PREGNANT.

I stared at the stick. I shook it a little.

PREGNANT.

This could not be happening again.

I lifted my hand slowly and pressed my fingertips very gently against my stomach. I remembered the last time I had sat in a hospital bathroom with a boxful of pregnancy tests. This feeling was all too familiar. But it didn't have that hopeless edge like it had before – at least I was in a stable relationship this time. Just. We had only been back together for about a week. The hospital was barely open; Derek, Alex and numerous others were still recovering. My pregnancies do choose convenient times.

I was trying to distract myself from what was really going on. I wanted to ignore the fact that the hand by my stomach was shaking and that there were five sticks on my lap all saying the same thing. I wasn't ready for this to happen, but I didn't really have a choice. Carefully, I pushed up my scrub top and the top underneath. I touched my bare skin with the tip of my index finger, then breathed in and placed my hand flat against it. I splayed my fingers out and sat completely still. I could feel the very slight curve outwards against the palm of my hand. My stomach was ever so slightly rounded. I looked down at it, but from this angle I could not see any difference. I took the sticks off my lap, stood up, then cursed myself as a wave of nausea hit me. I stood still and waited until it passed, then walked gingerly over to the mirror above the sink. I pulled my top up again and turned so I could see my side in the mirror. I stared closely at it. Yes. Definitely. There was a tiny outward curve that had not been there before. I placed my hand on it again and felt myself smiling. It must have been the hormones, but there was something amazing about that tiny bump.

I remembered where I was and immediately dropped my hand, letting my top fall down to cover my stomach again. I was supposed to be working. There was probably a patient in the ER just begging for open heart surgery and I was missing it. I gathered the sticks in my hands, then realised I had nowhere to put them. I looked at the waste bin. No, I couldn't. I needed to keep them. For whatever stupid, hormonal reason, I could not throw those sticks away. Not a single one. I put them in the pockets of my scrubs, holding them closed as I left the bathroom, hoping nobody noticed. I walked quickly to the residents lounge. It was mercifully empty. I put the sticks in the pocket of my coat, wrapped it into a ball so they were in the middle, and returned it to my cubby. I had nowhere else to put them, so this would have to do. I stayed where I was for a few seconds. I didn't know how I was going to tell Owen. Did I want to tell him?

Yes. It was different this time. I couldn't just get rid of the tiny person inside me. They were a person this time, not an 'it'. A person that was half Owen. I couldn't do that. I remembered how it felt last time. I wanted to curl into a ball just thinking about it: the excruciating pain and then the terrible sense of loss. I had missed something I had never even thought I wanted. I could not experience that again.

I went into surgery with Teddy that afternoon. Halfway through I was convinced I was going to be sick in the patient's chest cavity, but I somehow managed to stop myself. I closed my eyes for a little while and allowed the nausea to pass and when I opened them, Teddy seemed none the wiser. It was not as awkward with Teddy as I had expected. She knew that it was not my fault that Owen did not love her the way she did him, and I respected her maturity.

"Were you okay in there, Dr Yang? I was worried about you for a minute – you looked nauseous."

"No, I'm fine. Didn't get much sleep last night, so I have a headache, but it's nothing more than that."

She smiled at me, giving her hands a last rinse and reaching for the towels.

"Well, try to get some sleep before tomorrow," she said as she left the scrub room. I nodded in reply. I shook water off my hands as the door closed, grabbed some paper towels and dried them. Now that I was out of surgery, I was fully remembering what was happening. It was overwhelming me once more. I leaned over the sink and gripped the edge with my hands. I didn't feel ready for any of this at all. I did not know how I was going to tell Owen because I just couldn't find the words. How do you start a conversation like that? I sighed heavily and stood up straight. I needed to do this, whatever this was. I left the room, and I was turning the corner when I ran into Meredith.

"Oh, hey," she said. "I seriously need coffee. I have a surgery later and I was on call last night so I have had about twenty minutes sleep. Do you want one?"

I stared at her. I had not even begun to consider Meredith. Should I tell her? Meredith had told me before she revealed it to Derek. But Meredith was married and I...wasn't.

