Again & Again
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Cristina gets snubbed for a second Harper Avery award.
Author's Notes: For ghmari for donating to my Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3 Day. Want your own fic? See this post to find out more.
Cristina stood at the back of the enormous ballroom, watching with narrowed eyes at Teddy danced the evening away with Owen. Despite the abundance of free expensive alcohol and the fact that she was a guest at the Harper Avery gala, Cristina was absolutely miserable.
Another award, another snub.
Another year spent wondering who the hell she had pissed off to deserve this.
With a sneer, she pulled another glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and turned to walk into an even more obscure corner of the room. Never in her life had she wished to be invisible, she never really knew the feeling until now. Her career hadn’t even started yet and it was already over. Two awards, two snubs- she would always be unrecognized.
Normal people would be upset because the man she broke up with not even a month ago already had another woman in his arms. They probably wouldn’t have even shown up to the thing at all, knowing that said man would be all over the other woman and saying things into her ear that he was saying into yours only a few weeks ago. Normal people would be pissed off about that and not even bother going, knowing that she had your award and your boyfriend.
Normal people probably wouldn’t have felt relief that she took the boyfriend off your hands though.
No, Cristina was anything but normal and the only thing that mattered was the fact that she got snubbed again and her career was floundering and she hadn’t even finished training yet. That’s what mattered. It didn’t matter that Owen was dancing with Teddy and that Jackson was looking at her with that ridiculous smirk like the cat who ate the canary- no, maybe it was a grin because he knew something she didn’t but that thought is easily dismissed by the fact that he’s an airhead with a famous last name and he doesn’t know anything.
Upon his arrival at her side, he spoke her first name as a greeting and then the smile faded from his lips and he corrected himself, “Dr. Yang.”
“What the hell do you want? Shouldn’t you be pushing your grandfather around in his wheelchair so he can heal the masses or something?” She muttered, taking a long drink of her champagne.
“Grandad? No, he’s busy right now. The healing of the masses comes later.”
“What? Is he in the storeroom turning water into wine?” Cristina scoffed. If she couldn’t have a Harper Avery, she was going to hate the namesake.
“No,” Jackson said, the grin breaking out on his face once again. He loved that Seattle Grace was such a rumor mill otherwise he’d never know the connection, “Actually he’s visiting with last year’s recipient.”
Cristina felt the color drain from her face but remained stoic, “What? Does he take the trophy back and give it to this year’s winner to save money?” Her retort was shaky at best and she took a long drink of her champagne to cover up her nerves.
Nobody had told her that Burke would be here.
It probably still wouldn’t have stopped her from coming.
“No,” Jackson answered, his blue eyes lingering on the now fidgeting woman before him. “Grand-dad was curious as to why he would request the presence of a resident at this gala. If you haven’t noticed besides me, you’re the only one.”
He couldn’t resist a slight grin whenever he saw Cristina shift uncomfortably. It was fun to torture her the same way she had tortured him at work. He wondered to himself how long he could keep it up, hoping that he could stretch it out for at least a few more minutes.
This time she didn’t have a response. Cristina merely kept her eyes fixed straight ahead on a closed door and wondered if that’s where he was. She raised the glass to her lips again, not realizing that it was already empty until Jackson laughed at her, pulling it from her hands.
“I think you need something stronger than champagne,” Jackson mumbled with a soft laugh before signaling to a passing waiter.
Cristina glanced around the room in the realization that she really was the only other one. She had been naïve enough to believe that she was invited because Teddy had asked them to invite her, not because her ex fiancé had asked them.
None of it made sense to her.
She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. Cristina wanted to know and at the same time she didn’t want to care. A drink was pressed into her hand and she cautiously sipped the liquid, cringing as it burned the back of her throat. Her voice cracked as she finally spoke, “Snubbed me last year, why the hell would he want me here this year?”
Maybe it was the alcohol reaching a therapeutic level in her veins but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass, “Snubbed?” Jackson laughed, “What do you mean snubbed? You’re not even eligible for the award.”
“He got that award because of me. Just like Teddy got hers because of me,” Cristina muttered, swallowing another dose of the disgusting drink in her hand.
