital in the first place.
Masterful planning on his grandfather's part.
Of course, having the privileges to operate at 6 of the leading hospitals on the west coast didn't actually mean that Jackson actually operated very often. He didn't. In fact, he was increasingly the face of the organization, flying around the country to represent it, picking up for his grandfather as the old man's health failed and his still vivacious but aging mother slowed down. When people thought of the Harper Avery foundation, they now thought of him.
Jackson hated it.
He didn't get to operate much. He was stressed all the time. He rarely had the time to work on his own projects. Jackson mostly just flew around from hospital to hospital, doing admin stuff, and giving lectures. He didn't get to teach one on one much either. Though, Jackson could admit that some of that was his own fault. He'd racked up a reputation with interns that made most chiefs of surgery think twice.
Stephanie was the first, but she wasn't the last.
Jackson wasn't exactly proud of the fact that he was that attending. The one male interns snickered and whispered about, while their female counter parts either avoided like a plague or threw themselves at to get ahead. In time he'd learned to be more discreet. None of it was serious, of course. Just fun for the very little that was worth. Something to take his mind of the myriad of mistakes he knew he'd made over the past decade. He needed the distractions on the one hand, but Jackson regretted it all.
"When that bus exploded...I thought you were gone-"
April stopped short, pressing a hand to her mouth. Even in the darkened light, Jackson could see the ringlets forming on the damp tips of the hair ducked behind her ears.
He repeated it again, more calmly, urging her to see reason. She'd made her choice already. Jackson had seen her do it along with everyone else at the freaking hospital. She'd accepted a proposal right in the ambulance bay. Right in front of his face.
"You're getting married."
She pulled her hand back and looked at Jackson straight in the eyes, boring into him. Her gaze was hopeful, terrified, and pleading.
"Unless you can give me a reason not to..."
Jackson had a lot of regrets.
"And the oncologist from Hawaii? He might be a good pick...he's done far more research than you have Jackie," Harper wheezed, squinting down thick glasses at the tablet he held in one arthritis stricken hand. His brow furrowed when the screen remained unchanged. The old man was still sharp as a tack, but his body was beginning to fail him. Coordination wasn't easy. "Why can't I see his documentation?"
"Jackson, baby," Catherine's eyes lifted from behind her own tablet, stock full of resumes, patient histories, and nominee profiles. "Help your grandfather..."
Scowling, Jackson leaned forward and flicked the appropriate files. So this is forty? Grandfather still critical of everything he did, and his mother still bossing him around. Great.
"What do you say, Jackie?" Harper queried, pointing to the candidate again now that he could see the information. "Dr. Ben Akanu from Queen's Medical Center, Honolulu. Might add some geographic diversity, don't you think? That can't hurt at the awards gala. No one will accuse us of favoring Boston or New York."
Never mind the fact that Jackson and Catherine knew full well that Harper actually did prefer candidates from powerhouse hospitals of Boston and New York, like Mass Gen and St. Luke's. He legitimately thought they produced better surgeons, but he was a clever man. Brilliantly calculating exactly when the Foundation and the Awards needed to save face.
"I guess," Jackson shrugged, glancing through the man's research history. The doctor had spent a career pioneering a new cancer treatment, and had good patient survival statistics as a result. He was more than qualified.
"Then we all agree; he's a yes," his mother said definitively, nodding and skipping ahead to the next. Catherine beamed, eyes lifting from her tablet to observe Jackson with an expression that he could only call her 'meddling' look. "Look who is next, baby!"
The tight feeling in his gut told Jackson that he didn't even need to look. The next candidate was the one he'd been worried about all along.
It was her.
April.
Jackson tried not to think of April Kepner (correction: April Taylor) these days. It hurt too much. But not thinking about April was easier said than done. He could never forget about her, no matter how much easier that might be for him. And he was hard pressed to ignore her, given how alarmingly often she made some sort of appearance in his life, even years after their friendship had ended.
Sighing, Jackson quickly scanned the summary of information compiled for April's Harper Avery nomination. The second try had been the charm for April, and she'd passed her boards handily in June of 2013, despite all that had (or hadn't) happened between her and Jackson during Seattle's superstorm only weeks previous. And then she'd gone away to Cleveland for her fellowship.
