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Post by shli1117 on Mar 7, 2012 15:03:49 GMT -5
So quiet! No takers? Let's get this started. I wrote this (long) fanfiction as part of the Season 6.5 series prank finales. But it fits. This is Cristina and Owen reimagined as Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester. It's 8,000+ words. You've been warned. (Behind the spoiler cut since it's a mammoth.) There was once a time where women had to wear corsets and layers upon layers of petticoats. Not much has changed since then. Except women now are shackled to push-up bras, thongs, and stilettos. I'm not sure who got the short end of that stick. But anyways, this story is about a modern age woman transported to fictional world of Victorian era-like mentalities…
Cristina was raised in the humble home of a Beverly Hills mansion where she was bullied into a debutante upbringing by Mrs. Rubenstein: French, ballet, etiquette, flower arranging, and napkin folding. Day in and day out, these lessons were drilled into her. It wasn't so much that her mother didn't love her, it was that Helen Rubenstein simply didn't understand her. Cristina didn't want to wear the frilly dresses or play with dolls. And – beyond anyone's comprehension – she abhorred shopping.
But Cristina put up with it because she simply had nowhere else to go. Until one day, enough was enough. Her mother was trying to marry her off to man from a prestigious family – the Burkes. It wasn't that Preston Burke was a revolting man – he had some redeeming qualities. But there was no way she was going to enter a family of shaved eyebrows and diamond chokers.
So, Cristina plotted her escape as the matriarchs of the two families plotted an extravagant wedding of princess proportions – the last thing Cristina wanted. She snuck the classified pages from her step-father's newspaper into her room and looked for a job that would take her away. However, all she was armed with was an education in non-practical areas of studies and her often-admonished dry wit.
"Aha!" she inadvertently said aloud as she lay on her pastel pink canopy bed with lace trimming. (Obviously, a decorating style that was forced on her.)
Live-in Nanny/Tutor needed for young female in Elgin, Scotland. Must be sensible, strong-willed, and irresistible to red-headed former military men.
"Well, I don't know about the last one, but this sounds like the perfect place for me. If I can avoid seeing another California girl with Daisy dukes and bikini on top, I'll be on the first flight there," Cristina said to herself.
Cristina grabbed a few empty suitcases and started haphazardly tossing clothing, toiletries, and everything else you'd think to have whilst running away from Lady Bloomingdale – her mother – and the torturous banality of her present existence. She went online and bought tickets to the first flight out to Scotland. With her plane (and other forms of transportation) tickets booked, she typed up a long letter to her mother saying that she'd seen the light and was off to the longest shopping spree imaginable in Europe. Signing the letter, she took one last glance around her room, grabbed her bags and snuck out of the house to embark on the journey to her new life.
*** Knock, knock.
Cristina rapped smartly on the double doors of an impressive manor in, quite honestly, the middle of nowhere. She shivered on the doorstep, despite the various layers she was wearing, her warm wool coat, the ear muffs, the two scarves, and mittens. No matter how much she tried to resist it, she really was a California girl.
The older man who'd picked her up from the train station had already started back towards the main road. Considering the fact that it'd been her first Jeep ride, she had to say she did a pretty d**n good job of not bouncing out while traversing the bumpy roads. Though, at one point, she swore she heard a man's voice uttering some choice swear words accompanied by the angry neigh of some horse. But when she'd looked around her, she hadn't seen a thing and chalked it up to her being jet-lagged and her mind playing tricks on her.
She took in her surroundings as she waited, noting the vastness of Thornfield Manor. She guessed that a place so grand deserved to have its own name. With mild curiosity, she regarded a rose-colored sheet fluttering out the window of the northern tower – a sharp contrast to the darker, more masculine tones. Finally, the door opened. Cristina had to look down to see who had answered the door.
"Well, don't just stand out there and freeze to death. You'll be no good as an ice sculpture. Come in, come in," Mrs. Bailey said, shooing Cristina inside.
Bossy one, Cristina thought to herself.
"Steve!" Mrs. Bailey yelled, and instantly, a thin young man appeared. His eyes had a sheen of fear in them. Cristina wasn't surprised. Mrs. Bailey scared her, too. "Carry these suitcases up to Miss Yang's room." When Steve didn't move fast enough for her taste, she yelled, "Now!"
Steve scrambled to the pile of luggage and disappeared up the stairs.
"It's hard to find good help these days," Mrs. Bailey remarked, staring pointedly at Cristina.
"Yes, ma'am," Cristina replied, trying not to incur the wrath of the tiny spitfire who could probably flay her alive. She attempted a demure look – the one that had been honed into her since birth. And due to the lack of reprimand that followed, Cristina deduced that she had succeeded.
"Follow me and keep up." For one so tiny, she sure had quite a quick pace. "Kitchen, pantry, dining room, study, library, bedroom…" Cristina started tuning her out. All she needed to know was the place with the food, the place with the books, and the place with the bed.
Mrs. Bailey stopped without warning, and Cristina almost ran into her. "Questions?"
Cristina gathered her bearings. "Um, where's the young girl that I'm supposed to be taking care of?"
"Lexie is in her room playing with dolls. She's waiting for you." She gestured in the general direction of the room, having pointed to it earlier, and left Cristina to her own devices.
Cristina meandered her way down the hallway, opening and closing doors until she finally opened the door to a room that mirrored her own from her Beverly Hills home. A young blonde girl whirled around at the sound of a door opening and bounded over to Cristina's side. Cristina took an involuntary step back, suddenly feeling the necessity of some protective body gear. She'd forgotten that one of the necessary parts of the job meant dealing with children.
"Hi! I'm Lexie! We are going to have so much fun!"
"Yeah… Where's your father?"
"You mean, Mr. Hunt? He's not my father. My father was a drunk. Mr. Hunt took me in when I showed up on his doorstep with my puppy dog eyes."
"That's nice of him," Cristina said.
"Yep! Hey, you want to play with Mr. Bear?" Lexie handed Cristina a pink bear.
"No thanks. I need to go unpack. But we'll start our lessons tomorrow."
"Okay!" And off she bounded with a whirl of her knee-length skirts and flip of her blonde-brown ringlets.
Cristina winced at Lexie's constantly chipper chatter but smoothed it over with a forced smile. On the way back to her room, she passed an older woman who quickly tucked a flask back into her pockets when she saw Cristina. Giving her a curt nod, she disappeared around the corner.
Too tired to care, Cristina continued towards her destination of a much-needed soak in the bubble bath.
*** An obnoxious ringing woke Cristina from her nap. She loathed leaving the plush comfort of the four-poster bed; and if it weren't for the stark contrast of the room's decor, she would have thought she'd never left Beverly Hills. That and the fact she could see her breath.
She blindly reached for the phone that sat on the nightstand. "Hello?" she answered groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Your presence is requested in the study, Miss Yang. The master is here, and he should not be kept waiting." Mrs. Bailey hung up without waiting for an answer.
Cristina held the phone for a moment before she finally mustered up the energy to get out of bed and get dressed. "Master?" I'm so not going to call him "master." She put on a clean pair of slacks and a knit top then wended her way through the bedrooms and hallways until she finally found the study. When she got there, she was the slightest bit out of breath.
At first, she didn't see him. The high back of the armchair hid him from view, and she only saw Lexie sitting on the rug near the fireplace playing with her dolls. One of them was wearing a hospital gown and missing quite a few organs. Creepy kid.
"Thank you for joining us, Miss Yang," a low-timbered, distinctly masculine voice resonated seemingly out of nowhere.
A shiver ran down Cristina's spine – and not just from being startled. That husky voice set off all sorts of fireworks inside her, giving her a sensation that she'd never felt before.
