Chapter 56.

Clarity.

September 15, 2019.

"Nothing feels quite like clarity."

Cristina did not acknowledge that he had spoken. She stared out the window of her office, watching the parking lot bustle, her mind buzzing with anxiety and anger. She could not pinpoint the problem, could not find a solution – that was why he was here.

"You have to say something."

She relented, "I messed up."

"I know."

She resisted rolling her eyes. "Did you sense my chi or something?"

"No, you told me in your voicemail."

"Voicemail?"

Dean watched her steadily, "I think you forgot to end the call. It was mostly silence. But you calling me in the first place is a good sign that something is up."

She kept her eyes on the parking lot but snuck a few peripheral glances at her sponsor. Dean was always so calm, so collected. He always seemed to know the outcome. She wished she could be that sure again. In her career, she had recovered. She could make snap decisions. She could do incredible things. But in her personal life, it felt like she was making all the wrong moves again.

"You remember my friend, Shane?"

"He came to a few meetings with you."

"Right. But you know more than that."

"I do."

She sighed, "I said some things that I regret."

"Why do you regret them?"

"Because I… I don't know."

"You do know."

Cristina turned toward him at last, egged on by the calm expression he wore. "I do. I was projecting. I just took all the crap that happened and threw it at him. But I didn't mean it. Or, I think I didn't mean it. I don't know."

"Did you call me because you don't know how to apologize?"

She said nothing, staring hard at a stack of files on the corner of her desk.

"Do you want to apologize?"

She shrugged, "I don't know what I want."

"I think that might be your problem. Figure out what you want. If you keep trying to go on not knowing, you open yourself up to weakness, and you know where that leads."

Cristina dragged her eyes across her desk, to the tiny pocket bottle of whiskey she had placed there when she got to work that morning. It was unopened, but enticing, only four inches tall, but somehow the biggest thing in the room. She had avoided looking at it until now, but when her eyes touched it, she felt a burning in her throat. She felt the phantom of sweet nothingness. But she was not tempted. In fact, the thought of opening that bottle made her feel sick.

"Owen says people who never have to say 'no' to their vices are lucky."

Dean reached over and took the bottle, tucking it into his pocket. He asked the question he always did when she called him. "How do you feel about today?"

She nodded, "I can handle it."

"I have a meeting in an hour. I can swing by afterwards, if you need me to."

"No, I think I'm okay." She tried to smile and grimaced instead. "I just need to think."

Once he was gone, her office was a lot colder. Dean was a kind man, a warm man, and he was very good with this kind of stuff. He must have been a camp counselor in a previous life. He was right. She needed to think before she acted again.

Cristina turned back toward the parking lot, keeping an eye on the world outside, but not really seeing it. She thought about Shane, pictured him, and reluctantly let years of memories flood her. He was warm, too, and kind, and though what she felt for him now was muddled, what she felt for him in the past was clear as day. She loved him – not like she loved Owen, but like she loved Meredith, and like she loved Alex. She loved him in a way that she had not believed could exist before she became a surgical intern all those years ago.

But what about now?

Her recent memories of Shane were confusing and upsetting. She could remember bits and pieces of that night, when she showed up smashed at his apartment and they had sex. She wondered if she were aware enough to really want that, if he knew how messed up she was, if he had simply taken advantage of the situation, or if he was genuinely oblivious. Shane could be like that sometimes. She knew that he had feelings for her – romantic feelings. She knew he cared. If he had known how this would all turn out, would he have turned her down?

Cristina groaned.

Someone knocked at her door.

"Come in," she responded halfheartedly.

It was him.

Shane came straight to her desk in a heated march, obviously on a mission.

"I made a mistake. I made a huge mistake and I hate myself for it," Shane said, his brown eyes blazing with emotion. "But I will do everything that I can to make it up to you. I just want to make it better. Just tell me how to make it better!"

She stared at him, trying to decide, in this moment, what she wanted. And the decision came to her so easily now that he was here.

"Okay."

He threw his hands up like he was about to argue, and then dropped them, frowning. "What?"

"I said 'okay.' Sit down, Shane."

He glanced around, and then sunk into one of her chairs. "I don't-"

"I lost someone very suddenly, someone I was very invested in." Cristina kept her eyes on him, watching his fire die down with every passing second. "I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have. We both made mistakes that night. But I want… I want you in my life."

He took a while to respond, seemingly lost in thought, "I… thank you?"

"But I'm not sure about Henry yet."

He nodded, "I can live with that."

Cristina felt a knot unraveling inside. It might have been her finally letting go of the anger she had for her friend, or his presence. But for the first time since Juliet died, she felt that things could be normal again. She hoped that feeling would last.

Shane settled into his chair, looking uncomfortable at first, and then slowly coming around to it. He eyed her desk, glanced around the office, even risked a smile.

She slid a file toward him, "I have nefarious purposes. I need your help with my trials."

"Feel free to throw something at my head for asking but… what does Owen think? About Henry?"

Cristina smiled, "He teeters between wanting to let you into his life and wanting to bash your head against the wall."