A/N For the next few chapters, the story will move quite closely along the lines of what happens with the show, around the end of S2 and the beginning of S3. Since I wrote most of this before a lot of what unfolded in S3, it'll be a little AU at the end, but still Bang all the same . Hope you guys are still enjoying it!!

Chapter Nine: You Only Hold Me When I Sleep

"Derek's being a little weird," Meredith confided to her a few weeks later. "Ever since that night Doc got sick, and he saw me at Finn's."

Cristina sighed, slightly exasperated at Meredith's naïveté. "Get a clue. He's jealous."

"Why? I'm his friend. I've had a few dates, good ones at that. He should be happy for me."

"He's your ex-lover whose friends with you so he can have some sort of connection with you, because he's wishing he chose you over his wife, and you only agreed to it because you're still hung up on him."

"You are so wrong," Meredith concluded.

Cristina rolled her eyes. "Right."

"Where are you going?" Meredith asked as Cristina went to leave the locker room.

"I'll be back before Bailey gets here." She went to do her usual search of the on-call rooms. Burke had a surgery that got complicated the previous night, and had gone well past midnight. She guessed he'd chosen just to sleep at the hospital before his shift that day, since she was alone when she woke up that morning. Disdainfully considering that perhaps George had found him first, she still bought a coffee, and came across him on the bottom bunk of the third room she searched.

He was stretched on his side, assuming his usual sleeping position, just minus Cristina. His scrub shirt and shoes lay discarded on the floor beside him. His shirt wasn't even folded. He must have been tired. She sat down on the bed, and gently nudged his shoulder. "Burke."

"Mmm?"

"Coffee."

He reluctantly opened his eyes, and gingerly sat up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet on the floor, and gratefully taking a sip of coffee. Cristina tried not to get distracted by his bare upper torso, and shifted slightly.

Burke smiled knowingly. "Mind elsewhere?"

"Oh, and yours isn't? It's been almost a week."

He sighed, putting an arm around, and pulling her up against him. "I know. I'll make it up to you tonight."

Planting a kiss on her forehead, he stood up. "I need to have a shower."

She handed him a bag. "I brought you underwear and socks. Don't you dare say anything."

He bit back a crack about her domesticity, and just grinned. "Never. I'll see you later."

He did indeed make it up to her that night. Though she returned home late, she was on a high from a surgery she'd scrubbed in on. And Burke was waiting.

"One of my favorite saxophonists is in town next weekend, playing at a club. Will you come and see him with me?" Burke asked afterwards when they lay in bed, figuring this was the time she was most likely to acquiesce. She still groaned. "Jazz?"

"I've surrendered to the fact that you'll never like classical music. But you should give jazz a chance, you may even like it." Seeing her face, he pressed, "hey, I let you play Bon Jovi during sex tonight. Hearing that man yell 'lay your hands on me' over and over isn't exactly the ideal for me, but I did it for you."

"Oh, it threatened you, did it?" she teased.

"It's like having another man in the room," he growled, flipping her on her back, and silencing her with his mouth.

One more round did the trick. They were going to listen to the saxophonist next weekend.

The next night, Cristina had the opportunity to scrub in on a four-hour esophageal hernia. She jumped at the opportunity, though she was exhausted afterwards, especially since Burke had kept her occupied most of the night before. She collapsed in one of the on-call rooms soon after.

It didn't feel like very much longer, but there was daylight peeking through the slants in the blinds when Burke came into see her, saying he missed her last night. She sleepily told him where she'd been, and then he moved on top of her, his mouth eagerly seeking hers. She gave herself to the familiar feeling of him on top of her, kissing her, inside of her. She closed her eyes to heighten the experience, and it was good. It was always good with Burke. She found herself wondering though how it was possible to be so aroused and exhausted at the same time.

After she'd climaxed – twice, the man was a god – her eyes were still closed, and the comforting feeling of having him pressed so close lulled her back to sleep almost immediately.

Cristina should have been exhausted after the previous night, but after being with Burke in the on call room – both the sex, and further sleep afterwards, she was wide-awake. Even happy. And it was disturbing her fellow interns.

The E.R erupted that morning, with a bunch of hillbillies from a car-accident taking over most of the place. She sought out Burke as soon as she could, half-jokingly asking for a new case, but willing to take anything he'd give her. The last thing she'd expected was to be met with his stony expression. He informed her she'd fallen asleep this morning. She gave him a small smile, and informed him it was only after she'd finished…twice.

"I wasn't finished," he glared, and she tried to look sheepish. But he was stubborn. So stubborn. Angry she'd stayed when she wasn't on call last night.

She didn't feel like she should defend herself – she was an intern, she was there to learn.

"I'm a surgeon first, just like you," she tried to reason.

"No, not like me. I am a person first!" he exclaimed, and then strode away down the corridor.

Woops, she thought. This one may be a little tricky to get out of.

Perhaps it would be more than just a little tricky, she reflected later that day. Meredith deadpanned that he hadn't forgiven her, and he was cold towards her all day. They also had a grueling surgery, with the youngest hillbilly, Melanie. She had grievous internal injuries, and died on the table. Alex performed a C-section, and at least saved the baby.

Cristina did Melanie's post-op notes, then took a cab home. She was so exhausted, she didn't feel safe driving. And her head was filled to the overflowing. The best surgeons had stood around that operating table, using their utmost skill, and still they couldn't save her. It was jarring for surgeons when they realized their limits.

Burke already had dinner on the table when she walked into the apartment, and was reading as he ate. She tentatively sat down at her plate, unsure of what to say. "You must be tired," Burke observed.

She picked up her fork and speared a bean. "Yeah."

"I'm tired too." With that, his eyes were fixed on his book. Cristina ate most of her meal in thoughtful silence.

"Do you ever doubt yourself? After days like this?"

"There was nothing we could have done. You saw the extent of the damage." He continued reading.

"But, you wonder sometimes, right? I mean, I was with her in the E.R, thinking how painful it was to listen to her. I left her, to find you. I left her with Alex. I didn't know."

Burke lowered his book, and met her eyes. "You are a lot of things, Cristina. A lot of things." He said that word perhaps too disdainfully. "But an incompetent surgeon is not one of them."

They were silent the rest of the night; he cleaned up, and she did a little study.

Exhausted, they both collapsed into bed. In this most intimate place of theirs, closeness was automatic – the hurts of the day were forgotten. He moved to hold her, and they fell asleep instantaneously.

But daylight ends the spell of darkness, and in the morning, Cristina woke up alone. She wearily glanced over at Burke's side of the bed. A note on the pillow simply said 'Left for early surgery.'

Cristina groaned and pulled a pillow to cover her face. This would be tricky indeed.