There are no excuses fro how long it's taken me to update. I'm going to explain what happened, though. I had this thing mostly planned out, like my other multi chap and then out of nowhere I had his awesome idea and my plans changed. This one is half of the last chapter (it's actually a third, but when a third turns out to be almost 5k words, it becomes its own chapter). After that there'll probably be an epilogue and then Vanished will be officially over.

However. If you liked this story you should really check out Life Will Out (not because my updates are any faster, there). It's, let's say, evolving.

The blaring sound of the alarm woke Owen the next morning. He and April had been shipped off to one of those hotels near the airport, booked on a flight that left way too early this morning. The flight yesterday had been awfully early too and he generally had no problem with early, only his day had lasted twenty-six hours. Reaching for his phone, though, blinking sleep from his eyes he looked at the time. Unlocking the phone, to check for missed calls and messages, he saw the last thing he'd been looking at last night. The ultrasound picture. The blurry, grainy first photo of his child, not really the first, but he hadn't been able to spot any differences from the one he'd assisted. Making a brief calculation he realised he had enough time to stare at it for a little longer. His eyes travelled along the outline, trying to remember all the things Arizona had said, trying to forget about the black shadow still in the back of the picture. It was bitter and he'd afterwards found himself imagining what it would have been like to buy everything double, to be constantly sleep deprived, to have to carry around two car seats and have double the work. Owen knew right that second he would have taken time off to be there with Amelia, maybe he'd do it anyway. Right, Amelia. Last night's conversation over the phone, the brief and awkward and pause filled conversation had been sort of a wake up call, one she'd probably had that morning, judging from her voice. He and Amelia were not married, they weren't even together. There was a part of him that hoped having a baby together would be incentive enough to give it a try, obviously circumstances changed from the time he'd referred to them as a plane crash and he had a better understanding of what she'd meant when she'd claimed she didn't have anymore to give. She didn't want a no string attached roll in the hay, she just couldn't open herself up to the vulnerability that came with a relationship. Now, a couple months later her brother was dead and she was pregnant. And alone.

He'd left her alone. Granted she'd pushed him away and insisted it was better, that if he'd stayed they would have ended up resenting each other, but he'd still left. Owen sighed, he was finally getting what he'd wanted for years and he was screwing it up. If his mother got word about this, he'd never hear the end of it. Looking back at the picture of what looked like a negative bean or peanut or some sort of pond creature, he felt dread rise as his mind reminded him his mother wasn't the only mother they'd have to talk to. Sure he'd met Carolyn Shepherd before and she'd liked him, he wasn't sure she'd like him still after he left her daughter, pregnant, to go for another tour in Iraq. It was honourable and she'd been a navy nurse, he remembered that, so she might understand his reasons for making that choice, but he probably should have been there when this picture had been taken. So he texted her. Amelia. Just to say good night, it was very, very late in Seattle and he knew she would see it in the morning. Maybe it was better like that, it was better that they kept missing each other, the other day they had been happy and excited and the rush of adrenaline had effectively shut off part of his brain, the same part that had kicked him in the shins yesterday when he heard her voice over the phone when he was so far away there was a nine hour difference between them. She needed space and Owen was well aware, despite being in a better place in his life than her, he realised he needed to let the news sink in as well. Until, of course, his phone rang.

"Hey, what are you still doing up?" But he got no answer. He could hear her breathing on the other side, but she didn't speak. For a while, for so long that it stirred up something deep in his gut. Owen pulled the phone away from his ear to check if the call was still on or if he was imagining things and, apparently, he was still connected with a country an ocean away from where he was. Only Amelia didn't seem to be on the other end. She was, of course she was, her phone hadn't just called him out of its own free will, but while she might be physically right there, he had the suspicion that she really wasn't. "Amelia?"

Nothing. Not a word, heavy breathing – heavy enough to be heard over the phone – but no sign that she was even awake. Frowning he exhaled, slowly and loudly. Yesterday he'd called to hear her voice. Just to hear her voice, he'd been more than sure his baby was okay and that she would take good care of it, but he'd needed to hear her voice. That call yesterday had the main purpose of reassuring him that he was doing the right thing for him, her and the baby. Despite how unconvincing that had been, he'd felt better, so maybe – just maybe – she was calling him now to hear his voice. He hoped. Either that or she'd butt dialled in the car. Trying to go with the silver lining he sighed, smiling at the white itchy sheets around him. "The weather is a little better today, we are booked on a flight in a few hours if it holds. It rained so much here it felt like being back home, I had no idea there was somewhere it rained as much as in Seattle."

