Chapter 21: Flashbacks
The excitement of Oliver's broken arm and the day to day realities of the Shepherd-Hunt family over the past week had sufficiently worn Owen out. Knowing he did not have to work on Wednesday, he willingly and happily succumbed to sleep on Tuesday night.
When he'd first gone to bed, exhausted after a long shift, Amelia had convinced Owen to let the twins and Bronwyn join him. The three little girls were not at all interested in calming down or getting ready for bed. Amelia hoped that if they were snuggling Daddy, they'd settle down and begin to fade. Instead, Owen fell fast asleep and the three girls were jumping around him on the bed when Amelia came in to check on them. Hours later, at 3:00 am, Amelia was nuzzled up alongside her husband, providing enough radiating pregnancy heat to cause him to lie on the bed without any sheet or blankets.
The REM sleep had finally arrived, and Owen's mind began to dream as he slept deeply. The first scene recalled the desert. The dry heat and the blowing sand surrounded him. His mouth, parched, craved water. The bright sunshine nearly blinded him as he squinted in an attempt to survey his surroundings.
Rapidly shifting from the scene, his mind moved to the OR in Darfur and the attack. Repeatedly, the detailed memories of the shooting played in his head. Key scenes recurred as Owen relived being thrown down, kicked, and shot over and over. Owen tossed and turned on the bed abruptly, mumbling. Amelia awoke, sleepily taking stock of her location and wondering why Owen was moving so actively. Eventually, his mind replayed the scene of the soldier harassing Risa. In his dream and in reality, Owen yelled at the attacker, demanding the soldier stop accosting his personnel.
Owen's loud bellow abruptly jolted everyone awake. In the Master Bedroom, Owen's heart was pounding as he shook and gasped for air. He sat against the headboard with his knees bent in front of his chest, attempting to catch his breath and talk himself down from the experience. Although he heard the twins crying in the background, he knew he was not steady enough to interact with them. He felt paralyzed and unable to respond.
"Owen, what's up?" Amelia asked with concern as she slowly sat up and touched his shoulder.
He flinched away from her touch and explained with a shaky voice, "Flashbacks. My heart is pounding. Can't stop shaking. I'm… I'm gonna be sick."
Amelia could hear the girls crying in the background, "It's over, O. It's over, baby. You're safe."
"I know, I know," he gasped desperately as he tightly held a pillow.
"Shhhhhhh," Amelia whispered without touching him, afraid he would only flinch again.
"I'm so sorry," he apologized.
"Walk around a little. Even if it's just 10 steps," Amelia encouraged.
He shook his head, "I can't." He began to hyperventilate.
"Owen, steady. Deep, slow breaths," Amelia urged.
"I don't think I can move," Owen shared as his voice shook.
"One second at a time, Owen. Just breathe…nice and slow," Amelia advised.
His breathing shifted as he offered again, "I'm so, so sorry."
"No need to be sorry," Amelia whispered as she instinctually stroked his hair. Owen recoiled and waved his arm in the air attempting to brush her hand away. "I'm going to go check on the kids," Amelia reassured him. "Are you going to be ok if I step out for a minute?" He nodded as he continued to grasp the pillow.
Amelia stepped into the hallway and looked across the hall into Bronwyn's room. Finley was holding Bronwyn in his arms and attempting to calm her down as she sniffled, "Shhh…it's ok, Bronwyn. Dad just had a bad dream. It's ok."
"He screameded and it scareded me," Bronwyn explained as she caught Amelia's eyes.
"I know, sweetie," Amelia offered as she stroked Bronwyn's hair. "It's ok. Finley's right. Daddy just had a bad dream. Everything is ok."
Sniffling in response, Bronwyn asked, "Can you sleep with me, Mommy?"
"No, I'm sorry, Bronwyn. I need to check on the babies," Amelia explained as she caught Finley's eye.
Finley assured his mom, "Don't worry. I'll stay with her."
"Where's Oliver?" Amelia asked Finley.
"Where he always goes when this happens – he's hiding in his closet with the dogs," Finley explained.
Amelia opened the nursery door gently and whispered serenely, "Mama's here, girls. It's ok."
"Up, Mama! Ella, up!" Ella sniffled as snot and tears covered her face. She held onto the edge of the crib and jumped up and down to emphasize her desire.
"Gwen. Up, up, up, Mama!" Gwen joined in as she cried.
Amelia grabbed a tissue and wiped off Ella's face, sharing, "I'll be right there, Gwen. You're ok." Her voice shook as she spoke. Owen's flashbacks were unnerving for everyone. Focusing on the girls helped her get through the moment. Amelia picked up Ella and began to change her diaper. Baby-talking and interacting with Ella, Amelia's sing-songy voice normalized the scene. "Ella, Mama's going to change sister now. Where's your kitty toy?" Amelia asked, hoping to keep Ella engaged as she set her on the floor. Ella immediately began to cry because she wanted to be held.