"Uh, hi," was all she could muster out. She remained standing behind him, unsure as to where he wanted her.
"Please, sit down," the mysterious man wrapped in darkness said. She saw a shadowy hand gesture to the chair next to him.
It is seriously dark in here, Cristina thought. It's the 21st century. Can't we get some light in here, if not electricity?
As if the fire could read her mind, the flames suddenly shot up and illuminated the room, casting everything in an almost-romantic light.
Okay, that was creepy.
"Sorry about that. Still getting used to this thing," he said, setting down a remote on a nearby table. "I would get up but I got into a bit of an accident."
It was then that Cristina realized that his leg was propped up on a footstool. His feet were encased in leather riding boots that would've looked ridiculous on any of the men she knew; but for some reason, it suited him. Guess it's a European thing.
"What happened?"
"Uh…nothing," he said, awkwardly shifting in his seat. He was obviously lying. She raised her eyebrow at him. Reluctantly, he continued, "Something distracted me while I was riding. Didn't notice the fence. Icicle – my horse – stopped, and I flew off."
"Poor, Mr. Hunt. Anatomy Jane will make it all better," Lexie interjected, walking over the doll to plant a fake kiss on his boot. She let out a loud smack.
"Thank you, Lexie…" Mr. Hunt replied, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. "So, Miss Yang, Mrs. Bailey tells me that you are from California. May I ask why you chose to come here?"
Now, it was Cristina's turn to be evasive. "Just looking for a change in scenery," she said vaguely. "So, what happened to Lexie's former nanny?"
"I haven't had Lexie long. She hasn't had anyone before you." Upon seeing Cristina's obvious look of confusion, he clarified. "Lexie's not my daughter. Someone left her on my doorstep with a sign that said, 'Hi, I'm Lexie, a plot convenience. Please take me in so that you can hire a nanny. If you don't, we'll sic Poseidon after you.' So, I took her in." He shrugged. "Who am I to anger the gods?"
"Okay…" Cristina was confused. How did Greek gods get involved in this? She chose not to dwell on the oddity and to go with the flow. When in Scotland…
"Anyway," Owen said, clearing his throat. "I think it's time for Lexie to go to bed, don't you agree?"
"Oh, please, Mr. Hunt. Please let me stay up a little longer."
"Come on, kiddo," Cristina said, taking Lexie's hand and leading her to the staircase. "You've got three minutes to brush your teeth and get ready for bed."
"Why three?" Lexie asked as they left the study.
"Because you look like the three-minute type to me. Now, go!" she ordered, shooing Lexie up the stairs. She paused for a moment, turning back towards Mr. Hunt. "Good night, Mr. Hunt."
"Good night, Miss Yang. I'll see you in the morning," he answered, continuing to stare at the fireplace.
Cristina nodded and headed toward Lexie's bedroom to tuck the little "plot convenience" in.
*** A faint laugh outside Cristina's door caused her to sit up in her bed with a start. She would've chalked it up to being one of those eerie noises that old buildings tended to make, but she saw a form pass by her doorway, temporarily blocking out the light.
Holy crap, there better not be any ghosts here. She shook her head at the ridiculous thought. Get a grip, Cristina. There's no such thing as ghosts.
Though, just in case, Cristina looked around for some sort of weapon. She rifled through the nightstand drawers and found a flashlight and then slowly edged her way toward the door. In her rational mind, she knew that a flashlight – or any solid object for that matter – would be useless against a ghost, but it gave her a sense of comfort just to feel the weight of it in her hand. The sound of her feet as muted by the plush soles of her slippers.
She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the doorknob. With a preparatory breath to bolster her courage, she flung open the door with her hand poised to attack.
There was no one there.
Cristina poked her head out into the hallway and saw nothing but the occasional light flickering. She was about to go back inside when she saw a lacy pink handkerchief on the floor. She crouched down and picked up the delicate scrap of material and shined the flashlight on it.
The letters "B.W." were monogrammed in the corner, accented with tiny pink hearts. She scanned the hallway and espied another scrap of pink. It was a pink sweater. What is up with all this pink?
She was about to head back to bed when the faint whiff of smoke reached her nostrils, causing her to cough. Using her keen sense of smell, Cristina followed the invisible path. I'm so not going to be able to find my way back, she thought with resignation. When the smoke became visible, Cristina's heart started racing. Something was wrong. She picked up her pace and ran, accidentally dropping her flashlight in the process, and kept on running until she saw the unmistakable sign of a fire.
Using the pink sweater she'd taken off the ground to cover her face, Cristina yelled through the material, attempting to wake up the person sleeping inside. When she heard no response, she took a step back and kicked the door, grateful for the fact that the door was already unlocked.
Inside, she saw Mr. Hunt asleep on the bed. The curtains were ablaze from an overturned candle. Racing to the nearby pitcher of water, she grabbed it and threw the water, all the while yelling, "Wake up! Fire!"
Mr. Hunt woke up with a start, coughing. Within seconds of assessing the situation, he pulled the blankets off the bed in one swift, dramatic motion and attacked the curtains with all his might, extinguishing the flames.
Cristina bent over, panting, now that the whole ordeal was over. She didn't think she'd ever run that fast in her life. Mr. Hunt was also out of breath from exertion. He turned towards her, dropped the scorched blankets on the ground, and led her to a nearby chair.
"Catch your breath," he said, his bare chest gleaming in the moonlight with a slight glistening of sweat. Cristina caught herself staring and forced her eyes to look away. "Are you okay?"
Still unable to speak, she merely nodded. Mr. Hunt walked over to get the glass of water that sat on his nightstand and handed it to her. "Here, drink this."
Cristina downed it without pause. The crisp taste of water helped settle her racing pulse and soothed the discomfort that the smoke had caused her throat. "Thank you."
"It is I who should be thanking you," he replied. "You saved my life." He took the empty glass and set it aside, then took her hand in his. Cristina's heart started racing again, but this time it was for a very different reason altogether. "I am sorry that your first day has been so—" He stopped. Taking the pink handkerchief and sweater from her hands, he asked, "Where did you get this?"
"I found it in the hallway near my bedroom." She couldn't understand the look of fear on his face.
"Stay here." Without waiting for her agreement, he rushed out the door and headed toward the northern tower that Cristina had seen when she'd first arrived.
Cristina stayed where she was for what seemed like ages. It wasn't like she could go anywhere. She was completely turned around and knew that she'd need Mr. Hunt's help to get back to her bedroom. Finally, he returned – sans sweater and handkerchief.
"You must be freezing." He grabbed a thick coat from his closet, gestured for her to stand, and wrapped it around her shoulders. It engulfed her petite frame.
"Thank you."
Mr. Hunt took her hands in his. "Your hands are like ice…Here, let me warm you up." He cupped his larger hands around her smaller ones and brought them to his lips. Inhaling deeply, he breathed out a rush of warm air. Her fingers grazed his lips and felt the faintest tickle of his beard. When he was satisfied that she was no longer at risk for frostbite, he let their hands drop between them. "Let me walk you back to your room." Continuing to hold her hand, he navigated through the maze of corridors until they were standing in front of Cristina's room.
"And this is where I bid you goodnight, Miss Yang."
"Thank you."
"You really need to stop thanking me. It is I who am in your debt. I could've been killed if you hadn't awoken me."
"Think nothing of it. It's just…What happened?"
"Mrs. Thatcher must have accidentally knocked over a candle when she came in to bring my water."
"Mrs. Thatcher?"
"She's quite clumsy when she's had a bit to drink."
Realization dawned on Cristina as she put two and two together – the woman she'd earlier with the flask. "Right. Well…Um, goodnight."
