I think the universe is on my side
Heaven and Earth have finally aligned
Days are good and that's the way it should be
You sprinkle stardust on my pillowcase
It's like a moonbeam brushed across my face
Nights are good and that's the way it should be….
~Echosmith~ Bright
Author's Note: This chapter should be the second to last chapter and it's also the longest so far! I deeply apologize for the time gaps in between chapters. Never fear…I'm also still subconsciously planning out the sequel to The Lightning Strike. I can't wait to continue writing for you all! Enjoy! As always I appreciate the reviews! Feel free to check out my other story, "Always" which is of course a Cristina/Owen story. Hopefully I will have a new chapter up soon.)
" So has Meredith forgiven you?" Owen asked Derek a few days later as they approached the Radiology department.
" I played it safe. Not only did I give her a foot rub, but I stopped on my way home to buy her ice cream."
" Smart man," remarked Owen as they entered into a room containing the MRI machine. He stood from the wheelchair and transferred himself onto the MRI table with a greater amount of ease than he had previously been able to in the past few weeks.
" See you in a few," Derek said, pushing a button that sent the table into the machine. Owen closed his eyes as he listened to the whirring of the machine's gears. The noise was blended with classical music, something that was supposed to reduce the anxiety level for patients. He couldn't help but feel some level of anxiousness as he hoped for good news from his scans. The uncertainty of his injury had been weighing heavily on Owen's mind. He wasn't sure how or if he'd be able to deal with it if the news wasn't good. A loud beep interrupted his thoughts, signaling the end of the scan. Owen sat up as the table returned to its original location. He could see Derek in the gallery studying the results as they popped up on the computer screen in front of him. Without missing a beat, Owen swung his legs over the side of the table and found himself walking out of the room and into the hallway. Derek was still consumed in the results as Owen shuffled into the gallery, stopping to brace himself on the countertop as he looked at the screen.
" What's the verdict? Do I still have a brain?" he asked jokingly.
"As you can see, the synapses are beginning to regenerate and rewire themselves. It's very encouraging news," Derek stated as they stepped back out into the hallway. It was then that he realized that Owen was standing in front of him without the support of crutches.
" Do you want the wheelchair?" he asked cautiously.
" I don't know. This is the first time I've attempted to do this solo," Owen explained as they headed towards the elevator at a slow, but steady pace. By the time he got to the elevator, Owen found himself tiring. He leaned against the elevator's rear wall for support as he and Derek rode back to the third floor.
" Are you sure you're fine?" Derek asked as they stepped out of the elevator.
" The numbness is starting to kick in. Just make sure I don't face plant if my legs give out," replied Owen, a look of determination on his face. The closer they got to his room, the more unsteady and slow his gait became. By the time they reached the doorway to his room, Owen felt as if his legs were dead weights. Somehow he managed to drag himself into the room and promptly collapsed into his bed.
" How do you feel?"
" Exhausted…but encouraged."
" You should be. This type of progress so soon is remarkable. I feel confident in signing off on your discharge from a neurological standpoint."
" Thanks for the vote of confidence…but if you don't mind I'm going to pass out from exhaustion now."
Owen awoke later that evening, his legs feeling as if they were on fire. The doctor in him knew the aching pain he felt was a good sign, one that signaled healing. His brain dismissed the logic however as he found himself limping to the bathroom, cursing the walk he had taken earlier. Owen heard the door to his room open as he washed his hands and dried them. He exited to find Cristina lying on the couch.
" Tough day?" he asked, trying his best to hide the pain he was feeling as he made his way to the bed. Owen felt himself wince as he sat down, motioning her to sit beside him.
" Have they brought your meds by yet?" she asked, keying in on the pained look on Owen's face.
" I'm fine," he muttered.
" You're thisclose to being discharged. Do you remember what happened last time your dumb ass refused pain meds?" A look of defeat crossed Owen's face knowing that there was no use in arguing with Cristina. He begrudgingly reached for the call button, pushing it to summon a nurse.
" What can I do for you Dr. Hunt?" a voice asked, echoing through the call box.
" Can I get a dose of my prescribed pain meds?"
" I'll have them brought in right away."
" Was that so hard?" Cristina asked smugly as he turned back to face her.
" You love being right, don't you?"
" Obviously," she replied as a nurse entered, handing Owen a packet containing his medicine and a cup of water. He quickly took the medicine and downed the water, handing the cup to the nurse.
" Derek said you walked all the way from Radiology this afternoon," said Cristina after the nurse left.
" It wasn't one of my brighter ideas, but at least it wasn't as dumb as tackling a crack head with a gun," Owen replied with a laugh.
" If you ever do something that stupid again I reserve the right to inflict bodily harm."
" I like the sound of that," he answered smugly, as he flicked on the television.
" You're awful!" she exclaimed as she playfully smacked his shoulder.
" Just for that, we're watching sports."
" Nice try," she said, snatching the remote from his hand, changing the channel to an action flick. Owen smiled as he put his arm around Cristina's shoulders, drawing her closer.
