I had an amazing time writing this series and the support for it was phenomenal. I hope I can write something as fun, lighthearted, sad and happy like this series, in the future. This is the end guys. Thanks for following me on the road trip that was Full House. Enjoy.
Merry Ficmas Day 23 & 24
in someone’s life is when they are watching
their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly,” is quite
an interesting one to speculate about. Why is it that, when your life seems to
be unravelling into a heap of useless string, you can do nothing about it? Or
maybe it’s the fear of not being able to fix things that keeps you rooted in
one place as you stare blankly at the people fussing and fretting around you. Isn’t
it ironic that when you should be doing something to combat your life falling
apart, that’s when you do nothing? Almost as if some higher power is telling
you to save your energy because there’s no way to fix this one. If you don’t
try then you can’t fail, right?
How do you fight that feeling?
left maybe twenty minutes ago,” Meredith said into the phone. She turned around
at looked at Owen sitting across from her, listening to Maggie speak into the
phone, “Okay, well you call us if you see her in the hospital. Thanks.” She
hung up the phone and sat down, looking at Owen’s distant, sea blue eyes.
“Have you tried calling Webber?” Callie
suggested as she shifted her weight from her left leg to her right, standing
awkwardly next to Owen.
“I texted him,” Meredith confirmed, “She
wasn’t at his meeting.”
“God,” Callie muttered, bring her hand to
her forehead, “I shouldn’t have left the bottle there.”
“It’s not your fault, Callie,” she said,
“no one knew this would happen.” Callie nodded and sat down at the kitchen
table once more, holding her hands together as if she was praying.
“Owen,” Meredith whispered at first, hoping
to grab his attention. At the mention of his name, Owen got up and grabbed his
keys and jacket, storming out of the door and slamming it behind him. The noise
it made caused Callie to flinch and she gave Meredith a worried look.
His first thought had been to go to Joe’s,
opposite the hospital, but he figured Amelia wouldn’t be dumb enough to do her
drinking there where she could easily meet someone who knows about her past.
He’d merely gone inside to ask the bartender where the closest bar next to this
one was. And he went to check too, just in case. He drove downtown to get to
the next bar and, just like he’d predicted, her Audi was parked up outside of
the bar. He felt his stomach drop when he saw the familiar, LA license plate
and his palms sweat against the steering wheel of his car. Would he find her
drunk in there, grinding on some nobody in an attempt to forget all about her
problems at home? Or worse, would he not find her because she was already
wasted, lacking proper judgement and had long since left the bar with said
random man. He parked his car on the opposite side of the street, after driving
around the corner a second time to find a parking spot, and jogged across the
road and into the bar, not sure what or who he’d see on the other side.
When he entered, the rank smell of mixed
alcohols and beers flooded his nostrils. There were so many people that he
couldn’t see past a few feet in front of him. Following his instinct, he
managed to make it to a barstool and his worst fears were realised when he saw
a small brunette a few seats down.
“Amelia,” he shouted over the loud music,
putting his hand on her shoulder.
“You can call me that if you want,” the
woman flirted, turning to face Owen.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone
else,” he apologised, giving her a tight smile.
“Is that such a bad thing?” the woman
sultrily asked, wiping her hand across Owen’s chest and patting his shirt.
“I’m going to leave now,” Owen announced,
taking her hand and putting it back on the table, “have a nice night.”
“Your loss!” he heard her say as he made
his way through the crowd and back outside. The cold air refreshed his lungs
when he made it out and not having to smell all the alcohol and cigarette smoke
was a welcoming thing. However, now, he had to figure out where Amelia was and
why her car was still parked up here. Pulling his phone out, he dialled the
heavily memorised number into the call screen and put the phone to his ear,
listening to the ring tone. Weirdly, as his phone began to ring, a white light
came from Amelia’s car, illuminating it. There, in the dark, he watched Amelia
look at her ringing phone.
“What are you doing in your car?” he asked
when he heard the ringing stop, replaced with silence.
“What are you doing at a bar?” she replied,
looking at his bulky build leaning against the wall of the club.
“I was looking for you,” he said, looking
back at her in the car. He made the small walk down to the parking lot and
stood on the passenger side of Amelia’s car.
“Well, you found me,” she said.
Owen put his hand to the door handle of the
car and pulled on it, “Unlock the doors, Amelia. I want to talk.” Amelia sighed
and hung up the phone, the clicking sound of her door unlocking following right
after. He put his phone in his pocket and jumped in, closing the door behind
him and locking it. For a few minutes, they just sat in silence in the front
seat, neither looking at the other, too ashamed to do so.