Now, April was the Head of Trauma at Case Western Reserve. But she had also become the founder of a regional disaster response team that was well respected across the country. Her articles on trauma protocol were the next 'big thing' in University and medical school courses. Checklists and trauma training were essential when dealing with large scale disasters, like tornadoes, landslides, and floods. April had been on the scene of many major weather events in the past decade and she'd had a few scrapes with danger. She had made a career off of global warming and the increase of natural disasters in the Midwest.
It scared the hell out of Jackson.
For as much as they'd fallen out of touch over the years (which Jackson felt was as much his fault as hers and he couldn't blame her for keeping her distance really), he had of course kept track of April's career from a distance. Since he was no longer close to her personally, he could at least keep track of her professional life. He couldn't help himself. Any connection was better than none.
So Jackson kept his eyes and ears open. News reports, journal articles, and the like. And they still had many mutual friends. He'd gotten glimpses of her at conferences, and shared stilted awkward small talk at weddings. On the ten year anniversary of the hospital shooting he'd bumped into her visiting Reed and Charles graves. She'd been leaving just as he arrived.
On these occasions, he'd never been able to find the right words to talk about it all, them, the decline of their friendship, or his part in it either. Even so, Jackson knew that he and April were still undoubtedly connected, even though it hurt.
They kept coming together. Like the universe had it in for him. Like it wanted to rub all of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made in his face and laugh maniacally.
"A trauma surgeon?" Harper nearly sneered. "We've never given the Harper Avery Award to a trauma surgeon."
Jackson rolled his eyes at the sneer that occupied his grandfather's face. It was no secret that his grandfather favored some specialties more than others. He turned to face the old man, "Until 2 years ago, we never gave an award to a plastic surgeon either, but now we've done that."
The old man set his jaw and commented haughtily, "That's all your doing, not mine. I was out voted."
"Oh Harper," Catherine commented blithely, rolling her eyes.
That argument had not been a pleasant one. Jackson knew his grandfather had never really approved of his surgical specialty. He insinuated that the whole thing was about boob jobs, bimbos, and big bucks. Which Jackson had vehemently argued against. Long ago, Mark Sloan had taught him that the specialty had a much nobler purpose. One that in his mind was undoubtedly good enough to warrant a Harper Avery Award. And to his surprise, his mother had sided with him against Harper for that vote.
"At least plastic surgery in principle meets the standards of the Award," his grandfather continued. "The Award is designed to honor me and the values I upheld in my surgical career. Innovation and research. Invention. Precision. Trauma surgery is..."
Catherine crossed her arms defiantly, "Is what?"
"Is imprecise! Hacking and sewing as quickly as possible-"
"Grandpa! They save lives!" Jackson retorted.
"I don't dispute that they do," Harper answered, shifting in his bed and adjusting the oxygen line beneath his nose. "And I don't dispute that that is important. But trauma surgeons stitch people up and keep them alive long enough to make it upstairs to receive further treatment from some more gifted surgeon whose work should receive a Harper Avery."
"Grandpa that doesn't make an sense," Jackson challenged. "Trauma surgeons can be very gifted..."
Whatever reservations he might have about giving April a Harper Avery Award, they were purely personal and had nothing to do with his opinions on trauma surgery in general or April Kepner's abilities as a surgeon. He knew she was a great surgeon. He'd seen that first hand. The knot in Jackson's stomach came more from the knowledge that, if they gave it to her, he'd have to see April again in person at the awards gala. And not just in passing or accidentally as they had over the years.
The Harper Avery Awards Gala, like the Harper Avery himself, was no small deal. It was, in fact, one of the biggest events in the surgical field. Like the superbowl half time show in sports. Like the Oscars for acting. Or the White House correspondence dinner for journalists. Any surgeon who was anyone wanted to be there, even though only a select few could manage to get in.
By tradition the members of the Avery family always sat at the same table with the award winners and their guests, and spend most of the event with them. So there would be no way for Jackson to avoid the reality of everything that had happened between him and April.
