CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR
with you i'm born again.
season seven, episodes one and two.

☆ trigger warning ☆
anxiety disorders/panic attacks

          "ABSOLUTELY NOT."

Mark was decisive in his words, arms crossed over his chest and eyes narrowed into slits. He'd never been so certain of anything in his life as much as he was of this, and nothing, including his fiancée's wide puppy-dog eyes, could make him change his mind.

Cassie knew this, though, she didn't particularly care. Healthy relationships were supposed to be built on compromises, and in her eyes, this was a classic one of those.

"If I can let you hang up that ugly picture of your dead uncle, then you can let me adopt a sibling for Pumpkin."

(That was a valid compromise, right?)

Cardboard boxes and bubble wrapped belongings littered the floor around them, a disorganized mess of everything Cassie owned taking up the entire living room and most of the hallway outside. Since Cassie was the one who proposed, Mark took the liberty of asking her to move in with him. Granted, he didn't expect it to entail more than one cat moving in, as well.

It wasn't that Mark didn't like cats; on the contrary, actually. He usually loved them, because they were low maintenance and every one he'd encountered seemed to like him more than it's original owner. No, Mark never had a problem being around cats, but Pumpkin had made it very clear that he had a problem being around Mark.

Maybe it was a territory thing, or maybe Pumpkin was simply an asshole, but Mark wasn't sure that he could handle a household where half of the residents found pleasure in scratching his arms and pissing on his bed.

"I said no."

A loud scoff could be heard throughout practically the entire building, and he actually had to pretend like he wasn't a little bit scared.

"You said no?"

"Okay, first of all, it's not just a picture, Cass. He was in the army," Mark emphasized, not even sure why he was bothering to engage in this debate at all, as he was definitely going to lose. "Not only that, but he was a hero. He set off a grenade that killed opposing soldiers, or something. And second of all, hanging a picture on the wall isn't the same thing as getting yet another cat, and you know it."

Cassie looked at him as if he were insane, entirely ignoring the last part of his sentence. "Oh, great, let's display a war criminal above the fireplace, because that's normal."

Mark's eye twitched, ever so slightly.

Cassie sent him a bitter grin.

"Can you two stop bickering like an old married couple?" Cristina groaned from the doorway, dropping another one of Cassie's exceedingly heavy boxes onto the floor. "Between this and wedding planning with Owen, I think I'm getting a permanent migraine."

Arizona and Callie followed in her footsteps shortly thereafter, the former not having nearly as hard of a time carrying the weight. "She's not wrong."

(When Mark said he appreciated their help, he wasn't aware that their help included irritating him further.)

"Don't you guys think Pumpkin deserves a brother?" Cassie averted her faux-helpless gaze onto the three women, all of whom let out a sigh when they realized that the conversation still wasn't over. "I mean, it's a new place, and he's gonna be all lonely. Also, I'm pretty sure he's depressed."

Cristina shrugged, attempting to hide the fact that she would miss having Pumpkin sneak into her room at night to cuddle. "Yeah, why not."

"I don't know," Callie scrunched her nose, "That's a lot of responsibility for two people who are only home for, like, eight hours a day."

"Well I think it would be cute," Arizona smiled, dusting off her hands as she looked between the arguing couple. "I can totally picture Pumpkin and a mini-Pumpkin running around, terrorizing Mark. I'd like to see that."

Mark rolled his eyes. "No."

"No?"

Cassie's tone was sharp, fierce, and Mark really wished she'd quit repeating his no's in such a manner. It was rather unnerving.

"That's what I'm saying. No."

She just stared.

At some point, the others had picked up on the tension, choosing to make themselves busy by moving the boxes to the bedroom. Mark just stared back at her, his tough facade cracking more and more every second that hers didn't. Her fists clenched, her jaw tight, her heated gaze burning his own, but it wasn't until a sly, knowing smirk grew on her lips that he knew he was in for it.

"Okay, now let me tell you what I'm saying," Cassie's entire face contorted, and for a split second, Mark wasn't sure if they were just bickering anymore. "Either we adopt a cute little friend for Pumpkin, or I adopt a cute little friend for Pumpkin, and us three live together without you."

He blinked.

(Maybe having two cats wouldn't be the end of the world. After all, it's just one more, right?)

"Can we at least make sure this one likes me?"

Every particle of anger slipped away from her face in an instant, and Mark briefly wondered if he just got emotionally manipulated into raising a kitten for the next twenty years. Cassie, on the other hand, couldn't have been more ecstatic when she rested a comforting hand on his arm, gently squeezing when she responded--

"We'll see about that."

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Almost immediately after she'd arrived at the hospital, Cassie, along with what seemed to be the entirety of the surgical department, was paged to the main lobby for Derek's welcome back speech.

"Have you gotten cleared yet?"

Cassie looked up at the sound of Jackson's voice. The question made her instinctively roll her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest with a resentful huff.

"No, I haven't," Looking him up and down, she noticed the ghost of a smile on his face, which prompted her face to drop into a scowl. "Oh, please don't tell me--"

"Cleared this morning," Jackson cut her off, finally allowing himself to send her a teasing, toothy grin. "Have fun doing scut without me."

Letting out a prolonged groan of anguish, she threw her head back, mentally playing a game of darts with a photo of the idiot counselor's face. Dr. Perkins, the man who refused to clear her for surgery simply because she wouldn't talk about all of her deep and dark emotions. Not that he was wrong, or anything, because he wasn't; but Cassie already had a therapist who she knew and trusted, and she would much rather speak to her.

Key word, had.

Apparently, Gary Clark didn't only kill surgeons. He'd shot twenty one people, and nine of them were nurses, security guards, therapists. But Cassie was like, a hundred percent sure that he was now rotting in hell, so at least one good thing came out of that shooting, if nothing else.

"I'm engaged to the Chief of Plastics, was roomates with an ortho attending, and Derek is coming back today," Cassie snorted, watching Jackson's face drop as quickly as hers had moments before. "You may be cleared for surgery, but I'm profiting from nepotism."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Ironic."

With a nudge to his ribs, she smiled, emphasizing the fact that while she was, in fact, bitter over not being cleared, it was all in good spirits. When he smiled back, elbowing her softer than she had to him, Cassie couldn't help but feel grateful. She'd lost George, and she'd almost lost Derek and Alex, and she wouldn't have been able to cope if she'd lost Jackson, too. After all, they'd only just met a few months before, they'd been friendly for even less, and there was practically a lifetime of sibling bonding still waiting to take place. Because that's what they were. Siblings.

