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Dear Owen,

By the time you read this, I will have arrived in Zurich. I'd like to imagine that you'll be reading this letter and thinking of me, as I think of you, on the other side of the world. I'm trying to picture your reactions as I write each line, and I suppose I'll spend many midnight hours, lying awake in bed, fantasizing about the way you might, in my head, reread these lines after a long day of surgeries and perhaps they might even make you smile. I will smile in return if you do, though I won't see you, though I won't be physically in your presence - I will know, somehow, and I will respond. Of course, I will cry too, no doubt, where I know I cannot be seen. And I will hope that, that way, you won't have to shed any tears, though I know, even now, no matter how much I wish I would never have to hurt you, that a small part of me would be selfishly hoping that you're also crying on the other side of the world, not because I want to cause you pain, but because some parts of me wants you to miss me.

Owen sighs as he lays down the piece of paper. He blinks, and though his vision becomes blurred, he does not cry. Not because he isn't allowing himself to, but because he doesn't feel the urge. He must be too numb to cry, he tells himself. Reality mustn't have settled in yet. He would cry when he is ready, when the time comes.

And yet, a part of him feels as though he cannot cry because he is hopeful. He tries to banish the hope, knowing that it is futile - more than that - it is dangerous. Ever since he heard the news of Cristina's impending departure, Owen had immediately jumped to the worst conclusion - that Cristina was choosing her career over him - over them. And why would she choose any differently? Owen had always known, though he refused to believe, that they would be torn apart sooner or later, that their love, however strong, was not the healthy and wholesome kind. Instead, it was the burning kind, that kind that consumed the space between them in an instant, but that continued to gorge its way through them until it slowly corroded through their veins like acid. Yes, Owen had always known that she would leave him, someday. He had known this ever since the day she offered to trade him for his best friend - no, not his best friend - her mentor, her Cardio God.

It is no wonder, then, that the only conclusion Owen came to when Cristina informed him of her decision to leave the country was that it was over between them for good, that Cristina had moved on, that she was happy - happy without him. There simply was no other plausible alternative - Cristina was a surgeon above all else. After weeks of coming to terms with this eventuality, the final goodbye came as a complete shock and opened floodgates of hope that washed away some of the fear but also threatened to break the barricades he had painstakingly constructed to block the depths of his feelings for Cristina from completely destroying him.

If you're reading this now, then I guess I must have told you that I wanted us to keep trying. I've debated with myself for weeks on end whether or not to tell you this, knowing that it might cause you even more pain than I have already if this goes wrong. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew that it was the truth, and the more faith I had in us. It was a shock to find out that you were going back to the army, and I cannot help but feel that I had a role to play in your decision. But I also cannot help but know, as much as I want to deny it, that this is probably for the best. You've been unfulfilled here, and there's always been a part of you that I could never reach, a dissatisfaction that I could never cure. If you feel like you haven't fulfilled your calling, then I guess I should be glad that you're returning to the place where you feel that you make the most difference. And I am - glad, that is. Or at least, I'll try every second of every day to convince myself that I'm glad. I'm glad that you'll work with Teddy again, that it'll just be you and your best friend in the familiar Iraqi dessert. As much as I hate to admit it, Teddy gets you in a way that I never could, and she can fill that void that I could never fill. I'm really happy for you, Owen. And I'm really, really grateful for Teddy. I will fear for you every day, so that you need never be afraid. I will pray for you, in case you forget. And I will miss you every single hour, not knowing where you are and if you're alright. This has not changed - only, now I know that this is what you need. Sorry I wasn't ready to see this the last time you talked to me about going back to the army - all I could think about then was keeping you as close to me as I could.

When Owen heard of Teddy's new job offer with the Army, he called his former commanding officer immediately. A few minutes later, he was scheduled to deploy to Iraq on the same flight. An hour later, he had told Cristina. She had told him that she would support him. Owen asked her why she had changed her mind - the last time he had broached the subject of returning to the army, she had been so strongly set against the idea that he never dared bring it up again. Back then, it was fear for Owen's safety that made Cristina adamant to the point of anger at his mere suggestion. I don't want you to die, he remembered her saying. So naturally, Owen feared that Cristina had moved on, that she no longer cared enough about him to want to keep him alive. That supporting Owen's decision to go back to the army was her way of letting him go, definitively. Though when Cristina told him when they said goodbye that she wanted them to keep trying so that Owen knew this was not the case, he is beyond relieved to find out the true reasons behind her change of heart.

