The smell of something burning is rancid. It's impossible for April to identify what it is from her position but the tiny twitch of her nose is enough to set off the pain.
Once it started, the rest came rushing in. The throbbing inside of her head was loud and constant, primarily on the right side but radiating throughout her entire skull. She could feel something dripping against her cheek and it takes too long for her to register that it had to be nothing else but her own blood. Eyes flutter openly slowly and everything was upside down, deployed and deflated airbag in front of her. The angle that her limbs had fallen into from the combination of gravity and the force of the impact is uncomfortable at best, pressure from a stuck seatbelt keeping her there. Her body begged her to move and get out, but instead, momentary paralysis strikes her down.
"Jackson?" Two simple syllables are enough to break her voice.
Despite any better instincts as a doctor, April shifted and squirmed to try and get a better look at her husband, straining herself. He looked to be in the same convoluted position that she was in, chin forced down into his chest from the angle. But the main difference that she could see was those beautiful eyes that she loved so much were shut and there wasn't any sign of movement that she could see from him. Her hand stretched out toward him, fingers barely able to brush against his arm with the distance between them.
"Baby, wake up. We were in a car crash." Impossibly long moments pass between the two of them and she doesn't get any response from him. She's so focused on him that she nearly doesn't hear the wailing of sirens in the background, panic being to add to the crushing seated heavily in the center of her chest.
The road that they were driving on hadn't been completely empty to start but she doesn't pick up on the chatter and people shouting. It's a blessing that there were multiple people there to call for paramedics without any wait or hesitation, even if the crowd of people was standing back from the cars on the off chance of something catastrophic happening. One brave soul, an older man who was a former firefighter, doesn't hesitate to approach the scene and try to at least get some kind of emotional handle on what was happening. At least someone was doing something.
"Are y'all awake down there?" The stranger's voice called out. Moments later, a face appeared on Jackson's side of the vehicle through the broken window, looking in. Only then does her echoic hearing kick in and allow her to process what had been said.
"Yes! My- my seatbelt's stuck," April cried out desperately. "Can you check if he has a pulse? Please! I can't reach from here and he's not responding." She begged the stranger.
Pleading eyes watch as the older male reached his hand in through the broken glass and press against his neck, relieved that he knew what to do without being told. The seconds that pass as he felt for signs of life and said a word was impossibly long, ticking by agonizingly slow. She held her breath without realizing it.
"Yeah, he's got a pulse, sweetheart. Probably just hit his head too hard. The paramedics are going to be here any minute to get you two out, you just got to sit tight for now, alright?" Tears slip from the sparkling brim of her eyelids as she gave a quick nod of her head. A pulse was something, a start. But there were still a hundred other things that could go wrong. She could have listed them off without hesitation, knew exactly where to start when someone in this same position was brought into her emergency room. And yet now she has to sit back and wait. There was no way for her to be able to do that calmly. April was a master of control and calamity when it came to doing things as a trauma surgeon, but there was something completely different about this hurting her so directly. A freak chance, or maybe not even that big of one. "You doing alright over there?" His voice cut through her thoughts, though he disappeared from her sight for a moment after speaking.
"Yeah," she whispered out, blinking a few times to try and force back the tears. Instead, the action had the opposite effect, salty liquid spilling past her lids to mix with the crimson that was already staining her pale features.
Much to her relief, the man appeared again, this time on her side of the mangled vehicle.
"Are the paramedics almost here?" She questioned, trying to shift to direct herself a little more toward him but unable to do so.
"Yeah, sweetheart. Try and stay still, alright? I'm gonna sit with you right here until they show up." He reaffirmed her. "My name's Ed. I used to be a firefighter, so I've seen a lot of things like this, alright? And let me tell you, this isn't even close to the worse thing that I saw one the years. I promise you two are going to be just fine," the now named man offered words of reassurance to her and a gentle smile.
Much to her relief, first responders did show up within minutes. Everything felt incredibly long, the trauma and anxiety swelling through her distorting her own perception of time. But she was lucky, in one perspective, at least. Ed stayed with her despite that he had no reason or obligation to do so, down on his hands and knees on the asphalt, making sure that she didn't lose control of herself completely until proper help could arrive. That was more meaningful than what she would ever be able to express.
Because of the car being upside down, they can't get removed from the vehicle nearly as quickly as she wanted to be. Braces are hard to get around them, Jackson's more difficult than his own given the angle in which he had found himself in, but careful time is taken to ensure that. It was a basic element of what was necessary, not trying to cause any spinal cord damage.
But nothing prepared her for the screeching of metal when the doors are removed from their car, the sound screaming and echoing in her ears. She's absolutely alone when it does finally happen and the tears are released from her eyes freely, hoping that this at least meant the rest was over, no matter what the chances of that being true actually were. Even if statistics were something that she normally obsessed over, needing the facts there to support and buttress her, this was one of those moments where she couldn't have given less of a damn about what they had to say.
