Burning. Boiling. RED. Caroline squinted in the bright light. It shouldn't be so bright — it was late afternoon when...when it happened. She winced as the bright light bore down on her again. She didn't like how it hovered there, exposing her private thoughts. Squeezing her eyes shut, Caroline turned away from its punishing glare. A roaring, thundering sound assaulted her ears, blocking out the simplest of thoughts — and then a painful avalanche of furious yelling. The screams. So much screaming from a clearly desperate woman that it made her tremble in fear, eyes wet as she tried to call out and share in her grief.

RED. It taunted Caroline, making her throat want to close up with a painful, broken sigh. Wait — her throat. It was vibrating now, its rage unleashed as she finally understood. Those screams were her own. RED. RED. RED.

Shaking. Someone was shaking Caroline violently, her head rocking back with a painful snap. "Bloody hell, Caroline! Get your shit together and go help Nik!"

Caroline blinked, vision clearing as Rebekah's furious (and terrified) gaze bore into hers. Caroline was huddled in the corner, the too-bright lamps an uncomfortable spotlight as Klaus' sister dug her nails into her flesh, shaking her again until it felt like her teeth were rattling.

RED. RED. RED. Klaus was shot. Help him.

Pushing past Rebekah, Caroline didn't bother looking back as she raced toward the OR. Hospital staff was racing back and forth, shouting over each other, and the room was so crowded she couldn't see Klaus at first. "GSW chest," called out Dr. Fell, impatiently gesturing toward the nurses standing near the patient monitors.

Caroline stepped toward the surgical table, biting her lip until it bled when she saw Klaus. Blood-soaked remnants of the trauma pad were still visible, hastily ripped away to expose his ruined chest still seeping from the bullet wounds. "No," she screeched, pointing at his injuries, "he's not stable enough for surgery! Why didn't you people get him stabilized in the trauma bay?! It's procedure, damn it!"

The staff scurrying around froze in their tracks, flashing fearful glances at Caroline as she pushed past them to get to Klaus. Gasping, she shrieked, "You haven't even prepped the area with surgical iodine! Seriously?! How do you people not know about the harmful bacteria that thrives on skin?!" Stomping her feet, she shouted, "Surely at least ONE of you didn't spend your entire premed stoned, right?!"

"Caroline." Dr. Fell's brittle, no-nonsense voice immediately caught her attention. "This is my shift and I made the call — he can either bleed out in the trauma bay or bleed out in here where at least he has a chance to stay alive."

Bleed out in the trauma bay. A chance to stay alive. Caroline's heart thudded in her chest at the doctor's blunt words. Her panicked thoughts threatened to overwhelm her, but then Dr. Fell's next sentence snapped her back to reality: "Get out."

"No." Caroline stubbornly set her jaw, quickly marching toward one of the supply stations and grabbed a surgical gown. Despite her voice being slightly muffled by the protective mask and shield, it was pure steel as she commanded, "Fix him."

She held her breath as Dr. Fell held the scalpel aloft, the insistent beeps of the monitors both reassuring and terrifying. Klaus looked so small on that table. Vulnerable. The breathing tube had been inserted and the anesthesiologist was monitoring it closely. Caroline started to remind them to be on the lookout for potentially fatal acidosis, pulmonary aspiration, pneumonitis...and about 50 other possible complications that made her want to scream into the void until she blacked out — but then she noticed her arm was throbbing.

"Caroline!"

The alarmed cry startled her, and Caroline glanced up to see Vicki race toward her, the nurse wildly pointing at the blood spotting her sleeve. The itchy fabric was suddenly slick and heavy, and Caroline had to grab the edge of a steel prep table to keep her balance. "Shit," she muttered, a bit dazed as the nurse pressed thick, sterile gauze over the sleeve.

"You've been shot," Vicki told her, trying to drag her out of the room.

"No." She dug in her heels, clutching at the bandage tightly, her gaze stubbornly trained on Klaus' still body. No — not still — the breathing tube was doing its job. And Dr. Fell damn well better do hers.

