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astoldbyacertifiedunicorn · 7 years

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Supermarket Flowers by Ed Sheeran

3rd song. BTW, this features an Alex ship I’ve liked since s11, that is NOT JOLEX. Don’t read if you stan them. (I don’t have anything against them, they can be happy in canon, fine by me, I just feel like I can write whatever ship I want in FF). This is obviously a japril fic, but more or so concentrates on Jackson and Catherine’s relationship for obvious reasons.

I took the supermarket flowers from the windowsill I threw the day old tea from the cup Packed up the photo album Matthew had made Memories of a life that's been loved

"Jackson, honey, are you ready to go?"

He didn't really remember what he was doing before his wife had called him that day, asking him to come to the hospital. There had been an accident. She'd fallen down the stairs. A misstep. There was bleeding. He needed to come. Soon.

It had been his day off. He must have woken up and made love to his wife, he must have leisurely dropped the kids off at school, and then he must have come home, watched the game, or maybe he did the laundry. He's not sure. There is one memory that sticks out though. Somewhere during the day, he'd gotten a call from his mom. He usually does. She's retired now, from her job and the foundation. She has too much time on her hands. It's usually him, April, Richard or the grandkids who are on the receiving end of her constant boredom. She called for the most mundane things, to talk about a party she'd gone to, or ask him about a surgery. Sometimes to inquire about a highly inappropriate aspect of his marriage. So, he usually didn't answer. Sometimes he was in a surgery, a board meeting, but sometimes, he just hadn't wanted to. That day, he just hadn't wanted to. He was watching the game. The bloody, precious game. He'd answer tomorrow. He'd call her tomorrow. It never crossed his mind, there would be no tomorrow.

He feels April's hand on his shoulders, and he looks up.

"Babe, if you need more time, we can-"

"No. I'm done." He nods, closes the box, and stands up. Richard had asked him the day before to come in and take whatever stuff of hers he needed to. He was giving the rest off to goodwill, apparently. The funeral hadn't even happened. Jackson wasn't sure why the hell he was trying to get rid of this stuff, anyway. It's not as if he wanted to keep it forever, he wasn't looking to create a shrine out of her room, but he wanted more time. He just needed some more time. But, Richard lives here. Jackson understood, in a way. If it was April, he wouldn't be able to live in a place which reminded him so much of her. Still, she was his mother, first. Childish, he knew, but he didn't feel very adult these days.

He stands up, adjusting the box in his hand, and looks around the room once more. It's not the last time he'll see it. Richard will still live here. He's still his step-father, his wife's father-in-law and his children's grandfather. He'll visit, he'll have to. But it won't be the same. There will be a gaping hole, a silence that no one can fill.

She loops her hand through his, and they walk out.

"Did you take everything, son?" Richard asks, and he pats him on the back. There's a sadness behind his smile, it never reaches his eyes. The only time he sees it full is when his grandchildren are there. Jackson understood that. He found solace in his wife and children too. Well, as much as they could offer him now.

He nods, doesn't really say much. There's nothing to say, really. Nothing will make it better for anyone. Nothing stops the ache in his lungs every minute he remembers and the deep pit of guilt that never seems to go away. It never seems enough. When they're alive, well, people don't say I love you enough, they don't pick up the phone enough, they never do anything that is enough. Because they always assume there's time. He feels the hate settle in. The anger. He clenches his fists and take a deep breath. He needs to be calm.

"How about we take this picture, hm? If Richard doesn't mind, of course." April asks, walking to the fireplace which was lined with frames of memories.

"Take as many as you'd like." He replies.

April looks at him, and smiles hopefully. He doesn't want a bloody picture. What good is that going to do? It's not her. It's an image, of a time when she was here, when he could've thanked her, when he could've been nice, when he could've cared enough to pick up the phone. He doesn't need the stupid pictures. He doesn't even need anything in this box. He'd taken it because he didn't want to be rude. But what the hell was he going to do with the diaries she apparently kept, that he didn't know about, or the sketch books she kept of all his achievements when he'd gone his whole life thinking she never really cared or believed in him, all that much. What the fuck was he supposed to do with those?

