I know I need to update some other fics before I create yet another, but a one-shot won't hurt, right? I've read a few others based on the same theme so I thought, why not give it a go? It's completely different to how the show panned out. This took me a lifetime to write, and I don't even understand why because it's not that long. Hope you like it.
Based on the song 'Better', by Matthew Mayfield.
They say that loss is one of the life's most difficult experiences.
They say that it hurts, it kills, it leads to excruciating pain.
It lasts until you finally, and successfully, pass the five stages of grief.
Denial and isolation.
It comes first, but you don't notice it at first. It's only when someone points out that you need to move on and start over that you realize you're in denial.
Anger.
The second stage can be shown through different forms. You may not be angry, per say, but you'll feel some sort of sadness and resentment throughout.
Bargaining.
You can convince yourself as much as you want that there was something that could have been done, but eventually you'll learn that life has a plan and you can't stop the way you please.
Depression.
Curling yourself into a ball, cooped up in your bed, eating ice cream, shutting people out, locking yourself away from others isn't the right way to deal. You'll find this out when a friend points out that you've changed and you realize that you need to seek medical advice.
Acceptance.
The last stage isn't reached by everyone who follows the steps, not everybody necessarily makes it to the end and accepts reality. But once you do, you realize that you're okay and that life goes on and you should make the most of it.
She closes the shower door behind her, reaching for a towel off of the side and wrapping it around her body slowly.
Her face is tear-stained and her hair's tied up in a messy bun as if she doesn't care.
She doesn't care.
The baby blue towel is warm and soft against her but somehow she can't help but to flinch as though it burns her skin.
She shivers from the cold, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at her reflection in the mirror.
The tears are still pouring and she doesn't know when there'll stop, if ever.
The entire apartment is silent apart from the faint sound coming from her television. She turned it on for the company. A few drops of water leak from the shower head and she sighs, it needs fixing.
There's so much to do now but she doesn't even know where to start, she doesn't have the energy.
Leaving the light on, she's scared of the dark now, she leaves the bathroom and makes her way into the kitchen. Her small hand grabs a mug off the counter and she turns her kettle on. The water's already warm and it brews within a minute. She pours herself a tea, one milk and one sugar, before settling herself down on her couch.
Never Let Me Go.
She can't watch it because it involves love, which she's missing, and death, which she can't stand to bear right now.
She flicks the channel, tuning into an episode of some old sitcom.
She needs comedy, she needs to laugh.
She needs to laugh because if she doesn't, she'll freak out. She'll fall.
She will curl herself into a ball on the ground. And nobody will pick her up.
If she hears the smallest creak or the faintest noise, she will scream out for help. And nobody will hear her.
If she turns her lights off, she will cry. And nobody will wipe away her tears.
No family, no best friend.
She's alone now. Sure, she has the others at the hospital but they aren't exactly close and she knows that none of them will ever come to help her, to make her feel better. She's not close enough to anybody anymore for them to care.
She's alone.
April crosses her legs under her body, holding her mug tight between her trembling hands as she rests back into the cushions of her couch. She lets her hair fall down from the bun, resting against her shoulders and the wet ends tickle her skin.
She'll get changed in a while, she thinks, when she's a little better. Because, otherwise, she'll feel like she's being smothered. She knows that it's stupid but she doesn't care.
She doesn't care.
She'll get changed before she goes to sleep, if she even can. She wonders how she's going to be able to sleep alone in their apartment, knowing that nobody will be there if he comes back, if he decides that he should have killed her when he had the chance.
She was almost killed today and she wonders how she managed to survive.
A loud knocking on the door makes her scream and places a hand over her mouth.
Oh, God.
Her eyes are wide. Her mouth's open. Her body's shaking.
It's only when she realizes that Gary Clark is dead that she knows that she's being stupid.
Nobody rises form the dead. Unfortunately.
She shifts her position on the couch, a small frown on her face. She's confused and curious as to who it is, who could possibly want her attention.
