What I Didn't Finish

FBI

Context: Soon to be FBI agent Stiles Stilinski saves Lydia's life during a "mission" except I suck at writing action so I never finished

The code for a drug shooting had never been uttered into Agent Stilinski's walkie until tonight. He knew the case they were working on was centered around the illegal buying and selling of weaponry, and could easily also involve distribution, but nothing in the case so far had given any signs of a connection. So it was purely coincidence that the apartment complex targeted for a mass gun buy, also happened to be the home of a dealer.
"Is anyone hurt? Anyone hurt?!"

"Stilinski," Stiles lifted his head and then proceeded to stand from the hospital waiting chair upon the arrival of his captain, "you aren't obligated to stick around, kid."
A few nurses pass by, his eyes following them briefly but soon losing interest as they pass by his room. He turned back to his captain, "I know sir, personal preference."
"You don't need to get caught up in personal affairs." The man crosses his arms.
"Only waiting to make sure she has someone to go home to, nothing personal, just following up."
"Stilinski,"
"Derek," Stiles dared, "I'm not making it personal."

"Over here! I-I don't think she's breathing." Stiles crossed the hall quickly to where a dark-haired woman sat weeping, holding a seemingly younger red-head in her arms. "Please, she's my best friend."
"Lay her flat." Stiles instructed. He looked over his shoulder to make sure the rest of his team was checking the floor for their suspects. They were knocking on doors, kicking them down when no one answered, clearing the area. "Was she involved with the buying and or selling of any illegal weaponry?" He checked for a pulse, scanned her body for an injury, and located a bullet wound in her right shoulder.
"What? No, no, Lydia was just–" the brunette trailed off.
"What's your name?"
"Allison."
"Okay, Allison, I need to know the truth. I'm not going to let your friend die, I promise, but I need to know how she's involved."

"Agents Hale and Stilinski?" A doctor emerged from Lydia's room, "usually our federal agents have moved on to another case by now."
"Stilinski isn't full term yet." Derek explained.
"Doesn't mean I'm attached," Stiles muttered back, "how is she?"
"Fine, sleeping. We'll be able to release her in a few weeks."
"Weeks? Standard holding period after minimum damage from a gunshot is usually only two to six days."
"She has no one to help care for her, all immediate family is dead and others are rare and don't live in the state."

FLASHBACK
Stiles gives Lydia mouth to mouth she wakes up all confused
"We need to get her to the hospital, she's bleeding pretty badly."
Lydia lifted her dizzy head off the ground just enough to see her thigh and the hole there.
"Holy shit, did I get shot? Am I like fucking James Bond now?"
"Ma'am, it's best you remain quiet. Save your energy, we don't need you to black out again."
"You're fucking hot."

Stiles stays in hospital to see how she is. Doctor comes out and explains her sitch but says she has no immediate family to take care of her afterwards so stiles throws his captain a look.

She nearly rolled her eyes opening the door but caught herself because of what he was wearing: a band t-shirt and jeans. Jeans. She had never seen agent Stilinski in jeans before let alone an actual shirt that didn't have buttons. He usually stopped by on his way home from work to pester her but his outfit was totally throwing her off. He noticed, a grin forming on his face at the way she was checking him out.
"Gonna let me in?"
"Are FBI agents even allowed to do annual checkups?"
". . .well if they aren't, I'm technically not full term agent." He sits on the couch next to her.  "Have you taken your vitamins and medications?"
"Yes."
"Have you eaten?"
"Yes."
"What did you do today?"
She hesitates "you mean the good or the bad part?"
"Lydia, no more drug cartels, we talked about this."
"I'm clean, you know that!"   "I just distribute a little."
"When I saved your life you were distributing a lot more than a little."
"But now it's just a little. Just apartment shit, I promise."
"You promise?"
"Yes, yes Dammit I promise!"
"Well... Good." He muttered.