Authors Note: This one is definitely longer than the previous chapters. The part in italics is from Chapter 2 and is a flashback in this one. Hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think! :)

Cristina sat down next to Meredith with a defeated force, banging her tray while doing so. Nobody flinched or bothered to look away from their food or conversation. To them, this was just Cristina being herself. She took a bite of her sandwich and swallowed it after barely chewing it. She grabbed her fork and stabbed her salad harder than usual.

Meredith looked at her, one eyebrow raised "Whats wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Something's wrong with you." Meredith said decidedly.

"I'm just on edge." Cristina replied, not bothering to look up at her.

"You're always on edge. You're Cristina."

Cristina grunted a reply and went back to eating her food. She did have something on her mind and she knew that she could not talk to Meredith about it. It was not her place to do so.

She had spoken to Callie about Hahn earlier, trying her best to figure out why she had left so suddenly. She was beyond surprised to realize that Callie and Hahn were girlfriends or lovers or whatever. Cristina knew they were close but she always thought they were close in an "I'm your person" kind of way. Like Meredith and herself.

Maybe it was one sided, Cristina thought. Or maybe they were just super close to each other, so close that feelings of platonic love got confusing? Cristina would be lying if there were not days, specifically terrible days, when all she only wanted Meredith around. She could look at Cristina and know that something was up. She knew what to say or more importantly, what not to say to Cristina.

No, there was something in the way Callie had looked today when she had told her it. Looking back, Cristina could tell there was something there. They way Hahn just lit up around Callie instead of being her usual grumpy and overbearing self. They way they looked at each other, over a patient or during surgery or even when they were just exchanging charts or lab reports.

Cristina's heart suddenly ached for Callie. She didn't want to assume, but in her heart she knew that Hahn had not said goodbye to Callie.

Yes, Cristina knew that feeling all too well.

It was terrible, devastating and cruel. In her own case it had been freedom, perhaps too much of it in one go. But not in Callie's. When someone left you like that, swiftly and suddenly, you fill in the conversations you have with them in your head. You fill in what you think they would say. Its endless wondering, the kind that consumes and ruins you. Cristina was not in love with Burke anymore, no the days of love for him were long gone. Yet it hurt occasionally. Like a broken bone that's healed, but still throbs every time it rains.

The thing with Burke had taught her a lot. Cristina had been all for the definition-less relationships for as long as she could remember. She didn't need to be titled as a girlfriend or lover, she just needed to be respected and she needed humor. She didn't shy away from authority figures, in fact she desired them. After the whole thing with Burke went down and she had more time to reflect, she did not know whether it was what they could have taught her that made Marlowe and Burke so desirable or was it the person themselves. One thing was for sure – dating an attending, not happening again. In fact she had not even bothered to date since Burke. It was as if she had been given a second chance or a clean slate, all she wanted was to re-focus her energy on surgery. No one distracting her or demanding things from her. All she had wanted was surgery.

That is, until Owen walked back into her life again.

Ever since, their talk in the elevator he had been acting cordially, more so than before. He was making an effort, Cristina could tell. He would nod at her politely, occasionally say a "Hello" or "Good Morning". And she had been very civil herself. They never called each other by their first names. Somehow using last names and their titles made it feel like they were just colleagues who had never locked lips before. And everything seemed to be getting on smoothly.

Except that Cristina noticed the looks. She saw how he looked at her. He seemed to be one of those people who didn't talk much about himself, but you could tell what he felt if you looked at his face. Cristina on the other hand was a master at disguising her feelings. She knew how to keep her face neutral. It was a blessing and a curse.

But she could tell that he looked at her. Really looked. When she would talk to him or near his vicinity his eyes were transfixed on her face, as if trying to memorize her features. When he handed her a patients' chart, he was careful not to touch her, but he gaze would linger a second too long at her hands or wrists. When she shrugged her hair off of one shoulder, he would look at the newly exposed skin with such longing. Cristina was sure that he would have grabbed her just like he had the first time he had kissed her. But he kept his distance, physically. Until this morning.

She had been standing at the ambulance bay tying up her trauma gown when out of nowhere she felt a pair of hands take the strings from her fingers. She barely had to look sideways to see who it was. Touching was normal when you are a surgeon. Handing things to one another, fixing people in the OR was an intimate experience. Side by side, you were bound to touch each other. And for someone who did not ease up to the touch easily, Cristina didn't mind any of the touching that happened in the OR.

But this morning as he stood behind her, his fingers barely even grazing her skin as he tied the strings, Cristina felt a jolt of electricity go through her. Which bothered her. She had been touched. She had been touched plenty by her previous lovers, but she couldn't remember such a light touch ever turning her on. It was always the heat of the moment, the wild caresses and the promise of more to come than turned her on. The truth was that Cristina had never considered herself the kind of women who needed – or even liked – soft caresses. Maybe it was just Owen. Then again, she never thought she would tell anyone about her Dad so it was definitely just him. Thankfully, Callie had shown up as soon as she and Owen had exchanged pleasantries.

