#ryan shepherd

“I’m not entirely sure if I should take it,” Owen sombrely replied. When Ryan looked at him with a confused expression, he said, “We weren’t exactly in a good place when…”

“So?”

“I literally caught her cheating on me, I don’t think she’d want me making medical decisions on her behalf,” Owen put it bluntly.

“That’s pretty harsh, don’t you think?” Ryan queried, folding his arms, “Isn’t this supposed to be the love of your life, or something?”

“Yeah, but I am clearly not the love of her life anymore, so I don’t think I should be making those decisions,” Owen clarified, sternly. They were not on the best of terms when the accident had occurred and adding the consent of her medical health to that would only make things worse if she eventually woke up. “Give it to Derek, or Meredith. I think that’s best.”

“I think I’ll keep it, actually,” Ryan pondered, eyeing the trauma surgeon as he unfolded his arms, “She can decide what she wants, once she’s awake.”

Owen sighed, submitting. “Sure, why not.”

“How are the kids?” he asked, changing the subject, “How’s R junior doing?”

“He is pretty shaken up,” the red head confessed, “Rosie is…I don’t know. And the twins are pretty young, sounds think they’re coping alright. They don’t like sudden, loud noises much anymore.”

“Yeah, I could imagine,” Ryan sympathized. He walked over to Owen and patted him on his good shoulder before saying, “I’m gonna go talk to him before I leave, if that’s okay.” Without looking at him, Owen nodded, keeping his eyes on Amelia’s small frame, willing her to wake up.

The next day made it two days since Amelia had been shot, and a little over 36 hours since her surgery had been done. As per usual, there was an entourage in Amelia’s room, consisting of Derek, Meredith, Maggie, Ryan, Owen, and more recently, Tom. He’d offered to stay for the while to maintain her condition, and then hopefully query about the patient Amelia had been speaking of to him, the entire reason for his visit. They lazed about the room for most of the day, offering support to each other, and to Owen, as they patiently awaited Amelia’s outcome.

---

Sometime in the evening, they’d all received overhead pages from a nurse, all calling them to Amelia’s room.

“Tom?” Owen rasped as he all but slid into the patient room, Ryan following closely behind, “What’s going on?”

“She’s waking up,” Tom voiced calmly. He’d already called the nurse and began adjusting her pumps for the medications she was being administered when he began hearing a soft cough coming from her.

“Yes, she’s definitely waking up…”

“Well, is she going to open her eyes?”

“If you’re patient enough, Dr. Hunt…”

Amelia opened her eyes to a crowd of people standing over her. She only recognised two of them in the room and they looked…odd?

“Amelia, can you hear us?” Tom asked, shining his penlight in her eyes. Why wouldn’t she be able to hear them? What was Tom doing here?

“Can you try talking?” he asked further, offering her a cup of water with a straw in it. Amelia took the cup and had a small sip, clearing her throat as she figured out what she wanted to say first.

“Where…where am I?” she whispered hoarsely.

“You’re at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital, in Seattle,” the Hopkins neurosurgeon expertly answered, a look of concern crossing his face for a flash of a second, “Do you remember any of what happened two days ago?” Two days ago? Amelia shook her head. She looked over at Derek, then at a blonde standing next to him, holding his hand. She figured that was probably the Meredith that Addison had been speaking about. Next to her stood another blonde, more strawberry in colour. His face reeked with fear and stress, and Amelia wondered what would’ve caused him to look so horrified.

“You were in an accident a couple days ago,” Tom explained, “You were wounded, but everything’s okay now; surgery was successful.” She nodded, showing that she understood what he was saying. Looking around the room once more, she observed the faces of the people at her bedside.

“What’s the last thing you remember, Amy?” Derek offered softly, trying to coax her back from wherever in her mind she was right now.

Amelia blankly looked at him before looking away and shrugging. “I wasn’t in Seattle.”

“Do you remember me?” Ryan piped up, garnering the attention of everyone in the room for a moment. She looked at him, at his jet-black hair and icy blue eyes, his loosely fitted plaid shirt and washed-out jeans, and his soft, welcoming smile.

Shaking her head, Amelia responded, “No, but you’re very cute otherwise.” Ryan quirked an eyebrow at her, not expecting a flirtatious reply, while Owen scoffed and averted his eyes as he rolled them.

“Amelia, we met over ten years ago,” Ryan vaguely replied, trying to help her remember, “In LA?”

Amelia raised her eyebrows in shock as though she remembered something, taking another sip of her water. Ryan looked hopefully at her as she continued, “I was in LA.”

He sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. “So, then you don’t remember me…” Amelia furrowed her eyebrows, slightly annoyed that he was asking her the same question again. Why did he want her to remember something about him? “We met at a party?” Ryan explained to her.

“I’ve met a lot of men at parties,” she bluntly replied, “Excuse me if I don’t remember you exactly.”

Owen’s eyes widened. “Wait what-,”

“Okay, let’s give our patient some time to gather her thoughts; she’s only just woken up,” Tom voiced, trying to temporarily brush everything under the rug, “In the meantime, I’m going to need to see her most recent CT scans, and perhaps we can get some new ones?”

“They’re all on the tablet,” Derek explained, pointing at the device that was in Tom’s hand.

“No they’re not,” he  replied, “I imagine I’d have to access them physically in your dinosaur hospital?”

“They’re supposed to be available on the iPad.” Derek took the device from him and began scanning through his sister’s patient chart, only to find out that Tom was right. There was no file, nor record, of any brain scans done on her.

With smoke metaphorically piping through his ears, Derek stepped outside and went straight to the front desk, seeing Isaac there. His eye was still shining purple from Owen’s elbow to his face, and he had to admit that he was kind of glad now that Owen had done it. While Tom was still making his way over, the Shepherd asked, “Where are Amelia’s CT scans?”

Isaac looked up at him and furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t know, they’re supposed to be on the system. I sent an intern to request the scans once she was out of surgery.”

“Wow you must really hate Shepherd to have done that,” Koracick chimed in as he arrived at the desk, “What did she do to you?”

“What? She didn’t do anything to me…”

“You secretly in love with her or something? Did she break your heart?” he further provoked the attending neurosurgeon, making him stand up angrily to defend his actions, “She the one who gave you the black eye?"

“No, it was me,” Owen intervened, making his presence known. Looking to Isaac, he added, “And if there’s something wrong with her brain, you’ll have more than that to worry about.”

“I’m sorry, was that a threat, Dr. Hunt?” Isaac challenged, staring him in his eye. “Perhaps I should report you to HR?”

“And maybe I should report you to the board for negligence concerning a missing CT scan on one of your patients who exhibited neurological symptoms,” he retorted. If Owen could only get his hand out of this sling and hit him, he would. Tom watched the lesser neurosurgeon with a satisfying smirk, while Derek glared at him. To say Amelia had an army, was an understatement.

Isaac wanted to respond, but he knew he was in the wrong and had possibly jeopardised the brain function of his boss by assigning an intern to do his job, so he relented. “I’ll call up CT and get it done right away.”

“Perhaps I should take over head of neuro here,” Tom teased as Isaac walked away, knowing he could be heard, “Looks like this place might fall apart without Shepherd.”

---

When Amelia awoke, she was in a patient room, lying down in bed. Owen’s head laying against the side of the bed, and she would’ve thought he was asleep if it wasn’t for his soft snoring. Weak and in pain, she was barely able to stretch her fingers to poke his head, but he felt the action and his face instantly popped up to look at her. “You’re okay,” he sighed in relief, taking her hand as he let more tears fall, fresher than the ones that fell earlier.

“What happened?” she whispered hoarsely, letting him take her hand in his two larger ones.

“You collapsed during surgery,” he explained, not sure how to explain the rest of the story, “You…Robbins said you were having an ectopic pregnancy. 8 weeks.” Amelia closed her eyes as the tears began to fall. “There was blood leaking from your fallopian tube when she went in…” The words coming out of his mouth slowly faded into the background as she absorbed the information. She couldn’t help but feel like she’d spited herself by their earlier conversation about having an abortion, as illogical as it sounded.

“…there was nothing that she could’ve done,” Owen finished, waiting for her response.

“So, I had a miscarriage,” she repeated, to which he nodded. Amelia averted her gaze and looked out the window, unsure of how to process the information, if she could.