A few days Owen awoke early in the morning to find Bailey hovering at the foot of his bed.
" What time is it?" he asked wearily as he sat up.
" It's a little before 8:00a," she replied.
" Have you see Cristina?"
" I sent her down to the pharmacy a few minutes ago."
" What is she doing down there?" Owen wondered as Baily produced a stack of papers and a pen.
" Getting your prescriptions filled. What do you say about being discharged today?"
" Are you serious?" asked Owen.
" I'll take that as a yes."
" Two months is more than a long enough stay for me," he replied as he skimmed over the papers in front of him, stopping occasionally to scrawl his signature.
" You'll start outpatient therapy at the beginning of next week. I want to see you back in two weeks to make sure you're getting along okay. Shepherd also wants you back then for a follow up MRI to see how you're progressing."
" When will I get cleared to come back to work?"
" I'm going to pretend you didn't just ask me that," Bailey stated as Cristina entered, carrying a change of clothes in one hand and a bag containing his prescriptions in the other.
He is to stay in bed and rest. No questions asked. If he gives you any trouble, call me and I'll deal with him," she instructed Cristina.
" I'll try my best," Cristina replied as Owen handed the papers back to Bailey.
" You better…or both of you will be answering to me," she threatened as she left.
" So I could only find these…I haven't really done your laundry since you've been here," Cristina said, handing Owen a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt.
" Want to join me in the shower?" he asked with a sly smile.
" And risk facing the wrath of Bailey? I think I'll pack up your things instead."
Ten minutes later Owen exited the bathroom to find Cristina sitting in a wheelchair, her feet propped up on the edge of the couch.
" Your stuff is in the truck. Are you ready to blow this pop stand?" she asked, standing up so Owen could sit.
" I've been ready for the past month."
" Sure you have," responded Cristina as they entered the hallway. The elevator ride downstairs passed quickly. As they landed on their floor, the doors to the elevator whooshed open, revealing a frantic April Kepner.
" Cristina. Thank god you're still here. There's a severe cardiac trauma patient en route."
" I'm off today…"
" He's impaled on a chainsaw." Cristina stopped in her tracks, looking from Owen back to April.
" Page Russell," she replied with a heavy sigh as they approached the exit.
You better be glad I love you," Cristina muttered.
" Any woman who turns down bloody carnage and a chainsaw is a keeper," he responded as they exited the hospital. Owen took a deep breath of fresh air, a strange feeling of euphoria and anxiety rushing over him. This was really happening. He had survived. Cristina was by his side.
" I'll be right back," she instructed, leaving Owen to bask in the sunlight. Had it really been a little over two months since he had seen the outside of the hospital's walls? He glanced around, happily taking in his surroundings as Cristina pulled up to the curb in his truck.
" Get in before I decide to go find the bloody gore I turned down," Cristina instructed as he laughed and carefully stood from the wheelchair, using his crutches to help himself into the truck. He promptly tossed them into the backseat before pulling out the pair of sunglasses he kept in the glove compartment and putting them on.
" Let's go home," Owen stated as he buckled himself in.
" Home it is," replied Cristina as she gunned the engine, flooring it out of the parking lot.
" This isn't your motorcycle," Owen shouted over the sound of the wind whipping through the truck from the open windows. Cristina smiled as she punched the accelerator, swiftly merging onto the highway. Owen could feel his heart lurch in his chest as his stomach started churning.
" Pull over!" he shouted, his words becoming muddled with the wind.
" What?"
" Pull over!" he shouted again, grabbing her arm. In record time Cristina whipped the truck over to the shoulder of the road. As soon as it stopped, Owen threw open the passenger door, not even bothering to take off his seatbelt as he leaned out of the truck, emptying his stomach contents into the grass.
" Can we go grab some breakfast? I never ate this morning," stated Owen a few second later as he closed the door.
" You just tossed your cookies all over the side of the highway and you're thinking about food already?"
" Try eating hospital food for two months," Owen replied as they began to drive again.
" I'd rather not," quipped Cristina as they pulled off an exit and turned onto a side road.
" We're staying at Meredith's old place?" he asked as they pulled up in front of the house.
" Oh…so you wanted to spend the next few weeks recovering in Derek's trailer instead?"
" Point taken," stated Owen as he grabbed his crutches and climbed out of the truck.
" I'll be inside in just a minute," Cristina said, handing him the keys to the front door as she grabbed his things from the truck bed. Owen slowly made his way inside the house and immediately came face to face with the staircase that led upstairs. He felt tired just thinking about the task he faced. With one hand bracing the wall and the other with a vice grip on the banister, Owen began slowly climbing, taking one step at a time. By the time he reached the second floor, he found himself tempted just to lie down in the middle of the hallway and nap. Owen dragged himself by his weary legs into the master bedroom that Cristina had claimed for herself. He collapsed onto the bed, kicking off his shoes as he did so. Owen found himself smiling as he inhaled the scent of Cristina's shampoo on the pillow beside him. As he crawled under the covers he sighed a breath of relief, quickly drifting off to sleep.
