disclaimer:

I do not own the rights to the characters used. This fanfic is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe on the rights of anyone.

Author's note: Thank you everyone for reviewing. I appreciate the comments.

On another note, I spent a lot of time wondering whether this chapter had any purpose, but decided to post it anyway.

There was a spring in her step, which made Cristina feel absolutely ridiculous. That she could be acting like such a teenager annoyed her. Only it didn't annoy her enough to bring her mood down enough notches to keep her from smiling like an idiot while rounding on her patients. The only mood dampener came when she walked by Derek's patient's room. Owen was in visiting with his ex and her father, chatting like everything was normal. One would think a situation like that would be uncomfortable, but he didn't look the least bit uncomfortable.

Cristina looked at her watch, wondering what time he'd leave the hospital today. How long was he going to hang out in there? She found herself wishing for someone to be horrifically, traumatically injured sometime in the near future. That was a mood dampener, too. What kind of person hoped for something like that? What Derek's patient never left the hospital? How long before Cristina turned into some sort of psycho angel of death, administering a lethal dose of medication while he slept just so she could stop worrying about when Owen would realize what a mistake he was making, leaving the all-American Barbie to be with her. Although he had left Pollyanna before he met her, but whatever.

The problem was Cristina knew exactly what she was, who she was. And she knew how she was perceived. She was perceived as ambitious (and if she were a man this would be something to be admired), as an ice-queen (but how long before everyone noticed that Owen Hunt could melt her with one glance), as an unfeeling bitch. But that wasn't true. Maybe she could be a bitch, but she felt everything. A person could feel something without talking about it incessantly. And she made efforts to reach out. Herculean efforts. But the results of those efforts were sometimes so slight that they passed unnoticed.

It was going to be a long day. Hopefully, she would be able to get some sleep tonight. She would see Owen tomorrow, and wanted to be able to enjoy it. She wanted to be able to enjoy him. A rush of heat flooded through her body. Would tomorrow night be the night? She'd imagined it so many times she worried that the actual experience wouldn't—couldn't—live up to the act. Sex was sex. A basic function. A needed release. Had her "courtship" with Owen been so extended that she allowed herself to build sex up into some magical, life-changing event? It was just sex.

But knowing that, intellectualizing it, didn't change anything. She still ached for him. Still worried about it. What if he just meant he wanted to wake up next to her, without sex? They woke up next to each other yesterday morning, and they didn't have sex. Could she do it again? Could she sleep next to him without attacking him?

Cristina slapped the chart she was holding onto the counter of the deserted nurse's station and started logging the medication changes for some of her patients. When she finished, there was still no one around so she just stood for a minute. She looked down at her shoes. Stop it, she silently told her toes. Stop thinking about him. Her own shoes were joined by a familiar pair of brown leather shoes. Three hundred dollar brown leather shoes. She knew how much they were because she had been bored last night, after their phone conversation, and she'd looked up the brand online. Based on the reviews (she'd read the reviews!) they were known for comfort, for durability. When had she become a woman who did internet searches on her boyfriend's shoes? When had she started calling him her boyfriend, at least in the safety of her own thoughts? Was this the first time?

Owen leaned on his elbows up against the nurse's station. He stood close, but far enough away that a casual observer would have no question that they were not touching. It disappointed her. She didn't know how she would react if he'd come up and stood close enough that she could feel the length of his forearm against her own. She found herself wishing she'd had the opportunity to react.

"Good morning, Dr. Yang," Owen said, a smile in his voice. She glanced up at him, looking to see which smile she would find. It was a half-smile, a bemused sort of smile. It was a let's see if I can get her all worked up just by using that tone kind of smile. She should hate that smile. She loved that smile.

Cristina looked up at him. "Dr. Hunt. How's your day?"

"My morning is better than my night was. And as an added bonus I get to leave soon. I'd offer to bring you some take out at dinner time, we could sit and eat together, but since we're still moving under the radar maybe you can just call me later to tell me about your day?"

"Izzie knows. Meredith knows. Some random ER resident knows. Callie knows. Derek knows. We're hardly under the radar."

Owen nodded. "In that case, I could bring salt and pepper chicken." That smile again.

"You think this is funny."

"I think this is a little bit funny. It's been weeks. I don't want to waste energy pretending I don't want to be with you. And I can tell you if one ER resident knows that a bunch of ER residents know. But you know what? Conversations don't stop when I enter the room. Because we're doctors. We're all doctors." As if doctors were more mature than the rest of the population. Seattle Grace would beat that assumption out of him very shortly.

Cristina nodded, kept scribbling in a chart. "I know, I just…I don't know."

"You just don't want your personal life in the hospital. You don't want to be a topic of conversation." Cristina looked up at him, surprised to see him turn her obstinate 'I don't know' into such an accurate truth. They hadn't spent a lot of time talking about this, but he understood her hesitation. He didn't take it personally, because he had the same hesitation. So why did he seem so flippant about letting it get out? Owen glanced at his watch distractedly, then pushed away from the nurse's station. "I'm supposed to meet Dr. Shepherd for coffee, see you later."

