JACKSON
There was something authentically natural about falling back into old habits with April again, something that could never be replicated.
Even if years ago I'd believed that there was no such thing as a soulmate, that some kind of one and done thing was systemically faulty, I'd changed. If there was anyone capable of changing me for that, it was April. I'd loved Lexie, and even Stephanie, and there had been girls before Seattle… but none of them could even begin to cast a shadow on what the two of us had together.
Things may have just started between us on the basis of sex, but before that, April had been my best friend. Alex was decent enough company and it had been fine with the three of us living together even if we occasionally ganged up on her. Cristina and Meredith were fine as well, but I'd never been connected with any of them. Not in the same way. It'd become deep-rooted after the shooting because she was the only one who understood. Reed and Charles had been our friends, Charles had been my closest up until then. The rest of them… they didn't care much about the loss. But she got it. She'd been there, even if I hadn't been able to offer the same support for her.
I wanted to do that now. I could see that she needed it and it seemed like she had to come to terms with it herself, but I wanted to be able to support her. To compensate for the work that she had done for me over the years, and I'd been to shallow or blind to really understand it.
Of course, the sex was great, too. No point in looking over that. It'd been crazy lately and we'd both sustained more than a few marks – mostly intentional, even if the round in the shower had left the both of us with some bruises and unexpected soreness. One of those things that were definitely a lot more graceful on film than it was in real life.
We were still living in our own houses, but sleepovers at whoever had Harriet for that particular evening had become more and more frequent. It was some vague semblance of distance, not wanting to dive right back into where things had been and risk making the same mistakes. But I was eager to be there with her, right by her side again. Pushing her the things weren't completely worked out yet didn't seem like a good idea, though. I'd settle on waiting, making sure the two of us were really comfortable with each other emotionally again before pressing that matter. But I'd been looking at the housing market already, perusing. Three bedrooms minimum, a yard and a porch that I knew she would love. A big kitchen with new appliances. The stuff I was looking at probably wasn't in the price range that she liked, but I wanted to make sure that everything else inside of it would be of worth.
That and preschools for Harriet. We hadn't gotten into the school discussion too much, initially deciding to put it off. It felt early when she was just shy of tow but that was usually what the best of schools required, early applications with a hefty price tag attached. I'd settled down to focus on it in the kitchen, figuring it was easier to brace than the house subject, while she got Harriet down for the night.
"Hey, whatcha working on? Research?" April asked, drawing me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah," I nodded, leaning back in my chair away from the kitchen table for a moment. "Preschools, actually, for Harriet. That's something that we should probably talk about before I get in too deep, though. Sit, I'll show you."
April plopped down on the table next to me and I turned my laptop toward her so she could see. "Earlier is better for this kind of stuff, usually," I tacked on as I let him skim.
"I know. I've looked into them too," she responded with a shrug of her shoulders. "Do you remember when we first talked about schools? Back… before I'd told you that I was pregnant with Samuel? You made some comment about riding horses at boarding school."
One of the many arguments of our marriage. "Yeah, I remember."
"Do you still want to do that? Boarding school, I mean, when she's older?"
"I…" I'm caught off guard by the question, admittedly. I'd been looking more at the immediate future as opposed to the long term. "Not really, no. That was just what I did so I thought it was best. But I don't think I want that for her." The days where she had been with April could be quite frustrating, not knowing what was going on even if I had to rely on the fact that she was in good hands. I couldn't imagine that for legitimate months while she was at school. "I think that private school is the best option for her."
"Okay," April commented as she stewed on the thought for a minute. "You know that I'm not big on that. I went to public school and we're still in the same place. What would you think about the idea of a Christian pre-school, and then private school? I've looked into them and I found one that I really like. Rose Hill. They do a lot of hands-on learning, lots of outdoor time, actual science experiments with the kids involved. It's not just Bible study and prayer."
I shouldn't be surprised that she brought it up, but I am. Mostly with the lack of faith she'd had lately, I didn't think that she would want something like that. But it meant that she was looking forward. That was something to hold onto, even if religion isn't my favorite thing.
"I'll agree to go check it out if that's what you really want." I agreed, looking at her. "But, if I don't like it, I don't want you to turn it around into a religious thing, okay? It's not automatically going to be that if I'm not a fan." I cautioned her, brows furrowing slightly.
