Author: lovemesomeowen

You Could Drive a Person Crazy

Albert Einstein once said that "Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one." Since we create both our realities and our illusions, sometimes we have to be willing to mix things up by shaking things up…

Cristina woke up to the smell of something wonderful. Getting her bearings she focused her attention: coffee, bacon…definitely bacon, and…something baking, maybe? She turned off the alarm clock and checked the time. They had less than an hour to get to the hospital. Why had Owen prepared such an elaborate breakfast? She racked her brain as she splashed some water on her face and ran her fingers through her tangle of curls thinking she must have forgotten something important, but there was nothing. No special occasion. It was just an ordinary day, she concluded, spitting out her toothpaste.

Suspicious, Cristina walked into the living room and saw Owen at the counter reading the newspaper and drinking his coffee. He was dressed for work and blueberry muffins were cooling on the counter. Clearly something was up.

"Hey!" She slid onto the stool beside him, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "What's all this? When did you go all Martha Stewart on me?"

He had the decency to blush a little as he replied, "Good morning to you, too. I can't make you breakfast without getting the third degree?" He paused. "It's the muffins, isn't it? Too much?"

She gave him a pointed look. "Spill it."

He reached over, grabbed a brochure from the far side of the counter, handed it to her and then got up to get her food.

"Here," he said. "I want us to go away next weekend and I wasn't sure how you'd react."

She took the coffee mug he was offering and glanced over the pamphlet. "This looks pretty fantastic, actually. Why wouldn't I like this?"

"Well," he said, handing her a plate, "I know how you feel about missing work…"

She took a bite of muffin. "So? Twist my arm. Um, these are good."

"And I know how you feel about visiting your mother…"

She nearly choked as she looked up at him. "What?" She flipped the leaflet over. The resort was in Santa Barbara, California. "You chose this place because you want to visit my mother?" Her delight with breakfast and the thought of a weekend getaway was quickly evaporating.

"Maybe," he hedged. Then, remembering his promise to never lie to her, he admitted,

"OK, yes, I did. I just figured …we want to go away…this is a great place…and we could see your mother and Saul while we're in the area."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"I want to meet them, Cristina."

"Why?"

"Why do I need a reason? They're your parents! We're building a life together. We're talking about getting married someday. I want to meet them."

She continued to eat her breakfast but her expression had turned petulant. "I don't want to visit my mother…"

Owen sighed. "I know. But I'm going to have to meet her eventually. She's calling more since she found out that I live here. And she's already told me she'd see me soon."

Cristina blinked and looked startled. "She said that?"

"She did. Do you really want to ignore this and wait for her to show up unannounced? Because I think that's where we're headed. I'm going to meet her, Cristina. It's just a question of when. I'd rather have some control over the situation. Wouldn't you? This is perfect. Short, sweet and we'll have a getaway car."

Cristina considered that for a moment. "We're not staying at the house."

"I agree. That would be way too stressful, but I do think we should have lunch there."

She immediately looked panicked. "No! We can meet them at a restaurant!"

"There is nothing warm about a restaurant. I want to give them the chance to be hospitable. I want to see where you grew up. I want to see your room."

Cristina snorted. "Please. My room hasn't been my room for over a decade."

"That's not the point. This is important to me. I want to meet your mother and step-father. It's one day. One. After which you will get three days…three…at a five-star resort. There's a gourmet chef, a full-service spa, a beautiful pool… and we're staying in an ocean view suite with an in-room Jacuzzi tub. There will be nothing to do all day except sleep, eat, swim and have ridiculous amounts of incredibly hot sex."

He exhaled, having finished his prepared remarks.

She made a face at him and then crinkled her nose in that way that he loved so much. "Fine. But I want a massage and a mud bath and a pedicure."

"Done."

"And I'm not eating anything that's good for me. No sprouts, no tofu, nothing vegan…I want real food. I want steak. I want wine. And I want lots of chocolate."

"I understand."

"Good," she said, glancing at the clock. "We have just enough time for make-up sex."

"I wasn't aware we were fighting…"

She raised an eyebrow at him. Did he not comprehend the magnitude of this victory?

"I'm already showered and dressed," he protested.

"And I just agreed to visit my mother."