He runs his fingers along the edges of the frame April is pointing to. It's a picture of the two of them, at his high school graduation. He didn't think anyone would come. But his mother did. And she clapped and yelled as loud as she could when he walked onto the stage. He's absent in the picture. His eyes are looking elsewhere, probably at a friend, or a girlfriend. He wants the photo to be done. He's looking to leave, get out. She's looking straight to the camera, and he's looking away. He takes it, and it takes all he has not to throw it across the room.

He looks at the other pictures, ones with Richard, on their wedding day, a holiday with her nieces and nephews, a shopping trip with April. She was loved. Every person in that picture was looking at her with love and kindness and care. She was loved.

"Thank you." He nods at Richard, and walks away to the car, while April lingers behind.

"How are you?" He hears April asking, "I'll bring more food tonight. Call Maggie and Alex. Ask them to stay over."

"No no, I'll be fine. It's a school night for the boys, and those two were here yesterday as well," Richard replies, and Jackson can hear the smile in his voice. His step-sister Maggie had found a home with the person they all least expected her to. Alex, of all people. But they worked. Different, true, but Jackson and April knew that you didn't need to be alike to be happy together. They had 2 boys, and a good life. He knew she was here for her father, she'd even chastised him for not grieving with Richard, but he wasn't looking to grieve with anyone. He wasn't looking to grieve, period.

"How is he?" Richard enquires.

"He's.... angry. He's closing up, and he's building all these walls, and I'm not really sure how to get through to him," She whispers, and he feels a little guilty because she sounds stressed, "I'm not expecting him to get over it. Of course not. I just want him to let me in. Let me grieve with him."

"He just need some time. This is how he's choosing to deal with it. Alone. So give him some time. He's his mother's son, after all." He laughs, but it's a sad laugh, and Jackson is sick of hearing sad laughs. He walks away before she finds him eavesdropping on the hallway.

She gets in the car, and faces him, "Ready?"

He doesn't respond. He's not sure if he is. He's not sure if he'll ever be.

Took the get well soon cards and stuffed animals Poured the old ginger beer down the sink Dad always told me, "Don't you cry when you're down" But mum, there's a tear every time that I blink

He hasn't cried yet. Not really. At the hospital, he'd been in too much of a panic. He'd run down the hallways, as fast as his feet would carry him. A place he'd known like his own home, suddenly felt strange to him. He wasn't sure if he was taking the right turns, even when he's been taking these turns for years. The familiar sounds of machines beeping, patients crying, doctors chatting, all sounded like white noise. He couldn't hear any of it. She'd been in surgery when he'd gotten there. They hadn't let him in, family member and all. He'd yelled, tried to manhandle Hunt, and then yelled some more. He'd only calmed down, when April had dragged him to the waiting room, and told him in a harsh voice, that he couldn't behave the way he did no matter how scared he was. She was right, she usually was. 'Listen to your wife, she's always right'. His mom would say that a lot after the marriage.

The surgery didn't do much. She'd lost too much blood, the impact was too severe. They were sorry, but there was nothing they could do. The mechanical, robotic response he'd given hundreds of patients. They'd been taken to the room, where she lay still, plugged to many machines. She was there, well her body was, but she wasn't anymore. Not really. April had cried. A lot. She'd sat next to her bed, and cried, and prayed, and then cried some more. Richard had cried too. He prayed with April, they were the believers of the family.. But Jackson, well he'd just stood there. Staring at the machines, recalling how she'd made him promise she wouldn't keep him like this. Conscious, but not. There, but not really. After a while, they'd needed to move her out.He thanked the nurses, and the doctors, held his wife's hand and he'd gone home.

His children had been inconsolable, even Samuel and Harriet, who were almost 16 and 15 respectively, had broken down. He'd watched them. All his children, the twins, the triplets, all of them cry, and let out their anguish, while he'd just sat, and starred. At night, when April had told him that if he wanted to cry, she was here, he'd told her to get some sleep because she had an early shift. She was confused. She was waiting for him to break down.

But he wasn't sure how to do that either.

Oh, I'm in pieces, it's tearing me up, but I know A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved

He goes through the first stage of grief fairly quickly. He doesn't deny her death. She's gone, she's never coming back. It's not like he wasn't used to the finality of a parent leaving. For all he knew, when he was 6, his father might as well be dead, he wasn't coming back. But the anger, the anger stays for sometime. He yells at April. She annoys him a lot these days. She's suffocating, he feels. She's there, all the time, asking him if he's alright, if he needs her, if he'll be okay. She wants him to let her in, whatever the hell that means. He's angry because she's trying to love him, even when he's becoming unbearable. He doesn't deserve her love, so he's mad. And she cries, he can tell. It's been 3 days, and she's spent the time crying, about Catherine, about him.

He’s mad at the kids. They drive him crazy, faster than usual. He yells at them, tells them off, and he holds himself back because his youngest son looks afraid sometimes and Samuel doesn't talk to him anymore. He misses his kids. But he's not letting his walls down. It would mean having to grieve, and he's not willing to do that. Not yet. He's also, in a twisted way, jealous of them. They have a mother in April. She loves them, adores them, is the best mother she can be, and they know that. They love and appreciate her. It reminds him of his own failures, and he's angry at himself, so he yells at them. It makes no sense, and he hates himself for it.

He hates Richard. He was there. He should've been there when it happened. He should've stopped it. He should've saved her. He knows, deep down, it's not Richard's fault. There's nothing he could've done. But he chooses to be mad at him, because it helps to blame someone.

He's mad at everyone trying to tell him they understand. Meredith, who loved her mom enough to pour her ashes down the OR drain, Alex, who's mother wasn't really ever present, and Maggie, who insists she gets it, but he just wants to yell at her and tell her it's not the same. She knew her mother was dying. She had time to tell her everything she wanted to. He didn't. He didn't know. He didn't have time.

He knew his whole, mismatched family was trying their best to be there for him, but he didn't want any of it. He just wanted his mother back. .

I fluffed the pillows, made the beds, stacked the chairs up Folded your nightgowns neatly in a case John says he'd drive then put his hand on my cheek And wiped a tear from the side of my face

It was the funeral. He hated, loathed, funerals. He'd been to a fair share in his life. His grandmother, Evelyn's, his best friends, Reed and Charles', his mentor and ex girlfriend, Mark ad Lexie, Derek's, Diane's, and Harper's. That was lot of funerals, a lot of dead people. It was the side effect of being part of Seattle Grace Mercy Death, he figured. But he'd never get used to them. Everyone was miserable, it was full of grief. Funerals, he'd always believed, wasn't for the dead. It was for the living. It was your chance to say goodbye, your closure. As if, anyone could ever really have closure from something like that. As if the dead would hear the sorrys you were saying. It was stupid.

"I can ask Samuel to talk. If you're not up for it, that is. Or even Harriet." She says, and picks invisible linen from her dress. She sounds careful around him, and he realizes he still hasn't stopped being cold towards her. He needs her, today of all days. He can't take whatever anger he feels towards himself out on his wife, who's been nothing but incredible to him.

"Can you help me?" He asks her, speaking, not yelling, to her for the first time since it happened. She looks a little shocked, that he's not picking a fight. She quickly rearranges her face and walks towards him taking the tie from his hand.

"Of course." She places it across his neck, and meticulously ties it across. He looks at her face, and he beams with pride. She is so beautiful. After all these years, of waking up next to her, of the crows feet she complains about and the stretch marks she spends a stupid amount of time looking at, she is the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He's so glad he married her. He knew his mother was proud of this choice, even if she was angry at first. He never did include her in his life. She should've been there, at their makeshift wedding in Lake Tahoe. He regrets it now. He regrets a lot of things now.

She pulls the knot tight into place, and pats his chest. He grasps her wrist and holds her there, bending his head to kiss her. She responds, roughly pressing into him. He's missed this. It had been 3 days, but he's missed this.

