Oncoming Storm
Category: Angst
Pairing: Undecided
Summary: Tag from 12x08 "Things We Lost in the Fire." Amelia dealing with Meredith's honesty and Owen shutting down.
Warnings: Spoilers for 12x08 "Things We Lost in the Fire."
Disclaimer: Own nuda, nothing!
Authors Notes: I'm not going to lie, I took a break from writing Omelia fics because I was getting frustrated with the way their relationship was (wasn't) developing. For every one step forward I felt like they were taking about eight back. But having said that I love Amelia''s character and I'm warming (not sold yet) on the idea of her and Riggs. Please doesn't hate me! Only time will tell ;) Not sure if i'm going to continue this, for the moment it's only planned as a one-shot but I'm always open to feedback! :)
Somewhere amidst the fog of alcohol, in the back of her mind, she registers that this is supposed to hurt and Owen's words come flooding back to her; 'You're supposed to be feeling it... grief, loss, pain.'
A laugh bubbles in the back of her throat, weakening until only a hiccup of giggles spill free. He's a hypocrite, spewing morals and righteousness like it's 'normal' to open up and then completely shutting down when things get a little hard for him. Not completely, she reminds herself, recalling the sudden bond that now appears to be Meredith's right.
Because somewhere -on the other-side of the world- there is a women who abandoned everyone and still means more to Owen and Meredith than she ever will.
How's she supposed to compete with that?
It sounds selfish and borderline petty, like a petulant child claiming a stake to schoolyard friends but the Vodka and Tonic takes her side drowning out the rational thoughts creeping in. Who cares if she's lashing out, if she can find a morsel of easy happiness at the bottom of a glass? They can all go to hell. So what if Meredith never speaks to her again or Owen spirals into isolation? The burn in her chest is warm and dependable, wrapping around her like an old blanket and she tilts back on her stool, admiring the twinkling lights until Riggs' upside down head obscures the view.
"Hey... easy there, I don't want to have to collect you off the floor. You're the brain surgeon remember?"
"You have no idea *hiccup* how good I am-"
The stool rights itself and her palms catch the bar, knocking over her drink in the process. There's not much left but the ice-cubes topple out and she shakes her hand trying to dry the spray of moisture. "Not at this-" she flashes the bartender an apologetic smile, "this I'm a little less good at."
A low chuckle sounds above her and she sinks her teeth into her lower lip, coyly tilting her head up towards Riggs. Despite the circumstances that brought them together the air is playful and it reminds her of how things used to be with Owen, before the fear of intimacy knocked both of their confidence. She'd honestly thought they were moving forward but the last few days have made their interactions seem more and more like the plane crash he warned her about.
"You know what, screw 'em-" there's renewed energy in her posture as she holds his gaze, "they're dark and twisty and we don't need that. I mean look at us, we're awesome."
"Dark and twisty?" A smile tugs his lips as he slides down onto the chair beside her. He barely knows her and they each have their own reasons for being on the out but she's right, screw it. They're having fun and he's enjoying getting to know the enigma that is Doctor Amelia Shepherd. "So what does that make you then... you know, aside from awesome?"
Her cheeks flush but her mouth shows no restraint as she leans into him, "truth?"
"Go on-" he urges, resting his elbow on the bar and propping his head up attentively. Whatever her secrets are they drove her into his company tonight and he's strangely protective, already wanting to justify them. "No judgement, I promise."
"I go by hurricane Amy-" she picks up her glass, swirling it despite the fact it's empty, "and for the record, I don't judge either."
They're clearly a little drunk but there's a heat in her gaze that both excites and terrifies him. Maybe she does leave devastation in her wake but he's always been fascinated by the beauty and power of a natural force. "In that case, Amy-" he rolls the name on his tongue deciding it suits her, "would this be the eye of the storm?"
She's ready to answer, prepared to go all in but the moment is stolen by her phone vibrating between them on the bar.
Hunt's number flashes on the caller ID and he instantly tenses despite her reaction being one of indifference. If she's faking it he can't tell and he watches her reject the call, taking it as an invite to brush his hand over her knee, "any chance you want to go somewhere more private? Or have I just ruined my chances with a completely tacky cliche?"
A smile catches her by surprise, distracting her from the unexpected phone call.
Did Owen find out she's homeless? Did Meredith spill the beans or is it completely unrelated? There are too many questions, too many people to worry about and despite Riggs being an easy out he seems like a genuinely nice guy. "I think we should get out of here."
Her phone vibrates again and this time it's Meredith's name that pops up on the caller ID.
Great, so now they all want to jump on the bandwagon.
Determined and adamant, she shoves the device into her pocked offering Riggs a smile. Truth is she'd wanted a reaction from her sister-in-law. That's why she'd pushed despite the women warning her off. She'd been angry about Owen and acting out but her concerns had come from a sincere and honest place.
Derek wouldn't have wanted this.
He would have wanted his wife to move on, to start living her life again and a relapse would hold no weight in the fight she's currently having with Meredith. For once she just wants to take the easy way out and have some fun. "Could be a bumpy ride?"
She stumbles down from the stool, her smile widening as his strong arms latch around her waist.
"I weathered a few storms in my time, seasoned professional." He winks, sliding his hand down to the small of her back but there's a note of hesitation in his tone. He knew what he was getting into by coming here but it was never his intention to drag anyone else down with him.
"Although you might want to reconsider... clearly you're not as unpopular as you think. Sure you want to rock the boat?"
For a split second she almost waivers but the drunk dominant part of her brain wins out. She doesn't want to be strong or better. She wants to feel free and alive, to throw caution to the wind and deal with the repercussions tomorrow. For once she wants to stop living in the shadow of addiction and actually enjoy herself.
"You want to back out?"
"Hell no." The words fall clumsily from his mouth as his hands settle against her hips. She's funny, smart and intelligent. He'd have to be an idiot to say no and he guides her towards the exit, losing himself in the warm inviting sway of her hips.
The cool night air hits his her face and she leads him along the pavement tugging his arms further around her waist. If it was any other night she'd invite him back to hers but being homeless presents a slight problem. "Cab to yours?"
He nods and a weight lifts from her shoulders. It's not that she's using him, she could just as easily go to a hotel for the night but if feels nice, normal... and when a yellow car pulls up she doesn't want to leave the safely of his arms. Clearly he's on the same page because he walks her forward, refusing to let go as he pulls the door open.
"Amelia!"
Her heart stops as the familiar voice reverberates through the air and she turns to see Meredith and Owen standing less than a hundred meters away. Her sister-in-law looks furious but that's nothing compared to the pained look on the man beside her and she feels Rigg's tense, his arms instantly dropping as he moves to edge away form her.
Without thinking she reaches for his hand drawing comfort from a rush of adrenaline and alcohol. They've done nothing wrong. She and Owen aren't exclusive and the last time they'd spoke he'd made it perfectly clear he didn't want her around.
"Forget them, let's go."
"You sure?" The words are barely a whisper, his uncertainly fueled by the two people glaring daggers at him but she's adamant and he allows himself to be dragged down into the cab. He has no idea what kind of trouble inviting the dark haired beauty into his life will cause but he gets the distinct feeling that they're definitely not in the eye of a hurricane.
If anything they're driving into an oncoming storm.