I'm not entirely certain this qualifies as AU, but it's what my brain produced, so I went with it. It's set after episode 8x20 of Grey's and 5x20 of Private Practice. You don't need to have seen both for this to make sense, furthermore I'm not even sure it does make sense, but I'll leave that judgement to you all.

BEFORE YOU READ: I just want to point out that the Crowen shipper in me tried to stop this from being shared publicly every single step of the way and I'm really not happy with how it turned out (it works way too well), though, this is written for Owen and Amelia specifically, so that part of me just sucked it up and turned a blind eye to the one shot.

Also I'm aware this should qualify as crossover, but I'm pretending it's all in some weird twisted version of the Grey verse.

Owen sat on the deck staring at the ocean. It was surreal to think someone actually lived here, someone who had a job not much unlike his. Someone got to wake up every day and stare at the waves. He'd never really been an ocean kind of guy, he was born and raised in Seattle in the heart of the mountains. Sure there was the ocean there too, but it was a different kind of ocean, while still being the exactly same one. It was calming. The ocean in California was calming and it was soothing and it helped shut of that part of his brain that was working all day, every day. That part that for a few months now had not allowed him to breathe properly. The case of the missing girl had been hard, on top of everything else, it made his life excruciatingly difficult. It felt like whatever he did, he was failing. He kept making wrong choices, saying the wrong thing, wanting the wrong thing. His life was unravelling and he didn't know what to do about it, he didn't know if he even should, considering how all he touched recently automatically went to hell. Coming here had seemed like nothing could go wrong. Callie had found him, looking like he always did these days to ask for a few days to come down here to Los Angeles and help an old friend on a case. After exactly ten minutes she'd come back telling him she could use his help with the patient too. It had taken him two seconds to read through her words and decline, politely, but still decline. Callie was his friend and was openly lying to him, hoping to see him a little… less sad and consumed by life. He was the chief of surgery, he couldn't just leave, not even for a patient, he already had patients depending on him and doctors depending on him. Also a wife, but he wasn't sure she'd mind if he went to California for a few days. Not right now. Owen was pretty sure she wouldn't even notice if he left for a few days.

He stood walking towards the water, it was warm enough that if he'd wanted, he could have gone for a swim, but it felt out of place. What Callie had failed to mention was how she was coming down here to operate on Derek's ex-wife's patient and, when they paged with an emergency, she'd left him hanging out there at her house. It was a beautiful house, not his style, but undeniably beautiful. He was bored and frustrated, he was regretting coming here more and more, despite how much it was helping to be away from it all. Especially when the house was covered in baby things, toys, bottles and blankets were literally everywhere. When he stood in front of the ocean, he closed his eyes and breathed in. It felt empowering. In a couple of seconds he bent down to take off his shoes and roll up his pants, enjoying the luxury of walking on a private beach where he could just toss all his clothes around and no one would steal them – still, he was okay with taking off just shoes and socks and walk right into the crashing waves. Owen was trying so hard to leave it all behind, but for some reason his brain couldn't let it all go. Cristina, his baby, the woman with the blond curls, whose name he still didn't remember. The ocean, seemingly never ending, was simply gigantic and it made his problems feel a little smaller. It was refreshing and the continuous motion of the waves was lulling him into a comfortably relaxed state – when his feet disappeared, though, covered in the sand moved by the waves, he pulled them out and started walking back to the deck of the house. After a second of panic, because he didn't remember exactly which one it was, he spotted his jacket laying on the steps of the deck of the white house. With a sigh of relief he made his way over, once he sat down he put socks and shoes back on, almost as if he was reconnecting to real life again.

