Burke watched silently as Cristina focused on the hospital's hijacked arm that lay before her, slowly suturing an 8 inch laceration that she'd placed on the forearm. Every so often she'd let out exasperated sighs, and blow her hair from her face in frustration.
Then there were the times when Burke was sure that he was going to have to dodge an arm coming his way.
They'd lived in near silence for 3 days, and she seemed happier when she did come to bed, and she would snuggle up next to him, lay her head across his chest and quickly fall asleep. But it was those moments of their day that he lived for.
He bit his lip as she became frustrated with the mattress stitch, longing to tell her what it was that she was doing wrong, but he restrained himself, instead crossing to her, pouring a cup of fresh coffee, pushing it to her left side, to signify to her, that she needed to start on the left.
In his mind anyway.
And she picked it up, "You're cheating." she mumbled, not looking up to face him.
He cleared his throat, still studying her, his newfound way of asking her permission to talk to her.
She looked up, frustration painted across her face, "Yes?"
"Can I continue to cheat?" he questioned in a steady voice, longing to make it just a little easier for her.
"Fine, tell me what I'm doing wrong. It looks like a bad home-ec project anyway..." she sighed, letting her hemostat and needle drop to the counter.
"Start on the left, don't go do deep, go to the right, go deeper, go straight across the left, then back right, come up to the surface, then straight across the left, you're not altering your depths." he mumbled.
She nodded, wondering why she couldn't remember that from just a few months ago, there were things in her distant memory that were still just a little fuzzy- how she felt when she was pregnant, what it was exactly that made her cry whenever she finally broke down, but she retained most everything from med school, all of the technical things. She just couldn't get her body to do it.
But she continued to work, doing exactly as he'd said, working quietly as he watched over her, nodding his head lightly in approval.
He rounded the counter to place a light kiss on the back of her head, "I knew you could do it."
She let out a long sigh, "I'm glad you think so."
"I have to go to...", his voice trailed off as he jammed his hands in his pockets, momentarily feeling stupid for even mentioning that he had to leave, that he had to go to work.
Oh, how it must make her feel to be abandoned at home while he had to return to the hospital.
"Work." she finished his sentence. "You have to go to work, and it's fine. I understand. It doesn't bug me that you have to work."
"Can I kiss you goodbye before I leave?" He suddenly felt silly about asking his girlfriend permission to kiss her goodbye, but it was her rules.
She turned to face him and let a discreet smile creep across her lips, "Only if it's a short one. I have to practice."
He pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her forehead first, "I could help you, you might be able to pick them up and retain them faster..."
"That's not a kiss." she sighed, looking away from him.
He tilted her chin back up so she was facing him, "No, it wasn't...I'm sorry." he bent in and brushed her lips lightly with his, as his hand slid up into her hair.
After a few moments she finally pushed him away, everything fuzzing around her, "I need to get back to work, and you need to get to work." she mumbled.
He let his hands fall to his sides in defeat, "Okay...Can I call you? On lunch? To make sure..."
"I'm not fragile." she reminded him quietly, not turning to look at him.
He picked up his keyes and bag, "I'm glad you're home." he mumbled, before opening the door, "I love you." he reminded her before closing it.
She sat down the hemostat and looked to the closed door, pressing her lips together, "I love you too." she mumbled at the door, wishing that somehow she could bring herself to say it to his face.
But she would save those words. Those were the words she always used to heal a wound in their relationship, it was the all purpose band-aid, really. But it wasn't time to put the band-aid on, yet.
She focused back at her task at hand and continued to work on her mattress stitch, his words echoing through her head as she worked.
It helped her focus, it helped her clear away the muck that muddled her mind, and focus on the stitch itself.
She continued for a few hours, re-mastering the mattress, and reviewing the rest, leaving her one stitch left to practice and defeat before she would be willing to talk to the chief.
The most difficult suture, and the one she valued the most in her repertoire- the running whipstitch.