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STRANGERS?

PRESENT, 01. APRIL 2012, NIGHT

Cristina stood as a silent observer caught up in her thoughts at the window through which she could see into the room behind it. She fastened her eyes at Callie Torres, scrutinising every action she took while tending for Owen. She struggled to give names to her feelings but she did not know how. That was why she was not at his side right now. That, and, also, because of this one moment when they had been sitting in the car waiting for a green light, and she had given him her attention thinking that he had become a stranger to her: Her estranged husband.

"I thought you'd gone home?", Meredith Grey had suddenly come up to her and surprised Dr. Yang with her words and her presence. With a pen she wrote down a few notes in an opened patient's chart that she held firmly in her hands. She was busy but she made time for Cristina. As she was not receiving any form of a reply, she raised her glance that then fell upon Owen behind the glass. She began to form a wondering question: "What . . .?

"I broke his nose", explained Cristina without further ceremony. She took no pride in what she had done but she was not ashamed, too. Truth be told, she was even glad that she had done something else with Owen but shouting at him. It was unfortunate that blood had to be shed in the process; however, it served its purpose rather successfully nonetheless.

"You broke his nose", repeated Meredith confirming her friend's proposition – the state of evidence was clear enough for that. She closed the chart and turned to the other twisted sister with a growing interest. "Ok, why did you break his nose? Did you have a fight?"

"All the time, but that was not why", retorted Dr. Yang who was unable to take her eyes off Dr. Hunt. "He was in the bathroom and I hit him with the door. I thought he was a burglar or something." She shrugged her shoulders attempting a half-hearted apology: "The lights were out. Who takes a shower in the dark?" This question was of rhetorical nature, the following that she spoke in great hesitation was not: "When you look at him . . . Does he seem any different to you?"

"Well", Dr. Grey directed a quick glance at Dr. Hunt's slightly swollen features. "His nose is broken."

"That's not what I meant", countered Cristina suddenly impatient. She was angry, then she was not anymore but only confused instead. She saw Owen but she did not really see him. She saw a stranger who once had been Owen but whom he no longer resembled in any way.

FUTURE, 15. OCTOBER 2016, MORNING

As Owen awoke from his sleep he instantly knew that he was still dreaming because his glance fell, first of all, upon Alice, his daughter. She was sleeping in her own little bed next to the chair that he had placed beside her so that she would be the last thing that he saw when he closed his eyes. He had not expected to see her again. He sat still for a moment watching the constant rising and falling of her small chest, inside which a small heart beat to the rhythm of her young life. He could have stayed like that forever, had not Cristina chosen to disagree.

"You're awake", she stated, and Dr. Hunt immediately turned to her in surprise.

She had already exchanged her hospital gown for everyday clothes and was now stowing various toiletry products in a bag lying on the bed which she obviously planned to leave behind in its mess. Owen silently observed her work with interest. She seemed different. She looked at him and he could detect a slight anger in her dark eyes but also something else – something that he had missed for so long. He was not able to name it yet, but it was kind, warm and familiar. It was something that he so desperately needed.

"They will be here any moment now", stressed Dr. Yang while closing the bag. She spoke in a tone that suggested that disaster was on its way. "So: let's go!"

"They?", echoed Dr. Hunt bewildered. What kind of monsters could that be? He rose slowly to his feet. His body was stiff and his head ached. He heard voices approaching the door from outside. Someone knocked.

Cristina sighed heavily: „Maybe they'll leave if we keep quite. Maybe they'll think nobody's here."

"We can hear you, Cristina!", not awaiting an official invitation Callie Torres already stepped into the room with her wife and the Shepherds following close behind.

Eyes searched for and found to the sleeping baby girl, and the following exchange of words was, therefore, held in a varying whisper to not disturb the child's rest:

"She's super cute", beamed Arizona Robbins who was the first to approach the newborn in its crib. "Daddy and Mummy must be so happy that you're here."

"I am not a Mummy", interrupted Cristina fast and indignantly the general delight.

She had abruptly engaged everyone's undivided attention in the wake of her remark. Owen, who had just received Derek's well wishes with a friendly slap on the back, was especially concerned. He examined his wife in an effort to determine whether she was unhappy, and whether she hated him right now. He was unsure what to expect from her because he did not know this Cristina. He did not know every turn of her life. He could not even at all surmise why she had decided to carry his child. When his eyes met hers, however, she surprised him with an apology lying in her glance.

"I am a Mum", she said with a contentedness in her voice that she could not fully disguise. Her words were accompanied by a thankful smile that lighted up her husband's face. Then she turned defiantly back to Dr. Robbins: "But I'm not a Mummy."

"Ok, Mum", attempted Callie to loosen the tension hovering between them with a laugh.

"Have you spent the last ten months inside my uterus?", enquired Yang snappishly. "I have a name. Use it."

"Don't worry little one, Mum is just a little tired", confided Arizona, who felt guilty, to the baby.

"She can be nice, too", assured Torres who now bent over the crib as well, though at the moment she herself did not seem too convinced of her own promise. When Alice appeared to gradually find her way out of the land of sleep, Callie felt obliged to put the others on guard: "She's waking up!"