Mr. Hunt raised her hand his lips and gave it the slightest of kisses, nearly causing Cristina to swoon. "Goodnight, Miss Yang." And he disappeared into the darkness.
Cristina distractedly went inside her bedroom. She leaned against the shut door, clasping the hand that he'd kissed to her chest, and smiled.
*** The next morning, Cristina awoke feeling like she was floating on air. So this is what it feels like to be in love, she thought. She went through her morning rituals without even realizing it. It wasn't until Mrs. Bailey called out her name twice that she noticed that she'd somehow dressed herself and came to the kitchen.
"Miss Yang!"
"I'm sorry. Yes?"
"I was saying that you need to go wake up Lexie and get her to come down for breakfast. She'll be eating with us in the kitchen today."
"Does Mr. Hunt normally take his breakfast alone?" Cristina asked.
"Oh, the master's gone away on a last-minute trip to the Altman residence and won't be back for a week."
Cristina's heart plummeted at the news, but she tried not to let it show on her face. "Oh," she said.
"It's usual for him to just up and leave. He's got a lot of business functions to attend and mingle with the other old-money families around here. They make up the bulk of his investors."
"I see."
"The Altman family has been friends with the Hunts for generations. In fact, Mr. Hunt's father was business partners with Mr. Altman. But he's nearing retirement now, and he's groomed his daughter Teddy to take over the business. Rumor is that he's hoping for a different kind of partnership between his daughter and Mr. Hunt."
Cristina didn't think her heart could sink any lower, but it did. "Um, excuse me. I'll go get Lexie now." Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought, trying her best not to cry. Last night was all in your head. Get it together, Yang. You came here to escape from all the drama, not get in the middle of it. Just do your job and forget about him. You can do it.
If she said it enough times, she believed, then maybe it would become true.
*** A week passed, and Cristina had spent it completely dedicated to Lexie's education and care. And to her surprise, she had even begun like her. In fact, she would probably miss her when she left.
"What are you doing?" Lexie asked, plopping on Cristina's bed.
Cristina snapped the lid of her laptop closed. "Nothing. Just checking my email." She'd been looking up other job positions in Europe.
The young girl let out a huge, melodramatic sigh. "I wish Mr. Hunt would return. I'm so bored."
"He should be back any day now," Cristina replied evenly. Though, truth be told, she was getting a little anxious at the thought of seeing Mr. Hunt again. You don't care, remember? He's just your boss. Nothing more.
A stern knock came at the door. Cristina didn't know how, but she could tell it was Mrs. Bailey.
"Come in," Cristina called.
Mrs. Bailey poked her head in. "The master just phoned. He's coming home tomorrow, and he's bringing guests." She started muttering under breath. Cristina only picked up the words "with so little warning" and "finish in time."
Well, Lexie got her wish. Indeed, the young girl was now jumping up and down on her bed with excitement. Feeling the need get control of the situation, Cristina asked, "Mrs. Bailey? Was there something you needed us to do?"
"Yes. I need you to help us get things ready. Lexie, get off that bed and clean up your room. Or else I'll tell Mr. Hunt that you should not be able to join the party." The threat worked, and Lexie immediately scurried off to her room. "Come with me."
For the rest of the day, Cristina was dragged all over the manor to prepare for the gathering that would occur the next day. Guest rooms were made ready for the lengthy event, and the local farmers and butchers brought in tons of food to stock the mostly bare pantry and walk-in refrigerator. Youngsters in need of cash were recruited from the nearby village to clean and set up. And before Cristina knew it, the day was over, and all that was left was waiting for the entourage to arrive.
*** "They're here! They're here!" Lexie cried, bounding off the window seat that she'd been glued to for most of the day in anticipation.
Cristina closed the book she'd been reading, having long since given up on trying to tutor Lexie that day, and let the human Energizer Bunny drag her to the window. "Look at all those people!"
Down below, well-dressed men and women were getting out of various bright and shiny vehicles and standing in the entranceway chatting. Poor Steve. Good luck getting all the luggage from that bunch. Judging from the suitcases that were being pulled out of the trunks, this wasn't going to be a one-night visit.
"Oh, look! There's Mr. Hunt!" Lexie pointed a finger at a hill that was quite a distance away.
Cristina was in the middle of smiling upon seeing the familiar figure of Mr. Hunt when another rider came up the hill beside him – a distinctly female one.
"It's Miss Altman! She's such a good horse rider. It's almost like she and the horse are one," Lexie said in awe.
Others began to notice the duo's arrival and beckoned at them, shouting at them to hurry up. A few of the men cheered, egging them on.
Mr. Hunt and Teddy Altman reached the entranceway and got off their respective horses in parallel motions. They just had to do that in sync. She mentally groaned. This is going to be fun…not.
Evening began to fall as the guests finally settled in – all eight of them, and Cristina intentionally kept her distance the entire time. It wasn't like she was exactly dressed to mingle with that lot anyway in her college sweatshirt and jeans. And she was pretty sure that none of the fancier outfits that had randomly made it into her suitcase were exactly "pearls and tweed" appropriate.
From the faint chatter that drifted into her wing of the manor, Cristina guessed that the guests were enjoying a few cocktails before dinner. Meanwhile, having put a tuckered-out Lexie in bed already, Cristina thought to lock herself in her room and spend the night in peace – alone with the plate of food she'd nabbed from the kitchen.
She'd just taken a bite when the bedside phone rang. Swallowing quickly, she picked up on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Hunt wants you to join them for dinner."
"Wait, what?" Cristina asked in disbelief.
"Mr. Hunt wants you to come down for dinner in twenty minutes."
"But, but – I was just about to get into my pajamas."
"Too bad. You better not be late," Mrs. Bailey ordered and promptly hung up the phone.
Crap, crap, crap. Didn't I just establish that I didn't exactly pack for this type of thing? Frantically rifling through her closet, Cristina looked for an outfit that resembled something Helen Rubenstein would buy for her. "Well, this will just have to do," she said to no one in particular and started getting dressed.
*** Cristina nervously tucked a curl behind her ear. Her hair was secured in a low bun in a style that her mother had drilled into her, and she was wearing her most modest dress paired with matching gray flats. At the moment, she was doing her best to hide the fact that the back of her dress showed a fair amount of skin – nothing too risqué but not exactly upper-crust appropriate. Cristina could just imagine her mother's look of approval.
She was about ten minutes late because of the hair-up (i.e. appropriate bun, exposed back) versus hair-down (i.e. wild woman hair, hidden back) dilemma and was debating whether or not she should still go to dinner.
"Miss Yang?"
Cristina froze. Of course, it had to be Mr. Hunt who caught her hovering outside while internally debating with herself. She turned around, pasting on a false smile. "Hey there, now." She mentally slapped herself in the forehead. "Hey there, now"? The best she could come up with was "Hey there, now"? "Uh… I was just about to come inside," she lied.
Mr. Hunt answered her with a knowing smile. "Then I'm glad that I got here just in time to escort you inside." He gestured at her to take his arm, and Cristina reluctantly obeyed, trying not to sweat all over his button-down shirt as they entered the dining room together.
Everyone was already seated, save two empty seats, and busy conversing – to Cristina's relief. She hated grand entrances or being the center of attention. Mr. Hunt helped her into the seat next to his, which was at the head of the table, and she only drew the curious stares of those nearest her. Unfortunately, any hope of not being noticed went dashing out the window when Mr. Hunt raised his glass and clinked it with his fork to get everyone's attention.
"Thank you all for coming. I know you're hungry, but before we get started, I just wanted to introduce everyone to Miss Cristina Yang." All nine pairs of eyes – including Mr. Hunt's – turned to her, and she gave an awkward wave as everyone mumbled soft greetings. That was, everyone except the woman at the other side of Owen: Teddy, who was giving off a very territorial vibe. "She's been taking care of the latest addition to the Thornfield Manor for the past week or so."
