Crossfire

For Marie (Panic-at-casualty)

Ethan paced like he did a lot. He wouldn't - no, couldn't - stop. His mind raced at one hundred miles per hour, his nerves were on fire, his muscles were tingling. He needed to move. He always needed to move. Ever since Cal's… Cal's…

He needed to move and he couldn't stop.

At this rate, he would probably wear the floor out. When he was in the staffroom, he always paced in the same line. From the door to the sofa and then back to the door again. It was the longest straight line in the staffroom, which meant it was the best line to pace. Sometimes he would wring his hands while in thought.

But his muscles never stopped tingling, his nerves never stopped being on fire and his mind never slowed down. The only time he was relatively calm was when he was sleeping, and even when he took two hours tossing and turning to eventually get to sleep, it was plagued with nightmares about his brother.

He would wake up screaming and drenched with sweat. Every single night. So then, as if he hadn't learnt from the previous night, he would stay awake, too scared to sleep. Because when he did, he saw his brother dying. Over and over again. Or more, imagined his brother dying. Because he never saw his brother die because he wasn't there!

And then work would come around, and Ethan could tell people were getting sick of him. Their fuses were short with him and they were getting shorter but so was his temper. He would snap at anyone who ever said something slightly wrong to him. Especially if it was about his brother or how he was coping. Because he was coping.

He was.

He used to consider himself unflappable. Nothing could phase him (apart from heights), which was why working in the ED was like a natural calling to him. But he was definitely very flappable now.

"You're doing it again."

Ethan's head snapped up to his right and he stopped, to see Alicia and Charlie walk into the staff room.

"What?"

Alicia sighed like it was the hundredth time she'd had this conversation with him. And perhaps it was. "Muttering to yourself. You're doing it again."

"Oh." His momentarily paused pacing began again. He didn't want to talk to them. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Or at least, they never seemed to want to talk to him anymore. So Ethan had stopped trying. Even Alicia had given up with him.

"And by the way -" his pacing didn't cease this time "- flappable isn't a word."

Ethan only just about caught Charlie saying, "Alicia," under his breath like he was scolding a small child.

And maybe that's how they saw Ethan. A small, little, broken child. Needing to be helped and guided and shown compassion.

But Ethan didn't want their sympathy. He wanted Scott found and he wanted Scott killed. Or maybe not killed. Preferably injured just enough for satisfaction, but not killed. The monster could live with the guilt of murdering an innocent life. Or maybe he wouldn't feel guilt. Maybe he was numb to all of that. Ethan was beginning to numb to everything. Everything except death. Maybe that was better for working in an emergency department. The only thing he would lose it over would be a death of someone.

And if someone died in Bay 4…

"Come on, Ethan. Sit down." Charlie seemed to have a softer voice than Alicia. But Saint Charlie seemed to love helping lost causes so much Ethan wondered if he did it for himself rather than the person he was helping. "I'll make you some tea."

Ethan didn't respond. He just continued pacing.

"Maybe coffee would be better, Charlie. He looks like he hasn't slept in weeks."

And he hadn't. Not really. He doubted he would never sleep again.

"Take a seat, Ethan. There's something I need to talk to you about."

Ethan stopped. His mind stopped, his nerves stopped and his muscles stopped. Robotically, he sat down.

Then his leg started bouncing up and down as if his body couldn't handle sitting.

He needed to move.

"No, you don't," Alicia said as she sat down beside him.

Oh, he was muttering again.

"Just take some deep breaths, okay? Calm down."

His leg continued bouncing. He couldn't stop. He could never stop. He could never calm down until there was justice. And he would get justice.

Hot tea was thrust into his hands, making him jump. Charlie sat the other side of him slowly and took a deep breath, obviously preparing to say whatever he apparently needed to say.

"Look, Ethan. Maybe you shouldn't be here. You're not in the right frame of mind."

Ethan jumped up, spilling hot tea on his hand in the process.

He just stared at it before he was dragged over to the sink by Alicia and his hand was shoved under a stream of cold water.

"I hate to say it, Ethan -"

"So don't," he muttered.

"- but," he continued as if he hadn't heard Ethan, "this is what I mean. What we mean… because it's not just me. Ethan, you're not ready to be at work, you haven't been ever since… you shouldn't be here."

"You have no right to tell me that. You have no authority over whether I should be here or not."

"As your friends, Ethan, we care about you. And your welfare. You're not coping."

He glared at Alicia. "I am coping perfectly fine, thank you."