He heard her smile over the phone. Ridiculous, yes, but he could bet everything he had – not much at that – that she smiled. Thinking it was helping he kept talking, hoping eventually he'd get her to open up as well. "Then again I heard it's so hot in Rome we're going to melt, so I don't really know which is better." he chuckled. He'd never really been to Rome. He'd been in London numerous times, it was one of the typical layovers, either London or Frankfurt. Yet, he'd never visited either, not really. Still, it sounded like a city worth seeing. Maybe he could go there someday, maybe they both could. "Then again I'm moving further south in the desert so I can't really complain about the heat now." He wasn't prepared for that, not mentally nor physically. This wouldn't be the first time he'd get to experience the desert in the summer, but it had been years since he had and he'd lived up in Seattle the whole time. Randomly, out of feeling more and more awkward with this one sided conversation he checked the time again, mostly to make sure he had enough time to talk on the phone and shower and get ready to head back to the airport. He had plenty, which – he realised maybe a second too late – meant it was already morning in Seattle, or, well, way past midnight. Robbins had mentioned taking it easy and being up so late certainly didn't qualify. "Amelia it's really late, is something wrong?"

"No." she croaked.

He found himself smiling for no reason. Actually, for so many reasons he didn't know which one to pick. "You should be sleeping, Arizona said to rest." He tried not to sound patronising or like her father, yet he didn't know if he'd succeeded in that. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

She sighed, smiling. "Yeah, I'm just not feeling too well."

Without warning Owen's heart started beating faster and he wished he hadn't given into her insistence and gone. He wanted to reach through the phone, get her to talk to him, see her with his own eyes. This was hell. Suddenly he was agitated and nervous and all the while trying to keep his temper in check. "Oh… so, something is wrong?"

"No, I'm just sick… not, uh, too much, just enough not to let me sleep." She was home, Derek's home, sitting on her bed. Alone. She'd been staring at the wind blowing through the tree leaves outside for at least two hours. The worst thing was, she couldn't get out of her room. Ever. The twenty feet from the door to her room were just about how much she could manage before she felt herself going crazy. Amelia would sometimes hear voices, not in the crazy, psych ward sense, in the sense that her neurosurgeon training explained as totally normal. White noise, kids screaming and Meredith or Derek calling her name. She would see ghosts, shadows that looked like Zola's pigtails or Bailey's crawling shape. She'd see Meredith walking around corners and she'd hear her brother's voice. Her room was a safe heaven, but tonight it felt like even more of a nightmare than usual. Older ghosts were coming out to play and the picture laying on her bedside table was a vivid reminder of a similar one she'd almost framed a few years ago. "It's stupid, really. I was fine yesterday and now that I know… it's probably just psychosomatic. Or nerves."

This was new. Not the sickness, the almost completely direct way she'd just talked to him. Maybe she was too tired to realise what she was even saying and Owen knew not to get his hopes up too much. He'd never fault her for how private she was, how she tried to protect herself with everything she had. A few months ago he'd accused her of using it as a shield, as an excuse and regardless, right now she had all the rights to keep those tall and thick barriers between herself and the rest of the world. Part of him was just glad she was letting him in, even a little bit. "Morning sickness?"

"Except it's not morning?" she retorted light heartedly. She chuckled. Last time she'd never gone through this phase so it was all new to her, all-day sickness included. Today at lunch Arizona had pushed a little bit more on the Owen situation, insisting she was being a coward to just give up and claiming it was for the baby's sake. She pushed hard enough that once she walked into the house and into her room, she'd felt so alone. Amelia had thought about calling Owen or texting him or just know that he was there, even if he really wasn't. Unfortunately, the second she'd picked up the phone she'd felt tears well up in her eyes. She couldn't do that to him, she had half an idea how he would feel and she just couldn't. So she was pushing it all down. "Yeah. It's not that bad, just… annoying."

"I'm sorry." He could comfort her, he wanted to, but honestly he wasn't sure how. Or really, he wasn't sure it would be comforting to her, if anything he was half the reason she was feeling sick right now – not much he could do about that. "It should stop in about a month, though, if that makes it any better."

