It's time for the moment you've been waiting for!
*insert the music from the Krusty Krab Training Video* Da dadadada dum...
Jackson hasn't dropped in 4 days. Which isn't unusual, but given the stressful circumstances, Mark is concerned. He hasn't spent a ton of time at home either. He's either working or with Catherine making arrangements.
"It's just a couple of days," Jackson told Mark when he voiced his worry. "She'll be gone and life can return to normal."
Mark tries to give him space. Things are hard right now. He doesn't want to come across as a controlling dad. Jackson just lost one figure in his life like that. Mark won't be another.
The night before the funeral, Jackson comes home after another dinner with his mother. He heads straight for his room and slams the door. Mark doesn't even bother to knock. Jackson slides down on his bed and stares up at the ceiling.
"What happened now? I thought you two were getting along."
"We were," Jackson mumbles. "One minute we were laughing and making plans. Then I brought up something I've had on my mind since my grandfather died."
"And that is?"
"Telling Robert."
Mark nods. He's had the same thought but once again, didn't know how to bring it up. He doesn't want Jackson to reach out to his biological father. One, so he doesn't get hurt. Two, selfishly, he worries about the alternative where Robert suddenly does a 180 and wants to be a good dad again. The odds of that are rare. He's had 24 years to come back and hasn't. Doesn't change that it's always in the back of Mark's mind.
Now isn't the time to be selfish. A man is dead. As complicated as his relationship is with his own father, he'd be pissed if someone didn't tell him of his passing.
"How'd that conversation go?"
"I offered to do some research," Jackson says, his voice soft. "Find out where he is. I mean, the man has a right to know."
"And your mom said?"
"She already talked to him."
Mark's eyebrows scrunch together. "What?"
"She called him the night it happened. Apparently, she's had his contact information this whole time."
"How long is this whole time?"
"Since he left in the first place."
Mark sinks onto the foot of the bed. Jackson hugs a pillow to his chest.
"I don't even want to talk to him, you know? I have nothing to say to the man who walked out on me. But she always told me she had no idea where he was. Maybe I was stupid for believing it."
"Hey, don't talk about yourself like that," Mark gently chastises. "You had every right to believe your mom. She shouldn't have lied to you."
"It just makes sense. My grandfather and mother have vast resources. They've somehow always kept tabs on me. Why wouldn't they do the same with Robert? Harper's own son? His only child at that."
"You wanted to believe the two people in your life who were supposed to tell you the truth. This is all on them, Jack. Not you."
Jackson inhales and slowly lets out the long breath through his lips, making a soft pbbb sound in the process. Mark rubs his leg and gives him a soft, sympathetic smile.
"Aren't you going to ask?"
Mark tilts his head. "What?"
"What Robert said?"
"I figured you'd tell me if you wanted me to know."
"He's not coming." Mark holds back his sigh of relief. "He told my mom he has "other obligations"."
"What other obligations could be have other than burying his father?"
"They haven't spoken since he left either. When he abandoned the family, it wasn't just me and my mom."
Mark pauses. "How do you feel about all this?"
"I…I don't know. Like I said, I didn't want to see or talk to him. But it's just another example of how little he cares. Even if he had no relationship with his dad, he knows I did. He doesn't even wonder how this affects me?"
"He may wonder. It just doesn't matter as much as his pride." Jackson bites his lip. Mark moves closer. "I'm sorry, Ducky. You don't deserve this."
Jackson shrugs. "I'll have you there, right?"
Mark smiles. He wraps an arm around Jackson and cuddles him close.
"Of course I will be," he whispers, rubbing his back. "Just let them try to keep me away."
"Then that's all I need." Jackson rests his head on his shoulder. "My real dad."
Mark gives him a good squeeze, ignoring the tears in his eyes. "Damn straight." He kisses the side of his head.
Mark takes in his son's face. Big green eyes and that famous pout on his lips. Given the summer heat, his freckles are more pronounced than ever, even as his skin darkens a bit more than usual. He looks like a real little boy right now. It takes all Mark has not to wrap him up in blankets and keep him home for the next week.
"You can take bereavement, you know," Mark gently points out.
"I know. Uncle Derek tried to get me to take it too. But outside the funeral, I don't need it."
"Jackson, I know you're not sad about him dying but clearly there's some other feelings. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a couple of days and be little. Allow your brain to process."
"I don't need to process, and I don't need to be little," Jackson grumbles.
