@askbiggrey-xx

The seconds of silence that followed her question seemed everlasting, but at the same time, Meredith was grateful somehow that it took her a while to answer. That it at least seemed hard to admit, or that at least she cared about whatever answer she would give her. For so long, it felt like their entire friendship had just been a lie and it had been extremely painful to deal with. Cristina coming back had not exactly erased that, but the fact that she had showed up at her house, coming to her before going to anyone, coming with a bottle of Tequila for the sake of old times, in Cristina’s book Meredith knew it meant that she cares and that she was sorry. It just would take more than that for her to forgive her, if she could forgive her. She wanted to. More than anything, she just wanted what they had back, but she just did not know if that was possible. Because every time she saw her, she thought of Owen coming into Derek’s room, telling her she had left. She thought of the many phone calls left unanswered, the many texts unreturned. Her kids asking her where she was, missing their aunt Cristina. Wondering where the hell her person had vanished to and why. For years, wondering why.

I kept asking myself why I didn’t call. Why I didn’t stay. Meredith swallows, jaw clenched tight, keeping that lump in her throat, keeping herself from tearing up. She swallows, staring at Cristina still, lips shut tight together. Guilt. Most likely. Though she had promised herself to stay calm, to keep it effective and poised, it is all stronger than her will and the anger just builds up inside her, and soon enough it becomes impossible for her not to snap and let it out. “My husband was dying!” She cannot control her emotions at this point, and her teeth and clenched, her eyes like knives. “You left me all alone, I kept calling you, and texting you, and you never even bothered to respond to any of them?!” She exclaims, feeling her face all red, her jaw hurting from being so tightly clenched yet unable to relax it in any way.

Staring at Cristina a moment, her head slowly begins to shake and a single serious chuckle escapes her mouth as she looks around them, as though clueless. But though she attempts at saying something, nothing comes to mind, nothing comes out, her mind is just blank. What did she want, exactly? She had no clue. She wanted out of this anger, out of this shitty mood and situation, but how? She had no idea. The chuckle fades away and her mouth slowly shuts back and her jaw clenches back tightly, and she stares back at Cristina, swallowing thickly. It almost infuriated her more to hear that she was offering to go again, because part of her wished she would fight her way back in more. But they weren’t kids anymore. And truth be told, she had no energy for this fighting thing. She was just so over it. Swallowing one more time, eventually she shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know,” she breathes out exhaustedly, head shaking. Staring at her in silence for a moment, she shrugs. She had no idea if things could ever be the same, nor if she could trust her, but she was not even able to put that out into words and tell her.

@askbiggrey-xx

The seconds of silence that followed her question seemed everlasting, but at the same time, Meredith was grateful somehow that it took her a while to answer. That it at least seemed hard to admit, or that at least she cared about whatever answer she would give her. For so long, it felt like their entire friendship had just been a lie and it had been extremely painful to deal with. Cristina coming back had not exactly erased that, but the fact that she had showed up at her house, coming to her before going to anyone, coming with a bottle of Tequila for the sake of old times, in Cristina’s book Meredith knew it meant that she cares and that she was sorry. It just would take more than that for her to forgive her, if she could forgive her. She wanted to. More than anything, she just wanted what they had back, but she just did not know if that was possible. Because every time she saw her, she thought of Owen coming into Derek’s room, telling her she had left. She thought of the many phone calls left unanswered, the many texts unreturned. Her kids asking her where she was, missing their aunt Cristina. Wondering where the hell her person had vanished to and why. For years, wondering why.

I kept asking myself why I didn’t call. Why I didn’t stay. Meredith swallows, jaw clenched tight, keeping that lump in her throat, keeping herself from tearing up. She swallows, staring at Cristina still, lips shut tight together. Guilt. Most likely. Though she had promised herself to stay calm, to keep it effective and poised, it is all stronger than her will and the anger just builds up inside her, and soon enough it becomes impossible for her not to snap and let it out. “My husband was dying!” She cannot control her emotions at this point, and her teeth and clenched, her eyes like knives. “You left me all alone, I kept calling you, and texting you, and you never even bothered to respond to any of them?!” She exclaims, feeling her face all red, her jaw hurting from being so tightly clenched yet unable to relax it in any way.

“It’s not what we’ve always done,” Meredith snaps, cutting in with a shake of head. “Show up for one another is what we’ve always done. Not run out on the other.” She swallows, jaw still clenched tight. It was all so infuriating and she kept trying to mentally convince herself to let go every minute passing by, but she simply couldn’t. Why, she had no idea, she just couldn’t. Probably for the same reason why she had spent the last three years unable to talk about her, or getting angry the second she heard her name.

Hearing that she expected to be punched across the face, Meredith’s eyebrow raises up yet she feels some sort of contentment. Contentment about the fact that Cristina understood that she would be mad and that she had a right to be. She nods when she says that she would have deserved it, indeed she would have. She swallows as Cristina goes on, staring back at her in complete silence.

