I will count backwards from 10 and you will tell me the first things that cross your mind. 10, 9, 8, 7 …

Owen was roaming the all familiar halls of SGM, skipping from one patient room to the other. Work was really all he had these days, to keep his mind preoccupied, and off that horrible night. He had texted Meredith every 10 minutes that night, as well as the next several days, asking her whether Amelia was ok, whether she was fine. As fine as somebody could be, after the person they were sharing the bed with, just tried to kill them. He was ambushing Meredith with questions about Amelia's well being, as if, in case she weren't physically ok, then he feared he might do something drastic. Amelia's illusory, half-fictional "ok-ness" was keeping everything between the three of them, in a very fragile balance. Keeping the knotty yarn of their relationship, from unraveling, and coloring the grey concrete of where things were going. It had been a few weeks since the chocking incident, and Amelia had taken time off work. Taking care of 3 unadulterated, pure and unknowing children was the best therapy anybody could ever ask for, if anybody asked her.

She wasn't ready to face Owen yet, and any communication that occurred between them – mostly Owen's deepest and most sincere apologies – had occurred through Meredith, who, as Derek once aptly observed about her, kept a level head during the entire situation.

Lunch break came around, and his churning stomach swiftly directed Owen's steps to his favorite Mexican eatery a couple of blocks from the hospital. So far, he kept busy, just enough to quiet his thoughts. Thankfully there wasn't any dramatic casualty coming in. And a walk could have only aided in wrangling his thoughts some more. He stepped in, and was greeted by a shyly smiling Amelia, seated at his favorite place. He froze at the sight, unable to comprehend, the generosity and love that was glimmering back at him. Reality though, got the better of him in a fraction of a second, when a rude boy shoved him into the eatery, rather than stand shocked in the doorway, blocking everybody's entrance.

He finally smiled back, and eventually sat down hesitantly, almost asking her, if it's ok to be seated there. She was quiet, just smiling faintly back at him. Her palms extended out of her black leather jacket, facing upwards, traversing the wooden flat surface standing between them. Disbelieving at first, his hands quickly followed suit, matched with that heartwarming look in his eyes, and as she started speaking, he soon realized there was nothing that needed warming, in that person sitting in front of him.

"I miss you"

Hearing this, he had no choice but to grab those tiny hands and pull them up to his lips, and kiss them.

"I can't begin to say how sorry I am … in fact I don't know how I have the audacity to stand here in front of you"

"To be honest I didn't think I'd have the courage to stand here in front of you either. I've been eating here for the past couple of days " Tilting her head to face the windows, she continued "Sometimes I wished you'd walk in, sometimes I feared you'd walk in". Her words was sending Owen's heart on a roller-coaster. "Sometime between a few days ago and today, the fear started fading, but when I saw your face through the door, it was completely gone. But as you walked closer, I couldn't help but feel afraid again"

"I would never ask you or expect you to … to speak to me ever again. I don't even dare to think one day you might forgive me for that"

"Owen, I have forgiven you. It's just, this fear that's still there, but I love you, and this thing, this … incident, what happened, can make us even stronger"

"I love you too Amelia, so much, and I want to be with you. Which is exactly why … " his words started trailing behind, just as a perky waitress interrupted his heavy confession and their hands came undone to allow for a brief browsing through the menu.

The interruption was more than welcomed for Owen, who couldn't gather up his thoughts faster, and was still in shock, clueless as to what he should say next, and paralyzed by the fear of saying or doing something wrong.

Amelia continued: "I said I forgave you, but I think I still have to learn to trust you again, and to learn not to fear you. Since I've been through arguably ALL kinds of drama in my life, I know for a fact that will take a while, so I'm not kidding myself and I don't want to kid you either. But I'm willing to stick it out Owen." Amelia's broke their connection for a moment, her eyes cast downward at her hands, as they rubbed against each other with uncertainty and nervousness as she was about to make a confession to him too. Facing a now mellow Owen whose eyes had turned glassy and skin warm with the emotion that she was evoking within him, and with an equally nervous smile she continued: "Me sticking it out, me working at it, is … not something I do. Ever. Owen, this relationship, and you, is changing me in ways I didn't think was possible. I really didn't believe people could change. I always run, I thought, after that night, I was gonna up and leave this place. Pack up and leave it all behind. That's how I deal with things usually, with …" she bowed her head in shame: "this is how I deal with people … with my own feelings. This time though it's changing. I'm working it out with Meredith, and I will work it out with you. And I'm not running away."

