CHAPTER FOUR: Firehouse

Recommended Song for This Chapter: Sticky Leaves by Linying


"Hello?"

"Hi. This is Dr. Cristina Yang. I met with you earlier today-"

"Dr. Yang?"

"The appointment was under the name Hunt. That's my… my husband's name." Cristina clarified. The word husband still felt strange on her tongue.

"Oh yes." The realtor exaggerated the yes, clearly remembering Cristina's rudeness from this morning.

"The firehouse- I want to buy it."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Excellent! I'll just have you come down and sign some papers and we'll be good to go. Though… you didn't seem to like it during the tour. May I ask what changed your mind?"

"I liked it." Cristina replied shortly.

"Alright." sighed the realtor. Cristina knew she should feel bad, but she did like it. Even though this morning she was barely paying attention, but she dwelled on the matter all morning and arrived at a decision.

I don't care where we live

"So can I come by in a couple hours?" Cristina asked.

"Yes- that will work perfectly. Will your husband be joining you?" asked the realtor hopefully.

"No." Cristina replied quickly. She was not oblivious to the effect Owen had on other women, especially a woman as bland as this relator. That was rude. A woman as nice as the realtor.

Cristina's lip curled in distaste.

"I'll be over in a couple hours." Cristina repeated and hung up.

Cristina didn't do surprises or big gestures. But she was starting to feel guilty. The firehouse was the sixth property she and Owen looked at. Every time Cristina would find something wrong with the house or apartment and send the relator back to the drawing board. She suspected the relator's growing affection for Owen stemmed from pity for him and dislike for Cristina. Owen was equally enthusiastic at every property, which was not helpful. He would not be discouraged by Cristina's dourness, and Cristina wish she could say thank you. But she could hardly touch her feelings these days.

They desperately needed their own place. Not only was the apartment becoming more crowded with Arizona staying over, the nightmares were horrible, and Cristina suspected that a change of scenery would help.

Owen rounded the corner just as Cristina hung up and noticed her quickly walk away. She knew he would be hurt by her elusiveness but hopefully the apartment buying would clarify her strange behavior.

"Cristina!" Meredith shouted from down the hall. Cristina stopped her fast walk and waited for her friend to catch up. "What's the big hurry?"

"I'm avoiding Owen." Cristina said resuming her walking.

"Why?" Meredith asked suspiciously "What has he done now?"

"No, nothing like that." Cristina waved her hand dismissively. "I just- I have a surprise for him."

"You're pregnant." guessed Meredith.

Cristina scoffed. "No way! No it's the apartment we looked at this morning. I'm buying it."

"You said that it was dark and dingy."

"It is. But- It's… I don't know. It just seems like the right place."

"Aw…" teased Meredith

"Anyways. I'm not telling him I'm buying it until after I buy it."

"I'll keep him off your tracks." Meredith assured Cristina.

"Do you think I should get something- I don't know- flowers or something."

"For what?"

"The surprise. I want it to be… special. Or whatever." Cristina groaned.

Meredith smiled at Cristina.

"What?" Cristina said stopping her walking.

"You've changed."

"Yeah- I can't operate anymore." Cristina bit.

"No. I didn't mean it like that." Meredith laughed. "It's just you never do anything thoughtful."

For some reason that hurt Cristina to hear. Yes, she was never the most aware of other people's feelings. And she wasn't good at romantic stuff like Owen was. But she wanted to be better. Did that make her a weaker person? Did that make her soft?

A woman as nice as the realtor

"So tell me what to do!" Cristina exclaimed.

"Owen's a guy- he doesn't need chocolate and roses. Get him some nice champagne or whiskey… oooh you have to do it, too- or else you won't really be moved in."

Cristina snorted.


Come to the firehouse. Don't ask questions.

She imagined Owen staring at the text in confusion. But she knew he would come. The man loved a mystery.

While she waited she explored the rest of the loft. She really had not been paying attention. The firehouse was much larger than she noticed this morning. Her old apartment had crappy lighting that threw shadows on the walls. In the firehouse, the large windows were baked in golden light from the street below and made the entire loft glow. Cristina decided the bed should be situated right underneath those windows. Of course she didn't bring a bed. She threw a sheet and a comforter down on the floor. She imagined where the closet would be, the sofa, the TV. She stopped her planning when she walked by the firepole.

Cristina stared down the pole. She touched the cool metal. She bit back the flashbacks and jumped. For a single moment she was flying. The wind rushed through her air and she closed her eyes. The weight that had been pressing down on her for the past few weeks was blown off, left behind.

Then it was over.

Cristina's feet hit the ground and she looked up the firepole. She walked up the stairs and slid down the pole again and again. It was like the vent. Somehow it cleared the debris. It grounded her.


Finally, she heard Owen pull up outside. She peaked out the window. She smiled. His hair was deliciously ruffled from a long day at work. She tried to smooth down her curly hair but stopped-

What am I doing?

Cristina dropped her hands feeling stupid and vain. What did it matter how she looked? She bit her lip and listened to the door open and shut. She quickly picked up the champagne bottle rearing to pop the cork.

"Cristina?"

"Welcome Home!" Cristina shouted and haphazardly poured some champagne into two plastic cups.

"I don't know what to say…" Owen said confused.

"Our house has a firepole." Cristina replied. "What else is there to say?"

Owen still looked confused. Cristina felt frustrated her plan wasn't working as she expected. She knew she didn't do romantic things but Owen didn't seem even surprised. He seemed cautious. Like she was going to have another breakdown. Couldn't he see that this was the exact opposite of a breakdown? It was clarity.

"This morning you said-"

Cristina interrupted him.

"I don't care where we live. But you do. You love this place." Cristina looked around the barren loft.

You love this place

And I love you.

It was a fact. A simple A+B=C sentence.

She giggled as his face started to brighten and his eyes widened. He was speechless. For Cristina, this was a grand gesture. It was the best 'thank you' she could give him. A thank you for standing by her, for listening to her, for holding her. For being her husband. She knew it can't be easy for him to watch as she scrabbled at the edges of her sanity. But he was still there, still loving her as hard as he could. And it drowned her and she needed it.


Thank you for reading!