April screamed and begged to go in the same ambulance with Jackson, trying to insist that she was fine and didn't need to be placed on a stretcher separately from him. She couldn't keep up with how many times that she said that she was a trauma surgeon, that she could help. But it's just the words of a terrified wife, not a woman who could make a difference.
They give her something to calm down in the ambulance ride over to the hospital, assessing her words. There are clear signs of a concussion from that way that her head had slammed into the window and brain bounced around inside of her skull as a result of it. Cuts from the broken glass, a few that would need stitches, but there were no signs of any major injuries. They'd need to run more tests at the hospital, but by all looks and appearances, she would be fine. As good of news as that was, it wasn't something that she could focus on. The only thing that she could think about was Jackson.
Was he okay? Was he even awake?
She was an absolute nuisance to deal with in the emergency room, and part of her wished that it was Hunt there with her, but knew that he was better off with Jackson. He was the one that needs attention the most. She could live without one of her closest friends for a little while longer.
Meredith still isn't her favorite person, but she's a good doctor. There's enough trust there to make sure that she'd catch anything abnormal, anything that needed surgery.
But the moment that the other attending is gone and it's one of the interns who was left with her, all bets were off. April was hauling herself off of the hospital bed, fixing the gown that she had been forced into so her rear wasn't out for the rest of the world to see. A pole with fluids is dragged off behind her and she doesn't care what anyone else in the damn building had to say, she was going to get an update on Jackson. Waiting for someone to bring it to her was no longer an option for her level of impatience.
Trauma rooms are checked first, and when she doesn't find what she's looking for, she took the elevator up and headed to CT. Nurses give her a funny look, but something about the determination on her face scares them out of trying to stop her.
It's CT that she finally founds him, letting out a sigh of relief. He was there, he was still breathing. There's a long pause where she waited outside of the room and out of sight of Hunt and Webber, but it doesn't last for particularly long. Even if there's a brief moment of peace in seeing that he was okay, that he hadn't coded or worse, it's not long enough lasting to keep her from bursting into the room and receiving crazy looks from both of the other doctors.
"What does it show?" April demanded to know.
"Kepner, you should really be getting some rest, we've got–" Owen tried to insist.
"What does it show?" She repeated the question just as harshly as before, eyes widening with a harsh glare at the both of them. Hunt seemed more reactive to the wild eyes that she had to offer than what she would have expected.
"He's got a hemothorax and spinal laceration. We're going to take him up to the O.R., Yang should be here any minute to get a look at it. You don't need to worry alright, we've got this. We're going to take care of him." Webber offered an answer, a sympathetic look crossing the older male's features. "You need to get back into bed." He added.
April stepped closer to the screens so that she could get a better look at the scans for herself. "Did you get a head CT?" She questioned. "I hit my head hard. He might have too." She recommended.
There's a tense pause where Webber and Hunt look at her as if she's crazy, but the sigh that comes from her fellow surgeon indicated that this was one thing that they wouldn't argue with her about, much to her relief. As worried as she was, the exhaustion, the soreness, all of what she had been through was beginning to set in. She wanted more than anything to lay down and enjoy some ibuprofen, but first, she needed to make sure that he was okay.
"Fine, we'll get a head CT," Hunt agreed with a nod of her head.
Before April could be relieved that he had agreed with her, nausea comes with a wave that she can't fight off. There's a trashcan beneath the desk that the two men are sitting at and she pushed past Hunt to grab it, emptying the contents into her stomach without hesitation. Hands pull her hair back out of her face, no doubt from the other redhead, another moving to her back and rubbing a soothing circle against it.
"Kepner, you need to get back to bed," Webber insisted. She doesn't put up much of a fight this time when he grabbed one of the residents from the hallway and had them escort her back to her room. It feels impossibly good to get off of her feet and lay down.
Eyes shut for what she thought would only be a long moment but the exhaustion washed over her enough that she falls into a fitness sleep. When her eyes eventually open hours later, she doesn't feel any better, doesn't feel more rested. Some of the medicine in her IV had kicked in much to her body's relief, but her mind is in the exact same place as before. All she wanted was an update – but she knows that this time she can't go running quite as directly into the operating room. A few long moments of nothing pass before a white coat is walking past.
"Arizona!"
It's a quick shout, a demand for attention. She sat up fro her laying position, not getting out of bed but certainly the threat to do so there. Arizona could see that much. The fetal surgeon had needed to talk to her anyways, but hadn't realized that she was up and awake.
"How's Jackson doing?" She questioned.
