AN: Hey all! I am very new to writing fan fiction. This one happens to be my first and I would love to hear your feedback. Thanks and I hope you like it!
Owen never intended for this to happen. He never wanted to be sent away just as he was starting to get his life back in order. The nightmares had finally started to go away and when they did come he was able to deal with them better now. He liked working at Seattle Grace. He was happy there. He felt it had been the perfect fit for him. It was where he had met some his best friends and learned how to be a better, more efficient surgeon. Most importantly, it was the place where he had met Cristina. God he loved her. She was driven and focused and everything that made her wrong for him. But still he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone before. It didn't make any sense, but love never did. Even though they had had a rough start, they were set to be married this year. But war changes everything...
He was now in a ditch in the middle of a war zone in Iraq. Only God knew where he was exactly. He sat there reading and re-reading the same letter, just like he did every night since he had been stuck in this hell hole. It was the last letter from Cristina that had gotten to him. He laughed whenever he thought about it because Cristina had never seemed like the letter writing type. It was too predictable and cliche and she was much more complicated than that. She was his single malt scotch. But now that letter from her was the only symbol of hope he had left to hang on to.
Owen had been fighting for over a year now and he still did not have the slightest idea how he had even ended up here. One minute he was running the ER and the next he was back in his uniform with a pack on his back and a gun in his hands. His hands and face were weathered from the sun and his boots were caked with mud. Everyday he was surrounded by horrors that no man should ever have to see. One day he would be fighting next to one of his men and the next he would be dragging his dead body back into a safe zone. Death and destruction were normal now. He didn't even think twice about the things he saw and that probably sickened him the most.
Since Owen had been stop-lossed, his spirt had been weakened and the childish sparkle in his eyes had vanished. He could still remember getting the call from his commanding officer, informing him of his mandatory tour. Owen didn't say anything about it until he saw Teddy the next day. She looked at him and they both knew what the other was thinking. They were both headed back to the place of nightmares. The lives each of them had made here had to be put on hold so they could serve their country. It took every ounce of courage for Owen to tell Cristina and once he did, it seemed like only minutes had passed before the whole hospital knew. He couldn't walk down a hallway without a member of the staff looking at him with sympathetic eyes. Goodbyes had to be short and quick, as they were both expected to be on the next flight out. It was painful, but it was like ripping off a bandaid. Pretty soon the sting would fade.
He had grown cold, but that was expected; no one was the same after they experienced war first hand. After he met Cristina, he actually thought he would be able to get back some sense of normalcy. Now he knew that would never happen. If he ever got out of here, things would never be the same. He would always be stuck here, in this god-awful desert. The days were long, each one a struggle, but the nights were even longer. When he did sleep, it was never for very long. Ever since the ambush he spent most nights in a fitful sleep, fighting to rid his mind of the nightmares. He was the only one in his troop that had survived. This was the second time that had happened to him and he couldn't understand why. Most of them had died in the explosion, but when he regained consciousness Teddy was still alive, just barely. He cried as he held his best friend in his arms until her eyes finally went blank and she felt cold. He continued to hold her even after her body went stiff and then cried some more. He let himself mourn the loss of his troop, of his best friend, of the life and all the people he had been forced to leave behind. He finally let himself miss Cristina and cried until no more tears would leave his eyes.
It seemed counterintuitive because, being a doctor, he was a healer by nature, but now his gun never left his side. It seemed to be his only sense of control in this mess. It was always loaded and he was never afraid to use it, even when the situation may not have called for violence. That is, after all, what each of his tours had taught him: if you do not kill the enemy, they will kill you.
The war seemed as if it would never end. Owen felt like he would never leave the desert. He longed for the chatter that surrounded the halls of Seattle Grace and the rush he felt each time a trauma came through the doors. That life seemed so distant to him now as he sat in that ditch. All he had left now were memories of those days and they were slowly fading, much like the nametape on his old, worn-down uniform.