Just a little post-ep for the season finale that popped into my head. I had planned to do more parts, but I've decided to do other one shots for some of the characters, so they should be coming out soon. I hope you like this! I own nothing, but I do really love feedback! Set to "Remember When it Rained" by Josh Groban, one of the greatest songs of all time (at least in my opinion).
Wash away the thoughts inside
That keep my mind away from you
A bar. I needed a bar. Desperately. Meredith was asleep or passed out or oblivious for the first time in hours. I needed out. I needed to escape. I needed to be away from the bed that Burke and I share.
Shared.
The closest bar I knew was Malone's. Now that I was changed out of my dress, my make-up removed, my hair undone, to the rest of the world I wasn't that girl anymore. I wasn't Cristina who got dumped at her own wedding. I was Cristina Yang, top surgical intern at Seattle Grace. I was Cristina Yang, a soon-to-be cardiothoracic fellow.
No one would be able to know that I was a Burke-less Cristina.
I pulled on my sweater and grabbed my keys out of the tray beside the door. I yelled to Meredith that I was leaving, but didn't wait for any response from her. I didn't care.
It was pouring outside. My hair and shirt were drenched by the time I got to the bar. Others had come in to take refuge from the storm. I scanned the room to find a stool wedged between two men who looked more interested in their drinks than anything else. The bartender came over to take my order.
"Vodka," I told her. "Double. Keep them coming."
She nodded and smiled. I didn't have the will left in me to sneer. She pulled out a glass for my drink, the turned to the man sitting beside me.
"Another single-malt scotch for you sir?"
"Keep 'em coming, darlin'" he told her with a laugh. I knew that laugh. I quickly darted my eyes towards him. Yep, it was him.
McSteamy. I looked down at the drink in front of me and picked it up, hoping he hadn't seen me. When he didn't turn towards me, I figured he hadn't. I glanced around to see if there were any other free seats in the bar. I didn't really need a seat. Just a place to stand. That would do it.
Nothing.
I kept my head down to try and avoid any small talk he might try, but I quickly decided that he knew better. And if he didn't know better, he'd figure it out. The bartender put the drink down in front of me. I quickly downed the glass and pushed it towards her.
"Another?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. It was racism and sexism plain and simple all together. Because I was a little Korean woman she was going to question how much I drank.
"Seriously?" I asked her.
"Okay," she agreed, starting to pour a single shot in. I finished it just as quickly and put it down in front of her again. "Another?"
I groaned and reached into my back pocket. I pulled out three twenty dollar bills and threw them on the counter. "Seriously, just hand me the bottle."
She thought about it for a minute, then pocketed the bills and turned to leave me alone with my bottle.
"Dr. Yang!" McSteamy greeted from the stool beside me. He'd probably been there a lot longer, and was considerably more wasted than I was.
"Let's not do this?" I muttered.
He leaned in close to whisper in my ear. He reeked of scotch. He looked like Meredith after a fight with McDreamy and a bottle of tequila. "Do what?"
"The thing where we talk and pretend to care." I poured myself another shot and knocked it back.
"I know other things we can do that don't involve any talking. At all." I rolled my eyes. "So, did you hear? I'm not the new chief of surgery! Richard gave it to Derek. Of course he gave it to Derek 'cause he's got the hair thing. And you know what Derek did? He gave it right back to him." He looked around him to see that other people were watching and decided to take a sip of his water instead of his scotch. "Wait a minute, shouldn't you be leaving on your honeymoon right about now?"
I shrugged. I saw the understanding register in his eyes, and he took his voice down another notch. I took another shot.
"Sorry about the chief thing," I told him, no idea where my sudden compassion had come from. I decided it had something to do with insufficient amounts of alcohol in my blood and took yet another shot. They were going down easier now, and the burning in my throat had subsided.
"Yeah well." He looked straight ahead and took a swig from his scotch. "I knew it was never really going to happen." He sat in silence for a couple of minutes. "Sorry about the Burke thing."
"Yeah well," I muttered softly, looking straight ahead of me. "I knew it was never really going to happen."