"Where is the little angel?" Teddy asked Mr. Hunt with a slight flutter of her eyelashes.
Cristina answered. "She's in bed." Needless to say, she didn't get any batting eyelashes directed at her when Teddy's head turned sharply in her direction.
"You're American," said the man on her right. He leaned a bit closer, slightly invading her personal space and causing Cristina to lean back a smidge. "I have a thing for American girls."
"Sloan, you have a thing for all girls," Mr. Hunt said. Everyone laughed, and Sloan shrugged unapologetically.
"What can I say? It's a weakness." He gave Cristina a wink. Cristina resisted the urge to gag at the smell of his heavily-applied aftershave.
"Well, before you devour Miss Yang, let's eat," Mr. Hunt said, nodding at the awaiting servers to bring in the food.
*** When dinner was over, Cristina still had no idea why Mr. Hunt had wanted her to join the dinner party. He hadn't gone out of his way to talk to her, and she'd spent most of the dinner quietly eating. The guests had gotten increasingly boisterous as wine bottles were opened and glasses were filled. At present, the group was enjoying even more drinks in the drawing room. How are these people not passed out on the floor? Cristina thought to herself, marveling at the amount of liquor being consumed.
She intentionally sat alone in the corner closest to the exit, thankful that the others were too drunk to notice that she wasn't participating in the late-night booze fest. Cristina eyed the open doorway, plotting her escape. When she had confirmed that no one was looking, she slipped out of the room.
"Leaving so soon?"
Again, she was caught by the last person she'd wished to be caught by. "I'm sorry. I think I'm still a little bit jet-lagged."
Mr. Hunt nodded in understanding. "I apologize for keeping you up so late. We just hadn't seen each other for a while. How was your week?"
"Good, good. Lexie and I have been working on her French. And she's getting better at math."
"That's good… Well, I guess I should let you get some sleep." He made no move to leave.
"Thanks," she replied, and started to head up the stairs.
His voice stopped her. "Miss Yang?"
"Yes?"
"You look beautiful tonight." And without another word, he went back to his guests, leaving Cristina in a state of confusion.
*** Another week passed, and Mr. Hunt would every so often request that Cristina make herself present at the activities. When she was lucky, she brought Lexie along and let the young girl entertain the adults as she watched silently.
And with Mr. Hunt, it was like that moment in the stairwell had never happened. On the scale of "cold" to "hot," Cristina would say that things between them were "lukewarm" at best. In fact, he was spending most of his time with Teddy Altman – never alone but always near each other.
Cristina was currently watching the latest episode of her favorite medical show when her cell phone went off. The word "mother" was displayed on the screen, and Cristina reluctantly paused the video and answered it.
"Hey, mom."
"Cristina, you need to cut your European shopping spree short and come home."
Cristina sat up straighter in her bed. "What's wrong?"
"Your fiancé has disappeared."
"Who?"
"What do you mean who? Burke! He's disappeared! You need to come home now! Think of what people will say if you're off in Europe having fun while your fiancé is missing."
"That I'm shopping my sorrows away?" she said before she could stop herself.
"You better be home by tomorrow or else I'm going to come and get you."
"All right, all right. I'm booking my ticket now. I'll call you when I land." Cristina tossed her phone aside and sighed. Guess I now have a good excuse to leave. And yet, a part of her didn't want to go. Despite the emotional rollercoaster that Mr. Hunt was sending her on, she had begun to love it here. Doesn't matter. My mother will kill me if she finds out that I've been earning money instead of spending it.
*** "Excuse me, Mr. Hunt?" Cristina asked softly as she knocked on the slightly ajar door to his study. "May I come in?"
Mr. Hunt folded the newspaper he was reading and looked up. "Of course, of course," he answered, waving her in.
She remained in the doorway, not willing to come closer. Strange things happened to her body when he was close, and she didn't need the distractions. "I was wondering…Actually, I need a leave of absence. My mother called, and she needs me to come home for a bit."
"Is something wrong?" he asked, concerned.
"Well, my fiancé has apparently disappeared…"
He paused. "You have a fiancé?"
"Yes. No. Yes and no…It's a long story. Anyway, I need to leave immediately so that I can be back in LA by tomorrow. I've already called for a ride to the train station."
"When will you be back?"
Cristina shrugged. "I don't know. It depends on whether or not they find him, I guess."
"I see… " he said, standing up and moving toward her. "Then, we should properly bid each other goodbye in case you must remain in the States for an extended period of time… You will come back though, won't you?"
She shifted uncomfortably where she stood. "Well…If I'm still needed here."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you and Miss Altman…" She let the sentence hang in the air between them.
"So, you've heard about that."
"People talk."
"Yes, they do…Regardless, I expect you to come back, even if it's only to ensure Lexie's well-being."
"Of course."
"Should we shake on it?" He held out his hand.
With apprehension, Cristina fit her hand into his, willing herself not to react to the parade of fireworks her nerve endings were shooting off. Mr. Hunt gently tugged on their clasped hands, pulling her towards him until they were inches from each other.
"Please don't go, Cristina," he whispered softly.
Cristina's heart skipped a beat at hearing him call her by her first name, but she ignored it. "I must. I'm sorry," she said, withdrawing her hand and rushing out to the car that was waiting to take her to the train station.
*** Author's note: Because I found this part quite boring in the original "Jane Eyre," I'm going to fast-forward through this part and simply say that the following occurred in the month that Cristina was away from Thornfield manor.
Cristina flew home. Her mother scolded her for having not bought anything remotely fashionable. The police searched for one Preston Burke. A couple weeks later, his body was found in the middle of a parking lot next to a Jane Doe, later to be identified as Erica Hahn. A funeral was planned. There, Mama Burke cried at the loss of her pride and joy while Helen cried at the loss of any chance her daughter would find a husband. After a proper amount of mourning for a man she barely knew, Cristina told her mother that she needed to go back to Europe because staying in the States would be a constant, depressing reminder of her fiancé. Her mom bought her lie and handed Cristina her black American Express card, telling her "grief-stricken" daughter to buy better mourning clothes. And back to Scotland Cristina went.
And unbeknownst to Cristina, as the story is written entirely from Cristina's perspective, Mr. Hunt spent this month missing her.
*** The first person to greet her was Lexie. The young girl's greeting nearly knocked Cristina to the ground as Lexie leaped into Cristina's arms. "You're back! You're back!"
Cristina laughed as she hoisted Lexie in her arms. "Hey, kiddo. Did you miss me?" she asked, though she clearly already knew the answer.
"Oui! Bien sûr!" Lexie replied, demonstrating her French skills.
"She's missed you quite terribly," a voice said from behind. It seemed that he would always sneak up behind her and catch her unawares.
"I missed her, too." And you, she added silently. "I don't see the guests… Have they left?"
Lexie answered for him. "They left a week ago! Mr. Altman said that they would probably come back again soon. And then he winked at Mr. Hunt and hit him on the back."
Guess I start looking for another job, Cristina deduced, reading between the lines. Mr. Hunt's facial expression gave nothing away, merely gazing intently at Cristina until she couldn't stand it anymore.
"Uh, Lexie, why don't you go upstairs to my room with Steve and the suitcases? And see if you can find a present hidden in the bigger one. I need to talk to Mr. Hunt for a moment," she said, setting Lexie down and giving her an encouraging pat on the head.
"Okay!"
Cristina watched her disappear into the manor before turning her attention back to the man of few words. "Can we, uh…" she gestured toward the secluded pathway that led to the nearby creek, wanting to seek some privacy.