“You honestly think grand dad would let a surgical God thank or acknowledge a mere resident?” Jackson laughed, “You obviously don’t know him.”
“Well, he doesn’t know me.” She answered bitterly. Of course. Of course Burke would have some legitimate reason for not acknowledging her publicly for the award. It didn’t mean that he couldn’t have sent her a note or an e-mail or some form of communication explaining himself.
Minus that whole non-wedding thing.
Whatever.
“He does. He did. He knew who you were the second you said your name.”
Cristina scoffed, “Right.”
“I’m serious,” he countered, “Cristina Yang. The first year resident, the first intern to be given credit for his prestigious award. Grand dad was appalled,” and intrigued, “he almost changed his mind about the recipient.”
“And second year resident,” she corrected him, her voice slurring only slightly.
Maybe it was time to stop drinking.
Jackson laughed again, “You think Dr. Altman gave you credit? The only person she’s giving credit to is Dr. Hunt.”
Her eyes scoured the room for the couple again and she glared for only a moment before taking another drink. Screw etiquette. After a few moments of silence, she finally turned her glare to the unwanted guest at her side, “Don’t you have somebody else to bother?”
“Can’t you ever be nice to somebody?”
“Somebody worth my time, maybe. Go on. I’m sure Grand-dad needs his depends changed,” She said pointedly before scowling at her empty glass.
With a shake of his head, Jackson straightened his posture slightly, “I was trying to be nice to you.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you to,” Cristina sighed, turning to walk away from him. He obviously wasn’t getting lost anytime soon and she knew the longer she lingered the greater the likelihood that he would try to kiss her or something equally ridiculous.
With an unsteady gait she escaped the confines of the stifling ballroom, the liquor buzzing through her system blurring her vision slightly. She carefully weaved through a bridal party making their way into the entrance of the hotel and was proud of herself for not running into one of them until the heel of her shoe snagged the kick plate of the door and she stumbled forward ungracefully.
Straight into Harper Avery’s chest.
She straightened herself out and tried to look anywhere but at him without making it obvious that she couldn’t look at him. If it her career hadn’t been obliterated before, it was now. “I’m-I’m sorry, sir. My shoe-“
“Your shoe,” He repeated doubtfully, casting a disapproving glance at his companion before stepping around her and heading inside. There was a lot more than her shoe disturbing her equilibrium.
Unsteadily, she bent over to adjust the strap on her shoe and tried to put it back into place. Maybe it wasn’t just the alcohol affecting her. Maybe it was all of it. Maybe it did bother her that her ex was dancing with the woman who snubbed her. Maybe it did bother her that her other ex was inviting her to dinners where she clearly wasn’t wanted.
Blaming the alcohol was easier than acknowledging that clusterfuck.
“Here,” his voice was as smooth as she had remembered and when his fingers gently pushed hers away from the leather strap cutting into her skin that same rush tickled her nerves that did the very first time they’d touched.
“I could have done it,” she answered weakly, watching as he knelt before her to fix her shoe. When he stood, her eyes bored into his chest.
She was afraid to look at him.
“Your second Harper Avery,” he finally spoke, slicing through the stifling silence.
“I’m pretty sure that the recipient is inside. You must be confused,” Cristina answered bitterly, still unable to bring herself to lift her eyes to his.
Burke chuckled softly, “I’m not. You’re aware of how these things go- the person who really deserves the prize never receives it. Not that the actual prize matters. It’s the notoriety.”
“Oh, I’m notorious alright,” Cristina groaned, dropping her eyes to the ground. Literally running into Harper Avery would be the only notoriety she needed. In the back of her mind she had already begun to plan her transfer to a more obscure field. She did have a doctorate in chemistry.
With softened eyes Burke studied her for a moment, the black unruly curls tickling porcelain skin, wind whipping them across her face and obscuring it from his view. His eyes traced the simple sheer material wrapping around her well defined shoulder and then over her neck. Slowly, as if she’d scurry away if she noticed any sudden movement, he lifted his hand to the underside of her chin.
