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"Hmmmm," Christina purses her lips, staring at a box of surfboard wax on the top shelf. She knows she should probably just ask someone to grab it for her— to be honest, she's not even sure how it got up there in the first place…
Being 5'4, there's no way she can reach it on her own; especially since she doesn't have a step stool. But she'd also really like to go surfing today, and she can't do that without a new block of surfboard wax.
She's alone in the house, and supposed to meet Bobby to surf in an hour. Her desire to go on her surfing date overrides her sense of safety. There's only one solution to this problem… no matter how risky it may be.
She grips the side of the wooden cabinet and lifts one knee up onto the countertop, before slowly pulling herself up to grab the wax. Her hand closes around the lime green block just as the piece of the old cabinet she'd been holding onto breaks off, sending her falling to the floor faster than she can react.
She lands on the ground roughly, but not hard enough to break anything. She's actually pretty certain she can walk it off, mercifully uninjured, when she feels her right hand begin to throb. She sits up, leaning against the counter and gingerly lifting her hand.
There's a large splinter sticking out of her palm. "Shit…" she sighs, tilting her head back for a second,"Okay."
She's going to need to pull it out, which is going to suck… but it's better to get it over with.
The splinter is big enough that she doesn't need to go searching for tweezers; she just grabs it with her other hand and yanks it out. "Fuck," she swears, dropping the bloody fragment and assessing the damage.
There's still a small piece of wood embedded in her palm, so she closes one eye and grabs it between her pointer finger and thumb. It's a bit harder to pull this one out without tweezers, but she manages it. As far as she can see, there isn't any more trapped wood. But that doesn't mean the bleeding has stopped…
She has a first-aid kit in the kitchen so she stands, grabbing the surfboard wax in her uninjured and setting it on the counter before heading that way. She finds it under the sink, remembering her mother's insistence that she bring a "full stock of medical equipment" when she moved.
She's grateful for it now, but at the time she remembers rolling her eyes, naively doubting she would end up needing it. Admittedly, she hasn't actually opened it before. There's some cold and flu medication at the top that had definitely been added in by her mom (she wish she knew that was there a month ago…)
She sets that to the side and immediately finds bandages. She knows realistically that what she should do is wash the wound out with water and maybe some anti-septic— which is naturally included in the kit— but that feels way too dramatic. It's just a splinter: a bandaid will do.
She quickly applies a standard beige-colored, one and then moves on with her day. She'll probably forget about it by the evening.
—
Her date with Bobby is amazing. It almost feels cinematic the way the sunset paints the sky an array of pastel colors as they surf together.
A particularly rough wave knocks Christina off her board, but she recovers quickly.
"Okay?" Bobby asks when her head pops up above the water. "Yeah…" but even as she says it, she feels the wound from earlier start to burn.
She tries to conceal a wince, but is unsuccessful. "Are you sure?" He caught it… of course he caught it. "Yeah!" She grabs her board and starts to climb back on top of it, attempting to avoid using her injured hand in what she hopes is a subtle maneuver.
"Let's head back to shore," he says, beginning to paddle in the direction of the beach. She frowns, knowing that he's definitely only doing this because he thinks something is wrong. But she's not sure how to protest without sounding like an asshole, so she follows him, glimpsing down at her hand for a brief moment while her back is to him.
The bandaid is gone, which is probably the main problem. A fresh wound meeting salt water is… literally a metaphor for a really bad time.
She tries not to favor her right hand as she carries her board through the shallow waters— though, it becomes clear very quickly that it doesn't matter how smoothly she's able to play it off.
"Are you bleeding?" He asks, looking at her leg.
She follows his gaze and finds that there is, in fact, blood running down her leg. "Um…" she's desperately trying to think of ways to deflect. "It's okay," he says, reaching for her arm. She flinches away instinctively.
He drops his hand and they both stare at each other for a few seconds of tense silence. For some reason, Christina feels like she's on the verge of crying. Her hand doesn't even hurt that much! She's not sure why this is making her so emotional, but she assumes it has something to do with her history of needing to hide injuries.
"Okay…do you still want to come over to mine?" He's giving her an out: he's sensed that he's broached a sensitive subject, and he's willing to let it go. She should feel relieved. She should take it, and move on with their date. Instead… she bursts into tears.
"Oh, Christina—" She drops her board and presents her hand to him. She's not sure what she wants or expects him to do, but she can't bring herself to hide it anymore.
"Okay… can I touch your wrist?"She hates, but also loves how gentle he's being with her. She nods, but still cringes when he gently touches her.