He nodded and fell into step beside her, adjusting his gait to match hers.
"So, should I tell Lexie or do you want to do it?"
"Tell her what?"
"That I'm going to leave her again, except this time I won't be coming back."
"You want to leave?"
"I don't want to leave. But it would be odd for you to keep me on when Teddy comes back and you two start planning the wedding."
"Oh, so you've decided that I'm going to be marrying Teddy, have you?"
"Haven't you?" He didn't answer. "That's what I thought. Well, I obviously can't stay here."
"Why not?"
"She doesn't like me all that much. And I'm guessing that you'll send Lexie off to boarding school or something. All I ask is that you pick one in the States, somewhere close enough that I could visit her."
They reached the large tree with the twisted trunk, perfect for leaning. Cristina leaned her back against the solid support while Mr. Hunt stood in front of her.
"Is it so easy for you to leave us?"
Cristina let out a surprised laugh. "Are you kidding? I thought of this place every day when I was gone. I counted the days till I could come back."
"But you left. Even when I asked you not to go."
"Only because you knew I had to," she retorted.
"What about now?" he asked softly, his blue eyes meeting her brown ones.
"What about now?" Once again, he'd confused her.
"Do you have to leave?"
With an exasperated sigh, she replied, "I just told you that I can't stay here when Teddy returns."
"Can't or won't?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes." He inched closer, but Cristina was too upset to notice the slight movement.
"Fine. Won't. I won't stay where I'm not wanted."
"But you are wanted, Cristina. I want you." He closed the gap between them, pressing her harder against the tree trunk and captured her lips with his.
All ability to think or move flew from Cristina's mind as he kissed her with a passion that knew no bounds – a passion that spoke of lonely nights spending wanting her and missing her. He overwhelmed her senses so much so that she barely registered when he'd pulled away to catch his breath.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly around her waist. "Marry me, Cristina."
"But—"
"No buts. Marry me. You know I never loved Teddy. I love you. I've loved you from the moment I saw you, when you were driving up toward Thornfield, and I fell off my horse because I couldn't take my eyes off of you… Say that you'll marry me." He rained kisses down her cheek, her neck, then back up again. "Marry me," he whispered into her ear. "All you need to do is say yes."
"Yes."
*** Cristina stared at her wedding veil that hung on the door. She was getting married tomorrow. Owen – yes, it was Owen now – had gone off to pick up the rings and wouldn't get back till later that night. She sighed dreamily, burrowing deeper into her blankets.
She and Owen had spent the past two weeks planning their upcoming nuptials in record time. He hadn't wanted to waste a single moment with her. And if it hadn't been for the fact that there was an obligatory waiting period that accompanied the acquisition of a marriage license, he would have married her right there by the creek.
Married. She looked at her engagement ring, faintly being able to see its outline in the wisp of moonlight that fell across her bed – a bed that had been occupied by two people of late, as Owen had been sneaking into her bed every night to gather her into his arms. It felt lonely tonight without him, which was an odd feeling for Cristina. For someone who had spent the majority of her life in bed alone, it had only taken two weeks for her to get accustomed to the feel of Owen sleeping beside her. Grabbing his pillow, Cristina clutched it close to her chest and breathed in his scent, letting it lull her to sleep…
…only to be awoken several hours later by the soft kisses Owen was planting along her exposed collarbone.
"Hey..." she mumbled groggily. "What time is it?"
"Late." Owen rested his head next to hers on the pillow, nuzzling her neck. "I don't want to alarm you, but your veil is on the floor."
"What?" She still wasn't entirely awake, and his caresses were distracting her.
"Your wedding veil is on the floor."
"It is?" Cristina attempted to get up, but Owen's arm was in her way. She swatted at him to release her. "Let me see." She sat and saw the diaphanous material strewn across the floor. "Huh, that's weird. Maybe it fell off when you came in." Moving aside the heavy blankets, Cristina bent over to pick up her veil and re-hang it on the door hook. It was then that she realized that it had been torn. "Uh, this isn't good."
Owen came to her side and took hold of the veil. "Is there time to get a new one?"
"Probably not. We're getting married tomorrow – technically today. Remember? It's fine. I don't need a veil. Anyway, I'm guessing that Mrs. Thatcher had another clumsy moment and accidentally stepped on it."
"I'll speak to her on the morrow. Now, come back to bed. I wish to hold you."
Wedding snafu forgotten, Cristina laughed. "You are seriously the only person I know who can get away with talking like that."
*** "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…" the minister began. Cristina and Owen stood at the altar – hands joined – and gazed lovingly into each other's eyes. "…as to why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."
"I object!"
The lovebirds turned to the offending sound. Teddy rushed down the aisle, waving her hand as though she were a student in class waiting to be called on.
"I object! He's supposed to be marrying me!" She finally reached the altar, heaving huge gasps of air that caused her to make a faint "hee-haw" sound, usually characteristic of a donkey. Glaring at Owen, she pointed at him in an accusatory manner. "You said that you couldn't be with me because you had to take care of Beth, that you'd promised her father that you would take care of her after he'd passed away."
"Who's Beth?" Cristina asked.
Guilt flooded Owen's features. "Cristina, I… I haven't been completely forthcoming with you."
"Who's Beth?" she repeated.
Teddy crossed her arms with a haughty look on her face and waited expectantly.
"Beth is the daughter of a close family friend who passed away of cancer. Her mother died when she was young, so her father sheltered her to the point that she can't take care of herself. So, he made me promise to take care of her after he died because I was all she had left, and she developed an inappropriate attachment to me. When I didn't reciprocate, she went crazy – so much so that she needs around-the-clock care."
Cristina took this in, attempting to process it rationally. "Mrs. Thatcher?"
"Yes. She's the only one who can handle Beth. But sometimes, when Mrs. Thatcher has had too much to drink, Beth gets out. So, the fire in my bedroom and your veil – it was Beth who committed those acts."
"I see…" She felt unbalanced, like the rug had been pulled out from under her. "Okay, I'm going to go back to my room and think about this. I'm taking the car, so you're just going to have to hitch a ride with Teddy. When I come out, we will figure out where to go from here."
Cristina grabbed her skirt and left the church without a backwards glance.
*** "Cristina? Please." His voice was laced with heartbreak.
It had been hours since the wedding-that-almost-was, and Cristina had yet to budge from the bed. She'd long since changed into her street clothes and was now perfectly content to remain where she was. Perhaps "content" was the wrong word, but she felt no motivation to do, well, anything.
"Please, Cristina. Please let me in."
Cristina sighed. "I didn't lock it. It's open."
The door instantly swung open, and Owen immediately walked toward her. Keeping a small distance between her body and his, he lay down beside her and stared at the ceiling.
"Have you decided what you're going to do?" he asked, fearful of her answer.
"I don't know…You lied to me."
"I didn't lie so much as not tell you the entire truth… Okay, I lied. I'm sorry. I didn't want to burden you. I honestly thought that I could do both: to take care of Beth and be your husband. I just couldn't bear to let you go. Can you forgive me?"
She loved him so much, and she could tell that he loved her, too. How could she resist him when he looked at her so? "Yes, I forgive you." But before he could get his hopes up, she added, "But I'm going home."
"This is home."
"No, this is your home. Yours and Beth's. I can't stay here."
"Cristina…"
"I love you, Owen. And I always will. But I must—"
Owen stopped her from uttering the last word with a finger to her lips. "Please don't make any decisions tonight. Sleep on it, and we'll talk about it more tomorrow."
Realizing that he wouldn't leave otherwise, Cristina agreed and watched as Owen left her alone to give her the space she needed. But she knew that when Owen knocked on her door in the morning, she wouldn't be here to answer it.
