The confrontation that I know they would eventually have about Jackson's work ethic
Nathan's mood was as sour as it could get. The meeting had turned into slings across the table as each clan argued. When one of the Sangedakru drew a blade, the meeting had ended, with Octavia's entourage putting a swift end to things. No one drew a blade in Octavia's presence without consequences. At least they had yet to avoid any deaths. Yet, he thought sourly.
When he made it to the medical room, Jackson wasn't there, but he could hear his voice from the hospital. Abby must have him working late. Again. They'd agreed to meet in the medical on call room.
When he entered the hospital, it was empty except for Jackson and one of the grounder healers; a young woman called Sain. She seemed to be crying, and Jackson was hugging her, talking softly with a sad smile on his face. She chuckled softly.
Nathan couldn't hear what either of them were saying, but Nathan's day crashed down on him. Not for the first time, his anger turned towards Jackson, and his fucking compassion. The rational side of Nathan's mind knew he was being selfish, but he was too angry to care. Nathan needed him, and Jackson was off comforting someone else.
Jackson looked up and met Nathan's eyes in surprise. He smiled wearily over the grounder girl's shoulder when he recognised him, but Nathan only glared and turned away. He made his way back to the bunks in disgust. When he threw himself onto the bed and realised Jackson hadn't followed he was even more disgusted. Mostly at himself.
The reason he liked Jackson was his compassion, wasn't it? That was what had drawn him to the man, but lately it had only annoyed him. The man was too soft, he thought. He groaned and put his hands over his eyes.
He woke up with a start, only realising on waking that he'd drifted. More bunks were filled, but the lights weren't off yet.
Jackson's bunk was empty.
He swung himself upright and lurched to his feet. He stared at the empty bunk, feeling his stomach churn. Why couldn't he just get this right?
He walked to the medical room and knocked. Déjà vu flooded him. When Jackson opened the door and crossed his arms, it intensified.
They hadn't kissed since that day. It seemed ludicrous to Nathan that he could have this man standing right there and not kiss him, but something always held him back.
"It's Bryan," he said, without preamble. Jackson stiffened and stepped back, his arms loosening in surprise.
"What?" He asked, his voice soaked in hurt.
Nathan closed the door behind him. They were alone again in the tiny room.
"You, Eric," he said, struggling and failing to find the right words. "You're… compassionate." He spoke with the frustration level he felt. It was an inadequate word, all of a sudden, to describe how very much Jackson cared.
It was impossible to articulate it. Jackson looked hurt, and Nathan didn't know how to make it better.
"Eric, I love you," he said abruptly.
Jackson's face was full of shock. He opened his mouth but no words came out. His expression was very eloquent, though. It just asked a question. Why? Why if Nathan loved him did he keep running away? Why had they not picked up where they'd left off before Nathan's injury?
"The grounder girl," said Nathan, his eyes trained somewhere on Jackson's chest. He realised his explanation was disjointed, but his head was a mess.
"What about her? Her sister died in Praimfaya."
"And so did my Dad, and so did all of our parents, friends, lovers," snapped Nathan.
"So her suffering doesn't matter?" Asked Jackson incredulously.
"No, it matters. It matters to all of us. We all carry around our suffering. But you, Jackson," he said pointedly. Jackson flinched slightly at the use of his last name. Nathan hadn't used it in so long. "You carry around all of it."
"What?"
"Do you know why Bryan and I broke up?"
Jackson shook his head mutely.
"Bryan saved his friend's life at the expense of the rest of Skaikru. He prioritised Skaikru safety over 300 human lives when he chose Pike. He prioritised my safety over everyone else's when he defected from Pike. He chose his loved ones over every other life. He chose his loved ones over himself."
"That's natural, Nate," said Jackson softly, trying to get Nathan to look him in the eye.
"He broke his heart trying to save those he loved. And he killed himself because he couldn't handle it."
"Nathan. I'm so sorry." Jackson moved to put a hand on Nathan's shoulder but the younger boy moved away.
"You don't understand. He tore himself up just trying to save his loved ones. You? You try to save everyone." Nathan heard his voice rising. He was so angry at Jackson. "You're going to try to save every single stupid person in this place. You will listen to my nightmares about my Dad, you'll give a grounder girl your shoulder to cry on. You'll cover for Abby every time she has to go be Ambassador, even though she's not needed. You'll run the fucking death lottery because Kane asked you to, even though I saw how much it destroyed you to do it."
"I'm a doctor, Nathan, that's my job."
"Not. Anymore. Now it's your job to survive, just like the rest of us."
"I can't just…"
"You can't just let people suffer, I know. But we're all suffering. And guess what? There's not a thing you can do about it."
Jackson's eyes were full of tears. "I can't accept that."
"Well, you're going to have to. Because I'm not watching another man I love destroy himself."
"You're asking me to stop being a doctor."
"No, I'm asking you to just be a doctor. Just do your job, Eric. Just like every other person here. Just do your job."
Nathan stared at Jackson, but he had no response. He just looked back at him, his mouth pinched into a thin line.
Nathan shook his head. He couldn't soften those words. He'd said what he'd needed to say, and frustration still raged too strongly in his gut to back down on this.
"I've gotta go. Need my sleep," he muttered finally, turning to the door.
"Nathan, wait."
"What?" He asked, one hand on the doorknob.
"You ask the impossible."
Nathan turned around. "Like you all did telling me I couldn't be a guard?" He turned around. Jackson's eyes were red from tiredness, and heavy bags sat underneath. His face was pale, and pinched, and he looked even thinner than usual. Nathan knew he would see his ribs clearly if he took his shirt off. "Abby would tell you exactly what I'm telling you if she wasn't busy having exactly the same problem."
That drew a slight chuckle from Jackson, but his eyes were still dull. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to come straight here as soon as your shift ends. I will drag you to the kitchens and force-feed you your rations if I have to. We'll go for a walk so you don't go stir-crazy. We'll come back here where we will both get the recommended sleep for a young adult. I believe it's 8 hours."
"Nathan, I," he started. Nathan could see it in his eyes. He wanted to promise. He wanted to go along with this, but it wasn't in his nature. His eyes were so pained Nathan could hardly look at them.
Nathan stepped forward and put his hand gently on Jackson's head. He kissed him softly, his lips barely leaving a dent on the other man's. Jackson's hands shook as he put his hands up to Nathan's shoulders to pull him closer. His breath was just as shaky as they parted.
Nathan put his hand to Jackson's cheek. "How long since you ate?"
Jackson shook his head weakly. "I don't remember." Nathan's chest constricted painfully.
"Well, that's our first stop then." Jackson didn't protest as Nathan pulled him to the kitchens, but he wasn't enthusiastic, either. Nathan slipped his hand into Jackson's. It was silly, but it felt like some kind of confirmation of their relationship, like they were still children on the Ark.
They picked up their allotted rations and sat at one of the empty tables. They were mostly empty this late.
Jackson stared at his meal in what looked like confusion, like he didn't know what to do with the food.
Granted, the dried meat strips didn't look appetising, but they were better than nothing. Nathan started eating, but Jackson didn't even try to pick up his food. He looked faintly nauseated.
"Seriously," said Nathan, swallowing his mouthful. "How long has it been since you've eaten?" He put his hand on Jackson's. It was trembling.
Jackson just shook his head. Nathan's stomach was completely tied up in knots watching him.
Finally, Jackson picked up his food, chewing like it was made of leather, which wasn't far off for some of it. He swallowed with his eyes closed. Nathan kept watching him as he systematically chewed and swallowed.
When he was finished he looked at Nathan. "Thank you," he whispered.
"No worries," said Nathan.
Looking into Nathan's worried eyes, Jackson wanted to say I love you, but he couldn't. The last person he'd said it to was his mother while she was dying. There were so many people he could have said it to.
He could have said it to Abby. He could have said it to Clarke, because he loved that tenacious little girl who used to get under his feet in the clinic, and actually helped out more often than not. He could have said it to Raven in Becca's lab; it had physically hurt him to watch her go through the pain she had.
He could say it to Nathan, but it seemed too concrete to say it out loud. Instead, he stood up. Only after the food did he realise how weak he'd let himself become. Not sleeping properly, barely eating, and working every waking hour. He was exhausted.
"8 hours?" He asked shakily.
"Absolutely," said Nathan, smiling, leading the way back to their bunks, scared that being in the on call room would make Jackson feel too much like he was working. Every bunk had a curtain set up to be drawn around it. Like a hospital, Jackson thought.
Instead of separating, Nathan shrugged off his jacket and lay down on Jackson's bed. Jackson did the same, lying next to him on his back.
They stared at the ceiling for a couple of moments until, like they'd read each other's mind, they both turned to fold the other in his arms. Jackson slipped his arm under Nathan's head and Nathan snuggled into the crook of Jackson's shoulder.
"Before the 8 hours of sleep," whispered Jackson, and he reached to cup Nathan's cheek in his hand, raising the man's head until he could reach his lips.