What if I Lied to You - Season 1, Episode 10 - the skyscraper fire aftermath.

She couldn't breathe. She just couldn't breathe. If somebody told her she could have a million dollars if she just took one, single breath, in and out, she wouldn't be one million dollars richer. She couldn't breathe, and the floor she was walking on felt like it were moving, but everything else around it, there was nothing. No movement, no noise. Just stillness. And one thing about her, Andrea Freakin Herrera, damn Baby Rambo, was that she couldn't stay still for very long; she had to keep moving.

She had to see him. Right now, she has to see him. He can't be dead. He was alive, five minutes ago, alive and talking and – he was holding her hand. Her hand was on that oxygen mask, stubborn, firmly pressing it to his face and when she wouldn't let him remove it to talk, he just held her hand, put his on top of hers, on that mask, like it was no big deal. It wasn't. A big deal.

His skin was warm, warm with the tantalizing feeling of blood rushing through veins, the very thing that told her that he had been alive. Jack Gibson was alive, she and Maya, they had saved him and now, now he might not be. The thought, the closeness she was feeling to that very reality, sent her crumbling into a chair, forced out heavy, gasping, unattractive sobs from her body that seemed much too big for her lungs. So big that she couldn't breathe.

"I need to see him," she grabbed onto the tail of Meredith's lab coat, pulling a bit incessantly, like a child. "I need to see him now. Can I? Can I go?" Can I go Mommy? Can I go? Pleeeease?

"Herrera." Meredith said her name in that way she so often did, one that made her feel comforted, calm, but still, she knew something bad was happening on the other side of that door, even if, in the safety of her voice, she was being momentarily shielded from it. "I'm sorry. You have to wait for an update. Dr. Peirce should have one for you soon."

"Wait – "

Andy stopped her again before she could move too far. "Peirce? It's his heart!? Something's wrong with his heart!?"

"His lungs. We treated him for severe smoke inhalation. And some internal bleeding in the abdomen."

"But I – I checked his lungs! They sounded fine! Normal! They sounded healthy! I don't – I don't understand!"

She felt strong arms bringing her back down into the chair and looked away from Meredith, still holding onto her stupid lab coat, and into the eyes of Dean Miller. His eyes themselves gave nothing away, not a blip of human emotion, and she thought, maybe he's being strong for her, for Maya, for Travis, for Vic, for the team, for Jack, who was in there doing who knows what – hopefully fighting for his damn life; he couldn't give up now, not after they'd all risked their lives getting him out, not when he has so much left to fight for out here. For her. He still needs to fight for her.

Though, she knows as she thinks it that it won't be much of one, not again, because she's resolved to tell him everything if he makes it through. Everything that she lied about before. I lied to you, and I need you to forgive me. She pictures herself saying those words, in such stark contrast that it hurts her head. I need you to forgive me for telling you no. No to marriage. No to a life, a life with you. I need you to wake up, to be here with me, so I can tell you that I lied to you. That I want to marry you, I want to do this life with you. That I can't live without you either. That every, single, aching bone in my body is screaming that I love you. That I'm in love with you, Jack Gibson.

Still staring into Dean's eyes, she watches them now fill with tears and it's then and there that she loses it all over again.

"When can we know?" She can just make out Dean's soft, soothing voice over the sound of her ears thrumming with the beats of her cries, her tears. "Because we're all losing it out here."

Andy lifted her head from off of Dean's chest to look over at Maya, who looked stoic, as she always dealt with emotion, but there were pieces of her expression that splintered, broke like glass, and it felt like if Maya Bishop had even one shred of that hopelessness feeling, the rest of them were screwed. Looking at one of her best friends, tonight, it made her want to cry harder, to start screaming, and so she did, one of those things, because she couldn't afford to seem certifiably insane. Not now, not when she still couldn't fucking breathe.

"Soon. I – hold on." She could hear Meredith talking again, but her head was buried in Dean's chest, because there, there was where she managed to breathe.

