Author: HopeCrowe

-----------------------------

We all remember what it was like as children, when nothing seemed scarier than laying awake and alone in a dark bedroom. Something about that darkness, the fact that you can't see past your own fingertips—it unsettles us. We want to know what's out there. We want to be able to prepare ourselves so we can face it head-on. But in life, most of the time we have no way of knowing or preparing, and so the dark of night is just another painful reminder of just how little we can control, just how little we can actually do…

"Wish it wasn't so cloudy here all the time…" Owen said, tilting his head up to the sky. They were standing just outside the hospital doors after the Chief had kicked them out moments ago. Cristina couldn't help but roll her eyes at his cliché use of the weather as a means of avoiding discussion of one of the several more important things going on at the moment. She opened her mouth to say something—not entirely sure what—when Owen spoke again. "I'll walk you home—it's late". Cristina knew part of the reason for his offer, aside from his usual chivalric tendencies, was to buy time for both of them to think and delay the decision of where he would be sleeping tonight. She bit lightly on her lower lip and started walking with him. They were both silent but in such deep thought that Cristina could practically hear the whirr of the wheels spinning in their heads.

Once they had reached her doorstep, she took a deep breath. Despite all her thinking, she still found herself unsure of what she wanted to happen next. Well, that wasn't true…she knew exactly what she wanted but it went against her better judgment. Cristina decided to get to the point, as she was not one to mince words.

"Do you want to come up?" She made a concerted effort to keep her voice even, yet she heard it betray a twinge of sadness. She had said yes and they were together now—this type of question shouldn't hold such a heavy undertone. Owen let out a deep breath and hung his head.

"I want to," Owen began "but I don't know if I should yet. But at the same time I don't think I should leave you alone tonight. I don't…it's up to you." Cristina looked into Owen's eyes, they were pleading with her. She knew the look was involuntary, but the longing in it was paining her. He clearly wanted to be with her tonight as much as she wanted him to be there. Izzie was dead. George was well on his way to joining her. She needed Owen with her tonight, even if that might mean she couldn't sleep. With people around her dropping like flies, knowing that he was safe and with her was the most important thing to her at the moment.

She reached for his hand and pulled him up the stairs to her building door. They continued further up some stairs and down the hallway to her apartment. Cristina could feel the discomfort emanating from his body. He hadn't been inside her apartment since the incident. She unlocked the door and walked in. Cristina threw her keys on the counter and walked into the kitchen to grab some water when she noticed Owen still standing somewhat paralyzed in her doorway.

"Go on, take your jacket off" she said before taking a sip from her bottle. He cleared his throat as he neatly folded his jacket and draped it over a chair. He shoved his hands into his pockets, as if willing them to behave this time around. "You want something to eat? I have…um, diet coke?" Owen laughed and Cristina felt her heart lighten upon hearing the comforting sound. "Well, Callie has some leftover Chicken Piccata…"

"I'm not really hungry…maybe I'll just sit here for a bit." Owen sat back on the couch with a tired sigh and took off his shoes. He lay back against the armrest and after a few more sips of water she walked over to join him. Cristina fitted herself between his legs and leaned back. Within minutes, both of them were fighting to keep their eyes open. They were both convincing themselves that it was better to stay on the couch where they could avoid facing the bed that bore witness to the darkest moment of their relationship. Owen was trying to focus his attention on one of Cristina's curls to keep himself awake; when he noteiced that her eyes were drooping, he decided enough was enough. Cristina was so tired in so many ways and she needed sleep.

He brushed his hand down her arm and gave her a kiss on her neck that tickled her into a tired smile.

"You need sleep," he said simply.

"I'm a resident. If I needed sleep I never would have made it past my intern year."

"You can barely keep your eyes open," he persisted. Cristina sighed and rubbed her hand on his thigh.

"Okay, so maybe I'm a little tired. But I'm…I really don't want to leave you just yet" she mumbled, diverting her eyes to his knee.

"You don't know how much I wish that I could…you know, go in there and sleep next to you," Owen started, placing one of his hands on top of hers. "But I can't do that until I'm absolutely sure you'd be safe."

"And when will that be? I mean, can you ever be sure?" Cristina asked, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice. Her question lingered in the air as Owen turned and looked at the darkness consuming her bedroom at the moment. It was a fair question, but his answer was too painful to vocalize. He might never know.

"I can stay with you until you fall asleep," he offered. Cristina leaned her head back onto his shoulder and nuzzled into the side of his neck.

"Okay." It was remarkable how she could have such conflicting emotions simultaneously. She was frustrated with Owen for having the control to do what was right but at the same time she was so grateful that he cared enough to do it. To make some of the harder choices for them when the smell of his skin and brush of his beard had the power to incapacitate her rationality. This was infuriating to someone that prided herself on her pragmatism and yet it was a loss of control that was intoxicating.

