Hey :) Time for a new fic from me.
Something like this has been playing on my mind for probably the best part of a year but I've only just managed to get it down on paper. It's potentially overambitious but I have the whole thing roughly planned out (a first for me) and I'm going to try my best to see it through to the end.
I'm quite nervous about posting this as (without giving too much away) it could be a sensitive subject matter and the last thing I want to do is offend anyone. Please remember, the character's thoughts are not always the same as mine. I'll put disclaimers ahead of each chapter if I think it may be necessary. Also, as I've said before, I always research when I'm writing but I'm without medical knowledge and there is a strong likelihood I'll get things wrong. Please forgive me if I do!
To set the scene, this story opens at the same time as the previous series, with the helicopter crashing into the E.D. This is only a few months after Ethan found out he has the Huntington's gene. This will follow certain plot lines that happened during that series but my memory is hazy (except of the key Cal/Ethan scenes, of course!) and so it's my interpretation of what happened rather than a direct replica.
Short chapter to start with but please let me know what you think.
1.
He's pulled from sleep too early and it hurts his head. He searches through the fogginess, wondering whether it's a premature alarm clock or a fleeing one-night-stand to blame this time. The mattress beneath him is too hard to be his own but it feels moulded to his body, too comforting to have been used for anything other than sleep.
He wants to inspect his surroundings but his eyelids are heavy and refuse to open. His head aches from the lack of memories. In fact, everything hurts, but it's a dull, constant pain and he can cope with that. It barely increases as he gives an experimental stretch.
"Hey." The soft voice of his brother.
He frowns and there's a sharp pull of a cut on his forehead.
"Cal, are you awake?"
Cal makes a noise half way between a groan and a yes. Ethan never lets him sleep when he needs it the most and it's simultaneously annoying and reassuring. He forces one eye open and bright light sears through his already aching head. He reaches for his pillow, wanting to pull it over his eyes, but the prick of an IV line in the back of his hand halts him. He squints in confusion. The stark white of a hospital room finally comes into focus.
He rolls his head to face his brother. Ethan is stubbly and red-eyed and looks all wrong. The expression on his little brother's face scares him more than being in a hospital bed.
"What happened?" he rasps. His throat burns.
Ethan's bottom lip trembles and he hesitates. "The helicopter. Remember?"
There's a second of oblivion before the memory returns. Cal shudders involuntarily. He can see it still, the helicopter thrashing in the air like a leaf in autumn wind, knowing what was about to happen but unable to change its fate. And then a screech as the helicopter hit concrete, so loud it hurt. He squeezes his eyes shut. It had all happened so quickly after that. A large sheath of metal had flown towards him, knocked him over and pinned his legs to the floor. What ensued is hazy but he remembers writhing in pain, his brother's anxious face, fervent discussions about how to set him free. He supposes he must have blacked out soon after that.
"Um, Caleb?"
Ethan is cradling his glasses in his hands and when he looks at Cal, he misses his eyes by a few centimetres. Ethan's lips are thin, like he's trapping a secret in his mouth.
"A bit of the helicopter hit you," Ethan continues, the spaces between his words stretched out unnaturally long. "Got your- your leg."
"Yeah, I remember," Cal croaks.
"You were trapped for over an hour." Ethan's voice wobbles. "And- and by the time they managed to get the first bit of wreckage off you, you were already hyperkalemic."
It's not Ethan's words but the tone of his voice which starts to alarm Cal. He's heard his brother break enough bad news to recognise the enforced calmness. Fear lodges in his throat. He wills Ethan to make eye contact because he knows the only time he won't is when he's afraid he's going to cry.
"Ethan-?"
"Just… listen."
Ethan takes his hand and focuses his gaze on their interlocked fingers.
"Once they removed the large sheet of metal, it revealed further damage. I think it was a bit of the helicopter blade, I- I don't know." Ethan takes a shaky breath. "But, um, the release of pressure on top of the hyperkalemia sent you into cardiac arrest."
