make me a witness {grey's - cristina; alex/cristina, various others}
Title: Make Me A Witness
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Cristina. Alex/Cristina, with a side of Jackson/Cristina, Owen/Cristina, Burke/Cristina, and Alex/Lexie.
Rating: R
Word Count: 727
Author's Note: I got bored last night. Enter iTunes shuffle. Then this happened.
Summary: Post finale. Somewhere in here, Cristina became merely a bystander in her own life.
She’s seen it.
Even months after the fact, she’s seen it.
The delicate way Meredith sits down next to him on the couch, curls her feet underneath her and doesn’t spare a glance. The way Lexie stops to look behind her at every turn, as if he’ll disappear into the walls and the floorboards.
He mimics gratefulness. Her mouth always twists into something mocking.
-
“Could’ve had a future as an actor.”
“Shut up.”
She makes a point to treat him worse than before.
-
Result: he seems to like her better than before.
It should trouble her more than it does.
-
Wyatt traps her.
Drags her into her office, talks a lot on Owen’s progress, or maybe lack thereof.
“What he needs is support right now. He needs you, Cristina.”
A simple Google search or the perusing of a textbook could’ve told her that.
She doesn’t do anything by the book; she wouldn’t be this good if she did.
-
All this to say that there are days where the idea of twisting the lock on the door to the on-call room and saying “fuck me” sounds almost as promising as surgery.
Similar release.
Instead she says, “Just because you got shot doesn’t mean you get a free pass” and slams the door behind her.
Alex catches up with her at the elevator and she ignores the irregular way he breathes when he crosses from linoleum to the floor of the metal box that was almost his coffin.
-
Jackson crosses her mind, once, twice, in a bar, across the OR.
It feels too much like she owes him something.
Her pants stay on.
(He still looks at her).
-
It should come as a shock, how little Owen factors into her decisions these days.
-
Burke called two days after the shooting.
There was a message on her machine when she got home and she played it back all of once.
It was deleted the next day and Owen didn’t hesitate to own his actions.
That’s not new.
It should be encouraging.
(It isn’t - and it’s always should).
“It wasn’t like I was going to call him back.”
“Then why does it matter?”
-
Meredith’s decided to try and get pregnant. Again.
Lexie’s trying to choose between two men, nervous and stumbling and so full of good intentions it must be suffocating.
(She doesn’t want to hurt him, though she never does specify which one).
Cristina counts her pills, swallows one down every day like clockwork, and doesn’t make choices.
She just does.
-
“Your boyfriend’s an ass, Yang.”
She barely even looks up; he settles in the chair across from her in the cafeteria. “So are you.”
“Exactly, and it takes one to know one.”
“Finally, logic I can follow.”
-
“So I was thinking…”
“No.”
This is with Jackson.
-
“So - ”
“That healed?”
The gesture is vague, glass in hand, like this isn’t just courtesy and a leading question, but he nods anyway.
She drops her keys in his hand with a raised eyebrow, and he nods there too.
-
Call it what it is.
She’s a cheater, he’s a cheater, everyone’s a cheater.
(Her fingers find the uneven line of his scar and his thumb finds her clit, flash of white behind her eyelids).
-
She goes to bed with Owen, even after.
“Were you at Joe’s?”
“Yeah.”
The arm that falls across her waist is stifling.
-
One year anniversary.
Everyone tiptoes, held breath.
Cristina feels like screaming.
She wonders why they mark these things if they don’t want to be reminded.
-
Lexie finally dumps him.
He chases her announcement with several shots of tequila and spends the rest of the night situated between her and Meredith right up at the bar.
“Took her long enough.”
Meredith glares.
Alex drinks to that too, like he needs the excuse.
-
“Meredith thinks I’m leaving.”
She hesitates in his doorway, whispers.
He’s on the bed, but he certainly isn’t asleep.
Still, he says nothing.
“You know, this is the part where you extend an invitation or something.”
“Since when do you need one?”
-
She’s still not the kind of woman who’s going to put him first.
He’s still not the kind of man who’s going to give a shit.
