Callie finding out about the plane crash.

Webber had decided to put off the toast; he didn't feel like it was right for him to give it until all the residents were there— and that most certainly included Meredith and Cristina, who were expected to join them any minute.

But they were late.

Finally, the clan—Richard, Alex, Jackson, and April— began dinner without them. The toast could wait until the final two residents had arrived.

The residents laughed and discussed their future plans as Webber congratulated them when his phone rang. "Excuse me," he said.

"Hello?" he answered his cell phone merrily, seeing that it was from the hospital.

"Webber," Owen began, sullen.

"Hunt? What's going on?" Immediately, Webber fell into "chief" mode. Owen was chief now, sure, but after having the job for so many years, Webber couldn't help taking charge and being authoritative in tricky situations. And, from the sound of Owen's voice, the current situation was more than tricky.

Owen paused before answering. "The plane...never got to Boise."

Webber stood up, plugging his ear to hear better. The residents suddenly looked up at him, sensing a shift in the air.

"What happened?" Webber demanded. No. Hunt couldn't be saying what he thought he was saying. His best doctors—Meredith!— could not have been in a plane crash. There was no way.

Owen sighed. "The plane...it's off the grid. It's disappeared. Our people..." he paused again as emotion overtook his voice. "The plane crashed."

The color drained from Webber's face.

"What is it?" Jackson asked worriedly. He, Alex, and April had stood up and put on their coats, ready to race to the hospital for whatever was going on.

Webber gulped audibly. To Owen: "We're on our way. I'll tell everyone else."

Finally, he looked up at the terrified residents. "We need to go to the hospital. Now."

As they all rushed out of the restaurant, down the stairs, and towards their cars, Webber called out, "Jackson and April, you two go ahead. Go find Chief Hunt. I need to speak to Karev." He put his hand on Alex's back.

"WHAT?" Alex hated not knowing what was going on.

"Where's your car?" Webber asked. "Let me drive."

Alex tossed him the keys and pointed them both towards his car, too alarmed to bother objecting.

Finally, when they were both inside, Alex asked, "What the hell are we doing? We should be hurrying to the hospital! There's gotta be a major trauma! We need to GO!"

Webber put Alex's keys into the ignition and hurried into the street, heading who-knows-where. "KAREV! I need you to take a deep breath! I need you to be strong, and I need you to be calm! Can you do that?"

Alex sighed, frustrated and exacerbated, but he nodded. "Fine, I'm calm!"

Webber looked over to him. "The plane crashed," he said simply.

"WHAT?" What was Webber talking about?

Webber sighed, spelling it out simply, "The plane to Boise. Never landed. The plane crashed."

Alex's eyes widened as the news registered. He stood still for minutes, just looking at the city lights passing him by. "Mer and Cristina and L—" he began, processing.

Webber just nodded, acknowledging Alex's fears and abrupt understanding. "Yes. And," he concluded, suddenly putting his brakes on in front of a building, "You should be the one to tell Torres." They were stopped in front of her apartment.

Alex's eyes were crazed, and he couldn't seem to close his mouth. He couldn't even blink.

"Karev!" He spoke strongly and authoritatively. "You have to do this. Can you do this?"

Alex nodded, unable to look at the older man. He couldn't look at anything. He couldn't think. Couldn't process.

"Go," Webber instructed. "Go tell her, and be there, and come to the hospital when you two are ready. I'll call if we get word of any news."

Alex kept nodding, his eyes downcast. It was everything he could do to hold back tears. This could not be happening to his friends, his teachers, his mentor...

"Go tell Callie," Webber repeated solemnly.

Finally, Alex opened the door of the car and stepped out. Webber didn't speed toward the hospital until Alex had entered the front door, and the resident was thankful for that. Otherwise, he never would have had the courage to walk through it. He never would have had the courage to climb the stairs and tell his friend that her wife was possibly dead. Because of him.

He didn't have the courage as is, but he had to do this. Someone had to.

He sprinted up the five flights of stairs to Callie's floor and knocked on apartment 502.

"Coming!" Callie merrily called from inside, jumping off the bed where she was lying on her side and towards the door in nothing but purple and black lacy lingerie.

She quickly threw open the door, saying, "Just wait until you see what I have planned f—"

She stopped short when she realized that her wife wasn't on the other side of the door, but instead it was Alex.

"Oh god!" She screeched, trying to hide her body behind her door.

It was like Alex hadn't even noticed. He looked antsy. Something in his expression...He didn't even look like himself. He was like a serious, hollowed out version of the surgeon and man she had come to know.

Callie was afraid now. She peeked out from behind the door, her brows knitting together. "Alex," she began, "What's wrong?"

Alex tried to work past the lump in his throat. "You should sit down," he attempted to say tenderly. He needed to sit down himself. He needed to think of the reality: all of his friends might be dead.

Callie: "What? Alex, what happened?!" She was beginning to panic.

Alex finally looked at her, noticing the lack of clothes. "You also might want to get a robe," he tried to smirk like his usual self would, but he couldn't. He felt like he was someone else. This couldn't be happening.

Callie looked down, remembering. "Oh!" She ran towards her room, then quickly shuffled back in slippers as she tied a bathrobe around her body. She sat on the couch. "What is it?! What are you doing here?"

Alex sat down across from her. "I need to tell you something and I need you to not panic. I need you to keep breathing."

"Okay," Callie replied, scared but solemn. She remembered back to the last time Karev had uttered those words: to Izzie, right before he told her that George was dead.

Was someone dead?

"Alex," Callie began, her panic increasing. "What happened? Is Nick dead? Please, please don't let him die. Not yet."

Alex took a deep breath. "Nick?" Who was Nick? "No, he's not dead." He paused, took a breath. "The plane to Boise. Crashed. They're lost out there somewhere. We don't know anything else."

All the color drained from Callie's face. She looked like a ghost. But, even as the news registered, she refused to believe it. "Wait, what? What are you talking about?"

Alex just looked at her, waiting for his words to set in.

"There's no way!" she said in denial.

Alex kept looking at her.

"KAREV! This isn't funny! What the hell kind of monster are you?!" She was working through the second stage of grief: anger.

"NO!" Callie broke down sobbing, depressed beyond belief.

Alex moved towards her, setting his hand on her back in an attempt to comfort her as she cried and cried and cried.

Finally, she turned her face towards Alex, accepting the situation. "We have to go! We'll go find them!" She stood up and ran towards the counter, grabbing her car keys. "Alex! Come on!" she urged, running towards the door. "ALEX!" She stopped when she noticed the man hadn't moved.

"Callie..." he pitied. "Sofia's sleeping and we can't just go searching through the forest."

Callie deflated. He was right.

"Call someone to watch her, so we can go wait for news at the hospital. It'll be fine." Even as he said it, he didn't believe it. The odds of everyone surviving a plane crash were slim to none. But he couldn't let himself think about it. Not yet.

Callie hadn't moved. She felt a sob building in her chest and tried to contain it, letting out small agonized whimpers instead.

Alex stood up and walked towards her phone. "Come on, Cal," he urged quietly. "Who should I call?"

Callie couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe.