Fanfiction: The Beginning After : CH 4

[athebeach-13.livejournal.com]

Title: The Beginning After  - Chapter 4
Author: athebeach_13
Rating: PG-13ish
Word Count: 6,555 words
Summary: One-shots of Cristina & Owen based on each episode of Season 7
Disclaimer: All characters are unfortunately property of ABC. No copyright infringement is intended – for non-commercial entertainment purposes only.
Author's Note: I have to once again give a HUGE thank you my wonderful beta crazyflirtca for reading this. This chapter takes place after 7.04.


Owen looked down at his watch, stifling a yawn. 3:15. He was scheduled to scrub into surgery in an hour and his morning coffee was beginning to wear off. I need to get another cup of coffee in my system, he thought. As he walked into the attendings' lounge, he soon discovered that he wasn't the only one with the same idea. The room was packed with chatting surgeons holding cups in their hands.

"Hello," Owen greeted the group. Instantly, all conversation ceased and the room went dead silent. What the hell is that about?

After a brief awkward pause, his greeting was reciprocated by a half-a-dozen mumbled "Hi's."

Don't ask, he thought, walking over to the machine to fill up his cup. He'd learned very quickly working in this hospital that sometimes it was better not to ask.

"You tell him," he heard Callie whisper behind his back.

"No, you tell him," Teddy whispered back.

"Don't look at me," Bailey said, not bothering to lower her voice.

Owen turned around to face the guilty-looking group. "Tell me what?"

"Oh, uh…" Callie muttered, looking to the other attendings for help.

"We don't want to work with your wife anymore, Hunt," Mark announced. "That's what everyone wants to tell you."

Callie's mouth dropped open. "Mark!"

"What? It's all you've been talking about since I came in here. And since you weren't—"

Smack!

"Ow!" Mark exaggeratedly recoiled at his friend's hit.

Owen ignored the bickering next to him and addressed the only rational person in the room: Bailey. "I don't understand. Cristina's been cleared to work."

"She has, but she still won't go into the OR," Bailey explained. "We're not saying that we're going to have her kicked out of the program—"

"Well, you kinda are."

Bailey glared at Mark's interruption. "We're not having her kicked out of the program, but we are going to recommend to the Chief to go with Dr. Perkins' earlier suggestion to have put her on a lighter duty—research, perhaps."

"Research? You can't put her in research."

"But that's what you argued for a couple weeks ago," Callie interjected.

"No, I didn't. I just said that I didn't want her to be placed on my service after what had happened."

Bailey cocked her hip out to the side and gave him the look that could intimidate any man. "So we have to put her on our services because you don't want her?"

"No, it's not like that." The truth was that he was scared of the consequences of placing Cristina back on his service again. The last time he'd tried, it had resulted in her giving back her wedding ring. Yeah, not trying that again.

"Just tell them how it is, Hunt." Mark took another swig out of his cup and then continued addressing the group. "The man just doesn't want to get stuck on the couch and not get laid."

"No," Owen growled, "The reasonI can't have her on my service is because eighty percent of my patients are crashing on the table. I can't put her in those stressful situations. She's not ready for it."

Mark raised his hand in triumph. "And the man comes to the same conclusion we already have."

"I didn't say that she shouldn't have a chance to operate. What she needs is a low-stress atmosphere to work in." He scanned the room for a sympathetic face. "Teddy? Can you put her on your service?"

Teddy shrugged apologetically. "I need a set of hands in there, too, Owen. I can't have an emergency and not have someone there to help me. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"I can't either," Callie said.

"Sloan?" Owen asked.

"Don't look at me. She's your wife."

"But you're just putting in breast implants all day—"

"Hey! I take offense to that. I happen to be a world-class plastic surgeon who saves lives everyday."

"With your boobs?" Callie laughed.

"There actually are other uses for them," Teddy offered.

Mark pointed to Teddy. "See? Teddy can back me up."

Oh, this group was ridiculous, Owen thought. A second ago, they were discussing the future of Cristina's career and now they were discussing whether Sloan could save a life with a silicone implant. Unbelievable.

"Look," he forcefully said, trying to get their attention. "It's not her fault that she can't go into operating rooms. We can't just give up on her."

