Chapter 54.

Lie To Me.

September 4, 2019.

Cristina sat on the couch for hours, shifting between hostility and acceptance. She was a surgeon. She lost plenty of patients. Her work dealt with delicate organs that the human body could not function without. Even a little tampering, one wrong move, one little pathogen, could take the life of a pulmonary patient. But it went further than that. Her patients, those with chronic heart or lung problems, might spend their whole lives suffering – struggling to get energy, to breathe.

She thought about that when she was feeling hostile, struggling with the futility of it all, and when she was feeling acceptance, she was almost eerily unfazed. Meredith sat with her, one arm around her shoulder, one hand linked to hers, only getting up to yell at the kids or stretch. She had worked the night before and she was more sleep than person, but her presence helped.

Cristina got a phone call that evening informing her that Juliet Cortez had died, and that Alex Korev had signed the death certificate. Only an hour later, her mother called.

"Wyatt told me your patient died," Helen began, not even waiting for a 'hello.'

Cristina shifted back to hostility. "What is he, your spy?"

"He was worried-"

"Right. Well, so was I, but I had to go to California and deal with your fake cancer." Cristina kneaded her forehead. Meredith snapped awake beside her. "If I had been here, I could have caught it earlier. I could have saved her. Juliet is dead because of you."

She hung up.

Meredith took the phone from her, "Maybe I should hold onto that for a while."

Cristina sulked. "Why do we even try?"

"You know the answer to that."

"I know. But I hate it." Cristina grabbed a pillow and squeezed it between her arms. "I put so much work into that kid. I spent hours talking to her, putting on skin grafts, working on that case with her parents to pay for her treatment – but I guess that turns into a wrongful death lawsuit now."

"You can still help with that."

Cristina thought of the Cortez family, formerly three, and now down to two. Her parents would be miserable without her, their only child, and it was too late to try to start over with a new one.

But would they, if they could?

Owen came home from his shift with a sunken face. He looked exhausted, but he still tried to perk up for her. He leaned over the couch and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Hey."

She twisted to get a good look at him. "What happened to you?"

"GSW to the chest. We lost him on the table."

Meredith cut in, "Another one?"

"Same type of bullet. It should be in the news later. Someone let the pattern slip to a reporter – they were swarming the hospital when I left."

Meredith cut the TV on and Cristina got up to put her arms around Owen. He kissed the top of her head. She unzipped his jacket and slipped her arms inside, appreciating his warmth.

"I hate to have to say this," Owen said, "But her parents have been asking for you."

Cristina said nothing for the longest time, so long that Owen repeated his news.

She just whispered, "I heard you."

"They need you."

"Here it is!" Meredith poked them, drawing their attention to the TV.

A reporter was standing on a sidewalk, motioning to the building behind them. It was an abandoned convenient store. Cristina had driven past it countless times.

"Monty was last seen jogging across the street by a motorist, and he was later found here on the sidewalk, shot, with this symbol drawn beside him." The camera panned down to the pavement, showing police tape, blurred blood, and a crude sketch. "This is the same symbol present at other attacks around the city, bringing the kill count of the so-called 'Hangman Killer' up to nine."

"Nine," Meredith breathed.

Cristina snorted, "How does that look like a hangman, exactly?"

"You have to look at it sideways, like you're in the street," Meredith advised.

"On that note, I'm gonna go to the hospital and talk to Juliet's parents." Cristina sighed, because both of them were watching her like she might fall apart. "I'm fine. I am. I'll be back."

It was a quiet ride. Cristina kept the radio off.

She hated having to talk to families. It had been so easy originally with the Cortez family, but when she beckoned them from the waiting room to a cozy council room, the words stuck in her throat. She told them what happened, why Juliet had gone downhill so fast, and the usual things – they did everything they could to prevent it, it was a rare and devastating occurrence, her injuries were extensive and unpredictable.

Cristina hated herself, too, because her voice became robotic and procedural. She apologized to the parents, offered her condolences, told them she would continue to help them with the case against the company if they were going to pursue it.

And then she stood up, holding her arms tight against herself, and let her sadness slip through. "I really thought she was going to make it. I really did. I'm so sorry."

She left the room, left them crying. Alex was in the hall.

"I saw you go in," he said, clutching a cup of coffee to his chest. His eyes were sunken. He had tried his best to save her. She knew he did. "How are they?"

"Ruined," Cristina said softly, truthfully. She put her hand on his shoulder, squeezed it, and said, "I didn't mean what I said. It's not your fault. I was just… frustrated. You did everything you could – and so did I."

He pressed a smile, "You know I hate it when you lie to me."