"You're getting married," Jackson said for a third time, scowling. His body ached and his nerves were frayed and he just couldn't fully comprehend what he was hearing. He was annoyed and he felt like he couldn't believe it.
April was still standing there at the foot of his bed, staring at him. "Jackson..."
Jackson just couldn't focus on her face. Something inside him kept pulling him back to that afternoon, as he'd watched her expressions during Matthew's stupid proposal. She'd smiled and cried and let the tall paramedic lift her into the air, and Jackson had watched it all. His expression grew hard. He'd watched her say yes.
"I'm sure soon enough Matthew will burn his ass again, and then you can stand in front of him and tell him you want him too."
Yes.
He didn't really know why that actually surprised him as much as it did. Or why it bothered him as much as it did. Though Jackson knew that April and Matt had had their troubles recently, she'd said herself that she really liked the guy. Even if he was a doofus. Jackson had to admit that the paramedic seemed to offer April everything she wanted. Religion, marriage, flashmobs. Big romantic gestures.
There really was no reason that April shouldn't marry Matthew. Was there?
Matthew could give April all the things Jackson couldn't. Maybe that's how it was supposed to be. If there was one thing they'd learned from the whole mess of the end of their sexual relationship, surely it was that they did not fit together easily, no matter how good it had felt.
"No," April said earnestly, shaking her head vigorously sending tiny droplets of water off of the trips of her damp hair. "Listen, I didn't understand before, Jackson. I didn't understand how I felt. I want you; I think I always have wanted you."
Jackson opened his mouth but the words didn't come to him. He didn't exactly know what he wanted to say. On the one hand there was this big indescribable feeling in the pit of his stomach. A yawning gulf filled with hope and possibility and could be's. A trap door that opened, making him vulnerable. Giving in to the feeling would mean placing his feelings in the hands of someone else. It was a door Jackson didn't like to open. But it also was almost enough for him to say 'I want you too.'
Almost.
He'd felt same sort of overwhelming opening feeling during the pregnancy scare, when he'd realized that he actually was 'in'.
But look how that had worked out. April hadn't wanted him then, and now she was probably just having another freakout. And he couldn't handle hearing the realization or epiphany that Jackson was sure would come. About how them being together was a freaking car crash, or how it wasn't God approved and whatever else. Especially because Jackson knew he was not anything like Matt.
She'd reject him eventually. It happened before and it wasn't a position Jackson was about to put himself in again. You couldn't trust that a person wouldn't abandon you. Life had taught him that.
Exposing himself to pain? Screw that. He'd be better off, and April would too. Matthew was perfect for her. He wanted the same things she did. Jackson wasn't sure what he wanted, other than to sleep off his splitting headache and to avoid exposure to hurt. So what he had to say became very clear.
Finally, Jackson set his jaw and snapped, "You can't have everything you want."
That was the one defining truth of Jackson's life. When he was little, he'd wanted his father to stay more than anything. But Warren Avery still left. Growing up, he'd wanted his dad to come back, even just for a visit, but that never happened. He'd spent his adolescence not wanting to deal with the legacy of being an Avery. But he couldn't escape it. And just last year, he'd wanted Mark to live, but his mentor had still died.
"Jackson?" April tried again in desperation. Her body doubled over, and her face paled, like she was about to loose her dinner.
He knew it was terrible, and it horrified Jackson to feel the way he did, but he actually found some sick satisfaction in watching. Like it was April's turn to know what it felt like to left behind. Like Jackson had when she didn't come to Joe's. Rejected, like Jackson had felt on that bench outside the hospital while she thanked god they didn't have to get married. Like it would be such a chore to be married to him, anyway. He was Jackson Avery. He was gorgeous. He was a good guy. He was an Avery. He could have any woman he wanted.
Couldn't he?
Suddenly feeling guilty, Jackson's expression softened, "Look, April. I'm really tired and so are you. It's been a long night. You have a fiance waiting for you. Wanting you. So just leave me alone."
April's confused eyes widened, already filled with tears, "Jackson? Please, I'm not tired...I mean, I am, but I-that's not why...I'm sorry I didn't know before...and I just-"
Rambling. So her. It was almost enough to make him take it all back. Almost enough to make him give into the tug and pull of those uncomfortable feelings in his chest. The ones he didn't quite have a name for. The ones he was scared of. The ones that might lead to hurt. Jackson almost gave in.
