CHAPTER II - A STILL-BEATING HEART

Cristina knows that it had been a bad idea to leave the letters with Owen. The three previous days, she had been so determined, so sure that it was the right thing to do, that she wrote all fifty-two letters with hardly a pause in between. Her determination lasted until she said her final goodbye to Owen, and jumped into a taxi to deposit the letters at his house before heading to the airport. On the journey to Owen's house, her determination began to fade, quickly, until when she finally arrived there, she wanted equally to set the box on fire and crawl into the dirt in shame, as she wanted to carry her plan through and leave it where it would be sure to be the first thing that Owen sees when he comes home.

In the end, it was the thought of all her efforts in carrying out the project that made her deposit the box in a safe corner of Owen's front porch and run back to the taxi before she could change her mind. During the whole journey to the airport, she squirmed in embarrassment at this corny, cheesy thing that she had done and wished she could bury herself in sand and never emerge.

When she arrives in Zurich, the first thing she does is check her email. No messages from Owen. She expects as much, but cannot help but be disappointed anyway. She would give Owen time. He will be deployed in just three days - he must be focusing on his preparations. It's not because he doesn't want her, Cristina tells herself. He just needs time to process everything.

Tomorrow, Cristina starts her new job, for which she is grateful because it would allow her to take her mind off Owen. But today, she has the entire afternoon ahead of her with no responsibilities to distract herself with. She surveys her new apartment, already furnished in a remarkably similar style to the apartment she had occupied so many years ago, when she had been with Burke. Burke has a remarkable memory, she realizes. He had been the one to organize her accommodation for her, prior to her arrival.

It does not take long for the decor to bring back painful memories of earlier, emptier days - days without Owen. Days where neither decor nor tidiness mattered - where few things other than surgery ever entered her thoughts. The style of her apartment no longer describes her now, and she feels a strange yearning for the warmth, the brightness, and the slightly eclectic atmosphere of Owen's apartment. She decides to do something that she has rarely ever done and never out of her own free will - she goes shopping.

When she enters the huge department store, she heads straight to the bedroom section and picks out four pillowcases in a comforting shade of pale, washed-out blue. They are the colour of Owen's eyes when they first open in the morning and look lovingly into hers, making her world click instantly into place. She pushes her cart towards the quilt covers, and lingers on the light yellows and greys before giving up and selecting a deep, midnight blue set. It is the colour of Owen's eyes at midnight, glinting in the light of their alarm clock, when either of their pagers went off. He would always wake up up even when it was Cristina's, to kiss her goodbye. Cristina decides that their - her - bedroom would be blue.

She picks a set of sheets the colour of cerulean - the colour of Owen's eyes reflecting the rays of the operating lamp as they lock with hers in the middle of an exhilarating surgery. She also picks out a glass vase for her nightstand in the brightest, boldest sapphire - the colour of Owen's eyes when they made love in on-call rooms, glistening with the love that he knew he need not articulate in order to envelop her. Though she has always hated flowers, she surprises herself by selecting a faux rose to place in her new vase - the most vivid red, the colour of Owen's love expressed in the petals of the first flower he had ever given her - on their very first date. The final item she selects for her blue room is a painting of the immense ocean with a lighthouse in the corner, the deep blue sea blending seamlessly into the azure sky. It is perfect, she thinks. She likes it because the lighthouse, unlike in most paintings of the style, is not the centre of the painting, but is part of the background, illuminating the ocean. The waves are the colour of Owen's cadence as he tells her he loves her. The sky is the colour of his cool breath against her neck as he leans in to whisper the words in her ear.

She decides that one room is enough for now. She heads towards the check-out counters, but is stopped by a familiar hand on her shoulder.

"Cristina!" she hears Burke say. "Cristina, shopping for furniture? Are the furnishings in your apartment inadequate?"

"No, no." Cristina counters quickly. "The apartment is very nice. Thank you. I just wanted to pass the time and get something a little more familiar. I've left a lot behind in Seattle." Burke watches her eyes grow sombre as she looks down to avert his gaze.

