Hello ! I really am sorry for updating late, but I have an exam coming and that combined with work takes up a lot of my time. Thank you for your lovely reviews though, and the site isn't letting me reply to anyone individually (sigh) so I am so so sorry about that but please know I am so incredibly grateful you take the time to leave one behind :)
This chapter is quite long because the lovely reviewer 'JaprilmyHeart' asked for a longer chapter and it deals with the shooting episode, although some incidents in it isn't canon compliant (hope that's fine !) Anyway, please enjoy !
Disclaimer : I do not own these character, they are property of Shonda Rhimes and Grey's Anatomy.
25th of December
"Okay ... I guess." Jackson said out loud to himself, closing the book and standing back to appreciate his work. To say he had no skills in terms of creativity was an understatement. Although he was never sloppy, being the perfectionist plastic surgeon that he is, the fact that he was so hell bent on making this perfect meant that somewhere down the line his nerves had gotten the best of him and his work had ended up looking as though it had been done by a 2 year old. He sighed, realising that at least the person whom he would be delivering this to is the kind of person who believes in the whole, 'it's the thought that counts' shebang. He looked at the clock noticing how it was almost time for him to leave to Meredith's house, considering how the party would have begun an hour ago, but his little 'project' had taken him a lot longer than he'd expected.
He quickly put on his coat, the excitement bubbling within him as he walked out the door towards his car. He couldn't wait to see April, he had a good feeling that the gift he was giving her was certainly going to make her a happy camper because it was the exact opposite of what she would expect him to give her. He knew for a fact that his last gift had affected her a lot more emotionally than she'd been prepared for. He had caught her more times than one fumbling with the pendant, a distant look on her face and she had been constantly jumpy in his presence ever since.
Maybe that had been his plan, he wanted to ruffle her feathers a little bit. Maybe he wanted to see if she was just as unaffected by everything as she pretended to be. Maybe knowing that that wasn't the case gave him a sense of satisfaction, because lately he's been asking himself whether all of this was worth the fear that was holding him back. And lately the answer to that question has been quite different.
He walked into Meredith's house, the place bustling with activity and conversation. He recognized most faces from the hospital, Meredith being one to always stick to smaller groups and settings. However, the focus of his attention was on finding a particular red head whom had been a constant occupant in his mind, especially since the last couple of days. He patted Alex on the back, seeing him engage in conversation with an intern, marveling at the fact that Alex had spent very little time before making a move on the new crop. Before he could walk any further however, he spotted April. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel his blood rushing to a certain part of his body that made him feel like a complete pervert but seeing her standing near the fireplace, wearing a figure hugging red satin wrap dress, took every ounce of his being to control himself. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid his eyes on. Innocent and sexy, beautiful and hot.
He snapped out of his trance, walking towards her, softly placing a hand on her hip to get her attention, smiling at the person she was conversing with. She instantly turned her attention towards him, her face lightening up when she recognized who the hand belonged to.
"Jackson ! Merry Christmas ! You're late." She placated him, a teasing smile running across her features. He could tell she was just starting to get a little tipsy, but he'd always enjoyed a tipsy April, one her most entertaining forms. "You look so handsome."
She giggles once more and he laughs at how adorable she is being. He knows she probably wouldn't have the confidence to tell him this if it wasn't for some liquid courage.
"Merry Christmas, April. Thank you, and you look …" He looks her over once more, taking in yet again how absolutely sinful she looks in her dress, tight around her waist with a deeper V neck than she was usually comfortable with.
She stares at him, and he realises he hadn't said anything, and was merely gawking at her.
"Sexy. Really sexy" He remarks, before he can think and stop himself.
She looks back at him, a little surprised at his boldness, but blushing deeply at the same time. He opens his mouth to say he was sorry, but then quickly closes it. He's not going to apologise for telling her she was sexy. He maybe crossing lines here, but something in him wanted to, and also, he wasn't going to say sorry for telling the truth. So he merely shrugs his shoulders.
"Um … eggnog ?" She asks, pointing to her glass and before he could say yes, she turns and walks from him, "I'll get you a glass."
He shakes his head, realising the comment must have gotten to her a lot more than he expected. She walks back to him and hands him a glass and they fall into some small talk. It was never uncomfortable between them, even now. Small talk is meant to be awkward with pregnant pauses in between the conversation, until someone decides to spare everyone the misery and lie about needing to be somewhere. But with April, small talk was vastly entertaining. She was a storyteller by nature and so could vividly describe the most mundane activity, making it seems extremely entertaining. Or maybe, it was just him. Maybe he was so in love with her that he could listen to her talk for hours on end about the smallest, unnecessary details of life with the same vigour as he would if he was participating in a rather more philosophically satisfying conversation.
He was listening to her argue, mostly with herself, on how the vegan Ben and Jerry's flavours were way too good to actually be vegan. He'd pointed out that her weekly ice cream craving would become healthier with this so she shouldn't question it. She was about to chastise him, when their attention went to the middle of the living room, where Meredith was tapping on a glass trying to get their attention.
"Thanks for coming, guys ! We're almost, but not really, happy to have you here, because I've been angry and puking the whole day, so I wish I never thought of this party to begin with."
Everyone laughs at her brutally honest humour, and Cristina yells an 'I told you so' at her.
"So, anyway, since you're all here and since my hormone induced brain forced all of you to do this secret santa thing, it's time to give each other the last presents. Good luck to Alex, when the person he gave a pair of socks and batteries to finds out it was him who did that." Meredith grins in Alex's direction.
Alex sneers at her in good humour, pretending to be offended, but Jackson has a feeling those could very well be gifts he would give someone, having once received a very large box of condoms, purposefully handing it over in front of April, to get a reaction out of her.
"Give me a sec." He says to her, remembering that he kept it in the front table when he walked into the house. On his way back, he sees people walking up to one another, the look of joy when they find out who has been giving gifts to them. He sees Bailey, Callie, Alex and Cristina all in a huddle, laughing about something, surprised gestures made at one another upon discovering who the gifts were from.
He walks straight up to April, the two of them already knowing who the 'secret santa' is. He taps on her shoulder, and notices her holding a wrapped gift much like his own one.
"So I'm your secret santa" He says, a smirk playing on his lips.
"What ? No way ! I had no idea," She jokes right back, her wonderfully dimpled smile wider, "Guess what ?"
"What ?" He asks, exaggerating his voice.
"I'm your secret santa too !"
"What a coincidence ! It's a Christmas miracle !"
They both laugh at their shared moment of silliness. After a while, he holds the gift in front of her, shaking it, implying that they should open it now.
"Let's go outside. It's so crowded here." She suggests, already taking his arm and walking him towards the backdoor. He loves having the chance to touch her skin and revels in the moment, before she pulls it away to put on her coat. He pulls his own one on, and walks out of the door with her. She goes and takes a seat in the loveseat in the back porch, and he joins her.
"Okay ! Gimme gimme." She points at her gift, holding her arms out excitedly.
He hands it over to her, now a little nervous than he was before, hoping she did really think that although his work wasn't great, at least he'd tried.
"Just so you know, I tried really really hard for this to come out somewhat decent and ... it may or may not imitate the work of a toddler." He joked, trying ease away the nervousness he felt.
"I'm sure it's- wait ... It's something you made ?" She asked, eyebrows raised in surprise, "I am even more excited now."
He grimaced, wondering why he'd gotten her even more riled up than she was. It just left more room to disappoint. He starts opening his gift, pulling at the carefully wrapped Christmas paper with little reindeers and mistletoes. He stops halfway through to watch her for a second, carefully taking off the edges of the tape, knowing she was never one to rip off the paper in excitement as much as she wanted to.
"You did not have to put this much tape, you know." She says, face twisted in concentration.
"Hm, you know I don't know these things." He shrugs, and holds back a smirk. The thing is, he knows perfectly well how much tape is required, having helped April wrap gifts for the entire hospital during Christmas. He purposefully put more tape on her gifts just so he can watch her huff in frustration at the never ending tape, battling constantly with her urge to just rip the wrapping off. He constantly hoped she'd just do it once in her life. Just say 'screw this' and feel the joy of giving in to the excitement.
"Screw this." He hears her say, surprising him altogether by ripping off the last pieces of
paper.
She looks up and notices his expression and grins, "I couldn't help myself."
He smiles back at her, shaking his head, wondering how on earth the very thing he had hoped would happened had ended up happening, when he heard a gasp.
"Jackson ... You- I- We ... We got the same thing. We got the same thing." She repeats in wonder, holding up his photo album, pointing to his lap.
He looks down to see that what he had distractedly opened is an elegant photo album, covered in deep brown leather, with the words 'Merry Christmas, Jackson' etched into it.
"We got the same thing." He repeats, looking up at her and they both start laughing.
He can't believe that this had happened, that somehow they had ended up coming up with the exact same idea for the final present. They had both thought to give each other a photo album, consisting of memories that they'd made over the years. It was an incredible coincidence, although he was starting to believe in those less and less.
"I can't believe we did this." She says, still laughing incredulously.
"I know, it's ... wow. Great minds huh ?" He says winking at her.
"Only great mind here is mine, Avery. You copied." She teases, sticking her tongue out.
"Sure I did. I'm pretty sure I came up with this idea first."
"Please, you probably thought of this 2 days ago after wracking your brain as to what you can give me after the necklace, which I love by the way. And then I'm sure you finished this right before the party." She looked at him, daring him to deny what she said.
His shock was an answer enough, as April laughed, "I knew it."
He found it amazing just how much she knew him. Sad, and amazing. He watched her open up the book. He cringed as her hands wandered through pictures that were glued messily, with some of the glue popping out of the corners, and a felt tip with messy writing dictating each memory. It looked so very childish compared to her neat rows of pictures, neat swirly letters underneath each memory captured.
"Oh I love it Jackson !' She says, eagerly turning pages filled with pictures of the two doing various activities; him unwillingly riding a boat with her, a picture of them sitting next to each other in what looked to be a picnic, a picture of them at Disneyland, one of them at Callie's birthday party. He looked down at his and wandered through the same memories, an occasional comment, an inside joke and runaway banter for each picture. He realized that most of them, as was most of his, were taken during the time they were together. He was happy to know that it wasn't too awkward for her to keep those and to include them. They were, to him especially, memories of the best years of his life so far.
He is happy to find a picture of their surgery. He remembers her snapping it right after Jacob had woken up and they'd gone in to tell him and his parent's that all went well. She was proud of him, he could tell. She stood there, beaming at him, while he explained how well the surgery had gone. It's what Mark would have done. He knew she knew that too, which made it even better.
"I'm so happy Jake's surgery went so well. You're so talented, Jackson. Your technique is just … perfect." She gushes, causing him to shrug once more, although it was his complexion that was saving him from letting her know how sweet it was to hear her say that. She had been with him throughout the surgery, doing an intern's job, but never complaining because he knew she was aware how important her presence was to him. She distracted him with her lively small talk and talked him through at a a crucial stitch that had made him incredibly nervous.