"No one said that we're giving up on her," Bailey replied, looking slightly annoyed. "We're just going have her taken off the surgical rotation for a couple months 'til she gets better."

"If she gets better—" Mark interrupted.

Oh, that's it. Owen's last shred of patience was erased by Sloan's comment, and he took a menacing step towards the plastic surgeon. "You know what—"

Callie, however, intercepted him, throwing herself between the two men. "Owen? Owen?" she asked, bobbing around to get his attention. "I want what's best for Cristina, too. It's just…maybe she isn't ready to operate, yet."

"She—" Owen was about to argue his case, yet again, when a movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Cristina. His eyes locked with hers for a brief moment and then she quickly turned away, vanishing from his view. The brief look of devastation on her face made him fear the worst and the open door only confirmed it. She'd heard everything.

"I have to go," he announced to no one in particular and ran out of the room. Once outside, he quickly scanned the hallways for Cristina's familiar black curls, but she was nowhere to be seen. He reached down to grab his pager, typing in her number from memory, and then set off trying to find her.

…

I need to get out of here, Cristina thought, as she fled down the staircase. The small painful lump in her chest had grown into a heaviness that was nearly suffocating her. It'd taken every last ounce of her self-composure to discreetly escape down the stairwell before anyone saw the tears in her eyes that were threatening to fall. Thankfully, no one was in the dark, basement corridor when she finally reached the bottom floor and she was able to slip into the vent room undetected. Once in, she collapsed against the door and slid down to the floor.

She didn't want to care. In fact, she spent the majority of her days now trying to numb herself from caring because she'd found that it was the less painful alternative. However, despite how hard she tried to, she couldn't stop caring. She'd heard the argument in the attendings room. She'd heard it all. It was one thing to know that there were discussions about her future, it was another to actually hear all the attendings say that they didn't want to work with her. It felt like a slap in the face.

Surgery, once her lifeblood, was now slipping away from her, and she didn't know if she had enough fight in her anymore not to let it go. She'd secretly hoped that despite her trauma, people still saw her as a surgeon. However, as she'd listened in to the attendings argue amongst themselves, she couldn't help but feel as if all her darkest fears were being confirmed by the very people that she'd hoped thought differently. They no longer saw her as the top resident in her class; instead, they saw a washed-up surgeon who was finished. No one wants me.

She'd thought that maybe she was getting better. Yes, she still couldn't walk into an OR; but last week, when she'd worked with Bailey, was the first time that she'd wanted to get back into the OR. It had been the first time since "the incident" that her need to get in the OR and help had overridden her fear about what would happen if she did. But when she'd tried to walk in…she couldn't. The instant she'd taken one step through the scrub room doors, her mind had betrayed her, yet again, and she'd been overwhelmed by fear.

Her morose train of thought was suddenly interrupted when she felt her pager vibrate against her waist. She looked down at the screen: five missed pages from Owen. Where are you? Are you okay? Cristina sighed, debating what to say, and then wrote back: I'm fine. As much as she needed Owen to be here, an equal part of her wanted to be alone. Needed to be alone right now.

Once she was sure that she could keep herself together in front of everyone, she walked to the center of the room and let the jet of steam blow around her. She closed her eyes, trying to feel even a sliver of happiness. After three cycles of the vent, she stepped back off the metal grate. That doesn't work anymore either, she sadly thought and then left the room.

…

"Cristina? Cristina?" Owen frantically ran up the old firehouse's stairs. He'd been searching for her everywhere: the vent, their on-call room, Meredith's house, their old apartment, and finally here. At first, after receiving her page (which was clearly a lie), he'd stopped searching for her, thinking that she had just needed some space. Stupid decision. I should have never left her alone, he silently cursed himself. Now with each passing minute, he was becoming more and more anxious as his mind came up with worse scenarios of where she could be.

"Cristina?" he called out again as he reached the top level. The room was lit, which provided him with a little reassurance that she'd been there at some point. Finally, he turned the corner to their "bedroom" and let out a sigh of relief. She was sitting with her back to him on their makeshift air mattress and staring out the window.

Owen quietly walked over and quietly sat down next to her. At first, she didn't acknowledge him, continuing to stare straight ahead. Finally, she turned to face him. He looked at her red-rimmed eyes and felt his heart clench. She'd been crying.