Meredith caught up to Cristina as they made their way back from lunch and said "Derek said you were on the homeless guy's case with him."

"Yeah, I am." Cristina replied, shrugging on her lab coat.

'With Hunt too." Meredith gave her a look.

Cristina could see where this was going so she said "And Sloan, and Torres and Little Grey."

"Ok, seriously? People need to stop calling her Little Grey!" Meredith exclaimed.

"I don't know. I think I like it better than Lexipedia."

Meredith looked sideways at Cristina "So everything is good with you and Hunt?"

"So we're good?" "Yes, we're good"

"Everything is fine."

Meredith placed a hand on Cristina's arm, trying to get her to stop walking and said "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously." Cristina replied, very aware of the fact that she sounded whinier than usual.

"Cristina, the last time we talked about him you said he hates you. And now everything seems fine."

"Because it is."

Meredith looked at her, her silence speaking volumes.

"I'm not getting involved with another attending." Cristina stated

"Ok."

"He's not even into me." Cristina said.

Meredith smiled "Have you seen the way he looks at you? He wants you!"

"Oh God, Mer!" Cristina hissed. "Why don't you get a microphone and just announce it to the whole hospital!"

"Well, he did kiss you and now he's here and maybe -"

"Yang!"

Cristina and Meredith turned to see Owen striding towards them.

"Timothy's agreed to surgery. Scrub in right away." He said to Cristina as he walked past them.

"Okay." She turned back to Meredith only to find a smirk on her face. "Oh, shut up!"

Cristina turned and walked around the corner thinking to herself "He's not into me" over and over as she headed to surgery.

The surgery went terribly and they lost the patient. Cristina had never seen Callie in such a mess. She had started to cry in the OR saying she had built Timothy legs. But this wasn't about the patient. This was about Callie's broken heart. Had it been anything else, Cristina probably would not have bothered but she had been where Callie was so she dragged her and Sloan out for a drink.

They drank in silence, until Callie finally started talking. But Cristina was busying glancing at Owen. He looked miserable and angry, downing one drink after another. He seemed more devastated than usual and Cristina knew that something about Timothy had called out to him. Something that made him even more invested than usual. She watched him get up, throw some bills on the table and shrug his jacket on. He walked steadily to the door. He must not have had that much to drink or maybe he could hold his liquor.

Cristina downed her drink and got up, putting jacket on, leaving Mark and Callie together. She knew that Mark would take care of Callie. She wanted to talk to Owen. She had to see if he was okay. It didn't mean anything. They were just colleagues, and colleagues should look out for one another.

She followed him, running to catch up with him. She touched his arm as she said "Hey." and he shoved her off forcefully. His breath was quickened and his eyes were wide and dark.

She backed up a bit and said "I'm sorry we lost him.. the patient. I'm sorry."

He was quiet for a second and then he said "I don't need you to be sorry."

"Okay." Cristina replied not knowing what to say to that.

And then he moved closer, his voice dropping to frantic whispers, telling her that he didn't need her. Her back hit the wall and he moved in even closer. Cristina knew she should have felt scared. He could have very well been drunk and could have harmed her. And before she could think of anything else, he closed the distance between them with a quick, aggressive sound and his lips captured hers.

The kiss was rough and possessive, as he grabbed on to her. He was everywhere all of a sudden. His tongue in her mouth, his beard feeling deliciously rough on her skin , one of his hands holding on to her jacket and the other one framing her face. It took her a second to hold on to him, her fingers on the nape of his neck, caressing the soft skin. It felt new and dangerous, yet familiar as his scent enveloped her senses. He smelt exactly how she had remembered. She let out a little moan and that seemed to fuel him further as his teeth scraped her bottom lip. He tasted of scotch as she probably did to him, no doubt. His hips ground against her and she was fully aware that she was trapped between this man and the wall. Something about being trapped made her feel lightheaded than she already did. She could feel the desire and longing spark through her body, collecting somewhere in her abdomen.

They both came apart and he almost leaned back him but she just stood there with her mouth slightly open, trying to take in what just happened. She looked up at him. Gone was the confident, commanding man and instead was someone who's eyes were clouded with desire and his body very much pressed to hers. But he didn't say anything. So she decided she wouldn't either. He had made the move, he had made the decision to kiss her.

But, nagged the annoying voice in her head, you opened your mouth and kissed him right back.

He backed away a bit and Cristina took it as her cue to leave. She walked away, surprised she could keep a steady pace because her body was humming with need. She refused to acknowledge it as she walked to her apartment and let herself in. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes.

Okay, she thought. So maybe he is into you.