They had both been standing there for what felt like hours, not a word had been uttered between either of them. Cristina wanted to run. It was taking all the effort not to just run out of the apartment. Finally she broke the silence between them,
"I…I need to get to the hospital. I can't do this just now Owen. I just…can't." Cristina was upset, she was trying not to let it show on her face. But this was killing her, it was killing her because she could see how much this was destroying Owen. Last night had been a mistake, they were drunk. It didn't change anything, he still resented her for killing their baby. He still slept with another woman. She was still taking the fellowship and Mayo.
"Cristina! So last night was nothing? It's all I've been thinking about for months. To have you back in my arms, in our bed, in our apartment, But what was it for you?" He was getting more and more worked up as he spoke. Talking was never something Owen was good at, he couldn't articulate himself very well, especially when It came to Cristina. He always somehow managed to screw it up even more.
"When I got that phone call, about the plane, I thought I was never going to see you again. I thought that was how our story was going to end. The thought of never seeing you face again, never holding you, never waking up beside you – ever. That kills me Cristina. That kills me but I was starting to deal with it. And then you get wasted, and come home with me, and now once again I am nothing but a fucking mistake too you!" He was pacing the apartment and shouting. His mind was racing.
He knew he had no right, he had told her to go, told her to leave. What sort of husband had he became? The sort that screams in front of all their friends that she killed there baby, the sort that told the love of his life to leave, the sort that cheated on Cristina with a woman who's name and face he couldn't even remember. He was a monster. He had become a monster. Cristina deserved more. He knew that. He had know what he was getting into when he asked her to be his wife.
She was Cristina Yang, headstrong, fiercely intelligent, driven, and passionate. She was a surgeon. Before anything, Cristina was a surgeon. Owen knew that. He had expected her to change. To want the children he did. He had failed her. At ever hurdle he had failed her. Teddy, the abortion, telling her to leave, the cheating – he had failed her.
"NO. NO Owen. You do not get to decide what last night was for me, what YOU are too me." She was fuming. She felt like her head was about to explode- what gave him the right.
"You cheated on me. You slept with someone else and you can't even remember her name Owen. You lost the right to DECIDE anything about me." Cristina was furious, but in her anger tears were streaming down her face. Cristina grabbed what she needed for the way and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
She paused for a minute in the hallway of the apartment, to collect herself, she sighed, closing her eyes cradling her head in her hands. This was hard. Leaving, right now, this was hard. How was it going to feel when she really left? She shook the thought from her mind. She couldn't think about that right now, she had a surgery to get too.
Inside the apartment…
Owen was pacing the apartment as he often did when he was frustrated at himself. It seemed like all he did lately. He was constantly in turmoil with his emotions. He was torturing himself over what he had done to Cristina. This wreckage they had created. He thought, just for a moment last night, he thought they were going to fix it. Cristina had made it quite clear that they weren't on the same page, hell they weren't even on the same chapter.
He sat on the arm of the sofa, pressing his hand into his thighs. He was frowning, his face was pained. He just wanted to make everything better, he wanted to fix her, but he didn't know where to begin. Or if it was just too late.