With a face full of his SFD t-shirt because she happened to know it was one of Jack's – Jack having given him grief about stealing his t-shirts a few days ago, and Miller had only shrugged, claiming he had lost all of his, and a t-shirt or two in exchange for rent-free living seriously wouldn't kill him. She could breathe, really breathe, a deep, sobering breath, for the first time in forty-five fucking minutes, because with every breath she took, she could smell Jack's cologne, feel it, all over her. It was insane how something once so sultry could be so comforting, now, so grounding.

"Thanks Maggie. Andy?" Meredith put a hand on her shoulder, and it was momentarily quite startling.

She clearly hadn't heard a word that had been said. Not even her own name. She lifted her head. Blinked her eyes. They were so dry. Chalked with residual soot and smoke she swore she could still taste in the back of her throat.

"Can I see him? Is he alive?"

"He is." Meredith replied, her voice betraying not a single note of emotion.

She made it so there wasn't any room for her to ask questions, left to wonder about the intent of her words through the tone of her voice.

"He's stable. Awake. You can come with me."

She offered a hand and Andy took it gratefully, her palm likely cold with sweat, not that Meredith was in a place to remark on such a stupid, innocuous thing and especially not at a time like this.

"Thank you," she whispered, her own voice barely there at all, hoarse from all the grief of the past few hours. "I – I don't even have the words to tell you how much I appreciate you, you and Dr. Peirce, right now. I might never will."

Meredith gave her a soft, almost, dare she say ruminative, look of…. something. It was almost like she knew her. Knew her beyond the confines of this hospital, and of the fire station and how their occupational lives crisscrossed on the regular; it was deeper somehow, like maybe, at one point in her life, back a ways, but sill, not far from where she is now, Meredith had been her. Been where she was. Where she is. In this one, solitary moment.

"You can tell him how you feel."

"What?"

She took a step back from the door, now not totally ready to go in, not ready yet, to see him laying there, helpless, weak, and sad. Or maybe she was just projecting her own shit, and he didn't deserve that. He deserved the whole damn world and more that she could give him.

Meredith raised an eyebrow, pushed a lock of hair from that low ponytail out of her face. They were the same in more ways than the obvious. Or the not so. Depending on which way she decided to look at it.

"I can see it in your face, Herrera. And even if I couldn't – how ruined you were tonight, that's not – that's love. It's that can't eat, can't sleep, pick me, choose me, give them the last piece of cheesecake kind of love and it's rare. It is so, so rare. If you ever have the chance, take it, grab it, however and wherever you can."

Take it. Grab it. They were so good at grabbing those moments wherever they can. They were so good at taking their clothes off. They were so good at having fun. They were so good, period. Her and Jack, together, they were just so good.

She was standing here right now, outside of yet another damn hospital room with Dr. Meredith Grey and – and this time, things felt possible. Limitless. Completely and utterly certain. All she had to do was say it out loud. I do. I do feel that way for you, and I care about you more than you can possibly understand. Because I lied to you. I lied to you, before.

"Okay." Andy breathed out in a sigh. "I can do this."

"You can do this." Meredith smiled at her again. Squeezed her arm. "I'll give you guys a little bit of time before I allow for more visitors. Sound good?"

"Yeah." Andy said, and then Meredith was gone before she could thank her yet again, for everything she's done, done for Jack, for her father, for the team, for her. "You can do this, Herrera," she told herself. "Just remember who raised you."

Slowly, ever so slowly, she opened the door. Peaked her head in. The first thing she could see was boyish tufts of brown hair, then broad shoulders and then she was seeing him in full form, covered by the hospital blankets but he was awake, alert, just like Meredith said he would be, smiling at her with his eyes.

"Hey you."

"Hey you," she echoed, walking towards the bed, and stopping there at the end of it. Andy stretched out her hand and patted his feet gently under the mound of blankets.

She was trying her hand at a soft smile, for him, but there were tears in her eyes, she could feel the gripping, burning sensation as she resisted from letting them fall freely down her cheeks.

"I lied to you."

"What?"

Then the tears did fall; they fell deeply, they were chasmic, endless, each one too quick for the one before it, never soaking into her skin, just dropping off her chin like rain onto pavement. She couldn't stop them, and she wouldn't dream to try, not now, because she was finally – finally realizing the magnitude of her feelings.

"I lied to you, Jack. When we were…breaking up, doing, whatever that was, before. When my dad caught the tail end of that wrong moment between us. It was wrong because I told you I wanted to live my truth, and that living that way was living single, home at the station, not desiring anything more. But that's not me being true to myself, is it, because I lied to you."

He sat up in the bed and she nearly pushed him back down. She didn't want him straining anything, not if it wasn't necessary. It wasn't because she needed to talk now. He just needed to listen. He pushed equally against her, taking her hand in his for a minute, only to put it back onto the bed on his lap. He didn't trust her, not yet, and that was okay. She'd be the first person to admit that she had given him no reason to.

"Andy…what are you saying? How do you think you lied to me? It's normal to be feeling strong feelings right now. You almost lost a member of your team tonight. A member of your family. Somebody you care about so don't – don't make it more than it is."

She made a risky move to sit on the edge of the bed, closer to his upper body and an even riskier decision to put her hand against his cheek. Her gaze implored his, searched it thoroughly, trying to find that light he'd left on for her, always, for months. The words never had to leave his mouth, and they never left hers, but the difference was, she never had to doubt how he felt about her. He didn't have that luxury, but she wanted more than anything to give it to him now. Even if that light went out, went out for good.

"No. Don't do that. You almost died tonight and that does not get swept up under the rug. I almost lost you. You are not just a team member. You are not just family, not like the others, and you, Jack Gibson, are not just somebody I care about. You are somebody I can't live without. Somebody I love. Somebody I am very much in love with. Somebody I should have said yes to when he asked to marry me. That – you know when you said you didn't have one regret about being with me?"

She swore she hadn't seen his chest move with the rise and fall of a proper breath in the whole of her speech, but he was breathing now. Her palm moved with his chest, and it was in this moment that she felt deeply, wildly, connected to him, in a way that she hasn't before. The moment only intensified when he put his hand on her opposite cheek, cradled her chin in his palm.

"That's still true. I don't have any regrets, Andrea Herrera. Not one."

"But I do."

He didn't pull his hand away. The breath left his lungs, he could sense that she still had more to say, and that the direction was positive, because how could it not be, after all she has just told him.

"That is?"

She leaned down to kiss him and he let her; they were at complete and total peace, both of them taking hold of the sereneness intimacy brings, when shared with the right person.

"Not saying yes. I would give anything to relive that moment with you in the turnout room and do it right."

He let her go, pulled back from her but she stayed and then he spoke. "Andy. Do me a favor and go to my turnout gear over there. On the other side of the bed."

She did as she was told, trusting that he had something intentional behind his ask, and stopped beside it. She swore she could still smell the ash and burned rubble in the fabric, the metallic scent of blood, and it made her sick.

"Reach into the left side pocket."

So she did. She did because he asked her to, and she trusted him. Her hand came in contact with a smooth surface, square, and she pulled it out. A box. The box. She flipped open the lid, unbelieving, but then there it was. The ring.

"Jack…" she gasped, holding a hand to her mouth as she turned around to face him. "You've been holding onto it?"

He smiled. "Everywhere I go, it comes with me. I couldn't explain it to myself, not then, but I couldn't bare to part with it. Having it with me, even though you didn't want it, it brought me a sense of ease…and now I can explain why."

He shrugged. "I swear, I didn't plan to almost die, but somehow, I had this feeling…it was the way you looked at me, Andy. When we were breaking up…or whatever."

He was using her words. She didn't like it. Not really. It made her feel caught. Or maybe that was just his words. The truth to them, the vulnerabilities they unearthed.

"There was just a way you were looking at me. And I knew that when you figured it out, you'd want this back. And I was prepared to wait much longer. But here we are, the universe brought us to that fire, brought me to the brink of death, to this hospital, and it brought us here, to this moment. Where I'm asking you again, Andrea Herrera, you beautiful, storm cloud, force of nature, will you marry me?"