"Right. What was I thinking? But I'm not in the mood to rush," he said, smiling.

"Then I guess we're going to be late for work."

oooOOOooo

Cristina made her way through the depths of the hospital until she found Meredith lying on a gurney in "their" hallway. Her mind flashed briefly to an image of all five interns sitting there together. She pushed away the memory of Izzie and George.

"You look like crap. You paged?"

Meredith shifted slightly to make room for Cristina to sit down, never opening her eyes. "I did. I need a favor. You need to trade assignments with me."

"And I'm doing this, why, exactly?"

"I can barely move. I feel nauseated all the time. I'm weak from barely eating. You're in the clinic today. I think I can do that…maybe…if I can stop throwing up. Please, trade with me?"

Cristina sighed. "Whose service are you on today?"

"Robbins…"

"Meredith, come on! You know that Robbins hates me. And Callie can't even run interference for me anymore…"

"I am begging. Please…"

"You owe me big time," she griped. "Can this day get any worse?"

Alex walked towards them. "Never say that out loud. It can always be worse. Move over." He handed Meredith a can of ginger ale and sat down next to Cristina.

Meredith sat up carefully and popped the can open. "Thank you," she said, taking a tiny sip. She turned towards them. "What happened?"

"Owen wants to take me to Santa Barbara next weekend."

Meredith and Alex looked at each other, confused.

Meredith finally spoke, "That's sounds…terrible? I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"By way of Beverly Hills," Cristina explained.

Meredith's mouth dropped open as Alex exclaimed, "Whoa…"

Cristina's head snapped around, "What?"

"Nothing," he backpedaled. "It's just…interesting."

"In English?"

"He wants to meet your mother."

"So?"

"So no guy wants to meet your mother just for giggles. Do I need to draw you a map, Yang? Hunt's an old-fashioned guy. He's going to propose and he wants to meet the parents first. I bet he wants their blessing," he said with a smirk.

Meredith tried to keep her composure as Cristina looked at Alex skeptically and said, "You think? Really? I mean, we've talked about it…" She looked doubtful.

Alex's pager went off. He glanced down at it and said, "Speak of the devil. Your boyfriend's paging me down to trauma. Or should I say fiancé?" Cristina shot him a withering look. "Are we having lunch later?"

Meredith looked horrified. "I can not be in the cafeteria. Too many smells," she said miserably.

He tried again. "How about back here, then? Nothing cooked. I'll bring you a sandwich."

"OK…" Meredith agreed.

"Yang?"

"I'm in…"

"Good! Later!" He sauntered off with a satisfied smile.

Cristina waited until Alex was out of earshot then turned to Meredith. "Do you think Alex is right about Owen proposing?" A light bulb went off in her head. "Hey! Is that the big mystery? Mer, you have to tell me what you know…"

Meredith tried to think fast. Putting on what she hoped was her best I-have-no-idea-what-you're-talking-about face, she said, "Cristina. Do you really think Owen would come to me with something like that? I mean, we're friends now and everything but…"

Cristina wasn't even paying attention, lost in her own thoughts.

Meredith's voice snapped her back to the present moment. "So, assuming Alex is right and Owen is planning to propose …how do we feel about this? Are we happy?"

Cristina's brain was in overdrive as she reached her conclusion. Owen wasplanning to propose. She knew it in her gut. "I think maybe we are…"

oooOOOooo

Owen knocked on the door to Derek's office.

"Come in," Derek said, looking up. "Hey! What brings you here?"

Owen closed the door. "I need a favor. I'm sorry to ask, but it's important."

"What's up?"

"Cristina and I are scheduled to be off next weekend. I need to turn two days into five."

Derek looked surprised and a little concerned. "I can make that happen. Everything ok?"

"Everything's fine. Cristina and I are getting away. I've managed to negotiate a deal: Three days away in exchange for one with her mother."

Derek whistled softly. "You're going to meet Helen? Things are moving right along."

"It's getting ridiculous that I haven't met her yet, so I'm doing something about it. We're having lunch at the house and then going on to the resort from there."

Derek's eyes grew large. "You're going to the house? You're a braver man than I, my friend."

"Is she really that bad? Cristina's not exaggerating?"