"Jackson." Mark keeps his voice on the borderline of kind but firm. "I think you need this."
Jackson kicks his leg a little. "I'm fine!"
"No, you're not. Look, it's almost time for bed anyway. Let's just go through your routine. You can have a nice bath then get your lotion and jammies. Don't even have to sleep in my bed if you don't want to. But you need a little babying right now."
Jackson gnaws on his lip. "What if I wake up small? I can't go to the funeral like that."
"Then we'll figure it out. But I think to prevent you from having an even harder day tomorrow, we need to do this. C'mon, Ducky." Mark squeezes his shoulder. "Let me take care of you."
Jackson sighs, that pout still on his face. "'Kay. But I sleep in my own bed. And no baby jammies."
Mark exhales in relief. "Whatever. you want, sweet boy. Come to Daddy."
Jackson holds up his arms. Mark scoops him up and presses a kiss to his nose. He bounces him gently as he brings his son to the master bathroom. While the tub fills up, he undresses him and makes sure he has all the necessary products. The list has grown over the past 6 months, partially with Bailey's help. She's encouraged Mark to do his own research, but has shown him all the products she's used with Tuck. Jackson has somewhat helped but Mark wants to make sure he knows on his own. He's done a lot of research on transracial adoption, especially that of a little.
Tonight, Jackson doesn't want to play with his toys. Exhaustion tugs on his face as Mark gets to work lathering him up.
"Tomorrow is going to be a very long day," the older plastic surgeon says as rubs his arms. "So, I think you'll need to take a nap between the funeral and the gathering afterwards."
"How?" Jackson asks.
"Well, the celebration of life is 45 minutes from the church. Not the best nap, but it'll get you through it."
"I have to ride with my mom," Jackson wearily reminds him. "If I take a nap, she'll get suspicious."
Mark bites his tongue. He hates that they have to find ways to get around this. It shouldn't be so hard. Jackson should feel comfortable napping around his mother. Catherine should at least be wondering if something like this could trigger his little space.
Has she even given it any thought?
It's not like Mark can ask. He's not supposed to know. No one is. How much longer can he reasonably put up this charade? Even if Catherine goes back to only visiting twice a year, that's two times Jackson will have to find excuses and hide himself.
But the alternative is a fight Jackson isn't ready to have. And one Mark isn't totally ready to push.
Jackson's soft voice pulls him from his thoughts.
"Don't be mad."
Mark looks down at his damp, pouty face. He lets out a soft sigh. "I'm not mad, beautiful boy. I'm just frustrated, but not with you."
"My mama?"
"Yeah," Mark replies honestly as he moves to Jackson's stomach.
"I'm sorry."
"Hey, no, no." Mark quickly cups his cheek. "You have nothing to be sorry for, alright? This isn't your fault. It's grown up business. And you're just a little boy."
"Don't stand up to her," Jackson whispers, swirling the bubbles.
"You shouldn't have to. She shouldn't put you in this position."
"She thinks I'm all better."
"There was nothing for her to ever fix," Mark says, squeezing his cheek. "Don't ever let her get in your head, alright? This isn't your fault, Jackson."
"Just…don't be mad."
Mark can't promise him that. Instead, he gives him a soft smile and kiss before going back to the bath. Jackson is quiet for the rest of it. Once they're done, Mark wraps him up in the ducky hooded towel and dries him off well. He cradles the little boy as he brings him back to his room. The diaper takes no time at all.
"You sure you don't want fun jammies?" Mark asks as he leaves his little boy in just a diaper on the bed and heads for the dresser.
Jackson nods. "Fuzzy sweatpants and Daddy's hoodie."
Mark chuckles. "I don't know if you can call it mine anymore, sunshine. You wear it more."
Jackson yawns, rubbing at his eyes. "You wear it sometimes."
Mark doesn't add that's just to keep his scent on there to bring Jackson comfort at either daycare or bedtime.
He follows his son's request and gets him bundled up in the outfit. The Yankee emblem is fading even more. Mark has offered to buy a new one but Jackson won't hear of it. This hoodie acts as a security blanket of sorts. Mark has a feeling at some point the old thing might tatter to such but Jackson will still keep it anyway.
Mark pulls back the sheets and duvet, allowing Jackson to crawl under. The little one grabs hold of his plushies and cuddles them tight. Mark draws the blankets to his chin. He plucks the Yankees pacifier off the nightstand and pops it into Jackson's awaiting mouth.
