Author's Note- Reflections Part 2 is here! The first half of this chapter is told from Mark's POV and the second part, although significantly shorter, is following Cristina. Enjoy!

According to Owen Hunt, Mark was the only surgeon who was conscious enough to hold a conversation when they were plucked out of the forest. According to Dr. Smyth, Mark was incredibly lucky not to be hurt worse than he was… but according to Mark, life completely sucked at the moment.

It was supposed to be an ordinary surgery. Mark had traveled to perform surgeries more times than he could count. The only thing that was supposed to happen was an amazing procedure on a set of conjoined twins… and maybe, if Mark got lucky, he would be able to have some celebration sex with Lexie afterwards.

Mark was not lying when he told Derek that he was not a cheater- usually. But Mark was feeling the pressure every day to break up with Julia. He did love her; she was great but he did not want the same thing to happen to him as it did to Derek. Mark's heart was waiting for Lexie and if he married Julia or had babies with Julia or whatever he planned on doing, then eventually, he would end up cheating and he knew that from the moment that Lexie had confessed her love for him.

And now, Mark Sloan was lying in a hospital bed at Boise Memorial. He had spent four straight days in the woods, doing everything possible to keep himself and his friends alive. Lexie could have died; Lexie might still die and there was nothing Mark could do to prevent it.

Life completely sucked.

Somehow, Mark managed to sleep soundly the first night at Boise. It likely had something to do with his complete and utter exhaustion and the large doses of morphine running through his system. According to Dr. Smyth, he had an uncomplicated fracture on his right ankle, two cracked ribs, a concussion, and third degree burns. That completely sucked; Mark had no idea when he would next be able to operate.

But either way, he slept through the night and allowed his blood to be replenished by a full bag of O-Positive that had been generously donated.

When he wokeup the next morning, Mark became aware of a sharp and throbbing pain that started in his upper back but surrounded his entire body to his chest. Chest pains were nothing to ignore; his eyes flew open. Owen Hunt was asleep in the corner of his hospital room.

"Rambo!" Mark yelled and Owen lurched awake. "I… I need a little help over here."

"What's up?" Owen said and walked over to the bedside.

Mark winced at the pain. "Chest pains… bad, bad chest pains and a ton of back pain… Rambo, I think I'm dying!"

"You're not dying. Your vitals are fine. It's probably anxiety."

That seemed unlikely. Mark scoffed. "It's not like I really have any reason to be anxious. It's not like we were in a freaking plane crash or anything."

"Right," Owen said and snorted; he seemed fairly anxious himself.

"What's up with you? Shouldn't you be with your wife?" Mark asked and then a horrible thought crossed his mind. "Wait, Cristina isn't dead, is she?"

"No, Cristina isn't dead. Cristina's fine; she's just… she's anxious too, and I think she wants to be alone for a little while," Owen explained.

Mark nodded slowly; he had the feeling that he was not getting the whole story but he was not going to press his friend. "Is everybody else okay?"

"Everyone's alive if that's what you mean. Meredith, Cristina, and Arizona are all stable."

"And Derek and Lexie?"

"They're both in pretty bad shape," Owen admitted. "Lexie's in surgery right now for her legs and they're cleaning up her chest from the cardiac tamponade. Derek just got out of surgery for his hand but it turns out he has some mild lacerations to his liver and lung, too. They couldn't do anymore surgery though. His BP was so high; he was gonna stroke out."

Mark was numb. This was without a doubt, the most traumatic thing that had ever happened to him… worse than the shooting, worse than everything that happened between Derek and Addison by a mile.

When the drama had gone down with Derek and Addie, Mark had not even known that a girl named Lexie Grey existed. He had no clue that Derek was going to run off to Seattle, fall in love with Meredith, and that Lexie would come into the equation. During the shooting, Mark and Lexie were not currently together (Lexie saw something in that Karev kid), but they were… together. Mark had shielded Lexie's head from the flying bullets and they proceeded to help Alex Karev…

Now, there was nothing that Mark could do for Lexie. She was in surgery; the incompetent doctors of Boise Memorial were operating on her. How had it happened that Mark was fine, relatively healthy, yet the two people on that plane that were most important to him were both dying?

"So… so are you saying Derek's gonna die?" Mark asked. "I mean, are they doing anything about the internal bleeding?"

"They're medicating him heavily and hoping it doesn't cause a stroke. I… I don't know; I wish I knew more," Owen said.

"And Lexie… she's… they're fixing her?"

"There's a lot of damage, Mark. I'm not going to lie to you. But yeah, they're doing everything they can."

They're doing everything they can. That was a load of crap. Mark had said that exact sentence to patients' families plenty of times and in a lot of those situations, the patients had ended up passing away… because sometimes everything was not enough.

"Hey," Owen said, suddenly snapping Mark out of his panic. "Since you're healthy for the most part and… and probably won't need surgery, your doctor said it was okay if you ate. Do you want some food?"

Mark had not consumed anything in five days and he knew that he should eat. He knew that under all the anxiety, he was hungry so nodded and Owen disappeared.

