Joe's was filthy. The floors were sticky and littered with peanut shells. It smelled of alcohol, cigarettes and the odor of vomit wafted from the corner despite the fact she was on the other side of the room. Despite how filthy it was, it felt like a safehaven right now. Joe pushed another vodka infused drink towards Cristina and she immediately downed it, ordering another one before he even had a chance to make his retreat.

He looked at her warily. There had only been a handful of nights that he had to call someone for her, and those were nights that involved a man no longer involved in her life. "Maybe you should slow down a little. You probably have to…work tomorrow, right?" He suggested quietly.

"Another one, Joe. Now." She answered, finishing the drink.

"Is there something you want to allude to so I at least know why you're attempting to put me into bankruptcy tonight?" Joe sighed, reaching for the vodka. He was going to make this one lighter.

"Are you a therapist?"

He smirked a little, "Some people would think so."

"Just shut up and poor me the drink. And don't go light." She sneered.

She picked apart another peanut shell, her eyes fixed to the bar. She hadn't thought about him at all the entire time that she'd been here. Instead, she thought of other things like Hahn and Meredith and her stupid McDreamy and all of the things that sometimes she cared about. She'd come to the decision that if she'd think of other things, he would just go away.

Of course, she was wrong.

The bell rang over the door and Joe looked up to see Burke standing in the doorway. His face went a little pale and suddenly he realized Cristina's problem. Instead of slowing the flow of vodka into her drink, he poured a little extra and slid it towards her. "Extra strong. You're going to need it."

"You have no idea," She snorted.

"I think I do." He answered softly, nodding behind her.

Cristina twisted on her barstool to find Burke standing a few feet behind her. Without even acknowledging him she turned back to her drink. "Make me another one before you leave." She muttered.

Burke was at the very least discouraged by her reaction, but he wasn't going to show it. He wanted to understand what had happened between them. He thought that they were better. That he would come home and fix this.

He was very obviously wrong.



"You left the hospital rather quickly," He spoke in a low voice, slightly laced with concern and trepidation.

"Why are you here? We said goodbye. It's over. Go home." She answered before she took a drink. Her sinuses stung with the amount of vodka that Joe had poured into it, and secretly she hoped for another just like it.

"It's not over. We talked. I told you I was wrong. We….do you not remember anything in Baltimore? You told me that you loved me. I reciprocated."

"So?" She retorted.

"So, I thought-"

"Well, stop thinking." She snapped at him before he could even finish the sentence. "Just don't think. Just forget it, okay. Now you know that it's over. No thinking required."

"Cristina," He murmured softly, "I know that I hurt you, but we can fix this."

"I don't care. You apologized. You gave me my answers, and now it's over. Did you not hear that part? Do I need to tattoo it on my forehead?"

"It's not over. We can do it right this time. We can fix this. That night in Baltimore…the night before you left, that's the happiest I've been."

"It's called an orgasm, Burke. You can have one without me." She quipped, nursing her drink.

"Cristina,"

"I think we've already established that you know my name."

"Dammit, Cristina! Just stop." He said, pulling the drink from her hands. "I gave up everything. Again. To come here for you. Will you stop acting like this for at least five minutes and explain what changed between that night and now?"

Cristina's eyes remained focused on the bar. She had said goodbye to him. She had cut ties with him and left Preston Burke- the man she loved back in Baltimore. This man was someone here solely here to irritate her and nothing more. Or at least that's what she was trying to convince herself of. She pulled some money from her pockets and slid it onto the bar before sliding from her chair.

With the first step she nearly stumbled to the ground and within moments, Burke's arms were around her and holding her up. She tried to push him away, but he only held her more tightly. "Let me at least take you home,"

She wanted to fight him, but she already felt sick to her stomach. Instead, they made it as far as the door and she stopped. "Don't try anything," She grumbled at him, "My judgment is still intact."



He scooped her up into his arms rather than letting her stumble about, "I just want you to get home safely." He assured her softly.

Involuntarily, her head rested against his shoulder and she breathed him in. She hated how her senses were still intact and how they all still had a fondness for him. The way he looked, his scent, the way his hot breath tickled her neck and shoulders. Her body was against her and her judgment definitely was no intact, but she wasn't going to tell him. "You better leave tomorrow."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm back. Here. For good." Burke answered, slowly lowering her to her feet. He pulled the door open and let her ease into his car.

"You are not." She fought as he buckled her in.

"I am," He repeated before he closed the door. He let out a deep sigh.

This was not going to be easy.

Pulling the car out of the parking lot, he glanced over at her. "Tell me what happened. The last night you were in Baltimore."

"You know what happened. I'm not going to recap sex for you." She answered, looking out the window for only a moment as her stomach did flipflops. She closed her eyes, the passing buildings causing the nausea in her stomach to rise.

"That's not what I'm referring to."

"Then what? What were you referring to? I was saying goodbye. I told you that. I wasted a year of my damn life on you and I didn't get so much as a goodbye. I got dumped in a church. I got left behind. I was just setting things straight, okay? I don't want to fix this. I don't want this. And I don't want you." She answered, her voice growing louder with each word until she was nearly yelling. Cristina wasn't sure if she meant the words or not, but she wanted to.

