Mark scrubs his hand over his face as he steps off the elevator. It's only 7 PM and it feels well after midnight. Between the crash and overload of patients paired with the Duncan incident, Mark is certain he's aged 20 years.
Jackson performed his surgery well. Mark sat on edge the entire time, trying to ignore the resident that sat beside him clicking her pen a million times. Derek was right. Jackson didn't know he was there. Mark trusted that he was in the right space to do the surgery. But just in case, he'd be there waiting…
For what, exactly? The hospital has slowly begun to find out about Jackson's status. It became a fruitless task to try to hide it. Especially after Jackson has attended daycare a couple of times. Word gets around. Still, Jackson is nervous and hesitant to let that side of him show in the ER. Even if he dropped, Mark wouldn't be able to comfort him the way he needed.
He wants to do this at Jackson's pace, but there are times he feels nothing but frustration. Mark wants to be able to scoop him up and carry him home. He wants to show him off in his cute onesies and overalls. More importantly, Mark just wants Jackson to be comfortable. To not feel shame when it comes to this side of himself.
Today was certainly a setback. Who knows what seeing Duncan did to the boy's psyche?
Mark shakes it off. At least they can go home and figure all this out. He'll strap him into the backseat of the car, give him Hank and pacifier. The process can start so he doesn't have to be trapped in those big boy thoughts.
He walks into the office and flicks on the light. Trudging over, he starts to pack up his bag. He's halfway through when he sees a piece of neat notebook paper on his desk, not a frayed edge in sight.
Got a ride home with Edwards. I'll see you there.-J
Mark grits his teeth. He should've seen this coming.
He pulls out his phone and scrolls through the apps to find the Life 360 app that one of the younger nurses helped him download a month ago. It was promptly put on Jackson's, with his consent of course.
A bit of Mark's anxiety lessens when he sees Jackson is indeed at the apartment. Or at least, his phone is. Then again, the boy goes nowhere without it. Younger generations and all that.
As if he hasn't done the same since Jackson came to live with him.
Mark packs up his stuff and heads out of the hospital in record time. He manages to avoid talking to anyone so he can rush home. With his luck, the streets are pretty much clear and he hits no red lights.
Once his Jaguar is locked up in the parking garage, he rushes to the entry. Martin, the doorman, grants him entry. He's an older gentleman and according to the neighbors, has worked here longer than anyone has lived in the building.
"Thanks," Mark says. "Did Jackson already come through?"
Martin nods. "He beelined for the elevator quickly. I tried to ask if everything was okay, but he ignored me."
He casts Mark a disapproving look. Keeping Jackson's classification a secret was possible at the hospital, at least for a bit. But the people in the building found out rather quickly. Martin was one of the first. More than once, he's commented on Jackson running in the halls or jumping in the elevator.
Mark grits his teeth. Martin hasn't raised a kid in about 50 years. Who is he to judge his parenting? Still, he knows better than to argue with the doorman. With his luck, Martin will turn away his takeout deliveries for a month like he did when Sloan tracked mud onto the thick red carpet in the lobby. It rains far too much in Seattle for Mark to pick up his own Thai food.
"I'm sorry," he offers. Martin hums. "He had a rough day."
"I'm sure."
"I'll talk to him about it," Mark lies, noticing the elevator is opening. "Anyway, thanks for letting me know. Have a good night."
He walks carefully through the lobby. Quick enough to reach the elevator before it closes, but not so much that it pisses Martin off. He thinks of that stupid hotel show some of his younger and regressed patients watch with the manager that yells about running in the lobby. Not that he'd ever make the comparison to Martin's face.
The elevator seems to stop at almost every floor. Mark taps his foot anxiously until he finally reaches the top. He fishes out his keys and fumbles through them until he finds the right one. There's far too many. Why does he need one for Derek and Meredith's? More importantly, why did he ever have one for Addison's Seattle apartment? She doesn't even live in the state anymore.
Mark pushes his way inside, dropping his bag and coat right onto the ground. He looks around the living room. Empty. His own room is as well. Mark looks down the hall at Jackson's door. He doesn't bother knocking.