"It's ok, Ella. Mommy needs to pick up Gwendolyn," Amelia assured Ella. She tended to Gwen's tear-filled face and began to change her diaper. Gwen patted Amelia's face as her gathered fingers bounced to and from her mouth. She wanted a snack. Meanwhile, Ella was just beginning to climb the changing table in search of her kitty toy. "Aaahh...ahhh… Miss Ella, let's not climb that," Amelia encouraged.
"Kee…keee," Ella attempted to clarify as she looked around the room with a puzzled expression.
Amelia scanned the nursery and saw Kitty under Ella's crib, "There's Kitty. Can you crawl under your crib and give her loves?" Ella crawled quickly and with excited breaths of anticipation. She grabbed her Kitty, brought it out, kissed it, and held it up for Amelia to kiss. "Hi Kitty Cat," Amelia smiled as she kissed the toy.
"Mommy?" Oliver called from the hallway.
"I'm in the nursery, buddy," Amelia answered with exhaustion.
"What happened? Why did Daddy scream?" Oliver asked as he slunk into the room with the dogs in tow.
Amelia grimaced, "He had a bad dream, honey. Everything is ok. Do you think you can go back to sleep?"
"Can you come snuggle me?" Oliver asked.
Her heart sinking, Amelia suggested, "Maybe in a little while. I have an idea. How about if we all stay in here together?"
Oliver nodded and sat down on the floor, hugging one of the dogs. Amelia went to Bronwyn's room and encouraged Finley and Bronwyn to come down.
Once they were all present, Amelia explained, "Guys, I need to go check on Daddy. Can you all stay here with each other for just a minute?"
Returning back to her bedroom, she approached Owen. She grasped his face in her hands and kissed him. She whispered, "I'm here. I love you."
Owen stared forward, numb and motionless.
She suggested gently, "What do you need to do? Do you need a walk? Do you want to go back to bed?"
"If I fall asleep, it will just come back," he responded flatly. "Better to just keep moving." Owen closed his eyes and his body appeared to deflate. Then he stood, brushed his hand along Amelia's arm, and mumbled without emotion, "I'm ok. Take care of the kids. I'm… I'm going downstairs."
Gathering all the kids in bed with her, Amelia snuggled her babies around her hoping to soothe them all back to sleep. She calmly reassured them that everything was ok and hummed a soft song as she rubbed backs, shared kisses, and stroked heads. Finley fell naturally into his role of junior parent, snuggling the girls and slipping back to his own bed once the girls had faded. Oliver remained snuggled up to his mom, leaving the dogs on the floor to fend for themselves.
When the sun rose, Amelia woke up in a tired fog. She unburied herself from the pile of kiddos and slowly made her way downstairs. To her surprise, she discovered Owen preparing breakfast for the kids. "Hey…" Amelia insisted, "I can handle all that. Go rest, O."
"I'm good. I've got it," Owen mumbled.
"Owen…" Amelia sighed. "Do you want me to call Dr. Wyatt and see if she has an opening today?"
As he placed some fruit slices and Cheerios on each highchair tray, he shook his head.
"Are you sure?" Amelia pleaded with concern.
Owen looked up at Amelia seriously and snapped, "I'm sure. Thank you."
Amelia pursed her lips, knowing that insisting on a respectful tone would not be helpful. She chose not to respond. Sitting in her regular spot at the table sipping coffee, Amelia looked outside. Whitecaps emerged and faded in the rough water as wind gusts steadily blew.
After flipping rapidly through the pages of the latest Seattle magazine, Owen stopped and rested his chin in his hand. While he wasn't anxious and panicked any longer, the post-flashback anger and edginess were beginning to settle in.
"Owen?" Amelia asked blankly.
"What?" he grumbled.
"Are you sure you're ok?" Amelia inquired.
He slapped the magazine down on the table and stood up. Walking to the large windows, Owen stood gazing at the stormy waters. He leaned his head against the glass and cleared his throat before proceeding to the couch and flopping down.
Amelia finished preparing the kids' breakfast, then walked over to Owen and attempted to run her fingers through his hair as she patted his shoulder.
He shifted his head to the side to avoid her hand and slowly muttered, "I… I'm sorry. Please, Amelia. Please don't touch me."
Amelia pursed her lips and repeated internally to herself that his statement was not personal. Barely audible, she uttered, "Ok."
After Amelia returned from taking the older kids to school, Owen mumbled that he'd like to ride to the hospital with her. She explained she'd be ready shortly and went upstairs. Owen nodded without comment, walked upstairs to grab a sweatshirt and brought the diaper bag down with him when he returned.
The ride to the hospital was quiet as Owen stared out the side window, both ashamed of his behavior and unable to reign it in. He felt like a still-boiling tea kettle that had been moved to another burner. The intensity remained even though the immediate heat was quelled.
