Author: shli

Emotions

There are supposedly six emotions that can be recognized cross-culturally: anger, disgust, happiness, fear, surprise, and sadness. We all recognize them because we feel them in similar ways, regardless of what walk of life or where in the world we're from. They unite us, entwining every single soul into the collective human experience. They connect us, so that we are not ever truly alone.

Lexie walked through the doors of the locker room humming – a catchy song that everyone knew the melody of but not the name or lyrics. The sidelong glances from the curious hospital staff who'd heard about the reason behind her leave of absence didn't faze her in the least. She was the epitome of blissful oblivion.

It was all because of her date with Jackson. Or rather, dates. Since their night of ice cream and wine at home, he'd taken her out almost every single day. To a park, to a movie, to an ice skating rink – the kind of cheesy romantic dates that she'd always wished to be taken on. There was an innocent sweetness to it all: the hand-holding, the natural and easy conversations, and the chaste kisses goodnight. He really meant to take things slow, and she appreciated his patience as she eased back into a world that weighed less and less on her shoulders.

She barely registered the fact that she was passing by the corridor in which she'd faced down the gunman. There was no falter in her step, no rush of residual fear. She kept going, all the way to the nurses' station to await Bailey's assignments for the day.

"What's wrong with you?" a voice from behind her said, popping her dreamy haze.

Lexie whirled around to find Alex approaching her. "Oh, hi," she said brightly, catching Alex by surprise. The last thing he expected from Lexie at this juncture was this cheerfulness. It was as if they'd gone back in time – before the breakup, before the breakdown, before the shooting.

"You're so …happy," Alex said, instantly regretting it. Who was he to judge her for being able to move on? Just because he couldn't didn't mean that he should drag others down with him.

"Yeah… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Alex shook his head. "Forget it." He made to move away, but Lexie's hand on his arm stopped him.

"No, Alex, I'm sorry. I know what it's like to watch someone you care about move on before you. And it totally sucks. You're my friend… I don't like seeing you like this."

"Like what?" Alex replied defensively. He didn't do feelings. Feelings made him vulnerable. He had let his feelings get the better of him with Izzie and look where he was now. As much as he resented her, he still missed her. Being with Lexie had helped fill a small piece of that void, but it hadn't been enough. These days, he feared that nothing would ever be enough.

Lexie knew him too well and saw past the walls he so painstakingly built to keep people out. "Like this," she said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to do this by yourself, Alex. It's okay to ask for help."

"I don't—" he stopped himself. He did need help, and he knew it. His whole life, he had gone it alone: first when caring for his mother, then with Ava. At least with Izzie, he hadn't been completely by himself.

But then, he didn't see Meredith or Cristina moving to a trailer in the middle of the woods with scary ass bears and unreliable running water. Or making sure she took her meds on time. Or helping her choose a wig so that people wouldn't stare at her and only see the cancer.

He had all this rage burning inside him. He had raised two siblings when he should have been having fun and being a teenager. He had taken care of a woman who wasn't married to him. He had loved someone who'd left him without a word.

He needed help.

"Give me Dr. Wyatt's number."

Cristina tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Meredith to respond to her 911 page. When that didn't settle her anxiety, she took to pacing in front of the gurney that they'd all sat on as interns whilst lamenting the difficulties of their lives.

"You paged?" Meredith asked as she turned the corner and saw her friend. A twinge of sadness tugged at her heart as she was reminded, as she always was when she came down here, that this was where she'd told Cristina that she was pregnant the first time. She subconsciously placed a hand on her growing belly.

"There you are," Cristina said, grabbing Meredith's hand and setting her down onto the gurney. "Where have you been? I paged you hours ago."

Meredith smiled at her slight exaggeration. She had gotten here seven minutes after she'd received the page. "Sorry, I had to pee. I swear this kid is sitting on my bladder."

Cristina paused and placed a hand on top of Meredith's. "Is everything okay?" Even though she knew that she wasn't supposed to feel any movement, the stillness still worried Cristina. She desperately hoped for Meredith to have a successful pregnancy.

"Everything's fine," she said reassuringly. "We got our first ultrasound picture yesterday. I got you a copy." Meredith reached into the pocket of her scrub top and handed it to the future godmother.