A few seconds later, he heard someone walking out on the deck next to where he was. Callie had explained Addison's friend lived there. Joe? Sam? Max? He was completely sure it was one of those, but he hadn't been listening closely enough to know which one. Life was so strange here. Time felt like it was slower somehow, it was stupidly irrational, but his head went and pictured what it might have been like if he lived here. If he and Cristina lived here. Everyone was always walking around with these big, relaxed smiles and it did feel like a movie. Maybe he should move here. He'd be happier, maybe. Rationally, he knew people had crappy lives here just like they did back in Seattle, but he couldn't help but wonder. Swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat, he tried to get out of his head how he could spend his time off playing in the sand with his child, building sand castles and writing on the shore. He shouldn't go there. He couldn't go there. It wasn't productive and certainly it didn't make him feel an better. Just when he was about to seriously consider planning to move, he heard a sniffle coming from the deck next door. He suddenly felt awkward. Awkward and trapped. He didn't want to get back inside the house, because that would have felt like a huge invasion of privacy, even though Addison had assured him it was totally fine. Only it wasn't. She was Derek's ex and he didn't know her and he felt like he was intruding already as it was. Staying out on the deck meant, though, listening in and invading someone else's privacy. Looking at the waves once again, he had the perfect idea. Well, perfect for him. He stood and walked a few steps, so that whoever was sitting outside would know he was there.

"You're Addison's friend, from Seattle?"

Owen's head whipped around fast, so fast when he heard that voice. On the steps of the deck was sitting a woman who looked awfully familiar. No, he didn't know her. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling still that he'd seen her before. He nodded, somewhat awkwardly. "Not really. My colleague, uh, friend is Addison's friend."

She narrowed her eyes and straightened her back and only then he noticed her belly. Swollen and round. Right, this was perfect. "So you're the husband?" he gave her a look. She'd just gone and made an assumption- "Your ring? You're married." She pointed at the ring on his finger.

He looked down and realised he was still wearing the ring. The last thing he felt like these days – these past few months – was married. He didn't feel married anymore, he wanted to, but he just didn't. Owen looked at her, shaking the feeling that those eyes reminded him of someone and gave her a questioning look. She nodded and he noticed how she tried to smile, but couldn't. He hadn't seen it before, he was too wrapped up in his own issues, but she looked sad, devastated. She wasn't crying, but her eyes looked like if she did, start crying, she'd never be able to stop. To think all this time, all this mess was because he wanted a child. A part of him was firmly convinced it would solve everything, that he'd be over the moon happy, that the downward spiral he seemed to have fallen down in would magically disappear. Yet here she was, sitting next to him. Pregnant and looking so sad it was making him want to cry. "I am married, but my wife's back home. Callie's just a friend." She nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. Owen smiled at her and extended his hand, despite the awkward angle with the both of them sitting down. "Owen Hunt."

She looked up at him and moved her hand from her bump to shake his hand. "Amelia Shepherd." At the look of recognition in Owen's eyes she nodded. "Derek's my brother."

Owen nodded vigorously, not only she looked familiar because she was a female version of Derek, but she'd come to Seattle before, the last time just a couple of months ago. He'd seen her for a few minutes, long enough to make sure she had privileges in the hospital before she disappeared, followed closely by Lexie. That's why he thought he'd met her before. He had in fact met her, just never bothered to remember her name or her face for that matter. Now that he felt more connected to her, her sadness hit him harder than before. He'd spent the day commiserating and still looked ready for the red carpet compared to her. "Of course. The resemblance is…"

"Frightening?" she joked, the intention was there was the heavy curtain of sadness dampened the effect. "You're the chief, right?" when Owen nodded she frowned. "So why are you here? I mean if you don't have a patient, then – sorry, none of my business."

Owen sighed. "It's a good question and no I don't have a patient. I suppose this would qualify as vacation." But then again it felt nothing like it. In his head vacation was where he got to wake up in the morning knowing he didn't have to do anything. No paperwork, no patients, no surgeries, no laundry, no bills, no cooking. He wasn't doing any of that here, yet it didn't feel like a vacation. He looked down at his hands, brushing away the stray sand still attached, trying to come up with a decent answer. "Honestly, I don't even know what I'm doing here, I just…" he looked at her, hoping a look would be enough not to have to explain how his life was going down a downward spiral and he was just letting it go – when he wasn't helping pushing it down. When he met her eyes, though, they were glassy and dazed. And Owen felt bad. Maybe it was because she was Derek's sister and he was his best friend in Seattle, but he felt a connection to her he hadn't felt upon meeting any of the other doctors here. Obviously, he wasn't even remotely entitled to ask what was wrong with her, but at the very least he could distract her. "I was hoping to get a break, from work and from home, but everything I tried to leave behind seems to have followed me here."