Almost but not quite.
The risk was just too great. Jackson swallowed, watching with a heavy heart as April started to sob at the foot of his bed. He hated to make her cry, but it was the only way. This might be painful to them both, right now, but in the long run surely it would save them both from a bigger hurt. Matthew and April made more sense. They could work. Jackson knew he and April worked as friends.
Yes, friendship was a safe bet. They'd push through the awkwardness somehow.
He sighed, "Just go, April."
At the time Jackson hadn't realized what he wanted. At the time he'd still thought that they could salvage some sort of friendship. At the time he'd been unable to give in to the feelings that terrified him. At the time he hadn't even known what they were. He'd been too late to realize so many things. And he'd missed so many opportunities.
If April won a Harper Avery, there would be no way for Jackson continue to avoid the reality that April really wasn't April Kepner anymore. She was April Taylor.
"Next thing you know we'll be honoring a plastic surgeon," Harper grumbled sarcastically.
Jackson lifted his gaze from April's picture and rolled his eyes, "We already have Grandpa..."
The old man crossed his arms and scoffed, "Ah, yes. I was trying to forget..."
"Well, with all the coverage of Dr. Taylor's trauma work this past summer during that big flood, giving her the award would be good PR for the foundation," Catherine argued.
Jackson smiled wistfully and looked down at April's image on the screen again. It was her Case Western Reserve ID photograph, so her expression was neutral, and lacked the dimpled smile he missed so dearly. He couldn't help but try to read the expression in her eyes. Was she happy? Did she miss him as much as he missed her? At nest he could say that she looked tired, but that could cover any number of emotions. Jackson hated that he couldn't tell which anymore. Once, he'd been able to read her like a book.
Now they might as well be strangers.
"All in favor of giving April the award, say aye," Catherine beamed. She held up one hand, "Aye."
Jackson laughed, and raised his hand, "Aye."
All issues aside, there was absolutely no way Jackson would deny April this opportunity. Nor could he deny himself the opportunity to see her again.
Harper, shook his head and fidgeted with his oxygen line, "Well, since I am already being out voted...it doesn't really matter how I vote."
Catherine shook her head, and chuckled, "No, it doesn't."
"Shows how much my opinion matters these days," the old man lamented grumpily.
"Don't mope," Catherine chastised, shaking her head at her father in law. "Besides you got your pick for 3 out of the 5." She turned to Jackson and nudged him gently. "Plus, Jackson did his residency with April Taylor. They were great friends."
He winced at his mother's use of the past tense. It was true but it still sucked. Catherine eyed her son suspiciously, and added, "Not that I know why you two had such a falling out-"
"Mom-" Jackson growled. For years, his mother had for the most part stuck to her promise to stay out of his private life. But it was clear that Catherine was still desperately curious. Although she'd kept in touch with April, and peppered Jackson with questions for years, it was clear that she really didn't know everything that had happened. He'd lied about everything, making it all seem as though he and April had simply drifted apart as their careers advanced. Jackson suspected his mother didn't buy his story, but she didn't push him as much as she once would have.
"Anyway," Catherine huffed, turned back to her father in law. "I still correspond with April from time to time. She's a good one, Harper honey. We know."
"Yeah," Jackson murmured, sighing. "She's a good one."
April was teaching when the email came.
She was standing in front of a room full of first year residents when she felt the buzzing of her phone in her lab coat pocket. And she knew. She just knew what it was.
"Mistakes can be your worst enemies in a trauma situation," she said, faltering only slightly at the vibration. "Everything is fluid, and you might not know exactly what injuries you are dealing with. It might even be a situation where the conditions around you are also pretty fluid and chaotic. You might be dealing with a storm situation, burns in fire conditions, exploding stomachs..."
That last comment make the residents in front of April gasp, and she nodded, "Oh, yeah. Actually happened. I'm not making this stuff up."
"Whoa," breathed a blacked haired woman in the front row. "How?"
"Liquid nitrogen in a drink, so next time you folks go out on the town, try to stay away from the drinks with smoke. Your stomach will thank you."