"Oh, Cristina," he said, reaching for her. Cristina immediately collapsed in his arms and buried her face in his shoulder. Her body racked with sobs as he pulled her even closer and whispered, "Shh…it's okay. I'm here. I'm here."

After a few minutes, her crying slowly subsided and Owen pulled away to gently kiss her forehead. "Shh…" he softly whispered again, stroking her hair. He was about to pull her close again when Cristina suddenly leaned forward and kissed his lips.

Her kiss started gentle but quickly turned heated as she grabbed a fistful of his hair to pull him even closer. Owen was taken completely off-guard by her sudden change in behavior. Her kisses grew increasingly desperate as her hands began to travel down his body to tug at his belt. Owen felt his body responding and broke away, trying to slow her down before he too lost control. "Cristina, wait—"

She did anything but. She threw her shirt off over her head and quickly began unbuttoning his shirt. He gently grabbed her hand to pause her. "Cristina…"

"I need you," she whispered, continuing to undo his buttons.

Owen nodded his understanding and gently laid her down on the mattress. If this was what she needed, he would do whatever he took to make her feel better. He began to slowly tease her through the thin, soft fabric of her bra, before she stopped him and quickly discarded the bra, along with her jeans. Okay, quick and dirty it is then, he thought, as he too kicked out of his jeans and quickly got to work on attending to his wife's needs.

…

Satiated by their brief, yet intense, lovemaking, Cristina stared up at the dilapidated ceiling. She felt Owen softly stroking her shoulder and could sense that he was waiting for her to talk, but she wasn't ready yet. She was still enjoying the silence and simple comfort of lying in his arms.

With her world turned upside down, Owen was the only part of her life that made sense anymore. He was the only thing she could count on. The only person who truly understood what she felt and what she was going through. And despite knowing how screwed up she was, he'd never abandoned her. He'd kept his promise that he would was always be there, having never left her alone for a single night since her admission to him. And she loved him all the more for it.

He was, in fact, the reason she came here to this old firehouse, shortly after her brief visit to the vent. The attendings' conversation had sent her completely off-kilter and she'd found herself unable to do her job. Without knowing where else to go, she'd left the hospital and came here—to their new home. It was the one place that, despite their short ownership, had become the one place that she felt truly safe in.

Finally, she rolled towards Owen. His eyes radiated compassion as he reached for her hand and softly stroked it. Emboldened, she took a deep breath, and whispered, "I don't want to get kicked out of the program."

"I'm not going to let them kick you out."

"It's just…" She closed her eyes. "It's not that I don't want to cut again…I just can't…I can't go in there."

"I know," he softly whispered, giving her a soft kiss. "I know."

"They think that I'm washed up."

Owen shook his head. "No, they don't."

"I heard them today. No one wants me on their service. They're going to kick me out."

"That's not going to happen."

"But they said—"

"I'll talk to Webber. You're not getting kicked out of the program," he reassured her, squeezing her hand. "You'll be on my service now."

"I'm going to end up working in the morgue," she mumbled.

Owen scoffed at her suggestion. "Cristina, you're the best surgeon in your class."

"It doesn't matter if I can't step in an OR, and no one will teach me. I'm going to end up in the morgue…with Pierce." Her nose curled in distate as she imagined working with her former lackey.

"You are not going to end up in the morgue. You can be on my service for as long as you want. I'll teach you everything I know."

"On dead guys? Because that's all I can work on."

"Well, we can start on corpses and then work up—"

"To what?"

"To operating in the OR," he said, matter-of-factly.

"How?" That was the question that had been plaguing her all day: How? She'd never been in this situation before. She had no idea where to even start to get better. If I get better, she thought. She could tell that Owen was being sincere, but she couldn't help but feel skeptical.

Owen smiled reassuringly to her, playing with one of her curls. "We'll just take it slow. There's no rush."

"But how?"

Her question gave him pause, and he took a moment, before finally replying, "I'll think of something."

She gave him a little appreciative smile and kissed him. She had no idea how she was going to get better, but she had to trust him. Because right now, he was all she had left.

