A/N: Okay so...Yet another little plot bunny that wouldn't go away. This one is loosely based on one of my favourite Nicholas Sparks books. It's quite a different feel from the one I'm already working on. Please let me know if it's worth continuing!

Disclaimer: All rights to Grey's Anatomy belong to the wonderful Shonda Rhimes. I only claim any new muses that might crop up as the story goes on.

There seemed to be no end to the tossing and turning he always did. Alex couldn't even remember the last time he was lucky enough to get six hours of solid sleep. The laughing that bubbled from him every morning was always dry and mechanical. Long hours with no sleep was supposed to be the very definition of his life. It was demanded of a surgeon. Waking up should be the best and worst part of his day. Going in and saving lives, making a difference, that was always the dream. Instead he often sat up cold and clammy, variations of the same damn nightmare playing like a horror film in his mind.

This morning was an entirely different horror. Turning in the general direction of his alarm clock, squinted eyes nearly popped out of his head when he read the display. 7:25am. For the third time this week, his alarm simply refused to sound. His boss was going to kill him. How was he going to make it before 8 when it took him almost an hour to get there with morning rush hour? Shit. As quickly as the word was thought, the blankets were thrown around violently, his bare feet slamming onto the carpet for all of a second before he stood straight up. Coffee just wasn't going to happen today, even though his body was practically begging for something that would clear the haziness from his brain.

He all but bolted from the apartment, barely locking the door before making it out to his car. Turning the engine with a solid growl, he sped out of the narrow parking space, bouncing onto the street. While he literally slammed his foot on the gas he could only hope that cops weren't flooding the streets just yet. With today's luck though, he wasn't sure. Luck wasn't exactly something he had on his side all that often. Being forced to stop in front of every single freaking red light was only further proof of that.

"Come on, come on, come on…" he grumbled. The slightest bit of relief coursed through him when he spotted the only yellow gleam in the distance. If he could just... Approaching the shinning light, he sighed. It wasn't the last one but at least he wouldn't have to sit here for three minutes he could add to his travel time. Trying hard not to think about the lecture he would be getting upon arrival, he began to formulate what he hoped were believable stories. There was an accident. He had to stop for gas. The bastards set up a detour on his usual route. Shaking his head, he realized they weren't going to work. Not for Richard Webber, as laidback as the guy often was. Whatever.He'd been the most reliable worker in the place for close to 20 years. Alex's brain was stuck cycling through so many things his boss might have to say that he didn't even register the nose of another vehicle as it smashed into the back of his throwing him face first into the steering wheel. Only when he came to would he realize the yellow he thought he'd seen was actually a blaring red.

Only thirty seconds of black surrounded him before her soft perfume invaded his senses. He would know the smell of that anywhere. As big as Seattle was, he knew of only one woman crazy enough to wear that flowery crap. He freaking hated the stuff and he always made a point to tell her that. As often as he bitched about it, April never stopped wearing it. Secretly, he never actually wanted her to. He could see in her eyes that she knew it too. Really, it was something else to bug her about. Anything to build that fire in her eyes he thought. If he was lucky enough to make it out of this mess, he would find a way to call her. He would find a way to let her know that not for the first time, the stupid cloud of cherry blossom saved his life.

But her smile. Holy hell that smile. April always found the smallest and stupidest reason to wear one. A dry grey Seattle morning? "At least it's not raining yet." If they waited long enough, the drizzle would grow to a heavy pour that instinctively wrapped his arm around her waist in an attempt to pull her back under the overhang. Instead the dumby would wriggle free and pull him out into the rain. In its midst, he simply watched her, a smile so wide it nearly cracked her face in half. If she went to the store and managed to snag the last of whatever it was she went in there for, she sang all about it. It was all just so insignificant. She could go back in tomorrow and the shelves would be restocked. The rain would threaten to fall the very next morning. The whole thing just made Alex roll his eyes. But somehow, that stuff made her so stupidly happy.

This morning, he thanked every god she ever believed in that he knew the sight of it as well as his own name. Often joking that her smile could cure cancer, because of it…. Because of it he dared to believe there would be a tomorrow.

