Cristina

Cristina looks at herself in the mirror, outside the dressing room at possibly the most hipster wedding chapel she has ever seen. Worried that she would be unforgivably late, Cristina had gotten ready in the airport bathroom. Her wild curls dance around her face, and her lipstick is smeared slightly on the crook of her lip, and the dark blue "groomswoman" dress that Alex had mailed to her was horribly wrinkled against her body.

She sighs, defeated, as she realizes that at this moment, she looks far from being the highly renowned, Harper Avery award winning, cardiothoracic surgeon that she is. Instead, she looks more like middle-aged woman who scurried out of bed and got dressed ten minutes ago.

"Wow, Karev," Meredith says, as Cristina walks into the dressing room. She and Alex have their backs turned, and they don't notice her entrance above their conversation. "This place is so like you and Jo."

Cristina smiles, silent in agreement as her two best friends continue not to notice her in the room. While Alex had told her a little bit about the place, it is nothing that she expected. Alex and Jo had renovated an old bar in the outskirts of Seattle. There are rose-shaped LED lights hanging on walls, and candles cornering the large space, and much to Cristina's content, a twenty-four hour bar that Alex had assured to be open all night. Even the dressing room, tucked in the back of the building, is fully lit and decorated.

"You okay?" Meredith asks Alex, as she straightens his tie. Alex looks so cleaned up, so grown, that Cristina hardly recognizes him. "You look like you're going to break into a cold sweat."

"I'm fine," Alex says, shaking his head. "I just… last time I did this, it didn't work out so well."

Meredith laughs, but before she can respond, her mouth drops open as she finally catches Cristina standing at the doorway. Following her glance, Alex grins.

"You're here!" Meredith exclaims, giving Cristina a tight hug. Although she and Meredith talk on blurry videochats on Skype and quick calls in between surgeries, they haven't seen each other face to face in over a year, which is when she first left Seattle. "To be honest, I thought you might bail. You and planes aren't the best mix."

"Speak for yourself, Meredith Grey," she responds, then turns to Alex. "For the record, I'd put all my cards on the table for Evil Spawn and Homeless Girl."

"It's been less than a minute," he says to her, as he wraps his arms around her, "and you're already pissing me off."

"You're welcome."

Alex punches her shoulder. "Thank you for coming."

"Oh, don't get all mushy," Cristina says, waving him off, but if any more sentimentality escapes into this room, she is sure she will start tearing up. "Aren't you supposed to have more groomsmen? Or are all your friends women?"

On cue, Jackson walks in, disgruntled as he slides on his jacket. If Cristina isn't mistaken, he looks more of a mess than she does.

"Yang," he greets, shaking off his solemn expression. "Good to see you."

Cristina squints at him. "Why do you look like that?"

"And I take that back," he says, as Meredith and Cristina exchange amused glances. "Sorry I'm late, man," he says to Alex. "April and I are just having a hard time after Cassidy was born, and we had trouble with the babysitter and—"

"Don't worry about it," Alex says quickly.

"Well, you fellas have your male-bonding time," Meredith says, grabbing Cristina by the hand. "I'm going to show Cristina the balcony. I'll see you guys in there."

Reluctantly, Cristina agrees to be led by the hand out the door. "Mer, you do realize that I have properly functioning legs, right?"

"Which is actually what makes this whole dragging-you-around business so much easier."

Cristina rolls her eyes, as Meredith takes her through maroon-colored French doors that in fact extend into a small balcony on the side of the venue. Cristina hadn't before, but looking out into a clear sky and the flame of Seattle lights, she realizes they are on large hill. Close enough to jump into the city in front of them, but far enough to be considered on the outside.

"Wow, this is really beautiful—"

Meredith puts up a hand, and stares at Cristina with a serious, hard expression. "Are you okay?"

Cristina blinks. "I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, like, emotionally, how are you doing?" Meredith clarifies, but Cristina continues to give her a confused expression, so she continues. "Because you and me, I know we just say we're okay all the time. And most of the time, we're not really okay, but we give that bullshit 'I'm fine' response, because we know that we will be. So what I'm asking is, at this moment in time—not tomorrow or five months from now—are you okay?"

"Meredith," Cristina says slowly. "What's going on?"

Meredith swallows. "Just don't freak out."

"Just tell me."

"Owen is here," Meredith spills.

"What?" Cristina shrieks, and she can feel her heart quickening, a panic stirring. "I thought you said he was—"

"I know, but he's back."

"I can't see him," Cristina says, out of breath like she'd been running a marathon. "I look like a mess! And my lipstick is all out of whack, and my shoes are killing me. And a wedding? This is not how I envisioned seeing him again."

"There's one more thing," Meredith says hesitantly. "He's seated at the same table as us."

"What?!"

"I tried to get Wilson to switch it, but she was on her whole I'm-getting-married-leave-me-alone craze yesterday and did not want anything to do with me—"

"Oh God, Mer, what am I going to do?" Cristina closes her eyes, puts her hand against her head, and starts to pace in the small area of the balcony. "It's like going to the dentist. I need warning, at least a week in advance, before they start drilling holes in my teeth. And no, as a surgeon, that is not hypocritical."

"Cristina, if I had given you warning, you would have never come."

"Not true," she says, although she knows damn well that it is.

"You are Cristina Yang, okay?" Meredith says, placing her hands on Cristina's shoulder to stop her rampant movements. "You've won the Harper Avery, and you're nominated again this year. You are a badass. You do not let men define who you are, or how you feel at the end of the day. The only person in control of that is you."

Cristina turns away from Meredith and leans her arms against the balcony railing. She can see Schuster Parkway below her, and the pileup of cars and trucks—those tiny twinkling lights against a darkening sky.

"So I'm going to ask again," Meredith says behind her. She puts a hand on Cristina's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Cristina takes a breath. Meredith is wrong about one thing: when it came to Owen, the amount of control she has is always uncertain.

Sure enough, though, she turns around and gives Meredith a smile. "I'm fine."