She spun around to watch his back as he walked away.

You're having coffee with Derek, now? she wanted to call after him, but held her tongue.

He moved purposefully in the hospital, Confidently. As if he didn't have a care in the world. He moved like a man who knew where he was, and knew who he was, and was pleased with both. When they were alone, he didn't act like that man. Was it a character default of hers that she couldn't bring herself to push him into talking about the event that had split his life into two distinct pieces. The event that broke him into the before and the after.

Would a better woman at least make an effort to push the issue, and make him face it? Was the only reason she didn't because if it were her pain, she wouldn't want him poking at her to see where it hurts. Except for the part that she was scared to death that she would want him to push her emotionally. Because if he was waiting for her to reach out and start acting like a girlfriend—there was that word again—with at least a basic human level of emotional intelligence, how long did they really have before he packed his bags and ran far, far away?

"What were you and Dr. Hunt talking about?" Alex Karev asked. She hadn't noticed his approach. She could tell he was in one of his moods.

"He had a couple of traumas last night and the patients will be here overnight. I'm on call."

"So you weren't talking about how you're sleeping together?" Cristina added another item to her mental to-do list. Slap Izzie Stevens.

"Get lost, Karev."

"No, I have something to say to you," he said.

Cristina eyed him then crossed her arms over her chest. "Well?"

Alex pointed to the supply closet. They moved off wordlessly into the small room. They stood together for a moment, and Alex looked like he was struggling for words. He finally said, "You can't mess this up for me."

"Excuse me?" Cristina asked, taking a step back.

"You can't do this. Dr. Hunt is my best shot at being a decent doctor. He's a good teacher and I respect him. But you… you are going to make him think you breathe air like a normal person. You're going to make him think your heart beats like a normal person. You're going to be all emotionally stunted and he's going to think it's cute. And for awhile, the novelty of dating an ice princess will keep him happy. But he won't be happy," Alex said. He pointed at her, "You can't make anyone happy. You will ruin him, you won't be able to be there for him and when he realizes that, he will be on the next plane out of Seattle. Just like Burke he will leave and you'll have chased away an Attending that this residency program can't afford to lose."

"Are we talking about me and Dr. Hunt or you and Izzie?" Cristina asked, then walked out, pushing past him out the door. As she walked away, she found herself reaching for her pager, desperate to talk to Meredith.

*

"You aren't seriously worried about something Alex said," the disbelief was evident in Meredith's voice as, holding their coffees, they made their way back to the floor.

"I'm not worried, I'm irritated. And…but what if he's right, Mere?" Cristina asked, clearly hoping to be told that Alex Karev was not right.

"He's not right," Meredith said, taking a sip from her cup and wincing. The coffees were scalding hot today. Cristina hadn't even bothered attempting to take a sip. Even with the sleeve, the cup was hot against the skin of her palm.

"What if I drive another Attending away? I'll be like the black widow of the hospital. I date Attendings and they disappear."

"He's not going to disappear. I've been watching him, watching the way he looks at you, since I found out, I mean. Because obviously, you couldn't tell me before. Because we were fighting, or whatever, and you can't tell me about the most important thing to happen to you in the last year if we're fighting."

"Meredith, losing the solo surgery was the most important thing that happened to me in the last year."

"Lie. But anyway, the way he looks at you…he's not going to disappear."

Cristina didn't answer and they walked in silence for some time, until Cristina spotted a slender blond approaching them from down the hallway. She stopped walking and turned to Meredith.

"What is it?" Meredith asked, looking confused.

"Point to your east," Cristina directed.

"What?"

"Point down the hallway to the east. Look over your shoulder and point. Do it now." Meredith turned and pointed her finger. Cristina nodded. "Now say something. Hurry, before she gets to us."

"Cristina, what is going on?"

"Okay, now turn and start walking. Not too quick, but go. Go now. Go, go, go."

Meredith turned and walked to the east. Cristina waited for Meredith to take a few steps before she followed. "Cristina, why are we walking to geriatrics?"

As soon as they were safely into the hall Cristina pulled Meredith into a stairwell. "We're not," she said, pulling Meredith up a flight of stairs. "We're going around."

"But who? Who are we going around?"

"We're going around her." Cristina emerged out of the stairwell and resumed their trek across the hospital. "I just needed to look like I was following you so it wouldn't be obvious I was avoiding her."

"The ex?" Meredith guessed, jogging a bit to catch up with Cristina. "Was that her? Have you spoken to her?"

"No," Cristina said. "And I intend to keep it that way."

Meredith grinned at her. "You do realize you're on call tonight, right? Derek says she rarely leaves the hospital."

"You think this is funny."

Meredith shook her head. "Of course I don't. I don't think it's funny at all. I think it's ridiculous. You don't have anything to worry about."

Cristina looked at Meredith. Alex's words came back to her. "Meredith, I have everything to worry about."