"April…" Her name barely passed his lips before he lost complete consciousness. As she faded along his vision, he cursed himself for the nightmare that kept him up all night. He hated his old man for being the reason they even existed. But what sickened him more than anything was the fist in his throat and claws at his heart that shaped as soon as he dared think of her. For the love of god, Apes…This woman was bound and determined to make sure he saw the inside of an emergency room at least once a week. And not exactly as a licensed surgeon. I'm losing my fucking mind 'cause of you…

When he finally came to, doctors said he was lucky enough to be alive. Well yeah…Some jackass sent my car flying down the freeway. Alive or not someone had shoved a knife in his brain. Alex almost asked the doctor why they hadn't taken the damn thing out yet but stopped himself. Medical professionals were sued for leaving objects in people's bodies. Sluggishly, he raised his hands, trying without success to shove the two halves back together. Webber's going to kill me.

After a week of letting them make sure they put everything back in its rightful place, he began the slow trek back to work. The drugs they put him on for pain wouldn't let him operate any heavy machinery but at the very least he had to explain why he'd been out for a whole week. His own vehicle now a lost cause, he was glad he was already stuck in Seattle Grace. Knowing how screwy his head was, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn that it was ten times the assumed distance from his room to the nurse's desk. He was good as dead the minute Richard laid eyes on him but maybe this was why he'd survived. To give him a list of reasons why he shouldn't die just yet. He had at least five. Hopefully it worked. If not, well then…. whatever. It wasn't like he never made it to work.

"Hey, I was hoping to talk to Webber. Is he here yet?" Their head nurse (whose name Alex couldn't pull out of his brain for the life of him) looked up at him then, her eyes glazed over. As weird as it was to watch chicks get sad, the sight of it stopped anything else he might have said. "What did I say this time?" he sighed. "Did I forget your name?" The woman shook her head 'no' even though they both knew he had.

"I-It's Mr. Webber, sir. He…. He hasn't been to work all week. A week? That was weird. That was freaky weird. Except for the time he spent with his wife in Ocean Shores on long weekend, the man never missed a day of work.

"Did they head out to the cabin or something?" Again she shook her head, a small sigh falling from her mouth. How was Heather supposed to explain this when she couldn't even make sense of it herself? Still, she nodded. At least…that was part of it. When she said nothing more for the next five minutes, he sighed. "What is it, Brooks? You're never this quiet."

"He took a few days…. for the weekend." Huh? "He uh…He hasn't made it back yet," she squeaked. Alex raised a brow, reminded once again where a small scar would form across his forehead. Where the hell was he? The man had a peaceful but intimidating presence about him. So far, he hadn't heard a single word.

"Do you know when he'll be back? I've manned the place before but I guess it's never how he likes it." She shook her head. She really had absolutely no idea. Once people passed away, not a lot could bring them back. "Do you know anything?" he groaned. The woman had been working for them for close to a decade and she still couldn't talk to him without somehow fearing for her life. Heather shook her head. He now knew as much as she initially did.

"Mr. Karev…Mr. Webber's attorney left a message for you. He's asked that you call him as soon as you can." His lawyer? Why the hell would he need to talk to his lawyer? He needs to…discuss something with you. Oh wow. Call in the big guns to get me fired. Out oud, he groaned fingering the metal of his smartphone as he read the unfamiliar number on a post it note. Without so much as a look to her, Alex had already turned his back making his way into Richard's office to take the call. With every ring, Karev suddenly grew more anxious, hating himself for even getting into the damn accident the week before. When the other end picked up, Alex couldn't find a single word. Barely hearing the attorney speak, he was only capable of his full name, the other man's tone growing somber.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Karev, I'm Bobby Ashford, Richard Webber's attorney. I asked to speak with you because Richard thought very highly of you." Alex almost laughed then, unsure of exactly who they were talking about now. Webber never made a point to single him out as someone to be "fond of". Even so, he found himself listening. "According to his will—"

"His will? Isn't that the kind of thing left by…dead people?" Bobby raised his brow curiously. Well yes. Wil reading was unfortunately a good portion of his job. The silence that followed put the tightest of knots in his chest. "I'm sorry but what is this about?" he inquired, sickened with what he already knew.

"I'm sorry, sir but unfortunately, Mr. Webber passed away early yesterday." Webber's dead? That couldn't be right. The man he knew was practically untouchable. Most of their relationship was comprised of finding ways to make him blow his top. To his surprise, it didn't happen very often at all. "He's addressed yourself and Mrs. Avery specifically. If the two of you could meet with me tomorrow, we can discuss the details." April. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even spoken to her.

