PLOT. This FF starts were season 8 left off. There will be three-part episodes. Lexie Grey is dead but certainly not forgotten in this story. I love her character and I thought about this for some time but after looking around a bit it felt like there were already too many "Lexie did not die"-stories out there. However, there will be one character brought back from the dead and a few adjustments will have to be made for that - but don't worry, it won't be too confusing. Plus, some familiar faces will return and with some I mean four. I might have to let go of other characters but I won't know for certain until I get there. If I have to, there's always a chance that they'll return.

NOTE. This is me practicing my English skills.I'm from Austria (no NOT Australia, we don't have kangaroos). This means that English is NOT my first language. Be prepared for possible mistakes in grammar and vocabulary - I deeply apologise for all of them. Feel free to correct - I'm here to improve! If you like this story and you feel like you could/want to BETA it, I'd be delighted to hear from you as I do believe that I might need some help to improve the reading flow. I hope my writing is not too embarrassing (feeling a bit insecure here)!

9.01 Regarding Death and Dying (1/3)
(named after a song by Dan Mangan)

Sneak Peek
Meredith, Derek, Mark, Arizona and Cristina are still fighting for their lives
while the others are trying to cope with the news of the crash.

She had been standing there, in passing, for a while now, frozen in her entrance into the room. She wore everyday clothes on her slender body and her blonde hair loosely up and out of her worried face. Her two hands held onto a brown cardboard box that she had filled up to the brim with her belongings that she had found in her locker in the changing room. She was ready to finally turn her back on Seattle and to begin a new life; a life without her best friend, without her best resident and without the ghost of her deceased husband. She was ready. She had, struggling with tears and with herself, decided that it was right and it was good to start anew. But now that she wanted to, Teddy Altman was suddenly not so sure anymore whether she could just go.

"Owen?", she said his name not for the first time. Again the desired reaction did not occur and although Teddy had, as a doctor, retained courage and composure in many impossible situations before, panic was now slowly tightening its grip around her conscious mind. "What does this mean? What do we know? Owen? Owen!"

But Owen did not hear her. He was not there anymore, not really. Indeed, his body was still sat on a chair and bent across the table but Owen Hunt was not really there. Missing did not mean dead. This was the only thought he was able to hold onto. Missing meant missing. The major sensed that he had to act but he was yet too far gone. His Cristina. Cristina. Cristina. Suddenly he could not remember how to breathe. His heart was beating so fast and wild against his chest that he was certain he would lose it. His head was humming with her name. Everything and nothing hurt. He closed his eyes. He wanted to go back.

Meanwhile Teddy had come up to him. He scared her. She set the box aside on the table and considered grabbing her colleague with her now unoccupied hands and shaking him awake – but she decided against it. Instead, she took the telephone receiver and dialed.

„I spy with my little eye something that is black", Meredith Grey made herself very clear.

„Tree", returned Cristina Yang with little enthusiasm in her voice. Then, not awaiting an answer, she continued rather monotonous and almost a bit annoyed. „I spy with my little eye something that is . . . yelloworangered." She emphasised this last spoken word with an indifferent motion of her right hand as if she actually intended to instantly shoo it away again.

„Fire", was the undoubtedly correct answer. „And I spy with my little eye something that is . . ."

„Black", was Meredith impatiently interrupted before she could end her sentence. „Tree."

„Hey!", the protest was not particularly strong or loud but it was a protest.

„What?", Cristina simply shrugged her shoulders, however, she graciously deigned to clarify her behaviour more specifically. „You're not really that good. It's always black and it's always tree."

„That is not . . .", attempted Meredith a further protest just before she changed her mind and defiantly pronounced a daring proposition. „That is true but you're not any better with your . . . your fire." She pulled the heavy blanket a little closer around her shoulders. It was definitely too cold.

„I am better", Cristina was sure of it. She detected a scrawny branch lying beside her on the moss-grown ground, picked it up and led it into the sizzling embers. "I'm always better."

