She was a professional. He had to give her that.
No surprises there. Owen imagined that most women who had nearly been strangled to death would take a sick day or two and lick their wounds, maybe even put in for a full-blown vacation. Cristina had simply thrown on a turtleneck and come to work, and were it not for the odd fashion statement under her scrub top, he doubted anyone would have noticed a thing. Today, with a breakup and a bad nightmare added to the load, was no different. Cristina showed up, not just physically, but in every capacity. It was what she did. He admired and related to it, because it was what he did too, what he had always done. Trauma aside, personal bullshit aside, Owen Hunt showed up for work.
Actually laying eyes on her again was like a punch to his gut, but he took his cue from her and hid it well. She was indeed on his service today, a scheduling decision he had made last week, and he considered it a good sign that she had not asked to be transferred. It indicated to him that perhaps not all was lost, that avoiding him would not be one of the tactics in her playbook. Even if they could not be together, having her around gave him hope. In his more optimistic moments, he told himself that they would work together and she would get used to him again. She would lose her fear. He would get better and he would win her back.
The alternative was too painful to contemplate, and while there was a certain appeal to self-flagellation in the aftermath of what he had done to her, he was trying hard not to go there if he could help it. Callie's account of the events of last night had set him back in this area, but he was struggling to keep himself out of the darkness as much as possible. There would be time enough to delve into that aspect when he began his sessions with the shrink.
It would have been a lot easier to hold to that decision if the rape victim had not come in towards the end of the day. Charlotte Engels, 33, had been brutalized, her face beaten and swollen until she was virtually unrecognizable. Bruises blossomed all over her body, and most particularly around her neck. He would have understood completely if Cristina had recused herself from this one, as he wished he could as well, but she had made sure the police were on their way, then proceeded to do the exam with him. She was cool and professional, but he could see the compassion in her eyes for the victim and knew this case was more than routine for her today.
Owen didn't handle it quite as well, somehow managing to power through the surge of bile in his throat and the shakiness he felt as they uncovered all of the atrocities this woman had been subjected to. It was one of the worst cases he had seen in a while, but Charlotte was remarkably lucid and was able to give a detailed account of the event. When she got to the part about how the assailant had repeatedly choked her almost to unconsciousness, he thought he was going to lose every meal he'd ever eaten. A sharp pang of guilt and shame rose to the surface as he gently palpated her neck to assess if there was any obvious damage, checking with her first to make sure she would not be traumatized by having another strange man touch her. His eyes met Cristina's as his fingers explored with the lightest possible touch, and he saw that, far from judging him or being disgusted, she was checking to see if he was ok.
Tears began to sting the back of his eyes and he had to look away. It was too much. The love he felt for her in that moment threatened to overwhelm him and he cleared his throat to cover the wave of emotion. He had to get a grip. Intellectually he knew he had nothing in common with the man who had done this, but his intellect was only one small part of the equation. He was a healer, yet in this instant, it was the crushing guilt of the perpetrator that sat on his shoulders.
Owen had excused himself to allow Cristina to conduct the more personal, female parts of the exam, and had gone into the men's room to regroup. He washed his face in the sink, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror at all costs, and did his best to dry off with a paper towel. Their shift was almost over. In another thirty minutes, if he could manage to pull her aside before she left for the day, he would have a little talk with Cristina.