Cassie still smiled every time she remembered.

A few minutes had passed before Derek finally walked through the hospital doors, with Mark, Lexie, Alex, Callie, and Arizona joining the two in that time span. By the time they could actually see the top of Derek's head over the sea of doctors, the lobby was so packed that Cassie found it difficult to move comfortably.

"Hey, uh, yes, good morning. Thank you, thank you very much." Cassie raised a brow at the applause which erupted around her when Derek spoke, though that didn't stop her from idly clapping, as well. "Good. Thank you, thank you very much. It's, uh, it's great to be back."

Feeling a pair of arms snake around her waist, Cassie's face contorted for half a second, before she looked back and saw Mark hovering over her with a grin. Ignoring the way Jackson crinkled up his nose in disgust, she leaned back into her fiancé, more than happy to take residence in his hold.

"How much you wanna bet he quits?"

Cassie's whisper was loud enough for the others to hear, a few scattered laughs ringing in her ears. Mark took a moment to consider the offer.

"Fifty?"

"Deal."

The applause settled, allowing Derek to begin his speech, or verbal resignation letter, more likely. "First of all, I'd like to thank Dr. Webber for stepping up in my absence--" the applause came back at full force, Cassie's included. "--uh, I'm grateful for all of you, for all of your support during my recovery, thank you."

He hesitated, and Cassie smirked.

"Uh, it's just, uh, so great to be back as Chief... I'm grateful for the... uh..." Derek's eyes were drawn down to a CT scan resting in his hands, his voice trailing off, seemingly without his conscious awareness. He froze, only for a second, before looking back up to the crowd of doctors waiting for him to say something else. "I'm sorry, that's a lie. That's... what people say. And, uh, the truth is..."

"Here it comes," Cassie sing-songed, earning herself a pinch on the arm in retaliation; from beside her, Jackson snorted, and Mark had to restrain from rolling his eyes. Cassie just kept smiling, ignoring their silent feud; it wasn't as if she needed the fifty bucks, or anything, but the part of her that grew up poor was ecstatic to win it for free.

Besides, annoying Mark was always a fun time.

"The truth is, I hate being Chief," Derek continued, much to the shock of the doctors staring up at him. "I hate it. Chief Webber... Chief Webber is our Chief. Um, and I'm sorry, but there's this giant... sorry, I gotta go look at this chordoma. I, um, I'm sorry, but... I quit."

In a blink of an eye, he made his way down the stairs, shamelessly leaving towards the surgical wing without another word; at the same time, Mark let go of his hold on Cassie when she began laughing at the look on his face.

"I'll take that fifty in the form of a new cat tree for our children," she grinned up at him with a wink.

He couldn't help but to return the smile when he replied, "You're kind of mean, you know that, right?"

Cheekily, Cassie nodded in agreement that yeah, she was totally super mean, before she planted a kiss on his lips, not particularly caring that they were surrounded by a sea of their friends and colleagues. And Mark kissed her back, never one to turn down such a thing.

"Ew," Jackson cringed, "Guys, seriously?"

Mark removed himself from Cassie's hold with an exasperated sigh, just for long enough to mumble an irritated, "Walk away, Avery."

With a lovestruck and slightly amused grin, Cassie pulled Mark in by the back of his neck before Jackson had a chance to respond.

Ever since they'd gotten engaged, Cassie was half convinced that Cupid stabbed her in the ass with one of his arrows every time she saw Mark walk into the room. But still, she knew it wasn't a honeymoon phase; maybe, it was just that she was finally allowing herself to be truly happy for the first time in her life, or something.

Truthfully, Cassie couldn't care less if the whole world saw them kissing, because they were engaged. And much unlike a honeymoon phase, she knew that whatever this was, it would last.

(Jackson's disgust was just collateral damage.)

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"So we're planning to wait a while, at least until we're used to living together, you know? Mark said that we should start planning soon just to be prepared, but I don't even want a big fancy wedding, so--"

"Dr. Harper."

Cassie paused, cutting herself off with an elongated stutter. Andrew Perkins sat across from her, an unreadable expression gracing his features; the same expression which she assumed had been cemented on his face since birth, as he never seemed to have any others.

Her elbows rest carelessly on the conference room desk, her arms crossed while she rotated in half circles due to the wheels on the bottom of the chair she occupied. She wasn't smiling, necessary, but she wasn't frowning, either; she looked just as neutral as the man in front of her, she supposed.

"I was kinda in the middle of--"

"You didn't answer my question."

(God, she hated therapists.)

Of course she didn't answer his question, why would she? So he could psychoanalyze her PTSD, maybe prescribe her yet another medication, one she'd most likely already tried? Yeah, no thanks.

Cassie couldn't help but to think that the whole thing was a waste of time. Sure, there were some people who truly weren't ready to go back to work, but she sure as hell wasn't one of them. For fuck's sake, she'd gone back to work two weeks after being shot her intern year, and that time, she actually got shot. She was in a good place, mentally and physically, and she would be perfectly fine to go back to work, if only this fucker would just clear her.

"I'm in a good place."

Andrew's gaze narrowed a fraction when he repeated, "You're in a good place?"

"I am," Cassie nodded, the words being spoken confidently yet leaving a minuscule trace of untruthfulness on her tongue. "I'm happy."

"I'm glad to hear that."

He almost sounded sincere. But Cassie knew better than to think that he believed a single word that left her mouth, for some reason that she still had yet to decipher.

"I am. I'm still taking my anxiety meds and doing my breathing exercises, I'm in the process of moving in with my fiancé and adopting another cat... I just... I'm happy, okay?" A deep breath in, a deep breath out, and Andrew just watched her, almost as if he were studying a foreign species in a lab. "I'm happy, and I'm mentally stable, and I am more than ready to go back to work, so if you really want me to shut up about my nonexistent wedding, just clear me already."

There was a sharp edge to her voice at the end of her sentence, her careless facade nearly breaking. Cassie cleared her throat.

He wrote something on his notepad, and she had to restrain the urge to glance down at what he said.

"Can you tell me about the blood?"

--Wine-colored brain matter pooled in lopsided circle around her feet, the thick, gelatinous fluid soaking her white sneakers and infiltrating the soles of her feet. And she watched it, watched it flow from the wound as if a shallow dam had burst within the confines of Ethan's skull--

She didn't blink.

"What?"

A pause, and Andrew glanced down to his notes. But Cassie hadn't said anything about... that, so she wasn't quite sure where he got his information, or what he was reading as she stared right at his face, her heart subtly pounding in her chest.

"Dr. Grey mentioned that you had a panic attack after you'd exited the building," he said, watching carefully as Cassie's fingers clenched into fists. "Something about the blood on your skin, not being able to get it off."

--But it wouldn't come off. It was like it had become a part of her, the blood, but she didn't want it. She didn't want it on her skin, or in her hair, or in her socks, she just wanted it off--

Another pause.

Cassie sat there for a moment, staring at him, before she scoffed a laugh which bordered on the thin line between amused and utterly exasperated.

"Have you ever had a panic attack, Dr. Perkins?" When he shook his head no, she exhaled sharply. "You know, up to forty-percent of people will experience one at some point in their life? Personally, I... I get them more often than most people, always have." Her hands removed themselves from the desk, taking residence intertwined in her lap. "The only thing different about this one, is that it wasn't triggered by my anxiety, but by a psychotic man trying to murder me with a fucking gun. It isn't about the blood. It never was."

(Even as she said it so convincingly that it made the man's eyebrows raise in satisfaction, she knew it was a lie.)

"So, just for clarification," Andrew flipped over the notepad, writing down something else on a separate sheet of paper, "You don't have a problem with blood, or the thought of it touching you, being around you? No nightmares, no more panic attacks, anything like that?"

Cassie shrugged. "I get... I mean, I still get pretty anxious sometimes but... but not about that, no."

(Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie--)

"And Dr. Shepherd?"

Out of all the shit he'd brought up during her sessions over the past few weeks, Derek was the only thing she'd dared to actually open up about. Mainly because their situation was the only thing she could manage to be entirely sure of, but also as a way to throw the counselor a bone, hoping to deflect from any other topic.

"What about him?"

"Have you two talked?"

Bit of a loaded question.

When Cassie visited Derek once he woke up from surgery, she cried, and she cried hard.

And as per usual, he'd comforted her, rubbed her back when she layed beside him, told her that he was okay, that everything was okay. It was just like old times, back before all of the lying, and the insults, and the pettiness. Back when Derek could, in Cassie's eyes, do no wrong.

But forgiveness was a tricky thing, and as hard as she tried, as much as she desperately wanted to, Cassie couldn't find it in herself to give it to him just yet.

"There isn't really anything to talk about."

Andrew sighed, and Cassie tried not to be offended.

"Look, I know what it's like," he sympathized, but Cassie really just wanted him to shut up and let her leave. "I have a brother, too. He's a drug addict, and he did a lot of messed up stuff to both his girlfriend and myself. It was impossible to be around him, because I was just so angry. But then, he started to change for the better, and eventually, I forgave him. Because I learned that at some point, being hostile is hurting you more than it's hurting him."

(Wasn't this supposed to be her therapy appointment?)

"I'm not being hostile, I'm just not letting him walk all over me anymore," she argued, not particularly caring about his situation, because it was far from the same thing. "I'm done sacrificing my happiness for people who don't care about mine. If he wants forgiveness, he'll have to earn it."

He surveyed her again, warily eyeing the way her hands were still clasped together, her jaw tense.

"Okay."

Cassie paused at the simple answer, expecting more of a fight on his end to get her to open up and let go of negativity, or something. That's what her old therapist always told her to do.

"Okay?"

With an air of hesitancy, Andrew removed the yellow paper from his hold, sliding it in front of her with a hint of a frown on his lips.

"I'm trusting you on this," he told her, and for the briefest of moments, Cassie wished he wouldn't. "I'm trusting that you're okay. You seem to have a good support system, you handle problems without making rash decisions, and if the panic attacks really have stopped... there's no reason why you can't be cleared today."

Ignoring the way her brain was screaming at her to take the yellow paper and rip it into a million pieces before she fucked everything up, Cassie smiled in victory, unclenching her fists to reach out and take it. But before she could, it was pulled back, the therapist's hand stopping her from taking it to the Chief's office.

A frown grew on her face. "Dude."

"I'm trusting you, but," Andrew emphasized the last word, "If you ever start to have any doubts, just remember that there's no shame in taking a step back."

"Okay."

"There's no shame in needing help."

Cassie subtly rolled her eyes, more and more impatience creeping up her spine the longer he withheld the clearance form. "Okay."

He leaned back, finally allowing her to take the paper from his hands. "Okay. Just remember, my door is always open if you ever need to talk, or if you--"

By the time he'd finished his sentence, Cassie was already halfway out the door.

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"Okay, so I checked the shelter's website, and they have six cats who are ready to adopt, and two who still need all of their vaccines, but they said we can swing by before they close tonight. Also, I ordered that cat tree I mentioned, I figured it could go behind the couch, maybe? Oh, and I got cleared for surgery, so you can finally put me on your service again, thank god."

Mark blinked down at Cassie with some mixture of bewilderment and surprise, as he hadn't even heard her approaching until she started speaking at a million miles per hour. Truthfully, he thought she was still in her therapy appointment.

"Huh?"

Cassie, on the other hand, didn't see how he could be lost. "What part of that was confusing for you?"

"You got cleared?"

For someone who didn't like to worry, Mark's frown was far too deep to signal anything but unadulterated concern. Cassie pretended like she didn't see it.

"Yeah. So does tonight work?" Speaking as if none of it was a big deal at all, she wore a casual smile on her lips, contrasting against his expression of vague disturbance. Mark tilted his head, and so with a sigh of irritation, she reiterated, "The shelter."

"I--" Mark tripped over his words, not sure why that was the only thing she was concerned about. "I have a late surgery, but tomorrow might w--"

"No, it's fine, I'll just pick the cutest one and pray it doesn't hate men," Cassie waved him off, briefly checking her pager before giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I gotta go. Love you!"

He was hardly able to mumble out a quick I love you more before she'd already turned the corner to leave.

Standing there for a moment, entirely still, Mark played back the short conversation they'd just had. Why on earth that asshole therapist guy cleared Cassie, he had no idea. But in the name of being supportive, he halfheartedly chose to trust her judgment, knowing that he'd be there if -- or when -- she crashed and burned.

(He decidedly ignored the part about the cat, choosing to live in blissful ignorance at least for the rest of the day.)

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"Scoot over, asshole."

Alex scrunched up his nose at Cassie, who loomed over him with a green apple in one hand and a sandwich in the other. "No. Go sit over there."

He gestured towards Cristina, Meredith, and Jackson, all of whom were sat on his left, an open space at the very end of the unused hospital bed. To his right were Lexie and Rue, who shared a bag of chips as they quietly conversed between themselves.

Cassie narrowed her eyes.

"I saved your life. Scoot over."

That, he couldn't argue with.

Just like back when they were interns, sitting in the basement for lunch was the only way to truly escape it all; in this case, it all included but was not limited to the staring and whispering from all of the doctors who weren't gunned down and nearly killed at their place of work.

When she squeezed herself between Lexie and Alex, the former greeted her with a smile, moving slightly to the side to make more room. "Hey, Cass," Lexie turned to face her, not hesitating to include her in the conversation, "Did you get cleared?"

Cassie held up the yellow paper, matching her grin. "I'm taking it to the Chief after lunch."

"Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me."

Rue groaned from beside Lexie, her head making a thud when she threw herself back against the wall. The noise gained the attention of the others, each of them turning to face Cassie. Meredith and Cristina let out a synonymous scoff of jealously, the former blurting out, "I can't believe I still haven't gotten cleared yet."

"Me either," Rue rubbed the back of her head, sulking in her seat. "Stupid counselor. Like, what do I have to do? Fuck him into submission?"

Alex shrugged. "He cleared Cass, so, probably."

Cassie would have punched him, but his gunshot wound wasn't completely healed yet; instead, she settled for -- quite literally -- giving him a slap on the wrist.

With an amused shake of her head, Cassie unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite, speaking through a mouthful when she answered, "Honestly, I think he just wanted me to shut up about my wedding and get out of there. So, you could try annoying him into submission, instead."

"I'll give it a shot, and if that doesn't work, I'll blow him." Rue winced immediately after she spoke, glaring at Lexie, who'd elbowed her in the ribs with a scowl. "What? It was a joke." Lexie just narrowed her eyes. "I'm a lesbian."

While the couple continued to quietly bicker amongst themselves, Jackson perked up, ignoring what Rue said entirely. "I dig weddings. I do a mean chicken dance."

Cassie snorted, the image of her brother doing a chicken dance at her wedding now permanently burned into her brain.

Cristina scrunched her brows together, briefly looking up from the wedding magazine she was reading to specify, "Oh, there will be no chicken dance at my wedding. And if you start a conga line, I will physically throw you out. Save it for Cass and Sloan."

Cassie frowned. "Uh, I didn't approve this."

The other girl shrugged. "That's not my problem."

Cassie huffed, finishing off her sandwich and tossing the wrapper in Cristina's direction. It wasn't that she actually cared if Jackson chicken danced or not -- hell, she'd probably end up doing the same, at some point during the night -- but that she was silently, discreetly, not-at-all-obviously jealous.

They hadn't spoken much about their wedding plans, but from what Cassie gathered, Mark wanted a big one. Hundreds of guests, thousands of flowers, and everything in between; truthfully, Cassie would rather be held at gunpoint again than entertain the mere idea of such a grandiose wedding.

She was jealous of Cristina, not because she was getting married before she was, but because Cristina's wedding was being held in Meredith's living room with cheap alcohol and, like, less than a month of planning.

(It was practically Cassie's childhood dream.)

She was snapped out of her train of thought when April approached the group, carrying a tray from the cafeteria and wearing a rather perturbed expression. Cassie knew what happened even before she said it.

"I just went to the cafeteria, and some nurse called me Reed, and then said, I thought you died."

Lexie didn't wait a second before she responded, "Yeah, you don't go to the cafeteria for lunch. They just point and stare."

Cassie nodded in agreement, taking a bite of her apple. Alex cringed at the crunching sound, as she was in such a close proximity. "Yesterday, some lab tech gave me a pamphlet for Catholic church camp. Said it would help cleanse my soul."

"They stare, because we should've died."

Cristina's tone was softer, darker, than what Cassie was used to hearing from her, but everyone seemed to ignore it.

Lexie continued her original thought. "Pack a lunch, keep it in your locker."

April sighed in defeat, nodding regrettably as she took a seat next to Jackson. It was quiet for a moment, until Cassie shifted in her seat, hearing the crinkling of a paper coming from beneath her. When she looked down, she saw that it was identical to her own.

She turned to Alex with a raised brow. "So this guy is just clearing anyone, huh?"

Meredith and Rue rolled their eyes in sync. "Trust me, he bragged about it heavily before you got here," the latter grumbled, while the former scoffed for the millionth time that day.

"It's like, you gotta be kidding me. Alex got cleared, Cass got cleared--"

Alex laughed. "Now it's just down to you, Yang, and Lennon."

Meredith rolled her eyes. "That's not funny."

"Well, Perkins is no dummy," Cristina cut in, more amused than the blonde by a long shot. "He can see the crazy right under the Meredith Grey surface."

"Again, Cristina, it's not funny, because you're not gonna get cleared, either. All three of us are gonna be serving slushees at the Multiplex."

Cassie snorted, sharing a knowing look with Alex.

"Really? I'd choose dermatology over Multiplex," Cristina replied. Cassie nodded vehemently in agreement.

"No, I'd go gynecology over dermatology," Jackson said jokingly, his sister immediately pressing a palm to her face after he did so. Lexie and Alex laughed together at that, as they were the only two who knew just how much that disturbed her.

Cristina rolled her eyes. "Oh, of course you would, perv."

"I think I'd go with psych."

The group went silent after Lexie's declaration, aside from Cassie and Rue, who couldn't help but to slap a hand over their mouths to keep from bursting into laughter. Which was rather ironic, as they were also the ones who checked her into the psychiatric ward only two weeks prior.

Not that Cassie could blame Lexie for needing the help, though. To her knowledge, the girl in question had never even been in a seriously traumatic situation; Cassie remembered her first time, and it was safe to say that Lexie had every right to seek out treatment.

(Of course, Rue practically had to force her through the hospital doors, but in the end, it all worked out.)

"That was a joke."

The forced laughter that came next was embarrassingly loud, but only spurred on the real laughs from Rue and Cassie. The rest of them looked on i'm not-so-vague concern for their friend.

Alex just shook his head. "You've been hanging around Cass too much. Next, you're gonna joke about your dead mom, or something."

Lexie furrowed her brows. "Why, did she call?"

Cassie repressed a grin. "No, she can't call, 'cause she's dead, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Lexie faked forgetfulness, "I forgot."

Even Rue scrunched up her nose at that one, the others doing the same as they finished their lunches. Jackson glanced between Lexie and Cassie, who looked far too amused with themselves, a rather uncomfortable look on his face. "You two are sick."

"I'm not sick," Cassie denied with a smirk. "My mom was, though. You know, before she d--"

"Okay!"

Throwing her head back, she let out a laugh at the way such a lame joke could get Jackson so concerned. Clearly, he hadn't known her long enough to expect such a thing.

Her laughter faded when Meredith changed the subject. "Anyway, I don't know what Perkins' problem is with me."

"Maybe he saw your file," Cristina suggested.

"Maybe he knew your mother," Alex shrugged.

"Maybe he knew your old therapist," Cassie added.

"Maybe, he heard how you told the shooter to shoot you," Jackson said, seeming much more serious than the others.

Meredith narrowed her eyes. "Not funny."

Jackson's gaze didn't waver. "Not a joke."

Cassie, along with the others, looked away due to the unfortunate truth of his statement, only to glance up once again when Bailey made her way into the hallway where they all sat. Cassie perked up, as she hadn't actually seen her since before the shooting. They did talk on the phone, though, after Cassie incessantly called her until she finally picked up.

(As much as she loved her, Bailey made Cassie swear to never tell anyone how they both cried to each other over the line. Cassie verbally promised, but then again, her fingers were crossed, so.)

"Dr. Bailey!" she grinned, with just a bit too much enthusiasm. "You're back!"

The older woman stopped walking when she stood in front of them, her eyes ghosting over each resident with an air of something behind her irises, something Cassie couldn't quite see.

"You okay?" Alex eventually asked after a long beat of silence. Bailey let out a long, quiet sigh.

"I'm happy to see you all."

They all smiled. They were happy to see her, too.

But just as quick as the moment came, it was gone, Bailey's work voice stronger than ever when she spoke next.

"Karev," she ordered, approaching him with a chart. "There's a patient in 2304 that needs an endoscopy. Grey and Yang, surely your paycheck covers more than stuffing your face in the basement. Get to the clinic, now."

The three of them scurried away, taking the charts she was holding out as they left. Only Jackson, April, Lexie, Rue, and Cassie remained, all of them looking up at her expectantly.

"And you two," Bailey continued, her voice growing softer as she looked at Jackson and April, "I'm awful sorry about the loss of your friends."

Oh.

The five of them paused, the three that she wasn't talking to choosing to glance down at the floor; whether it was out of awkwardness or sadness, none of them were sure. But Jackson and April appreciated the genuine sentiment.

"Thank you," April said, opening her mouth to continue, but failing to find the words to do so.

Jackson added a quiet, "So are we."

Almost as if it pained her to do it, Bailey continued handing out their assignments. "2213 has a bowel impaction, and I'm sure as hell not about to stick my hands in there."

Sharing a sarcastic smile, Jackson and April gathered their things and got to their feet, the former sparing Cassie a quick wave as he left.

When Bailey stood in front of Cassie, the younger girl just shook her head, silently saying, I can't do the emotional stuff, not here. And as soon as Bailey caught the look, she moved her gaze over to Rue, who at some point had grabbed ahold of Lexie's hand for comfort.

"I'm very sorry about your uncle, Lennon," she said, seeing the obvious pain in her eyes when he was mentioned. "Dr. Caldwell was a wonderful colleague, and he'll be missed."

Cassie bit the inside of her cheek, hard.

"Thank you, Dr. Bailey," Rue replied, sounding more sincere than Cassie had ever heard her. It didn't last long, though, as it was quickly followed up by, "He was an asshole, though, so... ya know, don't worry about it."

Lexie gave her a pity smile, but Bailey and Cassie couldn't find it in themselves to do so. In the midst of the uncomfortable quietness, Cassie noticed the lack of remaining charts in Bailey's hand. "So, what case am I on today?"

Bailey looked over at her, hesitating for half a second before she ordered, "It's a slow day, so just... head down to the pit and grab some charts, make sure they're updated and legible."

"But that's what I've been doing all month."

"Then you should be really good at it."

Cassie blinked harshly, the yellow paper in her lap mocking her every time she looked at it. Ungracefully, she stumbled onto her feet (her left foot had fallen asleep while she ate), and walked past Bailey, before something stopped her, some subconscious urge.

On a whim, she turned on her heel, throwing her arms around Bailey's shoulders and hugging her tightly.

"I'm really glad you're here," she whispered, a small smile taking residence on her lips. Bailey didn't hug her back immediately, though, Cassie felt her relax in her hold. "I'm happy you're safe."

Eventually, after a few seconds, arms carefully wrapped themselves around Cassie's torso, and it eerily reminded her of what it felt like to hug her mom, back when the woman was still alive.

"You too, Cassie," Bailey whispered back, thankful that the younger girl's hair was hiding her smile.

━━━━━⭒━━━━━

When Cassie entered her and Mark's apartment later that evening, she was wearing a guilty, shit-eating grin. He picked up on it right away.

"Cass," Mark spoke slowly, "What did you do?"

Gently, she set the cardboard box on the floor, right in front of her feet. The expression never left her face, only increasing when Mark took a hesitant step closer, glancing down at the makeshift cat carrier with some form of confusion mixed with fear. A faint meow echoed throughout the living room.

"Before I open this, remember that you love me."

Cassie's vague disclaimer did nothing to aid his apprehension. "That's to be determined."

Laughing dutifully at his sarcasm, she knelt to the ground, pulling open the handles of the box and allowing Mark to look inside. It wasn't a kitten that caught his eye, but a fully grown cat, white fur and eyes which seemed fixed in place; blind, the voice in the back of his head supplied. Though, he wasn't sure why she thought he would be mad over that, until Cassie lifted the cat from the box.

"The guy at the shelter said they're a bonded pair," she spoke quickly, as Mark took in the sight of not one, but two fully grown cats. The second must have been hiding beneath the other's fur, as it was slightly smaller and the same color as the cardboard box it was napping in. "I think Peanut helps Peach get around, because she can't see very well, and they were just so cute, I couldn't separate them, you know?"

Mark blinked.

"Peanut and Peach?"

Somehow, that was the only question he could form, despite hundreds of them catching on the tip of his tongue.

"Well, because Peanut is the color of a peanut, and Peach..." Cassie shrugged, the apples of her cheeks turning a dim shade of pink, "I don't know, I just thought it was cute."

He couldn't help but smile at that, despite the fact that his mind was screaming at the prospect of owning and taking care of three cats, one who couldn't even see.

But Cassie seemed happier than she had been in a while, guiding Peach around in a circle by using a treat, and petting the other with her free hand, despite him still napping comfortably in the corner of the box. He could hear Pumpkin hissing behind their closed bedroom door, most likely preparing to mark his territory, but the other two cats didn't seem frightened in the slightest.

When Peach made her way over by Mark's ankles, she sniffed his leg, before her back arched and she began clawing at the bottom of his pants to be picked up. He couldn't help but to oblige.

"Oh," Cassie perked up, finally getting Peanut to get out of the box and explore. "Hey, one of them likes you!"

Mark held the cat less like an animal, and more like one would hold a football, but it began purring anyways. "Yeah, I guess she does."

Cassie laughed when the cat wriggled around until Mark brought it closer to his chest, where it then took the liberty to hop up on his shoulder and sprawl out across the back of his neck, two paws on either side of his head.

"So, I take it you're not as mad as I thought you'd be?"

Mark didn't bother answering her question. "Let's go introduce them to Pumpkin before he claws through the door."

Cassie grinned.

And they did just that; it took less than thirty minutes for the two cats to unanimously decide that they would adopt Pumpkin into their little family, despite the fact that the orange cat was far from thrilled about it. But he was never one to hiss or scratch -- other than when Mark was in his close vicinity -- and so, begrudgingly, Pumpkin allowed Peanut to play with his tail while Peach plopped down on his head, presumably mistaking it for a very fluffy blanket.

Even later into the evening, after Cassie and Mark had unpacked a few more of her boxes and turned in for the night, the three cats refused to leave their huddle on the couch.

(Mark had taken several pictures.)

"So, you're not pissed at me, right?" Cassie spoke in a murmur, her head resting on Mark's bare chest while her eyes casually focused on the window across the room. They'd been laying in silence for several minutes, but she knew he was still awake. "Just to be clear."

She could feel the rumble beneath her ear when he laughed lowly, the arm that was wrapped around her back moving to squeeze her even closer to his body. "No."

Craning her neck up to him, she wrinkled her brows. "Wait, no you're not pissed, or no, you are pissed?"

Mark smiled, as if it was fun to mess with her. "No."

Cassie blinked, it being far too late (and her being far too tired) for her critical thinking skills to make an appearance. "I'm confused."

He watched her facial expressions, the way her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the way her lips pursed and moved to one side, the way her eyebrows twitched after being held in one place for so long. Absentmindedly, his hand was removed from her waist, rather choosing to brush gentle circles around the center of her back. "I know. It's cute."

Huffing a laugh, she tucked her chin into her shoulder, returning to her previous position. "I'm taking that as a no no."

"I'm not pissed," Mark clarified eventually, after sitting in silence for a few seconds. "I mean, it's gonna be a lot of work, and we'll definitely need to get a sitter, but... they make you calm, and happy, and... and I really like seeing you be happy."

The words, as sweet as they were, also held a second meaning, which Cassie picked up on almost instantly; she may have been able to pretend in front of everyone else, but when it came to Mark, she didn't stand a chance. As much as she hated to admit it, the shooting had kind of fucked her up, mentally speaking.

Well, it did for all of them, really.

The panic attacks started the morning after, and they didn't stop for a whole week, not until Cassie worked up the courage to ask Owen to write her a prescription for a stronger dose of anxiety medication. He was hesitant, and he wasn't technically allowed to do so without a sign off from a psychiatrist, but her quiet yet obvious desperation was enough to convince him otherwise.

Mark had a hard time for a while, too.

Two weeks after the shooting, late at night, Cassie dropped a plate while doing the dishes -- her hands had still been shaking more often than usual -- and while it had terrified her to the point of tears, it had an even worse effect on him.

Mark had already been in bed at the time, and when Cassie went to check on him, she found him curled in on himself, shivering, and it only took half a second for her to recognize the symptoms of the same panic attacks that had plagued her, as well. He was embarrassed, after she'd helped him get his breathing under control, but she refused to let him be. They slept for twelve hours straight after that, not letting go of each other once.

Things had gotten somewhat better recently, but the lingering fear, the lingering panic, never went away. The cats, as much as Cassie loved them, were a distraction; a very adorable one, at that.

"I like seeing you be happy, too," Cassie eventually responded, reaching out to play with his fingers that rested in front of her face. She looked back up at him, her features soft. "You're happy, right?"

"I'm always happy when I'm with you," Mark responded instantly, without so much as an ounce of doubt in his voice. A pause, and he continued. "But... can I ask you something?"

Cassie nodded. "Anything, you know that."

He hesitated, only for a moment. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... do you... are you sure you're ready to go back to work?"

No, was what she wanted to say, well, was what she wanted to scream. No, she wasn't ready, not at all, and the mere thought of coming into contact with blood again, the mere thought of it grazing upon her rough, tainted skin, was enough to send her into a full blown meltdown, again. No, she wasn't ready to go back, but if she didn't go back now, then there was a very good chance that she never would again.

"Only one way to find out," she mumbled, not breaking eye contact as he read her every emotion just by glancing over the micro-expressions she made as she spoke. "Do you think I'm ready?"

"No," Mark told her honestly. "But I could be wrong."

"You're probably not."

Echoing her words, he pulled her even closer, forcing her head to rest in the crook of his neck as his face was pressed against her scalp, breathing in her shampoo, breathing in her. "Only one way to find out, right?"

They both fell asleep wearing a smile.

━━━━━⭒━━━━━

Cassie had come to the conclusion that Cristina and Owen's wedding was, in fact, her childhood dream.

It fell on the night of her one day off work, but it wasn't until later in the evening, so she was able to spend the whole day with her cats. Not only was the wedding short and sweet, but there were no bachelorette or bachelor parties, no ridiculously expensive yet horribly tasting finger foods, and most importantly, no attendees who didn't know the couple, intimately.

The festivities came and went, Cristina was finally done obsessing over wedding gowns, and Cassie was in bed by ten o'clock. Also, Meredith left Derek in jail for speeding, so she didn't have to deal with him, either.

(Like she said, it was her dream.)

"That was pretty depressing, don't you think?"

(Clearly, it wasn't Mark's.)

"What are you talking about?" Cassie questioned, walking in step next to her fiancé, both of them making their way towards the room of their patient. "The wedding?"

Mark nodded as they turned the corner. "Yeah, I mean no offense to Yang and Hunt, but where were the floral arrangements? Where was the passion? The romance?" Cassie stifled a laugh at his fervor. "He was wearing a suit that cost less than a pair of jeans, Cass."