He pulls away, and keeps his forehead pressed against hers, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." She says, and claps his face between her hands, "Just let me in?"

He sighs, pulling her hands from his face, “I can’t, April.”

Her face falls, but she nods, and she goes to turn away.

“Not yet.” He says, and she looks at him, a little more hopeful. He will, eventually, but the pain is too soon, and he’s still angry, and pissed off at everything and everyone, and he’s gone back to feeling like the 6 year old waiting for his dad to come home. Hopeful for something that was never going to happen.

He walks into the cemetery and hates the silence. She was loud, a force of nature, she was so full of life and this place was everything she would’ve hated. He misses her in the silence more than anything. It’s as if he expects to turn around and hear her yell his name, ‘Jackson Avery!’ He expects to be able to wince at her voice, but deep down be glad to see his mother. Expecting the impossible, once more.

I hope that I see the world as you did 'cause I know

A life with love is a life that's been lived

April and the girls sing a beautiful version of ‘Amazing grace’. Catherine wasn’t religious herself, but she had always loved April’s voice, and she’d said that April gave the song so much emotion. ‘It’s hauntingly beautiful, sweetheart.’ She cries throughout the whole song, and Harriet holds her hand, while the younger three, wipe away the occasional tear. The boys, sans Jackson, stand up and make a speech that has everyone in joyful as they can be in this situation. It’s a collection of all of their favorite moments with their grandmother. The funny, the sassy, the loving. It leaves the large crowd, every single one of them there to celebrate this incredible woman’s life, in tears of joy. All except for him. He isn’t there yet. He still can’t laugh about her. He still feels the anger, and the anguish and the guilt. He won’t feel the happiness for some time. It’s his turn then, after Richard’s loving goodbye to his wife. He takes a deep breath, feels April kiss his cheek, and he walks to the top of the grave. It’s a chilly day, but it doesn’t rain and for that he’s grateful. She hated the rain. They all look at him, with that pity that he doesn’t want. So he focuses on his family. His wife, kids, step-father, step-sister and brother-in-law, and nephews.

“My mother is… was a single mom. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t just, me... he left behind for her to take care of alone, it was the foundation, and the legacy. It’s a lot of work for one person. Especially for someone who didn’t really ask for any of it,” He gulps, he needs a moment. He needs to be grounded. He makes eye contact with April, and she smiles at him through tears. He nods. “She wasn’t the perfect mom. Far from it, actually. She was a doctor, head of a foundation, that’s a lot of work. She missed a lot of games, and I never really got the edges of my sandwiches cut. She wasn’t like my wife.”

He laughs, and they all laugh along, but his sounds too high pitched to be real, but he means what he’s saying, “But, but… but she stayed. She was the one who stayed behind. She wasn’t the best, but she tried really hard. And if you ever had a parent who left you behind, you know how important that is. She loved me. A… a lot. She loved my wife, my kids, my whole family. And we loved her, so much.”

He looks up and he sees his whole family nodding, even Alex.

“They all appreciated her,” Unlike him, they all were grateful, unlike him. He wasn’t. He never said thank you. He never picked up the phone. He never said thank you. Ungrateful, ungrateful, “I didn’t pick up the phone. She called that day and I didn’t pick up. I didn’t pick up… the phone. I…”

He feels them all looking at him, April partially up from her seat, and he gets why. He’s crying. He’s finally crying. He’s breaking down, and it feels... free.

He runs then. Across the cemetery, sprints across the grass and dirt. His chest tightens when he needs to breathe, but he doesn’t slow down. He runs. Then he falls, and he’s not sure where he is, but he doesn’t really care. He falls and he lets himself fall. He lets himself cry for his mother. For the amazing woman who raised him, for the strained relationship they’ve always had, for the love she’s always given him.

“I miss you,” He whispers to the air, “Please come back.”

After what feels like an hour, although it could have been a few minutes, he feels hands hugging him, from all around. He looks up, and he sees his children, and April. They’re kneeled in front of him, arms wrapped around him, holding him tight.

The best thing his mother gave him was this. April, and the kids. She never made him stop believing in love. ‘You’re just waiting for the right girl, honey. The one.’ He’d laughed and tell her that if he had met the one, she’d probably scare her off.

‘You’re going to need your family, Jackson. No matter what shape and size they come in. One person, or ten, you need your family.’

She was right. She almost always was.

Hallelujah

You were an angel in the shape of my mum

You got to see the person I have become

Spread your wings and I know

That when God took you back he said, "Hallelujah

You're home"

“Is grandma in heaven?”

It’s his youngest son, Holden that asks him this, about 3 weeks later, when they’re all seated in the living room. It’s a clear Seattle night, and they’re all in the pajamas after dinner, just hanging out. April’s idea of family time.

“Um…” April looks at him from her seat on the ground, where she’s helping Celie and Adeline, construct a lego airplane. The girls were obsessed with flying recently, having learnt of Amelia Earheart in school, “Daddy, you want to deal with this one?”

He appreciates her wanting him to give an answer. If it was her parent’s the answer would be a fast ‘yes.’ But she was respecting his and Catheriene’s lack of faith.

“She… is wherever people are when they’re dead.” He says, it’s not an acceptance nor a denial. Holden still believes, and he wasn’t going to interfere with that. That was the agreement.

“So heaven?” He asks once more, and Harriet rolls her eyes. Out of the oldest 2, Samuel shared his mother’s faith, while Harriet shared her father’s lack of.

“If that’s what you believe in, honey.” April quips in, and Holden seems satisfied with that answer.

“She’s probably up there sassing all the Angels.” Maya laughs, and the whole family bursts into laughter. She holds up a finger, and mimics her grandma perfectly, “I am not going to wear that ridiculous halo. Make me.”

“You think she can hear us?” Holden inquires once more.

“Why do you want to know?” Micah asks.

“Because I talked to her yesterday.” He mumbles, and the whole family goes quiet. Holden was a special little boy. The only boy from the triplets, and the youngest in the family.

“What did you tell her, bud?” Jackson asks, and he feels like there’s something stuck in his throat.

“That I miss her,” He whispers, “and I’m sorry we don’t visit the grave stone, because it makes dad sad.”

April sighed, and came to sit next to Jackson, pulling Holden next to her, “You know, I’ll take you to visit grandma anytime, right? You just have to ask.”

“Yes, but-”

“Come on,” Jackson says, getting up from his seat, “Everyone to the car.”

“Jackson, what?” April asks, a little wide eyed and confused.

“To the car.” He repeats, and turns around to her, “Trust me.”

A little while later, they’re all in the pajamas, in the middle of a graveyard at 10 in the night.

“Anyone else scared?” Samuel asks, shivering.

“You’re such a baby.” Harriet replies.

“Hey!” April warns and the two of them shut up, “We’re here to say what we need to say and leave-“

“-before people assume we’re trying to bury a body.” Maya grins, her somewhat twisted humour amusing them all.

“Okay, here goes,” Jackson says, patting Holden on the head, “Go ahead, bud.”

He steps forward, and places a drawing he’d done of Catherine, childlike, and yet uncanny, in front of the grave stone, “Miss you gradma. Hope you’re having fun in heaven. Tell God I said hi, and that Josh pushed me first and that’s why I had to push him back.”

The rest of the family chuckles at that. The kids each take their turn, the endless string of I miss yous, and a tid bit of update on their lives.

It’s finally his turn.

“I miss you, mom,” He says, “I wish I had picked up the phone.”

“What would you tell her if you did?” April asks, and he knows what she’s doing.

“I love you, and thank you… for everything.” He probably wouldn’t have said that, but he’d like to think he would.

They each file back towards the car, and he pulls April to his side, and drops a kiss on top of her head, “You really think she’s in heaven?”

“I really do.” She looks back at him, sure.

He smiles. It’s not like he’s going to start believing all of a sudden, but he’d like to think that if Heaven was real, she was up there, sassing the Angels and all.

"Hallelujah

You're home."

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed <3

#japril #japriet #japril fanfiction #jackson avery #april kepner #catherine avery #jackson and april

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