I've been trying to ease my heartbreak. It works quite while I'm writing, not so much when I stop and remember what actually happened. I imagine reading this will be similar, so don't say I didn't warn you!

This is still in progress but I imagine 4 or 5 parts. Sorry it's not my best writing. Also I hold my hands up that I know nothing about medical stuff (although I have researched) or police investigations.

Reviews are much appreciated. Mutual crying over Cal is also welcome.

1.

As Ethan watches Alicia approach the bar, he feels a smile creep onto his face. For fear of her catching him looking like a gormless idiot, he tries to supress it, but the corner of his mouth twitches straight back into a grin.

And as if she knows he's thinking about her, Alicia looks over her shoulder. She winks and he feels heat rush to his face as he recalls what she suggested earlier; one more drink then back to hers. He waves at her, trying to play it cool, but from the way she wriggles her eyebrows he's sure both their minds are at the same place.

He can't believe they've finally agreed to make a go of things. He can't believe he's spent the last hour with a girl that attractive attached to his lips. And, the most surprising thing of all is that they've managed it with Cal's blessing.

He feels a twinge of guilt in his stomach at ignoring his brother's call. Chances are Cal phoned to enquire whether he'd had the guts to kiss her yet and Ethan hadn't fancied admitting the details to his brother in front of the girl in question. To moderate the dismissal, he pulls his phone from his pocket and chuckles to himself as he imagines Cal's reaction to a message that simply says 'don't expect me home tonight'.

He frowns slightly as he registers the message symbol on the phone. Alicia's shuffling impatiently as she waits to be served, so he dials his voicemail and holds the phone to his ear.

"Ethan, how many times, right?" he hears Cal snap, "that voicemail is not funny." There's barely a beat before Cal continues. "Listen, are you still at work? Cos I think Scott is definitely after you, all right? So just… let me know you're okay. Right? Just be in touch, yeah?"

Ethan slowly draws the phone away from his ear. He knows his brother well enough to detect the stress in his voice. Truthfully, he's barely thought about Scott since he and Alicia had arrived in the pub but it's obvious something has riled Cal and he can't ignore that. He selects the call button and waits for Cal to answer. The phone rings out to voicemail.

He rubs at his forehead. He knows Cal is rarely apart from his phone, particularly when he is desperate for something. Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan registers Alicia handing over the money he'd given her for their drinks, and he hastily redials the voicemail to listen to his brother's message again before she returns.

Something's wrong, he's sure of it. He can't explain what, but he can hear it in his big brother's voice and feel it in his little brother instinct.

Alicia arrives back at the table and slides his pint in front of him.

He looks at her blankly. "I've got to go."

She takes a sip of her wine. "You'd better be joking." She grins as if it's a game.

"I'm terribly sorry," he says. "It's Cal."

"Cal? I thought you said he was cool with us?"

"No, no, he is." Ethan nearly pokes himself in the eye with his glasses as he returns them to his face. "I just- he left me this- I'm really sorry, I will explain properly but I need to check on him."

Alicia winces. "And I'll just amuse myself, shall I?"

"It's not you. I really, really enjoyed tonight," he says. He leans over to her and presses his lips gently against hers. She doesn't return the kiss. "I'm sorry. You can… have my drink."

Ethan pulls his coat off the back of the seat in such a hurry that the chair almost wobbles over. He tries Alicia with one last apologetic smile but she's sat with her arms folded, refusing to meet his eyes. He sighs, hoping he's not ruined his final chance.

"Thank you for understanding," he says, softly. "You really are something special."

"It's fine," she says in a tone that's heavily implies it's not. "Brothers first. As always."

Ethan gives an uncomfortable nod and dashes from the pub. Immediately he's assaulted by a downpour of heavy rain. He opens his umbrella and battles to hold it upright as he dials his brother once more. There's no answer and as he paces around the carpark he considers leaving a frantic as voicemail as Cal left him earlier. But the familiar tinkling of an unanswered phone stops him in his tracks.

