"Dr. Shepherd, can I talk to you for a minute?" Owen had peaked his head into the scan room. Derek looked up and laughed.

"My ears must deceive me, another consult for Dr. Hunt?" Owen laughed uncomfortably and walked in. "Oh, I'll be out in one a minute"

"Actually…" Owen rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "This consult is for me…personally"

"Oh…I see" Derek swiveled away from the screen and motioned for Owen to have a seat. "What's the problem?"

"Well…as you well know" Owen started with a bit of a bite in his voice, seeing as Derek took any chance possible to mock his military background "I just got back from Iraq, and I'm…having some trouble sleeping...and you know, images from war and what not in my head sometimes…" Derek nodded, a somewhat guilty look in his face.

"Well, that sounds more like a psych problem…I can only work with a physical injury. I can get you the numbers of some great therapists…"

"No…I mean, I'm not really into psych" Owen sighed. He wasn't sure what he had expected Derek to say, except to give him a psych consult.

"Well, from my experience, it just helps to do what relaxes you…golf or fish or…find some company that calms you down, keeps you happy"

"Well, I…I already have company that…is sort of the problem. I mean, I'm worried about controlling myself, essentially. About my head being in the right place" Derek nodded knowingly and a smile spread on his face.

"You have a girlfriend?"

"Well kind of…yes…we're not…we haven't figure it all out…yet"

"Do I know her?"

"Dr. Shepherd…"

"Oh right, right…anyway. Relax yourself and actually…" Derek swiveled back around to his computer screen. "It might help you to talk through some things with…whoever it is you're seeing. Have you slept at all in the past few weeks?"

"Rarely…the only time I can really sleep is when I'm with her…"

"Then I suggest more sleepovers"

"But…it makes it more difficult to…control things"

"Dr. Hunt" Derek began, "I've seen you work. The fact that you care so much about doing it, probably means you're going to be fine. I would get things started, if you feel things getting out of control, just stop…" Owen just nodded. This whole situation was awkward…getting sex advice from the guy with the crazy relationship issues in his past?

"Thanks, Dr. Shepherd"

"She's a lucky woman"

"You really are a nosy bastard" Owen said, they both chuckled and he turned and left the room. Maybe he should see how things go.

Owen reached for the last slice of pizza on the table. Cristina was wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with him, watching some gory show on HBO.

"You really do have an unnatural attraction to blood…" he said, shaking his head as he threw the crust onto his plate on the table.

"Sometimes I dream about the kinds of surgeries I could have done in ancient Rome…those people were brutal…" she sighed lovingly "beautiful."

"So I talked to Shepherd today" she immediately snapped out of her gory Roman reverie. Cristina fought very consciously not to move and steadied her voice.

"What'd he say?"

"He…uh…said I should do things that relax me"

"Oh. That's…good, I guess" Cristina fell flat. Sure Owen's problem wasn't surgical, but she had hoped McHairProducts would have more to give him than that.

"He also mentioned that maybe…trying things out wouldn't be so bad" Cristina could tell Owen was also trying to steady himself. "Just, you know, if I feel things are getting out of control…just to…to stop" Cristina nodded against Owen's shoulder and swallowed hard. She looked up at him and felt a degree of heat that had never been there before.

"Are you going to take his advice?" her voice was huskier than she intended, but now that there was a legitimate possibility of this going somewhere, she couldn't control herself.

As if in response to her question, Owen pushed himself forward and pulled her face into his. His kiss was ferocious and it was all Cristina could do breathe and keep from melting into him. She pulled herself up higher and while one hand steadied itself behind on the nape of his neck, the other combed itself through his red hair. He grabbed her from underneath her rear and got up from the couch. She slowly slid down as they entered the bedroom and left a path of shed clothing on their way. That night, instead of the horrible ambush replaying in his mind, all he saw or touched or thought of was Cristina. He did lose control that night, but only in ways he had intended.