"I'll be home soon," I told her. I kissed Beth's hand, right above the new engagement ring on her left ring finger. It was my way to assure her I would come back. Beth worried about me a lot and leaving her alone in the airport wasn't easy for either of us. My two week leave wasn't nearly long enough, but I needed to get back to Iraq where I belonged.

I threw my luggage over my shoulder and walked towards the gate. This plane would fly out of Seattle, connecting to New York City, where I would meet up with the rest of my platoon, flying the remaining miles on a private plane to Iraq. It was a long flight alone, from Seattle to New York, but the people on the other end were worth it.

Just as I sat down at the gate, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

"Major Owen Hunt," I answered, preparing myself for anything possible. Usually when I received a call on my Army phone, it wasn't anything of good news. I once was told my best buddy was killed in combat while I was away in Las Vegas for three days. That was a miserable conversation and only caused me to get even more drunk at the casino. The caller on the other end, though, was happy.

"Teddy," I exhaled in relief, a smile sliding across my face. I had spent every waking moment with her, so being away for two weeks was a bit of a hardship. It was good to hear the voice of my best friend. "I'm about to board, you?" Teddy was living… elsewhere. I wasn't exactly sure where that was, simply because it's nothing she ever cared to express. She was living a rough life, which I understood, and she was under no obligation to tell me where she was at all times, regardless of how concerned I may be.

After a few more words, I hung up the phone and boarded the plane. Benefits to being in the Army: first-class seating on planes. It was roomy and the chairs were warm and comfortable. I settled in quickly, waiting patiently as the rest of the plane did so. I closed my eyes during take-off, doing my best to fall asleep quickly. I was in no mood to strike up a conversation to the person next to me, nor did I feel like spending hours staring aimlessly at the chair in front of me. Sleeping was my favorite option, and I drifted off in no time.

I awoke just as the descent into New York City began. The flight had been over five hours long, but I had been exhausted enough to sleep through the entire thing. The connecting flight would begin boarding in less than two hours, but the flight itself was around 14 hours or so. It didn't bother me, though, because I would be with my people. Friends, co-workers, companions… whatever you want to call them. They were my people. Sure enough, as I exited through the doors of the plane, down the run-way and through the gate, Teddy was there already waiting for me. I dropped my bags as she ran into my arms, and I pulled her close, inhaling her familiar scent. "Hi," I whispered into her ear before she pulled away from me. She responded with a hello and a smile, then after picking up my bag once more, we travelled through the airport to our next gate, talking about our horrible two weeks spent away from each other. Teddy knew I was dating Beth, but she wasn't aware that I had proposed, nor would she any time soon. It wasn't something I was likely to tell her in the relatively near future. There was no reason to.

The best feeling I got was walking up to our next gate with the entire squad waiting for us. We were a team of six: Teddy, myself, Albert, Drake, John, and Tom. Initially, my platoon had twenty, but we lost 14 soldiers over the past three tours. We occasionally had others join our team, but we were content with who we had. We all clicked together like a little unit. Seeing their faces created a grin to stretch across the length of my face. I shook hands with each of them, reconnecting immediately. They truly were the greatest group I could have ever asked for as Major. They all listened well, and they were all ridiculously talented surgeons. That was our job in the army — saving lives, not ending them. When people see me, they immediately assume I'm on the front line. I am, but not in the way as the other soldiers are. I don't open fire, or fire at all, for that matter. My job is to heal the wounded and save the dying. It was the best job I could have ever asked for. It was never easy, but it was worth it.

I graduated from Northwestern, then from Harvard with my M.D. It seemed like the best option for me at the time. Shortly after the tragic events of 9/11, I enlisted in the Army as a trauma surgeon. My parents were proud of me, proud of the son they had raised and sent off to war. After three tours in Iraq, I continued to renew my contract with the Army. My work was needed, and my platoon needed me. Being in charge of a group also meant that you were responsible for them. If any of the men (or Teddy) that were left were harmed in any way, I would feel personally responsible. We were a family, and I was the father, and it's the father's responsibility to watch after his children. At least, that's what my father had taught me growing up. He had done a pretty damn good job of protecting me, so I proudly implemented his ways with my platoon.

We boarded the plane shortly after our arrival at the gate, waiting patiently on the ground before taxing down the runway. It was a small plane with the capacity of about 20 or so, including the pilot. We would touch-down in about 14 hours, so I settled in for the long flight next to Teddy. The plane was unusually quiet, but I understood that everyone was getting in a completely different mindset now. We were living civilization to head into something that was far from ordinary. Going to Iraq was just as frightening the fourth time as it was the first. We never knew what to expect. Once up in the air, though, the usual chatter broke out among the men. Everyone seemed relatively happy and had thoroughly enjoyed their time off. It was comforting to hear. After all, we were headed into a war zone, and happiness was the only thing that could keep us alive.