Author's note: Hi there, here is a new story I came up with since my other one will be completed shortly. I hope you'll like it.

Of course, I still don't own anything about Grey's Anatomy.

Please let me know what you think, it'll be very much appreciated and sorry about mistakes I may have done, english is not my first language, I'm working on finding myself a beta (it's in progress: jo :) ). Also, I'm trying pretty hard to stay true to the characters but if you feel I'm drifting from that, please let me know so I can straighten up.

Thank you for giving my story a try.

He had been waiting for that day. For a long time. When the news finally broke a few weeks ago, he knew what he had to do and proceeded with it.

Owen Hunt survived many things in his life. His father's death first, a man he adored and respected, a good man and a good father, then years in war zones, as a trauma surgeon, seeing things that will haunt him for the rest of his days, a time during which he saw his friends die, one after the other. He had to break the engagement he made to the woman he first thought as his future and althought it was his call, it had been everything but easy. A few years ago, he also had to survive, in every sens of the word, the failing of his marriage, with another woman, the one who helped him throught his PTSD, the one he had loved beyond any rational thought. He knew right from the start that what he felt for her was the kind of love you experience once in a lifetime only, if you are lucky. Finally, he had to survive terminating the life of a baby he wanted to much.

But Owen Hunt was a fighter. Always has been. His mother had told him so, many times, even before he decided to join the Army. He grieved each event the best he knew how, sometimes not the good way, but is there even a good way to grieve? Some took more time than others, some destroyed him more than others but the important thing was, he always found himself back on his feet after a while.

During the seven years since his ex-wife took a plane for the other side of the world, he has been seeing women, sometimes for quite a long time even, enjoying the feeling of flirting again, of beeing cared for, and of course enjoying sex. But he was done with marriage and swore to himself that Cristina Yang would stay the only woman he would get to be married to. Marriage was overrated anyway. He learned that the hard way.

He stood in the small bathroom, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His black suit fitted him perfectly, matching the black tie resting on a white shirt. Very classic. He had shaved, had had a haircut a week ago and he was satisfied with the way it all looked like. Happy with the image of himself he saw in front of him, he stepped out of the bathroom, switched the lights off and headed toward his final destination.

To be totally honnest, he had to admit he was a little nervous. And impatient. Mostly impatient.

The large room he was allowed to enter after a short drive was heavily decorated, according to the big event it was hosting. He shook a few hands, chatted briefly with some collegues, people he happened to meet during his years of practice as Chief of Surgery. But he wasn't here for them.

After a while, he finally took a seat, near the far end of the room, at the opposite side of the stage. Fifteen minutes later, a world-known surgeon started a very long -and sometimes boring- speech. Owen waited and listened, twisting his fingers every now and then. Sometimes a sentence would take him for a little ride in his memories and he would smile to himself, happy and honored somehow, some other words would make him winced, the memories they called not so pleasant.

What seemed like hours later, everyone including him had held their breaths. And it came:

- "So it is with a great honor and pleasure, that I'm here tonight to grant the most important award of one's carreer to the best Cardio-thoracic surgeon of the decade. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Dr. Cristina YANG!"

A thunder of clappings rose from the room as a woman appeared from behind a curtain and walked on stage, smiling, wearing a stunning red dress, high heels, long curly asian hair especially done for the occasion. She accepted the award, and started her own speech, thanking people Owen had no idea about. Not one mention of him. But he didn't care. Owen was just smiling, taking in as many things as he could as he watched her, remembering and re-engraving his brain with each of her features. He hadn't seen her or talk to her in the last seven years (and four months) but as far of the stage as he stood, she was still able to take his breath away and years seemed to have forgotten her, except maybe for her eyes. Weirdly to him, it was the only thing he found to be older, but not any less beautiful.

Some time later, many small groups of people had formed, within which surgical conversations, cheerings, toasting and drinking. He spotted her in the room, looking slighly annoyed with the social needs of such an event. He smiled again. Cristina had never been at ease with social calls. She hated it. A waiter passed by him and Owen stopped him. He for one, believed that the best part of such events was actually the coktail part.

He finished the Scotch he ordered and decided to leave, not without throwing one last glance at his ex-wife, still totally oblivious to his presence, a new smile on his lips. He was happy. For her.

Across the room, Cristina was desperatly trying to smile at whoever was talking to her right now, someone who was obviously important but whom she didn't had the slightest idea of who he was, wishing she could just fly away to the comfort of her appartment, kick her shoes off and grab some cereals or pop corn, before crashing into her bed watching the last surgery she had recorded. Don't get anything wrong, she was beyond the moon about the award, she just wasn't so thrilled about everything that came with it.

A waiter appeared, standing beside her and politely interrupted the conversation.

- "Excuse me Dr Yang,"

He grabbed a glass from the tray he was skillfully holding and handed it to her.

-" This is from the gentleman over th..."

He tried to point the guy for her, but was unable to see him where he stood previously.

Surprised, Cristina has taken a hold of the glass and a old familiar scent reached her nostrils. That smell took her all the way back years ago, images invading her brain, memories, feelings... A shiver instantly ran throught her spine as she recollected her thoughts. A gentleman had ordered this for her. Who?

- "What was his name?"
- "I don't know Dr. Yang, he didn't say."
- "This gentleman, what did he looked like?" she asked eagerly.
- "Uhhh, he was tall, short blond hair, blue eyes", the young man answered, trying to remember.
- "Where was he?!" she asked again, scanning the room.
- "He was standing over there, just by the double doors when he..."

Cristina sucked in a breath and without even excusing herself, she put the glass back on the tray almost run in the direction of the exit leaving puzzled men behind her.

She slammed the doors open and there he was, half the way through the long hallway that led outside the building. Her heart went up and down in her chest, something it never did again since she moved out of his life. He was walking, casually, his hands tucked in his pant's pockets, so 'Owen-ly', she thought. It was really him, Owen Hunt, someone she could never be mistaking for anyone else, even from behind, even thought seven years had passed since she last saw him. She could recognize him from every angle, at any time.

She stayed still even when the doors slammed shut behind her, looking at him walking away, considering wether or not she should call out for him. He was so close. So close. She felt a tickling sensation on her fingers as they remembered closing around his, tracing his shoulders, holding his neck, following the lenght of his back... His back that was getting further and further away right now. Panick rose from everywhere in her system. A few more seconds, a few more of his long steps and he will be gone... Shoud she...But... and... Only two more steps... One...

- "Owen?!" she called.

So? ;)