My heart aches for him as I see him there on the table, his shoulder open, exposed, a shining scalpel in Shepherd's hand, cutting through his skin, cutting through my soul.

I'm scared.

Scared that he's in pain, that his arm won't ever be the same.

More importantly fear runs deep through my veins because I realize exactly how much I love him, I realize how much I couldn't live without him.

"Burke..." I call his name, longing to see his eyes, but unsure of what he'll do whenever he wakes up.

I've never seen a wake up test, but I've heard stories, "Burke...wake up." I restrain myself from adding 'baby.' in the presence of some of the most important people in the hospital.

I'll save my pet names for our private lives.

His eyes open groggily, and I feel a fleeting moment of relief and then he begins to thrash on the table, a fish on dry land.

My thoughts begin to race, I want to grab the Pentholal and put him back to sleep. I want to pull the tube from his throat so he can relax. I want to grab him and tell him everything is okay. I want to ease his pain. I want to rewind so that this shooting never happened. I want to tell him that I'm a person first too. That I'm his Cristina first.

Shepherd and Webber are calling my name, and I can't respond, I'm frozen.

Watching him fight is the hardest thing I've ever seen in my entire life. I can't bear to see him like this, and I want to run from the OR.

Webber finally steps in and eases him for me, but I feel no sense of gratitude or relief. I'm numb from the anxiety, the tensions rising in my body.

I wait quietly, watching to see if he can move his fingers, to see if there has been permanent damage done, but our eyes meet, and my resolve is nearly shattered again.

I have to go.

I have to leave.

I can't see him like this.

Over and over again, I play the day through my head.

This is my fault.

If I would've gone home instead of being over zealous and scrubbing in on a surgery when I wasn't on call. If I would've stayed awake while he was making love to me. If I would've told him that I was his first and not a surgeon first. If he would've taken me on that trip for the heart transplant.

Then what? I could've been stuck there while he was lying here? Alone.

He might as well be alone, I'm a failure. A disappointment.

A piss poor excuse for a girlfriend. I can't even be there for my boyfriend after he's been shot, and I insulted my patient today for ducking behind his girlfriend.

At least he was standing by her.

I run into the on-call room as I can feel the tears stinging my eyes. I can't cry in front of these people, I can't let them know I care. I can't show any emotion.

I'm Cristina Yang.

Cold. Clean. Cut, suture and close. No emotions, no mess. No personal involvment.

I'm detached.

I slam the door behind me and the rain outside falls heavily against the window, masking the sound of a light sob as it escapes unbidden from my lips. My eyes fall over to the bunk where we first made love and I only start to feel weaker.

I want those days back.

I don't want...I don't need complications. I need Burke.

I need him to be strong for the both of us. I'm not ready to take his role.

I'm not ready to move this relationship forward on my own, that's what he does. Wherever he goes, he pushes me, he pulls me, he forces me, and I might resent him at first, but I always follow.

I can't do the same. I can't do it without him.

He needs me now, more than ever.

And I'm not sure how to be there.

I'm not sure if I can be there.

I can't do this without him.