Burke sat quietly on the couch, his hands resting on his legs, staring at the clock.
He'd called her several times, he'd paged her, he'd drove around the city several times, called the ER to make sure that there wasn't a wreck.
It was as if she'd never existed, as if she'd disappeared from the face of the planet.
His heart sunk in his chest as the sun faded into the west, and the room darkened around him, though he was in a dark place long before the sun had set.
They'd been through so much together, they'd made it over so many obstacles, and though there were bumps and bruises along the way, for the most part they made it through stronger, more committed to one and other.
He feared that this time though, they would not be so lucky.
He silently cursed himself for not getting her a suture packet, for not mailing the bills the previous night, for not being more firm with her and for treating her like an invalid.
Why did she make it so hard for him to love her? Why did she fight it so fiercely every time he tried to show her that he cared, that he wasn't going anywhere, and that he'd do anything for her?
Questions continued to float through his head, and he laid his forehead to his palms, tension straining his head and neck.
He knew that she wouldn't be coming home tonight.
What he didn't know is if she'd ever be coming home again.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Cristina turned pressed the button to the call-room door until she heard a satisfying click indicating that nobody could disturb her sleep.
The call rooms for the ENT department were set up much differently than the surgical call rooms, and she knew for a fact from the many times that Burke and her had occupied them on long call nights that they were rarely used if ever.
They would be the perfect place to focus on her work, and she wouldn't have to worry about the financial strain because the only thing she'd have to pay to do was laundry and some food, there were showers, there were ways she could sneak about.
And it was only for a couple weeks until she could prove herself.
Then she could go home, and she could go home a surgeon, and they would be fine.
She longed to call him, she'd sent his call to voice mails a million times, trying her very best to avoid the moment that would hurt her the most.
That would hurt him the most.
That could potentially end what they have.
So she continued to fantasize that he would understand, that he would let her go just long enough for her to rediscover herself, and then take her back no questions asked.
She laid back on the bed, her phone clutched tightly in her hands, tears slightly stinging her eyes, and she pushed the emotion away.
This was the beginning of her intensive retraining as a surgeon. Emotions were useless here, they would be tucked away, ignored and addressed at a later time.
She flipped open her phone and pressed the button to turn it off.
All emotions had to be tucked away.
She picked a banana from the small pile that she had, and pulled a textbook that she'd stolen from the surgical department and flipped it open to the near and far stitch. The stitch she'd nearly mastered the other night until Burke stopped her.
It was time to master it now.
She opened the suture packet, and threaded the needle, then inserted it through the thick skin of the banana.
Over.
She was over him for just a short time. She'd return to his side soon enough.
Right.
She was right. She couldn't be wrong. She knew that this would make everything normal again.
Under.
Right under his nose, he'd lost her. He couldn't see it coming, it just happened.
Left.
He was left in the aftermath of her self-destruction. Of her self-loathing.
And nothing would ever be the same.
A/N: I'm watching 'Oh the Guilt'. Blame it on the tv show.