Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Chapter 9

Jackson heard Mark's breathing even out, and he began to snore loudly. He slowly began to extricate himself from Mark's embrace. He didn't know why he had pretended to be asleep when Mark had said goodnight, he could have said it back. All he knew was that he couldn't face Mark in the morning. He also knew that if he stayed, there was no way of leaving without talking about what had happened. It wasn't that he didn't ever want to talk about it, it was just that he needed to work some things out first.

He grabbed his underwear from the floor at the foot of the bed, and slipped out of Mark's bedroom. He walked across the living room, and into the guest bedroom. Dressing quickly, he made sure that he had his phone and wallet. When he went to check for his keys, he remembered what Mark had told him that morning. He opened the front door to the apartment, and flipped the lock on the door handle as he slipped out. He shut the door as quietly as he could, and walked over to the elevator.

When he got downstairs, he pulled out his phone and called for a cab. At first, when the cab company where he wanted to be picked up, he didn't know what to say. He looked around, and saw the nearest cross streets. He told the cab company where to pick him up.

Fifteen minutes later, Jackson was sitting in the cab of a cab on his way to Joe's bar. When they got there, he asked the cabby to wait, and went inside to get his keys.

Joe stood behind the bar, and Jackson waved him over. "Hey, Joe. Can I get my keys?" he said over the sound of the people. Joe reached under the counter and pulled out two sets of keys.

"Which one?" he asked. Jackson reached out and took the correct pair. He thanked the bartender, and walked back to the waiting taxi.

"Where to next?" the man asked. Jackson gave him the address to his new condo. As they drove, Jackson became more and more nervous. He hadn't been back to the condo since the incident almost two weeks ago. When the cab pulled up to his building, Jackson sat for a few moments, not wanting to get out. The cab driver looked back at him and asked if they were in the right place. Jackson told him that they were, and paid the cab fare.

He got out of the bright yellow car, and walked resolutely up to the building. He walked up the stairs, and found himself standing in front of the door to what was supposed to be his home. He held the key in his hand, and tenderly placed it in the lock. He turned it, and slowly pushed the door open. He popped his head into the room and looked around cautiously. As he stepped in, he felt jumpy, as though the man with the gun could be around any corner.

Once he had searched the whole place, he finally locked the door. He made sure to lock both the handle and the deadbolt. I should add another lock, he thought, Maybe a chain or a dog. He took a deep breath and looked around the living area again. He sat on the couch that was placed haphazardly in the middle of the living room, surrounded by boxes. As he sat there, his eyes fell on the patch of floor where Mark and he had been during the attack. He got up, and walked over to the spot. He knelt down and saw that there was dried blood on the carpet. He felt as though he was going to vomit. He had never had a problem with blood, how could he and be a surgeon, but the sight of Mark's blood on the carpet was too much for him to handle.

He got up and began searching the sides of boxes for the word 'cleaning supplies.' When he found it, he grabbed some carpet cleaner, a scrub brush, and a pair of yellow, rubber gloves. He quickly dawned the gloves, got on his knees, and began to scrub at the stain furiously. He felt tears streaming down his face, but couldn't begin to control them. When the stain had been obliterated, he got up and got a cup of water and a rag to clean up the carpet cleaner. When he was finally done, he ripped the gloves off and sat with his back to the kitchen peninsula. He cried uncontrollably for a few minutes.

When he finally got control of himself, he looked at his watch. It was one o'clock in the morning, and he was very tired, but he knew he couldn't sleep. He needed something to distract him, so he set about putting the frame of his bed together. Once that was done, he moved the furniture around until everything was in a position that he liked. Then he set to work on unpacking the boxes. It was light outside before he finished, and he realized that he really needed a shower.

He had already put all of his toiletries in their places during his unpacking marathon, so he grabbed a towel from under the sink. He turned the shower on, and stepped in before it had fully warmed up. He didn't make any effort to avoid the lukewarm stream, but set about washing himself instead. After he was done, he stepped out of the shower, and wrapped the towel around his waist. He wiped the fog off the mirror with his hand, and looked at his disheveled form in it.

