60. {1shot} [ga/pp] (mark/teddy) flightless bird, american mouth
Title: Flightless Bird, American Mouth [Iron&Wine]
Author: onlywordsnow
Pairing: Teddy; mentions of Owen/Teddy mostly friendship
Rating: PG
Summary: Excerpts from Teddy and Owen, primarily Teddy, throughout the war.
Words: 1,160
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: This is a lighthearted war fic, but I have another one coming at some point.
The smell of burning fills her nostrils and she can’t figure out if it’s the burning buildings in the distance, or the burning bodies they’d passed on the side of the road lingering in her nose. Either way, it’s killing her sense of smell - severing the mapping in her brain that keeps her senses in check. She’d almost trade the ability to smell for a somewhat decent meal.
She slowly opens her MRE, feeling sympathetic towards her taste buds because they haven’t been appeased in months. She silently swears to whatever god is over seeing her that she’ll never eat spaghetti or beef stew again because she’s had more than enough to fill her for a lifetime. The sight of the glop of food makes her stomach turn. She’d trade it for a package of crackers; she can survive on very little.
She eyes the food, trying to decode what she has this time - spaghetti or beef stew - she thinks fuck either one; her taste buds will thank her later. She finds the new guy, she can’t place his name; the rest of the guys have been calling him “Ginger” and she offers the MRE up for a trade when he mulls over his crackers. She thinks she’s going to fall in love with this guy if he takes her up on the trade.
--
Another wave of soldiers has hit. She’s rushing around trying to tame the wounds and keep her patients stable for lift off, but they’re beginning to run low on supplies. Everything seems to be settling down as they load the soldiers on the chopper and medic vehicle, deciding to take a different crew instead of theirs. She’s relieved to say the least - she hates helicopters.
Ginger has a name now; Owen Hunt’s turned out to be a real asset to their team. He has talent and he’s innovative enough, but he’s less by the book than she is. At least he’s a sucker when it comes to MRE’s and he’ll give her the foods that her stomach prefers. She can’t wait to go back to the states for a decent meal.
--
Their first time back to the states is four months later on leave. She’d love to tell people of how they got drunk and fell into bed and knew that it was forever. But that isn’t the story that she can tell. She pretends like she hadn’t ever seen anything worth living for in him as he introduces her to his fiancée, Beth.
Teddy takes her hand and gives it a tight squeeze, but Beth is weak; she lacks the strength that she thinks Owen deserves. Owen leaves the room and Beth begins to drunkenly slur that when Owen’s home for good and they do finally get married, she’s going to quit teaching and give him all of the kids he could ever want. She just smiles and nods her head, quieting her voice with warm liquid from a bottle.
--
She’s back to sand crunching beneath her boots and sweating in crevices that she can’t get to, practically inhaling water every hour on the hour. At night fall, she tries to keep her distance from Owen and deal with the long nights alone. She watches him carefully from a distance as he laughs because for him life goes on. His reasons for being here are completely different than hers.
She remembers holding her chest like she wasn’t a cardiothoracic surgeon as her heart soared a million miles an hour when the buildings came crashing down. She fished through the rubble for familiar faces or anyone still breathing, screaming for life. Mostly she was disappointed; the only thing that happened was that she lost herself in the debris.
She watches him smile and laugh but his eyes aren’t twinkling. His eyes skate over the company and when his eyes meet hers he pushes himself to his feet and makes his way to her side. He plops down into the sand and she somehow shivers in the heat. She feels progress when he leans forward and scoops at the sand, letting it sift through his fingers.
“I got a letter from Beth,” he tells her, “she wants to know why I haven’t called.”
“Why haven’t you?” She asks.
She leans forward in an attempt to connect her gaze with his and she feels pathetic. She backs away. She shoves a hand into her pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, something to busy her hands with. She lifts a cigarette to her lips and lights it, inhaling like she’s trying to kill herself. She’s a doctor, she knows the risks, but she’s only been smoking since she’s been in Baghdad - something to offer her relief.
“I thought we talked about you quitting.”
“Talking and doing it are two very different things,” she replied. She rolled the cigarette in her hand, letting her eyes drift over her suffocating ash tray. She skims her hand over the top of her head and rests it on the back of her neck as she leans her elbow against her knee. Her head is tilted towards his face and she takes another drag, the embers lighting up. “We all have our vices, Owen.”
“You have one,” he corrects with a smile, “quit smoking and then you have none.”
“Correction; I have two,” she smiles, digging her heels into the sand and momentarily straightening her back. She can’t tell him that her second one is that she’s in love with him when he’s completely unavailable and dedicated to Beth. So, instead, she pretends like they’re friends and that’s all she could ever want. “But the second doesn’t take effect here. The first, I don’t have back home.”
“Well put,” he replies, and his eyes catch with hers longer than they should.
--
She’s home for good now and the things she’s seen she can’t talk about. She’s staying at her parents’ home as she gets her shit together. She hasn’t been home in forever and visiting with her parents has been nice, but not so much stress-free. They’ve been asking her questions and she cannot answer them for the life of her; she’s tried.
She’s sitting on the back porch, looking out over her parents’ farm with a cup of coffee in hand in the middle of the night. She’s glad she got away from this place because, regardless of how clean the air is, it’s suffocating. Her cell phone rings with its one bar of service and she fumbles to get out of her pocket.
She answers it with a slightly exasperated sigh. Owen’s on the other end of the phone, and the first thing he asks is if she still smokes. She laughs and tells him that right now, a cigarette would be perfect, but it’s a vice she saves for Baghdad.