“Are you okay?” he asked, not expecting her silence. He expected an outcry, tears, emotions all over, but there was just silence; Amelia seemed unfazed, numb. “I mean, I know you’re not okay, but…”

“I’m okay,” she said unsurely. Truthfully, she didn’t know if she was really okay, or if the emotions were just waiting to burst out of her at some untimely point in the future. It was hard to tell when all she could think of was how stupid it was that she was actually anxious earlier about how to go about raising a fifth child. Now she felt numb, the kind of numbness that came from touching ice for too long. The type of numbness that stung you after a while, and made your hand cramp.

“Is there anything you need?” he further asked, trying to determine what she might want right now, “Should I bring in the kids?”

“No, don’t bring them,” she responded, pulling her hand out of his grasp, “Can you…can I be alone?” Alone? Amelia never liked being alone with her thoughts, Owen knew this.

“Okay…are you sure?” he sought to confirm, a little disappointed that she couldn’t seem to make eye contact with him, “We don’t have to talk or anything, I could just stay here quietly?”

“Alone is fine, thanks,” she coldly answered him, still not looking in his direction. Sighing, Owen stood and left, looking back once at her small figure, still in bed, facing away from him. After that, Amelia had slowly, but surely, begun to shut him out. To the point where he no longer knew if she even had feelings.

---

“How long do I have to stay in this thing?” Amelia complained. They were in the CT room now, with Owen, Derek and Tom on the other side of the glass, awaiting her results.

Pressing a finger on the mic, Tom responded, “If you stay still and stop talking, we could be finished in less time.”

“What are you even doing here in Seattle?” she further complained as the nurse injected the dye, “Did you lose your job at Hopkins?”

“Far from it,” Koracick replied, “You called me on a consult for a patient, but you never told me who the patient was.” He turned off the mic and looked to Owen and Derek, adding, “Did she ever tell you she had a crush on me back in the day?” Derek rolled his eyes while Owen furrowed his brows in confusion; he really didn’t like this guy.

“Just do the scan,” Derek insisted, a disgusted look on his face. Tom chuckled, enjoying the discomfort he was causing amidst Amelia’s colleagues.

“Okay, scans are coming up now, stay still,” he said into the mic once more. The three doctors watched in anticipation as the scans slowly presented, one by one. As the scans showed their final forms, Derek and Tom furrowed their eyebrows in confusion, leaning in closer to assess them.

“Is that…?” Derek began, unable to say the words aloud.

“What? What’s wrong?” Owen asked, scooting closer to look at the screen, “Oh…”

“That is a…” Tom started, for once at a loss for words, “…big tumour.” He looked up at Amelia through the glass, just as she came out of the CT machine.

“So what’s wrong with my brain?” the Shepherd naively asked, noticing their horrified looks, “Do I have a slow leak bleed or something?”

“No, but you definitely have something…” Tom vaguely replied, giving the scans another once over.

—-

“So these are brain scans from over ten years ago,” Tom explained, handing Amelia the tablet to show her the images, “They were done while you were in LA, as part of your hiring process at a private practice.”

She looked at the scans. “I don’t remember this scan.”

“Yes, I know,” the neurosurgeon humoured her. He swiped the images to the left, landing on her most recent scan. “These are the scans that we took just now.” Amelia looked at the scans in front of her with a look on her face that was hard to read.

Looking up at Tom, and the rest of the doctors in the room, she sought to confirm, “I have a brain tumour?”

“You do, a grade one meningioma,” Derek confirmed, “It would explain why you called Tom. Actually, it explains a lot of things you’ve done over the past five months.” Meredith held Derek’s hand, hoping to offer up some sort of comfort as they displayed the truth for her. Truthfully, a massive brain tumour was the last thing Meredith had thought of when wondering why Amelia was so erratically crazy.

“How long has it been there?” she queried in a small voice, looking back at the scans.

“Likely around ten years or so,” Tom estimated, “You would’ve begun showing signs from a year to two years ago. Pregnancy would also speed up the growth process, so it’s hard to determine how long you’ve had it for, or when exactly you would’ve begun to show symptoms.” Looking to Owen and Derek, Tom asked, “Has she been pregnant over the last five years?” Both surgeons nodded.

“Wait a minute,” Amelia stopped them, “I was pregnant? How many times?” Pressing a hand to her chest, she added, “Oh my god, do I have kids?”

“Five times,” Owen relayed quietly, anticipating a negative reaction. He looked to Ryan, who seemed just as uncomfortable as he did, divulging this information.

“Who’s the father?” she asked slowly, looking suspiciously between Ryan and Owen.

“Me,” was the response that came out of both their mouths.

Opening her eyes even wider, the youngest Shepherd pursed her lips, saying, “Two baby daddies sounds like something that would happen to me.” Both men blushed, averting their eyes as they fiddled with the clothing they wore. “So, which one of you am I still screwing?”

“Amy!” Derek berated her.

“I don’t even like kids.”

“Looks like someone lost their filter again,” Meredith murmured coyly, receiving an eye roll from Derek.

“I am…well I was…” Owen tried to begin to explain their relationship, “We were married. We no longer are. We were together, but I don’t think we were around the time that your accident…”

“So, I am a single mother with four children and two baby daddies,” she begun, trying to make sense of the complicated situation, “And…is there an affair I should be aware of as well? Because that sounds like something I’d do.”

“Is this the tumour talking?” Ryan sought to confirm from Derek.

“I’m not even sure anymore,” Derek sighed.

“This doesn’t explain the memory loss, though,” Amelia accurately pointed out.

“Yes, that’s the only problem,” Tom agreed with her, “The seizure you suffered after your injury would’ve likely had a part to play, but we aren’t seeing anything on your scans. Now, there is a possibility that the tumour is masking it, but we won’t know until we do more testing. The other, faster option, of figuring out what’s going on in there, is surgery.”

“And when can we do surgery?”

“Amy, one step at a time,” Derek condescended his little sister.

“Says the Shepherd without a massive tumour in their head,” she sarcastically retorted, glaring at Derek.

“You need to heal and regain your strength before you can qualify to do this surgery. It is a fairly large tumour, after all; even if it’s not cancerous.”

“Let’s reassess in four weeks,” Tom suggested, taking the tablet from her, “That’ll give you time to heal from your abdominal wounds, and hopefully you’ll be able to regain some of your memories, give us a better idea of how your brain is working and healing.”

Amelia nodded. “And what do I do in the meantime? What if I don’t remember?”

“Heal, get back into your routine,” Tom offered as he slowly exited the room, “Maybe learn to like kids?”

At the mention of the word kids, Amelia gulped. “Okay…” She looked to Owen and Ryan, asking, “When should I…?”

“Maybe we should wait a little longer?” Owen offered unsurely.

“Owen, they miss her,” Ryan defended, “especially Ryan. Let them see her for a bit.”

“I don’t know much about kids, but I’m pretty sure they’d be dying to see their mom,” Amelia offered intuitively, “So…why not?” Ryan and Owen exchanged confusing looks. “What, are they gonna hate me or something?”

“Well,” Ryan was the first to speak up, “the Amelia I remember, isn’t very good with kids…”

“And I think one of them may have a bit of an affliction with your decisions,” Owen offered vaguely.

“So is that a no?” Owen and Ryan exchanged an unsteady gaze..

—-

“Are you sure that’s what you saw?”

Rosie nodded her head. “She was there with Dr. Isaac.”

“But why would she do something like that?” Ryan exclaimed, betrayed and confused by his mother’s finnicky behaviour. Rosie shrugged, hugging her arms around her shoulder as she looked around the conference room. She was having a hard time feeling compassion or guilt for her mother’s condition, after having seen her betray her father. Yet she couldn’t figure out why she jumped into action to help save her life. She felt conflicted, and numb.

“What are we gonna do if they break up for real this time?” Rosie asked her older brother. She and Ryan were far too familiar with the back and forth that appeared to always be going on between their parents. It left a consistent feeling of anxiety in the air for both of them.

“We stick together,” Ryan assured her, putting his arm around her shoulder.

“Okay guys, are you ready?” Owen asked as he came into the waiting room to collect them and take them to Amelia. Both kids shrugged, not entirely sure how they were supposed to be feeling right now. Ryan felt emotionally exhausted, while Rosie felt emotionally numb. Realistically, neither kid wanted to deal with anything right now. Rosie just wanted to go home and sleep in her own bed. And Ryan, well oddly enough there was a book he was hoping to get home and finish before all this had happened.

