"April, can I talk to you for a second?"

I look up and pause what I'm writing, sliding my pencil into the the clipboard as Jackson comes closer. The last time we saw each other in the hospital didn't end on the greatest note, but during our handoffs with Harriet, things haven't been weird. He's always very polite and cordial with me, and I him. It's not often we delve beneath the surface, but the look on his face tells me that's about to change.

"Yeah, sure," I say, and set my stuff down on a nearby counter. I look at him, prompting with my eyes, but he just gives me a strange, loaded look in return.

"Not here," he says. "I was hoping maybe, someplace private?"

"Oh," I say. "Uh, why?"

He looks left and right, almost as if he's checking to see if anyone is around. "It's not exactly something other people should hear," he says. "It's personal."

"Okay…" I say, thoroughly confused. I follow him into the nearest on-call room and he locks the door behind us, which admittedly ignites a reaction in my gut. We've been in this position many times before, but it definitely not something I expected today. "Jackson," I say, eyeing the door. My hands poise at the hem of my scrub top; if he wants to, I'm in. I'm not about to turn him down. "Are you asking if I want to…?

"No," he says, eyes wide as I've already lifted my shirt a bit. I force it down after he answers, though, embarrassed that my mind went there first. "No, no. That's not… no."

"Why are we here, then?" I snap, suddenly defensive. Now, I feel stupid.

He sighs, long and deep. He raises his eyebrows and clears his throat, too; it seems like he's very uncomfortable with whatever he's about to say, and he's having a hard time getting it out.

"Jackson, what?" I prompt again. I cross my arms and close myself off, shifting my weight over to one hip. "I have work to do, you know."

Then, he just blurts it out. "Did you and Amelia fuck?" he asks.

I stare at him, wide-eyed and shocked, unable to respond for a long moment. "Excuse me?" I say, my voice high with disbelief.

"April," he says, and his voice stays even. It's his 'stay calm and don't freak out' voice that he used to use on me when I got too heated. "You and Amelia, did you sleep together?"

"You have no right to ask me that," I say, and a bad taste appears in my mouth. "I don't… you… I don't have to answer that."

"I just wanted to get to the source," he says.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

He sighs and looks out the window for a minute. "I heard Amelia telling Meredith about it. Just bits and pieces, but it was enough to discern what she was saying. I heard your name, and she was talking about how much she…" He clears his throat again, now visibly uncomfortable. "How much she enjoyed, um, being with you. And by the way she said it, I could tell she meant more than just hanging out."

"What does it matter to you?" I say. "You and I aren't together. I can do what I want. I'm a grown woman."

"I know," he says. "I know you're grown, believe me." He meets my eyes then. "I just want to make sure this is something you want. And not something you'll regret."

"Oh, Jackson, come on," I say. "You're Harriet's father, not mine. You don't need to concern yourself with my sex life just because it involves people that aren't you."

"That's not…" he says, shaking his head. "I'm worried about you, April."

"You've said that already, a few days ago," I point out. "You didn't want to help me then, so-"

"I do want to help you!" he exclaims. "'Helping' doesn't consist of making out with you in a supply closet. 'Helping' doesn't consist of a pity fuck, which I think is what you were going for that day-"

"And you wonder why I don't come to you," I say, throwing my arms up and letting them fall back down to hit my hips.

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad," he says. "Sweetheart, I know you better than anyone else does. I just want to-"

"You don't get to call me that anymore," I say, voice very low. "So, don't."

"I'm sorry," he says, and he has the gall to sound wounded. A long pause sits between us before he says, "Why did you do it? Sleep with her?"

I furrow my eyebrows and let my eyes drift to his face, and when I do, I see that he's hurt. I see it in his expression; he looks like he's been punched in the gut five times over. It was me who did that to him, and now I have to sit with the guilt, warranted or not.

"Because…" I say, shaking my head. "She listened to me? She made me feel safe, and she looked at me like I was an actual person. Not some crazy ass. She treated me like an equal, and she understood my pain."

"I understand your pain," he claims.

I press my lips together softly, frowning. "I don't think you do," I say, quietly.

