There is nothing to breathe in the room – as if the smoke has begun to encircle Emily's legs, pulling at her bones, climbing into her lungs and itching there. It seems that if she looks down, she'll see tongues of flame.

If Clark is to blame for this, all is not well.

– Dr. Moss," Melissa, who had been silent until then, spoke up. – "The thing is, the staff call button in Thirteen didn't work…

– I don't want to hear anything! – cuts off the neurologist. – You didn't even act with your own hands, you asked the nurse to do it! – He slams his hand on the table. – This is worse than if you had just stood there and watched!

Seven minutes. If she manages to escape from here now, she'll make it to the academic building in time for the service stairs. The hell with her clothes. She could borrow them from the people who had already handed them in. The main thing is to check in…

– I'm suspending you from work for a month. You'll be working at the clinic at their rate of pay.

That's not so bad, Emily thinks. What's the clinic rate, less than a thousand pounds? That's all right, she lives on a quarter of that; after all, it's not such a big price to pay for a near-fatal mistake.

And Clark does not calm down: turns the embers around so that the flames hit almost in the face; with a sharp movement he gets up from the chair, pulls on the impeccably ironed fabric of his blouse and, almost shaking with anger, in an icy voice states:

– Look for a great replacement for me, Andrew. You did it once. What was that show for, would you tell me? Self-assertion? – She raises an eyebrow. – You're nothing but drama. – Clark neatly unhooks his nametag and puts it on his desk. – The play is over. Everyone is dismissed.

Five minutes. Gotta run, all the more reason to let go; only five minutes…

There'll be more Clarks like this in life, won't there?

They won't.

– Wait! Emily steps forward. – Wait a minute. Wait! That's not her. It's me. I got confused.

Melissa, who was leaving the office first, turns around.

– Emily…

– Johnson," Clark hisses warningly.

– I mixed up the meds," Emily says in a curt voice, and her own knees are shaking so badly she can barely stand up. – I've had an overtime week, and I've been taking classes and working with patients, and I got them mixed up. Dr. Clark said it right. I wasn't paying enough attention to hear it. It's so loud in there…

Melissa looks at her like she's crazy.

– Miss Johnson. – Moss sits back in her chair and leans back. – Clarify for us, please. Did you mix up the drugs on purpose?

It's three minutes to three minutes.

– No, I just didn't hear it," said Emily, as if she'd been wound up, tuned to one wave. – I didn't hear the name. I put the wrong one in the chart. Dr. Clark called the team and fixed it. It was my own fault. I thought I could handle it.

– You didn't know what you were doing, so… – Moss looks at her. – And you didn't confess right away because…

– I was scared. I didn't think it would get this far.

She's scared. She's scared as hell – the ground is falling out from under her feet, the sky outside the window is going black and collapsing on her head. Emily realizes that something is now breaking, grinding, shredding. Something inside her explodes and sweeps away everything in its path, including her hopes. The clock reads ten; there is no way she can be late, but maybe she will at least be allowed to retake it…?

May a miracle happen, she prays. Let anything happen. She would believe anything, do anything, just let it happen, let a miracle happen.

But the paper airplane mentally falls down, never making it to the glass.

– You are fired.

Too predictable, Emily thinks. Let him say that with tomorrow, let him, let him.

– Yesterday.

Not the courses, not the courses…

– And, of course, all scores at the learning center will be canceled. The hospital cannot allow anyone whose competence we question.

Emily burns in the jaws of fire that engulf her body; it's like trying to appear grown up and stronger, taking the weight of the earth on her shoulders, but failing to endure and sinking to the very core of the earth.

She cannot take a breath.

Inexplicable ways, she thinks, leaving the office, somewhere two more lines will cross – her and Clark, all will be rewarded, or maybe it has already been rewarded and the neurosurgeon will save someone's life tonight. And the vanguard doesn't hurt that much; it's scary as hell, but it doesn't hurt. That's why there's only black, molasses-stretching fear inside her.

And no more wishful thinking about tomorrow, no more dreams, no more music – gathering her things from her locker, through a veil of tears Emily drops the phone on the shiny tile, and a crack of spider legs scatters across the screen.

You are bright, all-powerful, with words hitting your temples, shooting to kill; who needed you like this, who needed this heroism, why did you even bother to save anyone?

She slams her palm against the locker in a rage, and the metal responds with a sob as pathetic as herself.

It's time to wake up.

She is, of course, standing behind her – the way angels stand behind their wards – and the robe, snow-white and lemon-scented, almost burns with its whiteness.

Emily doesn't turn around – there's not much stuff, but it's bulky, hard to pack, and she has half an hour to get it all together, then her pass is revoked. She'd have to stop by Higgins, only he probably already knows.

The sacrifice had cost her all her inner strength; she hadn't had time to think about the consequences.

– It wasn't worth it," Clark said. – I wouldn't have left, for God's sake, Johnson, he wouldn't have dared fire me.

Emily is silent, and her numb back shoots pain under her skin.

What a fool she is. Of course, who would let someone like Clark leave? She's the one everyone here prays to, she recalls with a crazy smile. The savior of brains, lord of stem cells; any other hospital would have given her a red carpet welcome.

Stupid, stupid Johnson!

– Andrew just wanted to feel power. An arrogant, spoiled brat.

The nurse is still silent, trying to wipe away her tears with the sleeve of her stretched sweater. Clark speaks next, something about freedom and class, but Emily doesn't listen to her.