His fingertips were rough, dry from scrubbing in on one too many surgeries, but not in an offensive way. They traced along her jaw to the point of her chin and lifted slowly until their eyes met. She felt the sting of unwanted tears pricking the corner of her eyes but she wouldn’t let him see anymore than that.
It was all the alcohol.
“It was only your shoe,” He uttered in a voice that barely qualified as a whisper.
Cristina had always left him breathless like that.
Reaching up, her smaller hand wrapped around his and she let it linger for a moment too long before pulling his hand from her face. She let go, ignoring the ache spreading into her chest. “I have an early surgery,” it was a weak excuse but it was the only thing she’d had after experiencing what could only be described as her worst nightmare over the course of the past four hours.
“Of course,” Burke answered softly, not attempting to hide the disappointment in his voice.
Without another word, Cristina walked away from him. Her throat was tight as she walked towards the parking lot and she fought to ignore the urge to look back at him. As much as she wanted it to be the alcohol, she knew that it wasn’t. It was the night from hell and the feelings and the hurting and the wondering where the hell she was going to be in forty years because her career wasn’t looking so promising right now.
Her stop wasn’t abrupt, it was slow and calculated. When she turned to look at him, he hadn’t moved from the spot that he’d been in. His shoulders were sagging and his head hanging with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants.
She breathed his name once and then spoke it a little more loudly. When he finally turned to look at her, she didn’t know the feeling that overwhelmed her and didn’t care to place a label on it.
“I don’t think I should drive myself home,” Cristina offered quietly.
There was a slight twitch at the corner of Burke’s mouth, a muscle threatening to turn his lips upward into a smile. Despite the fact that he was supposed to deliver a speech at the closing of the gala, he walked in her direction.
Anybody could make a speech, could accept further recognition and accolades. Nobody would ever make him feel the way she did though.
His arm wrapped around her waist and he walked her towards his car, “In case your shoes get in the way again,” he justified in a low voice.
“Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook,” Cristina answered, far too comfortable with his arm around her waist.
“Not at all,” Burke assured her.
“Okay,” she answered quietly, “Good.”
He looked down at her and he smiled to himself.
They weren’t right now but they would be eventually.
fin
Summary: Cristina gets snubbed for a second Harper Avery award.
Author's Notes: For ghmari for donating to my Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3 Day. Want your own fic? See this post to find out more.
Cristina stood at the back of the enormous ballroom, watching with narrowed eyes at Teddy danced the evening away with Owen. Despite the abundance of free expensive alcohol and the fact that she was a guest at the Harper Avery gala, Cristina was absolutely miserable.
Another award, another snub.
Another year spent wondering who the hell she had pissed off to deserve this.
With a sneer, she pulled another glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and turned to walk into an even more obscure corner of the room. Never in her life had she wished to be invisible, she never really knew the feeling until now. Her career hadn’t even started yet and it was already over. Two awards, two snubs- she would always be unrecognized.
Normal people would be upset because the man she broke up with not even a month ago already had another woman in his arms. They probably wouldn’t have even shown up to the thing at all, knowing that said man would be all over the other woman and saying things into her ear that he was saying into yours only a few weeks ago. Normal people would be pissed off about that and not even bother going, knowing that she had your award and your boyfriend.
Normal people probably wouldn’t have felt relief that she took the boyfriend off your hands though.
No, Cristina was anything but normal and the only thing that mattered was the fact that she got snubbed again and her career was floundering and she hadn’t even finished training yet. That’s what mattered. It didn’t matter that Owen was dancing with Teddy and that Jackson was looking at her with that ridiculous smirk like the cat who ate the canary- no, maybe it was a grin because he knew something she didn’t but that thought is easily dismissed by the fact that he’s an airhead with a famous last name and he doesn’t know anything.
Upon his arrival at her side, he spoke her first name as a greeting and then the smile faded from his lips and he corrected himself, “Dr. Yang.”
“What the hell do you want? Shouldn’t you be pushing your grandfather around in his wheelchair so he can heal the masses or something?” She muttered, taking a long drink of her champagne.
“Grandad? No, he’s busy right now. The healing of the masses comes later.”
“What? Is he in the storeroom turning water into wine?” Cristina scoffed. If she couldn’t have a Harper Avery, she was going to hate the namesake.
