This story was originally not a fanfiction at all, but rather a fiction story with original characters written as a creative writing assignment. When I originally imagined the story, it had a much more optimistic ending than what I actually wrote. Unfortunately, a happy ending contained too many words, so the actual assignment ended at the last chapter. Not being able to get my original ending out of my head, I wrote this one-one where Cherie (or April in this case) doesn't die from alcohol poisoning.
Thanks for reading this.
While waking up to a cold hospital room was uncommon for April, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. The clean, white walls and orderly set up carved a picturesque scene in her mind, creating the aura of order and safety that she craved. So, as she slowly awakened to the smell of cleaning chemicals and medicine, she allowed herself to relax and breathe in the palpable security. With groggy eyes, she looked around at her surroundings and down at herself. White walls, white sheets, white skin-all contrasting the red of her hair and the lights from the machines.
Too achingly sore to fully sit up, April shuffled until her back leaned on the pillows and had a more advantageous resting point. There were no other patients in her room, nor nurses or doctors from what she could see, but the curtain blocked her view of the door. Directly across from her bed hung a white board, listing her diet, doctor, nurse, and cause of visit. She squinted to read it, and once deciphered, she let out a deep hiss of air, sinking into the pillows.
Alcohol poisoning. It had worked. April O'Neil had downed almost an entire bottle of vodka in an attempt to ease the pain, and it had almost worked. Yet, the obvious problem of breathing and being alive ruined her euphoria. Death had not come, and she was still painfully alive.
She scrunched her eyes closed, allowing the memories of this morning to crash over her. Running out, the Purple Dragon's warehouse, the vodka, the car crash, a hazy face with striking brown eyes, and…and pancakes? Her eyes shot open, and she questioningly mouthed the word. Pancakes? She hadn't had pancakes in years, and never with a whipped cream smiley face on top. Going back over the memories, she somehow connected the car crash with the man who smelled like cigarettes to the pancakes. Casey, his name was Casey.
The unfamiliar feeling of hope bloomed in her heart like a flower, and her eyes darted throughout the room, but no Casey Jones came into her vision. Figures, she thought viciously, a perfect guy like that can't handle when someone passes out in front of him. With that, she forcefully shoves the older man into the back of her mind, eventually drifting off to sleep.
She wakes up to the sound of two men talking, and for an instant she fears her father has been notified. But one voice is too educated and the other has too much of an accent, so see keeps her guard up. Slowly she opens her eyes, where a doctor and Casey Jones talk to each other. When neither realize she has woken up, she closes her eyes and begins to listen.
"She's lucky she's alive, we had to pump her stomach twice, and even that wasn't enough," the doctor wearily told Casey, exhaustion ringing in his voice. "What exactly happened?" Casey must have shaken his head, because April could vaguely hear his hair rustle. "I don't know doc. One moment I drivin' home from work like usual, next I'm swervin' to avoid some girl in the road. She's drunk so I decide to sober 'er up some and take her home. We sit down, she eats, and she passes out." She remembers the events he summarizes vividly, and wonders if he obsessed over their conversations in his mind like she has been trying to avoid. A sigh interrupts her pondering, and the Doctor begins again. "You did the right thing. By feeding her you got some sugar in her system, which diluted the alcohol in her a blood stream by a fraction. By talking to her as long as you did, you kept her awake longer than if you hadn't found her, giving her some time to work off some the effects. Overall, she got very lucking running into you." Finished, the doctor left, his footsteps light against the tile. When the door closes behind him, Casey breathes out, "No doc, I got lucky findin' her," and gently grabs her hand.
His hands contrast her own, she finds she can feel the cuts and callouses and scars that grace his hand and dance over her soft, unmarred skin. He slowly runs his thumb up and down the back of her hand, and suddenly, April wants nothing more than to ride shotgun in his car and eat pancakes with him on a regular basis, but to do that she has to come clean.
She opens her eyes and turns her head to him, meeting his eyes. They search each other's eyes for a second while April drags up the courage from somewhere deep within her. "Hi," she says slowly, "I'm April O' Neil. 17. I live with my father and my third stepmother. I am a senior in high school. I like running, computers, journalism, and boys who drive to fast and like pancakes." At her speech, Casey smirks. "Hello Miss O'Neil. Names Casey Jones, I'm 24. I live alone two blocks down from my mama. I'm majorin' in criminal justice at the community college to become a police man while working nights at a bar. I'm partial to pretty redheads who drink too much and wander around carelessly." She blushes at that and his smirk widens, coaxing a soft smile out of her. Too quickly, a serious and somber expression replaces his smirk. "Tell me Miss April, what's with the bruises and the drinkin'".
She flinches, but not as much as she would've had she not been expecting the question. Her eyes dart away from his but she explains. "My dad's an alcoholic. He's beaten me and my sister since we were kids." He nods, and the stroking doesn't stop, so she continues. "I was, I was trying to end it all. It would've just been better if I didn't exist." She smirks here, a strange expression on her usually stone face. "Of course, some caveman had to come around and cause trouble."
Her teasing words cause Casey to splutter, and a laugh erupts from her throat. "Now listen 'ere lady! I ain't n- ". She cuts him off with a short and sweet kiss, something she admits to herself that she would like to try again. They look at each other, no words are spoken, but so much passes between them. A mischievous smile crosses Casey's face, and suddenly she's been lifted in his arms. He laughs loudly at her squeak and grasping hands, and when she starts protesting he says, "Grab your IV Miss April, we're goin' on a road trip." She frantically grasps for her IV stand as he starts walking.
Down the hall, the nurses chase after them, begging, "Mr. Jones! Please put Miss O'Neil back in bed!" In response, he just barks out his loud laugh and enters the elevator. Standing in comfortable silence, April relaxes into him, loving the warmth of his hand on her back and the tickle of his hair on her neck. It's something new and exciting and overall, right. The doors of the elevator open, and Casey steps out on to the roof with the IV dragging behind him. "Can ya stand?" He asks, to which she nods her head. He sets her down and turns her around. Before her stands all of New York City, illuminated by a light pink sunrise.
"When I was an underground fighter I ended up here a lot, eventually I found out the roof had public access so it became my spot to get away to." She looks to him and then back towards the skyline, "It's perfect." They stand there for a while in silence, simply enjoying each other's presence when Casey suddenly clears his throat. "April, can I, uh, can I ask you something?"
She looks over her shoulder at him, "Yea, Casey?" He blushes, rubbing his hand at the back of his neck, and looks up like all the answers are in the sky. "Listen, Ape, can I call ya Ape? Wait, no, that's not the question! I mean, April would ya like ta come live with me? I mean, my ma constantly stops by, and it's a pretty shitty apartment, and ya would still have ta go ta school, but you'd be outta your dad's house and…and yea." He looks like he's waiting for the ground to swallow him up, but April just falls a bit more in love with him. She realizes that his accent gets thicker and begins to ramble when he's nervous, and suddenly that car ride makes so much more sense. With that knowledge, April giggles and fully turns to him. "When can I move in?"
He looks at her shocked, like he expected her to say "no". His mouth opens and closes like a fish, then stretches into a large grin. "You can move in as soon as you're released, how does that sound?" She smiles widely, "Good." He nods, then with a cheeky grin he asks, "Permission to act like a caveman?" At that, she full on laughs and nods. "Permission granted."
Once again, Casey lifts her up so that her face is just above his. Smiling, he spins her around, making her laugh. The IV tube wraps around them as they spin in the sunrise, and April realizes she hasn't been this happy in years.