Just for future reference, I don't intend to do these double scenes forever; just until Cristina becomes a little more responsive, since we're mostly in her head at this point. Hopefully, you all enjoy.

"Get back!" Cristina bellowed, waving the pocket knife wildly in front of her. Coyote taming was not Cristina's specialty, but she fought valiantly, albeit ineffectively, against them to protect her fallen comrade. She had miscalculated the initial number of coyotes, approximating just two, but found upon arriving at the site that there were closer to five or six. She was correct, however, in assuming that a screaming human wielding a pocket knife would scare them. Four of them ran for the hills, but the remaining two jumped back, startled, then commenced growling at her menacingly. 'Damn, they must be really hungry to fuck with an armed, deranged lunatic.'

"I am. A. Cardiothoracic. Goddess," she screamed, pausing between her words to swing the knife at them. "I will not go down like this!" She heaved generously for air, as she kept her wide eyes on the coyotes. They continued to growl, unyielding. She kept them a couple of yards back, keeping them at bay with her arm stretched out, knife in hand. She gulped. 'Maybe this was a bad idea,' she thought, her heart pounding in her ears.

Just then, the one just out of sight, but still in her peripheral vision, lunged toward her. "No, no, no, no!" But Cristina saw it coming too late. The coyote's force knocked her to the ground. She fought wildly with the knife. "HELP!" she screamed using her one good hand to fend off the coyote. It wasn't long before the second one joined in, and she knew she was a goner. They had first gone for her bad shoulder, ripping a large chunk from it with their malicious fangs, then torn into the rest of her body. The last thing she felt was blood pooling in her mouth as she gasped desperately for air…then it all started to fade away. She felt no more pain as her vision started to return to her.

She plunged her hand into the air, attempting to stab the mangey beast with her knife, when she realized there were no more dogs, there was no more Lexie, no planes, no trees, no rocks…she blinked a few times, trying to clear her eyes, but then remembered that this was the clearest her vision could get. She felt warmth suddenly, and someone lowering her extended limb. "That wore off quickly." Oh, right. She looked over at Owen blankly. Say something, you idiot. Words. It's easy. You're thinking them right now. "How're you feeling?" A question-not a rhetorical question-one that requires an answer. Speak! She stared at him a moment longer before giving up and looking back at the ceiling. He massaged her hand lovingly. She wished she could thank him for being there with her.

"I need to dress the laceration on your forehead," he said finally, releasing her hand. She didn't even try this time, and continued staring at the ceiling. She could hear him gathering his supplies, and could feel him placing the gauze on her forehead. He started talking about her condition then, but her mind was elsewhere.

When she woke up, she was entirely lucid. She recollected everything from the crash, of course, but unfortunately, those memories also included her complete slip from reality. She remembered the coyote encounter being her breaking point. That's when she lost her grip. It came and went, she recalled, but the moments she lost herself were without a doubt the most mortifying in all her life. She remembered playing "baseball" with Seattle Presbyterian, she remembered talking to Lexie, she remembered believing Lexie was responding to her. She paused her thought process, collecting herself. It was all so embarrassing. She remembered drinking plane fuel, she remembered throwing it up, gaining back some sanity. She remembered having to drink her own pee to rehydrate herself. She remembered blacking out, which was on par with having a gun to her head in terms of how frightening it was. She remembered believing all of the people around her were coyotes out to get her. She remembered questioning whether Owen was truly Owen. She remembered it all, and the more she thought about it, the more she shut herself down. She was formerly a brilliant, talented cardiothoracic fellow with full confidence that she would one day win a Harper Avery. Now, all she would be known for were the tragedies that resulted in her mental downfall. And on top of that, of all the things she did remember, one thing she couldn't remember was how to fucking talk like a civilized human being. She was shutting down, and fast.

"The tendons were strained, but they should heal in due time." she caught the end of Hunt's summary, but mostly, all she could hear was the pounding in her chest. Hunt noticed, looking up at the BP monitor. "There's nothing to worry about. You'll be back in the O.R. in no time." She felt his lips on her forehead, and her heart fluttered. That's what you think. She glanced over at him briefly. At least I've got you, for now. What would he do when she never came out of this? How long would it take before he left her; before he gave up on her?

"Meredith." She heard the concern in his voice. She perked up. Mer.

Soon enough Meredith was lying on the bed next to her, and Owen had left. Meredith mimicked her stance, staring at the ceiling. She wasted no time in getting to her point. "They're taking us home tomorrow on a plane." Oh, so you can talk, but I can't? "And I said no planes, but we don't have a choice, because of Mark and Arizona." Her speech was rapid and raspy, making it hard for Cristina to understand. "So I told Bailey to just sedate us. Sedate all of us." She enunciated the last part to emphasize her point. She was silent for a moment, considering their predicament. "And we'll never know it happened. Right?" she looked at Cristina then, prompting Cristina to look back at her. The fact that Meredith turned her head was the primary reason she even knew to look. Her last words were in a whisper so soft, Cristina could barely tell she was even talking still. She just stared back blankly, just as she had Owen, not knowing what else to do. "Cristina?" Meredith grabbed her chin, and forced her head to the side. "Cristina," she said more urgently. What could she do? Apparently, she was a mute now. And a quadriplegic. Awesome.

The plane ride did concern her, and if she had been in her right mind, she would've spoken up. She would've pleaded with Owen about it, but she wasn't in her right mind, and she couldn't speak up. Meredith dropped Cristina's head, and it bobbled back onto her pillow. What happens when she has a medical emergency? What happens when she goes into heart failure, or something, and she can't tell anybody? Hell, she couldn't even reach for the nurse's button. She couldn't explain why she couldn't move. She couldn't explain why she couldn't speak.She had gone through a list of every medical condition she could recall in her hazy, half-brained state, and she came up with nothing. They were calling it a "state." What, a state of mind? She wanted to talk! She wanted to move! She wanted to be able to use the restroom without a bag, so how was this a "state?"

Suddenly, she heard a nurse walk into her room. Meredith spoke quickly. "She's unresponsive. She won't talk to me. She barely even looked at me."

The nurse exhaled. "Honey, she's not interacting with anybody. She hasn't said a word since she got here."

"What? Why? She was fine when they found us. What the hell happened?" Meredith was frantic.

"Dr. Sheehan diagnosed it as reactive psychosis. Apparently it can happen to people when they've been through a trauma."

"So," Meredith looked Cristina in the eye. "She'll come out of it, right? I mean, she has to."

"Honestly, I've never seen one in my twenty-eight years of nursing, so I'm not too familiar with it. Do you want to talk to Dr. Sheehan?"

Meredith shook her head. "No, that's alright. Thanks." As soon as the nurse left, Meredith leaned to hover over Cristina. "Cristina, wake up." She jostled her left shoulder. "Come on, you have to wake up. Wake up," she said, more frantically than before. "This isn't a game. You have to wake up." She was shoving her now. Don't you think I know that? The sight of Meredith hovering over her, demanding her consciousness forced a memory into Cristina's head.

"Mer?" She saw her friend gaze around aimlessly, obviously still not aware enough to know what had happened. That wasn't going to do for Cristina. The sky was FUCKING FALLING for God's sake. She had to snap out of it. "Meredith!" She gasped, helplessly looking around for help. "Meredith!" This time, Meredith seemed to regain some consciousness, her eyes growing and her mouth gaping as she realized she was in danger. "Get up! You have to get up now!" Cristina yanked on her arm with her one good arm. She still didn't budge. Cristina reached full-fledged panic mode, screaming relentlessly in Meredith's face, "Meredith, get up!"

"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake…