Chapter 1: Oceans
It feels like there's oceans
Between me and you once again
We hide our emotions
Under the surface and tryin' to pretend
But it feels like there's oceans
Between you and me
5 weeks later
A sense of unfamiliarity washes over April's body as she looks back at her reflection in the mirror. A feeling similar to the sentiment of meeting someone for the first time, or seeing an old friend and merely recognizing distant traits that were once so familiar.
On the dresser, a small gold cross necklace that once never left her neck sits collecting dust. Whether it has been weeks – or merely days, it looks out of place away from the nape it usually sits in. But then again, April feels so out of place in the world lately that pondering on the loss of an object seems trivial.
As she leaves her bedroom to head over to the hospital, a small book has been tossed into a corner, its position behind the couch showing evidence it was likely thrown there in a moment of anger - its pages that once held up the truths she lived her life by.
"Come on, get out." She reminds the man that's made himself all-too comfortable in her bed.
Glancing back at his figure on her bed, she almost feels bad for kicking him out, but he'd known when he had fallen asleep there the night before that he wasn't meant to.
If sadness had been what she'd felt in the last few weeks, she didn't feel much now. And while she'd always imagined that sadness is the heaviest feeling one will ever come to know, she'd come to realize that there is absolutely nothing heavier on the soul than the weightlessness of emptiness bearing down on one's self.
She puts away the empty bottles of wine she'd found comfort in as of late, stuffing them into a trash bag frantically. The sound each glass bottle makes as they echo against each other as she puts them away doesn't help the pounding headache she is nursing.
Putting the bag down, she brings a hand to her temple, trying to wean herself off of the imminent waves of shock the aftermath of drowning her thoughts in alcohol brings on.
To anyone that doesn't know her, the sight could almost garner some sympathy. A woman that had a few too much to drink, and by the looks of it; not for the first day in a row. But to people that do know her, the sight is damn near deplorable. Except no one is looking.
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"I'll need your proposals by tomorrow." April says nonchalantly to the group of doctors that has gathered around her. "You've know about this for weeks."
Once again clutching her temples, she adjusts her sunglasses – that she's wearing inside, a new trend she'd decided on when the fluorescent hospital lights had become an obvious impossibility. The Grey-Sloan contest had begrudgingly been dropped onto her lap, and although her mind had strayed elsewhere in recent weeks, she still needed to make sure it was running smoothly.
"Okay, but who's judging this thing? Not just you, right?" Jackson's question pierces through the doctors' chatting.
She narrows her eyes at him, glad to see his lack of common sense in the last few months has persevered. "This is a world class hospital and a multi-million dollar contest; of course it's not just me. I've assembled an esteemed panel of renowned surgeons in Seattle, and I expect you to not waste our time. So, I suggest you get to work instead of asking me questions that are answered by the paper in your hands."
The headache's now in full force and one dumber question may push her off the edge. Deciding that it's in the best interest of her sanity, and also as she strongly suspects her head may actually explode – against all medical knowledge she has ever learnt - she removes herself from the doctors' incessant questions. Sighing in relief when it's finally quiet again, she silently curses herself for not choosing neuro like she'd once set upon, so that she could lock herself in a lab and magically find the cure to the cacophony in her head.
A few feet away, Amelia Shepherd can't help but narrow her eyes at the redhead. A former alcoholic, she recognizes what a hangover looks like, and has an eye for when they look particularly bad. Drinking bender bad.
"Hey!" she calls out, catching up to her.
April's startled, mostly because the two have ever hardly exchanged anything further than common curtsey, and the fact that her former mentor's sister intimidates her to some extent.
"You look like crap." She observes, making April's eyebrows dart upwards from behind her large shades. "Just, have an Alka-Seltzer and get on an IV drip, it's not going to go away on its own. Trust me."
"Thanks."
