Fight or Flight
A/N: Heartfelt gratitude to everyone taking an interest in this work of fiction. From the speculation and rumors that have emanated out of tumblr and twitter (as well as beginning season 12) I can confidently re-iterate that this little ficlet will never be canon. As I've said before it's an AU idea that I've enjoyed fleshing out and I'd like to once more convey my thanks for the wonderful reviews. For those too shy to review but who express their appreciation and/or interest with favorites and/or follows, many thanks to you too. Jumping right into it – herewith more with chapter four :-) Continuously Disclaiming: Aside from the resident/s occupying April's belly (had to keep some mystery guyz ;-), all other characters belong to ABC's Grey's Anatomy and the crafty Shonda Rhimes.
Chapter 4
"So kids, the first time I met your mom, she…"
"Oh no you didn't – not 'How I met your Mother', Jackson! And what do you mean 'kids' huh?! You're talking multiples again!"
"Sheesh, April – I'm trying to have a conversation with our children. See? They don't want you to butt in. Feels like you have a litter in there, babe! A very annoyed litter – Avery annoyed? Hmmm, Catherine Avery genes strike early…You wanna hear this story, right kidos?"
"Jackson!"
Flurried as she was by his antics, it was more in the form of a playful exasperation. She was secretly thrilled. Electrified by the possibilities of what all the kicking meant. Euphoric at what that signified. Elated with how far she and Jackson had come in their journey back to each other. But most of all, she was on a natural high; ecstatic to be experiencing a healthy, physically obstacle-free pregnancy and exhilarated to be on the cusp of giving birth, hopefully complication free. While she would never be able to totally relax, her frame of mind leading up to the birth was a surprising miracle to her. It hadn't been an easy ride but the master manipulator, whose deviant lips were at this very moment glued to her navel, had persevered in his stealthy machinations, slowly overthrowing her insecurities and fears. He was unaware though, that she'd been on to him since the inception of his plan. His modus operandi was to try and outsmart her by having her believe that he was oblivious of her conscientious observation to his conversations. From the beginning he was heedless as to how alert she was to his well-intentioned manipulation and that she'd knowingly but stealthily submitted to his maneuverings. To put it simply, he didn't know that she knew that he knew she knew not only what he wanted her to know but also that he wanted her to know. It was unexpectedly confusing.
It was a dark and stormy night – the night that intrigue visited. An electrical storm caused a blackout, which in turn led to covert black ops. It started with a furtive whisper, this one not meant to be overheard by her. The only reason she became privy to it was because Jackson and Co. could not agree on the name of the clandestine op – leading to the first father/offspring altercation, and that too in-utero.
"Commencing Undercover Op DM, aka Dr. Mom!"
Although spoken in a hushed tone, the words reverberated, echoing acoustically to her auditory cannel.
The response was instantaneous – wild kicking ensued. The unexpected ferocity of movement in her tummy was enough to revive her completely from her half wakeful state.
Blackout was still in effect. The power failure had driven them to bed earlier than normal and as Jackson's passion for B-ball could not be indulged, he concentrated on satiating his other craving, the all-consuming appetite he had for her. Although, even if he'd still been able to indulge vociferously in the armchair Basketball game, there was still the medical drama (some colorless anatomy?) that she wanted to watch after – so "Netflix and Chill" was very much on Jackson's Agenda. As he laughingly explained to her this was the newest catch-phrase, what the youngsters were using as a seduction technique – a basic rework of the pop-cultural cliché "Would you like to come up and see my etchings?" So while 'Netflix' was absent, it was 'Chill' out there, in there, really. He was ever so romantic; focused and attentive and their intimacy was underscored by glowing candlelight. His over cautious nature though had him blowing out the candles before they succumbed to slumber...or so she thought. Here in the pitch-blackness of night he was apparently wide awake, discussing strategy.
She was fully roused now too but made no movement to alert him to this fact. This conversation was riveting.
"Okay, okay…Commencing Undercover Op MD, aka Medical Doctor! Yeah I know that's the one you like and that it's more secret and easier to hide from your mother, but you know I'm an MD too, right little tykes, and your mom…well let's just say she's too pure of heart, she'll never pick-up what we're up to!"
