The salty sea air tickled her nose as she took in a deep breath. A smile threatened to turn up her lips, but she easily bit it back. She wasn't really the type who smiled at sentimental things anyway, nor would she allow herself to be sentimental in this moment. She had come here for a purpose. She had descended upon Baltimore with one intention and one intention only.

She wanted to know why. She wanted answers. She wanted closure.

Cristina Yang never did well without knowing all the facts.

Her pace picked up slightly as she approached the edifice of Johns Hopkins, the hospital he had finally decided to grace with his talent. She figured he'd been hiding behind his mama the rest of the time, but she wasn't too sure. She added that to her mental checklist of questions to ask.

Her decision to make the trip here wasn't a hard one. People walked in and out of Seattle Grace without consequence like it was a revolving door. Even more importantly, Webber was a teddy bear. All she had to do was put some visine drops in her eyes, pinch her cheeks a little bit and hyperventilate and she had him in the palm of her hand. He told her to take all the time that she needed and her position would be waiting for her.

Then he wished her luck.

Cristina knew at that point that the only reason that he wished her luck is because Erica Hahn is an insufferable bitch and nothing would please him more than to have Burke stroll back into Seattle Grace and put her in her place. Or a different place.

If Cristina allowed herself to entertain the thought of him actually coming back, she would vote for Hahn going to a different place. However, she wasn't entertaining that thought. It had nothing to do with getting him back or making him fall in love with her.

She just needed answers. She felt as if she were suspended in animation, in this place of longing and yearning and hatred and love and a mix of other emotions.

Cristina Yang didn't do emotions, and she knew it. She needed her answers to work through it, to get over the gooey emotions and the feeling empty crap. That's what made her come to Baltimore. That's what made her stalk his name on the medical registration lists, trying to track down his license, trying to see where he'd accepted a position.

Because she certainly wasn't a stalker.

The hospital was massive, but more aged than Seattle Grace. It had a quiet dignity about it that seemed to suit him. She had silently hoped that he was happy here, and then kicked herself for it. She doesn't care about him or his happiness. Or his job.



Answers. She was here for answers.

She was also here at the hospital, because she knew that being in his apartment, had she chosen to go there would have been a bad idea. Cristina was hard up and she knew that he was good in bed, but that would have only led to a host of new problems and she wasn't ready to go there.

Cristina was only here to get her answers and leave.

Strange glances were cast her way as she wandered the corridors of the surgical unit of the hospital in her street clothes, completely unrecognized. She couldn't wait until everybody knew who she was, fell back at the sight of her because she was the best cardiothoracic surgeon in the country. For now, all she heard was whispers and a few people trying to stop her, but she kept walking. She had a purpose and she couldn't let somebody slow her up.

He was right where she had pictured him in her head, standing just as she thought he would be.

Preston Burke stood in front of the surgical board, with his arms folded behind his back as he studied it closely. The board was yellowed from age and specks of color marred it from neglect to fully wipe away a name or some sort of vital information.

Cristina walked up beside him, surveying the schedule herself. She wanted so badly in that moment to be working here. He had a host of surgeries that she would kill to scrub in on- stuff that she hadn't seen since he'd left. "Nice schedule, Burke." She finally quipped without looking at him.

Burke did his best not to spin on his heel and face her then. He didn't even have to look to know that it was Cristina. He knew that voice, that tone. He could almost feel her next to him. He finally turned slowly to face her, his eyes finding hers almost immediately. "Cristina," He breathed her name, and it was a breath of fresh air when he'd been surrounded by stale oxygen for months.

She hated the way that he said her name, the way he looked at her. Goosebumps prickled her skin, well hidden under her sweater and leather jacket. She wasn't going to let him in. Not this time. "Rule number one, you're not allowed to say my name like that."

"Excuse me?" He asked, his brow raised high.

Cristina took a moment to steel herself against him, every one of his actions that she used to find arousing and attractive. She was angry with herself for not doing it before she got here. That was a less than efficient use of time. When she finally spoke, she laced her tone with an iciness that would be unmistakable. "I'm here for answers, and you're going to give them to me. You owe me that much."

"I have a surgery," He answered slowly, still taken aback that she was here. He should have seen it coming. She was bold like that. Brazen. Despite everything, she was still his Cristina.



She picked up a dry erase marker and moved into the small space between him and the board, erasing his first surgery of the day. She calmly put it back down and moved as far away from him as she could without making it obvious that she still couldn't handle being that close to him. She rubbed her hands together to get the residue from a million surgeries off of her skin before she gave him a pointed glance, "Now you don't."

"Cristina," He couldn't help but chuckle at her a little bit.

"Burke," She responded coolly.

"Scrub in with me. Scrub in with me and then I'll tell you whatever you want." He offered. He knew it was her weak spot, and he knew that she wouldn't be able to say no to that. It was a bloodless valve replacement.

"If your hand so much touches mine, I'll stab you with the closest shiny sharp object and then you'll need surgery."

"Can you say shiny sharp object three times fast?" He asked with a smirk, "And who says I want to touch you? I may not want to touch you at all." Burke knew that he was lying, but he could keep the same cool exterior that she could.

Cristina didn't even take a moment to ponder it. Surgery was her weakness. "Shut up and get me some scrubs." She muttered, looking away from him. He walked away to do just that and she stood there waiting for him. She knew that she shouldn't be scrubbing in with him, but it was still an efficient use of time. Despite the fact that she wanted to hate him, he was still one of the best and she could learn a lot from him.

Burke returned with a set of faded surgical greens and extended them for her. "OR 8." He told her simply, "Scrub room is around the corner on the right. Locker room is right behind you." He walked away from her with a small grin on his face. Burke was a believer in second chances and romance and true love. He had let her go, and she came back. It had to be a sign. He had played multiple scenarios out in his head and he wasn't going to waste the opportunity to put them into action.

Cristina ran her hands over the scrubs. They were soft and thin, such a stark contrast to the scrubs that were still new and stiff in her hospital. As she walked towards the locker rooms, she made a promise to herself that she wasn't going to fall into this or any other trap she had set for him. She was here for answers and answers only. There would be no more surgery after this, no dinners, no wine, no kissing and definitely no sex.

As she pushed open the door to the locker room, this strange feeling settled over her and she ignored it, focusing instead on getting ready. The whole purpose of her trip was to get rid of feelings, not to acknowledge them.



And she would do that.

Right after surgery.