No more love and no more pride
These thoughts are all I have to do
I was having the oddest feeling of déjà-vu. Sitting at Joes, having had a drink or 12 too many, realizing that everything I had planned on, counted on for the future, was gone. That I needed a new idea, a plan B. Except this time there were no muffins. I could have sworn that the last time my life fell apart there had been muffins.
I emptied by fourth martini but decided against another one. At least for the moment. The alcohol was just making me drowsy and depressed. Which, I suppose is what alcohol is supposed to do, but I wasn't enjoying it. Beside me, someone came in and ordered a beer, then sat down heavily in the stool beside me.
"That's not a good look," Joe remarked, putting down the beer in front of them.
"Joe, do I look like I feel like talking?"
I whipped my head around to find Miranda had taken the seat beside me. Her eyes met mine, then she raised her glass towards me.
"Here's to. . . stupidity," she mumbled.
"Are we talking stupid sexual decisions, or just stupidity in general?"
She rolled her eyes. "What did you do now, girl?"
"Hey, hey, for once I didn't do anything. And for the record, my stupid sexual decisions are never that stupid."
"Mark?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"What can I say? He's man-candy. So what's this about stupidity?"
She sighed. Her second a self-pity had passed. "Nothing. It was no one's fault but my own."
"What was?"
"Callie Torres is the new Chief Resident," she said simply.
"What?" I slapped my hand down and knocked over my empty glass. Before I had a chance to do anymore damage, Joe quickly took the glass and replaced it with a mug of coffee.
"Drink," he ordered.
I turned back to Miranda. "Don't get me wrong here, I'm friends with Callie, but she's not nearly as qualified as you for the job. Did Richard give you a reason?"
"He didn't even tell me. He just posted it on the damn bulletin board and let me find out for myself.
"Miranda, I'm sorry."
She shrugged and drank her beer. I took a sip of the coffee. Disgusting. How hard could it possibly be to make a decent cup of coffee in Seattle? "Did you hear Richard gave chief to McDreamy?" I asked, emphasizing that God-awful nickname someone had given him. Why didn't I get one? I could have been. . . McYummy. I had been the Mrs. Shepherd, I at least deserved that much.
"He gave it back."
"What?"
"In his first and last decision as Chief, he appointed Richard." I caught Joe's attention and ordered another martini.
"Finish your coffee and then we'll talk."
"Make me my martini and I'll drink the coffee."
"Fine," he agreed, picking up the shaker.
"See, I should have listened to my father and become a lawyer." I looked back at Miranda. "What was I saying?"
"I haven't had a clue since I sat down here."
I shrugged and looked at the coffee in front of me. "You know, when we were in New York, he was working towards Chief. I mean, he had his own practice, but he still did his surgery in the big hospitals, and they took notice of him. So he worked more hours, more hours than he would have as chief. And he spent so much time getting their attention that he stopped paying attention to me." I looked down at my naked left hand. It still felt like something was missing, so many months after I had finally gotten rid of my rings. There was still a hint of a tan line, and a tiny scar where I had put my hand so close to a burner that the ring heated up and burned me. I had been trying to make him dinner for his birthday. I turned to look at Miranda. "If we were still together, whether I had slept with Mark or not, whether he had met Meredith or not, whether we were in New York or Seattle. . . none of it would have mattered. He never loved me enough to sacrifice his career. But a year with Meredith and he gave up his dream."
"Let me ask you something. Your father was a lawyer, wasn't he?"
"Lawyer. Law professor." I rolled my eyes. "If you asked his students, God."
"Well known?"
"Yeah."
"So when you were growing up, who were you?"
I took the martini Joe had finally put down in front of me. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, were you Addison, or were you your father's daughter?"
I shrugged. "Everyone knew me as Edward's daughter."
"And then you went to being Derek's wife."
"What's your point?"
"My point is that you've lived your entire life being defined by the men in your life. Maybe this means that you finally have the chance to define your own life."
"I'm old! I can't start a new life!"
She raised her eyebrows. "You're two years older than I am."
