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Mark knew marrying a fellow surgeon would mean they would often act as two passing ships. Even working in the same hospital, their fields are wildly different, and there’s not much room for crossover. It sometimes takes weeks for the two of them to have the same full day off, let alone work the same kind of shift. Things have gotten easier as they advance in their careers. Both are now heads of their specialties, but given they’re both double-board certified, that still means more paperwork, more training, more…everything. And so, their alone time is limited. By the time they’re both off at the same time, both are usually too exhausted to do much of anything.
So, even though every bone in Mark’s body aches and all he wants to do is crash for a million hours after working a double, he buttons up one of his nicest shirts and loops a belt through his best khakis. It’s the first night in 3 weeks that he and Addison are actually off at the same time. They won’t have another day off that aligns for another 14 days. They need this now. Once they’re at the restaurant and eating, he’ll feel a lot better. In the meantime, he eats a handful of chocolate-covered espresso beans in hopes of waking himself up.
“I’m ready, Addie,” he calls in the direction of their walk-in closet.
“5 more minutes!”
“You were getting on me to be dressed an hour ago. How are you still not ready?”
“My eyeliner isn’t cooperating. Go warm up the car.”
Mark rolls his eyes. “You realize I didn’t marry you for your full face of makeup, right?”
“And you realize I didn’t marry you to hear that?”
Mark scoffs, but exits the room and pulls out his phone so he can scroll for his car’s app. Everything is digital these days. While a part of him is annoyed that everything has an app, from the car to the heat to even the fridge for some reason, it beats the days of when he’d have to wake up early and go out into the freezing Seattle cold to start his car.
Just before he can select the Jaguar app, the intercom beside their door buzzes. Mark walks over and presses the red button.
“Yeah?”
“Dr. Sloan, it’s Oliver from the front desk. You have a visitor here to see you. One Jackson Avery. He’s not on the list…”
Mark furrows his brows. “You can send him up.”
“Right away, sir.”
Mark releases the button and frowns. He just saw Jackson a few hours ago after they successfully reattached three fingers to a deli clerk. There was no mention of him stopping by. The few times he’s been by the apartment are so Mark can help him study for the first leg of his boards, making sure he leaves the internship program and becomes a full-fledged resident. Jackson didn’t mention needing any help this evening. In fact, it’s usually Mark who’s insisting that he help. Jackson is an Avery. They don’t just show up unannounced.
A minute later, there’s a knock at the door. Mark instantly answers it, gasping when he sees the sight on the other side.
A black eye is forming on one side of Jackson’s face. His forehead is sliced open, and his shirt is torn, with some blood coming from there. Jackson’s lip trembles.
“M…Mark…”
“Who the hell did this to you?!” Mark cradles his face to inspect the damage. The black eye is swelling a little, but thankfully, the cut doesn’t appear to be deep enough to require stitches. “What happened?”
“I…I…fell…”
“I’m not an idiot, Jackson. Tell me what’s going on.”
Jackson cowers away from him, whimpering. He holds onto his stomach. Mark studies him for a moment, an eerie feeling talking over. He draws a deep breath and tries to re-evaluate.
“Hey, Jack, it’s going to be okay. I’m here. Can you please let me look at your stomach?”
“I…I…I’m so’wee.”
Mark’s heart just about snaps in two. “You don’t have to be sorry, bud. Just come with me and let Mark take a look at it, okay?” Jackson whines. “I’m going to pick you up, alright?”
Mark’s stomach sinks as he’s able to lift the younger surgeon with ease. There’s no way he would be able to do so if Jackson had been honest about his classification. Mark can’t give that any thought right now. Instead, he carries him into the apartment.
“Let me get my kit, okay?”
“No hop’ital,” Jackson whispers.
“We’ll see about that.”
“P’ease, Mark.” Jackson’s wet, wide green eyes stare up at him. “No. They…they can’t…”
“I’m not going to make any promises right now, Jackson. I just have to take care of you.”
Addison’s voice lingers from the hall. “Mark? Who is…” She emerges from the shadows, her face filled with confusion at first, but then worry. “Jackson? What happened?” She rushes over and gently touches his bruised cheek. Jackson whimpers.
