Owen's POV

Iraq is not a fun place to be, I can tell you that. You just don't get the same sense of security like you do at home. It's stepping out of your comfort zone. The bunk beds we sleep on are worn out, the food we eat are stale, the toilets filthy. It just makes you miss home. And miss the loved ones you leave behind.

Loved ones.. my mind begins to wander to my colleagues. Derek, who has always been a good friend in need and who has helped me to overcome my PTSD crisis. Mark, who has always been my good companion, a buddy to crack jokes and laugh with. Teddy, who is one cool chick…I still love her, just…not in the same way as I love Cristina.

Cristina Yang is one feisty chick who is never afraid to speak her mind. She is blunt and honest, with her, what you see is what you get. The thing I like most about her is that she is tough as steel, and stubborn too. She never caves in easily, and she never gives up easily. I don't know why, but I have difficulty expressing my feelings towards her. Once, I wanted to tell her that I love her, but ended up saying 'Take care now' instead, which pissed her off. There is just something about her which makes me speechless.

I take out a picture of both of us together from my wallet. The both of us were in our scrubs, me in my dark blue ones and her in her light blue ones. We were both smiling into the camera happily, I can see the light shining in our eyes. I stare at the picture for a long time, wondering what she is doing right now. Maybe scrubbing in on a cardiac bypass surgery with Teddy. Maybe chatting away with Meredith. Is she thinking of me too?

I jump when I feel a hard tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see Tom, a tall large built blond haired colleague of mine straining to look over my shoulder at the photo.

' That's your girl?'

' Yeah'

He whistled. ' Wow, she's something isn't she? Pretty. I can see she has a feisty character, just based on the photo.'

I chuckle. 'Yes, she is'

That night, I couldn't sleep. After several failed attempts, I climbed out of my bunk bed and switched on the lamp on the table. I opened the drawer and took out several blank sheets of paper. This is the only way I know how to express my feelings for her.

Cristina, I'm writing this letter mainly because this is the only way I know how to express my feelings for you. I just want you to know that right now I'm thinking of you and wondering what you are doing back in Seattle. And wondering if you're thinking of me too. I just want to let you know that I'm still safe and sound in Iraq right now, and not to worry about my well being. Take care now.

I love you.

Owen.

It would probably take a week at least for the letter to reach her. Had I emailed her or Facebook messaged her, she would receive it in an instant. But unfortunately, we do not have internet connection here in camp.

Finally I drifted off to sleep, thinking of her.

The next day, I am awoken at dawn by a loud noise, something which sounded like a gun being shot. My eyes shot open and I look around me. My comrades are getting out of their beds, apparently they heard it too.

We step outside our barracks to be greeted by a fire of missiles. Somebody is shooting bullets at our direction. We are under attack! We duck back into our barracks to take out our revolvers. We are soldiers, we are not going down without a fight. Soon we find ourselves in the midst of a gunfire battle. Bullets are being fired left and right. Several of my comrades are now wounded, and groaning in pain, clutching the places where they had been hit. The enemy doesn't seem to be giving up that easily. I make a mental count, I would need to perform several hundred stitches and twice as many wound dressings later.

Suddenly from the corner of my eye, I spot a little boy about the age of five, standing there in front of camp, sobbing uncontrollably and rubbing his eyes. He looks lost, maybe he has lost his parents. He is standing in the way of the missiles, and instinctively, I know that he could be shot at any moment. Before I can stop myself, I run out of our hiding place in the nearby bushes and grab the boy by his right hand. We run for our lives back to the bushes. But just as we are about to duck into safety, I feel a sharp piercing pain on my left thigh.

I curse quietly to myself ( I didn't want the boy to hear me cursing) as I feel the pain radiating from my thigh right up to my hips and to my back. Then 'BOOM' the loud deafening noise was just last thing I heard before my world turned black.

I open my eyes to see a pretty woman smiling down at me.

I groan. Where the hell am I?

Then I feel the shooting pain on my thigh and I remember.

' You're awake! You have been out for about two days.'

' Where am I?'

' You're in the army hospital. I'm the nurse working here'.

I look down at my legs and find them tightly wrapped in an above knee cast.

I try to move, but the pain is still radiating down my back. I cannot move both my legs, I cannot even wriggle my toes. I am paralyzed from waist down!

' Help me!' I roar. ' I'm paralyzed aren't I?'

' We don't know yet' the nurse sighed. ' A doctor checked you out just now and he has removed the bullet from your thigh. However, he has doubts on whether you can regain function of your legs.'

I lean back on my pillow in defeat. What am I supposed to do now? I have lost function of both my legs.

' I want to go back to America' I say suddenly.

' You have to wait….we have to monitor you for at least a month before we can let you go'

I am now delirious. I want to go home like now. And I want to see my Cristina now.

' I want to go home!' I yell before I drift back into unconsciousness.