Disclaimer: I don't own anything all characters belong to Shonda and ABC. No funds were received for this flight of fantasy.
A/N: Okay now I'm just avoiding Nothing Compares LOL! A little angsty romance ahead.
Hero (1/1)
"Can you believe the audacity? How could he do that?" Cristina was working herself into a fine rage. Her hand went over her swollen belly and rubbed in slowly circular motion to calm her active son. She was eight months pregnant with their second child and this pregnancy had not only put her out of work early, but it had driven her to go to the hospital twice due false labor.
"I know we a-agreed on a homage to my mother's name, but Allison? Why would he choose that name?" Mer said sniffing on her side of the phone.
"And he didn't understand why you got upset?"
"He said Allison, was not even close to Addison!"
"That ass," Cristina rolled her eyes. She heard the front door of her four bedroom colonial home open and smiled when she saw he very tired husband walk through the door with their very hyper four year old son dressed in his red and white soccer uniform. At first, she was apprehensive about putting him in a soccer for tots program, but after Owen pleaded and pouted with her for a week she relented.
"Mama!" he squealed in joy and came running to her in the kitchen, he gently wrapped his tiny arms around her waist and put his head on her large belly. She ran her hand through his long reddish brown wavy hair. "Had fun?" she whispered to Rowan and he nodded putting his hand on her belly.
"Cwis," he said and Cristina grinned. She didn't want the baby named after her, but her eldest son had insisted since the day her and Owen told him she was pregnant that that baby's name was Chris.
Owen dropped his keys on the kitchen island and put down a few bags of groceries on the counter. He threw away an empty happy meal bag, and Cristina knew their son must have sung his Happy Meal chant from the time they left soccer practice until Owen gave in. He was quiet when he came to kiss her good evening. Solemnly, he walked away taking off his coat, he gently pried Rowan away from her and took off his coat and shoes.
"C'mon, Terror, we got to go give you a bath," he said lifting their son over his shoulder, his voice was lacking that excited happy spark that it normally held.
"Hey Mer, I have to cut this conversation short, you want my final say on the matter."
"Yeah."
"Tell Derek he's an idiot and to pick out another name or forgo naming the baby at all," Cristina grumbled, and she could almost hear Mer smiling.
"You know, I love you," she began. "Cause you're my person. My very pregnant person."
"I'm your person point five, which means I'm point five percent more right than before," Cristina joked.
Mer laughed and Cris said her goodbyes and hung up the phone.
She walked upstairs to check on her men, and found Owen on the side of the tub sitting quietly watching their son play with his trucks covered in bubble bath suds. Cris frowned at Owen's odd behavior.
"Ro," she began and he looked up at her with big bluish-grey eyes.
"Yes , Mama."
"Did you wash?"
"No Mama."
She squirted soap into his bunny shaped sponge and handed it to him with an eyebrow raised, "Get to scrubbing mister!"
Dutifully, he began scrubbing himself clean as she watched. Cristina looked at her husband and realized he was crying silently, she put her hand through his red-brown hair and he sighed shaking his head.
"Daddy's sad," Ro's eye got big and his lip began to quiver, Owen wiped his tears and forced a smile.
"Daddy's fine!" he sniffed and then cleared his throat. "Hey, I don't see you scrubbing mister. Little boys who don't mind their mother's get the tickle monster!"
Rowan squealed happily, and began to scrub. Cris stood there for a moment until Owen looked back at her.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I got it," he whispered gently to her.
"You sure?" she asked and he nodded, the sadness in his eyes remained.
" Yes, I'm okay, go lay down you shouldn't be on your feet," he said and she nodded her hand on her aching back she went to their bedroom to lay down.
Cristina listened as she heard Owen with their son down the hall.
"Daddy's sad," she heard her perceptive four year old say and she heard Owen's deep sigh.
"It's okay little man, it'll go away," He said.
"Pwomise?"
"I promise," he told him.
Twenty minutes later their son was dressed for bed and put down to sleep for the night. Owen shuffled into the room and leaned against the door frame watching Cristina as she flipped through a parenting magazine.
"I got a letter today," Owen said from the doorway and Cristina looked up at him.
"It was from the wife of the Colonel who save my life," he paused as he felt the tears well in his eyes.
"He was killed in Iraq, RPG blew up his Jeep," he said, looking at the glossy cedar wood floor.
"I wrote him, you know, after Ro was born. I told him how-how grateful I was that he saved my life because now I get to share it with you and Ro," he wiped at the tears trailing down his face.
Cristina looked at him and opened her arms. He went to her and put his head on her chest and she held him.
"He saved me, he made all of this possible, and now, now he doesn't get to have this with his own wife and kids. It's wrong, it's so wrong," he cried.
"I know it's wrong, and I'm sorry he was killed. He was a hero, and I'm so so thankful he saved you," she whispered in his hair and he placed his hand on her stomach.
"I am too," he whispered so low Cristina could barely make him out. She let out a shaky breath when she realized that was the first time he referred to his survival as something he wanted and not just something that happened to him.
