*I need to say a HUGE thank you to Erica (ForeverErica) for taking the reins on this chapter, writing the most AMAZING scene, and for always helping me with this story. She hit it out of the park with her contribution and I'm so utterly grateful that her wonderful talents were able to grace this fic. Thank you, Erica. Thank you!*
*And thank you to Ann for her endless amounts of help as well! You know who you are, and I've appreciated every piece of your thoughts. Thank you!
*And always, to you, the readers. Thank you for reading and reviewing, it means so much!
Okay...you're really going to enjoy this chapter kids! Jears, I tell you, jears. Have tissues ready. I know I needed them!
Chapter 9 "The longer I run, the less that I find"
"When my blood runs warm with the mulled red wine
I miss the life that I left behind
And when I hear the sound of the blackbird's cry
I know I left in the nick of time" "The Longer I Run" Peter Bradley Adams
""Dr. Shephard, we need you in OR 3. It's an emergency."
"What's wrong?" Jack was slightly perplexed at the 'we' she used; he didn't think she was a surgeon. He was taken aback slightly, though, by how cute she was with her hair hidden away in the blue scrub cap. He had never seen scrubs adorned with little cartoon horses before, but they were fitting on her, and his mind flashed back to the morning he had shared with her in her home. It would be lying to say he hadn't thought about her since then. Especially since Mark wouldn't stop mentioning his plans to take her out. It was only a matter of time before he approached her again, and that thought bothered Jack.
Her shaky voice brought him back from his far off moment. "Dr. Shephard severed Stella's spinal cord while attempting to remove her entire tumor. He needs your help fixing it."
She watched him suck in a breath, his hand immediately moving to rub his forehead. His thoughts raced for a moment; Derek was highly skilled, for him to have made that kind of mistake…He looked back at his scans for a moment. His first instinct was medical, his second was personal. Everything within him screamed to help the poor child, to prevent her from following the same fate as his daughter. But actually standing above the child's body and attempting to fix what Derek had done, the fear set in immediately and washed over him like a freezing wave of water. He turned his eyes back to Kate's pleading face.
"Dr. Austen, I'm right in the middle of a very important consultation, tell my brother I'll get down there as soon as I can," His voice was tense, and Kate could see that he wasn't resolved in his answer. He was battling inner demons, and she was well aware of what they were. But that didn't matter to her. She looked to Dr. Grey, who peered between the two, seemingly surprised at his answer.
"Dr. Shephard, you know what your brother did, and you know how to fix it. He needs your help." Panic boiled in her blood; that was her little patient down there! She knew he was trying not to offer his help, trying to remain cold, whether scared or simply stubborn. He brushed past her, heading in the opposite direction of the stairs, and Kate grabbed his arm with strength, stopping his getaway. He stopped, sighing, and looked down into her greenish eyes, and he could see the pain there, the desperation. The touch of her fingers wrapped around his bicep sent an involuntary shiver down his spine and he found himself lost in the panic splashing amongst the hazel flecks in her irises.
"Please, Dr. Shephard." All her need was expressed in those few words, and he gave in. He didn't want the patient to suffer; he wasn't that kind of doctor. It was just so hard for him. He didn't respond, simply nodded, heading toward the stairs. Relief washed over her and she said a silent prayer of thank, running after him.
Fully changed into navy blue scrubs, he entered the operating room through the sliding glass door, stepping up to the sink. He hit the intercom button before turning on the water with his foot to begin the process of scrubbing in. The sight of the little girl on the table caused his breath to hitch, but he took a deep breath to keep the flood of memories at bay. They were so fresh, so real. His blood ran cold at the images in his head.
"Derek, what happened?" His voice was rough, his tone curt.
"I was trying to resect the whole tumor and I severed her cord. Hurry up, I need an extra pair of hands." Derek tried to keep the panic in his voice from being detected, but Jack knew his brother. The man had made a grave mistake, possibly rendering the child paralyzed from the chest down, if not worse. She was six, she deserved more life than that. His internal resolves played tug-of-war with his feelings. Heaving a sigh, he entered the operating room.
