The show Grey's Anatomy and the characters are the sole property of Shonda Rhimes and do not belong to me.

Chapter 8

At Cristina's apartment Meredith left Burke and Christopher in the living room and went to the bedroom to find the things Cristina asked for. Burke let his eyes wander around the place, how unlike Cristina it seems. Nothing was out of place. The apartment was much bigger than the one they had shared and everywhere there were pictures of Christopher through various stages of his development. Burke felt very out of place in this apartment, as if he was intruding in their lives. She was a good mother he thought and he was extremely proud of her and even though he was hurt by what she did he knew that he would forgive her because where Cristina was concerned he had no control over his feelings. He felt a tug on his sleeve and he looked down to see Christopher standing there. " Preston, wanna see my room?" the little boy asked. Without waiting for Burke to answer Christopher took his hand and lead him to his room. The room was like a child's sanctuary, to one side there was a bunk bed covered with a blue and white comforter with pictures of the sea and sailors and lots of boats. In another corner was a desk and chair and in a far corner was a toy box brimming over with children's toys. The ceiling of the room was painted in pale blue and there were small yellow lights all over which gives the ceiling the appearance of the night sky with a thousand stars. On one wall there was a mural of trains and boats and over his desk painted to the wall in siluhette the picture of a lone trumpeter playing the trumpet. The next wall was taken up by a built-in book shelf which contained lots of children's books. Over the book shelf was a picture of Christina sitting down with baby Christopher in her arms surrounded by Meredith, Bailey, Izzie, George and Alex. Burke looked at the picture and it made him sad. His son had everything he needed he thought, except him. His eyes took in everything about Christopher's room and came to rest on the picture of the lone trumpeter. Though it was in silluhette Burke knew, the painting was made from a photograph Cristina had taken of him playing the trumpet. He stood there for a while just thinking how subtle she was with the things she did, and yet how meaningful they were. He didn't realize that he had tears in his eyes or that Christopher was watching him until he asked, "Preston, are you crying?"

Burke smiled. "No, Christopher, I am not crying"

"You have something in your eyes?"

"Yes I do"

Christopher looked up at Burke with those big almond-shaped eyes as if to say I don't believe you; then he said "close your eyes."

Burke closed his eyes and Christopher asks him "Can you hear it?"

"Hear what?" Burke asked.

"The twumpeter silly, my mommy said if I can't sleep I should close my eyes and think really hard and I'll hear him play, just for me."

Burke smiled, he thought it was so cute that his son couldn't pronounce the word trumpeter and he bent down, took the little boy's hand and said, "you know what Christopher, I think you have the best mommy in the whole world."