“Why are you here?” Amelia asked, her body
turned away from him and staring out of the window.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he
“I don’t hate you,” she promised him, “I
swear I don’t. It just hurts too much to be around you right now. I want
nothing but the best for you, I really do. It’s just that sometimes I feel like
the best for you isn’t me.”
“You’re not allowed to determine what is or
isn’t the best for me,” he told her flatly. In between them, Owen watched an
empty Styrofoam cup with a straw and cover on it, wondering how long it was
there and what had been in the cup before it was finished, “Have you been
“What?” Amelia asked. Her head snapped
towards him, eyes red, “Why would you think that?” Owen pointed his eyes at the
cup in between them, raising his eyebrows accusingly.
Amelia rolled her eyes and sighed, “That’s
an empty smoothie. If I drank every time I was mad, I’d be dead right now.
Better to quench my thirst with that than with tequila.” Owen still glanced at
her suspiciously, his eyes switching between her and the Styrofoam cup.
She picked up the cup and shoved it into
his chest, “Here. See for yourself.” Owen took the cup from her and opened it,
partly relieved at seeing the pink goo of leftover smoothie, but it didn’t
dismiss the fear that she’d doused the drink in Callie’s tequila.
“Where’s the bottle, then?” Owen proceeded
to interrogate her, putting the cup back in its holder.
Amelia furrowed her eyebrows at him and her
nose scrunched, “Why does everyone think that every time I get mad, I go out
and get drunk?”
“Because you’re an alcoholic. Alcoholics
tend to drink when things get hard,” he responded bluntly.
“And normal people don’t?” she asked him, “Your
people drink for everything and I’m
“Where is it?”
“Where is what, Owen?” Amelia questioned
through a tightened jaw, tired of his insistent demands, “There’s no bottle of
alcohol in this car.”
“Callie’s bottle of tequila,” he said, “It
was on the kitchen table before you left and now it’s gone. Don’t play dumb
“There was no bottle of tequila on the
kitchen table, Owen,” she said, raising one eyebrow at him.
Amelia asked angrily, “There was no bottle on the table and there’s no bottle
of tequila in my car. You can check if you want.”
“Of course there isn’t,” Owen agreed, his
voice raising slightly in anger at all the white lies she was telling him, “you
wouldn’t leave the evidence in the car for anyone to find it.”
“Okay, Detective Hunt,” Amelia said, her
voice dripping with sarcasm, “so please explain to me why I would come all the
way downtown to a bar if I had Callie’s bottle of tequila to quench my junkie thirst.”
“You ran out,” Owen huffed, his eyes
glistened and reddening, “you ran out and you were going to buy more.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Amelia laughed,
wiping the hair from her face and combing her fingers through it, “I’m barely
5”4 and not even 130 pounds and you think that I have the capacity to drink a
full bottle of tequila and go to a bar for more drinks? Not even as a seasoned,
relapsing alcoholic would I be able to drink that much. I wouldn’t be able to
speak properly right now if I had drunk that much, I would be dead. Do I look
the slightest bit drunk or dead to you?” Owen looked unsurely at her. There
could’ve been a number of reasons why she wasn’t drunk/dead right now. Just
then, his phone vibrated with a text message from Meredith. Bottle was in Callie’s car. Sorry for the
false alarm. Found her yet? It read.
“Callie found the bottle in her car,” Owen
told Amelia, responding to Meredith’s text. Yeah,
will be home in a bit, hopefully.
“Why is it so easy for you to believe that
I drank?” she asked, her voice laced with hurt.
“I don’t know,” Owen huffed, slouching into
the passenger seat, “I don’t…know.” He was relieved that the bottle was in her
possession but he felt terrible for accusing her of something so serious.
“I haven’t drunk anything,” Amelia said,
glancing longingly at the well-lit bar, “not yet, at least. I was going to;
it’s why I’m parked up here, obviously.”
“Why didn’t you go in then?” Owen asked,
looking over at her.
She looked back at him and smiled, “I saw
your car the first time it came round the corner, figured you’d come back
around and you’d probably drag me out by my hair if you saw me in there.”
A loud laugh escaped Owen’s mouth, his eyes
wrinkling at the sides and his cheeks almost squeezing them shut, “I might
have, actually.” Amelia joined her chuckles with his laughing, her face hurting
from smiling so much after. When their laughter died down, Amelia sighed.
“I thought I saw you in there, funnily,”
Owen confessed, a sheepish grin on his face as he scratched the back of his
neck, “It was a hooker.”
Her eyes opened wide, a grin slowly finding
its way to her lips as she asked him, “You mistook a hooker for me?! You
should’ve probably kept that information to yourself because now I feel like
you think I’m a hooker.”