"Stop with the compliments Kepner. Don't think I'm letting you take the win on our game just because you're buttering me up." He teases, never really having been all that good at taking compliments, "But thank you for being there. I'm so glad it went well. That kid … is something else."
She smiled kindly when he thanked her and went on to laugh at a picture of him with ice cream all over his body, an unfortunate accident of them attempting to be a little too adventurous in bed. He was genuinely surprised to find that here. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that she was so comfortable with them being ex's.
She points to a picture of the two of them at a Halloween party, dressed as Wednesday Adams' parents; her ideals of the perfect romance. He remembers how funny he had found that considering how he'd always thought she'd idealize more unrealistic romantic pairings. He should've known she was too smart for that. He points out a picture of the two of them sitting on a rented convertible, the beach and sunset behind them. Her hair is a mess of wet curls, and her skin slightly burnt even though he'd lathered her up in sunscreen. They looked deliriously happy, because it was the first trip they'd ever taken together, road tripping down to Laguna Beach and it had been blissful.
A trip down memory lane is never easy and it's making him realize that he wanted more of these. He wanted a lot more of these.
"Look."
He looks down at her lap and sees that she's pointing to the picture on the top right corner. One which contains an image of the two of them, about 2 years after they'd gotten together, cuddled in the corner of a floor of a bar he couldn't remember the name of, with Reed resting her body across their laps and a very drunk Charles squatting, almost as if he was going to sit on top of Reed. All of their faces was a mixture of amusement, clearly screaming at Charles not to do what he plans on doing. He watches her fingertips trace their faces.
"This was the ... the night before ..." Her voice breaks and he knows what's he's trying to say.
"Yes." He replies, taking her hand in his.
"April ... April ... APRIL."
The first thing he'd done when he'd gotten out of that OR was to go look for his girlfriend. Throughout the surgery, while helping Cristina keep Derek alive, while also making sure none of them got shot, the only thing that had been running through his mind in a constant loop was I need to see her. That was all he had wanted, to see her. To make sure she was okay, she was alive and she was fine. So when she'd run into the theatre behind Meredith and he caught a glimpse of her, he felt relief spread across his whole body, his muscles relaxing and the nerve on his face about to explode, residing back.
"APRIL."
He screamed once more, frantically running through the no longer vacant hallways, now overtaken by SWAT teams, police, paramedics, patients and staff, all grief stricken, their faces showing confusion and fear, unable to get out of the hospital fast enough. He ran a hand over his face, letting out a small scream, frustrated with not being able to find her and although he'd never admit it, on the verge of tears. He was going to break down a second before he heard the voice he had so long craved to hear.
"Jackson ! Jackson !"
He looked up to see a small, pale body run up to him, brown curls trailing behind her face. He let out a loud sound, somewhere between a sigh and a sob. He almost ran towards her, taking her in his arms, feeling her legs go around his waist. He hugged her to him, his eyes involuntarily closing at the immediate comfort he felt from holding her in his arms and his face burying itself in her brown curls, breathing in the minty shampoo she used on her hair, now leaving behind only a faint smell of it. He felt her rub his back soothingly, and felt a kiss placed on his temple.
"Jackson, babe you have to put me down now." She said, slowly attempting to untangle herself from his death grip.
"No." He said, bringing her back into him, afraid of letting her go even for a second. Because that's all it took, he thought. Just a second of having her out of his sight, could mean he'd never see her again.
"We really need to go now, ma'am." He heard a voice next to him, a little frustrated but laced with sympathy.
"Yes, just give me a minute. Jackson, just look at me, baby, look at me." April said, bringing his face tucked between her neck and shoulder towards her face, "I'm alright, okay ? I'm right here. I'm alright. I'm safe, you're safe. I'm here. I love you, and I'm here."
He leaned forward to kiss her, ignoring the fact that there was a rescue team member, awkwardly standing next to them, because in that moment it wasn't some form of flirty public affection but rather something he needed to do if he was going to get out of here. Kissing her grounded him, and it reminded him once more, if her words were not enough, that she was here. He didn't lose her.
"I love you too." He said, finally setting her down, but refusing to altogether let go of his hold on her. He kept an arm her waist, pulling her as close to him as possible, feeling her slide an arm around his own waist. He reached out of her other arm, entwining their fingers and holding her hand to his lips.
They were escorted to the ER, where most patients and visitors had been taken in to go through a medical checkup before they could be either transferred to another hospital or sent home. He took her to an ER bed the paramedic pointed out, sitting on the bed, before pulling her into his lap. He saw the female paramedic look at him, almost questioning his extreme possessiveness and lack of willingness to be even an inch away from his girlfriend, but bit her lip. It wasn't a situation anyone can judge, what they needed at this time only they could know.
She was kind enough to do the checkup while April sat perched on his lap, his arms around her waist, keeping her from sliding off. He had to let her slide off his lap when it was his turn, but he immediately pulled her back towards him the moment he was done and all they had left to do was to answer a few questions to the police.
"He-he held a ... a ... gun t-to my face ... and h-he was going to... p-pull the trigger but ... I watched Oprah and ... so I talk- I talked about myself and he ... he told me to ru- he told me to run and I ... I ran."
It broke his heart completely that she was reliving this. He couldn't hear it, couldn't hear how the events of him almost losing her had gone. The moment he'd heard that that bastard had pulled the gun on her, he'd wanted to find him and bash his head in.