After a few minutes of preparing for bed, Cristina crawled under her covers. Owen walked by her bedroom door; she heard him knock lightly on the door and peek into Callie's room.

"Is Dr. Torres not here tonight?"

"No, she's on-call…I think she swapped with someone because wanted to be at the hospital in case something happened to George. Did you know they were married?"

"I didn't…" Owen replied, although he sounded distracted and as Cristina was applying lotion to her hands, she saw Owen walk back past her door again and into the kitchen.

"I brought water already," Cristina called out to him.

"That's not what I'm getting" he said quietly. Cristina heard some clanging in the kitchen and then saw that Owen had walked back into her room with one hand rubbing the back of his neck and the other carrying a frying pan. Cristina stopped moving her hands and looked up at him.

"I thought you weren't hungry" she said, raising an eyebrow. Owen just cleared his throat.

"I'm not…" he walked over to his side of the bed and placed the frying pan between them. Cristina's eyes followed him wordlessly, waiting for him to explain.

"Well?" she prompted finally. He looked down at his hands for a minute, apparently having difficulty forming the right words. "Unless this frying pan is somehow a sex toy, I don't want it on my bed. It's gross."

"It would take quite a bit of creativity to make that a sex toy…" Cristina gave a small shrug and quirked an eyebrow as if to say she was up for the challenge. After a small laugh, the silence of the room forced Owen to answer seriously. "It's for you…just in case," he said, avoiding her eyes after pulling his shirt off over his head. "I mean…because this time even Dr. Torres isn't here …"

"Owen…I'm not going to hit you over the head with Callie's frying pan."

"Well, hopefully not." he smiled ruefully. "But can you promise me that you'll use it if…if you have to?"

"I…"

"Please, Cristina?" The pleading and residual shame in his voice made her chest tighten. She eyed the pan and turned to look at her nightstand.

"It can stay in the room, but I don't want it on my bed…" she said, stubbornly. "You can put it on my nightstand"

"But you're nightstand—" Owen stopped himself, pausing to gain control as frustration had been creeping into his voice. "But you're nightstand isn't close enough."

"Well, those muscles aren't just decorative, are they? You could move it closer or something…"

"You know they aren't just decorative" he said huskily, smirking in spite of the situation and getting up to move the table closer to her side of the bed. Cristina grinned at him once he had and placed the frying pan next to her alarm clock.

"See? I can be reasonable."

"Don't make it a habit," he replied, pulling her lips to his. He sighed at the familiar taste of her mouth and the way she made of habit of grabbing the back of neck and playing with his hair while she kissed him. They pulled apart and Owen gave her another grin. "I definitely didn't fall in love with you because you were reasonable." He crawled over her and onto the far side of the bed. Owen adjusted his pillow and then turned the light off and they both lay back. Owen cleared his throat. "Does um…does this feel okay?"

"Yeah…" Cristina said, still trying to find a spot that was comfortable. The two of them kept shifting slightly. Their easy playful banter had made an ugly transition into an awkward physical situation. "Does this work?"

"Maybe if you twisted a little that way?"

"Here, put your arm over there."

"If your head is here, then I can put my shoulder like this."

They finally both stopped shifting and for almost fifteen minutes they just lay awake in silence. Both had their eyes wide open, but somehow Owen clung to the hope that Cristina might fall asleep. She couldn't. Owen's cell phone started ringing and Cristina found herself saddened by the relief she felt when it did.

"I should get this…we're monitoring this patient and…anyway, I'll be out in the living room for a minute."

"Okay." Cristina managed, sinking back into her pillow and sighing when finding a comfortable angle.

Owen returned to her dark room minutes later, but as he crept across the room he heard a light snore coming from Cristina's side of the bed. Once his eyes readjusted, he looked at her through the darkness and realized that maybe she wasn't ready for this just yet even if she wanted to be. They wanted to be together, that's all that mattered. The rest would come with time—he would have to keep reminding himself that it would come eventually. After placing a light kiss on her cheek, he pulled his pillow from her bed and walked out of her room, closing the door behind him. He lay down on her couch and closed his eyes. After what he had done, sleeping on her couch was more than he could hope for.

~*~*~*~

Cristina woke up after hitting her alarm the next morning and for a few peaceful seconds everything felt normal. But her heart began to sink slowly with the waves of sad realizations that hit her: Izzie is dead, George is dying, Alex is a mess. She took a deep breath and then also remembered that Owen had come home with her that night. Cristina remembered asking him to stay with her until she slept, but the last thing she remembered was Owen leaving to take a phone call. Maybe he had left for home or the hospital…but she got out of bed in the hopes of finding him in the kitchen making breakfast or something. Because he would do that kind of thing. While walking through her living room, she saw a flash of auburn on her couch. She leaned over the back and saw Owen laying there with a pillow. Her eyes raked over him; his breathing was still even and his face was so calm that Cristina wished she could join him. Well, maybe she could.

