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"Alex? What's wrong?" Jackson dropped the supplies he'd been gathering and immediately knelt down next to Alex who was shaking on the floor of the supply closet. He was leaning back into a shelf, arm curled around his bent knees, hands clasped but the grasp fading quickly. "Alex?" Jackson murmured, earning a panicked, pleading glance. It was late at night, his shift had been over for a long time and Alex should have been home hours ago. But he was stuck. Stuck in his mind and stuck in this damn supply closet.
Jackson turned back and locked the door, going back and dropping to his knees in front of him. "Alex? What's happening?"
Alex shook his head, clenching his eyes tightly shut and looking away.
"I can't help if I don't know–" Jackson prompted in a soft voice.
Alex clawed at the side of his chest like he couldn't breathe, like he was in pain, shock even. His eyes were wide, his breathing laboured and rapid. His eyes shot over as someone tried the door to the closet.
"I went in th-the elevator an-and I w-was fine an-an-and then—" Alex stammered, clutching his side like his life depended on it.
"Oh." Jackson breathed out softly. The elevator. The shooter. The bullet. The memories that must have came flooding back.
"I n-n-need an OR, I'm go-going to bleed out."
"Hey, shh.." Jackson murmured, "Nobody's bleeding out."
"Jacks—" The word stumbled brokenly from his lips, making Jackson's eyes widen in worry.
Jackson reached forward tentatively, taking note of the way Alex flinched out of the way. "It's okay," He whispered softly. "Let me check, I'll make sure you're not bleeding out, okay?"
Alex nodded, terror spreading clear across his face. He watched as Jackson pushed up his scrub top, gently palpating his exposed scar tissue. "Feels okay."
Alex shook his head. "Not okay." He breathed laboredly, his lungs constricting to the point of suffocation.
"It's alright," Jackson nodded encouragingly, "This happened two years ago... You're not bleeding, the wound hasn't opened up and it's healed completely. You're okay, Alex."
"I know, I kn-know... But it's bleeding—" Alex rasped, a single tear falling from his eye as he wrung his hands together nervously.
"Want me to hold pressure?" Jackson asked softly. It's the only thing he could offer.
Alex nodded as Jackson wiped away the tear. He helped Alex lay flat on the floor as his hyperventilation increased. Jackson took off his white coat, folding it up and placing it under Alex's head as a pillow. He then placed both hands over Alex's old gunshot wound and applied pressure, just as he would a raw, bleeding wound. Slowly, Alex's breathing evened slightly, his heart rate returned to normal, and he began to tremble just a little less.
"Take some deep breaths for me, Alex." Jackson spoke smoothly, moving one of his hands up to Alex's neck to check his pulse.
Alex complied, doing the same breathing exercises he'd had patients do hundreds of times.
Jackson removed his hands once he thought Alex had fully recovered, but when he did so, a weak grunt came from Alex and he pulled Jackson's hands back.
"I can't keep holding on to you all night." Jackson said fifteen minutes later, when he tried to leave a second time. He really didn't want to go, but they were at work.
"I know." Alex let out a shaky breath, his eyes moistening slightly.
"Tell you what," Jackson replied a moment later, an idea coming to mind. Using his free hand, he reached for the shelf above Alex and retrieved some fresh gauze and tape. He lifted Alex's scrub top and tightly bandaged the scar, as unnecessary as that felt, and slowly released the rest of the pressure he'd been applying.
This time, Alex seemed to handle it alright. He was still a little shaky, but he remained much more composed and even managed to slowly sit up.
"I think you should go home." Jackson murmured.
Alex shook his head. He wasn't going home. He wasn't going to be okay if he went back to his apartment alone. He wasn't going to go to Meredith's house because at the moment, she already had far too much on her plate and he wasn't going to add to it
"You can't just stay here," Jackson pointed out gently.
Alex shrugged noncommittally. He'd do just fine sleeping in the on-call room.
"If you're not going to go home, then why don't you come with me? You can crash in my spare room. Okay?"
Alex shook his head again, "No."
"Why?"
"Because I don't need that. I don't need your pity and I don't need your help." He retorted bitterly, waving Jackson off.
Jackson just sighed as he stood up, reaching a hand down to help Alex up. "Come on."
Alex shook his head, frowning at Jackson.
"Fine, have it your way." Jackson raised his hands in surrender and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him.
Alex flinched at the loud noise and instinctively pushed himself back against the shelf. He was alone, terrified and he immediately started to feel like he was suffocating again. Alex buried his head in his hands and sobbed, worried he'd just iced off the last person willing to help. It had been a rough week at the hospital for everyone, but when a boy came in with almost the exact same bullet wound that Alex had had two years ago, it hit closer to home for Alex. Even worse, the boy died of complications two days after his arrival to the hospital.
The supply door opened a minute later and Alex froze, hoping it was just some stupid nurse that would just go away. He bit his hand to stop the sobs and he tightened in on himself a little more.
"I tried to leave." Jackson's soft voice came to his ears, "...I couldn't."
"Try harder." Alex muttered. His voice was quiet, small even, and didn't carry anything but sadness.
"I'm taking you home. And if you won't go, I'm staying here with you." Jackson stood in front of Alex, "I don't care what you say, I'm not letting you be alone right now."
