When life deals us a blow that alters our universe, recovery is key. To return to our prior level of functioning or greater is key in crisis resolution, but sometimes we have to settle for a lesser existence. In the act of settling for that existence, we consciously decide whether or not we're going to fight it along the way, or if we're going to lay down and accept it without question or reservation. Recovery is long. It's hard. It's brutal. Recovery hurts. More importantly, recovery heals.

Cristina watched quietly as Burke laid her bags down inside to door of their apartment.

It had been 1 month, 3 weeks and 6 days and 8 hours since she'd been home last. It seemed different after being away for so long.

She took in the scent of her home, coffee mixed with that room spray that they finally came to agree upon a little over three months ago.

It was a little on the messy side, and she felt the overwhelming desire to pick things up for the first time in her life.

"Cristina..." Burke exhaled, draping his arms around her shoulders from behind her, "We're home."

She closed her eyes and leaned against him, tired and overwhelmed by the thoughts tracing through her mind. "We're home." she finally sighed, turning to look at him.

She errantly thought of the discharge papers granted to her only hours ago denoting that she was on restricted activity for another 3 weeks as Burke slowly slid her sweater from her petite shoulders.

Which meant no sex.

She stepped forward anyway, determined to test her limits, and pressed her lips to Burke's softly, her small hands tracing around his waistline to join in the small of his back.

He returned the kiss, his hands sliding up her back into her hair, he broke the kiss for just a moment, "Three weeks." he whispered heavily, kissing her again.

She felt her hopes plummet to the ground and pulled away, "You are no fun." she mumbled, and sauntered over to the couch, plopping down.

"And you are not completely better yet." He reminded her moving to the coffee maker to make her some coffee.

She ran her hands through her hair and looked at the books and papers in front of her, and her heart felt heavy with disdain for those papers.

They were transfer papers.

Papers that would officially end her career as a surgeon and begin her career as cardiologist.

Just a cardiologist.

She could be the best cardiologist, but that wasn't something amazing or great.

It was just average.

And Cristina Yang never settled for average.

"Have you looked at the contracts yet?" Burke questioned her, taking notice of her glances at the papers looming in front of you.

"I'm just not ready to yet..." she mumbled, hugging her knees close to her, "I just can't look at them yet."

He did not reply, but only watched as the woman he loved had an internal battle with herself over the papers. Over the sacrifices she was making, and the wounds were already obvious.

Wounds he wasn't sure he'd be able to heal.

He pushed the button on the coffee maker, and then settled next to her on the couch while the coffee began to brew, "It's going to work out..." he assured her, pulling her close and kissing her forehead.

She nodded silently against his chest, "I know."

She was quiet.

And she was lying.

She had no clue.

"Are you tired?" he questioned, "If you're tired, you should rest."

"I'm not a child." she retorted. Cristina looked up to him with apologetic eyes, she wasn't trying to take out her frustrations on him, nor was she trying to make him feel guilty.

He could see that she was upset, and he didn't know what to do for her. He couldn't think of anything to do for her at all, except for watch and wait for her to come around.

For her to recover from the blow that life had dealt her.

A/N: First one up. Lots more to come, this is just a tiny shard on the tip of the iceberg. This is going to be a LOOOOONG one. ;)