A/N: This is a set of five Burke/Cristina drabbles, all from Cristina's POV. Most of them are angsty, and they're set in the most recent season, though I can't cite any specific episodes. So for the spoiler wary, be warned. There shouldn't be anything else other than that. The titles are song lyrics, so props to you if you can identify the song. Cristina's thoughts are in italics. And if you'd like to leave feedback, please do. It would make my day.
i. (you are my sweetest downfall)
She stands there, outside the door, breathing so heavily she swears she can feel her lungs through her ribcage. The tears are there, threatening to fall, to escape, but never succeeding. She places her hand flat on the door. She wants to yell, to scream, to shout that she hates him and that she hopes she never sees him again. But she can't. The words die on her vocal cords. So she walks away, the clicks of her heels resounding in the emptiness. He returns home the next day to find a cup of coffee and a post-it. I'm sorry.
ii. (i need direction to perfection)
He doesn't get to judge her like this. It isn't fair. She didn't ask to be lied to, and she couldn't keep up the pretense any longer. He could have told her. He could have said something, instead of leaving her to assume that he was fine. Preston Burke, surgeon extraordinaire. Except he isn't. Not anymore. And she knows that there's a part of her that can't deal with that. That can't handle the fact that he's not the perfect surgeon he used to be. She takes the long routes to avoid him at all costs. I'm not strong enough.
iii. ('coz i know to live you must give your life away)
She doesn't want to acknowledge his mortality, his frailty. Sometimes she gets so lost in the image, the idea of him that she forgets that he's human too. Just like she is. She goes to see him one night. He's sleeping peacefully, his wound dressed in clean bandages, when she enters the room. The machines hum unintrusively in the background, and she climbs into the bed. She holds onto him, breathing in his scent, and breaks. The tears flood from her eyes, and her silent sobs cause her to shake. He's awake enough to reach for her. You can't die.
iv. (let him know that you know best)
He's sitting over there with some floozy who probably has no idea who he is, what he does, or what his impact on the medical world is. Just knows that he's really, really pretty and probably comes from money. She strides over there, confident, ambitious, attempting to network. He looks at her with contempt, disdain, but she babbles on, talking about his procedures and how he's inspired her. The woman tries to hide her stifled laughter. She doesn't care. She won't have to rely on the kindness of strangers. He says something contemptuous. She's disappointed and turns to leave. Jackass.
v. (i keep a close watch on this heart of mine)
She tries to not let him know that she knows. Knows that he stays awake after sex, propped up on one elbow, and watches her. Deep down, somewhere, she thinks it's creepy, but she feels safe with him, and doesn't say anything. It's when it becomes a habit that she has half a mind to say something. I'm scared of this. Us. It's as cliché as cliché gets. But the more he stares, the more she's concerned that it feels like love. And she's not used to it. She's become convinced that he should stop. Because she doesn't do love.