Even once April retreats into the corridor, Amelia doesn't know what made her speak to her. Sure, she's Owen's protégé and close friend, but the two of them had never had a close relationship of their own. And yet, seeing her in this state reminds her of her own reflection that would sneer back at her all those years ago, when alcohol and substances seemed like the only way to feel alive.
She looks back to see if Jackson had looked over at April at all, wondering if her ex-husband had maybe caught wind of what was going on with a woman she had once heard – only in rumours and tequila laughs, that he'd had a whirlwind love story with.
Alas, he looks engulfed in a conversation with Maggie, completely oblivious to the train wreck that had just presented herself in front of him.
If this is love, she thinks, then I don't want it. And she wonders if Owen would also react like that, a few years down the line, if the ghost of a person he once cherished was stood right in front of him.
Casting one last glance to the locks of red that are darting down a corner, she knows she cannot let her past become someone else's future. That the demons she fought, cannot find their darkness in someone else.
.
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"Oh my gosh - Dr Bailey, it would be an honour to help you with this presentation. Actually, I've already made some notes!" she chirps.
Jackson looks at his wife from the corner of his eyes, admiring her good mood this early in the morning. She must feel his smile on her, as she turns around to meet his gaze.
There is no malice in this exchange, not a hint of the darkness that's to come. She walks over to him, triumphantly throwing her hands up in the air.
"Did you hear? Bailey needs help with a presentation on our Religion and how it interacts with medicine. I mean - I was born to do this."
While people at Grey-Sloan Memorial often overlooked the redhead, she brought sunshine everywhere with her. As though she carried it, as though she embodied it. And watching her beam, her rays bringing warmth to the darkest parts of his soul, he finds himself thinking he never wants to know what being in the shade feels like again.
He wraps his arms around her waist, smiling down at her petite form. "How did I marry such a brilliant surgeon?"
She giggles, "God knew what he was doing."
Rolling his eyes while maintaining a smile he didn't know would end up becoming a rarity, "Yeah, or I had to interrupt her barn wedding."
He closes the gap between them and plants a quick kiss on her lips. It's not a remarkable kiss by any means, a symbolism of habit, of their love, of his assurance that when she gets home, he will be there.
A see you later.
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"You're going to have to tell me that again. He stood up? In front of everyone?"
Alex continues shoving fries into his mouth, amused by Amelia's incredulous tone. "Gave her a speech in front of all of us about how they were meant to be together or some crap. I couldn't make it up if I tried to."
"Hey. What are you guys speaking about?" Arizona chimes in, putting down her tray.
"Telling her Avery's wedding crasher moment. She's never heard it."
She lets out a sad sigh, "Oh God. Don't remind me. The ex-fiancé's wife died on our operating table last month."
"You're telling me." Amelia starts, "that April's ex-fiancé's wife died here a few weeks ago? And the husband is here – with a baby who could have well ended up with a full head of red hair?"
"That's pretty funny." Alex snorts.
"What's funny?"
They look up as Jackson sits down with his own food, and Alex can't remove the bemused grin that's spread all over his face at the situation. Finally, Arizona looks at him and answers. "I'm just telling them Matthew is here."
"Matthew?" And then he remembers that a month ago he'd also been here, and that he hadn't even bothered to ask April how their conversation had gone. Stuffing lettuce between the buns of his burger, he can't help but note the silence at the table. Looking up at all of them, as though he'd missed something everyone else seems to be on, he dubiously asks, "What?"
.
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She is paged to the E.R, where an incoming trauma has her running to the gurney, listening as the paramedics tell her the extent of the patient's injuries. A burn victim, with half of her arm and torso covered in what looks like painful third degree burns. Moving fast, she orders them around as they bring the patient into a room.
"Page plastics!" she yells out as she looks down onto the woman that is wincing in pain on the bed below her. "Hi, I'm Dr Kepner. We're going to take good care of you," she turns to the paramedic, "what happened?"
