I should have used my time offline to update my existing stories, but last Saturday's brilliant episode inspired two more (the other is a Dylan and Lofty friendship one shot). This story is my take on what could happen in Emilie's last hours. I really hope you like it. I don't read spoilers so I don't know how close this is to what will actually happen.
The door stood slightly ajar. From within, Ethan could hear the murmur of voices. One jerky, with long pauses between the words, though Ethan had to admit he hardly noticed them now. The fact it took her longer than most people to communicate what she wanted to say usually only registered with him when he could sense her frustration and sadness at not being able to say it more quickly.
The second voice was rather jerky too, though for different reasons. Cal was either holding back tears or already letting them fall. Ethan stood for a moment, his hand suspended in mid-air, millimetres from the door. He wanted to go in and comfort his brother, but he didn't want to intrude upon the moment.
There were times, like now, when Ethan felt like a spare part. He wanted to feel closer to his mother; to love her as Cal clearly did, but his emotions seemed frozen inside him. It was partly that, in many ways, she was little more than a stranger to him, but also because he was afraid. He couldn't bear to lose another mother. He didn't want to start to care when she could be snatched from him at any moment.
Ethan's eyes blurred. He blinked and put his hand on the doorknob as he pushed the door open another crack: enough for him to see inside. The scene before him held familiarity as well as sadness. Emilie – he still couldn't think of her as 'Mum', or perhaps he simply didn't allow himself to – lay on the bed, looking small and shrunken as she twitched restlessly. Her face showed strain and effort as she tried to speak, but her eyes showed love as she looked at Cal.
She'd never looked at Ethan like that. Not quite. She wanted to love him, but he'd always kept a certain distance. He told himself this was necessary. Soon, Cal would lose another mother and he would be distraught. He would need all Ethan's comfort and support and he couldn't provide that if he was grieving too. A slight detachment also allowed Ethan to view Emilie and her situation medically. One of them needed to do that and Cal could not.
"Don't cry, Cal," said Emilie. At first, her words had seemed indistinct to Ethan and he'd had to work quite hard to listen to and interpret what she said, but now every word was clear.
"I'm sorry," sniffed Cal. "I'm so sorry."
"No." Emilie lifted a hand from the bed – the one Cal wasn't clutching tightly in his uninjured hand – and held it up as though to forestall his apologies, but the effort was too much and it fell back onto the bed. Instead, she tried to move her other hand, her hand shaking as she tried to give a simple act of comfort: to brush her hand along Cal's wrist. She couldn't do it. "Don't be sorry. I am sorry to cause you so much pain, but I am happy because my son is here with me. My Cal."
Ethan felt his throat closing up and his eyes were stinging again. So many complicated emotions swirled their way through his mind. Sadness for both of them. Deep concern for his brother. The remains of the anger that Cal could do this for Emilie, whom he barely knew, but not for Matilda, who'd brought him up and loved him through every mistake he'd made. And an emotion that made his heart feel heavy and achey as he looked at Emilie and knew it could not be long.
He must have made some sound, though he hardly knew what. Emilie's head turned towards him. Her lips moved into what he knew as her smile. "Ethan." She dragged her hand across the bedclothes towards him. It moved in stages, sometimes backwards or sideways instead of forwards, but she didn't give up.
"Hey," he said, stepping into the room and hesitated. A glance at his brother revealed tears on his cheeks and more spilling from his eyes. He wasn't sure whether he should sit on the opposite side of Emilie's bed or sit on the other side so he could put his arm around his brother.
It was natural now, to hug Cal. than had done it so many times over the past few days. He'd held him and comforted him and wiped away his tears – even literally, once or twice.
"Ethan." Emilie smiled again. She could only hold her mouth in position for a moment, but Ethan knew what it meant. She was always happy to see him, even though he kept his distance and would not allow her the closeness he knew she wanted.
Ethan sat beside her, only realising he'd moved the chair closer to her when he felt his knees hit the softness of the bed. He looked down on her hand, lying on the bed close to him. He hadn't felt able to take it at first, but she hadn't given up. Ethan had progressed to touching her hand lightly for a moment, but he knew she wanted more. He also knew there was too little time left for him to move at his own pace.
He looked at Cal; at the tears on his cheeks and the agony in his eyes. There was a pleading expression there too. In a flash of guilt, Ethan thought of how patient Cal had been with him. He hadn't tried to force him to give Emilie more than he felt able to. He'd suggested that Ethan might call her Mum – after all, some people did have two mums and that didn't mean the first one was loved any less – but he'd never insisted or pressurised Ethan in any way.
Ethan put his hand on Emilie's shaking hand. It felt so small in his own. He lifted it carefully and closed both his hands around it. "I'm here."
There was a tiny sob from Cal. Ethan heard it but did not respond, instead lifting his eyes to Emilie's face. He felt lungs whoosh into his air as he saw how beautiful she was. He'd never really realised it before. He'd only ever allowed himself to see pain and distress. Not that he wanted to see either, but he needed to know what she was feeling in order to help her.
But she was beautiful. For a moment, he felt lost in her lovely eyes, seeing the warmth and affection behind the pain. The happiness. She was glad he was there.
Ethan realised he was glad too.
"How are you?" he asked softly. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Stay," said Emilie. It was one syllable, spoken with difficulty, but Ethan knew her voice and knew the emotion that filled it. Love. She didn't know him, but she loved him. She spoke again. "Stay with me."
"Of course I will," said Ethan. He knew what she was trying to say. It wouldn't be long and she knew that. He blinked rapidly to prevent his eyes from filling with tears.
He heard another sob from Cal and this time Ethan turned to him. There was panic on his brother's face now. "I… I… I can't. I'm so sorry, Mum." With another sob, he gently laid her hand on the bed and fled from the room, more sobs escaping as both his shoulders, injured and uninjured, rose and fell in time with them.
"I'm sorry, Emilie," said Ethan. "Cal has trouble dealing with situations like this. He was the same with our real… I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I mean our other mother."
Fleeting hope showed in Emilie's eyes, then she felt her thumb moving roughly and arrhythmically back and forth across his palm. "Go after him, please, Ethan."
Ethan hesitated, not wanting to leave her. Not wanting her to be alone even for one moment.
The thought surprised him; caught him off-guard. Was this what it felt like? Was he beginning to care? To love?
"Please," said Emilie. "I will be here."
"Of course," said Ethan unsteadily, but much as he wanted to go to his brother and comfort him, he also didn't want to leave. He increased the pressure of his hands on hers very slightly, then he laid it gently down on the bed. He stood up, took another step closer to the head of the bed and bent down. His lips lightly touched her cheek. He heard her breath in and then out. A gasp of surprise, followed by a sigh of deep contentment.
She was suffering. She was dying. But she was happy because her son had kissed her.
Ethan only wished he'd done it before.