He stared into his own bloodshot eyes. As he stared, his eyes were drawn to a red mark on his neck. He realized after a second that it was a hickey left there by Mark last night. Mark marked me, he thought. He was surprised to find himself smiling at the thought. He dried himself off, and found some fresh clothes in his closet. As he pulled a maroon sweater over his head, he hear his cell phone ringing from the other room. He walked out to the living room, and picked it up without looking at the caller ID.

"Jackson Avery" he stated into the phone.

"Jackson, where are you? Are you okay?" He heard Mark's voice on the other end of the line, and cursed himself silently.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he responded. "I just had some stuff to do."

"Jesus Christ, man. You could have left a note. I almost freaked out when I couldn't find you. I thought..." He trailed off at the end of his sentence, but Jackson knew what he had been about to say. He had worried that Jackson had done something to hurt himself. He had to admit that he understood; he hadn't been the most predictable person over the last couple of weeks.

"No, I'm fine, Sloan," he repeated. He knew that using Mark's surname had probably hurt him after all that they had been through, and he didn't know quite why he had done it. "Look, Mark. I just need some space right now, alright?"

"Yeah, man. Whatever." Mark said in a tone of voice that told Jackson that he was hurt, but trying to play it off as if it were nothing.

Jackson chose not to call him out on it and simply said, "Thanks. I'll see you at work."

Over the next couple of days, Jackson was distant with Mark. He would only work with him minimally, and when he did see him, he kept it just to the medicine. Mark seemed to be respecting the fact that Jackson had asked for space. Mark had even switched him off of his service for the time being. He had worked on a few neuro cases with Shepard, and a few peds cases with Robbins. At the moment, though, he was working in the ER.

It was a relatively slow night, and he was stitching up a knife wound from a mugging. As he worked, he could hear Meredith and Christina talking, though he couldn't make out about what. He wrote the man a prescription for some antibiotics, and told him that a nurse would be by with his discharge papers in a few minutes. As he walked away, he caught the end of one of Christina's sentences. "...actually made them have sex with each other? Two guys?"

Jackson froze, and heard Meredith respond, "Yeah, and the guy made him beat the shit out the other one. He's a mess. He's up in Sloan's OR right now." Meredith continued talking, but Jackson had stopped listening. He stopped himself from running, and made his way out of the ER and to the elevators. It took too long for one to come, so he opened the door to the stairwell, and started running up the stairs.

He got to the OR rooms, and looked quickly at the board to find which one held Mark and his patient. He walked over to OR #7, and walked into the scrub room. When he was done scrubbing in, he caught his breath and walked into the operating room.

"Can I help?" he asked Mark, who was clad in a light blue surgical gown.

Mark looked over at him and said, "Sure." Jackson approached, and Mark continued, "He's got a broken nose, broken eye socket, he's missing a few teeth, and there are numerous lacerations." He spoke solemnly.

"What can I do?" Jackson asked.

"I'm just starting to work on his nose. You can fix his eye socket." Jackson took the tools from the tray by the patient, and stood across from Mark. He looked at Mark, who met his gaze, before getting to work.

They worked as a team for several hours, before they were finished. The man wouldn't look the same as he had before, but he would look normal. They walked into the scrub room, and began to scrub out. As they stood their, Mark said, "You did good work, Jackson. He's going to be fine."

"Yeah, maybe physically," he said, dejected. With that, he walked out of the room, and made his way to the on-call rooms. When he found an empty one, he walked in, needing to think. He started to pace with his hands on the back of his head. He was facing the window, when he heard the door open. He turned around to see Mark's concerned face. Mark locked the door, and stood their for a moment, waiting for Jackson to say or do something.

To Mark's surprise, Jackson broke down into tears, and wrapped his arms around Mark's neck. Mark returned the gesture, and let Jackson cry on his shoulder. After about a minute, Jackson's cries began to dissipate. "That could have been me." He stated this matter-of-factly, not moving from Mark's embrace. "It could have been me on that table."

"No," Mark stated firmly, "I would never have hurt you like that."

Jackson removed himself from Mark, and sat down on one of the beds. He ran his hand through what little hair he had. "I heard Meredith telling Christina about him," he said. "I thought they were talking about you and me before she said that you were working on him." Jackson looked up into Mark's eyes. Mark stood still for a beat, then sat down next to Jackson on the bed.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," Mark said. Jackson believed him, and placed his hand on Mark's knee. Mark placed his hand over Jackson's.