She sobbed loudly throughout the whole exchange, turning her body and nestling herself in the crook of his neck every now and then to calm herself down before she spoke. He kissed her head, rubbing her arms and whispered he loved her, hoping that would make it better.
"It's my fault he almost died."
She said it so quietly, Jackson wouldn't have been able to catch it if he wasn't hanging on her every word.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, what do you mean by that ?" The officer asked, pausing his pen before it touched the paper, mirroring the same confusion Jackson felt.
"Dr. Sheperd. It's my fault. I ... I shouldn't have run. I should've stayed back and helped him. I didn't. I got so scared so I ran. I- it's my fault." She said, her eyes downcast and her voice resigned.
"Sweetheart, what are you talking about ? Of course that wasn't your fault. He would have shot him anyway. And you couldn't have helped him then. You were terrified. Of course you ran. Did anyone tell you this was your fault ?" He asked, holding her chin in his hand and lifting her face to his. He was about to lose his shit at the thought that someone put this guilt into her head.
"No. But it's true." She said, shrugging her shoulders, clearly at battle with herself over her accusation.
"No it isn't. No one will tell you otherwise. Heck, ask Meredith and I'll doubt she'll say it was your fault. The only person whose fault this is ... is that ... fucker's. Not yours, baby." He sees her looking up at him, registering his words. She nods slowly at him and sits back up a little straighter. He knows she'll beat herself up over this for sometime, but he knows that she understands that the only person blaming herself in this is her.
"I agree, Dr. Kepner. There's nothing you could've done. What you did was all you could do and it was smart itself. If you didn't run he would've tried to kill the both of you." The police officer says, patting her shoulder empathetically, although Jackson notices her flinch at the contact and burrow herself deeper into him.
"Alright, well, there's only one more tough question left. I was informed you both knew Charles Percy and Reed Adamson well ? You were close ?" The officer asked, the slight hesitation showing his lack of want to bring this up now, especially considering the state they were in to begin with.
April looks up at the officer shell shocked, unable to say anything, probably remembering for the first time since she found out that their best friends were ... dead. He hadn't thought about it either because everything was overwhelming enough as it is. But there it was, the absolute truth, laid out in front of them. Charles and Reed were dead. Gone. Never coming back. He felt tired. That was the first emotion he'd felt, before the sadness and anger set in, he felt tired. He felt as if every bone in his body was giving in from the exhaustion of the day, the complete physical and emotional drain. And then he felt empty. Empty because his best friends, two people whom he treated like family were gone.
Reed had always been the annoying sister he never asked for, always teasing him for being a 'whiny rich boy' but never maliciously. It was done to keep him grounded. And she was April's best friend. His girlfriend didn't always have the easiest time finding people she fit in with and Reed had taken her under her wing and loved her for who she was. He'd never not appreciate her for that. And Charles ... Charles was the brother he'd always wanted. It went beyond a simple bond, went beyond the fact that they lived together, liked the same things and did the same job. Charles knew him in a way only very few people did. They shared secrets and inside jokes. Whenever he fought with April over something stupid or if she'd done something particularly cute that day Charles would sit and listen to him talk for hours, roll his eyes but always have the best advice. They couldn't be gone.
"We can come back later if this is too hard."
Jackson realised they were both complete messes and he knew neither of them were ready to confront the loss they'd both endured. In the very least not until they've at least talked to each other about it.
"We'll drop by the station tomorrow, officer." He said, painfully acknowledging that April was sobbing into his shoulder.
"That'll be great." He said, dropping the notepad back into this pocket, and turning to leave, "I'm very sorry for your loss."
Jackson merely nodded, unable to really respond to that. He knew people always said it, and he knew that even they were aware that it did nothing to help. Sorry wasn't bringing his friends back.
He sat there for a while, rubbing April's back, letting her weep loudly into his shoulders, until there was complete silence on her part. He lifted his head slowly to see that she'd cried herself to sleep. He didn't blame her, every part of him needed a break, but he couldn't close his eyes, because every time he did he saw them.
He slowly lifted her into his arms and started to carry her across the parking lot, overwhelming crowded making him slightly claustrophobic. He felt April stir a little in his arms, and decided to walk quicker, knowing she needed this sleep and he was going to make sure she rested.
Before he could open the passenger door, carefully balancing April, he felt someone touch his arm. He instantly jerked back, almost dropping April. He's been fidgety to say the least. But relaxed when he saw it was just an equally exhausted looking Meredith.
"Look, I know you can't go back to your place. Or hers. So ... go to mine. The bedroom in the attic is free. There's bedsheets, linen and towels and stuff on the downstairs cabinet in the living room. Take some of mine and Derek's clothes for today. Get a shower, put her to bed and go to sleep yourself. You need some rest today, Jackson. We all do." She said, her voice robotic, lacking emotion. She wasn't giving out sympathy, she wasn't capable of it. None of them were. Instead she was offering complete and total understanding and that's all he needed right now. Going to their place today would be a nightmare.
"Thank you, Mer. We really appreciate this." He managed a smile.
"Thank you. You know ... for everything."
He knew she was thanking him for pulling the plug and saving Derek.
"Of course."
"I've got to go back to Derek."
She opened the door for him, letting him place April inside and put on her seatbelt. He nodded towards Meredith and climbed back on the driving seat, taking off towards their new place of residence, at least for a while.
He found himself constantly checking the passenger seat to make sure April was there, and as much as he needed to hold her hand, he was afraid the contact would wake her up.
