Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy, et al.
Author's Note: So ... thanks to everyone who commented on the last piece ... cliffhangers ... I don't like them either ... but I hope you'll come to appreciate being left there for that moment in time. Recall, this chapter is critical to the entire story and it's cohesive in the idea of all three parts, that each part is necessary in its own rite and by the nature of that idea, the cliffhanger was needed to divide the players' stories (for now).
One question for you all: Who do you think the blackbird is? Keep that in mind as you read on and tell me what you think if you so desire.
Chapter 16 – Blackbird – Part 2 of 3
Derek watched Meredith's retreating form – he stood and waited, frozen in his spot, light rain starting to fall in earnest once again – as the women came to stop in front of a family compound. Making a mental note of where Meredith would be, he watched them disappear as the door-gate was opened in front of them. He sighed – an unexpected wave of energy passed through him – just thinking about what Meredith would bear witness to and on that though he smiled inside. He turned – cool rain splattered against him, he scanned the hazy scene in front of him for a beat – before he turned around and found Owen's pensive eyes waiting for him.
"Where's Meredith off to?" he inquired with a wave of his hand in the direction she took.
Derek smiled. "Ketut took her to play catch," he chuckled.
"Really?" he said with amusement as excitement for his friend reached all the way to his eyes now. "Wow," he cracked a smile and it felt foreign to him for some reason – the creases made within his skin – they felt … new. Had it really been that long since he smiled?
"I know," Derek agreed. "It's gotta be something out of this world … even more so with Ketut," he offered, silently wishing he was invited too.
"Yes," Owen replied, turning his attention back to the paddies below them now, scanning and checking the area, making a mental note of the various groups of men still out there. "She's in a world of her own," he shook his head, pondering his words for a moment. "She's frustratingly elusive," he muttered, turning to Derek before the men started to walk down towards the tree.
"She is," Derek chuckled in agreement.
The men walked along the ridge – each footstep arduous in the mud now – their stormy range of thoughts collided in mid air – ping, ping, ping – each man's head in the clouds, so cloudy not even the pelt of the hard rain could massage their weary minds and bones. The slow storm was nothing short exhausting, for the stamina – both physically and mentally – and even more so for Derek, who admittedly was a novice in the realm of survival-crisis-management. The wind changed directions – and much like thunder in the theater – the scene changed with the rain and wind picking up, pushing against them now, perhaps a silent warning … one that fell on deaf ears.
Owen stopped abruptly near the tree, vaguely aware of how much his feet sank into the softened earth as he did, the wind pushed against him, forcing the rain to pelt along his face and chest. He swept the rice terraces again – checking for the connection, the missing piece, the element – the reason for their presence up here with the villagers – there was movement amongst the small groups, the placement of sandbags, lots of scanning eyes – but nothing urgent was happening, there was a haphazardness to it all.
His eyes moved again, but again he had nothing – he saw nothing – until his eyes focused on a small group of farmers. And then it occurred to him, there was nothing haphazard about them – their mission was necessary – they had remained constant. They stood there still in their same spot midway between the tree and the edge of the rice terrace, right along the end-cap of the area he and Meredith had harvested. The three men sat crouched down, all eyes on a small levee, one oil lamp between them, the dim light illuminating their faces from beneath their conical straw hats protecting them from the rain. They were vigilant in their protection of this area – and rightly so – but something was still missing … there was something Owen was missing! Damn Ketut and her talk of missing pieces and paradoxes … the idea of seeing is believing … her words playing over in his head again now.
"What?" Derek asked, following Owen's intense, all-seeing gaze, the rain falling harder now.
"I'm looking for more than just …," his voice trailed off. "There's a connection here … somewhere …," he sighed, his voice dying off again … it was on the tip of his mind and Ketut was likely right, everything he needed to know and see would present itself soon enough.
"Connectivity ...," Derek mused, his mind working overtime – his eyes straining through the rain to see something – anything.
"I think …," Owen answered, his uncertainty growing. He turned to Derek, a momentary reprieve from the rain against his face. "That night – the night of the gift, when you and Meredith disappeared into the kitchen – Ketut was …," he sighed with a wry chuckle, his face red. "Ketut!" he exclaimed, shaking his head. Derek chuckled. "She said I would become a paradox … one I couldn't hide from …," he said, pressing his lips together.
