In the terminal there was a mess of people picking up loved ones and rushing towards their next flight. Attempting to be inconspicuous, Meredith pulled her suitcase over to a cafe and slid her phone from her back pocket. She punched in the first number that came to mind - Cristina's.

She answered after two rings. "Dr. Yang." Meredith could have sobbed at the sound of her voice. It had been too long.

"Cristina, it's Meredith," she responded weakly.

The other line was silent for a few seconds, and Meredith thought for a painful moment that Cristina had hung up. Then she spoke and Meredith had to pull the phone away from her head to avoid permanent damage to her ear.

"Is this a joke?" Cristina demanded loudly. "I swear to god, if you think this is funny-"

"No. It's me. Back from the dead," Meredith joked feebly. She could hear Cristina talking fervently with whoever was around her.

"Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?" she asked happily. "God Mere. When the letters stopped we thought the worst-"

"I'm at the airport," Meredith interrupted. "I don't have a car."

"I'm leaving now. You owe me a massive explanation," Cristina said immediately. "Be there in 20." The line went dead, and Meredith could picture her rushing out to her car in the parking lot at Seattle Grace.

She lowered her phone and stared at it limp in her hand for a long moment. It had been two years since she had spoken to any of her fellow interns. She supposed they must be residents by now.

With a pang of regret, she realized they wouldn't be in the same year anymore. Surgical residency was accelerated in the army. She smirked slightly, knowing Cristina would piss herself with jealousy when she discovered that she was now a fully certified surgeon.

Meredith downed two black coffees in the time that it took for Cristina to arrive at the airport. She was still dressed in her light blue hospital scrubs with a winter jacket thrown haphazardly over them.

"Oh my god. Meredith." Cristina practically grabbed her from where she was sitting and crushed her into a hug. Trying but failing to bite back a wince of pain, Meredith recoiled.

Cristina's brow furrowed in concern. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I got shot," Meredith said simply, massaging her side.

Cristina looked mortified. "Jesus Christ! When?" she demanded.

Meredith shrugged. "Around Christmas."

"It's almost Valentines day, you bitch!" Cristina exclaimed, lightly punching Meredith in the arm. "You didn't call! No one knew what happened to you!"

"I didn't want to worry anyone."

Cristina snorted humorlessly. "Yeah, that worked." she stepped back, her expression suddenly serious. "Are you ok?"

The response was automatic. "I'm fine."

"God, Mere. You're ridiculous. How bad is it?" Cristina was beginning to spiral into doctor-mode. "We should probably have someone take a look at the hospital. Just to be safe. You know what? Show me right now."

"Cristina," Meredith hissed. "I'm not taking off my shirt in this airport."

"Then just point," Cristina conceded.

Incredulous, Meredith shook her head. "Seriously, I'm fine. I had great doctors over there. They took care of it."

With an expression of severe disappointment, Cristina hoisted up Meredith's suitcase. "If you say so. Let's bust this joint, shall we?"

Meredith grinned broadly. "I thought you would never ask."

Cristina led the way, navigating the crowd in the airport. Every once in a while she peppered Meredith with a question about a procedure she had performed in the field. Meredith told her that she was a fully certified trauma and neuro surgeon; she had never seen someone turn around so fast.

"You bitch!" Cristina shouted, attracting a fair amount of glances. "You should have told me and I would have flown over!"

[]

AN: I read somewhere that residency for surgeons in the army is a 2 year program rather than 5. It may be inaccurate but for the purpose of this story, roll with it