"Did this just happen?" She shakes her head, watching as he presses tenderly on the skin surrounding the wound, "This looks pretty recent-"
"Bad splinter this afternoon… it's nothing." She says quickly, resisting the urge to pull her hand away.
"Did you clean it?" She shrinks under his gaze. "That's okay… did you bandage it, at least?"
"I put a bandaid on it…" she says guiltily, attempting to wipe away her tears without rubbing salt-water into her eyes as she glances back towards the sea.
"And I'm assuming it fell off in the water?" She nods.
"Okay." He looks like he's making a plan in his head. She appreciates that… he's her anchor amidst the storm. Okay, that's dramatic, it's just a cut. But the thought doesn't go away…
—
He takes her back to his place, and sits her on his bed while he disappears into the bathroom. She's been over a few times before, but never entered his bedroom. It's almost exactly how she imagined.
"It doesn't look infected to me, but since it made contact with salt water I'm going to clean it to try and make sure it stays that way…" he narrates, returning with a first-aid kit of his own.
She's a little surprised at how much he knows about laceration-care. She would never have guessed that about him, but in hindsight, it does make sense.
She withdraws her hand when he pulls the anti-septic out. "I know… I'm sure it already burns, but what's a little more, right?" She frowns at him.
"I have ice-cream in the freezer, but if you want it you have to let me clean your cut."
Her frown deepens, but it's slightly more playful. "Are you bribing me?"
"I would never…" he says with a fake offended gasp. She laughs and reluctantly places her open palm in her lap. He works quickly, but makes sure to distract her regardless by talking about something she enjoys.
"So…the plane crash?" He asks, restarting their conversation from the car ride about Grey's Anatomy. "Oh my God, yes. Okay," she collects her thoughts, trying to figure out how best to tell the story.
"So they find Derek, but his arm is still really badly injured, so Cristina and Meredith have to figure out how to fix that even though that's not their specialty-" she seethes as he pours the anti-septic on, but continues speaking and tries not to watch.
"When they finally stabilize him, Cristina goes over to Mark and she's like 'get up and help!' but then they find out that he's not conscious."
He wipes the wound with a wet towel which hurts, but not as much as the anti-septic. "But Cristina is a cardiothoracic surgeon so she immediately knows what to do."
Bobby nods along, only half-invested in Christina's story as he looks through the kit. "So they save his life and then they all settle in for the night."
He finds some butterfly bandages at the bottom of the kit and decides to apply them just in case.
"And after all that, we don't see them for an entire week because it takes that long for freaking Owen Hunt to notice, and then for search and rescue to find them."
Bobby looks up at her, stunned at how casually she just said that. "Considering this is one of those shows where people survive crazy things, I'm assuming they all make it out alive?" He asks hopefully.
She laughs before answering, "Yeah, I mean apart from Lexi, of course… Oh! And Mark dies a few days after getting home." Once again, Bobby is shocked by how nonchalant she is about all of this.
"And you're…fine with that?" He asks, his mouth slightly agape. "Well, Lexi and Mark were obviously made for each other so it's kind of bittersweet that they died together."
Bobby laughs again, "I don't know how you enjoy these shows."
"You'd love it if you watched it. The first season is so good!" She looks down to see that her hand has been fully bandaged. Once again, she feels herself begin to tear up.
This man somehow knows exactly how to take care of her even though they've only known each other for four weeks and two days (yes, she's counting.)
"Tina…" he murmurs, immediately noticing her watery eyes.
"I'm okay," she says, swiping the tears away with her left hand, "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to hide from me. Or apologize," he says, putting the medical supplies back in the first-aid kit and setting it aside so his full attention is on her.
"I…" she takes a deep breath, "I don't like being hurt… or sick… but I really don't like when people know that I'm hurt or sick… I don't really know why, I guess it's just because I don't wanna be seen as weak…"
"You're not weak for getting a splinter… everyone gets splinters sometimes." He says, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Well, if you saw how I got it you might think differently…" she says, blushing slightly as she avoids eye-contact. "Are you going to elaborate on that?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.
"Nope," she says with an overly cheery smile. "I won't push my luck…" he says with a laugh, standing up from where he's been kneeling in front of her the entire time.
She grabs his hand before he can turn back towards the bathroom to return the kit. "Yeah?" He asks, looking back down at her.
"Thank you… I… this was exactly what I needed." She says sincerely.
"Aw, of course, Christina… I'm always here if you need anything, okay? But I'll never force you to talk about something you're not ready to talk about. You're the strongest woman I've ever met; and I trust your judgment."
In this moment, she doesn't know what to say. She just nods, her mouth slightly ajar as she watches him walk to the bathroom.
Two years later she would mention this exact moment in her wedding vows.