The Long Way Round

Category: Angst

Pairing: Omelia

Summary: He prickles at the sharp tone even though he knows it's an instinctive reaction. She's hurt and acting out, trying to deflect from the sudden tragedy but the words still sting and his automatic response is to defend himself. (Owen/Amelia, Omelia) Contains spoilers for S11E21 'How to Save a Life'.

Warnings: Contains spoilers for S11E21 'How to Save a Life'.

Disclaimer: Own nadda

Authors Notes: I actually started writing this based on the sides for 11x22, before I knew Patrick Dempsey was leaving. I was really hoping it wasn't going to be him :( Sorry for any mistakes, I wanted to get this posted before the next episode airs! Patience is not one of my virtues ;)

His hands are shaking as he tries Amelia's number for the fifteenth time.

He's the Chief of Surgery, head of the department and he makes decisions that save lives on a daily basis but right now -today- he's never felt more useless.

Sure he's dealt with the fallout, signed the papers and taken care of the legalities but he still can't wrap his head around the fact Derek is really gone. Scrawling his signature on a page doesn't mean a damn thing. Losing a friend, a husband, a brother... those are the things that mean something and the grief in the hospital is tangible, like the walls are mourning the loss of their own.

The call goes to voicemail again and her happy tone pierces the line causing his chest to tighten.

There was no way to soften the blow, no way to interrupt her surgery without sparking rumors. He didn't know what to expect but the reality of his position and the need to inform her surgical team of the news took precedence over his personal feelings. Now he's starting to wonder if that was a mistake. He's had people searching for her ever since but they've all come up empty handed. He knows she's not with Meredith. Karev, Torres and Pierce all went to her mother's house to join her and he's not worried, they'll take care of her. She has people.

Amelia has him.

Had him.

The reminder turns his stomach, creating an angry bile that burns his throat. Their last proper conversation ended with him calling them a plane crash and ever since he uttered the damning comparison all he's wanted to do is take it back. They both got scared and defensive but Derek's death has brought one truth hurtling home.

People shouldn't be afraid to live.

He doesn't know if they can salvage what they had, especially in light of the recent news but he's sure of two things; that she shouldn't be alone and he's prepared to be there for her no matter what. It's why he painstakingly combs the entire hospital in search of her, feeling a well of frustration when he draws to the conclusion that she's no longer on the premises.

He doesn't think twice about leaving April in charge. She'll hold down the fort because, despite an often overly exuberant personality, she's amazing and more than capable in a crisis. And because she has Jackson. They're stronger together and he doesn't harbor any doubt leaving them with the responsibility. Everything else however, is going to hell in a hand-basket and the notion reaffirms his need to find Amelia. He signs off on the rest of the protocols and is out of the hospital within fifteen minutes, finding his car in its usual spot.

He's not in the habit of practicing worst case scenarios but he's also never cared about someone who suffers from a substance abuse problem. In a way that should make him lucky but instead he just feels inadequately prepared and not sure what to expect from the situation. On one hand he knows her as this fierce, brilliant and extremely talented neurosurgeon. He's never seen the other-side and it's never been an issue because he's witnessed her strength, knows what she's capable of and she's never given him any reason to doubt her professionalism.

She goes to meetings, abstains from drinking and history has shown that it would take more than a bad day, a stressful case or the pressure of a career defining operation for her to relapse. She's proven herself and she's not fragile but she is human. People make mistakes, they slip and even though he doesn't want to believe she'll go down that path again it would be naive not to entertain it as a possibility.

The thought drives home a burning need to find her which contradicts his weariness about speeding. The hospital just lost one man in a car accident, he doesn't want to add to the tally and he pulls back to the limit until the familiar dirt road finally comes into view. Signalling, he takes the sharp left keeping his hands on the wheel as the tyres veer over the loose gravel. It's closer to the house than it is to his caravan and he reactively goes for the breaks, slowing his entry up the drive as he spots the silver gleam of her car off to the right. It means she's home and he breathes a quick sigh of relief as he cuts the ignition, leaving the keys in as he jumps out.

In a few short strides he reaches the front door and knocks twice feeling uneasy as a ghostly silence settles around the grounds. She shouldn't be in there alone. There are too many memories surrounding the house, little reminders of Derek that make the loss painfully real and if he's struggling he can only imagine what she must be going though.

"Amelia?" He knocks again, pulling his phone out and speed-dialing her number for what must be the thirtieth time now. He's met with the same irritating beep slicing through the call followed by her outgoing message. 'Hi. You've reached Doctor Shepherd. I can't take your call at the-'

He doesn't listen to the end play out. There's no point. Whatever she's doing her phone is either flat or off and neither option is going to shed any light on her whereabouts. He glances around spotting a small gap in the curtains and he circles the porch pressing his face to the window to look for any signs of movement. It's dark but her presence on the couch is glaringly obvious just like the empty bottle of whiskey and the fluorescent pill container that's knocked over in front of her.

Fear rushes through him and his doctorly instincts take over jarring his legs straight back to the front door. The paneling in the wood is made of glass and he lands his fist through the middle one barely feeling any pain as it shatters over his feet. He's too focused on getting inside and he fumbles with the latch springing it up and hauling the door back. It's a skillful maneuver and once he's in he crosses the short distance to the two-seater, rounding the couch and trying not to panic as he drops beside her.

