An hour later, Meredith had sent all critical patients to trauma beds and signed in for surgery once an OR and another surgeon to perform what she can't. Interns were watching anything that needed to be. She was suturing and tending to all that she could.

She let out a sigh of relief when she saw the Chief walking in.

"Thank god," Meredith said.

"What's been going on?" Chief said.

"I've sent all traumas to trauma beds, rounded on all, superficial wounds have been sown up, and anything surgical is in line." Meredith reported.

"Okay, I'll help down here," Chief said.

"I have a patient I need to see," Meredith said with a sigh before walking off. She walked off into an exam room.

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"Hey there, Doc," A man winced as Meredith walked in.

"Hi," Meredith said giving him a soft smile. "What do we have?"

"22 year-old, GSW to the leg," The nurse reported.

"Yeah, Doc, it hurts like hell," The patient said.

"Okay, let me look," She pulled the bandage off of his leg.

"A downward wound? Hmm…" She wondered silently.

"Okay, I'm going to need to wait for an OR to open." She sighed. "There are so many patients to get into surgery. It's a mad house. I'll be back soon, okay?" He nodded. "Give him some morphine." The nurse nodded as she walked out.

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"Okay, how's the pain?" She asked as she walked back in.

"About a 6," The patient said with a shrug. Meredith stood at the door with her mind on something other then the patient.

"Are you the one in charge?" She overheard a policeman ask The Chief.

"Yes. And you are?" He asked.

"Cory Jackson," He answered. "Seattle Police Chief."

"Richard Webber, Chief of Surgery."

"I need to talk to you."

"Okay?"

"The shooter is here."

"What?!"

"We don't know who. But we believe that he slipped away on an ambulance after self inflicting and non-life threatening injury. Anyone fit the description?"

"A lot of people had less then serious patients"

"There's more…"

"What?"

"He might be armed."

"WHAT?"

"We didn't recover a gun."

She sighed and shook her head as she poured something on a piece off gauze.

"Okay I'm going to clean your wound," She walked over. He nodded and she tossed the old bandage in the trash. She looked at the gun shot wound and started to wipe down the area. She pulled back the gauze and looked at it.

"How did he get a downward wound?" She thought.

"Non-Life threatening injury."

"Self-inflicted."

"He might be armed."

It all replayed in her head.

"Downward wound."

Her eyes grew wide and the wind was knocked out of her all out once. She glanced up at his face.

"How did you get this wound?" She said.

"I was shot," He shrugged.

She looked at the wound again.

"It's just it's an odd wound." She said.

"Non-Life threatening injury."

"Self-inflicted."

"Armed."

"Downward wound."