The surgery had taken grueling, arduous hours. Then he shed his bloodied scrubs. He cleansed his hands for a good two minutes with scalding water and plenty of soap. By all accounts, he and Jean had performed a miracle. He thanked her, congratulated her on a victory hard won. He held his composure. He finished his business. He said his goodbyes. Then he stepped into the hall, into darkness, into solitude. And with no distractions left, all the fear and the memories and the pain he'd managed to keep buried through the ordeal finally thrashed through to the surface. His apartment lay to the right. He turned left, scurrying instead to the surface, to the open air. Air. He needed air. Shaking hands burst free into the moonlight, and the brisk