The knocking persists and she slowly stands up, placing the mug down on her coffee table. She runs a hand through her hair and steps closer to the door.
"April?"
She immediately recognizes the voice.
She creases her forehead, imagining the possible reasons as to why he could be at her door.
They've never been the best of friends. She was mostly friends with Reed, but she occasionally chatted with him and Charles during their time together as interns and residents. She wouldn't call them great friends though, she was the outsider girl. Next to her best friend, she was the forgotten one. Compared to Reed, she was the less prettier one, the less smarter one.
She figures that killing a patient in her first week at Seattle Grace only made that fact even more accurate. It doesn't matter about all the good that she did at Mercy West, she'd always be that girl who killed someone during her first week at the new hospital.
"April, can you open the door, please?" He asks her quietly, resting a hand on the white paint of the front door.
Her shaking fingers slide open the lock and unbolt the front door. She picks up her key from the side and turns it around, successfully unlocking the door.
She opens it slowly, her other hand wrapping around her stomach self-consciously. She really wishes that she'd have gotten dressed before opening the door.
Jackson just stares at her, hands stuffed in his pockets. He watches her face as she casts her eyes to the ground, biting her bottom lip.
"Can I come in?"
She can't say no to him. She can't because she's pretty sure that he's here to keep her company and she needs it.
She nods her head, opening the door wider and he steps inside, sliding past her body and standing in the hallway behind her.
The door shuts again and he watches the way that she triple locks it, guaranteeing her safety.
"How did you know where I live?"
It's a quiet question.
He licks his lips before answering, "From when you had that party, remember? When we became residents? I remembered." He asks her, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh... right." She brushes her hair behind her ear and walks into the living room, resuming her position on the couch.
She thanks her stars that her only item of clothing is extra long so they won't have to face any awkward situations.
It's awkward enough as it is.
"Do you want a drink?'
"I'll go get a water, just... stay there."
He smiles across at her and makes himself at home, hanging his jacket up in her hall before trekking into the kitchen, opening the fridge before grabbing a bottle.
"You want anything, over there?" He calls over and she simply shakes her head.
He swallows a few sips of the water before placing it down next to her tea, and he sits down beside her.
It's an awkward silence and the only sound he hears comes from the television. Jackson shuts it off before turning his attention to her, his knee bumping against hers. Her breath is now the only sound he hears and he weirdly finds comfort in her unsteady breath.
Her face is pale, her face is tear-stained, her eyes are watering, her lips are trembling.
Her legs shake underneath her and he quickly wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him.
"Hey," He says reassuringly, cradling her in his arms as she rests her head in the crook of his neck.
She's crying, and he doesn't even care about the wet stains that are sure to appear on his t-shirt. He doesn't care because she's the only friend he has left and she needs comforting.
April doesn't want to burden him, she doesn't want to seem like some sort of cry-baby that he has to take care of from now on. She doesn't want it to seem that way because he's the only friend she has left and he needs comforting, too.
Her crying hiccups stop after while and looks down at her, sweeping a strand of her brown hair behind her ear as it falls on her face.
On her face that he can't help but find incredibly attractive even if she's crying and she's a mental mess at the moment. But he won't mention it because it's not the right time and he isn't going to make a pass at her when she's in this state.
He's not going to make a pass at her if she doesn't show him the same signs, because he's not going to screw up the only friendship he has left by hitting on her.
"We're going to be OK."
Jackson's not sure if he's trying to reassure her, or himself.
She glances up at him, wiping a hand over her face to dry her face, "How do you know that? You can't possibly know that. Reed thought everything was going to be OK after the merger but it wasn't. I got fired for one simple mistake, I almost got everybody else in trouble for it and, now what, she's dead! My best friend is dead! Don't tell me that everything is going to be OK, don't tell me that we're going to be all right, Jackson!"
She backs away from him, throwing her hands up in the air and standing from her seat, pulling her towel close to her body. She notices how the colour is a perfect match with the blue in his eyes and she can't help but stare into them. She can't help it because they're so perfect and so freaking hypnotizing that she actually wants to slap him.
She bites her lip and laughs at the idea because it's completely random and idiotic.
He frowns at her, confused, "April..."
"I'm not OK, Jackson? Don't you get that?" She asks him, "I almost got shot today, I almost died today." She gulps a breath and throws her arms down at her sides, "I almost died, and the only people that would have cared are my family. I have nothing, I have no one. I stared down the barrel of a gun today, and I didn't die."
"Apr-" he starts, warning her not to continue.
"Don't you feel bad that he died and you got to live? Because I do, I feel bad that my best friend died and I didn't, we both lost people we cared about today, Jackson. So, you can play all happy go lucky and smile the pain away, but you should feel bad, you should feel as bad as I do. You should feel something. Because, I do, Jackson, I feel guilty. I feel pretty damn bad about that so I don't understand why you're smiling."
He just stares at her, a small frown appearing on his face.
"What?" She sounds pissed off and he notices that he's never heard her so wound up before. He's never even heard her yell, unless it had something to do with work. "Why- Why are you staring at me?"
Her arms fold across her chest, and she only just realizes how vulnerable she looks. She's dressed like a skank, sounds like a child, and crying like a freaking baby.
Jackson stands up, taking a few steps closer to her.
His gaze doesn't leave hers and she suddenly feels self-conscious. She swallows a breath, her arms slightly unfolding and she blinks a few times as he reaches her, his hand pulling her side and she rests aginst him, her arms finding their way around his waist.
He gently cups the back of her neck and strokes her hair as she cries against him, her sobs not silent enough to escape him. He hears her hiccup, yet again, and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear as he pulls away from her, both hands gripping her sides lightly.
"I feel guilty, April. I do. But there's nothing we can do about that. It's always going to be behind us, it's always going to follow us around. They're always going to be with us, we just have to try our best to move on."
She nods her head, biting her bottom lip and running a hand up her arm as she feels a shiver. The window in the bathroom is open and she figures that the draft is passing through the doorway. She walks off, trailing her feet on the floor.
He watches her leave, her shoulders slightly haunched from the cold weather.
He realizes that it's stupid, it's insane actually, but he's worried that she won't return. He's been putting up a hard front since he heard the news that Sheperd had told him, that there was some crazy guy running round shooting people. He's been putting up a hard front. He did it in the O.R. to keep the guy from taking anyone else down, to keep him from firing another bullet's into the Chief's body. He's been putting up a front to deal with everything, to handle the pressure that's been placed on him recently. He did it to keep himself from crumbling down, from collapsing at the thought that he'd just lost two of his closest friends.
And he only has her left.
So, yes, she's currently only a few feet away from him, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care because, in that short distance, he's afraid that something could happen to her.
He's afraid that psycho might come back and shoot her this time around. He's afraid that she might die. He's afraid that he might lose the only person he has left.
April leans over the bath, stretching her arms up to close the window. She places one hand on the side of the frame and shuts the clasp with her other hand, gasping a breath when her towel falls to the ground. "Jackson, don't look!"
He was already watching her, so he quickly turns his attention away from her naked body, trying to not let his eyes trail over her perfect form.
The window shuts and she leans down in a hurry, picking the cloth up off of the ground and wrapping it around her body. "OK." She turns around, both hands clutching the top of her towel and an embarrassed look on her face.
He spins around, a small smirk on his lips, "I didn't, uh-" He starts but she cuts him off.
"You did, I know you did. You're a guy, you're programmed to." She shrugs her shoulders, "It's fine, I mean it's not like I don't know you." She tells him, a smile appearing on her face.
She's smiling, he notes. That's a good first step.
"If it helps at all, you look good." He informs her and she giggles, a light shade of pink covering her cheeks as she blushes. He got her to laugh, that's a good sign.
