Hello, I know this is always over done but I like to create what I think or hope will happen next season, so I hope people will take the time to read.
This is set just after the season 8 finale.
The little voice over/prologue thing at the start is a mixture of my stuff plus one of my favourite quotes from Greys, by Alex, so just note that quote is at the end and I take no credit for it.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story. Don't forget to Review.
NOTE: I sometimes take a while to update so if you enjoy the story please be patient with me.
The shock of trauma, changes your life. But trauma, it just happens. And then life goes on. No one prepares you for it. You can't process it because it doesn't fit with what came before or what comes afterward. Doesn't matter how tough we are, trauma always leaves a scar. It follows us home, it changes our lives, trauma messes everybody up, but maybe that's the point. All the pain and the fear and the crap. Maybe going through all of that is what keeps us moving forward. It's what pushes us. Maybe we have to get a little messes up, before we can step up.
Owen felt nothing. He couldn't feel. He had heard the words and yet all he could manage was to sit in the silence of the room. He stared, his eyes fixed on something in the distance, nothing in particular just something he could grab hold of visually, to bring himself back to reality. He needed to process the voicemail he had just heard. He needed to get a hold of someone. Surely there was a reasonable explanation for what he had a heard over the voicemail a minute ago. He told himself not to panic. Surely if something was really wrong he would have been contacted. Yes, he knew they had tried to contact him, he had just listened to the message, surely if the message was as urgent and important as this one he would have been contacted. The hospital has other phones. Then he felt something. He felt anger. Whose fault was this? There must be someone he can blame, someone he can yell at. He had to do something.
He lurched forward grabbing the phone, with fumbling fingers he dialled the number on his computer screen.
His fingers tapped nervously against the hard wood of the table, the sound piercing through the silence of the room. The faint sound of the hold music in his ear was going to send him over the edge. Why was it taking it so long? This was a matter of dire emergency and they can't pick up the bloody phone.
"Seattle Airlines, Joanne speaking, how I may I help you?"
Owen was almost shocked when the voice finally broke the music.
"This is Dr. Owen Hunt of Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital." There was no time for hellos. "I need information on a private plane carrying six of our surgeons that was supposed to leave your airport early this morning."
"Okay, Dr. Hunt just give me a minute to get the flight information up for you." And there was that damn hold music again. It only took a minute this time before he heard the familiar click as the phone was reconnected. But there was only silence for at least a minute or two, then came her quivering voice. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have transfer you to our fleet director….. Please hold."
He was transferred almost instantly.
"Dr. Hunt, this is Vincent Hugh's fleet operation manager. Unfortunately we lost contact with the plane at 10.00am this morning."
The anger Owen had previously felt dissipated and he was left with a sick, deafening feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"What.. What do we do now?" He managed to get out through quivering lips.
"We didn't get any distress calls from the pilot or passengers before contact was lost but we have planned a full search starting at dawn tomorrow morning."
Owen was silent.
"Don't worry Dr. Hunt if your surgeons are out there, we will find them."
"Ugh," Cristina moaned as she moved her aching body to sit upright. She had fallen asleep, they all had. It was against her plan to fall asleep. She needed everyone awake and conscious, so she would know they were all alive. She didn't know how it had happened but somehow she had fallen into the role of leader. She didn't want to though. She didn't want to be in charge of everyone else's lives. Suppose she had no choice in the matter now. "Mer," she nudged Meredith who slept beside her. No response. "Meredith," she gave her another push, panic starting at her bones. "Meredith," she shoved her much harder this time.
"I'm awake. I'm awake." Meredith jolted up from the rock she rested on. "What time is it?" She shifted in her spot, her body aching with pain.
"I don't know, it's dark still though."
Meredith could feel Derek's body, cold next to her. She placed her hand over Derek's mouth, relaxing when she felt the soft warmth of his breath.
"How did this happen?" she asked more to herself than anyone.
"We were in a plane crash!"
"I know. I just don't get how this happened." Meredith zipped her jacket up as far as it would go, shivering in the cold of the night. "We have had so much shit thrown at us surely more than anyone should endure. And then…" She could barely speak the word. "And then we were in a plane crash!" She gave a little laugh barely believing the predicament they found themselves in. They had even been stranded a night and Lexie had already died, and Mark wasn't looking good. She wasn't sure how long they would be out there for. But she was sure they couldn't last much longer. There's only so much a bunch of surgeons can do stuck in the wilderness with a whole array of serious injuries.
Cristina merely murmured in agreement.
"If there's a god," Meredith looked to the sky. "He laughs."
Owen ran his trembling fingers through his coarse hair. He couldn't believe what had happened. There was a plane crash. Cristina was in a plane crash! His heart ached to think of it. Especially the way things had been left. He had already lost once today as she was walking away from Seattle Grace, and from him. But this hurt was something different. It was the fear that it would truly be the end. That he would never see her again or hear her voice. That it might truly be over for them. With her leaving, he had least had the hope of reconciliation but he couldn't help the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was wrong and all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms.
Thinking of Cristina and how much he missed her reminded him of how selfish he was being. How could he forget, he's not the only one with a loved one on that plane. But how could he tell Callie? And Julia? He supposed he should tell her too.
"Arizona!" Cristina called through the darkness. She heard a slight murmur. "Arizona! Wake up! I need you conscious! Everybody wake up! Mark, Derek." Meredith nudged Derek awake. "Arizona!" Cristina stood up and sped over to where she knew Arizona rested. She could hear Meredith's footsteps as the sticks and dirt snapped beneath her feet. "Arizona!" She turned the corner.
"I'm alive." She breathed. "His breathing's slow but Mark's hanging in there." She informed Cristina. "Jerry?" She asked knowing she could not get up to check herself.
Cristina turned to the plane window, Jerry appeared to be sleeping. Meredith manoeuvred around Arizona and Mark, and into the body of the plane.
"Jerry," she called softly, no response. She moved around and into the cockpit. His skin as white as porcelain, blood stained lips, his head hanging limp, and his body cold.
Jerry, was dead.