He pulled up in front of the house, gathering April into his arms, surprised at the fact that she was asleep throughout all this. He knew that exhaustion, felt it himself. The need to shut yourself down so at least for an hour you're not plagued by the situations of today.
He walked into the house, happy to find it yet empty, and made his way upstairs. He placed April on the bed, and went downstairs to gather everything, the movements and actions keeping his brain occupied. He needed to concentrate on something other than the pain he wasn't yet ready to face and so he decided to focus on his girlfriend. He pulled a sweat pant for himself and a tank top and pair of shorts for April and made his way upstairs.
He walked in expecting a dozing April, but instead found her sitting on the bed, her body frantically searching for something.
"Jackson ! Where did you go ? Why did you leave ? Where are we ?" Her questions were erratic, her eyes darting around the room.
He dropped the items he brought with him, quickly climbing on to the bed. He knelt in front of her, grabbing hold of her arms and diverting her attention back to him.
"Babe, babe. Look at me, sweetheart. We're fine. Okay ? We're at Meredith's place because ... well I don't think either of us want to ... you know. I just went downstairs real quick to grab some stuff for us. I'm so sorry I left. I thought you would stay asleep, and I was an idiot to leave. I'm sorry. I love you. We're okay." He said, noticing how with each word she her breathing was going back to normal and her attention was refocusing.
He placed a kiss on her nose, and her cheeks, knowing that she loved it when he did that. But unlike the other days, when she'd either blush or giggle, she looked back at him stoic.
"They're dead." She whispered, her face void of any feeling.
"Yes." He replied, unable to say much more without breaking down himself.
"She's gone. They're both gone. My best friend is gone." She looked down at the bed, her fingers carefully picking up any linen.
"I know."
He watched her look up at him, saw her beautiful hazel eyes start to well up and within a matter of seconds she was screaming and crying in pain. It was the kind of crying where you feel the anguish with every single atom of your body. Where you clutch your heart because the pain transcends beyond an emotional response. She falls forward to his arm, her face drenching his dirty scrub top he still hasn't taken off.
"We're going to get through this." He says this, although he's not sure if he means it. The event is too new, the pain too raw to feel as if there will be a light at the end of the tunnel.
The crying doesn't stop, it just gets louder but at one point her tears stop falling. He realises they both need a bath, and although he wants to do nothing but curl up with her and cry, he realises she's too far into her misery for him not to step up. She's an incredibly strong woman, but right now, she had to first break before she could heal and he would have to be strong until she can be that for him.
So he picks her up once more and carries her to the bathroom, putting her down on her feet. The crying has once again stopped and she is suddenly too quiet for his liking. He's not sure what's going on in her head when she's not letting her emotions out and that somehow scares him. He strips her of all clothing, and walks her to the showers. He puts his hand in and turns on the water. She walks inside and without thinking he closes the door behind her.
He is startled all of a sudden, when he hears a loud scream, of unadulterated fear rip through the glass closing.
"OPEN THE DOOR ! OPEN THE DOOR !" He sees April banging loudly on the glass and immediately opens it and goes inside.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He repeats over and over because he should've known the nightmare she had to endure with the shooter and her illogical guilt over Derek would mean the event would be playing on repeat in her mind. Of course, she was claustrophobic.
He feels his clothes drench with the spray of water. She hangs on to him so tight, her breathing ragged, the alert fear still present in her eyes and her voice still shuddering.
He pushes her slowly towards the shower spray and feels her body somewhat relax under the hot water. It's the immediate reaction a body has when the heat hits frantic nerves. But when he removes his hands from her waist to pull his shirt over his head, he immediately feels her tense up. He barely manages to discard his top when her hands reach out for his, grabbing them desperately and pulling him towards her. He realises she needs the proximity, the feeling of him being alive. So with the greatest difficulty he removes the rest of his clothes, while April wraps herself around his body.
Once he's fully unclothed, he allows himself to relax against her and allows the heat of the shower soothe his racing mind. He keeps seeing them dead. He keeps seeing their lifeless bodies, all pale skin, eyes open but no light in them and a startling stillness that indicates the absence of being. He hangs on to April a little tighter, and sure enough, a reminder of her presence brings his mind to the present. He welcomes the distraction, although he hates that it's at the cost of his girlfriend's sanity.
He realises how much he's zoned out when he hears her muttering and pulling away from him all of a sudden. He opens his eyes, bringing his hands up to his face to wipe his eyes and slowly looks down at her, concentrating on what she's saying.
"So much blood. There was so much blood. So much blood."
He figures this was about Reed. He knew she had found her. He opens his mouth to say something when she the volume of her voice keeps getting louder and she start scratching at her skin.
"Need to get the blood off. I need to clean the blood off. It's not coming off. I need the blood to come off."
He grabs her hands to stop her actions, realising that if he let her continue she would just scratch herself bloody. She struggles in his hold, repeating her need to get clean.
"I'll clean the blood, baby. I'll clean it."
He supposes giving into her will help. There is no more blood in her body, the water having washed it all off, when she first stepped into the shower, but if she needed this to help her calm down, he was holding no judgments.
He squirts shower gel on to his hands and lathers the foamy liquid across her body. He remembers the time they'd take showers together. She'd always giggle saying his hands tickled her skin and it always ended up in them having sex. But today, the air was melancholy. Because, happiness and joy was not an emotion either were capable of.
She insists on being washed thrice and he gives into her just this once, making a mental note that if this behavior perseveres he'd need to get her some help before it turned in to a full blown OCD. He wraps her up in a bath robe that engulfs her, and wraps a towel around his own waist. He carries her, although she insists on making the trip herself.
