Greys anatomy imagines and preferences.

Imagine #9

{Owen Hunt~ war changed me.}

You step out of your car that's parked just outside of your small one bedroom apartment in New York City. You inhale and smell the crisp, polluted air of the city that you missed so much. You enter the apartment complex and take the stairs to the fourth, and final, floor of the building, digging out your keys with every step up the final flight of stairs.

Yours hands shake ever so slightly, something that's started happening a lot since you got back, as you put the key in and turn it until you hear the faint click. You step in and the lights hit your face due to the window of walls facing towards the city.

Slowly you place your keys into the small bowl placed on the counter and walk up the dark brown stairs that lead to your bedroom.

As you place yourself on top of the perfectly fixed bed you pull out your phone and listen to the voicemail that's been haunting you the entire day.

"(Y/n)? Look I heard you're back and I just wanted to check on you. I know it can be hard to readjust. I know how scary the war was and I know the war changed you 'cause the war... The war changed me. The war changed everyone... I want you to know that you don't have to go through this alone. I care about you (Y/n) and I need to at least know that you're okay. I really don't think that's too much to ask so please call me back."

You wipe away the single tear that threatens to fall and push your hair slightly so you can see the mirror place right in front of you. You can't even recognize yourself. Your hair is shorter than it used to be, all the shine it once had now a distant memory. Your eyes no long held the vibrant color but now a dull (your eye color). Your body now skinnier than you ever planned on, than you ever wanted. Even your lips lost the plump fullness they once had. Everything about you has now changed. You pick up your phone and hesitantly dial the number of Owen Hunt, your friend from the war. The one who left the voicemail.

"Hello? (Y/n)?"

"War changed me." Was all you could choke out due to your dry throat.

"I know..." You cough to find your voice.

"I don't wanna feel this way. Every little thing makes me feel panicked. I can't handle this Owen."

"You have to be strong over time you learn how to deal with it you learn that this feeling is all in your head. You'll see how strong you truly are." By this point you are crying ruining your pillow case with mascara.

"Owen please just stay on the phone and talk to me until I fall asleep."

"Okay." He slowly starts humming a quiet tune as you feel your eyes become to heavy to hold open.

"Goodnight (Y/n)." Was the last thing you heard.

~~(7 months later)~~

Everyday. That's how often you would talk to Owen. Things were finally starting to feel normal again. You and Owen had even met up a couple of times just to hang out. Typically there was kissing involved but nothing more would happen. You wanted more with Owen but deep down you couldn't bring yourself to leave New York. Deep down, however, you felt a love for Owen that you have never felt with anyone else.

Owen saved you. Owen helped you realize that there was such much more to look forward to. He also bought you a puppy to help keep you company. His name was wrangler.

"Owen I'm telling you, if you wanna go help then go. Your a trauma surgeon! You love that thrill, that adrenaline rush. Just because I wouldn't get to talk to you as often doesn't mean that you shouldn't go wrangler is still here to keep me company and you can call when you get the chance."

"(Y/n) before I board this plane. I want you to know that I love you and I hope you feel the same way."

"I thought you'd never say those words." You smile. You both hang up and you smile as you plop onto your bed. You rise up and relook into the mirror and realize just how much of a difference 7 months have made. You were finally you again.

The war may have changed you, but Owen Hunt saved you.