Talking is overrated

Chapter 2

If you took everything together, life wasn't that bad. No, really, it was quit good.

She still wasn't speaking with Burke, and more importantly, he didn't make her coffee in the morning. But those were just details. All together, life was good. She still had unbelievably great sex with her hot boyfriend. She just had an amazing surgery with Dr. Bailey. She could eat as much take-outs as she wish. She could ride her motorbike, without somebody mumbling something about a death-trap. She could work till she couldn't stand anymore and nobody complained about it.

See, life was amazing.

She was happy. Her shoulders ached and her feet hurt from standing six hours in the OR. She was happy. Not Meredith, with her weeping about McDreamy or her McFather or McWhatever. Not George, with Orthochick and his sex-obsession (well, that was more funny than anything else). Not Izzy, with her 8.7 million in numbers, 8.700.000 in words, eight-point-seven-zero-zero-point-zero-zero-zero in dollars and no idea how to spend it. Did that even qualify as a problem? And not Alex, with Montgomery and whatever else was going on with him. Christina was happy. She only wanted to crash down in an on-call room and slept like a stone, but she would crash happily.

She had been in for 20 hours and she had six hours till rounds. Thankful for the fact that Alex was on-call and not her, she dragged herself to next free bed, put her pager away, and the moment her head hit the pillow she was out like she was dead.

X

It was 4:45 am when her pager was going off. It was Meredith, asking her why she hadn't stolen the best cases for rounds in 15 minutes.

Damn.

Hastily she got up and practically ran to the locker room for a really, really quick cold shower and some fresh scrubs.

As she was meeting up with the others, Meredith widely grinned at her.

"What?"

"I got the best cases, sleepyhead."

"Well after I had my pick of cause, I was on call after all. But I'm sure there are some rectals for you left, Yang."

"In your dreams, evil spawn. And I still have some great cases form yesterday, that will be operated today."

"Can't you just leave me one success?"

"Nope I can't. I always win. You know that Mer."

"Oh really? I have a Blalock-Taussig-Shunt on a three-years old TAR-patient with Burke."

"I hate you, Bambi. I do. From the deepest part of my heart and soul."

Any further conversation was stopped by Bailey and her demand to start rounds. Considering that she had been on call last night, and the dark bags under her eyes, her son was giving her hell at home. It didn't seem to improve her normally...cheerful mood.

"OK, suck ups..."

With that, she fixed George, who had mixed up some blood tests. It had been noticed, when a 61 year old man with a broken wrist, had been diagnosed to be pregnant. Four blood tests had to be re-done and time and hospital resources had been wasted. Even when no wrong results were given to patients, the whole episode was absolutely no fun for George. Bailey hadn't been amused either.

"If today I hear one tiny little complaint about you, like I did yesterday, I will make your life such a living hell, that you will quit this program before sun set. Understood?"

They just nodded, and for the lack of a dying wish, kept their mouth shut; particularly George, who tried to master the art to melt with the lockers behind him and failed, miserably.

It had been a good day. She hadn't lied, when she said that she still had some good cases left. She had a liver transplantation with the chief, a brain-tumor with Shepard, and a skin transplantation of a burning victim with Slone. And the best part, she was on call with a storm warning. She was excited, like a kid at Christmas Eve, awaiting lots of bloody, broken presents...and she wasn't disappointed.

In that moment the phone rang to inform them that four traumas were on the way.

The first two were pretty boring, just a little laceration and a whiplash trauma. The next had a dislocated shoulder and a broken nose. However, the last was the jackpot. A very complicated open fracture, and it was all hers. Well, Orthochick's, but she let her scrub in and it was really cool. Christina had the firm belief that somebody who was a good surgeon couldn't be so bad. Apart from McDreamy, nobody else was able to switch so fast from genius to idiot. And considering what she saw in that surgery, Orthochick couldn't be so bad. She let her place some nails and sew the wound at the end. The surgery was long and exciting. The rest of the night she was in the pit, but it didn't matter, because she was still surgery-high.

Nothing else interesting came in that night, which made the fact that she was off the next day bearable.

Her shift ended at 5:00 am. When she got home it was 6:15 am and Burke just started to make breakfast for himself. She changed in her pajamas, took her pill and crawled into the bed. On his side of the bed, because it was still warm, not because it still smelled like Burke. And she dreamed about sex and surgery. A little smile was on her lips as she dosed off.

Life was good. Even without coffee in the morning.

X

It was ridiculous. This whole situation was ridiculous. They weren't talking with each other. They were a couple, but they weren't talking. They lived in the same apartment, but they were ignoring each other when they had sex. It was absolutely ridiculous.

He enjoyed having time for himself. He jogged around longer to build up more stamina now that he had more time in the morning...because he didn't make her breakfast. He had met up with some old friends and went to a jazz club with them. All the stuff that Christina just didn't like.

He really enjoyed all this, and that was even more ridiculous. He started to get comfortable in this mess, a little. You don't get comfortable in not talking to your girlfriend. He missed her, but sometimes it didn't matter and he was satisfied.

He was making breakfast when she stumbled through the door. She dropped her bag and helmet next to the door and disappeared into the bedroom. She didn't even grab something to eat.

She hadn't been home for the last three nights, not that he cared or anything. It was just because of the sex. It was Thursday and she already had worked 54 hours this week, not that he payed attention to her workload. She probably hadn't eating anything real since lunch with her friends, not that it mattered to him or something.

It was absolutely ridiculous that a 28 years-old doctor couldn't take care of her own body.

It was a coincidence that card for a delivery service lied on the table when he went to work.

A.N. I'm sorry. This chapter wasn't so great.

I want to say thank you to BlindLoveFreeSpirt for being my beta-reader and AmyHale for leaving a review.