He squints into the dark as he listens. The ringtone dies out at the same moment his phone call disconnects. A dark foreboding stirs in the pit of his stomach. He walks forward as he calls Cal again and in the surrounding area he hears the same ringing as before.

"Cal?" he calls. "Caleb?"

There's no reply but the phone is still ringing, both in his hand and in the cold night air.

He shakes his head. It's hard to identify the direction of the noise amid the steady thunder of rain but he heads towards the hospital entrance. He phones his brother again and listens, triumphant that the noise seems to be getting louder.

And then he sees the body.

It's only a silhouette at first, someone slumped among the flowerpots at the corner of the alley, but somehow he knows.

"Cal?" he calls again. "Is that you?"

There's a weak stirring in the body, a nod of a head confirming yes.

A wave of panic shoots through Ethan's chest and sticks in the throat. For a second he's rooted to the spot. Then his feet move. He leaps towards the door of the E.D. Staff members are milling in the distance but their faces are blurry and he can only identify them by the blues of their tunics.

"Help!" he screams "I need help! Get a trolley!"

He flings his umbrella to one side and runs to his brother, his knees hitting the tarmac with a painful crunch. His brother's eyes are open but he's soaked through and his head's swaying as if he's struggling to keep upright.

"Cal? Cal, are you okay? What's happened?" Ethan doesn't want for an answer once he sees that his brother's hand is pressed firmly against his chest. He squeezes his own hand beneath his brother's and feels the thick, sticky wetness of blood. "You're bleeding." Bile surges into his throat. "Have you been stabbed?"

Cal's mouth flaps and it could be a yes but Ethan's too distracted by the haunted look in his eyes.

"A- are you… okay?" Cal manages.

"Me? What?"

Cal's eyes flutter. "Scott."

Ethan frowns at first but then the world around him darkens and all he can hear is the sound of his brother's rasping breaths. When he can finally see clearly again, he understands. Scott did this. Scott had stabbed his brother. But Scott hadn't been after Cal, he'd been after him. And that meant it should be him lying there bleeding, not his big brother. Cal had saved him but it was at his own expense.

Ethan wants to cry. He wants to shout at his brother for getting involved. But neither would help right now and so he swallows furiously and presses his fingers against the pulse point on Cal's neck. His pulse is faint and Ethan can feel it's beating far faster than it should be.

"D-don't worry about that for now," he stammers, in a bid to calm his brother. "You need to focus on yourself. Help is on the way."

Cal looks at him and Ethan can tell that there are tears on his cheeks amid the rainwater. His chin trembles. "Ethan," he says, his voice shaking and quiet. "I don't want to die."

Ethan's throat burns. He blinks furiously. "No, no, you're not going to die." He presses firmer on the stab wound on Cal's chest and winces at the gasp of pain his brother releases as he does so. "I promise, Caleb, I'm not letting you die."

Cal manages a nod but his eyes are glassy and he doesn't look convinced. "Back," he whispers.

"Back?" Ethan repeats, confused. "Are you hurt there too?"

Cal gives another lost little nod.

"Okay, let me take a look." Ethan says. "Lean on me."

He scoops his brother against his chest and takes a deep breath, hoping Cal can't feel how heavily his heart his hammering. His hand explores the back of Cal's shoulder and soon finds another bleeding wound. He places his second hand over the gash and presses firm. In his arms, Cal's shivering, his temperature frighteningly low.

"It's okay, Cal," he says. "It's okay."

Despite being far from reassured by his own words, Ethan hopes they provided more comfort to his brother. But then a clatter behind him announces the arrival of a trolley and more hope than any words could.

Without checking which of his colleagues have come to help, Ethan starts reeling off the essential information. "He has two stab wounds," he says, shakily. "One in the lower left lobe of his chest and the second the back of his left shoulder."

