A/N: so I'm aware I've been sticking to small fics recently but I had an idea after seeing someone's comment and thought I could work with it. this will be AU where Eddie's assault on Alicia was back in December, the night after leave was cancelled with Ethan being clinical lead. the incident with the patio doors happened on the date it did on screen though, so August 4th. it's a little bit ambiguous intentionally as I want you all to decide for yourselves where you think it's going and what's going on. as always I appreciate each and every one of yous who reads, favourites and follows — if you could be so kind as to drop a quick review it would mean a lot. hope you like!
It has been about 90 minutes since Ethan made the biggest mistake of his adult life thus far. After all, his talent is slipping up and getting trivialities wrong. Nothing quite compares to this.
He isn't quite sure how long he's been sitting in the relatives room for, but certainly long enough to dull his nerve endings. Numbed. Just like his mind and rational side, had it ever really existed in the first place.
At barely 30, he knows precisely nothing about babies. Endearing little ones in uni medical textbooks with chubby cheeks and delicately placed measles somehow don't quite fit the image of reality before him. But of course, when Mrs Beauchamp dropped the bombshell and scanned the corridor for willing eyes, he leapt up from the plastic chair as if it was the most natural yes in the world. It would have fallen to him anyway. Most things always do.
A wrinkly, red face pokes out of the cocoon he haphazardly made out of budget hospital linen. Nobody had the time to pop down to the neonatal ward, or the spare second to think. It is more like a little alien than an infant. And totally, completely unexpected. It writhes and squeaks and shudders whilst its scrunched up features come in and out of focus as he stares down, paralysed by loss.
There's a knock on the door and he bolts up immediately from his slouch.
'How are you holding up?' Charlie asks slowly. 'I see you offered to take on that responsibility.'
'It was more of a given,' corrects Ethan, swallowing hard. 'I could hardly just sit back after everything.'
'Well, you're a great friend.'
He scoffs and clutches the bundle on his knee tighter, watching as two tiny eyelids flutter shut in rest. And wishes he could do the same. Friend. Real friend of the year he's been, yeah. The irony is unbearable. His inaction caused all this, for God's sake.
Colleagues that float in and out, irrespective of good intentions, only serve to make him feel even worse. Their sympathetic looks and pats on the shoulder make him feel like a small child who's fallen short of 3rd place and didn't receive a shiny sticker for his running efforts. There has always been an element of that in him from a very early age: the one who lost the competitions, the luck, the family, the woman.
Charlie clears his throat and persists. 'Do you want me to take over? You could have a breather, stretch your legs, try out that new vending machine on the second floor—'
'I'm not moving,' he snaps.
He can't possibly go anywhere because there might be an update. Besides, any slim chance that the baby could be whisked away is a risk and he isn't willing to take another gamble on anything. Playing it safe is the way to go. And it's not just himself he has to consider.
'Well, if you change your mind—'
'I know where to find you,' he cuts briskly. 'Thanks.'
Clearly taking the hint, the nurse makes himself scarce and leaves them in the room alone. Half of Ethan feels guilty for being so brusque; his pain doesn't give him any excuse to lash out on others who care. Charlie has only ever been there from him as a doting friend and fatherly figure. The old man's kindness and same even tone, although usually welcome, today felt like a chore to manage.
Peace is what his inner introvert has been screaming for and he's finally got his wish. His eyes burn with fatigue and he squints, idly noticing in doing so the yellows and pinks of sunrise spilling through the crack in the drawn curtains.
Before he gives in to his heavy eyelids, he fleetingly wonders if Alicia knew about any of this, if it was yet another secret, if she is conscious yet, if she'll ever be again.
The tiny person in his arms screws up their face and looks back at him. Recognition washes over him as he realises that the connection with this human, who is not yet 2 hours old, is rather profound. Staring into their curious, royal blue eyes is like stepping achy feet into familiar tartan slippers. All of a sudden, they aren't strangers.
They never could have been.