"I uh…I don't actually have her number," he confessed. He'd made a point to intentionally lose it. If he dared to keep the number etched in his mind, he would be calling her house every other day. It would piss whoever she was married to now off like nothing else. As wrong as it was, he smiled at the idea.

"That's fine. I've already contacted her myself. He left me information for both of you. April has already agreed to meet and discuss. Will you be able to join us or would it be easier if we set another date?" Alex shook his head, words barely able to make it out of his mouth.

"Uh…No. I-I'll be there," he whispered, Webber's voice clear as fucking day in his ear. If he turned his head right now, the chief would be standing right next to him, that familiar look, of disdain on his face. "Sorry…" he whispered, to a ghost he was sure April had already talked to. Thankfully, Bobby hadn't heard him and instead prattled on about tomorrow.

"Ocean shores…. cabin…ashes." When the line went silent once more, he barely managed a rare thank you before ending the call. In the empty office, he sighed, a hand brushing the length of his face. He honestly had no idea which part of this was worse. Webber was dead. The only man whoever gave the slightest of damns for him was dead. And tomorrow he would be seeing April….

"April," he whispered rubbing the back of his head nervously. Stopping along the grooves on his skull, he laughed without humour. Another scar her ghost was kind enough to give him. Tomorrow there would be no ghost. Tomorrow would be real. Tomorrow he would be able to touch her, but wouldn't. Tomorrow he had the ability to hold her, but wouldn't. But dammit did he want to. Simply because he knew that the minute he let himself, he would never put her down. The minute he grew selfish enough, he would take them both away from this hell. Knowing how desperately April wanted a family, her absence would effect more than her current husband. He'd never even met the guy and every day of his damn life he hated him with almost everything he had. Because he had her. This Avery guy was the one who held her late at night, held her when she cried. Around her, April had arms that weren't his own. And that was his fault.

Alex was sixteen years old the first time he ever laid eyes on April Kepner. She was working at Seattle Grace as a freaking candy striper. Laid up the ER after another one of Jimmy's famous beatings, she was called down to tend to his wounds. His frequent visits made the hospital all too aware of who he was and how obvious he made it that this was the last place he wanted to be. Upon seeing her, his eyes rolled harder than ever had.

"They sent a fucking candy striper," he snorted. Where most already knew to silently ignore him, April revealed one of her famous smiles.

"My name is April Kepner and I'll be patching you up today." Without skipping a beat, she began to tend to his busted lip asking him a battery of common questions he'd already given every other nurse in the hospital answers to. I fell in the garage. Missed a step on the stairs and down I went. Forgot to look both ways. If they suspected anything else, nobody ever said anything, at least to his face. But one look at her and he was ready to ask her if she slipped him some kind of truth serum. As easily as the honesty fell out of his mouth, he hated every second of it. This girl was a fucking stranger. What business did he have telling her how screwed up his life was? What business did she have to listen to him? None. And yet…he chose to say nothing, simply shrugging.

For the first time, he let his eyes fall closed as she worked, focused entirely on the way her hands moved across his face. As efficient as she was at covering up the evidence, he couldn't help but think that she actually gave a damn. At least, according to her posture. It was all in the way she touched him. Hers were the only soft hands he'd ever felt in this place. As much as he wanted to thank her for the care, he knew it wasn't going to happen again. Anyone with good sense wouldn't think to cross him at all. Now that she knew…they would send Dr. Bailey over next week when it happened again. Still, he let himself consider whether or not she believed him. Any number of things could be running through her head though. How quickly could she get him bandaged up and get the hell out of there? Who else could she flag down to tend to him instead? But as sad and disturbed as she was by his story (there was no denying that it at least made her uncomfortable. This kind of crap would get to anyone) she didn't pull away. Instead she nodded periodically, at least pretending to pay attention. It was in that moment he couldn't help but think her completely nuts. He would learn later that she pretty much was.

While she made her way into the pit, April cropped on her usual friendly smile. Looking down at the chart she held in her hand, she reviewed the bed number before coming face to face with Alex Karev. Her easy expression only faltered for a moment when she laid eyes on the obvious cuts and bruises that adorned his face. Even though she hoped he wouldn't notice, his eyes were dark and somehow understanding. Like he expected this kind of reaction from doctors everywhere. Or… Nodding slowly, she kept her assumptions to herself, trying hard to keep her own heart rate in check.