-
fin.
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy
Characters/Pairings: Cristina. Alex/Cristina, with a side of Jackson/Cristina, Owen/Cristina, Burke/Cristina, and Alex/Lexie.
Rating: R
Word Count: 727
Author's Note: I got bored last night. Enter iTunes shuffle. Then this happened.
Summary: Post finale. Somewhere in here, Cristina became merely a bystander in her own life.
She’s seen it.
Even months after the fact, she’s seen it.
The delicate way Meredith sits down next to him on the couch, curls her feet underneath her and doesn’t spare a glance. The way Lexie stops to look behind her at every turn, as if he’ll disappear into the walls and the floorboards.
He mimics gratefulness. Her mouth always twists into something mocking.
-
“Could’ve had a future as an actor.”
“Shut up.”
She makes a point to treat him worse than before.
-
Result: he seems to like her better than before.
It should trouble her more than it does.
-
Wyatt traps her.
Drags her into her office, talks a lot on Owen’s progress, or maybe lack thereof.
“What he needs is support right now. He needs you, Cristina.”
A simple Google search or the perusing of a textbook could’ve told her that.
She doesn’t do anything by the book; she wouldn’t be this good if she did.
-
All this to say that there are days where the idea of twisting the lock on the door to the on-call room and saying “fuck me” sounds almost as promising as surgery.
Similar release.
Instead she says, “Just because you got shot doesn’t mean you get a free pass” and slams the door behind her.
Alex catches up with her at the elevator and she ignores the irregular way he breathes when he crosses from linoleum to the floor of the metal box that was almost his coffin.
-
Jackson crosses her mind, once, twice, in a bar, across the OR.
It feels too much like she owes him something.
Her pants stay on.
(He still looks at her).
-
It should come as a shock, how little Owen factors into her decisions these days.
-
Burke called two days after the shooting.
There was a message on her machine when she got home and she played it back all of once.
It was deleted the next day and Owen didn’t hesitate to own his actions.
That’s not new.
It should be encouraging.
(It isn’t - and it’s always should).
“It wasn’t like I was going to call him back.”
“Then why does it matter?”
-
Meredith’s decided to try and get pregnant. Again.
Lexie’s trying to choose between two men, nervous and stumbling and so full of good intentions it must be suffocating.
(She doesn’t want to hurt him, though she never does specify which one).
Cristina counts her pills, swallows one down every day like clockwork, and doesn’t make choices.
She just does.
-
“Your boyfriend’s an ass, Yang.”
She barely even looks up; he settles in the chair across from her in the cafeteria. “So are you.”
“Exactly, and it takes one to know one.”
“Finally, logic I can follow.”
-
“So I was thinking…”
“No.”
This is with Jackson.
-
“So - ”
“That healed?”
The gesture is vague, glass in hand, like this isn’t just courtesy and a leading question, but he nods anyway.
She drops her keys in his hand with a raised eyebrow, and he nods there too.
-
Call it what it is.
She’s a cheater, he’s a cheater, everyone’s a cheater.
(Her fingers find the uneven line of his scar and his thumb finds her clit, flash of white behind her eyelids).
-
She goes to bed with Owen, even after.
“Were you at Joe’s?”
“Yeah.”
The arm that falls across her waist is stifling.
-
One year anniversary.
Everyone tiptoes, held breath.
Cristina feels like screaming.
She wonders why they mark these things if they don’t want to be reminded.
-
Lexie finally dumps him.
He chases her announcement with several shots of tequila and spends the rest of the night situated between her and Meredith right up at the bar.
“Took her long enough.”
Meredith glares.
Alex drinks to that too, like he needs the excuse.
-
“Meredith thinks I’m leaving.”
She hesitates in his doorway, whispers.
He’s on the bed, but he certainly isn’t asleep.
Still, he says nothing.
“You know, this is the part where you extend an invitation or something.”
“Since when do you need one?”
-
She’s still not the kind of woman who’s going to put him first.
He’s still not the kind of man who’s going to give a shit.
-
fin.