April shakes her head, "I'm going to go... put some clothes on." She tells him, pointing a finger towards her bedroom. He nods gently, and she bites her lip again. He's pretty sure that she doesn't realize how crazy that little act is starting to drive him.
Jackson turns away, heading back into the kitchen.
It's two in the morning, and he figures that she hasn't eaten all day, so he makes up two bowls of cereal.
It's not the best food but she has nothing else in, so it'll have to do.
Everyone likes cereal, right?
He places her bowl down on the table in front of the couch, keeping his own in his hands and takes a bite.
"April, are you hungry?" He calls out, surprised that she hasn't emerged from her bedroom yet. He guesses that she must have fallen asleep so he walks over to the door to check. It's unlocked and he enters the room silently, "April?" His mouth is full from another bite of cereal and the bowl in his hand drops when he sees her.
She watches the milk splash on the carpet with wide eyes; she's a clean freak.
He can't help but admire the way she's only stood in her underwear, her arms covering her breasts as she eyes the new mess on her floor.
She only truly notices what the hell is happening when his blue eyes don't leave her body, and she finds herself frozen in place. She gulps a breath and stares at him.
"I, um- I don't-" She stutters, her mind freaking the hell out.
She's not sure what he's thinking but she's imagining that she would enjoy whatever it is. She'd enjoy it for many reasons. She'd enjoy it because she's virgin and nobody has ever looked at her like that. She'd enjoy it because he's her friend, her best friend now, and she'd be okay if he took away that part of her.
But it sounds stupid, she thinks, and she almost laughs.
"D'you need some help, or..." he trails off, raising an eyebrow as he twirls the spoon in his hand.
"I was, uh, just getting changed, and then you-" She frowns, "You came in and this all got very awkward all of a sudden." She finishes, casting her attention down at the stained carpet. "I couldn't- I was looking for my t-shirt that I always wear to bed when I feel bad, you know, so I was looking through the draw and... and I saw this shirt that I'd borrowed from Reed and I- I just... I couldn't. Yeah."
He tilts his head to the side slightly, "I get it, yeah." He tells her, placing the metal spoon down on her dresser. "We can throw it out, if you want. If it'll make you feel better, we can just get rid of it." He suggests, resting his back against the dresser.
"No. I want- I want to keep it." She nods her head as she speaks, "Could you... hand me my shirt, please?" She asks him nervously. Her hands shake and she doesn't understand why she gets so fidgety around him. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she's kind of naked, she thinks.
"You don't want to stay like that?" He questions with a smirk and she can't tell if he's joking or not.
He's never found her as attractive as he does right now. Her brown hair frames her face and reaches just below her shoulders, the edges are curled from the water of her shower. She hasn't wiped her tears away yet because he can still see where they're marked.
Jackson steps closer, until he's standing right in front of her and he can feel her breath against the front of his neck.
"Jackson-" He cuts her off by grasping her arms gently in his hands and pulling them away from her body. She gulps, her wide brown eyes watching his face as he cups her face in his hands, and she doesn't bother to place her arms back in place across her nude chest. "What are you doing?" She asks him almost mutely, her voice high pitched. She hates the fact that she sounds like a little child, right now.
He shushes her, a hand grasping the back of her neck and pulling her head up toward his as he leans down.
He's clearly not joking.
"I feel guilty about today, April, but I don't feel guilty about the fact that I want to kiss you right now." He tells her, his breath hot against hers and he stares down at her mouth.
"Really?"
He responds by pulling her closer to him, a hand running up her back as he kisses her passionately.
She allows herself to fall against him, her body trembling when she feels the backs of her knees hit the edge of her bed.
When the morning comes, she doesn't fell as sad.
They attend Reed's funeral on the 29th.
It's a small gathering, mainly her family and the people she knew through school and work.
Her mother cries as words about her daughter are spoken, as friends share their memories and their best moments spent with the young woman.
April is nervous as she twirls the red rose in her hand. It was Reed's favourite flower and she knew that it was what she would have wanted.
