The ward was frantic around me. Surgeons that would be involved in the process were on all sides, finishing the last of their preparations. Various parts of my body had already been marked up for surgery, but the main reason they were putting me under — and the part that made this procedure so dangerous — was the part that ventured into my brain. They had shaved a patch of hair from the side of my head. I could feel it when I lifted my hand. It was a relatively small area, and it didn’t reach the longer hair on top of my head. I was grateful for that; it would grow in neater, and wouldn’t look stupid in the meantime.

If I woke up.

I was trying not to think about my chances of survival, but they weren’t making it easy. Ten minutes ago, I had signed a series of documents detailing the risks of the surgery, and confirming that I understood what I was getting myself into.

“Just a formality,” the nurse had explained. Figured that they wouldn’t want anybody suing them if I died on the table.

Now that they were almost ready to put me under anesthetic, everything felt a little more real. These might be the last moments I’d spend alive. It made me wish I’d spent a couple of minutes longer with Oscar and Mark at the parlor. Maybe we could have gone for a last round of drinks — but then I’d only have to wait longer. It was lucky that I hadn’t eaten since my light breakfast today, having spent most of the day waiting for test results in the hospital.

Lucky or unlucky, I supposed. I’d barely given myself any chance to think about this, but part of me felt that was right. This wasn’t about me. Whether I died or not was kind of inconsequential compared to the number of lives the doctors would be able to save as a result. What better legacy could a man ask for? And what kind of selfishness would it be to refuse?

“Doing okay?” asked the anesthesiologist, giving me a warm smile as she reached my bedside. “I feel bad that you’re sitting here all alone.”

“You guys are busy,” I said, shaking my head. “I get it.”

“Sure, but this is a big deal,” she said, turning to continue setting up her equipment beside us. “This isn’t my project; I’m not involved with their research at all. But I do know what you’ve agreed to, and I know what good it’ll do. It’s admirable, you know? You deserve a little company while you wait.”

“I guess.”

She turned over her shoulder to smile at me. “I’m sure you’re sick of talking to me at this point, after all the questions I had to ask you.”

“Least you’re not asking me if I smoke or exercise any more.”

As much as she was trying to distract me, I was beginning to feel pointed throbs of concern so strong that they were almost physical. I could see my heart beating through the thin, coarse fabric of the hospital gown, and took a deep breath to try and still it.

“It’s okay, you know.”

I looked up, finding the anesthesiologist facing me again.

“Anybody would be frightened. You don’t have to pretend you aren’t.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, typical alpha.”

I blinked, surprised — and sure enough, now that I was paying attention, I could catch a wolf’s scent in the air. She winked at me, turning back to her equipment, and continued preparing. Somehow I felt better knowing that there weren’t only humans working on this — that my own kind were here for me too, looking out for me.

“You’ll have to give me a couple of minutes,” she said. “I can hear that phone ringing, and nobody’s picking it up. Be right back.”

I watched her head to the office. For lack of anything better to do, I heard snippets of the conversation come through.

“Mm-hm. That’s our patient. Yeah, all prepared now. Mm-hm. Couple of minutes while Dr. Harlow finishes preparing, and then we’ll be heading to surgery.”

A pause.

“No, no time now. We’d have to delay and we’ve got concurrent surgeries planned; it’d mess up the schedule. It’s been screwed up enough to make space for this.”

As she came back, she had a strange look on her face.

“They aren’t trying to drag more down for more tests, are they?” I joked. Now that I knew she was a wolf, I felt a certain responsibility for her wellbeing too. Unfortunately, my teasing didn’t seem to have the intended effect. If anything, she seemed a little sad to hear it.

Jeez. Maybe she really did think I was going to die.

“You aren’t going anywhere now,” she said, trying to joke back. “Don’t you worry.”

I swallowed, settling back down onto the bed, and took another few deep breaths. Judging by what she’d said on the phone, I didn’t have long left to wait. Good. I wanted it over with now.

I closed my eyes, feeling harassed by the frantic buzz of the hospital around me. The fluorescent light still came through my eyelids, but it gave me enough peace that I could picture Dylan’s face, soft and sweet and smiling. He certainly hadn’t looked that way the last time I’d seen him, but it felt okay to imagine him this way now.

