I look at her, trying to decide if I recognize her at all. I don't know and I think that I would. She's a tiny thing, with a short pink haircut, nearly a buzzcut. Her eyes are big and crystal blue. She looks animated. I feel not exactly right.

     We're in the ambulance. There's two medics hovering over me. The woman cuts my shirt. "Sorry," she says but she doesn't sound like she means it. "I like your tattoos."

     "Thanks," I say and gasp. I'm deeply out of breath.

     She places stickers on my chest, wraps a cuff around my good arm. "Pressure's dropping. Parker, get the doctor on the phone. Get me orders for pain medication. I'm starting a line. Shane, here take my truck. Alright, Lewis lets get moving."

     The woman is working fast. She says, "Small pinch." I don't feel it. She hangs an IV bag. The ride is fast, too. Everything feels fast and I want to slow it down.

     "How are you feeling, Dresden?" she asks glancing at me and then back at her monitor.

     "Like I've been shot," I respond easily.

     "Hi Doc, it's me. Parker. I've got a twenty-nine year old male. GSW to the right arm, significant blood loss with a self-tourniquet applied at the scene. Vitals are eighty-two over sixty-eight, one forty-four on the rate. He's received 500cc's saline already. We're hanging a second bag, now. Requesting orders for two of morphine. Great. We'll administer that now and should be pulling in shortly."

     "Two of morphine coming up," the woman says.

     "I don't," I say shaking my head. "I don't need it."

     I feel slightly better, or maybe like I'm not getting worse. The woman furrows her brow, looking at me questioningly. "Are you an addict?"

     "No," I say shaking my head. "I just prefer not to if I don't have to."

     She puts the vial away. "Very well. We're pulling in now, anyway."

     "What hospital did we go to?" I ask.

    "Aurora Memorial. Trauma protocols closest hospital. Your mother is meeting you here."

     "I'd like to walk in," I say and the woman goes, "Hm?" Because she can't hear me. I pull the mask down. "I'd like to walk in."

     She laughs. "Willful, this one. If we walk a tourniquet-ed patient into the ER, they're swiping my certifications at the door. Sorry. You're all hooked up to my monitor, too. Plus with this pressure you'd probably faint if you stood."

     "I don't faint," I say.

     The doors are pulled open and there's Lewis and Shane. Lewis reaches up, unhooks the stretcher, and pulls it out. The wheels clank to the ground loudly, but they get me out of the truck pretty smoothly. There's a crowd of people at the ER doors. Not a crowd, that's an exaggeration. But a few people, all gowned and gloved.

     "GSW?" someone calls and Lewis nods as he pulls me through the entrance.

     The two medics flank me on either side. They wheel me straight into a large room, that's bright, stopping the stretcher beside a bed. The female medic is speaking, stating things I've heard several times now. My evidently low blood pressure, my pulse that's too fast, my respirations which are labored. I look over at Lewis, who's on the other side of the bed. He's reaching across, tugging on the sheet underneath me.

     He shakes his head before I've said anything, goes, "We got it, man. On three." He counts off and then I'm tugged into the bed fairly easily. Like I weigh next to nothing, which I don't.

     "Do you want me to strip him?" a small voice asks.

     "He's only got the one shot. No need. Everyone clear for an x-ray."

    The bodies beside me back up and a machine is tugged into place above me. One person remains, a young girl wearing a heavy vest. The machine runs. I stay quiet.

     A voice breaks that silence, breaks the calm I've settled into.

     "What do we got?" Cas calls as he walks into the room. He's in his dark scrubs, a stethoscope dangling around his neck. I watch as his gaze turns from the medics standing off to the side speaking with the nurses to me. It doesn't take but a second before he's at my bedside.

     "Dres?"

     For what it's worth, he maintains a normal voice when he says it but his expression is not maintained. It's broken apart, fractures of pain and fear breaking through. I reach up, slide the mask out of the way again. "I'm fine," I say.

    "You've been shot," he whispers as his eyes dart down my torso. Why does everyone that knows me always look like they're going to vomit on me?

     It takes six maybe eight seconds before Cas draws back his shoulders. He looks up at the screen beside me. "What have we given him already?" he asks the room. "Hang another thousand of saline. And let's start him on a transfusion. O-neg until we can type him."

     The medic is back in my line of sight. She says, "He got two five-hundreds on the ride."

     "Right, I gave orders for two of morphine, as well?" Cas asks.

     "He refused," the medic responds. She's holding the monitor I was on at her side. She says, "Dresden, all the best to you."

      Cas has turned to glare at me. I say, "You can't glare at the person who's been shot."

     "You can't refuse my meds," he responds just as easily. "Can I get two of morphine and can someone put the x-rays up?"

     A nurse hands Cas a syringe. He tugs on my IV bag hanging to the side of me and inserts the needle. "I don't want it," I say.

     "You're going to want it when I take that belt off of your arm," he responds. I don't know that I like Doctor Cas. He's way bossier. And worst of all is I have to actually listen to him. And worst worst of all I like it.

     "X-rays up, Doctor," someone says. One of the nurses, I suppose. Maybe a tech. I don't know what the different color scrubs represent. Other than the dark blue ones Cas is wearing.

     Cas moves around my bed and turns this screen towards him. "Good news is your artery's in tact. Better news is the bullet went through clean. Bad news is you'll still need stitches. Maybe some skin grafts, too. Can I get him started on a cipro drip, a morphine drip, and let's get a trauma cart in here so I can get that belt off of his arm."

     "I think you're just saying words now," I say, feeling suddenly drowsy. "To sound fancy. Cipro? What is a cipro?"

     Cas turns to me and he's grinning, but it's a facade. I can tell it's a facade. I want to tell him I'm fine again, but my mouth is dry. He says, "Cipro is ciprofloxacin. An antibiotic. Do you know if you're up to date on your shots?"

     I nod my head. It's the best I can do.

     Cas laughs. "I think that morphine's kicking in, huh."

     "Mmm," I say.

     "Go head and doze off. Your arm will still be here when you wake."

     I want to laugh but I've already fallen asleep.