Authors: angelamermaid, hopecrowe, jennifromtheblock, lovemesomeowen, and shli
Season 6.5 Finale: "Have Love, Will Travel"
Our lives are made of millions of proverbial forks in the road. What if we'd come home from leave a day later or rolled out of the way as an icicle came hurtling down? Or if we hadn't picked up a guy at a bar or moved to Seattle to escape a broken marriage? Or if we'd stayed in the trailer park or never been assigned to a case with a charismatic heart patient? If we had picked the other path, life as we know it could have been completely different. A wrong turn here or a right turn there – it almost doesn't matter what choice we make as some unforeseen power beyond our control seems to be conducting this ride that is our life. And sometimes, all we can do is sit back and enjoy while fate leads the way.
"What do you think of this?" Helen Rubenstein asked, shoving yet another picture of a wedding dress in front of Cristina's face – way too close for her to even focus on the image.
Cristina took the magazine away from her mother before it ended up whacking her in the nose. She looked down at the dress that her mother had been trying to show her. All she saw was white and poofy.
"Mom, I'm so not wearing this. I don't do Cinderella dresses," she said, handing it back. She absent-mindedly played with her engagement ring. The weight of the ring still felt odd on her finger. She was still debating whether or not she should wear it; but being that she was in its previous owner's house, she thought it necessary to wear here at least. Every now and then, she'd catch herself looking at it, as if to remind herself that yes, this was all happening. She was getting married.
Helen pouted. She still had not resigned herself to the fact that she just wasn't going to get a wedding worthy of Princess Diana out of Cristina. After all, what was the point of having a daughter if it wasn't to plan the most extravagant of weddings? Sure, the last one didn't turn out as well, but second time's the charm. She was about to say so when she was interrupted Owen's mother.
"Would you like some more tea?" Sarah Hunt asked, walking into the living room with a fresh pot of tea. Cristina smiled graciously at her future mother-in-law, thankful for her perfect timing in saving her from getting an earful.
Mrs. Hunt's house had become bridal planning central since Helen flew in to "help" with the wedding planning. "Overtake" was more like it. Sarah's soothing presence balanced Helen's more excitable one, and she had a way of subtly getting her mother to agree to things that were more to Cristina's taste. The latest had been to persuade Cristina's mother that a five-tiered wedding cake that could feed three hundred guests was way more than they'd ever need, considering the fact that Cristina didn't expect to have anything close to that amount of guests.
"Yes, please. Thank you." Helen moved her empty cup towards Sarah and went back to flipping through the pages of the bridal magazine. "Then what do you want to get married in, Cristina?"
"Something simple…that isn't white. And nothing with a long train that I'll end up tripping all over."
Helen nearly had a double heart attack. Not white? No train? She bit her lip from saying anything, knowing that it was her daughter's wedding not hers. Her reticence didn't last long. "What do you mean you don't want a white dress? It's a wedding. Please don't tell me you want black."
"Don't be overdramatic, mom. I just don't want white. It just reminds me of … you know." She gave her mom a pointed look, not wanting to bring up the other wedding in front of Owen's mother. Plus, her mother was convinced it was only going to jinx things if they ever talked about it. It'd become on par with saying "Macbeth" in a theatre. "How about lavender? It's light and almost white." She swiveled her laptop so that her mother could see the screen and pointed to a dress she'd found online. "See? That's not so bad, is it?"
Sarah leaned over to take a look as well and gave an approving sigh. It was a gorgeous strapless dress with a full skirt that flowed off the natural curves of the model. Helen reluctantly conceded with a nod of approval.
Just then, the kitchen doors swung open, and Owen walked in with a steaming plate of food. With surprising agility, Helen snapped the laptop lid shut so that Owen wouldn't be able to see the screen. "No looking!"
"What?" Owen asked, setting the plate down and attempting to avert his eyes.
"The wedding dress!" Helen stated matter-of-factly.
"Mom, I think the superstition only applies to him seeing me in the dress." The aroma of the food wafted towards her nose. She wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, what is that?"
"Shrimp scampi. What's wrong?" Owen asked with a look of concern on his face as he sat down next to her.
"I don't know. I just can't stand the smell." She pushed it away and turned her attention back to the wedding planning discussion that Helen and Sarah were having.
"…church."
"Wait, what church?" Cristina asked, jumping into the conversation belatedly. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to be married in a church. We all know how that turned out last time," she muttered under her breath.
Owen reached for her hand underneath the table in a show of comfort and support. "Helen, I think we were looking for something more low-key. Something small. There's no time to plan an extravagant wedding anyway."
"Two weeks!" Helen shook her head. She was still in disbelief that they'd told her of their intention to wed so soon only a little over a month before the date. She'd immediately asked if Cristina was pregnant. What else could explain the desire to get married so soon? But Cristina had vehemently denied it, telling her mother that she just wasn't the engaged type. She didn't believe in it, really. She was either married or not – the in-between business drove her insane. "There's no way we can book a venue on such short notice!"
"Mom, we don't need a 'venue' so much as somewhere than can fit everyone. We're only going to have, like, thirty people. We don't need some fancy hotel or resort. It's just going to be empty."
"You can have it here," Sarah offered, refilling everyone's cups with more tea.
"Here?" Helen looked around, cataloguing everything and silently measuring the space. If her daughter was going to insist on only having a small number of guests, they could fit.
"And we can have the reception in the backyard. It'd be simple enough to rent a tent and the furniture."
"Hmmm… It could work." Helen started jotting down a list in her wedding planning notebook.
Cristina's jaw dropped a bit. This, coming from a woman who had insisted on the grand church wedding with the bridesmaids and the white wedding dress a few years ago. "Really? You're okay with that?"
"What?" Helen gave an exasperated sigh. "I will admit that I was wrong to force a wedding on you that you obviously didn't want, and that obviously didn't end well. You should have the wedding that you want."
Her eyes softened as she looked at her daughter. She knew she was hard on her, but she'd wanted Cristina to grow up strong and tough. To be able to survive. She'd been so sad after her father had passed away, and it had pained Helen to see Cristina go through that. So, she'd set to make sure Cristina would be prepared for life's heartbreaks. And that Burke had definitely caused a major one.
