Chapter 7.

Remains.

Seattle, Washington.

July 12, 2019.

Cristina laid down a napkin perimeter, and gathered towels from the closet, spreading them across the mess and trying to contain it. She threatened the lives of any of the munchkins who dared step too close, and moved Henry to his crib, because the smell was becoming overpowering. Once she had a pile of wet towels and fragments of glass were still sprinkled all over ground zero, the mess seemed impossible to clean, and she ended up standing at the edge of it with Collin, her hands on top of her head, trying to decide if she should join him in his meltdown.

And then the door opened.

She turned, horrified, as Owen came inside. He caught the smell immediately, and grimaced, dropping his bags by the door and beholding the chaos. "What the hell…?"

"Owen!" Cristina wiped her hands on her jeans, but the smell remained, becoming noxious. "This is not what it looks like – er, what it smells like. I swear."

He came closer, nudging the twins back a few steps. "It smells like whiskey."

"It is whiskey. It was. A bottle of it. But I wasn't… I mean, I didn't have any. I just had it on the table, and Collin sort of… well, he threw it."

Owen stared at her, and then at the pile of towels, bewildered. "Cristina…"

"I know, I know. I shouldn't have had it in the first place. I know that." Cristina gave in and sulked up to him, laying her head on his shoulder. "I suck."

Owen put his arms around her reflexively. "You don't suck."

"I almost lost it." Cristina looked down, where her four-year-old was sitting and scowling at the mess he made. "Collin saved me."

Owen looked down at him, too. "He has a way of doing that."

Cristina pulled away, creeping around the mess and plucking the chip from the table. It was the only thing she could find to explain all of this, and it still seemed disjointed, like she was trying to distract from the mess she was in. She presented it to him. "Do you know what this is?"

He nodded, taking it and examining both sides. "Why do you have it?"

"Dean – er, my sponsor – gave it to me."

"Oh."

"He wants me to speak at the next meeting."

"I don't understand what that has to do with-"

"Since he gave it to me, I have had this… pressure inside."

Owen waited, his eyes flickering between her and the spill, trying to find the connection.

She took the chip back and slipped it into her pocket. "I bought the bottle last week. I was being rebellious. And every time something happens, every time it gets hard, I go right back to it. But I didn't drink it. I didn't."

"And Collin… smashed it?"

"Yeah. He saw me throw the bottle at the park."

Owen took a deep breath, his nose wrinkling as the alcohol invaded. "Okay."

"You keep saying that when stuff like this happens, and it's starting to worry me."

Owen grabbed the paper towels from the back of the couch, rolling a bunch out into his hand. "Honestly, Cristina, I don't know what else to say. Okay is my go-to word these days."

"I can do it," Cristina said, reaching for the roll, "You worked all day."

"I can handle this." Owen waved her off, his affect a little flat. It was hard to tell what he might be thinking, if he was angry, or confused, or just exhausted. It was probably a mixture of all those things, and she decided it was best to let him do his thing.

She scooped up the incredible kid and cradled him against her chest, pacing the open area by the door and trying to stop his screaming.

She hardly realized how long she had been walking when Owen finally stopped her, and her calves burned. He peeled her sleeping son from her chest and took him down the hall to his room, and she walked numbly to theirs, wondering if it was time for the lecture.

Owen came back in and shut the door, and put his hands on top of his head for a moment, watching her lie there on her side of the bed, and then he sighed.

He laid down, facing her, and reached between them, running his fingers down her shoulder, to her elbow, to her wrist. He was full of patience.

He simply whispered, "I love you."

Cristina was intensely relieved by those three words. It took the edge off of this crazy afternoon. She was a drunk bull stampeding around and Owen was the one patiently walking after her, waiting for her to be steady again.

She scooted closer to him, "What did I do to deserve you?"

"Well, I knocked you up, so hanging around was the right thing to do."

Cristina snorted. "Oh, yeah. No other reason?"

"Nope." He smiled, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her lips. "I said I was going to be here, every step of the way. I meant that. No matter how long it takes."

"You do realize when I… get better… I'll just be an asshole again, right?"

"Counting on it."

XxX

Meredith stirred from sleep and gazed at a jagged stain on the ceiling. It looked suspiciously like someone had sprayed the hose through the sliding door over the summer, and thought it might just dry and disappear. Or maybe they had a ghost. Either seemed plausible when her head was all fuzzy. She was under sedation from just a couple of glasses of wine, pleasantly warm inside, her head in her husband's lap, her back resting on a heating pad.

She yawned, turning a little to watch Derek flip through the TV. He was ignoring the shouting and laughing coming from down the hall.

"Morning, sunshine," he murmured, resting his hand over her neck, his thumb on her cheek.

Meredith smiled, stretched, and drew his hand over her lips, kissing his palm. "I was hoping I would wake up and all the kids would be grown up. Is that not what happened?"