He dries her off and slips on the borrowed clothing on to her body, watching her robotically respond to his requests. He puts on the sweatpants and grabs the dryer he'd been smart enough to bring with him and begins to dry her hair. Somewhere down the line, she falls asleep again, sitting up on the bed and he puts the device down once her hair is reasonably dry. He pulls her up the bed and lays her down, pulling the covers up around them both. He scoots closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her back to his front, burying her nose in her hair. Her shampoo is different so he instead breathes in her skin, which smells of the lavender shower gel and April.
He nods off as well, and is woken up by small insistent hands and an urgent voice. He opens his eyes, blinking many times to adjust to the light. He realises it's night time because the light is coming from the bedside lamp. He glances up and notices April's face looking concerned and worried. It surprises just how ... normal she looks. He realises that just as her vulnerability grounds him, his grounds her. It was the first time he'd woken up from the same nightmare that he'd see for months and then would still be periodically haunted by. The situation was always different, but the end result the same. There was Charles, Reed or April at the shooter's firing line and each time he would try his hardest but they would always end up dead.
He notices his face and chest having broken out in a cold sweat. He feels April bring the blanket up and pat his face down with it.
"Did you have a nightmare ?" She asks, tentatively.
"Yes."
"Was it about ... them ?" He realises then that she hasn't said their names since.
"Yes."
He sits up, placing pillows behind his back, and leans against them.
"Do you want a glass of water?" She asks, fluffing up his pillows, "I am a horrible girlfriend."
He's a little surprised where that sentiment is coming from, so instantly perks up, "What are you talking about ? And no, I don't want water. I just ... need to cuddle you. Come here."
He holds out his arms and she hesitatingly takes them and allows him to cuddle her to his chest.
"Now tell me where this not a good girlfriend nonsense came from." He asks, again.
"I was acting a little ... crazy earlier today and I didn't even ask how you were doing." She says, running her fingers in circles across his chest.
"April, that doesn't make you a bad girlfriend. You weren't even present earlier today. Sweetheart, you were a little crazy because of how bad the grief was." He replies, taking her hand and kissing her fingertips.
"It's just as bad for you." She insists, looking up at him, her hazel eyes full of emotion.
"Yes, but ... you saw her. I ... didn't. I guess ... that helps." He says, unconvincingly. He isn't sure if seeing was better or not. He didn't want that image in his head, but he sometimes wondered if it was better than the gruesome images he saw in his nightmares.
"There was so much ... blood. There was ... She's so tiny. She couldn't bleed that much. But she had ... And I slipped on her ... blood and she looked so ... dead. And I couldn't- I can't-" She began to cry again, wrapping herself tighter in his arms. He rocked her slightly, realising that this was going to be her for the next ... who knew how long. She would be a little better one minute but then break down the next.
He felt her wipe her tears. She twisted away from his grip and straddled him instead, holding his face between her hands.
"You're allowed to break down, you know. It doesn't make you weak. It's human. He was your best friend and you knew her for so long, so you're allowed to break down."
He looked at her for a while, letting her words sink in and as if a trigger went off on his head, he suddenly broke down. He felt her arms wrap themselves around his body as he splayed across her lap. He let out all he anguish he'd been holding back for her benefit as she rubbed his head with one hand as the other ran up and down his back. He eventually quieted down and when he opened his eyes realised he'd dozed off, immediately feeling bad about the whole thing. He didn't feel bad about crying in front of her. There was no judgment from her, not now or ever and right then he had needed that.
"How long was I out ?" He asks, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.
"Just an hour. I'm hungry." She admits.
"Me too." He realises neither of them had probably eaten since breakfast and a quick glance outside the window tells him it's very late at night, he guesses around 2 or 3 in the morning.
"Will we ever be okay ? Will we ever feel normal ? Hunger feels so normal. I felt hungry when they were alive and I feel hungry now- I- I'm not making any sense am I ?" She asks, shrugging her shoulders.
"I get it," He says, scooting closer to her, "Listen, I don't know how long it will take to heal and I don't know if we'll ever fully heal but ... all I know, is life doesn't stop because they ... died. It keeps going. And as much as it sucks, we'll eventually have to get going too."
She sighs, tucking a curl behind her ear. Her hair is a mess of curls because of his amateur shampooing and drying skills.
"I don't know what I would have done if I lost you too." She says, covering her mouth to conceal a loud sob.
"Babe. Hey, no. You can't think about that."
She can't think about that because he already did. He already thought about how he could've lost her and the thought almost drowned him.
"You can't die on me." She says, vehemently shaking her head, as if sheer willpower will make him immortal.
He scratches his head, not sure what to say to that, but realises the clichéd denial of death wasn't going to help her, "I can't promise that. You know that I can't tell you that. And I want you to promise me that too, but there's no point in asking. We don't know about death and ... I mean, none of us thought- you know."
She nods slowly, but he could see in her eyes she didn't like what he was saying.
"I'll promise you this though, until the day I die I will never ever be away from you for any reason whatsoever. I want to die, having spent every waking minute with you. That's a promise I can keep." He smiled for the first time that night and saw a light behind her eyes that he hadn't seen since he'd kissed her good bye in the locker room that morning.
She leaned forward and softly kissed him, "I promise too."
He nodded, "Come on. Let's go order some pizza, and then we'll go back to sleep, if we can ... and tomorrow, I'll take you to church, okay ?"