"I thought it was nice," she countered, not-so-subtly dropping hints that a wedding with floral arrangements was not a wedding she wanted to attend, let alone be a part of. "Small gathering, no fuss."

"The fuss is the best part!"

"Our wedding will have no fuss, Mark."

They approached the patient's room just as she finished her sentence. With one hand on the door, Mark glanced down at her with an expression that read, psh, yeah, in your dreams, before he quickly rushed out, "Oh, there will be fuss. Lots of it."

Before she could argue, he pushed open the door.

"Dr. Mark!"

Cassie grinned at the sight of the young boy's excitement, glancing down at the chart in her hands to check his age before she presented the case. When she looked back up, she made eye contact with Arizona, who sent her a smile.

"Hey, little man!" Mark matched his enthusiasm, moving to the side of the hospital bed to give him a much appreciated high-five. He then turned to smile at the two women -- the boy's moms, Cassie presumed -- who stood on the opposite side of the room. "How's he been?"

"He's been having a hard time sleeping, Dr. Sloan--" the one with blonde hair began, her stress evident. "--I'm worried that the tumor is, like, pressing against his brain, or something? I read an article that said--"

"Sorry," the woman with dark curly hair apologized, still worrisome but much more calm. "She's been spending a lot of time on Web MD."

Arizona chuckled, taking a step forward so she was more involved in the conversation. "No, no, that's good. It means you care, and who knows, you might be right." Shifting her focus to Cassie, she nodded at the chart in her hands. "Dr. Harper, could you please present?"

Before she did as told, the resident spared a glance at Mark, who was now playing thumb wars with the boy, only half-paying attention, as he already knew the case like the back of his hand. Cassie's lips twitched upwards watching him interact with the kid, ignoring the passing thought in her mind that he'd make an amazing dad.

"Caleb O'brien, seven years old, in for a facial reconstruction of the forehead and benign tumor removal."

The blonde attending nodded, watching her closely. "And how will we do that?"

"Well, according to his chart, the tumor is sitting right under the skin and on top of the bone, so you'll remove that before Dr. Sloan uses hydroxyapatite cement to reconstruct the area surrounding the incision."

Both attendings nodded in approval, and continued to explain the procedure to Caleb and his parents. Cassie tried to listen, she really did, but the nagging thought in her mind failed to go away; could she handle this? As much as she wanted to say yes, to say that she was prepared and confident that she would be able to be part of such a risky surgery for her first time back after the shooting, she couldn't.

But rather than saying the opposite, saying that she needed to be taken off the case or watch from the gallery, for some reason, she simply didn't say anything at all.

(God, please don't make her regret it.)

━━━━━⭒━━━━━

The scrub room seemed smaller than usual.

Perhaps it had just been too long since she'd been in one, or maybe, everything felt suffocating at the moment.

Mark had checked in on her only minutes prior, made sure that she felt okay before she scrubbed in. And Cassie nodded, thankful for the mask covering her mouth and subsequently hiding her facial expressions, and she said that she did. Maybe if she pretended for long enough, it would start to actually be true.

"Cassie?"

Arizona's voice cut through her never-ending internal dialogue, making Cassie jolt out of surprise, as she hadn't heard her come in.

Still scrubbing her hands, she answered, "Mhm?"

"I know you're probably tired of hearing this from Mark," the blonde began, tying a mask around her face, as well. "But it's okay if you're not okay, you know? There's no rush to come back."

"I know," was all Cassie said, scrubbing for much longer than she really needed to; at this point, it was somewhat involuntary.

Arizona nodded slowly, as if she realized that her efforts were futile. "Just... just make sure to breathe, and... if you need a break, just say so. Don't push yourself too hard, okay?"

She didn't show it, but she was grateful for the words of non-encouragement. Oddly enough, they helped her relax, at least a little bit. "Okay."

Two hours later, Cassie hadn't flinched once.

It was honestly a shock, the way that she got right back into it without panicking at all. Arizona had successfully removed the tumor on Caleb's forehead, and since it was right under the skin, it hardly bled at all. Mark's turn was next, reconstructing the area where the tumor had been to give the kid's head a more natural shape. Up until now, Cassie had only been observing, but with her growing confidence, she asked him if she could help.

"I can hold the retractor, if you want," she suggested, as Mark was preparing to fill the empty space with the facial cement. "Give you more flexibility."

Audibly recognizing the assuredness in her tone, he nodded, a tiny smile pulling at his lips that she couldn't see. "Yeah, go ahead. I could use the extra hands."

And so she did, both hands on the instrument as she gently pulled back the skin on Caleb's forehead, careful not to break it.

Mark turned around to prepare the rest on a separate tray, leaving Cassie alone to look down at the kid on their table. Arizona had left after her portion of the surgery was completed.

But the longer she stared at the dark red crater in the middle of the patient's face, the longer she wished that she hadn't.

(No, it was fine. She was fine.)

Everything was okay. It was a safe, controlled environment, and nothing had gone wrong, and everything was okay, and everything was fine.

Mark was there. Mark was with her, and if he was there, then she was okay, right? He always made her feel safe. She was safe. It was all okay, because Mark was there, and -- where was he, again? -- she quickly glanced around, though her neck couldn't move, for some reason, and neither could her body. He was there, but she couldn't see him.

He was there, though, right? Wasn't he? Where was he? Was she alone? She must have been, because she couldn't hear anything, other than the blood pumping through her ears--

The blood.

She wasn't sure when the open wound on his face started bleeding, but it was. Only then did she realize that the retractor was no longer in her hand. It must have fallen to the floor. Hm. Weird. Maybe it--

The thick, scarlet splatter covering her surgical glove caught her attention, and it belatedly occurred to her that he was bleeding because of her.

His head. The hole in his head. She was alone, and he was bleeding -- Ethan was bleeding -- and it was everywhere, she could feel it, she couldn't see it but she could feel it, across her cheeks and in her shoes and oh, god, it was happening again, and she couldn't stop it, and it was everywhere--

"Cass!"

Mark's voice blew through her panic like a bullet.

And suddenly, the blood was gone.

It took Cassie a moment to remember where she was.

The monitors were beeping as usual, no alarms going off, no one dying. There was an anesthesiologist, and a few scrub nurses, and the patient on the table was just a seven year old kid, and the open wound on his head wasn't bleeding, at least, not very much. Mark was applying pressure with a surgical towel against the skin where the retractor once was, the retractor that she now realized was on the ground next to her feet.