The class laughed and April reached her hand into her pocket, pulling out her phone and taking a peek at the screen. Sure enough, the email was from the Harper Avery Foundation. She'd known it. And it was fine. It was. That they hadn't picked her. She never expected to even be nominated for an award anyway.
Not being selected really wasn't the end of the world. April had learned that the hard way. Life went on, even when you weren't picked.
Clearing her throat, April returned her attention to the residents in front of her, "So, in trauma, you might often find yourself in some pretty distracting situations. This is when it can be tempting to skip steps, push ahead, and try to get things under control."
She squared her shoulders and looked out at the room of young faces. Some residents were eagerly watching her. Others were staring at her powerpoint. Still others had their heads bent down as they furiously scribbled down notes. Yet another set seemed to be tuning her out altogether. It took April back to the early days of her medical career. She'd have been the one taking copious notes. Back at Mercy West, she'd never been far from a notebook.
The sound of snickering pulled April's attention away from her little red notebook. Reed was by her side, and Charles and Jackson were sitting in front of her laughing loudly at some inside joke as Dr. Norton droned on. Reed was getting frustrated. April was too. Their antics were practically interrupting the skills lab.
"Shh!" April hissed quietly holding a finger to her lips.
"Like that's going to work," Reed scowled sarcastically, taking matters literally into her own hands and leaning forward to smack both men in the back of the head.
Charles moaned, "Ow."
"Hey!" Jackson demanded turning around, rubbing his neck. He didn't know who'd hit him, and he fixed his mesmerizing blue gaze on April, leaving her predictably flustered. He smirked when she quickly averted her gaze.
Most of the time she could ignore the fact that he basically looked like a god on earth. She had to, because it wasn't like she was the only one to notice he was gorgeous. Any woman could see that. Any man could too. Probably even blind people could sense that. And it wasn't like April finding Jackson attractive would make a difference anyway. She was not the kind of girl he'd ever go after. He wouldn't even notice if she thought he was handsome. He wouldn't care.
Guys like him didn't want girls like her.
So she ignored his looks and tried to focus on being his friend. Mercy West was one of the first places where April felt like she really did have friends in Reed, Charles, and Jackson. It was a competitive friendship, yes. This was a residency program after all. And it had taken their little intern group a while to gel together. But they were friends.
Charles turned around too, "What's that for?"
"You're being idiots, that's why," Reed explained calmly.
"Loveable idiots," Charles replied offering the petite surgeon a toothy grin.
"You wish." The corners of Reed's mouth curled upwards.
April gasped, ducking her head as old Dr. Norton paused in his lecture and peered toward their space in the back of the room.
"Guys be quiet!" she pleaded in as soft a whisper as she could manage.
The old doctor resumed her lecture, and her three friends laughed. April sighed in relief and started clicking the top of her pen.
"Relax, April," Jackson said, grinning catching her gaze once again, making her cheeks flush and heart skip a beat. "It's only a trauma skills lab. Not like any of us want to go trauma."
Ha.
Those days seemed so long ago now. So very different than April's life these days. Life seemed so simple back then. Now, she was back in Ohio. Reed and Charles were dead. She missed them dearly. And Jackson was still in Seattle. She missed him too.
April wondered if he missed her as much. She wondered what he'd thought about her nomination for the Harper Avery Award. If he cared that she didn't get it. He had to know about it. She'd always hated not knowing what he was thinking.
Taking a deep breath, April pulled herself back to the present room of residents, continuing with the final portion of her lecture, "Even when you've done a procedure or an intake a thousands times, maybe especially when you are doing a procedure that is familiar, mistakes are so easy to make, and they can have catastrophic consequences. For that reason, knowing a checklist like the back of your hand, and utilizing it is essential to success in any of the trauma related specialties. If you flip to the back of your packets, you'll find the checklist we use in the ER here, and your job before your next trauma lab is to learn and memorize every single step on this list."
Mumbles and groans filled the room as the interns started to gather their possessions and return to their normal shifts. April could only smirk to herself, knowing just the sort of hands on lab that awaited them. She'd taken more than a few pages from her mentor Dr. Hunt's book, and expanded on it. The interns would need to know the checklist.