It only takes half of Cordoroy to lull Jackson to sleep. Mark shuts off the overhead, turns on the nightlight and sound machine before settling back beside him.
Hey, he said Jackson could sleep in his own bed. Nothing was said about Mark sleeping in there too.
"I think that person is crying more than you or your mom have," Alex points out a short woman in the corner of the room.
"Considering my mom and I haven't cried at all, that's saying something," Jackson muses.
They're all gathered at a rental Catherine got for the occasion. Harper's home is in Boston but it was easier to hold the services here. His body will be shipped back East and Catherine will handle those arrangements privately.
For now, they stand in the living room of an old Victorian home with a lush rose garden out front. Jackson stood in that receiving line for what felt like hours. He never wants to shake another hand as long as he lives.
Jackson gathers with Alex and April by the food. The three people watch as they stuff themselves with cheese cubes and prosciutto.
"That man has been staring at the portrait of your grandfather for 45 minutes," April says. "Do you think he knows it's not going anywhere?"
"10 bucks he'll offer to buy it before the night is through," Alex barters.
April looks at him as if he suggested they kill the guy. "I'm not gambling at a funeral."
"You wanna step outside?"
"Alex!" April glances at Jackson then back at their friend. "This is inappropriate."
"I'll go as far as $15," Jackson pipes up. April narrows her eyes. "What? He seems to really like it."
April rolls her eyes. "You two are terrible. A man is dead."
"A terrible man," Alex says. Jackson nods in agreement. "See, Jackson doesn't care. Don't be like the sobbing woman, Apes."
April rolls her eyes. She grabs a cheese cube and stuffs it down Alex's back. He jumps and throws a napkin at her. Jackson holds back a smile.
"Hey! The two of you!" They look up to find Owen coming over. "This is a funeral."
"Technically it's the celebration of life following the funeral," April says.
Owen fixes her with a look. "That's the story you want to go with?"
"Alex started it?" April offers instead.
Owen shakes his head. "There are several bedrooms for you to take a timeout, should you need one." He glances at Alex. "I'm sure your parents feels the same."
"Really, Uncle Owen," Jackson interrupts. "It's not a big deal. My mom doesn't even notice."
"Thank you for supporting your friends, Jackson, but April knows better."
April lets out a dramatic sigh. Owen gives her another look and she straightens up. "Yes, Dad."
Jackson nibbles on another cube of cheese. He thinks Mark is strict sometimes but supposes it could be worse. Having an army vet as a dad can't be any easier.
"Thank you," Owen says. "I understand this is a weird day, but please behave."
Alex and Jackson mutter their agreements alongside April. They wait for Owen to disappear across the room to break into laughter.
"He really looked mad," Jackson says, trying not to snort.
"Seriously. I thought that vein in his forehead was gonna pop out," Alex barley makes out behind a laugh.
"You should've seen when I pretended to get a tattoo," April says behind her hand. "I thought he was going to drop dead."
The three continue laughing, catching some eyes from those around them, but it goes ignored. Meredith, Mark and Derek stroll over, arms folded across their chests.
"Did you three get into some sugar?" Mark asks.
Jackson tries to calm down. "Believe it or not, no. The caterers haven't put out the dessert yet."
"Maybe you should abstain," Meredith observes. "Considering this is you with just cheese."
"Have you guys eaten anything but the appetizers?" Derek chimes in.
"Uh…" Alex trails off. "We were sort of busy mocking people."
"Really, Alex? At a funeral?"
"Celebration of life. And you can't get mad. Mom did the same thing at George's."
Derek and Mark glance at her. She shrugs.
"We all handle grief differently. And really, I blame that on Izzie. She started it."
"I think it's clear no one has any accountability," Owen says as he rejoins the group.
"Let's just get some food in these kids. It'll calm them down."
Meredith and Derek lead Alex to the main dishes with the Hunt family not far behind. Jackson glances across the room. His mom is standing by herself. He composes himself a bit more.
"I should go check on her," she says.
"You need to eat," Mark points out.
"I will. Let me just talk to her, please? She was quiet in the limo."
Mark sighs but nods. Jackson barely makes it across the room without being stopped by mourners. There's more handshaking and a few that hug him. Jackson does his best not to squirm as the ache in his stomach takes over. He quickly pushes it away. There's just a few more hours. He can get through this.
"Hey, Mom," Jackson says when he finally reaches her. He wraps an arm around her. "How ya doing?"
