Timeline for Part 22:
Owen and Amelia deal with the fallout of their respective patients' surgeries. And after a long time of absence, Owen finally comes back to Seattle following the events of episode 11x22 and what immediately happens after that.
The Journey – Part Twenty-Two"Are you sure you don't want to take a break? I can take turns with you so you can actually sleep."
Owen was startled by the familiar voice of April Kepner and opened his eyes with surprise, blinking repeatedly before coming back to his senses completely.
"I am fine." He lied, unwilling to admit how exhausted he was. "Go get some rest, Kepner, we have a lot going on tomorrow."
April stared at her friend with disbelief and disapproval stamped on her face. It had been nearly thirty-six hours since a group of rebels had opened fire against their camp. Everyone was scared and drained. By being a medical support team, they weren't usual targets for terrorists or even smaller groups rebelling against the government in the countries they had visited. And to most people, including April, that had been an entirely new and frightening situation.
One person in special had lived the most terrifying moment of his life. Private Danny Hill was now in recovery, but April could remember with details the excruciating six hours of surgery when she'd stood with Owen in a makeshift medical tent, working on the boy's abdomen while hearing gunshots and grenade noises outside. They'd needed all the focus and skill to salvage the patient's liver. During the entire time, she had only kept her serenity and ability to work because of her mission leader.
Even when the noises had become dangerously close, Owen hadn't flinched. His courage inspired April. She knew that if it weren't for her friend, the medical staff wouldn't be able to perform and Private Hill probably might not even be alive.
For the followings hours, the kid had pulled through an unstable and difficult recovery while the rest of the team assessed the damages following the unexpected attack. A lot of their supplies had been either destroyed or sacked. A homemade bomb had completely devastated one of their ward tents, hurting one patient that was admitted at the time and now also demanded more medical attention. Their stock of food had also been severely lowered, and on top of that, their satellites and phones were also compromised, making it difficult for them to stay in touch with the command base to which the team reported.
Their return home was scheduled for a few days after New Year's Eve, but April supposed they would anticipate it, considering the current situation of their facilities and the morale of the group. Everyone looked sad and deeply affected by the events.
Everyone but Owen.
April hadn't failed to notice that while her colleagues seemed scared, afraid or simply unmotivated, their leader had been nothing but supportive to the whole team so far. He hadn't left Danny's bedside for one minute, afraid the kid might oscillate in his unstable condition. But April knew that in order to take care of everyone else, Owen first had to make sure he was fine.
"I can stay with him, Owen." She insisted. "You haven't slept in two nights, it'll do you no good to stay in that chair when you could easily go to bed and let me take over."
"It's fine." He stubbornly replied, smiling at her in an attempt to pretend he was okay but the dark circles around his eyes said otherwise.
"Is it just me, or did you actually become attached to this kid?" April teased, knowing she was being sincere. But she expected Owen to deny it, and that's exactly what she hoped to use to convince him. "You haven't been able to leave his side." April explained after noticing the look of confusion on Owen's face. "That's the only possible explanation for you not wanting to leave."
"Of course I am not attached." Owen repeated the word with rejection, obviously trying to sound like he didn't care about the kid in a special way.
"Hill is annoying, I know." April looked at the boy's pale face on the bed and smiled with care and affection, being assaulted by nostalgia. "He won't ever shut up and his ability to make jokes and be happy, even at six in the morning can be infuriating." She added, making Owen laugh. Those facts were no secret among the team. "But I have never seen a group of grown men cry this hard when I had to tell the soldiers that he got shot." April said with consternation. "And ever since we got here, there wasn't a day when Hill failed to remind everyone how much he wants to be like you."
Owen furrowed his brow, looking up to his friend with a questioning look on his face. April immediately picked up on the unasked question and explained.
"You are his hero, Owen." She smiled with affection, praying for the boy to recover fully as soon as possible. "You are the example he has. And now that you've saved his life, I believe he is going to put you in an even higher pedestal."
Owen felt his heart constricting, and his shyness at April's declaration became clear on his face.
"He probably saved mine too." The trauma surgeon admitted with a sheepish tone. And when he noticed that this time it was April who had doubts, he explained, "I mean, I have no idea what could have happened, but he spotted the rebel group coming from behind my back and warned me. That's what made me jump." Owen recalled the moments. It felt like a lifetime ago but it hadn't even been two days yet. "If he hadn't, God only knows how I could have been shot on the back of my head… I probably owe my life to him."
April seemed to be emotional for a while, absorbing the information. When Owen was sure she was going to say something meaningful, his friend commented:
"Just… For God's sake, don't tell him that? He is going to be even more annoying if he hears it."
When their eyes met, both surgeons cracked up laughing, finding a much needed outlet for a long journey of exhaustion, both physically and mentally.
Months later, after the boy had already made his recovery, the US Army would honor Private Daniel Robert Hill when they awarded him with a Silver Star Medal for his act of heroism by putting his own life at risk to warn his team of an upcoming enemy attack.
And years later, Owen would also honor Hill by naming his third and fourth son after the brave young man who'd saved his life that Christmas day.
.
Amelia was going through some patient files, trying to fix the mess she had just made by placing some documents completely out of order. Just that morning, her resident had once again pushed the neurosurgeon's buttons by implying Amelia should seek professional help for dealing with grief. Even though she had cut back on the dark humor jokes, Amelia would still spend most of her time at the hospital, now more than ever.
Stephanie Edwards had expressed her concern and that had led to a not so friendly argument between the two of them, which had culminated with the resident proposing that maybe she should spend a few weeks in another rotation to explore all her options. Amelia had promptly agreed, relieved to see her go, but she'd done it out of stubbornness and blind pride in the heat of the moment, because one of the few things that still gave her joy was teaching. Especially an eager and talented student like Stephanie.
But not even that could ruin Amelia's mood that week. For the first time in a long time, she had received good news and while sorting through numbered pages that were out of order, the neurosurgeon still kept her optimism as she focused on the task.