The next morning, she’s on a plane to Seattle because she has to have one vice.
Author: onlywordsnow
Pairing: Teddy; mentions of Owen/Teddy mostly friendship
Rating: PG
Summary: Excerpts from Teddy and Owen, primarily Teddy, throughout the war.
Words: 1,160
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author's Note: This is a lighthearted war fic, but I have another one coming at some point.
The smell of burning fills her nostrils and she can’t figure out if it’s the burning buildings in the distance, or the burning bodies they’d passed on the side of the road lingering in her nose. Either way, it’s killing her sense of smell - severing the mapping in her brain that keeps her senses in check. She’d almost trade the ability to smell for a somewhat decent meal.
She slowly opens her MRE, feeling sympathetic towards her taste buds because they haven’t been appeased in months. She silently swears to whatever god is over seeing her that she’ll never eat spaghetti or beef stew again because she’s had more than enough to fill her for a lifetime. The sight of the glop of food makes her stomach turn. She’d trade it for a package of crackers; she can survive on very little.
She eyes the food, trying to decode what she has this time - spaghetti or beef stew - she thinks fuck either one; her taste buds will thank her later. She finds the new guy, she can’t place his name; the rest of the guys have been calling him “Ginger” and she offers the MRE up for a trade when he mulls over his crackers. She thinks she’s going to fall in love with this guy if he takes her up on the trade.
--
Another wave of soldiers has hit. She’s rushing around trying to tame the wounds and keep her patients stable for lift off, but they’re beginning to run low on supplies. Everything seems to be settling down as they load the soldiers on the chopper and medic vehicle, deciding to take a different crew instead of theirs. She’s relieved to say the least - she hates helicopters.
Ginger has a name now; Owen Hunt’s turned out to be a real asset to their team. He has talent and he’s innovative enough, but he’s less by the book than she is. At least he’s a sucker when it comes to MRE’s and he’ll give her the foods that her stomach prefers. She can’t wait to go back to the states for a decent meal.
--
Their first time back to the states is four months later on leave. She’d love to tell people of how they got drunk and fell into bed and knew that it was forever. But that isn’t the story that she can tell. She pretends like she hadn’t ever seen anything worth living for in him as he introduces her to his fiancée, Beth.
Teddy takes her hand and gives it a tight squeeze, but Beth is weak; she lacks the strength that she thinks Owen deserves. Owen leaves the room and Beth begins to drunkenly slur that when Owen’s home for good and they do finally get married, she’s going to quit teaching and give him all of the kids he could ever want. She just smiles and nods her head, quieting her voice with warm liquid from a bottle.
--
She’s back to sand crunching beneath her boots and sweating in crevices that she can’t get to, practically inhaling water every hour on the hour. At night fall, she tries to keep her distance from Owen and deal with the long nights alone. She watches him carefully from a distance as he laughs because for him life goes on. His reasons for being here are completely different than hers.
She remembers holding her chest like she wasn’t a cardiothoracic surgeon as her heart soared a million miles an hour when the buildings came crashing down. She fished through the rubble for familiar faces or anyone still breathing, screaming for life. Mostly she was disappointed; the only thing that happened was that she lost herself in the debris.
She watches him smile and laugh but his eyes aren’t twinkling. His eyes skate over the company and when his eyes meet hers he pushes himself to his feet and makes his way to her side. He plops down into the sand and she somehow shivers in the heat. She feels progress when he leans forward and scoops at the sand, letting it sift through his fingers.
“I got a letter from Beth,” he tells her, “she wants to know why I haven’t called.”
“Why haven’t you?” She asks.
She leans forward in an attempt to connect her gaze with his and she feels pathetic. She backs away. She shoves a hand into her pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, something to busy her hands with. She lifts a cigarette to her lips and lights it, inhaling like she’s trying to kill herself. She’s a doctor, she knows the risks, but she’s only been smoking since she’s been in Baghdad - something to offer her relief.
“I thought we talked about you quitting.”
“Talking and doing it are two very different things,” she replied. She rolled the cigarette in her hand, letting her eyes drift over her suffocating ash tray. She skims her hand over the top of her head and rests it on the back of her neck as she leans her elbow against her knee. Her head is tilted towards his face and she takes another drag, the embers lighting up. “We all have our vices, Owen.”
“You have one,” he corrects with a smile, “quit smoking and then you have none.”
“Correction; I have two,” she smiles, digging her heels into the sand and momentarily straightening her back. She can’t tell him that her second one is that she’s in love with him when he’s completely unavailable and dedicated to Beth. So, instead, she pretends like they’re friends and that’s all she could ever want. “But the second doesn’t take effect here. The first, I don’t have back home.”
“Well put,” he replies, and his eyes catch with hers longer than they should.
--
She’s home for good now and the things she’s seen she can’t talk about. She’s staying at her parents’ home as she gets her shit together. She hasn’t been home in forever and visiting with her parents has been nice, but not so much stress-free. They’ve been asking her questions and she cannot answer them for the life of her; she’s tried.
She’s sitting on the back porch, looking out over her parents’ farm with a cup of coffee in hand in the middle of the night. She’s glad she got away from this place because, regardless of how clean the air is, it’s suffocating. Her cell phone rings with its one bar of service and she fumbles to get out of her pocket.
She answers it with a slightly exasperated sigh. Owen’s on the other end of the phone, and the first thing he asks is if she still smokes. She laughs and tells him that right now, a cigarette would be perfect, but it’s a vice she saves for Baghdad.
The next morning, she’s on a plane to Seattle because she has to have one vice.