Stooping to their level, the father asked, “What’s going on? I thought you guys would be more excited to see your mom?”

“I am,” Ryan defended lamely, looking down at his lap. No one could ever doubt that Ryan loved his mother with all his heart. “I’m just…”

“We’re just tired, daddy,” Rosie cut in, saving the day with what she would soon learn was called a half truth, “Can we go home?”

Owen frowned, not believing the response, but going along with it. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, we can do that.” He stood up and held his hand out for Rosie, and Ryan jumped off the couch to follow them.

While Owen took the kids home, Ryan sat in the patient room, keeping Amelia company until the trauma surgeon returned. Although a bit odd, it was funny and sentimental talking to the Amelia that he had initially fallen in love with all those years ago.

Taking her hand in his, he asked, “How have you been feeling?”

“I feel like I have really bad food poisoning,” she joked, making him chuckle, “And my head is spinning with all this information.” Ryan nodded sympathetically, imagining how confusing it could be to wake up in the middle of your life and not know anything. “Where is the Owen guy? I thought he was bringing the kids.”

“Oh, he ended up taking them home,” Ryan summarized carefully, “They were pretty tired, and they’ve already missed three days of school, so you know.”

“Oh,” Amelia hummed, looking around her patient room. Mumbling softly, she insightfully stated, “Why do I get the feeling that no one is really fond of me right now?” Ryan opened his mouth and then closed it, unsure of if or how to answer her question.

“It’s a complicated situation, Amelia…”

“Feels more like everyone thinks I’m a bitch,” she retorted, looking outside her patient doors at the personnel on her floor. “I don’t blame them; I probably was a bitch.”

“They’re still dealing with the whole situation,” he explained, squeezing her hand, “A lot happened before you got injured. There were a lot of feelings in the air.” Just then, Owen finally reappeared, seeing the two talking and holding hands and choosing to wait by the nurses’ desk outside her room. Standing up and letting her hand go, Ryan added, “There’s still a lot of feelings in the air. Don’t be too harsh on him.” He patted the back of her hand before exiting the room and going to the desk to speak to Owen. “She’s all yours.”

“Hey, what’s your deal?” Owen accused him in an edgy voice. His eyes were a bit red, and he looked pretty agitated and tired, but Ryan chose to entertain his erratic behaviour still.

“What do you mean?”

“Suddenly, you’re just choosing to stay here and take care of her?” the trauma surgeon assumed, putting his hands on his hips as he tried to tower over Ryan and appear bigger. “I bet you’re real glad she doesn’t remember anything, huh? Now you two can start over…”

“Owen, you’re being unnecessarily weird,” Ryan cut him off, “Amelia is the mother of my son, I just want to make sure that she makes a full recovery.” He was being illogically aggressive, and Ryan knew it was likely because of all that had happened in the last few days, so he tried to be understanding. “I’m not jumping back in the race or anything. I’m just making sure she’s comfortable.”

“By flirting with her?”

“Hunt, I am not the enemy here.”

“Ha, where have I heard that before,” he dismissed him, ready to add to his statement before his phone rang. “This is Dr. Hunt.” Listening to the man on the other line, his anger began to escalate. “I’m on my way.”

“Hey, where are you going?” Ryan called as the trauma surgeon stormed down the hall. Owen ignored his question, making him decide to follow him out of the hospital.

“Owen!” Ryan yelled, following him to the parking lot. When he got close enough, he grabbed him by his shoulder. “Hey-,”

“What?” the surgeon asked through gritted teeth, spinning around to glare at him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to the station,” he replied, “They found Amelia’s car, and the person who stole it.”

“And what are you planning to do when you get there?” Ryan accused, knowing Owen wasn’t thinking straight right now.

“I asked about a couple months ago, Hunt,” Derek chuckled, “I just want to find out if my sister is doing better.”

“I know,” Owen affirmed, “She hasn’t changed.”

“Meaning?”

“She’s become so apathetic that I can’t even tell if she’s depressed or…I barely see any emotions.” Except for when they were having sex. “Hostile, paranoid; sometimes she’s fine. Other times, it ranges from extremely angry to extremely horny.” Derek hummed, letting the silence pass between them as he thought.

“I suspected at one point that she was having absence seizures,” Owen spoke up again, “But she denied it. She keeps zoning out, and I can tell when Amelia’s pretending not to listen to me and when she’s genuinely lost in her head.”

“It’ll be hard to tell which it is if she doesn’t get a CT scan,” Derek snidely replied. He pointed on the screen to a small spec, “There it is.”

Owen leaned closer to the computer screen, looking at where he’d pointed. “That small thing? On the optic nerve? Wow.” He didn’t think such a small thing would cause such a huge neurological deficit in the patient.

“Yeah, that’s the thing about the brain and neurology,” he advised Owen, “The smallest imbalance in the brain could cause the largest issues.”

“Are you insinuating that Amelia’s behaviour is symptomatic of a brain tumour?” Owen interpreted.

“I’m saying,” Derek corrected him, snidely again, “You won’t know unless you take a scan.”

“If she finds out that I’ve been monitoring her, she might actually kill me,” the trauma surgeon voiced, more terrified of the repercussions of his actions than anything, “especially if I’m wrong.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say then, Hunt,” Derek sighed, exasperatedly, “Don’t worry about it if you’re not going to do anything about it.” Owen pouted to himself at his words, knowing he was right.

---

“Owen, can you come in the bathroom for a minute?” Amelia called from upstairs, the sense of urgency in her voice not going unnoticed by him. Owen left the kids at the kitchen table, under the guidance of Ryan, and sprinted up the stairs in two’s.

“Everything okay?” he asked once he opened, the door, a little breathless. The first thing he saw were the letters PREGNANT, staring at him directly from the little purple stick in Amelia’s hand. At first, his mind went blank, maybe a human response to the shock.

“Is this the only test you took?” he asked, not wanting to get his hopes up just yet; false positives still happened here and there, and they hadn’t even been trying for a baby. Did they even want more children?

“I took six, Owen,” Amelia answered him, pointing at the five duplicate pregnancy tests, lined up on the floor, by the toilet. Each one had the letters PREGNANT on it.

“So then you’re definitely…” he trailed on, awaiting her reaction before he divulged his feelings. If she took six tests, then it meant she was hoping the results would be false.

“Yep,” she answered, sighing as she sat on the toilet and began collecting the tests from the ground. She threw them all in the trash while Owen locked the door behind him and slouched to the ground, leaning his back against the door. She covered her face in her hands and sighed again, and this time, Owen could hear the tears in the sound of her exhale.

“You don’t seem happy about this,” he observed, scooting forward, closer to her.

“I just thought that we were done with the baby stuff,” Amelia confessed truthfully, smacking her hands to her knees, “I have my research, and you have your trial waiting approval, and we already have four kids, Owen.” She finally looked at him, a couple tears flowing slowly down her cheeks. “I just don’t think we’re at that point in our lives anymore, where having a kid sounds like a good idea.” She knew she was breaking his heart, she could see the sad look on his face, although he tried his best to hide it. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you want to get an abortion?” he dared to ask, not wanting to make her feel obligated, even though it was his child too. The word felt like taboo coming out of his mouth, but it was clearly something that they had to consider. Amelia let the statement linger for a bit as she slightly contemplated the option…

“Mommy?” came a voice from downstairs, Rosie’s. “I think I need big girl help!”

Tears came to Amelia’s eyes as she listened to the sound of her daughter’s voice, berating herself for even considering the option. “I…I can’t.” She stood up quickly, and Owen stood with her, walking over, and holding her by her waist.

“Let’s talk about it later?” Owen suggested, pressing a kiss to Amelia’s forehead. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed, kissing her forehead again. “We can get a blood test and go from there.” He pulled away and looked down at her, smiling softly. “Hey.”

She looked up at him. “What?”

“Imagine if it’s twins again,” he teased her, a cheeky grin on his face, “Family of 8.”

He managed to get a small giggle out of her. “Oh God, I hope not.”

---

“I’m not seeing the mug, Owen.”

He knew better than to answer her back, so he just remained silent and walked to the cabinet, retrieving the cup from one of the higher shelves. “Someone must’ve moved it.”