"A paradox?" Derek asked, shifting his feet in the mud, sinking a little deeper as he did.
"Yes … yes … that I would need to find the strength to 'surrender' … but only by asking those around me not to … not to surrender," he sighed, watching Derek's reaction with interest.
"Shit," Derek muttered with a wry grin. "That's almost as bad as the links and the missing pieces – which I thought I understood – but there's still more to that … I think," he sighed, pulling on the toggle of his hood. "There's more," he added, roaming his wet eyes over the vast rice paddies once again.
"Yeah well, there's more to be seen from up here too," Owen said – still searching, scanning – his relentless pursuit. "Even in this storm … there's gotta be more to see," he muttered.
"What do you see, I mean besides the obvious?" Derek asked, turning toward the rain showers again.
Owen whipped his head back to Derek, a small smile playing along his lips now as he turned back to the paddies. "You know," he said, his eyes alert, transfixed now on the farmers. "It's what I don't see that concerns me," he said elusively.
"What you don't see …," Derek repeated, his eyes once again following Owen's gaze to the rice farmers.
"Yep, there should be more," he said. "And a small person, a small man or even a woman … someone who can …," his muttered abandoning his thought as his mind careened out of control. He abruptly turned his back on the paddies and walked briskly toward the small barn that housed supplies and emergency sandbags.
Rain picked up with speed and power, coming down in sheets now as Derek followed Owen's lead and began to move sandbags – two and three at a time – each sandbag weighing in at about ten pounds, the bag itself made from worn burlap, rough around the edges from years of use and storage. The men worked with tenacity and after about five minutes they had positioned a small knee-high wall at the top of the ridge off to the side near the tree.
Derek stopped – rain dripped from his brow in a steady stream – but he failed to notice, for he was already soaked through to the bone – not cold, not even all that uncomfortable – just wet and waterlogged. "So …," Derek prompted breathlessly. "What are we looking for?" he asked.
Owen held his hands on his hips – rain ran down his face – he left it there, for as soon as he would move his hands over his skin, he'd be drenched again, there was no point, the rain was just as much a part of him as it was a part of the storm now. He blinked hard, trying to clear the clouds from his vision, trying his best to calm the storm brewing in his mind and all around him now.
"That levee there, where those three men are," he said pointing to the farmers. "Underneath it there is a small natural duct, a gateway … so small they won't be able to get to it – but so important, so meaningful – that they'll need to access it before the storm is over," he said, thinking out loud as he spoke.
Derek shook his head back and forth. "So the levee has to be protected … but the access to the duct can't be compromised by sandbags …," he clarified.
"Exactly," Owen replied firmly.
"And three men won't be enough – see the rice paddies, from the very top of the mountains all the way down to sea level have built-in irrigation systems – mostly natural, caused by years of harvesting rice – the ducts and gateways and pass-throughs keep the paddies just wet enough – just muddy enough," he smiled tightly in recollection.
"So … the soil is naturally muddy," Derek concluded. His mind went nuts on that thought, it's naturally muddy.
"Yes and maybe because the rain has been intermittent – maybe it's not a cause for alarm – except that this storm is highly unusual … it's slow moving, it's been hovering over the island for almost two days now… rain coming from the top, hitting more than just this rice paddy here …," Owen clarified, stealing a glance at Derek.
Derek's blood ran cold and he turned to Owen. "It's the perfect storm," he muttered and all was quiet for a beat, except for the rain of course.
"Yes … some kind of mudslide is imminent, the ducts are very tiny, they allow only a small amount of water to pass through – by design – to keep the paddies wet enough day to day …," Owen said.
"But with the amount of water coming down from above this point – that duct there, or any duct – could hemorrhage …," Derek said, his voice trailing off with uncertainty. "So … what do we do?" he prompted.
"We find someone small enough to get down in there and make it bigger," he said with certainty.
"But who?" Derek asked as Owen started to walk down one of the natural aisle ways toward the men. "And how will we suggest it?" he prompted, acknowledging their language barrier.
Owen turned around to face Derek. "I have no idea," he said frankly before he turned around once more and headed back to the barn for more sandbags.
