Owen insisted on being the one to tell Teddy. That Henry was dead and that he had lied. Richard insisted on being the one to tell her about the surgery. About the tumor that had led to the end of her husband's life. Cristina stood outside of the conference room, watching the rage and the tears and the shock. Teddy glanced at her through the window, as if searching for one person who would tell her it wasn't true, that it wasn't real. After all the deceptions of the night, Teddy was seeking a truth that wasn't to be found.

Her eyes on Teddy, Cristina barely heard the approaching footsteps. "They've been found," Derek breathed heavily. She turned to face him. "Some state trooper was at this store the paramedic was at, they're safe, the ambulance was hit and some people died at the scene, but Meredith and Alex are safe."

She barely had time to process this news before Teddy yanked open the door and commanded her attention. "Yang. Please join us."

Wordlessly, Cristina entered the conference room and took a seat. Teddy turned to Owen and Richard. "Get out." They left. She saw Derek updating them.

Teddy sat down in front of her. "I want you to tell me what happened from start to ... Dr Yang, describe the surgery."

Sitting up straight, Cristina drew a breath and began to relay the events in the operating room. Clinically. When she got to the part where Owen told her who the patient had been, she began to falter. "Teddy ... I'm so sorry."

Her mentor nodded briskly. "So he never had a chance."

"I'm sorry."

The other woman looked at her, directly. "It was my decision that you do the surgery, without knowing who he was. I knew that you would do your best, and you did."

Thinking of how she had tried to speed through the procedure, Cristina looked away.

"Thank you for being honest with me." Teddy glanced at the corridor. Arizona was waiting for her, eyes full of sorrow. "I could kill Owen for what he did."

"I could kill him!" Cristina exploded. "If I had known-"

"You wouldn't have been able to change the outcome," Teddy told her. "He did not tell you who Henry was at my request. I neglected to tell him to be honest with me."


They drove home in silence. They undressed and got into bed in silence. They both stared at the ceiling.

"I understand that Teddy told you not to tell me who the patient was," Cristina said. "But that was still shitty."

Owen reached for her hand. She rolled over and turned her back to him.


Cristina got through the day. The surgery that she'd eagerly anticipated went smoothly. She wanted to tell Teddy about it, but her mentor was on a leave of absence.

Owen found her in a supply closet. "Jennings is having a party with many members of the Board tonight," he told her. "We're invited, it's really important that we go. We have just enough time-"

"No," she told him. "I'm going to Meredith's tonight. I'm going to help her dismantle the crib."

Frustrated, he shook his head. "I need you to accompany me tonight."

"And my friend needs me," she told him. "She just lost her child, she's not going to be a mother."

Hurt, Owen stepped back. The pain in his eyes was like a knife to her chest. "I didn't mean it like that," Cristina said hastily. "What I meant was-"

"What you meant was that Meredith's child comes first," Owen said, slowly and deliberately. "What you meant was that Zola is important to you."

"Yes she's important but she doesn't come first," she stammered, approaching him. He backed away.

"Our child didn't come first, or second, or third," he continued. "Our child ... you wanted nothing to do with ..." Abruptly he turned, hand reaching for the door.

She leaped, grabbing him from behind. "Don't leave," she cried out, clinging to his arms. "We have to talk. Let's talk."

"Talk about what?" His voice was strained. "How you could show love and affection for Zola, staying with her after surgery, but my child was something to be gotten rid of?"

"Owen..." She clung to him, her hot tears wetting the back of his shirt.

"Meredith told me that you would resent our child," he told her gruffly. "I believed her. And then I saw you with Zola, how easily you could love her and take care of her, and I don't know what to believe any more."

Shocked, she frantically tried to make sense of his words. "I - it's not like that ..."

"I won't kick you out this time," he said, gruffly. "But you should spend the night with Meredith. I'll go to the party and do my Chiefly duties, I'll go home and pack a bag, and I'll ... go spend some time with my mother, I guess."

"You can't leave me," she muttered. "I can't let you."

"Yes you can," Owen said. "Your priority is Meredith, not me."

Stunned, she let go of him. He opened the door and left.


Putting on a smile, Owen worked the room at Jennings' house. He politely explained his wife's absence with one word. "Surgery."

As he downed a Scotch, bracing himself for more tedious small talk, a familiar figure entered the room. Cristina was there, dressed in a little black dress, with her hair pinned up. Graciously, she smiled at Jennings as he ushered her over. "I thought you said she was in surgery," Larry grinned.

"It was over very quickly!" Cristina exclaimed. Jennings looked shocked. "No no, the patient didn't die, it was, uh, one of those surgeries where you open up the patient and discover that things aren't that bad!"

"Glad to have you here." Larry smiled and squeezed her arm. "Let me introduce you to my wife."

"I'd love to meet her," Cristina beamed. "I just need a moment with my husband first."

"I'll be right over here." He stepped away, giving them some space.

"What are you doing?" Owen asked Cristina. "Didn't take long for you to help Meredith."

"I never went over," she told him frankly. "You said you needed me here, I'm here. I'm all dressed up, ready to make inane small talk with each and every person in this room. I'm the Chief's wife, I'm here to support you."

"I'm still leaving you," he said quietly.

"Over my dead body. We'll talk after the party." Smiling brightly, she stepped away, to be introduced to Larry's wife.


She drove them home after the party. Owen shut down any of her attempts to speak. Silently, they entered the firehouse.

Instead of packing, he went to the roof. She followed him. He was sitting at the small table they'd set up, where they'd often shared a bottle of wine after a long day.

"I love this view," he said quietly. "It's one of my favorite things about this place. Great view of the city."

She sat down, across from him.

"I had such dreams for this place," Owen mused, looking around. "Most of them came true."

"Do you still have big dreams?" Cristina asked softly. "For us?"

He looked at her. "No. Not any more."

"We could have a big life together," she told him fervently.

"How?" His tone was bitter. "We can't talk. All we can do is fuck."

"We can talk ... with Dr Wyatt's help." Her eyes pleaded with his. Silently, he stared at her.

Finally Owen spoke. "You'd be willing to go back to therapy with me?"

"Yes."

"Not for me, for us."

"I'll do it." Her tone was gentle.

Owen hesitated. "Are you afraid of me?"

"I'm afraid of you not being around in 40 years," she answered firmly. "I'm not afraid to go downstairs with you, and to get into bed with you, and to sleep by your side."

"Oh." He looked at the skyline, thinking. She shivered, not knowing if it was from the cold night air, or her fear of losing them.

He stood up and removed his jacket, then placed it on her shoulders, his hands brushing against her skin. One hand slid along the back of her neck, his fingers smoothing out a loose curl.

"I hated Teddy's plan," Owen said quietly. "You operated on Derek, knowing who he was, with a gun to your head. You operated on your person's husband under extreme conditions and he lived. If you could do that, you could have operated on Henry. I let Teddy talk me into it, I thought I was being her friend."

"I'm actually glad I didn't know," she mused. "Because when I didn't know who he was, the facts were clear. He was going to die no matter who operated on him. Had I known it was Henry, I would have done what Richard did – tried to resuscitate a dead man. I'd probably still be doing chest compressions."

"It was still shitty," he said. "I'm sorry."

Cristina turned and looked up at Owen. "Let's go to bed." He offered his hand and she accepted it, rising to her feet. Quietly, they went downstairs and undressed. When they slipped under the covers, she moved close to him. He moved closer, opening his arms. Sighing, she slid into his embrace. They closed their eyes in the dark, quietly clinging to each other.