"Well, if I was two years younger, I would have been able to do it."
"Are you saying I'm going to be old in two years?"
I rubbed my temple. "Miranda, you're three martinis late if you want me to be politically correct." I looked at the cup of coffee that still sat untouched, then pulled my toothpick of olives out. "I got a job offer in LA."
"You thinking of taking it now?"
"Maybe. It would be a new start. No mcnames." I looked at her and her almost untouched beer. "Are you doing okay?"
"You know, I didn't have a lot of money growing up. We weren't poor, but I had to put myself through school. So I worked harder than anyone's ever worked before. I'm older than most of the other residents. I'm female, I'm black, and I'm short."
It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. Short was a category for discrimination?
"Don't you give me that look. You're 12 feet tall. You don't get to give me that look. I worked hard to get where I am. I've sacrificed time with my husband. I missed my son's first steps. But it was okay because I was getting exactly what I wanted. And then he gave it to Callie. So now I'm a failure with a son with abandonment issues and a husband who can't even remember what I look like."
"You should have gone into psychiatry," was the only response I could come up with. "You can handle all of your crazy co-workers and you would have had regular hours."
She smiled. "You don't get to play with scalpels in psychiatry." She opened her purse, threw a $20 on the bar, and stood up. "This drink's on me. Go home, get some sleep, and for everyone's sake, take some Aspirin before you go to sleep."
I watched her leave and downed the rest of my drink. "Oh Barkeep!" I called.
Remember when it rained?
I felt the ground and looked up high and called your name
Remember when it rained?
In the darkness I remain
Statistically speaking, it would probably be impossible for me to be pregnant. After one time without a condom, at the wrong time during my cycle, I wasn't going to get pregnant. So I didn't feel too guilty sitting alone at the bar at The Archfield.
I felt out of place at the bar. I mean, yeah, it was the fancy hotel I was living in, and yeah, it was the type of bar a girl from a family like mine should be in, but it still didn't feel right. I was the kind of girl who wore tight jeans and kicked ass at pool. I was the kind of girl who drank Jack Daniel's straight. Here I was still wearing tight jeans, but the bartender gave me a dirty look when I tried to order Jack Daniels and there was no one's ass to kick.
"Double scotch, single malt," the person beside me ordered. I sounded like- no, it couldn't be. Shit. I didn't have the energy to deal with this now.
"Dr. Torres," Derek Shepard greeted politely, sombrely, from beside me. Damn. I wanted to be in a bar. A bar felt right. Going up to my room alone just seemed too depressing. But it was starting to look like the only option.
"Dr. Shepherd," I returned.
"I hear congratulations are in order."
I knocked back the last of my drink. There was no way I could take him this sober. "For what?"
"Chief resident."
"Yeah," I replied less than enthusiastically. "That's me." I motioned to the bartender with my empty glass. "You too, I guess."
"I didn't take it."
"What?"
"I didn't take it."
"Then what's with the pissing contest you've been in the past months with Burke?"
"It just didn't seem right."
"How does Meredith feel about that?"
He knocked his own drink back. "I wouldn't know. We broke up."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"That sucks," I said softly, staring at the drink in front of me.
"Yeah. How does Dr. O'Malley feel about your promotion?"
"Look, I get that you're McDreamy or. . . whatever, and that all the girls are supposed to swoon over you, but I just don't have the energy."
"I appreciate that."
Silence. He had ordered himself another drink, then insisted on paying for mine as well. I let him.
"Have you ever felt like you've got everything you're supposed to have? Or even want? And then all you feel is empty?"
"All the time," he replied softly, picking up his drink and clinking it softly against mine. "All the time."
Tears of hope run down my skin
Tears for you that will not dry
They magnify the one within
That made the outside slowly die
A clean shirt. A jazz bar I'd never heard of before. A glass of chardonnay. I was just another anonymous patron. I was Izzie. No, I was Isobel. Isobel Stevens. No doctor. Not tonight anyways.
I took a seat at one of the small, round tables. The expensive looking, wood-paneled bar was set up in a semicircle around the live band at the front. There were candles on all of the tables, and I was the only one sitting alone.
