grey shepherd family

This is for @omeliafics theme of the week: meeting the parents. I also felt it fit well with Mother’s Day being today; hence, the timing! I needed some gaps filled in so I hope you like it!

A Mother’s Love

AO3    FFN

“I didn’t know you were planning a visit, Mom,” Amelia says, logging her patient’s neuro exam on one of the iPads. Her mother had just walked into the ER, asking for Dr. Shepherd, to which April had pointed her in the right direction.

“I know, I know,” Mrs. Shepherd nods along with her words.

“Then why are you here?” Amelia turns her head, looking in her mother’s direction, but refusing to meet her eyes. Instead, they glare steadfastly at the wall just behind her mother’s shoulders. There’s a crack in the wall they still haven’t fixed. It’s been there long enough for some discoloring, and she fixes her eyes on it. There are too many emotions inside of her. She can’t do this. At least not here, in full view of everyone.

Mrs. Shepherd tilts her head, trying and failing to meet her youngest’s eyes. “Maybe we could talk?” She watches as Amelia walks a few steps away to set the iPad on a charger. “Please, Amelia.”

Exhaling deeply, Amelia makes her decision. “I know a place.” She turns quickly, motioning for her mother to follow. Amelia makes her way down the hall and up the stairs, then turns into a teaching room. “No one should come in here. Classes are in the morning,” she says, pulling out a metal stool to sit on. She waits for her mother to do the same and, after she does, Amelia folds her hands in her lap, looking up at her mother expectantly.

Mrs. Shepherd blows out a steady stream of air, fiddling with her fingers. It’s a habit she’s passed on to her daughter. That thought alone only serves to increase her feelings of guilt. “I lied to you.”

Amelia cringes. The last time someone had said that, it was Addison telling her she didn’t think she was good enough to be her surrogate. Of course, Addison had corrected it, saying she was important in her son’s life, but the fear of those words still linger. It’s because they are tethered with inadequacy and failure. She was never enough. She is never enough. “About what?” she asks, trying to keep herself calm, her breathing level and even.

“Why I didn’t come to your wedding.” She lets out a breath, finally looking her daughter in the eyes. The eyes that remind her so much of her husband; the eyes that remind her so much of Derek. “I told you it was because you two were on and off again. That you were rushing things.” She gently holds Amelia’s hand, letting out a little sigh of relief when she isn’t shaken off. “It was fast, but I know you. If it wasn’t serious, or serious enough, you wouldn’t have wanted to get married at all. I mean, I saw what happened when James proposed.” She shrugs. “He wasn’t the right guy. But Owen,” she says, pausing to squeeze her daughter’s hand, “Owen is the right man. He loves you so much.” A stray tear begins it trek down her mother’s softly-aged cheek.

“So why didn’t you come?” Amelia tries to keep her composure, silently cursing how her voice wavers.

Mrs. Shepherd sighs. “I didn’t come because of Derek.” Her blue orbs meet her daughter’s, mixing and melding in a way only mother and daughter can do. “I couldn’t come back, not after the funeral. I couldn’t face it.” She sniffles. “I couldn’t watch your father not walking you down the aisle. I couldn’t watch Derek missing his chance to fill in. But I should have. Because you are my daughter and I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment you were born, probably even before that.” She releases Amelia’s hand and moves her left palm to cup her daughter’s cheek. “I hope that, one day, you can forgive me.”

And, with those words, it’s as if the storm is lifted. The dam is let loose and all the emotions, all of the hurt, all of the fear, from that day is gone. Amelia starts to cry, loud, gasping sobs, as she allows her head to fall forward to her mother’s chest. Her body is wracked with sobs, emotions swirling in the vortex of her mind, but instead of feeling miserable, she feels relieved. Her mother is still her mother. Her mother loves her. She does not break everything she touches.

When they finally part, Amelia sniffles and wipes her eyes with the back of her hands. “Good thing I don’t wear a lot of make-up.” She chuckles, then meets her mom’s eyes once more. “Thank you. For telling me that.”

