A/N: Apologies for the delay in posting. Heartfelt thanks to you all for your feedback - you're all so lovely, and I'm so glad you're enjoying the story. I'm heartbroken that Sandra is leaving, but long may Crowen live on in fanfic - maybe something like this...

Chapter 4

I

A year after their reunion and life is wonderful. They have redecorated the Firehouse, a fresh start, and it is once again their haven, their sanctuary to come home to every night. Cristina is excelling in both her Fellowship and her research, and Owen could not be more proud of her. And one of the biggest changes in their lives is the frequency of visits from their friends and children: Meredith and Derek with Zola and baby Bailey, Callie and Arizona with Sofia.

It wasn't a quick process, like Cristina had suddenly had a complete change of heart. But slowly she began to enjoy spending more time with her godchildren; began to marvel at their development - at Bailey's insatiable curiosity, at the new words Sofia was learning on a daily basis, at how smart Zola was turning out to be. Initially it took Owen some getting used to - seeing his wife read to the girls or rocking the baby until he fell asleep - and he had to remind himself that he'd come to terms with the fact she did not want to be a mother.

Which he has - most of the time.

Now, true to their resolution to be completely honest with one another, he can tell her how he is feeling and they can talk openly about it. Ultimately he loves Cristina more than anything else, and when she tries to apologize for upsetting him he reiterates this until he's satisfied she understands. Anyway, he too is incredibly fond of his friends' kids and loves having them in his life as much as possible, so it has become a very neat solution to what was once an impossibly difficult problem.

But life is not just wonderful because of the Firehouse and work and friends and children – life is wonderful because every day they love each other more and more. Every day they smile and laugh and take care of one another. Every day she is thoughtful in ways he's never known she could be, and he hopes he is doing his best by her as well. It's the perfect marriage, just without the paperwork.

And that all changes one afternoon in early February.

It's the first of three days they have off together and they lounge around in bed for most of it, alternately reading, eating and seducing one another. This time it's Cristina's turn and she does it so well, using that gorgeous mouth of hers in all sorts of wicked ways which leaves him begging for more. When she gives in and climbs on top of him, setting a tortuously slow pace, he can only look up at her in amazement: her wild hair and sexy smile; beautiful body and delicate fingers which intertwine with his to hold herself above him. She leans down to run her nose along his before kissing him, and then the words are out of his mouth before he knows anything about them.

"Marry me."

Her eyes meet his and they are wide in surprise but she continues to move above him, slowly and expertly making him lose his mind.

Or maybe he's just lost it.

"Are you serious?" she whispers, searching his face, and he suddenly knows that he is. Wherever those words came from – and they certainly weren't pre-meditated – he has never felt surer of anything. Despite their already incredible relationship and despite what happened last time they boxed themselves in, he wants her to be his wife again: to let her know she will never feel alone or want for anything; to legally and formally commit to love and treasure her for the rest of his life.

"Yes," he tells her, squeezing her hands in his. "I'm serious."

He can read all sorts of emotions in her eyes, the most prominent still being shock. And then that changes; her hips still and the corners of her lips lift ever so slightly.

"Then yes."

He feels a sudden burst of emotion in his chest. "Really?"

"Yes!" She giggles and he can't help but laugh too as he kisses her fiercely, rolling them over and continuing exactly where she left off but now with renewed fervour.

"I love you," he murmurs as she moans beneath him and tangles her fingers in his hair. "I love you so much Cristina."

His words seem to make her control slip even further and she bites down on his bottom lip as she quickens their pace. "Love you too," she breathes. "So much. Always."

And so they celebrate their engagement doing what they do best, but it's not until a little while later that it actually sinks in. "We're getting married," Cristina says suddenly as they are dozing, curled around each other under the covers despite it being four in the afternoon. She is lying with her head on his chest, her face hidden. He hopes she's not regretting her answer because nothing he's ever done before has felt this right.

"Yes."

"I'm going to be your wife again."

"Yes."

She moves so she can look at him. Then she smiles the most breathtaking smile he thinks he's ever seen. "Can we do it tomorrow?"

I

They get married the following evening in City Hall, Cristina using a small part of her many millions to persuade the marriage officiant to stay for one extra ceremony. She wears her beautiful black dress, the one which began their relationship all over again and reminds her of champagne and the rain and wet skin against a cold door. Owen looks impossibly good in a dark suit and tie, and she just can't take her eyes off of him.

Her husband. Again.

Afterwards he drives them out to the West Point Lighthouse and parks up overlooking the water. The sun has just set and the sky is a beautiful navy blue, freckled with stars. The last time they came here was about four months ago for his birthday and it was just as magical - she hopes that will never change.

Owen shuts off the engine and slides over to her side of the front seat. Then, with a little maneuvering, he pulls her onto his lap so they are both facing the view and wraps his arms firmly around her.

"Hello Mrs Hunt," he murmurs in her ear, intertwining their hands so that their eyes focus on their wedding bands.

"Hi," she replies softly, letting her head fall back on his shoulder; the same contented smile on her lips which has been there all day and isn't going anywhere soon.

She is going to wear her ring this time, she's decided. She is going to show the world that she belongs to someone; that she has committed to loving that someone for the rest of her life. This marriage will be so different from their last, as they promised each other the previous evening and as they reiterated just before they went in to say their vows.

"When we got married the first time, I loved you so much Owen. I thought I couldn't possibly love you any more than when you gave me that ring and promised to be there forever. But I was wrong." She gently held his face in her palms. "I love you more every single day. I love who you are today more than who you were yesterday, and I love the person I've become because of you. And I hope we just go on like this, loving each other more and more, for the rest of our lives."

He didn't know how she'd done it, but she had managed to voice his sentiments perfectly. "I couldn't agree more, Cristina Yang. I can promise to love you more every day – you make it so easy."

She had laughed at that. "I know. I'm pretty great."

"You are. Now I can't wait another minute longer for you to be my wife again. Shall we?"

"Yes please."

Now, as they sit in peaceful silence in the front of his truck, listening to the gentle lapping of the water at the shoreline, she knows they are both remembering those words. A shiver runs through her which has nothing to do with the cold evening air.

"I love you," she whispers, turning her face until her lips meet his jaw. She looks up at him and the adoration and joy in his eyes captivates her completely. Seconds, minutes pass. His hands are very slowly running up and down her arms and the shivers continue, but she barely notices.

"Thank you for giving me another chance," Owen says eventually, and so quietly she only just hears. His words, and the sudden gravity of his expression, take her right back to the hospital gurney near the ER where a broken man once asked for a second chance and she said yes.

And then she sees herself, years later and wearing the very same dress she has on right now, when she found the courage to ask for the same thing – and he kissed her and everything fell apart and was put back together all at once.

"We don't need any more chances now," she tells him, twisting in his arms so she is sat across his lap and able to face him properly. "This is it. You and me, forever."

They gaze at each other for another long minute and Cristina is once again blown away by the depth of her love for her gorgeous husband. She slowly runs her fingertips across his forehead, along his nose and over his lips; studying him for the thousandth time. She'll never get tired of looking at his face - absorbing every line and freckle, marveling at the slightly different colors of each of his eyelashes. She could live in this moment for the rest of her life and be perfectly happy.

He's looking at her in the exact same way too, and with every passing second the air around them is filling up with staggered breaths and fluttering heartbeats; with heat and anticipation and a very definite sense of the inevitable.

"This is turning out to be a very unconventional honeymoon," Owen murmurs, and it's almost a question – do we really want to go down this road, right here, on our wedding night?

She drops her hand to his chest and begins to loosen his tie. "This hasn't been the most conventional of marriages so far," she counters, starting to unbutton his shirt. She can feel his intense gaze on her face and the equally intense reactions of his body. "You proposed while you were inside of me, I bribed the staff at City Hall and I'm wearing a black dress."

She meets his eyes now and they both smile. "So I say... we can do whatever we want."

Her hands slip beneath his shirt to trace the muscles beneath, and then she starts to kiss him and she just doesn't stop. She feels his fingers gripping her hair and hears him moan into her mouth as the heat between them rapidly flares and then explodes - all of a sudden it's a hundred degrees and they are both on fire. He simultaneously pulls her tighter against him and pushes her backwards against the door as he kisses her to within an inch of her life, lost somewhere between function and desire; between ridding them of their clothes and just letting his body react to hers on the most carnal level.