The woman is petite, and pretty. Her long blonde hair has been pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her facial expression makes her look small, mousy almost. "Trying to clean this stupid barbecue so I could return it to Ben. Oh God – I mean, I've been putting it off for months, you know… My name is Laura, Laura Rey." Her thoughts trail off to different places, obviously dishevelled and in shock from the incident.
"Hey," April reaches out to put her hand on her shoulder, "we've got you, Laura. It's okay. Is there anyone I can call?"
"No, I mean, my whole family is in Boston, I only moved here for him and then everything happened and now here I am…" she gestures to her wounded flesh, "so I guess, I guess you can call him. My ex-husband, Ben. Tell him what happened, and if he doesn't want to come, then just tell him his barbecue is ready to be picked up."
April smiles empathetically at the woman's remark, noting down his number so she can tell a nurse to contact Ben. For a brief moment, she wonders about him. What his reaction will be, if he'll rush down to the hospital to see the woman that was once his wife, or simply apologise and blame a busy schedule, rendering her alone. These small nit bits, glances into people's lives, are what they don't tell you at medical school. They prepare you for the medical side, ensuring that you will be prepared for any and every scenario, but they fail to tell you that the symptoms you are treating belong to real people with real lives beyond the walls of the hospital.
As she walks out of the room, her shoulders brush against Jackson as he enters it, the plastics consult she had requested. She briefly brings him up to date on Laura's injuries, and just like that he walks through the door as she walks out.
Outside, she walks towards the nurses' station and gives them the information they need. Mindlessly, she grabs a tablet and files away as she updates Laura's chart and checks her other patients' vitals.
When Jackson walks out of the patient's room a half hour later, she is still stood there, leaning against the counter as she is lost in the screen behind her eyes.
He hesitates, his interaction an hour earlier still fresh into his mind, but he's not ready to speak to her about it. His apprehension of speaking to her is a new habit he's developed, one that would have once seemed so trivial when she used to be his late night whispers and early morning secrets. Finally, he makes up his mind and walks over to her.
He leans his hand and grabs a tablet next to her, as her green eyes stay fixed on her own screen. Clearing his throat, he starts, "So, she was already knocked out from morphine when I walked out. How'd it happen?"
Taken back by his attempt at small-talk, she almost wants to chuckle. He'd never been much of a people-person, avoiding small talk like it was the plague.
She looks up at him, a deadpan expression on her face. "Her ex-husband's barbecue."
"Wait – what?"
"She wanted to give it back to him clean, and well, clearly didn't know how to turn the gas off properly."
"Oh, oh." He shakes his head, a glint of amusement in his eyes, "yeah, that makes more sense. For a split-second I was picturing a pretty big police case against the guy."
The quick banter between them is awkward, like they've both missed the punch line to a joke that neither one made.
He looks down at her, and he realises that he hasn't properly looked at her in a long time. Maybe it's the conversation he just shared with someone he used to envy with every bone in his body in a quiet ICU that makes him stare. Maybe. His eyes fall onto her neck, where the absence of a familiar gold necklace catches his eye.
Sure, it's just a piece of jewellery, but he'd known her for years, and it was the first time he'd been met with the sight of her bare neck.
Truthfully, it's none of his concern if she isn't wearing a certain necklace, and he's made his best efforts in the last few months to remain on neutral grounds with her. Actually, he'd made it very clear to her that their personal lives didn't need to mingle in any other way than casual chat about their work and daughter. But he may as well ask, just in case, just -
"Jackson! I've been looking for you everywhere!" Maggie's voice cuts through his thoughts like glass. Instinctively, her turns towards the woman he's been casually seeing and half-listens as she starts telling him something.
April, a voice that has been quiet for so long says. But as soon as he turns back, she's already gone.
.
.
He's watching her leave, her boxes all neatly piled into the back of her car. After Montana, a hope had lingered on every touch they'd exchanged… and yet, he'd never spoken any of those whispers out loud.