The men worked in tandem for several beats – doing the only thing they could think to do at the moment – move sandbags closer to the area where they might need them, because language barriers aside, one thing was for sure … a barrier of some kind was going to be needed, and soon. Derek carried three sandbags down to the makeshift wall and set them down. He stopped and looked at the distance from the ridge where he stood at the tree trunk and the levee area below him. Owen set his sandbags down and exhaled a deep breath of air as he did.
"I think I could do it," Derek breathed, thinking out loud. "We could use the leverage from this biggest tree branch here and you could lower me into the well with a small shovel – my own weight could work as an anchor – I could try to make the duct bigger from the opening –"
"No, it won't work," Owen interrupted. "You'll hit the point where the shelf you'll create will collapse, any expansion has to be done deeper inside the duct – like a siphon, even a stick could be used – you're not small enough, not even a child is small enough," Owen shook his head in wonder.
The two men stared over the horizon for several moments. Derek's mind wandered to Meredith for a beat – daring himself to think about the ties that bind – about her catching a baby – something, anything – to make him see the light at the end of the tunnel. He was lost in deep thought, instantly whisked away by the vision of Meredith until all of a sudden he felt a presence and a small hand slipped into his. Bewildered, he looked down and turned around to find Wayan! He was wearing a conical straw hat and windbreaker style jacket; his dark soulful eyes scanned Derek's.
"Wayan," breathed Derek, catching the easiness in his eyes, he remained mystified by the boy's timing. Owen turned around.
The boy said nothing; instead he moved and stepped in between Owen and Derek. He took their hands – linking them together – Owen stared straight ahead for a beat, unwilling to entertain the implications behind the boy's wordless stance.
"We can't use him," Owen said firmly, fear lodged itself in his throat. He turned to Derek and spoke quickly. "Even if he wants to do this, we can't … we can't allow it," he muttered, his mind on Ketut and her words and their time, which seemed to be running out. Wayan squeezed his hand.
Owen peered over his shoulder; the men were looking deep into the levee – they had moved, a flurry of activity now – what did they see? If the levee would blow at least half of the rice terraces would be ruined, not to mention that mud would indeed slide and most likely slip beyond the rice terraces, gathering speed and power as it went … surely homes would be lost, maybe even lives too.
Derek turned around and so did Wayan. He slipped his tiny hand into Derek's again and came to stand in front of him. Derek placed his other hand on the warm soft skin of Wayan's neck and wondered how long he had been watching them before he came over. Three sets of weary eyes watched the wave of activity for a beat. Wayan squeezed Derek's hand – trying again to impress upon him – but Derek agreed with Owen, they couldn't let Wayan go down there alone.
"I could go with him," Derek spoke quietly, his voice barely heard over the raging wind and his uneasy thoughts. The sense of urgency heightened now as the activity amongst the men on the field became more urgent.
Owen shook his head. "But how?" he asked.
"The same idea, we just tie the end of the rope around him, we'll lower him down and we'll keep our hands on the rope while he siphons … I'll be right behind him," Derek said.
Time indeed was running out …
Owen knew that …
Derek knew that …
The farmers and Wayan knew that …
Owen tried to refute the idea but before he knew what was happening, Wayan extricated himself from the men – disappearing in the storm as he went – ducking into the storage barn only to emerge moments later with a heavy rope, dragging it through the mud as he made his way back to the ridge.
His mind couldn't keep up with all that was happening before him and suddenly all he could see was the bloodshed of his past – friendships marred by tragedy, open wounds, guts, hearts, loss of life and of the future (his own included) –as his thoughts became flooded …
His own levees about to succumb to the pressure, threatening to break now … while all he could do was to stand idly by as Wayan fastened the rope tightly around his torso …
Yes, Owen was treading water at best, replaying his old, well hidden paradoxical vows one by one now:
Let go of the demons … the sense of attachment … the need for brotherhood and camaraderie …
Lock it down, become a lone warrior …
Never care, but don't be uncaring …
Never become vulnerable, but help those who are …
Somewhere he found Derek's blue eyes and brought himself back, pulled himself back to the task at hand. Without thinking he tossed the rope over the highest bough of the tree, Derek caught it as it came down.
"Owen," Derek said, shoving a small tree branch into the waistband of his pants for Wayan to use later.
"Don't over-think it down there – let him siphon some of the mud around the duct to make it bigger, no more than a couple of inches around – and get the hell out of there as fast as you can, understand," he ordered directly without question.