“No,” Jackson said, the grin breaking out on his face once again. He loved that Seattle Grace was such a rumor mill otherwise he’d never know the connection, “Actually he’s visiting with last year’s recipient.”
Cristina felt the color drain from her face but remained stoic, “What? Does he take the trophy back and give it to this year’s winner to save money?” Her retort was shaky at best and she took a long drink of her champagne to cover up her nerves.
Nobody had told her that Burke would be here.
It probably still wouldn’t have stopped her from coming.
“No,” Jackson answered, his blue eyes lingering on the now fidgeting woman before him. “Grand-dad was curious as to why he would request the presence of a resident at this gala. If you haven’t noticed besides me, you’re the only one.”
He couldn’t resist a slight grin whenever he saw Cristina shift uncomfortably. It was fun to torture her the same way she had tortured him at work. He wondered to himself how long he could keep it up, hoping that he could stretch it out for at least a few more minutes.
This time she didn’t have a response. Cristina merely kept her eyes fixed straight ahead on a closed door and wondered if that’s where he was. She raised the glass to her lips again, not realizing that it was already empty until Jackson laughed at her, pulling it from her hands.
“I think you need something stronger than champagne,” Jackson mumbled with a soft laugh before signaling to a passing waiter.
Cristina glanced around the room in the realization that she really was the only other one. She had been naïve enough to believe that she was invited because Teddy had asked them to invite her, not because her ex fiancé had asked them.
None of it made sense to her.
She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. Cristina wanted to know and at the same time she didn’t want to care. A drink was pressed into her hand and she cautiously sipped the liquid, cringing as it burned the back of her throat. Her voice cracked as she finally spoke, “Snubbed me last year, why the hell would he want me here this year?”
Maybe it was the alcohol reaching a therapeutic level in her veins but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass, “Snubbed?” Jackson laughed, “What do you mean snubbed? You’re not even eligible for the award.”
“He got that award because of me. Just like Teddy got hers because of me,” Cristina muttered, swallowing another dose of the disgusting drink in her hand.
“You honestly think grand dad would let a surgical God thank or acknowledge a mere resident?” Jackson laughed, “You obviously don’t know him.”
“Well, he doesn’t know me.” She answered bitterly. Of course. Of course Burke would have some legitimate reason for not acknowledging her publicly for the award. It didn’t mean that he couldn’t have sent her a note or an e-mail or some form of communication explaining himself.
Minus that whole non-wedding thing.
Whatever.
“He does. He did. He knew who you were the second you said your name.”
Cristina scoffed, “Right.”
“I’m serious,” he countered, “Cristina Yang. The first year resident, the first intern to be given credit for his prestigious award. Grand dad was appalled,” and intrigued, “he almost changed his mind about the recipient.”
“And second year resident,” she corrected him, her voice slurring only slightly.
Maybe it was time to stop drinking.
Jackson laughed again, “You think Dr. Altman gave you credit? The only person she’s giving credit to is Dr. Hunt.”
Her eyes scoured the room for the couple again and she glared for only a moment before taking another drink. Screw etiquette. After a few moments of silence, she finally turned her glare to the unwanted guest at her side, “Don’t you have somebody else to bother?”
“Can’t you ever be nice to somebody?”
“Somebody worth my time, maybe. Go on. I’m sure Grand-dad needs his depends changed,” She said pointedly before scowling at her empty glass.
With a shake of his head, Jackson straightened his posture slightly, “I was trying to be nice to you.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you to,” Cristina sighed, turning to walk away from him. He obviously wasn’t getting lost anytime soon and she knew the longer she lingered the greater the likelihood that he would try to kiss her or something equally ridiculous.
With an unsteady gait she escaped the confines of the stifling ballroom, the liquor buzzing through her system blurring her vision slightly. She carefully weaved through a bridal party making their way into the entrance of the hotel and was proud of herself for not running into one of them until the heel of her shoe snagged the kick plate of the door and she stumbled forward ungracefully.
Straight into Harper Avery’s chest.
