Mending Broken Hearts-2

Who Am I?

Thank you all for the support on my last two chapters. It means so much that so many of you love and are excited for updates. Enjoy this next chapter which is emotional as well just a fair warning.

Jackson's POV

"I killed that surgery!" I boast as I scrub out. I look over and see April in the corner. "Hey, want to celebrate the end of the week with drinks at Jo's?" I ask her. We've been trying to find happy moments to cope with the loss of Samuel. We need some happiness in our lives. April doesn't say something. "April."

"Uh...we need to..." I notice the scrub nurses crying.

"Who died?" I ask her.

"Jackson."

"Who, April? Was it...is it my mom?" My voice breaks just saying this.

"No, it's...your mom's fine. It's... it's Derek and Mark." My knees buckle as she says this. She goes to steady me.

"What happened?"

"They were involved in an MVC and...Derek didn't make it."

"And Mark?"

"The hospital they were brought to botched his surgery, and...they nicked his hippocampus."

"No. What does that mean?" I ask her even though I fear I know the answer.

"Jackson, he doesn't remember the last 15 years of his life."

"No!" I cry out.

"He's alive, but...Grey says it's going to be a long road to recovery. And even then, he may not regain all of his memories."

"How...how are Mer and Gen doing?" I asked, needing to know about my friends. The people I have survived through so much with from the merger, the shooting, passing our boards, becoming attendings, Samuel. We've all been there for each other.

"Meredith is dehydrated, and...no one's seen, Gen."

"Where is he?" I ask, getting back up.

"Jackson, it's..."

"April, where's his room?" I ask her.

"ICU bed 8." I take off running, ignoring people telling me to slow down. I ignore the calls as I keep running even up several flights of stairs. I stop once I make it outside of his room. I catch my breath. I open the door and find him sitting up in bed eating.

"Hi." I greet him.

"Are you one of my doctors?" Mark asks, and it hits me hard.

"Uh...no. I am a doctor but not one of yours." I answer.

"Oh." He stops eating. "I'm supposed to remember you aren't I?" He asks. I nod my head. "Just hold on." He looks for something but is struggling to find it. "Can you hand me that book?" He points to something on a table. I pick it up and hand it to him.

"What is that?" I ask him.

"Uh, this is...my neurosurgeon Dr. Grey said a good way to remember the people in my life is to document their photo with their relationship to me. He flips through and stops. "Aaah." He turns it around and shows me a photo of myself. "This is you, right?"

"Yes, that is me." I see a pen and hand it to him.

"What is your name?" He asks me.

"Jackson Avery." He scribbles that down.

"A strong name. For a strong guy." He comments, and it sounds so much like him. "What kind of doctor are you?"

"I'm a plastic surgeon and ENT." I answer; he whistles, impressed.