A Beautiful Day To Save Lives - Jackson Avery

Chapter Two

And she had been there when he had his few good days. God, what good days they were. When he wasn't busy sleeping, or doped up on pain meds. "Lia!" He had said when he opened his eyes from a deep sleep, blinking a few times to make sure it was her. "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"Remember that time you were in college and I tore my ACL in soccer?" She asked with a grin.

"Of course, you were crying like a baby. Which, I remember you as, by the way, so I know what both were like. And they were exactly the same," he coughed out a laugh.

"Exactly. You had hopped onto the first flight and met me at the hospital to make sure I was okay," she said with a grin, moving as close to his bed as she could, squeezing his hand. "Now it's my turn, to take care of you."

"Psh, that's not your job!" He said, coughing lightly. "You're my baby sister."

"How come you never told me you had a sister?" the curly haired boy said, strolling into the room with a clipboard in hand. "I had to meet Ophelia by waking up to find a stranger on the other side of your bed."

"Because," Mark said, wrapping his free arm around Ophelia's waist and pulling her so she was half perched on his bed. "We Sloan's are an attractive bunch, Jackson, I wouldn't want you stealing all her attention away from me." Ophelia couldn't help but blush, looking down at her hands.

Jackson Avery chuckled. "Alright, alright, fair enough." She could feel his ocean blue eyes studying her, but she didn't dare look up at him. "Ready to go over our cases then? If you're feeling up to it." Ophelia let them talk, occasionally giving her own opinions and suggestions. And she let them talk, she let them all talk, and she held onto the moments of them together.

She was still scared every time he went to sleep. She was afraid he would slip back into the state he had been in when she had arrived--like a vegetable, induced, not there, not-Mark. She knew the other doctors thought this was The Surge. The Surge was an event which often happened in terminally ill patients. They would have small days of huge improvement, before it all went down hill. Jackson told her every day he didn't think it was that.

"Why don't you take her over to Joe's?" Mark suggested one night as Richard Webber was prepping Mark for bed. Jackson's eyes widened.

"Take me to where now?" Ophelia asked her brother, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

"Joe's!" Mark exclaimed with a laugh, "I can't believe you haven't been to Joe's yet. It's the bar right across the street. Literally across the street. Best bar ever. We all go there. Take her Jackson, for me!" He gave one of his perfected Mark-Sloan pouts, and as worried as Ophelia felt leaving that glass ICU room, she knew it was a sealed deal the moment that pout crossed her brother's lips. He had always known how to get people to do exactly what he wanted them to do.

So that's how Ophelia Sloan ended up sitting on a barstool next Jackson Avery, with a shot of tequila in hand, a lime wedge sitting on the napkin in front of her, and salt in the small hallow of her wrist. And Jackson, with his shy smile, clinked his shot glass against hers. "To the Sloan's," he said.

"To the motherfucking Sloan's!" Ophelia cheered back, already feeling the alcohol from her one light beer. She had barely had a thing to eat all day, so it wasn't too surprising. "So how did you and my brother become so close?" She asked him, after they had downed their shots.

"Well, he calls us the plastics posse," Jackson said with a small laugh, taking a sip out of his can of beer. "I don't know why, honestly I hated it at first."

The name made Ophelia's eyes widened, and a smile slipped over his face. "He called us that too," she admitted, "The two Sloan's, plastic posse, doctors at large. He had always wanted me to come work here but..." she stopped, trailing off, thinking back to a time she Had been in Seattle. "It just never worked out." she shrugged.

"But you're here now," Jackson said with a smile, his pearly white teeth flashing ever so briefly. Ophelia was suddenly acutely aware of how much alcohol she had consumed, and the pressure of Jackson's warm hand just above her right knee. It was a good pressure, soft, gentle, protective.

"I am, here now," she said with a nod and a smile of her own. "Thank you, for taking care of Mark. Really, it means the world to me," she said softly. Was he leaning closer towards her? She wasn't sure, she couldn't take her eyes off his lips. Oh yes, he was definitely getting closer to her.

And then suddenly his pager alarmed and they split apart. Jackson looked down at the small black beeper, eyes widening. "It's Mark."