"Thanks, mom." Cristina had to cough to clear the lump in her throat. "Right… So, the wedding. Are you sure you're okay with hosting it here, Sarah? It won't be too much of a hassle?"
"No, no, I'd be happy to have it here. It will keep me busy." She patted Cristina's hand. "And I've always wanted to help plan a daughter's wedding." She gave Cristina a doting smile. "Okay, what's next?" she asked, turning to Helen.
Cristina sat there with her hand still joined with Owen's and watched as their mothers worked together on giving her the wedding of her dreams.
Meredith squirmed uncomfortably in her chair as she checked her watch again.
"Well?" she demanded, as Derek walked towards her. "Please tell me it's our turn soon."
"It's our turn next…" he said, encouragingly. "That's the best I can do right now."
"What good is it that you're Chief of Surgery if I still have to wait forty minutes for my appointment?" she grumbled as he sat down. "Do you know how much water I had to drink for this?"
Derek sighed and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sorry I can't pull rank. It won't be much longer. Let's talk about something else."
"Please. Distract me. I'm desperate."
"I've decided I want to know the sex of the baby."
"Really? That's so great because you know I want to know, and I thought you didn't want to know, and I can't know if you don't know because we both know I can't keep that kind of secret from you…or at least my face can't…"
He smiled. "Good. We're in agreement then. We're finding out. I think it's good. We can decorate the nursery. People will know what to bring to the shower. No surprises."
Meredith shifted again. "Keep talking. I'm about to burst here."
Noting his expression, she added, "Too much information?"
"Way too much, but I'm overlooking it," he replied. "I've been thinking about names…"
"Anything good so far?"
"If it's a boy I'd like to name him after my father."
She thought for a moment. "That's a really nice idea. I'm fine with that. And if it's a girl? Because we're not naming her after my mother!" she laughed.
"Actually, I've got an idea for that, too. I'm still working on the first name, but I think her middle name should be Cristina."
Meredith's mouth dropped open. "I would love that. I'm just…surprised, I guess."
"Why? She's your best friend and we owe her, well, everything."
"Okay. That's settled then. So now we just need a girl's first name …"
A door opened and a technician appeared with a clipboard. "Meredith Grey?"
They looked up in unison. "That's me!" Meredith said. "Thank goodness."
To Meredith's relief there was hardly any wait at all once they were called back for her appointment. In a matter of minutes she found herself covered in sticky gel as the technician moved the ultrasound wand across her expanding belly. Then it happened. Meredith saw a flicker cross the woman's face. It was a fraction of a second, but it was there. Her fears seemed to be confirmed as "Nancy", according to her name badge, checked over Meredith's chart.
"Everything all right?" Meredith asked, trying to remain calm.
Derek, who had missed the telltale look, glanced over with concern on his face.
"Everything's fine," Nancy replied. "But I want to show you something. You're both doctors, right? See that?"
Meredith and Derek looked at the screen, eyes opened wide.
"What?" Meredith exclaimed as Derek said, "Twins?"
Nancy laughed. "Yup. Twins. Surprise!"
"But…I already had an ultrasound. I don't understand…" Meredith stammered.
Nancy smiled. "Yes, but that was very early in your pregnancy. The second baby was playing hide and seek. It happens more often than you'd think. Let's take a look at Baby A. See?" she pointed at the screen. "There's your baby's brain. There's the spinal column. There's the heart. The lungs. Arms and hands. Legs and feet. Everything's developing very well. Do you want to know the sex?" They nodded in unison.
"Baby A is a boy. See? Right there…"
Meredith looked up at Derek. He had tears in his eyes.
"Okay," Nancy continued, "let's take a look at Baby B." She fussed with the equipment for a moment, getting a different angle. "Everything's good here, too. And Baby B is a girl."
They looked at each other in amazement, laughing and crying at the same time.
"So much for no surprises!" said Meredith. "Are we done now? I've really got to pee."
"Go ahead," Nancy said, helping Meredith off of the table. "We're done."
As Meredith walked away she turned back to Derek. "You okay with this?"
"I'm more than okay," Derek grinned. "Go!"
"I'm going! I'm going!" she said merrily, scurrying off to find the nearest bathroom.
Derek took the photos that Nancy was offering him. He felt a little shaken.
"Are you really alright?" Nancy asked.
"Yeah," he answered, his voice unsteady. "I'm just feeling really lucky right now."
Glancing at the pictures of Baby B, he added, "And isn't that just like you to turn up unexpectedly like that? Just like your namesake. Are you going to kick me out of bed, too? Somehow...with you...I don't think I'll mind at all."
Callie's suggestion weighed heavily on Mark as he mindlessly flipped through patient charts at the nurses' station. Callie was special to him. He was happy when he was with her, and she'd never made him feel bad about living life the way he did. In fact, it was Callie that first made him realize that he could expect more of himself. "You're good for more than just sex, Mark," she had once told him with a brilliant smile.
"Mark, are you free for a consult?" Arizona's voice called him back from his ruminations and back to reality.
"What?"
"A consult. I've got a seven-year old with what I think are second-degree burns and… Are you listening to me?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm sorry…just a little distracted."
"Is it about…What's going on?"
"It's Callie." Mark started, confirming her initial suspicions. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Arizona looked uncomfortable and bit her lip. "Have you talked to her lately?"
"What? No. No, we haven't really talked since our…well, since we broke up." Arizona cleared her throat, forcing herself to have this conversation. She couldn't spend the rest of her life running away whenever someone mentioned Callie. "Why? Is she okay?"
"Yeah…she suggested something that is making me think and I—I don't know." Mark said, uncertainly. Arizona probably wasn't the best person to be talking to about this, but then again…maybe she was exactly the right person. "She suggested that we should have a baby and live together. And be a family." Arizona was taken aback. She felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Slowly, she regained her ability to breathe. As she did, she considered the situation from a more objective point of view, moving past her initial reaction as a scorned ex-girlfriend. She thought of Callie as her friend and realized that this was right. Arizona would have never been able to give Callie what she needed to be happy, and Mark could. He wanted that.