"Cristina?" She raised her eyebrows at me. I realised that I hadn't replied because I had been staring at her. I couldn't even remember what the question was – I hadn't been listening.

"I'm pregnant." I didn't know what made me say it, but I needed to tell someone and Meredith was the best candidate. It was her turn to stare now. She opened her mouth, but she was too shocked to speak. I guess I didn't give her all that much warning.

"What?" She said at last.

"I'm pregnant."

"I...Does Owen know?"

"Not yet. I was just looking for him. Mer, I...I don't know what to say to him."

Meredith began to walk down the hall and I followed, knowing she was supporting me by walking me to the ER.

"Just tell him quickly. Get it over with and it will be easier. Then you won't have to speak any more." We took the elevator down to the ER floor, Meredith giving me a slight push in the back to make sure I got out. I scanned it quickly, but I couldn't see Owen on the floor. I began to search the trauma rooms, Mer close behind me. It did make me feel better that she was with me now; there is a comfort in having someone to support you. He wasn't in a trauma room, but in the office, making notes from the computer. I could see him through the blinds, but I didn't go in immediately. Meredith gave me another little push in the small of my back, smiling at me when I turned to her.

"Go," she said. "I'll be in the tunnels if you need me."

I nodded, feeling sick again, but I don't think for the same reason as before. I reached out, turning the handle and pushing the door open. Owen looked up as I entered, grinning when he saw it was me. He stood up and wrapped his arms around me, giving me a light kiss.

"How's my favourite soon-to-be cardio goddess?"

I gave him a tiny smile. It really shouldn't be this difficult. "Fine."

He kissed me again, his arms still around my waist. "You on call tonight?"

"No."

"Excellent. We're going out to dinner."

I had been concentrating on trying to say what I needed say, so I hadn't really been expecting that. "Why?" I asked. Stupid question.

Owen seemed to think so too; he raised his eyebrows at me. "Because I want to go on a date with my girlfriend. Is that okay?"

I swatted his shoulder. "Shut up, of course it is."

Owen kissed me again with a grin, then released me and turned to the papers on the desk behind him. "Good, because I need to talk to you," he said as he gathered the papers together. I wanted to ask him what he meant, but he was already leaving, dropping a kiss on my cheek. The door closed behind him.

That went well.

I knew I needed to see Meredith, but I didn't want to face her yet. I had completely failed at a task that was so very simple. I only had to say three words. Two, if you use an apostrophe. So why was it so hard to do? I chewed on my lip as I took the stairs to the basement of the hospital. I pushed open the door to the vent room and at last released my lip. I stepped inside and was immediately hit by the forceful flow of air beneath me. I closed my eyes, lifting my arms in the air and letting it surround me completely. I needed to let everything go for a second. I could not think about whether Alex and Derek were going to be okay, or when any of us would be alright to move on from what had happened, or that awful pain at the thought of all the deaths. I most especially needed to stop thinking about the fact that I was pregnant. The word "baby" needed to leave my head for just a few minutes. So I stood there, feeling my fingers beginning to tingle as all the blood flowed down my arms, allowing the air to make my clothes billow around me. I listened to the predictable chugging of the vents, the swoosh of the enormous fan as it turned behind me, the click of all the metal, expanding in the heat. There was nothing but me and the vents.

It couldn't last forever. After five minutes, the thoughts began to creep back. Now, it was me, the baby and the vents. I dropped my hands, the tingling increasing as the blood flowed back in again. I stepped away from the vent, my clothes dropping back to my sides. I needed to think about my life again, let all the stresses back in so that I could take on all those responsibilities of being an adult once more. I left the room, walking into the still air of the corridor outside. I climbed the stairs, not running like I usually would because of an awful paranoia I was developing in spite of my doctor instincts. I stepped out on the floor I visited least in the entire hospital. The sign on the wall declared that I was standing at the entrance to Obstetrics and Gynaecology. I curled my fingers into fists and released them three times, trying to make myself walk towards the nurses' station just two metres away from me. I took a deep breath and stepped forwards. I was so glad I didn't come here often, because they were unlikely to know me. I realised I was still wearing my scrubs and I was about to leave and change out of them, but I stopped myself. If I left I knew I wouldn't come back, so I made myself walk forwards. The nurse looked up at me and I had to admit, now that I was here under these circumstances, I found her soft pink scrubs very comforting. She was smiling with the perfect I-work-with-babies-all-day smile.

