She slapped her hand on the top of the alarm, putting it on 'snooze' for the fifth time that morning. She hadn't been asleep to start with, but she did not want to get up yet and did not have the motivation to turn it around and flick the 'off' switch. She hugged the same pillow to her chest that she had for the past week. She stared at the shaft of sunlight pushing through the gap where her curtains were not closed properly until five minutes later when the alarm started to pester her again. She listened to its persistent whine for a few moments, but as she reached out her arm to turn it off the door to her room was opened so forcefully that it hit the wall. Cristina twisted her head back over her shoulder to see a very angry-looking Callie.

"If you do not turn that thing off I am going to smash it! It has been going off ten times a day every day for a week and I know that you're upset and wallowing in self-pity but I don't freaking care because that stupid alarm is driving me insane!" She gave a small scream and stamped her foot. Cristina reached out and scrabbled at the alarm with her fingers, soon finding the switch to turn it off. She heard Callie sigh behind her. She drew her arm back and curled it around the pillow.

"Cristina, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's fine. It's an annoying alarm."

"You're not wallowing in self-pity. What you're going through is hard."

Cristina stood up. "I'm going to take a shower." She placed the pillow on the bed, grabbed a towel off the messy floor and walked to the door. Callie stepped out of her way, acknowledging that, if Cristina did not want to talk, she wouldn't.

Cristina climbed into the shower, setting it to an abnormally low temperature in an attempt to shock her system out of its numbness. This had not worked for the past few days, but she would still try. She stood under the water and soon started to shiver. This was good. She stayed there, shivering, trying to feel something other than the monotonous ache she had been experiencing. Her mind soon began to wander, just as it always did at this point. She wondered if Owen was awake yet. She wasn't sure what time it was, but she was pretty certain he would be up. Perhaps he was taking a shower like she was. The day after he had stormed from the hospital she had seen him in Derek's office. The day after that, he was back at work. She had arrived on the ER floor and immediately stepped back into the elevator. The next day she had told herself that that was no way to fix things. She went to the emergency room, dispatched her interns and began working cases until he appeared. She watched him for an hour, but he ignored her completely. He had shadows under his eyes like the dark sides of crescent moons and his skin was paler than usual. Cristina guessed he hadn't been sleeping, just like her. Sudden metallic noises made him jump and Cristina feared he would relapse again. She wanted desperately to speak to him, but she could tell it would be useless. She had to wait.

For four days she had waited, just travelling to the emergency room to watch him over her interns' sutures. She was unable to wait any more. She supposed this was indicative of a slight change in her mood and could therefore be considered an improvement. Having gained a small thing, she turned the shower off. She pulled her towel tightly around her and slipped on the wet floor. Her hand slapped sharply against the wall as she tried to steady herself. She left a trail of water behind her on the path to her bedroom. She closed the door and leant against it. Then she caught sight of the clock. She gave a strange strangled noise and began throwing things around the room in a search for clean clothes. This was the same as every recent morning: she stayed in bed too late, showered too long and ran out of time.

She ran across the street to the hospital, reaching the residents lounge with no time to spare. Meredith was just leaving as she entered.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Fine." Cristina pushed past her without making eye contact. She heard Meredith sigh and the door to the room closed, leaving Cristina alone. She threw her things into her cubby and pulled on her scrubs. She was going to be late for rounds again and she was on Bailey's service. This day was not going well so far.

She jogged up to Dr Bailey where she stood holding a chart. The tiny doctor raised an eyebrow at her, then handed her the chart.

"I'm sorry I'm late."

"I don't want your apologies, Yang. Just check the patient and try not to think too much about your love life while you do it."

Cristina tried to follow Bailey's advice, and it was almost working until lunch time. She walked into the cafeteria and immediately saw Owen sitting at a table by himself. She had been very close to not thinking about him, but that certainly wouldn't happen now. She had stopped when she saw him and realised she had been partially blocking the entrance to the cafeteria. She quickly moved and began placing food on a tray, scanning the room as she did so. Owen was the only one she knew personally in the whole place. She paid for her food and bit her lip as she turned towards the tables. She guessed now was the perfect time.

She rolled her shoulders once, then walked towards his table. He didn't look up, so he was unaware of her until she sat beside him. He lifted his head and, upon seeing her, began to get up, but Cristina grabbed his arm and pulled him down again. he tried to struggle against her.

"Owen, please. Can you just stay for a minute?"

He turned his face away from her, but he sat back in his chair. Cristina left her hand where it was, but he moved his arm from under it.

"You don't have to say anything," she continued. "I just need to tell you that I can't say "I'm sorry" enough times. I don't have an explanation for what I did. I don't have a reason for it. Maybe there was a stupid part of my brain saying "what if" and I listened to it. If that was it, then I shouldn't have. There was no "what if" for me and Burke, although I once believed there was. If he hadn't left me then, we would have ended up getting divorced. We were bad for each other. But...But I'm trying to say that I'm sorry for listening to that part of my brain. I'm saying that you and me, we're not bad for each other. We pull each other out of the abyss; we don't drag the other into it. What I said is still true: I can't breathe without you. Owen, I need you. And I will wait for you for as long as it takes." She did not know where she had found the courage or inspiration to say these words, but they felt right. She drew her hand back from beside his arm and clasped her hands together. She watched Owen. His head was still turned from her.

He stood. Her eyes followed him as he left. He didn't even take his tray.

She slumped onto the table, her head on her arms. She had said she would wait, and that was true, but she realised now that the task would be far harder than she originally thought. She hated not hearing his voice. He wouldn't look her in the eyes, and she couldn't stand it. She knew why he was doing it: his eyes communicated so much to Cristina that Owen did not want to tell her. He didn't trust her and she utterly deserved it, but the thought still made her tear ducts swell. She lifted her face and rested her chin on her arms, staring at the food on Owen's abandoned tray without fully registering what she was seeing. She didn't want to eat now. This had been happening more and more. She thought about Owen and her hunger evaporated. She tried to remember the last time she had eaten a proper meal. She begrudgingly discounted chocolate and red wine as food. She was counting back whole days, which her ingrained doctor instincts were telling her was a very bad thing. She reached out and grabbed some of Owen's fries. They made her feel faintly connected to him. She looked at her watch; she still had forty-five minutes. She sighed and resigned herself to finishing both trays.