After that the twisted sisters lapsed into a frustrating silence. They had known each other for too long for Dr. Grey to dare challenging her friend to a conversational duel. Instead she moved a little closer to Cristina, offering a quiet olive branch. They were both miserably freezing despite sitting closely to the fire, yet, they did not want to complain about it because, first, the hospital of death had taught them to be tough and, second, they could consider themselves the lucky ones when taking their fellow sufferers into consideration. With that last thought in mind Meredith's searching glance instinctively found to Derek who was lying on a bed of leaves and jackets just a few steps away from them. She had earlier pulled his blanket up to his chin. She had planted a kiss on his surprisingly hot brow and had assured him that he could rest for a moment now. She looked at his bandaged hand that was lying at his chest. Then she thought of Zola. Then of Lexie. Tears suddenly blocked her clear view as she felt the pain she had actually shoved far away coming back to her. She needed distraction. Now.

„OK, new game!", announced Meredith to her friend while she was wiping her fingers as inconspicuously as possible across her cheeks until they were dry again. The tone of her voice was amazingly firm and destined. „Truth or dare."

„Not now, Mere", the suggestion met bare opposition. The woman sitting next to Dr. Grey had problems set in her own world of thought and feeling and every single one of them was determined by Owen Hunt and seemed to be closely linked to the motto of this new request to play.

The blonde, however, was not deterred. She put on her cross look and sounded like it as she urgently brought her wish forth again. „Truth or dare."

Cristina looked up in surprise and weighed her chances to escape her friend with a good excuse. They did not weigh much. Her head was too full for any kind of creativity and, furthermore, it was not advisable to put a good fire seat at an unnecessary risk. She, consequently, decided, with obvious reluctance, to take on the lesser of the two evils and murmured a quick „truth", because she would definitely not be getting up and climbing a tree one-armed.

Crap. This was crap. Alex Karev was angry. He was not angry at something or someone in particular, or at least he could, in right this moment, not place his finger on any person or thing, but he was angry. He and his colleagues had, after the initiate shock and the absurd assumption that it was all just a specially bad and distasteful joke, gotten up from the table in the restaurant in order to follow Richard Webber outside into the cool night while thinking millions of thoughts. They had in greatest haste betaken themselves to their cars and had possibly been driving a little bit too fast to the hospital where they now could be found in the changing room. As practiced for years they put on their blue working clothes and the pagers at their right place. They said nothing as they tried to find a balance with their own panic. This silence was, apart from the inevitable banging of the doors, only interrupted by April Kepner.

The redhead was loudly sobbing while standing in front of her unopened locker unable to ensue the doing of the others. She wore a pretty dress, a pretty hairdo and black paths on her face where the tears had taken the mascara away from her lashes and down her cheeks. To her left Jackson threw his gown over his shoulders and just took a decision to come up to her, and, saying a few calming words, put his arms around her shaking body. He himself longed for something or someone to hold onto, for, although he showed composure on the outside, a relentless storm was raging inside of him. The actual execution of his intention, however, was defeated by a storm of a completely different kind.

„Shut up!", hissed Alex whose patience had snapped fast and sudden as he thought to have found a random target for his anger. With a wild look on his face he took one step closer to April who, anxiously, drew back and immediately shed her tears in silence. „Just shut up already! Do you believe you're helping anyone with your wining?"

„Hey!", Jackson thwarted his colleague without hesitation. He had hit him once before and he would do it again should the circumstances require it from him.

Said circumstances, however, took a sudden turn as the door to the changing room was pushed open. Newly sobbing April rushed outside of the room and passed Dr. Bailey who had entered the scenery. Miranda looked on in surprise but composed herself quickly. She now gave her undivided attention to the two young men starring at each other under the eager eyes of a few bystanders. Both seemed to be ready to attack their respective opponent at any moment with their fiercely clenched fists. That perspective was clearly something that Bailey did not want to witness at her hospital, nor could she tolerate it.

She demanded, without further ceremony, an explanation: „What is going on? Aren't you two supposed to be at dinner with Dr. Webber?" Her anger was obvious as an answer was not instantly given: „Now, let us be clear about that: Dr. Webber has been planning this dinner for a long time; and when I say long, I really mean very long. Very long and very thoroughly. If you're telling me now that you're ditching this dinner because of some. . ."

„Haven't you heard about it?", interposed Jackson who had conceded his defeat and turned away from Alex and to his superior. His eyes were dull and sad, his voice of and exhausted tone. On every other day no-one would have ever dared to interrupt Miranda Bailey but today was not every other day.

