The next morning, April woke up worrying about why the chief wanted to see her. She was sure it couldn't be good, and her feeling of foreboding only increased the longer he kept her waiting. Sixteen minutes after his assistant had said to be there, the chief's office door opened abruptly. "Dr. Kepner!"

April stood up quickly from the wall she'd been leaning exhaustedly against.

"Yes, Chief Webber," she said, following him back into his office. They sat down on opposite sides of his desk. April wanted to fidget, but willed herself to be still. Chief residents were calm. Chief residents were in control. Chief residents were not tired from roommate-exodus-induced insomnia.

The chief cleared his throat. "First off, congratulations," he said, gruffly. "I was impressed to learn that Dr. Hunt had decided upon you for chief resident."

"Thank you, Chief Webber," she said politely. She knew that both of them were thinking that a lot had changed since he'd fired her.

"I called you in to discuss your fellowship status," he said.

April tensed. She hadn't applied for a fellowship yet.

"I noticed that you haven't made an early decision," the chief continued, looking concerned. "And while I applaud you taking the time to think things through, I wanted you to know that as chief resident, there's an expectation that you'll choose a subspecialty sooner rather than later."

April nodded, trying to look as serious as possible. "Yes, sir, and believe me, I've been thinking about it." She had been, a little - and truth be told, she hadn't come to any conclusions.

"Well, think about it harder," said the chief abruptly. "Chief resident is typically given first choice by the attendings for fellowship positions." He paused. "And Dr. Hunt says you show great promise as a trauma surgeon. He has expressed that he would be thrilled to have you as a fellow."

April smiled. "That's very generous of Dr. Hunt, sir," she said.

"Trauma is a strong subspecialty," the chief said approvingly. "It would look great next to to the chief resident line on your resume." He regarded her gravely over the tops of his glasses, eyebrows raised.

April hesitated. Did he want her to agree to a trauma fellowship right now? "Yes, I imagine it would," she said slowly.

The chief waited a beat, and when it became apparent that she wouldn't say anything further, he leaned back and said brusquely, "I would like to announce your fellowship application and acceptance by the end of the month, set an example for the other residents."

"Yes, sir," April said firmly. She met his gaze, trying for fearless. "I'll continue to weigh my options and have an application in soon."

"Good," said the chief, dismissive now. "Thank you, Dr. Kepner, you can go."

"Yes, sir," she said, and left his office unsure whether to feel relieved or stressed out at how the meeting had turned out.

She was late for lunch again, but at least this time they weren't out of the special. She was on Dr. Hunt's service today, and the ER had kept them busy so far. Busier still was her mind, trying to imagine a career in trauma. She couldn't quite wrap her head around it, but the chief seemed to think she should...

Her inner conflict was interrupted when Jackson plopped down across from her with his own tray. "Hey," she said in mild surprise.

"Hey," he replied, grinning at her.

She remembered Meredith's news last night and fixed him with a pointed look. "So I hear you're moving out."

The grin disappeared from his face, replaced by a grimace. "Sorry. I wanted to tell you myself, but I've been working nights the last few days...I guess Meredith told you everything?"

"She just said you and Lexie were getting a one-bedroom closer to the hospital," April said. "And it's fine," she added, "I was just surprised, I didn't know you guys were that serious."

"Yeah," Jackson said with a dopey smile. "I mean, I didn't know we were either, but then after Zola moved in, Lex started talking about how she was tired of feeling surrounded by babies, and maybe it was time to start looking for a place of her own, and I said we should do it together, and she said yes," he finished, his eyes starry.

April refrained from rolling her eyes at how lovestruck he was. "That's great," she said, "I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks," he said, looking at her carefully. "You know, we signed the lease before we knew about Meredith and Derek moving out."

April sighed, twirling her fork through the angel-hair pasta on her tray. "It's fine, Jackson, you don't have to do that."

"Do what?" Jackson asked. "I'm just saying, I didn't think you'd end up..." he trailed off.

"Alone? I always do," April said sardonically. She smiled, trying to reassure him. "Really, it's fine, I'm the one who's constantly telling you guys to get a room. I'm actually looking forward to the day that I can stop disinfecting furniture before I sit on it." She smirked at him.

He laughed half-heartedly. "Okay, fair enough, but still, it's weird, you know?"

April was silent, so he babbled on, "I just, you know, it's been nice living together, ever since..." He met her eyes, unable to finish the sentence.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I know." Since Reed. Since Charles. Since Meredith had saved them both from going back to apartments with air so filled with memories of their dead friends that they'd have suffocated.

"But it'll be fine, Jackson," April said. "We'll still be friends." She held his gaze, and hoped she didn't have to say it out loud, that they would always have that in common. Not everybody loses their best friend to the same gun, on the same day, that you lose yours, but when they do, it's a connection that lasts forever.

Jackson looked down, eyebrows knit together. "Yeah," was all he said, but she knew he understood what she hadn't put words to.

"And I think I'll like living alone," she said, searching for a change of subject, wanting to show him that she didn't need pitying, wasn't standing still while everyone else moved away. "Anyway, I have bigger things to worry about, being chief resident."

Jackson cocked an eyebrow at her, more than willing to let the moment pass. "Oh yeah? All those charts keeping you busy?"

"Actually, yes," April frowned. They were more work than she'd thought. "But I was talking about picking a subspecialty."

Jackson narrowed his eyes at her. "We don't have to do that until later in the year."

April swiped a french fry from his tray, irritated anew at the surprise of this morning. "You don't have to do that until later this year," she said. "The chief told me this morning that he expects me to have a fellowship acceptance by the end of the month. I'm supposed to set an example," she said, disbelieving.

Jackson snorted. "Cristina and Meredith both already have a subspecialty picked, and even if they haven't filled out the paperwork yet, they'll get accepted. Karev will almost certainly end up with Robbins in peds, so who exactly are you setting an example for, me?"

"I don't know," April said glumly.

"Well, what are you picking, then?" Jackson demanded, eyebrow raised.

"I don't know," April said again, listlessly this time. "The chief strongly hinted that I should pick trauma, because Dr. Hunt said I showed promise." She grabbed another fry off of Jackson's tray, suddenly craving empty carbs and salt.

"Huh," Jackson leaned back, looking skeptical.

"What?" April said peevishly.

"Oh," he said, shrugging. "I just kinda always saw you picking a softer subspecialty." He paused, seeming to reconsider. "But I guess trauma makes sense too, you did well in that workshop Hunt ran. Anyway, don't worry about it, you'll end up picking trauma."

"First of all," said April, "there's no such thing as a softer subspecialty. That's demeaning to surgeons who work just as hard as any neuro or cardio 'god'," she said with sarcastic air quotes. "And second, how do you know what I'll end up picking?"

"Because you have people pleasing issues and crave praise from authority figures," Jackson said simply.

April's jaw dropped open. "I - " Well, denying it outright would be a lie, she thought. "I may have some problems with that," she sputtered, "but I can think for myself."

"Oh yeah?" Jackson said, popping another fry in his mouth. "Well, what other fellowship are you considering then?"

Not wanting to prove him right by admitting she hadn't thought of any others, April said the first thing that came to her mind. "Peds."

"Aha!" Jackson said, triumphant anyway. "See, I knew it, a softer specialty."

"Peds isn't softer," April said in exasperation, "it's just -"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jackson said, waving a hand. "You know what I mean, and you know everyone else will think the same thing."

"Ugh," April said in frustration.

"And see, there you go," Jackson's eyes twinkled at her, "caring what everybody else thinks again."

April stood up and grabbed her tray. "Thanks," she said, rolling her eyes. "You have been no help at all."

"That's what I'm here for," said Jackson lazily, peeling open a pudding cup.

His attitude forced a grin onto April's face, but as she walked away it slid off. She wished they could have talked through it more seriously. It was a big decision, career-altering for sure, and potentially permanent. Once she had three years of a fellowship behind her, she would have a hard time going back and specializing in something else.

April sighed, dumping the contents of her tray into the appropriate bins, and decided to worry about big decisions later. For now, she would just focus on just getting through the rest of her day.

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