"Helen is…quite something. Cristina may not be exaggerating as much as you think."

"Well, she seemed pleased when I called about lunch…surprised but pleased. I imagine I caught her off-guard," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Indeed," Derek replied. "I'm sure she thought that hell would freeze over before Cristina willingly paid her a visit."

"I wouldn't quite say Cristina is willing, but she's going, so I can't ask for more than that. It matters to me. They're her parents and I want to meet them, preferably before our wedding."

"Asking permission while you're there?"

"I'm almost forty years old. I don't ask permission, but I'd take their goodwill," he admitted. "Family is important to me and, deep down, I think it's important to Cristina."

"If you say so," Derek said with a chuckle. "Any more ideas on how you're going to propose? The clock's ticking. Meredith has been very good."

"I know. She's been great. I'm working on it…really."

Owen's phone chimed with an incoming text. It was from Meredith: "She's on to you. Alex figured it out. I tried to cover. Hurry up!" Owen took a deep breath. Damn.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, reading Owen's face.

"That was from your wife. Cristina's putting it together. I need a plan."

oooOOOooo

It was nearly two a.m. when Owen finally got home. A multi-car accident had flooded the ER at the start of the afternoon rush and he'd been in surgery for hours. He crept into the apartment as quietly as he could and smiled when he noticed Cristina asleep on the couch with a medical journal on her chest. He set his things down on the counter and debated whether he should try to move her to the bedroom or just get a blanket. He opted for the latter and then quietly went to the kitchen to find something to eat. The refrigerator light awakened her at once.

"Hey…" she said sleepily. "How'd it go?"

"Saved two, lost three others," he replied. "Bailey's still working on the last one. I'm sorry I woke you."

"That's ok. I'm sorry you had such a long night. Bring that over here. You must be exhausted." She sat up and made room for him on the couch.

He sat next to her with a sandwich in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"That doesn't begin to describe it. And I'm on again in… less than five hours. Tell me about your day," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich as he kicked off his shoes.

"My mother called me."

He braced himself. "And…?"

"And apparently you've worked your magic because she was nothing like herself."

"How's that?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"She was happy. She said you called. She's thrilled that we're coming for lunch. She can't wait to see us. And she said it all in less than two minutes. I wanted to ask who she was and what she'd done with Helen Rubenstein. I can't say I'm surprised, though. You can be charming as hell when you want to be."

Sandwich gone he put down the water bottle and smiled wearily as he put his head on her lap, stretching out across the couch, arms around her waist. "Thank you. I try."

"No, you don't. That's what makes it charming. Don't lie down. We need to go to bed."

"I like it here," he said. "Just for a minute."

"No. You're going to fall asleep and then where will I be? It's not like I can move you."

"So?" he said, eyes still closed, but she could hear the grin in his voice.

She rubbed his head, massaging his temples gently.

He sighed. "That's nice. But you're right. It's not going to get me off the couch. OK. Let's do this before I fall asleep."

They stood up and started walking to the bedroom. Owen stopped suddenly and turned to Cristina. "You're ok with going to see your mom, right? Because I would never force you to do something you didn't want to do. Encourage, yes. Bribe, definitely. Maybe even press, but not force."

She looked at him quizzically, wondering where this was coming from.

"I know you wouldn't. It's fine. I wouldn't be going if it wasn't."

"OK. I'm just checking." He kissed her gently.

When they got to the bedroom, he lay down on the bed and was asleep almost instantly, still in his clothes. Cristina covered him with the blanket before climbing into bed next to him. She checked the alarm and turned off the light thinking as she drifted off to sleep that Owen Hunt was a man of many contradictions …and wondering what it would be like to be his wife.

oooOOOooo

"Tell me again why we have to have the top up?" Owen said. "We're not even on the freeway."

"It's not my fault you rented a convertible. A convertible? Really? Are you having a mid-life crisis?" They were almost there and Cristina could feel her stress levels rising.

"I thought it would be fun…"

"I don't want to be a mess when I get there, ok? We can put it down on the way to Santa Barbara…very To Catch a Thief." She furrowed her brow. "Remember, my mother is going to probe you for information. Be as general as possible. It's best to be vague. Don't offer any details. And do not bring up the shooting…"

He chose to ignore the fact that Cristina was treating him like a child and focused, instead, on knowing that she was under a lot of pressure. "What does she know?"