His little one sits on his bed, knees drawn to his chest. He's freshly showered, wearing his favorite gray lounge pants paired with a Yankees hoodie. Upon closer inspection, it's one of Mark's. This one he got at his first game with Derek during their residency years. The emblem is faded after over a decade of washing.
Jackson looks up. His eyes are wide, lip jutted out just a little. He places with the strings on the hoodie. A part of Mark wants to hold him tight and let him go. The other is hesitant. He doesn't want to spook the boy.
"Took it," Jackson mumbles. "From your office."
Mark nods. "That's alright. You needed some comfort, huh?"
"I guess." Jackson bites his lip. "I was a jerk."
"You've earned the right to be after the day you had." Mark exhales. "You shouldn't have left without me."
"I didn't want to see you again." Mark frowns. "I mean, at the hospital. 'Cause, if I did…I wasn't sure I'd be able to hold it back. And even if we were in your office, I just didn't want anyone to see me like that."
Mark nods. "We're not at the hospital anymore, bud."
Jackson's lip trembles a bit. A single tear rolls down his face. Mark takes a step forward, ready to swoop in. Jackson holds up a hand. Mark's heart aches. Why does he have to keep pushing him away?
"Is he…alive?"
"It was a simple surgery."
"Yeah, but…" Jackson shrugs. "I can't believe you worked on him. I'm not mad." He wipes at his eyes. "Someone had to. But I figured you'd…well…"
"I wanted to," Mark admits. "I wanted to make sure he never hurt another kid. But I took an oath. Well, two. One to the hospital. And one to you. That I'd always be here. And I can't do that if I'm in prison."
Jackson nods. "Thank you," he whispers.
"Of course. He won't need much recoup time. Should be able to check out in two days. And since you're off tomorrow, you won't have to see him."
"But I'm not off tomorrow."
"Ben switched shifts with you."
"He has Bailey," Jackson argues. "And Tuck…"
"He's the one that insisted on it. I already have the day off, so we're set. You're not stepping foot in that hospital until he's gone. You're home with me. Safe."
Jackson nods. "Don't wanna talk about it."
"Okay, we don't have to."
"Really?"
"All you have to do is let me take care of you. Can you do that?"
Jackson gnaws on his pouty lip. Eventually, he nods again. Mark exhales and rushes to the bed, dropping down beside him. He pulls Jackson into his side and keeps a death grip on him. Jackson breaks down into a fresh set off tears. He clings to Mark's shirt, letting out a sob. Mark rests his chin atop his head.
"I know, buddy. I know," Mark whispers. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you had to see him. That wasn't fair to you."
Jackson's body shakes a little. "I…I h…hate him."
"Of course you do," Mark coos. "And you should He hurt you so badly. But he can't, not anymore." Jackson buries his head in his shoulder. "I won't let him. I am going to protect you, I promise. You are a Little and that's okay. It's normal. It's the right thing. You're a baby boy. There is nothing wrong with that. He was wrong, he was always wrong. So was your mother and your grandfather."
Jackson lets out a shuddered breath. Mark's shirt is growing damp from the tears. He blinks his own away so they don't fall onto Jackson's head.
"But they don't matter anymore. I know this will stay with you. I'm sorry for that. What matters is they can't put you back in that place. I won't allow it. I promise. You're going to stay here. With me. At your hospital. Those are your safe places. Your home."
"Th…they could," Jackson mumbles. "Wh…what if…"
"They won't," Mark interrupts, his voice just as firm as it is comforting. "They can't. I'll make sure of it."
"H…how?"
"By making this situation more permanent."
Jackson pulls away a little. His entire face is covered in tears as his nose runs a little. Those big, beautiful brown eyes are wide. Not yet dropped, but not entirely in an adult mindset. Mark has to be quick about this.
"I'll be right back. Just…stay here."
Mark jumps off the bed. He dashes back to the living room and grabs his discarded bag. After digging through for a bit, he finds the paperwork that the hospital social worker helped him get. He stares at it for a moment. The reality of the situation hangs heavily over him. There is no going back after this.
