Fic: Thirty Days
Title: Thirty Days
Author: gameboycolor
Characters/Pairings: Jackson Avery, Callie Torres, Jackson Avery/April Kepner. Other canon characters and ships mentioned in passing.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, Character Death
Length: ~1400
Summary: Mark Sloan's final days on life support, as seen through the eyes of Jackson Avery. Inspired by Jackson's little talks with Mark in the season premiere.
Day Three
“If this is your way of keeping me in Seattle, I’m not giving in.” Jackson scrubs a hand down his face and collapses in the chair next to Mark’s bed.
The ventilator is too noisy. He’s noticing things that are ordinarily background noise that he doesn’t even pay attention to. The beep of the monitors, the ones that tell them that Mark is still there.
Mark made it back to Seattle. Losing him now wouldn’t make sense. This isn’t how things play out.
With Derek out of commission, one of the other neuro attendings is on Mark’s case. Jackson can’t even remember his name. It’s terrible. He’s probably passed the guy in the hallway a thousand times by now, and he’s craning his neck to look at his nametag.
“Avery.”
“Dr... Nelson.”
He shuffles though Mark’s chart. No pitying look comes, no tongue clicking. These are good signs.
“No changes today,” he tells him, his tone even. His bedside manner could use some work, but he’s capable. He’s no Shepherd, but no one is.
“Meaning his brain activity hasn’t decreased.”
He nods slightly. “Well, no, but -”
“Dr. Nelson, his directive was clear.” He looks at the monitors again, trying to take some small comfort in them. “We wait.”
-
Day Twelve
Callie breaks at least three rules and sneaks Sofia into the ICU to see Mark. She puts her on the bed and reminds Mark of everything he has to come back to.
Jackson flips through his phone, cringing at an email from Tulane. Apparently they’ve been informed of ‘the situation’ and are willing to change his start date.
He doesn’t even want to think about it right now.
“...she’s going to grow up, Mark. She’s going to date and she’s going to fall in love. And you know someone’s gotta be there to walk her down the aisle, and it has to be you.” Callie wipes her eyes before continuing. “Cause we know it’s sure as hell not going to be Arizona.” She chokes out a laugh, and shoots Jackson a look. “Sorry, situations like this make me say wildly inappropriate things.”
Jackson shrugs. “He used to do the same thing.”
Callie’s lips press into a tight line, but then she softens. “No past tense, not yet.”
It must be one of her good days.
He says goodbye to the three, but watches for a moment from the window. Mother and child at father’s bedside, waiting for a miracle. Hardly a sight he hasn’t seen before.
But this time, Jackson’s waiting for a miracle too.
-
Day Twenty-Seven
Jackson doesn’t recognize the intern in Mark’s room when he enters. She starts to speak, but he ignores her.
“I turned down Tulane, you know,” he begins. His voice is picking up momentum. He’s getting louder. Too loud for visiting hours in the ICU. The girl is likely trying to quiet him, but he doesn’t care. “I turned down Tulane for you. I pushed away Lexie for you. I chose plastics for you.” He looks down at the scans. The ones he had told Nelson to shove up a choice place just moments before. “I gave up Tulane for you and you aren’t coming back.”
“Should I give you two some privacy?” she asks.
He ignores her, but soon she takes the hint and leaves. “And I get it, man. You can’t come back for me. You’re probably hanging out up there in some bright light looking for Lexie, and that’s cool. I mean, it isn’t, but I can see where you’re coming from.
“But you have Callie here, and she needs you. Arizona is a fucking mess and I don’t think they’re going to make it. Sofia needs you. She shouldn’t have to grow up without you, man. You have people here, Mark. You can’t leave, not yet.”
Callie claps quietly from the doorway, her cheeks streaked with mascara. “Excellent speech, Avery. Best I’ve heard all week. I think you really broke through to him this time.” Her voice drips with sarcasm, and Jackson feels like he’s on fire.
In that moment, he hates her.
“You know what?” he says as he takes a step towards her. “Fuck you.”
“Give me the scans.”
“You’ve seen them.” He clutches them a little tighter. “We were all there.”
She grabs them out of his hands. Her eyes scan them over and over, despite knowing what they mean.
Mark isn’t coming back. Heartfelt speeches and pleas aren’t going to change anything.
“Please, leave,” she says. Her voice is so soft and so broken that he can’t find it in his heart to argue.
-
Day One
“They landed.”
“One DOA, three critical -”
“Someone call the OR!”
“Hunt, you gotta get them out of here. They shouldn’t see this.”
Jackson doesn’t argue when he’s taken off the floor for the evening. He doesn’t even take up the offer to go help out in the clinic to get his mind off of things.
Instead, he takes April’s hand and they get the hell out of there. The waiting rooms are driving him crazy, and April is going to be on a plane to Ohio in a few days. Another person leaving, but at least he knows she’s safe.
But he wonders if he might be able to convince her to take a train.
“Do you think--” she begins. She’s wringing her hands nervously and doing that cute thing where she bites her lip and frowns. He wants to tilt the corners of her lips up somehow, even though it feels like there’s nothing to smile about.
