Thank you to both of my guest reviewers for the feedback. I love hearing from my readers.

Before you read this chapter, I think it's important to note that, from the outset of this story, I wanted to fill in the gaps of the plane crash from all sides, especially from Cristina's point of view, both internally and externally. This chapter really delves into Cristina's psyche and her way of coping with the accident.

I did extensive research on reactive psychosis, but nothing I found could really explain her reaction upon being wheeled into the hospital/Owen's arrival, so I got creative. Dr. Sheehan mentions that her state was a state brought on by "extreme exhaustion, dehydration, and exposure," so I don't think these delusions you're about to read are too farfetched. I'm trying to explain my process without giving too much away, and now, I'm rambling, so without further ado…

"Hold her! Get some restraints!" Why are the coyotes talking? What the hell is this? Cristina fought valiantly against the doctors, her heart racing out of her chest, but to no avail. Shit, they've got me! They're going to finish me off, limb by limb. "Two of lorazepam, now!" No, no, no! Now they've learned how to administer medicine? What fucking planet am I on? Cristina had lost her vision entirely after the rescuers found Derek and Meredith, as well as most of her hearing, but she was able to discern most of what was happening. I…have to…save but the lorazepam had taken its effect. "Calm do…" was the last thing she heard before falling into a deep slumber.

I'm alive? was the first thought she had upon awakening. Why would they keep me alive? They were so hungry before. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her face. She tried to thrust her arm up to defend herself, but she was trapped. They must be studying me before they kill me. I mean, these things can give me lorazepam, so they must be a lot smarter than I give them credit for. "Okay, her eyes look good. Can you follow my finger? Finger? There was a pause, and she thought they might have left, but then she heard one of them sigh. "We'll try again later." She heard the deep voice mumbling something, and a more feminine voice respond. Plotting my demise, no doubt.

Then, she heard no more. She had no idea how long she laid there, eyes wide open, and for what? But she couldn't sleep. No, she had to get out of there and save the others. They had probably already killed Arizona. Her injuries would render her useless to them. Mark, however, might've survived. If they were interested in medicine, the hillbilly procedure they did on him would likely intrigue them. Derek and Meredith were likely in the same situation as she was in. Their injuries weren't too bad, and they were doctors too. Plus, the last time she checked, they were fairly coherent, so they may already be working for the coyotes against their wills. How long had it been, exactly? How long would they keep her chained to a bed for observation?

Just then, she heard a familiar female voice approaching her. She caught the butt end of her words. "seems to have put her in a state." She tensed at the sound of her voice, remembering their last encounter.

"Lorazepam, now! Now!"

"What do you mean?" Now that was a very familiar voice, but she couldn't place it. Where had she heard that…

Just then, she heard metal clank against her bed, and a voice she immediately recognized fill her ears. "I'm here, okay?" Owen. Dopamine flooded her system. She was overjoyed. Suddenly, the world was no longer black, but blurry and full of vague figures. For a brief second, she thought that it might actually be Owen, but that reasoning faded rapidly. They're trying to get me to trust them by introducing me to something familiar. Fucking bastards.

"I wouldn't do that." She heard the female voice again. Listen to the woman. Nonetheless, the stupid coyote released her from her chains, and she immediately fought against him. You've made a grave mistake. I'm an excellent pitcher, and I will knock you out before you even know what hit you.

Then she felt his hand, and she questioned her earlier assessment. He felt so good; so warm and familiar. It's not Owen. Keep fighting. It's not Owen. Then he touched her back and a flood of memories overwhelmed her. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't. She couldn't even manage to move her face. It's not Owen. It's not Owen, she repeated to herself. "I'm here. I'm here." How did they do that? How did they make an Owen clone? Maybe… then, he cupped her head and pressed her tight against her. It's Owen, she thought with relief. He's here. "I'm here." He's really here. She relaxed then, looking around at her prison cell to find it looked like a hospital room, from what she could see through her extremely blurred vision. She knew it was him, beyond a shadow of a doubt. She wanted to hug him back; to cry; to do anything but sit limply in his arms, but she couldn't. Why can't I move? Why can't I see? Why can't I do anything? Owen, help me! Owen's words interrupted her, soothing her frustrations. "It's okay. I'm going to help you. Shh." She let Owen embrace her, and relaxed completely in his arms as he rocked her like an infant.

She didn't feel him move from that spot until she felt something graze her cheek. No! She tried to jerk back. I knew this was a ploy! What kind of mutant coyotes are these? He held her tighter, and calmed her once more, ensuring her that it was him. "Shh, don't worry. I'm here." She was so confused, and desperate to live. She couldn't take any chances, but…no. She knew Owen like the back of her hand. Even after a heavy dose of lorazepam, and crazy from exhaustion, she knew it was him. When he kissed her a second time, she allowed him to do so, absolutely sure of his identity. "I'm going to take care of you. I've got you." How are you going to take care of me when I can't even move? How are you possibly going to fix this when we're both trapped here?

