Be Here Now
Rating: PG
Pairing: Burke/Cristina
Summary: He shouldn't be here now.
A/N: It's fluff and basically it makes me want to kill myself, but it happened. So here. Enjoy.
Cristina’s eyes remain fixed on him from across the room.
He cannot be here now.
There was one time that he sent her an email, asked if she was okay and she assured him that he was. It was a lie at the time, and it’s still a lie now. As much as she hated herself for it though, she loved him and she didn’t want him to hurt.
Cristina would never want him to hurt as much as she did.
The notion of the entire thing was ridiculous. Jilted brides should hate their exes, should do everything in their power to cause misery to the man who was the source of theirs but even once as she’d spoken the words that she didn’t wish him well, it felt like razor blades slicing through her vocal cords.
If anything, Cristina Yang was brutally honest and those words were a lie.
Addison assures her that she won’t say anything, that he’s simply here to help with a complicated case and she pauses to draw the blinds to her office before leaving Cristina to greet him. Cristina feels the slightest hint of disappointment when he disappears from her view but she knows that she can’t do this right now.
She can’t see the man who once and somehow still holds her heart.
Not when she’s here to terminate the pregnancy from a man who never truly did.
--
It was the last thing that he had expected, seeing Cristina at the conference.
Arguably, he was stupid to think she wasn’t going to be there. The small conference was open to only the best cardiothoracic surgeons in the nation and she was undoubtedly one of the best though she had not yet completed her fellowship.
Preston Burke blames it on preoccupation.
Distraction.
Burke visibly grimaces at his own thoughts. Calling his new wife a distraction is probably not the best start to the marriage but he knows that he’s being honest with himself as well. It’s exactly what she is at the very best. It’s not that he doesn’t love the woman he’s married- he cares for her a great deal. It’s simply that she’s not Cristina.
No woman ever has been.
Their eyes meet as he realizes exactly how empty his life has been without hers and Burke can’t bring himself to look away.
Neither approach each other, merely hold their gazes from across the room, the conversations they were a part of long forgotten. Everything fades and suddenly the only thing that matters is each other. Burke buries his ringed hand in the pocket of his pants, as if somehow she’s looking for that small detail from across the crowded room.
The thought of her knowing that he had done his best to move on is one that he doesn’t want her to carry. With a thud that causes his bones to ache, the ring falls to the bottom of his pocket and he withdraws his hand, the new ring leaving little indentation in his skin.
Another moment passes and she’s walking towards him and he’s scrambling for the ring in his pocket. He can’t do this. She can’t be here now.
It’s not that he’s moved on.
It’s that he’s trying.
Before she can reach him, Burke turns away and makes a quick escape from the stifling room. It’s not that he wants to; actually, he needs to stay, but he can’t.
If he doesn’t walk away now, he’ll never be able to.
--
Cristina feels tears pricking the corner of her eyes and she tries to choke it back, tries to hide the emotions all bubbling to the surface. Her fingertips brush his chest slightly when she presses her stethoscope into his skin and the sound of his broken heart floods her ears. She tries to clear her throat but the lump there is ever present.
He shouldn’t be here now.
There’s no way to mask the emotion in her voice as she pulls the stethoscope away and drapes it around her neck, “I can’t. Burke, I-“
Burke knows what he’s asked of her but he knows that his father died from the same thing and that the only chance he has is with her. He knows that if he has this chance, there are so many things that he’ll do differently.
Even his voice is weak, “Nobody else can.”
He means so much more than surgery and he wants to tell her that and he’s aware that the odds of him being able to do so are minimal, even under her very capable care.
Cristina wants to sit on the edge of his bed, curl into him and cry. She wants to tell him that she won’t do it and that they’ll find somebody who can, that the thought of dragging her scalpel through his flesh cuts into her.
She wants him to live more.
The tone of her voice is broken at best though she convinces herself that it’s clinical, “I’ll schedule the procedure.”