"Well, I guess that makes sense," Arizona said, finally. Mark looked at her in surprise.
"I thought you'd want to talk me out of it," Mark said with a small laugh. "Like try to protect your territory and convince me that I'm crazy."
"I'm not that petty…" Arizona said, waving her hand carelessly. "Well, not anymore, anyway. I'm past that phase of the breakup. I want her to be happy and you can do that for her. She'll—" Arizona stopped and composed herself for a moment. "She's going to be an amazing mother. Callie has a huge heart… It would be a crime to keep any child away from having a mother like her."
"So you're saying that this isn't a crazy idea. That this could work. I should do this?" Mark asked, his usually jocular expression replaced with one seeking validation.
"I'm saying that I want to see her happy, and I think you might be the only one that can do that for her." Arizona gave him a small smile and patted him lightly on the shoulder. "Now come with me. I have a seven-year old with burns…"
"I would never have pictured this a year ago," Jackson mused, as he walked through the front doors of the hospital, holding Lexie's hand.
"That you work here and not at Mercy West?" She smiled, squeezing his hand.
"There's that," he grinned. "But what really surprises me is how…good…everything feels." He leaned in and kissed her.
"Mmm," she said. "Yes, that feels good."
"Good morning," Alex said, walking up to them. "Avery, you're with me on Robbins' service today."
"Oh. Okay." Jackson shuffled his feet nervously as Lexie looked at the floor.
"You don't have to be all embarrassed," Alex said, rolling his eyes. "You make a cute couple. You're a Hallmark commercial."
Jackson chuckled as Lexie giggled. "You're looking better," she told Alex shyly.
"That's what Dr. Wyatt says," he said, passing a binder to Jackson. "Arizona wants you to go over this case before we meet up on rounds. See you in ten." He walked away.
The two lovers looked at each other. Jackson noticed the color in Lexie's cheeks.
"I'm so happy he's seeing Dr Wyatt," she whispered. "He never really got over Izzie, you know. I hope this means he's moving on with his life."
Jackson half-smiled nervously, noting the color in her cheeks, a small gesture that Lexie noticed.
"And I'm moving on with my life," she assured him, giving him a quick peck. "With you."
"Have you seen Melissa Conrad's chart?" Cristina asked Owen, leaning on a nearby desk.
"Nope. You can ask over there at the desk. They probably have it."
"Nah, I already asked." Cristina popped herself onto a nearby gurney and shut her eyes. "I'm so bored. The ER is supposed to be teeming with bleeding bodies and people screaming in agony. It's just so s—"
"Don't say it!" Owen said quickly, cutting her off. Cristina sighed and opened her eyes. Propping herself up on her elbow, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the superstition.
"Fine. I'm just saying I'm bored and—" Cristina was cut off this time by her phone. She opened it cautiously, and Owen eyed her with amusement.
"Afraid it's going to bite you?" he asked, trying to understand her bizarre expression. Cristina sat up, but instead of saying anything, she simply pursed her lips and turned her phone towards Owen. He squinted and saw a small and very pink picture looking back at him. He stepped closer and saw that it was from Cristina's mother.
"Oh…how often has she been—"
"Every five seconds. She is driving me crazy. I know she's trying to think of what I want, but sometimes we just have such different tastes and..."
"And…it reminds you of your first wedding?" Owen asked quietly.
"I didn't walk down the aisle, so it doesn't count as a wedding."
"Well, okay, whatever you call it…this whole thing does remind you of it, right?" Owen's voice was very quiet and had a hint of insecurity. He took a seat next to her on the gurney. Cristina took his hand and started tracing all the small lines.
"It has sparked a few memories in my mind, but it's completely involuntary. I'm mostly just happy that your mom is reining her in. Having Mama Burke and my mother planning together was not a pretty sight." Owen laughed. "I'm actually pretty surprised she came out to help plan again."
"Why?"
"Because my heart was not the only one that broke the last time around. She put a lot of effort into that wedding, and it all went to waste." There was a moment of silence, and Owen put his arm around Cristina as she leaned into him.
"So, dare I ask, how are your vows coming?" he asked.
"Um, they're coming. You'll be pleased to know that I actually did start writing some stuff down. But everything just feels so cheesy, even though it's true." Cristina felt herself blush ever so lightly, in spite of herself. "How about you?"
"I have some ideas, too. But I know when we're actually there saying them, all the well-thought out, articulate stuff is going to fly out of my head, and I'll have to improvise."
"That would be such a classic Owen 'go with your gut' Hunt thing to do." They both laughed. Out of the corner of his eye, Owen noticed that Cristina seemed to be playing with her left ring finger quite a bit.
"Have you decided if you're going to wear the ring?"
Cristina looked up at him quickly. "Does it bother you that I'm not wearing it?"
"Cristina, after all we've been through, nothing could upset me as long as we're together."
"Well, that's good to know," she said simply, looking back down. "I have decided, anyway. It's not the ring itself that bothers me; it's just that when I'm here, it gets in the way with surgery. So, I came up with a better idea."
"Using it as a belly ring?" Owen asked, moving to lift up her scrub top to check. Cristina laughed and lightly smacked his hand away.
"No…" Cristina dug her hand just under her shirt and pulled out a thin silver necklace that had the ring dangling at the apex. "That way I'm still wearing it, but it doesn't bother me at work." Owen took the ring in his hands and smiled at her. "And it's closer to my heart," she added, faking a swoon. Owen laughed, but Cristina cringed as she adjusted herself.
"What's wrong?"
"My back has been sore all day; I must have slept on it strangely." Owen slid his arm around her back and gave it a few light squeezes.
"Do we have time for a backrub?" Cristina was already flipping on her stomach expectantly. Owen shook his head and sighed with fake exasperation.
"So this is what I've signed up for, huh?" Owen asked, digging his hands into her back with light pressure.
"Lucky you," Cristina said, her voice muffled as she closed her eyes in relaxation.
"Yes, lucky me." They both smiled.
Mark heard the familiar step in the corridor, so he grabbed the knob of his front door and swung it open just a little too quickly. Callie reeled back, startled, and dropped her house keys.
