Author's note: hi everyone! Hope we are all surviving all these rumours, spoilers and teases about our favourite couple and the fate of our baby! Nearly at SP now! Sorry it has taken me a while to update, lots going on at work and getting ready for Zak's first day of school. Have the next couple of chapters underway so hope to get those finished and up soon. Hope you enjoy this one, a bit lighter, read and tell me what you think! Lots of love
Surprises. In the OR surgeons try to foresee them, to anticipate, to avoid, to work around them. A surprise in the surgical field more often than not means jeopardy, danger. It is the roll of the dice between repair and recovery or failure and finality. How the surgeon responds to the surprise tells the story of whether they are adequate, competent or extraordinary. But sometimes, just sometimes, on rare occasions the skill of the surgeon is irrelevant. This is because the nature of some surprises can bring with them new levels of learning, a chance to witness something never seen or felt before. In life, as in surgery, surprises can, quite simply, bring forth miracles.
"Owen..." Turning around from the open wardrobe doors in just a pair of tight fitting black jeans and a delicate white lace push up bra, Cristina adopted her best seductive voice, the one that always had him eating out of her hands and other parts of her anatomy, if she was very lucky. She fixed her husband with a wickedly flirty look, languidly licking her lips and tousling her hair to expose the delicate skin of her neck. This gets him every time. I've got this in the bag! She thought smugly to herself waiting for her husband's response.
"Yeeeees?" Owen, slowly drawing out each letter of the word, much to his wife's annoyance, was lying stretched out across the bed, his long, muscular body shrouded in a black Harvard hoodie and dark blue jeans, smirking at his wife's blatant attempt to get around him. He was wise to her tricks and mentally reminded himself to stand firm and defend his territory in the face of this tense, yet extremely sexually arousing onslaught.
Crawling onto the bed, lying on her side facing him and wrapping her arms around her husband's neck, Cristina whispered in his ear, "Owen, how about if you go tonight and I will be here waiting for you when you get back with a very, very sexy surprise?."
Pulling his head back to look into her eyes, his beard grazing her cheek sending a shockwave of pleasure through both their bodies, Owen knew he had two clear choices in this moment. He could give in to her demands and reap all the benefits of some very hot sex later or he could call her bluff and play her at her own devious game. Brushing a stray curl behind her ear, Owen gently cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. A slow, lingering kiss full of playful promise.
Got him! Cristina thought to herself as she made to deepen the kiss and spend the next few minutes lost in the blissful ecstasy of her husband before they got Daniel up and made plans for the day. Still full of resolve, Owen put the brakes on his wife's moment of triumph and abruptly withdrew his lips from the pas de deux they had been momentarily dancing in perfect harmony.
"How about," he whispered into her ear, mirroring her earlier gesture. The vibrations of his deep, husky voice setting off fireworks at the core of her being. "You and I both go and then we both come home together and I will show you how grateful I am to have such an amazing, beautiful, selfless, supportive and talented wife." With each compliment he pecked a kiss on the sensitive spot behind her ear, knowing that he was imminently going to be the conqueror in this battle of wills as Cristina moaned softly.
"I hate you!" Pushing him backwards, Cristina pouted like a child who, when locked in negotiations, cannot reason away the parts of a deal she does not want because the parts she does sound so appealing.
"You love me! You can't breathe without me." Owen laughed as he jumped up off the bed to extricate himself from the grip of her tiny hands before she could put them to work against the one part of his body that was totally powerless to resist her persuasion. Still laughing Owen sauntered off in the direction of the kitchen to start making some breakfast.
"You may not love me after I run up a huge bill on your credit card!" Cristina shouted at the retreating figure of the man who knew her so wholly it was almost intrusive. He knew her rhythms, her beats and somehow was able to understand her on a level that even she herself could not reach as easily as he did sometimes. It was like Cristina was a trauma procedure that Owen had committed to his emotional and physical memory. His muscles remembered each movement that drew pleasure from her body, he could instantly recall the various steps required to read her, diagnosing her frustrations and her pain and he knew the honest words she needed to hear to help her to heal. Even if there were the occasional misfires, the kinks in the mechanics of the delicacies of loving her, Owen, like the soldier he would always be, battled on and fought forwards. He knew when to hold firm, pushing her to consider things from his vantage point, yet he was also skilled in the art of retreat. He could step back and wait patiently. He could wait for Cristina to come to him, for her to lay out the strategy and was happy to fall into the march to the rhythm that she set. Cristina worked as part of a team, everyday in the OR she was relied upon and relied on others to pull each patient out of the ambush that death tried to win. Each day she fought a battle and more often than not she won. But it was here, in her marriage, within the walls of their firehouse that she had had to fight her personal war to allow herself to trust his promise of eternity, to believe his love was constant. And now her heart was the victor and it beat anew with the beautiful calmness only enjoyed in true peacetimes.