Despite her tiny body, Vicki possessed a wiry strength that served her well when dealing with strung-out patients three times her size (not to mention her MMA hobby), so when her grip tightened, Caroline realized she'd better cooperate before she was knocked on her ass. "I need to be here for him," she said, hating how broken she sounded.

Her rigid posture softened slightly, and Vicki jerked her chin toward the adjacent prep room with a wide window that overlooked the OR. "You can watch over him from there." Hissing in her ear, she warned, "You're no good to him if you pass out from shock."

It was all Caroline could do not to press her face against the glass, needing that faint connection to Klaus. As she watched Dr. Fell and the rest of the staff going through the familiar steps of his emergency surgery, she could feel herself panicking all over again. Because this wasn't just any penetrating chest trauma. This was Klaus. And he could die if even one step was missed or sloppily done because the hospital staff viewed it as just another day at the office.

"He's O negative. He has to have O negative! Being a universal blood type means we always experience shortages. Someone has to alert County Memorial and secure another supply just in case! Make it a priority! He's a priority, damn it!" Caroline was breathing heavily by the time she finished her diatribe, grunting in pain as Vicki cut open her sleeve to begin prodding at the wound.

"It's been handled," the nurse replied, adding quietly, "You've got a high-velocity gunshot wound exposing your fat and muscle. You're lucky — it only grazed you, so the damage should heal ok."

Caroline glanced over at her mangled flesh, muttering disinterestedly, "Lucky. Sure. That's me." The bitter taste of adrenaline and fear kept her focused on Klaus, barely feeling the sharp burn of her wound. Of course, she could be in shock. No time to worry about that now.

As blood continued to trickle down her arm, Vicki reached for a suture kit, telling her, "Still a bleeder though, so you're gonna need stitches." Tossing back her ponytail, she asked, "Want something to take the edge off or do you wanna white-knuckle it?"

Caroline narrowed her blue eyes suspiciously when she saw Dr. Fell angle the arm of the overhead magnification instrument. The bullets must've damaged organs. Fuck. "She's having trouble identifying organs — I need to get in there and fix it," she said urgently, ignoring the hysterical edge that had crept into her voice.

With an irritated sigh, Vicki held the ragged edges of the wound closed and started piercing the curved needle through the skin. The insistent tug of flesh made Caroline a bit queasy — and annoyed. She didn't have time for this.

"Dr. Fell has it under control. Bust in there now to interrupt again and you'll risk your boy's life."

Wincing when Vicki rammed the needle a bit deeper than necessary, Caroline huffed petulantly. "Fine. But the nurses packed the midline incision horizontally instead of vertically and that gauze is going to protrude unnecessarily, so somebody better be monitoring that."

The nurse gave her a brief glance, but said nothing. She didn't have to. They both knew the statistics of GSW chest wounds — especially penetrating trauma caused by high-caliber assault rifles. Even if every part of the surgery was perfectly executed, there were no guarantees. Science only took you so far.

"Here." As the iPad was thrust in her hands, Caroline glanced up to find Dr. Fell's face pinched into a frustrated grimace. "I've been instructed to 'fetch Nik's Sexy Doctor Lady' as they 'don't trust medical claptrap from anyone but you.'"

Caroline bit back a smile, sitting up from the small bed where she'd been resting since she'd been stitched up. The dizziness had stopped finally, and she sighed, knowing she couldn't avoid Klaus' family any longer. "I tried to tell you they could be a bit...prickly." She quickly threw on a less-wrinkled lab coat and exited the staff room, abruptly stopping when a police officer suddenly approached.

"Dr. Forbes? I'm Officer John Gilbert and I'm following up on the shooting in the parking lot. I understand you were wounded along with Klaus Mikaelson. I need to get your statement."

Alarm must've briefly registered on her face, because his tone turned soothing as he said, "Don't worry, you're not in trouble, just clearly in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's a damn shame when innocent victims get caught in the crossfire of those Mikaelson scumbags." With a shameless wink, he whispered, "Hopefully your team didn't have to waste too much time patching him up."