He kisses her frowns away, or tries to, anyway. “Not now, please.”
“Okay,” she replies. “Okay.”
-
Day Fifteen
Group therapy reminds Jackson of the shooting. It reminds him of looking around the circle for Charles or Reed, knowing full well that they weren’t there. But this time, he’s looking for Lexie. For Mark, for Arizona - even though they aren’t technically gone.
The therapist introduces himself, even tells them his qualifications. Jackson hardly cares.
“Today, we’re going to talk about trauma.”
Jackson has to hold back a laugh. Does the guy not realize that he’s in the presence of two people who were diagnosed with PTSD long before that plane ever went down?
And besides, he’s not a victim of trauma. Not this time. He just got hit by the shrapnel.
“I’ve had enough trauma for a lifetime,” he mumbles.
The man starts scribbling down something on his legal pad. “What was that, Dr. Avery?”
“Nothing.”
-
Day Five
“Today was a good day.” He gives Mark’s hand a small squeeze. He’s going to wake up one of these days and give him shit for how sappy he’s been lately, but maybe when he tells him about how excited Callie has been over his urine output, he’ll give her shit for that too. “I do not want to punch today in the face.”
He searches Mark’s face for anything. A twitch. A smile. A fluttering of his eyelashes.
There's nothing to see, as usual.
“They cleared me for surgery today. Apparently not being directly connected to anyone in the crash helped the process along.” He shrugs. “And don’t worry, I’m ready. I’ve always been awesome at compartmentalizing.”
He never bothered to argue that he wasn't directly connected. It doesn't matter what a hospital hired shrink has to say about the people who matter to him most.
Mark never replies, but Jackson can always fill in the blanks. Spending enough hours in the OR with a person will do that to anyone.
“You know, when Charles died, I never thought that I would get close to anyone here again. And then you were so fucking stubborn that I couldn’t do anything about it.” He chuckles. “Plastics posse is making a comeback soon. I can tell.”
It better.
Jackson knows he needs to get back to work, but he hates having to leave. These visits always feel too brief.
“Well, can’t ignore work. They just cleared me for surgery. Can’t have them changing their minds, can we? Someone’s gotta pick up the slack with you hanging out in bed all day.”
He touches Mark’s arm one last time before leaving.
When Jackson closes his eyes, he can hear him more clearly than ever - ”Not getting laid always turns you into such a sad sack. Go find an intern or something, man.”
He smiles, and shakes his head.
Today’s going to be a good one, he can tell.
Author: gameboycolor
Characters/Pairings: Jackson Avery, Callie Torres, Jackson Avery/April Kepner. Other canon characters and ships mentioned in passing.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, Character Death
Length: ~1400
Summary: Mark Sloan's final days on life support, as seen through the eyes of Jackson Avery. Inspired by Jackson's little talks with Mark in the season premiere.
Day Three
“If this is your way of keeping me in Seattle, I’m not giving in.” Jackson scrubs a hand down his face and collapses in the chair next to Mark’s bed.
The ventilator is too noisy. He’s noticing things that are ordinarily background noise that he doesn’t even pay attention to. The beep of the monitors, the ones that tell them that Mark is still there.
Mark made it back to Seattle. Losing him now wouldn’t make sense. This isn’t how things play out.
With Derek out of commission, one of the other neuro attendings is on Mark’s case. Jackson can’t even remember his name. It’s terrible. He’s probably passed the guy in the hallway a thousand times by now, and he’s craning his neck to look at his nametag.
“Avery.”
“Dr... Nelson.”
He shuffles though Mark’s chart. No pitying look comes, no tongue clicking. These are good signs.
“No changes today,” he tells him, his tone even. His bedside manner could use some work, but he’s capable. He’s no Shepherd, but no one is.
“Meaning his brain activity hasn’t decreased.”
He nods slightly. “Well, no, but -”
“Dr. Nelson, his directive was clear.” He looks at the monitors again, trying to take some small comfort in them. “We wait.”
-
Day Twelve
Callie breaks at least three rules and sneaks Sofia into the ICU to see Mark. She puts her on the bed and reminds Mark of everything he has to come back to.
Jackson flips through his phone, cringing at an email from Tulane. Apparently they’ve been informed of ‘the situation’ and are willing to change his start date.
He doesn’t even want to think about it right now.
“...she’s going to grow up, Mark. She’s going to date and she’s going to fall in love. And you know someone’s gotta be there to walk her down the aisle, and it has to be you.” Callie wipes her eyes before continuing. “Cause we know it’s sure as hell not going to be Arizona.” She chokes out a laugh, and shoots Jackson a look. “Sorry, situations like this make me say wildly inappropriate things.”
Jackson shrugs. “He used to do the same thing.”
Callie’s lips press into a tight line, but then she softens. “No past tense, not yet.”
It must be one of her good days.
He says goodbye to the three, but watches for a moment from the window. Mother and child at father’s bedside, waiting for a miracle. Hardly a sight he hasn’t seen before.
