Herewith my contribution for the ELVISmeetsCO challenge. "You were always on my mind"

Next challenge: "Don't be cruel"---- Enjoy ;-)

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You were always on my mind

She kept holding her breath, and took his hand. She knew it would be still a while until he woke up from the anesthesia, if ever... she couldn't even contemplate the possibility of him not waking up. A lump formed in her throat and she struggled to hold back the tears. She knew the chief had taken good care of him. That there was no reason for him not to wake up. Yes, the accident had been bad; and they had had to remove his spleen, and she had seen much worst; and seen much worst pull through. But this was her Owen. And she could only struggle with the fear of losing him.

She knew it was unfair, that she had kept her distance for the last couple of months, faking not to see him. Feeling that she had stood him up in his moment of need; she could not bring herself into looking in his eyes, knowing she had failed him by being scared of his arms. He probably thought she would not look him in the eyes out of fear, or disgust, or just hating him. But he was wrong; she was ashamed of her own reaction, not holding on to him. And she was afraid that if she ever looked at him again, she would show him her soul, and would never be able to stay away from him. She knew she was hurting him with her coldness but at the time she didn't know what else she could do.

But know the thought of him dying terrified her; the thought of him going away without even knowing how much he meant to her. He had been haunting her thoughts since they had first met. She had never been able to stop thinking about him. And he might never know it. And she had not a clue on how to express her feelings. Touchy-feely was not definitely her style. Dark and twisty she was.

She couldn't find the words by herself, but the right words came to her mind and she begun singing, her voice rough with tears held and pain, barely more than a whisper "Maybe I didn't treat you, quite as good as I should have, little things I should have said or done, I did never take the time".. and her voice cracked. "God Owen, you were always on my mind; from the moment I saw you " she spoke, not even bothering to follow the music, or the rhythm. "I know you are going to wake up soon, and I know I am going to be here... I even know you might even send me to hell, after all..." she continued whispering her eyes moist "but I do not care, I am so not going to let you... I do not care if I sleep in your couch for the next years, but you are not getting rid of me... I will make you give me the 40 years you promised" and she continued caressing his hand watching him rest.

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He slowly begun regaining conscience, at first it was just muffled sounds, and the feeling that there was a lot of light beyond his eyelids. He felt his mouth dry, and a thousand drums pounding in his head. He somehow got the feeling that he wasn't home... and tried to open his eyes. Light hurt him, since his first tour in Iraq he had hated bright sunlight, he always had his shades down at home. This was definitely not home, he looked around, feeling still a little nauseous, wondering, anesthesia? He was indeed feeling like crap, beaten up, and queasy. He tried to focus his eyes. He was at SGH, that much he knew... in a patients room... lying in a patients bed??? Why??? He tried to move his arm and found Cristina's arm wrapped around it, using his hand as a pillow. Mmmm, so, did it take hospitalization for them to sleep together? If he was not feeling that bad, he would have smiled at the thought. He moved his fingers to caress her cheek, and the movement just woke her up.

"Hi" he said "what...?"

"Don't try to speak, you are just waking up from anesthesia" she looked at the confusion in his eyes, still holding his hand. "There was an accident, according to the police, a truck didn't respect a red light and hit yours. Could have been much worse, you only got a small concussion and a couple of broken ribs, but one of them punctured your spleen and it would not stop bleeding. It was necessary to remove it" and then she begun loosing her composure...

"I have never been so scared, and I know it was only a silly spleenectomy... I knew it had gone well, beautifully performed by the chief....I was over there in the gallery, wishing I could believe in something and pray... but Owen, I do not even know any prayers! All I knew was that I couldn't lose you, that I needed to tell you that I love you, that I wanted to be with you... I wanted to cry and throw up... God, I am not good at this..." and she begun sobbing, as she had not done in ages; not in a calmed way as she had cried over their break up.

Unable to speak, with tears in his eyes, he pulled her hand and made place in the bed for her to climb and curl at his side, holding her close to him. He begun placing soft kisses in her forehead and caressing her hair with his free hand until she begun to relax and the crying stopped.

"Cristina, would you marry me?" He whispered against her temple, his voice rough with emotion and exhaustion.

"Yes" she answered simply, just as she had done when he had asked for a second date.

And so they remained together for a long time, no more words necessary.

"You know I've had the weirdest dream?" he said after a while, slightly sleepy. "It's not very clear, but it sort of sounded like you singing Elvis... amazing what imagination can do..."

"Amazing" she answered "was it any good?"

"Nope" he said more asleep with every passing moment, "if you do sing like that, it is very good that you have a career as a surgeon... you were always in my mind too" he pressed a kiss onto her hand and fell asleep with a smile, holding her hand against his cheek.

"It is very good indeed that I have brilliant career as a surgeon" she said to herself smiling, wondering how much he had actually heard, and closed her eyes, just wanting a little rest at his side.