When Cristina returned to the crash site, she immediately set to work, searching for anything useful for Arizona Robbins' leg. Her resources were limited at best, but she tried to adapt. "I'm going to try and splint this," she said to Robbins, approaching her with a belt and metal debris.
Robbins protested, insisting that she do it herself. "I can do it. No, I can do it," she said, her voice much stronger than before. She tried to distract Cristina. "Jerry needs a C-spine stabilization," she said, focusing on her injury.
"Who's Jerry?" Cristina asked, ignoring Robbins' request, and helping her with the splint. Arizona gestured upward with her head, indicating that Jerry was the pilot.
An annoyed Cristina, abruptly stood, searching again for any supplies she could use to help Jerry. She heard Arizona and Jerry talk about their rescue. Jerry insisted that someone would find them in the next four hours, tops, but Cristina knew better. They were stranded there.
"Did you find Derek?" Cristina had made her way back into the cabin of the plane, praying that she would find something useful there, when Robbins caught her attention.
"Uh, not yet," Cristina said distractedly, searching relentlessly through the dilapidated cabin. "Jerry, do you have any tape?"
"Yeah, uh, in the bulkhead, in the cabin to your left." He stuttered through his response trying, as they all were, to remain calm and alert through the pain.
Cristina didn't stop to hear the rest of his response, but found the tape and "Yes," she exclaimed, a flare gun.
"And Lexie?" Robbins was growing panicked again.
"Not good," Cristina responded, looking down at her. Her response was short and distant. She couldn't think of Lexie right now. "Great, great, great," Cristina's hopes rose as she pulled a piece of panel wood from the cabin. She set the glorified plywood behind Jerry and proceeded to tape his abdomen and head to the wood, stabilizing him as best as she could manage. She asked then about a first aid kit, which he replied there was one in the cabinet to her right, but the cabinet was gone, probably among the other debris.
"Just tell her to hang on for four hours," he said, not realizing the gravity of the situation. Lexie was not going to make it. Cristina pushed aside the ache in her heart, knowing she had given up on her. She was a doctor, for Christ's sake. She was supposed to do everything in her power to save lives. She had taken the damn oath, and up until this point, she had never broken it. She would never forgive herself for leaving Lexie to die under that plane, but she had to prioritize. Meredith might blame her for all of eternity, and she would have to live with it, but she knew at least one person who would understand, and she longed for the moment when she could see him again. She needed him in that moment. She needed him because he would not blame her. He would hold her and assure her that she did the right thing; that Lexie was too far gone. She needed that because her person would not understand that, and she couldn't stand to claim responsibility for that.
In her moment of guilt, she decided to grab some water bottles and an oxygen mask for Lexie. If she wasn't going to survive this, she might as well make her as comfortable as possible. She stuffed them into a backpack and was about to go back when Jerry spoke up. "Hey, hey," he shouted. "Don't leave. I can't feel my legs." She turned to face him. "I'm going to be okay, right?" He needed comfort in that moment, but Cristina was their only rock in this predicament; the only voice of reason. She didn't have time for comfort. She only had time for saving lives.
She leaned into the pilot's pit, picked a pen from the cup holder to his right, stabbed him in the leg with it, simply said, "I'm sorry," then strode out with the backpack.