Her mother nods. “It’s the least I could do. I owed you an explanation.” She stands up, wrapping her hands around her daughter’s cheeks. She gives her daughter a tender kiss on the forehead, then steps back. “I’ll leave now. I just wanted to tell you that in person.” She turns to pick up her discarded bag, pulling it over her shoulder.

“Wait, Mom,” Amelia says, standing up quickly and placing a tiny hand on her mother’s back. When Mrs. Shepherd turns around, Amelia continues. “You could stay over, if you want. Owen’s off and my shift ends in twenty minutes. You could have dinner with us.” She stutters, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I mean, if you want to. If you don’t have a plane to catch or–”

“Amy,” her mother cuts off her hurried words, “I’d love to.” Amelia exhales, the corners of her lips turning up. “So, I’ll see you in twenty minutes?”

Her mother nods. “I’ll be waiting,” she says with a smile.

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anonymous asked:

Hey I loved your Mother's Day fic, I was just wondering if you would do a second chapter that follows immediately after when Mrs Shepherd discovers Amelia is pregnant?? I love you writing and would love to read this!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hello! Thank you for being so sweet! You made my day SO much better. ❤️

A/N: Thank you for the lovely comments! You do not have to read part two if you do not want (“A Mother’s Love” is complete on its own), but if you choose to read this chapter, please make sure you read the first!

A Grandmother’s Love

AO3    FFN

By the time Owen gets back to the house, two bags of food in tow, it’s already eight o’clock. He shakes his head as the door slips open, left unlocked. “You know, you really should lock this,” he says, head tilted, eyebrows teasing her. “I reminded you before I left.”

“Oh, we’re fine, O,” Amelia says, moving her arm up and down as if shooing the suggestion away.

“I could have been an ax murderer.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not,” Amelia says, moving a few steps closer to him and pecking his lips once they’re breathing the same air. Pulling back, she chuckles. “Though it’s more probable you’re a lumberjack.” She steps back, her eyes roaming from his eyes to his red flannel shirt to his worn blue jeans.

He pinches her side in retaliation, muttering a, “You didn’t seem to mind when you stole this shirt last week.” He catches the blush rushing up her chest and cheeks, and only smiles in response. He looks ahead, by chance, meeting Mrs. Shepherd’s eyes, and he sees the happiness radiating back at him. “Who’s hungry?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Me,” Amelia says, raising her hand like a third-grader. “I’ll get plates.” She heads into their kitchen, then pulls a few ceramic dishes from the top shelf, standing on her tiptoes to reach them. He smirks, the skin of her low back revealed as she stretches, before tracing his fingers over the exposed flesh. He smiles as goosebumps materialize under his hand, holding his hand there–barely touching–as he uses his right to grab a few glasses. Once he’s grabbed them, he pours them all sparkling water with lime, squeezing a little lemon into his wife’s glass as he knows she likes. Amelia pecks his cheek in response, grabbing her glass and the plates on her way to their small, round table. Owen carries the other glasses out, setting one in front of his mother and one next to his wife. Mrs. Shepherd has already begun to set out their food containers, snacking on a fried wonton as she does so.

“Oh, I’ll take one of those,” Amelia says to her mother, reaching her hand in the container.

“I’m not surprised.” Mrs. Shepherd laughs, light and free, placing her hand atop her daughter’s for a few seconds, squeezing lightly. “You used to devour them when you were a kid. The only toddler I know who ate fried wontons like candy.”

Amelia smiles, her dimple prominent, as she grabs another. “I was a weird kid,” she says with a shrug, scooping her dinner onto her plate.

“Were?” her mother jokes, taking her first bite of food. “You’re still weird.”

Owen chuckles, surprised at her mother’s candor, only for Amelia to hit his upper arm. “Ow,” he whines.

“Oh, shush, you big baby.” Amelia sends him her patented puppy-dog eyes. “I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

“You’re tiny,” he says, shaking his head, “but strong.” She smirks, popping her right shoulder higher than her left, and then turns back to her Pad Kra Tiem, mixing the brown sauce with her garlic shrimp.