…

True to his word, Owen had put Cristina on his service the very next day and for the rest of the week. If no one else was going to give his wife a chance, he sure as hell wasn't going let her down and be forced into research. There was no way he going to let that happen to her. Ever.

Throughout the week, he'd tried to give Cristina as much space as possible by letting her have her choice of cases to work on and offering her the chance to scrub in on all of his surgeries (favorites be damned). Unfortunately, every time he'd asked her to scrub in with him, she'd politely declined. Yet, despite her reluctance to enter the OR, she would never leave. Every time he operated, he'd caught her observing him though the scrub room glass.

Today, he was tempted to try again. It had been an especially quiet morning and with no incoming traumas to attend to, it was the perfect time to try to get Cristina in the OR again, if only to observe. After rounds, he'd asked Bailey if she had any routine cases that he could borrow from her. She'd immediately understood his intent and had given him a standard bowel obstruction. He'd asked Cristina to prep the patient and was shocked to see that she'd gone so far as to don her scrub cap when they wheeled him to the operating room floor.

As the nurses wheeled the man in, Owen stopped and asked her, "Do you want to scrub in?"

Cristina tensed and took a step back from the scrub room doors as if suddenly realizing what she was doing. "Ahh…I…"

"You can just observe if you want," he quietly offered.

She bit her lip. "No, I'll scrub in," she said, as if spurred on by some unseen force.

Owen tried to keep the surprise out of his voice and smiled. "Okay."

After they washed their hands in silence, Owen handed her a towel to dry hers. "Ready?" he asked.

She gave him a slight nod, and he nodded back at her and then walked into the room. However, once in, he quickly sensed that she hadn't followed and turned around to see her balking at the OR doors.

"I…I…" she stuttered.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Take your time. Come in only when you feel ready."

Without responding, she turned around and headed back into the scrub room. Owen felt a pang of sadness as he watched her assume her position in the corner. Damn, why'd she have to be triggered by the operating room? It wasn't fair.

The surgery went by as quickly and routinely as planned. He felt slightly disappointed that his plan had failed but reminded himself there was always tomorrow. Baby steps, he thought. Suddenly, the patient crashed.

"BP's crashing," he announced. "I need suction in here."

What the hell'd happened? He searched around, trying to find the cause of the bleeding. Finally, he spotted it.

"What's happening?"

Owen looked up in surprise at Cristina's sudden presence in the room. "Spleen ruptured."

Cristina's eyes nervously darted to the patient. "Do you need help?"

"Sure," he nodded in disbelief. "More suction, please," he asked the nurse. He looked back down to continue his repairs. A few moments went by, and he briefly looked up to see that Cristina was still at the scrub room door with a tortured look on her face.

"I'm sorry. I'll go page someone for you," she apologized, and then fled the room.

Once again, it was this damn room. If only they didn't have to operate in this OR, he thought. Come on, Hunt, you were a field surgeon. Where else can you get her to cut?

…

It'd taken him a couple days, but he finally came up with a solution. Once he knew what to do, it'd only taken him a short amount of time to set things up. All that was left was Cristina, who'd gone missing.

He'd asked around the hospital, but no one had seen her all day. She wouldn't leave without telling me, he thought. Finally, he'd found Meredith, who'd told him that she thought Cristina was in his office. Should have just asked her first.

Sure enough, as he turned the corner to his office, he spotted her through his window.

"You changed."

Cristina looked up at him in confusion and then glanced down at her street clothes. "Uh, yeah. So?"

"You need to change back."

"Why? I thought we were leaving. It's seven."

"I know. But before we leave, I have an idea that I want to try. I think it could work."

A flash of distrust crossed her face. "What 'could work'? What idea?" she slowly asked.

"I think I know how you can to operate."

Cristina's mouth dropped open. "Uh…"

"Wait. Before you say anything, hear me out," he said. Once he was sure she wasn't going to flee the room, he calmly continued. "I have us booked for an outpatient procedure, simple in-and-out. We won't be operating in an OR. If you want to cut, you can cut. If you don't, that's fine, too. You can just observe. You can do whatever you want."

She paused, and he thought that she might be seriously considering it; but then she stood up and grabbed her coat. "That's okay. Thank you. But, I think I'm going to go home."

