Rain is dying.
Which is fine, in and of itself, because she always knew it would come down to this: death in the line of duty. And One is gone, Kaplan ... dammit, she couldn't see, couldn't fire, couldn't risk hitting him, and J.D.
Her breath hitches in her throat. The civilian pulls her arm up higher around his neck, and she feels the throb in the bite to the side of her throat.
Perhaps a little memory, the homicidal bitch fronting as a child had said, and Rain would bet on it; she'd seen something like recognition in J.D.'s dead eyes, enough to hold her finger off the trigger until he'd surged forward and it was too late.
He always liked to bite her just there.