"Good afternoon." She looked down at my scrubs and back at me. "Are you a surgeon? The charts are over here." She turned in her spinning chair, reaching out her arm.

"No! I mean, yes, I'm a surgeon, but…" What was I talking about? "I – I don't need a chart. I need –" I took another breath, trying to stop myself talking any more rubbish –"I need an appointment." I tapped my fingers on the desk as she looked at me, still smiling.

"Are you pregnant?"

I bit my lip and nodded. She smiled even more widely. Did she not understand that I wanted to die right here, right now? This was the most embarrassing moment I could remember being a part of for a very long time. As in, I was ranking this up there with being left at the altar in front of half of Seattle Grace Hospital.

"Alright. Midwife Anne is free right now, so if you just sit over there for a second, I'll send her right out."

I didn't reply – I don't think she was expecting me to due to my former actions – but turned towards the little row of seats. I sat down next to a woman who was far more pregnant than me. I guessed about eight months. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, hoping I looked that good when I – no, I was not thinking about that right now. I was a bit worried my head was going to explode with all these life-changing thoughts happening at one time. I couldn't look at her any more. I couldn't look at any of that place. It was all so baby. I closed my eyes.

"Excuse me, I'm Midwife Anne."

I opened them again. I had definitely never seen this woman before, which was a very good thing. She was middle-aged with greying hair and soft, brown eyes. She looked just how I expected a midwife to look.

"Hi," I said, standing up.

"Now, what's your name?" She asked as she led me down the corridor to one of the consultation rooms.

"Dr Yang. Cristina Yang."

"And you're a surgeon, Cristina?"

I wanted to correct her, but I knew she was trying to comfort me by using my first name. "Yes."

"Have you chosen a specialty?"

"Yes."

She looked at me with an almost pitying smile. "What did you choose?"

I realised how terrible I was at conversation. "Cardio-thoracics."

She nodded. "That's a hard one." She pushed open the door and let me walk inside. I sat down on the bed, unsure what to do. "Now, just take off your shoes and swing your legs up on the bed."

"What are you going to do?"

She raised her eyebrows at me. I nodded. Yes, I was doctor. What did I think she was going to do? I did what she asked.

"I assume you don't know how old the baby is?"

"No, that's why I'm here. Sort of."

"Right. Do you know who the father is?" I gaped at her. Did she honestly just ask me that? "I know it's a personal question, but we need to know so that we can give you the right help."

"Yes, I definitely who the father is. He's down in the ER. He's Head of Trauma Surgery." The things I was saying to this woman were absurd. I was now becoming positively chatty.

"Would you like one of the nurses to page him?"

"No! Please, no. I…haven't told him yet."

She was still smiling. Everyone smiled in this place. It was like they were on happy drugs. I hoped I wouldn't turn into one of these happy, smiley people. I much preferred the dark place.

"Is there anyone you want here?"

I thought about it. "Page Meredith Grey. She's a surgeon."

She nodded, leaving the room for a minute. When she returned, she stood beside the bed I was lying on. "She'll be here in a few minutes. Do you want to wait?"

I nodded. This whole situation was ridiculous. I was almost managing to convince myself I was dreaming. That morning, I had been completely occupied with worry and mourning, and now I was preoccupied with the worries of the coming nine months and, from then on, the rest of my life. I laid my head back on the bed and closed my eyes. The vent room had worked so well. I wished I could stand in it right now. Midwife Anne seemed to understand what I was thinking because she didn't say anything. She let me lie in silence for a little while as I tried to digest my new life. I heard the door open and close, but I didn't open my eyes. Someone took my hand and I squeezed it.

"Okay, we can start now." I opened my eyes, looking up at Meredith. She smiled at me.