"Hey," he said, reaching down and picking up the keys. "I haven't seen you around much the last few days."
She pushed some hair out of her face. "Yeah, uh, crazy busy lately. Surgeries. Tons of surgeries. You know how I love me some broken bones. Busy busy busy with the surgery. Broken bones all over the place. Awesome bones, totally broken." She shuffled a little, feeling horribly awkward and knowing she sounded even more so. She had been avoiding Mark since she had offered him her womb to make some babies, much in the same way he had avoided her when she had joked about the subject in the first place. His failure to respond to her offer told her everything she needed to know. She was feeling ridiculous and humiliated, just wanting to get the hell into her apartment and away from his questioning gaze. She grabbed the keys from him and opened the door before he realized what was happening. "Tired. Exhausted from all those surgeries. I'm going to bed. I'll see you," she mumbled quickly, trying to get inside before she stuck her foot in her mouth again.
"Callie, wait," Mark said, putting his hand up to stop the door from shutting in front of him. "We need to talk about this."
She froze, and he watched her heave a deep sigh before she slowly turned around. "No," she said. "We don't need to talk about it. It was a dumb idea. Forget I ever said anything. I feel like I made everything weird between us, and I don't want that, so just pretend it never happened."
Mark waited a moment, and then quietly stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
"It wasn't a dumb idea," he said.
She blinked a few times, not quite sure she understood. "What?"
"You surprised me. I never even thought about the two of us having a baby until you said something and then I couldn't stop thinking about it. It's a great idea. I think we should do it. Have a baby, I mean. We should have a baby."
"We should?" She asked, dumbfounded that he was telling her the complete opposite of what she had expected.
"Yeah. We should. We both want one, and we're both ready. Neither of us is in a relationship right now, and if we keep waiting for the right relationship, it may never happen. Maybe this is our right relationship. You and me."
She waited a moment, and then took a step towards him. "Are you serious?"
He nodded. "Yes. I am. Completely. We should be parents."
Another long moment passed, and then a huge smile broke out on Callie's face. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
"But you're sure you're sure?"
"Torres, do you want to do this or not?"
She let out a giddy laugh and threw her arms around his neck. He laughed, too, and hugged her back.
"Oh my god," she laughed. "We're totally going to do this, aren't we?"
He grinned. "It appears that way."
She pulled back from him. "We are going to be such good parents. We will kick parenting ass."
"You're damn right we will."
Callie turned around and started pacing about the room. "We can put the nursery in Cristina's old room. And I'm going to speak Spanish to the baby because I want her to grow up bilingual. Or him. Whatever it is. Do you think I should breastfeed?" A million thoughts were running through her head all at once. Suddenly, she stopped pacing and turned to Mark with a frown on her face.
"What is it?" He asked, concerned.
"What does this make us? Does this make us a couple? We've been together, but we've never really been a couple. And I know Arizona and I are finished, but that doesn't necessarily mean I don't want to see women ever again. I may want to date a woman in the future. That's a possibility. So what does this make us? What are we?"
"I think," he said slowly, considering, "I think that this will make us a family. And the rest of it…we'll figure that out as we go."
"A family," she repeated. "We're going to be a family." She gave a relieved smile. "Our family. I like it."
"I do, too."
She giggled, and then hugged him again.
"But, you know," he began, "if you did want to bring home another woman sometime, that could be fun, too."
She punched him in the arm. "Is that the kind of thing you want to teach your child?"
"My son, maybe. My daughter? No way in hell."
"You're lucky that's way far into the future, or you might make me think twice about this."
"You won't think twice. As soon as you brought it up, I knew it was the right decision. I just couldn't find you to tell you because you were avoiding me. Don't do that again, okay? From now on we discuss everything. That's what good parents do."
She nodded. "We will discuss everything. And this is the right decision. I know it." At that moment, Callie realized just how momentous the occasion was, and began to cry. Mark folded her back into another bear hug.
"Aw, you can't cry now," he whispered softly into her hair. "You don't even have all the pregnancy hormones yet."
She simultaneously laughed and blubbered into his shirt, and for the first time in a very long time, both of them were happy.
"Hey, how did this morning go?" Cristina asked as she joined Meredith at the cafeteria table, munching on a slice of cucumber from her salad. "How is my future godchild?"
"Godchildren," Meredith replied, smiling as she waited for Cristina's reaction to the surprising turn of events.
Cristina didn't disappoint. Her fork was halfway to her mouth, and a piece of lettuce fell to the table as Cristina stared at her friend. "Did you say, 'Godchildren'? As in more than one? Are you punking me? You better not be messing with me and trying to get all of us to buy you more baby gifts." She haphazardly waved her fork in the air as she spoke, long forgetting that it was in her hand.
Meredith ducked to keep from being stabbed in the eye and gently took the fork out of Cristina's hand. "I'm not messing with you. We're having twins: a boy and a girl. You ready for that, godmother?"
"Psh, yeah. I can handle anything. Oh my god, Mer. Two! I can't believe it! Good thing you have an extra godparent…though I don't know if Mark counts as a whole one. Wait, we're happy about this, right? You're not overwhelmed?"
"I'm overwhelmed, but I'm definitely happy. Plus, if I'm going to pop out two babies, might as well do them both at once."
"Have you thought of names, yet?"
"A bit. Right now, all we know for sure is that the girl's middle name will be Cristina."
Cristina paused. "Yeah?" A smile blossomed on her face. "I love you, Meredith Grey-Shepherd."
"I love you, too, Cristina Yang-Hunt."
They laughed at the absurdity of how fortuitous their lives had turned out to be. One married, and one soon-to-be-married. Who knew the dark and twisty sisters could end up so bright and shiny?
"What's so funny?" Alex asked, interrupting the giggle fest. He set down his tray and sat down across from them, immediately starting on his sandwich.
"Nothing… " they said in unison. Then promptly burst out into laughter again.
"Whatever. So, Yang, have you gone all bridezilla yet?"
Cristina scoffed. "No. But that reminds me… I'm supposed to officially invite you to the wedding. It's going to be at Owen's mom's place. And Meredith, you're the maid of honor."
