A/N: I'll admit, I've never put much effort into writing anything other than Mer/Der stories, so this is my first deviation into someone else's viewpoint. To be clear, I understand this leaves a lot of questions, but it's really intended as a one-shot, covering how Owen deals with the discovery that the plane never made it to Boise.
Missing.
The word echoed through Owen Hunt's mind as he hung up the phone with the air traffic controller at the Boise airport and leaned numbly back in his seat in the conference room. It had taken hours for someone to remember to contact Seattle Grace-Mercy West, but he supposed he couldn't blame the small airport. Their efforts were focused on finding the missing plane.
Missing.
His wife was leaving Seattle. She was going to the Mayo Clinic. In a few days, she'd be starting a new life a thousand miles away from him. Cristina Yang was leaving him. He hadn't thought it at the time, but in retrospect, he knew that moving was allowed. She was allowed to leave him, because he'd know where she'd gone. He'd know she was safe, because he'd see her name in the medical journals. She was allowed to follow her dreams and break his heart at the same time.
Missing was not allowed.
He stood up to pace the room, but found himself unable to move. He stood there, staring at the phone, willing it to ring with good news. He knew there were calls to be made. Families needed to know that their loved ones were missing. And he knew they'd be better coming from him, but he couldn't do it. He'd told the airport rep to have the FAA call next of kin. Because in that moment, however it may have sounded to anyone else, he didn't care about Arizona Robbins or Lexie Grey or Derek Shepherd or any of the others. In that moment, the only thing he could focus on was his wife.
His missing wife.
"What happened?"
Owen looked up in surprise at the sound of Teddy's voice. Teddy Altman, the woman he'd just fired so she wouldn't give up her own dreams for him. He figured she'd have been long gone by this point, but there she was, standing in front of him. He hadn't even heard the door open.
"I was on my way out, and I saw your face through the window," she explained, sensing his confusion. "I haven't seen that look since we lost ten in a row in Baghdad on our last tour."
Owen shook his head against the memory and slumped back down in his chair. "They didn't make it to Boise," he whispered numbly. "The plane dropped off radar about forty-five minutes after take-off. They're all missing…Cristina's missing."
Teddy didn't say a word as she took a few steps into the room and knelt at his side, grabbing his hand in hers. There was no point in telling him that his wife would be fine. She knew better than to assume anything these days.
"What time is it?"
Teddy glanced down at her watch. "It's almost ten o'clock."
"It's been more than twelve hours," Owen muttered, more to himself than to her. "They've been looking for more than six, but…"
"But nothing," Teddy interrupted. "We both know that it's night, and they've got a big area to search. And it's cold, and who knows if they've got blankets or food or if anyone even survived impact when the plane went down. But if they did…Owen, no one on this planet has as much fight in them as Cristina Yang. You know that as well as anyone. If anyone's coming out of this alive, it's Cristina."
Owen nodded doubtfully, about to respond when the phone on the table finally started ringing.
"You should get that," Teddy prompted gently, glancing at the caller ID. "It's Boise."
Owen nodded again, still not moving his hand toward the phone. As long as that phone was ringing, his wife was missing. And missing was horrible. Missing meant lonely nights. Missing meant worry and fear and danger. Missing meant not knowing. Still, he couldn't bring himself to rush to answer that call, because in spite of everything it meant, he wasn't sure he wanted to leave missing behind. If nothing else, missing did not mean dead.
As long as he didn't pick up that phone, Owen Hunt knew that his wife was only missing.