Happy New Year to you all. Thank you for being patient with this update, and as always, thank you so much for the reviews.

Okay, this time, I'm not bluffing. More genuine words have never been spoken when I say that I have my fixed computer in my possession and therefore, will be able to give you more frequent updates. As a New Year's "resolution," I've set aside a time once per week where I will turn everything off and simply write for a few hours. I have come too far in this story to back out now, so you will get the ending you deserve when that time comes. Enjoy this next installment.

As Owen drove to the firehouse, he wasn't concerned with anything other than figuring out how he was going to take care of Cristina at home and continue to be Chief of Surgery. I could hire someone to- He laughed at this thought. That would undeniably end in a lawsuit. Maybe my mother could come and…no, that's a lot to ask. When he turned the corner and could see the firehouse up ahead, he realized how ridiculous he was being. I can take a few days off of work. The hospital won't fall to pieces without me. He pulled into their driveway and put his truck in park. Webber's got this under control until I can figure something out.

He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed Cristina watching him throughout the ride. He's never this quiet, she thought running her fingers slowly up and down her legs. Dammit, I wish I could figure out what's going through his head. She watched his eyebrows scrunch not in frustration, but as if he were intensely concentrated. Something in the road caught her eye and she slowly turned her head to see Lexie's mangled limb clamped between the jaws of a vicious coyote. Cristina shut her eyes in abject horror and sucked in a small gasp. Why? She turned her eyes back to Owen in an attempt to rid her mind of these horrific images. Why won't they go away? She kept her eyes on Owen for the rest of the ride, adamant not to have an emotional breakdown in the middle of traffic.

When they arrived back at the firehouse, Owen looked over at Cristina and smiled calmly. He didn't say a word as he walked around to her side and lifted her into his arms, prompting her to wrap her arms around his neck. She shielded her face from the world around her by burying her face in Owen's shoulder. When he flicked the light on upon entering the house, Cristina felt a rush of familiarity and security, something she hadn't felt in a long time. There were no coyotes, no dilapidated planes, no birch trees, just Owen and the safe, warm home they had built together. He felt her relax in his arms and he knew right then that he had not made a mistake; that what she needed was home. He kissed her temple tenderly. "Do you want to go out on the balcony? Get some fresh air?"

She looked up at him and shook her head, surprising Owen. As he stared at her, trying to absorb what had just happened, Cristina gently pushed against him, trying to break from his hold. "Cristina," he said worriedly, but allowed her to stand on her own.

I can't go outside, Owen. She held onto his shoulder as he supported her under her waist, allowing her to lead him where she wanted to go. They'll come back if I do. She walked steadily toward the couch while Owen watched on in awe. She allowed her knees to collapse when she made it to the couch, landing on the edge where she could rest her head.

Owen let go of her slowly, hesitantly, watching as she pulled her legs onto the couch and positioned her hands under her head on the armrest. After the shock had subsided, Owen felt a wave of relief and pride rush through him as he gently peeled her head away from the armrest and positioned himself underneath her, replacing her head in his lap. He felt her sigh contentedly beneath him as she slid the rest of her body further down the couch to accommodate its newest occupant.

Owen removed her hair from under her neck and began brushing through it, not saying a word. Cristina wasn't one for verbal affirmation, this he knew, so he simply stroked her hair and listened to her ragged breathing slow to a soothing, steady in…and out…In an attempt to produce some normalcy, Owen grabbed the remote with his free hand and flicked on the TV. The noise, while not overtly loud or alarming, was an unexpected disruption from the silence, and made Cristina flinch. "Shh," Owen soothed, moving his hand to her back. "Sorry. I should've warned you," he said calmly, reaching under her hair to rub her neck.

While alarmed by the TV, Cristina was in no way stressed or tense as Owen worked his way up and down her neck and through her hair. She had not felt this level of peace in a long time. In fact, Owen's hands were working her into a deep…sleepy…state…

As her physical strength returned to her, so did her senses. She jerked her head up in a panic. A plane crash. A freaking PLANE CRASH?! A PLANE crash. She quickly tried to swing her hands underneath her to push herself up, but a stabbing pain shot through her left arm as she did so. She cried out, fear outlining her features as she attempted to assess her surroundings. After collecting herself, she used her right arm to push herself onto her back, giving her much more lung capacity to breath.

Her hearing returned abruptly, causing her to cry out in horror as she heard a woman wailing close by. She heard flames cracking each time she felt the wind brush her body, and plane debris making loud thuds on the ground as it continued to fall from the sky. The sky was literally falling.

