Medical Center.
Hospital room.
"...They told me this heart belonged to a young girl.
She was killed while hitchhiking. Now, whenever I drive, I always see girls hitchhiking."
The patient explained, "I never should have accepted this heart. We Navajo don't even touch corpses.
Because their souls are still attached to them. Sewing a dead person's body into mine, it's just..."
"Wait."
Adam asked in surprise, "Mr. Bidony, aren't you here to receive a new heart?"
"No!"
Mr. Bidony cried, "I don't want a new heart! I came here to have you take that girl's heart out of me!"
"You don't want a new heart?"
Dr. Dixon spoke up. "Clay Bidony, do you realize that without a new heart, you can only stay alive on machines for a short time before a sudden and extremely painful death?"
"..."
Shorty looked speechlessly at Dr. Dixon, then at Adam.
His eyes were full of the message: Dr. Duncan, this is completely different from the detached but not cold approach you taught us.
Adam gave him a look telling him to stay calm.
"I appreciate you telling me what you believe is the best advice for me..."
Mr. Bidony was stunned as well, but he shook his head good-naturedly.
"It isn't advice. It's fact."
Dr. Dixon's blunt Sheldon-like straightforwardness practically pierced the heavens.
"...What I mean is, rather than live with a guilty conscience every day, I'd rather live at peace with myself. However long I can live, I'll live."
Mr. Bidony gave a bitter smile. "Right now, I only care about what will happen to the heart after it's taken out of my body."
"It will be sent to Pathology, then disposed of as medical waste," Dr. Dixon said.
"I need it returned to me, so I can hold a memorial for