“I need to get my first aid kit. Can you take him?”
Addison looks dubious at first. Mark maneuvers the young man into her arms. Addison pales when she’s able to take him with such ease.
Her voice comes out in a whisper. “Mark…”
“I know.” Mark swallows. “I know, Addie. Just…I have to get the kit. Can you start checking him out, please?”
Addison blinks a few times, clearly trying to readjust to the situation before nodding. “Okay, okay.” She looks down at the terrified boy. “Hey, Jack. You know me, I’m Addie. Can I take a look at you? It’s my job to look after babies…”
“Not a baby,” Jackson whines.
“No, no, of course not. But I also help all sorts of people. Come with me while Mark grabs something…”
Mark dashes to their hall closet, his eyes darting around for the first aid kit he put together before their first homestudy. He has one for him and Addison as well, but this one has supplies that are more sensitive for Littles.
Jackson Avery is a Little. Why the hell didn’t he know that? He should’ve known that. When each intern class comes in, they get a list of those who regress so they can make sure to give them proper breaks, accommodations, all that good stuff. Jackson wasn’t on that list. Mark hasn’t even heard so much about a caregiver from him. In fact, that the last time they talked about apartments and whatnot, he’s pretty sure Jackson mentioned something about living alone.
Mark pushes all that from his head and finally locates the kit. He unbuttons his dress shirt, leaving him in just a plain white tee underneath and his khakis. Jackson and Addison are in the kitchen, with the former sat on the counter. His own shirt has been removed while she puts some pressure on the wound on his stomach.
“I know it hurts, but I have to do this,” Addison whispers. “You’re being so very brave. I’m so proud of you.”
Mark’s lips tug upward as he walks closer to them. “How is he looking?”
“I don’t think he needs to go to the ER. There are no signs of a concussion. The wounds aren’t that deep. They just need basic patching up.”
Addison meets his eye, mouthing 3 letters, “LPS”. Mark nods. It’s the call they legally have to make. But it’s also a call that can wait.
“Later,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. At first, he expects his wife to argue, but she nods. Mark clears his throat and speaks up. “Hey, JackJack. Let me see you.”
Jackson whimpers and whines as Mark tries to examine his body. Addison rubs her hand up and down his back, whispering sweet, comforting words. That makes Jackson double down in tears. After washing his hands, Mark carefully cleans out both wounds. The little boy fusses quite a bit, but Addison manages to keep him steady. Mark applies some bandages before going over each concussion test, just to be safe. Jackson’s able to follow a light; he claims his head doesn’t hurt, and there are no signs that he’s vomited. Mark feels safe grabbing an ice pack, wrapping it in a papertowel and helping Jackson press it to his eye.
“How did you get so hurt?” Mark asks as Addison continues to rub the little boy’s back. “Did someone do this to you?”
Jackson shakes his head. “I…I fell.”
“Jackson…”
“Not lyin’, I swears,” Jackson whimpers. “Runnin’.”
Addison nods. “I was trying to talk to him about it while you got the kit,” she explains softly. “I think he was running nearby and tripped. You know there are still a lot of trees and branches down from the last storm. He told me a “meanie stick” was in his tummy, but he got it out.”
“I didn’t see any splinters,” Mark says, glancing down at the wound.
“He might not have had any. I believe him, Mark. I mean, look at him, he’s got on running shoes and shorts.” Addison glances at Jackson. “Though you should be wearing longer pants this time of year.”
Jackson pouts. “No cold.”
Addison sighs. “Of course you’re not.”
Jackson looks between the two of them, biting his lip. Every caregiver instinct in Mark wants to scoop him up and not let go.
“Twouble?”
“You’re not in trouble,” Mark tells him. “But, we have to figure a few things out. Who’s your caregiver?” Jackson shakes his head. “You have to have a caregiver.”
“No gots one. Mama say “Big boy, Jackson. No giver.””
Mark takes another deep breath. “Okay, well, that’s not your fault. Not even a little bit. You did the right thing coming to find me, Jackson. I’m glad you did.”