But I'm serious about wanting us to keep trying - of course, if you're up for it, that is. Which is why I've done something that I would never have imagined myself doing under any other circumstance. I've written you this letter, and many, many others, because I wanted you to have something of me other than a memory when you're over there in Iraq. In this box, you'll find fifty-two envelopes, one for each week of your deployment. Each contains a letter, from me to you. I'm cringing right now at how cheesy this is, and many a time have thought about crumpling this entire project and tossing it in the garbage so that I'll never be reminded of the embarrassing thing I had almost done. But in the end, I did it anyway, because I believe in us, and I guess also because it will bring me happiness to know that I'll continue to be in your life, in some form or other. So I hope that you'll bring this box with you when you leave, but if you'd rather not be reminded of me, I'll understand that, too. Either way, please don't feel obliged to reply or acknowledge my letters in any way - the comfort of knowing they are with you and that you're reading them will be more than enough for me. After all, I will be running a hospital on the other side of the world, so you can count on me to find enough work to keep myself busy and distracted.

In the last few days, Owen had felt as if each time he saw Cristina - be it from a distance or in sharing a passionate kiss - it would be the last. Though he was grateful to be proven wrong time and time again, he must admit that prolonging the goodbye was far from easy. Each time, he would reconcile himself with the belief that he had lost Cristina forever, that he was never, never, going to see her again, only for her to burst back into his presence once more. But the one time that Owen had been sure that he would never see her again was when she stared at him through the viewing area of his OR, her expression of a thick, tortured chagrin. Owen had finished that operation with shaking hands and a spinning mind, barely making it through without fainting or crying. By the time he had scrubbed out, he knew that Cristina was already on her way to the airport. Except she cornered him again in an on-call room, her mascara-streaked eyes fiercer than he had ever seen them, her arms clinging to him as if never to let go.

It was then that Cristina had told Owen that she didn't want them to be over, that she wanted to keep trying, no matter what. You were done a long time ago, Owen had said, exasperated and so, so tired. What's the point? It'll only hurt us both more. Cristina told him that she wasn't done, that as long as he continued to love her, then she was not going anywhere without a fight. She said that there were things that they both would not give up for each other - Cristina would not give up surgery, and Owen would not give up his loyalty to his country. She said that they should both be able to chase that one thing that means so much to them, but that they shouldn't let it tear them apart. Owen desperately wanted to believe her, but he was wary of the other reasons that had driven him to so decidedly conclude that it was over between them. He tried to remember them now, but, utterly drawn into Cristina's vision, he could not. We have our differences, Owen managed. Differences that cannot be reconciled. It would never work in the long term. Cristina told him that the times had changed since their last marriage, that they had changed. That what she had so firmly believed back then had started to bleed into a blur of uncertainty. She told him that she wanted a life, a real one, when this was over - when they were done chasing their respective dreams. She told him that she may even want to have a child - with him - that her prior aversion to having children was because she had never yet met anyone she loved enough to want to have a child with. She told Owen that he was the one she wanted to have a child with, some day, if he would wait. And Owen, all of his dreams handed to him on an irresistible, yet he knew to be fantastical, platter, finally fell silent and wrapped his arms tightly around the love of his life. When their lips found each other, they tasted the salt of each other's tears.

I'll think about it, was Owen's final answer.

We're older now, more mature, and we each have a better grasp of our goals in life, what gives us purpose, what we wouldn't give up, and what we would. You have a dream to chase, a calling to fulfill, and it is on another continent, with another person. I can't help you with this dream - but I can at least give you all the support I can for you to pursue it. I am all pursuing my dream now, and I find comfort in the thought that you would be fulfilling yours at the same time. But Owen, these dreams don't last forever, and when they fade - which they will - the only constant will be the fact that we love each other, and I am sure of this. So that's why I want to try again, and that's why I've done all of this for you. I hope you'll at least think about it - it would kill me to see what we have be lost.

I hope you'll call me soon, and often, at least so that I know you're safe. But if you'd rather not, for any reason, I'll understand too.

With all my love,

Cristina

Owen has to read the last few lines over and over because tears blur his vision more quickly than he can blink them away. But when he is sure that he has not missed a single word of Cristina's heart wrenching note, he numbly folds the piece of paper up and places it back into the envelope it came in. When he arrived home from the hospital after his goodbye with Cristina, the last thing he expected was another reminder of her presence, and yet the first thing he stumbled upon was this plain envelope with his name written in her familiar hand. Underneath it was an unremarkable cardboard box.

Owen gently cradles the box in his arms and carries it to his bedroom, now understanding the extraordinariness of its contents. He would not open it today, he decides. He has had enough drama for one day, for one lifetime… But he would think about Cristina's request, he knows. He would think about it all night long.