She smiled, wiping at her tears now. It was getting gross. He used his thumbs to catch the ones that still fell, and she nodded, closing her eyes; she opened them a second later to him sliding that amazing ring onto her finger – the perfect fit.

"Yes, yes, god, yes. I love you so much, Jack. I'm sorry for putting you through so much. I don't deserve you."

"That's where you're wrong. You deserve me. Every bit of me. I love you too, Andy, and I don't think there's enough ways to show you just how much."

Andy grinned slyly at him. "Well there is one…"

She straddled him there on the bed, not caring about their combined weight and how much it could take; it could break, they could fall, and she wouldn't feel a thing. Their kissing was lethargic, heated, scorched with longing, and forgotten pride because nothing else mattered right now; in this second, nothing else mattered but their lips.

Their mouths, their tongues, his hands, fingers digging into her thighs, her hands, lightly thrown around his neck, and the sensations, they were all so physical, the space between their bodies radiating a hot, hot heat, threatening eruption.

"Wait." She stopped suddenly, creating a slight distance between them. "Does this hurt you?"

He pulled her back into him by her neck. "God no, not at all. Quite the opposite."

"Okay good," she murmured against his lips as he initiated more kissing, and she sunk into it without complaint, or another word. There was nothing that could be said, anyhow. Not now. Only things that could be done.

After another minute, the door clicked open and Andy whipped around, coming face to face with Maya, and then the rest of the team directly behind her.

"Oh my god." Then, because her brain was currently short circuiting, and there was nothing else she could think of to really say, "Meredith said she would give us a few minutes alone."

Maya raised her eyebrow, but it was a knowing sort of gesture. "She did. It's been almost half an hour."

"It has?" she asked, needing to double check. She couldn't quite believe it, but then again, a lot had been unpacked since she'd walked in here.

"Well, you two seemed a little preoccupied, so understandable," Vic said from where she stood behind Maya and beside Travis.

Dean stood on her other side, who snickered. "Preoccupied isn't the right word here. Engrossed, might be a better term. Because seriously guy, this is really gross, and I really don't need to see it. Happy for you blah, blah, blah, but still, I do not need to see it."

Maya laughed. "Same here. Look, we would like to come and visit our teammate. Can we come do that without having to see him macking on our other teammate?"

"We make no promises." Jack laughed along with her and Andy smirked with a shrug. She snuggled into his side and he made room for her there on the bed.

The rest of the team filed in and sat down or stood in various areas of the room. Andy put her hand on his which was sitting on his lap, but no sooner than she did that did she pull back, hiding the hand under the blanket. Jack looked at her strangely, the only one seeming to notice her behavior, and took out her hand from where she had hidden it.

"We can tell them," he whispered to her. "I think we should. We hid it last time, I don't want to hide anymore."

She nodded. Their bubble had lost it's luxury, it's allure, it's seduction. It wasn't there anymore. She'd feel better once everyone knew, not just about them, but about this. They deserved to ride in the happy with the two of them, after everything they've all been through tonight; it might help combat the roughness, of what they've seen, heard, done. All of it. There are certain calls where she is reminded of the gravity this job can have on her life, if she lets it, and this, the skyscraper, was definetly one of them – and not just because of Jack, either, though she wouldn't say he wasn't a huge piece of it.

"We're engaged." Andy said aloud above the din of conversation. This was the first time she's ever said the words out loud, and she wants to say them again. And again. And again. Possibly do a little shouting from the rooftops.

They hadn't heard her, and so she does. Say it again. And it feels just as good as the first time, if not better. "Jack and I are engaged."

She roped her hand through his, the ring sparkling on her finger. Everyone looked up sharply, their eyes wide, almost comical, zeroing in on that ring.

"Woah. You're serious," Vic gasped.

Maya had a similar reaction, though a little more subdued. "He really did it. He proposed, and this time you said yes. Go Andy," she smiled at her, but then everyone was looking at her.

"This time!?" Travis exclaimed, looking at Vic, who looked just as lost.

