Cristina was not a happy person. She'd spent almost an hour searching the hospital before she realized that Burke had already left. The drive on the interstate to his apartment was a nightmare even with the directions she'd printed off the internet. Constructions and morons were definitely not in short supply in this area and the only thing it was doing was further pissing her off.

When she finally pulled up to the parking lot for Burke's complex, the security guard hassled her for five minutes before he finally just called upstairs and cleared it with him that she could come up. She muttered curse words under her breath until she finally found a parking space. She hadn't been in such a foul mood since she found out that Hahn was staying at Seattle Grace.

She would have thought that Burke was going to come downstairs to meet her when the guard notified him that she had arrived, but he was nowhere to be found. She scowled and cursed a little bit more as she got on the elevators and pressed the button for the floor that she thought he was on.

The elevator doors slid open and she stepped off on the 8th floor, looking for apartment 8A, but it wasn't there. There were apartments in the 800s, but no 8A. She got back on the elevator, feeling a little stupid. Of course, he's probably on the bottom floor if it's a single digit. Not that it makes since because those floors should be the 100s. She got down there, and that's exactly what those floors were. She tried to find a directory, but nothing seemed apparent and nobody was lingering for her to ask how to get to it.

Cristina got back on the elevator with the overwhelming urge to kick something and she pressed another button. He could have been a gentleman and met her downstairs. He could have at least acted like they were more than just acquaintances or bitter exes and he could have showed her how to get to his goddamn apartment.

But no, she was riding up and down on this damn elevator, her skin growing sticky with sweat from the poor ventilation. She was going to look like crap by the time she found his apartment. Not like it mattered, she didn't care what he thought she looked like. If she looked like crap, then he wouldn't stare at her.

The elevators slid open on the top floor and she warily trudged out of it. She looked straight ahead to see apartment 3A and her eyes narrowed. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She muttered under her breath. She turned and walked down the hallway, cautious to look at the numbers before she got too far. The doors had to be the width of three normal apartments apart.

Apartment 8A was safely tucked in the corner on the highest floor of the complex. She clenched her jaw as she pounded against the door, making sure all of his neighbors could hear it. He should have met her downstairs. It didn't even make sense for this to be 8A. It should be 2400 or something.

Burke grinned to himself, a cold beer in hand as he approached the door. It had been at least a half hour since they'd notified him of her arrival. Surely she'd be a little irritated on that, seeing as he'd asked Michael to give her a hard time when she arrived.

She had to be having a bad day by now and he was going to do everything that he could to make it better.



He pulled the door open and found a highly disgruntled Cristina standing in front of him, "I was beginning to think that you had changed your mind and went home," He smiled softly, extending the beer for her.

Cristina plucked the cold beer from his hands and took a long drink of it, feeling as if she was dying from thirst from trying to find his damn apartment. She pulled the bottle from her lips and then focused a burning hot gaze on him. "You could have met me downstairs. Do you know how long I've been looking for your apartment? What the hell kind of numbering is this. You should have known it would be impossible to find it!" She rattled on.

Burke laughed a little, "Cristina, you're the most intelligent woman I know. I didn't think that finding a penthouse apartment would be that challenging to you."

She started to fire back some sarcastic remark, but she paused for a minute, "Are you calling me stupid because I couldn't find your apartment??"

"I wouldn't dream of calling you stupid, Cristina." He replied with a slight shake of his head. "Please, come in. Dinner is going to get cold and I'm sure you must be starving after your….journey." He added with a slight smirk.

"You're not funny." She said, shedding her jacket and dropping it onto the floor next to her bag.

His eyes came to focus on the worn brown leather jacket in the middle of his floor and he felt a wave of sadness rush through his veins. It had been so long since something came in and so carelessly disturbed the immaculate state of his apartment.

He missed it more than any words would ever be able to express.

"Staring at my coat isn't going to save you from answering my questions." She muttered, already sitting at the table and eating her dinner. "And I'm not picking it up."

"Of course not," He said, leaving it in its place. His stride was long and intentional as he took the seat next to her and picked up his fork. "How are things in Seattle?"