"It's puny. You need to eat more. Here, munch on this." Cristina grabbed the bag of chips she'd bought from the nearby vending machine and handed it to her. When it looked as though Meredith was about to protest, Cristina merely glared her into submission. She wasn't budging. Meredith sighed and popped a ranch-flavored potato chip in her mouth.

"So, what did you page me here for? Wait… Are we finally engaged?" Meredith looked at Cristina's ring finger but realized that a naked ring finger didn't mean anything when it came to Cristina.

"Ugh, no. That's what I paged you down here for. I'm going crazy! I'm in total proposal paranoia. Yesterday, I saw him reaching for something from under the sink, and I thought he was grabbing the ring. He wasn't. He was getting dishwasher soap. This morning, he told me that he had a question. I'm thinking that it's 'Will you marry me?' He wanted to know if we could go out tonight because he didn't feel like cooking. A few nights ago, he told me he had a surprise then went into this speech about how he loves that I'm happy. How me being happy makes him happy. And so I thought, 'He's totally going to propose.' But did he? No. All I got was wine… Let me tell you, I'm definitely not happy now."

Meredith laughed. She never would have imagined seeing Cristina getting so upset over not being proposed to. Not long ago, she would have been running in the opposite direction. It was quite a sight.

"Hey! You're supposed to more sympathetic."

"Sorry," Meredith said, covering a snicker. Cristina raised an eyebrow at her. "But this is sort of payback for when Derek was the one holding onto a ring, and you were keeping it a secret from me."

"First of all, we were fighting. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. And then… Well, then Webber told you, so you found out anyway. I had to find out on my own."

"So, you paged me to vent your frustrations to me because you obviously can't to Owen?"

"Yes… No. I was also going to ask you to casually drop a hint to hurry it up. I know I said that I wouldn't rush him, but the waiting is killing me." Cristina plopped onto the gurney next to Meredith and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

Meredith reached into her lab coat pocket for the cup of chocolate pudding she always carried around with her these days in case she had a craving and peeled back the lid. Realizing she didn't have a spoon, she took one of the chips, dipped it into the pudding, and ate it as though it were chips and salsa.

"Gross. What are you eating?"

"Chips and chocolate pudding," Meredith replied. "It's not so bad. Wanna try?" She lifted a pudding-covered chip towards Cristina's mouth.

"Ew. Get that away from me. That's disgusting. Pregnancy cravings are weird. And in your case, unhealthy."

"Whatever. She told me I should eat whatever I feel like. The baby wants chips and chocolate pudding? Then I'm eating chips and chocolate pudding. Yum." She popped another one of her concoctions into her mouth.

"Seriously, I can't watch you eat that. I'm going to puke." Indeed, Cristina did look a little paler.

Meredith wrinkled her nose. "Look, I'm done. See?" She displayed her empty hands before licking her fingers. "Just wait till you're pregnant. I'm going to make fun of you. I bet you're going to have weirder cravings than me. And bigger mood swings."

Cristina scoffed outwardly. But secretly, she agreed with Meredith. Thank goodness Owen was a steadfast and tolerant man because she had a feeling she was going to give him a run for his money if she ever got pregnant.

"So, what are you going to do? With Owen?" Meredith asked, having finally licked off all traces of salt from her fingers.

Cristina sighed. "Nothing. I'm going to put on a dress, go to the fancy French restaurant we'd been waiting a month to get into, and pretend that I don't know about the ring."

Meredith threaded her arm through Cristina's. "Hang in there. It's going to happen." And it would be soon, if Owen knew what was best for him.

Hey, Mark, remember how I joked that we should shack up and pop out a million rugrats? Well, I wasn't completely kidding, Callie thought to herself, practicing how to talk to her best friend. It was a weird feeling for her to not know what to say to him. They could always be honest with each other, but lately, she'd been keeping a secret – a secret about her renewed desire to have children…with a little help from him.

The human McSteamy had been noticeably absent from her and the feline McSteamy's apartment for the past few nights. Each time, he'd come up with some excuse to stay away: an emergency surgery, being too tired, or having a night out with the boys. What a liar, she thought, shaking her head at his ridiculous excuses. She knew why he was staying away. It was because she opened her mouth and crossed some invisible line in their unlabeled relationship.

They weren't just friends. They were no longer lovers. And they'd never been boyfriend and girlfriend. They were supposed to be easy, being there for sexual needs and emotional support. That was it. No strings, no white picket fence.

But that was then.