Well, almost. There was someone at the other end of the room. But that didn't really matter to me. I wasn't here to meet someone. I was here to be someone. Or more specifically, to be someone else.
I closed my eyes. The saxophonist was playing a jazzy rift from They Can't Take That Away. When I was little, my mom had sung all the classics to me. I knew all these songs by heart. The Shadow Of Your Smile. Let's Fall in Love. What A Difference A Day Makes.
I smiled in spite of myself. The difference a day makes? Nothing compared to what a year makes. In a year I'd slept with Alex more times than I was willing to ever admit. In a year I'd fallen in love with a patient. In a year I'd gotten engaged. I'd lost my fiancé. I'd slept with George and fallen for him.
Damn it.
I still thought about my engagement ring all the time. I loved the idea that you got to show it off to the world, to show everyone that you loved someone so much and they loved you so you were promising your entire lives to each other. I loved the way the ring wrapped around your finger, like it was a way of taking him, whoever he was with you. Maybe it was wrong, but I wished so badly that I'd gotten one from Denny. I wouldn't have taken it off right away. I'd probably still have it on. I never would have even thought of George. I never would have slept with him. I never would be sitting here alone in a jazz bar, wishing I could be with my married best friend.
I opened my eyes and found tears stinging at them. I swallowed the lump in my throat and finished the last of my wine. I was going to get up and get another just as soon as I didn't feel like I was going to cry.
Cry for who? For George? For Denny? For me?
Beside me, I someone slid a new glass of white wine onto the table.
"Thanks," I said softly without looking up. I reached for my purse.
"That's not necessary." I looked up. Dr. Burke. Preston. No, he was back to Dr. Burke, ever since the whole Denny thing. He was wearing jeans and a polo shirt, a look I'd never seen before. His eyes looked tired and dark behind his glasses. He still managed to present himself as elegant, smooth, the boy with the perfect southern manners, but he was coming apart at the edges.
"Dr. Burke," I said softly.
"Preston, Dr. Stevens."
"Izzie. I didn't expect to see anyone else I knew here."
"I'm sorry for intruding."
"No, don't go. I could use the company, I think." Loneliness was consuming me. "Would you like to sit down?"
He took the seat across from me. In his hand he held a glass of some red wine. Chianti, I think, was always his favourite.
"Have you been here before?" I asked.
"No. I'm staying at the hotel across the street and I thought a glass of wine might be in order."
Right. His wedding. Or lack thereof. Despite having been in my bridesmaid dress only hours before, it felt far away. Eternities.
"You're staying in a hotel?"
"After this afternoon, I couldn't very well ask Cristina to leave. It only seemed appropriate."
"Preston. . . what did happen this afternoon? I know I was there, but. . . did you leave Cristina? Did Cristina leave you?"
He gently set his glass down. "I suppose to classify it in one of those terms, I left her."
"But why?" I felt the tears burning at my eyes. "You had a woman that you loved, who had done everything you wanted to be with her. Why would you leave her?"
"The woman that I love doesn't exist. All this time, I think, I was believing that she'd turn into someone else. And when I was standing up there today, I realized that not only is that not going to happen, but it's completely unfair to her. So I did the only think I could and bowed out gracefully."
I swallowed hard. "She loved you, Preston. If you had given her the chance, she would have told you so. So how do you do that? How can you just let her stand there and watch while you walk away?"
I wasn't talking about her anymore. I wasn't talking about him. But I think we both knew it.
Remember when it rained?
In the water I remain
Running down
It was wet and I was drunk. Or it was wet because I was drunk. No, that couldn't be it. Was I drunk because it was wet?
How was it that Derek always led to Tequila? And too much of it.
Tequila tasted like Derek. Like heartbreak. Like McDreamy heartbreak. That was it. Tequila tasted like McHeartbreak.
At least Cristina would have appreciated it.
