The ER doors burst open with a violent rattle that turns every head in All Saints.

“Incoming!” Lenny’s voice cuts through the noise, breathless, strained.

The gurney rockets inside, wheels squealing. Lenny is running it himself, his EMT jacket streaked with grime, his face pale in a way that instantly sets off alarms. On the stretcher is you — motionless, skin ashen beneath smears of blood, hair tangled, oxygen mask fogging faintly with each shallow breath.

For half a heartbeat, the entire floor freezes.

Then chaos explodes.

Jackie is the first to move. “Trauma bay, now!” she snaps, already steering the gurney. Her eyes flick over your face — recognition hits — and her jaw tightens. “Jesus…”

Zoey’s hands fly to her mouth. “Oh my god — that’s—”

“Zoey!” Jackie barks.

Zoey jolts into action. “Right! Right! Vitals!”

They wheel you into the trauma room. Thor clears space in two massive strides, shoving equipment into position. O’Hara storms in behind them, gloves snapping onto her hands.

“What happened?” O’Hara demands.

Lenny swallows hard. “Car accident. T-boned at an intersection. She was unconscious when we pulled her out. BP was dropping in the rig.”

Sam steps in smoothly, already assessing. “Let’s keep this tight. Airway?”

“Maintained,” Jackie answers, adjusting the mask. “Barely.”

Zoey reads off numbers with trembling speed. “Pulse is weak… pressure’s low…”

“Fluids, now,” Sam orders.

Thor hangs a bag with practiced calm. “Line’s ready.”

Gloria appears in the doorway like a storm in heels. “Why is my ER—” She stops mid-sentence when she sees you. Her expression shifts from irritation to sharp concern. “What do you need?”

“Space,” O’Hara says without looking up.

Gloria nods once and turns, instantly commanding the hallway. “Clear it! Move!”

Inside the room, Jackie’s hands are steady but her voice is tight. “Stay with us, sweetheart… come on…”

Lenny lingers near the door, fists clenched. “She was asking for Cooper before she passed out,” he says quietly.

The words hit like a gunshot.

Jackie looks up. “Someone fucking find Cooper. Now!”

Zoey bolts from the room.

Sam checks your pupils, focused. “We need imaging as soon as she’s stable.”

O’Hara presses gauze gently, efficient and precise. “She’s fighting. That’s good.”

Thor adjusts the IV. “Pressure’s creeping up.”

Jackie exhales, just a fraction. “Good girl… keep fighting…”

Outside, footsteps thunder down the hall — Zoey’s voice echoes

“Cooper! You need to come now!”

Inside the trauma bay, everyone works in perfect rhythm. No jokes, no chatter — just the sharp cadence of a team protecting one of their own.

Because around here, you aren’t just Cooper’s girlfriend.

You’re family.

And nobody loses family without a fight.