The ceremony was incredibly sad and she doesn't recall ever crying so sad in her entire life, but Jackson's grabs her hand gently when he sees her tears and pulls her body against him, holding her in for a hug. She sobs against his chest, both hands resting in her lap as they're sat on the wooden bench in Reed's local church.
The funeral was taking place at her home-town, and they were the only two from the hospital who had bothered to attend. April figures that nobody else was as close to the girl as she, or he, had been. She wasn't an anti-social person, she just had a cruel persona sometimes and she rarely let people in.
It was one of the things that April didn't understand about their relationship. She was this caring and neurotic person, whereas Reed had been short-tempered and tight-fisted. They hadn't exactly been built to get along. But now, she guesses, it's just like and Jackson.
They're not the typical picture.
But she doesn't mind because she's happy, and he's happy, and that's all that matters.
That's all that matters to her right now.
When everyone has left, apart form the young man by her side, she kneels down by the side of the hole in the ground. Taking a deep breath, she softly throws the flower in her hand onto the brown shiny coffin. It's nice and clean and looks good but she thinks that it shouldn't because it's symbolising death and death isn't all shiny and beautiful.
"Are you OK?" The voice beside her asks and she slowly nods her head, standing back up after a few moments. She swallows a breath, turning back around and wrapping herself up in his arms.
"I'm fine." She's honest.
She's honest, because she knows that Reed would have told her to get over it, to grow up and move on. And she knows, she knows that that's what she has to do. It's the only way to move past everything and continue on with her life as though she hasn't just lost her best friend.
Reed never did give the best advice; it mainly consisted of stupid ideas and mean comments, but she sometimes knew exactly the right thing to say. And right now, she'd know what to say to make April feel better. She'd tell her to be happy because it was her funeral and, because of just how awesome Reed was, as she liked to remind her all of the time, she didn't want anybody crying once she died. She wanted, she'd told her numerous times, that she wanted to see people dancing and laughing up from above. April always thought that she was talking crazy, that she was insane because it wasn't right, it wasn't polite, but now she realized. Reed would want her to be happy, and be strong. For her sake.
And for her sake, she would be.
Jackson wipes away the tears trailing down her face before noticing that she'd stopped crying.
He softly smiles down at her.
She pulls away from him slightly, keeping her arms wrapped around his waist and biting her bottom lip, "I'm fine." She repeats, nodding her head and casting a small smile down at the ground.
She's going to be fine.
They attend Charles' funeral on the 31st.
It's a small gathering, mainly his family and the people he knew through school and work.
His mother cries as words about her son are spoken, as friends share their memories and their best moments spent with the young man.
Jackson is a mess. He won't admit it right away, of course. But he is. He knows it, and April knows it but she won't mention anything.
They're seated in the church as good words pass around the air. Words about life and death, and words about his best friend.
People talk about him as if they knew his life stories and, sure, maybe they did, but not the way that he did.
They were best friends, they were like brothers. Charles used to say that he was like the body of the car while Jackson was the engine, always getting things started; whether it was hitting on girls for the both of them or stealing patients from the nurses before anybody else got their hands on them.
Now, the car only had an engine. No actual structure to hold it together.
Just like him, he was falling apart because his friend wasn't here to hold him together.
He misses him, he'll admit that much for now, he misses him as much as he missed his childhood dog when he was twelve and it died. He misses hanging out with him, he misses joking about random crap, he misses him.
But he knows one thing, Charles would have wanted him to be brave. He would have wanted him to be happy and strong for his sake.
So, he's going to be. He's going to be strong for his sake, for his best friend's sake.
He feels the body beside him shift slightly and April's knee bumps against his as her fingers slowly trail across the wooden bench in his local church to hold his hand.