That doesn't sit well with him. He's used to being my person, no matter the status of our relationship. He's used to being the one I run to, the one I seek solace in. And because that is not the role he plays at the current moment, I think it's sent him in a tailspin of sorts.

That's not my fault, though. I can't always be the one trying to patch things up and make things better. I can't always be the fixer. Sometimes, I'm the one who needs to be fixed.

"So, what," he says. "Are you a lesbian now? Is that what this is?"

I squint hard, narrowing my eyes with a raised lip. "I don't know," I say. "And I don't think I owe you that answer. You can't just ask me that."

"It's only a question," he says. "You've never been with a woman before, and you never said anything about it while we were together."

"Well, I don't know," I say, shrugging quickly. "I don't know much of anything except that I'm sad, and being with Amelia made me happy. I hadn't felt that in a long time, and it's been hard to find lately. So, excuse me if it doesn't fit your standards."

He shoves his hands into his lab coat pockets, shoulders hunched by his ears. I watch him blink towards the floor and wait for him to say something, but when he finally does, it's definitely not what I expected.

"So, I didn't make you happy," he says.

I let a out breath from my nose. "That's not what it's about," I say. "Not everything is about you, Jackson, okay? Or about our relationship. I'm focusing… I'm trying to focus on me for once."

"Right," he says, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Well, good for you. I'll leave you to it, then."

"Jackson," I say, as he turns to leave.

"No, it's fine," he says. "Just wanted to clear things up. They're pretty clear now. Thanks."

He leaves and suddenly, I'm alone in a quiet, dark on-call room. I stand there for a while, turning over what just happened, and can't ignore the empty feeling in my heart. I don't want to be by myself anymore, I want to be with someone who makes me feel whole. That person used to be Jackson, but it's obvious that he doesn't fill those shoes anymore. The best person I can think of is Amelia, so I leave the room in hopes to find her. I need to talk to her, or at least see her.

I come across her behind three computer monitors while someone is getting a CT in the room behind the glass. She looks concentrated and cute studying the screens, and she sees me before I think she does.

"Hey there," she says, without looking up. "Wanna come in?"

A smile blooms on my face involuntarily as I take a few steps forward and sit down next to her. For a moment I just breathe, already soothed by being in her vicinity. The air isn't quite so electric, my stomach doesn't churn, I feel more at peace than I have all day.

I'm surprised at the fact that I'm able to find such comfort in her. Before a few nights ago, we were barely friends. We were polite in the halls and civil to one another, friendly but not close. And now, everything is different. I feel like I've found a piece of home in her.

"Hi," I say, folding my hands on the table.

"Hey," she says, finally looking over. Her eyes are welcoming, and by looking in them I feel wrapped up in a warm blanket. "What's going on?"

I tip my head to the side. "What do you mean?"

She makes a vague gesture with her hand around my face. "Something's going on here."

I let out an incredulous-sounding breath and laugh humorlessly. "How'd you know?"

"It's all on your face," she says, then turns back to the screens. "Wanna talk?"

I rest my head on my arms, leaning forward in the rolling chair. I blink at the monitors and read the brain scans without really taking in any information, then decide to just spill it.

"Jackson overheard you telling Meredith about… what happened," I say.

I watch her facial expression change before she looks over at me again. "Oh, god, April," she says. "I am so sorry. I never meant for anyone to hear that."

"I know," I say. "It's fine."

"It's not," she says. "I only told Meredith because she's my sister, and I wanted to talk about how amazing it… you made me feel." She laughs softly. "I was kinda gushing, I guess. But I really didn't mean for… I didn't even see Jackson around."

"He tends to lurk," I mutter.

"Well, I'm still sorry," she says. "That was my fault; I should've been more careful."

I shake my head. "It's fine, really," I say. "That's not what I'm worried about." I shrug. "It's the whole thing."

"What do you mean, the whole thing?"

I shrug again, seemingly incapable of putting my thoughts into words. "I don't know," I say, and it's the truth. I don't know a single thing about what's going on right now, externally or internally. Everything feels wrong. And even when I'm with Amelia and it feels right, something inside tells me it should feel wrong. But it doesn't. What does that mean?

