disclaimer:
I do not own the rights to the characters used or to the song lyrics used. This fanfic is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of anyone, either the people who own the songs or lyrics used or the owners of the characters depicted in this story.
This time the song belongs to The Fray, and the song is called "You Found Me."
Author note: I am sorry for anyone who is alerted twice to the existence of this chapter, I made some revisions in response to reviews and re-loaded the chapter.
Owen repositioned himself on the couch, moving into a corner and pulling her with him. She lay against his chest, rested her head on his shoulder and listened to his story. Listened to him talk about the strain four tours in Iraq put on a relationship. Every week another soldier without a family to go home to. "The problem is pretty big among the enlisted guys. Young, good looking guys with young, good looking wives, and vice versa. Even if most of them are faithful back home, and it's hard to imagine this is the case, but even if most of them make it through their spouse's tour without straying there are so many that don't. It affects everyone, seeing that. Because when you don't want to think about war, family is all you can think about. And there are a lot of hours in a day. A lot of time to obsess."
Owen paused, took a deep breath. As he spoke he played with her hair, twirling pieces around his fingers, closing his fingers around a strand every once in awhile and giving a gentle tug that sent electricity through her entire body. She was being unintentionally tortured, his caresses making her ache for him. "But I didn't."
"You trusted her," Cristina argued. Her hand was over his heart, she could feel its steady rhythm through her palm.
"I think I realized that I wasn't really hoping it wouldn't happen, I was hoping it would. I wanted an out. Because what was wrong with me, with us, that I couldn't even work up the energy to care about what she was doing back home? And I didn't know how to tell her."
"So you told her by email?"
"I made a mistake. We both did. Because she was unfaithful. Maybe she was. To be honest, I only heard it second hand. I never confronted her. And you know what? It's odd, but I felt guilty. We'd grown apart, but it wasn't all her fault. It wasn't even mostly her fault. And I was so selfish; I couldn't even tell her that. So I emailed her, I told her it wasn't going to work between us." He paused for a breath, obviously struggling with the story. "I'm not trying to give you a reason for what I did. I don't have a reason. All I have is an excuse. I regret how I handled it. I owed her more."
Owen paused, unsure, uncertain. His body was tense, and he was waiting for something to happen. Waiting for her to condemn him, waiting for her to move away from him, tell him she was going home. But she didn't push away, didn't say anything. If anything she relaxed into him more.
Her reaction to his story gave him courage, so he said, "I don't want you to think that if I had it to do over again, I would make a different choice. I regret how I handled it, but I wouldn't change the end result. I'm with you, Cristina. I'm where I want to be."
This statement did something to her, and she cleared her throat. "There's something I have to tell you."
And if Owen thought watching Mark Sloane flirt with her in the OR or on the wards was painful, it was nothing compared to the knife that went into his heart when she spoke next. Cristina's voice was oddly tentative when she said, "During my intern year, I got engaged. It didn't work out, obviously, but there was someone. I just thought you should know. I didn't want you to hear about it from someone else and be surprised."
"It didn't work out how, exactly?" he asked, and he knew his attempt to hide the tenseness in his voice was unsuccessful. "You broke up? What happened?"
"He ended it," she said.
If she hadn't sounded so strange when she said it, he might not have delved any deeper. It was obvious she meant for this part of their conversation to be short-lived, but he couldn't let it drop. "Could you give me a little more here?"
"He…it's…right as…" Her speech came out in fits and bursts until she was able to say, "On the day of the ceremony, he left. He left me in a wedding dress and walked out, just when the ceremony would have started. He just…walked away."
Cristina's entire upper body moved when Owen breathed next. A deep, soul-cleansing breath. "Oh," he said. Oh.
A moment of silence passed before he could think of what he wanted to say. "But you didn't walk away. You would have said yes. You would have married him." He paused. These were statements. He wasn't asking questions. "You wanted to marry him."
Cristina dragged herself off his chest and turned to look at him. He looked troubled, his brow furrowed. "I thought I did," she said. "I mean, he said I didn't. He said that's why he was leaving, because I didn't want to marry him."
"But you would have."
Cristina nodded. "I would have, yes."
Owen closed his eyes. She could have sworn just before he did that they watered a little bit. Cristina ducked her head into the crook of his neck, wondering how much longer his arm would be around her. She figured she had 30 seconds at most before he found a reason to get up. The seconds ticked away, the silence stretched between them. But he didn't pull away from her. He put both of his arms around her and gathered her closer. And if that didn't shock her enough, he tenderly kissed her on the top of her head. "I'm sorry."
It wasn't until that moment that she realized he must have turned on music when they got to his place. It had probably been playing the whole time, but she was only just regaining some of her senses as time and the meal lessened the effects of the alcohol. The radio station was playing The Fray; as radio stations are want to do lately. She preferred more upbeat music, but the lyrics of a song she must have accidentally heard a hundred times were suddenly mesmerizing to her.
Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me/Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded/Why'd you have to wait?/Where were you? Where were you?/Just a little late/You found me, you found me
"I should get you into bed. I can take you home, or you can stay here tonight." He sounded calm, if a little sad. She could tell he was trying to process what she'd told him, and she could tell she was losing him. Meredith was right. There was no good time to bring up your ex. She had mentioned Burke in the best of the worst times, and she had still managed to screw it up. She had screwed it up on a massive level. All but paralyzed, she made no move to get up.
But in the end/ Everyone ends up alone/Losing hope
"Cristina?"
But there was something that she could say, to change the situation. Or to change his perception of the situation. His own words came back to her. That was poetic, right? Showing someone they really did reach you, in a moment where they thought their sentiments had been overlooked or dismissed. He'd said the sweetest things to her in the face of her seething rage, and all she had to overcome was his insecurity and his pain.
"I'll stay here," she said. It wasn't what she meant to say. Each second that passed she lost a little more of her nerve, lost the strength to explain. And what did she have to explain? She'd told him the truth, but things were different now. Everyone had exes. She wasn't running around the hospital throwing her arms around Burke. Even if he was here she wouldn't be doing that, so what did she have to explain? What could she possibly have to explain? Her fear was accelerating her thoughts, making her irritable, making it hard to think straight.
The only one who's ever known/ Who I am, Who I'm not, Who I want to be/ No way to know/ How long she will be next to me
"Cristina?" Owen leaned forward, and her body slid away from his as he tried to get a better look at her face. He peered into her eyes, his own eyes full of questions. "Your heart is racing. What is it? Are you feeling sick?"
Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
"I choose you," she blurted. It was a stupid thing to say. Why was she so stupid, sometimes?
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded/Why'd you have to wait?/ Where were you? Where were you?
She held his face in her hands, moving her thumbs over the trimmed red hair of his beard she smiled. "I need you."
Just a little late/You found me, you found me
Owen dropped his face, breathed in a sigh of relief before looking up, his eyes filled with wonder at her. A corner of his mouth turned up in the sexiest grin she'd ever seen.
"Let me get you something to sleep in." Owen stood and moved off into the bedroom. Cristina followed and stood in the doorway in time to see him pulling a neatly folded t-shirt out of a drawer. He moved on to another drawer as she stepped into the room. His bed was neat book lay open on his nightstand, next to a bedside lamp. His bedroom was what she would have imagined. Neat and orderly, but comfortable. Approachable.
"I'll grab you a toothbrush. I buy a few at a time. Traveling habit, I guess." She watched as he disappeared into the bathroom.
As he busied himself, Cristina slipped out of her sweater and tossed it on the floor at her feet, then thought better of it and draped it over a chair as she listened to the water run in the bathroom. She had stepped out of her jeans when he reappeared in the doorway and stopped dead in his tracks, one arm wrapped around a gray t-shirt and a pair of shorts and a toothbrush in his other hand. "What are you doing?"
Cristina stepped over to him, her head tilted to the side as she studied him. "I'm getting changed." She pointed at the clothes arm. "Those are for me, right?"
"I-ah-ih-," he stopped to collect himself. "I'm still in the room." He was making an effort not to look away from her face, but by his reaction she could tell he'd gotten a decent look at the lacey bra and panties, pale blue against her skin. Not waiting for a response, he handed over the clothes. "I'll be back in a minute," he said, leaving her to change.
Cristina pulled the t-shirt over head, only realizing once it was on that it said ARMY across the chest. She pulled the shorts on just as returned, carrying a glass of water. He stopped in the doorway, and she realized the apartment was quiet now, absent its soundtrack.
"I was hoping it would be better but it's so much worse," he said.
Cristina scowled. "Excuse me?"
"The clothes," he said, setting the glass of water down on the empty nightstand. He set the water down on the side of the bed where he obviously didn't sleep. "You look so much sexier wearing my clothes." He pointed to the glass. "Try to drink something before bed, okay?"
Cristina nodded and went into the bathroom with the extra toothbrush. Owen was in bed when she finished cleaning up, all lights off except for the lamp by the bed. She slipped under the covers, taking note of the quality of the sheets. A high thread count, they were soft against her bare legs. Remembering his instructions, she turned to the water and was able to drink half the glass before having to abandon the effort. When she set it back on the nightstand, Owen reached to turn out the light. And when she lay down, he snaked an arm across her middle and pulled her close, cradling her back against his chest.
"Goodnight, Dr. Yang," he said, nuzzling his nose behind her ear and kissing the nape of her neck.
She drew in a shaky breath, aching for more but knowing it wasn't possible tonight. "Goodnight, Dr. Hunt."
Don't forget to review! I am sorry for anyone who is alerted twice to the existence of this chapter, I made some revisions in response to reviews and re-loaded the chapter.
Preview: The next chapter will be back at the hospital, and Callie and Mere will be very interested to know what happened overnight. And maybe Owen and Derek will have som stuff to talk about, too :-) I might even try my hand at including George