Amelia shrugged, she was a doctor and she had an idea what pregnancy entailed this early, but something she'd learned since her last pregnancy – since she got her medical degree, really – was that medical training and science notions only went so far. A big part of her was hoping it was just nerves and it would be over tomorrow and she'd get to skip the whole disgusting barfing phase of the miracle of life, the doctor part simply told her it was wishful thinking. The embryo inside her uterus was probably going to punish her for sending its father across the world to work in the warzone, so there was no way she'd get to pass on that. Her whole demeanour changed, her body changed when she realised how long it would be until Owen would actually be back – if he did come back, that is. Without any sort of permission from her and an encouraging pat on the back from her hormones, her eyes teared up and when she opened her mouth to speak, she found there was a lump in her throat. A lump made of all the feelings that welled up at the mere thought of what her life was going to be like in the next few weeks. Excitement, regret, fear, anxiety, sadness and so many others in an unusual mix. "It – uh, it doesn't. Thanks for trying, though."

He didn't at first, but when he replayed what she'd said in his head he noticed. Her voice sounded broken and watery and he was confused. Owen had zero experience with pregnant women, but this didn't sound like pointless, hormone induced tears. It sounded like something that made him want to bang his head against the wall for leaving in the first place. He'd left Amelia, whose brother had recently died and whose sister-in-law and niece and nephew had disappeared, pregnant and alone. He felt so idiotically stupid it was hilarious. "Amelia?"

"I'm here." She sniffled. Her tears were flowing freely, an advantage of phone calls were that he couldn't actually see her, she was smart enough, though, to know from Owen's worried and thick voice that he'd already picked up on it.

Owen's heart sank down in his chest. "Hey, what's going on?" he heard her breath through the phone, breaths irregular and laboured and he knew she was trying not to cry. He wanted to tell her it was okay, but really it wasn't. "Amelia. Please talk to me."

So she sobbed. It was either that or she'd hang up on him like earlier today. Or yesterday, or whatever day it was. Amelia was mad and frustrated and disappointed in herself. The hormones were taking over her and she was slowly, but surely losing control of her tear ducts and it bothered her so much she just ended up crying harder. Sadly, this had been an issue last time as well. Granted the circumstances were different, but she'd still spent half her time crying. Ryan had died and her baby was going to die. Now Derek was dead. Her world had stopped making sense for a moment there. Then all of a sudden it looked like her world might make a lot more sense in a few months and she was holding onto that thought like a life line. Quite literally. If something, anything, were to go wrong with this baby – turning a blind eye to the fact that she'd just lost one of the two she was carrying – or with Owen, she was going to give living here a serious consideration. The comfort of drugs and alcohol only did so much, it seemed like her life was constantly giving her reasons to give in and let go. She'd never thought of it, but being pregnant meant she'd have to stay clean and Derek's sudden death had made it really hard for her to resolve to do so just out of her willpower. "I can't." Amelia took a deep breath, hoping to calm herself a little. Failing miserably. "I promised myself I wouldn't do this."

Owen frowned. He was sure he would barely know what to do if he was talking to her face to face, let alone over the phone, without the chance of getting to her in a reasonable time. She'd been crying after the ultrasound too and he knew she had more than enough reasons to spend the next few months crying, but he still felt helpless and useless and he hated that. "What?"

"Crying." She chuckled through the tears. When her abs contracted, from her position lying on the bed, she distinctly saw a little curve and her eyes watered all over again. Her hand, the one not holding the phone, ventured towards it. She touched it delicately, almost as if she was afraid she could somehow hurt it if she pressed too hard. Arizona had calmed her fears reassuring her that her body was built for this and babies – even when they were so small they weren't even a baby yet – were strong and resilient and could survive nearly everything. Her mild carelessness during her previous pregnancy did, in fact, support that, but it still looked so small and fragile Amelia didn't fully believe it.

"It's okay to cry. I do it sometimes too."