He reached out and grabbed her arm. "Cristina, please? Trust me just this once?" he pleaded. "I know I screwed up the first time I made you go in OR, but I think this could really work. I wouldn't ask you to try it, otherwise."

She opened her mouth to protest, so he quickly qualified his statement to reassure her. "I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do, but I hope that you'll try this."

Cristina looked up at him, and he could see a whole range of emotions crossing her face. She finally took a deep breath, and slowly nodded. "Okay. I'll try. But if—"

"You can stop and leave anytime you want."

Her nerves briefly pacified, she gave him a slight nod. "Okay, I'll go change."

Owen smiled at her. "Okay, meet you back here."

…

"We're operating in Derm?" Cristina asked in disbelief as Owen opened the doors.

"Yeah, come on in," he happily replied.

Derm? Seriously? Was this place even set up to perform surgery in?

"They do outpatient surgeries all the time in here," Owen said, as if reading her mind. "No one's here. They all left about an hour ago and left us the room."

He walked over to the room in the corner, with its lights already on, and opened the door to let her in. He gestured around. "See? It's not an OR. It's pink. ORs don't have pink wallpaper."

"Got it—not an OR. So what are we doing here?"

"Shrapnel extraction."

Excuse me? "What?"

Owen waved his hand. "Don't worry. It'll be short and straightforward. Army buddy of mine is here on leave and needs it taken out. I've been telling him to get it taken out for a while, but he's been stalling."

"So he doesn't want it out?"

He gave a dismissive shrug. "Not exactly. He thinks it's lucky. But it needs to come out."

"So how'd you get him to come in?"

"Well…"

"What'd you do? Blackmail him?"

"Not exactly."

"Right." She rolled her eyes at him. "Not exactly" my ass. There had to be some incriminating pictures or something out there, she thought.

He chuckled to himself as they walked out of their "OR" and towards the adjourning examining room. He was about to open the door before he paused. "Okay, just to warn you: don't believe anything this guy says."

"Why?"

"Just…don't."

Oh, this was going to be good, she thought.

"Hunt!" a loud voice boomed from inside the room.

"Cole," Owen replied, walking into the room.

Cristina stood wide-eyed in the doorway watching Owen's exchange with the boisterous, dark-haired man on the examining table. Yeah, wasn't expecting this. Owen's army buddy seemed as if he was having the time of this life, rather than getting prepped for surgery.

"How are you doing?" Owen cheerfully asked, clasping his friend's hand in a firm handshake.

"Oh, ya know—same ol' sandpit, same ol' missions. Just flyin' my PJ's around," he enthusiastically replied. He gave Owen a quick once-over and whistled. "Man, look at you! All dressed up and pretty. Hell, I barely recognize you without your camos on and what—is that a wedding ring on your finger? You got married?"

Owen smiled brightly. "I did," he nodded. Looking back, he gestured to Cristina. "Maverick Cole — meet my wife, Cristina."

Cristina stepped forward and shook his hand. "It's a pleasure."

"Oh, no. The pleasure's all mine."

"When did ya guys get married?"

"A couple months ago."

"So answer me this: why in the world would a fine woman such as yourself agree to marry that brute over there?"

She couldn't help but smile. "Well, it wasn't much of a—"

"Don't say it—" he dramatically interrupted her. "He tricked you! Drunk night in Vegas? Woke up and you had a ring on your finger?"

"Cole!" Owen exclaimed, but Cristina laughed at his friend.

"What?" Cole innocently asked, gesturing to Cristina. "I'm just trying to figure out how you got this gorgeous woman to marry you, because face it, man, she is clearly way out of your league. Hot and a doctor? Damn." He suddenly stopped. "Sorry. No offense…but, you are."

She could only shake her head at the one-man sideshow that they were about to operate on. "None taken."

"But, seriously…why?"

Cristina looked back at Owen. "Because he promised not to leave."

"Really? That's it? Wow. Hell of a sales pitch you gave her there, Hunt."

Owen simply shook his head at his friend.

"Any second thoughts?" he asked, playfully raising his eyebrows at her, not so subtly suggesting himself as a possible alternative.

"None."

"Damn. You have any sisters?"

"No."