"I'm fine, baby," she says with a small smile. "I'd ask how you're doing but I could hear you."
Jackson ducks his head. "Sorry. Alex and April, they're just trying to help."
"Honey, I'm no fool. I understand. Just try to reign it in okay? I'd love to be a laughing mess right now but we can't have people thinking we're not at least in some mourning."
She's not entirely chastising him but Jackson still squirms a little. He bites his lip and reminds himself that he's not really in trouble right now.
You're an adult. She's not punishing you for anything. Pull yourself together.
"Yes, ma'am," Jackson says.
Catherine nods. "Thank you."
"So, are you staying here tonight?"
"Heavens no. Those beds do not look comfortable in the slightest. I just rented it for the event. I have one more night in my hotel. I fly back to Boston tomorrow evening. Lord knows I have so much work to catch up on."
"The foundation…"
"It's a mess, but it's all up to me now to sort it out. Your grandfather left me to handle everything."
"You've always done the hard work. Now you don't have to share the credit."
Catherine smiles at him and strokes his cheek.
"Such a sweet boy," she whispers.
Jackson's stomach warms as he tries not to melt into her affections. For a moment, he feels 7 years old again. Cuddling up against her as they promised it'd just be them against the world.
Just as quickly as she gives, Catherine takes away. Jackson is left touch starved as she drifts off to talk to one of the board members. He swallows to hold back a whimper.
Taking a deep breath, Jackson turns to the pictures littered across the tables. There's one dedicated solely to Harper's work, including one of him ready to perform his first surgery all those years ago. The ribbon cutting on the first Harper Avery hospital. It's odd to see his grandfather so young and full of life.
The family table has none of Robert. The only mention of him at all is in the obituary and even that's a quick line. Jackson gets most of the praise as his smart, driven grandson who chose to "follow the family trade". There are more pictures of him as a result.
Jackson freezes when he reaches one frame in particular. Harper's got his arm around him. Neither of them are smiling. Jackson can still feel the tension from that day.
No one knew he went to the camp. Catherine told everyone he took an internship at a clinic in Chelsea. There was a party thrown to celebrate his return with only Catherine and Harper knowing the truth. Jackson attended in the stuffy suit, his eyes heavy from the secret crying he did over losing Calvin. Over the horrors he faced at that "correctional facility".
The smell of the burning stuffed animal takes over. Jackson hears laughter again, but he knows it's not April and Alex. It's the people pointing at the sign around his neck declaring him a bed wetter. That awful feeling of wet briefs sticking to him as he was forced to wear them all day as punishment.
Jackson's breathing picks up. He quickly knocks the picture over. It can't be here. Who put this out here?
He's so focused on regulating his breathing that it takes a moment to notice. Jackson looks down at his pants. Tears fill his eyes.
Taking great haste, Jackson bolts out of the room. Unable to find a bathroom, he holes up in one of the bedrooms instead. He sinks onto the floor and draws his knees to his chest.
What is he supposed to do? He can't very well stay out there with his pants like this. Mark's car has the diaper bag but there's no spare pants, at least not ones like these. How in the world is he ever going to explain this?
His thumb enters his mouth as he rocks back and forth. All Jackson wants right now is his daddy. He wants him to wrap him in his arms and promise him it'll be okay. For him to get changed into a diaper and comfier clothes then brought home.
Where did this exhaustion come from?
Jackson continues to rock in place, silently crying as he sucks his thumb.
After about 5 minutes, the door opens. Jackson doesn't make an attempt to stop. Instead, he meets his mother's eye as she enters.
"Jackson, what are you doing in here…"
She trials off when she finally gets a good look at him. The worry melts from her face and an eery, uncomfortable expression takes over. One that makes Jackson cry harder.
Shame.
"I'm sorry, Mommy," Jackson makes out, dropping his thumb.
Catherine quickly shuts the door. "Get up." Jackson shakes his head. "Yes, Jackson. Get up right now!" Jackson's lip quivers as her voice raises. "You are not doing this here! You are a man!"
"Mommy…"
"Stop calling me that."
Catherine storms over and tries to yank him up but Jackson curls further into himself. She grabs his arm again and he tugs away, this time falling against the dresser. His legs spread out a bit. Catherine locks her jaw. Jackson covers his face with his hands, just barely getting a good look at her through his fingers.
"You didn't," she seethes.
"I…I'm sorry, Mommy," he whispers. "I didn't mean to."