Sometimes, she even asked herself if it had been a feverish dream, as though a manic induced vision would be the only plausible explanation for his reluctance to ever mention their encounter again.
But it hadn't been a dream, and for her, living with him had turned into a nightmare. She turns to him sadly, giving him one last look as they acknowledge it is time for her to go. She's only moving a few blocks away, but it suddenly feels like worlds apart.
He steps forward and almost says something, almost asks her to stay. Almost. Almost. Always almost.
But she senses that this is the end of a chapter they had both been reluctant to close, yet his fondness for reading other stories had made her ready to finally end it.
You can stay, he thinks. You can stay and we can work this out.
But roommates aren't supposed to pretend they're a married couple, not when they once were.
"Jackson, you are my friend and you are my family," she bites her lip, not wanting to cry, "But you are no longer my husband."
This is for the best.
.
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The conference room is dimly lit when he walks in, her familiar red hair sprawled over a stack of documents as she concentrates on what she's writing.
"Hey."
Her head cocks up in surprise, not used to seeing Jackson initiating any conversation with her since he'd found a new person to distract himself. A younger, more spontaneous, less complicated model. She looks at him, acknowledging his presence, and then goes back to what she is writing.
"Look, I know that it's none of my business... but I spoke to Matthew today. He asked me how our kids were," he furrows his brows, "said he hopes we're happy."
Out of everything April didn't want to deal with at this particular instance, Jackson's accusative yet curious tone was at the very top of the list.
"You're right," she finally says, "it is none of your business."
For a moment, they are both plunged in what seems like an interminable silence. He looks confused, almost taken back by her harsh tone. Albeit, he had not been the kindest to her in the last few months, but their history always served as a shield for him to hide under when he needed to let out his anger on someone. Now that it's the other way around, he finds the change of pace unsettling.
"Why didn't you tell him?" his question comes out more forward than he intends to.
It felt almost as though they had stumbled into an alternate reality, where the man he once envied for holding his best friend's heart was now just a past story. Matthew still lived in the reality where Jackson had whisked April away because he wanted to. Because he needed to. Because when two people are meant to be together, waiting for the universe to align is not enough.
And yet Jackson is stuck in this one, where he is divorced from the girl who was once his favourite person in the world. In this reality, he is standing two feet away from her, but they have worlds between them.
April stands up and gathers the files she'd been working on into her bag, swinging it across onto her shoulder. She doesn't need to deal with this, to deal with him.
"For what it's worth, I was still holding on to the small sliver of faith that my life hadn't exploded into a tiny million pieces. For a few minutes, I just wanted to pretend like I had two beautiful kids and that I'd married the love of my life. I held on to a small bit of hope." She picks up her last folder, and before walking out of the door, turns back, "Don't worry, there isn't any left."
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Hi! Let me just start by saying I'm so excited to write my first multi-chapter fic. I'm not sure about the chapter count yet, but I think I'd like to keep it under 10, with longer installments instead.
This started as a one-shot that ended up being well over 12,000 words, so I decided I'd split it into chapters and some more things I wouldn't have been able to with a one-shot. Also, my inability to put this arc into 10,000 words truly shows how deeply the writers have tried to hurt this relationship this season.
I'm so intrigued by April's storyline this season (for the first time in a long time), and like many of you, am very frustrated with how they are portraying Jackson's character. I hope you understand I've tried to keep his character as canon as possible in this fic, and it hurts me every time I have to write an asshole Jackson scene. But where there is bad characterization, there is redemption, and that's what you guys can expect! I promise it won't all be dark and angsty!
Please remember to leave a comment if you liked this chapter and follow the story if you want to see where it goes.
Also, I'm clearly hinting at a new friendship for April. Because, you know, she deserves good people around her.
Thank you!
P.S Every chapter is named after which song I believe fits the mood the best (and which I overplayed while writing it.) This time it's Oceans by Seafret.