I was going to write something longer, but between internet problems, illness and inability to have any actual ideas, here's a one-shot which I hope will be posted before tonight's episode.

Ethan knew it was very unlikely that Cal hadn't done exactly what he said he was going to do. Despite all his recent responsible behaviour where Matilda was concerned, he was still Cal and he only knew one way of coping.

Ethan's anxious gaze swept the flat. He found nothing, but still he kept hoping as he walked around and methodically checked all possible hiding places, looking in the unlikely places as well as the likely ones. He didn't want to believe that Cal wasn't in the flat; he didn't want to believe that he was falling back into his old cycle after all this time.

But Cal wasn't there - as Ethan should have known from the start. There were no shoes left in the middle of the room for Ethan to fall over. No leather jacket tossed carelessly on the floor or over a chair. No dirty glasses or plates left for Ethan to take care of. Not even a dropped item of baby paraphernalia.

Oh, Matilda…

Ethan slowly sat down on his bed. Or perhaps it wasn't so much sitting as finally allowing his legs to give way. He leaned forwards and pressed his forehead against his hands, propping up his head, which seemed somehow too heavy. Too many cares and worries wearing him down but no chance of easing them. He closed his eyes in the hope that that might block out the dull ache of loss, but that only made the memories more solid. Cal with red, puffy eyes after discovering the original paternity test result had not been incorrect. Cal breaking down in tears in the lift as Ethan could do nothing but stare at him, almost frozen with shock, fear, and devastation of his own.

Ethan felt his eyes stinging as he remembered Cal's harsh sobs. He was hurting so much and all Ethan had done was to make sure he could cry in relative privacy. He should have taken Cal in his arms; should have offered some words of comfort. Even if they made no sense, Cal would have heard his voice and known his brother was there.

But he hadn't done it. He'd just stood and watched Cal as he'd broken apart. Filled with anguish because Matilda, the beautiful baby girl they both loved, was another man's child. It didn't make any difference to their feelings for their darling Toad (who looked nothing like a toad: Ethan still had no idea where that nickname had come from, but like 'Nibbles', it had stuck), but for all Ethan's talk about keeping her, he knew they no longer had any right to and he was sure that any attempt to win custody would end in more heartache.

An ugly sob forced its way out of Ethan's tight throat and his tears began to fall. It's not fair. Cal loves her. We both love her and she's so good for Cal. She made him grow up; she gave him a purpose in life and I think perhaps that was all he lacked all along. I know he wasn't always the perfect parent, but nobody could love Matilda more than Cal. And she loves him. He made her happy.

At first, Ethan sat and cried into his hands, but even sitting up seemed too much for him. He let himself flop onto the bed and lay across it, his face hidden in the duvet as he sobbed out his pain and heartbreak. He knew it was worse for Cal, but Ethan loved Matilda too.

He missed her already: missed her smile; the little sounds she made; the way she looked at him. He missed the way her mouth scrunched up around her bottle. He missed the way she cuddled close, gazing up at him; trusting him completely. He even missed the way she threw up on him. She did it so much more sweetly and politely than his patients.

He missed the way she looked at Cal too, and the way Cal looked back at her as though he could hardly believe that such a sweet, beautiful baby could really love him.

Matilda knew how to make Cal feel loved, so why didn't Ethan?

It wasn't because Ethan didn't love him. He was why Cal always managed to get to him. Ethan was often annoyed with his brother; frequently disgusted; at regular intervals, despairing.

There were also times when his emotions came close to hatred. He resented the way that Cal was always getting himself into trouble and needing Ethan to rescue him, protect him or cover for him. Ethan was jealous of the way Cal could be so comfortable around other people. Always knowing what to say. Always knowing how to tell a joke so it was actually funny. Even when it wasn't funny, at least people understood it.

Ethan wanted to kill Cal on occasion, but he wanted to kill Taylor so much more because she'd torn his brother's life apart. Again.