Flopping backwards onto the bed, resting her palms on her still bare abdomen, she picked up her mobile, she hit the speed dial and barked down the line, "Get over here NOW! I need to be a disgustingly girly wife tonight and I need to go buy a dress!"
At the other end of the line, Meredith looked wearily at her daughter, Zola who was playing with a dolls house on the living room floor, and sighing she replied "We will be right over!"
Throwing the phone back down on the duvet as she pushed herself to her feet, Cristina pulled on a long sleeved white top, checked her side profile in the mirror, pulled her hair into a messy pony tail and went to go and attend to the other man in her life.
Walking into Daniel's room her frustration at having to go and shop was lifted when she saw her 1 and a half year old son happily playing with his train set on the road map play mat that Richard, or Webby as Daniel and Zola called him, and Adele had bought him a few months earlier. Dressed in a pair of navy blue pyjamas, the colour almost identical to the colour of Owen's attending scrubs, Daniel was lost in a world of imagination as he made sounds that in his mind simulated the sounds of a busy station and made up babbled conversations between the plastic people he moved between the platform and the train. Daniel had only been to the train station in the city centre a couple of times so Cristina took this clear mark of his retention to be another sign of the genius of her child. Leaning against the locked safety gate, Cristina spent a few moments just admiring her greatest work.
"Danny, do you want to come eat some breakfast?" Cristina asked the question softly and smiled as her son dropped the trains haphazardly on the track and walked slowly but steadily over to the gate, his brown eyes shining with delight as he drew closer to the woman he would be forever connect to, loved by and grateful for.
"Mamama". Daniel forced out his unique version of mama as he held up his arms, beckoning for his mother to lift him over the barrier that separated him from the warmth of her embrace.
"You want mama?" She emphasised the maternal moniker, trying to get him to say it again but now Daniel was up in her arms, nose pressed into her neck, his fingers entwined in the tip of the curls escaping from the hairband, he was uninterested in demonstrating his linguistic skills and more interested in enjoying some precious time in one of the two sets of arms where his existence made perfect sense.
Pressing a flurry of fast paced kisses onto the side of his face, eliciting giggles from the little boy, Cristina squeezed him into her chest and walked towards the smell of porridge and bacon, "Come on then, let go let Daddy see his first born, shall we?"
Exactly 20 minutes later...
Meredith and Zola made their way up the steps of the firehouse to find Owen behind the kitchen counter preparing Daniel some porridge and Cristina some bacon and an omelette. Daniel sat, like a little Prince, banging his spoon impatiently in the high chair, next to Cristina who was sitting at the kitchen table absentmindedly leafing through the morning paper.
Zola shrieked with delight as she caught her first glimpse of Owen and raced towards him, throwing her chubby arms around his legs when she disappeared behind the centre island.
"Pick up! Pick up!" Zola squeezed her Uncle Owen's legs tightly, waiting for him to put down the spoon and scoop her up. When she was up at his eye level, Zola rubbed her nose against Owen's and then laid her head on his shoulder, thumb in mouth, allowing herself to be hypnotised by Owen picking up the wooden spoon and continuing to stir the porridge bubbling away gently on the stove.
"You have got some serious competition there my friend!" Meredith elbowed Cristina in the back as she sat down at the table opposite her best friend, pouring herself some coffee from the pot that sat in the centre.
"Well Zola is welcome to put on an uncomfortable evening dress and accompany him to the Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital Board's Christmas party tonight if she would like." Pushing the formal invitation across the table for Meredith to examine, Cristina turned her attention to the picture in her kitchen.
Cristina could not help but smile at the delight in Zola's eyes as she rested in Owen's arms. Somehow seeing Owen cradling a little girl bought out different emotions in her than when he held his son. For Cristina the bond a little girl shares with her father shaped all the child's future relationships with men. It certainly had for her. The loss of her own father, her male role model, at such a young age had made her she now believed, before she met Owen, subconsciously seek out older partners. She looked for experience, arrogance and certainty, someone to guide her, to teach her in a way her own father had never been given enough time to do. She wondered if her father had not been taken from her that night in the car, if she would have been able to love Owen when he came into her life or would she have been on different path with another. Every cloud has a silver lining I guess.
