This is a pairing I've never tried before. I guess I'm just too loyal to Teddy to ever gain a spot within the ranks of all you hardcore Crowen shippers. Anyway, I hope you won't judge me for it, and that you'll enjoy this story. :D

Minutes go by
Before you close those eyes
And everyone breaks down twice.

Her fingers clenched around the plastic, knuckles flashing white – a reminder of the vile trepidation boiling up inside of her as she awaited the verdict.

All Cristina could do as she bided these torturous seconds away was to chastise herself over her carelessness. It had been one moment of passion out of a hundred, one moment where she'd lost herself to the heat of this fervent love she hadn't had the mind to resist. All she'd been thinking about in that moment was Owen's hands tracing his yearning ardor down the bare skin of her back, and her hands twined in his hair… his lips as they brushed hers like there was nothing he wanted more that to savor the very taste of her soul.

And that fire had burned away the rational thought Cristina prided herself in, the state of mind she used to decide the life or death of a patient lying open on the table.

Surely now, she was facing up to those consequences. The home pregnancy test seemed to be taking its time just to spite her – there was nothing Cristina hated more than not knowing the answers, which was why she had her future mapped out like a blueprint; career first, then life, then love. She was too selfish a soul to anything stand between her and a Harper Avery, and the past she'd long since surrendered had taught her to never lose herself.

So what the hell was that night? Just as Burke had whittled away those little pieces of her so subtly, she'd let Owen do the same by entrusting to him her heart and mind. The Cristina she knew herself to be would never have taken such a dire risk; now, all she could say was that she was only a semblance of who she once was.

What killed her was that she was always so careful. Those little white pills had made their way doubtlessly into her hand, night after night. But of course, when she'd truly given herself over to fate and let it decide the path for her, everything had fallen through and let her down.

When her time of the month passed her by, the consternated denial had swept her off her feet; the certainty that kept her afloat in the stormy seas that was her life forsook her all at once. All of a sudden, Cristina had found herself drifting, cut loose like the wreckage of a losing day. But she couldn't muster the courage to find out for sure – no, because what she possessed in talent had sapped her reserves of sentiment. It had taken her days to steal the kit from the clinic, and hours more to steel her nerves to do this. How strange it was that her veins ran inspirited with her reckless bravery when she had her scalpel in her hand, but when faced with reality it was all she could do not to crumble.

Part of her knew she should tell Owen, but every instinct in her screamed against this act that would surely send up walls to corner her; to leave her no choice but to do what any normal person would do.

But Cristina had never been normal. All her life, she'd grown up believing without a doubt that she was extraordinary. And extraordinary people did not give in to human complications or the weakness of love. Knowing this, Cristina had never wanted a baby – a child of her own would surely grow up unloved and neglected, because she could never love anything more than she loved surgery.

Her dark somberness bore back into her eyes by the reflection of the mirror, and Cristina could put it off no longer. Her fingers, so nimble and steady when dancing that clandestine dance with a ten-blade, now quivered like a leaf left hanging off a branch by the chill of winter.

She flipped the stick around with a hatred that sang her vicious thoughts explicitly clear.

For a moment, Cristina could have sworn her heart had stopped.

As she realized the connotations of this revelation, and the fallout of such a cruelty of fate, all semblance of composure abandoned her; the unbridled fear had translated itself into rage – hatred of Owen for breaking her in such a way that she could never be fixed, and a hatred of herself for betraying the values she held most dear.

What have I done? The critical part of her was running through every scenario, every solution that could ever rescue her from the hole she'd dug herself into; they frothed in her mind like a battering sea against the cliffs that had rose to inhibit her. But no matter how hard she tried not to feel them, those human feelings came crashing down stronger than any lie could stand; she knew that this was a battle she'd never agreed to, yet her visor was down and there was no turning back.

"Damn it!" Cristina snarled, hurling the side of her fist into the bathroom tile. In the next moment, the weight of this burden had become too much. She slid to the floor in a defeat that ran far deeper than grief - because, despite her efforts, her life was about change after all.

I hoped you guys liked this! So, what do you say? Should I continue with this fic or just leave it be? I'd really appreciate your reviews.