"Was the tumor even able to be removed? I thought this was a biopsy." He glared at Kate disapprovingly as she entered behind him. He dried his hands with a sterilized blue towel, everyone staring at him. He didn't know what people knew about his situation, if anything, but in this moment, it felt like they could see into his soul. And it was terrifying.
"I made a judgment call, I didn't realize how intricate it was until I had a quarter removed. The nerves are all entangled in the damn thing. It's a mess." Jack slipped into his gown as the nurses helped him dress before he moved closer to the table, peering in to see the damage through the microscope. He pushed through his issues unwillingly; his muscles tense, his heart beating so rapidly, he was sure the whole room could hear it. He assessed what Derek had done and how they could reverse it. He ceased the flashes of his daughter beneath his sutures, closing his eyes for a brief moment, counting slowly to five with a deep breath. Kate watched the concentration overcome his eyes, the stress lines in his forehead still very evident but now determined, now less afraid.
"You should have known better." He spoke softly, angrily, at his brother as he was given instruments, sliding his hands into her thoracic spine, moving carefully around the mangle of nerve endings and tumor matter.
"Can we fight about this later?" Derek snapped, his eyes meeting his brother's, fury of their own shining though. Did he think that he wasn't ashamed? That a surgeon of his caliber needed his younger brother to save him?
Kate watched the exchange, terrified Jack would walk out, terrified Stella would be paralyzed for the rest of her life. Jack didn't respond, simply diving into the art of saving the little life before him from permanent disability. Kate felt like it was an eternity before either of them spoke again, as she stared at the screen, watching their every move magnified before her. Jack was so steady, so smooth; Derek lacked some of his brother's talent. Jack lacked many characteristics Derek had though, it seemed to her, starting with patience and a calm head. They would make a great team if they allowed whatever sibling feud they had going on to be checked at the door.
"Stop." Jack spoke soon after he had begun. Derek lifted his head, catching his brother's eyes again.
"What?" Derek was aggravated now, wanting nothing more than to remove the tumor while Jack fixed her spinal cord, and close her up.
"You can't remove this tumor. We need to repair the nerves, we need a graft and we need to let it heal. If you remove any more of that tumor you risk making it worse." He spoke steady, with conviction, and Kate could feel herself growing entranced in his talents. He was as smart in real life as he was on paper. She hadn't seen him in the OR until now.
"We're already in here, I can remove it, it's just going to take a little more time—"
"I said stop! Do you want her to be paralyzed? You'll be lucky if she's able to regain function at all." Jack went back to work as Derek stared at him, his eyes enraged.
"Jack, you know as well as I do that mistakes happen." It was a shot that Derek hadn't intended to take, the words tumbling out with anger before he could stop them. Jack's eyes shot up meet his brother's, and Kate held her breath, watching the two world-class surgeons throw their past in each other's face.
"Yes, and don't you think we've seen enough mistakes for one lifetime?" Jack's voice was low and steady, but the confidence it had carried before was lost.
"Jack, I—" immediately Derek attempted to make his comment void, but Jack had heard enough. It hadn't occurred to Derek until now the similarities in situations, and he wished he had bit his tongue. His brother hadn't deserved to lose his daughter and his wife, and though Derek had wanted him to heal, the last thing he wanted was to throw it in his face. Their father had made a grave mistake and Jack would pay for an eternity what had only taken milliseconds to happen. And Jack wasn't going to let Stella become another mistake.
"Derek." The tone was one of warning, and his brother remained silent as Jack took over the procedure entirely, the tumor remaining attached to the little girl's spinal cord where Derek hadn't been able to remove it. Jack worked quickly and quietly as Derek assisted him, his right hand for the moment.
As Jack was closing her up, he felt his heart tighten with emotion, his fears overcoming his steady composure. She was still alive, but there was still the question of the tumor, what Derek had managed to remove needed to be sent to pathology, but for the moment, as he sewed her up, she was fine. She was still breathing, her heart was still beating, and she was alive. He felt his hands tremble for a moment, a deep breath in and out helping to steady though. It seemed no one saw as he peered around, but Kate had seen it on the monitor and her heart went out to him. He had unwillingly, in hero fashion, faced his fears and saved a patient's life. Tears of relief finally prickled her eyes, and she was glad most her face was covered by the mask she wore.