"Do not call me that!" Catherine snaps. She runs her fingers through her expensive curls. "I cannot believe this is happening. Now! You had to regress now?!"
Jackson whines. He's been a bad boy. His mommy is mad at him. All she wanted was for him to be big. He tried really hard! But he can't help it! Why can't she see that?
The door opens once again. Catherine quickly turns around.
"We need a minute," she says, trying to block Jackson.
A familiar, comforting voice gets Jackson to his feet.
"What's going on here?"
Mark can barley close the door behind him before a tight pair of arms are thrown around him. Immediately, he cuddles Jackson close to him.
"I…I'm sorry," the man whispers. "Bad boy."
"No, no," Mark refutes, despite not knowing what's going on. "You're not a bad boy. You're my good boy."
He coos and fusses over Jackson for a moment. It doesn't take long for him to realize he's had an accident. Mark is so glad he packed the diaper bag just in case. He'll find a way to get him out of here discreetly.
"So." Mark looks up at the sound of Catherine's voice. "This is it. This is why."
Mark keeps a protective hold on Jackson as the shorter woman walks over. Disappointment is written across her face.
"This is why my son lives with you," she says, her voice dripping with irritation. "This is why he's been acting odd for months."
"I wouldn't say he's acting odd. For once, he's who he's supposed to be."
"With all due respect, Dr. Sloan, this is a family matter."
Catherine reaches out to grab Jackson's arm but Mark is quick to scoop him up onto his arms. Jackson wraps his arms around his neck and legs around his waist. Mark adjusts him so he can still have a good view on the scandalized surgeon.
"And I'm his family," Mark says firmly.
"I missed when you donated genetic material to create him," Catherine snaps back.
"It takes more than DNA to create a family. Jackson is my son."
"That's not…"
"It is. I have guardianship over him. And soon, I'll have adopted him."
Catherine's mouth drops open. "You've corrupted my son!"
Mark lets out a bitter laugh. "Me?! I haven't done a damn thing except what you should've done a long time ago. I nurture the biological side of him, the one you neglected!"
"Before you, Jackson was a good, strong man. He was past the need for this!"
"Before me, Jackson was falling apart and nearly killing himself because of what you and Harper did to him!" Mark shakes his head, disgust filling his body. "What kind of mother sends her son to a place like that?!"
Catherine draws a deep breath. Her eyes are narrow. In spite of their height difference, Mark feels as if they're on the same level. Jackson clings to him for dear life, his head buried in his shoulder as he sobs. Mark rubs his back and kisses his head.
"A mother who is setting her son up for success," Catherine growls.
"He passed his boards and has made a name for himself all while regressing as he should. Something I don't think he could've done if he continued to hide."
"I'm not doing this!" Catherine shakes her head. "Jackson, you're coming with me."
"I just told you, he's not. Jackson is my son! Mine!" Catherine opens her mouth but the fury raging within Mark forces him to interrupt. "And don't you even think about filing for custody. I spoke to a lawyer. Jackson has evidence of you trying to rid this side of him. Not to mention he was evaluated by social services. He's in the right frame of mind to choose."
"Well," Catherine seethes, her eyes wide. "Maybe we should let him."
Mark draws a deep breath. He looks down at the man who's shaking like a leaf. His hands are clamped over his ears, trying to block out the fight. Mark gently removes them and tips up his chin. Jackson's watery green eyes meet his blue.
"Hey, Ducky," he whispers. "I know this has to be so scary. You're being so brave." Mark forces a smile. "But I don't want this to go on any longer than it needs to. I want you to tell me something very important. And I won't be mad no matter what it is." Jackson lets out a shaky breath. "You won't get in trouble. I just need you to be honest. Can you do that for me, beautiful boy?" Jackson slowly nods. "Good. Now, do you want to go with your mom or stay with me?"
Jackson looks back at Catherine. Mark sees a bit of guilt cross her face, but it's quickly washed away. Mark bounces Jackson and rubs his back.
"Want Daddy," Jackson whispers.
Mark nods, kissing his cheek. "Okay."
He turns back to Catherine. It takes everything in him not to start yelling again. He's kept this back for months now. Mark wanted to remain professional and respectful. But now, staring at this woman who can see her shaking and sobbing son and still want to change him….that's gone.
"I'm going to calm him down and take him home," Mark whispers. "Please leave us alone."
Catherine stares at them for a moment. She draws her black shawl closer.