Cole dramatically sighed. "Just my luck. But if a guy like Hunt can marry a girl like you, hell, I'm movin' up here after my tour's over." He looked over at Owen. "Speaking of which, I heard a rumor that Altman moved up here. That true?"

"Yeah, she actually works here."

"No shit. What is this place? A retirement home for the 16th?"

Owen chuckled. "No."

"She still single?"

"Very," Cristina replied.

Cole clapped his hands. "And just like that, I'm back in the game! Hey, could you do me a favor and not tell her that I was here? I'll look her up before I leave town. She'll dig my war wound."

Cristina nodded. "Sure thing."

"Hey, stop that," he pointed at her. "I see you judging! Don't judge. Chicks dig that wounded soldier shtick, I'm tellin' ya. Or hell, just ask your husband. Did he ever tell you about the time he tried to impress a girl by stapling his leg shut without being numbed?"

"Uh, actually…"

"She was there," Owen said with a smile.

Cole looked at her in awe. "No way! You're that girl? The girl with the icicle in her chest?"

"Yeah, that's me." How'd he know about that? Cristina looked back at Owen, who was quickly turning bright red.

"You married icicle girl? Hot damn, that's beautiful. Congratulations!" He looked back at Cristina. "Did you know that he wouldn't shut up about you when he came back from his last leave? Heck, you're famous over there. He just kept talkin' and talkin' about how he met the girl of his dreams and how he was gonna go back and marry her. And then, sure enough, he did!" Cole laughed and clapped his hands in delight. "It damn near brings a tear to my eye. Did he ever tell you—?"

"That's enough stories," Owen interrupted. "Time to put you under." He opened the door and stuck his head out. "Dr. Knox? He's ready."

While Owen was talking with Knox, Cole looked over and gave Cristina a wide, friendly smile. "I'm really glad you two got married. Hunt's a good guy. He deserves someone like you."

She smiled. "Thanks. He is a really good man."

"Heck, it gives me hope that maybe there is someone out there for me after all. You sure you don't have any sisters hidin' somewhere? Or even better, a twin? How 'bout any single friends?"

Cristina laughed again as Owen stepped back into the room.

"All right, Cole, we'll see you on the other side."

"Yeah, yeah. Quit being so melodramatic, Hunt, and take out my lucky charm so my CO will quit bitching at me."

"It's—"

"Totally unnecessary to take it out. I agree. But since you and my CO apparently have this 'thing' for getting it out of me, go ahead. But don't you dare throw it away."

Owen shook his head. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good. Hey—" he addressed Cristina, "You're gonna be in there too, right? Make sure he doesn't screw up?"

"I will," she said, feeling her anxiety begin to creep in.

"Okay, well as long as your better half's in there, I guess we can get this over with, Hunt."

"We'll see you when you wake up."

"I'll be here waitin' for ya," he winked, and they both exited the room.

…

As they washed their hands in Dermatology wing's "scrub room" sink, Owen kept glancing over to see how his wife was doing. So far, it appeared that his little plan was working. Cole had seemed to put her at ease. The man had an uncanny knack for calming even the most nervous of people. It was, in fact, one of the main reasons that he'd asked him to be their patient to operate on.

He looked over again. Cristina looked less anxious then when they'd tried this a couple days ago, but he still couldn't tell for sure. He wanted to ask but didn't want to prompt her into worrying if she wasn't already.

Suddenly, she looked over at him, catching him staring. "And you're sure he's okay with getting this done here?"

"Cole? Oh, sure," he reassured her. "It's better than his alternative of getting it taken out over there."

"And what exactly are we taking out of him?"

"Scrap metal from a helicopter."

Cristina's eyes widened in disbelief. "A helicopter?"

"Cole's a helicopter pilot for the PJ's, the guys that go in and extract the wounded soldiers in combat areas. He won't brag about it—he thinks it's unlucky—but Cole's one of the best pilots in the whole army. A couple months ago, he flew into a hostile area in Afghanistan and got shot down. Most chopper wrecks are fatal, but Cole saved everyone aboard. The piece of metal is from the accident. He thinks that it's his lucky charm—proof that he survived. He has some crazy superstition that it'll keep him from crashing again."

"What do you think?"

"I think he needs to get it taken out before he gets an infection. He has enough to worry about without a damn piece of metal slowing him down."