Alex exhaled shakily, nodding his head slowly as he finally gave in. "I need a minute." He didn't want everyone thinking he'd actually cried, he couldn't ruin the tough guy act he had going. He'd been doing fine up until this mess, hell, he'd even fooled Meredith.
Jackson nodded, though Alex still had his head in his hands and couldn't see that. "Take as long as you need."
When Alex was finally ready to go, he stood up, wiped his face down with the front of his scrubs, and gave Jackson a nod. He had his guards back up and he could handle this.
"Want me to take you home? Or would you rather come to my place?" Jackson asked slowly as they changed out of their scrubs and into their clothes.
"Don't care." Alex shrugged, zipping his leather jacket up halfway and sticking his hands in his pockets so that Jackson wouldn't see them shake.
Jackson nodded and led Alex to his car.
When they pulled up at Jackson's place, Alex wasn't surprised, but he was relieved. He was happy that he wouldn't have to spend another night alone in his cold, quiet apartment.
As soon as they got in the door, Jackson pointed out the spare room and told Alex where he could put his things.
"Thanks." Alex mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.
"If you're not planning to go to sleep right away," Jackson spoke slowly, gauging Alex's expression, "I can make us a drink."
Alex nodded, alcohol was exactly what he needed.
While Jackson poured, Alex took a seat on the couch, exhaustedly letting his head fall back and his eyes fall shut. Next thing he knew, there was a glass of something in his hand and a warm body sitting next to him, only inches between them.
Alex downed his entire beverage in less than a minute, causing Jackson's eyebrows to raise.
"I'm going to go sleep. Thanks for... you know..." Alex stood with a heavy breath and made his way to the guest room before Jackson could stop him. After he'd closed the door, he sat on the edge of the bed and sighed worriedly.
He heard Jackson go to bed half an hour later. He heard the footsteps go near the spare bedroom door, pause for a moment, then continue on to the master bedroom. He'd almost wished Jackson would have come in because then, at least for a moment, he wouldn't have been alone again. Two hours went by and Alex was still frozen in place on the edge of the mattress.
When he finally couldn't stand it anymore, when the living nightmare, the internal stress and fear, the hurt he felt in more than a physical way, when it all became too much, he finally moved. He exited the spare room faster than he could think of where to go next.
His body, not his mind, led him to Jackson's bedroom. He stood in front of the door for a few minutes as his brain caught up, his breathing quickened, and his hands started shaking again. He knocked on the door softly, wondering if Jackson would even hear it.
"Come in." Jackson called almost immediately.
Surprised, Alex slowly opened the door, curiously looking on at a shirtless Jackson who sat up against the headboard with a medical folder in his hands. The nightstand lamp threw a warm glow around the room and accentuated all the well toned muscles that made up the man's body.
Jackson set the folder aside a moment later and looked up at Alex worriedly, "You alright?"
"Yeah," Alex cleared his throat, quickly pulling his eyes away from Jackson's bare skin and pointing them to the floor. "I'm uh— I'm leaving. Thought I'd let you know."
Jackson tilted his head, "Did you even sleep?"
Alex looked back up and shook his head.
"Is the bed not comfortable?" Jackson inquired curiously.
"No, it's great, I just—" Alex shrugged.
Jackson frowned, eying up every telltale sign of exhaustion that covered the man in his doorway. "Alex, when is the last time you slept?"
Alex just shrugged again, trying to figure out a way to deflect the question. But he was too tired, he was way to far gone to be thinking about something that difficult.
"Come here." Jackson patted the mattress beside him, "And take your jacket off." He added as Alex came closer. The man did so and dropped it on the floor haphazardly before sitting on the bed next to Jackson.
"Why are you still awake?" Alex asked curiously, trying to peek into the folder Jackson was holding.
"I'll tell you after you tell me how long it's been since you slept." Jackson teased, raising an eyebrow challengingly.
Alex appeared to think for a moment, "Three days? Four maybe?"
"You can't function like that." Jackson frowned.
"Trust me," Alex sighed deeply, "I know that."
"Do you want some sleeping pills? I have a few."
"No. No pills," Alex shook his head adamantly.
Jackson looked at Alex long and hard, "What are you going to do?"
"Wait?"
Jackson almost laughed, "Wait?"
"Yeah, I should pass out from sleep deprivation at some point."
Jackson shook his head, putting aside his folders, "You're not passing out from sleep deprivation," He spoke softly, turning his body to face Alex. "Now, take off your pants."
"What?" Alex's face conveyed the shock he was feeling.
"Well, as good as they look on you, they can't possibly be comfortable to sleep in." Jackson smiled in amusement.
Slowly, and quite apprehensively, Alex complied, pulling away his denim jeans so he was only left in his boxers and thin t-shirt.
Jackson waited until Alex was under the covers before he turned off the bedside light and dropped beneath the covers himself.
Several minutes of uninterrupted silence passed before Alex finally got together enough courage to shuffle closer to Jackson, pressing his face against Jackson's shoulder and wrapping an arm around him. Jackson smiled into the dark, wrapping both arms around Alex and pulling him that little bit closer.
"Thanks." Alex murmured, contently basking in the heat that radiated off Jackson's body.
"Anytime." Jackson replied, keeping himself awake until he finally heard Alex's breathing even out. As soon as he was sure Alex was also sleeping, Jackson let himself slowly fall asleep with a smile on his face, a perfect man in his arms, and what he hoped was the start of something special.