They eat quietly, save for a few words here and there, each hungry and content with their dinners. “I’ll be right back,” Amelia excuses herself ten minutes later. She heads to the bathroom, silently cursing her hormones. She has been to the bathroom three times since she got home. Apparently her surgical bladder of steel isn’t going to be sticking around this pregnancy.

Back at the table, Carolyn Shepherd begins to ask Owen about his job and interests, having realized she knows very little about him personally. “I’m a trauma surgeon,” Owen says, smiling with pride. “I really enjoy it. It’s a challenge, but one I love.”

“I would guess so, Major.” Her eyes crinkle with her smile, the lines permanent after years’ worth of experiences. “Are you still Chief of Surgery?”

“No. I resigned last year.” He shrugs, chewing another bite of beef, then swallowing. “It was time for someone else to step in. Besides, I now have fewer managerial duties, which means more time for surgery.”

She nods in understanding. “A surgeon always wants more time,” she says wisely, a little sparkle in her eyes. He nods, turning his head slightly at the sound of Amelia making her way back down the hall.

Amelia sits quickly, shooting both family members a smile before diving back into her dinner. After a few bites in relative silence, she looks up with furrowed brows. “When’s your flight, Mom?”

“I cancelled it after you asked me to stay.” Mrs. Shepherd pats her mouth with her napkin. “I figured I’d reschedule it after we talked. I hope that’s okay.” Her blue orbs meet her daughter’s matching ones, her smile tender, but unsure.

“Of course it is,” Amelia says, voice low and confident.

“You’re welcome any time,” Owen adds.

“Thank you,” Carolyn murmurs, cheeks stretched tight with a smile, eyes downturned in quiet gratefulness. She lets out a little breath, taking a moment to appreciate the amends she has made with her youngest daughter, before she turns her eyes upward. Her eyes are alight with mischief as she looked between her children. “So when were you going to tell me?”

Amelia shovels another bite into her mouth, frowning slightly. “Tell you what?”

Mrs. Shepherd chuckles at her daughter’s denseness–for someone so observant and wise, she is often trapped in her own world–and reached her hand out to cup Amelia’s cheek. She meets Owen’s eyes briefly, internally laughing at his shocked expression, before saying the words. “When were you going to tell me that I’m going to be a grandma again?”

“Um,” Amelia says, eyes widening in disbelief. In lieu of answering, Amelia asks,“How’d you know?”

She rubs her thumb over Amelia’s cheekbone, her smile tender. “I’m your mom. I know everything.” She pulls back, settling back against her seat. “And I’ve been here before,” she says in mention to her older daughters. “You learn things.”

Amelia’s chest reddens as the heat spreads beneath her skin. A quick look to her left shows that Owen’s not doing much better. “We were going to tell you,” Owen begins. Mrs. Shepherd raises an eyebrow, rejoicing in the tiny shift toward cowering that Owen takes.

“Surprise?” Amelia says, voice raising in question, as she holds both hands next to her face, moving them like jazz hands. When her mother only continues to smirk, Amelia drops the act. “It’s still early. About eight weeks,” Amelia supplies.

Mrs. Shepherd gasps, a few tears springing to her eyes. Her daughter, her wild-child-hurricane, is growing up. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispers, her eyes dancing with Amelia’s. “I wish I had,” her voice catches on her words. “I wish I didn’t,” she pauses once more.

Amelia shifts in her seat to face her mother more directly. Reaching out her hand, she sets it on top of her mother’s clasped ones. “I was always going to tell you,” she confides. “After the first trimester.” She squeezes her hand over her mother’s worn knuckles. “I love you, Mom,” she says, tears in her voice. “I wouldn’t keep our baby away from you.” She leans forward, wrapping her mother in a tight embrace.

“I love you, too, Sweetheart.” Amelia smiles, relaxing into the comfort of her mother’s arms, before pulling back. As soon as she is seated, Owen wraps his arm around her shoulders, tugging her in his direction for a soft kiss.

“Do you want to see a picture?” Owen asks, his grin permeating the hard lines of his face. When Mrs. Shepherd nods, he quickly pulls the folded black and white image out of his wallet, smoothing the creases. He passes it across the table, his pride radiating so strongly that Amelia has to bury her lovestruck smile in his neck.