"Me?" Meredith feigned surprised. "I thought you'd never ask."
"Well, she didn't really ask. She just told you," Alex said.
"Same thing." Cristina rolled her eyes.
"But really, how is the wedding planning going?" Meredith asked. "Is it making you think of you-know-who?" She purposely avoided saying the name so as to not upset her.
"Burke? I mean, of course I've thought about him once or twice, how the last wedding didn't exactly make me all too eager to walk down the aisle ever again. But… things are different. Owen's different. And this wedding will be different. It'll be my wedding."
"So, you're ready this time? No last-minute freak out? No sudden need to come into the OR and cut? No shaving of the eyebrows?"
"Yes. No. No. And hell no. Of course I'm ready. I proposed, didn't I?"
"How do you do it?" Alex asked quietly.
"Do what?"
"Get married after Burke left you at the altar? I mean… How do you know that you aren't just going to get your heart broken all over again?"
Cristina did a double take at Alex's sincerity. She shared a look with Meredith who just shrugged and remained silent. This wasn't his typical bluster; he wasn't intentionally trying to freak her out. He was genuinely interested in her answer. And what was more surprising, he wasn't shying away from talking about something serious. Lexie had mentioned that he was seeing Dr. Wyatt. It seemed as though therapy was paying off. Cristina hated to admit it, but the psychiatrist had the goods.
So, Cristina answered in kind. "Honestly? I don't know for sure. But I trust Owen, and I trust myself. And the rest just falls into place. I never thought I could ever trust or love someone else after Burke, but I did. I definitely wasn't looking for it, but things have an odd way of turning out okay."
Alex distractedly moved his food around on his plate. "I hope so."
Owen and Derek sat in Derek's office, tossing the tiny Nerf basketball between them.
"So will I be hearing from you or Yang about what I should wear to the wedding?" Derek asked. "The best man has to look good."
"Just wear a dark suit. I'm wearing my dress uniform, so you don't need to match anything," Owen replied, throwing the ball back.
"You sure you want to make that executive decision on your own, or do you want to check with Cristina first?"
Owen laughed, and nodded his head. "Maybe you're right. The wedding is supposed to be low-key, but I definitely don't want to make a rookie mistake and not run everything by the bride."
Mark opened the door, entered the room, and plopped himself into the chair next to Owen. "Gentlemen, what are we talking about, and more importantly, how does it affect me?"
"My suit for the wedding," Derek answered, tossing the ball towards Mark, who caught it one handed.
"Check out those reflexes," he bragged. "Your suit? Right. You should have picked me, Hunt." Owen opened his mouth to respond, but Mark put up his hand to stop him. "Don't worry about it. I'm not upset. I get the whole Shepherd/Grey symmetry thing you've got going with the best man/maid of honor. Plus, you don't want your best man looking better than you at your own wedding. Because I can wear the hell out of a suit."
"Well, I appreciate you not showing me up on my wedding day," Owen said. "Very thoughtful of you."
"Besides, someone needs to wait at the back of the church to tackle you in case you decide to pull a Burke and run off."
Owen sat up straighter in his chair and frowned. "That's one thing you don't have to worry about. I'm not going anywhere. Frankly, I don't know what kind of bastard would do that to a woman, although I guess I'm glad he did, since now she's marrying me." Owen became angry every time he thought of the pain Cristina suffered from Burke's actions, but he took a deep breath and let it go. Soon, she would be his wife, and her happiness would always be first in his thoughts. "Anyway," he continued, more mildly, "the wedding is at my mom's house, not a church, so there's no altar to run from."
"So who are you bringing?" Derek asked Mark, changing the subject after noting Owen's agitation.
"Torres."
"Right, I forgot that she and Robbins are over. It's good to have a back-up. And who knows? Between us being pregnant and Owen's wedding, the next thing we know, you and Torres could be announcing something," Derek joked.
It was Mark's turn to shift uncomfortably in his chair. "Yeah, maybe," he muttered noncommittally. Derek and Owen both stared at him a moment, noticing Mark's immediate nervousness.
"Are you announcing something?" Owen asked.
Mark looked between the two of them. He had to spill at some point.
"Torres and I are having a baby."
"What?" Owen and Derek exclaimed at the same time. "You mean she's given up women and gone back to you? And she's pregnant?" Derek asked.
"Yes. No. Sort of. And what do you mean, 'gone back to you'? Why is that so shocking? I'm a catch."
Owen and Derek looked at each other, and then back towards Mark.
"It's just," Owen started, floundering for words, "it's just that we didn't know you two were together. Again. And pregnant."
"We're not. Together, I mean. I mean, we are, but we aren't. And we aren't pregnant."
Derek and Owen looked again each other again, now completely confused. "Okay, we have no idea what you're talking about," Derek said, leaning back into his armchair.
Mark sighed. "So you know that I want to have a kid. I want to have a kid like yesterday. And Torres wants to have kids. So we decided to have a kid together. We're both adults. We're good people. We like each other. We'll be good parents. Great parents. So we're going to have a kid. Not like this afternoon, or anything," he finished, looking between the two of them. "But soon. We hope."
Owen and Derek both paused, temporarily flummoxed. Finally, Owen broke the silence.
"Okay. Well, then I suppose congratulations are in order," he said, sticking out his hand. Mark shook it and smiled.
"Thanks."
"Yes, congratulations," Derek repeated, offering his hand as well. "You will be a great dad. And you could do a lot worse than Callie Torres as the mother of your child."
"I know," Mark beamed.
Derek watched him. "Forgive me for being curious, but can I ask…are you going about this…how can I put this…the old fashioned way?"
"I'm so glad you asked that question and not me," Owen muttered under his breath.
"We haven't decided yet. It's not like we haven't…you know…like a million times—"
"Too much information," Owen mumbled.
"And she is one great lay. Like world class, let me tell you. This one time…"
"Way too much information," Owen repeated, significantly more audibly.
"He asked," Mark said.
"I didn't ask about that," Derek answered.
"Do you want details or not?" Mark asked, exasperated.