When they were finished she watched him step back from the patient; he had finished the procedure himself, sewing her up entirely and covering the wound. She was impressed by his diligence. Nurses scurried to move the girl to recovery and to clean the OR, and Kate lost Jack in the midst, following Stella out of the room and down the hall. She would find the parents, and then allow Derek to explain what had happened in there. She crossed her fingers at her sides, saying a prayer that the tumor's pathology came back benign. Her gut told her that wouldn't be the case, but hoping never hurt anyone. She silently thanked Jack again, making a mental note to do so in person as soon as Stella was settled and stable.
Derek walked out of his office for the evening, dressed in his suit and tie with his peacoat covering him, completely exhausted. He felt his phone vibrate in the breast pocket of his jacket. He pulled it out to find a text message from Meredith, who had left the hospital hours ago. "How was it?" She asked. A damn disaster, Derek wanted to reply, but stopped short, deciding that it was better left explained in person.
He continued towards the elevators when he realized that he couldn't possibly leave, couldn't relax after this trying day, without facing his brother. He had a feeling that he hadn't gone home yet, his long hours a repetitive habit that he could never break, but maybe he had gone home, maybe today's debacle was enough to break that streak. Deciding to find him, Derek made his way back towards his office, taking a detour to check if Jack was still on call. Before he could verify, he heard someone speak to him.
"Looking for Dr. Shephard, Dr. Shephard?"
He turned and immediately recognized her, she was one of the scrub nurses that assisted in the surgery, that saw the grave mistake he'd made and watched as he refrained from going head to head with his brother right over their tiny, frail patient.
"Yes, I am. Do you know where he is?"
"He's still in there." She nodded towards the double doors that led to OR 3, Derek's eyes following. "He hasn't come out since the surgery."
He sighed, then turned to the young nurse and fixed a pleasant smile. "Thank you." He walked up to the doors, stopping short, not sure how many times he would have to apologize before Jack believed him, and with the mood his brother was in during the surgery, he's sure a million times won't even begin to be enough.
Derek spotted him standing by the surgical table, his fisted hands bracing him over it. His head was down, his eyes closed, motionless. Derek's shoes shuffling against the floor was what brought Jack out of his trance, his eyes finding the source of the disturbance and once it sank in who it was, everything about his body language changed. He moved back from the table, his shoulders taunt, his fists still clinched, his eyes hostile, brimming with heat and anger as he watched his older brother come closer, slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal and not his little brother.
Derek could feel the fury radiating off of him, even with the feet of distance between them, but he suddenly filled with the courage to just say it, no matter the explosion he was bound to respond with. He dropped his briefcase to the floor, bracing himself for the confrontation.
"I put you in an impossible position, and I—"
Before Derek could finish, he was flung back by the impact of Jack's fist meeting the curve of his jaw. He crashed into a surgical tray, utensils flying everywhere, the clank of stainless steel crashing to the tiled floor. He twisted, colliding with the surgical table, landing on his chest. It took him a minute or so to recover, the blow nearly knocking his head clean off his shoulders. He struggled to stand upright, but eventually did, turning to his pissed little brother, his lip busted, blood already dripping.
Derek righted himself, adjusting the coat on his shoulders before reaching for the blood that steadily pooled, wiping it to his fingertips to inspect. "I deserve that."
"What the hell were you thinking?" Jack asked his breathing labored, his tone exploding with anger.
Derek hung his head, his jaw still vibrating from the blow. "I was trying to save her life, Jack."
"Well, you almost killed her, Derek, so congratulations."
"I thought I could get it all and I…I overshot, okay, and I didn't have time to think about much else besides the patient. So, I had Dr. Austen run to catch you." He took a few steps forward, looking at his brother with sorrow-filled eyes. Jack locked eyes with his brother, and could see how this pulled at him, that he knew that his mistake had forced him to confront a fear that was so paralyzing, a pain that was so real, he'd sworn off working with children.
"I'm sorry, Jack." Derek's tone was pleading.
"Screw you." Jack said with all the disgust he could muster before turning his back, not before catching the glint of pain in his brother's eyes.