"Seriously?! You people are unbelievable! I have to go tell a terrified family a bunch of medical updates that if anything will make them more afraid and you expect me to drop everything so you can ask me a bunch of insulting, biased questions to put in your bullshit, one-sided report because you've already decided the victim is guilty!"

Caroline didn't care that her voice was echoing throughout the hospital wing. She was exhausted and weepy-furious and she was feeling far too many FEELINGs at work and she just wanted to shut down for a week on her couch with a blanket and her...her Klaus. Don't think about that. Finish yelling at this jackass, go talk to Klaus' family, and then you can have your well-deserved breakdown.

The officer was so surprised by her unexpected outburst that he took a step back, an angry red flush crawling up his neck as she pushed past him, adding disdainfully, "You might deal with some scumbags in your career, but that doesn't mean you have to be one."

"Ms. Forbes, it's imperative we get your statement. It's unwise to be uncooperative in an investigation of this magnitude..." he trailed off, his tone carrying a hint of a threat that in the past would've frightened her. But no more. Her life had changed and there was no going back.

She glared back at him as she rounded the corner, snarling, "It's Doctor Forbes. And my statement is 'Fuck off.'"

Caroline smiled for the first time in hours. It was a fleeting, mechanical smile that hurt her face, but it gave her a brief moment of happiness.

When she arrived at the waiting room where Kol and Rebekah were furiously pacing, she caught a slight movement out of the corner of her eye and nearly shrieked when Stefan emerged from the shadows behind her. His familiar, dead-eyed gaze regarded her with...well, not warmth, exactly, but a kind of grim approval. With a curt nod, he announced, "The cop will be handled. There won't be a report."

Don't ask. Don't fucking ask. Bigger concerns right now. Rebekah and Kol raced toward her, their faces an ugly mask of relief and fear as they shouted their questions at her over and over.

"How's Nik?"

"What happened?"

"What took so long?"

"Is he...is he...?"

Caroline raised her hands in a calming gesture, taking a moment to scroll through Dr. Fell's updates before replying, "Klaus is out of surgery and in our intensive care unit. They removed four bullets from his liver and intestines, and there was extensive tissue damage from bullet fragments." Despite adopting her clinical persona as a shield, Caroline realized she'd been gripping the iPad so tightly the screen was making a popping noise. Breathe.

Rebekah's red-rimmed eyes regarded her shrewdly. "Something happened."

How could she tell? Caroline sighed. No matter how many years she'd been doing this, no amount of bland professionalism could change the fact that it was Klaus. And he almost died. Twice. "During surgery, his heart stopped — the um, cardiac arrest was noted..." she could feel her throat start to close over the words, but rushed forward anyway until her voice was little more than a pitiful croak, "Noted by loss of carotid pulse, undetectable blood pressure, and rapidly decreased ECG activity."

Rebekah paled at her words, lips trembling as she stubbornly tried to maintain her regal composure, and Caroline's heart ached as she saw her own fears mirrored there. But it was Kol who made Caroline's eyes instantly prick with hot tears. Klaus' younger brother always filled any room with his entertaining-yet-exhausting presence — but now he was withdrawn and deathly quiet. And he was wearing his lucky hat. It was the sight of that stupid, gaudy hat that had Caroline furiously swiping at her cheeks. Kol instinctively kept touching the brim of that tacky cowboy hat, as though sending a silent prayer to those neon green lights that decorated the brim.

She flicked her gaze away, suddenly grateful for Stefan's stoicism. Because it was impossible to fall apart in the presence of a sociopathic Rottweiler. He was a silent presence at Rebekah's back, an immoveable wall to shield her pain. Clearing her throat, Caroline tried to reassure the group, "Immediate resuscitation was performed with chest compression and epinephrine administration and he recovered."

With a tremulous smile, she added, "He came back to us."