“Home now?”
“You shouldn’t be alone, not like this. You can sleep here tonight.”
“Nuh uh…”
“Yes, you’re going to sleep here. You need someone to look after you.”
“Big boy,” Jackson whines. “Big boy. Hafta be big boy.”
The tears start falling down his cheeks once more. He drops the ice pack onto his leg, pounding his fist on the counter.
“Hafta be a big boy!”
Mark doesn’t hold back anymore. He lifts the little boy into his arms and cuddles him close. Jackson continues thrashing around in his arms for a minute. Mark slowly rocks him, humming a soft lullaby he remembers Mama Shepherd singing to Amelia before Christopher died. Jackson whines and hits, but Mark just keeps it up until eventually, the whines pitter out. The little boy clings to his shirt, burying his head in his shoulder.
“You’re safe,” Mark whispers. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. Oh, you’re such a good boy.” Jackson sniffles, letting out a soft sob. “You don’t have to be big. It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe.”
Addison goes through the tubs of clothes she purchased once their home study was approved. They were licensed to take in a Little who regressed to any age, boy or girl. Looking through the bins, she realizes she went a little hard on the girl's clothes. Thankfully, she’s able to find some pajama options, selecting a soft yellow two-piece set with a fuzzy duckling on the top and a gingham design on the bottom. She brings them over to Mark so he can change the very tired little boy. Jackson has since stopped resisting help and even agreed to eat a little bit. While Mark tends to him, Addison changes out of her Prada dress-now tainted with blood and in need of a trip to the dry cleaners-and into some sweats. She orders some food for her and Mark once Jackson finally falls asleep.
It takes a few tries, but they manage to get Jackson down, albeit in Mark’s arms. The couple sits on the couch, staring at the little boy.
“You didn’t know?” Addison whispers, non-accusatorily.
Mark shakes his head. “You know we get the list of Littles at the start of every intern season,” he says softly. “Jackson wasn’t on the list. I’m pretty sure he told me once that he’s a neutral. How would he be able to lie about that? The paperwork…”
“Is easy to get around if you’re someone like the Avery family,” Addison interrupts, not unkindly. Mark frowns. “I never saw it happen personally, but there were always whispers about it when I was growing up. Certain families in my parents’ circle forged documents because they didn’t want their child to be classified as such.”
“I just can’t understand it.” Mark shakes his head. “That’s just medical neglect. I mean, my own parents sucked, but even they made sure I was evaluated the day after my 16th birthday. They had plans in place for whatever outcome. Even if they weren’t going to be the ones to take care of me if I was classified any other way, they still had a plan.”
“Some families view it as humiliation, which is horrible. Especially in cases like Jackson. His grandfather is Harper Avery, a medical tycoon. And his mom, she’s one of the top urologists in the country. They should know better, and yet…”
Addison trails off, shaking her head. Mark cuddles Jackson closer.
“We have to call LPS,” she says.
“It’s late. No one is going to be at the office. If we call now, the police will come, and he’ll get shoved into a group home or something. It can wait until morning…after we’ve talked to him and gotten more answers.”
“I don’t want him in a group home, but we can’t wait until too late tomorrow.”
“Addison…”
“I don’t care about getting in trouble. I’ll lose my license in a heartbeat if it means keeping him safe. But, we won’t be able to help him if we don’t follow proper procedure.”
Mark breaks his eyes away from Jackson to look at her. “You want to help him?”
“Of course I do. Mark has been over here a lot lately, so you can help him study. I see how happy you are when he’s put on your service…”
“He actually tries,” Mark says. “And not because he thinks plastics is easy or all about boob jobs. He’s willing to learn.”
“I know. And the truth is, we’ve been waiting for it to be our turn for a while. Even if we’re not his forever home, we can offer him a safe place while LPS figures out what’s going on in his life. It’s better for us than a group home or some other foster home that he doesn’t know. At least with us, he’d hopefully be a little more comfortable.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know that when he got hurt, he came here. He let us both take care of him. There has to be something in his brain that tells him we’re safe.”