She almost gave herself away with a loud snort but was distracted by his conversing with the baby in plural and also she was mesmerized by the adorable exchange. How long had this been going on, she wondered? She was fascinated by the whimsy…and his methodology too – no baby-talk, he was parental but not patronizing. It was an obvious continuation of a previous chat, enough of one for Jackson to be able to interpret the non-verbal cues. Come to think of it, the physical activity in her belly seemed to intensify whenever Jackson was close and more especially when they were having a conversation together. She was mesmerized to be an audience to the developing bond between her husband and their offspring, but she was also still afraid to allow hope to take the wheel of her metaphorical vehicle. It ate at her that Jackson never got to bond with Samuel. In her heart of hearts she knew that he would be a great daddy.
She listened intently trying to discern what plot was being hatched to gang up on her. Was she 'bad cop' in this scenario, the yin to his yang in respect of parenting styles? It became quiet. She frowned to herself, confused by his actions and the almost inaudible chat with her belly, which she now realized was not meant to be overheard by her. All became clearer the following night when, despite her resolve to remain awake, she was rudely revived by the deceptive sting of a feather-light combination of pinch and tickle. He was a tad Machiavellian, his implementation cunning and duplicitous but, as she later came to appreciate, the intent was pure. It was for the greater good of their relationship and family and although he was ruthless in the execution of his plan, the basis for his scheming was love. He maneuvered her with the masterful art of honest communication, conveyed very unconventionally. He was her best friend as well as the love of her life and despite how emotionally closed off he was, she knew him. He approached a problem head-on, plunging full-steam ahead for a solution but he was also intuitive and inventive – in this instance he was employing a circuitous route to her heart. The least that she could do was co-operate, right? Her compliance was a reciprocal manipulation, allowing him to believe that the result of his connivance was a successful implementation of Plan DM…or was it MD?
"You know your mom loves you, right? Pfft, what am I telling you for…you can feel her heartbeat from the inside and you know it beats for you…and for me. Me and you."
He kissed the right side of her belly. "Mama loves you," he whispered.
He kissed the left side of her belly, switching to the other significant parental title. "Dad loves you," he murmured.
Then, quite loudly, almost like the bang of a Crackerjack (a CrackerJackson?!), alleviating the quietness of before…"Dr. D out!"
He eased her into the operation with surprising finesse. It started with an observation, sometimes a proclamation followed by a nightly epilogue, which he'd fashioned the first night the plan went into effect. The spontaneous beauty of his nightly sign off started cracking the façade and the initial implementation of this ritual had unbidden tears spilling. It was really well-played. What totally melted her though, aside from the honest emotion, was the realization that the formation of this nighttime habit and the action itself, although a by-product, was not a maneuver. It was simply an impulsive act by a previously closed-off individual opening himself up, unconditionally, to loving his children. His plan had an unintended boon it seemed – it unpacked his previous emotional unavailability.
"Your mom, she's so beautiful – inside and out…but you wanna know what the dopest thing about her is, huh? Her big heart!" The narrative continued.
"Now while she's never been comfortable interacting socially – she's just way too honest for society to handle – throw her into a crisis or trauma and your mom…well she's just gangbusters! She becomes this super confident Amazon and she's so bossy!" he reminisced to her belly. "She's all that and a bag of chips!"
Peering out at him through the tiny slits created between her upper and lower eyelids as she sneaked a quick peek, she observed the wide grin that he sported. He was messing with her, hoping to captivate her with his witty repartee of slang and she had to admit, he was mad funny, a real smart-ass. She knew this exchange was for her benefit but playing along she quickly but obviously shut her eyes when he chanced a glance. Unable to physically observe him any longer, she was not impervious to his still palpable excitement. Oh, the game was on!
Seemingly forgetting that this conversation had a captive audience of fetuses and the subject herself, he waffled on, almost in a reminiscent fashion, as if he was simply talking to himself.
"Her compassion, though, is what defines her – that and her capacity for empathy. Yeah, April just loves helping people. She learns their names and their stories and they remain human beings requiring her help to fix what's broken," he blathered. "She doesn't look at them as just organs or opportunities for her to showboat," he reflected.
Turning his attention once more to his listeners, he continued, "Not to say that your mom isn't competitive – you know how much she loves to win – but it's always to the advantage of the underdog. Big corporation or big hospital versus little patient and your mom is always on the side of the patient. Don't let the fact that we're part of the Harper Avery legacy fool you – your mother would go toe to toe with your Great Grandfather Harper if she got the whiff of an injustice. She is a rare individual. Her compassionate heart actually makes her an exceptional surgeon," he concluded on a solemn note.
"Do you want to hear another little secret, hey? Your mother, she's a heartbreaker – and she doesn't even know it!" He poured on the sugar with a heavy hand, but she was not one to complain.