Watching as the last of the interns shuffled out of the room, April slipped her hand back into her pocket. She bit her lip, and considered reading the email. She didn't know why she was so hesitant. Getting nominated at all had stunned April, and she hadn't put much hope at all in the possibility of winning. For one thing, the award had never gone to a trauma surgeon before. For another, while April felt her work was important, she knew of at least a dozen other doctors across the country who were doing equally important work that might have longer lasting impacts on medicine. Saving a few people injured in a tornado, and potentially curing cancer were two very different things.
Her hesitation didn't come from knowing she wasn't selected.
However, April still couldn't bring herself to read the message. Bad news was only bad news if you checked your phone, April collected her things and made a b-line for her office. She had a few projects to update before she headed home. There was always enough work to manage to delay going home. The contents of her email from the Harper Avery Foundation could wait. Reaching her desk, April began to work, but with little progress. She just couldn't concentrate.
Everywhere April turned, she found a distraction. Pens she could organize. Files she could order. Family photographs she inexplicably wanted to move. Somehow the smiling faces of the farm and her family didn't inspire her to focus like it normally would. And none of her work offered her any distraction from the phone with the message that she was most definitely sure was burning a hole in her pocket.
Maybe her reluctance to open the letter wasn't about rejection at all. Perhaps it came from the fact that the message was, however obliquely, from Jackson. She knew he was more involved in the Harper Avery foundation than ever in the past. And maybe she wanted to hope that the message wasn't some generic 'you have not been selected', but something more personal. Maybe April wanted it to be from Jackson.
April felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She stumbled away from Jackson's room, doing her best to choke back tears as she stumbled through the hospital corridors. She make her way aimlessly through the busy wards, knowing that breaking down like this during an ongoing emergency was grossly neglectful for her job. But April also knew that she could be absolutely no good to anyone if a trauma came in right now, even if she wanted to help.
Not after tonight.
Tonight it felt like she'd had to take on a storm within her own body as well as the one raging outside. Now, all she wanted to do was curl up and hide. To stop feeling, even for a moment. If she made herself small enough, surely she could disappear.
April rounded a corner, finding a quiet hallway. She backed up against the wall, sliding down to the floor and resting her head on her knees. And then the tears really came, hot and sputter inducing. She felt so stupid. What on earth had she even been thinking? April had just humiliated herself in front of one of the most important people in her life. She was such a fool.
All the times they'd run into each other since she'd moved back to Ohio were so brief. She knew it was wrong, but she always left those encounters wanting more.
But if she read the message, all her wishful thinking would disappear. April didn't even know if Jackson wanted to talk to her again. She didn't know if she could blame him.
April sighed, fingering the loose ring on her left hand. It had never quite fit properly, despite being refitted several times over the years. Probably God's way of going that extra mile to remind her that the life she had wasn't as perfect as it might appear. But, when you don't get picked, you had to carry on, right? Make the best of what you had? You had to pick yourself up and try to find a way to be happy. At least, as happy as you could be.
That's all she'd done really. Or tried to do, even if the plan was failing miserably. Surely, even God could forgive her for doing that.
"You can't have everything you want." She repeated Jackson's words to herself over and over again, finding no solace in the fact that he did have a point. Especially after everything that had happened between them. That had to be the lesson to be drawn from it all. Surely the universe wouldn't bring them together, and make April understand how she felt only for her to get her heart broken. She didn't think life could be that unjust.
Getting over years of being afraid, and the months of uncertainty and confusion with Jackson, were all for not. Her fears were realized. April knew that as he friend, Jackson had feelings for her and cared about her. And maybe he didn't even regret being her first. But he didn't want her. He probably never did.
Jackson didn't love April the way she loved him. As painful as it was to finally understand, she supposed the signs had been there all along. Jackson broke up with her, he moved on first, he even tried to help advise her on how to do things better with Matthew. The time they'd spend together meant something different to Jackson than it did to April.
He cared about her, sure. They were close friends. But she was the one who'd pushed them beyond that. April was the one who kissed Jackson, and she was the one who'd hurt him, and she was the one who ruined what they had. Her mouth. Her crazy. Because of feelings she'd tried to bury since their first year at Mercy West.