Mark looks back down at Jackson. He gnaws on his lip as he traces the little boy’s bruised cheek.
“You really want to do this?”
“Do you?”
“More than anything.”
“Then…we’ll at least talk to him about it.” Addison checks her watch. “I’m pretty sure my family’s lawyer is still awake. I’ll call him, make sure we cover our ass and know what to say to LPS tomorrow.”
“We’re not calling until we talk to them.”
“Of course not. As I said, we have to cover our ass. They’re going to question why we didn’t call right away tonight.” Mark cuddles Jackson closer. “I don’t think it’ll disqualify us. We just have to spin it. These things are all about optics.” He looks up at her for a moment, his eyes soft. “What?”
“Just…I married the right woman.”
Addison smiles, despite exhaustion tugging at every angle of her body. “I’m just as lucky.” She pecks his lips. “I’ll be right back.”
Jackson’s entire face aches as he comes to. He slowly sits up, blinking a few times, which only makes the pain worse. His eyes flicker around a strange bedroom. Where did he end up last night?
He glances down at his body. These pajamas are probably the softest, most comfortable he’s worn in a long time…and yet they look like they belong on a 3-year-old.
It all comes flooding back. He was out for his run when he fell, and then everything felt weird. Jackson knew he couldn’t go to the hospital, not when he was on the verge of dropping. But if he stayed in the streets, he risked the police coming, so he just kept running and running, until he came across a familiar apartment building…
And regressed in front of fucking Mark Sloan.
Jackson is quick to get out of bed, ignoring every ounce of pain rushing to him. His clothes from the night before are folded neatly on a chair near the bed. As Jackson undresses, he realizes that his underwear is damp.
“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. He quickly takes them off and shoves them into a nearby wastebin. He’ll be fine. All he has to do is get back to his apartment.
Leaving the babyish pajamas inside out on the hardwood floor, Jackson gets dressed in the rest of his street clothes and tiptoes out the door. It’s only 6 AM. He remembers Mark lamenting about both he and his wife working a lot of doubles recently, so hopefully they’re both asleep. Jackson isn’t sure what he’ll do going forward. They know now, and there’s no getting around that. But he’s also only weeks away from completing his intern exam. Once he does that, he can try to rematch at a different hospital. Despite how much he loves Seattle Grace, it’ll be fine. He’ll survive. The family name will be preserved, and all will be…
“Good morning, Jackson.”
He freezes when he hears Mark’s voice. The older plastic surgeon is around the island, putting some pancakes on a plate. Addison sits at one of the stools, stirring her tea. Jackson starts stuttering, then stops. He takes a deep breath and does everything to remember his training.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he says. “I think I just hit my head a little too hard. I’ll just go back to my apartment…”
“Jackson.” Addison’s voice is stern, but not unkind. “We’ve both been doctors for a very long time. We’re not stupid.”
“Of course you’re not. But I…I’m not…I can’t be…”
“But you are. Aren’t you?”
Jackson blinks a few times, once again ignoring the pain in his bruised eye.
“If you look at my paperwork, I’m a neutral.”
“That paperwork isn’t accurate, though, is it?” Mark asks gently.
“It’s official paperwork. My grandfather got it for me before I went to college.”
“Legally?”
Jackson purses his lips.
“My grandfather’s not a bad guy.”
“I didn’t say anything about the type of person he was.” Mark is sounding way too nice right now. “I just want to hear the truth.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“I don’t think you want to lie to us. But I also think you’re repeating a story you’ve been told to say enough times that it sounds true in your head.”
Jackson folds his arms over his chest. “You don’t know me.”
“I know you quite a bit, Jack. You’re not in trouble. Addison and I want to help you. We’re pretty sure we can…”
“I don’t need help! I just…I need to be a neutral, okay? I need to become a surgeon. That’s all I want. I don’t want to be Little. I don’t want any of this.”
“We can’t control our DNA,” Addison tells him softly. “This is who you are, Jackson. And it has to be taken seriously.”
“You’ve called LPS?”