About ten days before, Jamie Donovan had crashed on her operation table and for excruciating two hours, Amelia seriously questioned if the little girl would make it. Not for one second did she give up on the patient. The surgery had been long, meticulous and extremely unsettling but ultimately Amelia had been able to evacuate the clot in time for Jamie's symptoms to be reversible.
The little girl had faced tough days of recovery in the PICU, with extensive intravenous therapy and constant monitoring. About a week later, right around New Year's eve, she had been discharged to a ward room, being almost fully recovered with no neurological deficits, which was quite impressive considering the events she'd gone through. Amelia supposed that the only reason why Jamie hadn't developed complications was because the diagnosis had been made quickly and accurately. If they had waited another hour or maybe even less, the outcome would most likely have been completely different.
Then, two days into the New Year UNOS had called and delivered the best news Amelia and Jamie's family could hope for. A pair of lungs was available in Portland and the designated recipient was in no condition to receive them. Since they had just found out at the moment of surgery, the organ had to remain there and they transported the patient instead.
Amelia had barely had any time to say goodbye to Jamie when the helicopter came to take her. That evening, the neurosurgeon's spirits were as anxious as they could be. But then hours later Jamie's mom had called to notify everything had gone well. Amelia knew the little girl still had a long road of recovery ahead, but everything was on the right track. The actual possibility of Jamie making it and being discharged from the hospital gave her such immense joy that Amelia felt like nothing could ruin her mood that day.
But then, the neurosurgeon's distracted mood was interrupted by a familiar face who looked so weary that Amelia immediately felt concerned.
"Mrs. Hunt?" The neurosurgeon studied the elderly woman coming in her direction with a heavy frown on her face, noticing how hesitating she looked. From what the neurosurgeon could gather, Evelyn was all alone, which definitely couldn't be a good sign. Instantly, Amelia had a bad feeling about that visit. "Are you okay?"
"Hi, Dr. Shepherd." Evelyn replied a bit sheepishly, but sounded firm and determined. "Please call me Evelyn."
Amelia quickly glanced sideways, checking around them to see if anything unusual was happening. After realizing how intimidated and unsure Evelyn Hunt looked, the neurosurgeon gently guided her to a more private corner.
"What brings you here?" Amelia asked with concern, wondering what was the cause for that visit to the hospital in the middle of the day. Evelyn seemed fine, at least physically. Last time Amelia had seen her, Owen's mother had suffered a domestic accident and had to undergo extensive surgery. "Did you have a fall or…?"
"This visit is not about me." Evelyn interrupted Amelia, her voice sounding atypically broken as she looked the younger woman deeply in the eyes. "I came because of Owen."
"Owen?" Amelia replied, feeling her stomach churning. Evelyn looked pale and distressed, like she hadn't slept well in days. And the neurosurgeon was sure that could only mean bad news.
"I was wondering if… If by any chance he has made contact with you in the last few days?" Evelyn inquired hesitantly, going straight to the point. After seeing the look of confusion on Amelia's face at the question, she clarified. "I've asked Jackson too, I just…" Evelyn stopped, noticing how everything she was saying wasn't making any sense to Amelia. "I am sorry." She shook her head in denial. "It was stupid of me to come here, I was just so desperate that I didn't think this through."
"Evelyn," Amelia interrupted her rambling. "What are you talking about? What about Jackson? I… I am not sure I…"
"Jackson Avery and I have been exchanging messages ever since my son and his wife left with the Army." Evelyn explained, seeing how the neurosurgeon was following up. "It's not always that the two of them can contact home, so whenever one of them does, we tell each other. But ever since Christmas Eve, both Jackson and I haven't been able to reach neither Owen, nor April." She added with sorrow and concern.
Amelia felt her stomach churning in protest and tried her best not to freak out completely.
Her head was spinning with the obvious possibility, but Amelia tried her hardest not to consider it. The thought alone of Owen being injured or worse made her want to drop to her knees.
"Have you tried contacting the Army?" She aimlessly asked the first thing that came to mind, feeling desperation start to consume her. During all those months, Amelia hadn't heard directly from Owen but she did hear people at the hospital commenting and so far, she knew he was okay. Lately, she hadn't seen much of Jackson at the hospital but Amelia had been too busy to consider what his relative absence could mean. "I am sure they would have information on…"
"I did." Evelyn interrupted her again. Owen's mom had served and she knew how those things worked. Her son and his friend were completely out of reach and no one had any satisfactory explanation to give. All they would tell her was that his team had lost contact and they were working on tracing their location. "Jackson mentioned that on Christmas he was just talking to April on the phone when…" Evelyn's voice faltered.
The neurosurgeon immediately picked up on the hint that the news to follow weren't good. Feeling like she was once again entering a nightmare, Amelia swallowed hard, unsure she was ready to hear the rest of that sentence.
"From what Jackson could gather, their camp was being attacked. He heard gunshots. And the last thing he saw was Owen asking April for help with a patient." Evelyn finalized, tearing up. "And I have tried everything within my power to find out what happened to my son…" The older woman couldn't hold her emotions any longer, discreetly shedding tears while speaking with a broken voice. "I contacted old friends, I sent out emails, I event went to the Army office in person. But no one has any information to give and Jackson hasn't had any success either… Not even with his family's influence. I feel like I have tried everything I possibly can, but I still don't know what's happened to him… So I remembered you and I thought, maybe Owen called you during this period?" She raised her eyes expectantly. Evelyn Hunt had once supposed her son and the beautiful neurosurgeon standing in front of her were somehow emotionally involved. She hadn't wanted to pry so back then she hadn't asked, but right now, hearing about Owen was more important than respecting people's privacies.
"He hasn't, I am sorry." Amelia tried to console the elderly lady. She bit her bottom lip to hold her own emotions as she tried her best to come up with nice words to comfort Evelyn, but at that moment, Amelia couldn't formulate a two-word sentence. Her mouth was dry and her pulse was racing. The slightest notion that Owen could have been shot and killed in an Army camp made her want to scream in terror. This was beyond any nightmare she could have possibly imagined. "Owen hasn't spoken to me ever since before he left." Amelia admitted with a somber voice, feeling her throat constricting with a familiar sense of terror. She could feel her palms getting sweaty by the minute. Amelia had never felt like that before, but she supposed that was probably what a panic attack felt like.
"I am so sorry to disturb you at your work…" Evelyn said with sincerity, looking the younger woman in the eyes, far too caught up with her own sorrow to notice the terror on Amelia's face. "I didn't mean to frighten you, I just… I just couldn't sit home and do nothing anymore… It's been over a week. And I need to know if my son is okay."
Evelyn Hunt had already lost a child to war. She wouldn't be able to cope if she lost another one.
"You're not disturbing me." In an impulse, Amelia reached out and grabbed the woman's hand, gently squeezing it. Unconsciously, she hoped that that handhold could transmit all the support the words were failing to communicate at that moment. "Please, will you…?"
Amelia's voice failed as she processed the devastating information.
"Of course." Evelyn understood the question without Amelia needing to ask it. "I will let you know as soon as I hear anything."
As the older lady turned around and left, Amelia felt the weight of her body suddenly becoming too heavy for her knees to support it. That just couldn't be true. The possibility Evelyn's words had implied made the neurosurgeon sick to her stomach.
Everything around Amelia was spinning and she held on to the counter not to fall. She just couldn't be there anymore. She needed to get away. Feeling dizzy all of a sudden, Amelia gathered the rest of the files she had been sorting in a messy pile and dropped them inside the first drawer she found, noticing how shaky her usually steady hands were. A nauseating feeling was building up in her stomach and her head was throbbing so violently that she had no idea how she managed to drive home that night.
Up until now, Amelia had somehow found a way to get herself together and pull through the horrible events that had followed ever since the end of her relationship with Owen. Her brother had died and her sister in law's had disappeared with the kids, condemning Amelia to dark days of worry and agony.
She had been in a bad enough shape already but on top of all of that, Owen had left for an Army tour and his absence had left a void in Amelia's heart that she hadn't been able to fill with anything. Not work, not teaching. Nothing.
Derek had been in an accident and his life had tragically ended. She'd attended his funeral and had gotten some sort of closure, at least. Her niece and nephew were far too young to have any saying on where they were taken. And Amelia knew they were with their mother, so at least the two kids were being looked after.
But Owen had gone to a war zone and put his life at risk. He had left and Amelia had stayed behind, trying to pick up her pieces all by herself. She knew she hadn't exactly been easy to him, that she had spitefully told Owen that there was nothing for her in Seattle and that most likely had accounted to his decision to re enlist. But now she could feel the bitter taste of the words in her mouth because what if she never saw him again?
What if she never had the chance to tell Owen the truth? To say to him how she truly felt, how he had been the only thing in her life that had kept her going after her brother had passed away… how her love for him overwhelmed and scared her, because it was the only positive and genuine feeling Amelia could find in her heart amongst so much anger and disappointment and cruelty in the world…
She didn't want to lose Owen.
And Amelia wouldn't be able to cope if she'd already lost him.
The neurosurgeon now supposed that, unconsciously, the only thing that had kept her sane in the past months was the expectation of Owen coming home one day soon. Amelia had clung to it with desperation. She avoided thinking about it, but deep down, she couldn't consider another possibility.
If only she could see him with her own eyes and be sure he was alive and well… That would be enough to make her at least get some sleep at night. Even if he never spoke to her again, Amelia needed to know he was okay.
The house was dark and empty as the neurosurgeon expected it to be. She couldn't remember the last time she'd come back home and actually spent more than a couple of hours there. The used mugs on the sink were a proof that someone still lived there, but Amelia just couldn't stand the sight of it all.
The toys scattered in the living room were a heartbreaking memory of the happy moments she'd spent sitting on that playing mat with Zola and Bailey. Her brother's favorite overcoat was still hanging on the foyer by the door. And the photographs of a once happy family framed on the living room were a cruel reminder that no happiness lasted too long. At least not in Amelia's life.
And on top of that, through the window across the large yard, an empty large trailer remained locked and untouched, much like Amelia's emotions inside her heart until that day.
Quickly sweeping those thoughts from her mind, the neurosurgeon made her way upstairs, feeling the physical exhaustion and emotional drainage consuming her. Amelia would give nearly anything to have a drink right now. She had to resort to her last ounce of self-control not to assault the liquor cabinet downstairs and get numbed to endure the pain she had been put through.
And then, as she walked into the second floor bedroom, her eyes immediately spotted a familiar painting hanging on the wall.
"You can't have romance without a stomping cow playing the piano in front of a farm field."
Owen's voice once filled with so much warmth and affection had teased her right before he'd playfully stolen a kiss from her lips. Amelia could still vividly remember the scene as she played it in her head.
Owen had gotten that that painting for her in their first official date. He had actually made a bid on it at an auction because Amelia had made jokes about the questionable piece of art and he'd found her honesty refreshingly amusing. When she'd brought it home, Amelia had been filled with expectations and hope for what their growing relationship could potentially turn out to be.
The tasteless, framed canvas had been the first gift Owen had ever given her and Amelia had cherished it longingly, unable to take it off the wall even after they had already broken things off. Even though the image on it was horrible, the object held an immeasurable sentimental value to her.
But now Owen had gone off to war and probably got himself killed. And Amelia couldn't handle it. She just couldn't accept it, or even understand.
Why had he left? Why had stolen her heart like that and gone away, making Amelia unable to move on with her life, making her unable to sleep at night, to eat, to breathe until she got the smallest piece of information notifying her of his status?
His crystal blue eyes haunted her mind and Amelia sat on the tip of the bed, tearing up with pain and confusion. But her emotional outburst quickly evolved to anger as the neurosurgeon felt her heart racing and her breathing getting heavier.
How was that fair to her?! Why did Owen have to be so stubborn, so unbreakable? She was insanely mad at him for actually going to a war zone, for risking his life to save other people, for leaving her behind without even bothering to say goodbye… and for disappearing without giving Amelia the chance to tell him how much she loved him.
"Damn you!" She yelled irrationally, projecting on the painting her anger with him as she threw the object. across the bedroom in an impulsive fit of maddening rage.
The fragile frame and display glass broke into a hundred pieces as it hit a wall, causing a deafening noise to wake Amelia from her uncontrolled behavior. The shattered glass on the floor made her heart break all over again and Amelia was defeated by her own emotions.
The tears started to fall so heavily and fast that once they did, Amelia lost control completely and couldn't hold it back anymore. In seconds, she was already sobbing as she crouched down near the destroyed painting, regretting her impulsivity. The object was now completely ruined. It was a piece of Owen she would never get to have back, like so many others she had lost when she pushed him away. And Amelia felt guilt start to consume her, adding to her anxiety and distress.
Unable to keep looking at what represent very well the status of her life at that moment, Amelia left the scattered pieces behind and turned on the hot shower, in one last attempt to calm her head. She sobbed and cried throughout the entire time she spent under the warm water, clenching her fists and hitting the cold tiles on the wall with anger and frustration at the way everything seemed to crumble whenever she tried to pick herself up and live a normal life.
Then, nearly half an hour later, after all the tears had subsided, Amelia was strangely empty and more vulnerable than she had ever felt. Her eyes were swollen, her throat was constricted and the burden on her chest didn't feel any lighter. But strangely, it was like after letting out her emotions, even if in secret, she had regained at least some control back.
The neurosurgeon finished drying her hair and walked over to the wardrobe, pulling the first pair of clean underwear she found. Amelia was just about to search for a comfortable set of pajamas when her eyes found a grey sweatshirt, so large that it obviously didn't originally belong to her.
Pulling Owen's old army training uniform from the hanger, Amelia put it on, despite it being way too large for her size. She pulled up the zipper, feeling the soothing touch of the soft fabric on her skin. But what comforted her the most was the way Owen's scent still lingered on the piece of clothing, making Amelia feel that, no matter where in the world he was right now, her thoughts and her heart were with him entirely.
.
Little did Amelia know that, at that exact time, Owen was on a flight to Seattle. His team had finally been able to wrap up the mission and resume contact with the army base they reported to. The majority of people had gone home right after New Year's eve, but Owen and April had stayed behind, making sure Danny Hill was in fit conditions to endure such a hard and extenuating transport.
When the kid was finally able to be evacuated, a medical team had taken him to Landstuhl Hospital in Germany, giving Owen and April no option but to return home.
And Owen longed for it more than anything.
The promise he'd made Danny was still very much alive in his mind and Owen counted the minutes to get to Seattle. He knew he probably should have called his mother and notified her of his upcoming arrival, but since they were only a few of hours from home, Owen planned to surprise her.
It was late morning when their flight finally landed at the airport. He and April split a cab and once Owen realized she was going straight to the hospital to surprise Jackson, he didn't hesitate to accompany her. He had no idea if he would find Amelia there, but just the thought of maybe seeing her filled his heart with enough joy to endure the traffic at that hour.
.
Amelia dragged her feet through the hospital corridors, feeling like she had been taken down in a physical fight. Her head was throbbing from the amount of tears she had shed the night before. And Amelia still couldn't get rid of that faltering sensation that everything around her was slowing crumbling, drowning her further in a whirlwind she wasn't sure how to escape from anymore.
All she really wanted to become invisible, to get through that day and maybe make something meaningful out of it. But just as Amelia was walking through the corridor checking a patient's labs in his chart, she was gently interrupted by Richard Webber.
"Oh, Amelia, hey," the senior chief of surgery greeted her with goodheartedly. "Got time for a cup of coffee?"
The last thing on Amelia's mind was socializing, so she settled for a forced smile as the words coming out of her mouth sounded fake even on her ears.
"Sorry, busy day."
"Yeah." Richard agreed. By the sound of his words, Amelia could tell he was still hovering somewhere behind her. Much to her dismay, she was sure the conversation wouldn't there. And just like she had foreseen it, he added. "Haven't seen you at a meeting in a while. A long while" Richard reinforced.
Amelia didn't want to drag the subject any further but she was didn't have the proper state of mind to discuss that.
"Like I said, really busy…"
"Edwards mentioned something about you…"
The notion that her resident had gone behind her back to speak about her made Amelia lose what little patience she had left.
"Really?" She asked irritably while turning around, in an obvious defensive posture. "What else is Edwards saying?"
Amelia noticed as Richard gently scoffed, as if trying not to make a big deal of the situation.
"I'm not accusing you." He clarified. "I'm checking in. You know, I get to check in." The man said, hoping she would agree. After all, they shared an important part of their lives and had repeatedly given each other support in times of need. "That's the kind of friends we are."
"I do not have time for coffee! I do not have time for meetings. I don't…!" Amelia snapped, growing more resentful by the minute. All the emotions that had overloaded her just the night before came back will force and the neurosurgeon couldn't contain the words as they seemed to automatically leave her mouth. "My job is not make you feel better about me," She unfairly accused Richard. "My job is to make my patients get better." Amelia stated, thinking about Jamie and the way she had been lucky enough to save her. If Amelia hadn't acted in the exact moment she had, Jamie might not have survived. "Do you know what can happen in the hour or two I would be wasting with you?" The neurosurgeon heatedly fired, already bordering irrationality. "An hour or two matters! They matter to me! They should matter to you. They matter to my patients." She added with certainty, grateful that she had been spending this much time at the hospital.
Richard noticed how distressed and close to losing control the young neurosurgeon was and in that moment he was sure of he'd already anticipated. Amelia wasn't doing fine at all. During the past months, he had been tolerating her coping mechanisms because even though he knew they weren't the most appropriate responses, at least Amelia seemed balanced.
But in the past couple of weeks, she had been acting more unusually than ever and Richard really feared that she might relapse. As she blurted out her thoughts, Amelia's gaze met Richard's and she tried to make sense of what was happening, but couldn't. Everywhere she looked, there was too much loss. Uncontrollably, Amelia's thoughts shifted to her brother and how she hadn't even gotten to see him before he was let go.
