In fact, tonight, she suddenly felt like she could do anything.
 

She was going to see Tina again.
 
 
————————————————————————————————
 
 
The wonderful perspective was unfortunately short-lived when the next day, after spending at least an hour and a half in her bedroom trying to find the perfect outfit, she received a call from her colleague and friend, Dr Lambert. He needed her urgently at the medical care unit of the CDC. A new case of haemorrhagic fever… Heavy-hearted, she called Donatello’s and left a message, then she dashed over to the Center. 
 

A new case of haemorrhagic fever… A child, nine years old… He had just been transferred to L.A., but he was the son of an American engineer working on a hydraulic dam in the Republic of Santaragua. The Santaraguan authorities claimed that it was an isolated case… Isolated case my ass, Bette thought. In the case of haemorrhagic fevers, there was no such thing as an isolated case.
 

The boy was unconscious. Blood was running out of his body, relentless, flooding the sheets that the lack of time didn’t allow to change anymore. 
 

Dr Lambert approached Bette from behind.
 

"I asked you to come" He said quietly, as if not to disturb the boy’s indefinite sleep, "Because I know that, even in the middle of your test tubes, you’ll always remain a medical doctor to the core…"
 

"It’s a bad one…" Bette whispered hoarsely, a lump in her throat, "So violent…" She turned to her colleague, "Probably the worst I’ve ever seen…"
 

Just then, the boy’s mother came in. Bette tried to compose herself. The woman stepped closer to her,
 

"You’re Professor Porter, aren’t you?… I’ve heard about you… I know you’re working on a treatment. Please, Professor… Please give it to my son. I’m begging you… Give it to him, please… You’re my last chance." The poor woman pleaded in tears, desperate.
 

In that moment, Bette hated her work and the responsabilities it entailed. She wished she could do what this mother asked. She wished she could try anything to save her son… But she couldn’t. The treatment was in its first stage and there was absolutely no guarrantee that it would work. And anyhow, she just didn’t have the right…
 

She shook her head, and lightly squeezing the woman’s shoulder, she whispered,
 

"I’m sorry, I can’t…"
 

Then she quietly stepped out of the room. Once outside, she tried to take a deep breath but found that she could hardly breathe. She put her hand onto the opposite wall for support. Tim approached her from the side. 
 

"I heard…" He just said.
 

Bette looked up at him but didn’t reply.
 

"Is there really nothing we could do?" Tim asked with questioning eyes that suddenly made him look much younger.
 

Bette stood up straight and looked at him in the eye.
 

"Tim, do you remember when we first started working together, you asked me what was the difference between medicine and research?"
 

The young man gave a slight nod,
 

"… Now you know." Bette softly said.
 

She turned away from him and as she started her way along the white corridor, she instructed in a plain voice,
 

"Please get me his blood samples as soon as possible. Then go home to sleep, it’s late… I will be in the lab."
 

"In the lab?… Now?" Tim asked, concerned.
 

She turned around and looked at him kindly,
 

"Yes Tim, now…" She simply stated, then resumed her walk.
 

She reached the research unit and entered her lab. Closing the door, she leaned her back against it and let out the deep breath she had been holding since she’d left the boy’s room.
 

She felt sad. She felt sorry. She felt impotent. She felt overwhelmed with all the emotions of the evening…
 

She thought of Tina, her beautiful Tina, who had been waiting for her tonight in a chic restaurant… and she broke down and cried. 
 
 

 
TBC…

Coming soon in chapter 14:

She had lied because she had seen this article’s headline in the ‘San Francisco Chronicle’:

‘Tomorrow, at 4pm, at the University of California at San Francisco, Conference on Tropical Illnesses and their Treatments, by Professor Bette Porter.’