"One time this comic-con dude faked a heart attack just to be near her in the ER…then there was this doctor and a para…er…nevermind…" he stuttered to an abrupt halt.
Unable to control it this time, an unbidden snigger managed to escape her but she quickly disguised it as a rattling grunt (definitely NOT a snore!) and shuffled around in bed to mimic 'asleep but turning over'. She couldn't believe he actually almost went there – talk about rambling…
"Anyway…so, many people just adore this complicated vessel that's allowing you room and board at the moment," he jokingly affirmed, impersonating a rad, chillin, somewhat unconventionally humorous dad but most likely having just run out of synonyms for 'Mom'.
Well he had to change it up a bit to keep the troops entertained, she supposed.
"Here's something that I for one found unbelievable – your mother has Grandma Catherine's seal of approval! Now that is some mean feat, I tell you! You'll realize how momentous that is once you meet your grandmother!" he determined, settling on that line of thought.
"Okay, information overload, huh?! Continue tomorrow?" Declarative sentences both ending questioningly. She assumed that the motionlessness in her belly was his cue to accept the confirmation.
He switched it up this night by kissing the left side of her abdomen first, adding "Mama loves you."
Then a kiss to the right side, "Dad loves you too."
And signing off, "Dr. D out!"
"So, you know how I told you all about your mom's big heart and how much she loves you? I did not exaggerate, not even a little! Hey…I resent the implication that I'm a drama queen!" he gently scolded towards her undulating uterus.
"You may be sensing some hesitancy on her part and there's a very good reason for that. You see, not too long ago, your mom…well she had her heart broken. Mine too really – but your mother, she feels things so deeply and this is an ache that will never leave us. Having you helps – not replacements mind you, but your presence brings us hope…and happiness," he reassured.
"You guys had a brother, Samuel Norbert Avery," he continued in a thickened voice. Just saying Samuel's name always broke him a little, she realized. Like her he probably remembered how his name came about and how perfectly it fit their absent little one. Apparently though, their other brood inherited their father's unorthodox (let's be real, simply weird!) sense of humor, but also it seemed his 'perfect' timing – on a sliding scale, of course. As opposed to her, his timing was textbook!
It was much needed levity she realized, so she simply let it be and enjoyed the conversation. The movements she experienced and watched simulated the feeling and motion of giggles.
Amazingly enough it seemed that her kid (kids?) found the name hilarious. It was as if a supernatural hand tickled their funny bone or maybe Samuel himself communing from the great beyond. He would definitely have had a bone to pick with them about the inclusion of 'Norbert' as his middle name!
"Okay enough with the attitude, your mom gave me grief about Great Uncle Norbert's name too!" he chastised her belly.
"Now where was I before I was so rudely interrupted…you know that's very unbecoming behavior for Averys hey…now calm down both of you or I'm gonna have to throw some shade à la Nicki Minaj," he grinningly chided as his admonishment continued unabated.
"Kids, what's good?!" he reprimanded to the persistent kicks shadowing her sleepwear, verbally pantomiming the drag heard around the world – but of course substituting the name of the spoilt brat exhibitionist it referred to.
It required valiant restraint for her not to give up the game. While she knew children required discipline and to be taught ethical and moral values – she definitely wouldn't want their kids exhibiting Miley Cyrus behavior – she was not in favor of the major diss that just occurred. To be fair though, she knew that he meant it as a humorous reproof, expressed anecdotally. Understanding his intention is what allowed her to keep mum! No pun intended, she mentally added, amused despite herself.
All her good intentions went up in smoke the next night with the advent of Jackson's nonchalant conversation. All geared up to fight fire with fire (being the absence of fire in this situation), his verbal diarrhea – intentional, as she later surmised – pushed her into a response. Boy, was he good and knowing her weaknesses he got her playing right into his hands!
"You know, your mom kinda grew on me. I enjoyed her quirkiness and her unfiltered honesty but I thought that just made her a unique, 'got your back' best friend. Until that night in San Francisco when she kissed me and we had S-E-X for the first…"
He was rudely cut-off by a flamboyantly obvious splutter.
"Jackson, what are you doing?" she calmly capitulated, ratifying his victory. So he knew which of her buttons to push! She willingly surrendered. She was not about to discuss their sex life with her kids!
"Just telling the kids about me and you," he gloatingly smiled, accepting his triumph. She did not verbally express his win, but her unpremeditated response was in itself a defeat to his conquest.
"Well, stop it. It's inappropriate. And spelling out the word…" she rolled her eyes at him.
He grinned buffoonishly, "Better doing than spelling…"