I hope I haven't lost too many readers. Excuses aren't my thing, so I won't make them, but I hope that despite my overdue update, you enjoy this chapter.

I can't imagine that anyone doesn't like Webber. He obviously has his flaws, but he is constantly trying to right his wrongs, a quality that I find most admirable in a person, so this chapter is dedicated to him and his loyalty to the hospital and his friends/family.

As you can tell, I'm quite invested in these characters. Please enjoy.

"I wish I had something more substantial for you, Dr. Hunt." Hunt's heart dropped, as did his head. It was Collins. "I didn't mean to get your hopes up, but we need to you do an…interview, of sorts so that we can get some more information about the flight."

"Right," he sighed. "Yeah, okay."

"Great. There's a flight leaving at 1800 from Sea-Tac to BOI. Fax over your information, and we'll have a ticket waiting for you at the check-in desk."

"Wait, you want me to fly to Boise? For an interview?" Hunt ran his hands through his hair.

"I use the term 'interview' lightly. It's more of an…"

"Interrogation," Hunt finished. "It's been two days, you can't find the plane, and you suspect me of being at-fault." His tone was defensive. How dare this motherfucker.

"Stand down, Hunt. Yes, interrogation would be the more appropriate term for your visit here, but we don't believe you to be at-fault." Hunt scoffed. "We simply need your side of the story as their Chief."

Hunt blew out a large gust of air. "Alright, so I get on the plane, then what?"

"You'll need to bring all staff files with you. To be more specific, uh…" Hunt heard papers rustling from the other end. "Meredith Grey, Mark Sloan, Alex Karev, Cristina Yang, and Lexie Grey. We also ne-"

"Karev was replaced by Arizona Robbins before they left the hospital. He wasn't on the plane."

"Right, well, bring both files, just in case." Collins heard Hunt grunt in response and took that as a sign to move forward. "In addition to the staff files, we'll also need every record of the flight: confirmations, receipts, itineraries, and anything else you got. You had mentioned several calls from a uh…" more paper-shuffling from Collins' end. "Dr. Sheehan notifying you that the plane hadn't arrived, is this correct?"

"Yes," Hunt replied.

"If you can manage it, bring those recordings as well, and if the machine doesn't do it automatically, make sure to record the day and exact time of each message. We'll need them for evidence."

Owen sighed. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Be prepared to spend several days here. This is neither a short nor easy process. We want to be thorough." He was running a hospital. How the hell was he supposed to just pick up and leave for days, possibly even weeks? He would have to reschedule surgeries, prepare payroll, assign a chief interim, and…no, no. The first thing to do would be-"Dr. Hunt, are you still with me?" He must've been silent longer than he realized.

"Yes, yes," he quickly replied. "Wilco, sir."

"Alright, 1800 hours, Sea-Tac. Be there. We'll have a car waiting for you when you arrive in Boise."

Hunt hung up the phone, wringing his hair through his hands. He looked at his clock. He had exactly 11 hours and 23 minutes to ensure hospital maintenance and transfer responsibilities before he had to leave indefinitely. He quickly changed into his scrub top and pants, not bothering to wear anything nice, and headed out the door.

When he arrived at Seattle Grace, he made a beeline to his office. The last thing he needed was to be pulled into a trauma case he didn't have time for. The first thing he did was page Webber. If he was going to have to leave someone in charge, there was no more obvious choice than Richard. He was digging through a filing cabinet full of hospital records when the former chief walked in.

"What's going on, Hunt? You're not supposed to come in fo-"

"I got a call from the Boise Air Force base about a half hour ago."

Webber looked at him, intrigued. "And?"

"They've got nothing," Hunt said, waving his hand. Webber looked down dejectedly. "But they need me to come in for some sort of-of 'interview.' I leave for Boise at 6:00." Webber remained silent, watching Hunt pace around the room, searching through filing cabinets, book shelves, and unlabeled folders, looking for God knows what. "They want all kinds of files and records that honestly," he looked at Richard, laughing. "I have no idea where to find."

The tenured chief walked calmly toward Hunt, who was leaning against his desk, using his hands to stabilize himself. Hunt shook his head, looking around his office as if some divine creature would suddenly descend from the heavens and give him the answers. "What kind of files you need?"

Webber and Hunt spent the next three hours collecting various files. Webber was able to locate most of them without a problem, but some records were more difficult to find. The more the day dragged on, the more Hunt's admiration for Webber grew. Hunt didn't even have to ask him to be chief interim. As soon as he got word that the chief would be preoccupied, he reverted back to chief mode. He knew this hospital inside and out. He had devoted his entire career to Seattle Grace. Hunt loved being chief, no doubt, but if the situation ever arose where Webber wanted his job back, Hunt would hand it over. No fight, no lawsuit, no vendetta. Hunt loved being chief, but Webber was made for it.

"I suppose now, you're going to need to reschedule your surgeries and reassign your patients. Let's take a look," Webber said, pulling out his reading glasses.

"Actually, uh, before we go any further, I need to clarify something," Hunt said, clearing his throat.

He removed his reading glasses. "Alright," he said attentively.

"It's really more of a formality, you know, for legal reasons. I'd like for you to step up as chief interim while I'm gone, however long that will be." Hunt nodded his head, resolved.

Webber nodded back, thoughtfully. "I think I could do that," he responded. "My status: It starts now?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"Well, I've got several more hours before m-"

"Because if it starts now, that would mean I was responsible for rescheduling your surgeries and managing your patients. Now, I'm not telling you how to spend your time, but if it were me and I had no other responsibilities at the hospital, I'd be going home to prepare for what I'm presuming is going to be a very long string of days for you. What do you think, Hunt?"

Hunt chuckled to himself. "I-I think you're absolutely right, sir." He became much more thoughtful. "Thank you, Richard."

"Go save our people," he said simply, turning down the hallway and out of sight.

"Wilco," Owen said to himself, walking out the doors of the hospital, prepared and determined to find out what happened to his people; his wife…he couldn't afford to think about that right now. He couldn't spend what little energy he had left concocting the morbid thoughts of his twisted mind. Right now, he had to focus.

The remaining hours went down without a hitch, as did his flight, and soon enough, he found himself in a Boise hotel room, beaten and exhausted. It was 8:00 at that point, usually far before his bedtime on the days he was allowed a bedtime, but he couldn't resist the urge to crawl into the hotel bed and sleep off the nightmare that had been the last three days.

Three days, he thought to himself. How could a full 72 hours have passed with absolutely no trace? The pull of sleep was taking him under, fast, but he was desperately trying to cope with the trauma he had experienced worrying about his loved ones. Cristina, sweetie, I love you. I hope and pray every minute that you're okay. Please come back to me. The mixture between the stress and exhaustion was causing him to cope in strange ways, like speak to his wife in thoughts, but it allowed him to sleep peacefully for the first time in days, so he embraced it for all it was worth.