Burke remained quiet as they pulled into the drive of the apartment complex, trying to absorb her words. They stung and they made him second guess his decision to come back. But she had come after him, and after everything that had happened. After she had told him that she loved him and he said it back- there had to be something there. Cristina would never use those words lightly- it took enough to get them out of her. He parked the car and looked over at her, "Let me help you inside and then I'll leave."

"I can do it myself," She said, unmoving. Taking in a deep breath, she open her eyes to reach for the door handle, but immediately felt her stomach lurch a little. "I just….I need a minute."

Without a word, he slid from the car and walked to her side, pulling her door open. Reaching in, he pulled her into his arms and closed his door with the hip. "You should find better ways of coping. You're going to end up with liver disease."



"Spare me the lecture before I vomit on you." She threatened with a small hiccup. Another wave of nausea crashed against her stomach and she reached up to push him away. She leaned against a small pillar just outside the door and took deep breaths, fighting to keep it all in until she could at least get upstairs. As it subsided, she started inside and he followed close behind, his hand on her back to steady her.

Once they were on the elevator, his arm snaked around her waist a little, "Do you work tomorrow?"

"Why do you care?" She muttered, exhaling heavily.

"Because you really shouldn't with the hangover that you'll be nursing." He smirked as the doors slid open.

Cristina rushed past him with her keys in hand to the door. Her stomach wasn't going to hold back anymore. She pushed the door open and ran into the bathroom, leaving it wide open. He followed behind her, closing the door.

His eyes traced over the apartment as he stood in the doorway. It was predictably messy, the furniture changed around. She had tried to erase him from her life. She had tried to change things. Tried to make them unrecognizable physically to match what she had probably been feeling. He could hear her wretching from the kitchen and he went to the refrigerator to pull out some bottled water. He wasn't surprised to find it basically bare with the exception of alcohol and leftover takeout.

With the bottled water in hand, he made his way into the bathroom and found her slumped beside the toilet. He wet a washcloth and knelt beside her. "Here," He offered softly.

She looked up at him with tired eyes as she reached for the water. "Just go," She mumbled, leaning back against the wall. She had done this too many nights after he left. She knew she could handle herself.

"I'll wait until I know you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"I didn't say I'd wait until you were fine. I said I'd wait until you were okay."

She ignored his comment, taking a small sip of the water. She closed her eyes and sighed softly. She was exhausted. He was exhausting. Fighting him was even more exhausting.

"Come on. You need to get in bed." He murmured softly, pulling her off the floor.

Cristina didn't fight him as he led her to bed. She stood at his side like a limp rag doll, the combination of alcohol left in her system, the retching and the day's events finally overwhelming her.

After gathering her pajamas from the dresser, "Let's get you changed," He murmured softly, reaching out to slowly unbutton her shirt as she swayed in front of him. She was far more inebriated than he'd ever seen before.



"Don't try anything," She mumbled as the shirt slid down her arms. Part of her hoped that he would.

"What do you take me for? I've never been that kind of man, Cristina." He answered before unclasping her bra. He helped her slide her shirt over her head so that she was covered before he took the bra off and then he began to work on her pants.

"I didn't think you'd ever be that kind of man, but you found a way to prove me wrong." She retorted. Even if he had apologized and called himself stupid and is actions idiotic, it was still hurt.

"Let me prove you wrong again." He uttered, pulling the covers back on the bed.

"You're crazy if you think I'll let you do that to me again."

"I'd never do it again. I'd be an idiot to do it again."

She slid into the bed and looked up at him as he tucked her in. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment and between the mix of alcohol and the thinly veiled emotions, she had never felt more vulnerable. "Go." She whispered again. "Just go."

Sitting on the edge of the bed that used to be his, he shook his head just a little. "I'm not. I gave you up. Twice, I gave you up. I won't do it again."

"You'll never have me to give me up again."

"We'll see," He answered with a small grin. Burke was sure that he knew otherwise. Bending, he brushed his lips against hers just softly, as if he were asking for permission.

Cristina weakly put her hand against his chest, a pathetic half attempt at feigning pushing him away. She was drunk and she couldn't be held accountable for giving into her physical desires. She kissed him back a little harder as her body began to respond. She knew that Burke in close proximity and alcohol wasn't the best combination- even more so when she couldn't sort out exactly what it was that she was feeling.

The kiss became heated, more passionate and he slid his hands up into her hair, his fingers tangling in the curls. He could feel her small hands on his back, trying to pull him on top of her, but he pulled away. "You're drunk." He murmured.

"So?" She asked, "This is why you came here isn't it?"

"I came here for all of you," He murmured, kissing her softly one last time. He stood, looking down at her. "Goodnight, Cristina."

"Goodbye, Burke." She retorted, now strung out on liquor and feelings of rejection. Reaching up, she flipped off the light and turned away from him to attempt sleep.

After he closed the door, Burke went about picking up the apartment, picking up the pieces of his former life. He would find a way to convince her. He would find a way to fix what he had broken. The desire was there, he knew it was. He had seen it only moments before.



He just had to find a way to tear down her walls once more.