Author's Note: I've been out of this fandom for a while, and I apologize. It was very difficult to watch after recent events on the show, and it took me a while to develop my love of seasons of Grey's Anatomy that have passed again. But I was watching Owen and Cristina interactions in seasons five and seven, and I had to write something about that. Sorry if it's not what you were expecting.
I would also like to add that, as someone who has never been pregnant, I have no right to judge anyone who has gotten an abortion. As I've said before, I know none of your stories. But I am pro-life, which will likely show up in this story. That is my warning. Please do not leave unkind comments; you are free to have your opinion, but I am also free to have mine.
Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's Anatomy.
There is a reason that doctors are so captivated by the idea of reality, but are equally dismissal of anything that seems even the least bit unrealistic. It is because the idea of false hope, of something that seems possible at first but is then ripped away when it is needed most, is so terrifying, so heart-wrenching, that they must turn away, because they are very aware that such home will ultimately lead to their final destruction.
Cristina Yang was no different than the rest. Her husband was the hopeful one; she was a realist, through and through. It was one of the things that made her a damn good surgeon. It was also something that made her feel mediocre in every other aspect of her life.
She was pregnant. Approximately nine weeks pregnant, according to her gynecologist. Her baby-if that wasn't the most terrifying notion in the world, she had a baby-had fingers, and toes, and developing facial features.
If she kept this baby, if she felt it grow within her, she wondered what its life would hold. If she and Owen had any say in it, there was no possible way that the child would grow up to become anything other than a surgeon. Owen would say that the baby could be anything he or she wished when he or she grew up; after all, he was Owen. But with their gene pool, they were more liking to end up with a surgeon than they were with an engineer, and she took no issue with that.
Her husband was pissed at her, and she now knew that he had a right to be. She had made a decision about not only her life, but about their lives together, on a whim, and she hadn't even bothered to consult him until she realized he deserved to know. She now realized how unbelievably cruel that was. She was blunt and honest with her patients because she hated the idea of giving them false hope, but she had done the same thing to her husband. She had allowed him to believe, if only for a millisecond, that he was going to become a father. And then, without warning or sensitivity, she had ripped that way from him. He should be pissed at her. Hell, she was pissed at herself.
She hadn't been able to walk into the abortion clinic; she had known in the back of her mind that she never would be able to. Whether or not she was ready to be a mother, Owen was ready to be a father, and now he was. Even if the baby didn't have hair, and was still developing its facial features, he had a son or a daughter, and she had been prepared to take that away from him. It didn't matter that she hadn't been able to walk into the abortion clinic; the fact that she had been able to walk to it, to stand in front of the doors and seriously consider ending the life of a child, of their child, that wasn't something she was sure Owen could ever get over.
Her husband was, on all accounts, an honorable man. He had been willing to die in Iraq to save the lives of men and women who were just as selfless. When he had come home, he had done it begrudgingly; it still gave her chills when she thought about how ready and willing he had been to leave and return to the place that had caused his fears and his terrors. Her husband was the kind of man that didn't really exist in the world anymore, and she was aware of that.
She had believed that he was aware of what kind of woman that she was when he had married her. Yes, they had been traumatized when they said I do, but if trauma was enough to stop people from marrying, there would be very few weddings left to attend. Fear was part of life, whether people wanted to accept it or not. She had learned, with Owen's help, that the whole purpose of life, the reason that they were placed on the earth, was to overcome fear and allow love to make them stronger.
That was the reason that Owen was so pissed at her, and she knew that deep down. She had allowed her fear of motherhood to take away from the joy that she felt deep within. She had been willing to kill her baby-her beautiful, innocent, brand-new baby- because she was so fearful of what had happened the first time she had been pregnant. And she knew, she knew that Owen and Burke were not the same people. As selfless as Burke had always wanted to make himself out to be, he had been selfish in the moment that it truly mattered. But Owen was a good man. After all, she had married him. He hadn't flinched at the sight of the red gown she wore, and he didn't demand that she wear her rings every moment of every day. He had simply loved her enough to overcome all of their issues.
She knew that she loved him enough to do that now, but she didn't know if he would be willing to listen. But she had to try. She knew she had to try. Owen had fought for them constantly since the day they had met, even if he was required to fight against her, or to fight against himself. Now, it was her turn to fight. And she knew exactly how to do so.
"Dr. Yang?" the receptionist at the gynecologist's office said, flashing her a soothing smile in her direction. "Dr. Fields will see you now."
Dr. Lucy Fields may not be her favorite person, but she was one of the best gynecologists in the country. It wasn't like she could fly in Dr. Addison Montgomery. Well, she could, but that would be a difficult conversation to have with Owen. And, come to think of it, with Derek.
"Thank you," she replied to the receptionist, taking a seat in the waiting room and flipping through one of the many parenting magazines that had been placed on the table for patients. She scoffed at some of the 'helpful' tips in the magazine-at least she knew which ones were idiotic, so her baby wouldn't die due to neglect-and then glanced around the empty room.
"Cristina?" the nurse called, and she stood slowly, inhaling shallowly and exhaling deeply before following the woman back into the exam room. Dr. Fields was with another patient, if the laughter she could hear next door was any indication, and so Cristina allowed the nurse to take her temperature, pulse, and blood pressure. When the initial exam was complete, Cristina laid back against the table, drawing in a deep breath as she waited for Dr. Fields.
"Dr. Yang," the blonde woman greeted as she walked into the room. "You've decided against termination?"
"Yes," Cristina said definitively.
"Okay, then," the doctor said, turning on the ultrasound machine and placing it against Cristina's midsection. "That," Dr. Fields said, her eyes full of a joy that Cristina rarely found in her own line of work, "is your baby."
Cristina stared at the black-and-white image in wonder, her eyes filling with tears as she began to wonder how on earth she had thought even for one moment that she could terminate her pregnancy. As she stared at the tiniest heartbeat she had ever seen, she fell in love with the child inside of her, and she realized that the largest amount of fear she could have felt in that moment would still be unable to trump the joy.
And, in that moment, she knew that her husband was right. Maybe he always had been.
It was much later in the evening when Cristina finally managed to pull herself away from a fascinating case that Teddy was presiding over. She walked into the firehouse at nine at night, very aware that the reception she was sure to receive from her husband would be an icy one. After all, he had thrown her out of their home. Even if she knew now that he had every right to, it still hurt that he was willing to do that.
She stared at the ultrasound in her hand before she walked up the stairs to their bedroom, and she smiled once again at the image before her. She had stared at it so many times in the past few hours; Teddy had had a squealing fit when she caught sight of it, which was slightly worrisome for Cristina. After all, chances were that Teddy would end up being one of her unborn child's godparents. The poor kid would end up with at least three. Then again, Meredith had found her baby book, and she had four, so it wasn't that much of a concern.
She finally walked up the stairs, sighing internally when she heard her husband in the kitchen. This would not be a fun conversation, but it would be a conversation that they had always needed to have. Babies, Burke, why she related babies and Burke-they were all things that, despite their firm position in her past, her husband needed to know about. And now, much later than she should have, she would be telling him.
Owen was cooking something that looked and smelled delicious, but Cristina knew that she should keep her distance from it. As of yet, she had found nothing other than saltines and graham crackers that the tiny human inside her would allow her to keep down. She was not taking a chance on those odds when she was supposed to be having an important conversation with her husband.
"Owen," she said, breathing in deeply when his eyes shot towards hers.
"You're at Meredith's," Owen said, his voice full of barely-hidden anger. "You're supposed to be at Meredith's."
"Meredith's already seen her future godchild. I figured that her future godchild's father should see his future child."
"What?" Owen asked, but there was much less anger in the single word than there had been in his previous sentence.
"I'm approximately nine weeks pregnant, not that I completely trust Fields with my health, or with the baby's," Cristina said, taking a careful seat on the barstool. "But I can't fly Addison out here, so we'll go with it."
"Cristina," Owen began.
"I was insensitive. And I know I was insensitive, because I've never come out and said that to anyone. But I was unfair and I know that. I was scared. I didn't want to hurt you; I was scared."
"Why? Why were you scared? Hell, Cristina, why didn't you talk to me about why you were scared?"
"It's one of our untouched topics," Cristina said.
"So it's about Burke."
"Yes," Cristina said, breathing in deeply. "It's about Burke."
And with that, they began a conversation they should have had long before. Only this time, they both knew what every word meant.