FIC PROMPT - MOVING ON
Apr. 5th, 2009 09:14 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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in_the_afterAuthor: mrspierson
Title: "Nightime Confessions"
Summary: Owen just can't seem to forget Cristina.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: These characters are property of Shonda Rhimes/ABC and Grey's Anatomy. They do not belong to me. Reimbursement is not received for fictitious works.
Something’s changed. He can feel it.
The half smile that had lazily been displayed on Owen’s face disappears the moment he feels Cristina’s body tense up.
“I don’t think…” She trails off. “I can’t handle this after all.”
Owen’s breath hitches as he raises his head slightly to look at her. Confusion settles over his face as he tries to process what she’s saying.
“What? What, what do you mean? What are you saying?” The words tumble out of his mouth, barely audible.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Cristina says - her voice quiet and shaking. “But I’m lying here in your arms and I’m afraid to fall asleep.”
Owen stares at her, trying to figure out what she needs from him. He can’t help but notice the way she clutches the blanket to her chest. The way she’ll only look at the ceiling and not at him.
Slowly he lets go of her, trying to ignore the ache in his chest when she doesn’t try and stop him.
They get dressed in silence. Owen notices the quickened pace at which Cristina puts her scrubs back on - turtleneck firmly in place, hair down, headband on. She stands by the door with her back to him as he ties the drawstring on his pants. Owen takes the fact that she hasn’t left yet as a good sign.
“Cristina…I…” he begins. Again Owen fumbles with his words. Not wanting to scare her off but needing her to know that he understands her hesitation, he tries again. “I…” but before he can say anything else, Cristina cuts him off and turns to face him.
“Owen you don’t need to say anything. This is all me. I thought…I thought I could handle it. I wanted to be okay with this, with us, but I’m not.” Cristina turns to open the door and leave but pauses with her hand on the knob. “I love you.” She quietly says and then slips out into the hall.
Owen sat up in bed and tried to calm his breathing. He couldn’t believe that even after all his sessions with Dr. Wyatt, he kept having the same dream every night. He dreamed of Cristina and of their last night in the on-call room when she had told him she loved him and then slipped from the room, almost like a figment of his imagination.
He threw back the covers, swung his legs out of bed and headed to the bathroom to get a glass of water. Owen flipped on the light and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The circles under his eyes were definitely getting lighter. The worry lines on his forehead, less prominent – all signs that he had been sleeping better.
It had been almost four weeks since he’d had a night terror. His last one being the night he had almost killed Cristina.
Cristina. His heart began to ache all over again.
Thinking about her was something Owen had tried to limit himself doing whenever he could these days because giving in to that temptation had only caused more harm than good. He knew it and so did she, that’s why they had become masters at avoiding each other whenever possible.
Occasionally though, on days when he was feeling particularly self-deprecating, he would find himself seeking her out in the hospital, desperate for just a tiny glimpse of her. His eyes would scan the cafeteria for her at lunch or he looked to see if her name appeared on the surgical board.
Shaking his head one last time, as his own pathetic reflection stared back at him; Owen made his way back to bed. As he lay down, trying once more to find the solace of sleep, Owen finally admitted to himself that the more he tried to distance himself from Cristina - the more he wanted her. The more he loved her. The more he wished that he had gone after her when she left the on-call room that night. Wished that he had told her he loved her too.
Because the truth was, it had been a month and it wasn’t getting any easier.
A month since they had made love and had known, even before it was over, that it wasn’t a fresh start or a new beginning.
A month since they had realized that instead, it was a goodbye, an end to something that had never really had the chance to begin in the first place.
Moving on wasn’t easy, Owen thought as he closed his eyes. Not when your heart was firmly rooted in the past.
Title: "Nightime Confessions"
Summary: Owen just can't seem to forget Cristina.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: These characters are property of Shonda Rhimes/ABC and Grey's Anatomy. They do not belong to me. Reimbursement is not received for fictitious works.
Something’s changed. He can feel it.
The half smile that had lazily been displayed on Owen’s face disappears the moment he feels Cristina’s body tense up.
“I don’t think…” She trails off. “I can’t handle this after all.”
Owen’s breath hitches as he raises his head slightly to look at her. Confusion settles over his face as he tries to process what she’s saying.
“What? What, what do you mean? What are you saying?” The words tumble out of his mouth, barely audible.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Cristina says - her voice quiet and shaking. “But I’m lying here in your arms and I’m afraid to fall asleep.”
Owen stares at her, trying to figure out what she needs from him. He can’t help but notice the way she clutches the blanket to her chest. The way she’ll only look at the ceiling and not at him.
Slowly he lets go of her, trying to ignore the ache in his chest when she doesn’t try and stop him.
They get dressed in silence. Owen notices the quickened pace at which Cristina puts her scrubs back on - turtleneck firmly in place, hair down, headband on. She stands by the door with her back to him as he ties the drawstring on his pants. Owen takes the fact that she hasn’t left yet as a good sign.
“Cristina…I…” he begins. Again Owen fumbles with his words. Not wanting to scare her off but needing her to know that he understands her hesitation, he tries again. “I…” but before he can say anything else, Cristina cuts him off and turns to face him.
“Owen you don’t need to say anything. This is all me. I thought…I thought I could handle it. I wanted to be okay with this, with us, but I’m not.” Cristina turns to open the door and leave but pauses with her hand on the knob. “I love you.” She quietly says and then slips out into the hall.
Owen sat up in bed and tried to calm his breathing. He couldn’t believe that even after all his sessions with Dr. Wyatt, he kept having the same dream every night. He dreamed of Cristina and of their last night in the on-call room when she had told him she loved him and then slipped from the room, almost like a figment of his imagination.
He threw back the covers, swung his legs out of bed and headed to the bathroom to get a glass of water. Owen flipped on the light and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The circles under his eyes were definitely getting lighter. The worry lines on his forehead, less prominent – all signs that he had been sleeping better.
It had been almost four weeks since he’d had a night terror. His last one being the night he had almost killed Cristina.
Cristina. His heart began to ache all over again.
Thinking about her was something Owen had tried to limit himself doing whenever he could these days because giving in to that temptation had only caused more harm than good. He knew it and so did she, that’s why they had become masters at avoiding each other whenever possible.
Occasionally though, on days when he was feeling particularly self-deprecating, he would find himself seeking her out in the hospital, desperate for just a tiny glimpse of her. His eyes would scan the cafeteria for her at lunch or he looked to see if her name appeared on the surgical board.
Shaking his head one last time, as his own pathetic reflection stared back at him; Owen made his way back to bed. As he lay down, trying once more to find the solace of sleep, Owen finally admitted to himself that the more he tried to distance himself from Cristina - the more he wanted her. The more he loved her. The more he wished that he had gone after her when she left the on-call room that night. Wished that he had told her he loved her too.
Because the truth was, it had been a month and it wasn’t getting any easier.
A month since they had made love and had known, even before it was over, that it wasn’t a fresh start or a new beginning.
A month since they had realized that instead, it was a goodbye, an end to something that had never really had the chance to begin in the first place.
Moving on wasn’t easy, Owen thought as he closed his eyes. Not when your heart was firmly rooted in the past.
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