So what should he do now? Should he leave Cal to the only coping method that seemed to work for him; forgive him on the grounds that his whole life had fallen apart? Ethan wanted Cal to feel better, after all, and if this was the only way…

Or should he go to him and offer proper support; ensure that Cal knew Ethan cared about him and wanted to help?

There was no contest really.

At first, it had seemed to be working. Alone with a beautiful girl. Tearing her clothes off. Preparing to do something he actually hadn't done for months, but that had always had the power to make him feel better: too soothe his hurts or at least distract him from them; to fill him with excitement and happiness and the feeling that he was wonderful and loveable and irresistible: all the things he secretly feared he wasn't.

But now it was over and everything was the same. He was still Cal. His daughter wasn't his daughter, his mother wasn't his mother and God knew who his brother was.

He got dressed slowly, exhausted by their passion, or perhaps just by life. He barely looked at her but sensed that she was avoiding looking at him. He must have disappointed her. He didn't care. She wasn't important.

Only one girl mattered to him now.

Matilda…

Cal stumbled back to the bar. He felt tears wetting his cheeks but didn't care. He tried to climb on to the bar stool, but it was too much effort. He pushed the stool away petulantly and heard laughter as it hit the floor. Cal leaned against the bar and closed his eyes. He heard someone – he thought the barman – asking if he was all right, but he couldn't answer. There was a weight pressing on his chest and he could only breathe in gasping sobs.

He heard footsteps but ignored them. Someone called his name, but he ignored that too. It would be Max or Lofty, and Cal couldn't talk to them now. He didn't think he could talk at all. He just wanted his mum, his brother and his daughter.

Three people who had never been his.

Ethan felt tears start in his eyes again at the sight of his brother. He was leaning against the bar and sobbing softly. If he knew everyone was staring at him and whispering quietly, he was past caring. Ethan tried calling his name, but there was no response.

He stopped beside Cal and looked at him helplessly. He wasn't sure what he was doing here. He was useless at comforting people. How could he possibly do anything for Cal now?

He half-held his hands out towards Cal but let them drop as all the old fears rose to the surface. He and Cal had been affectionate towards each other once. A long time ago. Ethan had been a shy and nervous child and Cal, it seemed, had the answer to everything. He'd been happy to hold and comfort his little brother. He never minded how late it was; always understood the reason for Ethan's tears. Ethan had comforted Cal too, on the rare occasions when he'd needed comfort. He remembered running to Cal with open arms and holding him tightly, fighting back tears of his own as he heard his big brother cry.

And then, one day, it had all changed. Ethan had gone to comfort Cal, and Cal had pushed him away. He'd tried not to let it bother him; had tried to dismiss it as a one-off, but Cal had done the same the next time too. Gradually, Ethan had realised it wasn't just Cal's mood. Cal didn't want his hugs anymore. He didn't want Ethan.

With hindsight, Ethan realised it probably wasn't his fault. Cal had simply reached the age where it was no longer cool to hug your little brother and it was particularly uncool to let your little brother see you cry. Yet Ethan's fear of hugging him remained. Soon it had extended to other people. He remembered how the rejection had felt: how his heart had seemed to shatter inside him; how he'd seemed to shrink inside himself, away from all the people who might reject him.

He didn't want to feel like that again now. Of course he didn't. Nobody would

But Ethan realised it wasn't his feelings that mattered.

He lifted his arms again and moved closer to Cal. His heart twisted with fear, but he didn't allow it to stop him. He put his arms tentatively around Cal. Cal jolted with surprise, but he didn't push Ethan away. He stood tensely as Ethan's arms tightened. "I'm sorry, Cal. I really am so sorry. I know there's nothing I can do, but I just wanted you to know I'm here. And I…" Ethan's voice caught and tears filled his own eyes, but he didn't give up. "I love you, Cal. No matter what happens, I'm your brother and I always will be."

Another jolt went through Cal's body. Ethan heard him breathe in as though he was about to speak, but he said nothing. He just lifted his head and looked at Ethan desperately; beseechingly.

"Come on, Cal," said Ethan gently. "Why don't we go home?"