He was doing what he could. In a way, Derek's death and its aftermath had brought on this moment of catharsis where the world kind of shifted – for him, at least – as if in a kind of twisted way the universe tried to readjust itself. Cristina lost the Harper Avery and left him and Meredith and Seattle altogether. April's baby died. Callie and Arizona split. Owen found the strength to love again, only to have it all crumble to pieces. Meredith and Derek were on the brink of splitting. Then, suddenly, things sort of fell back into place. It wasn't a good thing and never Owen would be able to look at it that way, but he realized – glancing at the kids running down the hall – maybe there was a reason for that too. Or he hoped there was, because it was Friday night, not to mention, his first Friday night free from the hospital in three weeks and he was spending it making dinner for four kids that weren't even his. Admittedly, he wasn't there for the kids, he loved kids and all that, but he was here for the babysitter. It was sweet and a tad stalkerish and quite pathetic to be honest, but he was trying to make a change and this was as far as he could go.

Because Amelia had been avoiding him. Not ignoring him per se, just if there was a chance to take another elevator or another flight of stairs or another patient she would without a second thought. Owen didn't push, never ever, not to get her to talk nor to be around her, he just made it happen in conveniently random ways that were so obvious he knew she had noticed. Yet, he couldn't stay away. Amelia had spoken literally ten words to him that weren't work related since her breakdown on the deck and, despite all his tries, nothing changed. So he helped her and Meredith and the kids move out and into the new house, he helped clean and move the heavy stuff, putting together furniture and carrying mattresses upstairs. When that didn't have the desired effect he purposely matched his shifts at the hospital with hers - pathetic, yes - but he felt better having her around. She seemed lonely and sad, so sad, every time he caught her eyes he found the spark was gone and her baby blues were dimmed, faded, somehow duller and emptier than he'd even seen them. Also Amelia didn't smile anymore, she didn't laugh, even when she played with the kids she wasn't herself.

The second she walked into the kitchen, carrying an empty bottle, his heart started beating a little bit faster. Amelia went straight behind him, not even looking up, putting the bottle into the sink, carefully rinsing it. It hurt Owen to see her like this, it wasn't her, not really. She looked… numb. Most likely she felt that way too.

"Ellie down?" he asked casually, not really expecting anything more than a monosyllabic answer.

Amelia shrugged. "For now."

To Owen's complete surprise, then, instead of fleeing the room she sat down at the kitchen counter. For just a moment he held his breath, afraid it was a bad sign, but after a long enough pause he let out a big gulp of air, relaxing a little. Amelia was peeking at what he was doing curiously, showing more emotion than he'd seen in a while.

"What's for dinner?" she asked in a small voice.

Owen frowned, he was trying to read her, but she had a killer poker face. "Spaghetti. It's actually almost ready."

"Smells good."

"Oh, thanks, I guess." He smiled softly. "Meredith and Maggie went out?"

She nodded, looking away when his eyes travelled to her hands, her finger retreating hastily from the sauce, still cooking. It was classic hand in the cookie jar, but she seemed entirely unaffected as she just licked the sauce off her finger, humming appreciatively.

Owen did his best to ignore it. He tried, at least.

"You didn't go?"

Amelia looked up at him emotionlessly. "They are meeting up with Callie at a bar. I'm not really the best company and I get bored in bars, you know, with the no drinking thing and all."

Owen nodded, secretly glad he had her all to himself tonight. "Maybe next time we could, uh, do something not involving crowds or alcohol."

She didn't say anything, just raised a curious eyebrow at him and Owen kicked himself in the shins. Amelia was speaking to him for the first time in weeks and he went too far. An awkward silence fell in the kitchen, Amelia was looking everywhere but at him and he was, instead, desperate to engage her, but afraid to initiate contact. Time passed, a couple of minutes at most and eventually the bubbles of the boiling water became noisy enough that Owen was forced to turn and mind their dinner, which Amelia took as her cue to leave.

"I'll get the kids ready for dinner." she stood and nodded briefly in the direction of the little screams coming from the living room.

Owen sighed. It was hard. He'd talked to Meredith about it and she'd just said to give it time. Amelia was still grieving and it didn't take a genius to figure that out, but it hurt him to just stand by and watch. The guilt was eating at him and he wanted to tell her, he wanted to try and work things out with her, but she absolutely needed to figure this out first. Amelia was a bit depressed and, while he knew it was temporary and a natural step in the process of grieving, he hated it. Because he loved the way her face would lit up whenever she smiled, how her eyes alone looked like they were smiling back at him. Mostly, though, it was worry that some times kept him up at night, he'd never had a vivid imagination, but it was scarily obvious to him that if he'd come back just a couple of days later from Iraq he would have found her high and, hopefully, alive. It was out of sheer luck that she had not relapsed.