*** Author's note: Once again, I found this segment a bit slow in the plot. So I shall fast-forward through this time apart as well. A year has gone by. Cristina went home and did stuff. All the while, she tried to forget Owen. A young man named Jackson Avery tried to woo her, but she shot him down. But the little bastard was quite persistent, and her mother kept on inviting him over in hope that he would marry her daughter. (Cristina never told her mother how close she was to getting married.) He proposed. And Cristina — bogged down with her mother's constant nagging to get married and her heartbreak over Owen — caved in and said that she'd think about it.
But as she was considering the possibility, she heard Owen's voice calling her name. And she knew that she couldn't marry any other. That it was a sign that she had to go back to Scotland and tell Owen that it didn't matter anymore, that they could make it work. So, with that goal in mind, Cristina set off once again to Thornfield Manor.
*** Thornfield Manor was burnt to a crisp when Cristina came up the hill in her rental car. She pulled to the side of the rode and stared. What the hell happened?
Just then, a man with an unbelievably gorgeous head of hair came by. "Such an insane story, right?"
"Excuse me?"
"What happened there. It was insane. Didn't you hear?" Cristina shook her head no. "Apparently, Mr. Hunt had been hiding this love stricken girl in that tower over there for all these years. And then one day, she set the whole place on fire because this other woman had stormed in demanding that he marry her. Teddy Altman was her name. So, you've got the place all up in flames, these two blondes having a major catfight, and Mr. Hunt trying to get them to stop. Somehow, they all end up on the roof, and before Mr. Hunt can do anything, the two women go flying off the ledge – all the while yelling that he was theirs. Crazy, right?"
"Yeah, crazy. What happened to Mr. Hunt?"
"Oh, he lives in the house behind the estate now with the staff."
"Thank you, mister…I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."
"Oh, I'm a Shepherd."
"You are? Um, where's your sheep?"
"No, I mean, my name is Shepherd. Derek Shepherd."
"Well, Derek Shepherd, thank you very much." And she bade him farewell.
*** The door to the "house" – it was more of a mansion, in Cristina's opinion – was unlocked, so Cristina walked inside assuming she had permission.
Searching through the rooms, Cristina didn't run into a single person until she'd reached the library. A fire was blazing and a man, whose head was partially swathed in gauze, sat in one of the plush armchairs.
"Mrs. Bailey, is that you?"
Cristina smiled at the sound of Owen's voice and wordlessly came to stand next to him.
"Do you have my pain medication?" He opened his palm to receive the pills.
Instead, Owen got a ring placed in the center of his hand – an engagement ring that Cristina had kept with her the entire time they were apart. His fingers curled around the object and instantly recognized what it was.
"Cristina?" He reached for her hand with his free hand, grasping at her fingers. "Is that you?"
"Yes, Owen, it's me. I've come back."
Owen leapt from the chair and held her tightly against his chest, afraid to let go of her in case she would disappear – or worse, turn out to be a dream.
"Are you really here?"
"Yes, I'm really here. And it seems you've been in a spot of trouble while I was away." She traced a finger gently along the edge of the gauze and stroked his bewhiskered cheek with her thumb. "Does it hurt?"
"This? No. Nothing a kiss from you wouldn't fix," he said with a rakish smile.
Cristina chuckled as she heeded his suggestion, pressing her lips against his in a tender kiss. "Better?"
"Mmm... Maybe a little bit more…"
Again, their lips met. But this time, she lingered longer before drawing back. "So, what's the prognosis?"
"I'm temporarily blind, but I should be fine after a few weeks. But my hair will never be the same…"
"How so?"
"One of the side effects of the fire is that my hair got redder. And the doctor said that it will continue to shift between blonde, strawberry-blonde, and auburn for the rest of my life. Can you still love me now that you know that?"
She laughed. "Sure. I love you for your accent anyway. That wasn't lost in the fire, was it?"
"No. Still got as much of a brogue as ever, lassie."
"Well, then, Mr. Hunt, I think it's time for us to begin our happily ever after."
And so they did, living a life that made all the period romance lovers sigh wistfully, the coconut fangirls squee till their faces turned blue, and the haters claw their eyes out in jealousy. They got married legally in the perfect ceremony, went on a month-long honeymoon in Paris, had the most adorable babies, and moved into a home without extraneous tenants.
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Post by princessleah on Mar 9, 2012 20:14:52 GMT -5
Lovely piece and resolution to the forever changing haircolor, shli. I wrote and posted this piece elsewhere soon after the AU episode aired (so some of you probably have read this already) as a tag to the end of the episode when we see Cristina leaving the bar. Not really a creative/different AU but an attempt to reconcile the canon and the AU versions of Owen and Cristina. Sorry it's late. *** Title: Shake the World Alive Fandom: Grey's Anatomy Pairing: Owen/Cristina Rating: PG Spoilers: All seasons, specifically AU episode (8x13) Summary: Tag to AU episode after Cristina leaves Joe's. Word Count: 2,031 Had anyone told her this morning that this was how she’d be spending her evening, she would have laughed in their face. She sure as hell wouldn’t have pictured St. Meredith Webber of the pink clothes and overly cheery smile as her drinking partner, especially given that it was questionable whether or not Meredith had even been aware before tonight that there was a bar right across the street from the hospital.
And yet she, Cristina Yang, had just spent the last two hours teaching St. Meredith Webber how to do tequila shots.
She walked out of the bar with a shake of her head. The mighty had fallen and she, of all people, could relate and even sympathize with her fellow resident. It wasn’t a connection she had been seeking or had wanted by any stretch of the imagination but it was…almost nice, in a way, to have some sort of interaction and understanding over a few drinks.
Even if it was with Meredith.
Cristina was so lost in thought that she almost didn’t see the man standing mere feet from her, turned slightly away and seemingly contemplating the bar in front of him, but it didn’t matter because the familiar tug at the pit of her stomach alerted her, as it always did, to his presence.
She had never needed to see him to know he was there, and yet, as well as in spite of everything in her mind and in the still bruised part of her soul telling her to ignore it, and ignore him, she was certain that she saw him more clearly than anyone else did…including his own wife.
What she didn’t see at the moment was why he was here, away from Callie and his kids at this time of night.
Her approach was deliberate and careful, far more than it had been this afternoon when she had invaded his space a bit too closely. His reflexes were operating on even more of a hair trigger these days and she should have remembered it earlier. She reached out to touch him on his arm only to instinctively retreat the gesture, figuring a verbal alert would be less of a shock in the darkened alley.
“Hey.” Cristina’s voice was soft but clear and she kept her distance as she waited for him to respond. As expected, Owen turned quickly at the sound of her voice, almost defensively, but his body relaxed into a neutral stance once he saw her. “They don’t serve drinks to people in the streets, you know.”
His scoff softened into what might have been a laugh and he looked at the ground before looking back up at Cristina. The pain in his gaze was nothing new to her after all of those times she had watched his post-traumatic stress flare up and had inexplicably been drawn to be there, to help him, but there was a sense of anguish in his eyes now that nearly caused her to step back at the potency of emotion.
She didn’t step or shy away, though, as was her role in…whatever this was, whatever was between them that caused those looks, the tugs, the longing she didn’t quite understand from either of them, and waited for him to speak. He didn’t say much to anyone at the hospital that wasn’t work related, much like how she operated when confronted with people who didn’t know or care about what was going on outside their own little circles of existence. But for whatever reason…he spoke to her, and as a result he was privy to parts of his life no one else knew about and she didn’t know what to think, or to feel about it.
“I told Callie.” The words were a low, regretful murmur. “I told her about my hand, the intern, all of the stitches, Teddy…I told her everything.”