Cristina seemed to consider this and then went back to cleaning her nails with a pick. "And he came to you for help?" she asked.

Not exactly, he thought. "I talked to him as soon as it happened. Or should I say, I talked to one of my old colleagues who was trying to take it out of him right after it happened, but Cole was refusing. The only way we could pacify his CO was if I promised that I'd take it out for him when he came back on his next leave. A couple days ago, Cole called me up to tell me that he was in town, and the rest is history."

She nodded, reaching up to grab a towel to dry her hands. "So now, what?"

Wow, she's really going to try this. "Now, we're gonna go in there and take that piece of metal out. Remember, it's just you, me, Bokhee, and Dr. Knox in there—no one else. You can go in for as long or as short of a time as you want. Once we're in there, I'll make the opening incision. The metal's lodged in his scapula. Once we're in, if you want, you can assist in the extraction. Should be a simple in-and-out. Okay?"

"Okay."

"You ready?"

She paused, checking herself. "I think so."

He smiled proudly at her. "Okay, you can join whenever you want." He waited until she nodded back, and he walked into the room. He wanted her to come in the room on her own accord. He didn't want her to feel that he was pressuring her. Now, all he had to do was wait and hope she'd join him.

…

Unlike the scrub rooms on the operating floor, this little outpatient procedure room had no windows, no way to peek inside, aside from actually going into the room. It's not an OR—it's just a damn Dermatology room. They probably do massages in here during the day, Cristina told herself. It's not a big deal. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. Before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped into the room.

Once in, she took a look around. Sure enough, it was just as Owen said: pink, perky, and definitely not an operating room. I can do this. She tentatively walked towards the table until she was standing opposite of Owen, whose eyes were creasing in a smile.

"Ready?" he asked.

All she could do was nod. So far, so good. She didn't want to change anything and break the spell.

"Alright. Scalpel, please."

Bokhee handed Owen a 10-blade, and he made the first incision.

Cristina stared at him operating, while constantly checking herself. As the minutes ticked by, she kept focusing on Owen's hands, mesmerized by his precise movements. She didn't know how or why, but somehow she wasn't scared to be in here right now.

"Knox, did I tell you that Cristina and I are moving into that firehouse I told you about?"

Cristina looked up at him, snapped out of her reverie.

"You are? Congratulations! Sounds like a great place."

"It is. Cristina actually bought it for us."

"Really? You did?" Knox asked.

She silently nodded back at him. She knew what Owen was trying to do and was grateful for the little distraction.

"Can you please talk to my wife? Because I've wanted to move into a place like that forever," Knox continued.

Still not trusting her voice, Cristina simply nodded back at him. Knox surprised her. She'd never talked to the anesthesiologist before, but he seemed like a very friendly guy. She was beginning to suspect that Owen had assembled a crack team of the most easy-going people he knew for this little operation.

"Are you going to renovate it?"

"We have to. Right now, it's pretty gutted," Owen replied.

"That should be fun. Are you going to keep the fire pole?"

"Of course," Cristina said, surprising herself.

Knox raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I'm definitely having you talk to my wife."

This made Cristina slightly chuckle. She was feeling more and more at ease. "So how are you going to extract the object?" she asked Owen, who looked up at her in surprise.

"Do you want to try?"

"Uh, show me." She wasn't that much at ease.

Owen nodded at her and explained, "Well, since it's lodged behind his acrominon process, I'll make a lateral incision here and then…pull this back and…" He grabbed the thin metal object with a tweezers. "There we go, it's out. Can you get me a tray?"

Cristina carefully turned around and grabbed the tray behind her, handing it over to Owen. He dropped the piece of jagged metal into the basin.

"Thank you. Remind me not to throw that away by accident."

Cole's voice popped into her head, making her smile. She placed the tray back on the cart.

"Okay, let's close him up. You want to do it?"

She shook her head. "No, it's okay." The procedure was almost finished. She had come this far; she didn't want to fail now.

Owen went down and neatly stitched up his friend's shoulder. "All done."

"Good job, Dr. Yang."

Cristina looked up in surprise at Bokhee.

Bokhee talked? "Uh…thank you…" she stuttered in shock.