"You didn't tell him, did you?"

"No," I laughed. "But he's taking me to dinner tonight. I'll do it then."

"Please do, or it will just get harder."

I nodded and pulled up my scrub top. I gasped and pulled on Meredith's hand because the gel was so cold. As she placed the scanner on my stomach, Midwife Anne started to ask me the usual questions to calm me.

"Now, this is your first pregnancy, isn't it?"

I looked up at Meredith. I had forgotten she would ask these sorts of questions. "Mer…"

"No," Meredith said. She had understood what I wanted. "She was pregnant before, a few years ago, but she…miscarried. It was an ectopic pregnancy."

I could see the midwife looking at me out of the corner of my eye. "I'm sorry," she said. I nodded, pursing my lips. I could feel that paranoia building again. Maybe it had happened again? Maybe history was just repeating itself? "Well, the scan's up now. I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that this is not an ectopic pregnancy." I turned around and sat up. I stared at the screen, checking that she was telling the truth. No, that was definitely a tiny spot, exactly where it should be. I smiled.

"Thank you."

"The foetus is at about four weeks and so far it looks totally normal. You'll need to come back in about two weeks so I can check up on it. Do you want a copy of the ultrasound?"

"Um, yes, please."

"Excellent, I'll get one for you right now." She smiled at me again. "You shouldn't be worried. So far, it all looks fine."

I nodded and she left. I turned to Meredith.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For…being here. For being my person."

"You're welcome."

She stood by the door as I put on my shoes, my stomach still slightly sticky even after the midwife had wiped the gel off it. As I tied my laces, she came back, holding a large envelope. She handed it to me.

"I made you an appointment for two weeks today, at two o'clock. I know you surgeons have a busy schedule, but I'm all booked up otherwise, so it's that or nothing else."

"It's fine, I'll make time."

"I'll see you in two weeks, then."

I was ready to leave OB/GYN by now. I pulled Meredith by the arm to make her walk faster. We went down to the main floor. My shift ended in ten minutes, exactly the same as Owen's. This day was moving too fast for me. It had to be one of those shifts where I had hours of free time exactly when I didn't want it. Meredith had to prep for her surgery, so I went to the residents lounge. Nobody would want me for a surgery now, so I began to change. I carefully took my coat out of my cubby, the sticks still wrapped inside. I hadn't thought about how to carry them home. What if I put them in my bag and Owen found them?

I left them in the pocket, pulling my coat on. I jumped when the door opened. Owen came in, smiling when he found me.

"Ready to go?" He asked.

"Yes. Are we dressing up for dinner or is it casual?" I was pretty much thinking of anything to keep the conversation going right now. Dinner was going to be fun, I could tell.

"We'll dress up. Have a beautiful evening out and even better night in." He grinned and walked towards me. He was going to wrap his arms around me, but I was terrified he would notice the curve of my stomach, so I grabbed his outstretched hand and led him out of the residents lounge. He entwined our fingers, not thinking anything of my actions. I let him drive; I was pretty sure I would be a road hazard. He dropped me off at my flat and went to his own, because one of the few things he didn't keep at mine was a suit. I was relishing the idea of being alone for just a few minutes, but when I opened the door Callie was sitting on the sofa.

"Hey," she said, turning off the TV.

"Hey. Where's Arizona?"

"Working. I was thinking of ordering pizza. Do you want some?"

I dumped my bag on the floor next to the sofa. "No, I'm going out for dinner with Owen."

"Lucky you." She was grinning and I was instantly reminded of the perpetually happy Midwife Anne and the perky receptionist. Callie must have noticed something in my face, because her smile shrank a little.

"Are you okay?"

"Um…" I couldn't seem to formulate a reply in my head. Callie stood up and came to stand in front of me.

"Cristina?"

I looked at my feet. Why did I have the urge to tell people things today? I seemed to want to announce my life to everyone, except Owen.

"I…" Was I really considering this? "I'm pregnant."

When Callie didn't reply I looked up. Her eyes were wide. Then she beamed at me. "Oh my God! This is amazing!" She gave a little jump and hugged me, squealing in a painfully high-pitched way.