He never said a word, hoping his presence would be enough, not overbearing, just calming and grounding. Owen had no idea what to do, Cristina was easier to support and be close to and she wasn't a ticking time bomb sitting next to him. Part of him wanted to hate her, leave her, forget her entirely. The rest of him couldn't help but enjoy these nights with the kids and cautious words and fleeting looks. Mindlessly, he stirred the pasta and finished setting the table, hearing the voices come closer. The three kids came barreling in a second after that, Zola and Sofia bickering and Bailey quiet as usual. The object of contempt was a pink plastic glass, there was a pink one and a purple one and for some reason the favorite varied from night to night. After a few failed tried at diplomatically resolve the problem, Amelia stood, calmly and slowly, and pulled out a green glass and a yellow one, taking away the pink and purple. Both girls pouted and looked at each other finding common ground in their hate and utter displeasure in what had just happened.

Owen smiled Amelia's way, it was obvious she'd been hanging around the kids a lot and this was a common occurrence as far as he knew, but he found distracting the authority and ease that accompanied the whole thing. They finally sat, Bailey close to his side and Zola and Sofia as far away from Amelia as possible, something that had him secretly grinning. It was nice and quiet and the kids were strangely behaving, until the baby monitor went off. Amelia sighed and stood, her plate was still mostly full and the spaghetti had been moved around a bit instead of being eaten. He stared at her back until she turned the corner and told himself that it was fine, it was normal, it would pass.

What started like a calm, enjoyable dinner went to hell in very few minutes. Owen wasn't even sure how it happened, but it seemed Amelia's figure was somehow what kept it all together. Even little Bailey who was usually quiet and calm burst. When Amelia walked back into the kitchen she froze. And so did the kids. There was spaghetti and sauce everywhere on and around the table, but mostly on Bailey and Owen.

"What happened?" she asked, her tone told every single one of them, adults included, that she wasn't amused in the least.

After what were probably two or three terrifying minutes Bailey spoke. "They said that we had to do girls against boys. Because you left. Zola started it."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Okay stop it. All of you." Owen grimaced when he realized she seemed mad at him as well. "I don't care whose fault is it, now you're all going to clean up. Zola and Sofia you get the floor and Bailey you can help Owen clean the table."

"But I-"

Amelia turned sharply. "I don't want to hear it and there won't be any tv tonight for any of you."

All kids groaned, but went on to get sponged and silently went on with their tasks, while Amelia washed the dishes Owen brought her, while helping Bailey get the pasta sauce from all over the table. Nobody dared to open their mouth again. It didn't take long to clean up the mess they made and soon Owen left, taking it upon himself to clean up the kids and get changed himself. It was out of sheer luck that he had picked up his clean laundry and had a sweatshirt and jeans in his truck. When he walked back downstairs he found all three kids amicably engaged with a puzzle, something that had certainly been Amelia's idea. It was silent and he felt some of the tension in his body leave him right then. That was until he walked back into the kitchen.

She was sitting at the counter, elbows on the table and face in her hands. He stopped dead in his tracks, suddenly feeling guilty. Crocodile tears. Owen had not actively participated in the spaghetti throwing, yet he was the grown up and could have stopped it before it got this far. With a sigh of relief he realized she wasn't crying, her shoulders weren't shaking and her breathing was regular.

"Amelia?" he walked up to her slowly, not wanting to startle her.

Upon hearing him she looked up, wiping her eyes, looking a little bit lost. "Hey. The kids okay?"

Owen smiled. "Little angels covered in tomato sauce." He kept his eyes on her as she nodded, looking straight in front of her, acknowledging him, but nothing more. "I'm sorry. I should have stopped it."

"It's fine, Owen." She said curtly, but not rudely. She didn't want to be mean and she wasn't angry, but it was clear she wasn't going to be all nice and sweet about it. Amelia just stood, grabbing the few things that were still out of place, a rag and some baby stuff, busying herself putting it away.

Owen was well aware she was doing it in the hopes that he would get tired and walk away, but he just couldn't. "It's not. I volunteered to help with them, not have a playdate. I'm sorry."

Amelia turned towards him from her position near the sink, perfectly aligning all the bottles and little spoons and bowls. She didn't meet his eyes, but she nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. "Okay."

Before he could stop himself Owen walked up to her, standing about a foot away. He looked down at her, hoping she would look back at him. As he predicted she didn't. He was frustrated and worried and he missed her like crazy so he did it. Slowly he curled his finger under her chin, tilting it up, not giving her any excuse to look away. To his complete surprise when she did meet his eyes, her lips also stretched into a smile, a bigger smile than he'd seen before leaving. "Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

"Shut up." She looked away.

"No, I just meant…" his hand, the one under her chin, without any permission from him went up to her cheek, his thumb stroking gently her cheekbone. "It's good to see you smile. Whatever the reason."

Amelia looked at him, leaning ever so slightly into his touch. "You have sauce everywhere on your face, if you needed extra help washing up like the kids you should have just asked."