[ Santana tries to work as quickly as possible, removing the larger shards first and then switching to tweezers for the smaller shards once the bigger ones are taken care of. She stops counting down each removal, instead switching to babbling on about basically nothing, both to get Stephen’s mind on something else and to keep herself as relaxed as possible. If Stephen’s paying attention, he’ll learn a lot about her long and rich history of petty fights with Quinn Fabray.

Santana doesn’t know what’s worse — the muffled not-screams and jerks of Stephen’s body, or their absence, by the time she finishes. Both are terrifying, both are reminders that he could die from this, that Santana is only technically an adult who’s barely passed high school biology and is incredibly underqualified for this sort of thing. By the end of it, she’s breathing rapidly. It’s getting harder to fight off the panic. But she’s gotta keep trying.

Next up: pain relief. Then wound care. ]

Okay — okay. They’re out. There’s, uh — some Tylenol in the first aid kit. Can you swallow pills? Just — just nod, if you can.