"'Screw you'," Derek repeated in a low grunt, sardonic laughter following, his temper at its peak, "nice one, Jack. Real mature."
Jack could sense the pile of sarcasm in his tone, and pounced, yelling. "What the hell do you want from me, Derek?"
"I don't know, Jack. I have no clue what I could possibly want from you!" Derek erupted in retort, the walls rumbling around them, their voices carrying into the quiet hallways around them. "I fucked up today, okay? Is that what you want to hear? Fine. I fucked up, big time, and I needed you to have my back, even though it reminded you of—
"I know exactly why you wanted nothing to do with that surgery, so I decided to do it myself, because I was trying to protect you, like I've done your entire life, but you know what? Enough!
"You weren't the only one who lost something that day, Jack. I lost my niece, my father and I lost you, and you're too wrapped up in your own pain to see anyone else's." Derek, suddenly on a roll, saying the things he wish he had years ago, wouldn't even stop to breathe between the words.
"You barely have time for anything else but your patients, and while I could attribute that to your stellar work ethic, it's really you just hiding out, scared of anything touching you ever again, because you're scared of losing it. You drown yourself in one woman after another. You've pretty much slept through the entire nursing staff, in case you haven't been counting!"
He suddenly stopped, faltering. The pain returned to his features as his voice dropped below its loud, angry register from before, now solemn and soft, weary. "Our mother hasn't seen you in over two months. Two months, Jack. She lost her husband of forty years, her granddaughter and, you, her baby, her favorite, act like you don't even care, switching shifts just so you don't have to bother yourself with going over to have dinner with her. Me? I might as well just be your coworker, because I for damn sure don't feel the brotherly love."
Derek brought a hand up to his face, wiping at the tears that fell from his eyes. He didn't want Jack to see them, but he already had and he immediately softened, sensing how much his brother needed to say this, if only for this moment and he needed to humble himself to hear it. "It's like you're punishing the both of us, because you can, because we're the only ones left you can take it out on."
Jack turned his back again, his hands fisted around the edge of an instrument table as he leaned into it, his head hung low. Derek could sense the defeat in his body language. He was just as tired and drained as he was, but they had to do this.
"Dad was so wracked with guilt that he drank himself to death halfway across the world and I can see the same devastation in you that I saw in him before he left, only you're not looking for resolution at the bottom of a whiskey bottle Jack, you're doing something far worse."
"Yeah, and what's that?" Jack asked defensively as he brought his head up, his shoulders flexing, his voice having lost its rage, any edge of anger he once held now gone.
"You're acting like you're okay," Derek observed, a single tear trailed down Jack's cheek at his words, "when the fact that you would let that little girl die because of what it would bring up for you means that you're not." He stepped closer to him. He wanted to reach out, to touch him, to show him that he was there, that he could lean on him, but he didn't want to be rejected, like he had for so long now. He didn't know how many more times he could act like it didn't hurt, because it had, it always had.
"You have suffered such a great loss, Jack, but we all lost something here. We're all grieving and we're all just trying to find our way. So, what do I want from you? Maybe I just want to mourn them with you, maybe I want you to finally let me."
"Maybe I just want my little brother back." Jack's head rose and turned ever so slightly, reacting to Derek's heartfelt confession. "Did you ever think of that?"
With that, Derek stumbled back, picked up his briefcase from the floor and reached to push the door open when he finally heard Jack speak.
"You don't think I tried to come back?" Jack turned, looking his brother's way. "You don't think that I wanted things to go back to how they used to be? I do. I always have."
Derek walked back over to him, watching as he began to pour his heart out. "I had a family. A wife, a child, two people that I woke up for in the morning-that fueled my life in ways that I didn't think possible. With Nyla's diagnosis, I felt helpless. All those years of school, all the degrees I have hanging in my office and I couldn't help my own daughter, so I went to the only person I thought could help, our father, my hero."
"Sarah was never the same after—" Jack cleared his throat, not able to bring himself to form the words. "She wouldn't look at me, she'd barely let me touch her, for months on end. So, one day, I came home to find that she was packing her bags. She was leaving me, and never once did I fight her on it, because I wanted…relief for her. Hell, I wanted it for myself.
"The grief was too much to survive, and it took everything I had just to get up in the morning. It still does.
"I lie there and I close my eyes and I see her perfect little round face, just the way it used to be and all I can think about is how I'll never see that face change. She'll never grow up, she'll never go to kindergarten, she'll never learn how to ride a bike, she'll never get married, have children of her own. She'll never have a life. I'll never see her again." Jack bowed his head, his voice trailing off, shattering into a million pieces, but he held to his tears with all he had left.
"And Dad…he died thinking that I hadn't forgiven him, and that I never would, because that's the last thing I ever said to him." Jack finally met Derek's eyes again, repeating what were the last words he ever uttered to their father with his broken heart reflected in his deep brown eyes. "'I will never forgive you.'"
Before Derek could react, Jack kept going, addicted to the rush of letting it all out. A weight was being lifted and he vied for the loss of pressure. "The flight to Sydney is pretty long you know. It gives you time to think, to really put things in perspective, to look and realize how things could have gone differently. As soon as the plane landed, I knew that my mind was made up. I knew that I would find him and tell him I love him, and that…I forgive him.
"You're right, Derek, like you always are. I couldn't see past my own pain. I couldn't bring myself to realize the guilt he must have been living with, the shame. I only wanted him to pay, but he was already paying wasn't he?" Derek knew the question was rhetorical, vowing to himself not to say a word, just as addicted to Jack's confessions as he was to telling someone, anyone who would listen.
Jack stared away, into the distance over Derek's shoulder. It was like he wasn't there anymore; the words he formed had magically taken him back in time and space. "I got there, and the hotel rep couldn't find him, said he hadn't been back to his room in days. Then they told me that his body was found in an alley and as I'm standing over this lifeless shell of who used to be our Dad, all I could think about was how much I wanted it all to be some sick joke, but it wasn't."
Jack's eyes trailed back to Derek's, who held back tears. "I was too late, Derek. He died without ever knowing that I was sorry, that I just wanted him to come home."
Like a sixth sense, Derek could literally feel the floor beneath Jack caving. He wouldn't be able to take much more, he realized. He wasn't strong enough to stand, not after this. He'd spent three years standing up on his own, he couldn't do it anymore.
"They're gone, Derek," Jack cried, his breaths leaving him in large hiccups, "they're gone and I can't—"
Within an instant, Derek brought Jack into his arms, holding his brother up from collapsing. Jack held onto him for dear life, weeping into his shoulder, shaking as his sobs overtook him. Derek just held him, Jack's distress causing him to let go of his cries. The expansive surgical suite was crowded by the overpowering emotions of two grown men, two brothers, two of the best neurosurgeons in the region, in the country, maybe even the world. They stood in the middle of their domain, and they were healing, finally, together.
Overhead, in the last row of the gallery, Kate sat alone, still dressed in her cartoon scrubs, watching, tears falling down her cheeks at what she just witnessed. She could hear their breathing through the speakers, the emotive swell of Derek telling his brother, "I love you" and amid his tears, she could hear Jack saying it back.
"I love you too. I'm so sorry."
If it were possible to physically feel her heart breaking in her chest, Kate was sure it was happening to her in that moment. She could barely breathe. She wasn't sure what possessed her to witness such a private moment, but she hadn't expected Derek to walk in. She was shocked by Jack's blow to his face, but she wasn't afraid of it, she felt responsible for it in a way. Derek wouldn't have been involved had she not dragged him into the situation and Jack wouldn't be reliving his pain had she not thought about nothing else but her own patient.
Unbeknownst to Jack, she had been there watching over him for awhile, checking up on Stella's post-op vitals before she went after him, discovering that he hadn't come out of the OR. She wasn't the right person to console him, not about this, not so soon after she'd forced him to do what he had very good reason to want no part of, but she couldn't leave him. She came to the conclusion that he would be on her mind tonight, probably every night thereafter, like he had been before, only this time, his pain was so exposed that her budding feelings for him would have no chance of settling.
Finally, she slinked away as she wiped the tears from her eyes, her heart completely wrecked.