@askbiggrey-xx

The seconds of silence that followed her question seemed everlasting, but at the same time, Meredith was grateful somehow that it took her a while to answer. That it at least seemed hard to admit, or that at least she cared about whatever answer she would give her. For so long, it felt like their entire friendship had just been a lie and it had been extremely painful to deal with. Cristina coming back had not exactly erased that, but the fact that she had showed up at her house, coming to her before going to anyone, coming with a bottle of Tequila for the sake of old times, in Cristina’s book Meredith knew it meant that she cares and that she was sorry. It just would take more than that for her to forgive her, if she could forgive her. She wanted to. More than anything, she just wanted what they had back, but she just did not know if that was possible. Because every time she saw her, she thought of Owen coming into Derek’s room, telling her she had left. She thought of the many phone calls left unanswered, the many texts unreturned. Her kids asking her where she was, missing their aunt Cristina. Wondering where the hell her person had vanished to and why. For years, wondering why.

I kept asking myself why I didn’t call. Why I didn’t stay. Meredith swallows, jaw clenched tight, keeping that lump in her throat, keeping herself from tearing up. She swallows, staring at Cristina still, lips shut tight together. Guilt. Most likely. Though she had promised herself to stay calm, to keep it effective and poised, it is all stronger than her will and the anger just builds up inside her, and soon enough it becomes impossible for her not to snap and let it out. “My husband was dying!” She cannot control her emotions at this point, and her teeth and clenched, her eyes like knives. “You left me all alone, I kept calling you, and texting you, and you never even bothered to respond to any of them?!” She exclaims, feeling her face all red, her jaw hurting from being so tightly clenched yet unable to relax it in any way.

Finally hearing a snappy tone coming from Cristina somehow feels relieving, like she finally has access to her and how she really feels. Finally having a heart-to-heart that had been put off for far too long and needed to happen once and for all. “You don’t know where to start? Maybe not by showing up at my house with a bottle of tequila in the middle of the night, pretending like three years haven’t passed since I last heard from you.” She snaps. She knew she was dwelling on that at this point, but she was still not over how casual Cristina had approached the situation after having literally ignored her for three years, after leaving her with a dying husband without a simple note or text or anything, just poofing on her, literally. For three years.

She once knew Cristina like the back of her hand, there were sisters. Better known as the twisted sisters, they were that, once. And part of her still knew Cristina well, but the other part felt like she did not know her at all. Yet, she senses emotions building up through the tone of her voice and even the look in her eyes, and a twisted part of herself enjoys that. Because it felt like at least she felt something, that she was not just this cold statue that said she cared but looked like she was just over it really. Like her mother. She had once defended Cristina to Owen, trying to save her from becoming her mother and a part of her refused to admit that might have regardless. As though she really wanted to preserve her from that. But why did she just keep fighting for her when she abandoned her for three whole years? Why did she keep caring? Why couldn’t she just let go? Swallowing at Cristina’s final words, Meredith stands still, staring back at her with her mouth shut tight, jaw clenched still, silent.

@askbiggrey-xx

The seconds of silence that followed her question seemed everlasting, but at the same time, Meredith was grateful somehow that it took her a while to answer. That it at least seemed hard to admit, or that at least she cared about whatever answer she would give her. For so long, it felt like their entire friendship had just been a lie and it had been extremely painful to deal with. Cristina coming back had not exactly erased that, but the fact that she had showed up at her house, coming to her before going to anyone, coming with a bottle of Tequila for the sake of old times, in Cristina’s book Meredith knew it meant that she cares and that she was sorry. It just would take more than that for her to forgive her, if she could forgive her. She wanted to. More than anything, she just wanted what they had back, but she just did not know if that was possible. Because every time she saw her, she thought of Owen coming into Derek’s room, telling her she had left. She thought of the many phone calls left unanswered, the many texts unreturned. Her kids asking her where she was, missing their aunt Cristina. Wondering where the hell her person had vanished to and why. For years, wondering why.

I kept asking myself why I didn’t call. Why I didn’t stay. Meredith swallows, jaw clenched tight, keeping that lump in her throat, keeping herself from tearing up. She swallows, staring at Cristina still, lips shut tight together. Guilt. Most likely. Though she had promised herself to stay calm, to keep it effective and poised, it is all stronger than her will and the anger just builds up inside her, and soon enough it becomes impossible for her not to snap and let it out. “My husband was dying!” She cannot control her emotions at this point, and her teeth and clenched, her eyes like knives. “You left me all alone, I kept calling you, and texting you, and you never even bothered to respond to any of them?!” She exclaims, feeling her face all red, her jaw hurting from being so tightly clenched yet unable to relax it in any way.

Cristina’s calm was one of the many things that made Meredith feel so angry, like she had digested this whole thing and was fine with it. And though she felt like the Cristina she knew was long gone, somehow this was Cristina, too. She did things, head on, went for it and if anything got in the way, she just went on through it. And if anyone got in the way, she just went on without them. Like she had with her. And as chills run through her, an all too familiar feeling invades her.

