I Just Called to Say
by jalen_mara
A/N: In an attempt to give the GA universe a somewhat coherent time line, this fic assumes (gasp!) that Cristina posted Karev's name promptly at 4pm, that Karev was given 2 hours to prep (surgery to begin at 6pm), and that the vent kissing didn't last nearly as long as we all wanted it to. Don't worry. I plan to remedy that. ;) Spoilers for the entire season thus far-- anything is fair game. Fic and chapter titles are a conglomeration of song and movie quotes. Extra points if you guess which ones. ;)
Disclaimer: It all belongs to people richer than I am. Maybe if I had an original thought in my head I would be making something for other people to write about. Don't sue me, I'm an actress anyways, you won't get much.
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I Want You
It had been 31 hours and 17 minutes since she had last seen him. On the vent... Where anything could happen. Not that she had been counting, or semi-not- purposefully avoiding him. It wasn't like the kiss had taken her by surprise. No, for the first time she had read all the signs correctly, and they had both known where the encounter was going. Neither had time to think, just to react.
She had leaned in, and he was there. He always seemed to be ready to catch her if she fell. Of course, to think that she had fallen into a kiss with Dr. Owen Hunt was preposterous. Her hand curled around the wine glass on the table in front of her and she sighed, remembering the sexy, knowing look he had given her just before she had leaned in to kiss him. Just wait… For the first time they had kissed each other. She had been given a choice and she chose to fall.
Cristina brought the glass of merlot to her lips, trying to ignore that fact that they were still slightly chapped from the interaction with his goatee. She felt a small smile creep across her face. She supposed there were worse ailments in the world. If not for the almost simultaneous buzzing of their perspective pagers Cristina had the sneaking suspicion that other areas might have become… chafed… in the past 31 hours as well.
And yet, here she sat, alone in her apartment at two o'clock in the morning. Callie was on call tonight, and had opted to stay in an on-call room. Cristina hadn't asked any questions, but a part of her wondered if Callie had chosen to stay in a place that didn't reek of memories of Hahn. Now that Cristina knew they had been a couple, it made sense to think that Callie might be a little haunted by their new apartment and the fragile joy that it had brought, if only for a few sparse moments.
Cristina knew first hand what those feelings did to a person, but she had reveled in it. She had immersed herself, body and soul, into that place-- refusing to give in to the hurt and pain. Instead of retreating to a different place she had splashed some red paint on the walls and brought home a roommate. Stuff that up your ass, Burke. She had thought defiantly.
She sipped her wine and quietly wondered if maybe Callie didn't have the right idea. But that was neither here nor there. She was here now, in her own version of the After.
The room was quiet, the only sound other than her not so steady breathing was the clock ticking, constantly reminding her of the ever-present movement of time. 8 months ago she had been in love, ready as she would ever be to get married, trying to please him one last time. 8 months ago her life had been shattered, her freedom granted, only to realize it wasn't the type of freedom she wanted. 7 months ago she had brought Callie home to live with her, out of character some might say, but she couldn't bear hearing the clock tick by herself for one more night. Meredith had been there then... But she, as always, had needed her more than she thought Cristina needed her.
5 months ago, she had thrown herself into trying to impress Dr. Hahn, as much to prove to herself that it wasn't because of him that she had chosen this specialty, that it was because it was what she loved. She had been right, and she refused to let the ghost of his presence take away something she wanted, something she loved... 4 months ago she had not wished him well, she still didn't truth be told, although the pain had now abated to a dull ache. Intellectually she knew that it would never leave, but she could always rest in hope.
And then, 3 months ago she had been awoken from her self-induced coma in the form of "Army Surgeon Badass", who had done "something crazy with a pen on a guy's throat." Secretly she still thought that was hot. But that was Before. In the Before when he knew her name and hadn't cared that he wasn't numbed, or that he didn't technically have patients in the hospital, or that she didn't know him. That kiss had seared itself into her memory as the moment that she had known that she was ready to move on. After all, hadn't he said that mistakes were how you learn?
2 months ago she was on the prowl for interns, albeit briefly. She needed a man, and Burke had definitely been a man, just not the man that she needed no matter how much time she had secretly spent thinking that she did. He was the man she had wanted, and lost, but she was just now coming to the realization that that was no fault of her own. He had tried to make it seem that way, while he was the one doing the leaving, but she refused to let his memory play the victim anymore.
Because 1 month ago, Owen had come back, bringing his After with him. He had said he didn't need her, but all evidence seemed to point to the contrary. Maybe they needed each other, Cristina didn't know. All she did know was that she wanted him. And for the first time in a long time, she felt that that was ok. She wouldn't allow the memory of Burke to cheat her out of something else that she wanted.
It was time to move on. It wouldn't be perfect, and she would never have that fairytale ending that Meredith longed for, but that was all right with Cristina. She would settle for living, really living. And part of living was going after what she wanted. She just had to work up her courage. The wine was supposed to have been helping with that, however she hadn't drunk more than just a few sips. Quite frankly she had forgotten the glass was still in her hand, but that was all right. She had the feeling that if she did this, she would have to overcome a myriad of excuses on his end. She wouldn't add them from hers.
She took a steadying breath, took one more sip of her wine for good measure, and picked up the cordless phone innocently sitting beside the still quite full bottle of merlot.
"Here goes nothing." she muttered, dialing the numbers purposefully. The worst thing he could say would be no, right? Right. The phone rang once, and she glanced at the clock, 2:30am. She winced; it wasn't like she was calling Mer to chat about her mother's diaries, and what happened if--
"Hello?" Cristina's voice caught in her throat, distracted by the fact that he sounded oddly coherent for this early in the morning.
"Are you on call?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.
There was a surprised pause before a rush of air sounded over the receiver, a precursor to his deep chuckle. "No."
"Oh. Um. Hi..." She was greeted with silence, save for the sound of his breathing. "It's..." she paused, a part of her unable to say her own name, just as he seemed to be unable to do. "It's me..." she trailed off.
"I know." There was a rustling noise that must have come from his shifting from wherever he was. "If my clock is right, it's 2:30 in the morning. I doubt you called to have a casual chat." Cristina just nodded, unable to say anything, and knowing exactly how stupid she was appearing at this moment, but unable to help it all the same. "Do you have something you want to say to me?" His voice softened just a bit, and Cristina could almost feel the smile warming her from across the phone.
The importance of his phrasing jarred her just enough. She wouldn't be that bumbling idiot who didn't know what to say or how to say it. She refused. Lean into the fear... "I just called to say..." she paused to take a breath, to gather her courage, to finally, truly let go.
"I want you." She didn't elaborate, didn't make a move to explain. She had spoken the truth, what he did with it was up to him. She wouldn't push if he still didn't think things would be "appropriate", but she wanted him to know where she was at in this. She wanted to believe that anything could happen again, wanted to have her faith restored, wanted him to know.
There was only the slightest hint of hesitation before he spoke. "I'm on my way."
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