With that she just felt her body fill with all kinds of warm, fuzzy feelings and she was pretty sure the flutters in her stomach had nothing to do with her pregnancy. He made it so easy to be herself. To be that person she dutifully and carefully covered up every day to make sure other people wouldn't see all the dark and sad she was barring inside. She was Amelia the daughter and Amelia the friend and Amelia the surgeon. She got to be just Amelia only when she was alone. Then Owen came along and he made it okay to be just Amelia when he was there too. in a way she realised they allowed each other some place where they could strip down of all that armour and let the scars and the broken show unashamed. With no judging, no expectations, nothing at all. That was, she realised the reason they had gone all wrong. She'd stopped being just Amelia and she'd covered up, she'd compartmentalised and she'd run, scared and retreated inside her armour like a turtle. At first he'd tried to coax her out, sweetly and gently and she'd almost made it when, a couple seconds earlier, he'd gone back inside his. Her armour now was getting a little crowded and she had to let him in as well. She wanted to. "We're having a baby, Owen. For real. A human being."

Owen sighed in relief. Her words sounded like a lie. Only he knew she was telling the truth. It was something he'd been repeating inside his head for the last day or so and just like everything, if you repeat it for so many times, it stops making sense. Hearing it was like a reminder of how this was really, actually his life. He was going to have a baby. Finally. The smile on his face probably made him look like Kermit the frog, but he didn't care. "We are, 'Melia."

Amelia took a deep breath, laying her hand flat, feeling the bulge poke against her hand. She had so many feelings and wanted none. Her nausea in a surprising turn of events was getting better, effectively turning out to be just anxiety – or so she hoped. She closed her eyes. Somehow it felt like things were easier with her eyes shut, if everything she could see was black. It made no sense rationally speaking, but as long as it had a positive effect on her she was all for it. On the other hand, every time she looked down to where her hand was resting she felt her stomach tighten and she couldn't quite figure out why. Maybe it was because in less than a year she'd have a newborn to care for, a teeny tiny person that depended entirely on her – and Owen – and she didn't feel one bit ready for that. Also there was how she'd gone through this already and came out of it empty handed and she knew better than anyone, that the way she'd shut off during that time had left only primitive memories of it. Whenever she touched her no existent belly now, she couldn't help but think of her son kicking and moving and poking her ribs with a stray elbow or knee and the bittersweet feeling that accompanied that was spreading into this very moment as well. "I'm scared." She let out, half sob, half words literally falling from her lips, barely coherent enough to be understood. Amelia was glad Owen couldn't see her right now. She was glad she couldn't see herself. The tears were starting to fall down her neck, some stopping in the hollow of her collarbone. "I'm terrified."

A stray tear escaped Owen's eye. He was too unfocused to noticed and it made it down to the side of his mouth when he finally, hastily wiped it away. A felt a feeling he had not felt in so long. And it hurt – it hurt so bad he never wanted not to feel it ever again. For the first time in years he felt like crying. Felt like letting his emotions take over and letting the army steel emotionless front slip away. He took a couple deep breaths to regulate his breathing, the last thing Amelia needed was to hear him break down like this. There was no way he could hold it together for weeks. Months, even. Suddenly he realised there was no way he'd make it ten minutes into the desert, into the destruction that was war, men dying, bombs dropping and all the while feeling guilty because he wasn't in Seattle with her and feeling guilty because he wasn't there either, not really, especially not like he should. His world stopped spinning for a split second. Owen had the urge to find the first flight back home. A strong urge, an urge that was kicking Major Hunt in the balls. The only person qualified to tell him if he was being a moron was Amelia and he couldn't talk to her about this. Because she needed him to be strong and clear minded right now, she needed him. He found he liked to be needed. That was why he was travelling all the way to Iraq. That was why April was travelling with him. April had lost her child and she needed to feel like she was doing some good. He was losing his child by going to do something he would regret. Not losing in the same way, but all those apparently useless ultrasounds and kicking and cravings and morning sickness were not anything he wanted to miss out on.

"Me too." He took his phone away from his ear, putting Amelia on speakerphone and checking flights at the same time. There was no way he'd mess up another relationship. No way. Not this one too. "I'm so scared."

Amelia chuckled. "We're screwed, then?"

Owen smiled. That pretty much summed up things very accurately. The more he thought about it, the more he realised there probably wasn't a better word to describe it. "Yeah, I think we are."

"That's… comforting."

