A/N This is part two. It takes place in a separate universe from part one, so for example, Burke and Cristina aren't married. Also, please don't kill me.
Cristina sat slumped against the OR door. Meredith and George had tried to move her, but a death glare had sent George running, and a few well-chosen curse words had sent Meredith scurrying into the OR, possibly for backup to help in budging her. But for now she was alone. She wanted to be on the other side of that grey door, or at least in the gallery, but she had been forbidden. That wouldn't have stopped her, except that she knew if she went in that someone would have to physically throw her out. And she didn't want their attention diverted, now of all times. No, every surgeon in that room needed to be paying attention to Burke. Burke, who lay on that table with his insides cut open … her breath caught in her throat. It was not supposed to be like this. Widely-renowned cardio-thoracic surgeons were not supposed to have heart attacks. They were not supposed to stagger into the apartment, where their girlfriends were waiting with Chinese food, and collapse. They were not supposed to say goodbye in the ambulance. No, they were not supposed to do that.
She sat curled up on the cold floor, with her arms around her knees as if that would protect her. Distantly she realized she was hungry.
Cristina couldn't remember the number of times she had kicked screaming family members out of the room when the patient started crashing – and now she was the screaming family member. Dr. Webber had placed a hand on her shoulder as he walked past her seat on the floor, and Meredith had stayed with her until she'd screamed at her to get in there and save him for fuck's sake.
She put her head in her hands. She was trying desperately not to cry, but that left her head aching dully with the effort. Her eyes felt hot and her arms and legs were sluggish and unresponsive. She sat there for what felt like hours, staring at the door. She willed someone to come out and tell her something, she willed Burke to live, she willed things to go back the way they were before this nightmare had begun.
None of that mattered though, because Meredith walked out of the operating room and stood in front of her. She knew the instant Meredith's eyes met hers that he was gone.
One week after Burke's death Cristina sold the apartment. She couldn't bear to be there, with so many memories of him always hovering at the edge of her mind.
After three days of crashing on Meredith's couch she got an apartment in her old building – similar to her first one, but not exactly so. As she moved in she noticed that she was putting things away, cleaning, nesting… like Burke… Thankfully the toilet had a wide lip for her to rest her head on when she was done throwing up. When Meredith called later that night she said thank you, she was fine, and no, she didn't need anything. Seriously.
Two months after Burke's death Meredith and Bailey – since when where they a team? – cornered her after rounds and insisted that she eat something, sleep, take care of herself … all things that she couldn't care less about. They insisted that she was wasting away, that surgical opportunities were passing her by, but she just turned on her heel and walked swiftly towards an on-call room with a bathroom where she could be sick in peace. Later she thanked them for concern, and insisted that she was fine. Seriously.
By five months after Burke's death they had convinced her to accompany them to Joe's, instead of retreating to her empty and increasingly clean apartment.
By eight months she was arriving for pre-rounds at 4:25 instead of 4:30 like everyone else … the intern who had been there at 4 was lost forever, but she reflected that maybe that was a good thing.
When she, Meredith, Izzie, George and Alex were officially promoted to residents she barely cracked a smile, and retreated to the balcony near the chief's office where she looked out over the Seattle skyline for some time, thinking of how proud Burke would have been of her.
She visited his grave three times a year; she couldn't bear to go more frequently than that. On the anniversary of his death, on his birthday and on the day when he had first given her a cup of coffee. Today she brought sunflowers, since it was summer. 14 months and 22 day since his death. The sky was overcast, and the particular grey of the clouds reminded her of the funeral.
She had stood at the front of the group from Seattle Grace, Meredith on one side and George on the other. The Chief was one row behind them; he'd placed a hand on her shoulder as they entered the beautiful church. The organ played hymns that Cristina didn't recognize, and the preacher spoke about Preston's compassion, about his dedication to his job as a surgeon. He'd praised him for his kindness, and for the love and loyalty he showed his friends. Cristina couldn't stop staring at the long, mahogany coffin in front of the altar. It was covered in white flowers but they seemed grey and dingy to Cristina.
After the service a tall woman with dark hair and Burke's eyes had introduced himself as his mother. With tears in her eyes she's thanked Cristina for making her son so happy. She'd squeezed her hand and walked away, holding her handkerchief in a death grip. Cristina had sagged against Meredith and cried, for the first time since his death. For the first time in ages – since the baby. Only this time there was no Burke to hold her, to kiss her hair, to whisper that everything would be ok.
A footstep behind her broke her from her reverie and she turned. It was Meredith. She held a bouquet of daffodils, and as Cristina watched she laid them on the mound of earth that was Preston Burke's final resting place. Grass was growing now, small shoots of bright green that made Cristina's eyes ache. "I thought you could use some company." Meredith's voice breaking the silence startled Cristina so much that she put a hand on the tombstone to steady herself.
"Thanks." She smiled, a halfhearted attempt, but at least it was something.
They sat in silence for a long time, until Meredith reached out a hand to help Cristina to her feet. Together they walked towards the parking lot. Cristina glanced back once, over her shoulder, to read the tombstone.
Preston Burke1966-2008
You will be missed
Resolutely she walked towards the car.