A/N: Just a little something I've been thinking of writing for a while now. Thought I'd finally give it a go.

Warning: Rated T for language and sexual content.

Disclaimer: I own a very large nothing.

Her Shattered Rock

"Oh please, you should've seen him when he was a new intern. I – don't – want – to – be – a – doctor!"

-Jordan Sullivan from "My Own Personal Jesus"-

It's late and she's worried.

Oh, she won't admit it. She'll barely admit it to herself. But she can't help the small twist in her gut when she looks at the clock and realizes that he should've been home over an hour ago. Breathe, she commands herself firmly. He's an intern. They work them to the point of exhaustion over there in that rat infested building. It's not a huge surprise that he's late getting home.

Standing up from the couch, Jordan walks over to the small bar that they both insisted upon having, pouring herself a small glass of vodka. She hesitates before doing what she does next. The gesture is going to seem so, well…caring. The very idea makes her shiver in disgust. Visibly concerned? For Perry? Not something she was good at. When had that started, by the way? That particular flaw of hers? She was much better at openly showing him affection when they were dating. And their wedding had been fairly romantic, at least for them. Their honey moon had been passionate enough as well, hadn't it? Though he had been at the bar almost constantly, only really spending time with her in the evening. Well, maybe that was sort of her fault, what with her habit of constantly talking about all the attractive men that had surrounded them…

Jordan shook her head. She didn't want to reminisce. It hurt her too much. It hurt her to think just how close they once were. Why weren't they like that now? What was wrong?

Her hand's wrapped around the bottle of scotch now, ready to proceed with her earlier idea and have a glass ready for him when he comes home, but no. No, she won't do it. Because it hits her what's wrong; what's currently dragging their marriage through the fire. It's the same reason he's late coming home; the same reason he has more then once awoken her at night, solely to taunt her, until she can't take any more and packs her bags for the weekend, storming off to her mother's house.

It's that internship. That damn internship. It's too much on him, even if he'll never admit it. But it's because he won't admit it that it begins to weigh heavily down on her as well. God, if he would just open up once in a while!

But that's unfair of her, she realizes, because if the roles were reversed, she knows she would never in her right mind come crying home to him.

All contemplation abandons her as the door to the apartment jingles to life. Jordan downs the vodka in one giant swallow, shoving the bottle of scotch she had been getting ready to open in the back of the cabinet. Let him look for it, if he wants it so damn badly.

"Hey, Perry," she greets coolly, "You know that new and amazing invention? The, the…what was it called again…? Oh yeah! The phone! Here's a crazy idea for you – how about picking it up if you're going to be late?"

She waits for him to turn around after locking the door. She waits for his eyes to narrow; for him to call her a bitch. She waits for him to pull off her shirt and fuck her like no tomorrow while they scream insults at each other. God, she hates the fighting, but the angry sex? Well, that's a whole different story. In fact, she'd go as far as saying that it's the one good thing – the really good thing – that has come from their recent turmoil.

But Perry hasn't turned around yet, and from where Jordan is standing, it doesn't look like he plans to either. His forehead is now pressed against the door, and his shoulders are…his shoulders are slumped. It's odd, even for him. Perry's shoulders don't sag when he's upset. They tighten. His whole body does. But now…now he's just standing there, unmoving, except for the small, almost unidentifiable shake that slowly, very slowly, starts to take over his entire body.

The twist in Jordan's gut from earlier intensifies all at once. It's worry, guilt, and God help her – fear. She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know what to say. She feels more vulnerable than ever and she hates herself for it. She hates him for it.

But as he finally decides to turn around, all venom towards him dissipates. Brown eyes grow wide and openly horrified as she takes in the sight before her.

Surprisingly enough, it is not the fact that his scrubs are currently covered in blood, or the fact that his body is trembling even harder than before. What horrifies her to the point of gawking, what manages to leave her speechless, are the silent, rivers of salt that pour down her husband's face; his blue eyes void of that strong determination that he seems to always carry with him.

Oh, God…

Perry, her husband, was crying.

