Preston grimaced at the drops of blood now plainly visible on the formerly pristine white face-towel. He was shocked to see the razor trembling in his long slender fingers. "Enough already!", he checked himself, forced to laugh. "I'm acting like a schoolboy", he told his reflection in the bathroom mirror, as he carefully swabbed the cut with disinfectant and took deep breaths to steady his fingers. Sensing a moment of calm, he quickly finished shaving the remainder of his left cheek and threw the razor in the basin, quickly bending over the sink, recollecting his breath and managing to assuage the pounding in his chest. "At this rate, I'll most likely give myself a heart attack before I open her mother's heart. Jesus!" he tried to keep his anger in check. He analyzed his reflection critically in the mirror. His eyes took in his glowering gaze, the perfectly shaped french beard adorning his face, except the two millimeter-wide accident on his left cheek where the piece of cotton now stung him. The muscles in his shoulders clenched again and he straightened to observe in satisfaction how his T-shirt draped his flat abdomen. He stood on tip-toe and swung back on his heels alternately, getting the blood flowing through his sinewy thighs and calves. He noted in satisfaction how much his appearance changed in three years. He had always been fit, but instead of his former wiry build, he now looked and felt.. brawny.

"Well, it was either brawny or pudgy", he said and chuckled. "Good choice, Preston", he muttered, disposing of his shaving tools and returning them to the cabinet. He threw the face towel in the laundry basket after dousing it with disinfectant and set about packing his suitcase. He looked outside and was surprised to find dawn break through a blanket of clouds over San Francisco. Rubbing his eyes and suppressing a yawn, he continued his menial task. Anything to avoid thoughts of her creeping into his mind. I have a busy day ahead of me. He had left all his memories of them and his former life in Seattle. Everything, save a few precious possessions and the one he didn't wish to part with at all. He'd done everything in his power to forgive himself for treating her like he had, but he still found himself unable to do so. "That's what you do, Preston, you take them apart, sew the pieces together and make them as good as new.", he sweared. "As good as new". He checked himself again as he caught his thoughts heading in that disastrous direction. Crossing off items on his travel list, he sent a quick text to Derek, informing him of his leaving for Seattle at once.

When Derek had called yesterday late at night, he'd woken up groggily and stared at his phone in astonishment. Hesitating, he picked up, thinking the man had called him by accident.

"Dr. Shepherd", he said, his voice shaky from sleep and confusion.

"Dr Burke!", Derek's voice was tired but certainly not startled or confused as his. "I'm sorry if I woke you up, I made a note to call you later but quite forgot about it", he said, trying to fend off Meredith poking his arm.

"It's all right, Derek, how are you?", Preston sprang up, his nerves a mess. He could hear the other man's hesitation. Come out with it, he almost hissed.

"I'm well, Preston. I called because we need you here at Seattle Grace for an important procedure", Derek declared, "It is a pericardiectomy on a 63-year old woman, she currently has cancer at an advanced stage and we cannot treat her at all without taking care of the pericarditis first", he rattled off.

Preston heard Derek's awkward recounting of the patient history. This behavior was most unlike him, Surely Seattle Grace had resources to take care of a simple pericarditis case without him? What about Hahn? he thought, trying to think of what Derek was seeking him out. He had nothing.

"Alright, Derek", he conceded, waiting for the silence on the other end of the line to end. Oh, forget it. "But I'm sure Dr Hahn can take care of this. Is this a former patient of mine or a special request?" He waited.

"The patient asked for you, Preston. It's Cristina's mother", Derek conceded, before adding, "She didn't want Hahn to operate on her, and she couldn't do it herself, obviously. Mrs Yang asked for you specifically, so here we are.".

Preston regarded Derek's resigned tone and ignored the thump of his pulse as he tried to come to a decision.Never make decisions in anger or impatience, or.. I don't know what this is. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly as he hesitated to ask the million questions that came to his mind.

"Preston?" The phone crackled and shook him out of his reverie.

"Yes!" He exclaimed, fidgeting with the patterned stitch on his quilt. "I'll.. I'll be there, Derek", he nodded to himself.

"Umm, great, so you can clear your schedule tomorrow and tentatively for the next few days? I thought you were a busy man, Preston.", Derek teased, relieved that this was turning out to be easier than he'd expected.

His eyes dilated in mild horror as he remembered his appointments for the next four days, but he realized he'd already begun delegating them to his residents in his head. I think they can handle it, he thought. There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear myself say. He waited for common sense to reclaim him and realize the magnitude of what he'd just committed, but nothing happened. He was jittery and shaken upon hearing her name and by the thought of being in her proximity again, but despite his intricate plans for the next half of his week, he was willing to face her again, and hopefully, do a better job of explaining himself.