“Whoever moved it must have forgotten how short I am,” she bitterly responded. The two were still festering from an argument they’d had earlier today, about laundry, of all things. It wasn’t the laundry that they were fighting about, though; they both knew that. The laundry was just a catalyst; a metaphor for how unkempt their relationship had become, and how much they’d been fighting. It was a build-up that, in a matter of time, would eventually make them explode.

“Probably,” he grumbled, returning to his locker to change his shirt.

She stiffened at the edge in his voice, her blood already beginning to boil with a fresh argument. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

Owen inaudibly sighed, thinking back to Derek’s words earlier today. “I don’t understand what you mean by that.”

“Well, there’s obviously some reason you’re constantly upset with me,” she blatantly put it.

“I’m constantly upset with you?” he exclaimed, turning around as the dam of frustration began to burst in his head once more, “Amelia, you are always finding something to be upset with me about, always.”

“No I’m not,” she denied, “But I’m not surprised that you’re, yet again, playing the blame game.”

“I am not playing the blame game!” he yelled at her, “You are constantly upset with me for whatever frustrations you’re having at the point in time, and then you take it out on me; even after we have sex!”

Her cheeks blushed at his statement, but she remained hot-headed as ever. “Because you’re constantly angry with me! Owen, I can almost feel your hatred for me every time I walk into a room you’re in!” Her comment was the last straw for him. How dare she accuse him of hating her, when it was very clear that she was the one who hated him?

“Amelia, you’re delusional,” he plain out said, “You have been acting crazy ever since the miscarriage, and it’s like you can’t even see it!” Mistake number one, calling her crazy. He stuffed his personal belongings into his laptop bag and turned around. “You won’t even go see a psychologist, or maybe even an OB.” Mistake number two.

“A psychologist, or an OB,” Amelia repeated, chuckling bitterly to herself, “So we’re having a fight and the reason is either I’m crazy, or I’m menopausal?” Wow, did she know how to twist a situation.

“Amelia, that’s not what I meant,” Owen exhaled, scratching the back of his neck as he slipped his bag onto his shoulder, “Can we…let’s just get the kids and go home? I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Oh, so when do you want to do it, Owen?” she inquired, crossing her arms in front of her as she leaned all of her weight to one side, “In an hour? A day?”

“Just not now,” he begged, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I can’t keep doing this with you, Amelia. The back and forth, over silly things like this, a mug. I can’t. I’m done.” Tears welled in her eyes as she read between the lines, forming her own interpretation.

“Let me make it easier for you then,” she said with a shaky, watery voice, as she neared the exit to the Attendings’ lounge. Before he could even respond, or react, she slammed the door close, the noise echoing down the halls of the hospital. Owen simply plopped down onto the couch, still in shock and confusion at what had just happened, and how quickly it had escalated. It felt almost like she was gaslighting him.

---

Amelia stood in the viewing room she’d frequented much over the last month, staring at the scans she’d become so familiar with. She could barely see them amidst the blurriness of her own tears, forming and reforming once they fell. She’d messed up, big time, and she didn’t know how to fix any of it. She just threw away her relationship, and over what, the fact that she couldn’t tell him she was ill? That she knew he suspected something was up with her because of her behaviour, yet she continued to deny it? And why did she even deny it?

But how? How could she tell him, after everything they’d been through, that something else was happening to her again? That she had a brain tumour the size of a small grapefruit, pressing against all the logical parts of her brain? And that it had likely been growing there for years, much before she’d ever met Owen, or maybe even had Ryan? She couldn’t tell him; it would be too much. It already was too much for her, to not be able to trust any decision she’d made over the last 8 years. Her decision to move to Seattle, to get involved with Owen, to marry him; was any of it true? Was it her decision, or the tumour’s? She had to fix this herself, and then she would tell him once she was healthy and able to make her own decisions.

“This is Tom,” the voice said over the phone, “Leave a message after the beep. Better yet, don’t leave any message, just call again or something.”

“Tom, this is Amelia,” she said into the phone, “When are you going to get here? I know I’m asking for a lot, and I would operate if I could, but I can’t. Please call me back.”

“Everything alright?” Amelia spun around, startled by the sudden presence of another person; she could’ve sworn she’d locked the door.

“Isaac?” she said, inhaling sharply as she quickly turned back, wiping her face clear of the tear streaks, “What are you…do you need something?”

“No, I just…” he quirked an eyebrow at her as he slowly closed back the door, “I wanted to make sure you were okay? I saw you slammed the lounge door earlier, and I just figured I’d check in to make sure you’re not burning out or anything, with your case and all.” He looked from left to right as he felt the awkwardness of the silence creeping. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she lied, reaching across the computer to close off the displays of her scans, “Just looking at patient scans.”

“You sure?” he sought to confirm, walking forward to stand up in front of her, “You’ve been crying.”

“I’m just stressed,” she dismissed as she looked away from him, wiping her cheeks once more. As she raised her hand to her cheek, Isaac gently took the hand and held it away from her face.

“You’re devastated,” he noted, eyeing her tears, “Just tell me what happened, I only want to help.” She simply stared at him, not responding. “Is it Hunt?” he asked. She shook her head. Although it was partly Owen, he wasn’t the entire reason for her remorse.

“Your kids?” She shook her head again. “Is it a patient?” As the words left his mouth, the tears began to well again, running down her cheeks. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered to her, holding her face, and wiping her tears with the thumbs of his hands, “Who’s the patient, Amelia?” She opened her mouth, but no words could form. If she told him she had a brain tumour, then that would make it real, and she wanted more than anything for none of this to be real. She didn’t want to be hospitalised again, to have Owen watch her as though she was more fragile than glass, to be poked and prodded and prayed for. To have to relearn her normal way of living, she couldn’t do that again; she’d done it almost four times already. How could she tell him? How could she tell anyone?

And yet, somehow, she found herself saying, “Me.” As quickly as she said it, she regretted it.

“You?” Isaac exclaimed, his eyebrows furrowing. Of course he wouldn’t understand right away. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Isaac, I can’t…I don’t want to talk about it,” she mumbled weakly.

“Is it serious?” Reluctantly, she nodded, a tear escaping from her eye as she looked at him. “Well, promise me you’ll at least get it checked out?” he asked. She nodded, wiping her eyes.  Isaac let go of her as he watched her, saying, “Will you be okay when I leave here? I can give you a hug if you want.”

Amelia sighed and tried to smile and be polite as she wiped away the remaining tears off her face, “Thank you, Isaac.”

He smiled softly as he opened his arms, enveloping her in a bear hug. “You’re welcome.” And, as Amelia rested her head against his chest, and felt the comforting and care of someone who didn’t completely hate her, she felt herself making another bad decision already. He would be lying if he said he didn’t anticipate or hope for what Amelia did next either, because with all her emotions aired out, and the tension so high, he should’ve expected that she would do something ill-advised, like kiss him. And she knew what she was doing, she knew he wouldn’t stop her. She grabbed at the laps of his lab coat, pulling him closer to her, desperate to feel anything other than the numbness that never seemed to go away, the flattening affect.

“Hey, can we switch ke-,” Owen stared in silence, only for a moment, before quickly pulling Rosie behind him by her hand. He knew she’d seen it, seen her mother doing what she could only rationalise as something she was not supposed to do. Evidently, Amelia and Isaac pulled apart, neither wanting to make eye contact with Owen first. He wanted to say something, to have the most bitter voice as he asked, “Really?” But he was just plain tired of her at this point, and they were possibly already broken up, for all he knew. “Can we switch cars? I have to take the twins to a sleepover with Callie and I think the car seats are in the SUV.” Amelia quickly reached for the keys in her purse, beginning to walk over to him when he stopped her. “You can throw it, thanks,” he snidely remarked. Sighing, Amelia threw the keys across the room to him. “You can go back to what you were doing now, sorry for intruding.”

“Owen, we weren’t…” Amelia begged, just as he closed the door behind him. As if things couldn’t have gotten worse. “I have to go,” she suddenly said, gathering her things.

“Amelia, are you sure you’re okay?” Isaac called after her as she neared the door, “What happened just now is not something that you’d normally do…”

She stopped at the door and looked back at him, a bitter gaze in her eyes. “I’m absolutely sure I’m fine this time, Isaac.” She couldn’t make any more decisions right now, not until she saw Tom and got rid of this stupid thing in her brain that seemed to be tearing her life apart.

“Are you really trying to blame me for what just happened?” he sought to confirm, pointing a finger at the door that Owen had just been standing by, “Because I know I didn’t just kiss myself.”