"That–that's fair." April nodded in agreement. "I can schedule an appointment. One of the women in the Bible study group that I used to go to is actually one of the preschool teachers there. She's a sweet woman. You'd like her a lot," she smiled at me as she spoke. My mind had already drifted away, remembering that argument, among the other ones that we had gotten into. It makes a lot more sense now, she'd been insecure about everything after my mom had swooped in with the post-nup papers and criticism.
"Maybe uh, we should talk about the religious thing though…" I braced carefully.
She turned toward me and I could already see the hints of a frown on her features. Yeah, that one was pretty much all of me. I still don't like it, I still don't believe in it, but even after everything that she had been through, it was important to her. I needed a better way to be respectful of it.
"What about it?" April questioned.
"Regardless of school, I… I'm never going to be onboard with Christianity. I'm not going to jump ship and try to appease you and pretend to believe in something that I don't. But I know that this is important to you and that raising Harriet to believe in the same things is important to you. I respect that. And I want you to know that I'm fine with you raising her in this way, as long as it's something that's never forced on her. Take her to church, pray with her, teach her about your God. If she wants to believe, then I'll support the both of you. I just want it to be her choice."
I'm hoping that the words will settle with her right and not insult. It's hard to tiptoe around. A breath is released before I continue speaking. "And I want to apologize for any time that I've made you feel lesser because of your faith or because it's not something I agree with. I love you and your faith is a part of what makes you who you are, so… I do love your faith, even if I don't have it. I love that it brings you happiness and a sense of fulfillment."
When she glanced away from me after I've finished speaking, I'm expecting the worst to come. But instead, I watched as she took a deep breath and eventually turned back toward me, taking one of my hands inside of hers.
"Thank you." That was the first thing that she had to say and I smiled reflexively. "I do feel great comfort in the idea of God, a sense of just not being alone, even when I'm angry at God. And I would love nothing more than for Harriet to have that same sense of comfort too although I don't believe in forcing her to believe. If I force her to believe, then I'm failing her as a mother and a Christian. I fully believe that she should come to it on her own terms, even if I want to set the past up for her, you know? I want her to know that I'll be there and to answer her questions. I know you've found it easier to not believe, which as you know somewhat confounds me. So… maybe one day there will be questions that she's more comfortable asking you than me. And I'll be okay with that, too. She should be free to take that path without fear of censure."
The words are much more mature than what I expected to come from her and I realized immediately that I had been doubting her this entire time, guilt striking me down quickly with the light bulb going off. Of course she wanted the same things I did. Maybe she didn't label it in the same way, maybe I didn't have the same idea of an afterlife as she did, but we wanted the same thing for our daughter. We wanted Harriet to be happy and to find comfort and her place in the world. Maybe it'd happen with or without religion. But that was her choice, not ours.
"I agree with that," I nodded my head as I spoke. "So… you teach her God. And I don't mind going to church with you guys, even if I'm not going to participate in communion or anything like that. I just want to be with my girls," I paused for a moment and smiled at her. "If she wants to stop going, though… then I think we need to let her. But we'll both be here for when she's not sure. So she can see both sides of the coin."
"That's fair," April nodded.
"There's one more thing," I clarified and cleared my throat. "I don't want her to think that's God going to punish her for her sins. I've heard about your childhood stories and… some of those things just aren't right, April. You can justify it with religion but there are some questionable moments there." That was the big thing to tread carefully. I knew she loved her family, she wouldn't question the way that she'd been brought up. But I would.
"My parents were never wrong to me, Jackson," April defended them quickly.
"That's not what I'm getting at," I shook my head quickly before she could spiral too deeply. "It's mostly the concept of God, the Judge I resent. That aspect bothers me the most. I don't want her to think that she's going to get struck down by lightning for one bad thought or action."
A sigh escaped her lips but after a moment, she nodded. "I don't want her to think that, either," April agreed with a nod of her head. "You don't think that me wanting to raise her as a Christian makes me a bad mother, do you?" She questioned. I hate that she had to ask it in the first place, but I'm glad that she took pause to actually ask instead of assuming like she would have done at one point in our life together.
