Cristina Yang was in hell.

That's what she said to Shepherd who asked her how she was as he entered the elevator. He was busy staring at his phone and meant that "How are ya?" very casually. He probably expected a "Yeah, good thanks." from her.

But she couldn't say that. She was in hell and she told him so. She didn't bother to make eye contact with him as he suddenly looked up at her. The elevator pinged and she got out, walking briskly to the residents lounge.

She was in hell because she had been taken out of the running for solo surgery. Even though all the attendings had picked her. Seriously, what was Chief thinking?

This is what she worked hard for. She wanted to be able to stand in the OR, her OR and cut. She wanted to be the one giving the orders, calling the shots and more importantly she wanted to be the one doing the surgery.

But she wouldn't be.

And if that wasn't bad enough, Chief now wanted her to pick a fellow resident to perform the surgery. Her surgery.

How was she supposed to make that decision without losing her mind?

She couldn't. Simply, because she did not trust the other residents the way she trusted herself. Deep down, in her bones, she knew. She trusted herself more than anyone else.

But that's your problem isn't it? She thought as she looked at herself in the mirror. You trust yourself. Not other people.

She would pick Meredith. After herself, Meredith was the best surgeon in the program. No way was she picking George. He had potential but again, she didn't trust him with a patient's life. Alex had potential too. Izzie... No not Izzie.

It would be Meredith. But Meredith had a tendency to let her emotions get the best of her. The hand in the body cavity with the bomb. Dropping a kidney on the day she was trying to prove herself a surgeon to Derek and everyone else.

No, Cristina concluded. Not Meredith. Meredith was her best friend, her person but Cristina didn't even trust her when it came to surgery.

Hunt didn't make this day any easier either. Cristina had hoped she could avoid him today. Seeing him would not help. He unraveled her heart. Oh sure, she didn't let it show on her face but he made her feel things she didn't want to feel. Things she couldn't feel when such an important thing was being taken away from her.

He came and stood so close to her in the cardio wing. What was he doing there anyway? Did she really believe he was exploring the hospital?

"Go with your gut."

That was his brilliant advice. She had a system and she told him about it. She would not be taking his advice. Especially since he disclosed that that is how he had come to the conclusion of picking her.

Ugh, again with all the things he made her feel.

She wondered what advice Burke would have given her. Would he have bothered to see her struggle? He would have said George. Because George had pledged his loyalty to Burke once and vice versa. Burke was all about that, wasn't he?

No, Cristina told herself. Don't go there. No need to open Pandora's box of emotions. Its done. Its over. I'm free.

And soon enough she knew who she was going to pick.

Karev.

She would get smack for it too. Especially from Meredith.

She decided she would go watch it. Go watch Karev do her surgery. It made her heart hurt so very much but she was determined. She was going to sit through it. Because that pain made it real. That pain seemed to be all she could hold on to.

And then the conversation with Meredith happened. And then Cristina stood up and said things. Things she had bottled up in her heart since this horrid day had started. And then she left, vaguely aware of a concerned blue eyed gaze following her.

Maybe she couldn't handle watching it after all.

Then he was there. His hand lightly touching her back, his arm brushing past hers.

"Not here."

"Here."

"Where are we going?"

He took her to a boiler room. As if there interactions needed to get more peculiar. He looked down at her asking her to wait, a glint in his eyes.

And then things were suddenly different. The vent. The air. The laughter. The out of time, out of space.

Anything can happen.

His smile. His gaze. His scent. His warmth.

The feel of his hands on her neck. His mouth ready and willing to take, to give. Her mouth meeting him perfectly. Her mind was taken back to the memory of the bad ass army surgeon who pulled out her icicle without her permission and kissed her dizzy. The memory tucked far away in her mind, only revisited on the cold, lonely nights. The nights she wished it had been a dream because she couldn't ever imagine being kissed a different way.

Yet here he was. Standing in front of her. His tongue meeting hers. His arms engulfing her petite frame.

And for one second, Cristina had a thought. A thought that she would deny even though she was the only one who knew about it. A thought that was later only accompanied with self loathing.

If she had won the solo surgery, she would be in the OR chopping off a guys leg. Not in the arms of this man. This man who brought her to a place he probably used for his own comfort. To comfort her. To cheer her up.

Cristina couldn't remember the last time someone did something like that for her.

Maybe losing that surgery wasn't so bad, she thought.

But then his beeper went off and he broke the kiss. He looked in her eyes, searching for something to say. But he stayed quiet. And then he slowly backed way, reluctantly letting go of his hold on her.

And then he was gone. And she was standing on the vent, with kiss swollen lips and whisker burn on her skin.

No, she thought. That surgery would have made me feel just as good if not better.

As she walked out of the boiler room towards the residents lounge to change, she knew.

He hadn't even said a word before he left. Nothing. She was happy for a few minutes with him, but then he left.

Without saying a word.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She fixed her hair, wiped away the old tears only to find new ones appearing. She took a breath and wiped them away too.

She knew. She knew what made her feel alive.

Surgery. Always surgery.