She nodded with a daunting look of understanding, his eyes fell a few times to the hand rubbing her belly. He wondered if Derek knew. Not that he would know if he knew, but after how much he'd fought for Zola he thought having a baby in the family would be something he'd be openly happy about. "Sorry, that sucks."

All he could do was nod in agreement. She was right. "It's mostly my fault, so I can't really complain about any of it." The guilt that had been brewing was getting to be overwhelming to the point that he couldn't move, couldn't do anything at all to make it stop. When Cristina had the abortion he'd felt cheated, not in the literal sense, but he saw marriage as a two way commitment. The fact that he wanted a baby and she didn't had never bothered him before. When she'd actually gone through with it and – in his mind – killed his child, their own child, his world had crumbled down to pieces.

"You can, complain about it." She looked away when he turned to her surprised and he saw something mirrored in her eyes. The guilt. She was looking down at her lap and she looked guilty. "We all make mistakes, it doesn't mean we suffer any less because it's our own fault."

He shook his head, never taking his eyes off her. The people who were aware of the abortion and the way he'd handled it always held it above his head, at first they were understanding of his anger and disappointment, but after he yelled at her, after he cheated on her, he suddenly became the bad guy. Not that he blamed them for thinking that. Between that and being chief, though, he didn't seem to catch a break. Ever. Somehow this woman, not even knowing him had gone straight to the point and said something he often wished his friends would say. Bailey had said something similar, she'd made him feel better, her instinct to mother the whole world had won over her mild dislike of him and her resentment for the fact that she believed his job belonged to somebody else. Owen did not know what to say. The more he looked at her, the more he actually started to feel better about all the crap in his life. "I feel guilty. All the time." He confessed, breaking eye contact.

"Yeah." She smiled, a sad knowing smile that made his heart break for her. When his eyes turned lower he saw how she was rubbing her belly, hand splayed as if to cover as much of it as she could, protecting the little life inside. He'd always wondered what that would feel like. If it felt any different than just touching another person or if he would be able to feel it. Considering the last few months of his life, he would probably never find out.

Though, he'd always imagined it would be a happy experience and the look on Amelia's face didn't exactly meet his expectations. At first, he'd thought maybe she'd had a bad day or pregnancy hormones were doing a number on her, but the sadness and brokenness in her eyes told a different story entirely. One he knew all too well. He could see the cracks all over her, he had first noticed when she'd spoken, her answers weren't rehearsed or fake or just to be polite, she meant every word she said and she understood, which to him was new and dangerously comforting. "Are, uh, you okay?" he said, looking away, an awkward smile stretching his lips. "I mean, you were crying." Amelia frowned and he looked away. Owen didn't know why it felt so weird to do this, to talk to her, why he felt like this. "You-you don't have to tell me, but I'm dumping all this on you and… you look sad."

She sighed and smiled, he saw her eyes brighten up a little and he patted himself on the back for that one. Apparently, awkward and stuttering questions made her smile. He could keep doing that, especially when he had a feeling he wasn't going to be able to speak to her otherwise. "I'm fine. I'm okay." With a swift tilt of his head and an arched eyebrow he asked her to continue. Softly, he had absolutely no intentions of pushing her. "My life has somehow turned into some sort of bad movie recently, where everything just keeps going wrong. So, I cry. Mostly because hormones make me cry, but yeah."

The resigned way she shrugged her shoulders made him want to hug her, hug her tight and take it all away. She had hope, she had a future, she was holding it right underneath her hands. That was all he wished for and she had that, but she was sitting here with him crying. "My wife had an abortion." The words left his mouth before he was truly aware of it. It sounded strange and foreign, as if it wasn't really his life or his wife he was talking about. Now that he thought of it, it didn't sound like his life at all, not the one he'd ever imagined he'd end up living. The more he replayed it in his head the weirder it sounded. When he turned to look at Amelia he found her staring at him, her face was emotionless and void of judgement or compassion. He found he rather liked that. "A few months ago, she had an abortion." The more he said it, the less it hurt. He considered sitting in a room alone and repeat the words for hours on end, maybe that way the pain would stop entirely.

"I'm sorry." She offered, but her tone was different from before. It wasn't understanding and full of empathy. It was distant. He could tell the words were genuine, sincere, but there was something else.

