She slowly woke up feeling his hard chest pressed against her cheek. Dawn light was beginning to filter through the blinds. Still half asleep she reveled in his scent and allowed herself to enjoy the moment. Instinctively she was feeling safe and at home in his arms.
Even half asleep she realized her head was a little clouded…not just because of the early hour… something was wrong… and with the nausea and the piercing pain in her temple, not even her clouded mind could fail to diagnose a hangover… big hangover actually… But, who cared? Somehow drinking had gotten Owen naked to her bed, and they were sleeping together. That was all the news she could swallow in her state. Without thinking, her eyes closed again to avoid the hurting light; she smiled, rubbed her nose against his chest, and planted a soft kiss in his skin. It was still very early, so, she might even be able get some more sleep if she ignored the light and the headache.
Trying to relax and get asleep again, the images of the previous day begun playing into her mind. Crap! George! She didn't jump up because of the drowsiness, but she did get to sit up. That was how she had ended at Joe's… George was gone… Izzie had scared them for a while, but had stabilized, and then she had heard. John Doe was George, and they were fighting for his life down the corridor. Had been like a punch in her stomach. Right now her stomach was revolting again, and it was not because of the hangover. She hugged her knees, and fought the tears flooding her eyes. She wished she could deceive herself thinking it had been a bad dream. She wished she had not entered the scrub room just in time to hear Owen call time of death… she wished she hadn't, but she had. And she had seen his dead body, and Owens's eyes staring at her, sad and worrying.
She might have fooled anyone else, but he knew. He could see her, and he knew she was not a robot. He knew that she was breaking inside, that she had just lost a part of her family, that she was hurting. He just knew. And she needed to run away. She could not face this; she could not face him without breaking down. She needed to get away, and get drunk. Vodka was the answer. It might numb her enough; she might be able to fool herself into believing the nausea was because of the drink.
She remembered that when she left, Owen was still giving the last instructions for clearing the OR. Maybe it was because he was the least emotionally involved of all the surgeons there, but he had seemed to be the only one in control of the situation. She had left the hospital without having a shower or changing clothes, that much was clear in her memory, and she had gone straight to Joe's. Vodka, leave the bottle. Joe had looked at her, wondering, but she had just repeated that she wanted a whole bottle of vodka on the counter. She had not elaborated and he had not dared to ask.
From there on, the images in her mind were not that clear. She knew that Owen had arrived, on civil clothing; half a bottle later… that was her best guess about time. He had arrived looking tired and defeated, but he had not complained, or made any comment about her drunken state. He had just asked for a scotch, and had raised his glass to hers. To George, he had said.
She stared at him; still peacefully sleeping at her side. She could always count on him to be there for her, doing the right thing. He would be there even if it meant drinking with her and carrying her home when she couldn't walk anymore. She could clearly see him leaving her in her bed and turning away to go home, but she had not let him. She had asked him to stay, not to leave her alone. She had nearly begged him to make love to her and to spend the night. To hell with risk, Izzie was struggling, George was gone, and she might be dead tomorrow for some stupid reason, so, at least she would be making love to the man of her life, and sleeping at his side.
Still hugging her knees, and with the tears running down her cheeks, she allowed herself a bitter smile, thinking how he had tried to resist. He always wanted to be the perfect gentleman, and he had been afraid of taking advantage. She was hurt and drunk, and he was still scared to sleep at her side, not the ideal combination; the correct thing was to refuse. But, just as he had needed her after the chocking incident, she had needed him last night. She had asked him to make her feel alive; to give her a reason to go on. She had stared at him, and he had had to oblige. Maybe it had been the Scotch in his blood, maybe he was just unable to resist her, but she loved him even more than the previous day for being her lifeline.
At least they had proven that they were able to sleep together… that was big! They had gone so far in only 24h! George and Izzie had taught them a lesson: life is too short to waste. She would mourn her friend, she would cry her eyes off, but she would also hold on to Owen. She would not waste another minute being scared.
Still with tears running down her cheeks she lay down again in bed and hugged Owen. She felt the steady beat of his heart, and closed her eyes to get some more sleep; the following days were going to be long ones.