"Other than what she saw on TV? There was a shooter in the hospital and I wasn't hurt."

He gave her a sideways glance. "That's definitely vague."

"She's my mother. There's no reason for her to know I had a gun to my head."

"What's the deal with you and Saul?"

"We get along fine. Turn right at the stop sign. They've been married since I was three years old. I don't even remember him not being around."

"So you like each other or just tolerate each other's presence?"

"I like him. Really!" she added, seeing his doubtful look. "He never tried to take my father's place…before or after he died…I always appreciated that. I'm looking forward to seeing him. Too bad to see him I have to see her, too. Left at the corner…"

"This neighborhood is beautiful," Owen said, noting the immaculate lawns and gigantic houses visible behind endless variations of fences and shrubbery. "Saul's doing ok."

"You could say that," she said with a wry smile. Third house on the left. I feel sick."

"You're fine. And you're not alone. I'm with you." He pulled into the driveway.

Cristina checked herself quickly in the mirror. "Let's get this over with…"

Owen grabbed the bottle of wine from the backseat and they walked to the front door. Cristina took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Helen answered almost immediately.

"You must be Owen," she said. "I can't believe Cristina's been hiding you all this time. Welcome." She turned her attention to Cristina, assessing her in one glance. "You're pale…and you need to put on some weight. What have you been eating?"

"Nice to see you, too, Mother." Cristina walked past her into Saul's waiting arms.

"Hey, Saul…"

"Crissy," he said, wrapping her up in a big hug. "We're so glad to see you." He gave Helen a pointed look. "And this is your Owen."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," Owen said, offering his hand.

"Call me Saul. Please come in…we're having lunch on the terrace. Helen?"

She took Saul's arm and they began walking to the back of the house, Owen and Cristina right behind them.

"Crissy?" Owen whispered.

"Don't go there…" she warned, under her breath.

oooOOOooo

"Helen, lunch was delicious. Thank you so much."

Owen was cautiously optimistic. Things were going better than he had hoped. Granted that wasn't saying much, but so far the conversation had been pleasant and fairly effortless, if general and vague. Cristina and Helen both seemed to be making an effort to get along…or at least not fight…a momentary truce of sorts.

"So Owen," Saul said. "Tell us more about the situation at the hospital. We were so worried when we heard about the shooter. Are things starting to get back to normal?"

"I'm not sure things will ever be 'normal' again," Owen replied, "but we're all doing the best we can. It was a terrible thing."

"I was relieved to learn that Cristina wasn't involved directly," Helen said.

"Actually, Cristina was a hero that day," Owen said.

Cristina looked at him warily, wondering where he was going with this.

"She operated on our Chief of Surgery, Meredith's husband…Derek. He was critically injured and Cristina saved his life."

"I'm not surprised," said Saul, with pride. "She a firecracker, this one."

Helen looked at Cristina for a moment as if seeing something for the first time.

"No wonder you're so thin. You were involved. I knew it. A mother knows," she said, directing the remark at Owen. She looked back at Cristina. "I knew there was more to it. What else aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing!" All bets were off. "Why do you always think…?"

"So," Helen continued, ignoring Cristina and turning her attention to Owen, "what are your intentions toward my daughter?"

"Here we go!" Cristina muttered, exasperated.

Owen's face and demeanor remained calm. He met Helen's gaze and decided on-the-spot to be as direct as possible while avoiding specifics.

"Well, we love each other. We live together. We're building a life together."

"Are you getting married?" Helen demanded.

Owen shifted a little in his chair, unsettled by her blunt question.

"We've discussed it," he answered. "I'm sure we'll talk about it more…sooner or later."

He hesitated. He knew that sounded weak, but he didn't know how else to answer without tipping his hand. But she wasn't letting him off the hook that easily.

"Which is it?" Helen asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Sooner or later?" she insisted.

She really is tenacious, he thought. He decided that when it came to her mother Cristina had the patience of Job.