“No, Isaac,” she responded slowly, “But I do find it incredibly convenient that you’re always nearby, willing to be my talk therapist in my times of vulnerability.” She couldn’t control the words coming out of her mouth, almost as if she had surrendered her will, but it was entirely her fault.

“Hunt was right,” he replied in a snarky demeanour, wanting to hurt her back, “Something is wrong with you.”

“Yeah, I just told you, actually,” she said. He sighed as she forcefully shut the door behind her.

---

“Drama in paradise?” Derek jokingly commented as he joined Meredith at the ER front desk. She, and Owen, appeared to be deep in a conversation while Owen held the twins in his arms.

“Do you wanna…?” Meredith gestured, looking from Owen to Derek.

“I just found Amelia in the viewing room, with Isaac,” Owen explained to Derek, careful not to divulge too much information for the twins to hear; it didn’t matter what Rosie heard at this point. He used his eyes to gesture to the little girl standing next to him. “She saw.”

“Are you sure?” Derek sought to confirm, quickly correcting himself, “Okay, dumb question. But why?” He was quite surprised that Amelia would do something like that; usually she was smarter about discretion when it came to sneaking around. “And how long has it been going on?”

“I don’t know,” Owen sighed, feeling more tired than he had ever felt, “Amelia has been in that room religiously for the past month, god knows what they’ve been doing.” As his eyes glazed around the ER, they met with Amelia’s, making him even more emotionally exhausted. She came straight towards them, Ryan following close behind, to clock out by the desk.

“Daddy,” Rosie whispered to Owen, looking up sadly, “Can I go home with you?”

“No,” he responded curtly to the girl, nudging her gently with his hand in Amelia’s direction before her mother could realise there was an issue, “Go home with your mom.” Rosie reluctantly obliged and dragged her shoes all the way out of the ER, following Amelia and looking back sadly at her father in hopes that he would take pity and let her stay with him.

“She is a drama queen just like Amelia,” Derek joked, referencing the girl’s puppy eyes. He looked to Owen now, hands on hips. “So, what are you going to do about Amelia?”

“Break up?” Owen half-heartedly suggested, “I don’t know…I think she already broke up with me.” They had invested so much time in each other over the years. There were kids involved. Although they weren’t married anymore, it wouldn’t be as easy as just breaking up and moving on; they had baggage, a routine, connected accounts, a shared space. None of that could change overnight. Would he move out, or would she? He just felt tired, and he wanted to go home and not have to deal with anything, or anyone. “I’m beginning to doubt less and less that she’s sick. What kind of disease makes you do that?”

“Narcissism,” Derek chided, receiving rolled eyes from both Meredith and Owen, “Or maybe she’s having a mid-life crisis.”

“Whatever it is, it’s bad,” Meredith confirmed for the brother, “Half the staff has complained about her at least once in the past four months, and it’s getting worse.”

“Hmm, maybe the chief might have to suspend her,” Derek teased, winking at Meredith.

“Has anyone tried talking to her?” she queried, “Like, actually sitting her down?”

“You don’t sit, a person like Amelia, down and expect a good outcome from that conversation,” the Shepherd divulged, “She’s like one of those rabid stray dogs.”

“Back them up into a corner and they’ll bite back,” Owen finished for him. Derek nodded, agreeing with the statement. They bantered on for another five minutes, their conversation cut short by the muffled echo of a loud noise, sounding almost like a blown transformer, but no electricity had gone.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Owen joked, readjusting the twins in his arms before turning around, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Hopefully, things cool down by then.”

“Good luck,” Derek told him, smiling knowingly as he wrapped an arm around his wife, “Maybe in a couple years, she’ll see the error of her ways.”

“Ha-ha,” Owen sarcastically remarked as he crossed the automatic doors of the ER. He looked to his right, seeing Amelia finally exiting the parking lot, although he’d anticipated she would’ve been gone by now. He flagged her car, making her come to a halt as he said, “Pull down the glass.” It took almost ten seconds for her to do it, and something didn’t sit right with him as he watched the window roll down. His gut was correct, because as the window came down, he came face to face with a man that was not Amelia.

---

Screw everyone, she thought as she walked to the parking lot. They were all watching her like she’d lost her marbles and she was tired of it. Maybe doing the surgery at Hopkins was better, that way, no one would even know she was sick. But how was she going to take a vacation?

“Rosie, what’s wrong?” Ryan exclaimed to his sister, “Why are you being so quiet?” Normally, the little girl would answer him, but she was in a mood so sour that she barely even recognised that he’d told her something to begin. She just gazed up at her mother with a look of betrayed trust.

They came up to the car and Amelia unlocked the door, saying, “Why don’t you help your sister in the car, instead of provoking her, hmm?” Ryan blushed a little and nodded, opening the car door, and helping Rosie in, before getting in himself. “Do you need anything in the trunk?” Both kids shook their heads. Amelia closed the door and walked to the back of the vehicle. Once she opened the trunk, she began offloading the various school bags and lunch kits she’d been carrying and, as she closed the trunk, she felt an odd presence behind her, almost as if the wind expelled from the trunk gave away the person’s location.

“Don’t turn around,” a voice suddenly said, as though he knew Amelia had spotted him in the reflection of the windscreen glass the second he appeared. An object poked the middle of her back as the voice said, “Everything. Now.” For a moment she stood there, in a bit of shock, as she began to process the situation. But she didn’t want things to escalate, so she complied. She took off her two rings, and she unlatched the gold around her neck, a necklace Owen had gifted her last year. She rested them on the hood of the trunk in front of her, resting her handbag next to the jewellery as she awaited his response. Slowly but surely, a hand crept forward, grabbing the jewellery. The hand then came back, digging in her bag. She watched as it fished around in it, taking out her purse. He opened the thing, stripped her of all her cash and cards, but not before asking, “Where are the keys?” Her eyes darted up from their previous position, looking through the back glass of the car and at her kids sitting quietly, staring back at her. It was the one thing she was hoping not to hear. She couldn’t answer him, because she had them, and she was hoping he’d have been satisfied with the other possessions. But no, now he wanted her car too, and she couldn’t let him have it; her kids were in there.

His hand closed around her upper arm as he forcefully spun her around, pushing her against the adjacent car. Grabbing her by her throat, he asked once more, “Where are the keys?” His breath was shaky, and his eyes were crazed as they bore into her, almost as if he was strung out on drugs. He dug the gun deep into her stomach now, and she wondered if he’d noticed the other people in the car, if he would have mercy on them. She doubted it.

“So you’re not going to tell me?” Keeping the hand around her neck, he used the gun to caress her body, poking it into her jacket, grazing it across her blouse, searching for the keys himself. She could see the look of pure ecstasy on his face as he revelled in the power he had, mixed in with a bit of lust as he let the gun hook around the collar of her blouse, pulling it down a bit. “Is it in here?” She averted her gaze in disgust as tears began to brim in her eyes. “Or maybe I should ask your kids where they are?” he taunted her, pointing the gun in the direction of her car now. “Hmm?”

It was that final gesture that had made her snap, had shifted her brain into something she could only describe as her ‘fight or flight’ response. This was the only opportunity she would likely have, a moment of weakness that she could take advantage of and hopefully succeed. With every nerve on fire in her body, Amelia jumped at the man, her right hand outstretched for the gun.

---

Muffled voices, complete chaos, and the high-pitched sound ringing through Owen’s ears from the sound of the gunshot, were all he could focus on. That, and the fervent cries of his children, whom that man had just blatantly shot at, without hesitation. Uncurling from his previous position, Owen sat up with the twins still in his arms, droplets of blood splattered across Finn’s face as he bawled his eyes out. At first, his immediate reaction was to search the boy for any injuries, but the second Owen lifted his left arm, a searing pain shot through his entire body.

“Hunt, don’t move!” Meredith yelled at him, rushing to his side, “You’re hurt!” Derek followed too, taking the twins out of his arms, and rushing them to the nearest available bed, while Meredith began to assess the wound.

“What about Finn and Isabella?” the worried father asked as he rose to his feet, aided by Meredith.

“They’re okay,” Derek called from across the ER. That was a relief, he thought. But just as quickly as the relief washed over him, dread took over. Amelia.

“Meredith, I need a gurney, IV fluids, and you need to call the blood bank,” Owen said as he began backing out of the ER. “A positive blood.”

“Blood? What are you talking about?” she inquired, still not getting the point.