"Feeling better?" he heard her mutter something through the phone. He was almost completely positive she'd nodded and then remembered he couldn't see her through the phone. His fingers were twitching while he tried to find a flight on his phone. He'd never done it, never thought he'd have to, to be honest he wasn't even sure his phone could do it, but such trivial doubts weren't really stopping him. Worst case he'd get to the airport and wait for the next available flight to the US, getting to Seattle from there would be a lot easier. He was going back. He was definitely going back. He'd talk to April, maybe he'd tell her the truth – sure she'd hate him at first, but she'd understand better why he was bailing on her after he'd convinced her to come. Soldiers were away from their families all the time, Owen remembered clearly all those times some got a call from their wife saying that their child was born. Truthfully, he'd never really got how you could miss something like that and in the last few years nothing had seemed more important than that. He'd hung his uniform in the closet before – for good, he'd thought – now he could put it in storage, or really in his old room at his mother's house, where he kept everything he couldn't carry with him, but couldn't throw away.

Amelia let out a breath. She couldn't go on for three more months of this, at least, crying herself to sleep every night. Last night had been great. Owen had tucked her in and she'd fallen asleep exhausted from the day. Today reality had sunk in a little bit more. So she couldn't sleep. It was hard to think of what tomorrow would be like, after all, Owen wouldn't be so readily available every single day or every single time she needed to talk to him. They were probably going to be missing each other's call and would eventually resort to texting all the time and maybe then stop at all and he wouldn't come back and she'd be here in Seattle with a baby. "Owen, I…"

He waited. His search for a way home halting momentarily. Yet again, though, she wasn't just pausing, but stopping mid-sentence entirely-

"Forget it. It's stupid." She said, fast, like ripping a band aid. It was not like her and there was no way she'd let these freaking hormones get in the way of that too. Not this early on. It was incredibly cheesy and corny and it made her feel like a teenager. A pregnant one. Not the best feeling, really.

Owen knew what that meant. She wanted to say it and at the same time she didn't. Some times he found himself thinking if dating men would be any easier. Not that he'd actually be able to do that, he was straight as an arrow, but understanding women was a full time job and trying to get the inner machinations of a woman like Amelia, a frighteningly smart, complex woman riddled with pregnancy hormones was more than he could handle this early in the morning. "Will you tell me anyway?"

Amelia wrinkled her nose, stifling a yawn. She was so infinitely glad Arizona had made her switch her shift so that she'd have to go in after lunch because it was way too late now. She'd lost a surgery in this swap, an aneurysm clip, but right this moment it could have been the rarest, biggest tumour and she have gladly handed it over. "I miss you." She held her breath for a second, anticipating his reaction. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she expected him to burst out laughing at how ridiculous that sounded. They had seen each other a little over twenty-four hours ago. She couldn't even begin to imagine what she was going to say in a week or in a month.

Owen was about to answer, his surprise at her statement had slowed his brain considerably and it took a little time to shift it back into gear. Before he could even open his mouth, though, she was already rambling. "There, I said it. I know it's… ugh, I told you it was stupid and you made me say it and now I feel like an idiot and it's all your fault and these hormones-"

"Amelia. It's not stupid at all." He interrupted her. He needed to be at the airport fast, faster than fast and he couldn't have her rambling, not right now when he needed to hurry and he had so many people to call and excuses to make. "I miss you too. I'm going to be home before you know it, okay?"

She nodded sadly. Three months were nothing, not compared to a lot of things. Three months were a third of her pregnancy. Seasons lasted three months. Three months was a quarter of a year. When put like that, it didn't seem so long at all. To her, right now, it felt like time was purposefully slowing down. Every second of every minute lasted a little bit longer and that made three months unbearably long. "Right." She tried to sound convincing. "Have a safe flight and text me when you land?"

"Only if you promise to get some sleep as soon as I hung up." She nodded once again and mumbled something about not hovering, that he'd have plenty of time for that when there was a child to look after. He knew she loved it when he did, hover. Amelia was feeling so alone right now, having someone pushing her a little like that had to make her feel better. He liked to think it did. Mostly, Owen hoped while scrambling to get dressed, he liked to think he was making the right choice now and not an epic mistake.

Thanks to everybody that keeps harassing me about updating, it's greatly appreciated. Seriously. If it hadn't been for all those sweet, sweet messages I keep getting on tumblr, this might have sat in the doc manager for forever.