Owen nodded his head no. "Not that kind of specific detail, I don't think."
"Well, then, not specifically, how about this? We haven't decided on the method of production yet. We just know what we want to get out of the partnership. Vague enough for you?"
"Well said. And congratulations again," Owen answered, giving Mark a squeeze on the shoulder.
"Thanks."
"Interesting," Derek said. "Meredith and I are pregnant. Sloan and Callie are working on it. That just leaves you and Yang. What do you say, Hunt? Are babies in the works anytime in the near future?"
I hope so, Owen thought to himself. But I won't rush Cristina. I'm ready when she's ready.
"How about you give us a chance to get married first, and then we'll worry about what comes next?" He laughed. "I'm sure the bride doesn't need that kind of pressure in addition to planning the wedding. Not to mention the groom, who needs to keep the bride happy. Let's take the godfather thing for a spin first, and then I'll let you know."
"Co-godfathers," Mark chimed in.
"Co-godfathers," Owen corrected.
"Agreed," Derek answered. "Meredith and I will have the practice babies. You two can learn from the experts."
"And now, changing the subject to something much less adult and much more fun, I know something else we can all agree upon," Mark started. "I've got the perfect bachelor party plan: Vegas! What more could we want? Drinks, gambling, gaudy casinos, strippers, stripper poles…"
"No!" Owen and Derek replied in unison.
"Come on. Hunt, don't you miss being in the desert? Las Vegas is just like Iraq. Only with less bombs and more air conditioning. And tequila. Put on your big boy pants and let loose."
"There's plenty of tequila at Joe's. The wedding is going to be low-key and so is the bachelor party, so don't even think about it, Sloan. Not a thought. Not a stripper in the vicinity."
Mark frowned. "Really? Seriously?"
"Yes. I mean it. Don't even begin to get any ideas."
"How are you two my best friends? You're both so boring."
"Responsible," Derek replied. "We're responsible. As should you be, future Papa Sloan."
"Fine. Joe's it is. But I'm getting you drunk, Hunt." He pointed at Derek. "You, too. You're such lightweights anyway that it won't take much."
"All I want is a mellow evening with my friends," Owen said. "Some dinner, drinks, darts, a game on the big screen, maybe even a little karaoke if we drink enough. And because it is my bachelor party, Sloan, and because you are not my best man, I will allow you to get me drunk. Knock yourself out."
"At least that's settled," Mark grumbled.
"Keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't have anything sketchy up his sleeve," Owen said to Derek, gesturing towards Mark.
"Done. It'll give me some good parenting practice," Derek grinned.
"Shut up," Mark answered.
"I hope you all realize how lame this is," Callie said, emphatically circling her hand with her shot glass of tequila.
"It's Joe's," Cristina said, shrugging her shoulders. "Where else would I go? Where else would he go?"
"But seriously, an essentially joint bachelor-bachelorette party? Where is the fun in that?" Callie persisted, before downing her shot.
"I get plenty fun at home." Cristina said, cocking her head to the side with attitude. It was getting clearer by the second that Cristina had had way too much to drink. Meredith rolled her eyes and laughed. "Who's next for 'drunk or kid'?"
"What is that?" Bailey said, coming up behind Cristina, patting her on the shoulder lightly.
"Somebody tells a story about something that either happened when they were a kid or when they were drunk, and you have to guess which it is," Lexie explained. "And it's my turn, I think."
"I'm going to the bathroom," Meredith said, sliding slowly off of her stool. "Who needs? I can grab it on the way back."
"Two more of these," Callie said, motioning to her empty shot glass.
"I'll have…um…" Cristina slurred, staring at her glass with great concentration.
"I don't think there's any vodka left, Cristina." Lexie said, slowly sipping on her colorful, fruity drink.
"I'll get mine, Grey," Bailey said, walking with her as they left for the bathroom. Cristina was intently starting at the back of Owen's head and trying to sip the remnants of her now empty glass.
"What are you—" Lexie started, turning to follow Cristina's gaze. Callie turned, too, and smirked.
"Owen and Mark could make quite the couple…" Owen was shaking with laughter, and Mark was singing badly while trying desperately to get Owen to join him. "Having second thoughts?" Callie grinned devilishly.
"No." Cristina said, shrugging carelessly. "We love each other. You know how things are just right sometimes? This is that. It's just—" Cristina hiccupped, "—right." Callie nodded and Lexie surreptitiously wiped a tear from her cheek.
On the other end of the bar, Derek and Alex were playing a round of darts while Jackson had just left to get the next round.
"Hey, Hunt. Do you know the difference between peanut butter and jam?" Mark asked, his face already red with laughter. Owen only shook his head vigorously waiting for him to continue.
"You can't peanut butter your—" Mark started, but he stopped as soon as he saw the lime green sweater of Dr. Webber. "Chief," he acknowledged, awkwardly.
"I'm not Dr. Webber tonight, I'm Richard. Congratulations, Hunt!" Dr. Webber clapped his hand loudly on Owen's back, knocking over a half empty beer in the process.
"What was that about peanut butter, Sloan?" Dr. Webber continued, unfazed by the awkwardness. Mark puffed out his cheeks and looked away for a moment, looking for an out.
"How about we check the score on the game, Richard?" Mark said, throwing his arm around Dr. Webber and dragging him towards the television. "I bet you fifty bucks the Yankees are winning…"
As the two of them wandered off, Owen was left at the table alone with his drink. He was about to give into his desire to crash the bachelorette party to talk to Cristina when Bailey came and sat across from him.
"Oh, the girls are over th—"
"I know. I don't need you to say anything; I just need you to listen. Yang is one of mine. She's one of my babies. As much as I fought against it, those five interns became my babies. Some terrible things have happened to all of them. I've seen them so broken that I thought they might not get back up, and some of them didn't. But Yang did. Now, I know you've had your problems and that they aren't your fault, but I just need to make sure that you'll always be looking out for her. She's a good person. She's shoves it down—deep, deep, deep down…but she cares about people. She cares about you, and so I'm asking you to please be good to her."