He takes a deep breath and heads to the bedroom. Jackson leans against his pillows and holds Hank tight. Mark sits beside him. He pulls Jackson closer, though not as much as he was before. Mark hands him the paperwork. Jackson holds it in one hand, not giving up his favorite stuffed animal. He reads the top. Mark twiddles anxiously with his thumbs.
"Temporary guardianship?"
"I know it says temporary, but it doesn't have to be." A bit of apprehension crosses Jackson's face. Mark quickly powers on. "But for now, it is. Basically, this means you can still life as you do. However, I'd be your medical power of attorney. I'd still support your choices and go with what you want. But, it also means that I would be the one that would have to approve if you went to that place again. Which I would never, ever do."
Jackson looks back at the paperwork. When he says nothing after a few minutes, Mark continues.
"As I said, it can be as temporary or permanent as you want. Given your status, you can decide whether or not you have a legal caregiver. From the beginning, I told you that you're here of your own free will. If you choose to leave, you can. This won't change that. Or the fact that I want to take care of you. That I love you." Jackson bites his lip. Mark rubs his back. "All it does, is make things official. For now. It's a way for me to protect you."
Jackson nods. "So, I can still have my freedom? When I'm not little?"
"Always," Mark swears.
"And... I won't have to go back…" His breath shudders. "There."
Mark tips his chin up and grips it gently. "Never."
Jackson drops the papers. Mark quickly moves them to the nightstand. It's just in time for Jackson to collapse back into him.
"Okay," he whispers.
"You can think about it…"
"I don't want to." Jackson's voice grows younger. "I don't want to think. I don't want to be sad. I don't want to think about all this. I just…I want to feel safe. And the only time I truly do is when you take care of me. I don't know what I want yet, for the future or whatever. But I know right now, I want you to be my guardian. So. I'll sign whatever. Do whatever. I just…I don't want to leave here."
Mark's eyelashes grow wet. He moves Jackson so he can't see his face. That death grip on him returns.
"You'll never leave," he promises, kissing the side of his head. "I've got you. I'm here. Always."
Jackson nods into his shoulder. Mark rocks him. He allows himself to cry for a few moments, alongside his little boy. Mark makes sure it's silent. He leaves the soft sobs and sniffles to Jackson.
For the first time in a very long time, Mark feels full. There isn't the ache. The feeling that something is missing. The one that's been there since a certain double-board certified gynecologist and OB/GYN neonatal surgeon walked out of his life. One that wasn't even filled when Sloan was around. Maybe because he knew in the back of his head that she'd always leave. Her home wasn't here.
Jackson's is.
He's not going anywhere.
Mark holds his little boy for a good long while. Eventually, he forces himself to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand.
He mumbles into Jackson's head. "Did you eat dinner?" The little boy shakes his head. "Alright. I'll get you something."
"Don't wanna move," Jackson whispers.
"And you think I'm putting you down? C'mon, my little ducky." Mark stands up. Jackson whines for a moment, making grabby hands. Mark hoists him onto his hip. Jackson settles, latching his arms around his neck. "There's my boy."
Mark carries him into the kitchen attached to the living room. Jackson glances over at the door.
"Messy," he says, pointing to the bag and jacket still there.
Mark rolls his eyes and gently taps his bottom. "My priority was getting to my baby boy," he says. "I'll clean it up later." Jackson hums. Mark arches a brow. "Would you rather I put you down and do it now?" Jackson's eyes widen and he vigorously shakes his head. Mark smirks, lightly pinching his cheek. "Then stop being fresh."
Jackson pokes out his head and rests his head on Mark's neck. They're just inches from the arms holding a death grip on them. Mark pulls out the dino nuggets from the freezer and tosses them on a tray. They're not in the best form but it's difficult to do things one handed. Not his healthiest dinner, but he really doesn't feel like making much else. He'll make sure to include some fruit on the side. Mark slides them into the oven. It'll take a little longer since he didn't have the foresight to turn on the oven. Once the timer's started, he turns to the cabinet and grabs the necessary things to make Jackson's bottle. That's finished sooner.
Mark carries him to the living room and settles into the leather La-Z-Boy. He curls Jackson up against his chest and holds the bottle to his lips. The little one latches on easily. He leaves his caregiver to hold it while he plays with his facial hair. Mark smiles down at him and strokes his cheek.