"Amelia... Amy!" The nickname slips off his tongue as he slides his hand up to check for a pulse. It's strong and steady, not what he's expecting, but that doesn't alleviate his fear. He's not thinking like a doctor. He's thinking like a person who cares too far much for their patient and when she begins to stir he barely even recognizes it a sign. "Amelia listen to me, what did you take?"

His voice is harsh and intruding and she winces trying to figure out what the hell is going on and why Owen is in her house yelling at her. But as much as she wants to, it's a futile attempt to try a put the pieces together. "What?"

"The pills-" he's more forceful, abandoning the gentle approach. Unless he has more information he can't help her and frustration mixes with the fear in his voice, "I need to know what you took and how many?"

She can feel confusion tightening her expression, not sure what he's accusing her of... until her gaze skips to the coffee table and the empty bottle of Oxycontin. They're the drugs she took from the pharmacy. The drugs she stole because her brother is dead. Reality crashes down and a tight knot lodges in her throat as she remembers the painful truth.

Derek is gone.

She wants to cry but she can feel Owen scrutinizing her movements and a tiny flare of anger pulses under her skin. She knows what it looks like but she hasn't done anything wrong. She flushed the pills along with the alcohol because even though she was close, even though she desperately wanted the escape she doesn't want her last memory of her brother to be tarnished by drugs and alcohol. She wants to remember him smiling and happy, joking on the phone about catching his flight. She wants to remember the good times but it's still too raw, it hurts too much and she holds onto the tiny flare of anger.

Not because it's warranted but because it's easier.

"You can save the knight in armour routine-" she pushes herself up, shaking away the last of her grogginess, "I'm fine. I didn't take anything and I don't need looking after."

Despite the cold tone warning him off, a surge of relief washes over his confusion. There's no alcohol on her breath, her words are coherent and there's no real reason -at least medically speaking- to suspect she's lying but the fact she thought about it is enough reason to warrant his concern and potentially justify breaking into her house. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have barged in... but you can't blame me for thinking-"

"What? That I'm a total screw up?" She ends the sentence for him defensively crossing her arms over her chest.

She know's it isn't fair. Given her history and the very prominent evidence on the table he had every right to assume the worst but his concern is an added pressure that she doesn't need on top of everything else. He's not supposed to care, that's what they silently agreed when he deemed them an inevitable plane crash. "Even if I had... what I do at home, how I grieve is none of your business."

He prickles at the sharp tone even though he knows it's an instinctive reaction. She's hurt and acting out, trying to deflect from the sudden tragedy but the words still sting and his automatic response is to defend himself. "We're friends aren't we?"

"Right, friends-" she breathes out a sharp laugh but the smile doesn't last long. The line is so blurred she doesn't know what they are but right now, whatever it is they're doing, it's too much. He shouldn't be here and she withdraws further hoping that he'll get the message.

The sudden silence is awkward and he shifts wincing as he pushes off his knees. He's been kneeling for far too long and doesn't ask permission as he steals the empty space beside her. She instinctively edges back and the movement tugs painfully in his chest. He shouldn't have pushed her away. He should have swallowed his goddamn fear and fought for her but he didn't and now he has to wear the consequences.

"I'm came here because I'm worried about you," he breathes out slowly, trying to smooth over the tension, "I'm not going to judge or tell you what you can or can't do. I'm here for you, that's all."

"Don't-" she shakes her head trying to block out the gentle concern.

She doesn't want it.

She wants Derek.

Because even when they were fighting, even when she hated him she knew him. Their bond was unconditional, it was family and it was the only love she could trust. She still has her mother and her sisters but it's not the same. Derek saved her life, twice. He was with her when their father got shot and traumatic as the memory is, it's even more terrifying now that it exits solely with her.

Tears spring to her eyes but she fights them, scared that if she falls apart she'll shatter. She wants to be strong, for herself and for Derek but she doesn't know if she can be and if she can't, if she does slip up then she won't drag anyone else down with her, including Owen.

"I'm not okay." The honesty twinges in her chest and she pushes up from the couch needing to put distance between them. He's getting to close, letting emotion could his judgement and she can't let herself get sucked in. "I'm not... I just lost my brother and I can't, I don't know what I'm doing but you shouldn't be here."

He's drawn to her pacing and fights the helpless that washes over him. There's nothing he can say to make it any easier but he can't just leave, he doesn't want to.

"Amelia-"

"No." She holds herself steady, fearing the softer side of his expression. It's not helping her resolve and she shifts her gaze refusing to look at him, "don't be nice to me, don't feel sorry for me... you said you can't go through another plane crash, what do you think this is?"

Her feet clumsily back into the bookcase behind her but she barely notices as it wavers, too focused on the words tumbling from her mouth, "I'm trying, I'm really trying but it's not just about today. It's about tomorrow and the next day and next month. It's about trying when I'm so exhausted I can't think straight and I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I'm strong enough... and if I'm not it will ruin you, I'll ruin you which is why you need to leave, now."