Cristina swallowed hard at Owen’s admission. It was the right thing to do and they both knew it. She had often wondered whether she was hindering or helping him when she remained silent about the times she would take care of his stitches after punching a wall in frustration or after an intern had unwittingly gotten too close and surprised Owen where he slept on a gurney, or when she had watched him break down in an exam room because he didn’t know what to do or how to exist after coming home from overseas. It was the right thing and yet seeing him here and not at home…she could only imagine what Callie had said and what her response had been at the revelation. “She told me to leave. She said it was just for the night but after all the lying and the episodes…She didn’t want me around the kids in case something…” He looked so ashamed and unbearably guilty as he unburdened himself. “You were right. She was right. I had no business hiding it…putting her and my kids in danger…putting my patients and staff in danger…”
“You know what, yeah, you’ve got some problems.” Cristina cut him off unceremoniously yet as gently as she was capable of. “You’ve got some big problems. But you not being around your kids…it’s not going to make it better.” She didn’t know why she cared so much. She didn’t know why she was so invested in trying to absolve him of the guilt he carried with him along with the disorder that wasn’t his fault, even though she wouldn’t allow him to think not dealing with his problems was okay. “You need help. You need actual, professional help, not your wife pretending you’re better or me stitching you up in exam rooms to hide that you’re not…”
“She can’t deal with it.” The confession left his mouth in quiet resignation. “She can’t deal with me…or my…” He shook his head and sought her gaze once more. “Ever since I came back…she tried. But then we had the twins and there wasn’t time and we weren’t connecting like before…even before, we weren’t...” He looked off into distance, into a world she couldn’t see or imagine and exhaled slowly. “Maybe it would have happened with or without my problems.”
The unspoken implication struck Cristina without warning and her thoughts almost drowned out what he was saying, almost as if to himself.
“Callie said if I got better, if she knew I was getting help, that we’d share custody…I’d still be able to see them…It’s not what we wanted for them, but maybe Callie would be happier…and I could be…”
It was awful for him; it was what he had feared most…no. What he had feared most was losing his children, of Callie taking them away from him, and it seemed it didn’t have to be the case if he didn’t want it to be. It was still awful for him, but in a way, she felt a hint of an emotion she had long ago suppressed.
She felt…hope.
For him, because maybe now that he didn’t have to pretend, he could go about seeking help and getting better.
And for herself, because…no. She wasn’t going to go there or think along those lines. It had only gotten her hurt before and right now, neither she nor Owen could deal with much more pain.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t put this on you. You don’t want to hear it.” Once again, Owen’s face was lined with guilt. “And after everything you’ve done for me...”
Her voice was carefully brisk as she cut him off yet again. “There’s this shrink at the hospital. I don’t remember her name. She’s supposed to be one of the best. The best that shrinks can get, anyways.” Cristina looked away briefly before continuing. “I work an early shift tomorrow. I can get you her number. You need to make an appointment and go talk to her, or someone who can actually help.”
“You have helped.” The intensity of his words weren’t lost on her and she found herself locked onto those eyes, the same startling blue he had given to his sons. “Why do you want to help me, Cristina?”
It was the first time he’d used her given name instead of calling her ‘Yang’ and it took every bit of her practiced self-control to not reveal the pleasurable reaction it had elicited. In doing so, however, she had paused for far too long and she could see Owen watching her, his eyes drifting over her as if trying to read what she was thinking and feeling.
“Because...I’m a doctor.” The excuse sounded even lamer now than it had earlier that day and he clearly wasn’t buying it any more than he had previously. “I would have said before it was to get in good with your wife so I could get more surgeries, but apparently that’s shot to hell.”
For the briefest of moments, a genuine expression of mirth was mixed in with the tortured emotions on his face and she smiled, a small, rare one of camaraderie that few, if any, were privileged to see in return, glad that she could at least give him that bit of light amidst his darkness.
“Sorry to disappoint.” His voice and expression became serious again, however, and he didn’t relent. “Why help me?”
“I...” As hard as she tried, she couldn’t look or walk away and yet she felt so utterly exposed at his gaze that it was bordering on discomfort, mainly because she wasn’t entirely sure she knew why herself.
Or possibly because she did know why, and he did, but this wasn’t the time or the place to say it out loud, or to think of it as anything beyond a longing that could never come to pass anyways.
“Does it really matter?” The question was nearly lost in the nearby traffic and in the muffled din coming from inside Joe’s.
The silence stretched out for so long Cristina thought he hadn’t heard her only to find him still fixing her with that unfathomable stare and it was with that intensity that he gave an answer to the question that she was almost afraid to hear.
“It matters.” It brought a chill to her spine and she didn’t know why, but Owen didn’t give her a chance to dwell on it as he touched her arm with his injured hand. “You matter, Cristina.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes, threatening to fall and wipe away the last of the veneer she had tried to keep up, even if it always seemed to falter around him, but she had kept distance from those feelings for so long, those urges to let go and fall apart that she merely swallowed once more to keep them at bay. Maybe she’d give them free reign one day, but not now, not in front of this man who apparently had the uncanny ability to stir up all of the emotions everyone else assumed were dormant inside her.
“Um...” She shook her head a bit and let the moment pass before she spoke up again. “Do you...do you have a place to stay? I have an empty room in my apartment in the building right there...”
“No, no. I don’t think that would be appropriate.” He was back to reality now along with her and he looked exhausted and stressed out once again. “I was going to get a drink here and get a room at the Archfield...I think I’ll just head there now though.”
She nodded, the natural end to their always too-brief conversations making itself present. “Right.” Her eyes darted towards her apartment building next to Joe’s. “I’ll get that number tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” The sincerity in his voice made it clear it wasn’t just for the promised number and she looked at him for one final time before she turned to head home for the evening. “Uh...good night. And take care...now...”
The awkwardness in his parting words made her roll her eyes slightly but she returned his odd farewell with the flippancy people had come to expect from Cristina Yang as she walked away.
“Take care now.”
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Post by shli1117 on Mar 15, 2012 17:32:13 GMT -5
Lovely piece and resolution to the forever changing haircolor, shli. I wrote and posted this piece elsewhere soon after the AU episode aired (so some of you probably have read this already) as a tag to the end of the episode when we see Cristina leaving the bar. Not really a creative/different AU but an attempt to reconcile the canon and the AU versions of Owen and Cristina. Sorry it's late. *** Title: Shake the World Alive Fandom: Grey's Anatomy Pairing: Owen/Cristina Rating: PG Spoilers: All seasons, specifically AU episode (8x13) Summary: Tag to AU episode after Cristina leaves Joe's. Word Count: 2,031 Had anyone told her this morning that this was how she’d be spending her evening, she would have laughed in their face. She sure as hell wouldn’t have pictured St. Meredith Webber of the pink clothes and overly cheery smile as her drinking partner, especially given that it was questionable whether or not Meredith had even been aware before tonight that there was a bar right across the street from the hospital.
And yet she, Cristina Yang, had just spent the last two hours teaching St. Meredith Webber how to do tequila shots.
She walked out of the bar with a shake of her head. The mighty had fallen and she, of all people, could relate and even sympathize with her fellow resident. It wasn’t a connection she had been seeking or had wanted by any stretch of the imagination but it was…almost nice, in a way, to have some sort of interaction and understanding over a few drinks.
Even if it was with Meredith.
Cristina was so lost in thought that she almost didn’t see the man standing mere feet from her, turned slightly away and seemingly contemplating the bar in front of him, but it didn’t matter because the familiar tug at the pit of her stomach alerted her, as it always did, to his presence.
She had never needed to see him to know he was there, and yet, as well as in spite of everything in her mind and in the still bruised part of her soul telling her to ignore it, and ignore him, she was certain that she saw him more clearly than anyone else did…including his own wife.