Uplifting tunes of a song they bothloved, started flooding the eatery. And Owen didn't reply anything this time, because the confession was just too much for him to ruin with words. And frankly, it overwhelmed him, to realize this time around, it was he who had changed her life, changed her, for the better. The way Cristina was that person in his life. He got up on his feet, and extending his hand for her to join him, he led her out of the eatery. She was confused, and slightly afraid, she wobbled in her high heels on the couple of steps that led into the pedestrian street. Her hand in his, he led her out and into the street, and then twisted around to face her. And right there, in the pedestrian street, Owen cupped her face, staring into her confused and now fearful eyes for a few moments, before he leaned in to her ear whispering "I won't hurt you". Amelia's tense body softened at the hearing of his reassuring voice. He then passionately kissed her, and Amelia didn't take long to reciprocate. Soon his hands were running inside her jacket, against the fabric of her sweater, traveling downwards, and soon hitting the curve of her buttocks. In one swift move he gently had her against the ventilator exhaust of the side street that was bordering the eatery. It was loving and lustful and partly healing. But not enough. Amelia, broke it off when it started becoming a bit too lustful, and Owen fully understood and apologized again. And by the end of it, they both knew it was a step in a healing process, that was likely not as easy as what they just shared. But that this kiss, just confirmed that whatever hardship was coming their way, they were worth it.

Moments later, Owen and Amelia were walking down the street, hands locked in, towards the hospital, in total silence. But inside their minds, it was thunder and lighting. Fixing dying people however, trumped fixing relationships this time around. And Amelia knew that well. One of the perks of both of them being doctors.

Turning around to face her, Owen got ready to close the impromptu meeting that proved to be a giant breath of fresh air, rather than an awkward spontaneous run in. "Amelia, I need to go back inside the hospital. But you have no idea how grateful I am for seeing you again. And I have to tell you. …" He looked down at his feet but still found the strength to declare: "I am sick. I suffer from PTSD."

"Meredith already told me that, and Owen I understand, I myself am a former drug addict and …"

He swiftly interrupted her: " This is no justification for what I did. What I did was gravely wrong. The only reason why I'm telling you this, is because I need you to understand, I need treatment and …"

"And that means … we can't see each other" Amelia continued his not yet spoken thoughts in a low voice.

He just sighed, not of relief, but of sadness. She knew the drill all too well.

Weeks later, two initial therapy sessions were coming to an end. But it was just the beginning.

"Owen, I'm going to count backwards from 10, you're going to open your eyes, and tell me the first things that go through your mind. 10, 9, 8, 7 …

Shifting uncomfortably, he took a deep breath, exhaled and relieved himself:

"Am I ever going to forget my wartime, the blood, the death? Is it possible that I nearly killed two of the women that I love most?" He turned his face away from the ceiling, and straight into his therapists eyes, questioning, begging for an answer, a solution. But really begging for something else.

"Do you think it's about forgetting, or about forgiving? Do you think it's them who have to forgive you, or you who has to forgive yourself"

He frowned for a few moments, inquisitive, as his mind was trying to process this new point of view. Not for long though. He relaxed into the words being spoken at him, and he starred out of the window.

"When I talked to Amelia last time, I realized … . I may have changed her. For the better. What the hell am I talking about, I'm not changing her for the better, she is growing up, becoming more mature … it's got nothing to do with me …"

"Yes it does. She is becoming a better person, thanks to your influence, thanks to the things you're experiencing together and learning about each other. You're motivating her to be a better person, she is becoming a better person, for you Owen. She is getting herself ready for you."

On the other side of town, Amelia's strong resolve to not run this time, was about to take another hit. Luckily, two surprising people in her life, were holding the boat steady:

"Sheldon, could Owen and I, be so broken and still have a chance at being together? Being a functional couple ? "