She shrugged her shoulders once more and he figured she was battling with her faith right now but decided not to question on it. He would work on that with her, but right now was not the time. Right now, their best friends were dead, they were terrified when they heard a floorboard creak, they were overcome with grief and sadness and anger with no end in sight and most of all, they were in a situation where loss became all too real. Loss beyond your control.
"You're not going to lose me alright," He says, pulling her up from the bed, "Not if I can help it."
It had taken them a lot to make it out of that time period. He lost count of the times she had woken him up from nightmares that had left him paralyzed. He remembers how for a while April found it almost impossible to be away from him for more than a couple of minutes without having a panic attack as to whether he was still alive or not. It had hit them hard, but they'd made it through. They'd held each other's hands and been there for one another and had pulled each other from what at the time had felt like an endless pit of misery.
"You're not going to lose me, alright. Not if I can help it."
The words he said to her that night floated through his head as they repeated themselves over and over, getting louder each time.
"You're not going to lose me, alright."
She had. His silence, his inaction had led her to lose him.
"Not if I can help it."
It had been within his control. He had made the active choice not to marry her, to leave her. He had had complete control over the situation and made the decision to let her lose him.
He had broken his promise, and he was paying for that dearly.
"I thought you had died."
He gets taken out of his thoughts by a small, tearful voice. He looks up to see her eyes filled with tears she trying her hardest to hold back. But before he says anything, she looks up at him and the pain and anguish he can see that she feels, breaks his heart.
"You could have died."
"But I didn't, April. I'm-"
"I could have lost you. You could have died."
She had started to sound a bit hysterical then. Not the pull your hair, frustrated screaming kind, but the voice more than a few octaves lower, and difficult to breathe kind. She was gasping, tears still refusing to fall.
"April. Hey, look at me," He pats her gently on the back and she quickly looks up at him. Her lost eyes gazing into his, hoping she'll ground him. And without fail, he does. "We're okay."
She nods, looks up at the ceiling, blinking her tears away. A few seconds later, she takes a deep breath and drops her gaze to her lap.
"I didn't tell you I love you." She says finally, "That day ... That's all I could think about before I saw you. Before I saw that you were fine. I kept thinking how ... how I didn't tell you I loved you. I remember how in the locker that morning I joked about how you never wash the cereal bowls, and then you complained about how Cristina keeps stealing your surgeries and then we kissed. But ... I forgot to say I love you. You could've died and I would've never been able to say I love you."
He could more than imagine how she must have felt that day. He felt almost happy he hadn't noticed their little slip. He was happy that he wasn't in the theatre thinking about how he hadn't told her he loved her, on top of everything else.
"I was scared as hell too that day. I kept thinking how ... right before it happened ... the thing I was scared about is if I locked my car. I don't know why but I couldn't remember if I'd locked my car. And I was so scared I hadn't … and then ... someone shoots up a hospital and my two best friends die and I thought about how I wish my car got stolen instead." He said, shaking his head in melancholic laughter.
"Death really puts things in perspective, huh ?" She asked, staring ahead into the yard, now almost completely dark, except for the soft light of the back porch eliminating a short distance.
"Yeah."
They sat in silence for a while. The two of them softly turning the pages, but the laughter and the jokes were no longer there. Instead, there was complete silence, although thoughts never stopped running through his head a hundred miles an hour.
"I never told you I love you.
"Death really puts thing into perspective."
He was running his hand along the edge of the album page, smiling to himself at a picture of April in his room in Boston, holding a basketball trophy that was bigger than her and laughing because the weight of it was almost making her fall. She was in all honesty the most adorable human being he'd ever met.
"I miss you." She whispered.
His head shot up, not entirely sure if she said what he had heard her say. But she was looking at him expectantly. As if he'd ever not miss her.
"I miss you too." He said, trying his best not to appear completely and utterly pathetic whenever he said that.
"Why'd you leave ?" She asked, and the almost accusation on her tone, startled him.
"I ... April, I didn't leave. You left me." He reminded her, although he was starting to see somewhat of a blind rage fill up inside of her.
"Because you didn't want to marry me !" She almost yelled back.
"I didn't want to marry anyone April. Don't make it sound like it's something to do with you !" He insisted. He was starting to wonder if even she realised how off base she was at this point.
"I know. You're right. I just ... hate this !" She admitted.
"Me too."
They stared at each other for a while, each knowing that there was a depth of emotion they wanted to express but being unable to.
"I broke up with Mara." He said, looking at her face to gain her reaction. She looked a little shocked at first, but quickly rearranged her emotions to sympathy. Despite the heaviness of the topic he couldn't help but smirk at the fact that for a moment there she had let herself, although unconsciously, look happy about that fact. "She accused me of still being in love with you."
She looked at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Clearly more shocked at the fact that he was saying this as opposed to what he was saying.
"Are you ?" She asked, tucking a lose curl behind her ear and chewing on her bottom lip. A habit he had had a very hard time not falling in love with.
"You already know the answer to that." He replied, shrugging his shoulder. She nodded, copying his movements. He'd never wondered if either of them still loved one another. He knew they did. They were at this crossroad not because of lack of love.
"Are you sad ?" She asked him, and he wondered for a minute what she was talking about.
"You mean about ... Mara ?" He asked, watching her nod affirmative.
"Oh ... um ... No. I mean, it didn't mean anything. She knew that, I knew that." He said, nonchalance. There was something else he was sad about though. "It was never like us."
He felt himself still when she brought a hand to his face, slowly running a finger across his light stubble, concentrating heavily on her actions. He couldn't process what was happening. After almost a year of flinching when his hand brushed against her she was willingly letting herself touch him, completely out of the blue. Her fingers stopped at the corner of his lips, and she finally shifted her gaze from her fingers to his eyes. She always told him how his were capable of stripping her bare, but hers were the same. He felt exposed, his carefully built fabric of lies he kept telling himself to not regret the decision he made crumbling down.
"There's never going to be anything like us." She whispered, her fingers spreading out across his cheek, softly cupping his face. He felt his breath become uneven, his heart hammering in his chest and everything around him stilled for a minute. He watched her close her eyes, and lean towards him. He could feel her breath against his lips, mixing in with his own. He let his own eyes flutter close. He could almost feel the softness of her lips on his, his breath now completely at a halt.
A sudden jolt from April's end, sucked him out of the state of mute sounds and singled out vision, letting him wonder for only a second why April had pulled back. He heard a feminine giggle, followed by a rough voice, and looked up to see Alex and a very giggly intern walking out the back door.
"Hey guys." Alex nodded at the time, taking in this situation. It would take a complete stranger only a few seconds to denounce the thick air of tension surrounding the two of them, and Alex seemed to pick up on it a lot quicker. "Did I interrupt something ?"
"No no, nothing at all. Um ... We should go ... go back inside anyway. It's cold, really cold. Of course it is, it's Christmas. So, yep, nothing to interrupt." She stammered out, her face bowed down purposefully to hide her blushing face with her hair.
"Okay." Alex said, not entirely too convinced, but aware of their history too much to want to take it any further. He curtly nodded at Jackson and walked off.
Jackson gave himself a minute, both to cool down from the blur of emotions he'd experienced with April and to get rid of the unfair annoyance he felt at Alex for interrupting their moment.
"You have a ... Mathew." He finally said, not really sure why he thought that was the most appropriate thing to say, but feeling the need to remind himself more than her of this fact.
"No, I don't." She admitted, taking him by surprise. He now understood how she felt moments ago. "He broke up with me."
"Why ?"
"He accused me of being in love with you." She said, almost humorously at the complete similarity of their situation.
He merely nodded, unsure of what to say next because he hadn't seen this coming.
"I have to go." She quickly got up and started to leave. He stumbled up, almost a little angry that she was acting as though nothing had almost happened.
"We have to talk about this." He points out.
"No we don't. We just have to ... I just have to ... I am so confused." She admitted. "I'm so confused and tired from having to figure this out and so no, I don't want to talk about it."
"And you think I'm not ? I'm not confused ? April, you can't just tell me you still love me, and almost kiss me and then run off like that." He replied, a running a hand over his face in frustration. She drove him crazy most of the time.
She pulled on her coat, zipping it up, almost destroying the zipper when it got stuck for a second. Clearly, it wasn't just him who was frustrated.
"April, I get that the kiss is confusing, but-"
"No. No ! I'm not- not about that. Well ... I am, but ... that's not what I mean. I mean, you-you confuse me ! You know, I was so sure about where we stood. About ... about how we left things because ... It's for the best, right ? We want different things so it's for the best right ? Right ? I ... I don't know ! I knew, or I thought I knew, but I don't- I don't know anymore. I don't know what I want anymore." She poked him in the chest a few dozen times to make her point.
"April-" He began, slowly stepping out of her vicinity of attack.
"No ... No that's not true. I do know. I just- I don't know if I should want- or if I can have- I don't know, Jackson. You-"
"April ! What are you talking about ?" He was completely lost at the moment because most of her sentences were being completed in her head as she often did when she was rambling.
"I want …"
"You want, what ?"
She took a deep breath, looking him dead in the eye, "I want you."
She shook her head, breathing back a sob, and walked off without another word leaving him completely unsure of what had just happened.
Had she just told him she wanted him? Wanted to be with him? Wanted to try once more? Is that what she had meant? He wasn't sure if he should run behind her and try to catch her up because he didn't really know what to say once he did. I want you too? Sure, of course he did. But wanting her didn't mean he could have her. Unless, she'd meant she wanted him. She wanted him as he is without any promises of anything more.
She was willing to push aside a figment of her future she'd imagined since she was a child, be it because of family expectations, church or childhood fantasies you take to your adulthood, to be with him.
He tugged on his jacket, and carried his album with him, walking swiftly to his car, all the while a million thoughts racing through his head.
"Death really puts things in perspective, huh ?"
He pulled on the door of his car, and quickly ushered himself inside, turning on the heat. He sat there for a moment, one hand on the wheel, another holding the key to the ignition without turning it on, and thought about how scared he had been when he thought he'd lost her and thought about the relief the thought that whatever is to come by the lack of predictability of life, he would have woken up to her and loved her until his last day alive.
"You're not going to lose me, alright."
He takes his hand from the ignition, and pushes it into his pocket, pulling out his phone.
"Not if I can help it."
He browses through his contacts, and finally comes across the number he was looking for and dials it.
"You're not going to lose me, alright."
"Hello Jason, I need a favour." He spoke into the phone, smiling at the reply. "No no ... Not for my mother."
"Not if I can help it."
"You could say that." He said, holding on to the phone tighter, a little more nervous but a little less afraid, "I'm looking to buy a ring."
"You're not going to lose me, alright. Not if I can help it."
THANK YOU FOR READING !
I would love to know what you thought of the chapter, so if you got some time leave me a review :)
P.S: I have already started the next chapter (which will be the last one for this fic), so hopefully I'll update sooner !