What she didn’t see at the moment was why he was here, away from Callie and his kids at this time of night.
Her approach was deliberate and careful, far more than it had been this afternoon when she had invaded his space a bit too closely. His reflexes were operating on even more of a hair trigger these days and she should have remembered it earlier. She reached out to touch him on his arm only to instinctively retreat the gesture, figuring a verbal alert would be less of a shock in the darkened alley.
“Hey.” Cristina’s voice was soft but clear and she kept her distance as she waited for him to respond. As expected, Owen turned quickly at the sound of her voice, almost defensively, but his body relaxed into a neutral stance once he saw her. “They don’t serve drinks to people in the streets, you know.”
His scoff softened into what might have been a laugh and he looked at the ground before looking back up at Cristina. The pain in his gaze was nothing new to her after all of those times she had watched his post-traumatic stress flare up and had inexplicably been drawn to be there, to help him, but there was a sense of anguish in his eyes now that nearly caused her to step back at the potency of emotion.
She didn’t step or shy away, though, as was her role in…whatever this was, whatever was between them that caused those looks, the tugs, the longing she didn’t quite understand from either of them, and waited for him to speak. He didn’t say much to anyone at the hospital that wasn’t work related, much like how she operated when confronted with people who didn’t know or care about what was going on outside their own little circles of existence. But for whatever reason…he spoke to her, and as a result he was privy to parts of his life no one else knew about and she didn’t know what to think, or to feel about it.
“I told Callie.” The words were a low, regretful murmur. “I told her about my hand, the intern, all of the stitches, Teddy…I told her everything.”
Cristina swallowed hard at Owen’s admission. It was the right thing to do and they both knew it. She had often wondered whether she was hindering or helping him when she remained silent about the times she would take care of his stitches after punching a wall in frustration or after an intern had unwittingly gotten too close and surprised Owen where he slept on a gurney, or when she had watched him break down in an exam room because he didn’t know what to do or how to exist after coming home from overseas. It was the right thing and yet seeing him here and not at home…she could only imagine what Callie had said and what her response had been at the revelation. “She told me to leave. She said it was just for the night but after all the lying and the episodes…She didn’t want me around the kids in case something…” He looked so ashamed and unbearably guilty as he unburdened himself. “You were right. She was right. I had no business hiding it…putting her and my kids in danger…putting my patients and staff in danger…”
“You know what, yeah, you’ve got some problems.” Cristina cut him off unceremoniously yet as gently as she was capable of. “You’ve got some big problems. But you not being around your kids…it’s not going to make it better.” She didn’t know why she cared so much. She didn’t know why she was so invested in trying to absolve him of the guilt he carried with him along with the disorder that wasn’t his fault, even though she wouldn’t allow him to think not dealing with his problems was okay. “You need help. You need actual, professional help, not your wife pretending you’re better or me stitching you up in exam rooms to hide that you’re not…”
“She can’t deal with it.” The confession left his mouth in quiet resignation. “She can’t deal with me…or my…” He shook his head and sought her gaze once more. “Ever since I came back…she tried. But then we had the twins and there wasn’t time and we weren’t connecting like before…even before, we weren’t...” He looked off into distance, into a world she couldn’t see or imagine and exhaled slowly. “Maybe it would have happened with or without my problems.”
The unspoken implication struck Cristina without warning and her thoughts almost drowned out what he was saying, almost as if to himself.
“Callie said if I got better, if she knew I was getting help, that we’d share custody…I’d still be able to see them…It’s not what we wanted for them, but maybe Callie would be happier…and I could be…”
It was awful for him; it was what he had feared most…no. What he had feared most was losing his children, of Callie taking them away from him, and it seemed it didn’t have to be the case if he didn’t want it to be. It was still awful for him, but in a way, she felt a hint of an emotion she had long ago suppressed.
She felt…hope.
For him, because maybe now that he didn’t have to pretend, he could go about seeking help and getting better.
And for herself, because…no. She wasn’t going to go there or think along those lines. It had only gotten her hurt before and right now, neither she nor Owen could deal with much more pain.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t put this on you. You don’t want to hear it.” Once again, Owen’s face was lined with guilt. “And after everything you’ve done for me...”
Her voice was carefully brisk as she cut him off yet again. “There’s this shrink at the hospital. I don’t remember her name. She’s supposed to be one of the best. The best that shrinks can get, anyways.” Cristina looked away briefly before continuing. “I work an early shift tomorrow. I can get you her number. You need to make an appointment and go talk to her, or someone who can actually help.”
“You have helped.” The intensity of his words weren’t lost on her and she found herself locked onto those eyes, the same startling blue he had given to his sons. “Why do you want to help me, Cristina?”
It was the first time he’d used her given name instead of calling her ‘Yang’ and it took every bit of her practiced self-control to not reveal the pleasurable reaction it had elicited. In doing so, however, she had paused for far too long and she could see Owen watching her, his eyes drifting over her as if trying to read what she was thinking and feeling.
“Because...I’m a doctor.” The excuse sounded even lamer now than it had earlier that day and he clearly wasn’t buying it any more than he had previously. “I would have said before it was to get in good with your wife so I could get more surgeries, but apparently that’s shot to hell.”
For the briefest of moments, a genuine expression of mirth was mixed in with the tortured emotions on his face and she smiled, a small, rare one of camaraderie that few, if any, were privileged to see in return, glad that she could at least give him that bit of light amidst his darkness.
“Sorry to disappoint.” His voice and expression became serious again, however, and he didn’t relent. “Why help me?”
“I...” As hard as she tried, she couldn’t look or walk away and yet she felt so utterly exposed at his gaze that it was bordering on discomfort, mainly because she wasn’t entirely sure she knew why herself.
Or possibly because she did know why, and he did, but this wasn’t the time or the place to say it out loud, or to think of it as anything beyond a longing that could never come to pass anyways.
“Does it really matter?” The question was nearly lost in the nearby traffic and in the muffled din coming from inside Joe’s.
The silence stretched out for so long Cristina thought he hadn’t heard her only to find him still fixing her with that unfathomable stare and it was with that intensity that he gave an answer to the question that she was almost afraid to hear.
“It matters.” It brought a chill to her spine and she didn’t know why, but Owen didn’t give her a chance to dwell on it as he touched her arm with his injured hand. “You matter, Cristina.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes, threatening to fall and wipe away the last of the veneer she had tried to keep up, even if it always seemed to falter around him, but she had kept distance from those feelings for so long, those urges to let go and fall apart that she merely swallowed once more to keep them at bay. Maybe she’d give them free reign one day, but not now, not in front of this man who apparently had the uncanny ability to stir up all of the emotions everyone else assumed were dormant inside her.
“Um...” She shook her head a bit and let the moment pass before she spoke up again. “Do you...do you have a place to stay? I have an empty room in my apartment in the building right there...”
“No, no. I don’t think that would be appropriate.” He was back to reality now along with her and he looked exhausted and stressed out once again. “I was going to get a drink here and get a room at the Archfield...I think I’ll just head there now though.”
She nodded, the natural end to their always too-brief conversations making itself present. “Right.” Her eyes darted towards her apartment building next to Joe’s. “I’ll get that number tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” The sincerity in his voice made it clear it wasn’t just for the promised number and she looked at him for one final time before she turned to head home for the evening. “Uh...good night. And take care...now...”
The awkwardness in his parting words made her roll her eyes slightly but she returned his odd farewell with the flippancy people had come to expect from Cristina Yang as she walked away.
“Take care now.” Oh man, talk about nostalgia. All those previous season references? Gah. I honestly think we (the Cristina and Owen fans) should storm the writers' room and take over. Who's with me? Haha.
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