"If I leave and my patient dies, it's not me who will suffer, it's his mother, his sisters, his friends, his wife, and they will hate me…" She added cruelly, rethinking the entire situation Derek had gone through and how little details she had of the whole thing. Amelia hadn't been included in any part of the decision making and even though she tried to ignore it, the memory stung painfully. "With everything inside them, they will hate me and you and everyone here because they won't understand why he is gone, why people always leave…" Amelia started to lose the battle to her own emotions, not noticing how personal she was getting. Her voice broke and in her child-like tone, it was obvious her words were filled with hurt and heartbreak. Owen's face came to mind and she had to pull a herculean effort not to break down. At that moment, her outburst had already attracted attention from a lot of the hospital staff, but the neurosurgeon remained blissfully oblivious to that. "Why everyone you give a crap about walks away or is ripped from your world without warning, without reason, in convenience stores and plane crashes and podunk hospitals with podunk doctors who don't do what they are supposed to do which is save people!" Amelia raised her voice, thinking about all the loved ones she'd already lost, including her father, Mark, Derek, her child… She desperately didn't want to add more names to that list and the notion alone that Owen might just join them made her sick to her stomach.
Right after her outburst, she paused to catch her breath, noticing in Richard's lack of reaction that something was wrong.
Amelia was prepared to fight. There was so much rage brewing inside of her that nothing would please her more than engaging in a verbal battle, be it whomever was available. But judging by the expression on Richard's face, it became clear that instead of getting angry at her, he felt sorry.
And that was more than Amelia could bear.
Suddenly, she became very aware of people whispering about her in the hallways and a fit of embarrassment and regret formed in her chest. She was just turning her head to step away from the scene when unexpectedly, her eyes caught sight of a tall blonde man dressed in combat clothes who stared back at her with a very familiar pair of amazing blue eyes.
Amelia didn't believe what she was seeing. Maybe she really was going crazy. It had to be a hallucination.
Owen wasn't there. He was dead… He was…
But as she looked away and tried her best to focus again, the only thing she could do was to gather her file and sneakily get out of the public place, fearing how unstable her mind was.
Amelia was deeply embarrassed to have spoken to Richard the way she had. And more than that, she was mortified by the vision she'd just had.
It couldn't be real, could it? Seeing Owen in flesh and bone had been so overwhelming that Amelia chose not to believe it.
She really was losing it. There was no other explanation. Amelia had lost control and there was only one way she knew for sure she could get it back.
Her heart was failing. She was tired. Consumed by a chronic exhaustion after long months burying every feeling in the book under a pile of anger and work. It consumed a lot of energy to withstand that mechanism on a daily basis and Amelia had just reached her very limit.
She just didn't know where to find the strength to keep going anymore.
Before Amelia could realize what she was doing, her feet had taken her to the fourth floor lounge where she knew a few anesthesiology residents liked to hang out.
Without ceremony, she approached a short mid twenties boy with a sickening pale skin.
"I need you to score me a bag of O.C.s"
The young man looked at her with renewed interest.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He replied sarcastically, with a corner smile that made Amelia absolutely sure he knew just too well what she meant.
It was to be expected that a guy working under her denied the fact he was in possession of drugs, but Amelia didn't bother with small talk.
"I am not here to play around, so let's just get straight to it…" Amelia rolled her eyes with impatience. "What's your price?"
The guy spent seconds looking at her, as if testing the attending to see how serious she was about it. When he finally seemed convinced, he replied:
"I want in on all your craniotomies for the rest of my neuro rotation." The resident proposed, clearly aiming high.
Amelia scoffed with despise, lowering her voice.
"You're insane. I am not letting a burnout like you anywhere near my OR."
The resident took offense and looked at her in a very suggestive way.
"Looks like you and me are two peas of the same pod, Dr. Shepherd." He smiled with pretense, looking Amelia from head to toe, clearly dismissing her argument. "So I suggest you take back what you just said."
Amelia swallowed hard. She didn't have an answer for that. She was a drug addict and right now, one who really needed to get something. Even if she weren't going to use it, Amelia just needed the comfort of knowing she had it available in case everything got out of control again.
"You're not going in my OR." The neurosurgeon affirmed with authority. "What else do you want for it?" She asked firmly, determined to make the trade.
The sneaky third year resident slid his hands into his shoulder bag and removed a little plastic bag so sneakily that Amelia would totally have missed it in case she wasn't directly looking.
Feeling overconfident, the young man took one step forward and very suggestively placed the bag in Amelia's scrub pocket, on purpose taking his time.
"You know, I can think of a couple of ways you can pay me back…" He suggestively looked from her eyes to her lips and then to her breasts.
And Amelia felt nauseated.
Taking one step back with violence, she quickly got rid of his touch and stared at the man with fury in her eyes.
"You touch me again and I will make sure you don't see the inside of an OR for the rest of your life." Amelia threatened, grabbing the small bag inside her pocket with force. "I will keep this as an apology for what you did."
Even though the neurosurgeon had sounded confident, on the inside she was shaking. Nothing could guarantee that young man wouldn't go around the hospital halls spreading rumors. Her reputation was already rocky and the anesthesiology resident wasn't exactly known for having a role model behavior.
But after being faced with her rejection, the boy gave her a corner smile, almost as if approvingly.
"Next time you need something from me, you aren't going to take it." He assured her. "We will be sharing it."
The propriety with which he said the words, following by his lascivious stare made Amelia even more nauseated. Before she could realize what she was doing, the neurosurgeon found herself going back home, taking the little white pack safely kept in her pocket.
.
A few hours later, Amelia lost track of how much time she spent pacing back and forth in her brother's front yard.
For some reason, she just couldn't seem to enter the house. The tiny bag in her pocket was the key to make all that pain go away and even though Amelia desperately wanted to use it, she knew she shouldn't.
It was so hard to think about everything that was happening and process it, that Amelia spent her time focusing on emptying her mind, instead. She tried not to think about Owen or her brother or even her young patient who had just received a lung transplant.
But when a deep male voice spoke from behind startling her, Amelia could feel her heart skipping a beat.
"Hey."
The neurosurgeon turned around in surprise, instantly meeting serene blue eyes that stared at her with longing and something else Amelia couldn't quite identify. But as Owen came striding in her direction with an expression of hope in his face, Amelia found it hard to remain disconnected.
