The trauma doors slam open so hard they rattle the glass.

You barely register the blur of blue scrubs and rushing voices around you before the gurney jerks sideways into motion again. Your shoulder burns hot enough to make you nauseous, blood soaking through the sleeve of your jacket while a paramedic keeps pressure against your side. Somewhere above the chaos, you hear someone say “GSW to the chest,” another voice shouting for imaging, and then suddenly—

“Move.”

Jackson Avery appears at your bedside like a storm. His face drains of color the second he sees you. For half a heartbeat, he just stares. Then the surgeon takes over. Like he doesn't care he's not supposed to be here.

“What happened?” he snaps, already cutting your jacket sleeve open. His hands are steady even while his jaw clenches hard enough to hurt. “Why is she hypotensive? How much blood did she lose?”

“She took a suspect down during a raid,” the paramedic says quickly. “Building collapse after the arrest.”

“Of course it did,” Jackson mutters under his breath.

The pain finally crashes over you in waves. You hiss as they move your arm and Jackson’s eyes flick upward instantly. Fear flashes there—sharp, angry fear. “Hey. Stay with me.” His voice lowers for you alone, though the entire trauma bay can probably still hear it. “You are not allowed to pass out right now.”

Across the room, Meredith and Maggie exchange a look. Alex leans against the counter with crossed arms like this is somehow the least surprising thing he’s seen all week. No one even tells him off, or bothers to tell him that this isn't his job.

“You know,” Alex says dryly, “normal couples do dinner.”

Jackson ignores him completely.

By the time the scans come back, the injury thankfully isn’t fatal—dislocated shoulder, cracked ribs, enough blood loss to terrify everyone, but survivable. The adrenaline drains out of the room all at once. Nurses begin cleaning up. Residents scatter.

And then Jackson rounds on you.

“What is wrong with you?” he explodes, loud enough that the entire pit goes silent. “Every single month you come in here bleeding, unconscious, shot at, stabbed, burned, kidnapped!-"