“No, not yet. But we will have to.” Tears well up in Jackson’s eyes. “We’re mandated reporters, sweetheart…”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Okay, okay. Jackson, we are mandated reporters. We have to call them at some point. But we want to help you first. That’s the whole reason we waited. But if we keep waiting, we’re not going to be able to do much for you.”
“Addison’s right,” Mark says, coming around the island.
“I talked to a lawyer last night. We have 24 hours to report suspicion that a Little isn’t classified in the proper way. You won’t get in trouble for this.”
“I’m not going into that stupid system,” Jackson whispers, his voice as watery as his eyes.
“You’re going to be a ward of the state. There’s no getting around that. But we can help make sure that you don’t end up in a random foster home. Mark and I are licensed. This way, you can stay with us while all of this is figured out.”
“You…you don’t…”
Jackson trails off as a few tears escape his eyes. No, no. He wipes at them furiously, whimpering when he touches his injured eye.
“I’ll just…I’ll go. I’ll leave Seattle…I’m sure my grandfather will figure something out…”
“This will just catch up to you in time,” Mark says as if he’s talking to a small child. “Even if you took suppressants…”
“I’ve never touched them!”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Mark slowly walks toward him and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I know. I believe you.” Jackson sniffles. “I also believe that none of this was your idea. There have been other people pulling the strings all along, and that’s not fair to you.” Jackson whimpers. “But, we can all figure this out.”
“I…I’m not…I’m not a baby.”
“We’ll take this one step at a time.”
Addison nods, rising from her stool. “Mark’s right. The first thing LPS will do is evaluate you again. If you really are a neutral, you’ll be free to go. If you’re a Little, and it’s okay if you are, Mark and I will fight so we can take care of you while we figure out the next steps. We can’t promise you’ll have a full say in everything, but we’ll give you as much autonomy as we’re legally allowed to.”
“If you run, that’s just going to make things worse. LPS is easier on those who make it easier for them.” Jackson scoffs. “I know that’s not fair to you. You deserve time to figure this out. Frankly, you deserved that time a decade ago when you were first classified. Your family stole that from you, and that’s not okay. But, we have to figure out how to best protect you going forward.”
“There are Little doctors, even some in the internship and residency programs at Seattle Grace,” Addison chimes in. “This won’t be the end of your career. But if you run, it could be.”
Everything feels heavy. Since Jackson was born, it feels like he’s had a giant barbell on his chest, weighing him down from ever truly deciding anything for himself. His family didn’t care if he opted out of pursuing medicine. In fact, they thought he was “too pretty for it”. Still, he felt the pressure to do something great, be someone great. Especially after he was classified, then re-classified by his grandfather’s friend. Nothing has ever felt like his choice, and it’s still not, not entirely anyway.
“I don’t want them to get in trouble,” he whispers. “My family.”
“We don’t know what’ll happen to them,” Mark says, still keeping a grip on him. Jackson hates how comforting it feels. “I won’t make any promises there. What I can promise is that we are going to fight to make sure you’re safe and okay.”
Jackson sniffles. “You don’t have to do this…”
“We want to. No matter what happens, we’ll be here for you. I know this is terrifying, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that for me, please?”
Jackson looks into Mark’s eyes. They didn’t get off to the best start when he first joined his service, but they’ve come along way. In this short first year as an intern, Mark really has really taught him so much. Jackson thought he’d go into cardio or neuro, but more and more, he feels himself drawn to plastics. He didn’t think he could build such a close rapport with the head of any surgery, at least not without his last name being the reason. But he’s known for a while that Mark doesn’t care about titles. He cares about Jackson.
If it were anyone else, Jackson would be out the door. He’d risk the cops coming after him and figure it all out later.
But Jackson’s been running for so long. Another barbell settles onto his chest, this time spreading extreme exhaustion throughout his entire body.
“We’ll figure it out?” Jackson whispers. “You promise?”
Mark squeezes his shoulder. “I promise, Jack.”
Jackson slowly nods. “I’m not a baby, though.”
“Okay, JackJack. Okay.”
Mark pulls him into a hug. Jackson stands in it for a moment before finally releasing one of the barbells and breaking down into tears.