No one was dying, no one was dead, but everyone was staring at her. Cassie blinked, and she could feel the way her hands shook violently at her sides.

Mark hadn't taken his eyes off of her once, well, not since he checked that Caleb was still okay. "Cass--"

Not letting him even ask, she nodded once, stumbling backwards on unbalanced legs. "I-I'm... I need to..."

It took every ounce of self restraint not to burst into tears at the lingering fear in Mark's eyes. She hadn't meant to scare him. If he said something in response, she didn't hear him, making her way out of the OR without so much as a second glance.

━━━━━⭒━━━━━

Cassie didn't know how Jackson found her sitting in an empty surgical gallery, but she was glad that he did.

As someone who rarely, if ever, got embarrassed, she was having a hard time thinking back on her episode in the OR without cringing in mortification. It didn't help that she was still feeling some of the effects, particularly shaking limbs and an uneasy pit in her stomach.

"I knocked over an instrument tray."

Jackson spoke quietly, his back resting against the glass which overlooked the vacant OR. Cassie furrowed her brows up at him, wringing her fingers together.

"When?"

"About an hour ago," he huffed, clearly just as embarrassed as she was. "I've been kinda jumpy, I guess. I don't know. But then Yang collapsed because of the noise, and Meredith had to come get her, and I just..."

Cassie nodded in understanding, almost laughing at their mutual misfortune. "Today isn't our day, huh?"

"It really isn't." Jackson gave her a once over, before moving to sit in the chair beside her. He let the silence loom over them for a few minutes, neither of them making a move to say anything, because there really wasn't anything left to say. Eventually, the sound of quiet sniffling startled him out of his thoughts. "Hey, are you okay? I mean, that's-- that's a stupid question, but are you okay?"

Truthfully, Cassie hadn't cried in weeks.

It wasn't because she didn't want to. She'd wanted to cry so badly that it physically hurt, but she didn't let herself, as if refraining from tears was the only way to convince herself that she was fine.

She also hadn't talked about it.

"I can't..." Cassie hesitated, before reminding herself that Jackson was vulnerable with her first, so she could do the same. "I, um, I can't look at blood without... without feeling it, or... or seeing Ethan's dead body right in front of me."

Jackson's breath caught in his throat. "Oh."

"I know it can't hurt me," she continued, her voice breaking despite only coming out as a whisper, "I know the blood isn't actually there, but..."

--She could taste remnants of it on her lips, no matter how desperately she fought to keep her mouth shut, the metallic tang sending her into a blind, helpless, frozen state of hysteria. Her entire body erupted into a fit of vibrations, head frantically twitching and eyelids glued open, forcing her to stare. Not allowing her to look away, not even for a moment--

Cassie clenched her eyes shut, tears continuing to fall down her face no matter how much she willed them to stop.

Honestly, she was expecting him to hug her. That's what Mark and Derek always did when she cried. They'd hug her and tell her it was all okay, that she was okay, that everything would be okay. And she appreciated it every time, whether or not it actually worked.

But Jackson didn't hug her. Instead, he stood up, holding out a hand to help her get up, as well.

"Come with me," he ordered, and he seemed sure of himself, and she couldn't find a reason to say no, so she did.

They walked five steps across the hall into a separate gallery, and Cassie instantly recognized it as the one attached to the OR she'd just ran out of. She stopped walking, and Jackson had to push her fully through the door. They stood right at the edge of the glass, watching Mark as he finished up Caleb's surgery. Cassie, despite her anxiety worsening at a rapid pace, was happy that she didn't hurt the kid in the midst of it all.

Jackson watched her warily, standing on her left, before he placed a hand on her shoulder and pinched her skin, hard.

"Ouch!" Cassie whipped her head around, smacking him upside the head on instinct. "What the hell?"

Clearly, there was a bigger picture at play, because he didn't even flinch at her reaction. "Did you feel that?"

On the other hand, Cassie was just about this close to hitting him, again. "Yeah, it fucking hurt."

Jackson nodded, as if that was the whole point, before he gestured for her to look back down at the gallery. Slightly on guard, she sent him a distasteful look, before doing so. The second her eyes landed on the bloody cloths which had been discarded and the incision on his forehead which was still open, the feeling of panic came back at full force.

"I can't..." she winced, shutting her eyes, "I can't look."

Jackson was rather insistent on whatever it was that he was doing. "Just trust me, okay? Just-- just keep looking."

Cassie did, for some reason.

--Cassie just wanted it off. That's all. She just wanted the blood to be washed away, or remove itself, or something, because the longer it was on her skin, caking onto each and every pore and penetrating her epidermis, she could feel her chest heaving more and more, her insides begging for some sort of release. She needed it off, and she needed it off now--

Jackson pinched her shoulder again, and Cassie yelped.

"Ouch!" she glared at him, though her breathing was noticeably rougher, heavier. "What--"

"You need to remind yourself that it's not real, Cassie," Jackson interrupted her, not exactly smiling, but his face relaxed, almost like he wanted to ensure that she wouldn't freak out again. "See, you felt the blood, but it went away when I pinched you, right?"

Suspiciously, she drawled, "I guess, yeah..."

"When you start to, you know, feel the blood, you just have to ground yourself," he told her, and suddenly the pinching made sense. "Think about something else you can feel, or crack your knuckles, just... just do something to tell your body that you aren't in the past anymore."

Oh. "Oh."

Jackson shrugged, removing his hand from her shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest. "I learned that the hard way, but it works, most of the time."

Cassie blinked up at him.

If she were honest with herself, she'd admit that out of all of her therapists, all of her friends, all of her close relationships, that was the first advice she'd been given that actually helped.

"Thank you," she told him earnestly, her own hands moving to rub her arms, caging herself in. "Seriously, that-- thank you."

"Eh," Jackson waved her off, looking quite proud of himself, and feeling it, too. "What are siblings for?"

Cassie smiled.

author's note ━━━━━━━━
hi <3

also, massie being an old married
couple has my whole entire heart.

& i know we didn't touch on some
of the issues in cassie's life, but i
just wanted this chapter to show
the way ptsd is affecting my babies,
while also showing how they are
slowly but surely making their way
to happiness <3 of course, the three
cats help a lot with that lol. & the
next chapter will have amelia in it,
and to preface, i adore her, but she
doesn't necessarily adore cassie;
don't worry, she has her reasons.
that being said, until next time!