"It's good to see you." He added, unsure of what exactly to say.
"Hey." Amelia breathed out, turning her back to him in denial as she tried to contain her emotions.
This couldn't be happening. Owen was there and she was paralyzed. After losing so many people she loved, Amelia had already learned that staying up at night wishing they would come back never made any difference. So she had pretty much given up hope. When Owen was presumed dead, she prepared herself for another round of funerals and heartbreak.
But actually seeing him alive and well was so overwhelming that Amelia was frozen.
Owen noticed the stiffness in her body language and he kept his distance, despite his wish to wrap his arms around her to never again let go. As he'd arrived in the hospital just moments before, he was not sure if he would see her again. But then he'd spotted her name in the OR board and the way his heart swelled simply overtook him. Owen had not been ready for such an intense reaction.
The prospect of actually seeing her again fueled him to take a detour just so he could check up on her. After all that time, how would Amelia be coping? Judging by the little he'd seen earlier that day when she'd ranted at Richard Webber, Amelia wasn't nearly as okay as Owen wished she was.
He'd taken a couple of hours to go see his mother and found the woman at a mortified state of mind. But after Evelyn was finally convinced her son was in one piece, Owen just had to see the neurosurgeon again.
Preferably, in privacy.
"Feels like I've been away forever, but I see nothing's changed." He casually commented, hoping to lure her into the conversation. His eyes fell upon the remains of a branch tree upon which he'd hung a sandbag the day Amelia had willingly walked over to his trailer and confessed she wanted his company right after Nicole Herman had finally woken up from her surgery. "Except they chopped down that old tree."
Amelia turned her eyes in the direction he was pointing, not really following up with the conversations. She was restless and didn't know yet what was happening. Her mind just couldn't get in synchrony with her feelings and she was growing agitated and impatient by the minute.
"Yeah," the neurosurgeon automatically replied, too distracted to have absorbed the content of his words.
Owen noticed how anxious she looked. He waited in the hopes she would express any inclination to talk, or at least show some sort of positive feeling to see him.
Owen had waited for that moment ever since the day he'd left. All he wanted was to go to her and hold her, hoping that Amelia would be as happy to see him as he was to see her. But as she made herself even more distant and kept her silence, the trauma surgeon realized that maybe he had been too hopeful with his wishes.
"Okay, I'll…" Owen felt his heart shattering. "I'll see you around." He added as he walked way, devastated to realize the woman he loved wasn't the least interested in even asking how he was after he'd spent nearly a year in a war zone.
And just as Owen was taking his fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his own feelings in check, her words cut the thin air like a blade slicing perfectly healthy skin.
"I have a baggie full of black-market Oxy in my coat pocket and I'm trying to decide whether or not to take it."
Owen froze in his feet, instantly turning around in alarm. As he did so, Amelia shamelessly flashed him the bag, almost as if daring him to stop her from doing it.
Amelia's words had left her lips so suddenly and impulsively, that the neurosurgeon didn't even get to think of why she had decided to share it. For the past nine months, Amelia had been avoiding talking to anyone as much as she could.
And yet now, without asking a single question, Owen had already somehow managed to break her defenses and earn a confession from her.
The realization alarmed Amelia and she went back to her most daring mode, defensively despising everyone and everything around her in order to guard her own feelings.
"I've got the Dead-Derek thing completely managed." She said in order to convince herself too. It was clear in Owen's eyes that he didn't believe her, so Amelia went further, testing him to see how far he could take it. "I know people were worried. Since he died, everybody's been looking at me, waiting for me to fall apart or freak out or just… Boom! Become a mess." Amelia knew she was scandalizing and kept on acting like that on purpose, just to see if Owen would shrug and realize she was a basket case and unworthy of his time as he walked away or if he would stick around to actually be convinced that she was indeed handling it. "Like some bomb everyone thinks is supposed to go off…" Amelia confessed, thinking about the day of the funeral and how back then everyone had looked at her expecting the youngest Shepherd to make a scene. "My mother was calling three, four times a day. Addison was calling… Everyone." The neurosurgeon confessed, realizing that ever since her brother had died, this was the first time she actually talked about it with anyone. Her mother and Addison hadn't been the only ones to try, even Sheldon and Charlotte had been very insistent on it, but Amelia mostly rejected their calls and replied with short messages later stating that she was fine. "It makes sense. It's natural." Amelia added with despise, thinking about how she'd gotten close to mourning Owen too and how that had devastated her.
Owen softened his expression, trying to quickly catch up with the unspoken words of what she was saying. It had become clear in a matter of seconds after seeing her that Amelia was anything but fine.
It was obvious in her every word and action that she was clearly in pain and Owen felt a wave of self loathing consuming himself when he thought about just how much Amelia had probably gone through, and most likely alone.
He'd left her thinking that she was surely going to count on her family's support as she planned to move to New York, but it was obvious none of that had happened. Instead, he'd come home to find her in an erratic state of mind, most likely having gone back to doing drugs again.
Owen's temple began to throb and he looked at the gorgeous woman standing in front of him, exhaling so much pain in every word that he couldn't withstand seeing it.
"Every man I've ever loved has died, including my baby." Amelia recalled. First her father, then her son, then her brother… How dumb was she to expect that Owen would somehow escape her toxic curse? And yet, there he was, standing up just a few feet away, deeply looking into her eyes while Amelia finally let her walls down after months of walking around in circles. "Thank you, universe. So I should be, like… Greek tragedy, turned to stone, bat-crap crazy, but I'm good. I got this. I am fine. I'm telling you, I'm amazing. I am saving lives left and right." Amelia added, not sure if her despise was at the situation or at herself. As she spoke, Owen kept staring at her with loving eyes, almost as if waiting for her rant to finish so he could intervene. The realization made Amelia even more determined to be convincing. "I am putting butts in the seats in that OR gallery. I mean, people are fighting to hear me lecture. I am entertaining! Joke, joke, joke! I'm funny! I'm fun! I'm a party! I'm doing… I'm great!" Her voice faltered as she realized she was failing to convince ever herself. How could Owen just come back from a war zone and look so together while she was one step away from completely falling apart? Beaten up exhaustion, Amelia toned down her voice and took a deep breath before saying, giving up the worked up attitude. "I'm handling the dead-Derek thing really well."