"I'm sorry to hear that," though Burke is curious as to what she could possibly have left behind in Seattle, he dares not ask so directly. "I trust that your flight went smoothly?"

"It did."

Did Burke imagine the catch in her throat as she said this? He senses that now is not the time to interrogate her further. "I'd better let you get going, then. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I leave tomorrow, and wouldn't want to miss the opportunity to catch up with you."

Burke had not planned on dining with his ex-fiancée. He had known that it was a dangerous thing, the risk of rekindling the all-consuming passion he had felt for her all those years ago. But the more that he talks to her, the more he is plagued by the suspicion that what she has left behind in Seattle is another man.

"Okay," Cristina replies hesitantly.

"So… May I ask what his name was?"

"Is. His name is Owen Hunt. He's a trauma surgeon. He was in the army, in Iraq, but then he came to Grey Sloan. And now he's back in the army."

After much probing, Cristina has finally admitted that she had another man in her life. Burke is surprised by the intensity of the jealousy that he suddenly feels. "How long have you known him?"

"Five years." Though it feels like I've known him all my life - all that matters happened after I met Owen, Cristina wants to say, but does not.

"How did you meet?"

He burst into my life in the dead of night, in the heart of winter, a flame so bright that it eclipsed everything else. "He came into the hospital one night after a car accident. He had helped treat the victims." He had also pulled an icicle out of my body, and melted, with one kiss, the icy splinters in her heart that Burke had left behind.

"Are you… Married?"

"We were, for two years." And it took a murderer and a plane crash to end our marriage. It's just a suspension - not an end. Our marriage is merely suspended.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

Burke can still see glimpses of the girl he once loved and nearly married, but she now exudes a brighter, warmer glow, and he suspects that it is because of Owen. He suddenly envies this stranger of a man, for touching Cristina's heart in a way that he never could.

"Do you have any pictures?"

Cristina opens her wallet, and Owen stares at her from her photo-ID slot. It is their wedding photo, the two locked in a passionate embrace and smiling warmly into the camera with her head nestled in his chest. She usually kept a different photo, since the divorce, but she placed this one back in when she unearthed it at the bottom of a drawer when she was packing her apartment in Seattle. She hands her wallet to Burke.

"He sure is handsome, and you look beautiful together."

For the first time this night, indignation flashes in Cristina's eyes. "He's much more than handsome." He's the bravest, yet gentlest soul that has ever walked this Earth. He's the warmth that lights up her life, the glimmers of joy that peek, even now, through the darkest clouds. He is the love of her life.

Burke looks into Cristina's eyes, and sees the depth of the feeling there. She looks like she is about to cry. The jealousy flares again, deeper and more consuming than before. He averts his gaze, trying to contain his emotion, only for his eyes to fall back on the picture of Owen Hunt. In the lines of his face, the softness of his blue eyes, the ruggedness of his features, Burke can see why Cristina fell for Owen.

"He must be a good man."

"He is," Cristina agrees, her words more servant than usual. He's so much more than that. How I wish he would talk to me.

On the way home, Burke is plagued by the memory of Cristina's wistful eyes. He has gathered, from their conversation, that something about this man - Owen - was bothering her deeply. Burke cannot allow himself to develop feelings for this woman again, which is why he is leaving the next day, minimizing his interaction with her. But he still has enough feelings of friendship and respect for Cristina to feel an intense anger at any man who dares hurt her. He is going to have a word with this Owen Hunt.

When Burke gets home, he dials Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. It has been so long that he has to look up the number on the Internet. The voice that answers is unfamiliar.

"This is Dr. Preston Burke," he says. "I need to speak to Dr. Hunt."

"I'm sorry, but Dr. Hunt just left a moment ago and will no longer be returning to this hospital."

"Can you get him for me," Burke pleads. "This is very important."

Maybe it is the urgency in his tone, or maybe it is his lasting reputation at the hospital, but for whatever reason, the receptionist concedes. "Hang on a moment. I'll try." she says.

Owen must not have gone very far, because it is only a few minutes later when the line reconnects. "This is Hunt," a slightly annoyed voice utters through the line.

"Hello, Dr. Hunt. This is Preston Burke."