Things were so different now. Mark had a daughter and grandson somewhere out there. Callie had two ex-girlfriends and an aching uterus. Their priorities had shifted from career to starting a family without them even realizing it. The manwhore and the sexually ambiguous girl Peter Pan were growing up, but the people around them just couldn't get on board with their new vision of what they wanted their lives to look like. Lexie ran off scared, and Arizona ended things angrily.

They basically only had each other now.

"Torres, you paged me for a consult?" The sound of Mark's familiar timber shocked Callie from her reverie. Mark came inside the on-call room door, staring down at his pager as though he were willing it to go off and take him away.

"I lied." Mark looked up in surprise. "I mean, I do need you for a consult…in a way…but it's not for a patient. It's about me – us. It's about us." Callie consciously stopped herself from rambling and making things more awkward.

"Uh," Mark replied, clearing his throat. "What about us?" He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and pretended casual ignorance. But he knew. He knew exactly what she meant.

"You know…the getting married and having babies thing. I was kidding—"

"I knew that," Mark interjected with an uncomfortable laugh.

"No, I mean I was kidding, but…" She let the sentence dangle in the air between them like a proverbial elephant in the room.

"…but…?"

Callie sighed and massaged her temple. This wasn't going very well. What she wanted to ask of him wasn't fair. She'd grown up with the idea of the husband, the two kids, and the dog. Then her career happened, then George, and then Erica. The vision that she'd had, it had changed. But now she wanted it again.

She took a deep breath and aimed for direct honesty. "I've been thinking… Look, I care about you, and you care about me. And we love each other. Maybe not in the 'head over heels' way, but in the 'I'll always be there for you' way. And we're already raising McSteamy together. A kid wouldn't be so much harder. I mean, there'd be two of us. How hard could it be? Meredith and Derek are going to do it, and we'd make much better parents then them… You know what? It'd be like you're helping out a lesbian. You said you love lesbians. Do it for the lesbians, Mark."

Mark was struck speechless. He had an infinite amount of unfinished thoughts racing around in his mind, and he didn't know where to start. It was a crazy proposal. Settling down with Callie and having kids? And yet… And yet, the picture that Callie painted called to him as a siren would to wayward sailors. One big, happy family – unconventional, maybe, but definitely happy.

After a moment, he opened his mouth to answer, not even sure which answer would fall from his lips, but the punctuating sound of his pager cut him short.

"911," he said for Callie's benefit.

She nodded wordlessly.

Mark could read the disappointment in her eyes, but there was nothing he could do – not now, at least. Not when there was this big decision hanging over both their heads that warranted serious contemplation. With a final glance behind him, Mark gave Callie a look of torn apology and left with a heavy heart.

Alex fidgeted in his seat, feeling like he was back in the principal's office again rather than a psychiatrist's couch. Wyatt had managed to squeeze him in between appointments. They had thirty minutes before her next patient; and ten minutes in, Alex still had yet to speak.

Knowing what Alex had gone through during the shooting, Wyatt had felt it best to see him sooner than later. One never knew when the dam would break with trauma victims. At present, it seemed as though Alex had quite a bit to get off his chest. She'd reluctantly cleared him for surgery, recognizing his amazing ability to cope with difficult situations. He'd never gone into details, but she could tell that he hadn't had an easy time of it. She'd heard about Ava/Rebecca and Izzie. It couldn't have been easy, and yet he'd survived.

She wasn't surprised at his reticence. It had been her experience that these group of surgeons were not the talking type. The trauma counseling post-shooting had been draining, but who better to have done it than one of the hospital's own?

"I'm angry…all the time," Alex finally said. "I just…" He hung his head in defeat.

"This is good. You're putting a label to what you're feeling. That's the first step."

Alex scoffed. "So, now that I know I'm angry, I'm all cured? Great, doc. I guess I can go now."

"No, I said it was the first step. You've still got a long way to go, but coming here was a start. You recognized the need to deal with your problems instead of pushing them aside and taking on more burdens."

"Like with Lexie…" Alex offered.

"What happened between you and Lexie?" Wyatt asked.

"I broke things off with her because I didn't want to have to take care of another person. Plus, she's got Jackson now… and she's happy. She wasn't really happy when she was with me. First, she was still hung up on Mark. And second, she was using me as some sort of rebound guy."

"And you? Were you happy?"

