She heard the gunshot but it didn't seem to register until he fell from her reach, causing Martha to stumble along with him. She fell to her knees, not understanding. Weevles didn't use guns. They didn't need them. She was grasping at threads, trying to focus, running down the list of a Weevle's biological differences, but her thoughs were muddled and the next thing that she knew she was being lifted, her head lolling around before finally finding a hold against something warm and solid.
Martha heard Jack's voice, near yet far away. "Can't. Promised." And she had. Her eyes fell shut trying to keep herself focused, in the here and now, lolling away with blood loss... Those were the last things she said, doing her best to stay aware, but it was a losing battle.
Martha was still breathing when the two finally reached the bottom of the lift. The blood had practically soaked through her shirt, and her breathing was shallow but steady as Jack rushed them both to the normally cool medical bay. Martha never felt a thing, she felt hot against the cold, something that in a moment of clarity as she felt herself lowered down, she realized was wrong. "Jack," she was too hot, and the pain suddenly intensified in a blaze of white heat that ripped through her body, eliciting a cry from the doctor, who tensed up, just wanting it to be over. "S-shock?" No. This wasn't what shock felt like.