It had been weeks since April had almost died right in front of him, causing him to question everything he felt he knew to be true and feel like he was losing his damn mind in the process.
It felt like, no matter where he went in the hospital, he saw flashes of that night - her blue skin and tiny body covered in too many wires to count, holding on for some semblance of life.
He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but it haunted him. She had come out on the other side fighting, and had left Grey Sloan to continue her community work with Matthew, yet he still felt her presence within those four walls.
He felt it when Chief Bailey would book him into that O.R, and he'd have to find an excuse as to why he couldn't work there, and she'd reluctantly agree to swap him elsewhere.
He felt it when he walked past the room he'd spent hours waiting for her to wake up in, pleading with a God that he wasn't sure he even believed in until she miraculously came to right in front of his eyes.
He felt it when the ER had become overrun one night, after a group of drunken students had decided it would be hilariousfor them to jump into a freezing cold river as some sort of hazing dare. One of the students had sustained a pretty severe gash on their arm, and he could feel the blood boiling inside of him as he'd tended to it. In the end, he'd had to excuse himself and flip out in one of the supply closets, leaving his co-workers to exchange glances and wonder what that was all about.
He felt it when he experienced his first nightmare in years, in which he'd cry out for April - convinced that she was somehow dead. He'd wake in a panic when he realised that she wasn't in the bed beside him, and then it was because she wasn't his to worry about anymore, even though it felt like she was in some ways. Even though he'd never stop worrying.
The only thing that gave him any semblance of comfort was to phone her. Even though it was 2:00am, the sound of her voice on the other line had reassured him that she was alive.
"Whats wrong? Is Hattie okay?" She'd asked quietly, suddenly worried that something was wrong. It seemed like the only conceivable reason that he'd phone her at such an hour.
"No...I mean-yeah, she's okay. I just...are you okay?" Jackson asked, clearing his throat.
"Yes, Jackson. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Okay...good, good."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, uh, yeah. I just uh...couldn't sleep."
"Okay..." She paused for a moment, and there was a somewhat uncomfortable silence for a beat, "Um, did you need anything, or want to talk or...?"
"No, I'll uh, let you go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you. Night." Jackson hung up the phone and sighed, making his way to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.
Of course, he wasn't fine, but he could handle it. He could be a goat, until he couldn't hide it anymore.