"Close your eyes again. I'll make it happen."

She gazing at his face. Even after being married all these years, she never got tired of looking at him. He wasn't just handsome, he was hers. "I love you."

"I love you," he responded quietly.

"Did you hear anything from Callie?"

"No. I can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"Good thing. They're caught up in each other. They wouldn't fight with Sofia there."

"You sure about that?"

Meredith grimaced. Callie and Arizona were having marital problems, dealing with the strain of having a disabled two-year-old in the house alongside their daughter. Meredith had insisted they leave Manny with her and Derek and take Sofia out for a girls' night – now the adorable little ball of blubber was sleeping in her chair, his disfigured hands hidden under his head. She really hoped everything was going well.

"Sofia just needs one night to be a princess," she said to Derek, reaching up to play with his curls – the curls he gave to her daughters. He kept his hair longer now that he was out of the OR. "I think they're gonna be fine."

He smiled at the touch, "Speaking of relationship issues, are we watching Sarah tomorrow night?"

"Alex is… sulking. So I don't know. And they don't have… issues."

Derek snorted.

"Hey, we have no room to judge. At least they're still together."

"That's not always a good thing."

Zola appeared at the edge of the couch suddenly, pulling her brother by the hand. She stopped, put a hand on her hip – a perfect imitation of Meredith when she was on a mission – and looked at her parents with all the seriousness an eight-year-old could muster. "Mommy, Daddy, he has something to say to you."

Meredith sat up, concerned by her tone. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Bailey squirmed under the scrutiny. "Nothing."

"Tell mommy what you told me," Zola demanded of him.

Derek leaned in over his knees, "What's wrong, buddy?"

Bailey kept those pretty blue eyes on the floor, and muttered, "Cristina and Owen were fighting."

Derek glanced at Meredith, and said, "Oh?"

"When we went to the park," the boy clarified, daring a glance up.

Meredith frowned. "Sweetheart, that was days ago."

"Collin said it's because of him."

Meredith felt a jolt. "Collin said that to you?"

"Yeah." Bailey fidgeted. "Is Collin gonna still be my friend?"

"Why would you ask that?" Derek asked, scooping the boy up and holding him in his lap.

"Ms. Gardner said he has to go away to a special school."

"Ms. Gardner from the daycare?" Meredith put her hand on his knee, and frowned when he nodded. He looked absolutely heartbroken. "Baby, Collin isn't going anywhere."

Bailey sniffled and started rubbing his eyes, "She said Cristina and Owen are gonna get a divorce and move away and Collin can't be my friend anymore!"

"Oh, no, my baby," Meredith said, taking him under the arms and cradling him. She kissed his head. "That's not true. That's not true."

"But they were fighting!"

"People fight sometimes." Meredith looked at Derek, trying to convey the appropriate amount of anger and concern. She stroked her son's curly hair down. "Sweetie, did Ms. Gardner tell Collin they were fighting because of him?"

Bailey nodded.

Derek stood up. "First call to Owen, second to the hospital." He took Zola by the hand. "You're such a good big sister. I think you deserve an ice-cream sandwich."

Zola was proud of herself, "I don't need anything. I don't like it when Bailey's sad and I don't think Ms. Gardner was being very nice."

"You're absolutely right about that," Derek said to her.

Meredith tightened her hold on Bailey, giving him another reassuring kiss. "Ms. Gardner shouldn't have said those things to you, sweetie. I'm sorry she scared you. I'm glad you told me. You're such a good friend to Collin. I'm so proud of you."

He shifted around, giving a hesitant smile, "So Collin can still be my friend?"

"Yes, he can."

Bailey nodded, confirming that to himself, and then he took her hand and toyed with her wedding ring. "Can I have an ice-cream sandwich?"

"Of course you can." Meredith carried him into the kitchen and set him on the table, shadowed by his big sister. She must have changed her mind about wanting that reward, now that her brother was getting one. Meredith indulged them both, and hugged her daughter, glowing with pride for the smart kid she was turning into. She used to joke about how much like her Zola was, but in moments like these she saw Derek shining through – his persistent passion, his warmth.

She watched him pace on the back deck. He was probably on the phone with Owen. He looked more than miffed. Meredith should have been a little angrier herself, but being able to explain things to Bailey made it easier to forgive. She only hoped they could clarify it to Collin. He was in that age group that had a hard time placing and understanding blame.

Her mind went to the beginning of that conversation, though, and she wondered about Owen and Cristina. Sometimes they were really good at hiding their own problems, but lately they seemed fine. No signs of fighting. Cristina hadn't said anything about it.

She wondered if Collin was really the reason they were arguing, or if it was about Henry, or something else Cristina had neglected to share with her.

Regardless, it was too much for a four-year-old to shoulder.