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"Combine my DNA with Rebecca's, then give her a transplant so that she can give Gillian a transplant?" It sounded plausible. What was Dr. Chen waiting for?
Desmond leaped up and grabbed the doctor's shoulder. "Then do it!" he ordered.
Dr. Chen paled and fell back against his desk. Damn! Desmond let go of the scientist. He'd forgotten his strength, and squeezed too tightly. Stupid, stupid. Hopefully Chen would think it was an extreme overreaction, but a human one. Desmond couldn't take much more of this, having his hopes raised and then dashed. Like a piece of wire that had been bent and straightened one too many times, another reversal would make him snap.
Dr. Chen lifted his good arm and felt the injured shoulder. He must have been more surprised than hurt, because his color was already returning. He straightened his jacket.
"Well, you see, Mr. Lacroix, we can't. Not today. We don't have the technology. I'm sorry. But new discoveries are being made every day. With the resources of this Institute— "
"No. There's a way to cure her. I know there is."
Desmond paced the lab, stepping around the scientist. There had to be a way.
"Well, there is one possibility," Dr. Chen offered hesitantly.
Desmond rounded on him and demanded, "What?"
"To insert new genetic codes into an existing system is still beyond our technology. But manipulating genes in a forming system has already been done with great success."
"Damn it, speak English!"
"Okay. Any offspring of you and Ms. Morgan— "
"Absolutely not!" Desmond clenched his fists and fought to control his temper. Dr. Chen didn't realize the magnitude of what he was suggesting.
"We'd make sure the right genetic codes were present. If we did it here in the lab— "
"I said no. It's out of the question." He leaned against the counter. There were some things he couldn't do, not even for Gillian. Persuading Rebecca to donate cell samples and creating a child specifically to use as a donor were two entirely different propositions. He'd orchestrated events to obtain Rebecca's assistance, but only after she'd given her consent. She'd freely offered her help. He hadn't violated his oath. If he followed Dr. Chen's suggestion, he'd be doing something much worse.
No. The thought sickened him. Yet the seductive reasoning of the scientist pulled at his beliefs. Whatever the nature and rationale of the child's conception, surely he'd love it as much as he loved Gillian. Brothers and sisters frequently acted as donors for siblings that needed them. The child would no doubt want to act as a donor for Gillian. He'd be acting on his or her wishes.
Rationalizations and excuses. He'd sworn to never take anything from a person that wasn't freely given. He had to find another way.
"Doctor," Desmond turned and asked, startling Dr. Chen. "You said Gillian wouldn't reject a transplant from Rebecca."
"Yes. But I explained, it won't cure her."
"I understand. But will it give her more time?"
Dr. Chen stopped and stared into the distance. Desmond tried to remain patient as the minutes stretched out, with no sign of movement. Finally, Dr. Chen's eyes cleared and he nodded.
"I can't guarantee anything, okay? It depends on the rate of reproduction, amount of absorption, and a bunch of other things. But, yes, she should get at least two more years from the procedure. Maybe even as many as five or six."
Desmond whispered a heartfelt thanks to any god that was listening. "I'll make sure Rebecca understands what is needed from her, but I don't expect any problems. Schedule the operation for tomorrow."
Desmond turned away and left the baffled scientist. He'd raise Dr. Chen's research grant. Maybe find him a new assistant. With enough money, they'd be sure to find a permanent solution to Gillian's illness. All
they'd needed was enough time to work. Rebecca could buy them that time. He owed her more than he could ever repay.
His mind already sorting through everything that needed to be done, Desmond walked toward Philippe's office. He had to have Philippe's help. Patching things up between them was more important than ever. At a time like this, he needed his family.
DESMOND TAPPED on Philippe's open door and looked inside the office. Philippe hunched over a pile of paperwork.
"Just a minute," he called without looking up.
"Take your time."
Philippe snapped upright, dropping his pen. "Des!"