After not nearly enough time, she felt him release her, and she laid back on the bed. Where did you go? As if he had heard her, she felt a hand on her head. She reacted out of instinct, grabbing for the attacker. She felt his large hands envelope her small ones, and immediately surrendered. "It's okay, sweetheart. It's still me." Sorry. Habit.

Cristina began to grow anxious when she didn't hear his voice, but now she at least had some vision to go by, and a muffled version of her hearing back. His head disappeared from view for a moment, but then she felt a vibration from under her, and her view started to tilt. Her heart was racing. What is happening? Where is Owen? Suddenly, the sensation stopped, and she realized she was sitting up. When Owen appeared again, he held something vaguely yellow in his hand What are you doing wi-OH! She jerked her head back violently, as did Owen. Jesus, what was that? It was warm, but wet and suspicious to Cristina. Owen's words made her relax her muscles. "Shh, It's okay. It's okay." I trust you. She saw it nearing her face again, and this time, she fought the urge to jump. He brushed the object along her cheeks, her forehead, her chin, and under her eyelids, and it felt so nice. She felt the need to sleep then, much calmer than she was before, but then she remembered. Owen, where is Meredith? Where are the others? Oh, how she wished she could just talk, dammit.

He finished then, and she immediately craved his touch. He moved away, shuffling around the room. She heard the door close, and she thought for a moment that someone else had come in, or Owen had left, but then he came back into her line of vision. He touched her shoulders, and again, she resisted her primal instinct to flinch. "You're going to feel a lot better when we're through." I already do. She felt a rush of cold air hit her skin, and crumpled fabric on her fingertips. What are they trying to do? Freeze me to death? She felt the object again on her back and relaxed once more. After it made several trips up and down her spine and across her shoulder blades, Cristina felt the cold air hit her again, much sharper this time. Owen, stop. I'm freezing. "I bet you can't wait to go back to Seattle, where it's familiar. I've already made the arrangements." She forget her discomfort for a second. Seattle? How are we possibly going to manage to escape? "Once Arizona and Mark are stable enough, we're going to get you home." Wait…Arizona and Mark are alive?! You've seen them?! What the hell is all of this? He offered no more information, probably, she thought, because he had to save it for a more appropriate time. It didn't matter. Her friends were safe, though he hadn't mentioned Meredith or Derek yet.

Once he moved to her front side, she remembered the discomfort. Oh God it's-It's so cold, she thought, wishing he would stop. I-I'm so cold. He had moved from left to right, top to bottom, and it wasn't until he reached her stomach that she felt a sensation for the first time. She had always been ticklish, so the sensation was nothing new to her, but it was the first time that she'd woken up that she could feel something so distinct. It triggered her ability to respond to him, and she started to shake uncontrollably, unable to grab the blankets, or her gown, for that matter, directly in front of her to cover up with. Owen, make it stop. She heard him walk quickly around the room before he finally responded. "You're cold." Yes, I'm absolutely frigid! Now, help me! "Okay. Okay," he said softly. Thank you. She felt her gown slid back up her torso and settle in place. Better. She still shook, but she knew that she would stop in a sec-Oh. She felt something soft settle on her shoulders. "You're okay." Yeah, much better. She wanted to pull it around her and thank him, but it was a futile effort. She felt his firm hands slowly glide up and down her arms in an attempt to warm her up. God, I love you. Despite her best efforts, that sensation had been triggered, and she was now completely at a loss for control of her body once more. She continued to shake, even as warmth returned rapidly to her body.

His hands left her again, and she immediately felt colder. You've always been such a tease. Suddenly, she felt his hand on her back as she was pushed forward so that she was looking at the bed. A heavy weight rested on the bed behind her, and she could feel his body warmth before she made contact. Once she did though, it was euphoric. She felt the blanket cover her front torso as well now, and Owen's hands once again on her arms, making their way from top to bottom. She decided that she couldn't remember a time when she had felt more comfortable in all her life. Oh, finally, she thought as her convulsions came to a stop. Again, she felt Owen remove his hands, but almost immediately, she felt them in her hair. She had always loved it when he played with her hair. He must've remembered. Every once in a while, she felt a slight snag as he ran his hands through it, but it didn't hurt bad enough to bother her much. It didn't take long for her eyelids to start drooping. She tried to fight it, but Owen's trusting touch was gradually lulling her into a sleep she couldn't resist any longer. The last thing she heard before her world went black once more was Owen's comforting voice. "Cristina?" She didn't answer. She couldn't. Sleep had already taken its hold.