"Stop it, Amelia just stop it-" he snaps the demand, trying to pull her out of the semi-hysterical state.

He knows she's scared of relapsing but he's shocked by the desperate plea behind her gaze. He thought she was afraid of getting hurt but from what she's saying, the way she's acting... it sounds like she's trying to protect him. Last week she'd called them a mistake and he'd asked her to be honest, to help him understand and now he's finally getting a glimpse of why she'd decided to run. "Maybe I didn't make this clear before but I have feelings for you and when you said you had nothing to give it hurt, I got hurt."

She clasps her arms tighter around her body willing him to back down but instead he stands up and she inwardly recoils as he takes a step closer.

"You don't get it." He tries to swallow the frustration constricting his throat but he can't let it go. He shouldn't be cornering her but if he leaves, if he gives up on her then it's over and he's not ready to accept that not when he's finally on the verge of getting honest answers. "This isn't about rejection. It's how, when you shut me out, when you say things and I think you mean something else... I don't know if I'm grasping at straws. I backed off because I don't want to be the idiot who gets his heartbroken over someone who doesn't even want to try."

The words hit hard and she can feel the emotion catch in the back of her throat. It's not about wanting. If it was that simple she would have let herself fall for him the very first time he kissed her but she's learning to be more cautious. She's made mistakes in the past and Meredith was right to warn her off.

"Oh god-" her hand slaps over her mouth as she remembers the last conversation she had with her sister in-law.

You've never lost the love of your life. You've never cried over the body of the person you love most in this world.

She can feel the blood rush from her face as a sick feeling of dread curls in her stomach. She was defensive and angry but she would never have wished that nightmare on anyone, least of all her family. "I had a fight with Meredith, Owen... the things I said to her."

He watches her eyes glaze over and he doesn't care that their conversation is put on hold. He can tell something is wrong and he closes the distance between them concerned by the sickly grey colour her skin is turning. She's in shock -probably has been the whole time- but whatever she's remembering is triggering a reaction and he pulls the Afghan from the couch, bringing it up and wrapping it around her shoulders. "Hey, look at me-" he waits for her gaze to lift and gathers the ends of the blanket tucking them together, "whatever happened, I'm sure it's probably the last thing on her mind right now."

She shakes her head finally giving in to the stinging sensation building behind her eyes. She doesn't blink but she can feel the dampness wetting her cheeks and she nearly chokes on the reality that it's probably the first and only thing on her sister in-law is thinking about. "She warned me off you."

It sounds hollow like she's reciting the story from a book and he frowns in confusion, "who, Meredith?"

"She promised Cristina she'd look out for you-" she swallows roughly, finding it hard to admit the truth. She doesn't want to tell him the rest but she can feel the guilt squeezing her chest, pushing the words out and she can't escape it. Not on top of everything else. "She's right, I'm not good enough. I told her that I was trying but I was so angry... I said she didn't know what is was like, she'd never lost the person she loves most in the word."

The words disappear beneath a sob and she's surprised when she feels Owen's arms encircle her tightly. She doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve him and she pushes back forcefully needing to get away from the comfort. "I told you, I can't do this!"

He flinches at the anger behind her voice knowing that if he wants to get through to her he needs to swallow his fear. Right now she's scared and vulnerable, too emotional to think straight and the only way to be there for her is to bank everything. In his mind is isn't a hard decision. "Amelia, listen to me... I''m here because I'm in. No matter how hard it gets today, tomorrow, next week, next month... I want in. If I'm going to crash and burn, I want to do it with you."

There's no doubt in his expression, nothing she can fault and she wants to hate him for it because she can feel her anger draining. She trusts him. She doesn't know where it comes from or why but it's bigger than she's been wiling to give it credit for. It might be a monumental fuck-up, the worst decision she's ever made but she can see rock-botton and in all honestly it's not that much further down.

With a nervous and almost reluctant breath she takes a hesitant step towards him, prising her hands from where they've been wedged beneath her elbows. She wants to make the first move, to show him she's trying but her fingers falter and she can't bring herself to move.

Even though he wants to close the distance he can't. She needs to make the decision for herself and he holds steady trying to ignore the rapid thump of his heart as it beats against his chest. All she has to do is let him in and he catches her gaze giving it one last try, "Amelia... you don't have to do this alone."

She remains completely still, silently coming to terms with what he's offering. When she lost her finance nobody understood. When she went into rehab she did it by herself and when she gave birth to a baby with no brain all the decisions were hers.

She's always felt a sense of isolation but what scares her the most is that she doesn't feel that way around him.

Half the time there doesn't even need to be a conversation. When he looks at her it's like he's the first person to actually see her... and she finally pushes herself to take the last tentative step towards him. She doesn't say anything. She doesn't know what she would say but her arms instructively circle around his neck and the response is an immediate, tight pressure around her waist.

It makes her want to cry all over again but she buries her head into his chest fighting the emotion. She wants her brother back. She wants an easier way to escape the void expanding in her chest but this is it. She doesn't know if it's possible but it's what Derek would have wanted.

No shortcuts.

Just one day at a time, taking the long way round.