"No, I don't," I answered clearly. "You're an amazing mother, April, no matter what we do and don't disagree on. And I'm sure that there are going to be more things down the road to disagree about. Hell, this will probably be a different conversation when she's older than it is now. It'll be harder when she's able to ask questions and form her own opinions, for the both of us. Just because we're not on the same page doesn't mean I doubt your abilities as a mother. You've been through Hell and back for her. You've done more for her than I ever could." I reached out to her as I spoke this time, taking one of her smaller hands between both of mine.
"I guess we're both pretty good at the whole parenting thing," she said with a shy smile forming on the corners of her mouth. I lean forward, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips and hummed in agreement.
We don't actually get an appointment to tour the preschool until two weeks later, and that was with strings pulled. It's a bit of a drive from where we were currently live, but that hopefully wouldn't be an issue forever. It's clean and nice looking, and I keep an open mind even with the crosses and Bible verses scattered throughout the tour. April did most of the talking, bubbling along nicely with the friend. Everyone did coo over Harriet, commented on her hand dexterity when she sat down to color while we went over a few details. There's a point of pride.
Honestly, it was better than I would have given it credit for. My bias came solely from the fact that Christian came in their name and it was associated with the church, but it wasn't all that bad. If she would consider my other choices, then I'd consider this one. It was fair.
It wasn't until we were driving back to the hospital that we brave the actual discussion.
"What did you think about it?" April asked me.
"It's nice," I admitted with a nod and glance at her. "I still want to look at some of the other schools that we've been talking about, but I think that it's a good option."
I caught a glimpse of her beaming with my acceptance of the option, clearly proud that she had been able to sell me over on it. It was a good compromise, a fair one for the both of us. But I'd let her take it as a victory of her own. Seeing that smile was worth it.
"You know, though, most of the places that we've been looking at… they're a bit far from where we're both living right now," I started. "I think that we should consider moving in together, down the line. After we've chosen a preschool that we want her to go to. I think that it would be good for all three of us." Even if I wanted to spin it and make it out about us as a family unit, it was about us as a couple, too. I didn't want to be just the father of her child.
"You're not wrong," April commented. "I just don't want to rush things. It's been good, taking this slow, working through things and not just diving on in headfirst to crack our heads open on the bottom of the pool. I like what we've been doing." She rambled a little bit and I couldn't help but give the slightest smile at it. "I'm open to the possibility, I am. I'm not saying that I'm not. Just… let's see what preschool we end up in, and go from there, okay?" I could see her moving to look at me from the corner of my eye.
"That's fair," I agreed.
We had been doing a lot better now than we ever had before. But we'd never gotten to do this, really work things out and see step by step. Instead, we'd acted first and tried to repair whatever damage was caused in the midst of it. Finally going about things the right way was working out well for the both of us, together and individually. Between this and the contest, I'd felt like I was on top of the world lately. Work was going amazingly well, even with my mom and all of the vagina and orgasm jokes that I'd been forced to hear in the past weeks. Things at home were finally sailing along just as smoothly.
It's quiet for a few moments and I don't mind, NPR playing quietly on the radio even if I don't pay much attention to it at the moment. Things with her, things at work, they took up most of my headspace. The rest of the world took somewhat of a back burner until one of the other things calmed down some.
But her next words pretty much blow me completely out of the water.
"If we hadn't lost Samuel, we'd already had it figured out. He'd be in his first year of preschool." April said quietly.
There was nothing wrong, not directly, about what she said. He would have been three, he would have been in preschool. Our entire lives would have been different, Harriet might not have even been in the picture. Or at least, the circumstances around her would have been drastically different. Who we were now was defined by the loss of our son, whether or not we wanted to actually own up to that.
"Yeah," I let out a quiet breath. "I miss him too."
"I think about him all the time." April's response is quick, something that she's clearly thought about and prepared in her head more than I have. "I think about how good of a big brother he would have been to Harriet. He would have helped her with walking around. And maybe they would have gotten each other into some trouble, too. But I think that he would've been sweet more than anything else. I think that he would have looked like you, too. That's why it was so hard to stay after we lost him. I looked around and Is aw you and the family that we should have had. I walked the halls of that hospital and all I could think was this is where it happened, this is where you told me, this is the room where Edwards saw it and didn't say a word."
