So, I got this idea after talking to some of the girls about my feelings regarding Megan. This was partly meant to make her lack of trauma make more sense, and partly because there are many of us who feel like she is about to drop a bombshell on us. I hope you guys like it!
Side note: I will start my multi-chapters soon. I am trying to figure out how to do a missing moments fic while the episodes are still airing (instead of doing it once the season has passed).
Other than that, enjoy this hurt/comfort fic :)
Grief is a tricky thing. People like to think it's reserved for moments of death, but that's not always the case. You can grieve missed opportunities and you can grieve the pain of the world's tragedies. But you can also grieve a person, a person who is not dead.
You grieve the person you once knew or thought you knew. You grieve the moments you spent wallowing in grief while the other person was living his or her life. You grieve the death of an ideal.
"What are they talking about, Megan?" Owen asks, his heart constricting in his chest. He doesn't know why-nothing is registering in his brain-but it's primal. When you're stressed, your heart rate accelerates and your hands start to feel clammy. The reaction is innate. It is preparing you to run, to escape danger.
Megan closes her eyes and breathes deeply. She hadn't wanted him to find out like this. She always figured that, one day, he would find out. Secrets have a way of getting out, after all. But, still, she wanted the time of ignorance to be greater.
He feels Amelia's hand find his and a slight sense of comfort washes over him. At the same time, it also terrifies him for she thinks he needs support for what he is about to hear.
Megan's words are quiet. Not timid, but quiet. They're confessional. "I wasn't held captive."
His heart stops at her words; he nearly chokes on his strangled breath. Amelia's grip tightens as she leans against the length of his body, holding him close to her. "What?"
Megan meets his eyes, tears welling in them. "I wasn't held captive," she repeats.
He doesn't know how to process this change of events. The bottom of his world seems to be falling out. Two weeks ago, it had felt like his world was finally righted, only for it to be shattered in this very moment.
"She admitted to her crimes during questioning," the officer says gruffly. He begins to pull out his cuffs before Meredith steps in.
"This is my patient," she says. "Who is still recovering from major surgery." She shakes her head at the man. "You take her now and you will be committing a crime by removing her from medical treatment."
"Ma'am-"
"Do you want her to die?" Meredith knows that Megan is recovering nicely and her fever is considerably lower, but she still isn't discharged. She also doesn't know how to handle this turn of events-she can't make all the decisions and Owen can barely speak at the moment. Besides, what would happen to Farouk if his mother was convicted?
"I guess I can come back later-"
"-This week. Sunday. She should be recovered enough by then." Meredith nods in affirmation of her words. Still, no one else speaks, not even Nathan. They are all too afraid of ruining Meredith's work and making the issue even bigger.
"I see," he says. "I'll be in contact with your chief, Dr. Grey." She nods, watching him exit. When he leaves, Megan breathes a thank you. Meredith doesn't comment. She can't. Megan nods at Meredith's quiet disapproval before trying to meet Owen's eyes. However, all she is met with is his back as he walks out of the room, Amelia apologizing with her eyes before hurrying after him.
"Owen, Owen, wait up," she says. She touches his back when she's close enough, but his brisk pace is difficult to maintain. "I have shorter legs," she jokes, taking three steps for every one of his. He doesn't laugh and she doesn't expect him to. She just wants him to know that she's here.
Finally, after another few minutes, he slows. They're outside in the trauma bay, just standing there, breathing. His breath is heavy, more so from pain than exertion. She lets him have his time-he needs to process before the words, if any, leave his mouth-and simply rubs his shoulder.
"I don't know what to think anymore," he whispers, his voice cracking.
"I can't imagine what you're going through, but I know it can't be easy." She moves to face him, both of her strong hands gripping his biceps. She looks into his eyes. "I am so sorry, Owen."
"What does she mean that she wasn't held captive?" His broken eyes meet hers. "She just disappeared and didn't say anything? Never called or texted or even emailed?"
Amelia's eyes become a little teary because she knows what that's like-having a sibling ignore you while all you want is to have a little information, a little love, a little peace. She can't imagine it to Owen's extent, but the pain is familiar.
"She was my whole world. She meant everything to me."
"I know."
"And I blamed myself for all these years…" He tries to catch his breath as his tears restrict the pathway to his lungs.
"I know."
He shakes his head, willing himself to wake up, for it to all be a horrible dream of epic proportions. "I thought she was dead." The last word is nearly silent by the time it reaches her ears. "I thought I killed her."
"You didn't. She's alive," Amelia says, wanting to stop his spiral sooner rather than later. "Even if you sent her toward that helicopter, you were not the one to make her disappear." Her thumbs run along his toned arms, grounding him. "She's okay. Owen, she's okay."
"I thought she was." He rolls his eyes, trying to will the tears away.
"What do you mean?" Amelia shakes her head, a bit confused. "She's okay. She's healing."
"I didn't even know she was alive." He ignores her question, too overwhelmed. His thoughts are racing and his mind is full of doubt. "She didn't tell me," he trails off.