"I will have to bring Zola with us, Derek is on call." Meredith's voice cut through Cristina's musing and she was reminded of the dreaded shopping task at hand.
"Oh no you won't! I need you to focus! I hate shopping for clothes and we have a limited window of time! Owen will be looking after Zola and Daniel until we get back, as you will be looking after them both tonight. Ok?" Cristina did not wait for either of them to answer. There was an unspoken contract between the best friends that anytime a babysitter was required, at however short a notice, the godmother card was played and could not be refused. The only game changer would be ultimate death or maybe the chance to scrub in on a really cool surgery!
Setting down the plate of hot food in front of his wife, turning back to grab the bowl of porridge and placing it in front of Daniel, before easing himself and Zola into another of the chairs at the table, Owen nodded, knowing there was no point in trying to do anything other than agree.
"No problem! I can handle 2 children for a few hours." Owen quipped cockily, starting to feed his son spoonfuls of the breakfast he had lovingly prepared for him, while settled comfortably in his lap Zola nibbled on a slice of bacon, that had been intended for Cristina, her Uncle had syphoned off the plate for her.
"if you are sure?" Meredith, reaching down to pick up her purse, smiled at the thought of a morning out with her friend, without having to negotiate a stroller or stop to change diapers. "Shall I drive?"
"No we will get a cab. Today is all on the chief!" Cristina winked at Owen as she kissed Daniel on the head, grabbed her stuff and followed Meredith out of the firehouse towards her first idea of hell for that day- the mall!
At the mall...
"Shopping seriously sucks!" Cristina moaned as the taxi came to a halt outside the imposing structure of the shopping mall, which was decked out with christmas trees and holiday decorations. Handing the driver the fare and a hefty tip she reluctantly dragged her body out onto the sidewalk.
"Shall we have a browse round and see what options there are on evening dresses and then make a shortlist?" Meredith, appealing to her best friend's need for structure, slammed the door shut and linked her arm through Cristina's.
"There will be no browsing. Shopping is best approached like trauma surgery, quick and dirty." jerking her shoulder against meredith's back to initiate some forward motion, Cristina strode into the mall practically dragging Meredith in her wake, her eyes scanning the store fronts for the one shop she had become acquainted with as a young girl growing up in Beverley Hills.
Prada.
The Italian fashion house where money bought style. Cristina had spent many afternoons during her youth in the company of this particular designer. Her mother had dragged her along to the store on Rodeo Drive, forcing Cristina to bear witness as Helen delighted in wiling away hours trying on the various handcrafted garments for events she had to attend in her role as an eminent Beverley Hill's dentists wife. As a child Cristina had scoffed at the frivolity and uselessness of it all, sitting on the changing room floor absorbed in texts books while skinny, flawlessly made up sales girls fawned and fussed over not only her mother's beauty but her enviable wealth- their eyes sparkling with the dollar signs of their hefty commissions.
This morning cutting was to meet couture, as the 2 women more used to dressing in scrubs or sweats than satin and silk stepped into the luminous luxury of fashion's version of the doctor's waiting room. This was where people came to get a diagnosis- which fabric? Which colour? Which cut? To test out the antidotes and remedies- I'll take this, what bag matches that? To get it right and feel better.
Immediately Cristina and Meredith were homed in on by one of the Prada clones, all well cut suit, face full of make up, slicked back hair and an emotionless personality. As the young woman approached and came to a stop with a plastered on smile in front of them, Cristina took a deep breath and told herself, quick and dirty Cristina!
"I need an evening gown. I will only wear black, red or dark blue. Strapless or asymmetric necklines. I will need shoes, a hand bag and accessories." Cristina, feeling no need for friendly pleasantries, she was the customer after all, set out her preferences as if she was instructing her scrub nurse on the list of instruments required for a cardio procedure. "Got that?"
The sales girl, unused to being spoken to in such a dominant, brusque manner, was unsure how to respond. She stood frozen to the spot staring blankly at the formidable woman.
"So go get me some choices!" Cristina waved the girl away impatiently and sat down on the black leather sofa that stood outside the fitting room doors. Meredith, not used to shopping in such high end stores, was gazing around in open mouthed awe at the opulent fabrics and sparkling accessories. Embarrassed by her friend's lack of social etiquette Cristina pulled on Meredith's forearm forcing her to sit beside her, "Stop gawking!"
"Ladies, a complimentary glass of champagne while you wait?" A small, delicate Italian man appeared from nowhere proffering a silver tray with 2 slender crystal champagne flutes that hissed lightly with the effervescent bubbles.
