Set after 9x17 - In which Jackson wasn't there when April's patient, the Mercy West intern, died
Walking through the automatic doors of the now renamed Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital, he stepped outside. Air. He needed air.
He closed his eyes, paused for a second and released all the pressure on his shoulders. The day was crazy and he felt exhausted. He was trying his best, had been, but it was harder than he'd ever imagine and right now, as the day was coming to an end, all he needed was to finally get some air. Breathe in. Breathe out. Release.
When he opened his eyes again, he mindlessly turned to the right, and spotted her sitting on a bench. She was looking into the distance, with a vague stare and a sad expression, completely unaware of his presence, lost in her own thoughts. Shoving his hands down the pockets of his lab coat, he walked towards her.
"Hey."
It was only then that she shivered, came back to Earth, looked at him shortly before moving her stare. Red eyes, and rosy cheeks revealing she had been crying.
"You okay?" He asked, sitting down next to her, uninvited. He worried when she didn't reply right away, shaking her head and rolling her eyes, looking up. Quickly, he ran the day in his mind. What possibly could have he said to make her angry at him like that? Nothing came to mind and he simply did not understand. "What's wrong?"
"You weren't there." She finally said, sharp as a knife. "Wasn't he your friend too, back then?"
"Who-?"
"You knew he was here, you knew he needed some support. He-"
He died and she was right. He knew he was there, he knew what was happening. But with everything that was going on, he barely had time to think straight. What was she expecting, after all? "I was busy."
Despising his coldness, she let out a heavy breath, shook her head once more, and gestured something before letting her hands fall down on her lap. "How can you say-"
"Iwas busy, April. I had work to do, I-"
"I was there for him."
"At least he had you." He said, firmly, raising his voice as well, to make himself be heard loud and clear. "He had you."
Shame. In that moment, he felt nothing but shame, because she was there for that diseased and dying man, but she couldn't be there for him; because everyone was against him, even her; because he had no clue what he was doing and a bit of support would've been nice; because he was a little resentful she didn't seem to care.
But she wasn't there for him and, as usual, nobody else was.
Her stare fell back on him and, trying to hide from it, he moved his eyes to the ground, lowered his head, placed his hands on each side of his head, and rubbed his skull. Maybe she was right, but her accusations weren't fair. And truth was maybe he was running away, because death seems to follow him everywhere, because he had seen more friends die than he wished he had, and he couldn't go to that place once again.
He felt her small hand run up his back, to his shoulder, where she rested it. "You are not alone in this, Jackson." She retorted, low tone finally understanding where he was coming from, hiding from, meaning to say.
"I'm trying to run this place, putting it back together and-" And he was scared, but he would never admit it. He just had to dismiss his fears, and move along, be the person he was meant to be.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you today."
He raised his head then. Guilt was probably consuming her just as much as him. How could she do it? Be this kind when he didn't deserve her kindness, because truth be told, he should've been there for her today, for their long lost friend, for the Mercy West days and all the memories that came with it.
He looked at her weak smile, saw the pain behind her kind eyes. She was crying before. The picture itself was heartbreaking, and he hated it when she cried. Once again he wasn't there for her, to catch her tears and ease her doubts about life and death, and God and men.
"I miss you. I miss my best friend." She confessed, almost embarrassed, moving her hand back to her lap, too troubled to even touch him.
"I miss you too." He said, thinking about all the best friends he lost in such a short amount of time. Charles. Mark. Death was no stranger to him indeed.
"I'm here. When you need me, I'll be here." She replied. "I'll always be here."
He took a deep breath, sat straight and gave her a long, silent look. Death couldn't play that trick on him, not with her, at least. She was the last thing he had, his last living true friend, and he was terrified of losing her, because he usually loses everything, and if she died too, then he would have nothing left.
"I know. I'll be here for you too."
..
Requested bysafooa