I've been wanting to write a story where Cal tells Ethan about their mum for ages - finally, I've had some ideas!
Cal's vision was a blur. It was always sad to lose a patient, of course. He'd been lying all those times he'd walked out of Resus sand said he was fine.
But this was different. He was sad this time too, but not in the way any caring, empathic person would be when faced with death. This was more personal, even though he didn't think he'd ever seen the patient before. He felt something inside him stretching and breaking as he remembered the woman's son: admiring the strength which Cal knew he lacked, but his heart filled with the echoes of the man's grief
The patient was a woman with Huntington's who'd died of heart failure. It wasn't Cal's mother, but he knew that one day, it could be. One day, she might be the one lying there and Cal might be the one who had to call it.
Or Ethan… he might look at her and treat her and announce her death without even knowing.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Cal, are you all right?" It was Rita, who had seen him treating the patient and had probably seen a whole lot more too.
"I'm fine," said Cal, but he knew he wasn't fooling anyone. He stopped and leaned his forehead against the wall, letting the tears come. All he wanted was for someone to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay.
But no-one could ever say that again and if they did, it wouldn't be true.
"Do you want me to get Ethan?" asked Rita. It was clear from her voice that she thought this was a good idea.
In some ways, Cal wished she would. It had felt so good that day when Ethan had held him and promised he wasn't alone, but it hadn't taken Cal long to realise he was alone. Ethan couldn't support him if he didn't know what was wrong – and if he didn't know what was wrong, he wouldn't want to support him.
He felt Rita's hand on his back. "Why don't we take a break, Cal, and I'll make you a cup of tea?"
"No, I'm fine," Cal choked out. He sniffed hard and brushed his tears away. He knew a cup of tea wouldn't help. He also knew that if he gave Rita the chance, she would try to make him talk. The way he was feeling now: so helpless and alone and heartbroken, he might even end up telling her.
He knew he couldn't do that. It had been one thing to tell Charlie, but the next person he told could only be Ethan.
But how was he meant to do that? Even after weeks of soul-searching and agonising, he still didn't know.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. A hand he knew. A hand that, at this moment, he didn't want to feel.
"Cal, what is it?" said Ethan.
"Nothing," said Cal, wiping away more tears.
"We lost a patient," said Rita.
Cal closed his eyes and silently begged her not to give details. He couldn't let Ethan find out by guessing. It might be easier for Cal if he found out that way… but no. It couldn't happen like that.
Ethan let his hand slide from his shoulder to his arm as he moved around him. "I was about to have my break now anyway. Shall we go and have a chat?" His brown eyes met Cal's so gentle and concerned. So innocent.
"No!" Cal shook his arm off. He couldn't do it. Not now. He was stupid and selfish and a coward, but he'd always known that. Everybody knew it.
Cal did the one thing he always did. He turned and ran. He heard Ethan calling after him, first with concern, then with something like annoyance, but he didn't stop until he found himself in front of the lifts. He jabbed the button desperately, with no idea of where he was going, but that didn't seem to matter now. He just needed to get away from Ethan.
Away from Ethan; away from himself; away from life…
He heard the sound of the lift descending, silently praying that Ethan was too annoyed to follow him – yet at the same time wishing Ethan was there because he couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't deal with the secrets; the lies; the fact that even Charlie's support was now laced with a warning that he might be forced to tell Ethan if Cal wouldn't.
But he couldn't tell him.
At last, the lift doors slid open. Cal rushed inside and poked blindly at the buttons, not knowing or caring where he was asking the lift to take him. He felt his legs giving way and let himself sink to the floor. If anyone else was waiting when the lift doors re-opened, they would get a bit of a surprise to see Dr Knight sitting there in floods of tears, but he didn't care. He was beyond caring. He just wanted it all to stop.
With relief, he heard the lift doors beginning to close, but then the sound stopped and they opened again. Someone stepped into the lift. "Cal, why can't you just tell me what's wrong? Whatever it is, you obviously can't manage it alone…"
"Go away!" Cal sobbed into his knees, much as he'd done as a child when he'd started to consider himself too big to be comforted by his little brother.
"I'm not going anywhere," said Ethan, and Cal could tell from the sound of his voice that he meant it.
The lift doors had closed again and the lift was moving slowly upwards. Cal knew that he needed to stand up so he would be ready to run when the lift finally stopped, but he didn't move and the lift travelled on.
Then he suddenly felt it jolt and looked up to see that Ethan had stopped the lift. He'd done that once before. He'd stopped the lift to let Cal cry, but he'd made no attempt to offer comfort or a listening ear. He'd just stood and watched and waited.
"Caleb," said Ethan, his voice steady, but Cal could sense the emotion behind it. "Caleb, I know there's something wrong and I need you to tell me. Now. I'm not starting the lift again until you have. If you sit there in silence, I'll stand here in silence. Neither of us are going anywhere till I know."
Cal let his head fall back onto his knees. "It's just Matilda."
"No, I don't think it is Matilda," said Ethan. "I think if it was Matilda, you'd have come to me before now."
"No, I wouldn't!" said Cal, but he knew he wasn't fooling Ethan. "Ethan, you can't do this. What if someone needs to use the lift? What if a patient needs to be moved urgently?"
He saw a flicker of indecision flicker across Ethan's face as he realised the truth of this, but a moment later, the determination was back. "There are other lifts, Cal. There are other ways."
"But I can't tell you!" sobbed Cal. "Don't you think I'd have told you if I could?"
"No," said Ethan simply.
The fact he was probably right only made Cal cried harder. "Don't make me do this, Ethan. Please. I'll tell you another time. I'll tell you when I'm calmer."
"Fine," said Ethan. "We'll sit here and hold up the lift until you're calmer." Frustration crept into Ethan's voice. "I know what you're like, Cal. I know that if I give you the chance, you'll run away because that's what you've always done. But I'm not going to let that happen this time. You are going to tell me?"
"And if I don't?" whispered Cal, through more tears.
"I'm sorry, Cal. You really don't have a choice," said Ethan.