"Callie, Callie, ow."

"Sorry," she said in my ear, her arms still wrapped around me. I laughed, because this was so absurd. I hugged her back. Her positive reaction seemed to have had an effect on me: I wasn't feeling nearly as despondent as before. Suddenly, she pulled away and held me by the shoulders. "Can I feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"The bump!"

"I…yes?"

Her grin got even wider, which I hadn't thought possible. I took off my coat, carefully laying it on the sofa so that the sticks would not fall out, and then pushed my top up. Weird was the only word I could use to describe it. Callie reached out and placed her palm flat against my stomach and it was such an odd experience that I was very inclined to giggle. I didn't though, because she looked up at me at that moment.

"I can feel it! Yes, it's definitely slightly convex. About four weeks?"

"I thought you were an ortho surgeon!"

"I like babies. I know things."

"You freak me out a little."

She hugged me again. Pregnancy hormones do the most amazing things, including making me willingly accept hugs from people.

"Callie, I'm supposed to be getting dressed."

"Oh, of course! Sorry! What are you going to wear?"

I shrugged. I hadn't thought about it yet, with everything else going on. Callie followed me to my bedroom and sat on my bed as I began to pull things out of the wardrobe. As I picked up outfits, she sent them to the 'no' pile or the 'maybe' pile. We at last decided on a red dress with an empire line, so I wouldn't be stressed about Owen realising before I had a chance to tell him. It was not like he would be able to see, because you could only really tell if you touched my stomach. Even then, I was probably the only one who would feel the difference without being told it was there, except Callie, who has a scary baby-dar. But I knew I would still wonder about it, so this was a safe bet. Soon after, Owen arrived. He was extremely handsome in his suit, the blue tie bringing out his eyes. I put my hand on his on the gear stick as he drove. He wouldn't tell me where we were going, but I didn't mind. I was certainly surprised when we pulled up outside one of the most beautiful restaurants in Seattle.

"Owen, we're not…are we going there?"

He turned to grin at me, which I took to be a yes. I laughed and climbed started to climb out of the car.

"Wait," he said.

"What?"

"You have to wait for me to let you out. We're doing everything properly this evening."

I laughed again, but I sat back in my seat, playing along. He opened my door with a flourish, taking my hand and helping me step out. He closed the car door and, still holding my hand, guided me towards the restaurant. He had reserved a table next to a water feature, so all our conversation was backed by the sound of flowing water. I had forgotten how easy it was to talk to him. It was ridiculous for me to think I would have nothing to say. If I didn't think about the imminent conversation, I could have a perfect conversation with him. However, as time passed, I knew I would have to tell him soon. We reached dessert and I hadn't even tried to steer the conversation that way. I ate a mouthful more then decided to speak.

"Owen, I need to talk to you."

"Cristina, I need to talk to you." We spoke at exactly the same time. We laughed.

"You go first," he said.

"No, no, you go."

"Cristina."

"Okay." I looked down at the table. I was twisting my napkin in my hands. I was feeling afraid again. I still could not think of a way to start. Did I work up to it, or just say it straight out? I looked up at him again. He was leaning forward slightly, seeing that whatever I was going to say was important. I opened my mouth, but didn't speak yet. I began to wonder how he would react. I hadn't considered the idea that maybe he wouldn't want to keep the baby. I knew I was panicking, but I couldn't help it.

"Cristina…" Owen reached across and took my hand. I gripped his very hard. It made me a little calmer. I took a deep breath.

"I'm pregnant."

I saw his eyes widen in shock. I could tell he had never thought I was going to say that. He gaped at me for a moment.

"A-are you sure?"

I nodded. "I tested it five times."

He blinked a couple of times. Then he started to smile. He grabbed my other hand, shifting forward on his chair.

"Cristina, this is amazing!"

I couldn't quite believe what was happening. I had been so scared, and then he reacted like this. "Are you okay with it?"

"Am I – Cristina, yes! I am much more than okay with it! This is brilliant!" He leaned across the table, cupping my chin in his hand and kissing me. I smiled when he broke away.

