Burke followed Bailey as they strode rapidly through the halls, "I haven't seen her for about two weeks." he admitted quietly to her.

Bailey stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, "She left you?"

"In a sense, but no."

"I don't understand that girl, and I don't pretend to understand how you deal with her, nonetheless, whatever she's been doing, she's fairly malnourished, and very dehydrated." Bailey sighed, continuing to Cristina's door. "Do you need me to come..."

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, Miranda. I appreciate you coming to find me." he nodded, then pressed his lips together, "Has she said anything...to you, about us?"

"Not a word."

He let out a sigh, "Okay. Thanks again."

His eyes followed the lines on the ceramic tiled floors to the edge of her bed, then to the bed linens lazily draped from the bed itself, then to her legs, up her abdomen, her chest, to her neck, and her face, but he could not meet her eye.

"Burke..." she sighed, looking away from him.

He went to her side, shoving his hand in his pockets, standing over her, "Bailey found me...she told me that you collapsed in a call room."

"I just fell. I didn't collapse. I tripped over my own two feet and fell." she lied, feeling guilty for not taking better care of herself.

Her body was worn away, and she must've lost about 15 pounds, he'd noticed, sadness encroaching on him. Her skin was dry and dull, not the beautiful glowing porcelain color that it normally was, and her eyes had lost their light...their spunk.

All in two weeks time.

"You're dehydrated and malnourished. I'm more than 100 sure that the only water you've drank in the past two weeks is the water that you get while you brush your teeth." he mumbled, hands still in his pockets, fidgeting with the corners of him.

He ached to touch her, to hold her, but she seemed different to him, stand-offish. Closed.

"I drank water." she shook her head, "I felt fine."

"Fine is never good, Cristina."

"Whatever." she muttered, finally turning to face him, "Look, don't you have to work today?"

"Not now, I'm staying here with you. What happened to you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, you're my girlfriend, and I care about where you've been sleeping, how you've been managing. That's what I'm supposed to do." he frowned at her, "I love you, Cristina. I want to know that you're okay."

"I've told you that I'm okay every morning for the past 2 weeks." she argued.

"Words." he sputtered, "That doesn't mean that I know where you're at, that you're safe, that you're taking care of yourself, that you're not pushing yourself too hard. It's my job to protect you, Cristina!"

"I am not your child!" she snapped. "You lord over me like I'm breakable, vulnerable, dependent, I am not a child, I'm not breakable, and I'm certainly not vulnerable. If you can't understand that, if you can't accept that, then I guess you just need to go."

It hurt her to say such words to him, and she could see the hurt in his eyes, but she had to push him away, she had to get better, and finish the stitches. She had nearly mastered the purse string, and that left her with the running whipstitch.

Her heart began to rationalize with her head, thinking she didn't even have to know the stitch technically for another 3 years, and that was more than enough time to learn it, and then she could go home with Burke.

But her mind intervened, reminding her that not knowing how to do it was average, and she wasn't average.

Then her heart, saying that he taught her the first time, he could teach her again.

Burke watched as she seemed to process many thoughts, and finally reached out to grab her hand, "Cristina. Come home with me."

She looked up to him, her eyes saddened, but she was so dehydrated she didn't have to worry about the possible loss of tears in front of him, "I can't come home."

He sat on the edge of her bed, her hand still tightly clasped within his, "Why?"

"Because I have to get things sorted out before I can come home, and I was so close..." she trailed off. "I just can't."

"I can help you." he pressed, trying to break her will.

"I don't need you." she pulled her hand away.

She didn't mean it, but she knew that it was the only way that she could get him to back down, to get him to let her go long enough to get it all under control.

"I just don't need you, Burke." she continued, trying to add anger to her voice, but too exhausted to do so.

"I don't believe that." he interjected. "I don't believe it for a moment."

"Well, nobody said that denial was a pretty thing." she sighed, looking up to him, "I don't need you anymore."

She began to feel the words and the meaning behind him.

"I need you." he argued, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders.

She looked up to her, anger intensifying in her eyes, stubbornness in her mind overruling the emotion in her heart.

"I don't need you."

A/N: That's probably all for tonight, just because I'm about to go find the bottom of a bottle of vodka, but rest assured, that my mother in law is coming over tomorrow, so I'll have lots of negative energy to focus into writing more. :)