But this time, Jackson’s waiting for a miracle too.
-
Day Twenty-Seven
Jackson doesn’t recognize the intern in Mark’s room when he enters. She starts to speak, but he ignores her.
“I turned down Tulane, you know,” he begins. His voice is picking up momentum. He’s getting louder. Too loud for visiting hours in the ICU. The girl is likely trying to quiet him, but he doesn’t care. “I turned down Tulane for you. I pushed away Lexie for you. I chose plastics for you.” He looks down at the scans. The ones he had told Nelson to shove up a choice place just moments before. “I gave up Tulane for you and you aren’t coming back.”
“Should I give you two some privacy?” she asks.
He ignores her, but soon she takes the hint and leaves. “And I get it, man. You can’t come back for me. You’re probably hanging out up there in some bright light looking for Lexie, and that’s cool. I mean, it isn’t, but I can see where you’re coming from.
“But you have Callie here, and she needs you. Arizona is a fucking mess and I don’t think they’re going to make it. Sofia needs you. She shouldn’t have to grow up without you, man. You have people here, Mark. You can’t leave, not yet.”
Callie claps quietly from the doorway, her cheeks streaked with mascara. “Excellent speech, Avery. Best I’ve heard all week. I think you really broke through to him this time.” Her voice drips with sarcasm, and Jackson feels like he’s on fire.
In that moment, he hates her.
“You know what?” he says as he takes a step towards her. “Fuck you.”
“Give me the scans.”
“You’ve seen them.” He clutches them a little tighter. “We were all there.”
She grabs them out of his hands. Her eyes scan them over and over, despite knowing what they mean.
Mark isn’t coming back. Heartfelt speeches and pleas aren’t going to change anything.
“Please, leave,” she says. Her voice is so soft and so broken that he can’t find it in his heart to argue.
-
Day One
“They landed.”
“One DOA, three critical -”
“Someone call the OR!”
“Hunt, you gotta get them out of here. They shouldn’t see this.”
Jackson doesn’t argue when he’s taken off the floor for the evening. He doesn’t even take up the offer to go help out in the clinic to get his mind off of things.
Instead, he takes April’s hand and they get the hell out of there. The waiting rooms are driving him crazy, and April is going to be on a plane to Ohio in a few days. Another person leaving, but at least he knows she’s safe.
But he wonders if he might be able to convince her to take a train.
“Do you think--” she begins. She’s wringing her hands nervously and doing that cute thing where she bites her lip and frowns. He wants to tilt the corners of her lips up somehow, even though it feels like there’s nothing to smile about.
He kisses her frowns away, or tries to, anyway. “Not now, please.”
“Okay,” she replies. “Okay.”
-
Day Fifteen
Group therapy reminds Jackson of the shooting. It reminds him of looking around the circle for Charles or Reed, knowing full well that they weren’t there. But this time, he’s looking for Lexie. For Mark, for Arizona - even though they aren’t technically gone.
The therapist introduces himself, even tells them his qualifications. Jackson hardly cares.
“Today, we’re going to talk about trauma.”
Jackson has to hold back a laugh. Does the guy not realize that he’s in the presence of two people who were diagnosed with PTSD long before that plane ever went down?
And besides, he’s not a victim of trauma. Not this time. He just got hit by the shrapnel.
“I’ve had enough trauma for a lifetime,” he mumbles.
The man starts scribbling down something on his legal pad. “What was that, Dr. Avery?”
“Nothing.”
-
Day Five
“Today was a good day.” He gives Mark’s hand a small squeeze. He’s going to wake up one of these days and give him shit for how sappy he’s been lately, but maybe when he tells him about how excited Callie has been over his urine output, he’ll give her shit for that too. “I do not want to punch today in the face.”
He searches Mark’s face for anything. A twitch. A smile. A fluttering of his eyelashes.
There's nothing to see, as usual.
“They cleared me for surgery today. Apparently not being directly connected to anyone in the crash helped the process along.” He shrugs. “And don’t worry, I’m ready. I’ve always been awesome at compartmentalizing.”
He never bothered to argue that he wasn't directly connected. It doesn't matter what a hospital hired shrink has to say about the people who matter to him most.
Mark never replies, but Jackson can always fill in the blanks. Spending enough hours in the OR with a person will do that to anyone.
“You know, when Charles died, I never thought that I would get close to anyone here again. And then you were so fucking stubborn that I couldn’t do anything about it.” He chuckles. “Plastics posse is making a comeback soon. I can tell.”
It better.
Jackson knows he needs to get back to work, but he hates having to leave. These visits always feel too brief.
“Well, can’t ignore work. They just cleared me for surgery. Can’t have them changing their minds, can we? Someone’s gotta pick up the slack with you hanging out in bed all day.”
He touches Mark’s arm one last time before leaving.
When Jackson closes his eyes, he can hear him more clearly than ever - ”Not getting laid always turns you into such a sad sack. Go find an intern or something, man.”
He smiles, and shakes his head.
Today’s going to be a good one, he can tell.