Having seen the little group a ways down the path, George had sped up his gait. He didn't have to be close to someone to know they looked hurt, especially when he looked limp and needed two men to help him. The yell urged him on, and he dropped his messenger bag in front of the compound, immediately going around to see what was going on.

"Oh my God," he said, allowing himself a moment of shock. It was rare to see someone hurt seriously here, rarer still to realize the man wasn't just hurt, he'd been shot.

As he jumped in to help that shock melted away, replaced by his favorite feeling in the world, one he'd been missing for a long time. Determination, and confidence that he knew what to do. That could do this. "I'm Dr. O'Malley, what the hell happened to him?"

And why did he look so damned familiar?