"I don't want anyone seeing him like this."
"Get out," Mark growls.
"I mean it, Dr. Sloan. If anyone sees him like this, we're going to have a problem."
Catherine slips out of the room before he can respond. Mark walks over to the bed and sinks down. He gently rocks Jackson and presses kisses to his face.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I am so sorry. I shouldn't have left you alone."
"Not your fault," Jackson mumbles, tugging at his tie.
"Never again."
Mark unties the tie and removes the suit jacket. His mind is still reeling over standing up to the Catherine Fox. At Harper Avery's funeral of all places.
He probably shouldn't have yelled in front of Jackson but there was no way he was going to leave him alone. Besides, the man didn't seem willing to leave.
Eventually, Jackson grows heavier against Mark. There's a shift in his breathing. He really needs a change, but Mark isn't sure how to handle this.
He manages to pull his phone out of the jacket's breast pocket and sends a text. After that, he uses the app to unlock the trunk. Within 10 minutes, Derek appears, bag in hand. He looks from the sleeping doctor to Mark.
"Is this why Catherine has downed 3 glasses of wine in a short period of time?"
Mark nods. "I…I yelled at her." The words still feel foreign. "I yelled at fricking Catherine Fox."
"That's going to take some explaining."
Mark quietly tells the whole story. Jackson starts fussing halfway through but a pacifier is enough to silence him. Derek is rubbing the back of his neck when Mark finishes.
"Mark. You yelled at Catherine Fox."
"I know."
"Jackson picked you."
" I know. "
"How do you feel?"
"Like I…" Mark trails off. "I don't regret it. It had to be done. I just wish Jack hadn't heard it."
"I don't think it's good he heard you arguing, but I think he needed to hear someone stand up to her. Think about it. When do you think anyone has in the past?"
Mark nods. Derek drops the bag on the floor and sits next to him. He rubs his best friend's back.
"Are you okay?"
"I just want to get him out of here."
"Owen's working on an exit strategy." Mark arches a brow. "Hey, sometimes his military skills come into use." Mark can just barely laugh. Derek lightly smiles. "You get him changed while I work with Hunt."
"Alright." He pauses. "Thanks, Derek."
"If I ever saw Jimmy Evans, I'd do more than just yell," Derek says with a small shrug. "So safe to say, I get it."
Once Derek is gone, Mark carefully maneuvers Jackson onto the bed. It's impossible to change him without waking him up but Jackson manages to remain calm between his pacifier and Hank in his arms. Mark didn't have the foresight to pack extra suit pants but he does have sweatpants. Hopefully whatever plan Hunt concocts will keep them out of sight as much as possible.
Owen and Derek come in not long after a resumed sleeping Jackson's bottom half is changed. He's left in sweats and the undershirt from the suit, the rest stuffed into the bag. Dry cleaning will be a god send.
"The room next door opens out onto the patio," Owen explains. "So, all you have to do is get him out there. Meredith is making a speech to talk about how much Harper meant to her mom, so everyone is distracted."
Mark nods. "Thanks, both of you."
"Dads have to stick together. Just get your boy out of here."
Owen and Derek are enough to block Mark as he dashes into the next room. He makes a quick escape to his car from the patio. Jackson stirs when Mark straps him into the back.
"Shhh, get some more sleep," Mark coos. "You're safe. Daddy's gotchya."
"Daddy," Jackson slurs behind his pacifier.
"That's right. Daddy." Mark kisses his forehead. "Daddy's got you."
Mark takes the long way back to the apartment so Jackson can get as much sleep as possible. He manages to keep him down once they get back to the apartment, beelining past Martin to the elevator. Mark settles him onto the king size bed in the master bedroom before changing out of his own suit. While his son still sleeps, he fixes him a bottle. How much has Jackson ate today? He left before Mark to finalize some things with Catherine. There was mention of a bagel, maybe. All he ate at the wake was some cheese. He'll need more than a bottle but this will keep him from being super cranky following his nap.
After another hour, Mark forces himself to wake Jackson up. If the man sleeps any longer, he likely won't in the evening. Jackson fusses but quiets down when he gets his bottle. Mark cradles him as close as possible.
"That's a good boy, you must be so hungry," Mark whispers. "We'll get some real food in you soon, I promise."
Jackson doesn't say anything. All he does is wrap his hand around the one his dad is using to hold the bottle. Mark's never seen him this young. It has to be a combination of barely dropping over the past few days and the trauma of the afternoon.