"Why did you leave?" She responded, taking another bite.

"I understand you're still in the apartment. I have to admit that I wasn't sure that you were going to stay. I don't know that I would have been able to. If it were me," He continued, ignoring her question.

"I like my apartment. "

"It's a nice apartment," He nodded, "Probably one of the best in Seattle for the price."

"I'm not here to make small talk with you, Burke. I want answers. You said you'd give me my answers." Cristina sighed, reaching for her nearly empty beer.



Burke immediately jumped up from the table to pluck a second beer from the refrigerator and then grabbed one for himself as well. He sat it down in front of her with the cap still in place, knowing she couldn't twist it off herself. He wanted to make her ask. "I want to give you answers, Cristina. But right now you're angry and tired and frustrated and wouldn't you rather have your answers when you're not hungry and exhausted? After dinner when your thoughts are a little more clear? I'd hate for you to leave something out. Your trip would be all for naught."

"Don't think I can't see right through you." She spouted. "You're just trying to stall. You don't have any answers. You know you were wrong."

"Of course I know I was wrong, Cristina. I'd be a fool if I didn't think I was wrong." He said evenly.

Her eyes immediately moved up from her plate to meet his and he simply nodded. She grabbed her beer from the table and tried to twist the cap off, her eyes still focused on him. Cristina was unsure of what to say to him. She figured he'd have some stupid logical reasoning for what he did. She knew that he'd have some long winded answer to explain why he was right.

Burke never really admitted that he was wrong. Just like she never admitted to being wrong, it was throwing her off and she didn't know how to respond to it.

He plucked the beer bottle from her hand and easily removed the cap and put it back in her hands. With just the simple admission that he was wrong, he knew he had knocked her off of her game. Pushing the beer back into her hands, he left his fingers lingering against her soft skin. "Cristina, I'm sorry." He murmured softly.

She let herself go for just one minute as she felt his skin against hers. The air felt electric and goose bumps flared up all over her skin and an alarmingly fast rate. She finally pulled her hand away and swallowed hard. "I just want answers," She said in a shaky voice. "I want to know why you left."

Burke frowned just a little bit. She was wavering a bit, but not enough. It's certainly not anything that he hadn't planned for, though. He may have been a fool when he walked away from her, but he wasn't taking any chances now. "And you'll have your answers. But I fear that's a conversation that would take too much time. Why don't you come by tomorrow and I'll answer one of your questions."

"You'll answer all of my questions." She said, feeling anger rise up in her stomach.

"I will. Just not all at once. I think it's too much. It's overwhelming. I'll answer one question a day." He said, standing and taking her plate.

"I have several questions!" She snapped, "I'm not staying here that long."

"Then I suppose that you won't have your questions answered." He shrugged before he placed their plates into the dishwasher. He was sure that she'd stay.



Cristina stood from the table, glaring at him. "Don't you think you've done enough? You owe me. It's not fair for you to string me along like this. All you have to do is answer my questions and let me move on with my life. It's not that complicated."

"It's far more complicated than you would suspect Cristina. Do you have a place to stay? I could locate one for you if you like. I know Baltimore rather well." He offered.

"I'm a big girl. I can find my own place." She muttered, picking her coat and bag up. "Tell me why you left."

"Not tonight. You're too angry. You'll never be able to understand. We'll discuss it tomorrow. I'm off. We can go to the harbor and have lunch and I'll answer a question." He opened the door for her, catching her off guard yet again.

She figured that he'd try to make her stay. "I'm not having lunch with you."

"Try to think of it as you just happen to be eating lunch at the same time as me. Not having lunch together." He smirked a little, "Goodnight, Cristina."

Before she could protest, she found his door in her face. The silver 8A hung in her face, taunting her. Cristina wasn't quite sure what had happened, but she felt like she'd been tricked into something. She stood there for a long moment, dumbfounded. She wouldn't have left if it were her. She would have stayed and pestered him and made him answer her.

Maybe she was just tired. It had been a long day.

She would make him answer all of her questions tomorrow.