Jackson hugged him again, and Mark rubbed his back. "I would never hurt you." Mark repeated himself.

Jackson nodded and said, "I know. I know you wouldn't." Jackson pulled away, and looked into Mark's eyes. "When are you off?"

Mark checked his watch, and said, "Like an hour ago."

Jackson nodded, and took Mark's hand. He stared down at their intertwined fingers and asked, "Can we go somewhere and talk?" A small smile broke across Mark's face, and he nodded in agreement.

They stood up, Mark released Jackson's hand, and Jackson took a second to compose himself. They walked out of the on-call room, and they walked out of the hospital together. As they approached the parking lot, Mark asked, "So, where to?"

"My place," Jackson said, simply. Mark was surprised, but didn't argue. They got into their respective cars, and drove off towards Jackson's condo.

Jackson and Mark both arrived simultaneously at Jackson's place. They got out of their cars, and walked into the building. When they got to the door, Jackson went to open it, but Mark placed a hand on his shoulder. Jackson wasn't sure if Mark was scared or worrying about him, but he decided his response was the same. "It's okay, Mark."

With that, they walked into the condo. As Mark stepped in, a look of confusion spread across his face. "When did you do all this?" he asked, gesturing at the unpacked area.

"After I left your place, that night," he said. "Truth be told, I didn't even sleep. I just spent all night cleaning and unpacking."

"I would have help you," Mark said.

Jackson smiled, and said, "I know." He offered Mark a drink, which he declined, and they sat down on the couch together.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Mark asked.

Jackson paused for a second, not sure how to begin. Then he said, "I'm sorry for how I've been acting."

"It's alright," Mark replied, "You've had a lot on your mind."

"It's not alright, though," Jackson said, emphatically. "I've been acting like all of this was happening to me, and nothing was happening to you. It wasn't cool, and I'm sorry."

Mark was about to repeat that it was alright, but caught himself, and instead said, "Apology accepted." They sat there for a minute in an uncomfortable silence. Mark was wondering what was coming next, and Jackson was trying to work up the nerve to say the thought that had been plaguing him for weeks.

Finally, Jackson got up his courage and asked, "What... what is there between us?" He held his breath as he waited for Mark to answer. Mark wasn't sure what to say. His mind was spinning. He knew that he had feelings for Jackson, but he wasn't sure if Jackson wanted to hear that. Maybe he just wanted to be reassured that things hadn't changed between the two of them. In the end, Mark knew that things had changed, and this was his opportunity to tell Jackson how he felt. If it went well, then he might gain a boyfriend. If it went badly, chances were that Jackson would say anything to people at the hospital, and they could just stop working together.

Mark cleared his throat and said, "I... I have feelings for you. I'm not sure what they are exactly, but if you want to know the truth, I-I" He cleared his throat again, and said, "I think that I like you." After a few seconds of silence, he lifted his eyes from the ground, and brought them to Jackson's face. He was surprised to see a smile had formed on his lips.

"I like you, too," Jackson responded. "I didn't really know how to deal with it. Maybe I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I like you, and I want to be with you." Mark smiled at his words, and moved a little closer to Jackson on the couch.

"Well, we're in agreement, then," he said, smiling as well. Jackson leaned forward, and captured Mark's lips in a gentle kiss. It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt almost like forever to the men.

When they pulled away, Jackson said, "I wanna take this kinda slow, though. If that's okay." He felt suddenly nervous.

"That sounds perfect," Mark replied with a huge smile plastered on his face. "Slow is perfect." With that, they began to kiss again.

Over the next few weeks, they fell into a perfectly comfortable and happy relationship. Each man realized that they had never been happier. Their good moods were bolstered by the news that the man that had set their relationship in motion had been caught, and would inevitably spend many years in prison for the attacks of four sets of men after them. The night that they heard the news, Mark moved into Jackson's condo, and they began their life together. After all, it's not often one finds the kind of trust that they shared between them.

The End

Author's note: So it got a little mushy at the end, but I thought it was the best way to wrap the story up. I hope you've enjoyed my first story (I certainly enjoyed writing it). It's back to school for me, so I don't know when or if I'll be writing another (we'll see). Happy New Year!