--
The nurse looks up in confusion when Cristina says that she’ll take over. The doctor so notorious for terrorizing nurses and delineating job descriptions so aptly is volunteering to provide the most basic of patient care. More anxious to tell her colleagues about it and less concerned with the impromptu break, the nurse leaves the two of them alone and Cristina drops her lab coat on the end of his bed before picking up a washcloth and wringing the water from it.
Burke’s gaze casts downward as she slides the rough cloth over his shoulder, his musculature not as pronounced as it once was. He sets his jaw as she works gently around the incision extending over his sternum, aware of how tender it is.
“You owe me,” she says quietly before dipping the cloth in the water once more.
The corner of his mouth turns up slightly, “I-“
“Don’t you ever die on my table again,” she says, her voice broken. The black tresses he loves so much cover her face but he can tell that there are tears in her eyes.
He reaches out, takes her hand in his and leaves the cloth in the basin before pulling him to her. There are still lines in the way and she knows that the only thing she can see is the incision in his chest, the lines everywhere. She knows the only thing on her mind is that she could be hurting the broken ribs that she caused. Burke also knows that the only thing that he can feel is her in his arms.
His lips brush against her forehead and he holds her as best he can as she falls apart in his arms, “It’s okay, Cristina,” he murmurs into her hair, “I’m here now.”
--
“You’re not supposed to be here now,” she murmurs helplessly when he reaches out to brush a curl from her face.
Burke kisses her gently, his fingers dropping down to trace along the strap of her dress. After an all to brief moment, he pulls away, “I’ve never known you to be one to care about tradition.”
“We’ve both been through an almost marriage, a marriage that didn’t work and you almost dying. I’m not really interested in tempting fate,” she reminds him, reaching up to take his hand from her shoulder.
With his post recovery behavior, Cristina half expects him to try to talk her into some quite literal premarital sex.
He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close, “Fate can be tempted as much as it wants to be. I’m not going anywhere.”
Pairing: Burke/Cristina
Summary: He shouldn't be here now.
A/N: It's fluff and basically it makes me want to kill myself, but it happened. So here. Enjoy.
Cristina’s eyes remain fixed on him from across the room.
He cannot be here now.
There was one time that he sent her an email, asked if she was okay and she assured him that he was. It was a lie at the time, and it’s still a lie now. As much as she hated herself for it though, she loved him and she didn’t want him to hurt.
Cristina would never want him to hurt as much as she did.
The notion of the entire thing was ridiculous. Jilted brides should hate their exes, should do everything in their power to cause misery to the man who was the source of theirs but even once as she’d spoken the words that she didn’t wish him well, it felt like razor blades slicing through her vocal cords.
If anything, Cristina Yang was brutally honest and those words were a lie.
Addison assures her that she won’t say anything, that he’s simply here to help with a complicated case and she pauses to draw the blinds to her office before leaving Cristina to greet him. Cristina feels the slightest hint of disappointment when he disappears from her view but she knows that she can’t do this right now.
She can’t see the man who once and somehow still holds her heart.
Not when she’s here to terminate the pregnancy from a man who never truly did.
--
It was the last thing that he had expected, seeing Cristina at the conference.
Arguably, he was stupid to think she wasn’t going to be there. The small conference was open to only the best cardiothoracic surgeons in the nation and she was undoubtedly one of the best though she had not yet completed her fellowship.
Preston Burke blames it on preoccupation.
Distraction.
Burke visibly grimaces at his own thoughts. Calling his new wife a distraction is probably not the best start to the marriage but he knows that he’s being honest with himself as well. It’s exactly what she is at the very best. It’s not that he doesn’t love the woman he’s married- he cares for her a great deal. It’s simply that she’s not Cristina.
No woman ever has been.
Their eyes meet as he realizes exactly how empty his life has been without hers and Burke can’t bring himself to look away.
