Greta had the industrial equivalent of her life pass before her eyes as she saw her four years of graduate training, a year of internship, two years of residency and four postgraduate fellowship and research years, slip away and shatter in the broken barrel of the syringe. She had terminated a patient-client relationship. Stunned silence surrounded Greta as she mentally withdrew from the scene; her head felt like it was wrapped in heavy cotton stuffing. She had seen medical errors, many resulting in prolonged hospitalization and sometimes even death. Unlike the subtle miscalculations she had witnessed, Greta knew her act was clear cut, cold and harsh. She had killed a patient. She had committed a crime.<br/><br/>Dr. Habner slowly looked up and around the room, wordlessly, trying to assemble her thoughts. The orderly had seen, so had Anne - broken and mentally fragile - but her chief worry was Dr. Ignatius. How would she repair the damage to her career? Greta pushed all thought of Jane’s humanity aside. That would come, she knew, later. For now she had to salvage what she could of the situation to protect herself. Anne seemed settled and calm, unlike herself. She spoke to the dead girl’s body as it lolled on the floor, “<em>No worries, Thumper. Anne will settle this for you.</em>” Feeling more than a little bit mad herself under the circumstance, as though Anne and she had switched places, she said in an odd, tinny voice that to herself seemed to come from far away, “<em>Well, Jane <strong>is</strong> cured now, isn’t she?</em>”<br/>