It was early in the morning. Cristina sat in the locker room with her travel mug of coffee, trying hard to stay awake. She had arrived before the sun came up, after what felt like 30 seconds of sleep, hoping as always that her eagerness would help her get the best cases, but she had yet to summon the energy to leave the locker room even though her shift was about to begin. As she sat on the bench, trying to concentrate on the difficult task of bringing the mug to her lips and swallowing the hot liquid inside, her fellow interns all filed into the locker room.

After some mumbled greetings, the new arrivals changed into their scrubs. It was only then that they noticed Cristina's lethargy, the decided lack of her usual run-anyone-over-who-dared-take-her-case intensity. They tried to find out if anything was wrong. Was it a fight with Burke? Was she in some kind of trouble with the Nazi? Did she lose a patient? Did Dr. Shepherd pick another intern for her much-coveted craniotomy? At each question, all Cristina did was shake her head in denial.

Now, they were really concerned. Ordinarily, Cristina would have been annoyed at the questions and snapped at them to leave her alone. Even at her most drained, she would have a biting remark to direct at Alex or a stinging insult to throw at George. This morning, though, Cristina just sat quietly shaking her head and drinking her coffee. They had no idea that their rapid-fire questions had her exhausted brain so confused that all she could manage was the slight sideways motion of her head. Crud, it wasn't even 6:00 in the morning and she needed a break already.

Before Cristina could be subjected to any further interrogation, Bailey walked in. She was just as fatigued, but seemed to handle it better. One look at zombie-like Cristina brought a smirk to her face, but it quickly transformed into a more solemn demeanour. She knew exactly why the normally eager intern was so listless, she even had a hand in causing it, but that didn't mean she was going to give her a break. Besides, they really did deserve a little pain and suffering after the night they had…

xxx

"Who the hell uses a stage name like Chet Hardrock?" Cristina asked as she and Addison stared fixedly at the stripper in front of them while Miranda reached up to stuff a few dollar bills into the gyrating, nearly-naked cowboy's g-string.

Addison didn't take her eyes off Chet as she answered, "You're just upset because he didn't give you anything." She was now the proud wearer of the stripper's cowboy hat.

"Why would I need anything from Chet when Buff Chestone gave me his handcuffs?" Cristina asked as she held up her hand and dangled the dancing policeman's prized possession from her fingertips.

"Please," Addison replied, rolling her eyes, "Chet is way hotter than Buff. Did you see that six-pack?"

Cristina disagreed, shaking her head, "Buff has the better butt."

"What are you gonna do with those handcuffs, anyway?" Miranda asked, "No, wait, don't tell me. There are some things about my colleagues and my interns that I just don't want to know."

"I've been watching you stuff dollar bills into strippers' g-strings all night and there are things you don't want to know about me? I don't think I want to know why you had so many dollar bills readily available!" Cristina retorted.

"Vending machines, Yang!" Miranda threw back, sighing in exasperation, "Do you work at Seattle Grace or not? How do you expect to survive without money for the vending machines?"

"Right…" Addison said slowly, a twinkle in her eye, "Is that the excuse they're using these days?"

As Chet gathered up his strewn clothing after his dance, Miranda flagged down the waiter to order another round. Addison giggled when the dancer winked at her and disappeared backstage without reclaiming his hat. Now, this is a real souvenir of a memorable night, she thought as she readjusted her new hat.

"Just for that comment, Montgomery-Shepherd, you're buying this round," Miranda grumbled, "And, I'm ordering a whole damn pitcher. For each of us."

Addison smirked, clearly amused, "What are you going to do with all that beer?"

"We can share with friends," Cristina declared, sending the waiter and one of the pitchers back to the bar where the now off-duty Buff Chestone was standing. The stripper winked at her in thanks as she gave him a little wave and smile.

Their conversation was cut short as the lights dimmed and Lance Flexmore came out in a fireman's uniform. "Oh, yeah, here we go," all three women mumbled simultaneously as he draped his makeshift hose around Miranda's neck.

xxx

Cristina smiled to herself as she thought about the previous night. She had stumbled through the door of her apartment at around 3:00 in the morning, finding Burke on the couch, trying to wait up for her. He followed her to the bedroom, glad that she had returned safely, timidly apologizing for making her leave in the first place. Cristina simply nodded wordlessly, placed her new handcuffs on the dresser, got undressed and climbed into bed. Burke stared in stunned silence at the handcuffs for a moment, wanting to ask about them but recognizing that his girlfriend was already fast asleep.

The tired intern was pulled out of her reverie when Bailey started handing out assignments, "Karev, you're with Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd today. Grey, you're with Dr. Burke. Yang, you have that craniotomy with Dr. Shepherd. And, O'Malley, you're with me. What are you waiting for? Engraved invitations? Get moving, people!"

Lockers slammed shut and everyone proceeded to the door, lab coats on and coffee mugs in hand. As Cristina walked by her boss, she heard her whisper, "Addison wanted to know if we were still on for paintball next week."

The hint of a smile crossed the intern's face. She turned to Bailey and nodded before heading out to start her day.