Cristina entered the locker room quietly, unceremoniously, but shifted nervously as she felt all eyes on her and her hand flew to the ring on her finger.
It had become her ground, her touchstone.
The last bit of strength she had.
It had been three weeks since he'd left her.
Three weeks since he abandoned her, no, banished her to a cruel life in the aftermath of loving with no lover.
It was like breathing without air.
Meredith was at her side before she had time to take two steps into the locker room and she pushed her away, "I don't need your sympathy." She muttered.
It was apparent in that moment that the Cristina Yang that had grown, and evolved and shifted from complacence to a semblance of a human being was no more.
She had died with Burke.
She took her place in front of her locker and pulled it open for a moment to grab her pager and a few select things, notes and miniature med books, and froze at the sight of the coffee cup she'd stashed in there so long ago, with the yellow sticky note, and the other errant memoirs that she'd kept from him.
Her mouth hung open in anger at herself for keeping such ridiculous things and she gathered it up in her arms, stalking towards the trashcan and dropping them in there, throwing away the little pieces of her life that she'd accumulated from him.
"Okay, people, assignments." Bailey's voice sliced through her agony and she snapped to attention.
"Grey, scut. O'Malley, you're with Dr. Hahn..." Bailey's voice trailed off, searching Cristina's expression as Hahn's name fell from her lips.
Three weeks since the man she loved had died and they'd already replaced him.
Like he was dispensable. Disposable.
Just any old surgeon that could be easily replaced by another.
But Cristina didn't flinch.
"Karev, with Sloane. Stevens, you're with Montgomery-Shepherd." She finished off the list and aimed a threatening glance at the interns and they scattered from the room quickly, leaving Bailey and Cristina in a deafening silence that tore through Bailey.
She laid a hand on Cristina's arm, but Cristina retracted immediately, "I just want my assignment, Dr. Bailey." Her voice was cold, almost venomous, and Bailey's heart ached for the girl in front of her.
"Dr. Shepherd has requested you, but I will..."
"That's fine, thank you." Cristina cut her off, "I'm an intern. I do not want you to cater to me, I don't want you to act like I'm in some sort of special situation. You forced me into taking time off, and I took it. Now I'm back. I don't want to hear an utterance of Burke's name. I don't want people to ask me if I'm okay. I don't want people to look at me like I'm a sad case and I should be at home weeping in a corner. I'm an intern. Not a freak show."
Bailey was taken aback, but in the same time she was undisturbed by Cristina's reaction to his loss.
"Dr. Shepherd is waiting for you." She finally uttered, and watched as Cristina disappeared from the room.
She lowered herself to the hard wooden bench that the interns typically occupied and brought her face to her hands, tears stinging at her eyes. She knew in her heart that Cristina had to be aching, and her heart ached for her.
Bailey was a wife. A mother.
Cristina could've been all of those things, would've been all of those things had life not been so cruel.
She gave herself a moment to grieve not only over the loss of such a good friend, such a great surgeon from Seattle Grace, but to grieve for the woman that Cristina used to be and the shattered girl that she was now before she stood, straightened her jacket and dabbed at tears in her eyes.
Bailey forced a cold glare in her eyes and a hard set look on her face before emerging from the locker room.
Nobody needed to know that the Nazi cried.