Richard Webber had not been yearning for a drink so heavily in a long time. The hospital seemed to house a much bigger chaos than he had been used to. Nothing was really like it was actually supposed to be. Three of his top-surgeons and the same number of very promising residents had fallen from the sky and had vanished without a trace. No, Richard quickly corrected himself in thought, this was not his staff anymore but Dr. Hunt's. Nevertheless, it was his Meredith who had gone missing as well and thinking about her hurt and worried him very much. In the next moment he saw her, as if she was standing in front of him, as a little girl that was still innocent but not untouched by the realities of life. To some extent she had always been his Meredith. A sudden feeling of hopelessness led him to bring one hand up to his brow. He closed his eyes to a world that tilted in an unnatural way and that fell out of focus and beyond recognition. What had he been thinking? What was he doing standing here in his white coat? What he needed was rest. What he wanted was a short moment for himself, maybe an even longer one.

„Dr. . . . Dr. Webber?", a slender, pale curly head in light-blue scrubs had come up to the former chief of surgery and seemed nervous. He held onto a patient's chart for dear life and had the brown big eyes of a deer that had been surprised by specifically bright headlights. Judging from his next declaration, the boy was obviously still wet behind the ears and dumber than expected. „There's a woman in the waiting room. She said she would sue us if I don't treat her right away. But it's not her . . . turn? Can she do it? Sue us, I mean?"

Richard looked at him in disbelief and was, hands on hips, about to launch into a short but effective speech about how he was – specially today and especially right now – not at all interested in this kind of kid's stuff which mister curly should be able to take care of himself if he planned to survive in this hospital, when another resident, who seemed to also be having something utterly important on his mind, joined the two of them.

„Dr. Webber", began this broad-shouldered and tall species with far more self-confidence than his colleague would ever be able to obtain. This young man was already wearing the long operation-gown and a scrub cap. „We have an appendectomy due and no free OR."

„Dr. Webber!", an outraged blonde with a crimson face had suddenly become number three of this needy group of doctors. She seemed to be familiar with the whole situation and had probably already led heated discussions about it. „It is impossible for Dr. Stark to postpone his surgery!" She glanced angrily at the tall one and repeated: „Impossible!"

„Dr. Webber", this fourth time it was Alex Karev who called his name. He appeared desperate despite his affords to hide his desperation behind his anger. „I need to do something. Just give me something to do, anything."

Richard darted an irritated look at each one of them. They just showed him their most expectant expressions in response. What did they want from him? And why did they want it now? His temper prevailed here over his panic and the concerns about Meredith as he spoke: „I am not chief of surgery anymore. Go to Dr. Hunt, he's in charge, not me."

Ever since his resignation Webber had enjoyed lounging in the irreversible respect of his colleagues. In fact, he thought it flattering that people still liked to call him the chief even though – at least on paper – he was not. He still liked to spread a little advice and wisdom now and then and often without being asked to. Today, though, he was glad not having to bear any responsibility.

„B-but ", stammered mousy curly head with real fear in his voice. „Dr. Hunt has excused himself? He said you would take care of everything in his absence." It sounded like an apology. The others nodded in affirmative agreement.

„He did what?!", returned Richard, his voice growing louder while he saw his anticipated moment of rest fading away. „He said I would what?!"

April had reached the end of her strength. There was a very high probability that her colleagues and friends, who had been sent to Boise for an important and honourable task, had died in a plane crash. This realisation hit her so hard and so sudden that it flooded her eyes with tears again. That all of this could happen under the eyes of her god presented her with an unsolvable mystery.

Dr. Kepner rushed blindly through the halls of the hospital whose winding paths were all too familiar to her. She could not assign the blurry faces she passed to any real person but she could feel the glances inquisitively following her steps. No-one held her back or inquired after her wellbeing. She did not have many friends and had made a lot of enemies with her very peculiar way of doing things and of how she presented herself in certain situations.

Her feet had been carrying April of their own accord to the unconsciously chosen aim of her escape. She wiped her fingers across her wet cheeks, took one deep breath and pushed open the door she was now standing in front of and which she closed behind her again after carefully entering the room. Her searching glance quickly found to the man in the hospital bed and she smiled sadly. She then came up to him and sat down on a chair beside the patient.

„Oh, George", she finally said with a husky voice while she put her hands together in her lap before faithfully folding them. „Today I can't just pray for you."

END NOTE. So, if you made it to the end and you like it please leave a comment (: Thanks!