Cal's hit by a surge of nausea and tightens his grip on his brother's hand.
Ethan's eyes flicker towards his but only for a second. "And, well, we couldn't shock you with the metal still in your leg."
Cal feels lightheaded with panic. He tries to anchor himself by focusing on the weight of Ethan's hand in his but it doesn't work. He knows where this story could end if he were a patient, but this is him; it couldn't happen to him.
"They, um-" Ethan starts.
Cal doesn't wait to hear the end of the sentence. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares down the end of the bed. Where his left foot should create a lump in the covers, there's nothing. He flicks his leg. There's a painful throbbing somewhere indeterminable but no sign of a foot. Half way down his left calf the bedding becomes flat. His hands scramble towards his ankle but only grasp handfuls of blanket. It's gone. Half his leg has gone.
His breath is expelled like he's been punched in the stomach and he collapses back on the mattress. He feels sick. He can't breathe. It feels like he's falling.
"No," he says. "No, no, Ethan."
"I'm so sorry," Ethan's voice sounds thick with tears. "There were no alternatives. It wouldn't have been salvageable."
"No," Cal sobs. His chest is heaving. The edges of his vision are turning black. "No," he says again. It seems to be the only word he's capable of except this time it never seems to end, only transcends into a torrent of sobs. He's lost his leg. They amputated his leg. He doesn't know how he's supposed to live like that.
A guttural sound is produced as he attempts to inhale. He tries again but his throat is tight and he can't get the air into his lungs. A second round of panic hits him now that he can't breathe but also he doesn't care, he doesn't need to breathe, he just needs his leg.
Ethan's hands flap in front of him as they hold an oxygen mask over his mouth. Cal feels his own hand being thrust against Ethan's chest, his brother telling him to breathe out, breathe slowly, to calm down. His head is spinning. He thinks he might pass out. He doesn't know how this has happened, how he's woken as a patient, someone who's fighting for air. Someone who only has one leg.
Nausea hits him again and he pushes his brother away. "Sick," he gasps.
Ethan grabs the cardboard bowl and rolls him onto his side so that he can vomit. His throat stings as he retches but it's only bile that dribbles into the bowl. He feels too drained to do anything other than flop over the side of the bed, so he doesn't resist as Ethan helps him rest back against the pillows.
His vision is blurry with tears and Ethan dabs at his cheeks with a handkerchief. The unusually tender gesture acts as a reminder that something bad has happened and he can't bare it. He turns his head to the side and wipes his own tears roughly with the base of his hand.
"Everything's healing well," Ethan says. Although he speaks gently, there's a pleading element to his voice, begging him to be okay. "It's below the knee, minimal tissue damage, healthy pulse. They took you back to surgery yesterday to tidy it up and the doctor says he's sure it will be viable for prosthesis."
Cal understands what his brother's saying but when putting that into context of himself, Ethan may as well be speaking a different language. He doesn't reply. He's not even sure if he would manage anything other than a scream.
"Do you want me to get the doctor?" Ethan asks. "He can talk you through everything much better than I can."
Cal remains still and silent except for the occasional splutter as his breathing threatens to grow panicky again. His tears are unabated and he lets them trickle down his face as he tries to make sense of what's happened. He forgets Ethan is waiting for a reply until he sees him get to his feet, presumably off to search for a medic.
"Don't!" Cal feebly manages.
Ethan returns to him and perches on the edge of his bed.
Cal wipes his hands over his eyes and forces himself to meet his brother's concerned gaze. Ethan looks exhausted and Cal realises that his brother's probably not left his side since the accident.
"What do I do?" Cal whispers. His voice breaks on the last word. An echoing sob escapes.
Ethan doesn't answer but pulls him into an embrace, folding strong arms around him.
Cal's fingers clutch desperately at Ethan's cardigan and he buries his head in his brother's chest. He can hear the gasps and cries coming from his own mouth, some not far short of screams, but it feels like he's watching himself from afar. This can't be his life now. It just can't.