She went around the couch and gave his big toe a slight wiggle. His foot reflexively pulled away from the stimulus, and his eyes fluttered open. Owen smiled at her and she crawled over him, settling herself on top of him. She relished in the light waves of warm breath hitting her forehead with each fall of his chest. She felt his arm find its way around her and she slowly let her eyes droop closed. Maybe she still wasn't ready to fall asleep next to Owen, but that didn't mean she couldn't close her eyes and enjoy a moment of peace with him. Especially since the way their lives had been lately, peace was getting harder and harder to come by.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked her, his hand rubbing her back lightly.

"I did…" she answered, feeling slightly guilty. "Did you?"

"I did, actually." he replied. "This couch is surprisingly comfortable".

"We should probably get ready…" Cristina said, but her body made no effort to comply.

"Are you sure you want to go in today?" Owen asked, his voice hoarse. He already knew the answer—but felt the need to ask anyway. She sighed for a moment and looked up at him, his eyes were still closed.

"I'm the best…I don't want to waste time moping around when I could be preventing something like this for someone else. I already have to miss time because of Izzie's funeral…and I want to check up on George" Cristina said, pushing herself off of him.

"Just a minute," he grumbled and pulled her back down towards him. "Let me soak this in for a second…" Her curls fell in his face and he lightly brushed a handful away. He pulled her face close and kissed her lips. "Morning light really suits you." Cristina wondered if waking up with Owen Hunt always came with such compliments. She had a feeling it did, but would she ever really get to enjoy them? Cristina's smile faded for a moment and she looked off to the side.

"I'm…sorry, I'm sorry I couldn't—" she started, but Owen quickly cut her off.

"Please don't apologize. Please." he said, stroking her cheek. "Your mind is still anxious because of what it remembers happening there…with me. It's just trying to protect you…"

"I know," she sighed, lying on across his stomach. "I wanted you here last night, I'm glad you stayed…"

"And I wanted to be as close to you as I trusted myself to be." They lay there in silence for a few moments until Cristina finally spoke again.

"You know what I think? I think that someday I'm going to be getting pissed at you for hogging all the covers or something. You seem like the cover-hogging type." Owen smiled to himself at her indirect way of expressing optimism about their relationship.

"Well, nobody is perfect," Owen said, putting his hands on Cristina's arms and smiling at her. "But right now, we have to get our asses off the couch and go to work. We can check on O'Malley before your shift starts…"

~*~*~*~

As they strode up to the hospital, Cristina took a deep breath. She knew someone would have paged her if George had taken a serious turn for the worse, but the fear that came with having to face the news of whatever happened to him overnight was making her anxious. Also she realized that this would be the first time she'd be walking into the hospital knowing Izzie never would again. There had been that brief time after Denny's death—but even then Cristina knew that Izzie was baking muffins or lying on the bathroom floor somewhere. She knew that Izzie would get put back together at some point, it was just a matter of time. She and Denny had known each other for such a short time, Cristina was sure it was just an infatuation…or some an extreme manifestation of Izzie's general aptitude for getting inappropriately close to patients. Then again, as she glanced at Owen walking next to her, Cristina thought that perhaps the brevity of a relationship may not exactly correlate to its intensity. She and Owen had only known each other for a few months and yet she knew it was anything but a silly infatuation. No, Cristina Yang would have been able to fight an infatuation, but this was different. She was absolutely in love with him even in spite of everything that had gotten in their way.

They continued walking toward George's room until Callie sped over to meet them.

"Dr. Torres." Owen nodded politely.

"Dr. Hunt." Callie appeared annoyed at the sight of Owen and her eyes flickered between the two of them suspiciously. However she quickly hung her head. It was then that Cristina took note of just how run-down Callie appeared; it was more than just the usual on-call exhaustion and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Maybe it had to do with the guilt Callie had mentioned she felt regarding Izzie. Her death definitely compounded that problem.

"Is something—" But when Callie raised her head to speak, the look on her face was enough to make Cristina cut herself short. It also became apparent that her state had nothing to do with Izzie. "Cristina…it's George. They think it might be time to say goodbyes…"

So maybe we've got it all backwards. Maybe it's the light that we should really fear. At least in the dark we can let ourselves believe what we want—that we're control. That we're safe. But in the light, reality is inescapable. And maybe that gives us time to prepare, but even preparation can't protect you from some things. And worse yet, without the dark, there's nowhere left to hide. All that is left to do is close your eyes…and brace for impact.