Here are the next two installments of the story. In the next chapter, I wanted to note that I had to find a way to incorporate Webber and Bailey into the story, as well as Zola, because they appear in the show at the hospital in Boise. If you care to, let me know what you thought about the way I included them. Inquiring minds want to know.
As always, thanks for the review, and enjoy.
"Hunt, what's the news?" Hunt was in Collins' vehicle on his way to the hospital to wait for the chopper when he decided to call Webber.
"They found them. They found our guys," Owen said, not believing his own words.
Webber was silent for a second. "How many of our guys?"
Owen blew out a breath, shaking his head. "I don't know. I don't know. They just said that more than one survived." He rubbed his face roughly. "It doesn't matter. I just need you to get on the next plane out to Boise."
"Say no more. I'm on my way." Hunt heard the phone beep, indicating Webber had hung up.
"Any more news, Collins?" Hunt asked from the passenger seat.
"Yeah, actually." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I've been notified that they found six survivors."
Hunt looked at him incredulously. "So you mean all of th-"
"One was the pilot, Hunt." Hunt's face turned dark and downfallen.
His eyes filled with tears. Cristina. He had waited for this moment for four days: the moment Collins told him his wife was dead. His worst nightmare was coming to life. He had tried to prepare himself as adequately as he could manage, but how does one prepare for something like that? How can one possibly come to terms with losing the love of their life so unexpectedly? "Did they give a name? To the…one we lost?" he asked quietly.
Collins prepared then for the man to break down on him. "Lexie Grey." He said it simply, not wanting to give any reaction either way.
Hunt immediately slumped in the chair and covered his face with his hands. "Oh…God," he said. He wanted to thank God, but how could he thank God when Lexie was still dead? Oh Lexie, he thought sadly. Meredith must be devastated.
Collins looked at him sympathetically. "My deepest condolences, Hunt. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose a loved one like that."
"Cristina Yang," he said softly, forcing his hands into his lap. "My wife is Cristina Yang."
Collins raised his eyebrows. "Oh, well…" he cleared his throat. "That's-that's…" How does one respond to something like that?
"What's her condition?" Hunt asked, his worry returning.
"I've been told she's stable."
Another guff of relief from Hunt. "And the others?"
"Let's see…Meredith Grey: stable, Derek Shepard: stable, Arizona Robbins: critical, Mark Sloan: critical, Jerry Gosz: critical."
Hunt nodded. He could lose three of his staff today; three of his friends, no less, but they were all doctors. They all had emergency training. Hell, he had taught them emergency training. They survived this long, they could continue to survive.
Just then, they swerved into the hospital parking lot. Collins put the car in park. "Ready?"
Hunt nodded. "Affirmative, sir."
They both walked into the hospital, neither of them knowing what to expect, but something they both learned that day was never to expect the worst.