"I didn't exactly share her decision and… she went on with her life as if nothing happened. I did too, only it felt like my whole world was turned upside down, like nothing made sense anymore." He saw an apologetic look form in her eyes, the one common decency said we should have, the one that says I'm sorry you have to deal with all this crap, but as long as it's not my crap I'm going to keep as far away from it as I can. She nodded, unsure of what to say, if she should say anything at all. Owen, then, decided to give her the rest of the story. "And I cheated on her." he spit out all at once, blowing out warm air into the spring breeze. It felt so good to finally let this out, particularly to someone who wasn't Meredith Grey or knew Cristina anyway and would automatically take her side. Maybe she would. After all, she was Meredith's sister-in-law and a woman, which meant she had the social imperative to stick with her, even if they'd never spoken two words to each other. He sighed then. He was airing out his dirty laundry to someone he didn't know and looked like she had enough to think about on her own. He felt bad. "And I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, I'm sorry."

Amelia shrugged and met his gaze. "It's easier to talk to strangers. They don't know us, don't judge us and most importantly we're most likely never going to see them again."

Owen felt a twinge in his chest when she mentioned that they were never going to see each other again. He shouldn't' feel like that, he was married, he loved Cristina so much it hurt lately. Yet, here he was, feeling all screwed up inside because this woman told him this was their last meeting, ever. He was never going to see Derek's sister again. Unless. "You're not a stranger. Not really, I mean, I've seen you around a couple times. You might come to visit again."

While he thought he would prompt a discussion of the merit of what stranger actually meant in this context, her face fell. Owen frowned and thought of a million ways to apologise for something that he didn't know what it was, for making her cry again. Hastily wiping her tears, looking away she wrinkled her nose. "I don't think I'm coming up there again. As in, ever again."

His frown deepened. He'd heard about their recent success. He'd heard because they were working on publishing it, which was PR candy, Shepherd and Shepherd solving the unsolvable. To him, that's all it was. At least until today. Until he found himself talking to Amelia Shepherd. Lexie had told Meredith about it, who had told Cristina about it, who had mentioned something to him about how everything had transpired. Instead of behaving like grown, mature, world class surgeons the Shepherds had spent an annoyingly long amount of time – according to Lexie – bickering and fighting and name calling. In the end, though, they had been all smiles and hugs. Which begged the question, now that she was having a child, Derek's niece or nephew, why would she not go see him? Owen was about to ask when he saw the guilty look in her eyes, not the same as before, more of hand-in-the-cookie-jar kind of guilty, but guilty all the same, and the way she kept her hand pressed on her belly he could easily guess why. He nodded to her round belly. "You haven't told him?"

She gave a lopsided smile and rolled her eyes. Amelia looked at him, for a few seconds, too long to be just a quick look. She was trying to say something, but she just couldn't get the words out of her mouth. Finally, she looked away, back down in her lap, the part she could see anyway. "He doesn't know and it'd be great if you could keep it to yourself."

"Sure." He nodded. It was an honest request, no matter how he just didn't agree with her, he barely knew her and he wasn't in any place to judge. "You know, I never realised how much I really wanted kids until… that happened. I mean, I knew I wanted them someday, but with the job and odd hours and everything, I guess time passed. Then someday became now and I was terrified and excited all at once. A strange combination, nothing at all like anything I'd ever felt. My life was about to change and I was so happy about it and then, then it stayed exactly the same. I realised it wasn't enough anymore, it's not enough anymore." He shrugged his shoulders and she smiled at him sympathetically. "I just never thought I could want something this much."

Amelia's eyes filled with tears and he had to look away. Obviously the hormones were exaggerating all the feelings she had and she just couldn't help it. Only a few seconds after he was done speaking his mind elbowed him, reminding him she was probably the wrong person to talk about this. However, when she looked back at him smiling sadly, with red puffy eyes he nudged his mind back, maybe he shouldn't be overthinking this. "I know how you feel."