By the time he returned, Mark was seriously contemplating disconnecting his tubes and running through the hospital until he found Lexie… until he at least found Derek. But Owen was here to the rescue and placed a tray in front of Mark. It contained a small bowl of broth, some applesauce, and a cup of orange juice.

This was the standard after not eating for days. Mark knew that. He knew that it would not be safe to give his system anything rich or full of flavor. Still, he could not help but feel a little disappointed as he shoved a spoonful of applesauce into his mouth, the first actual nutrients he had consumed in almost a week.

"You really do look like hell; you know that, right?" Owen sighed as his friend ate.

"Yeah," Mark agreed and took a long sip of orange juice. "I don't think you would be looking too great if you had just spent four days in the woods either… four days trying to keep your best friends from bleeding out right in front of you."

Owen shook his head, an expression of pity on his face. "Yeah, I… God, I can't imagine… I've been through multiple tours in Iraq and I still can't imagine. I should have been out there with you guys. I should have gone instead of sending all of you. The conjoined twins thing was my idea."

"But you're a trauma surgeon," Mark reminded him. "I mean, the twins hadn't been through any trauma, not besides like, being born. Nah, you needed to stay behind and hold down the fort as chief… anything exciting happen while we were gone?"

"Nothing as exciting as what you've been through. The first day you were gone, I think the reason it took so long in the first place was because there were some firefighters nearby, finishing up their last day of training… building collapsed on them so the ER was hectic with that. That's no excuse though. We should have found you sooner," Owen explained.

Mark did not know what to say. He knew that Owen had done his best and that a lot of people had been throwing their everything into locating the lost surgeons. Right now though, it was hard to comfort Owen. The doctors should have been found faster and Mark could not joke otherwise, not when his best friend and the love of his life were potentially dying.

A few minutes later, Mark finished his small meal; he felt fuller than he had expected. Yawning, he pushed his tray aside and laid back against his pillows. "I guess we don't have any idea how long it's gonna be until I'm outta here?"

"No, I don't think anyone is thinking about discharge quite yet, Mark," Owen said. "They're gonna keep you here for a couple days, at least until everyone is stable and then fly you back to Seattle Grace… you'll probably have to go through therapy before being cleared…"

Owen trailed off, probably based off of the look that was on Mark's face. Halfway through Owen's answer, Mark had frozen up and it did not have anything to do with the prospect of therapy. "Fly us back to Seattle?! No… no, I'm not getting on another plane."

"Right, um… well, they can probably sedate you or something," Owen offered but Mark shook his head again.

"No… I'm not getting on another plane. We can be driven back; aren't our people coming on some greyhound bus or something?"

"Yeah, and they should be here any minute, actually," Owen said and he took a deep breath. "I guess there's no point in reminding you that the odds of a bus crash are fifty times higher than another plane crash?"

"No, there's no point at all," Mark said. "Plane crashes are rare, yeah but… live through what we just did and then you can go and run your mouth about the odds. The odds are crap. That's what Lexie always said…"

Owen smiled weakly. "Lexie said the odds are crap?"

"Yeah, she told me about this theory she had a bunch of times… the odds are just something we tell ourselves to make us feel better. She was usually ashamed to admit it because I mean, she's a scientist and everything but her mom died of the hiccups and the survival rate for those are probably like 100 percent. So she never put too much faith in the odds," Mark said.

"That's good then," Owen remarked. "Cause I mean, right now… I don't know everything going on with her medically but I know most scientists would say that the odds aren't in her favor. Hopefully she remembers that and fights… beats the odds."

Mark hoped that Lexie remembered that, too. He hoped that she did more than he could express in words. There was no way he could explain to Owen why he was so hopeless though… how Lexie had lost the will to live during the last two days in the forest… how Mark had performed CPR on her himself…

Owen read something on his cell phone and then abruptly jumped to his feet. Mark glanced up, his heart racing. "What happened?! Is it Lexie?! Derek?!"

"No, neither, uh… the bus is here. I just got a text from Richard that they pulled up outside and are getting checked-in so they can come up to the ICU," Owen said.

That was good, Mark guessed. It would be good to see someone else from home, especially Callie but the only people he really wanted to visit were Derek and Lexie. "That's good. Send Callie my way as soon as you can, yeah?"

"Yeah, definitely," Owen agreed and he paced out of the room.

Mark remained sitting up in bed, staring off into the hallway, thinking about his people… wondering if Lexie was still fighting, if Derek's blood pressure had gone down at all. He stayed right there on the bed, immobile and helpless until his glass ICU door slid open and Callie Torres, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, her face etched with worry stepped into the room.

"Hey, Torres," Mark grinned.

"M-Mark!" Callie gasped and she carefully walked over to the chair beside his bed, as if she was afraid that she was going to hurt him. "Oh, God… are you… are you… okay?"

It was a stupid question and it looked like Callie was aware of that but Mark knew she meant it in a good sense. "I guess so. I'm sitting up and talking, aren't I?"