The conversation that they had takes a surprising turn that April wasn't ready for, tears in her eyes once more as she processed the information that she had been told. In the midst of all of the madness, she's capable of processing it with more maturity than what she would have previously expected herself to do. For what felt like an impossibly long time, she processed the information, taking a few minutes by herself before she was ready to go and see him.
Arizona walked with her up to post-op, their elbows hooked together so they went at the same pace, giving April a support to have a little physical support in addition to the comfort of the moment. She leaned on the blonde as they took the elevator, eyes shutting and breathing in the moment.
Brain surgery was a terrifying concept. When she had suggested the head CT it had been more out of a precautionary measure, not expecting that Shepherd would have to go in and perform a craniotomy. But she was lucky. They both were. Amelia had been there and available, not caught up in another surgery responding to the pager immediately. She had supposedly gotten to it before it could have gotten worse, and things post-op were looking good. He hadn't woken up from the surgery just yet as far as Arizona knew, but she needed to see him now. She needed to sit with him, to hold his hand, to bother with him. Sitting alone in her room would only serve to drive her crazy instead of allowing feel any better about the situation.
His color is excellent, his heart rate strong. No signs of bradycardia.
Somehow, those are the first thoughts that go through her head when she reached the room. Assessing the situation, looking at his odds, wanting to make sure that they are good. The confirmation of her hopes was everything that she could have hoped for and more. It was exactly what she needed to see at the moment, and she breaks down in tears of relief. The only thing that would have been better was walking into him awake and talking.
The chair next to his bedside becomes her home for minutes, hours. Time loses its meaning. She doesn't mind sitting there like a statue, both of her small hands wrapped around one of his larger ones, head resting on the edge of his bed with her forehead next to his thigh. It's more comfortable than laying in a patient bed of her own because he's there, he's with her. That means more than anything physical to her. And eventually, there's the tiny stirring of motion from her husband that she had been waiting all too eagerly to notice.
"Hi, baby, hi," April greeted as she sat up slowly, eyes scanning his face. His eyes were open – looking at her, clearly. He would need a near assessment, but she was more than happy to do one of her own.
"April?" His voice is dry and rusty, but his words are clear. No damage to the FFA, to Broca's area. She can remember some of the basics of neuroanatomy right off the top of her head and even though she knew that wasn't everything, there were two major things that she wouldn't have to worry about right off the top of her head. She could live with that.
Grabbing the cup and pitcher of water on the nightstand, she poured him a glance of water and carefully guided it to his lips, not wanting him to have to move too much. But one of his hands lifted up to hold the glass himself and there's one more thing that she doesn't need to worry about. There were so many things to be terrified after brain surgery and yet it seemed like a miracle that he had pulled through, no blown pupils, no obvious loss of function anywhere. She could feel tears welling in her eyes once more, but this time it's not out of fear. He took a few swallows of water before gently pushing her hand away.
"What happened?" Jackson asked her.
"Do you remember anything?" She returned with a question of her own, brows furrowing deeply as she fumbled to send a page to Shepherd so she could come down here and check out things for herself.
"We… we are in a car crash, right?" He wet his lips as he spoke, looking at her for confirmation.
"Yeah, we were," April confirmed with a nod of her head. She explained as best to her own abilities as she could what had happened even if she doesn't know how the other vehicle had actually plowed into him, assuring him that her own injuries were mostly superficial besides the concussion, and what had gone on with him. Midst their conversation, some of the other doctors come in. Shepherd goes a near assessment, saying that everything checked out well but they would continue to monitor him to make sure. Webber and Yang came in to check on her husband's condition as well, giving them details of the surgery and the fixes that they had followed through on. There was no one that she could have trusted more when it came to sheer talent and abilities with her husband's ability, and she takes a long moment of prayer for gratitude of the other amazing surgeons that God had surrounded her with, that he had blessed her enough to get the both of them through this, with an additional surprise for the already ludicrous day.
But she waited until the two of them were finally alone at the end of the day to give Jackson the full report on her medical condition, wanting to make sure that they had some time for the two of them. She knew that Webber and Shepherd were both staying here overnight just in case anything happened, but she was already hopeful. They had caught everything in time, almost miraculously so. The entire day felt like a miracle even though the near-worst had happened. Their kids hadn't been in the car, they were both alright. That was what was important.
Although April should have been in a hospital room of her own, an exception is made. Her ability to twist arms was nothing that should have been underestimated and today happened to be the day that she proved that to everyone that she worked with. She's set up with an IV of her own for hydration, but it doesn't feel like a big deal.
"I can tell that you want to go to sleep, baby," she murmured empathetically, thumb stroking along the back of his hand gently. "It's okay. I do too and you need the rest. I just want to tell you one thing first, and then you can sleep all you want, I promise."
"What's up?"
"There's one thing that Robbins told me today that I haven't told you yet," April took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."