Derek nodded in assent, but Owen was in a zone of his own making now as he saw the scene unfold before his eyes, keeping his hands on the rough, weathered rope, watching now as Derek and Wayan utilized the pulley to ease themselves down to the levee and the duct. The three farmers watched in awe as Derek and Wayan floated closer and closer now.
They could do this, Owen thought as he watched with a careful eye … they could all do this together and come out of it fine – Meredith popped into his head, Ketut took up residence too – but he let his dear friends go for now, all the while believing with his heavy heart … chanting now …
Derek was strong enough for this … and so was Wayan … and so was he … for they were linked for now and forever.
Derek kept his hands on the taut rope – keeping an eye on the sharp point of the boy's conical hat as he lowered himself down into the well toward the duct – he handed the stick to Wayan. The boy looked up one last time and muttered something indistinct to the three farmers; one knelt down and pointed inside the well with his finger, directing Wayan to the right side of the small area.
The boy looked up to Derek one last time, his soft brown eyes etched with serenity, they held no fear – he was fearless – as he began to push the stick in and out of the small duct, back and forth he went. Derek felt the bough of the tree weaken, but he only tightened his hold on the rope in response, yanking upward as he did. Despite the language barrier, he felt compelled to speak to the child.
"Take your time," he whispered. "Take all the time you need, you're doing great," he cooed with encouragement, his voice just loud enough to reach Wayan over the pummel of the rain. The boy nodded as Derek watched the point of his hat move up and down.
Derek looked up to find Owen – his arms straining along the rope, his neck muscles, angry – the tree branch above him bending from their collective weight. He could hear the men behind him now, saying the same indistinct words over and over again to the boy ... perhaps encouraging him to hallow the area … a little more, more, more … God only knew what it all meant!
With that in mind, Derek focused again, counting now as Wayan tossed small handfuls of mud over his shoulder – one, two, three, toss, one two, three toss – he chanted this mantra over and over, no different than the farmers with their prayer.
The rain was as endless as the moment it seemed – it had thoroughly saturated everything now – Derek kept his eyes trained on the farmers feet for a moment, watching them sink deeper and deeper into the thick soil as time ticked on.
Intellectually, he knew they had only been down here a few minutes, he also knew Wayan was close to finished as he'd detected a change in the farmers' tone – but it felt endless, the moment, the chain, the link – how would it survive?
Suddenly, Derek heard the bough creak above him and he looked up to find the tree was leaning dangerously low to the ground now! So low that Wayan could probably stand inside the small well – but not safely enough – for if he did, he would surely be swallowed up … whole. Derek focused again, he could see Owen's wide eyes straining to find them through the cloud made from mud and rain.
"HE ONLY HAS A MINUTE!" Owen called down to Derek, breaking through the vacuum of sound from the rain. He could feel the tree's roots giving way to the weight hanging from it – the soil too soft now to maintain their hold – the old branches pressed against his back without discrimination now! He watched Derek's eyes grow wide with confusion. The farmers scattered to safety in all directions just beyond Derek and Wayan. "THE TREE!" he called out into the storm between them. "IT'S UPROOTING!" he shrilled, his words hanging in the thick air all around them – suspended in time, much like the players – he watched Derek nod in response.
Owen watched for a beat longer before he saw the boy scramble back up and into Derek's arms – safe and sound for now – the farmers, Derek and Wayan all breathed a sigh of relief before Derek looked up again. Owen held the rope taught, still supporting the weight of some of the old tree against his lower back and hips. He rocked back into it and tugged on the rope wordlessly ordering Derek to move up the line.
And there was the problem … Derek and Wayan needed the leverage of the tree to work their way back up – the mud was so slick and thick – there was no way around it – something or someone was going to have to give – they needed something to hold on to, especially because they were still tied to the rope – linked hopelessly now with a man who couldn't pull them – a man who was doing his damndest to keep the tree from crushing them all!
"WE CAN UNTIE HIM!" Derek shouted; it was their only hope. If he somehow could untie Wayan – release him from the chain – he could push him aside first and then get out of the way of the falling tree himself.
Derek felt his muscles flex and strain against the mud – tearing and ripping tendons as he went – he tried to hold Wayan with one hand pressed against the boy's back in an effort to alleviate some of the pressure for him and to offer some form of silent encouragement.