"Here," Amelia says, swiveling her chair to look my way. "How about this. You and me, tonight, my place. All the chocolate fondue we can eat. You bring the strawberries."

A small smile sneaks onto my face, the first one all day. "That sounds really nice," I say.

"Be there at 8," she says. "We'll have fun."

…

I don't know why I'm nervous as I walk up the front path to Amelia's house, but I am. It's mixed with excitement, too. It's a good feeling - one of looking forward to something, and I haven't experienced that in a while. It's light and airy, unlike everything else in my life.

When Amelia answers the door, she's wearing jeans and a soft, long-sleeved shirt with stripes. I smile and hold up the carton of strawberries, and she mirrors my expression before welcoming me inside.

"You're right on time," she says. "Here, I'll take those and wash them up. Then we can dig in, the fondue's ready."

"It looks so good," I say, standing in the entryway. There's a little fountain of chocolate on the coffee table in the living room, and pillows on the carpet where I assume we'll sit.

"I know, right?" she says, standing at the sink. "Go ahead and take your shoes off. Sit down! Make yourself at home. I'll be right there."

I do as she suggests and make myself comfortable with my elbows on the low coffee table. I watch as she comes over, hair bouncing while she walks, and prop myself up a bit when she cracks open the lid of the plastic container.

"Sorry, I don't have those long forks," she says. "We're just gonna have to use our hands."

"That's alright," I say, then dig in. I take the first strawberry and dunk it under the chocolate, then pop it in my mouth. I bite the fruit off slowly, licking my lips for any stray chocolate, then giggle when Amelia catches my eye. "Messy," I say, mouth half-full.

"You're cute," she comments, and I feel myself blush because of it.

I don't have much to say, I just shrug bashfully. Suddenly, I'm at a loss for words. I don't want to say the wrong thing or cross any boundaries that I shouldn't.

"So, what was going on earlier?" she asks, a bit later.

"Um…" I say, forehead creasing a bit. "It was Jackson."

"Right," she says. "But what'd he say?"

I sigh, nonchalantly taking another strawberry and swirling it under the chocolate until it's completely covered. "He…" I begin, trying to figure out an answer. "He always wants me too late."

"What do you mean?" she says.

"You know," I say. "He takes me for granted. He pushes me away, keeps me at a distance while I fight against it. I think he likes it when I chase after him, because I don't think he likes being in that position for me. I think it makes him feel like a man when I'm the one pining. But the minute I stop, he wants me. Earlier, he was trying to get me to talk to him like he hasn't been distant since I moved out." I plunk my chin down in my open palms as I lick the chocolate from my teeth. "I'm just tired of that same push and pull. It's not fair to me, and it's old."

"So, what you're saying," she reiterates. "Is that as soon as your attention is on someone else, he comes running?"

I nod. "Exactly."

Her expression looks thoughtful and interested. I wonder what she could be thinking about. "So…" she trails off. "Is your attention on someone else?"

Surprised by her tone, I fumble for another strawberry and end up dropping it - it keeps slipping out of my fingers and sliding out of reach. Before I can say anything, though, Amelia reaches and grabs the fruit, dips it under the chocolate, and offers it to me.

"Go ahead," she says, urging me along.

I lean forward and close my lips around the strawberry, feeling the warm chocolate coat my lips as she doesn't let go. I bite down slowly, taking her fingertips subtly into my mouth, and suck the fruit away from the stem. She keeps her hand right where it is and watches me intently, and as I'm chewing, she swipes my cheek with her thumb assumedly to clean a droplet of chocolate off.

"Open," she says, and I obey.

I part my lips and she pushes her thumb inside, deeper than it needs to go, and I suck on it dutifully. I used to suck on Jackson's fingers while he was inside me, and he loved it. I can't help but wonder if she feels the same.

"Is your attention on someone else?" she asks again, and my core pulses. Shit. Of course, the thought of tonight ending there crossed my mind, but I didn't come here expecting it. Now, I'm turned on and I want her. I want her so bad I can't think straight.

