Those bright blue eyes can only meet mine across a room.

They don't do anything, not then, at least.

He stops her from going any further because he knows that it's the wrong to do, no matter how right it might feel.

He stops her from unbuttoning his shirt by grasping her wrists gently in his hands.

"Stop."

April stares up at him, a look of hurt and embarrassment in her eyes. Great, she's back to being that girl.

The needy, nerdy and lonely girl that she used to be.

The girl that nobody wanted.

She can feel tears welling up in her eyes but she won't let them fall. She can't let them fall, she won't let herself. She doesn't want him to see how weak she truly is, how easily she feels rejected.

Jackson opens his mouth to speak but she cuts him off by quickly throwing her hands down to her sides and backtracking away from him. She picks the abandoned cleaning gloves up off the floor and slides them back onto the hands. She turns around abruptly, making her way back into the kitchen.

He remains stood in his place, a look of worry on his face. He unbuttons his shirt back up as he watches her pick up a perfectly good plate and start to wash it with dirty water.

He doesn't want to hurt her. He doesn't, he never has and he never will. But he can't let her do anything that he knows she'll regret. He can't, because they've done it twice before and she hasn't gotten better since. He can't make her case any worse than it already is. He doesn't want to cause her any more pain.

And he knows that causing her pain would only come right back around the corner and do the same to him. He's already in pain, he doesn't want, or need, any extra suffering because of one night.

Neither of them do.

Taking a deep breath, he follows her steps into the kitchen and stops at her side.

Her face is blank, her lips pursed as she scrubs the plate hard, creating screeching noises and he winces.

She gulps, licking her lips quickly, and throwing the porcelain object down on the drainer. Barely a second passes before she picks another one up and repeats the scrubbing.

"April-" He can't watch her do this.

"Leave me alone." She sounds hurt, and her voice breaks as thought she's going to burst out into tears at any second.

She realizes that she might be overreacting. Sure, she needed someone in that moment, a shoulder to cry on. And he seemed like a good fit, especially considering their recent history. But as she thinks about it more clearly, she doesn't understand why she was so upset to begin with.

Lexie was a friend of hers, of course, but they were never that close. They weren't on the same level of friendship as Meredith and Cristina, nobody was.

Sure, they shared a few drinks and the occasional girlie chat, but they weren't best friends or anything remotely close to the genre. They were friends, plain and simple.

But Jackson was good friends with her, more so than April was and she knew how much her death must have been hurting him so she figured that she'd comfort him the way he would if she needed it.

Maybe she thought wrong.

Maybe his way of comforting her would consist of beer and an old film until she falls asleep and he tucks her in bed. Maybe he'd try and be that protective, caring guy he'd always been for her.

But she didn't want that.

When she was battered and bruised as though she was dying because something had gone wrong, she didn't want the sympathetic hugs and the reassuring words. She didn't want the pity that came under the form 'everything will be okay.' She didn't want that.

She wanted someone to hold her close and tight and treat her like she was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

But she'd never been treated that way and now, she figured, she never would be.

She'd never been treated that way because of who she was.

Throughout her whole life she'd been treated like the little goody-two-shoes who needed to hold someone's hand to walk across the street. The one who'd wanted something and got it because she was just that spoilt. The one who'd only ever had four real friends, or at least people who felt like real friends, during her whole life. The geeky girl, Rosie, in high school who only ever hung out with her because they were both as annoying as each other. The older girl, Amber, in university who only ever hung out with her because she wanted to give her make-over. Then there was Reed, and Reed was her best friend.

They almost had that Meredith and Cristina relationship that was so hard to find. Throughout their whole intern-ship and residency together, they were like two pieces of candy stuck together that you just couldn't tear apart. And then that day came when she feel onto her best friend's body covered in blood, and everything had changed.

She'd only had one real friend left.

And they'd only really become closer friends because of everything that they were put through after the shooting.

Jackson.

He was all that she had left, and now she wasn't even sure if she had that. She wasn't even sure if she still had him.

But she hoped to God that she did, and that she hadn't already messed things up completely.

He was all that she had left; she'd lost her offers, she'd lost her job at Seattle Grace, she lost her virginity, she lost her purity, she lost Jesus' respect.

He was all that she had left.

April sighed, resting the last dish down on the side of the sink. She places her hands on the edge of the counter and takes a deep breath as she licks her lips again and stares up at the ceiling.

"I'm-" She starts, pausing as she tries to think of the correct words and her mouth forms an O-shape as she searches for the right thing to say. "I'm a wreck." She's not even sure if those were the words she was looking for.

He just stares across at her, resting a hand down on the side, not too far away from hers.

"I'm a wreck." She repeats herself, as though it will help her, "I'm losing it, I'm failing. I am a failure." Her head tilts back down and she looks ahead in front of her, admiring the shelving above the sink. It's shiny and white and clean, and she can't help but think back about how she used to be the same way. Clean and pure.

"I'm a failure." Tears swell up again and she allows herself to let them fall this time, not even bothering to try and wipe them away. "I just- I've lost everything." She speaks, her voice cracking into a thousand pieces, "My job, myself, my religion, ... you."

Jackson frowns, "I'm here."

"Well, you shouldn't be." She informs him, "You shouldn't be this guy. You shouldn't even be giving me the time of day, but I'm taking it and I am taking it a lot. And I am enjoying that time, but I shouldn't be. I should not be taking that time. Because I'm not that girl, I'm not the girl who gets the good guy, who gets the perfect man. I didn't go to prom with someone like you. I'm not beautiful like that girl is, I don't get attention from people of your standard. I'm the loser girl, I'm the nerd who went to church every Sunday when she was ten because I thought it was cool. I went to the library while that girl went to the mall. I get stuck with the burnouts and the idiots. I don't get the attention of someone like you. I mean, geez, look at you. Really? This- this shouldn't happen. I'm the loser girl. I'm not that girl... and you are the perfect man." She breathes, "You're perfect... and I'm a wreck."