As Amelia pulled the car into Owen's space, he grimaced as he stepped out. Without a goodbye, he walked into the hospital with his head cast down, hoping that nobody would stop him as he headed to Wyatt's office. While disappointed, Amelia understood that Owen's dark side often emerged after an intense flashback. She didn't quite appreciate being left to take both girls and their diaper bag up to daycare alone, but she knew life wasn't always ideal.
Jackson happened to walk by and see Amelia attempt to balance her briefcase and the diaper bag. "Hey, hey…wait a minute. Let me help," Jackson suggested as he grabbed the briefcase and diaper bag.
Grinning with relief, Amelia thanked him. "Can you take this one?" she asked as she handed Gwen to him.
"Of course, I can," Jackson said with a lilt, "Hello, darling girl. How's Gwendolyn today?" He kissed her cheek and received a baby kiss in response. "Oh…thank you for that," Avery joked in an upbeat tone as he wiped the slobber off his cheek.
Amelia laughed, "She's… uh… a little generous with her love."
"Apparently," Jackson smiled.
Amelia's pager sounded. She was being called 911. The patient she was set to operate on shortly was coding. "Damn, I've gotta run. Truly run. Sorry. Keep them, drop them off at daycare. Whatever works. Car keys are in the diaper bag. My patient's coding. Bye bye girls," Amelia spat out quickly as she blew kisses to the twins and ran up the stairs.
"Ooohhh-kayyyy, ladies," Jackson stated. "Let's head upstairs."
In Dr. Wyatt's office, Owen was a mixture of anger, tears, confusion and exhaustion. He didn't know where to begin and he shared that openly when Dr. Wyatt asked her standard initial question, "Here we are…what shall we focus upon today?"
She observed, "You look overwrought, Owen."
"My night was bad. Or this morning. Or I don't know."
"What happened, Owen?" Dr. Wyatt inquired.
"The whole scene. The shooting…over and over. Being thrown down again and again. Reliving the pain of the bullets. Unable to move. Being loaded into the chopper. Kicked and kicked and kicked and kicked," Owen sputtered in incomplete sentences.
"You had a flashback," Dr. Wyatt summarized and confirmed.
"Yeah. Over and over and over without pause…one bad scene after another. Thrown down and kicked then feeling that again and again. I felt his boot digging into my side, slamming into me without mercy. Then the bullets – like each one entered multiple times repeatedly…" Owen disclosed.
"And?" Dr. Wyatt prodded.
"I saw the scumbag attacking Risa. He disgusted me. He was fondling her, starting to open her shirt. I yelled at him," Owen detailed. He paused and took in a few deep breaths. "I woke up in a sweat, my heart was pounding. I yelled loud enough to wake up the kids, but I couldn't go to them. I was a wreck."
"How did that make you feel?" she inquired.
"I was in utter panic from the flashbacks. I heard the girls crying but I… I couldn't move," Owen stated flatly. "What kind of father can't respond to his daughters' cries? I was not only on the ground, beaten, shot and useless. I was stuck on my bed, unable to move."
"You weren't on the ground, Owen," she pointed out factually. "You were at home."
"I couldn't respond to my girls. I was frozen," Owen wilted.
Dr. Wyatt observed him before responding, then proposed, "And what did you feel? Guilt? Shame? Fear? Anger?"
"Yeah… all of that. Fear. Fear I'm worthless. Fear I'm not whole," Owen mumbled. Owen went on to describe his interactions with Amelia. He hated that he was unable to pull himself from the emotional pit and aftermath as Amelia attempted to help.
As he detailed the events aloud, Amelia sent him a text letting him know that she was available whenever he was done. Her patient had died, so she would not be going into surgery. Owen looked down at the text, "Her patient died. No surgery."
"Do you feel ready to talk to her about this? To share what you've shared with me?" Dr. Wyatt prodded.
Owen sent a text and Amelia arrived shortly thereafter. He recounted the intensity of the dream, then shared his remorse about their subsequent interactions. Amelia listened with care.
Amelia grasped Owen's shaking hand that was set on his leg. She detailed, "How can I best help in the moment and in the hours following? I want you to have your space or whatever you need to come down, and I want to be there for you. But, Owen, tell me what you need. If I step in and take over with the kids so you have space, is that helpful? Do I need to find someone to care for the kids so I can sit with you? Tell me now when we're not in crisis and then I'll know what to do when we are."
"It can be difficult to ask for what we need," Dr. Wyatt observed.
Owen leaned onto Amelia's shoulder. "I need you to sit with me. You don't need to say a thing. Just don't leave me alone. Don't touch me – when it happens, it's like my nerves are hypersensitive."
"Ok," Amelia nodded slowly.
"The kids, yeah, they have to be tended first. I get that," Owen assured everyone.
"Ok," Amelia uttered again.
"Time. I need time. Time to be raw. Time to be numb. No questions. No fixing," Owen admitted.
"Ok," Amelia responded a third time as she lifted his hand and kissed it. "Ok. You got it, O."