A/N Hey guys. I'm sorry, I know this update has been a long time coming. Please forgive! xo

Cristina:

Oh yeah, locking the door had been a great idea. That was the first thought that entered her mind when both sticks turned blue.

Of course, the more usual thoughts arrived straight after, flooding her brain so completely that her head throbbed. But in the moment between the shock and the flood, that's what filled her mind.

She had to get rid of it. Of course she did. Because she was barely two months into her internship, and she refused to give that up. She hadn't sacrificed for years on end to become a mother. She did it to become a surgeon, and that's what she'd become, simple as that.

Plus, she considered as she made her way to the on-call room, she was not the most nurturing person. She was about as nurturing as Bambi was macho. How could she be responsible for another human being? It just wasn't a possibility.

She was cursing Burke as she walked. He had done this to her, with his smoldering stares and magic hands and hot body and lately he'd turned all considerate…

She rolled her eyes as her thoughts trailed off. She was going soft, the estrogen was kicking in already. She needed to take care of this as soon as possible.

Cristina felt numb as she pushed on the door handle and entered the on-call room; the last thing she expected was to encounter Burke.

She did something that she never did: she froze momentarily. She quickly collected herself, closing the door behind her. She focused on a spot somewhere over Burke's left shoulder. And she waited.

"I brought you some soup." The air was thick with the unsaid, as she remained silent.

"Cristina."

How did he do that? Completely undo her, with a single word, just the way he said her name. He always said it articulately, with delicacy. As though even her name was significant.

Unwittingly, she moved her eyes to focus on him. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Thank you."

His face showed concern, as he moved towards her. "Are you ok?"

She took a step back, stumbling against the door. She was resolute that he could not touch her; his arms must not go around her, or she'd completely crumble. "I just feel sick, I need a rest. And I don't want you to catch it, so you probably shouldn't stay."

He hovered, unsure. "Thanks for the soup," she added, trying to soften him up enough to make him leave.

Eventually, he nodded, reaching up and pulling of his scrub cap. "Sure, you're right. I hope you feel better." He reached around her for the door handle, and as she moved to step aside, he briefly rubbed her upper arm. Then, he left.

Cristina collapsed on the bunk behind her, throwing her hand over her face, sighing deeply.

The next day, Cristina would get her sanity back. She would become logical again, and switch into planning mode. She would make an appointment at the abortion clinic. She would ensure she made the earliest possible appointment, and she would move on, so no-one would ever have to know. She would be pragmatic and practical. Emotions would not cloud her.

But tonight, she grieved. For herself, for what was not yet lost, and for the way the room turned colder when Burke left.

'People are stupid!' Cristina fumed as she stalked out of the clinic to her motorcycle. The woman had tried to talk to her, for godsakes, suggesting she keep the baby. Cristina resented being spoken to as though she was a lost teenage soul trying to hide her illicit pregnancy from Daddy. She was a grown woman, and didn't need to be condescended to by some nurse. Surgeons didn't take advice from nurses.

The stupidity continued. After she palmed off the weird psychic to Izzie, she got the cancerous pregnant woman. Fate was so not on her side that day. Bailey and everyone were acting all emotion about the prospect of evacuating the fetus. It was such a stark contrast to the way Cristina wanted to do it: quietly, and without deliberation. Watching the emotion surrounding her patient unsettled her. Especially when she decided on almost certain death for herself by keeping her baby.

Burke was even more unsettling, when he sought her out just to sit with her. Just to see her. At some point this had moved beyond booty calls, and Cristina couldn't figure out when the line had been blurred. She was too exhausted to bother at that moment.

As she went to go home that night, Cristina straddled her motorbike, yet couldn't muster the energy to start it just yet. She instead leant her elbows on the handlebars, and placed her head in her hands.

"My bovine replacement surgery was successful." Cristina raised her head to find Burke facing her, surveying her evenly. He continued, "what kind of problems don't have solutions?"

He was continuing their earlier conversation, having realized that this comment of Cristina's was loaded. His uncanny perception was part of what made him a gifted surgeon, and the whole reason that Cristina was shifting uncomfortably in that moment. She couldn't slip up again. "Some cases are more difficult than others; some patients are non-operable. But today yours was. I just wanted you to see that."

Would he buy it? She waited with baited breath.

His gaze commanded hers for a moment longer, before he nodded. "Well, I'm glad you did, otherwise I may never have done that surgery. Are you feeling much better? I haven't seen much of you the last few days."

She shrugged, rubbing her forehead tiredly. "I'm getting there."

He leant in closer, obviously worried. For a moment, Cristina thought he would kiss her, but he was smarter than that. Though the carpark was deserted, the hospital still had eyes.

He settled for subtly resting his hand over hers, a movement not obvious to any intruding observers. He squeezed gently as she tried to muster a small smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," Cristina murmured, watching his broad frame as he walked away. For the time in decades, Cristina Yang was tempted to let her walls down. Just a little bit. Because it would be so much easier, if he knew, if he helped her get this over with…

Groaning, and wishing that particular fantasy to vanish like smoke on the breeze, she pulled her helmet on and slammed the visor shut. She would get a grip, and maintain control of this situation.