He doesn't understand what she's even talking about, or why she's having a sudden outburst.

He doesn't understand what she's even talking about because she's clearly got it all wrong.

His hand trails closer to hers along the granite counter and his fingers gently traces against hers. Their fingers intertwine and he steps closer to her, his front pressed against the curve of her body between her side and back, "I'm right here."

Her fist tightens in his own, and she leans back against him as she breathes out and closes her eyes, the tears escaping past her lashes. She feels her hand wipe away the wet trails on her cheeks slowly, her hand covered by his own. He pauses the movement on her lips, his thumb caressing the corner of her lips, and she feels a cold shiver run up her spine when his other hand finds her waist and draws her slightly closer to him. He lean down and pushes her hair to the side, whispering in her ear, "I'm not going anywhere."

He speaks the words so slowly and in such a deep tone that she almost melts against his body.

He can't say no to her, and he's not going to.

April moans a quiet noise to herself as she thinks back on that time in the men's restroom. It wasn't how she had seen her day planned out but, right now, she wasn't complaining. All she wants is to relieve that experience or at the very least, some form of that. She's pretty though that it's not what he's planning in his mind.

She has all of these unholy images and misbehaving feelings in her mind, and she can't seem to get them out. She's not entirely sure that she wants to.

She slowly turns herself around in his hold, pressing her back into the counter, and swapping her hands around as she leans herself against it. She gulps when she notices the look in his eyes, he's sending her that insanely fiery stare and she can't herself but want him so badly that she can't even think about the Christ or the church.

He pulls the gloves away from her, wondering where the hell they keep coming from, and throws them away again, this time for good. Her rugged breathing increases when he slips his hands behind her back. His fingers haltingly untie the straps of her floral apron at the back, letting the cover fall to the floor and she shifts against him, her eyes never leaving his until her gazes down at her plump lips with a desirous look on his face.

She won't kiss him, she wants him to do it. She wants him to do this that way she won't feel as bad about herself. She wants him to do this so she can enjoy this a little bit more, if possible.

She feels Jackson's hands on her waist again as he pulls her up, and she rests her bottom on the ledge. He places his hands on her knees and she accordingly spreads her legs. She leans her body back slightly when he moves closer, his head finding the crook of her neck and collarbone.

Her breath hitches when he kisses and gently bites the soft skin. His teeth are kind of sharp but she finds herself enjoying the feeling, tilting her head to the side further to give him move access. He smoothly licks his way across the bone until the edge of her jaw and she tenderly trembles against him. He softly smirks and trails his hands up her thighs as he leans towards her face. His blue eyes flicker between her eyes and her pink lips as he contemplates his next move.

He's giving her the time, and she will gladly take it.

Her arms circle around his neck, toying with his hair. His fingers travel down the insides of her thighs and she pants heavily at the contact.

She's made up her mind.

"Jackson?"

He peeks up at her, detaching his mouth from her smooth shoulder, the straps of her dress and bra already fallen loose down her arm.

She likes the way he's kissing her so delicately, so carefully as though she's fragile and he's afraid to break her. She likes the way they're going slowly just as much as they did fast, if not more. She likes, loves, the way he's caressing the skin of her neck and shoulders with his mouth, and the way he's touching her legs is so light that she wishes he'd continue to do so because the sensation is making her erratic and fervently vulgar to do something that she's not even quite sure of.

She hasn't spoken for a few moments so Jackson breaks the silence, "Yeah?" He urges her to continue, hoping she doesn't tell him to stop.

April licks her lips and shifts uncomfortably opposite him.

She pauses for a second before shaking her head bashfully. "No, you'll think I'm being stupid."

Her first time went by so fast she barely remembers being it actually happening, she barely remembers him deflowering her. The second time hadn't been much better, it was quick and sweaty in a bathroom stall. Not the most graceful style.

She doesn't want to sound corny, like a loser, the complete opposite of what she's been acting like lately. She doesn't want him to think of her as that girl, the one who asked him those fours words. She wants to, though, she really does. All he has to do is agree but she's pretty sure that he won't because they're not in that kind of relationship and she figures it'd be weird for him, possibly even for herself.

"April," He pushes, moving himself back up to face her, "Tell me."

"No." She shakes her head and swallows, "Just forget about it. Please."

Jackson stares at her, resting his forehead against hers and his nose grazes her own. He's watching her lips again and he's not sure how long he can go without kissing her because he knows what she wants and he's trying to best to hold out. "April, " He licks her lips, "You are beautiful." He knows exactly what he's doing. She's clearly too ashamed of herself, for whatever reason, so he'll just do all the talking, he'll say everything that he has to to get her to realize how amazing she truly is.

Her lips curve together in a shy curve.

"You are that girl."

She practically crumbles.

"I would have gladly taken you to prom. I will give you the time of day whenever you want it. I will always pay attention to you. You are not a loser, and if you are, then I am too." His lips are even closer to hers and she can feel his breath beating off against hers, "I'm not perfect, April, and you're not a failure. You're human." She holds back her tears and he rests a hand on her waist as the other brushes through her hair gently, "And I think that's pretty great."

She breaks down against him, a smile gracing her face.

Jackson smiles at him, tilting his head down to graze her lips, "Ask me."

She can't help it, she's incapable of wanting him. She doesn't have the power to stop herself from needing him, from wanted his touch, from wanting his kiss.

"Make love to me."

His eyes bore into hers, the blue finding the brown of hers, "OK."

And he kisses her.

He kisses her lovingly, because that's what she deserves.