Owen simply looked back at her. Part of him was annoyed that she even felt the need to give him this speech, but another part of him appreciated that she felt the need to make sure Cristina was okay. He simply nodded and raised his glass to take another sip, but before he could pull the glass towards his face, he heard it clink with another glass. Bailey had raised her own glass to meet his.
"Congratulations on the wedding," she said with a wide smile. And with that, she turned to rejoin the rest of the women.
Cristina stood in front of the full-length mirror gazing at her own reflection. I've become such a girl, she thought. But she had to admit, she liked what she saw. The lavender wedding dress had proved to be an inspired choice. The color, the fit – it all worked perfectly, resulting in classic, simple elegance. Cristina's hair was pulled up simply – the better to show off the back of her neck – and soft curls framed her face. Her only jewelry was her engagement ring and a pair of diamond stud earrings – a gift from Saul.
Turning sideways, Cristina realized that the bodice was a bit tighter than she remembered. Her breasts seemed fuller, too, somehow, but the thought was lost as Helen entered the room with a flourish. She strode over to where Cristina was standing and assessed her in one swift glance. She nodded her approval, straightening the back of Cristina's skirt at the same time.
"People have started to arrive," she said. "Just a few more minutes."
"So, do I pass inspection?" Cristina asked.
"You look stunning," Helen answered truthfully. "Radiant, really. A beautiful bride."
She was overcome for a moment, seeing her daughter so happy. Helen's eyes filled with tears.
"Mom…"
"I'm all right. I'm just proud of you. I have always been proud of you, Cristina."
Cristina met her mother's gaze and found her own voice catching a bit as she spoke, "Thanks, mom."
"Owen's a good man. He loves you. And you love him. Today's a good day."
"It is," Cristina agreed. "Although we'd be hard-pressed to have a worse wedding than the last one!"
They laughed in spite of themselves as Helen cupped Cristina's face in her hands, shaking her head. "My beautiful girl…they broke the mold when they made you."
There was knocking at the door. Meredith poked her head inside the room and asked, "Can I come in?" They nodded. "Helen, we're about to get started, I think. Do you want to head downstairs? I think Saul is looking for you."
"I'd better go find him, then," she sighed. Giving Cristina a last look, she said, "Your nose is shiny. Have Meredith help you with some powder. You don't want to get your dress dirty. I'll see you downstairs." She gave Cristina's hand a little squeeze and then left the room.
"Wow," Meredith marveled. "Did you just have a nice moment with your mother?"
"I think I did…crazy, right? Help me, will you?"
"Not so crazy," Meredith said, carefully putting the barest trace of powder on Cristina's nose. "It's your wedding day, and you're really getting married this time."
"I am. It's fine, Mer. No worries, okay? Owen and I are good together. We're happy. I'm happy. I want this. I want this a lot."
"Okay…let's do it," Meredith turned to leave the room. "Are you coming?"
"You go on…I'll be right down," Cristina said.
Glancing in the mirror one last time, Cristina was struck by the woman she saw looking back at her. She, Cristina Yang, was a bride. But she was also still very much herself. And she was getting married to the man she loved. Picking up a small bouquet of wildflowers, she opened the bedroom door.
Cristina rested her head on her dance partner's shoulder and sighed a happy sigh. A warm breeze played with the errant curls that had fallen from her simple updo.
"Are you happy, Cristina?" Saul asked his step-daughter.
"I am." She lifted her head to look him in the eye. "I really am."
"Good. Because I could take him on if I have to. He's not the only one good with a scalpel."
Cristina laughed. "Just stick to surgery. No stabbing sons-in-law." In the corner of her eye, she spied Owen dancing with his mother – and probably having a similar conversation without the scalpel-stabbing. Though, she couldn't envision Mrs. Hunt wielding anything menacing. Sarah seemed more like the stuffing to death type. Or hugging to death.
"Still wish I could take a scalpel to that other one."
"Now him you can stab," she joked. Honestly, she no longer cared for revenge. She had Owen. What was the point of harboring ill-will for a man who broke her heart only for it to be made whole again by another, better man?
Hearing the familiar tones of Cristina's voice, Owen looked up to see her laughing with Saul as they slow danced. My wife, he thought to himself with a smile. And because he couldn't help himself, he chuckled, still in shock that she had really agreed to become his wife – that this was not all a dream that he would wake up from tomorrow.
"What's so funny?" Sarah asked.
"Nothing, mom. I'm just happy, that's all." He gave her cheek a quick kiss.
"She's good for you. I knew that the moment you brought her to me."
"Yes, mom, we've already established that you were right," he said, humoring his mother.
The last notes of the ballad echoed into the night. After a moment, Steve stepped up to the microphone and said, "Will all the couples now join the bride and groom for a dance?"
Owen walked his mother to a nearby table before coming back to the makeshift dance floor to meet Cristina.
"Hey there, now," Cristina said when he took her hand.
Owen pulled her close and nuzzled her neck. "Hi. I missed you."
"You're adorable when you're cheesy. It was just three or four minutes. Three or four minutes out of a lifetime."
"Yeah, but I don't want to miss a single minute." He kissed her on the lips – a chaste one. He was saving the ravishing for their wedding night, when they were away from all the peering eyes.
Cristina looked at this man who had stood there waiting for her at the altar not two hours ago with a look full of promise, love, and hope. Who had given her all the words she longed to hear from the man she loved. Who had then forever bound himself to her in the eyes of the law and whoever was up there pulling the strings.
…I, Cristina Yang, take thee…
…take thee, Cristina Yang, to be my lawful wedded wife…
…to have and to hold…
…so long as we both shall live...
"Have I told you how thankful I am that you pulled out my icicle?"
"It was my pleasure. Have I told you how thankful I am that you stole patients from Mercy West?"
"Any time," she said with a twinkle in her eye.
Owen chuckled deep in his throat and captured her lips once again.
Elsewhere on the dance floor, the maid of honor and best man swayed to the music. "See? You can stop worrying now. The groom stayed where he was. The bride made it down the aisle. And love is in the air."
Meredith swatted him on the arm. "I'm not worried."
"Liar."
"I am carrying your children. You aren't allowed to call me a 'liar.' Check the rule book: carrying these babies means that from this point on, I am always right."