Guys like him didn't want girls like her.
And it was bad, even though it had felt really really good, because April now understood that all those feelings that confused her. And it wasn't really about feeling guilty about having sex before she was married. Not 100%. Yes, she had felt intensely sinful for breaking her beliefs, but her confusion had come more from her continued willingness to bend those values for Jackson. She never understood why or how she'd ever let herself slip into that pattern.
The unstoppable car crash pattern. The dessert pattern. And even potentially still falling into the pattern, even after Jackson broke up with her. If not for timely Karev interruptions. She'd never been able to understand why these things kept happening.
It was only when April thought she was watching Jackson die, that she understood. The pull, a force as great and strong as gravity, had nothing to do with sin. April would have run into a burning bus to save him, and she had spared no second to pause and consider her own safety. Because it was Jackson and she loved him, and if there was a even the smallest chance that she could save him, April would have tried.
She understood now that her heart wanted Jackson because she'd fallen in love with him. April understood now that she'd never been in love with anyone before. She hadn't been able to utter those words to Jackson directly, but it was probably for the best. She couldn't even quite process and verbalize in her own mind what her epiphany fully meant. How she felt was both clear and unclear. Knowing about her love didn't fix anything.
It only drove April to go to the room. To Jackson. And then her mouth had, as usual, spewed out perhaps far more than it should have. So she told him that she wanted him. Because she knew all that was true. That truth shifted her entire being. But for all the revelation meant to April, it didn't matter.
Because, as Jackson said, "You can't have everything you want."
And he'd said it with venom, which April knew was of her own making. She'd hurt him. She was complicated, and crazy and neurotic. Anything but fun. She was the problem. Always the problem.
April lifted her head at the sound of footsteps heading her direction. She sighed when she recognized the figure. As if things weren't already enough of a mess.
April blinked, pulled back to the present as the phone in her pocket started to vibrate, this time with the urgency and frequency of a phone call, rather than an email. Carefully retrieving the phone from her pocket, April frowned when she saw Matthew's name on the caller ID. April swallowed, watching the screen light up. He had a habit of calling over inane though thoughtful reasons. What should we have for dinner? Do you need me to get your oil changed? What time do you think you'll get home?
Matthew was just trying to be a good husband. He was always, maddeningly, trying to be good. April didn't know why the calls irritated her. But they did. She pressed the ignore button and silenced the call.
"Are you okay?" Matthew asked kindly.
"No."
"We need to talk," Matthew said, with a deep frown.
April stared tiredly out into the hallway. "I know we do."
Of course they needed to talk. Matthew had been there. He was the one who held her back from the burning bus. He was there when she'd unleashed her feelings on Jackson. He'd seen too much. April suspected she wasn't the only person to have an epiphany that night.
"It was him, wasn't it?" the paramedic inquired solemnly, walking to wall and sliding down to the floor by April's side. "Jackson? He's the one you..."
April almost laughed. It was like it pained Matthew to ask her. So she quickly gave him an answer, "Yes."
Matthew's jaw grew tight and he clenched his fists, looking like he was working hard to take slow and even breaths, "You work with him every single day, April."
"Yeah," April answered shakily, using one hand to wipe her eyes.
"You really care about him."
It was a statement not a question, but April still felt like she owed him some sort of answer. Because she was the problem for him too. It was her fault Matthew was involved with her mess.
"Yes."
"Maybe even love him," Matt continued, making April swallow uncomfortably. "Huh? You sure didn't freak out like that when I got hurt."
"I know," April said thickly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
She sniffed, and fidgeted with the ring she had still pinned to her scrub top for safe keeping. Matthew remained silent.
"I can't marry you, Matthew." Again her mouth operated without much input from her brain, but for once April didn't cringe over it. As soon as she heard the words, she knew it was meant to be. This was the inevitable conclusion to this whole dreadful evening. How it had to be.
Matthew laughed humorlessly, "What? So your leaving me for him?"
"No. That's not happening..."
That was true. Guys like Jackson didn't want girls like April. Guys like Matthew did. April just couldn't get on board. She unpinned the ring and pressed it into his hand.