Alicia sighed. "You're not sleeping, you're not eating, you spend most of your time hiding away in here! You rarely go into resus, and when you do you just sort of… zone out."

"Well maybe that's because my brother died in there!" he shouted, pulling his hand back from the cold water and drying it.

"You need time to grieve," Charlie said, in a much calmer voice than Alicia. "And you haven't done that properly. We've all noticed it, Ethan. You're almost obsessed with what happened."

"I'm not obsessed, I want justice. That isn't a crime!"

"You're obsessed, Ethan!"

Charlie shot a warning look at Alicia, which Ethan would have missed if he wasn't so hyper alert recently.

"No, he needs to hear this. We've seen your notes. When you've got distracted or called away and left them in here. You're obsessed with finding out exactly what happened to Cal and who killed him. It isn't healthy, Ethan."

"My brother was killed, Alicia. Killed. Don't you get that?!"

Alicia looked helplessly over to Charlie.

"We understand -"

"Stop saying you understand, Charlie! No-one understands! He's the only family I had left, and now he's dead too!"

His hissed in pain and glanced down to his hands. His burnt hand was red from the combined burn and the way he'd been wringing them for the entire conversation.

"Come with me, Ethan," Connie said from the doorway, making Ethan look up and notice her.

How long had she been standing there?

"Long enough."

He really needed to stop muttering.

"Come on. I need to show you something."

Ethan went with her unquestionably, anything to get out of the conversation he was currently having.

As they walked through the department, he noticed people looking at him. No, staring would be the more accurate word. And then when he'd stare back, they'd duck their heads as if they weren't doing anything.

Why couldn't they understand that he was fine?

"Sit down."

Obediently, he sat on the cubicle bed, his leg bouncing up and down as soon as he did.

"How have you been sleeping?" she said as she took his burnt hand into hers.

He shrugged.

"An honest answer please."

"Um - not good, I guess."

"Any nightmares? Difficulty falling asleep? Waking up a lot?"

He looked at her in what could be described as amazement. "All of the above," he said, slightly questioningly.

She smiled sympathetically. "Your hand is fine."

He put his hand back in his lap, unconsciously wringin -

"- just stop wringing them," she added as an afterthought. "Look, I'm going to prescribe you some Temazepam."

Ethan's head snapped up to her, "sleeping pills?" he rushed out.

"Yeah. Sleeping pills. They might help you, okay?"

He shrugged, looking back down at his hands.

"Things will get easier, Ethan. Things always get easier."

"You don't know that," he whispered.

"They will. Now, once I've written it up, go and get your prescription and go home, eat something and sleep. Alright?"

He didn't answer.

"Ethan, alright?"

"I guess," he said, knowing that he wouldn't.

"Come on. I'll drive you - I've got a break."

"It's fine," he said quietly. "I can drive, I've been doing it every day. I can drive, I can."

Alicia smiled slightly at him. "Yes, but I want to make sure you eat and shower and sleep."

"Your break isn't that long."

She shrugged. "Well… now it is." She took the keys from him and went to the driver's side, leaving Ethan standing in front of the car for all of two seconds before he accepted it and sat in the passenger side of the car.

Alicia had neglected to tell him that Connie had instructed her to go with Ethan. Not that she didn't want to, but Ethan was getting harder and harder to manage and she didn't exactly… well, want to. She wished she still cared for him like she used to, but he'd stopped caring about everything and anything. And once someone has lost interest in her, it doesn't take long for her to do the same.

She glanced over at Ethan. He was staring out the window, muttering to himself again.

He would do it a lot. The muttering and the pacing. Usually it was unintelligible, usually it was random words strung together. But sometimes Alicia managed to catch a few things he said. It was never good. Self-deprecating phrases, upsetting thoughts - almost malicious. And not just towards Scott either, towards himself. If that didn't make Alicia's concern for him grow, the lack of self-care definitely did. He barely ate, he barely slept, he barely washed, and the constant drinking of coffee for energy seemed to turn into alcohol a lot. Not that she ever saw him drinking anything but coffee and the occasional water, but she could see it and smell it on him. He was only in the staffroom because Connie considered him unfit for work most days.

And rightly so. He was unfit for work. He had been ever since Cal died.

And that was three whole weeks ago.

It wasn't that Connie would tell him that he was unfit for work. She'd do it subtly, and sometimes before she even did, Ethan would retreat to the staffroom after treating patients for only half an hour.

She was losing her Ethan. Maybe he was already lost.

