Hang in there, all of you Crowen shippers – the juicy stuff's coming soon. But for now, take some of this Owen angst.

Old friend, where are you headed for now?

The drink buzzing through Teddy's veins did little to quell the roiling of her turbulent thoughts – after hearing what Cristina had to say, Teddy couldn't get it out of her mind. She'd been left to an impossible decision with the wars of loyalties tearing her conscience in two, so she'd called Owen just to make sure her bond of silence would settle – one way or another, she was going to end this tonight.

"I'm at Joe's. Is your shift over yet?" Ambiguous words; these were innocent letters bearing the connotations of so much more, weighted with a very human burden. The fire of the next shot Teddy downed bore likeness to the conflict raging within her. If she felt like this, merely bearing the secret, how much more could Cristina take? She'd been holding out on a hope that Cristina might have caved, that she might have told Owen the truth – yet, Owen still came in to work with that ageless weariness written plainly across his face.

No, Cristina hadn't told him.

Lies. They came in all different manners – never just black and white, only gray. Every moment Teddy spent in Owen's company, she was lying with the words she failed to speak; the smile in her eyes grew weaker by the day, the choice hanging over her head marring the small talk and pleasantries she'd been trying to make. And Cristina? She'd been lying to him, denying him a family that he'd so wished for time and time again.

Teddy hoped the alcohol would numb the cutting words she was due to say.

"Teddy?"

She flinched as Owen's voice jarred her out of her irresolution. Covering it with a twisted smile, Teddy murmured: "Oh, Owen. Hey."

"You look nervous," Owen noted nonchalantly. "What's up?"

"It's nothing," Teddy said. Another lie. "Long day, is all."

Gesturing across the bar for a drink, Owen dropped his gaze to an old friend. Years had honed his eyes to pick out her worries and her preoccupations, but the scars between them were too many – he no longer knew Teddy as well as he should, nor trust her as much as he did. "Mine was a long one, as well. The ER's always busy this time of year, what with the ice and all."

Pretending to have heard him, Teddy smiled and nodded. In truth, she was mulling over how far they'd drifted apart – when had the conversations turned to meaningless words about the weather? In another lifetime, she would never have hesitated; she'd have told him right away, because their friendship had meant more back then. Now, she had different loyalties.

"How's Henry?" Owen inquired, continuing the charade of his feigned interest. The beer in his hands was growing warm between the few words he'd spoken since he got here, and the silence was growing uneasy.

Teddy gave a wan smile before replying: "He's doing good. The scans came back clean – thank God."

"Thank your cardio department, more like," Owen teased. "You taught Cristina well."

"Did I?" The skeptical words slipped from Teddy's lips before she could stop them. The facade she'd been bearing with a fierce resolve was starting the crumble; edges fading, she could feel the truth burning away at her tongue, voice creeping up her throat just waiting to be spoken.

"What do you mean?" Owen asked, brow furrowing.

"I mean, if I'd taught her so well, wouldn't she have learned to do what was right by now?"

The defensiveness that reared up in Owen was feral and wild; when Teddy spoke ill of Cristina, the anger started pulsing through his veins before he could reason with it – and, much like Teddy, Owen would go to any lengths to protect those he loved.

But he'd never seen Teddy this way before. He'd witnessed his friend's braveness, her unwavering strength – but not this. Not this fearful, uncertain insecurity.

"Don't be mad," Teddy pleaded, seeing the flames rear up inside of him. "Hear me out."

A moment passed, dead air clinging to every breath. Slowly, Owen nodded, his eyes dark and dangerous.

"I know you'd do anything for Cristina, but would she do anything for you? I mean, she's proven too many times that you don't mean as much to her as she does to you – and don't even try to deny it, because you know it's true. I've taught her long enough to know that her career means more to her than anything –"

"What are you saying?" Owen interrupted flatly.

Teddy took a breath before continuing. "What I'm saying is that what you want may not be what she wants, and it'll ruin the both of you. I care too much to see you destroy yourselves over each other, especially when Cristina hasn't been completely honest with you."

"Look, I don't know where you're going with this crap, but you had better stop talking. I thought we were over this, Teddy," Owen said accusingly.

"I'm not jealous, if that's what you're implying," Teddy retorted, face set in dignity.

"Then what is it? Why are you telling me all of this?"

Because I don't want to see you get hurt – because you're still my friend, even though things aren't the same anymore. Raising her forlorn gaze to Owen's, Teddy willed him to read the words in her eyes. She couldn't find the words to say them.

"Cristina's pregnant," Teddy whispered at last under the weight of Owen's stony glare. "She's pregnant, and she wants to get rid of it."

Not a trace of vindication was in her voice as she said it, for she'd only come clean to spare Owen the betrayal he'd have to live through by not knowing. There came a point when her loyalty won out over doing what was right; she had to stop hiding the truth, and stop telling these little white lies. Yet, she couldn't help but feel like a thief now, having stolen the right to a secret that was never hers to tell.

"She… what?" Owen whispered, after a beat of excruciating silence. The momentary shock that flitted across his face was fast fading, turning to a gaze that was rife with grief. And all of his rage, his fierce devotion to the woman he loved – it was ebbing away, only to be replaced by the rawest betrayal Teddy had ever seen on her friend's face.

"I'm sorry," Teddy breathed, pity forging softness in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Owen."

Without sparing her a reply or a fleeting glance, Owen stood up so fast that the legs of his bar stool clattered against the wood. In the next moment, he'd taken to the darkness of a cold Seattle night, leaving Teddy to her regrets in his wake.

So am I, Owen thought, eyes as bitter as the wind.

Hope you don't mind Teddy peeking in. I can't help it – who's to say I can't be addicted to a certain kind of sadness?