She pressed her hand to her belly, stroking it in circular motions, among all the emotions on her face one he could decipher was love. How much she loved the little person growing inside of her, it didn't make sense if he put it into context with the sad glow that most of the time overshadowed it and – what the... He turned to her when she suddenly gasped. His whole body turned, doctor's instincts kicking in, looking down at her hand on her belly. Her hand moved, sliding a few inches on one side, then lower, then to the other side of her belly. He didn't understand what was going on, but he was frozen there as if in a trance, hypnotised by her hand. Until he heard her clear her throat. It sounded like a sob strangled on his way out and her voice sounded so watery he turned up to her instantly. She had the biggest smile he'd seen yet, but her eyes were swimming in so much pain he could barely breathe. "Is something wrong?" when she didn't answer him he hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder, getting her attention. "Are you okay?"

Amelia nodded and looked up, glancing down at her hand, stroking her belly, from time to time. "Yeah. He's just kicking. Has been kicking all day."

Now Owen felt something that had not yet appeared today, well, since he'd sat down next to Amelia. Jealousy. Blind jealousy. He was jealous of her, of whoever lucky guy was the father of her baby, he was jealous of the ocean she got to wake up to every morning and he was jealous of what her life was going to be in a few months. Breathing deeply, he realised he couldn't do that. She was right, there was a good chance they wouldn't see each other ever again. When he met her eyes, though, he could tell she knew exactly what was going on into his head and when he made to apologise she stopped him. "Don't. I know how you feel. It's okay." And to his surprise she did. He could tell she did. After all we all want something we can't have at a point in our life and there's always someone out there who gets to have it and all we can do is sit back and watch. It's not such a hard feeling to relate to. "Really, though, I'm not sure you want any of this." she gestured to her and her baby bump.

Owen sighed, if there ever was a time to change the topic it was now. Right now. "He? You're having a boy?"

Amelia smiled proudly. Like any parent he knew. Like he wished to smile someday at his kid rolling in the mud or breaking their first glass or throwing up on the carpet. Things that people found disgusting and horrible, but that when you see your kid doing them, you feel so proud and happy, it's incomparable. Her hand was moving in circular motion on her belly. "I am." She hissed and her hand moved to the opposite side, pressing lightly down on her skin. "He's kicking like crazy." She met Owen's gaze. The look he was giving her was probably the look she gave everyone with a baby this days, everyone but Addison, that is. She hated Addison. Right now she could only hate her. She had everything she'd always wanted and she couldn't sit back and be happy for her, not when she was losing it all at the same time. Owen didn't know that, though. He was nice and understanding and he knew what that loss felt like. Maybe not as much as she did, but he knew better than anyone she knew. So she did something she never thought she'd get to do. "Do you want to feel it?"

He nodded eagerly before he could think. He didn't think. Not at all. Owen let her take his hand and place it exactly where hers had been. The excitement he felt didn't compare, but he soon realised he wasn't feeling anything. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel to begin with, but certainly he wasn't feeling it. Until she pressed her hand, which was still on top of his, a little into her belly and a split second later he felt something poke the palm of his hand. Immediately, he looked at her, knowing his face wasn't hiding even a little bit of his fascination and awe at this little miracle of life. It made something turn in his chest, twist painfully, but it was worth it. It was worth it when she moved his hand where her baby was kicking and they kept following silently his movements for a little while. When he looked into her eyes he wanted to hate her. And hate the man she'd cuddle up in bed with tonight, the man who'd fall asleep feeling his baby kicking against his hand. Yet again, she must have seen it – he had a terrible poker face and he knew it – because she smiled sadly, keeping his hand firmly under hers.

"You really, really don't wish for any of this. Not like this, trust me." When she saw he was about to retort something, something she could imagine what it was, her thumb started stroking the back of his hand. "This is not anything anybody would ever wish for."

Owen shrugged dejectedly. Her logic was failing. There was anger behind her sadness, hiding behind the tears in her eyes, he felt her hand still on his, holding it in her own, as if she was suddenly scared he'd just up and leave any second. Maybe, then, that's exactly what the man responsible for the little person inside of her had done. "I'm sure your boyfriend, uh, doesn't think that." It wasn't smooth or especially polite or ever the least bit subtle, but there was something inside of him that made his brain shut down when he was talking to her.

"My fiancé died. He's dead. Overdosed. I woke up and found him dead next to me." Her blunt, crude words were making him feel very, very bad about that little statement of his. They were making him feel tempted to take her back to Seattle and take care of her, almost like a pet. The jealousy was surprisingly being replaced by hope. For what he didn't know. Something, a little voice, told him he didn't want to know, Cristina's husband didn't want to know. "Owen, if we were to play the game of whose life sucks the most I'd win, hands down."

