It didn't matter that they still had things to say. What mattered was that Owen was there. His mouth against hers, her hands pulling him close, his body pressing hers against the door.

Without speaking, they moved away, as one. Cristina's arms tugged him towards her as he placed her on the table.

Owen paused. His hands gently wiped the tears from her eyes, silently begging forgiveness for putting them there. Her fingers reached up and traced the lines on his face, as if she could erase the hurt she'd inflicted.

Their mouths met again, seeking, thirsting, giving. They lost themselves in the sensation of being together, tongues entwined, bodies arching and hips thrusting.

His hands slid into hers as he paused again. They gasped for breath, eyes locked on each other.

"We can't-" "Not now-" They spoke at the same time, conveying the same message, in harmony.

Owen dipped his head and gently kissed her cheek. She pressed her face against his and whispered her love into his ear. He murmured his reply, his voice gruff with emotion.

Cristina closed her eyes, causing more tears to spill down her face. He kissed them away. She smiled slightly, basking in the familiar warmth of his body against hers.

It didn't matter that they still had things to say. There was a connection now, fragile and wonderful and hopeful all at the same time. In the moment, that was all they needed.