"I'm April Kepner and I'll patching you up today." She nearly cringed at her word choice, relieved when he didn't seem to notice or mind. When she dared to ask how all of this had happened, he remained silent, his shoulders floating up and down without a thought. Though she itched for conversation, for him she chose silence. For that, Alex was grateful. Something in her eye though told him it wouldn't always be like this. Whatever. What were the chances she would be the one to take care of him the following week? There were at least 40 nurses floating around at every hour of every day.

Despite the electrical charge her body gave off, the quiet was new to him. When he finally figured she wouldn't press him for anymore information, he sighed, wondering how long it would take her to notice that he sometimes floated in and out of her touch. He hadn't meant to. It all just sort of…happened. If April noticed, she said nothing about it, simply going on with the work in front of her.

When she was sure everything had been taken care of, Alex became aware of just how close she was as a consequence of the weirdness he felt when she backed away to admire her work.

"Looks good, Mr. Karev. Now…I need you to remember to let these heal. It should take no more than a few days. If anything should come up, please don't hesitate to come back. Ask for me, or any other nurse on the floor. We'll make sure those are healing properly. For anyone else he would have checked out by now. But April almost insisted on being heard. Like he hadn't been coming in here looking like this since he was ten years old. More than listening to a speech he knew by heart, he quietly zeroed into her mouth and the way it so effortlessly formed words. Anything she said was almost a stupid song. A song he knew even before slipping off the gurney he would be humming on the way home. At least until he got inside of it.

"It's Alex," he whispered. He saw question cloud his eyes before she nodded slowly. "Tell anyone else my name..." he warned. He did everything possible to hide his true identity. Giving any one person your name extended an unspoken permission they had to hurt you. Sure, she probably read it on his file but they were obligated to stay professional or whatever. But April…He didn't even know how to explain it. Maybe part of it came from the fact that she'd offered hers too. But more than that...she hadn't looked at him with disgust or pity. In the few minutes they shared, he felt like a person.

When her finger barely ghosted over the cut on his lip, both froze for a full five seconds. The slight volt of electricity that came across his mouth, widened his bruised eye. The sudden movement of his own body parts made him cringe and April frowned. As her finger quietly graced his eye and down his jaw, he turned his head, chapped lips brushing against the heel of her palm. The nurse startled, not at all expecting the split-second motion. Just looking at him and the way he presented, she knew to say nothing. He looked like the kind of guy who would flat out deny any affection, even the kind he hadn't meant to show.

"Thanks," he whispered, almost choking on the word. This time, it didn't come out of barely using it. Instead, Alex was genuinely surprised to feel so much care in her small and dainty hands.

"It's all part of the job," she shrugged. He found himself nodding slowly, even he knew it was more than that. Not that he had the slightest idea what she was thinking. It was all just pure guess. But her eyes…. Her eyes were like nothing he'd ever seen before. For him it had nothing to do with the colour they were (though it was an added bonus to his all too sudden like of her) Alex saw the love and care April had for what she did…Who she'd done it for. This was the image of a woman who loved every single part of her job. Even the assholes like him.

"Yeah…" he whispered. Though he had no intention of asking to be physically slaughtered, she would make anything in the coming days more bearable. At least…in the few times the hospital was stupid enough to make her his doctor. Between brain-rattling beatings, he would remember that smile. He would remember her kindness. He would fall asleep to her soft and careful touch, none of which he deserved.

Twenty years or so later, she would save him again without even knowing it. Twenty years later the only guy crazy enough to give him a shot would be dead. Twenty years later…They would be meeting face to face to be read his famous last words. Shaking his head, Alex let it fall into his callused hands, reeking already of antiseptic. None of this shit was fair. Someone would have to die before he had the chance to feel again. And even when he did, he had to remind himself that it wasn't going to last.

April would be gracing him once more with her presence, her very existence. He would be dealt a shock to the system just by watching her walk across the room. And before he could understand it, she would be gone. Just like a week before. Just like every other time life put her in front of him. But this wasn't about him. It wasn't about her. It had absolutely nothing to do with them. This was about Richard. The man who brought him the one woman who made beatings and breathing easier to endure. The man crazy enough to help him become a doctor. This was about the one guy who always gave a crap about him when he'd done absolutely nothing to deserve it. Tomorrow had nothing to do with either of them. And yet…In just a day's time he'd be able to fill his lungs again after so many years of gasping for breath.

A/N: There we go! Please feel free to leave comments and questions below :)