It had been 2 and a half months since the rumors ran rampant through the hospital that Cristina Yang had slept with Mark Sloane. Since 'the robot' proved to the world that she didn't really care about Preston Burke, that she was only using him for 'his money', 'his status' or whatever else it was that the nurse's and other staff could come up with what he had that she wanted.
It had been 3 weeks since Mark Sloane left Seattle Grace Hospital at the threat of Richard Webber, Miranda Bailey and a slew of interns, vowing that in the most professional of ways that they'd make him pay for the things he did to Cristina Yang.
It had been 2 weeks since George O'Malley finally decided that he wasn't going to let anybody hurt Cristina again. In life, he was Burke's 'guy'. In his death, he needed to protect his 'girl'.
George O'Malley watched quietly from a distance as Cristina poured quietly over a chart at the nurse's station, making notes, pausing every once in a while to clear her throat, or to stretch her arm out.
Though he'd never admit it to anybody else that he was keeping lookout for Burke, he continued because if he saw anybody come anywhere close to her, he was going to do something to keep her from getting hurt anymore. He didn't know what, exactly, but George would figure something out.
He was so angry with himself for being angry with Cristina, and though he'd forgiven her for the deceit that her and Burke had pulled, he hadn't been there for her since the death, he hadn't been there for her in the wake of recent events.
He just hadn't been there.
And had she not been there for him, his father would be dead.
George felt a debt to Burke in a way, to watch over Cristina, especially after Sloane took advantage of her, especially after finding out that she was pregnant. He thought that maybe, if he could protect her, keep her and their child safe, that he could make up for the things he said, the actions he committed to driving them apart for a week.
He knew in a way that the silence that tore between them was because he kept indirectly threatening her. Kept trying to make it known that he knew, and that if she didn't stop it, that everybody knew.
He damned himself for being so fucking passive aggressive.
"George?" Meredith laid a hand on his shoulder and he jumped just a little bit.
"Oh, hey...Meredith. I was just...sitting here, watching, I mean, waiting...damn." He fumbled over words, trying to think of something to cover himself and Meredith smiled at him shaking her head.
"You're not a good liar, George." She reminded him of his own words.
"Is she okay?" He resigned to opening himself up to Meredith. He always did.
"Okay isn't the word I'd ever use to describe Cristina, even when Burke was alive. But in her words, she's 'fine'." Meredith sighed, pulling her hair away from her face.
"Fine isn't good."
"No, it's not."
The two watched her for a moment, both aching for a way to help her, a way to reach out to her and make everything better.
But there was no making it better, unless they could figure out how to resurrect the dead.
"What's up?" George turned to Meredith, trying to change the subject, trying to divert the attention from her.
"I have a surgery that I have to scrub into, and somebody needs to go with her up to her OB appointment with Dr. Montgomery."
He looked to her, question in his eyes, "Do you think that she'd go with me? That she'd go if I offered to take her?"
"I already told her, and she said she'd deal...and you guys need to go, like now."
George's eyes widened, "You want me to take her now? You couldn't warn me about it or something?"
"I'm sorry, I forgot."
Cristina rose from the chair and walked towards the stairwell where the two of them were standing, without looking to George she mumbled, "Let's go, Bambi."
But there was no spirit in it, the intonation of sarcasm mixed with sincerity was long gone.
He followed her quietly to the elevators and she pressed the button and his eyes fell to her stomach, that was gently starting to bulge beneath her scrubs.
"It's a uterus, O'Malley." she muttered angrily, "You've seen them before. Hell you've seen two. Do you really need to look at mine?"
He clenched his jaw, looking up to her face, and saw the pain in her eyes, "Do you know what it is yet?"
"It's a baby."
"The sex...do you know what the sex is yet?" He pressed, hoping to get her to talk, to get her to let something out.
"It doesn't matter as long as it comes out healthy, as long as it comes out..." her voice dropped of, and she choked on the words, trying to force them out, "breathing...alive."
The OB visits were always the most difficult for her, but Meredith had been there with her, and she cried on her shoulder, swearing to Meredith that if she'd ever told anyone that she was still upset that she'd kill her.
She couldn't let herself cry in front of George.
As they rounded the corner to Addison's office, she once again prepared herself to hear the words that the baby had died. That there was no heartbeat, that the fetus wasn't viable, that it had an omphalacele, ancephaly, a tetrology of fallot, left hypoplastic heart, a trisomy.
Anything that would take the baby away from her.
And every time, Addison told her it was fine.
That the baby was still alive, that it was perfectly formed.
And for a while she'd breathe easier.
She held back tears as they reached the door and she turned away from him, wiping furiously at her eyes, trying to mask the tears and he grabbed her arm, pulling her into a corner, away from the prying eyes of the hospital.
"Let it out." He whispered, giving her permission to grieve over the life in her stomach, the life that she lost.
She leaned against the wall, stifling sobs of anticipatory grieving, preparing to hear those words all over again. Preparing to have her heart shattered into a million pieces all over again.
George watched her lean against the cold wall for a moment, and decided that nobody should hurt alone. Nobody should cry like that and not have somebody there for him, and he moved to her, awkwardly wrapping his arms around her, and she struggled under his grasp, but he held firm, pulling her tighter, "I won't tell anyone." He mumbled low.
She stopped fighting and closed her eyes tighter, trying to regain her composure, and she finally pushed him away, using her lab coat to dab at the corners of her eyes and she looked to him, a hint of an apology, a glimmer of thanks in her reddened eyes and she walked away from him, to go into Addison's office.