Meredith, baby …
He could only imagine what this was doing to the small boy's nerves and muscles. His heart clenched with worry. The boy reacted and took a couple of painful steps up to the ridge.
Meredith, baby…
Derek made eye contact with Owen again, his eyes red rimmed with stress – but they were closer – somehow they were a few steps closer!
Meredith, baby, Meredith …
At the same time though, the tree was definitely uprooted now and the bough they were tied to was almost resting on Owen's right shoulder as he leaned down and into the strain of the weight on the rope below him, effectively pinned between that and the weight of the tree above him!
Meredith, Meredith, Meredith … sweet baby …
Owen watched the scene unfold in front of him – he was helpless – he had no choice but to surrender to his fate – his destiny – whatever that would hold. How could he lose them when there was so much to gain?
Surrender …
The rope slipped from his grasp, tearing the new blisters along his palm as it went. The smell of his fresh blood permeated the air right in front of his face, it mixed with the earth and the salt – it was organic, he was organic – part of the scene, not just on autopilot unwilling to surrender … for he was finally an active participant.
Surrender … only he can …
He looked into Derek's bright blue eyes and in them he saw any of the number of friends he had lost, he saw and remembered all those he was unable to save – except that for some reason, he still had hope – because it was a two-way street between he and Derek … a 'give and take' that was somehow new.
Surrender … only he must …
Owen watched now as Derek coached Wayan – guiding him up, protecting, coveting him like he was his own – something he realized he was also destined to do – for they were his family, they were suddenly his people – Ketut's words ringing throughout his new lucid mind now … for Owen was finally linked – physically, emotionally and spiritually – by the ties that bound them together.
"Surrender," she had said. "Surrender and ask those around you not to," she had advised softly, clearly.
"DO NOT SURRENDER!" Owen boomed all of a sudden. "I HAVE YOU BOTH!" he called out into the black night all around them.
Adrenaline pumped furiously now with no sign of letting up – Owen could have imploded from the pressure on his nerves, but he would never allow that to happen – never!
He couldn't let himself down – let alone Meredith and Ketut and a whole fucking village – he couldn't and he wouldn't because all this finally meant something to him – for he had let himself become attached for the first time in years – and because of that attachment he believed he was right where he was meant to be …
In the here and now …
On an island in the middle of the ocean …
With a tree tearing him in half …
Fiercely protecting his family and friends …
Because he wanted to …
Because they would do it for him …
Because he had become his own paradox …
Because he had surrendered … and …
Because they had not …
Because they were linked – the sign from Ketut was there – living and breathing in all three of them now in the revelation of a hand-to-hand link … a true band of brothers as Derek held Wayan's hand, while Owen grasped Derek's forearm.
"OWEN!" came Meredith's shrill, permeating the thick sound barrier of his mind.
And with that breakthrough, Owen felt Meredith's soothing hand on his neck and she struggled to gently move a piece of branch from his skin. He felt another pair of hands – Ketut's, warmth radiating now – as she removed a piece of branch from his ribcage. He finally took a deep breath of the earthy, salty air.
"DEREK!" Meredith screamed down to him in a voice she barely recognized.
Her breathing hitched, her call wild and animalistic – yet she was not desperate …
She was strong and powerful …
She was a mother, she was a lover, she was his everything and he was still hers …
And then there was her boy … her savior – Wayan, Wayan, Wayan – her heart went nuts with a flutter of new power and…
Suddenly all she could see was their link, their lifeline – an umbilical cord – as adrenaline coursed through her body, all the while she visualized their safe escape from tragedy.
"WAYAN!" she called out, her shrill for her boy was deafening to any ear in proximity …where was his mother? Could she fulfill his needs for now?
Owen's heart constricted hard as he met Meredith's wild eyes for a beat before he pulled up on Derek's arm once more. He saw Derek's eyes acquire focus and light when he met Meredith's gaze– just one look from his woman could do that for him – like no other before her.
With adrenaline pulsing in between them now – fueling each other – Owen watched Derek lean in and hoist Wayan up and over the lip of the ridge, just close enough for Meredith and Ketut to grab a hold of him.
At the same time Owen let the tree come down on him just a little bit more, releasing his second hand, he pulled Derek up to the ridge now– both men suspended, nearly trapped under the heavy branches of the fallen tree – as they rolled out from underneath it before it collapsed next to them with a large cracking report, a sound that finally broke through the wind and rain of the perfect storm.
