It isn't because of Owen. He's not the reason. She knows he's not the reason.

But when she's with him it doesn't hurt.

It's because of the project. They both dive in. They bury themselves in the work. Jackson helps when he can, but really its just the two of them. Working every day. Fitting legs and examining residual limbs and studying x-rays and configuring sensors. He joins her at lunch. Bounces Sophia on his knee and talks about the project. He smiles and she smiles and it isn't because of him.

It's because of the work.

When she's working she can't feel the pain. She can't see Arizona's stony expression. Constant and unnerving and impossible to breach. She can't remember long nights sharing a bed and aching because everything is all wrong.

When she's working, with Owen an arm's length away she can't remember the way Arizona used to sigh into her mouth when her hand slipped between her legs or the way she'd press Callie against the shower and consume her like she was everything.

When she's with him it doesn't hurt.

And then. Then they're both bouncing up and down with excitement. They're both vibrating. The world is brighter and they've helped a man walk and it isn't professional to scream and whoop and cheer when the man's panting and exhausted and cranky so they step out. They walk with hurried steps to the closest office, shut the door.

And they cheer. He's grinning and she wants to cry and they jump up and down. She grabs Owen's arms and shakes him and he smiles like Cristina never left and everything is right.

Until he kisses her.

Or she kisses him.

It's just.

It's celebration. You kiss friends when you celebrate. You press your lips to theirs because you're happy.

They part. They're panting like their patient.

Overhead the air conditioner kicks in. Drones.

They try not to look at each other. She's still hold his arms and his hands are somehow on her waist but it's just because they were hugging. Because they had a great day and they wanted to celebrate and

He's looking at her lips and back to her eyes and he's so sorry and wracked with guilt and struggling with some demon she's painfully familiar with.

And she can step back.

Or say something.

The shock is falling from her face and she can't quite smile or frown.

She should say something.

Now he's only looking at her lips and she's looking at his eyes because if she looks at his lips

He kisses her again. It's ardent. Warm.

Hot.

Fire. She can't breathe because she's being consumed and nothing hurts.

Nothing feels right.

It all feels wrong.

But it doesn't hurt.

When she's with him it doesn't hurt.