"Okay."
Owen kept meticulously studying her expression. He knew she was lying. She did too, he was sure. But Owen also knew that Amelia had probably not expressed her feelings in any way close to now. He had a bad feeling that, for the past nine months, Amelia had carefully kept all that pain stored somewhere deep inside of her, unable to cope with it.
"Except today, I yelled at Richard, who was only trying to invite me for coffee," He heard her interrupt his thoughts. "And then I went and scored Oxy from this junkie doctor."
Immediately, Owen's expression changed from understanding to concerned. The trauma surgeon frowned as he took one step forward, clearly anxious.
"But you haven't taken any?
"Not yet." Amelia replied, finally encountering some emotion in him. She noticed how her revelation had alarmed him, and unconsciously tested his limits, acting indifferent and uncaring just to see how far he'd stay to stop her. "But I might." She raised her eyebrows in clear defiance. "That's the thing. I really actually might."
It didn't take Amelia long to figure out he wasn't going anywhere. The realization touched her at the same time it brought back all her anger at him for endangering his life when the single thought of losing him had nearly devastated her.
"I have been sober for one thousand three hundred twenty one days, Owen." Amelia heard her own voice breaking. "I was fine. I was managed. But I might."
Owen saw the stubbornness in her eyes and had to control an urge not to go to her and put some sense into her head with his touch instead of his words. It'd been too long since the last time he'd been able to hold her. And he wanted that, more than anything.
Amelia was hurting deeply. She had every reason to. And because she probably had never been taught how to cope with pain very well, she was acting out like a child throwing a tantrum, longing for the limits, acceptance and consolation she had never been offered.
"All this stuff you're managing…" Owen crossed his arms behind his back, using his best authoritative voice. In a matter of seconds, Amelia's response went from angry and frustrated to retreated and vulnerable. He noticed and softened his voice, trying to give her the understanding she had very likely never received during that time. Perhaps not in her entire life. "You're not supposed to be managing it." Owen took one step closer. "You're supposed to be feeling it. Grief, loss, pain. It is normal."
"It's not normal." Amelia chided, irritated. None of what happened was normal. Losing that many people, seeing so much pain… None of that slightly normal.
"It is." Owen insisted. In that moment, Amelia turned her back and walked away, refusing to hear what she supposed would come next.
Just like everyone else, Owen would tell her much of a failure she was. That while everyone else just toughened it up, it was Amelia who was the weak one for allowing her feelings to get the best of her.
"It is normal. It is not normal to you because you've never done it."
Amelia stopped walking, surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. She looked up to meet his eyes, confused and intrigued at the same time, but Owen didn't seem to notice any of that as he insistently stood in her way, forcing her to hear what he had to say.
"Instead of feeling it, feeling the grief and the pain, you've shoved it all down and do drugs instead. Instead of moving through the pain, you run from it. You…" He straightforwardly explained. Amelia was grateful in that moment that he didn't dance around the subject, or talked about it like she was a monster for resorting to drugs in the first place. It was the first time someone talked about her addiction without an ounce of judgment and the realization awed her.
Her vision got blurry when tears started to assault her eyes, but Amelia was still able to notice how affected by his own words Owen also became. It was like he had just had an epiphany.
Too mortified after realizing he had done the same thing he was accusing her of, Owen sat down, feeling the worst he'd felt since he got there.
"Instead of dealing with being hurt and alone and afraid that this horrible, empty feeling is all there is, I run from it." He courageously admitted, flashing his army cap in surrender. "I run off, and I sign up for another tour of active duty." Amelia noticed how disturbed he was and in that moment, she felt sorry for him too. It was obvious Owen was hurting just as much and not for the first time, she wondered who was ever there for the man who took care of everybody else with such fiber and courage when he needed a shoulder to cry on.
"We do these things. We run off, and we… And we medicate. We do whatever it takes to cover it up and dull the sensation, but it's not normal." Owen exposed the wound, unaware of how much he was getting to Amelia at that moment. His words were describing her reactions exactly, and Amelia had never felt so understood. And by including the simple fact that he wasn't that much different made Amelia hate herself a little less. Because if Owen, of all people, was capable of failing too, then maybe she wasn't really that bad as she was made to believe. Amelia had no dimension of just how much she admired him and to see him share the same feelings as he deeply touched her heart. "We're supposed to feel. We're supposed to love, and hate, and hurt, and grieve, and break, and be destroyed…" Owen got up, focusing his entire attention on her again, noticing how affected she had become. "And rebuild ourselves to be destroyed again. That is human. That is humanity. That's… That's… That's being alive." He explained. "That's the point. That's the entire point. Don't… Don't avoid it. Don't extinguish it."
Amelia stood in silence, feeling her heart swelling as tears assaulted her eyes.
During most of her life, she had been censored every time she expressed any emotion that wasn't convenient to the people around her. Until all those feelings had culminated with a drug addiction as a desperate measure to shove them all down. Amelia had learned the hard way that it didn't work. So she just coped with things the way people around her usually did.
And now this wonderful man stood in front of her and encouraged Amelia to do what she had desperately wanted to do her entire life, but never could. Until she had grown too afraid of her own reactions to even consider it.
"Derek died." Amelia admitted with a broken voice, for the first time processing the dimension of those two simple words. Owen knew his eyes were tearing up too when he nodded affirmatively, anticipating what was about to come. Amelia would break down and his heart would be torn in two, but she had to do it, for her own sake. It was long overdue, and she needed that more than he needed not to see her suffer. "He died. I don't want to feel it. I… I don't think I can. I don't think I even want to…" Amelia felt herself losing control and fought the familiar sensation of spiraling down. Immediately, she reached out for her pocket where the bag of oxy had been shoved down. "I can't. I can't. I can't do this."
"You have to. If you don't…" Owen tried to reason.