She's lost too; lost in him, in her absolutely overwhelming love for and need of him. There is nothing beyond his lips and tongue, his beard on her hypersensitive skin; his fingertips on her calves, her hip bones, her ribcage. Then somehow her back is flat on the seat and their clothes are gone, but even this realization is fleeting as his mouth is suddenly between her thighs and the world tilts on its axis once more.

She comes in no time at all, as if she's been waiting for him her whole life, and then he's kissing her again and she's dizzy – high on him, on the deep blue of his eyes, on the thrill of being his forever.

"I love you," he tells her hoarsely and then he begins to show her just how much, showering her with kisses as they move slowly and exquisitely together. It's restrained, but only just. Inside she's burning up, her body unsure what to do with itself. Her muscles tense and relax, her eyes fluttering open and then closed again without really seeing anything beyond those beautiful eyelashes and a flash of white gold in red hair. She wraps herself around him, needing him even closer; trying to squeeze him so tightly that the lines between their bodies might blur and fade away. She's not sure if it's too much, if she's hurting him, but she doesn't think he would mind right now anyway.

Every sound is magnified in the small space: every noise their lips make as they come apart and meet again; every soft slap of their hips as they push increasingly desperately into one another; every breath and sigh, every gasp and moan - even the half formed ones that get stuck in the back of their throats. Just when she thinks she can't really take much more he pulls away completely and sits up, lifting her easily onto his lap to continue where they left off. He gazes up at her through heavily-lidded eyes, his big hands splayed out on her bare back, and whispers her name.

That's it.

Her heart constricts and she suddenly forgets how to breathe. She moulds her mouth to his, clutching his face as she rides him right to the edge, with her slick skin gliding over his and damp curls stuck to the back of her neck where he tangles his fingers. It's hot and sticky and glorious, and she doesn't ever want it to end.

"Come with me," her husband says, and she meets his eyes for the last time as she begins to do just that: arching her back and flattening her pelvis against his; fucking him all the way through her orgasm and into his. He holds her gaze the whole time, holds her body as still as he can so they can stay there together, sharing each other's ecstasy. Watching him come beneath her takes her further, as does his every last thrust, and it just goes on and on until she's dizzy once more.

She collapses on top of him, her face buried in his neck, and their chests heave against each other for a long time as they both try to recall who and where they are.

"Some honeymoon huh?" he says eventually, and she somehow finds the strength to sit up and look at him.

"Yeah. Wow."

He tenderly runs his fingertips down her cheek, brushing back a few strands of hair. His eyes search her face and she wonders what he's thinking.

"This is going to be some marriage, Mrs Hunt."

"I know. I can't wait."

He smiles a brilliant smile, no doubt a mirror of hers, and kisses her tenderly. With a sigh, Cristina slowly untangles her heavy limbs from her husband's and is half-heartedly trying to find their clothes in the dark footwell when he nudges her.

"Look – the northern lights."

Sure enough, even through the steamed up windows she can see that the deep blue sky is now glowing with the most beautiful green and turquoise swirls. They get dressed quickly and Owen gives her his jacket before they step outside to get a better view. In years of trying they've never actually managed to witness the phenomenon and tonight it is absolutely breathtaking, filling the sky above them as far as they can see in either direction.

"This is unbelievable," he says in awe, and the look on his face is completely adorable.

"I know," she whispers, but she's thinking of more than just the scenery. It's hard to believe they are really here and married again after everything that they've been through. She feels like their first marriage happened to two strangers. They rushed into it then and this wedding was even quicker, but there is one key difference - now they are on the same page. Now they are a team. Now they understand each other, they communicate, they care what the other wants. Now they love each other more than ever before, not despite but because of their flaws.

And while all this is absolutely true, and she would never have married him if she didn't believe it one hundred percent, there is still the one little thing on her mind which she has been keeping to herself all this time. One little thing she still can't tell him because she is still deliberating it. Not often, not every day, but occasionally it hits her and she finds herself thinking it through all over again.

She does know that she's a bit closer to being able to confide in him but she's still not sure and she's still not going to take the risk. She might never be able to, and he will never have known any different. And for the moment she is at peace with her decision - just as she is at peace in her husband's arms, on a cold February night, underneath the most beautiful sky.

Until one day, almost a year later, when everything changes again...