Jordan can only stand there and watch him, unable to conjure up the right words to say. She searches through her memory, frazzled and desperate, for any recollection of Perry's tears. She can't find it, and she knows…she knows this is the first time she has ever seen the man before her cry.

And she feels ashamed. Ashamed that she did not see this breakdown coming. Or that, just minutes before, she was thinking she would never be able to do what he was doing now; as if it was, somehow, a sign of weakness.

But Perry isn't weak, and that's what makes this so, so frightening.

"Perry?" she finally manages.

He looks up at her, his eyes having been trained on the ground. She tries not to tremble as she approaches him; tries not to cry herself as her hands move up to wipe away some of those tears; tries not to completely break down as her husband's forehead places itself, tired and worn, on her awaiting shoulder; when his arms snake around her middle and cling there like a lifeline.

Jordan breathes. She hates the fact that he's crying; hates how torn she feels and how vulnerable he appears, but a part of her…a part of her is so happy to hold him like this again. To feel the warmth between them. The dependence on one another; the love. There is no witty comments to be shared here; no back and forth banter that will either end with anger induced passion or yet another weekend apart. There is just Perry and Jordan.

"I don't…"

Jordan wraps her arms around him tighter, in response to his first words spoken upon coming home. "'You don't?' Perry…what happened? Tell me. What's wrong?"

"I don't…I don't want to do it anymore."

"Do what?"

His whole body is shaking now; completely and utterly shaking. She clings to him, trying desperately to steady his quaking form. His embrace grows tighter as he completely buries his face in her smooth, sweet smelling neck. "I – don't – want – to – be – a – doctor."

Sobbing. It's the only word she can think of to describe his current state, and God, how it scares her. "Yes you do," she whispers calmly. "You've always wanted that. For as far back as I can remember, you've always wanted that."

She feels him shake his head, his hands now coming to tangle themselves in her hair. "Wrong. No, I…no. My dad was…was right. I –"

Jordan doesn't draw away, doesn't stop him out of malice, but she digs her nails into his shoulder, just a little, to prevent the words from completely leaving his lips. "Don't you dare." She tries to hiss this command, but to her disgust, her voice cracks, and she can feel the more than obvious stinging in the back of her eyes; the onslaught of tears that she knows she won't be able to fight against much longer.

Whether or not she'd ever say it out loud, Perry is her rock. And if her rock shatters, then she will too. It is inevitable, and she cannot help it.

"Jordan," he pleads. For what he is pleading, she's not really sure, but she continues on all the same.

"Don't you dare finish that thought, Perry, do you hear me? Don't you even think about it."

He nods and pulls away, surprising Jordan even more when he makes no move to turn away from her; no motion to cover his tear stained face. She examines him silently; the blood from his scrubs now covering her as well. Something that, on any other occasion, she would have definitely lashed into him for. But she doesn't have it in her. She just…can't.

Slowly, she removes his blood stained clothes. His shirt, his pants, those black, silk boxers that she had bought for him last Christmas; the ones he had mocked and said he would never wear.

Oh, Perry.

Sex follows shortly after, and she allows him to completely dominate her; to give him some control back into the chaotic mess that had undoubtedly been his day. And when she comes, she screams his name like a song, not having the heart to play her little game in which she pretends he's failed at pleasing her, just for kicks. No, not tonight. Tonight she'll let him know how good he really is.

Despite everything that's happened so far, she can't help but startle when afterwards, he pulls her close, pressing his entire being into her back and nuzzling into her neck, leaving soft, loving kisses along her skin.

This moment is sacred; one that she will not allow herself to forget. She tells herself that it is a moment to be cherished; a moment that should never in any way be tarnished or mocked, but she knows there is still a part of her – a scared, vulnerable part of her – that stores it away for taunting. She hates herself for it, she does, but she knows it's there. It's simply undeniable.

But right now she'll let herself pretend that all is well between them. She'll encase herself in his scent and in his warmth. She'll sigh in content as the arms around her bring her just a little closer, and she'll fall asleep with his fingers stroking her skin.

A/N: I know Perry and Jordan aren't always very popular around here, but I can't help but love them. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it all the same. Until next time.