A/N So overdue. I was away. I'm back now, yay! Please enjoy:

Burke:

Burke had been thinking. When Preston Burke thought, it was serious thinking. Not just your general musing or daydreaming, but deep set scientific analysis of a situation.

The subject of his thoughts this time around?

Cristina Yang. Who else?

This time, he wasn't rethinking the thrill of their trysts in the on-call room, or the way she tilted her head to the side when trying to avoid his eyes.

This time, it was his recent decision to 'hang in there' with her. That was so out of character for him. He did not settle, or accept apathy. Burke was born and bred to excel at everything he tried. This included his personal life. She'd volunteered the information to him that there was no-one else. What more did he need?

Spurred on by the fact that he was interim chief whilst Richard recovered from surgery – him, not Shepherd, he thought smugly – this step-up in his professional life prompted him forward in his personal sphere.

Early one morning he swiftly checked her usual haunts – their usual haunts – the on-call rooms and the labs, only to find them empty. Instinctively, he went to check O.R 1. And there she was, delicately picking up each of the surgical tools, holding them in reverence. Not much was sacred to Cristina Yang, but this place was one of them. His hopes were high. He thought he'd find her in a good mood, an open mood.

He said, "I have a question for you." He explained that he had a favourite restaurant, and that he had reservations there.

She replied shortly. "None of those were questions."

He cleared his throat. "Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?"

He couldn't see her face. Just her momentarily frozen form. He tried to wait in calm patience, but inside he was a nauseous teenager.

He expected a sidestep, or her to run away, maybe an objection because he was an attending. At best, an 'I'll think about it.' But he hadn't expected such an abrupt brushoff.

"The O.R is the one place that I have to that I can come to think. I'm thinking right now."

He immediately straightened up. He was stung, but he was still Preston Burke. He'd keep his composure.

He strode away, his mind working in furious overtime. He was a grown, experienced man. How could he have read the signals so incorrectly? He thought she'd wanted to move forward too. But she couldn't get rid of him fast enough.

That was the moment he resolved enough was enough. He'd had weeks of one step forward, two steps back. Of an illicit fling that morphed into a complicated emotional attachment, to a woman who gave away nothing. After such an outright rejection, he'd reached his limits. That was it. She was on her own until she figured out what the hell was going on in that outrageously mixed-up head of hers.

Besides, he was Chief now. He had other things to consider. Like how best to rub this victory in Shepherd's face.

This resolve, which he thought was oh so strong, had a momentary lapse. When he'd brushed past her, then yelled at her in the stairwell, she'd almost looked hurt. Hurt?! After he'd finally given her a clear path to follow, and she'd turned him down? What the hell was with this woman? He knew of the biological conditionings that resulted in mood swings, but this was ridiculous. He impulsively grabbed her and kissed her, as part of his message delivery:

She didn't know what she wanted? "Figure it out!" he demanded, before leaving her confused.

But the resolve came back after speaking with Richard, about the responsibilities and realities of being in a position of authority. It wasn't so much of a wake-up call, as a forcible end to denial. He'd known from the moment she'd locked that door he was on a slippery slope. From the moment he'd first captured her lips and pulled off her scrubs that it would be a messy landing. But until he figured out how to deal with it, he'd been determined to enjoy the ride.

There was only one way to land, though. And it seemed to ride was up.

He watched her during Joe's surgery, smiling softly at how elated she was. He was pretty thrilled himself, and the thought of resurrecting everyone's favourite bartender. In their arena, he realized this was just how it had to be. Their jobs came first, and always would. They shouldn't get in each other's way.

He had an inkling she'd find him afterwards, in the on-call room. She usually did on a post-surgery high. It was when she was at her most vibrant and expressive. He hated to take advantage of that now.

He'd miss the stolen moments, the easy banter, their loaded glances. Hell, he'd even miss how much she infuriated him. But he was determined to breathe it out, and let it go.

She opened the door, and he looked up.

This was the end of round one. Little did he know that there'd eventually be a round two, and it would be much more tumultuous.