Ketut held Meredith and Wayan in her capable arms and a sweet smile of serenity covered her face. They were linked, all missing pieces for one another in some shape or form – a flock of birds – a family of friends in need …
She held Wayan …
Who pressed himself against Meredith …
Whose hand was tucked safely into Derek's …
Who was attached to Wayan via a rope around his middle …
Who was pulled to safety by the man who finally surrendered …
All the pieces were present, the links, the puzzle was complete and aside from the tree, the mudslide had been averted, the perfect storm would not win this battle.
Ketut watched Owen – the perpetual giver – lay back against the muddy earth, allowing the rain to fall on him like holy water – a baptism for his rebirth – his chest heaved; his clothing blood-soaked from his wounds, his scars of souvenirs. His strong, handsome facial muscles finally relaxed … he looked like he was asleep but she knew better.
Meredith moved first, gently extricating herself from the safety of Ketut's damp warmth. Wayan stood up carefully and Meredith knelt before him, her knees sinking into the soft earth. She caressed his handsome face and smiled weakly. Her fingers danced along his hairline. She held his hands up and checked his fingers. She pressed tiny kisses to his bruised palms and tears stung her eyes – thousands of bees now, gathering, pricking her eyes akin to a honeycomb – the pain easing up as the boy relaxed into her maternal touch. Yes, she was enough for now. Meredith caught Ketut's eyes with hers for a beat and the women smiled at each other.
Derek knelt on his knees too, moving the conical hat from Wayan's head before he began to move his hands over the boy's skull, checking him, making sure of him – eye level with the child now – he smiled and his eyes danced, only then did Wayan smile too. Derek pressed his lips together and there again Wayan did the same.
"Derek," Meredith whispered, he voice cracking with emotion. Her long fingers carefully moving along Wayan's small body. "Check his belly, get that lasso off," she said softly, harboring a deep desire to free the boy from his obligations, to protect him, to love him.
Derek did as she asked; pulling the lasso down to Wayan's feet so he could step from it. He placed the conical hat atop Wayan's head once again before he raised the boy's jacket and ran his hands along his belly, knowing they would check him more thoroughly once they were out of the storm.
"He's okay, Meredith," Derek whispered, catching her eyes with his – 'I love you' – he chanted without words, Meredith smiled as he brought the boy to rest on his chest. Meredith rested her head on Derek's shoulder. "He's okay," he sighed – clinging to his lover, his lifeline – breathing in her in, finding her sweet elixir amongst all other scents now as he pressed it into his lungs for safekeeping, for always.
Owen opened his eyes and sat up slowly, crossing his legs under him, he pressed his fingers into the earth on either side of his hips to ground himself – as he took in the scene, further surrendering to the moment – watching with interest now as the couple, his friends continued to check – their boy, their 'child', their pride and joy – for any and all possible injuries … physical, mental, spiritual or otherwise.
"You win, Ketut," Owen muttered, his voice subdued, quiet; reflective – so soft it was carried out in the wind – the light rain pummeling down on his words as they drifted away with the balance of the storm.
Meredith cradled Wayan in her arms as she listened to the conversation. She leaned into Derek's heat and he leaned into hers. She looked up and found his eyes. He pressed his mouth over her, brushing her lips with his, melting once again into the safe-haven of their bubble, their energy. They were one again; they were whole and healed in large part because of Owen's bond and attachment with them. Meredith smiled as she heard Ketut's voice.
"I win?" she mused with a wry grin.
"Yes … I give up," Owen sparred lightly with an air of drama, his wet eyes dancing under the lighter rain.
"No," she stated firmly, pushing back.
"No?" he countered.
"You … surrendered," she smiled widely.
"I did," he breathed.
"Then you win my friend," she sighed. "You win," she repeated.
"Hmm, I think I did," he finally acquiesced with a small easy smile.
And as his eyes once again roamed over the small 'family' – his family, his friends and their boy – Owen Hunt realized something far more important than the links of the chain and the ties that bound him to these people and to this island.
He realized what his missing piece was – it wasn't necessarily a physical home or a place to call home – as much as it was someone to come home to.
Chapter 16 – Blackbird – Part 3 of 3 to follow.