Amelia furrows her brows. "I know," she repeats.
"How is that the sister I loved? The sister I cried and worried over? How…"
Amelia shushes him gently, his pulse quick under her fingertips. "I don't know. Maybe she had a good reason. I don't know." She slides her hands over his shoulders and up his neck, stopping when she cups his cheeks. Her thumbs smooth the lines there before she tilts his chin down so that he can make eye contact with her. "But I know who can answer that for you." He gazes at her, his mouth turned down in a frown.
"I-I can't." He shakes his head, but her grip stays firm.
"You have to." She doesn't want to give the lecture on staying when she knows she has always been a runner. But things are different now. She's trying now. The tumor is gone now. And Owen. Owen can't live his life wondering what happened to the sister he thought he knew. He needs closure.
Although he tries to hide it, she hears his sniffles. It's strange, she thinks, to remember that her rock has weaknesses and vulnerabilities, too. He's looming over her and yet he looks so small.
"Will you come with me?"
She smiles up at him, nodding gently. "I'll be right by your side."
He breathes in and out, mimicking her steady breaths. They stay like this, in their own bubble of barely-there sanity, until Owen feels stable enough to move. He lets out one final deep breath, then moves Amelia's hands, keeping one to hold. They walk back slowly, neither in a rush to see Megan. It could get better or it could get worse: there is no knowing what lies beneath her confession.
Five minutes of tiny steps later, Owen pushes open the door to his sister's room. He immediately sees her staring out the window. Her son is not here, though, so he must still be in daycare with Meredith's kids. "Megan," he says. It isn't cold per se, but the lilt in his voice is missing.
She turns quickly, surprised to see him back so soon. "I thought you were the doctors." He nods, barely edging further into the room despite Amelia's gentle nudgings. "I'm sorry, Owen."
He looks away from her pleading eyes. "I don't want an apology. I want answers."
She nods, having expected as much. Her brother always had a temper and a need for all the information immediately. She, however, had never been on the receiving end of one of his moods. "Do you want to sit?" When he doesn't move, she continues. "I was a deserter." She takes a deep breath in. "I was thinking of leaving the army for a while and, after I found out Nathan cheated, it seemed like the perfect time. I couldn't deal with all the loss. I couldn't deal with the war. Not like you and Teddy and Nathan. I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it." She sniffles. "And I was impulsive. I didn't want to wait." She shrugs.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His words are terse.
"I didn't want you to be disappointed in me. I didn't really think through what would happen after I left. I never considered having to tell you what I had done."
"Clearly."
"Owen-"
"-All these years and you've been fine? I thought you were dead. I thought I had killed you. I thought…" His eyes turn toward the ground as he grips Amelia's hand tighter, pulling her to him. "God, I thought you loved me, too."
"I do!" she screams. "I do." She stands carefully, walking over to him. He shakes off her arm on his shoulder, but doesn't step away. "What would you have done, Owen, if I had told you?" Tears stream silently down her cheeks. "Run away with me? Beg me not to go? Or worse, lie to everyone about my choices? Be blamed for them?" She sniffles. "I couldn't do that to you."
He knows her logic is plausible, but he is too hurt. "But all these years? You had the technology and you never let me know you were okay?"
She nods. "I am sorry for that."
"Sorry doesn't make it better."
"But I need to say it anyway. I am sorry I caused you so much pain." She chuckles, dark and low. "And when I first saw you I couldn't tell you because it was just so perfect, seeing you again and being with you again. I wanted that again. I missed you."
He meets her eyes. "It hurts."
She nods, more tears falling at his words, her heart clenching. "I'm sorry. For everything I put you through." She turns to Amelia. "You too."
Amelia shakes her head. This isn't about her.
"Yes, I put you through the ringer. I was awful to you and said awful things to Owen about you."
"I was awful," Amelia admits quietly.
"You had a tumor."
"I was still the one who acted."
"But I never gave you a chance. I didn't want to hear about the old you, before the changes. I think I took all my stuff out on you. All of the guilt." She grabs Amelia's hand, seemingly begging her to understand. "I didn't want Owen to be hurt more than I already hurt him." She swallows. "But I hurt him more by refusing to listen to him talk about you. For refusing to see that something was wrong with you, too."
"I would've hated me, too."
Megan's eyes soften at the hidden forgiveness within her sister's words. She meets Owen's eyes. "I wish I could take it back. Well, I wish I could have changed things. I don't want to take back my son, but I do want to take back how I treated you."
Owen nods. "It's all a little much."
"I know," Megan says.
"You are my sister and I love you. But it hurts." He pulls her into a tight hug. "I need some time. I need you to show me that I know who you are."
"I will try my best."
He pulls back, finally meeting her eyes. "But how will we ever get it?" He's referring to the time to right the wrongs. He and Amelia have a lifetime. Him and his sister have a few days.
"I think I have a way for you to do that or at least keep in contact with each other," Meredith pipes up, entering the room. The others look at her in confusion. "I think I have a way for Megan to get away."
Thoughts?