The ER was surprisingly calm—a forbidden word the nurses and doctors avoid like the plague. Just as you commented about it with one of the nurses on call, a blonde was rushed in. She had a concussion and needed stitches.

Your attending physician told you to handle her. She had a gunshot wound just below her left shoulder; it was a through-and-through, her vest caught the brunt of it.

Despite being shot, she was in good spirits and made a joke about how you had a good day ahead of you. It wasn't the best joke, but it was endearing. JJ, on the other hand, had a lot on her mind. As you started cleaning the wound, she couldn't help but stare a little.

"Aren't you too young to be a doctor?" she asked, her head tilted slightly to the side as she watched you—cute, she thought.