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Owen Hunt lay alone in bed that night, awake and apart from the rest of the world. Cristina was on call at the hospital. Earlier that day, she had told him about how illustrious it was to be back into some real cardio. It had been forever since Burke, and being on his service wouldn't have worked if he'd stuck it out anyway. Hahn had hated her, and Dixon was a retard.
"Autistic, Cristina. Dixon was Autistic, not a retard," Owen had explained to her, "Asperger's doesn't make her an incompetent surgeon."
Cristina had boldly rolled her eyes and drilled him with their depth, "Seriously? Do you think that a woman who can't hold herself together outside of an operating room should have the power to choose who lives and who dies inside the OR?"
That had been closure to the conversation. Owen knew better than to argue with Cristina; he knew better than to attempt walking on water, too. That woman could be just as impossible as an inoperable brain tumor.
And then there was Teddy Altman: the reason for Cristina's newly found happiness. Also the reason for Owen's newly found confusion. "I'm in love with you," Teddy's words rang repetitively through his subconscious.
"I'm in love with Cristina," he said. Which of these statements bothered him more couldn't be admitted. Even he didn't know. Or, at the least, he was trying to push not knowing so that he wouldn't have to face the truth.
"I'm insensitive, I'm not oblivious," Cristina's words were even more complicated when it came to the deciphering stage. There was a decision that had to be made, and despite everything that had been voiced that day, Owen's mind was at war with his heart. If these guns kept firing, he was bound to need either Shepherd or Altman to repair him. Then again, maybe Dixon was a better choice.
"Page Hunt, now!" said Teddy Altman. Being new didn't make her inexperienced, and she didn't need an operating room to be in charge. Was it the military brat coming out in her when she became demanding? Possibly. Did it work? Consistently. Would she continue to use this method? Absolutely. There was a softer side to Teddy, though. She payed attention to her patients personal needs. She was incapable of taking advantage of the little things she was granted. She was a sucker for Christmas. She was in love with a man who would never-
"He's sleeping," said one of the interns. Number... what was he? Number two? Number four? Yang wouldn't even tell Altman their names, and Altman wasn't about to ask. So he was number two... or four. A mousy, shy little boy who refused to grow as the body around him managed to.
"So wake him up!" she countered.
Number four (or two) gave her a blank expression; something resembling fear or terror. Hunt wasn't scary. What was wrong with these people? Maybe a little intimidating on a bad day, but nothing to deserve that look. "Get over here, Avery," she said. Jackson Avery took a step in and waited for command. She wasn't about to put Three in a position that actually took a brain to be in. At least Avery showed some interest in cardio, and wasn't one of the residents going around stressing about his personal life and arguing over surgeries.
"Put hard pressure on the gauze above his abdomen. When I get off the stretcher, you take my place exactly and as quickly as you can. His left shin is shattered; be careful not to move the rod in his shoulder, it may be puncturing his right lung," she slid off, still holding the large wad of gauze in place, Jackson took her position with ease. Once Teddy was sure he wouldn't butcher what she'd done so far, she didn't hesitate to dash off in search of Hunt.
He wasn't a hard man to find. The door to the on call room was unlocked, so she didn't bother knocking. She never had in Iraq, so why would she begin new rituals now? Sure, now he'd dumped Beth and had Cristina. Sure, she had just yesterday admitted her feelings to him. Yeah... maybe she should start knocking.
"Hunt, get your shoes on. You've got a trauma and none of our interns have enough guts to come in here. What have you done to them? They're scared of you, Hunt," Teddy stood next to his bed, her arms were crossed. If she would have had the time to think about the situation, she might have felt like his mother. That was awkward on too many levels to dwell on.
"Teddy? What time is it?" He was groggy and over tired. Hadn't he gone home to sleep last night? Poor man never got any rest. Lives needed to be saved, though, and he was the one to be saving them. She grabbed Owen's left wrist and squinted to see the time his watch read.
"It's eight minutes after seven. Get yourself up and out of bed, and put on a game face so you at least look awake."
Owen stood as he was told to, rubbing his eyes. He didn't want to get up. Getting to the hospital at four, quickly checking in on a few of his monitored patients, and hoping not to be disturbed for the next five days, he'd found an empty bed. Now Teddy was destroying any hope he'd had. It really wasn't her fault, though. That was hard to remember in his position. Hunt stood, flattening his scrub shirt as if it mattered, and slipping into his Nike running shoes without unfastening the laces. Teddy didn't hesitate to reach forward and tie the drawstring of his scrubs. It wouldn't have mattered before yesterday, so why should it matter now? She was in love with him, so what? They'd established that he was in love with Cristina; Teddy wouldn't interfere.
"Thank you." he whispered, "What do we have out there?"
"Five car pile-up, we have three. Seattle Presbyterian got the other two. Your main guy has a metal rod sticking out of his right shoulder, shattered left shin, and he's bleeding profusely from his abdomen. You gotta get out there."
Even in the darkness of the room, Teddy knew what expression held Owen's face as he questioned her, "In his shoulder? Did you get Torres?"
She nodded, "Hurry up," and then left, back to the scene of distress. Owen was there seconds later.
When the patient crashed and was rushed into emergency surgery to remove the rod from his body, he died on the table. The cause was the alarming amount of blood loss. Although Owen liked to believe that every patient who entered his care held a chance of some sort, he had known that Mr. James couldn't last much longer when he had first laid eyes on the man. Many people would then have asked, "Why try if you know it won't help?" Hunt would reply to that individual with, "I don't know that my best isn't good enough. What if?"
Cristina often told him that he was too optimistic. That he was a surgeon and people were dying around him every day. That no matter how hard they, as surgeons, tried to save every life, there was always the one who slipped through; the one who ended up dying from the hiccups or being struck by lightning. Every human was born to die, and although they could prolong life, surgeons could not prevent death. Owen wasn't an optimistic man to begin with, so why was Cristina so insistent on dampening whatever little flame he had? She'd been doing that a lot lately, especially since Teddy had been recruited.
It was almost as if having decent surgeries, learning new things about her specialty, was a substitute for their relationship. Teddy had never done that. As a friend, of course. Odd how the two women that he was in... most constant involvement with, were complete opposites.
Why was he even comparing the two? Cristina was his girlfriend, Teddy was his... well, the status that she held in his life at that moment was in debate. She was his friend. Maybe that was the solution? Just friends. But, she was his friend that was in love with him. It wasn't just some crazy assumption he had to boost his ego, Teddy had told him herself that she was in love with him, and had been for what she made sound a long time. It was a long time. And he was in love with Cristina.
That was what he had told Teddy.
That was what he had been telling himself since that moment in the exam room yesterday afternoon.
I am in love with Cristina.
That was what he believed, but his heart was having a hard time coming to terms with his beliefs.