"Thank you," Meredith quickly took one off the tray, before the offer was withdrawn, and waited for Cristina to take the other.
"I will take a glass water please." Cristina hesitated, her fingers moving towards the tray momentarily before she stopped herself placing her hand back into her lap. The man nodded at the request as he walked away to fetch it.
"You are going to need to drink tonight! The board Christmas party is the old boys network at it's best. You are going as the wife of the Chief. You will need to numb the pain of talking with a bunch of wrinkly old housewives!" Meredith shuddered at the memory of when she had attend this event in the same role.
Cristina was miles away, her arms folded around stomach, thinking about Owen and her son. She was wondering exactly when it was she had fallen so deeply in love with being part of a real family? How did the maternal instinct just switch itself on when your body nurtured and protected a baby? Somehow the science almost became secondary and the over riding certainty was the capacity to feel love for someone so truly, deeply and wholly that to remember your life before, without it's presence felt like a hole had opened up in your heart.
With a loud flourish the sales girl returned with a rack of beautiful gowns.
"Wow!" Meredith exclaimed, getting up to examine the dresses more closely, to run the fabrics through her fingers and admire the beading and details that had been meticulously placed and stitched. The stitching was almost as good as the sutures that Richard Webber had taught her I'm their private skills labs. "Wow!" she chocked again when she saw the price tags. "Cristina this one is over $6000!"
"Meredith, if you want the best you have to invest. Anyway Owen is paying!" Cristina quickly slid each dress from one end of the rack to the other, appraising them critically as she went, "no...no...hate it...no...maybe...will try this...no...no."
Picking up the 2 dresses, one navy blue, the other deep red, Cristina ducked into the fitting room and began to shed her clothes.
She stood in front of the mirror and let her eyes run over the body reflected back at her. She remembered how her body had changed during pregnancy, she had not expected Owen to embrace them quite so much, and how she had felt a certain sense of emptiness when she had given birth and the space that had contained the innocent hopes and dreams of a new life was left hollow and empty. Once again she traced the letter O across the skin of her belly, revelling in the comfort and meaning of the gesture, taking extra care to do it over the scar the icicle had left when her husband had removed it and healed the wound with his heart. A small smile crept across her mouth as she thought about the Christmas gift for Owen that sat in the drawer of her night stand. Tonight, I will give it to him tonight.
Turning her full attention back to the dresses, she pulled the red one off it's hanger and began to wiggle herself inside the folds of silk
As Meredith waited for Cristina to emerge from the changing room she thought about how different her friend had become. When Burke had left her at the altar and fled Seattle, everyone including Cristina thought she had lost her one great love. But now everyone knew she had not at that point even met him. While Cristina was sorrowfully celebrating her liberation from Burke's tight grasp on her, the man who was to invade and claim the spoils of her heart, was fighting his own war for a different kind of liberty in the arid planes of the Iraqi desert.
The relationship between the two women had evolved in to something that was no less important to them but was less central, less insular. Their friendship now encompassed their husbands, who often went off to the bar or the woods to escape at the times when only the other twisted sister would suffice as a sounding board, and their children, who already shared a childlike version of a connection akin to their mothers.
Sneaking into the fitting room, impatient to see what a $6000 dress looked like, Meredith whispered, "Cristina, have you decided?"
"This one will do." Pulling back the velvet purple curtain, Cristina stepped forwards, standing under a spotlight that illuminated every aspect of her undeniably radiant beauty. The dark blue Grecian style silk dress draped around her petite frame perfectly. The material swished and sashayed as she moved as of it were dancing a foxtrot with her body as it's partner. The heart shaped neckline gave a subtle hint of the cleavage that lay beneath and the pale skin of her bare shoulders added a latent sexuality to the picture.
"It will do!" Meredith was exasperated. Turning Cristina towards the mirror she shook her shoulders quite vigourously, shaking the truth of the matter into her. "You look absolutely stunning."
Always having been a person to be comfortable to be praised for her brilliance of skill or of mind, Cristina was never one to be able to accept a comment about superficial things such as beauty so easily. Shrugging her shoulders and looking into the mirror, Cristina replied, "I'll take this one. Now go and get the sales girl to get me some silver shoes and a silver clutch bag,then let's get out of here, I'm starving."
"Owen is going to be in for a big surprise tonight!" Meredith laughed as she wandered towards the central display cabinet where the accessories were on show.
Stepping back behind the velvet curtain, Cristina whispered excitedly "He certainly is!" and with a swish of the curtain her secret surprise was safe once again in only her knowledge.
To be continued...