
Another hour had gone by before Doctor Waltham finally came out of surgery. By Markus' calculations, it had been at least a twelve hour operation, yet the neurosurgeon looked more alert than Markus was on a normal day that didn't involve everyone around him rushing off to face death.
Markus jumped off the couch and intersected the doctor in the hallway.

Dr. Waltham: "Yes? Did you need something?"
Markus: "I just-there's this-um…"
Dr. Waltham: "Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but I need to be somewhere right now, so if you could just spit it out, I'd appreciate it."

Markus glanced around, noting that there was a janitorial closet a few feet away and that it was conveniently propped open. After waiting for this moment all night, he had come to the conclusion that this would be one of those defining moments in his life, in which he needed to make a choice. A serious choice, with serious consequences. But after seeing first Emily and then Mary, pale and lifeless, he realized that he didn't really have a choice at all; it had already been made for him, probably years ago. He couldn't change the person he was. He got scared the same as anyone else, but underneath it all he was strong and not afraid to do the right thing.

Markus: "Sorry. They're looking for you downstairs. They need a consult and some paperwork signed."
Dr. Waltham: "Yes, they paged me in surgery. I'm on my way now."
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