She straightened herself out and tried to look anywhere but at him without making it obvious that she couldn’t look at him. If it her career hadn’t been obliterated before, it was now. “I’m-I’m sorry, sir. My shoe-“
“Your shoe,” He repeated doubtfully, casting a disapproving glance at his companion before stepping around her and heading inside. There was a lot more than her shoe disturbing her equilibrium.
Unsteadily, she bent over to adjust the strap on her shoe and tried to put it back into place. Maybe it wasn’t just the alcohol affecting her. Maybe it was all of it. Maybe it did bother her that her ex was dancing with the woman who snubbed her. Maybe it did bother her that her other ex was inviting her to dinners where she clearly wasn’t wanted.
Blaming the alcohol was easier than acknowledging that clusterfuck.
“Here,” his voice was as smooth as she had remembered and when his fingers gently pushed hers away from the leather strap cutting into her skin that same rush tickled her nerves that did the very first time they’d touched.
“I could have done it,” she answered weakly, watching as he knelt before her to fix her shoe. When he stood, her eyes bored into his chest.
She was afraid to look at him.
“Your second Harper Avery,” he finally spoke, slicing through the stifling silence.
“I’m pretty sure that the recipient is inside. You must be confused,” Cristina answered bitterly, still unable to bring herself to lift her eyes to his.
Burke chuckled softly, “I’m not. You’re aware of how these things go- the person who really deserves the prize never receives it. Not that the actual prize matters. It’s the notoriety.”
“Oh, I’m notorious alright,” Cristina groaned, dropping her eyes to the ground. Literally running into Harper Avery would be the only notoriety she needed. In the back of her mind she had already begun to plan her transfer to a more obscure field. She did have a doctorate in chemistry.
With softened eyes Burke studied her for a moment, the black unruly curls tickling porcelain skin, wind whipping them across her face and obscuring it from his view. His eyes traced the simple sheer material wrapping around her well defined shoulder and then over her neck. Slowly, as if she’d scurry away if she noticed any sudden movement, he lifted his hand to the underside of her chin.
His fingertips were rough, dry from scrubbing in on one too many surgeries, but not in an offensive way. They traced along her jaw to the point of her chin and lifted slowly until their eyes met. She felt the sting of unwanted tears pricking the corner of her eyes but she wouldn’t let him see anymore than that.
It was all the alcohol.
“It was only your shoe,” He uttered in a voice that barely qualified as a whisper.
Cristina had always left him breathless like that.
Reaching up, her smaller hand wrapped around his and she let it linger for a moment too long before pulling his hand from her face. She let go, ignoring the ache spreading into her chest. “I have an early surgery,” it was a weak excuse but it was the only thing she’d had after experiencing what could only be described as her worst nightmare over the course of the past four hours.
“Of course,” Burke answered softly, not attempting to hide the disappointment in his voice.
Without another word, Cristina walked away from him. Her throat was tight as she walked towards the parking lot and she fought to ignore the urge to look back at him. As much as she wanted it to be the alcohol, she knew that it wasn’t. It was the night from hell and the feelings and the hurting and the wondering where the hell she was going to be in forty years because her career wasn’t looking so promising right now.
Her stop wasn’t abrupt, it was slow and calculated. When she turned to look at him, he hadn’t moved from the spot that he’d been in. His shoulders were sagging and his head hanging with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants.
She breathed his name once and then spoke it a little more loudly. When he finally turned to look at her, she didn’t know the feeling that overwhelmed her and didn’t care to place a label on it.
“I don’t think I should drive myself home,” Cristina offered quietly.
There was a slight twitch at the corner of Burke’s mouth, a muscle threatening to turn his lips upward into a smile. Despite the fact that he was supposed to deliver a speech at the closing of the gala, he walked in her direction.
Anybody could make a speech, could accept further recognition and accolades. Nobody would ever make him feel the way she did though.
His arm wrapped around her waist and he walked her towards his car, “In case your shoes get in the way again,” he justified in a low voice.
“Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook,” Cristina answered, far too comfortable with his arm around her waist.
“Not at all,” Burke assured her.
“Okay,” she answered quietly, “Good.”
He looked down at her and he smiled to himself.
They weren’t right now but they would be eventually.
fin