It was only for a second. A brief moment when he saw a man in a hood, walking into a backstreet. But that man looked so much like Scott Ellison that Ethan had to see him properly.

"Stop."

Alicia didn't look at him, but she immediately swerved at the first turning and pulled over. "Are you okay?"

He undid his seatbelt with shaking fingers, it took him a couple of tries but eventually, he flung it out of the way and rushed out of his car.

"Ethan!" she shouted as she followed him.

Ethan didn't slow down his walking. He needed to see this man.

"Ethan, where are you going?"

"Stay there!" I don't want you getting hurt.

"Hey!" he shouted as he finally approached the backstreet the man was walking down. He wasn't walking quickly when he spotted him, but he quickened his pace after Ethan shouted. "Hey, stop!"

The man did stop. It was more like he faltered.

Ethan clenched his fists at the side. "Turn around."

"Excuse me?"

"Turn around."

And when he did, Ethan couldn't help himself. His mind went black, his eyes focused on Scott Ellison's face. Then the punches started.

"Hey! Stop! Stop!" he pleaded.

And Ethan only did when he heard Alicia behind him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Ethan?!"

"It's Scott Ellison!" he shouted.

And then realisation passed across Scott's face, and Alicia came to stand behind him.

"Dr Hardy. Well, didn't think I'd be seeing you again," he smiled maliciously.

Ethan glared at him at his feet. "Don't even think about doing anything."

He cocked his head to the side, "what are you going to do? Kill me? Are you starting a list? How many Ellison's can you kill?"

"Ethan, don't do anything stupid," Alicia warned. "I'm calling the police, okay? Don't do anything."

Ethan didn't listen. He kicked Scott in the chest, making his brother's murderer cough harshly. "He killed my brother, Alicia," he ground out. "He deserves to rot in Hell."

"Do you believe in the death penalty, Ethan? Or 'an eye for an eye'?" Alicia said suddenly, phone in her hand.

Ethan's head flickered to her before he stared back at the man on the floor. "Not really."

"Then -"

"But I'm prepared to make an exception."

"Ethan, let the police deal with him. He's not your responsibility."

"And I wasn't Cal's! But he still died for me! So now I'm repaying that. This scum deserves everything he ge -"

He felt himself hit the ground, his head hit the concrete underneath. And then he heard Alicia shout in fear.

Ethan jumped up, unfeeling of his own pain, to see Scott with a knife against her side and his arm holding her neck. And when he spoke, venom dripped from his voice. "Now you're going to let me go, and we'll say no more about it."

"You killed my brother!"

He looked hesitant and faltered. "Yeah? And if you don't let me go, you're girlfriend will get it."

Ethan's brow furrowed in thought. "You're scared. You wouldn't kill her. I know you won't."

He tightened his hold on her, making Alicia looked even more frightened than she had before. "Do you really want to test that theory?"

"Ethan. Step back, okay? Step back." Alicia's voice shook as she spoke, and a few terrified tears dripped down her face.

"This isn't fair," he whispered. "This isn't fair!"

"Life's not fair," Scott growled. "My dad is dead because of you!"

And then Alicia screamed.

For a moment, Ethan swayed dizzily. He saw Alicia fall, he saw the blood-red patch on her top grow larger, and it took a moment to register that it was blood-red because it was blood. Scott had stabbed her.

Stabbed. Oh, God. Not again.

"Ethan," she gasped. "Ambulance… police. Ethan…"

The world tilted for a second more before it rested upright and Ethan came back to himself. He breathed heavily and fell to his knees beside his friend.

Beside Alicia.

Another person stabbed because of him.

He fumbled around with her phone (he left his in his car, like an idiot) and pressed in her password as Alicia made a grab for his hand. He flinched slightly as she pressed on his slight burn, but didn't make any further objections. She told him the password couple of months ago, and he committed it to memory. Not in a creepy way, more in a -

"Emergency services, which service do you require?"

"Ambulance and police, please," he rushed out. "Quickly."

"Ethan, Alicia? What happened?"

Iain and Jez ran over to them, going to kneel down before they even reached them.

"S-Scott Ellison did it. He stabbed her."

Jez's head snapped up in shock. "Did you see him do it?" he asked angrily.

"Now's not the time, mate," Iain said. "Ethan, talk us through it. What's her condition?"

Ethan looked at Alicia's pale and unconscious face but saw only Cal's. His pale and dead face, a tube down his throat.

"Come on, Ethan."