“Oh, isn’t she precious?” Carolyn’s hand is at her chest, taking in the soft, blurry edges of their baby.

“I told you it’s going to be a girl,” Amelia mumbles against the tender skin of his neck.

He rolls his eyes, but hugs her tighter to his side. “Whatever you say, Mia.” He crosses his left hand over to twirl a few strands of her hair and she smiles at his (slight) obsession with her silky tresses. Then, looking over to his mother-in-law, Owen says, “The baby’s the size of a raspberry this week.”

Mrs. Shepherd grins, bringing her hand to cover her mouth. “You know,” she begins softly, “Amelia’s dad used to do that. He used to track her size each week and tell me all these random facts about my pregnancy.” She lets out a tiny sigh. “You remind me so much of him.”

Stunned, Owen breathes a grateful, “Thanks, Mom.”

Amelia moves her head, disentangling herself from his arms, only to grab his hands in hers. “You’re a good man, Owen,” she says seriously. Leaning forward, she grabs his lips with hers, gently sucking his lower lip into his mouth. She then smoothes her tongue over his lips before pulling back and cupping his cheeks. “And you’re going to be a great dad.” She smiles, the two lost in the words of their eyes. “I can’t wait,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper.

And while this is happening, all Carolyn Shepherd can think is how lucky she is to have her daughter. To have her wonderful, weird, all-encompassing-love of a daughter. And how lucky her daughter is to have found such a husband, such a father. They’re her family. And she couldn’t be more proud.

“Motherhood is a choice you make everyday, to put someone else’s happiness and well-being ahead of your own, to teach the hard lessons, to do the right thing even when you’re not sure what the right thing is…and to forgive yourself, over and over again, for doing everything wrong.”

~Donna Ball

Thanks for reading! I’d love your feedback! Prompts are always welcome. 😉


❝ … she’s beautiful


Megan adjusted to her new life, but she needed changed. She just wasn’t the same person anymore.

Some non-filter Amelia Shepherd featuring Megan and Owen etc.

Her eyes focused on her twiddling thumbs. People were talking around her, but it was almost as she wasn’t there.

 Suddenly she flew away someplace familiar, language foreign and her screams soaring through the walls. The very smell of blood made her nauseous. She had been scared in her life - of monsters under the bed, of losing her family.

But Megan had never been so scared in her entire life, as she was back in that basement. The very appearance of a person in the same room as she always meant something bad was coming.

 Megan kept her faith, counting days. She put her brave face on, every single day. But then, as weeks, months passed, she lost hope someone would ever come. She wondered about her mother and Owen. Some days she even gave Nathan a thought.

 “Megan?” a voice said, calling her back to reality.

 Megan looked up and met the faces of Owen, the chief, and Dr. Shepherd, or well, Amelia – who, apparently was Owen’s wife. She cleared her throat and pressed her lips together. Right about now, the three people in front of her, realized she hadn’t been listening.

Owen sighed, but Amelia smiled carefully and said, “Well, your head CT is clear. Which, for the record, is great! No surgery.”

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Prompt: Amelia and Owen attend Charlie’s kindergarten graduation. Day 5 of @omeliaweek’s Family Week.

Being the youngest sibling, Amelia Shepherd had sat through her fair share of graduation ceremonies. With four older siblings, and around four ceremonies per person, she knew the the graduation game pretty well. It was a time to celebrate their successes and accomplishments, a time to revel in their thriving education. Or that’s what her mother would say. In Amelia’s adolescence it would have been a time to smoke a good deal of pot, or take a few shots of cheap vodka to make the long ass ceremonies bearable.

While she may not have enjoyed or appreciated the various convocations, she understood that they served a purpose, they had meaning. Finishing your elementary, secondary, undergraduate, graduate, and/or medical schools and degrees were worth celebrating. It’s a special thing.

Other things though, like kindergarten, were not worth acknowledging. So when Amelia Shepherd pulled an invitation to the class’ graduation ceremony out of her five year old daughter’s agenda, all she could think was, What the fuck?

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