A/N: Found this on the hard drive from a couple years back and thought I'd throw it up.
Originally meant to be a part of a series of "Five Ways It Doesn't End." This was the most completed one I had, the others too partial for me to remember exactly what I wanted out of them. Anyway, post S8.
dum spiro spero
(while i breathe, i hope)
I
They all live.
There are broken limbs and fractured ribs, concussions and makeshift splints. At least none of them are dead, is what everyone thinks and no one says as they studiously avert their gaze from the metal pole lodged in one of the pilot's throat.
It takes Derek four tries before his hands steady enough to start a fire.
Mark is helping Arizona hobble closer to the warmth when a cacophony of screeching metal followed by a muffled crash sounds in the distance. They freeze. Lexie drops the branches she's been collecting. Turns around to face Mark with eyes so wide and the unspoken fear written clearly in her face.
He, in turn, looks at Derek – Derek who seems to have aged ten years in the last two hours, extra creases marring his forehead and cracked bleeding lips pressed into a hard crease. He wants to speak out, reassure Derek not to worry, but when he opens his mouth the voice that comes out is distinctly feminine.
"They're fine." It's Arizona. "We're all fine, Derek. They're okay; they'll come back." Her insistence is strained with a forced kind of belief and Mark can't look at her as he helps her settle, taking care to move the broken leg as little as possible. Lexie's gone back to gathering wood, her silence speaking for her.
Mark eyes the swelled flesh of Derek's knee. They had done their best to wrap it with what tattered pieces of cloth could be found, but it's still an angry mesh of purples and reds, three times the normal size. Derek stares unblinking in the direction the sound came from, where Meredith and Cristina wandered some time ago in search of supplies.
The sun is well past its high point before Meredith and Cristina trudge again into the clearing.
"There was something caught in the tree," Cristina explains later. "Part of a wing, maybe. Hell if I know."
Night descends slowly. The temperature dips, spectrum of colours giving way to the abyss, and they all huddle closer for the warmth. The security. For the something other that wraps about them and breathes hope into their souls.
His shoulder presses against Lexie's. It's comforting, the solid feel of her, and the pressure in his back and shoulders gives out, just a bit.
"I never knew there were so many." Her voice is filled with quiet awe, and Mark follows her gaze to an eternity of stars suspended in timeless space. "I didn't really take the time to really notice…" Lexie shakes her head. "Before."
"We'll make some. When we get home." He's surprised by the conviction in his voice. Surprised even more at how easily he falls into the idea of them. "We're going to get through this." Mark smiles – tugs on her hand gently until she fits under his chin, drawing the blanket tighter around them.
He can hear the smile in her words as she softly echoes his words. "We're going to get through this."