"Maybe… I don't know. Well, Izzie came back after Lexie and I had already started sleeping with each other again. Then, I sent her away. Izzie, that is. And then… Then, Lexie wanted me to tell her if we were a 'thing,' and I said yes."

"Why did you say yes when you knew that both of you weren't in the right place for a new relationship?"

"Because we were lonely. And Izzie was gone for good this time. It's not like I don't care about Lexie. I do. I just don't…can't…love her."

"Did she ask you to?"

"No…"

"So, why do you think you have to love her?"

"Because… Isn't that what women want? Sex can't be just sex – not for girls like Lexie. Girls like her want the romance; they want a relationship."

"How did she react when you broke things off? Was she hurt or angry?"

"She was fine." Alex paused, letting the words sink in. "She's fine," he repeated, finally accepting it. The weight from the guilt he hadn't realized he'd carried was lifted. He'd done the right thing in ending things. He hadn't abandoned her. And Lexie was happy, thanks to a guy who could possibly love her back in the way she deserved.

Wyatt quietly closed her notebook and crossed her legs. "You're a good man, Alex. Behind all that anger that you hide behind, you're a good man. And other people can see it, too."

Alex nodded.

"Well, that's all the time we have for today. But I want to see you once a week. You can make an appointment with the receptionist outside."

Alex stood up and headed for the door.

"Alex?"

He turned around.

"Great work today."

"Thanks," he said and closed the door behind him.

"Did I mention that you look absolutely beautiful?" Owen whispered into her ear as he pulled out Cristina's chair so she could sit down.

"Mmm… You don't look so bad yourself," Cristina replied with a smile, disguising all traces of her frustration from earlier that day. Of course, seeing Owen all dolled up in a pristine Armani suit had its way of making her forget many things.

It was the first time they'd had a chance to sit down and have a conversation longer than five minutes since they'd woken up and gone to work together. Cristina had been stuck in the OR all afternoon with an aortic repair while Owen had dealt with the victims of a multi-vehicle freeway accident.

"Your wine," a sommelier said, appearing out of nowhere. Before Cristina could register his presence, their wine glasses were full and the man had disappeared.

Cristina took a whiff and nodded with approval. "Good stuff," she murmured as she sipped from her glass. "How'd they know which wine we wanted?"

"I called ahead," Owen explained. "It took me a month to get a reservation. I want everything to be perfect."

"Where's our menu?"

"It's a prix fixe with seven courses. Don't worry, if you don't like something, you can give it to me. But I'm pretty sure you're going to like it."

"Oh, fancy restaurants and their set menus. Reminds me of those event dinners with my parents. Couldn't drink wine back then, so this is a treat." To emphasize her point, Cristina took another sip of her wine.

Owen looked at her with a contemplative expression. Cristina wiped at her mouth with her napkin self-consciously. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

Owen shook his head, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his. "You look perfect. I was just thinking…"

"About…?"

"I need to take you out more, give you a reason to wear a dress." He eyed her high heels and bare legs with an appreciative smile.

Cristina laughed. "The scrubs don't do it for you?"

"You do it for me." He winked.

Before Cristina could come back with a retort, a server appeared on her right. "Your amuse bouche: crab and avocado."

"Thank you." When the server left, Cristina turned to Owen and said, "Mmm… Crab cake. Don't worry, no need for you to eat this one for me." The morsel disappeared into her mouth with one bite.

Owen chuckled as he ate his own.

Finished with the first course and awaiting the second, Cristina took the opportunity to observe her surroundings. Her gaze stayed a moment on another couple nearby their table. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something had made them stand out to her. Maybe it was how young they were. They barely looked old enough to drink, let alone to have jobs that could allow them to afford such an expensive place. No, that isn't it…

She brushed off the feeling and returned her focus back to Owen. "Oh, I forgot. Did you see the first picture of our godson? I think I brought it…" Cristina reached into her purse and retrieved her wallet. "Yep, here." She handed the small black and white photo to Owen.

"Cute," Owen replied, brushing his thumb across the glossy surface with a hint of longing. He quickly gave it back. "Derek showed me earlier today. Actually, I think he showed everyone in the hospital. Even the new batch of interns."

"Typical male pride… Are you going to be like that?"

"Like what?"

"Show off the first sonogram of our kid?"