"Yes," I say, then swallow hard. I know there's still chocolate on my lips, but I don't do anything to fix it. "You make me happy. Being with you… it makes me really happy."

She smiles then, big and bright. I can't help but mimic the action, she's just that contagious. She pushes away from the coffee table and crawls over on her hands and knees, and I rest my weight back on my hands with my legs bent, watching her with intense fascination. Like last time, I let her take control. I'm dying to know what she'll do to me.

"You make me happy, too," she says.

"Is that why you told Meredith about what we did?" I ask, and she gets me flat on the floor with her body hovering over mine.

She nods, grazing the tip of my nose with hers. "Did you like that I told her?" she asks.

"Yeah," I breathe, unsure of what to do with my hands.

I'm still so new at this. I don't know how experienced she is with being with a woman, but I assume she knows than I do. I don't want to do something clumsy, touch her wrong, or seem stupid. I know exactly how to touch a man - they're simple. She's much more complicated. My brain is going a thousand miles per hour, and I wish it would just shut off.

"Good," she says, then kisses me. Hard.

She doesn't rush, though. Our lips move together slow and fluid, and when her tongue touches mine, I can taste chocolate. I smile against her mouth and wrap my arms around her neck, pulling her closer, and at the same time, we open our mouths and breathe each other's air.

"You taste good," I whisper, burying my fingers in her hair. "Really good."

"Same as you," she says. "Chocolate. You think I didn't do that on purpose?"

"You did?" I ask, gasping as she dips her head lower and presses her lips to my neck. I let my eyes flutter closed while she sucks on my throat, running her tongue in lazy, loopy patterns all over the skin. It feels amazing - what she's doing to me is amazing.

"Mm-hmm," she says, as one of her hands finds my left breast. She squeezes hard, with purpose, and massages it with intent. Her lips move to the open skin above the V-neck of my shirt, and she nips small sections in her teeth with my breast still in her hand.

"Hold on," I say, then tear my shirt over my head. Then, I'm lying beneath her in just a pearl pink bra and jeans, and judging by the look in her eyes, she likes it very much.

"You're beautiful," she says, kissing lower. She opens her mouth and breathes hotly onto the swells of my breasts, and all I can do is lie there and watch her. I feel a little bit like I did last time when I let her do all the work, but I'm too overcome with sensation to do much about it. "I mean that. You are really beautiful."

"So are you," I breathe, watching her drop slow kisses all over my belly. She runs the tip of her tongue along my C-section scar and I twitch like mad, hips moving of their own accord. That skin is pink and extremely sensitive, and her tongue feels otherworldly on it. After I got that scar, Jackson and I weren't having intimate sex anymore. We were emergency-fucking in the middle of the night, so I'm not sure he ever noticed it. But, of course, leave it to Amelia to do as much.

"You're strong, too," she says, lips moving against my bellybutton. "And brave."

Tears prick at the edges of my eyes, but I will them away. I refuse to cry during sex - I don't do that anymore. I'm enjoying this too much to cry, anyway.

"Take off your bra, babe," she says, and I comply. I get the bra off and cast it aside, and she makes her way up my torso to capture a nipple in her mouth. She runs her tongue over it and sucks hard, hollowing out her cheeks as almost my entire breast disappears into her mouth.

"Jesus," I hiss, holding her head.

She takes the other breast in her hand and thumbs the nipple until it rises - almost to the point of pain. I arch my back and strain as she sucks on me, eyes closed, in total bliss. I can't help but get off on the fact that she likes this as much as I do.

She pulls off with a loud popping sound and my breast is left shiny with saliva. There are red welts around the nipple that I'm sure will turn into hickeys, and I don't care. I want them - I want proof, if only for myself.

Amelia moves to the underside and bites at the supple skin, licking the round of it before trailing her fingernail up to my areola. She stops at my nipple, makes steady eye contact, then blows cool air in a steady stream. Since the skin was already wet, the air makes it even colder and it pebbles up and peaks as hard as it's ever been.