"Too many people?", assumed Cristina angrily but she was deliberately ignored this time

"She's not crying. Not yet!", observed Meredith cheerfully. She held up the camera that she had, until now, kept hidden in her right coat pocket. "Perfect moment for a picture."

"No", protested Dr. Yang shooting an accusatory glance at her best friend. "Meredith!"

"Come on", urged Dr. Grey. She gave Owen a subtle nod as if they had a secret that they shared only between the two of them. "You'll thank me later for it."

Cristina hesitated, and was thus responsible for Owen feeling nervous again. Would she now realise that she had made a mistake? Would it yet again all come to an end? Would he loose again? Then his wife stepped towards the baby and as she picked their daughter up from her bed to hold her in her arms he knew that everything would be ok. He came up to her. He was numb from the unusual sight that met his eyes. He stood next to her and put one arm around her body. There was no wall separating them anymore. He lightly kissed her hair because he could not resist. He was thankful for this moment though it was only alive in his dream.

"Ok, say: family!", rejoiced Arizona happily. One look at Cristina, however, led to a rather rueful retreat: "Or . . . not."

Owen and Cristina did not need instructions. They did not need words. All their uncertainties were forgotten. This was it: This was the huge life he had imagined for them. They knew that, and that was why they smiled.

"One, two, . . . three", counted Meredith before releasing the shutter.

PRESENT, 01. APRIL 2012, NIGHT

Cristina followed Owen through the door and into their flat. She stood still and watched him intently. It was not only the expression he wore on his face and the encrypted message he held in his eyes that seemed strange, but he also treaded their home in a different way. When he walked into the kitchen and took a glass out of a cupboard she could see that his posture had straightened. His steps were taken with more certainty. He did not hesitate anymore in his movement and his actions. He appeared content and at home, and that was something that only made his wife feel like an intruder. She still walked with a stoop due to the burden that her marriage had become. She still took her steps with caution so that they would not cross path with his. She did not know how she should move and act around him. She was not at home.

"So, since when do you enjoy showering in the dark?", Cristina finally broke the silence standing between them. She tried to hide her uncertainty as she did not want him to notice how much she envied his new old self. She was searching for that fight that he seemed to have forgotten. She still was angry at him.

"Oh that. . .", Dr. Hunt turned round and towards her in surprise, and he thought a bit too long about what answer would be the right one to give to her question. Then a glint could be seen in his eye as he smiled, and he was even a little amused when he spoke while pouring himself some orange juice. "Broken light bulb."

"Are you making fun of me?", took Dr. Yang rather indignantly the happiness from his face.

"No", said Owen quickly. As he wanted to place the juice box back into the refrigerator, his glance fell upon the calendar hanging there. He froze and saw the year, and all of the sudden his movements were less strange and more like they used to be. He was sad: "No, I'm not."

Cristina almost regretted the words she had said before. She was suddenly very tired and she went over to the sofa and sat down with her back turned to him. Of course it had to be her who was taking away his happiness again, but who had given it to him so unexpectedly today? She raked one hand through her curled, black hair and collected her thoughts.

"Who is it?", she asked. She had to know. She wanted to know everything about this happiness, and then she wanted to rest, regardless of the pain that this rest might bring. She did not like that her voice was trembling: "Is it someone I know?"

"What do you mean?", Owen sounded confused. When he came to her and sat down beside her he was no longer holding a glass in his hands but instead reached out with them for hers. She, though, did not let him get her, and left him waiting in his concern for a while.

Then Cristina looked directly at him so that she would not miss any lies he might tell. The tears running down her face took her by surprise but she had no control: "The woman you're sleeping with. Who is she?"

"Cristina. . .", began Owen, and he shook his head. He did not want to see her cry.

"You haven't been home lately. We don't talk. We don't. . .", he was cut short by his wife before she cut herself. "So, who is it? Who makes you happy?"

"You", replied Owen without hesitation. This time he caught hold of her hands. "Only you, Cristina."

"I don't believe you", she doubted him but she let him touch her now because it was good to know that he was there.

"I know", He nodded before promising in the same breath: "But you will."

"Look at me", he demanded softly.

So she did, and then she discovered it in his blue, honest eyes: This feeling that she had missed for so long. She knew now that everything would be ok, just like she used to whenever he was looking at her in that way. That was what she found in his eyes. Fearing that this feeling would not last forever, she greedily reached out for it: she took his face between her hands, framing it with them. She bent towards him and kissed his lips. She breathed him. She wanted more.

"Don't", she was suddenly retained by Owen. He regretted his words as soon as he spoke them aloud but he knew that he chose them right. "I can't do this now. I'm sorry"

It hurt as he let go of her. He rose to his feet and she watched him doing so from below. She could not say whether she was angry, but she did not want him to escape her without explaining why.

"Where are you going?", she asked as he walked towards the door and opened it.

"Milk", he chose a random excuse. Time was short. He already heard other voices and saw other things. "We ran out of it."

Cristina simply nodded although she did not understand. She would not beg him to stay. She still had her pride that she planned to keep.

"Remember: No matter what happens, I will always love you and I will always come back to you", she heard him say.

After that he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.


END NOTE. I struggled a bit with the translation of the last part. I hope it's not too noticeable. (Like I said: Betas are always welcome to offer their help ;-)) Again I'd like to read your thoughts (: Hope you liked it x