"I...I'm sorry. I care about you a lot, but..."
He took the ring, letting it slide into the center of his palm. Matthew turned his head and regarded April carefully, "You just don't feel the same way about me as you feel about him."
"I don't feel the same way about you as you feel about me. And that's not fair," April corrected.
"But I love you," Matthew said desperately.
"I don't...I don't..."
She didn't know if he did love her. Not the real her. Matthew didn't know her. He loved the idea of her.
A pained expression filled Matthew's features, and she felt terrible. Here was a guy who'd offered her everything. Everything. He wanted to spend the rest of his lift with her. Making her happy. But April didn't feel the same way.
The call vanished, and April was again left with the flashing email from the Harper Avery foundation. She really needed to buck up and let go of her wishful thinking. So, she would not be getting an award. Nor would she be hearing from Jackson. Big deal. She was strong. She could handle it. She always did.
Honestly, she'd survived far worse than this both professionally and personally. It was a huge boon to even be nominated. And as for Jackson...well, she'd push him out of her mind, as she'd already done for many years.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward and opened the email from the Harper Avery Foundation.
"This..." Matthew said slowly, licking his lips. He looked like he wanted to cry. "This is probably the most honest you've ever been with me, right? About how you really feel?"
April hung her head guiltily. She hadn't meant for this to happen. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to hurt you. I don't mean to hurt anyone. Lately that strategy hasn't exactly worked out, but...I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn't know..."
The answer sounded lame to April's ears, but Matthew seemed to accept it with a simple nod. He sighed deeply and gingerly rose to his feet. Tucking her engagement ring into his coat pocket, he smiled at her sadly.
"I wish I knew you better, April," Matthew said as he turned to leave. "I wish you'd let me get to know you."
April looked up from the phone slacked jawed. Life could surprise you. It really could. Just when you thought it was going one direction, the universe could suddenly jerk you into another.
Her brow furrowed and she glanced back down, eyes flicking back and forth as she read and reread the contents of her email from the Harper Avery Foundation. The sound of her phone ringing startled her, and this time April robotically answered without checking to see who it was.
"Hello?" Matthew's voice inquired when the line remained silent. "April, are you there?"
"Um...y-yes..." April found her voice. "Hi."
"Hey, just checking in." She could hear the smile in his voice, but the corners of her mouth remained firmly still. "So, I'm warming up this casserole you left for tonight, but I'm having trouble with the cook time...
He started to ramble on about temperatures and thaw times and April just couldn't take it all in.
"April?"
She must have missed a question somewhere. April opened her mouth and remembered the lines of email she had just read. It was impossible. Too good to be true.
"Yeah?"
The phone sounded muffled briefly, before Matthew asked, "Is everything, okay?"
"I-I...they picked me," April stammered. "They picked me."
It was unbelievable.
"They...meaning?" Matthew gasped. "Oh my goodness! Did you get it?"
For the first time since reading the email, April allowed herself to smile, "I did! I am getting a Harper Avery Award!"
Suddenly the whole thing seemed real. She placed the phone on speaker, and read the contents of the email to her husband, "Listen: On behalf of the Harper Avery Foundation we are pleased to inform you that you are a recipient of one of the 2023 National Awards. You are also cordially invited to receive this award in person at the annual Harper Avery Awards Gala in Boston..."
"That's-"
There was a hitch in Matthew's voice. April didn't need to ask him why. He knew that Jackson was one of those Avery's. The ones they'd likely see at any awards event. He always tried to be good, but April knew that he hated it when she and Jackson crossed paths. April couldn't really blame him. It was all her fault.
Matthew recovered quickly, "That's great. I knew you could to it."
She read through the rest of the message, neglecting to include the one personal addition that made her heart sing, small though it was. She left out the part at the end. The post script. From Jackson.
'Congratulations. Looking forward to seeing you. It's been too long. -Jackson'
Ten words. Probably added more out of courtesy than actual lingering affection. It wasn't even like what he'd said was all that personal. He'd probably have felt bad if he'd let her notification pass by without some sort of acknowledgement of their prior friendship. April knew she should not be as happy about that particular part of her message as she was, but she couldn't help it.
She missed Jackson.