Even if I had heard her justify going to Jordan multiple times before the divorce, it'd never been like this. It'd been focused on her saving herself, but not what she was actually saving herself from.
"I understand," I said, reaching over and placing my hand on her thigh. "I'm sorry that I didn't always understand. That's… you know, that's kind of why I took down the nursery without talking to you about it. It was a reminder of him and of you being gone." I offered my own small explanation for another point of contention that we had dealt with when she'd come back. She'd hated the fact that I had ripped apart the nursery without so much as a heads up.
"I want to take Harriet to his grave, Jackson." There was something raw and authentic in her voice, but the pain is still the clearest thing mixed in with the desperation. She's in just as much agony as I am, even all of these years later. "I want her to know about her big brother."
That was something that I had mixed feelings about. It didn't seem entirely right to expose her to the concept of death so young, an abstract idea paired with someone that she would never know. Most kids were introduced to the idea through the death of their pet, or a neighbor, something that wasn't quite so close. But… Harriet would never know Samuel. Her big brother would be as much of an abstract concept as the fact that he was dead. Even if it wasn't a real conversation now, it would be one down the line, it was hard to know whether it'd be three years or eight or ten.
I swallowed thickly, letting out a sigh. "Okay. We can do that this weekend." I agreed.
It's only a few more quiet moments before we pull into the parking lot together, and I get Harriet out of her car seat. This time there's no worry about what people will think with the two of us showing up together, we'd made it known exactly where we were going. Nothing weird about parents being side by side, even if I've still got that internal desire to make sure that people know we're working it out. Maybe it's still that intern.
Dropping off Harriet downstairs at the daycare, I'm not separated from her for very long before my pager is going off requesting me back to the emergency room. The page is from her, not to Hunt, much to my own pleasure. It doesn't take long to spot her hair.
"Hey, you paged?"
"Yep, building explosion – two firefighters are hurt. Waiting for ortho to show up. From the sound of things on the phone, it looks like we're going to be heading right up to the O.R."
And she's right. The second that they come rushing into the emergency room, it's as if chaos has broken out when it came to trying to get him stable. Even just getting him from point A to point B was a challenge and he nearly coded before there was even a chance. Most of his body was covered in burns, broken bones – it was a miracle that he had made it this far. It'd be a long recovery and there wasn't a lot of viable skin left for skin grafts.
But despite what my first thoughts are going into surgery, somehow it's not my entire focus. Not after things had calmed down enough that we're all working on cohesion. I didn't know the newest oath surgeon particularly well – Dr. Vargas. I can't remember his first name off the top of my head, but he's about our age, maybe a year or two little younger. He'd only been working here since Callie had left for New York but he wasn't actually in charge of the department, just an attending.
The reason that he got my attention was the chatter with April. I never thought I'd feel like that much of a third wheel when it came to surgery, and certainly not with the mother of my children standing across the table, side by side with Vargas. But it's more than enough to stir up jealousy in the pit of my stomach, and it's not a pretty thing.
Finally scrubbing out hours later, it only gets worse. He's cozy with her and I had to wonder just how much the two of them had been working together. Hunt and Torres had been close, I knew that trauma often overlapped with ortho. I'd never really had a problem with that until now.
"Hey, red, do you have plans this weekend?"
I don't know if Vargas' question or the little nickname that he'd given her made it worse.
"We do," I interrupted before April had the chance to answer, clearing my throat and straightening up from the scrub sink after turning it off with my element. "With our kids." This time, the plural is absolutely intentional, trying to jam another wedge between what he was trying to get out of her. That's all it took to shut him down and send him in the other direction, fortunately.
"What was that?" April asked once it was just the two of them, turning toward me as she dried off her hands.
"We made plans in the car, remember?" I reminded her nonchalantly.
"That's not what I meant," she shook her head. "You. Getting all alpha male. Are you jealous of Hunter?" Ah, yeah. So that was his first name.
"He's a little cozy with you," I commented, not wanting to answer her question directly.
April stepped forward and closed the distance between us, her hands cupping my face and pulling me down into a kiss. I lean into her easily, breathing her in and finding grip on the curve of her waist, pulling her hips to flush against my frame. It only lasted a few seconds, but it's more than enough to alleviate the green inside of me. When our lips break, she doesn't even take a breath before speaking.
"It's okay. I'm only comfy with you."