“No, no, it wasn’t like that,” Owen assured
her, “she had hair like yours and she was sort of small…”
“So now all small brunettes are Amelia
Shepherds?” she sought to confirm.
“No- I just,” he huffed. He looked at her
and noticed her playful smile, “You’re screwing with me, aren’t you.” She
nodded and laughed softly. She hadn’t laughed like this in a while.
“What’s wrong with us?” she asked him, her
lips turning downwards a little, “Why do we always end up fighting like this?”
“I was afraid,” Owen said, “I am afraid. Of
losing you. It’s why I told you I was in love with you; I didn’t want to lose
you. I think part of the reason why I want to hold on to you so tight is
because I fear that the great chemistry that we have won’t happen to me with
anybody else again, that this is my last chance to get things right. And I’m
“That’s deep,” she commented, her dimple
showing as she gave him a lopsided grin, “you read that in a poetry book?”
“Shut up,” he laughed, resting his hand on
her thigh. Her leg flinched when it felt his hand and she looked down at it,
putting her hand on top of his.
“I thought I could handle living without
your smile, without telling you things about my day and not hearing about yours,”
Owen said, looking at nothing in particular, “Then, when we broke up, it was
so, so hard and the next day was even
worse. I was a mess and we weren’t even broken up for that long. I threw the DC
thing way out of proportion and I just…
“What I’m trying to say is, yes, I’m in
love with you, but I shouldn’t have told you that just because I was afraid to
lose you. That was something insecure that I did and it’s my fault. So, I’m
willing to wait until you’re ready to, you know, say it too…therefore there’s
“I love you,” she said. It was quiet, as if
a passing thought. But he froze, like it was the most important thing in the
world, his hand squeezing impossibly hard on her leg. His lungs tightened and
relaxed at the same time, his stomach flipped and his heart beat was impossibly
“Say it again,” he said, delving deep into
the blues of her irises. He needed to know that she’d meant what she said and
wasn’t just repeating words to make him feel less like a fish out of water. He
needed to know that she would say it again if she had to.
“I love you,” she repeated, this time with
a small smile. There was something about the way she sat there, quivering like
a leaf in the wind, that made him want to pull her into him and hold her
forever. She’d known she loved him for a while but she was afraid of telling
him, maybe because of rejection or some other foolish reason. However, sitting
in the car with his hand on her leg, she felt reassured, confident to the point
where the words were already rolling off her tongue like they’d been waiting
for a long time to be heard. And they were. She loved him. She was terrified of
the feeling, but it was there. And he deserved to know.
“Okay,” he said, nodding his head at her.
“Okay?” she asked him, confused, “I just
told you that I love you and all you have to say is okay?”
“You expected me to say it back?” Owen
“Well, yes!” she said, her cheeks becoming
rosy with embarrassment, “y-you just told me-“
He was grinning at her.
“You’re screwing with me, aren’t you?” she
asked, repeating his words from earlier on.
“Not fun, is it?” he chuckled, flipping his
hand over on her thigh to hold onto her hand and lace his fingers with hers.
“You’re an ass,” she told him, smirking.
“I love you too,” he said, brushing his
thumb against the skin on the back of her hand, “just in case the joke wasn’t
“Get out of my car,” she yelled playfully,
pointing towards the car door, “go home.”
“Okay, okay,” he surrendered. She unlocked
the car door and allowed him to leave but, before he closed the door, he turned
around and ducked his head back inside, “I’ll be waiting for you.”
“I know,” she answered, starting her car.
He shook his head and pulled back, closing the door behind him and patting the
hood of her car.
The sweet smell of waffles mixed with other
breakfast items flooded Owen’s nostrils when his door was opened by a little
“Uncle Owie,” Bailey voiced when he arrived
at Owen’s bedside, “Mommy and Aunty Maggie are making breakfast and told me to
tell you and Aunty Amy to get your butts outside for when it’s ready.”
Owen stretched his arms outwards and then
over his head before flipping over to respond to Bailey, “Tell your mom we’ll
be out in five minutes.” Bailey nodded and smiled, prancing out of the bedroom
and closing the door.
“Was that Bailey?” Amelia asked in a hoarse
voice, turning over to bury her face in Owen’s chest.
“Yeah. Apparently they’ve made breakfast
for us to consume,” Owen said, circling his arms around her torso as hers
linked around the back of his neck, “hopefully we don’t contract food
“Maggie’s a good cook,” Amelia reminded
him, “she’s probably doing everything.”
“That means it won’t be ready for another
10 to 15 minutes,” Owen thoughtfully remarked, “which means…” He tilted his
bodyweight away from her and pulled her on top of him, receiving a protesting
squeal in response.