He blew out a shaky breath, put everything to one side, and started. "Stab wound to the lower right side. Breathing laboured, possible punctured lung. GCS 8, pulse thready, has been unconscious for about 2 minutes." His voice cracked. "Help her. Please. Don't let her die."

Jez clapped his shoulder. "We won't, mate. We won't."

"Alicia Munroe, 26. Stabbed around 15 minutes ago, unconscious for around 12 minutes."

Ethan stood in the doorway of the ED, watching Iain and Jez and the doctors and nurses rush to resus. But he couldn't move. He caused this. This was his fault.

Alicia was stabbed because of him. Cal was stabbed because of him. How many more? How many more?! How many more were going to die because of him?!

He was like Scott. Scott physically killed them but Ethan caused it. Scott was like the force but Ethan was like the knife. Cutting into their skin, drawing blood and killing them. His closest friend, maybe a girlfriend, and his brother. His older brother. Dead. Alicia might die.

Alicia might die!

"Stop, Ethan. Stop. It's okay, calm down." He was pulled away roughly, and he suddenly felt the pain in his hand. He looked into the face of Charlie, the concerned and worried face of Charlie. "Alicia won't die, okay? The team are doing everything they can for her."

"But they did all they could for Cal… apparently!" he spat. He didn't know what they did because he wasn't there!

"We'll go to the staffroom. I'll sort out your hand."

Ethan looked down at his bloody knuckles. It was a miracle they hadn't broken. Judging by the pain in his hand, the wall took quite a beating.

"I want to see Alicia."

"You can see her afterwards. When she's more… stable."

Ethan looked at him pleadingly. "But if I don't see her now then I wouldn't have been there when she… she…"

"No, Ethan. Don't think like that. She will get through this. She had immediate treatment."

Unlike Cal. Unlike Cal because he was left for dead.

By the way Charlie was looking at him, Ethan guessed he'd said that aloud. But Charlie didn't comment, so Ethan didn't mention it either. His firm arm went around Ethan's shoulder and he guided him to the staffroom. Ethan kept his head looking at his shuffling feet, he didn't think he could stand seeing anyone's faces. Looking at Ethan. The man who got his brother and friend killed.

"It was Scott," Ethan said as he was pushed gently onto the sofa.

"I know. Iain told us. The police are on their way."

He shook his head. "They won't catch him. They haven't already, Charlie. And now Alicia's dying." A tear dripped down his cheek, more following. But he didn't make a sound. He just let them fall, taking his hope with them.

"Oh, Ethan." Charlie guided Ethan's head onto his shoulder and put his arm around him.

And then Ethan started to cry loudly.

"How are you feeling?" Ethan asked as he hovered awkwardly in the doorway to Alicia's side room.

"You can come in, you know."

He nodded, "right. Yes. Of course."

He stood by her bed, in front of the chair. But he didn't sit down. He was feeling restless, he wanted to pace. But being by Alicia stopped him. And the pain in his hands reminded him why he wasn't wringing them.

"You didn't answer my question."

She looked at him seriously. "Ethan, we need to talk."

"But how are you feeling?"

"A little sore, but I'm okay. Dosed up with painkillers."

He looked away from her. She still looked far too pale and it made him feel sick.

He caused this.

"No, you didn't. And yes, you are muttering again." She reached for his hand, but he pulled it out of the way. "Ethan, you didn't cause this, but you played a part. And you need to accept that."

He tentatively looked down at her.

"In your need for justice, Ethan, I got hurt. And I'm not going to be the only one if you carry on like this."

His heart clenched. "Alicia -"

"No, Ethan. You need to stop. You need to let the police deal with this."

Ethan snapped. The police were useless! "Cal's dead!" he screamed.

"And everyone else around you is still alive," she breathed. "You're still alive, Ethan! You need to start looking after yourself. You need to let people in. You need help."

Ethan collapsed into the chair heavily. Suddenly all the fire in his body dampened. "I need my brother, Alicia," he said brokenly. "I need my brother."

"I know you do. But Cal's gone, Ethan. You're still here. Let the police handle Scott. You need to start getting your life back together. Cal is your brother and he will always be here with you. You need to start learning to live without him. You're not healthy right now, Ethan."

Then she took his hand, and Ethan let her.

"I want to be there for you, Ethan. But you've got to let me in. I'm not here to take the brunt of your feelings. I'm not here to be used and forgotten. I'm your friend. I will be there for you. You just have to let me."

He held her hand tightly. "I miss him so much…" he said before sobs overtook his body. He cried and shook. "But he's never coming home."