Once the bottle is done and Jackson's burped, Mark takes him to the kitchen to eat. He heats up some leftovers and feeds them to the quiet man. Jackson stays on his lap the entire time. He goes through the motions of opening and closing his mouth but there's no smiles or giggles when Mark does the airplane trick. Instead, he just cuddles closer to his dad.
They snuggle for the rest of the night, watching Barney. Mark reads a couple of stories. Jackson doesn't say a single word. The only reason Mark knows he's not upset with him is how tight he clings to his shirt paired with the whines whenever he has to be put down. Eventually, Mark puts him in his favorite Barney pajamas and tucks them both into bed. Derek, Meredith, Owen and even Alex text to check up on how Jackson is doing. Mark can't find it in him to give long answers. The truth is, even he doesn't know where his son's headspace is at. So, he just says he's resting then shuts off his phone so he doesn't have to deal with the world for the rest of the evening.
"I called us out."
It's the first thing Mark says when Jackson wakes up the following morning. The younger surgeonn's head is pounding. His eyes are still sore from all the crying. He's lifting from the fog with all the pain and anxiety from the day before.
But it's also mixed with comfort and love.
"You yelled at my mom," Jackson whispered.
Mark nods, biting his lip. "I did."
"You really…you really went off on her."
"Are you mad?"
Jackson doesn't even hesitate to shake his head. "No one's ever stood up for me like that before."
Mark doesn't smile. Instead, he moves from the foot of the bed so he's sitting beside Jackson.
"It shouldn't have taken so long." He runs his fingers against Jackson's cheeks. "How are you feeling today?"
"I…I don't know." Jackson plays with the pacifier that's still attached to his pajamas. "I want to feel humiliated and upset that she found out. And yet, strangely, I feel…relief."
"Really?"
Jackson nods. "She had to find out at some point. It's not like I could hide this forever. And the truth is, it's not fair to you if I do."
Mark frowns. "Ducky, you know I understood, right? I know you weren't trying to hide me. It was a part of yourself."
"That doesn't change that I shouldn't hide you. Dad, over the past 6 months, all you've done is take care of me. You've made me see that it's okay to be Little. If this had happened before you figured it out, I don't think I'd be so calm right now. Or likely, I wouldn't have time to think about it, because I'd probably be at one of those facilities again."
"That's not going to happen this time."
"I know it's not," Jackson whispers. "Because I have you." Mark pulls him onto his lap and kisses his temple. Jackson rests his head on his shoulder. "This isn't over, I know it's not."
Jackson bites his lip as he thinks of his mother. What happened to her after they left? Did she manage to keep her composure? Did she even try to reach out to Jackson? He isn't even sure where his phone is at this point. Who knows what will happen next. If Catherine will actually go back to Boston before they have a chance to talk. Because Jackson does want to talk. How it all went down isn't how he or Mark deserved.
"You didn't have to call us out," Jackson whispers.
"Oh, yes I did. I don't think I'm in the right mind to operate. I also wasn't sure what state you'd wake up in."
"We can't keep missing work."
"One more day won't kill us, or the hospital. Besides, yesterday was our scheduled day off anyway. Derek assured me we'll be okay."
There's a few beats of silence.
"I shouldn't have yelled like that in front of you," Mark says. "I never will again."
"You were defending me."
"That doesn't change it had to be scary."
"It…was," Jackson admits. "But it wasn't just you. I was dropping into a vulnerable place. My secret just came out. My mom was already yelling at me. Maybe it didn't entirely help but I also think it needed to happen."
"I'm always going to stand up for you. I meant what I said, Jackson. You're not going anywhere."
"I know. She can't even try it. Who even knows if she wants to speak to me again."
"It's like you said, Ducky. I have a feeling this isn't going to be over for quite some time."
Jackson doesn't want to think about that right now. Instead, he buries his head back in Mark's shoulder. If he has another day with his dad, he's not going to leave his side for any of it.
Would it make sense for Harper's funeral to take place in Seattle when he's from Boston? Probably not. Did I do it anyway to make storytelling easier? Yes, yes, I did.
Next chapter, we see Catherine one last time. What will go down between her and Jackson?
Also, we are 2 chapters away from this part of the story being over. BUT then we will move onto the more open-ended verse. I have so many half written one-shots for it, so rest assured there will be tons of Daddy!Mark and Little!Jack Attack to come.
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.