“It’s not for me,” he replied as the automatic doors opened. He turned, sprinting out of the ER, leaving Meredith to wonder who all those things were for, if not for him.

“Mer, can you come over here for a second?” Derek asked. She walked over to him, smiling at the two babies in front of her, who were still recovering from shock. “Has anyone called or checked on Amelia?”

It was then that it clicked in her head. “No, but I think Owen just went to do that. He told me to order up a bunch of stuff, almost as if…oh no…”

“Let’s not assume anything as yet,” he answered, a calm response compared to how he was truly feeling. He hoped to god that his little sister was okay. “Order up the stuff, just in case. And we need to call the police and report the stolen car. Probably cash and cards too.”

The more time Owen had to think, the more he was convinced that something terrible had happened to Amelia. It was funny, that after everything that had happened today, after the way she’d been treating him the past four months, after catching her with someone else, he was running for his life down the ambulance bay, to the parking lot. And maybe he still cared, and maybe he didn’t, but he couldn’t stand the thought of something bad happening to her again, leaving their children motherless, and destroying their family. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have had a family anyways, even if she was okay. He was conflicted by all these thoughts, wondering which were true and which were just bitter responses. That was when he saw the small, 4-foot-high figure of their eldest, running towards him.

“Ryan?!” Owen yelled at the little boy. He ended up crashing right into him, and his hands wrapped around his shoulders as he looked down at the boy. There was blood all over his clothes, on his shoes, his pants, and it was beginning to stain into his white shirt and blue jacket. “What happened, are you hurt?”

The young boy shook his head. “It’s mommy.” And just like that, Owen began to feel a chill run down his spine. He gave the boy another once over, noting that he was, without a doubt, covered in more of his mother’s blood than she probably had left.

“Okay, go into the ER and tell Uncle Derek and Aunty Mer what happened. Tell them where she got shot. And tell them you need 8 or more pints of A positive blood. Can you remember all that?” Ryan nodded emotionlessly, as though all life had been drained from his face. Without prompting, he began running again, straight for the ER doors. Owen stared at where he had just been holding the boy; his hands were bloodied and shaking like two rattle snakes. He could feel it in his bones that this time would not be like all the other times Amelia had been hurt. No, this time…this time she could die. And just the bare thought of that happening flipped a switch in his head, and he couldn’t stop running, he wouldn’t. Not until he found her.

The second Ryan stepped into the busy ER, everyone stopped what they were doing and became silent.  They all stared, eyes agape, as their brains began processing the information it was being fed.

“Ryan,” Derek was the first to say, walking towards his young nephew slowly, “What…what happened? Are you hurt?” Seeing the young boy drenched in blood from head to toe was a horrifying view, one he would never forget.

Remembering what Owen had said to him, Ryan’s first words were, “Mommy got shot.” He brought his fingers to the lower right quadrant of his torso. “Right here.” He dropped his hands. “Owen said you need 8 pints of A positive blood.” Everybody heard clearly what Ryan had said, and yet no one moved.

“Meredith,” Derek muttered amidst the silence, looking at his wife with a face that, for once, she couldn’t read, “Where is April?”

“I think she and Jackson have left for the evening already,” she calmly responded as she pulled out her phone, “But I can page them and see if she hasn’t gone too far.”

“Thank you,” he responded as he lifted both twins, “I’m gonna take these two to day care, just in case.”

“Ryan, let’s get you cleaned up,” Meredith called, beckoning the boy, “Where is your sister?”

“She’s with Dr. Kepner and Dr. Avery,” Ryan responded as he followed her, “She was holding the wound before they came.” They entered a supply closet and she turned around, furrowing her eyes at the little boy before going to the back to seek a new outfit for him.

“Why didn’t you help her?” she inquired, finding a jacket and loose fitted joggers. When she turned back around, she was surprised to find tears in the boy’s eyes.

“I was afraid,” he whispered, averting his eyes to the ground, “I have never seen so much blood, not even at the hospital.” He closed his eyes in shame, letting the tears fall as he confessed, “Rosie wasn’t scared, I don’t know why.” He stuck his hands out for the clothes, and Meredith gave it to him, her heart aching for the poor boy. “What if she dies because I was afraid to help her?” he asked, his face showing all of his devastation, “What if…”

“Ryan, everything is going to be okay,” Meredith told the boy, pulling him in for a hug, even though he was still soaked in the blood, “Everything will work out how it’s supposed to.” And for the life of her, Meredith sure hoped that was true.

---

BANG.

April heard the sound, clear as day, pulling her son behind the nearest car as she shielded him. She heard a body dropping, and then the jingle of keys.

“Get out!” a voice yelled; one she couldn’t determine. Taking the risk to peek out the front of the bonnet, April was just in time to see Amelia’s car reversing haphazardly out of its space, before screeching off, leaving Ryan and Rosie to stand in front of someone she could only assume was Amelia.

“Jackson!” she yelled, running towards them, Samuel’s hand still in hers, “Jackson!” Once she was near enough, she noticed Ryan was frozen still, staring down at his mother, while Rosie appeared to be helping Amelia to stop the bleeding. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t freeze too, just out of pure shock. And, to make matters worse, she heard another shot ring off in the direction that the man had driven.

“April?” Jackson called, nearing, “What in the world is going on? Wait…is that…” He looked down at the body and noticed that it was, in fact, Amelia.

“Hold Samuel,” she said, abandoning the boy to get on the ground, “Hey, Ryan?” The young Shepherd looked at April, a lost gaze in his eyes. “I bet you would be great help at telling the hospital what happened?” He stared at her for a moment before nodding and running to the ER entrance.

Now that Ryan was out of the way, April scooted to Amelia’s side and pressed her hands over Rosie’s. “I think I can handle it from here, but you’ve been great help, Rosie.”

“Yeah?” the girl asked, looking into her eyes for validation. April nodded, and Rosie released her pressure, pulling her hands out from under their bigger counterparts.

“Go wait over there with Dr. Avery,” she instructed. As soon as the girl was out of earshot, Amelia began to groan and whine, gripping at the area where she had been shot. “Amelia relax, relax. You’ve just been shot-,”

“I fucking know April,” she managed to moan out bitterly. Tears came to her eyes as she began to feel fluid rising in her throat.

“Jackson, we need a first aid kit or something to stop this bleeding,” April exclaimed. Despite her steady pressure, she could feel the blood pumping out of Amelia with each rapid beat of her heart, and the increasing size of the surrounding pool only served to emphasize how much she was really losing. It had to be her aorta that was damaged, she was almost certain.

“April, I go for that kit, I won’t make it back in time,” he worded carefully, and she knew exactly what he was insinuating. Amelia wouldn’t make it in time. They would be wasting time by prolonging the condition; she needed immediate attention. So now the question was, what to do?

“We need to get her in the ER,” she voiced, “The gauze applicator will stop the bleeding and give us time. Can you carry her?”

“My shoulder is still healing, I can try,” he said, “But who’s going to hold Harriet?”

April unwrapped the scarf around her neck and placed it over Amelia’s wound. “Amelia, can you hold this here?”

The neurosurgeon shook her head, coughing up blood. “Can’t feel.” Can’t feel?

“What can’t you feel?” April prodded her for more information, but she could see her eyes fluttering and fighting to stay open, “Amelia?”

“April….” Jackson called, pointing behind her. Turning around, she noticed Owen standing behind them, a few feet away, and staring. Everybody seemed to be frozen today.

“Amelia,” Owen called, suddenly finding his motion once more. He crashed onto the ground, next to April, as he tried to assess the situation. “No, no, no, no, no…” he kept mumbling the word as he covered one hand over the scarf and cradled her.

“Owen, we need to take her into the ER,” April advised the man, but Owen was more concerned with waking her up. Tears were streaming down his face like two waterfalls, and Rosie had honestly never seen her father so devastated and so confused. Especially considering what she saw earlier this evening, the last thing she expected him to do was cry over her.

“Amelia, wake up,” he begged. When her eyes opened slowly, tears came into them as he watched her constricted blues stare back at him.

“Owen?” she whispered hoarsely, lifting her arm to hold his bicep. Using nearly all of her strength, she moved the hand to cup his cheek, smearing the entire side of his face in her blood as tears came to her eyes. “Can you forgive me?” The calmness in her voice sent shivers down his spine, and his gut was giving him all the worst feelings right now. “Because I think I’m dying, and I don’t want-”

“Amelia, you are not dying,” he sternly told her, his voice cracking at the end.