"I was worried you would…I didn't think you'd…" I didn't know what I was trying to say. Owen seemed to understand, because he stood up, pulling me with him, and hugged me very hard. He put his fingers in my hair and kissed me again, not caring about the people in the restaurant. Then he drew back and slid his hand between us to press it against my stomach.

"How…how many weeks?"

"Four."

"Four? Then, during the shooting…"

I nodded. I was ridiculously lucky. I didn't know how it had happened. Under the circumstances, I should have miscarried like Meredith, but somehow I didn't.

Owen kissed me once more, then sat down again, still holding my hands across the table.

"When did you find out?"

"At lunch. I went to obstetrics this afternoon. I have another ultrasound in two weeks, so free your timetable."

He nodded. He seemed magnificently happy. Then I remembered something.

"What were you going to say earlier?"

"What? Oh, that. I don't know if it's really the right time."

"Of course it is. Tell me."

He was biting his lip, his smile gone. Then he nodded. "Fine, stand up."

"Why?"

"Cristina, please just do it."

I obliged and he followed suit. He looked at me and seemed to be evaluating me, trying to read my expression. I was quite confused. He started to bend towards the floor and I looked to see if he dropped something, but I realised he was going down on one knee. It clicked in my brain as he reached into his suit pocket. My breathing became a little shallow. Was this day really happening?

He pulled the box out of his pocket and I could hear the restaurant become quiet as he opened it. The ring inside was simple and yet I could not think of one being more beautiful. A flawless diamond surrounded by miniscule sapphires on a gold band. It glinted in the lights. I looked up from the fantastic jewel to Owen's eyes. He was watching me, asking me the question before he spoke, checking that I wasn't going to go crazy. I don't think my expression was particularly helpful; it was just blind shock. After what seemed like eons, he spoke.

"Cristina Yang, will you marry me?"

It was really happening. He had spoken the words and made it real. My head was spinning. I let out a shaky breath, then realised I had left him hanging. He couldn't doubt my answer, could he? But I saw in his eyes that he most definitely could.

I smiled. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes."

I heard the people around us cheering as he stood up, wrapped his arms around me and held me so tightly that my feet lifted off the floor. I had my arms tight around his neck, my face nestled beneath his chin. This was perfect. He was perfect.

He set me down and stepped away a little so he could slip the ring onto my finger. I didn't know how he knew my finger size, but it fit exactly right. I moved my fingers, watching the diamond glitter as it caught the light at different angles.

"It's beautiful," I said. Owen pushed my hair back from my face and kissed me. It was gentle and sweet and made me feel even more light-headed.

Owen paid for our meal, never once letting go of my hand. He helped me put on my coat, then led me towards the car. All the while I could not stop staring at the ring on my finger. The drive back was silent because we were still trying to absorb everything that had happened. Owen took us to his place. He wanted us to be alone; tonight was not a night that needed Callie and Arizona. He turned to me after closing the door to his flat.

"I love you more than you can imagine."

"I love you more."

"Not possible." He pushed my coat off my shoulders, removed his jacket and tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves. We slipped our shoes off, leaving them in the middle of the room. He stood in front of me and pushed my hair behind my ears. He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. He put so much love into that one kiss that it almost overwhelmed me. When he at last pulled back I leaned forward, not wanting it to end. He chuckled and rested his forehead against mine. One hand still held my face, his thumb stroking my cheek gently. He moved the other to rest against my stomach again. He splayed his fingers across my abdomen and I saw a grin break out.

"I can feel it! It's a different shape."

I stroked my fingers through his hair as we stood there, his hand resting against my stomach. I felt pure happiness. This was how everyone should feel. I was giddy and overjoyed and hopeful. Owen and I held each other in the middle of his living room and I wanted to stay that way forever. I never wanted that moment to end.

Author's Note: Awwww! Don't you just love happy endings? This idea just popped into my head and I couldn't get it out. The only way to stop it was, of course, to write the story! It took me a lot longer than when I post chapters, etc. but I enjoyed it. So, please tell me what you thought by REVIEWING! :D