There is a vast difference, it turns out, between treating a gunshot wound and seeing one inflicted. If Meredith can hold herself together long enough to get out of here without being sick from the stress, she'll count herself lucky. "Go," she says, "move," but it's not like she's really sure this is the time, just that she wants out now. It's all too close for anything even vaguely resembling comfort. She watches him closely, though, waiting for his lead, not wanting to do anything stupid.