“I am, I can feel it,” she insisted, a weak, broken smile on her face. “Are you bleeding?” Lifting his hand off the wound, April noticed the bleeding had slowed, and she and Jackson exchanged a look of worry.

“I am,” Owen confirmed, “But I’m okay, and you will be too.” Her fingers ended up grabbing at the edge of his collar, before slowly slipping down and falling limp.

“Owen, we are wasting precious time,” April fussed, and she was right. He was wasting her last moments on a goodbye when he should’ve been trying to save her. So he did the only thing he could think to do; he lifted her up. And he began jogging back to the ER.

---

“Amelia!” Owen shouted, reaching to her side just in time to catch her fall, and unfortunately breaking scrub, “Amelia, can you hear me?” When he received no response, he looked to the scrub nurse and said, “Page trauma, page Robbins.” The nurse obeyed his orders and, looking to their current chief resident, he added, “Find me a replacement trauma and neurosurgeon.” Pulling Amelia into his arms, he yelled out, “And somebody get me a gurney!” He disconnected the headlight from her head and began pulling her out of scrub. It was only as he got deeper below her garments, he began to notice blood, soaking everything from her waist down. A cold chill zoomed down his spine as he feared the worst, the words of this morning bitterly replaying in his head. “Imagine if it’s twins again.”

---

Owen barged into the ER, pushing past anyone in his way to get Amelia to a gurney. Seeing his colleagues all surrounded by one specific bed, he chose to lay her down there and, the second he did, he began initiating CPR, while April applied the pressurized gauze to the wound, temporarily plugging the hole and stopping the bleeding, at least until they could get into surgery. Meredith attached the monitors to her, while Jo attached a central line. Isaac check her pupils, notifying them that her eyes were dilated, but no one seemed to care, especially not Owen. They were far more concerned about bring her back to life; brain death was unimportant. Once Meredith got the monitor on, the ER was suddenly filled with the gruelling noise of an unsteady rhythm, which would likely lead to a flatline if they didn’t hurry.

“He can’t be here,” Meredith voiced to Isaac, “Someone needs to take over for him.” Isaac looked at his chief, and then at Owen.

Walking over to his side, Isaac placed a hand on Owen’s shoulder, offering softly, “Hunt, let me take over. You can’t work on family.”

“Don’t you dare touch me you homewrecker,” Owen growled through his gritted teeth, continuing his effort to resuscitate. After what transpired this evening, Isaac could understand the hatred Owen probably had for him, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was Amelia, and an objective decisions needed to be made, and Owen couldn’t do that in his state. Plus, he was contaminating her with all the blood flowing from his shoulder wound.

“I can take over, she will be safe,” Isaac fought, trying to get him to listen, “Dr. Hunt, I need you to step back.” He tugged on Owen’s shoulder once more, which was his biggest mistake. As he felt Isaac’s hand on his shoulder again, Owen thought of what he saw happened today between Amelia and him. He thought of all the times he’d seen them together in that stupid scan room, over the last couple months. He thought of when they weren’t together, and Isaac had taken advantage of her, their home, and their children. He thought of everything in one second, and in one second, he’d managed to throttle him in the face with his closed fist. Within that same second, he felt two hands grab onto his shoulders, holding him back now as he tried to reach across the ER to hit Isaac again, while also wanting to resume his resuscitative efforts. “Let me go!” Owen yelled, “I have to save her.”

“Owen, calm down,” both Jackson and Derek urged, having been the two to hold him back.

“Charging to 250,” April announced, rubbing the gel between the two pads, “Everybody, clear!” Everyone stepped away, raising their hands, before she attempted to deliver the lifesaving jolt to her system. Pressing down on her chest with the pads, April watched as Amelia’s body tensed upwards, before dropping back lifelessly to the bed, her rhythm still abnormal. “Resuming CPR.

“I think she’s in hypovolemic shock,” April muttered as she pushed on Amelia’s chest once more, while Jo began to tube her. Once the tube was in, and she was providing mechanical ventilation, April went to try once more. “Charging to 300.” She rubbed the pads together, while Owen watched helplessly, trying to get to her. “CLEAR.” Another shock, no response. “Restarting compressions...”

“April…” Jo murmured, gesturing to the monitor. The trauma surgeon turned to look at the screen, seeing the flatline appear.

Looking back at Jo, she shook her head and said, “We can’t stop.”

“But-,”

“Keep the blood coming!” April yelled to the nurse, “She’s not dead until she’s full of blood and dead!” After 5 more minutes of compressions, and 5 bags of blood later, she finally said, “Charge to 300.” As the paddles began to charge up again, everyone watched with an anticipation like never before. Owen refused to remain calm, consistently trying to break free of Jackson and Derek’s grip on him, while Jo tried her best to get the blood to go faster into her stream. Meredith stood with Rosie and Ryan, who’d seen far more than their little minds could handle, and the rest of the ER was just plain silent; the most silence they’d ever heard.

April grabbed the paddles. “Everyone, CLEAR!” She pressed the paddles to her chest, and once again, her body arched and then dropped lifelessly on the bed. She began chest compressions again, but they all knew it was too late. For ten seconds, no one said anything and then, finally, April stopped.

“Don’t call it,” Owen begged April, tears streaming down his face and making trails in their wake against the blood Amelia had smeared on his face earlier, “April, please.”

Wearily, April responded, “Owen, I have to.” She looked at the watch on her wrist and, just as she was about to say the time of death, there was a beep. And then another. And then another.

“I think we have a rhythm,” Jo yelled excitedly, the shock evident in her eyes, “Oh my god!” But just as the celebration was about to begin, Amelia arched her back, and began having a seizure. It was then Isaac’s turn to come back in, and thankfully he got the seizure under control in a short space of time.

“Is she okay?” Owen asked, finally calming down.

“She’s okay, Owen,” Jo confirmed for him. As the words left her mouth, Owen finally collapsed to the floor, passing out.

“I think we need another gurney,” Jackson said, wiping blood off of his face from his earlier restraint over Owen causing blood to squirt out of his wound and onto him, “His shoulder is bleeding pretty badly.”

“We need to get a CT scan,” Isaac voiced once Amelia had reached some sort of stability.

“We don’t have time,” April insisted, “We need to get her to the OR now. When she’s stable, we’ll do the scan.” Isaac nodded and allowed them to wheel her away, while Derek and Jackson tended to Owen, who was pale and unconscious, drenched in a mixture of his own blood, and Amelia’s.

When Owen finally awoke, he was in a bed in a patient room, his shoulder bandaged and his arm in a sling. The only occupant of the room was Derek, and he sat across from him with a look Owen could only describe as grim and exhausted.

“How are you feeling?” Derek asked, standing up to pour him a glass of water. Owen watched as he walked across the room to the small table near his bed, reaching for the glass  and pouring from the mug into it.

“I feel weak,” he mused, trying to stretch his shoulder. The pain that shot through, though, was enough for him to not do it another time. “Where is Amelia?”

Derek handed him the glass. “5 hours of surgery. They should be closing right now.” Owen took the glass and took a sip of the water as he processed the information. “She lost a lot of blood. They had to replace almost more than half of her blood volume. With that much lost blood…”

“She should’ve died,” Owen finished for him. And yet, by fate, at least for now, Amelia was alive and okay.

“We need to talk about Ryan and Rosie,” Derek said, switching the topic instantly, “I think you should consider a psych check for both of them.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he agreed, taking another sip of water. He could probably use a psych session too, after what he’d been through, far less the kids.

“Ryan seems pretty shaken up, but Rosie…” the neurosurgeon divulged, “Rosie seems…fine. Which is weird.”

“Not entirely weird,” Owen told, “She has shown signs of someone who bottles things up. Maybe that’s what she’s doing now.”

“Still,” Derek enthusiastically encouraged, “You should talk to them and see for yourself.” Owen looked up at the Shepherd and nodded. “There’s two other things we need to talk about,” the Shepherd added quickly, “Firstly, the police are waiting here for you to make a report and perhaps a description of the man and Amelia’s license plates and registration for the vehicle.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Owen submitted, “What’s the other thing?”

“You and Amelia never remarried,” he said uncomfortably, wringing his hands, “So you are not her next of kin.”