Maybe, if I pulled through, I’d be able to find some way to make it up to him. Even if we could only be friends, I needed to have him in my life. Needed a way to raise our child with him. The thought that I might be leaving that child behind made my head spin, but it was too late to back out now.

If the worst happened, then at least my kid would know I’d died doing something for our community. It wasn’t the kind of example I’d ever expected to set. Even in the wolf community, which presented itself as being so alternative to human life, I didn’t look like a ‘hero’. My tattoos marked me out. I’d lived so many years without a partner and a family that I’d let myself believe I didn’t need them. Compared to the kind of clean-cut, apple-pie leader that many had come to expect, I was pretty atypical.

And of course, most alphas would celebrate surviving something like this with a big rare steak — not a quinoa salad.

“Jack…?”

I opened my eyes. Surgeons were beginning to filter through, and Dr. Helen was standing by the side of the gurney, clutching my signed paperwork on a clipboard.

“I’m sorry to disturb you; I’m sure there’s a lot going through your mind, and I want to make sure you’re relaxed. But we’re almost ready to take you through to surgery now, and we’re going to begin getting you ready for anesthesia. Okay?”

I nodded. The corners of my vision swam. All my survival instinct told me to climb to my feet and get out of the room. Why was I allowing this to happen? I’d never see Dylan again.

“I just want you to know that the team is extremely grateful for this,” she said. “I, personally, am extremely grateful for this. What you’re doing is brave and it’s selfless, and I want to give you a sincere, strong assurance that whatever happens, you will have saved hundreds of thousands of lives by doing this. That is more than anyone could ask for.”

“You’re the ones who’ll be saving lives,” I said, trying to sound lighthearted through the fear. I could see I wasn’t fooling anyone. The surgeons had averted their eyes. Even the anesthesiologist had her back turned now as she prepared the cannula. “I’m just lying here on a table and going to sleep.”

Dr. Helen smiled. “And I’ll thank you for it again when you wake up.”

She offered her hand. I shook it, trying to ignore the tremors in mine. Her grip was firm and encouraging.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll hand you to Martha now. Thank you, Jack.”

The anesthesiologist reached for my hand, and swabbed it with a cotton bud. It was happening. There really was no time left — but Helen was right. Even if I ended up sacrificing my life instead of just my time, this would be worth it for the wider community. I had to be brave, and try to assume I’d be opening my eyes in a matter of hours.

The needle slid in with a slight pinch.

“Sorry,” said Martha.

“Hey, look at me,” I said, gesturing to my inked-up arm with my free hand. “I’m kind of used to it, at this point.”

“You’d be surprised,” she said. Her smile wasn’t so easy or natural now. “We get a bunch of people covered from head to toe who still don’t like needles. You’re braver than you think.”

She cleared her throat. I tried to ignore the emotion in her voice, conscious that it could quite easily be contagious. The last thing I needed to do was go out with damp eyes.

Holy shit.

“Okay. First, I’m going to give you something to make you feel very relaxed. It’s going to come on very quickly, and it might make you feel a little dizzy too, but that’s okay.”

I felt something slip in through the needle. Sure enough, it hit me like a train, far harder and faster than I could have imagined. It felt like I was swimming through the air, just a head detached from a body. I fought to blink, staring out into the bright lights of the room. I was surrounded by surgeons. I hoped, slow and struggling, that my life was safe in their hands.

“Okay, Jack. You feel that?”

I nodded, finding it harder to respond than I might have guessed.

I turned my head to watch her preparing the next solution. She unwrapped it from a single-use packet.

“Your partner is here for you downstairs,” she said. “It was too late for him to come and see you. I’m sorry about that. But I thought you’d want to know that he was here.”

My partner…?

“Ah…”

“It’ll be hard to speak now,” she said, holding up a hand. “Don’t strain yourself. He’s here for you. I’m sure he’s very proud. You’ll see him when you wake. Think about that.”

Dylan was here? I inhaled sharply, chest thrashing with the desire to see him again. Protesting at the very real possibility that it might never happen.

She lifted my hand, preparing my next set of drugs. “This is what’s going to make you fall asleep,” she said. “Just relax, and count back in your head for me. From 100…”

I felt the room sway around me. I didn’t even try to count. All there was in the world was the pressure of my back against the gurney — and more important than that, Dylan, somewhere in the hospital. Here for me. My partner.

Dylan, Dylan, Dylan…