I had left Burke's right after Cristina. I left the door unlocked. I didn't feel right being there without her. I was already far too drunk. So in the dark and the cold and the rain, I walked home. It was freezing. I could see my breath in front of me. Despite that, I still stood on my doorstep, the rain still coming down over me.
Wait, that wasn't rain.
It was a tear. Lots of them.
I was waiting to stop crying, so I would be able to go inside and pretend that it was the rain. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
Inside was silent. Completely. I stripped off my sweatshirt and wrung out my hair. I was still shivering. I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my socks, and dragged my soggy ass upstairs. Instead of going to my room though, I went to Alex's. The one that used to be George's. The one that I would have gone into and lied down beside him and he would have listened to what I had to say. Alex's door was open. He was lying in bed with a book and didn't acknowledge me.
Wait a minute. Alex read? I looked closer. Alex read James Joyce? I had to be drunk. Very drunk. Too drunk.
I sauntered into his room, as gracefully as a drunken intern could, and collapsed on the bed beside him.
"Can I help you?" he asked in his usual Alex tone, never looking up from his book. I didn't reply. He sighed heavily and put his book down on his stomach.
"You're dripping."
"This is true."
"You're freezing."
"This is also true."
"And you're drunk."
"Once again, this is true."
He sighed again. "How's Yang?"
I shrugged. "She took off. I don't know where."
"And word from Burke?"
"Nothing."
He stood up, picked up a blanket from beside the bed, then made me sit up and wrapped it around my shoulders. I accepted gratefully and looked down at the book her had left. "How is it?"
"I don't know. I just started."
"You read his other stuff?"
"Nope. I had bought some books for Eva. . . Rebecca. . . Jane Doe. . . whatever I'm supposed to call her. She had left this one in her room. I thought I'd try it."
I didn't understand Alex. Not at all. He went from asshole to caring to indifferent within seconds. He got me the blanket because I was cold. He wasn't kicking me out of his bed.
"I broke up with Derek."
No response from Alex. I lied back down beside him, the blanket still wrapped around my shoulders. "I guess he only wanted to be my knight in shining. . . whatever. . . as long as he didn't have to save me."
"Your what?"
"He said he was my knight in shining whatever. And then the ferry accident happened and he had to save me. And now he says he can't keep breathing for me."
"Shepherd blames you for getting pushed into the water?"
"For not trying harder."
"What were you supposed to do?"
I sighed. "I stopped fighting. Just for a second. I stopped swimming, and then I couldn't get back from it. I died, I came back, and I've tried to change things. And he didn't want to be with me anymore."
"He's a prick."
I shrugged. "Who are you, Alex?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean. . . I knew nothing really about you when you moved in. Or even now. I mean, I know you jog crazy amounts and eat Lucky Charms for breakfast, but I still don't know anything about you."
"There's nothing important to know."
"Where'd you live before?"
"Nowhere important."
I sighed loudly, then hiccupped. Tequila. I needed more Tequila. And as soon as I stopped shivering, I would go get it.
"I slept with Addison."'
"Montgomery?!"
Again, nothing from him. "When?"
Silence. "Eva left."
"I heard. Her husband came, didn't he?"
"She asked me to ask her to stay."
I sat up. "Why didn't you?"
"Her baby deserves better than that. She deserves better than that."
"Why is it that you seem so convinced that you're just a piece of trash?"
Silence. Again. "Do you miss her?" I finally asked. The man was a freaking wall. He wasn't going to say anything. I lifted my head to put it against his chest. Maybe if I closed my eyes and tried to pretend, maybe it could be okay. Maybe just for a second the splitting pain in my chest would subside. Maybe I could forget. I knew my hair was wetting his t-shirt and that he was probably freezing because of me, but he put his arm around me anyways.
"I miss Derek," I finally whispered.
"It's not supposed to be like this," he said softly, clearly in a conversation with himself. I was going to ask, but decided against it. Tomorrow I would grill him, or snoop through his room. Whichever I remembered first. I wanted to know. No, I needed to know what had happened. I needed to know what he was talking about, when he had slept with Addison, more tequila.
"It's not supposed to be like this anymore," he whispered.