“Well, then who is the proxy?” Owen asked, completely confused. He thought that Amelia would’ve changed something like that, whether they were married or not.

“It’s uh…” Derek scratched the back of his neck, “It’s under Ryan’s name. It reverted to him after the divorce…”

“Why would she have him as her medical proxy?” Owen wondered aloud.

Derek shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Amelia is much too complicated for my understanding. That’s for you to figure out.”

“Who is the successor?” the trauma surgeon further prodded.

“It’s Addison.” Derek sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. “Look, Owen, I know this is an impossible situation, and that this is only making it even harder, but-,”

“Derek is that you?” a familiar voice called. Looking to the door, Owen and Derek came face to face with a man, dressed in a long coat, holding a suitcase. He appeared pretty old, his hair was almost completely grey, and his eyes held wrinkles at their corners.

“Tom?” the neurosurgeon named the man, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” the man replied, “I thought you’d have been in DC. I figured that’s why I was called.”

“Wait, who called you?” Owen asked, looking at the Hopkins’ neurosurgeon.

“Shepherd called me,” he explained, “The other Shepherd, I mean. She said she had a patient she needed help with.”

“Why didn’t she ask me for help?” Derek pondered aloud, feeling a bit offended.

“Yes,” Alex confirmed, grinning mischievously, “His body has been cleansed and purified with spirits and now he is ready to marry you.”

Amelia shook her head and smiled as she looked at her drunken fiancé. “You can put him on the couch.” Alex stumbled past her with Owen, Derek following close behind.

“And I’m going to assume you are also drunk?” she accused her brother as she followed the trio.

“De Luca is driving,” he confirmed, plopping down on the couch and briefly greeting Addison, only to realise she was fast asleep.

“I am,” Andrew confirmed as he came into the house. He sat next to Derek, leaving no space for Amelia to sit now.

“Come sit on my lap,” Owen flirted, patting his thigh, “I haven’t seen you allllll night.”

“How about I get you guys some water?” Amelia suggested instead, winking at him.

“Actually, we were about to leave,” Derek said, eyeing Alex and Andrew.

Getting the message, Alex commented, “Yeah, I have to get home before Jo’s shift starts.”

“And I have an early shift tomorrow,” Andrew also lied, standing up.

“We should also be heading in,” Charlotte added, catching on to what was going on, “Jake and Coop are coming in tomorrow.”

“Well, goodnight everyone,” Derek waved the ladies and Owen.

“Bye,” Amelia called, still in the kitchen. Once they’d left, and Addison and Charlotte ventured up to their guest bedroom, Owen slowly made his way into the kitchen.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Amelia teased, sensing his presence behind her.

“If you’re asking if I was forced to drink and get egged by the guys for being whipped by you,” Owen briefly described, “Then yes, I did have fun.” As he leaned against the table and watched her move around the kitchen, a question floated into his mind. “Hey, did you have strippers at your thing?”

Amelia laughed softly as she fetched the bread from the fridge, followed by cheese and mayo. “I did, actually.” When she saw his frown of disapproval, she got concerned. “What?”

“Nothing,” he assured her, “It’s just that I owe Karev $500. I betted against you having strippers at your thing.”

“Were there strippers at your party?” she teased, cutting the crust off the bread.

“No,” he answered honestly, “Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, but Karev seemed torn up about it.” He moved closer to her, standing behind her as he inhaled the scent of her hair. Lazily, he wrapped his arms around her waist as he watched her make the sandwich.

“What did they make you drink?” she inquired, able to clearly smell the alcohol still on his breath. One of his hands made its way to her ass, squeezing it eagerly.

“I don’t know, they didn’t tell me,” he replied, lowering his face to her ear so that he could kiss it. Amelia smiled and shied away from his ticklish touch, trying to focus on the task in front of her.

“There, done,” she said, turning around in his arms to hand the plate to him. Owen took the plate and set it to the side, before lifting her up onto the counter.

“Are you crazy?” she hissed at him, although there was a playful smile on her face.

“I’m drunk, actually,” he responded, not realising the question was rhetorical, “They won’t hear us.”

“I’m almost certain they will,” she giggled as his lips teased her neck, “You get pretty loud when you’re drunk.”

“I promise I’ll be quiet,” he assured her, already shrugging off his leather jacket, “You can stuff a cloth in my mouth.”

“I’m not going to stuff a cloth in your mouth!” she exclaimed as he already pulled his jersey over his head.

“You’ve done it before,” he teased, running his hands along the seam of her dress.

“Fine,” she relented, making it sound like it was a task, although he knew how completely off he was, “But you have to eat my sandwich, and bleach your mouth of all that alcohol.” He stopped, looking her in her eyes as he weighed his choices. “I’m not kissing you if you’re going to taste like a vodka factory,” she added.

“I know of plenty other things we can do that don’t require kissing,” he suggested. Before she could counter his argument, she felt his fingertips run up her thigh, lifting the dress to scrunch at her waist.

“You are not serious right now!” Amelia laughed as he kissed the inside of her upper thigh, beginning to draw circles with his tongue.

He paused, eyeing her directly. “Very serious.”

---

Amelia sighed as she drew shapes on his chest, her mind on so many things, yet nothing.

“Something wrong?” Owen asked, sensing her distress.

“Not really,” she answered, resting her hand flat on his chest now.

“Are you nervous about the wedding?” he asked, trying to fish for answers. He knew she’d never openly talk about what was bothering her, meaning he’d have to ask it out of her to find out what was going on inside her mind.

“Aren’t you?” she countered, resting her chin on his chest to look at him.

He smiled as he looked back at her; so it was the wedding that she was worried about. “I’m more nervous about meeting your family, your sisters specifically.”

“Thank you for increasing my anxiety,” she sarcastically said, lying beside him and staring up at the ceiling.

Owen propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her blue eyes, that were darting all over. “Hey, what’s really bothering you?” When she didn’t answer, he further questioned, “Are you having second thoughts or something?”

“No,” she replied, although it was partly a lie, “It’s just that...marriage is supposed to be forever.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea,” he agreed, not sure where she was going with this.

“Do you really believe that?” she wondered aloud, “That it’s forever? That we’ll last forever?”

Owen frowned. “I guess I have to believe it.” He moved a strand of hair out of her face as he asked, “Do you believe it?”

“I don’t know.” Her response hurt him.

Owen lay back down, staring at the ceiling now too. “Do you want to cancel the wedding, then?”

“What?” she exclaimed, sitting up as she held the blanket to her chest, “No!”

“Then what do you want?” he asked, sitting up too. She was being too confusing.

“I want you to tell me that we’re making the right choice!” she told him, frustrated and hurt that he would ever suggest such a thing like that, “That we’ll be happy and married forever, and we won’t get divorced or I won’t get hit by a bus or something.” Owen chuckled at her statement, infuriating her more. “It’s not funny!”

“You’re not gonna get hit by a bus, Amelia,” he continued to chuckle.

“You don’t know that!” she insisted, “Look at all the terrible things that happened to us before we were married.”

“I think only one seriously bad thing has happened,” he mused, “The drowning in the cold thing.”

“And the overdose thing,” she reminded him, “And your PTSD thing. Not to mention the unexpected baby thing.”

“You mean Rosie?” he sought to confirm, “The light of my life?” A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, begging to be seen.

“Amelia,” he sighed, putting his arm around her and pulling her close to him, “What do you want me to say? That we shouldn’t get married because we’re bad luck for each other?”

“I don’t know what I want you to say,” she honestly said, bringing a hand to his cheek, “I’m just scared.”

“I think that’s good,” he reassured her, “It means you have something to lose.” She didn’t seem very reassured, so he added, “I’m not marrying you just because we had an ‘oops’ baby.” She looked up at him, so much vulnerability in her eyes. “If I remember correctly, I proposed before you told me you were pregnant.”

“I think I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop,” she further explained herself, “I’ve never been happy for this long, without something horrible happening.”

Owen smiled and held her closer, slowly laying the both of them back down on the bed. “You’ll make yourself miserable thinking about ‘what ifs’.”

“I can’t help it,” she sighed, snuggling into his chest and closing her eyes, “I’m bad luck.”

“Perhaps,” he thought. He looked down at her and noticed that her eyes were closing, her eyelashes fluttering as she struggled to stay awake. Kissing her forehead, he played with her hair, knowing the action would calm her down and, eventually, put her to sleep. “But you’re the best kind of bad luck, in my opinion.”