She turned off the machine, and after that everything was quiet as she signed the paperwork, the death certificate for a corpse she had been nursing for over twelve years. Then she fled the room, terrified of what the outcome might be. She walked aimlessly through the halls, wishing desperately that she could silence her thoughts... and her fears.
She could still remember the day they brought him in, a broken form, so tiny... and she had known almost immediately that there was nothing she could do. For all practical purposes the boy was already dead. Then she felt it, the faint buzz that marked the boy as a pre-immortal... and the heart monitor kept beeping... and suddenly nothing was more important than keeping that corpse alive.
And alive she kept him. Playing God by allowing his body to grow into that of a young man. As far as she knew no one had ever tried to do what she had just done, and she was painfully aware of the tragedies she might have unleashed with her actions.
She couldn't tell what would now be allowed to come back to life. To which time of death would the body revert to, the small child or the young man? And if his body were to remain like that of a young man, what was to happen with his mind? Would he ever wake up? Or would she be forced to take the head of a vegetable who could not be allowed to live without endangering them all? And if he did wake up, would he have the mind of a five year-old, but able to grow and learn, or would she find herself with another Mickey in her hands?
When the boy first came to her she hadn't even considered that possibility. She had never heard of a mentally disabled Immortal until MacLeod told her of the child-like one he and Richie had once encountered. She had always assumed that, if the boy were ever to regain consciousness, his mind would be able to grow, but her only reference had been Kenny, who was trapped in a child's body, though his mind wasn't that of a child. And she knew that she had never had the opportunity to examine Mickey. She would never know if he was born that way, or if his condition was the result of an action similar to the one she had taken to protect the boy.
It frightened her to think that by trying to prevent another Kenny she might have caused an even greater pain, but then she reminded herself that, without her intervention, this child would have been half as old as Kenny at the time of his first death. Of course, she was prepared even for that possibility. She knew that his body might revert to the form it had at the time of the accident, and then she would have the enormous responsibility of trying to protect the child. She would have to bring up an eternal child, hoping against all odds for a different outcome.
She stood outside the morgue, knowing that the answer would be waiting for her behind that door. She opened it and stepped in. She walked up to the table and, without even daring to look, she removed the sheet that covered the still dead form.