33

Eleanora was 18, she had had first boyfriend. Well, she wouldn't really count him as a boyfriend, but he was close enough, he in that weird middle ground between boyfriend and just a guy she hung out with. Besides, now a days, Eleanora didn't like to think of him as her first boyfriend, because she knew he was her first everything else and he didn't deserve to be that one, too.

At first, it was great. He was funny, smart, and an all around perfect gentleman. Opened doors for her, held her hand, always asked before he kissed her or did anything. She was happy, and thought that maybe this would be it, that she would be one of those girls who meet the person they were supposed to be with the first time around.

Then, as the semester went on and they started to become a bit more serious, he took a turn. He would start picking fights, making her tell him what she was doing, where she was going, and who she was with every single time she wasn't with him. Eleanora didn't think much of it at first, thinking maybe he was just stressed and that it would go away.

The first time he hit her, Eleanora had locked herself in her dorm room's bathroom and sobbed as she listened to him yelling and apologizing on the other side of the door. She had curled up beside the sink, cradling her stinging cheek as tears rolled down her cheeks and fear gripped at her heart.

They didn't last much longer after that.

Eleanora hadn't told many people about what he did, about what she went through. She only told one of her Professors in Med School, Dr. Baxton. She was a kind older woman who specialized in Trauma Surgery, and even though a few years had passed from the relationship, Eleanora sometimes could feel the pain and fear grip at her in the middle of the day. But besides Dr. Baxton, she hadn't outwardly told .

She was sure some had figured it out, Max at the top of the list due to his training. Eleanora had even noticed Mark giving her a few curious and sad looks sometimes when she flinches away from a male patient that's a little too aggressive, or how she seemed to curl into herself when people started yelling at each other.

The reason Eleanora never brought it up to anyone was because she didn't want the feelings to come back. The feeling of every good emotion and relationship in her life being ruined, the pain slowly sinking into her bones and an unbearable weight being placed on her chest until she couldn't breath.

That feeling was starting to build in Eleanora at that moment. Here she was, 27 years old, feeling like she did when she was 18. Because just like when she was 18, a man came in and tore everything down around her when she least expected it.

This time, however, she had started to come to terms she would probably die. Eleanora had her hands pressed against her bleeding stomach, her head laying on its side and looking at Luke's dead body, sobbing, and knowing in her head this would probably be it for her.

The unbearable weight was back, and she couldn't do anything about it.

_______

made it all the way home from Iraq alive, and now there's this guy with his people-shooting hat on right in here in a hospital, which is arguably the safest place in the world." Teddy told Owen, the two wheeling their patient towards the ICU. Owen was at the foot of the bed, keeping an eye out for any sign of the shooter.

"Is there a point to this, or....?"

"I think you love me." Teddy tells him, her voice sure. "I think you love Cristina and I think you love me, too. And I think that you tried to get Shepherd to get rid of me so that you wouldn't have to choose, but people-shooting-hat guy is here, and, Owen, for my sake and for Cristina's sake, you have to choose. Her or me?"

Eleanora moved her head from one side to the other, her eyesight blurry and movements sluggish. She heard people, and her brain told her that the voices were familiar, that they were safe, but she couldn't put the names to them.

"H-help." She called out. Her voice was weak and broken, and she got a little louder when she didn't hear them respond to her. "H-help me!"

Owen and Teddy freeze, staring at each other for a moment before inching around the corner. On the way to the ICU they hadn't found or heard anyone yet. However, they both knew that voice, knew that it belonged to the sweet and smiley woman they all held dear.

Owen let out a curse when he finally saw her, pushing away from the patient they were wheeling around to reach Eleanora. His eyes moved past her and saw Luke Jefferson, his face growing cold and serious when he noticed the boy was dead.

"Eleanora, oh my god." Teddy breathed out, moving forward, too. Eleanora gave a broken smile, looking up at Owen as he moved her hands to get a look at her stomach.

"H-hi, Dr. Hunt. Ni-nice to see you."

"How long have you been like this, Amedeo?" Owen asked her, looking around to try and find something to press against her bleeding stomach.

"I-I don't know fo-for sure." She answered, letting her blood covered hands fall to her side. "I-it's been a while, but I don't...it's a blur, you know? You hear people talk about being shot and how they have this huge rush of adrenaline in Med School, but it's so di-different than actually feeling i-it."

Teddy opened a nearby nurses cart, grabbing some bandages and handing them to Owen. The ginger moved Eleanora to her side, the small girl letting out a scream of pain.

"No exit wound." Owen told Teddy, taking the bandages as he sat Eleanora back down on her back. Eleanora let out another small cry, squeezing her eyes shut as Owen applied pressure.

"We need to get her on a gurney, o-or a wheelchair. Something one of us can push out." Teddy told him, looking around. Owen shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

"We won't be able to get both her and the patient out fast enough, Teddy. This floor isn't secure, so we'd need to rush through the lobby. It isn't..."

Teddy's head snapped towards him, her voice hard. "We aren't leaving her here, Owen. I don't care if we have to put her this patient, we are taking her with us. Do you want to be known as the one who left Eleanora Amedeo to die? How do you think Sloan will handle that, huh?"