"So you're supposed to go to the cemetery and just sit there?"

"Something like that."

They were in the living room of Cristina's apartment, where they had gone after he had made her swear up and down she wouldn't jump him once they got inside. He had teased her pretty mercilessly about it, thus skillfully dissipating the last vestiges of discomfort over their altercation earlier in the evening. Once inside, he had glanced around and nodded his approval of her new space, then asked if she had any cold beer.

Now she was nestled with her back against the arm of the sofa and her feet in Owen's lap. He was absentmindedly doing incredible things to her instep with his thumb as they spoke. The small intimacy charmed her. Forget the sex, Cristina was practically purring, I'll marry you right now if I can come home to this every night. No one had ever rubbed her feet for her before, and after a long day and a big dose of self-disclosure, it was even better than sitting in the lobby over at Derm.

"And this is supposed to help you get over your grief?"

"So I'm told," he nodded skeptically. "What's your take on it?" He leaned over and picked up his beer from the table.

"I guess I wouldn't know. I mean… I've never been through anything like what you've been through…"

He looked askance at her. Really? Never?

"Oh, that… well, yeah, that was the worst thing that ever happened to me, but I was only a kid then. Besides, in my family, we didn't do much of the emotion thing. We were more into the intellect thing, the 'You only got a 99 on that test? You're grounded!' thing…." Owen smiled. That fits. "Come to think of it, I don't remember ever seeing my mother cry, not even right after my dad died. It just wasn't done."

"What about you? Did you ever go to his grave? Or cry over him?" He took a long swig of his beer.

"There was no grave to go to. He was cremated and we scattered his ashes into the ocean. I remember going with my mom to do it. It was all so matter-of-fact, kind of like… I hate to say this, but… kind of like taking out the trash. It was just something she had to take care of so we could move on. There were no tears… The only time I remember crying about it was in the car right after the accident, waiting for the ambulance. And when they officially told me he was dead... I mean I already knew... but it still hit me and I cried a lot then, but I remember my mom's disapproval and... she didn't have to say anything for me to get the message. After that it was all kind of a blur. I think instead of getting into it emotionally, I set out to DO something about it by becoming a doctor. That's how I coped. So what you're talking about doing here… it's like a foreign country to me. It's completely outside my frame of reference."

"Mine too," he said. "We military types, we're supposed to just suck it up and move on. A part of me felt like a wuss just for going to see the shrink in the first place." Yet I told her about it and that turned out to be easier than I thought, he mused. I actually feel better just talking about it with her.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I think I have to at least try and do what the guy said. One thing I've learned in life is that the stuff that scares you the most is usually the stuff you have to go do. This definitely ranks right up there." He shook his head, "I'm resisting it like crazy… I haven't even been able to bring myself to mapquest the cemetery or print out the photo. It's like I get paralyzed when I think of taking the actual steps to get there. I've never been like this about anything before. Usually I just charge right in and get the job done."

"What are you so afraid of?"

"That's a really good question. I've been asking myself the same thing." He put his beer down on the table and ran his hands over his face before replying. "It just feels so massive, kind of like a huge boulder crushing my chest. I'm afraid to touch it at all… Like I'd be waking up a sleeping monster or something. Right now I have it locked up tight," he made a fist over his heart, "but if I unlock the box…" he turned to look at her, "…I'm afraid I'll never get it back inside."

She thought for a moment. "Maybe you're thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe it's not about getting it back inside. Maybe it's about releasing it and letting it go." He nodded thoughtfully as she continued, "Some smart guy I dated once told me something about a… what was it? Oh yeah,… a bowling ball..." she ventured.

He half-smiled. "A bowling ball? That's ridiculous!" he teased. He took her hand and pulled her into a sitting position, bringing them practically nose to nose, "He sounds like a real jerk to me."

"I happen to have a history of falling for jerks," she whispered.

"Oh yeah? Lucky me, then." He hovered just a breath away from kissing her. He smelled of beer, and she happened to like the smell of beer, especially on him. As she moved even closer, she felt a little tickle from his goatee. He smiled at her. They both hesitated for a long moment before delving into a deep kiss. His hands sank into her hair. One of hers went around his neck and the other ran down his chest and playfully tiptoed down the front of his pants.

His hand caught her wandering one. "You promised," he groaned.

"I lied," she whispered.

He kissed her harder and pulled her body closer. "It's ok. I forgive you." They tumbled back against his end of the couch with her on top, and were just starting to move into uncharted territory when the sound of a key in the door caused them both to freeze. Owen groaned. The overhead light was on and there was nowhere to hide as Callie breezed into the apartment, then stopped dead in her tracks.

"Whoa. Hello… Um… Did you know there's a bedroom right over there?" she pointed. No response. "No? Well, ok, goodnight then." She quickly made her way through the living room and shut her door. A second later she came back out and hit the light switch. "Um, electric bill..." Her bedroom door closed again. Cristina exploded in a fit of giggles while Owen silently shook with laughter. He tickled her and she laughed even harder. It struck Cristina that this was the second time in a row they had started out getting steamy and ended up in a fit of hilarity. Still, not bad, she thought, given the way we started out our evening. Even so, the moment had been disrupted, and to her chagrin they didn't go back to what they had been doing when Callie walked in. For shit's sake, she reflected, we haven't even really gotten to second base. I feel like a horny teenager whose parents keep walking in...

"Can I sleep here tonight?" Owen asked when they finally stopped laughing.

She looked at him in surprise. "Um… I thought you didn't want to… uh…"

"No, I mean sleep, here on the couch… with you… just like this. If I get up and drive home, I'll never fall asleep tonight. As it is I don't sleep much these days. But this is nice. And I think if we just stay put I'll have a shot at getting a few hours in."

By way of response, Cristina, who was lying completely on top of him at this point, snuggled in deeper and lay her head on his shoulder. He put off heat like a furnace, and she felt exceptionally warm and cozy. He grabbed the throw pillow that had fallen on the floor and stuffed it under his head, then reached up and grabbed his coat off the back of the sofa, and placed it over her. Her weight on his chest was comforting, and he brushed her hair away from her face, kissed the top of her head, and closed his eyes. Cristina lay awake for a while, listening to his breathing get progressively slower and deeper. His arm was a reassuring weight across her back. I could get used to this. I could really get used to this. When she was sure he had fallen asleep, she, too, allowed herself to drift off.