As Dylan crouches down next to him, Ethan leans Cal back against the wall, all the while careful to continue exerting pressure on the most concerning wound on his chest. He lets Dylan holds his stethoscope against Cal's chest but everything seems to be taking ages and he's desperate to get his brother inside.

Ethan's leans forward "Pulse is rapid but thready," he says, trying to speed his colleague up.

He waits again as Dylan listens and murmurs his own agreement. Cal's eyes are shut now but Ethan can tell he's still conscious from the creases across his forehead and the small moans slipping from his lips. He'd been trying to stay brave for his brother's sake but now Cal's condition is beginning to hit him, the words come rushing out. "Please help him."

"I intend to," Dylan says. He retrieves a torch from his shirt pocket and shines it in Cal's eyes. "Right, Cal, we're going to get you in and get this bleed sorted, okay?"

Cal blinks and manages a small gasp of a yes.

It's a struggle to stay close to Cal while Dylan and Elle lift him onto the trolley, but Ethan manages to keep his hands firmly against his brother's chest the whole time. The noise of his brother's cries ache through Ethan's bones. His legs won't stop shaking and he's almost grateful when Dylan brusquely insists on taking over applying pressure.

He follows the trolley down the same corridor he's walked down hundreds of times but everything is unfamiliar now and he can barely keep up. The doors to Resus swing back so viscously they clatter into him and he staggers into the room, just in time to hear Dylan's words.

"He's unconscious, he's unresponsive to pain," Dylan says. "Let's give him some oxygen please, quickly."

Ethan stumbles to a halt in the middle of Resus. He takes off his rain speckled glasses and watches intently as an oxygen mask is stretched over his brother's head. Shock is written on his colleagues faces. Every so often someone shoots him a concerned glance but he can't even attempt to pretend he's okay when Cal is still not moving.

"He's lost a lot of blood, Dylan," Elle says. "How long was he out there for? Ethan?"

Ethan's tongue feels like it's stuck to the roof of his mouth. "I- I- dunno."

"Too long," Dylan states grimly.

Ethan feels useless. There are so many people around the bed and they're moving faster than he can comprehend. He wants to help but he can't keep up. He can hear his colleagues speaking and knows they're words he should understand but everything is blurry and nothing makes sense. Cal should not be on that trolley.

"Let's get two lines in, give him two units of O Neg and cross match for eight and then let's send up for some FFP and platelets please."

"Cap refill is delayed."

"Yeah, he's had a massive pneumothorax. If he was stabbed, it's perforated the lung."

"He's going to need a thoracostomy."

"Ethan, he's asking for you."

It's the last voice which finally reaches Ethan and it's Charlie's voice, even though Ethan can't remember him entering the room. He replays the sentence and then his legs clumsily lead him to the trolley.

There's a fear in Cal's eyes that Ethan's never seen before and that scares him as much as the injuries. He rests his shaking hand on the side of his Cal's face and gently stokes his thumb across his brother's cheek.

"It's okay, it's okay," he murmurs.

Cal looks up at him helplessly.

"Okay, can someone get me a scalpel please," Dylan says, "and 20ml of 1% lignocaine."

Ethan's hand remains on his brother but his focus is on the scalpel in Dylan's hand as it slices into Cal's pleural cavity. Crimson blood pools down Cal's side and even though he can understand the logistics as a doctor, as a brother it feels wrong to be creating more wounds as a way to fix him.

Cal moans softly and Ethan's attention is back as a single tear trickles down his brother's cheek. Ethan wipes it away but is grateful when Elle does what he can't and calmly reassures Cal that he's going to be fine.

Ethan tries to watch as Dylan widens the cut and begins to insert the chest tube. But Cal's hand weakly bats at his leg and Ethan can see his lips moving beneath the oxygen mask. He places his head right next to his brother's and lifts the mask a fraction away from his brother's mouth.

"What is it?"