“We have plenty time for this,” he pressed
his lips against hers, “and this.” His hands moved from her hair to her
shoulders, eventually disappearing beneath the covers.
“No, we don’t,” Amelia laughed, “10 to 15
minutes isn’t plenty time.”
“I’ll be quick,” Owen negotiated, rubbing
his erection against her.
“Lock the door first,” she reminded him,
pushing his hands away from her waist.
“I told you guys to come down ten minutes
ago,” Meredith berated Owen and Amelia, “what were you doing?”
“Nothing,” both said in unison. Meredith
gave Owen a suspicious look and tugged on his pyjama pants, looking into them.
“Sex? Really?” Meredith asked in a hushed
tone, fearing one of her kids might hear her, “Didn’t you have enough of it
last night?” Owen shrugged and flashed his boyish grin while Amelia took a seat
by the kitchen table. Maggie, one by one, brought the plates of food to the
centre of the kitchen table before handing everyone a plate. They all sat at
the table, while the kids sat at a mini table next to them, and ate breakfast
together one last time. They laughed and teased each other, ruffled Owen’s golden
locks and shoved one another’s shoulders; they even threw bits of food at each
other like a bunch of wayward, broken siblings. Living with the sisters for six
weeks had given Owen a big and little brother role that he hadn’t been able to
experience with his own family in forever. He’d never forget the time he spent
in their house being teased, teasing and getting up to no good. Heck he’d even
miss buying them their tampons but maybe he was only saying that now because he
was in a good mood. When they were done, Owen had offered to wash the dishes
while they cleaned up the tables and kids and got them ready for school.
“Need some help?” Amelia asked, leaning sideways
against the sink with her arms folded.
“I’m almost done,” Owen told her, rinsing a
plate. He handed it to her and she took it, drying it off and putting it in the
“Actually, I wanted to ask you something,”
Owen voiced in a nervous tone.
“Sure, what’s up?” she asked nonchalantly,
tiptoeing to reach the top shelf and put away the plate.
“I’ll ask you later,” Owen said, brushing
her off as he noticed the other sisters coming into the kitchen with the kids.
“Okay, so I’m going to drop the kids to school
and be back before the moving van comes,” Meredith told them, “don’t trash the
“No promises,” Amelia said as they left the
The moving van was mainly for the pool
table, seeing as Owen didn’t bring much after he’d left the trailer. Meredith
had gotten tired of the table and how much of the living room it took up, so
she ceremonially pawned it off on him, offering to pay for the expenses of
carrying it from her house to his apartment. After getting the workers to put
it in the truck, accidentally chipping off a piece of one of Meredith’s dry
walls, Owen was finally ready to leave. He re-entered the house and grabbed his
bags from his bedroom, meeting Amelia on the way out.
“So this is goodbye, huh?” she joked,
trying to hide her sadness about his impending departure.
“I don’t want it to be,” Owen replied,
dropping his bags and moving closer to her.
“Well, there’s always-“
“Come with me,” he whispered, pressing his
hand against the small of her back and pulling her to him, “move in with me.”
Amelia looked up at him, stunned for a
second, “Are you serious?”
“I am,” he grinned, ecstatic that she
seemed to be leaning towards a yes.
“Uh,” Amelia said, pulling herself out of
his grip, “wait right here.” Before he could say anything, she dashed upstairs
to her bedroom and left him, returning a few minutes later.
“Here,” she said, handing him a toothbrush,
one of her shirts and pants, and a pair of socks.
“This isn’t enough clothes, Amelia,” he
said, laughing at the sleepover kit. That’s when he realised.
“You’re not moving in with me,” he said,
“I can’t move in with you, Meredith needs
me here,” she reluctantly told him, “Derek would want me here to help her. And
we have so many unfinished things to talk about, now is not the right time. One
happy week doesn’t make our relationship stable.” He nodded and smiled sadly.
She was right.
“Ask me again in a few months, though,” she
added, moving to give his cheek a peck, “I just might say yes.” The statement
definitely gave him something to look forward to in the future.
“So then what’s this?” Owen asked, looking
at the items in his hand.
“For when I sleep over, silly,” she said,
winking suggestively at him.
He laughed and stuffed the clothes in one
of his bags, “Okay. I’ll hold onto it, then.”
“Van’s ready,” Maggie shouted from outside
the house. Owen yelled an okay before turning back to Amelia. He felt like he
was running out of time and it made him feel nervous and stutter on his words.
“Amelia, I-,” he began, not sure what else
he could say to prolong the moment.
“I know,” she responded, smiling
euphorically, “I love you too.” Owen nodded
and turned to leave, looking back at Amelia once more and waving. This wasn’t
the end, he told himself, it was just the beginning.