He finds it ironic, kind of. They'd always joked that Charles would end up with Reed and Jackson and April would eventually find their way to each other. He'd always thought that Charles was talking crap, that he was crazy because that would never happen and because Reed never felt the same feeling that he did towards her. He was proved wrong when April had told him a little while ago that she had, that she'd always had crush on the man she liked to refer to as Charlie. She didn't do it because she didn't know his name, she called him that as a nickname because nobody else did and it became their thing. She'd just never thought of actually asking him out from a fear of rejection.
He finds it ironic; they're probably together now.
And he's with April, and he's happy.
He's happy, at least happier than he thought he could be after everything, and he only has her to thank for that.
He's going to be happy, and strong, for his best friend's sake, because he knows that that's what Charles' would have wanted.
When he lies awake at night, though he may not always be able to control it, he's going to try to not picture his best friend bleeding out on the floor. He's going to try not to dream of the unfortunate fate that his best friend suffered, he's going to try to stop the nightmares that wake him at night. Because it's not just him anymore, it's April as well.
He's going to try for her, and for Charles.
He'd always thought of himself as the stronger one between the two of them but, now, he thinks how wrong he truly was. He would have given up, he would have caved in and given up to death. He would have let it overcome him, he wouldn't have put up a fight, mainly because he didn't have anything to fight for. But Charles did, he fought his hardest and with the only strength he had to keep himself alive as long as possible. And he praises him for that, he wishes that he could be that strong.
So, he's going to try.
For his sake, he'll try.
The ceremony ends and, as the visitors start to make their way out of the door, he remains in his seat.
"Are you OK?" The voice beside him asks and he slowly nods his head, standing up after a few moments. He swallows a breath, turning back around and wrapping her up in his arms.
Her arms curl around his neck and he rests his head in the crook of her neck, breathing in the smell of the strawberry shampoo that she uses in the morning to wash her red hair. She'd recently died it a different shade, stating that she needed a change, and he liked it. It was nice and suit her perfectly, almost as much as the brown. It was wavier and he enjoyed running his fingers through it when he kissed her.
"I'm fine." He's honest.
He's honest, because he knows that that's what Charles would have wanted.
Jackson slightly pulls away from her, his hands resting on her hips. She's shorter than he is and he smiles down at her. She looks up at him, her eyes curiously staring into his.
He's going to be fine.
They got back to work on a Tuesday, after their leave ends.
It seems like they've been gone since forever, because the hospital isn't the same anymore.
It never will be.
The first step comes when Sheperd resigns as Chief, and Webber steps back up to the job. He was always the real man for the job anyway. They know him that well, but it's the obvious decision.
Meredith tells April to not say anything to Derek about the miscarriage because she hasn't told him yet and she doesn't know when she will. She only nods, adding an 'of course'. She tells Jackson the same thing, because he was there. He was in the exact same room when Cristina blurted the news out as he best attempt to stop the crazy gunman from shooting her best friend.
He only nods, adding an 'of course'.
The day is long, extremely so.
Time seems to fly until they're stood in Meredith and Derek's home, where they now live, and they're attending Cristina and Owen's wedding.
Everyone seems much nicer, and everything seems to be going better.
April cries during the ceremony, her hands clasped together in front of her. Jackson softly places a hand over them as he stares ahead, a small smile on his face as he watches the ceremony and she looks up at him. She bites her lip and leans over, resting her head on his shoulder.
Their fingers intertwine and she wipes away her tears with her other hand.
It's a beautiful wedding, and she can't help but wish that Charles and Reed were there to celebrate with them.
Reed always had a thing for weddings.
"Are you OK?" Jackson asks her, wrapping both arms around her waist and pulling her body against his. She's never been one for public displays of affection because she always figured that there was a time and place for that sort of thing, but he's amazing and she's kind of falling in love with him, so she doesn't care.
April nods, leaning up to kiss him, "I'm perfect."
They've passed the five stages.
He pulls away and rests his forehead against hers, "We're going to be OK."
"I know." She breathes out, clasping both hands around his neck. "Me and you."
"Me and you." He repeats before kissing her again.
They're going to be fine.