"Man, really!?" Dean's attention was on Jack. "You propose to a girl not once, but twice, and don't tell me about it!? I'm your best friend. What if I didn't like the girl?"

Andy laughed. "Well, it's me, Miller. You like me, right?"

Dean's gaze cut over to her and softened. "Of course Herrera. I have so much love for you, and I'm beyond psyched that this is a thing. I just – dude! Keep a guy in the loop, please?"

He turned back to Jack again, and for his part, Jack nodded while squeezing her hand. "whenever there is a loop, you will be in it, alright?"

Dean seemed placated with the answer, and while the women came over to go goo-goo over her ring, and admittedly, she joined in because, well, it was a beautiful ring, the men took turns seeing who could pat Jack hardest on the back (okay, that probably wasn't really what they were doing, but machismo confused her sometimes).

The team left sometime later, and then it was just the two of them again. She was laying with her head against his chest, forcing him to be as quiet as he possibly could so she could hear his heart, listen to his breathing.

"Andy, I'm fine babe. Seriously. You don't have to – "

"No, I do. I was wrong before. I didn't pick up on things."

He softly rubbed her arm repeatedly, and it worked in soothing her as she closed her eyes, but still, she was listening. She would always be listening now. No matter what he says. Since when does she do that – do what anybody tells her, and she's not about to start now.

"It was internal bleeding from the radiator crushing my chest. It wasn't anything you could have caught, not with what we had."

"A stethoscope?"

"Andy…"

"Jack."

Interrupting them, the door opened. Meredith took a step into the room. Then another. Her gaze flitting to his vitals with the practiced maneuver of someone not wanting to alert a patient when it's unwarranted. Except, she noticed. She just chose not to say anything, the expression on Meredith's face told her she didn't have to, and for that she was intensely thankful. She kissed his chest as a gentle reminder that he was here with her, alive, and well.

"Herrera…I'm sorry, you need to go now. Visiting hours are over. It's hospital policy."

"But – but we just got engaged, Dr. Grey."

She looked at him for backup, to confirm her story. He did, and for her part, Meredith's face became alight with something, almost like that same ruminative expression Andy had seen cross her face before, outside of this room, when she'd told her to admit to her feelings.

"Congratulations, Herrera, Gibson, the both of you. I'm happy for you but - "

"But – what, Dr. Grey? Please?" Andy pressed her further. "We don't want to do anything, not that it would be all that comfortable. We just want to sleep together, tonight. Literally. Sleep."

Meredith chuckled. "Actually, as far as comfort goes, you'd be surprised."

"What?"

Again, that expression stayed stuck on her face, unflinching, and Andy was feeling like maybe it was possible that Meredith was seeing something in her, in them, that she's seen before, that she's quite close to.

"Look, you can stay. Just be quiet. Nobody needs to know you're in here, okay?"

"We will. I'll keep her quiet, Dr. Grey," Jack said, kissing the top of her head and running his hands through her hair, pulling her closer to him with his arm, so that she was nearly on top of him.

Meredith nodded softly and left without a word, the only announcement of her departure being the dulcet click of the door and her soft footsteps down the hall from where she'd came.

"Well," she turned her head to look up at him. "Looks like it's just us again."

At her words, the lights dimmed inside the room, the hum of the machines dull before, even more so now, as if there were a silent button attached. It was a comfort; she didn't want to hear them anymore, and as she snuggled further against his chest, she resolved to drown them out with the eurythmic beat of his heart.

"Looks like it," he responded, placing another kiss onto her head, burying his lips in her hair. "I love you."

"I love you too." She hummed sleepily. "Goodnight."

The day's events wiped her out, and understandably so. She has never been so emotionally drained in the whole of her life, and that complete with the physical sense of exhaustion had her wrecked. So much so, that she didn't hear his reply, if he replied at all, and just barely registered his kiss to her forehead.

What she did know was that she was loved, and that she was loved by a man who would be her whole world, her home, if she let him in to be the same for her, but that wasn't a question. Not anymore. Never again.

I know, I know, I've written so many AU's for this one, but I can't help it the plotline had such Jandy reconciliation potential. Damn writers.