AN: This chapter will have a first person narrative (Cristina). I think I figured out the course I want this story to embark on. Don't freak out if it doesn't go the way you want right away: you might get a happy ending. Tell me if you want to see a chapter from Owens POV

Remember when you were little and you used to withhold the truth from your parents and the moment they uttered your name you knew it was over. That the jinx was up. When we get older we never stop living these moments. They only get larger, out lies and moments of weakness effect others drastically. When we were little it would result in a punishment but now a like could change the course of your life. With holding the truth could change the course of your life. It could leave you lonely and you are never prepared for that. You think about all the possibilities, calculate the chances of your secret erupting but in the end you are never prepared. You just react.

As you age you shed the skin of your parents dreams. You realize that making yourself happy is what matters. You shake the lessons that they teach you and learn and embrace your own.

When you get married they say the two become a unit. You make decisions together and cry/rejoice as one. Sometimes though you must find yourself amongst the life the two of you have created together. Remember what you want and need. Sometimes you have to be selfish because if you aren't you will lose yourself.

I never wanted to be a mother. I never stayed up at night pondering my potential future. I never yearned for a family. Owen changed me: he didn't change my ideas or take pieces of me but after I met him I became different. It was slow at first like falling asleep: he made me view life differently. The hell we went through at the genesis of our relationship: his PTSD and the choking. I did not think we would make it past that: I thought we were done. When I was a child I would never give anyone a second chance. One and done type of life and I was okay with that. I did not want people around I never wanted to be vulnerable. By cutting people I controlled my life: all I ever wanted was to be in control of the future. I liked everything to to be planned out. Owen was the first time I let someone stick around I did not run after he hurt me. If I ran it would be like running away from home and I do not think I could handle living alone. I realized I needed him. Not because I was weak without him because we were better together.

Owen did not even have to leave the bathroom: in this moment I am omniscient, I know what he is holding. Once again he utters my name: "Cristina." This time his words are followed by footsteps and now he is at the foot of our bed.

What do I say?How do I diffuse the situation without igniting the bomb?

"Yes?" My voice is meek. Barely audible, I'm sure that the entire building can hear the thump of my heart. The way it begins to shake as I inhale as if an earthquake is rolling through.

"What is this?" He knows what it is. It's the shock. I felt it after the plane crash. Owen was so kind then: his patience was exponential. He could have, should have, left but he stayed. How could I break his heart now?

"It's a pregnancy test." We dance around the subject like if he asks me it will not be real. Oh how I wish this was a dream. Then I could wake up and go to the hospital. My arms are hidden under the embrace of the comforter so I pinch myself attempting to wake up from my sleep. It does not work. This moment is real.

"Yes I know that but who's-it's- uh-" I cut him off before he could even finish his sentence. I could lie to him: tell him it's Mers, he would believe it. The lie could only last a day though, some how some way he would find Meredith and ask her and the game would be over.

"It's mine." The words are like knives and I choke on them. We just look at each other for what seems like an eternity. I can hear the hum of the refrigerator and wait for him to break the sound barrier. He doesn't. He climbs into bed and my hair is in his hands. I look at him and my hands shake again. I'm crying.

"Cristina shhhh." His thumb brushes across my face in an attempt to rid my face of the tears. He has me wrapped in his arms, my face is away from his and I am finally able to calm down. Owens hand brushes past my stomach and I pop up.

"No. We aren't doing this. I'm not doing this."

"Cristina what are you saying. You can do-"

I cut him off again.

"Don't tell me I can do this. Don't push me into a corner and expect me to surrender: to give into you fantasy of a perfect life. I don't want this. Im not doing this. This is what you want but it's not what I need."

It is as if a weight has been lifted of my shoulders. My breathing is finally normal and my heart no longer hurts. Owen is on his feet and as quickly as he scaled those stairs less then an hour ago: the stairs cracking under the weight of sadness. The door yelps and once again I'm alone.

AN So what do you think?