Suddenly, it occurred to her. That wasn't just any woman. That was Arizona Robbins. She turned her head in the direction of the screaming, and saw only Robbins' torso. Her lower body was blanketed by the airliner's wing. Cristina's senses returned fully to her then as she pushed her body up with her right arm. She headed in the direction of Arizona when she looked up to see a piece of debris plummeting toward the ground. She looked directly to her right and found a possibly-dazed-possibly-dead Meredith directly in its path.

"Meredith," she whispered as she bent down to pull her out of the way. She found that when she tried to grasp Meredith, her hands went straight through her. "What the hell?" she exclaimed trying again. She looked toward the sky to see that the debris was getting nearer and nearer with each second. She began to whimper in panic as she tried to grasp any part of Meredith that she could latch on to. "Meredith wake up! Wake up!" she screamed, but as she looked at her hands, she could see that they were outlined in a faint glow. She tried pushing and pulling, screaming in Meredith's ear all the while. "Wake up! Wake up!"

She looked up again to see that the shard of metal was directly upon them. She shielded herself from the metal and squeezed her eyes shut. She heard the noise of metal embedding into skin and heard a gasp from underneath her. "How the hell…" she hesitantly opened her eyes and looked down to a horrifying sight. Meredith's eyes were wide and her mouth agape, blood dribbling out of the corner. "No, no, no, no, NO!" Cristina cried as she tried to apply pressure to the wound in her stomach. Her hands continued to pass right through Meredith as the color in her face started to fade. Words were replaced with short, ragged breaths. "Stay with me Mer, just…" then she took one last breath and everything went still. "No," Cristina whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "Meredith." She tried to start chest compressions, but her hands fell through her each time. Her frustrations grew to unimaginable heights as she grasped her hair. "NO!"

As she lifted her head, trying to figure out what the hell had happened to her; to them, she saw an equally horrifying sight. There, just a foot away, laid her own body, pale and lifeless, her shoulder ripped from its socket causing her arm to dangle by a mere thread. Her breaths grew more shallow and panicked as she stood and backed away, her hand gripping her shoulder with immense force. As she backed further and further from her disheveled body, she bumped into something behind her. She turned. "Meredith?" She turned and looked at the lifeless form on the ground then back at the standing form. "What is going on? Where are we? Why are you…"

Meredith shook her head, causing Cristina's voice to halt. "Don't fight it. You'll never beat it."

Cristina took hold of Meredith's shoulders and shook. "What are you talking about?" She heard growling from behind her and turned to see the coyotes nearing in on their bodies. She grabbed Meredith's hand and pulled as hard as her body would allow. "Meredith, move! We have to get out of here! We have to-"

"We can't get out, Cristina. We can't get out. We can't…"

"Cristina," she heard his voice before she opened her eyes, and she relaxed. "It's a dream, Cristina. It's not real." She opened her eyes then and peered into his striking blue orbs which were looking back into hers sorrowfully. She was sitting up, her legs in his lap and her body clenched tight against his. After nearly three weeks' worth of nightmares, Owen had become accustomed to rousing her from her dreams and did not panic as he had before. He rubbed his arm up and down hers slowly, soothingly. "You're not there anymore. You're here, with me, okay?"

She nodded slowly, prompting him to pull her into his chest tightly and rock her back and forth. Meredith was right, she thought as Owen brought her back to reality. There's no escape, is there? Owen whispered sweet words in her ear as the tears streamed down her face. She let out a faint whimper as he clutched her even tighter, assuring her that all was okay. It didn't take long for her to settle herself down, prompting Owen to loosen his hold. They shared a long, worried look before Owen nodded, confident that she was calmed enough. "Why don't we go clean up and get something to eat?"

Cristina broke their stare and fixed her gaze on the lamp beside her. She nodded, dejected by her most recent relapse. "Do you want to walk?" She nodded again, shifting her legs from Owen's lap and allowing him to help her stand up. Her leg muscles were weak, but with Owen's hand stabilizing her by her elbow, she managed to climb the stairs, one slow step at a time.

By the time she reached the top, her legs were shaking and her brow drenched in sweat. Owen looked at her concerned, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. He slid his arm around her waist when she looked like she might collapse, and led her into the bathroom. As he sat her on the toilet and started drawing the bath, Cristina watched with dead eyes. He smiled, but she offered no response in return.

Meredith was right. She turned her head, unable to bear the optimism in Owen's faithful eyes. Meredith was right.