"It's not a good idea to go," Cristina sighed, pushing the brochure away. "It's just not a good idea to go. I can do a conference another time."

Meredith eyed her friend closely, "Y'know, he survived before you just fine. He can survive four days without you. You've been talking about this for weeks. This is your invitation. They want you to speak!"

Cristina smiled faintly. It was an accomplishment, getting to speak at a conference so early in her career. She wanted it so badly and it's not that Owen had been doing badly; he just seemed tenser lately. Tense enough that she wasn't sure about leaving for that long.

"Have you told him that you were thinking about not going?" Meredith questioned, breaking her reverie. She knew that he wouldn't have it.

Cristina remained silent, looking at her name with the words 'keynote speaker' underneath. It was such a big deal to her. "Yeah." She lied, "I have."

"You're a piss poor liar, Yang." Meredith said, snatching up the brochure. "Cristina Yang MD, PhD. Head of Cardiothoracics, Seattle Grace Hospital. Nowhere in this description do I see nanny."

"Shut it." Cristina muttered, looking down at the table. "I'll take care of it. It's not a good time right now. Things are busy." She traced her fingers along the specks, averting her gaze. Her head jerked up when she heard the sound of metal against ceramic tile and she looked up to see Meredith bolting across the cafeteria with the brochure in hand. "Shit." She hissed under her breath, getting up to chase her.

Owen had just settled on a turkey sandwich when he found himself faced with Grey, a crème colored piece of paper folded in her hand. "Dr. Grey?" He asked, his eyebrows raised in a way that expressed more surprise rather than curiosity.

"Look what Cristina got in the mail today." She said, offering the slightly crumpled piece of paper. "Not even an attending for a full two years and she's already a keynote speaker. The conference is in Boston. She's known about it for three months. She just found out that they wanted her to speak. And she's going to tell them no. Have a good day, Dr. Hunt."

Without another word, Meredith walked away from him with a triumphant smirk and back towards Cristina. She took hold of her elbow and leaned in. "I did that for your own good. You deserve this and he knows it. What's the worst that could possibly happen?"

Cristina jerked her arm away from Meredith's hand wordlessly and walked towards Owen. Her eyes drop to his chest as he scans over the brochure. "I can go another time. I don't want to go now. Things are too busy."

"Last week you were complaining that the department was too slow for your tastes." He uttered softly, looking down at her.

"It picked up."

"Your name isn't even on the board today." He countered.

"It will be tomorrow. A lot."

"You're going on this trip. I can make it four days without you." His hand came to his waist and his eyes focused even more sternly on her. "Cristina, look at me."

Her eyes trailed up to his for just a moment and then back down at his chest. "Owen, it's fine. I don't want to go right now."

"Look. At. Me." He said more slowly, reaching out to tip her chin up. He knew that the physical contact was enough to make her squirm and more than enough to make her do what he wanted her to.

Reaching up, she took hold of his hand and pulled it from under her chin and dropped it gently at his side. She wanted to tell him that he hasn't been fine, that he's been nervous and it's doing things to him that he'd escaped doing for months at a time.

She didn't say a word of it.

Maybe it was because she wanted to go. Maybe it was because she knew she was going to lose anyway. "It's still not for a few weeks. Things will change. Things might change."

"And they can change with you in Boston for an extended weekend." He assured her, "Cristina, I want you to do this. You have to."

"You could come with me."

He clenched his fist slightly in his pocket. "I will be fine. I don't need you to take care of me."

"Th-that's not what I said. That's not what I'm insinuating."

"It isn't?" He asked, "That's not what this is about? I'm not blind. I know you worry about me. I know that you watch me. I'm not your child, Cristina. I'm a man. I'm supposed to take care of you. It's not supposed to be the other way around."

"I don't like to be taken care of. I don't need to be taken care of." She argued in a hiss, "I'm fine."

"And I like you taking care of me?" He asked, gray flickering through the blue in his eyes as they bore into hers. "You're going to this conference. You're staying at the conference. End of conversation."

Before she could respond, he walked away from her. She glanced at the brochure sitting on the countertop with her name plastered across the front and then looked away from it just as quickly. Nausea overwhelmed her as she thought about leaving him right now.

It wasn't like before- it wasn't like he would experience these anxiety attacks all the time. Nothing was like before. After she had finally told him that there was nothing she could do for him, after he finally went to the VA and got the help that he needed- after he started the antidepressants, everything had changed.

Their relationship after had been like a dream. He cooked for her, he spent the evenings with her. After Callie left Seattle, they moved in together and shared a happy life with each other. It was everything she'd never expected in her life.

It was something she didn't want to live without.

And it was something she was terrified of losing.

She was very aware of the fact that she could be over thinking it. He'd had to increase the dosages of his medications before. There were times that he required more of his anti-anxiety medication than others.

Cristina was starting to feel like she needed to be medicated.

With a sigh, she picked up the brochure and walked out of the cafeteria. She wanted to be excited about this milestone, but the only thing she could feel was anxious about leaving him and guilty for making him feel like a child.

She knew she'd have to make it right.

x-x-x-x-x

The smell of Chinese wafted through the kitchen when Cristina walked into their apartment and she smiled faintly. There were candles lit and two bottles of beer sitting on the table. She dropped her coat by the door along with her bag and tossed her keys to the counter.

Owen walked out of the bedroom with wet red hair and looked at her in silence, trying to gauge her reaction.

She crossed to him slowly, her gaze never leaving his. Reaching out, she rested her hands against his chest and stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him softly. A wave of relief rushed through her when he kissed her back a little more hungrily, a little more passionately and his arms wrapped around her.

He teased his lips away from hers, but still remained close enough that they seemed to share the same breath. "You are an amazing surgeon, Cristina." He said, his voice low and raspy, "And you deserve this. You have to do this. I want you to go. Please."

"I'll go," She murmured in response. "I'll go. I'm sorry I-"

"Don't apologize. Just stop." He said, not wanting to further discuss it. He had enough of a battle on his hands without worrying about her fighting it as well. It was just one final hurdle and they'd be fine. He just had to get over his doubts.

He couldn't do that with her doubting him.

"Okay." Cristina answered before she pressed her lips to his again. She balled the material of his shirt in his hand, the kiss deepening.

Their bodies began to gravitate towards each other's and he grinned against her lips. "I was trying to celebrate." He uttered softly, his hands grazing her sides. "Candles. Chinese. Beer. I was trying to celebrate your big thing."

"This is celebration too." She whispered against his ear before kissing right below it.

"I don't need an invitation." His arms wrapped around her waist and he easily lifted her petite frame into his arms with a slight growl.

Cristina laughed, her arms wrapping around him as he carried her into the bedroom. In that moment, she was sure he was fine. She was sure that she was just over thinking it all.

Four days would be okay.

Four days couldn't hurt anything.