Owen hesitated. She was full of surprises these days. First weddings and now babies. He could feel hope bubble within him. He shrugged, purposefully nonchalant. "Probably. But I bet you'd hand them out like party favors."

"Ha. You're probably right about that." Cristina sat back in her chair, lost in her thoughts. She had to admit, there was a part of her that wished the baby in the sonogram was hers and Owen's. But Owen hadn't even proposed to her yet. What made her think they would be ready for children when he couldn't even ask her to marry him? She sighed.

Just then, she got a movement from the male half of the couple she'd been watching earlier – the couple that had caught her attention. It was as though he was moving in slow motion: his seat moving back, his knee meeting the ground, his hand reaching for hers, his fingers holding an engagement ring. A ring, Cristina noticed, that still had traces of whip cream on it. Of course he put it in the dessert. Then, in a flash, all hell broke loose. The young, blonde woman screamed with glee, sobbing hysterically as she nodded yes. Her male counterpart stood up and awkwardly slipped the rather humble piece of jewelry on her awaiting finger. She didn't seem to care. A group of restaurant staff members crowded around them and offered their congratulations as everyone else clapped.

Everyone, that is, except for Cristina.

She sat there frozen in disbelief. She barely registered Owen's reluctant applause as she stared at the happy couple. This was the last straw. She couldn't stand it anymore.

Whipping the cloth napkin from her lap, she flung it haphazardly onto the table and stood up. In the pandemonium, only Owen noticed, and he turned to her with a quizzical look on his face.

"Are you kidding me?" Cristina shouted. Now, people were looking at her. She walked over to Owen's side of the table, standing there with her hands on her hips. "They are going to get engaged before we do?"

The "they" in question turned to look at her.

Cristina faced them, slightly apologetic. "I'm sorry. I'm sure that you two will be very happy together…grow old together and all that. Though, I'm guessing the 'old' part won't be for a while," she muttered under her breath. She turned her attention back to Owen. "I found the ring, Owen. Under the kitchen sink where the cleaning supplies are, where you thought I'd never find it. I found it – forever and a day ago. Meredith told me that you got it from your mom ages ago, and I promised her that I'd wait for you to propose when you were ready. I mean, obviously you're ready because you got the ring… But it's driving me insane, this waiting. I can't do it anymore. I'm ready. I love you. I will always love you. Forty or fifty years from now, I'll still love you. And I want it in writing – legally recognized writing, not some flimsy Post-it – that we are stuck together for better or worse. I want my parents to breathe a sigh of relief that I've finally found the right guy. I want your mother to be my mother. I want us to be married and so ridiculously happy that Derek and Meredith can't even compete… I want it all…" Running out of steam, she looked at Owen, expectantly. "So, are you going to ask me? At least you already know what my answer is going to be."

Despite usually being the type to avoid public displays such as these, Owen made an exception on this important and life-altering occasion.

He sheepishly gave a low chuckle, nonverbally conveying his apology to the riveted crowd surrounding them. Taking Cristina's hand, he got down on knee – as many men had done before him – in the age-old position of proper proposing. "I had planned on taking you to the West Point Lighthouse after this and make up for our first date that never happened, to show you the Northern Lights and to propose to you under the stars. But this fits us better… Things rarely go as planned when it comes to us… I didn't plan on getting into a car accident and ending up in Seattle Grace. I didn't plan on coming back from Iraq damaged and disillusioned. And I definitely didn't plan on falling in love with you…but I did." With his free hand, he took out the ring that had been in his family for generations and presented it to the woman who would soon be joining the fold. "Cristina Yang, will you marry me?"

To her surprise, tears welled up in Cristina's eyes. She'd never imagine that she'd react the same way as the other newly engaged woman ("woman" in the loosely defined sense). "Yes," she managed to say before Owen swept her into his arms and kissed her.

As the diners once again broke out into applause, Cristina broke the kiss and whispered to Owen, "You better not tell anyone that I cried."

Owen simply laughed and kissed her again.

We argue, we cry, we shy away, we laugh, we startle, we wrinkle our nose – we do it all, we feel it all: the six universal emotions. We recognize them in each other. But there's one emotion that ties them all together… And that emotion is love. It's why we can't capture love in a snapshot or a single look. Because love is this multi-faceted experience that comes in different shades, all equally valid. It's the constant in our lives' equation of ever-varying emotions: always there, but not always the same.