"Yes, dear," Derek replied, too content to argue.
"Did you ever think we'd make it here?"
"To Cristina's wedding? No."
"No, I mean, all of us. Cristina marrying Owen, you and me being pregnant, Mark and Callie planning to be parents…" She looked around at all these people whom she had come to know and care about.
Richard was dancing with Adele, Mark with Callie, Jackson with Lexie, Bailey with Ben – and in the center were Cristina and Owen. Meredith's "person" was glowing, erasing any doubts Meredith may have had about this marriage.
Sitting at the tables, Alex was talking to one of the female guests that Meredith couldn't recognize from the back of her head. But it didn't matter. Alex was smiling – something that had become a rare event ever since Izzie left and he'd broken things off with Lexie. At the next table, Teddy and Arizona were giggling – obviously drunk off the numerous glasses of champagne they'd consumed. Out of the single, available members that were there, their pickings were quite slim. And so, their inebriated discussion wandered from how men were pigs to the dangerous topic of whether or not Teddy had ever kissed a girl. Meanwhile, April stood close to the stage, seemingly having found a new target for her affections judging by the look of fangirl adoration on her face: Pierce, past intern and current morgue employee.
For better or for worse, Derek was right: love was really in the air. But more importantly, for the first time since the tragic shooting, there was joy.
"I can't believe you made your former interns clean up for my mom," Owen smiled, as they walked towards their apartment, holding hands.
"Some people will do anything to scrub in with me," she shrugged with a smile, reaching into her purse. "And Steve is really handy with a retractor."
"Allow me." Owen pulled out his keys, and unlocked the door. Then he opened the door, bent over, and scooped Cristina up.
"Déjà vu," she chuckled, slinging her arms around his neck as he carried her into their apartment and kicked the door shut behind them. Owen easily carried her past the packed suitcases waiting for their trip to Paris in the morning and headed straight to their bedroom. He gently laid her down on the bed. She reached up and pulled his face down for a kiss.
"Hello Mr. Me," she murmured against his face.
"Hello Mrs. Me," he grinned, pulling off his jacket and then lying down beside her. His left hand reached over and lifted up her left hand. He held their hands up so they could see the rings on their hands.
"I am so glad I stole that ambulance," Cristina laughed, leaning her head against Owen's shoulder and kicking off her shoes.
"Me too," he smiled. "Look at us now, lying here as husband and wife…"
"With rings to prove it," she said, squeezing his hand. "I was never a person to wear rings, but I like the ones you gave me."
"And I'll wear your ring with pride," Owen said softly. "I'm honored that you'll have me as your husband."
She smiled.
"I wish our fathers had been there," Owen continued. "My father would have liked you. He always liked a woman with 'fire in her eyes.'"
"And my dad would have liked you," Cristina said simply. Her right hand moved to her stomach, rustling the soft fabric of her wedding dress. "He would have been a wonderful grandfather."
"Mine too," Owen replied.
Cristina swallowed. "You know, I've been feeling…some different things, lately."
"Me too," Owen sighed. "Good things."
"I – I meant physical symptoms," she said quietly. "Like…sensitivity to certain smells. That backache I had. And my breasts are a bit bigger."
Owen looked sideways at Cristina.
"Aren't you going to say something?" Cristina asked.
"I don't think it's ever wise to say that a woman's body parts are bigger," he said. "You're not fat."
"That's not what I am thinking," she laughed.
"In that case, I did think your breasts are more luscious than ever," Owen said, bending over to nuzzle her cleavage. "I just thought you got a new bra for the wedding."
"I'm wondering if I'm pregnant," Cristina blurted out.
Owen paused, his nose buried in Cristina's bra. His warm breath and his beard tickled her skin. Slowly, he raised his head to stare at her, his heart pounding.
"There could be many reasons for my symptoms," she mused. "Nausea – a virus or bacteria. Backache – doing lots of lifting helping your mom get the house ready for the wedding. A little fatigue – it's hard work being a surgeon and planning for a wedding. The breasts – PMS. And I am wearing a new bra."
"How – how do you feel about this?" Owen asked softly. "About maybe being pregnant."
"I'm okay," she said. "If I am, I can handle it. And if I'm not, well, it's not like we can't have fun trying to have one, whenever we want."
Owen felt his eyes grow curiously moist. "Really?"
"Really," Cristina assured him. "Look … Meredith's pregnancy has given me a bit of baby fever, okay? And since I have just one fallopian tube, it's not like it would be easy for me to get pregnant. If I am pregnant, then I will accept what fate has handed us. I'm not as scared by motherhood as I once was."
"It will be okay, either way," Owen said, changing his position so he could kiss her. "I mean it. If you are pregnant, great. If you're not, then we can wait."
She smiled as he kissed her, fervently. Her hands reached up and caressed his face. "Would you like to find out now?" Cristina asked him softly, when they broke for air.
"You have a test?"
"Mm-hmm," she hummed, kissing him again. "I made Megan go buy me one, with the promise that you're going to let her scrub in on a nice juicy surgery when we get back from Paris."
"Of course you did," he snorted. "Yes, I would like to know now. Definitely."
"Okay." Cristina sat up and rolled off of the bed. She dug the small box out of her purse and headed into the bathroom, Owen right behind her.
"Isn't this romantic?" Cristina snorted, lifting up her dress. "My husband is watching me pee on our wedding night."
Owen grinned boyishly. "I did have something sexier in mind…"
"Hold that thought!"
They came out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Do you want to make out while we wait?" Cristina asked Owen. He laughed and put his arms around her.
She leaned her face against his and sighed, her hands grasping his arms, as he held her close. And they waited.
It's impossible to know if fate really exists. History's greatest minds have been divided on whether we're slaves to fate or masters of our destiny. Is it more comforting to know that there's a plan for you or to know that you alone control your life? Do we have free will or does it just seem that way? No one knows. So instead of wondering what lies ahead for us, maybe we should just be grateful – grateful for a soul mate, or a best friend, or a baby on the way. Maybe it doesn't matter what happens in life so much as who is taking the ride with us.