And that is where they were different. Because no matter how important her work was, her family would always come first. No matter how hard she worked at being a good mom while being a great surgeon, her family would always be her priority. And that is where she was not like Cristina. When she thought they were alike, she was wrong. Maybe when they were younger they were, but somewhere along the way, they took different paths. And that was fine, but in the circumstances where she prioritized work over family, in a situation of friendship and showing up when needed, it was not. And it hit her right then. Cristina was just like her mother. She was Ellis. Meredith was her mother, but where her mother lacked, she had learned and done better, whereas Cristina had repeated her mother’s mistakes by putting surgery first and family second. And Meredith did not know if she could ever get over that.

Staring at her from a distance, both physical and emotional, Meredith shakes her head and swallows, coming down from that high of anger. She just stares at her and shakes her head for a moment before gulping. “I’m not asking for you to say you’re sorry, I just want you to mean it.” She says, mouth still clenched, still angry, but a tired kind of angry. “I want you to be sorry.” Staring at her a while longer, her head still shaking, she snaps, “Damn it Cristina, you were my person, don’t you remember the meaning of that at all?” Staring at her, she feels the rush of anger building back up. “You made this a thing in the first place.” She snaps. Staring at her, she recounts of specific moments in their friendship over the years. “Kept your pregnancy secret-person, cut you out of your wedding dress and cried with you-person, dancing it out through the worse days-person, there through everything-person, does it not mean anything to you at all?” She pauses, her head shifting as she adds, “Or was I just the person you used all these years to fulfill some kind of temporary friend role because you didn’t want to be alone and I just so happened to fit for the job.” She snaps coldly.

Leaving Lexie’s place, Meredith knows there is one more thing she needs to do before heading back home. And though it was her day off, it could not wait. Not anymore. And so she heads to the hospital, and after being intercepted by a few residents and interns asking for her help and letting her know she was not working today, Meredith checks in at the main nurses station to check that Cristina was in that day, then heads up to the Cardio wing to that patient of her’s room, guessing she shall be around. As she gets to the hallway leading there, she spots her by the nurses desk and takes a deep breath in, swallowing thickly. It was happening. Gathering any ounce of energy within her, she heads up to her. “Dr. Yang. Got a minute?” She asks coldly, leaning a hand on the counter, standing by at a certain distance, first staring down before locking gaze with her, mouth shut tight.

Lena wonders what Cristina is hiding, there’s clearly something there. “Of course,” She nods. “Well, lets go meet Jordan,” She says, standing up from her desk.

Ah, well that would explain why her name seemed familiar, she must have seen it on old patient files. That was good to know…maybe others like Meredith, Allison, or Brighton would know who she was, so she could get insights on her. “Well, it must be weird being back here then,” She remarks. 

Lena raises an eyebrow, turning towards Cristina. “You’ve been here before?” She asks, wondering if that’s why her name sounded so familiar.

“Not at this point,” Lena shakes her head. “We can go meet him in a bit, I want to try and get him as much sleep as possible. Once you’re done with that, do you want a tour?”

Karen smiled under her mask, for it was quite a compliment that Yang was giving her, her who she barely knew. She was a calm, composed kind of surgeon in general, but James was a special patient and she might have lost her calm and composure for a moment there. But Yang’s assurance and confidence had brought her back on track and thankfully, all was ok now and they had saved his leg. “Thank you,” Karen nodded.

Lena’s finishing an email when Cristina speaks up, and she turns her chair to face her direction. She tries not to get her hopes up but nods, smiling. “That’s good. Yea, of course, can’t jump in to anything. And yes that’s fine, I sent him the file a week ago so he’ll probably want the updated data. He’s signed releases already,” Lena says.

Lena settles into her chair, unlocking her laptop and pulling up her emails. She replies to a few and then begins her OR notes for her last surgery as Cristina reads over the file.

Once the balloon deflated, thankfully the stent held and Karen nodded to herself, content. “Stent is holding.” She swallowed and took in this bit of good news that felt so refreshing after what felt like never-ending bad outcomes for James, then turned to Cristina and calmly asked, not to disturb her too much but wanting to know where she was at, “How’s everything on your end, Dr. Yang?” And right around then, the other doctor mentioned how they could take the patient off bypass and Karen smiled under her mask, nodding. “Amazing, let’s take James off bypass everyone.” And to these words, she joined in and helped Yang turn off the bypass and watched for the patient’s heart rate and vitals, making sure the fluctuation and shock of coming off bypass would not result in more bad outcomes. Praying for the heart to pick up quick. She watched the monitor incessantly, repeating in her head Pick up, pick up, pick up. And when it finally did, she sighed under her mask and smiled, turning to Yang again and nodded. “It is.” And nodding again, she added, “Thank you, Dr. Yang. Could not have seen this through without your help.”

“A bit over a year now,” Lena says, reaching her office and opening the door. “Richard asked me to come take over after a year without a decent head. I met him in my studies…it was a hard sell, leaving Ireland to come back to the States. But it’s been good. I like to think I’ve got the department in shape, anyways,” She says, gesturing to the sofa in her office. “Have a seat. This,” She says, lifting a tablet off of her desk and handing it over, “Is Jordan’s record.”