"I- love you," Cal whispers.

But as Ethan opens his mouth to reply, he hears a bubbling of the drain. The cry of frustration from Dylan feels as if someone has punched him in the stomach. He leans across the bed and sees the clear fluid rapidly turning scarlet. In panic, he swings back to his brother. Cal's eyes flicker shut.

"He's bleeding out," someone says. "I can't feel a pulse."

"He's arrested."

Instinctively, Ethan moves to learn over his brother, his fists interlocked and ready to pound on Cal's chest. But arms clench down on his shoulders and drag him to the side.

"No!" he shouts. He tries to wriggle his way back in front of his colleagues, but Charlie's hold is surprisingly firm and he can't do anything more useful than try to stop his legs giving way as the nurse manoeuvres him to the foot of the bed.

Through the mass of bodies, Ethan can just about see Elle tilt his brother's head backwards and start to feed a thin tube down his throat. He feels sick. He feels like there's something obstructing his own windpipe. He can't believe it's Cal there, bleeding internally, unable to even breathe for himself.

"We'll do a clamshell thoracotomy," Dylan says. "We need to get to this bleed."

Ethan wants to object. He wants to tell Dylan the success rates are too low, to beg him to think of a different plan. He wants to plead with him to save his big brother. But the words stick in his throat.

As he watches Dylan makes the first incision, the edges of Ethan's vision darken. All he can see is the knife that's slicing his brother's chest open and the red ooze of blood as the skin is torn. All he can hear are the steady beeping of machines.

And when Dylan clamps Cal's chest open, Ethan's legs buckle. Charlie hauls him back to his feet and he stares at the mess that is Cal's chest. His left thoracic cavity is filled with blood and although Dylan's hands are inside, with swabs and suction, Ethan can see he's struggling to clear enough blood to fix the tear.

He can literally see his big brother's heart and it's not beating.

Ethan doesn't realise he's started crying until Charlie's hand squeezes his shoulder. He roughly wipes the tears from his cheeks and squirms out of the older man's hold.

"Let me go to him," he says.

He's careful not to disturb Dylan's work but squeezes in by his brother's head. He softly smooths the rain saturated hair. His brother's skin is unnaturally cold. He bends over and lets his lips graze the top of Cal's forehead.

"I love you too" he murmurs. "You have to- you have to get through this. Please fight, Cal."

There are another few moments of beeping machines and noisy suction, of heavy breathing and desperate mutters.

Then a noise of approval comes from Dylan. "Okay, I've found the tear," he says. "Someone take over with the suction while I suture."

Ethan holds his breath while his colleague completes the procedure. He continues to idly stroke Cal's head. There are still traces of his brother's blood on his fingers and it mingles with Cal's hair. He wonders if he's going to be sick.

"I've got it," Dylan says. He checks the machines. "But there's still no output. Let's shock at 120." He grabs the internal paddles and places them either side of Cal's heart. "Charging…" Elle unfastens the oxygen bag. "All clear… Ethan, all clear!"

Ethan jumps as he's roughly dragged away from his brother. But this time, as Cal's body convulses from the force of the shock, he's grateful someone had more sense left than him. He can't stop shaking but knows it's only partly a result of how close he came to coming into contact with the shock.

"Nothing." Dylan tuts. "Okay, charging again, 180 this time."

"Come on, Cal," Elle murmurs.

"All clear… Shocking."

Ethan feels as if he's about to faint. Black spots creep into his vision.

There's silence.

And then. "We've got a pulse."

Ethan exhales. The strength is stripped from his body and he staggers to the wall to lean on it before his legs give way. He lands on the floor heavily, but it's not pain that causes the tears to stream down his cheeks. Each breath is a struggle and he's dimly aware of the noisy gasps he's making as he fails to compose himself.

"We've got him back," someone says.

"He needs to go straight to theatre," it's Dylan this time. "Ethan, he's not out of the woods but he's alive."