Chapter 52.
What Are We Fighting For?
September 3, 2019.
Shane woke to his phone ringing, coming out of a dream about a spinning operating room with twelve different exits. He answered, dazed, "Huh?"
"I need… a favor." Owen Hunt was on the other line. He sounded like this was the last call he ever wanted to make.
"I, uh, what?" Shane sat up, finding an ungodly early hour on his alarm clock.
"I'm about to go into an emergency surgery and I need you to go and check on Henry at the house. Alex didn't answer and my mom is a worried about the baby."
Shane was quiet for a long moment. It was a lot to unpack.
"Can you do it?" Owen pressed. Doors were opening and closing behind him. Something was beeping. Announcements were flowing over a loudspeaker.
Shane quickly said, "Yes, yeah. I'll go over right now."
"Thank you."
Owen hung up.
First, he gets a visit from Adham Farrah in his office, and now Owen Hunt was sending him to his home to check on his baby? Shane was muttering about 'backwards land' the whole way to the house. He was actually grateful that Cristina was away, because he was too tired to try and convince her to love him again.
The Hunt house was quiet on the outside, but as soon as Shane hit the driveway, Evelyn Hunt peeked out through the living room window and squinted at his headlights. Shane jogged up to the door and it was opened for him as he got his hand on the screen.
"Dr. Ross, nice to see you again," Evelyn said, directing him into the kitchen and locking the door behind him. They had met a few times at occasions. Her tone was formal, but there was a vein of worry that could not be hidden. "Henry is being fussy and he's warm. It's been a while since he's had any seizures but… he just seems off to me."
Shane went into the living room, familiar and warm, and found Henry wrapped in a cocoon of blankets on the couch, chewing on a toy and letting out a low, annoyed whine. He was still small for his age, but growing, with wildly curly black hair and those almond-shaped, blind brown eyes. Shane had been there when he was born, had seen him when no one thought he would live, and it was humbling to know how much he had grown now.
He went over and sat beside him, and Henry was alert to his presence immediately. He reached out, touching Shane's hand, curious. Shane waited, holding his breath, to see if the boy would recognize something about him, and Evelyn watched them with her arms crossed.
"Hey, little man," Shane murmured, in a voice that he usually reserved for Cristina when she needed to be talked off a cliff, "I heard you weren't feeling good."
Henry cocked his head and smiled. He knew his voice. He felt up his arm, to his chest, and climbed on top of him, resting his hot face on Shane's neck and whining again. Shane forgot to look up, forgot that there was another person in the room. He gently unpacked his stethoscope and began his exam. His lungs sounded tight and irritated, a problem of his past that would never fully resolve because of his asthma, and his temperature was slightly elevated – upping his risk for seizures. But for the most part, the kid was okay.
"I think he just needs to sleep it off," Shane said to Evelyn, reluctantly acknowledging that his job here was done. He stood up, cradling the baby to his chest. Henry was already taking his advice. He had his arms wrapped around Shane's neck, and his eyes were closed – although that was also what he did when he was listening.
Evelyn lost that vein of worry, and the formalness. "Can you stay just until Owen gets home? I'm just afraid I won't be able to handle it when the twins wake up. You know how Evie is."
"Um, I should really… Owen just…"
"Great. I should go check on them." Evelyn went down the hall and disappeared into the twins' room, and Shane was left holding Henry in the living room.
He sunk back into the couch, cradling Henry like a newborn in his arms. He was still small enough to do it, and now dead asleep. His face was reminiscent of Cristina – like all of her children, he had her eyes – but there were other features there, too. Shane struggled to see himself in them.
He had never imagined having a kid of his own, too caught up with work, too driven to change the world in other ways. He wondered what it might be like, what kind of person Henry would become. He tried to imagine him in college, in an internship, trying to be like his mother. He tried to imagine Cristina, much older, worrying over him like her own mother would. And then he wondered what his parents were like – did they look at him when he was little and try to find pieces of themselves in his face? Did they imagine him in college? Did they ever consider they would never get to see him grow up? He let those thoughts creep away, and wondered if Cristina and Owen would ever tell Henry that Shane was his father.
His phone rang and Henry stirred.
"How is he? Are you there?"
"Oh, Owen, sorry. Henry is fine. He just has a little fever. His breathing is fine. He's asleep now. Your mom asked me to… uh, stay, until you get back."
Owen paused, and then, "Good, good. Thank you. I have to-"
"I'm sorry," Shane blurted. "I mean, for what happened. I never wanted to hurt her, or him."
There was a pause.
"You shouldn't be saying that to me."
"It affects you, too. It's your family." Shane's heart was hammering. "I want to be a part of his life… if that's possible, if that's okay with you and Cristina…"
"This isn't the time or place to discuss that." His voice was a monotone.
"I know."
"We can talk about it later. I have to go. Thank you for looking after him."
Shane was left alone again, but much more hopeful this time. Owen did not reject him outright. If he could just get Cristina to talk to him again, things might start looking up. He could see him go to school, teach him things, talk to him. He could make those wonderings a reality.