Neither approach each other, merely hold their gazes from across the room, the conversations they were a part of long forgotten. Everything fades and suddenly the only thing that matters is each other. Burke buries his ringed hand in the pocket of his pants, as if somehow she’s looking for that small detail from across the crowded room.
The thought of her knowing that he had done his best to move on is one that he doesn’t want her to carry. With a thud that causes his bones to ache, the ring falls to the bottom of his pocket and he withdraws his hand, the new ring leaving little indentation in his skin.
Another moment passes and she’s walking towards him and he’s scrambling for the ring in his pocket. He can’t do this. She can’t be here now.
It’s not that he’s moved on.
It’s that he’s trying.
Before she can reach him, Burke turns away and makes a quick escape from the stifling room. It’s not that he wants to; actually, he needs to stay, but he can’t.
If he doesn’t walk away now, he’ll never be able to.
--
Cristina feels tears pricking the corner of her eyes and she tries to choke it back, tries to hide the emotions all bubbling to the surface. Her fingertips brush his chest slightly when she presses her stethoscope into his skin and the sound of his broken heart floods her ears. She tries to clear her throat but the lump there is ever present.
He shouldn’t be here now.
There’s no way to mask the emotion in her voice as she pulls the stethoscope away and drapes it around her neck, “I can’t. Burke, I-“
Burke knows what he’s asked of her but he knows that his father died from the same thing and that the only chance he has is with her. He knows that if he has this chance, there are so many things that he’ll do differently.
Even his voice is weak, “Nobody else can.”
He means so much more than surgery and he wants to tell her that and he’s aware that the odds of him being able to do so are minimal, even under her very capable care.
Cristina wants to sit on the edge of his bed, curl into him and cry. She wants to tell him that she won’t do it and that they’ll find somebody who can, that the thought of dragging her scalpel through his flesh cuts into her.
She wants him to live more.
The tone of her voice is broken at best though she convinces herself that it’s clinical, “I’ll schedule the procedure.”
--
The nurse looks up in confusion when Cristina says that she’ll take over. The doctor so notorious for terrorizing nurses and delineating job descriptions so aptly is volunteering to provide the most basic of patient care. More anxious to tell her colleagues about it and less concerned with the impromptu break, the nurse leaves the two of them alone and Cristina drops her lab coat on the end of his bed before picking up a washcloth and wringing the water from it.
Burke’s gaze casts downward as she slides the rough cloth over his shoulder, his musculature not as pronounced as it once was. He sets his jaw as she works gently around the incision extending over his sternum, aware of how tender it is.
“You owe me,” she says quietly before dipping the cloth in the water once more.
The corner of his mouth turns up slightly, “I-“
“Don’t you ever die on my table again,” she says, her voice broken. The black tresses he loves so much cover her face but he can tell that there are tears in her eyes.
He reaches out, takes her hand in his and leaves the cloth in the basin before pulling him to her. There are still lines in the way and she knows that the only thing she can see is the incision in his chest, the lines everywhere. She knows the only thing on her mind is that she could be hurting the broken ribs that she caused. Burke also knows that the only thing that he can feel is her in his arms.
His lips brush against her forehead and he holds her as best he can as she falls apart in his arms, “It’s okay, Cristina,” he murmurs into her hair, “I’m here now.”
--
“You’re not supposed to be here now,” she murmurs helplessly when he reaches out to brush a curl from her face.
Burke kisses her gently, his fingers dropping down to trace along the strap of her dress. After an all to brief moment, he pulls away, “I’ve never known you to be one to care about tradition.”
“We’ve both been through an almost marriage, a marriage that didn’t work and you almost dying. I’m not really interested in tempting fate,” she reminds him, reaching up to take his hand from her shoulder.
With his post recovery behavior, Cristina half expects him to try to talk her into some quite literal premarital sex.
He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close, “Fate can be tempted as much as it wants to be. I’m not going anywhere.”