Maura Isles is a good doctor. A great doctor, some might even say. She wouldn't, though. Not that it's not true, she is pretty great, but she'd call herself a good medical examiner. That is all to say that right now? She is panicking, a lot.

Her hands are pressed tight to the wound on your side. Her gloves are stained red, and her eyes filled with worry. "It's going to be—" she cuts herself off before she can finish that sentence. She was about to say that it would be okay, but that's just a guess. Maura doesn't do guesses. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that it'll be okay, Detective," she corrects herself, her voice quivering.

This is bad. This whole situation is bad. Headquarters has been stormed by a group of men with guns who are searching for something in the evidence locker. Emergency power only, no phones, and no one in range of your radio. What was it that Jane said? Three dead, four wounded.

You could be in a worse condition, Maura thinks in a failed attempt to comfort herself, you could've had a tension pneumothorax like Frankie. But you have a bullet inside of you, and it's her fault. If she had just been more careful, you wouldn't have had to step in front of her. You might die because of her.

"Please be okay," she adds, struggling to open up the first aid kit with one hand while keeping the other on your abdomen. The bullet went through your left lumbar region, which means that it hit a number of things. Parts of your small intestine, descending colon, and the left kidney. She can't fix any of that, not here. Why did you have to play the hero?