"Fuck," I whimper, as she moves lower and bites at my ribcage with hurried intensity. She takes each of my breasts and twists them a little, and I yelp as the shock of pain surprises me.

My hips have begun to move on their own, my thighs clenching one of hers between them to try and get some much-needed friction. She laughs against my stomach and sneaks one hand lower to cup my center, rubbing her palm against me in the rhythm I'd been rubbing her with.

"You hot for me?" she asks, smirking. I nod. "How hot?"

"So turned on," I say, panting.

"Let's see…" she says, then unbuttons my jeans with one hand before slipping down the front of my underwear. She cups me again and smiles, rubbing her hand tantalizingly slow while I fight the urge to try and fuck her hand. My eyes roll back as my eyelashes flutter, and while my eyelids are closed, she leans forward and bites a path along my jaw until she makes it to my lips. "I have something to show you…" she says. "I wanna play with you."

"Okay," I whisper, and she removes her hand. While standing up, she sticks one finger in her mouth and sucks off my arousal, and I practically melt into a puddle.

"Be right back."

I wait on the floor, half-naked and ready, until she returns. She's only in her underwear and bra when I see her again, and I sit up because it looks like she wants to ask me something. I lean against the couch with my knees to my chest, and she watches me with amusement.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" she asks, stepping closer.

"I… yeah," I say, like it's obvious. "I thought we… yeah."

"Do you want a dick in you?" she asks, closer still.

I furrow my eyebrows. "I… I want you," I say. "I want you to make me feel good, and I'll do the same for you. I can be better than last time."

"You didn't answer me," she says, then pulls something from around her back. It's a dildo-looking thing attached to a black harness that I assume will go around her waist if I answer affirmatively. "Do you want a dick in you?"

"Oh," I say, and keep my wide eyes on it. It's blue and translucent, about as big as Jackson's. Maybe a little veinier, but I assume that's for production value. I take my time studying it before lifting my gaze back to hers and saying, "Yes."

"Good," she says, then jerks her head. "Get naked, then."

I raise my eyebrows at her bossiness, but she doesn't falter. She does smile a bit, but she doesn't break with a laugh or let me know she's kidding. She's really going to put that thing inside me.

So, I strip off my jeans and underwear while she strips the rest of the way and puts on that contraption. I climb onto the couch and sit against the back, and she comes to straddle my hips and pin me down, wrists on the back cushions. Then, she kisses me with such ferocity that when she pulls away, it takes a moment to catch my breath.

She slips her hand between my thighs and rubs my skin, slipping inside just a bit. She nudges my clit with the pads of her fingers, and when I jolt upward, she grins with satisfaction and kisses me softly.

"If you're ready, I'm gonna stick it in you," she says, one hand wrapped around the base of the dildo.

I nod surely and widen my legs, and soon enough she sinks inside me and disappears completely. My mouth falls open - it's thicker than what I'm used to - and I grip her shoulders for support. I blink hard, take in a deep breath so my chest puffs out, and she adjusts herself on top of me.

"All good?" she says.

"Yeah," I squelch. "Yeah… just give me a second."

She kisses my neck while I get used to the feeling of a dildo all the way inside me, and I let my arms fall loose and lazy around her waist. When I lift my hips to encourage her to move, she gets the hint right away and starts pumping, slow and steady to start out.

"Mmm…" I whine, almost instantly. The sound disappears into her mouth as our lips are still connected, and one of her hands tightens its grip on my breast. She pinches the nipple and my mouth falls open, neck arching so she has a new place to put her mouth. "Oh, god," I moan.

"Feels good, doesn't it, babe?" she says, still rocking her pelvis. "You like all that dick in you?"

My face pinches as she hits something electric inside me, and I let my nails dig in to either of her sides. They're sharp, but that doesn't even cross my mind. All I'm thinking about is how she makes me feel, and the amazing things my body is capable of when manipulated by a woman who knows what she's doing.

"Yeah," I answer, just barely. "You feel so, so good… oh, my god..."

She bites the slope of my neck and pumps her hips harder, a concentrated expression on her face. She grips my breast tighter which makes my mouth fall open, then buries her face in my neck again while pressing her body as close as possible to mine.

"Lay down," she says. "On your back."

I don't waste time. I lie flat on the couch and open my legs for her, one knee bent against the cushion and the other relaxed so my foot touches the carpet. She crawls on top of me and licks my core slowly, which is a surprise. She keeps my thighs spread with both hands and devours me with her eyes closed, nudging my clit with her tongue while rubbing my outer lips with her thumbs. Almost like she's in a hurry, though, she lifts her face, positions the dildo, and pushes inside me again.

When she leans forward, overlaps my body and kisses me, I taste myself.

I hold her head while she slams into me, eventually moving my grip lower to take two handfuls of her ass and force her hips upward, at an angle. I know how to hit it within myself, and I know how to get there. Once she copies that movement, I'm done for in a matter of moments, and I start to come while we're all wrapped up in each other.

"Fuck!" I exclaim, tossing my head to the side and panting heavily.

She doesn't let me rest while I'm having my orgasm, though, she keeps kissing me and moving her hips until I'm spent and wide open before her.

"You're so perfect," she says, opening her mouth wide on my stomach that's coated in a fine layer of sweat. "God… I could just… mmm."

I laugh breathily, both arms thrown over my head to rest on the pillow. With my eyes closed, I can't help but jump when I feel her mouth on my core yet again.

"Mmm…" I moan, but push her away by the forehead. "Isn't it your turn?"

She laughs, breath tumbling over my throbbing center. "It doesn't have to work like that," she says. "Just let me make you come again, babe."

"I wanna do you," I say, sitting up on my knees. I stare at the dildo that's still strapped to her and make a bold move - I reach out and grab it. It's still slick with what came from me, so I use that to my advantage and start stroking it. She looks at me with wide eyes, wondering what I'm doing, then gasps when I bend in half and take it in my mouth, head bobbing.

"Christ, April," she says.

I know how to give a blowjob; I've given Jackson his fair share over the course of the years. He's not exactly easy to get an orgasm out of, but I got good at it. I'm fully aware that Amelia doesn't have any sensation in this dick, but I figured the action might be hot for a second.

It's weird, not feeling the human heat come from it or tasting the familiarity of Jackson's come, as weird as that is. It feels foreign and strange in my mouth, so I don't concentrate on it for long. Instead, I unfasten it and settle between her legs, mouth wide open and ready to make her feel good.

She watches me with interest and arousal, one hand threaded through my hair and the other gripping the breast that I'm not. She moves less than I do but makes way more sounds - sighs, breaths, whimpers - it's not hard to figure out when I'm doing something right. And when I make her come, a huge feeling of accomplishment washes through me as I kiss her thighs and run my hands over her flat stomach. She takes my wrists when they get close and lifts them to kiss my palms slowly, squeezing my shoulders with her knees as she does.

I rest the side of my head against her leg for a moment, just watching her. Then, I crawl forward and rest my body completely on top of hers, nestled close and cuddled around her. She freezes for a moment before wrapping her arms around the small of my back and kissing my face repeatedly, all over.

My heart thumps loud in my chest, heavy and persistent. There's something I need to say, and I need to get it off my chest before it suffocates me. It's a new thought, but it's one that won't wait.

"Amelia," I whisper, tracing shapes on her shoulder. "I think I have feelings for you."

She tenses beneath me, which is worrisome. It takes her a while to respond - so long, I think she might stay quiet and not give me anything at all.

"No, you don't," she says, a laugh in her voice.

"I do, though," I insist.

"You don't," she says, trailing her fingernails down my back in a way that sends chills all over my body. "It's normal to feel that way after sex, trust me. You don't have much experience with that, but… yeah. Don't worry. That feeling will fade."

"It's not like that," I say. "It's not 'a feeling.' They're feelings. For you."

She shakes her head. "No," she says. "You don't wanna feel like that about me. Trust me on that one."

I don't put up more of a fight. Instead, I just press my forehead against her neck and think, very loudly, Yes. I do.