AN: Couldn't let go of these two. Let me know what you think, and if you want more. (I'm easily persuaded.)
She terrifies him. Scalpel in hand or no, she terrifies him.
Jackson knows people. He knows them inside out and top to bottom; he knows how they bleed, which blade to use, which nerves he can cut and which ones could end his medical career, every complication-of-a-complication-of-a-complication. He knew what a Harper Avery was when he was three, and his grandfather's name was thrown around the table as a point of pride. With his pedigree – with that family – and with his education, Jackson Avery knows people. It's in his blood.
Christina Yang is an unknown. An anomaly. Jackson may still be a new kid at Seattle Grace (and Dr Yang may still relish every opportunity to point it out) but he knows people and Yang doesn't fit.
Which makes her a puzzle. A brilliant, scalpel-hungry, beautiful puzzle.
Jackson Avery loves puzzles.
He's staring at her. Every time she glances up from the machinery holding in place the bones of the girl lying prone on the table under her hands, those ice blue eyes are fixed on her. Not always on her hands – which she would understand given the magic they have worked today, magic hands – but on her. She'll think about that later. For now, she fixes on the magic.
He barely hesitates with the fluorine, scintogram coming to life. The whole OR is against her, her boyfriend shouting his doubts at her, and still she does it but he trusts her. Avery trusts her. Her, and her hands. One look, and he follows her.
"You rocked it in there." What colour even are those eyes, they looked blue before but in this light-
(It matters. She pretends it doesn't, that she doesn't want to hear someone say that she's right, but it matters. She has spent so long being argued with, she forgot how it felt for someone to have her back. It matters.)
Involved. What the hell does that even mean, involved?
Involved is not something someone who is in love says. Involved is dating, involved is seeing each other, involved is not committed. Owen and Christina are committed. So why the hell did she say involved?
Owen, she is with Owen. She is in love with Owen. She is committed to Owen, she is involved with Owen.
She dreams of him that night. Not Owen. Christina is too logical to feel guilty for dreaming of Avery, but it doesn't mean she isn't doing her best to stop wondering why she enjoyed it so much.
"No kiss, I don't know what you're talking about," she says firmly, looking up at those goddam eyes. She swears he wasn't that tall before, not until last night when she had to tilt her head back to –
He smiles a little, not kindly but like he is amused.
"No kiss," he repeats, and it's not quite a statement but it's not a question and God, will he stop looking at her like that?
"Shut up." Walk away. Walk away and stop thinking about his hands, and his jaw, and his stupid magic hands tugging at your waist. Shut up yourself, stupid. Walk away.
Jackson wasn't surprised Yang chose amnesia. His puzzle, his riddle.
"Shut up," she said. That surprised him. She's smart enough to know what to say to rebuff him a thousand ways to Sunday and, what's more, she is confident enough to say them. She could tell him to go to hell, but she doesn't. Shut up means he is not wrong. Shut up means she is.