"I guess so," Callie repeated. "Um… can I… can I get you anything? Are you… in pain?"

Mark shrugged. "It's nothing I can't handle. They just let me eat for the first time in five days so that helped. You didn't by any chance bring our daughter here to see me, did you?"

"No, I wasn't sure like… like what condition you were going to be in, you or Arizona… I didn't want to scare her. But she's with Alex Karev back home and she's excited to see you," Callie said.

That made sense. This was not really the appropriate place for a one-year-old; even though Sofia had visited Seattle Grace plenty of times, she did not need to be exposed to additional germs or be surrounded by death and worry.

"Is Arizona okay?" Mark asked.

"I think so. They said she already had one surgery on her leg and that the worst case scenario at this point is amputation… which, honestly, I'm okay with if it's going to save her life," Callie admitted.

"But you haven't seen her yet?"

Callie shook her head. "No, her parents went straight in there to see her a few minutes ago and I wasn't sure if you were going to have anyone. Plus, I mean, Owen said you were waiting for me but…"

"But you should go now," Mark encouraged and Callie gave him an unsure look. "Really, go… I'm doing fine here. I ate some soup and pretty soon I'm gonna take a little nap. She's your wife. Go and see Arizona."

"Thanks, Mark," Callie said and then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before running back out the door.

Mark pressed the lever on the side of his bed and adjusted it so that he was lying back further. He closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep because he was still beyond exhausted. How was Mark supposed to sleep when Lexie was in surgery though? How was Mark supposed to sleep when Derek could have a stroke and stop breathing at any moment?

MTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTBMTB

All Cristina could remember from the last 12 hours were bits and pieces… she remembered the relief that pulsed through her body when she saw the chopper descending from the sky. She thought that she recalled fighting Owen in the helicopter. And then the next thing Cristina knew, strangers were wheeling her into the ER but it was not Seattle Grace. She wondered if she had really been rescued at all and Cristina began throwing punches.

Someone must have sedated her because when Cristina woke-up, she was in the ICU with four-point restraints secured around her wrists and ankles. There was a bag of fluids making their way into her body, along with antibiotics and oxygen.

On cue, a resident walked into her room. Cristina knew it was a resident (or an intern) because of the terrified expression on his face. "Hello, Dr. Yang. How are you feeling?"

Cristina did not open her mouth; she honestly was not even sure what the kid had said. It was like his lips were moving but no sound was coming out.

"I'm sorry about the restraints…" the resident continued; he kept on jabbering like Cristina was honestly interested in what he was saying.

How could Cristina pay attention? She had been in a plane crash and her mind was still in the plane crash. Lexie had almost died, or maybe she had died… maybe everyone had died. Cristina tried not to think about what would happen if she was the only one left but she did not have much control over her thoughts. What if Meredith was dead? What if her person was dead… Meredith had given up… Lexie was dying and Derek was dying and Meredith had been screaming… she had wanted to die…

Cristina dozed in and out of consciousness but she could never sleep for long. How could she, when she had no idea if her closest friends were alive? Besides, every time Cristina closed her eyes, she saw the scenes all over again, the scenes that she wanted nothing more than to forget.

Meredith lying on the ground, broken and bloody… Lexie unable to breathe… the wolves in the forest eating Jerry's body… realizing that they were going to run out of water long before they were saved. Cristina squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the memories of the bugs nesting themselves in Arizona's leg… of Lexie slipping into a coma… of drinking her own pee to stay conscious and not sleeping for a second for over four days.

You should sleep now, Cristina told herself over and over because she knew she should. She had not slept for four days and now that she was in the hospital and safe, she should sleep. But was she really safe?

How did these horrible things keep happening to her and Meredith… and the hospital in general? Before moving to Seattle, Cristina had been involved in one traumatic experience in her entire life and that was the motor vehicle accident with her father when she was nine.

Since relocating, there had been an active bomb, a near-drowning, and a shooting… there had been Izzie with cancer and George getting run over by a bus. And now there had been a plane crash… Cristina had to get away from Seattle. She had to run away from Seattle Grace Mercy Death while she still could, before some fire or earthquake killed her, too.

Another stranger walked into her hospital room. The man rushed over to Cristina's bedside, disconnected one of her restraints and reached towards her face.

This was what was going to happen now… a psychopath was going to murder her. Cristina jerked her arm up upon reflex and tried with all her might to punch the guy, to fight him off…

It was only after a team of doctors in white coats rushed into the room and repaired the restraint that Cristina realized the truth… the man she had attempted to kill was her husband, Owen Hunt and the tables had been flipped once again. She was the sick one, the one with PTSD.

Cristina doubted that she was ever going to be well again.

Sorry for the short chapter but Cristina is traumatized, as we all know, and I didn't think she would have too much to say. I know we haven't heard from Lexie yet either but her chapter will be coming later; she is still in surgery right now! As of now we are going to go back to Meredith's POV.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and if you did, please don't forget to favorite/follow and review! It means so much to me. Chapter 15 should be coming out on Monday as usual. Love you all. Xoxo, merderpedia :)