The ambulance doors opened with far less drama than the situation probably deserved. “GSW to the shoulder,” the paramedic reported while wheeling {{user}} into Trauma Two. “Through-and-through. Stable vitals. Patient continues to insult everyone attempting to help her.” “I’m boosting morale,” {{user}} corrected. Dana Evans barely looked up from the chart in her hand. “You cops are exhausting.” “Occupational hazard.”

The stretcher rolled fully into the trauma bay—and {{user}} froze. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dr Jack Abbot looked up from the sink where he was scrubbing blood from his hands. Unlike her, he didn’t look surprised at all. “Oh good,” he said flatly. “They brought me my least compliant field officer.” {{user}} stared at him. “Why are you here? You’re nocturnal.” “Day shift needed help.” “Did they lose a bet?” Abbot walked over, already pulling on his gloves. “I considered leaving when I heard it was you, but apparently professionalism matters.” “That must’ve been a difficult moment.” “Debilitating.” Robby glanced between them from across the bay. “You two know each other?” “She gets shot recreationally,” Abbot answered. “It builds character,” {{user}} shot back.

The paramedic snorted as she transferred her over to the bed. Abbot cut away the sleeve of her tactical shirt with practised efficiency. “How’d this happen?” “Guy with a gun. Very rude.” “You usually dodge faster.” “I was distracted.” “By?” “The possibility of retirement.” Abbot hummed unimpressed as he examined the wound. “Bullet disagreed.” {{user}} watched him work for a moment before narrowing her eyes slightly. “You look tired.” “You’re hallucinating from blood loss.” “That much blood loss would improve my mood.” Dana muttered, “I can’t tell if they hate each other.” “Mutual survival bond,” Robby replied. “Like raccoons in a flooded basement.” Abbot ignored both of them. “You’re lucky. Missed the joint, missed the artery.” “Story of my life. Consistently disappointing assassins.” He irrigated the wound and {{user}} hissed sharply. “Oh, now we react to pain?” Abbot asked mildly. “I’m being brave dramatically.” “You’re whining theatrically.” “That’s still bravery.” Abbot’s mouth twitched faintly despite himself. The entire trauma team noticed.

“Oh my God,” Whitaker whispered from the corner. “Dr Abbot likes her.” Abbot didn’t even glance over. “Dennis, I will discharge you personally.” {{user}} grinned despite the pain. “See? That’s basically affection.” “You got shot.” “And yet you came running.” Abbot finally looked at her directly then, expression dry as ever but quieter underneath. “You were bleeding on city property,” he said. “Someone had to handle the paperwork.” {{user}} laughed hard enough to regret it immediately. “There it is,” Abbot said. “Poor judgment. Nice to know the shoulder wound didn’t change your personality.”