Disclaimer: For the millionth time, I do not own Grey's. I did borrow some epic epic speeches that I could never write from it…references to two of my favorite scenes, ever, people.

A/N: So I'm totally gonna fail my degree. Oh, the guilt. I'm going to regret spending so much time on this now, two days before my deadline…right, you'll see more of me after this essay is done. OK. Rant over. And I thought it was about time I tried an April POV, though it was really difficult. I haven't edited this so much, so it may seem choppy…and is it too sappy? Sorry!


April nursed her second glass of whiskey in her hand, staring down at it glumly. Around her, the patrons of Joe's bar chattered noisily and a competitive game of darts was in full swing, but she didn't hear any of it.

The last time she had felt like this in this bar, she had been getting crap from Alex about still being a virgin. She scoffed, remembering how irritated she had been at Alex, but that was nothing new. She had come to expect that from her short time at Seattle Grace, but what she hadn't expected was the hope welling up inside her at the thought that someone understood her when Jackson told her there was no shame in it. But that had been crushed all too soon afterwards.

His "no, there's shame" had been more of a slap in the face than even Lexie's mocking laugh. He was supposed to be on her side, and she had relished the look of contrition on his face after she finally blew up, even if she had had to stoop to bringing up his nightmares.

She grimaced down at her drink. It hadn't been one of her brightest moments.

Then again, she had many more contenders for that crown.

Like this afternoon.

The memory of that series of kisses flashed into her head, making her feel momentarily light-headed.

She had always found Jackson attractive, but she had never been one to act on her attraction; it was a bad idea. Like that one night in the locker-room in her first intern year, when she had thrown herself at a fellow intern who she thought liked her back as they were finishing their shift. April slouched on her stool, taking a deep gulp of her drink and savoring the burn at the back of her throat as she suppressed the memory of the mortification she'd felt when he had laughed cruelly in her face that he was out of her league.

Jackson Avery was most certainly out of the leagues for the likes of April Kepner, and he would realize that soon enough. She thought dolefully that she was better off hiding until he snapped out of the post-Lexie craziness that had entered his brain. Even somewhere as obvious as the bar they usually frequented.

It was only her tipsiness that allowed herself to acknowledge that a tiny, irrational part of her wanted him to find her.

More than a tiny part.

But what would that do? She couldn't think rationally around him, especially now. Nerves, combined with alcohol, made her a basket case and even more socially awkward than usual, with little inhibitions.

And what she really wanted right now was to kiss Jackson again.

For a second, she had had a glimpse at what those annoying couples who claimed they "just knew" they were meant for each other were talking about, the kind she had always written off as impossible. No one just knew it was love.

She downed her drink and called out quickly to Joe to get her another. He eyed her askance but complied, pushing a glass over to her that she grabbed eagerly.

The stern look on his face as he told her that he was cutting her off reminded her all of a sudden of Dr. Bailey's drunken admonishment months ago.

"You take your maiden voyage with a nice boy. A kind boy. A boy who loves you. A boy that you love so much you want to superglue yourself to him. You wait. And you keep your knees together. And believe me, even though you haven't met your Ben yet, you will meet your Ben. Not my Ben, but your own Ben. Who might or might not be called Ben."

April jerked upright, tracing the rim of her glass absent-mindedly.

What if she had found her Ben?

But maybe she was getting ahead of herself. It wasn't like he had pledged his eternal love on bent knee and offered her a big wedding with butterflies.

Then why was her stomach swooping at the thought of Jackson, clad in a tux and waiting for her at the end of the aisle with that irresistible smile on his face?

She was self-destructing, the way she always did. Her sisters had nagged at her for years that she over-analyzed everything to death, and she knew they were right. It didn't have to be this complicated. It was just a guy.

A guy who was her pillar of strength, who knew her inside out from all her rambling, who had seen her at her most vulnerable but had still stayed, who was devastatingly handsome and so charming that he could elicit unrestrained laughter from her even at the end of a grueling day. A guy who had told her in no uncertain terms that he wanted her and proceeded to take her breath away with his kiss.

Someone who she had never thought she had a chance with, for all that she was his best friend. He could have—and should have, April thought fiercely—the best woman in the world, not a train-wreck with a barrage of insecurities just hovering out of sight.

It felt too complicated for 9 p.m. on a Friday night, but she knew with certainty that she didn't deserve him.

But would she have the will to push him away, to do the right thing? Would she be able to do it, even at the expense of their friendship? She couldn't imagine they would ever be able to go back to the easy relationship they'd had of trusting each other implicitly.

She had already proven that she had no restraint when it came to him. She had known she should have pushed him away when he'd given her the chance to, but deep inside, she hadn't wanted to. Because even after all the evidence to the contrary that she had faced so far when it came to love, she still believed in the fairy tale.

"A boy that you love so much you want to superglue yourself to him."

She realized she was mumbling out loud to herself when Joe called out her name loudly.

"April. APRIL."

She looked up with a frown. When had she had the rest of her drink?

"I called for someone to take you home, okay?" Joe said, leaning over the counter with concern written over his face. He had served most of the doctors at the hospital over the years, but Dr. Kepner wasn't one to come in regularly to drown her sorrows in alcohol. He couldn't remember if he'd ever seen her so drunk before.

"You didn't have to do that for me, I'm not that drunk," April argued, slipping off her bar stool. She wobbled precariously, and the look of surprise on her face was so comical that Joe would have laughed had she not looked so dismayed.

"Oh no. Now they're going to mock me for being a lightweight," she moaned, bracing herself against the counter and hanging her head.

"Wait, Joe. Who did you call?" she asked suddenly, raising narrowed eyes to the amused bartender's.

The bell attached to the door rang merrily, and she craned her head around to see Jackson striding towards her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Shit," April cursed under her breath, turning back to glare at Joe, who only shrugged apologetically.

She stiffened when she felt Jackson come to a stop beside her, not daring to raise her hanging head and look at him. Sober up, she scolded herself, don't say anything stupid.

He was bound to be angry; she had walked out on him, after all, even though she had had a legitimate obligation to. She was a doctor. She saved lives.

"Come on, let's get you home."

His voice betrayed little emotion, and she gulped.

"No, it's fine, I can make my way home," she said feebly, and she heard him sigh.

"I was heading back anyway. Just come with me, April," Jackson coaxed, and she thought she detected a hint of rueful amusement disguised in his tired voice, the way he usually sounded when she was being stubborn.

She had hurt him, but he still cared about her.

How was that even possible?

She needed him to stay even when she told him not to, and it scared her more than anything. She needed him to fight for her, because she couldn't ask him to.

When had she become so dependent on him?

"April."

There was an ache in the way he said her name that she couldn't ignore.

She took a deep breath and pushed herself off the counter, managing to stand on her feet better this time as she surveyed him. His clothes were rumpled as if he had been sleeping on them, and she felt a pang in her heart when he refused to meet her eyes.

Seeing him so uncertain was unsettling. Did he feel like this every time he comforted her?

"Let's go," she murmured, turning towards the door and waiting for Jackson, who quietly thanked Joe for calling him.

As they were leaving, April's heart skipped a beat when Jackson's hand slipped under her elbow to support her.

Who was she kidding? She might as well admit that her denial was no match for him.

She was a lost case.