Just a super short reflection piece. I have a lot of issues with the current state of Greys, but over the past two seasons, Teddy (shockingly) has become one of my favorites. I think it has more to do with her interactions with Tom than Teddy herself, but after rewatching season 8, I remembered why I enjoyed Teddy so much.

Here's a brief ficlet from Teddy's POV about what happens in Season 16, Episode 15,Snowblind (after she shows up at Tom's apartment) and some possible explanations for why she's not acting like herself. Pre-Allison reveal, but more to come on that!

It claws at her.

Late at night in on-call rooms or half-asleep in bed, Owen's bed, listening for Allison, nerves on edge. She's not sleeping much these days and she knows what lack of sleep can do to someone in her position.

Still, it claws at her. The sinking feeling that something isn't quite right and that this isn't what it should feel like after decades of fighting for what you want and getting it.

She's a realist, despite pining for Owen, and as one of the top cardiothoracic surgeons in the world, she knows how to look at situations objectively. You have to when lives are on the line. Her military training still courses through her veins.

The warning signs are all there. They have been for months. They were there when she was pregnant and too hormonal to care. They were there when Owen hadn't proposed and then when he did. He's been avoiding Amelia for months and it's hard not to notice.

It isn't about him being in love with Amelia either. It's about him bouncing, back and forth, constantly struggling with what he wants. She's spent nearly twenty years dealing with his indecisiveness and he never chooses her.

Until now. But it wasn't some fairy tale ending or moment from a movie. It felt fast and abrupt and not like what she expected.

And Amelia's baby could change everything. But when you love someone, when you really love them, none of the details should matter.

It's not that she's afraid Owen will leave her if Amelia's having his baby. It's that, for some reason, she's afraid he won't.

She watches Maggie. She can't help it really. They're both co-heads of the cardio department and they bump into each other, a lot. She pieces it together, fear by fear, and she realizes it's not so scary anymore, this thing she's been dreading.

The last twenty years have revolved around loving Owen and watching him, time and time again, put her second. She's just waiting for him to do it again. It may not be real, her fear, but it's what she knows. It's what he's shown her, over and over again.

And now she isn't so sure if she wants him, because she's always wanted him or because she actually wants him.

There's a difference and it's breaking her in two.

Sometimes, she dreams of Henry. She's made her peace with Henry's death, as much as a person can, but she thinks about him, unflinching in his devotion and the way he looked at her as if she was the only person in the world who existed.

That's how a person should look at you when they're in love. That's how she should feel.

She knows it isn't fair to compare, but she can't help it. It's what humans do.

Everything with Owen feels so buried in the past and now, now when she thinks about their recent memories, she's reminded of Henry and Cristina and all of the pain Owen put her through. The Owen she fell in love with, once upon a time, feels like a myth.

The Owen who lied to her repeatedly about Henry and recruited Cristina to do the same feels more real to her than the soft-spoken army surgeon she followed into battle. Maybe the Owen she fell in love with never existed anywhere outside of her head.

Sometimes, she dreams of Cristina. Even after the struggle with Owen, Cristina became a friend, a confidant. Cristina became more to her than Owen was.

And she thinks about how he took that away from her. She thinks about how he almost took that away from Cristina. She thinks about how a force as strong as Cristina was almost, almost quieted by Owen.

It's not fair, she knows, to think this way, but she can't help it. She thinks of Cristina doing amazing work halfway across the world and she hears her voice sometimes, always saying the same thing.

"Run."

It's not the hot cocoa or the fact that Tom remembers that her father used to bring it to her whenever she seemed anxious. Well, maybe it's partly that. Maybe it's that Tom seems to be there, ready, whenever she needs him and there's a cosmic joke there somewhere, where she's following Owen around like a lost puppy dog, always waiting for him to notice she knows him best.

But Tom's not a puppy dog, vulnerable as he can be, and he isn't following her around. He's kept his distance and he's let her be happy, if that's what she is. But he notices things and he notices the subtle shifts in her moods like they're his own.

And she notices him noticing.

But it isn't the hot cocoa or the snowball fight, or the way he seems to hold his breath when she looks at him. All of those would be too easy, and Teddy doesn't fall for easy.

It's the way his eyes dig into her own, look at her as if she's the only person in the world who existed. He looks at her like Henry and she realizes then, that this is what it's supposed to feel like.

There is a laundry list of reasons she could spout out to try to rationalize what comes next. Owen doesn't check up on her. Owen doesn't seem to notice anything's off. Owen won't talk to her about whatever's going on in his head. Owen doesn't. Owen won't. Owen can't.

But she knows there's no excuse. She knows this and she does it anyway.

Because for once in her life, this isn't about Owen. Every decision she's made has been about Owen. About getting near Owen. About letting Owen be happy. About trying to move on from Owen. About running away from Owen.

But when she's around Tom, Owen doesn't exist.

And she realizes, for once, she's actually happy.