He gave her an incredulous look, not because he didn't believe her, but because a part of him didn't want it to be true. There were so many things he didn't want to be true. The loss of her fiancé and – he assumed – father of her child was bad enough, but the fact that he overdosed in bed with her, the tone she'd used to say that, made him realise she had something to do with that. He looked at her. He couldn't be here for her, but he wanted to drag Derek all the way to California to take care of his little sister. "I'm really sorry about that." He squeezed her hand and she swallowed thickly, looking away, but he was quick enough to notice the glint in her eyes. "But you have your baby, right? That's good, it's good. I mean, it's hard, doing it all by yourself, I think, but it's life continuing. Pushing through."

Amelia couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but stare at this man. She'd talked to him briefly a couple of months ago and now he was sitting here telling her all the things she wanted to hear. All the things Charlotte and Addison and everyone was saying if she'd listen to them. In a way, maybe, she blamed them. Blamed them for what happened, for butting in. Maybe if the intervention hadn't taken place Ryan would be alive, she'd still be carrying a baby with no future, but he'd be here with her. Feeling her eyes tear up and her chest heave she turned to Owen. "Have you ever seen an anencephalic baby?"

Owen shook his head pensively. No, not really, not in person. Read about it in books, heard about it during his residency. Nasty little twist of fate that was. It was unpredictable and it was out of anyone's control and it was deadly. Also, getting that question from a neurosurgeon felt quite out of place – or not. "Wait, is…" he pressed down on her belly, he'd forgotten his hand was still there. He stared down at it for a few long seconds as if he could see anything different. His rational mind knew on the outside he couldn't see if the child had seven legs and three ears, much less this. "is he…" he couldn't bring himself to ask the question. Not when he didn't know the answer.

Amelia shrugged, trying her hardest not to show the pain boiling right underneath the surface. "Told you I would win." Now she let the tears flow down her cheeks, there was no stopping them nor she had any energy left to. When she felt her baby kick again, forgetting Owen's hand was in between her own hand and her belly she pressed. Her baby didn't have a frontal lobe, he couldn't see, couldn't distinguish light and dark and he couldn't hear. She knew that. It was her job to know that, so she also knew he wasn't going to sleep at night and he wasn't going to recognise her voice, but he felt her hand right there – well, Owen's hand. She felt his other hand on her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and looked up at him. "Guess the grass is always greener, uh?"

Owen wrapped his arm around her back, his hand ending up on her shoulder, pulling her into his side. "Something like that."

She tensed up at the contact. Since she found out she was pregnant she'd been reluctant to let other people touch her. At all. Then this man suddenly showed up, out of nowhere and hugged her. And she let him. Amelia leaned her head against his shoulder. She wasn't crying, for once she wasn't crying, she was breathing deeply and focusing her energy on following the kicks on the surface of her belly. "I've been a bitch to every single person here who's tried to help me. Sam took me in because he and Derek were like family. They all care, but I can't… I just can't. I'm alone – I'm not really, they'd never leave me like that – but I feel so alone. I don't know why I can just tell you all of this, when I don't even talk to them at all."

Owen shrugged, his hand rubbing her shoulder soothingly. He didn't know why that was, didn't know why life could be so cruel. He started to feel like an idiot for being jealous, granted he had no idea, but he just assumed she had all he had always wanted. Plus a dead fiancé, plus a dying baby. It all equalled to everyone's worst nightmare. He thought of Cristina, when not that long ago in therapy she had asked him to be her person. He was married to her, he loved her, he did. Sitting here, though, holding Derek's sister in his arms, he felt more at home than he'd felt in Seattle for quite a while now. At first, he'd thought it was because she was pregnant, he desperately wanted a baby, his own baby and she was just sitting there. Now, though, the ring on his finger felt way too tight. Like it was holding him down, trapping him. He smiled, feeling another poke against his hand and he felt her smile too, against his shoulder. He was going home tomorrow and he'd never set foot in LA again, he would never trust himself to. His hand, the one pressing on her bump, twisted and took Amelia's in his. "We're strangers, remember?"