"We haven't worked that out yet," he said, trying to regain control of the situation, but Cristina had had enough and decided to put an end to it. She gave Owen a terse smile.

"Mother," she said, looking Helen square in the eyes, "that's between Owen and me. It's our decision, not yours. It happens when it happens. Now who wants dessert?"

There was an awkward silence.

"I'll get it," said Helen.

"I am perfectly capable of cutting a pie," Cristina insisted. "I'll be right back."

"I'll join you," offered Saul, jumping to his feet.

They got up and walked into the house, leaving Owen and Helen alone.

They looked at each other in silence for a long moment.

"I like you, Owen."

Owen didn't know how to react. He opened his mouth to speak but Helen stopped him.

"Let me finish. I like you. But I also liked him." Owen said nothing, both out of respect and curiosity. He assumed she was referring to Preston Burke.

"I liked him very much," Helen continued. "He was charming and refined …very smart. An excellent surgeon…an excellent teacher…that much was clear…and a good man, I think, despite everything. But he didn't understand her. I felt for him. I don't understand her either most of the time. She's always been a difficult child."

She paused a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"I like you, Owen, and I think you do understand my daughter. She seems different with you. It's quite astounding actually. So I'm going to trust you."

"Ma'am?"

"Helen." She went on, "When he left, he broke her. He broke my girl. That must never happen again. Do we understand each other?" She was looking a hole right through him.

Owen was momentarily taken aback. He chose his words carefully.

"Helen…I love her…more than anything…more than my life. I will do my best for her every day. I promise you. And we'll take care of each other. You have my word."

She considered what he'd said, then nodded her head. "I believe you."

oooOOOooo

Cristina began cutting the pie as Saul got the plates and the forks. They worked together in comfortable, knowing silence. Saul paused, reached over, and took Cristina's hand.

"She can be difficult …that doesn't change…."

Cristina sighed and looked at him, shaking her head.

"So, what do you think of Owen?" she asked, deciding to change the subject.

She knew he was dying to comment but, unlike Helen, rarely offered an unsolicited opinion. Saul beamed.

"I like him very much. I like the way he treats you. He's respectful…kind…and he's proud of your achievements, not threatened by them. He's a good man."

"He is," she agreed.

"And you clearly love each other. You've chosen well, Crissy. I think you're going to have a wonderful life together."

Cristina smiled. We already do, she thought, feeling grateful.

"And it's so good to see you. We've missed you…both of us. She doesn't know how to show it, but your mother loves you. Promise me you'll come back…sooner rather than later?" He smiled at his little joke.

"We will. I promise," she replied, handing him two of the plates. "Shall we?"

oooOOOooo

They rode in silence as they made their way north along the Pacific Coast Highway, fingers intertwined. The convertible top was down and Cristina's hair was everywhere, but she didn't care. She loved the feeling of the wind against her face.

"So I'm Cary Grant and you're Grace Kelly. Or is it Crissy?" he said mischievously.

"Stop it! Only Saul gets to call me that."

"Do I get to hear why?"

"Maybe, but not today," she said firmly.

Turning to look at him she continued, "Thanks for insisting we go. It wasn't easy seeing her but it was the right thing to do. And it was great to see Saul. I'd forgotten…"

Owen gave her hand a squeeze. "Well, you made me visit my mother when I didn't want to…we'll call it even. Things actually went pretty well, aside from that part in the middle. I think we should do it again. Do you think you could stand it?"

"I'm going to have to. I promised Saul we'd visit again soon and I think I meant it. She makes me crazy but that's never going change. I've just got to deal with it. She's my mother."

"Yes, she is. I told her they should come visit us. I hope you don't mind too much."

Cristina groaned.

"Still love me?" he teased.

"Always…but that's going to cost you."

"How much?" he asked, grinning.

"I'm thinking a seaweed wrap and a facial. Oooh! And that thing with the hot stones!"

Habits and routines give us comfort and security. Patterns of behavior reassure us, even when those patterns are unhealthy or downright toxic. If we want to change…if we want to grow…if we want to keep ourselves from losing our minds, then we have to be willing to let go of old conflicts and resentments. And we have to face new fears and uncertainties with trust and hope. We have to be willing do things differently or else not be surprised when things remain exactly the same.