"No, I can't. Shh! I can't do this!" She insisted, sniffing soundly.
"You… You have to." Owen raised his voice to interrupt her. Once he was sure he had all her attention, he added with certainty. "If you don't, that bag of Oxy is not going to be your last."
Amelia looked into Owen's eyes, breathing in and out heavily. She had a decision to make and she knew it.
She could take the easier route and simply go back inside, make all of her problems disappear with that small white bag and simply live to see another day. It wouldn't hurt, quite the contrary. It would cause a much needed feeling of bliss that she hadn't felt in a very long time… Probably ever since she had allowed herself to be happy with Owen while worrying about nothing.
Or, she could give up the drugs, keep her sobriety and drown in the worst sensations. Amelia knew it was the only way to make all that pain go away permanently, but she rejected the sorrow with her entire being. She'd already had to process the loss of too many people she loved, so the neurosurgeon knew how cruel and soul shaping the experience could be. She wasn't ready for it. She didn't have any reason to choose this option.
And yet, the man she loved stood in front of her offering Amelia a lot more than she probably deserved. And she had to do it. For him, but mostly for her.
Giving the bag of oxy one last look, Amelia stretched out her hand, finally giving it up. And with that gesture, she also made her choice.
The moment Owen's hand touched hers to collect the bag, Amelia was assaulted by the weight of nine months of unshed tears. A scream of utter pain and sorrow left her lips and she had to support her hands on her knees not to lose her balance.
Owen heard her weeping and took a deep breath to be able to endure it. Seeing Amelia breaking down like that was worse than anything else he'd experienced in the past months.
Also surrendering and accepting the pain, Owen kneeled down beside her, catching her as she fell.
"You're going to be okay." He assured her, relieved to finally have her back in his arms. It had been too many agonizing months in which Owen had dreamed of it. Finding Amelia in that condition had certainly not been what he imagined, but he was determined to never let her go again. "You're going to survive this, okay?" Owen promised, gently caressing her hair, overwhelmed by just how much he missed it. "Everybody does." Among her cries, Amelia finally wrapped her arms around his neck, giving Owen the confirmation that she too had been waiting for that moment. Now that she was with him, he could finally breathe in peace again. With a smile of joy and relief, Owen finally relaxed, focusing entirely on comforting her. Amelia's wellbeing was the most important thing at that moment. "It's perfectly normal. It's boring, even. It's so normal."
Owen closed his eyes and kissed the side of her face, grateful to the universe that he was back home again in time to prevent a disaster, and that she was there, safely kept in his arms. Despite the shape she was in at that moment, the trauma surgeon kept his positivity because from now on, Owen would take care of her. He would make sure she was okay, no matter what.
They lost count of how many minutes Amelia stayed in his embrace, crying her heart out. Slowly, Owen got up with her, but didn't let her go for one second. Soon enough, Amelia buried her face between his neck and his chest. He could feel her tears wetting his clothes, adding to his own pain. Owen was relieved for her that she was finally letting it all out, but seeing her do it was incredibly devastating for him too.
"You left…" Amelia broken voice interrupted the silence, shattering what little self-respect Owen still had left. "You went away and I thought you'd died out there."
"Sweetheart, I am so sorry," Owen tightened his grip around her, cursing the heavens for not having the peace of mind to stay when she probably needed him the most.
"You left and it's all my fault." Amelia added with a muffled voice, surprising him. Just as Owen was about to ask what she was talking about, she finally brought her head up, staring at him with those gorgeous silver eyes filled with so much sorrow and regret. "I know I said I…" Her voice broke once again as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "I didn't mean to…" She pleaded with a trembling lower lip. "I never meant to… Owen," her voice was nearly a whisper now. "I am sorry…I am so sorry…"
Owen closed his eyes and took a deep breath, or else he'd risk breaking down too. He wrapped his arms around her even tighter, not quite believing what was happening. Amelia was in pain, part of which he'd inflicted not only by leaving but also by adding to her concern and yet now she stood in his arms, asking for his forgiveness for the way she had reacted. And the thing was, Owen couldn't even blame her.
"You're going to be okay now." He assured her, holding her face with one hand while his other arm kept a steady grip around her waist. "There's nothing to be sorry for… You're okay now…" Owen repeated, assuring himself just as much as he assured her. His lips brushed on her temple as he felt Amelia melting in his arms again.
They were immersed in a comfortable silence, both dealing with the repercussions of that moment individually.
For months, Amelia hadn't been able to relax, drowning in work to distract herself from everything that had happened. Her many sleepless nights had only added to her discomfort, causing more anxiety in a pattern that never seemed to break. Just the day before, she thought she lost Owen too, and that had been the final drop to send her in a downward spiral.
But Owen had come back, found her and rescued her in time. Amelia thought back about the many other times when she'd needed him and how he'd never failed to be there.
"Will you…" She hesitated as she looked up to meet his eyes, unwilling to let him go. Amelia looked scared, like she was afraid he would say no to her question. "Will you stay with me tonight?"
Owen felt the soft touch of her hand on his chest as her amazing blue eyes stared at him with so much vulnerability and pain that he knew what he was going to say before he even processed the question. He dug his fingers through her locks of soft brown hair, rejoicing in the familiarity of her scent.
Amelia smelled like home.
"Please, don't leave me again."
Her voice was so broken and her expression so desperate that Owen felt one tear rolling down his face too. She thought she had to convince him. Owen leaned over, kissing her forehead for long seconds, trying to assure her that he wasn't going anywhere.
It was his first night back in the city. He had barely even gone to see his mother yet. His trailer was neglected, being locked for so long and he'd barely had any time to rest, spending nearly a day flying halfway across the world to come back. Everything in his life had been put on hold. His job, his house, his family.
But the only thing that would bring him any peace of mind tonight was being with the one who'd occupied his thoughts every day for the past nine months. And luckily for Owen, she didn't seem to want to leave his arms any more than he wanted to let her go.
Using his thumb to wipe another stubborn tear from falling on her gorgeous face, Owen tenderly smiled at her, eager to comfort her in any way he could.
"Of course I will stay."
–