"You're sleeping in my bed tonight," he says. Jackson nods in agreement. "In fact, I don't think you're allowed to be out of my sight for a very long time."
Jackson pushes bottle out of his mouth a little. "Hospital."
"Alright, so maybe then, but outside that." Mark guides the nipple back to his lips. Jackson goes back to drinking. "Besides, I'm your boss. I can check up on you as needed. No more running away from me, alright?" Jackson nods. "I know you were upset today, but you can't hold back just because we're at work."
Jackson spits the bottle out again. Mark holds back a sigh. Then, he realizes it's h is own fault for bringing it up. "Can't be little on shift."
"Yes, you absolutely can," Mark lectures. "You wouldn't be able to work on patients, but that doesn't matter. Your mental health comes first."
"But…"
"I'm serious. You can't put this off ever again. It's not healthy."
Jackson kicks his leg that dangles over the arm of the chair. "Not fair."
"Oh well."
Mark returns the bottle to his mouth. Jackson is distracted easily. Mark grabs the remote and flicks through the TV until he found the episodes of Barney he downloaded onto his Amazon Prime. That gets all of Jackson's attention. Mark's remains on his little boy.
Eventually, Mark hears Jackson sucking on air. He removes the bottle and settles it on the end table. He shifts Jackson in his arms and pats him firmly in between the shoulder blades to get a burp. Jackson is quick to fumble back to face the TV. He watches with wide, happy eyes as Barney and his friends sing about raindrops tasting like lemon drops and gumdrops. This is one of his favorites. It's also the world's catchiest earworm and Mark found himself humming it during surgery the day before. When he complained to Derek, he laughed and said it happened to him all the time. He was assured the song would change, but the process would not.
While Mark rolled his eyes, he also found himself looking forward to it.
For one night only, Mark indulges Jackson eating in front of the TV. He sits criss cross apple sauce on the floor while Mark sits behind him on the couch. The little boy is silent for most of it, only giggling every so often. Mark finds himself eating dino nuggets too. It's akin to getting a chicken sandwich from a fast-food place. Just in dinosaur form.
Why shouldn't caregivers have fun too?
They finish their food around the time the third episode ends. Jackson looks up at him.
"Can we do something fun?"
Mark chuckles. "Because Barney isn't fun?"
"I got it from daycare. Please?"
"What is it?"
"It's a surprise."
Jackson jumps up and speeds out of the room. Mark carries the plates to the sink and rinses them off. He drops the second one when Jackson runs right into his back.
"Whoa, bud. Trying to knock me down?" Mark asks, looking down at him.
Jackson giggles. "Look!"
He holds up a strip of sparkly, bright pink temporary tattoos. When older, Jackson is a fan of them. Due to their profession, they're mostly in hidden places, like his legs. Mark has removed enough over the years to not want any of his own. There's nothing he'd be able to commit to that long.
But, what could one temporary sparkly tattoo reasonably hurt?
"Those are very cool, bud! We can definitely use them."
"You too?"
"Yes, me too. Which one do you want?"
"Hmmm…" Jackson looked at his options. He points to the white cat with a glittery pink collar. "Kitty. Meow."
"Very good."
"You hafta pick the unicorn."
Mark laughs. "Why the unicorn?"
"'Cause it's big. The rest of the animals are babies."
"Ah, okay." He nods along as if he understands this toddler logic. "Makes sense to me. Where are we putting them?"
Jackson gets a smile on his face. One Mark suspects means he's up to no good.
Which is how he ends up with a sparkly unicorn tattoo on each cheek.
I debated introducing temporary guardianship this soon. However, I feel like it was necessary for some of the plot points I have in mind going forward. We will build up to adoption, I promise. As well as the "d" word that I know everyone is anxious for. I promise it'll be worth it!
Next time, Jackson gets sick. Mark will handle it about as well as any reasonable overprotective father does. Which is not well.
Let me know what you think! As always, feel free to leave prompts or ask me questions! I am on Tumblr and love communicating on there, as well as in the comments!