She looked over at Owen, who seemed as surprised as she was. He simply shrugged and smiled. "All right, Knox, let's wake him up."

…

"I can't believe talked," Cristina laughed, leaning into the warmth of Owen's embrace as they walked down the city street.

"I know."

"I made Bokhee talk. Maybe it is the end for me. It's a sign; I'm finished."

Owen shook his head. "You're not finished."

She smiled and looked up at him, placing her hand on his chest. "Thank you for doing that for me."

"It was nothing," he shrugged.

"It wasn't 'nothing.' How'd you even get that approved by the chief?"

"If anyone asks, we were never there."

"You didn't get it approved?"

"Not exactly."

"Then how—?"

"I can't tell you. It's classified."

Oh, brother. Two hours with Cole, and he was back in the army. She rolled her eyes at him.

"I like him."

"Who? Cole?"

"Yeah."

Owen smiled. "Cole's a good guy."

"He's quite the character."

"Oh, he's hilarious. I can't tell you how many times he's gotten into trouble for his antics. But he's a hell of a pilot, though. I'll invite him over before he goes back. You'll get a kick out of him. Just wait 'til he really gets on a roll."

"I'd like that," she paused, thinking back to their earlier conversation. "You really talked about me over there?"

A light blush suddenly appeared on his face. "Maybe a little."

"Seemed like more than a little."

"Okay, a lot," he conceded.

She smiled up at him. "It's okay. I thought a lot about you, too."

Owen beamed, leaning down to kiss her on her lips.

They both walked arm in arm down the city block. Her thoughts soon went back to the surgery they just performed. I can't believe I did it.

"I stayed in there the whole time," she mumbled to herself.

"Yes, you did."

"I mean…" Cristina trailed off. "I really did it."

"I knew you could."

She could hear the sincerity in his voice. The unwavering belief he had in her. She stopped and stood in front of him. "I don't want to be a plumber. I'm a surgeon…it's just whenever I go in…"

"I know. The important thing right now is that you stayed in there for the whole operation tonight. And you were you okay with it, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I was."

"Then everything else, we can deal with. We'll just ease back into surgery. Baby steps. There's no rush, Cristina. And don't worry, the others will never attain your surgical greatness, anyways."

"You're just saying that because you're my husband."

He smiled. "No, I'm not."

"Do you really think that I can get better?" she quietly asked.

Owen reached up and stroked her hair. "Cristina, I know you'll get better. There isn't a doubt in my mind. We'll just take it day by day. Okay?"

"Okay."

He smiled, wrapping is arm around her and started walking down the sidewalk again.

She leaned into him, wrapping her arm back around him. What he did for her tonight…she couldn't think of enough ways to thank him. He'd helped her restore a little faith in herself. I think I can get better, she thought. Just…baby steps.

Comments

[shli1117.livejournal.com]

I vote that Cole comes back again in future fanfic. :) And Bokhee spoke! Ah! I think that should be a drinking game for the show. Lol. Except when she appears since she doesn't ever have lines on the show.

And now, I shall now use one of my favorite icons from your most recent batch (because it's just plain hilarious).

[athebeach-13.livejournal.com]

Yeah, I'll probably have to bring him back in the future. He was my favorite part of this chapter to write. Him or "Smith" haha. And yes, I'm all for a Bokhee drinking game. It could be awesome!

[katleehow.livejournal.com]

I am so loving your post epi stories. Love how Owen came up with his idea to get Cristina back into the OR. Cole and Bohkee~FTW!

Nice touch with Cole mentioning how Owen went on and on about the icicle girl. It was fun and sweet to think about Owen talking to his buddies about Cristina and how he was going to marry her. I especially got a laugh when Cole asked if Teddy was still single and Cristina responded with "Very." Also, enjoyed Cristina telling Dr. Knox that they would definitely be keeping the pole. You know that Cristina really liked it. :0)

LOVE how you write these lovely moments... them just loving and being there for each other. Thank you! Married C/O ~ <3!

[athebeach-13.livejournal.com]

Thank you katleehow! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. The Cole/icicle girl story was my favorite part to write. And yes, I totally agree with you - married C/O are the best! So far this season *knock on wood* has been pretty amazing for them as a couple. I can't wait to see what happens next.