I woke up the next morning breathing deeply enough that I fooled myself into thinking I was almost at peace, so tangled up in sheets and blankets that it was as though I had tied them in knots around my legs before going to bed. My left leg in particular was tense and cramped, as if I had run a race without bothering to stretch afterward. And was that…? Yes, there was a pillow under it. But why? I kicked the sheets off as best as I could, but my legs were still white. Why were they white? And then the whole day came flooding back to me.
Seattle. Interim chief. And then pain. Blinding pain, shooting up and down my leg. Blood clot. Embolism. And a ridiculously long discussion on the definition of the word 'sister.' Not that I would know. I was an only child.
I tried sitting up again, gently this time, brushing my crumpled curls out of my eyes. I had slept hard. I only ever slept that hard after a breakdown—which it occurred to me a second later, yes, as rare as they were for me, I'd probably had one. My eyes were still puffy and burning like I hadn't just slept an ungodly number of hours, and there was a dull pounding right above the bridge of my nose. And mascara stains on the pillowcase. I was still in my pencil skirt and blouse, hadn't even bothered taking my shoes off, and from the looks of things, I had cried myself to sleep.
I slowly swung my legs over the edge of the bed, bending forward slightly to take my shoes off and noticing that there was just a little bit less room for me to lean down. My tiny human had grown overnight. And then I remembered the rest.
Owen. And Amelia.
I had tried to tell him about the baby. I had gone to his house. And this girl, this child, had opened the door with an expression written all over her face that I didn't belong anywhere near them. Just like the first time I had been to Seattle, I was too late. He already had everything together, tied up so neatly that he might as well have put a bow around it. But I couldn't stay this time. Amelia was not Cristina. In the end, Cristina and I had gotten to be close enough that we might just have been friends. I still saw her in Europe—she had invited me to visit her hospital in Zurich and I'd gone to see her on a Friday morning in my full dress uniform. I returned the favor a few weeks later, and she came to Germany to tour my cardio department. But from the way Amelia was looking at me by the elevator, by the tone of her voice when she snapped that Grey-Sloan already had a head of cardio…she was defensive, and my presence in her life would never be a fully welcome one. I was supposed to stay in Germany, a safe distance away from them and the baby. I was still trying to wrap my head around that, though—he couldn't have biologically been Amelia's because of the timing, but his hair was dark enough. He was cute. God, he was cute. And he was looking at Owen like there was nobody else in the world. Exactly how I wanted our child to look at him. Our child that he still knew nothing about, because instead of telling him, I had just taken my suitcases on a tour of the city, trying to run away.
After a full night of sleep, the guilt was starting to get to me, guilt about everything imaginable. I hadn't told Owen. I shoved him away without giving him a chance to explain, without giving him the benefit of the doubt like he would have done for me. I resigned from two jobs within two weeks, running away from one place only to wind up trying to run back. And I was alone again, feeling like a pathetic excuse for a single mother. I had even failed at running away, the one thing I was supposed to still be good at.
Deep down, you're terrified to be happy. And sure, you're fine to marry the dead guy. But when you have love, real love, staring you in the face, you run.
I hadn't even lived up to Owen's astonishingly low expectations. And now I was by myself in a hotel room, silently praying that my future child wouldn't hold all of this against me. If I didn't fix the mess I made, this sweet, innocent baby was going to have me as its only parent. A family. That's all I had wanted, a family, and for Owen to be a part of it. I wanted him involved even if he did want to be with Amelia. Joint custody was better than him not knowing his child at all. But I'd seen the look on his face when he saw me. Shock…and then, unless my eyes were playing tricks on me, annoyance. And as fast as I was walking, I still heard him ask her why I hadn't called if I was in Seattle. Clinging to that one ounce of hope that he'd wanted to see me…that he'd missed me? It made my chest tighten and my breathing get shallower.
"Head between your knees, Major," I whispered to myself with a hollow laugh remembering the last time I'd said those words. But I was too far gone. Between the panic and the fact that I was still in my first trimester and hadn't been freed from morning sickness yet, I was flying off of the bed and into the bathroom with my hand clamped over my mouth in seconds. But nothing happened. I let myself sink down onto the floor instead, listening to the sound of my own heart pounding and squeezing my eyes shut like I was going to cry. But I just took one deep, shuddering breath after another—all of the effort of sobbing with none of the tears. I didn't have any left. I had let them all flow freely into the pillowcase the night before.
When I regained control over my breathing, I reached one arm out, closing my hand on the bathroom counter and lifting myself back up.
"Pull yourself together," I whispered, splashing cold water from the sink onto my face, still wincing slightly at my reflection. Sleep had done wonders for the shadows under my eyes, but I still had mascara everywhere I could have possibly gotten it. I walked as quickly as I possibly could without limping to my suitcase, pulling out makeup remover, the makeup itself, black jeans, a black shirt, and black boots.
I couldn't figure everything out. That much was certain. But I could erase the evidence of my breakdown from my face. I could put on an outfit that covered up those god-awful compression socks. And I could sit on a bench in the park by the Space Needle with a cup of (decaf) coffee while I figured out what to do next. Because what the hell was I going to do next?