Chapter 4

She knocks apprehensively, the next morning.

It felt like something of a turning point, that moment on the fire escape last night, and yet there's no guarantee with Huntington's, especially Huntington's they know so little about the progression of, and Alicia doesn't want to take any chances.

He could turn again. The mood swings; it's so hard to know, yesterday morning could have been the disease talking or it could have been just the shock of it all, she really doesn't know. There's no way she can possibly know, not just yet, not until she knows the situation medically, and it's too soon to press for those details, far, far too soon.

They're going to have to continue taking this as it comes, at least for today.

"Alicia?"

There's none of the aggressive numbness in his tone she had feared there might be as he calls out to her, and so, smiling, still a little nervous, she pushes open the door.

"Hi." She fidgets awkwardly, still so painfully aware of the gulf of time between them. "I said I'd come back, didn't I?"

It's that same, dark cave it was yesterday in his room, the curtains drawn, lights off, daylight struggling to break in through the crack in the curtains.

She can just about make him out in that same corner, hiding away, retreated.

"Where's…?"

"She's downstairs, she's with Kerry the receptionist. They're bonding over local folktales and fairy stories and ranking them according to plausibility, it's best not to ask. Except I don't think she really has a clue what that means, she just thinks she does. Kerry's going to bring her up in a bit. I thought we should have some time to talk first."

"I see. I thought…" He trails off, hesitant; it's so hard to read him in the darkness. "I thought perhaps, after yesterday, she might not…"

"Hey, you won't get rid of her that easily." She tries her hardest to make her tone light, carefree. "I mean, you definitely redeemed yourself with her elephant, but she was already pretty adamant she was coming back today, so…"

"She looks so much like you."

"Yeah, I get that a lot. I think she looks more like my nana, though. I should have brought you her childhood photos, it's a bit uncanny. I mean, I look a lot like her, but Chakra has her hair and everything."

"She's beautiful, Alicia."

"Well, she's half you too, you know."

"But she looks nothing like me, she's a mini you. And she hasn't… you know. Thank goodness."

"Yeah, but she basically is you, personality wise. Or how I imagine you as a kid, anyway. We spent most of yesterday afternoon hiking up Glastonbury Tor with her quizzing me about what life was like in Anglo-Saxon times. She wants to know everything about everything, ancient history's her thing at the moment. And she's seven. I don't think I had any real concept of history and time when I was seven. Certainly not like she does, anyway. And I think she's read more books since she started school than I've read in my entire life. Voluntarily."

"You know, Cal was always convinced my terrible eyesight was the result of too many late-night reading sessions under the covers with one of those superhero projection torches."

"See? I knew she'd got it from you, there was no way it was anything in my DNA."

"Alicia." There's so much pain in his voice now, so much anguish. "I didn't know, I swear, I didn't…"

"Would it have made a difference if you had?" she asks, numb.

They both know the answer to that question, and it's not pleasant to accept.

"I was just so angry, Alicia." His voice breaks. "I knew it was coming, I wasn't in denial, I don't think, I'd accepted it. But when it started… I couldn't, when it started, I just couldn't… I was so angry, I was just so angry, I thought I'd prepared myself for the onset but I hadn't, I hadn't expected it to be so soon, I guess, I don't know. And that just made it all worse, I knew the anger could be a symptom, you know how bad it can get with this… I was so scared I was going to hurt you, I would never have forgiven myself, Alicia, never. I couldn't find the words to tell you; I tried, I really did. If you hadn't told me you were pregnant… I don't know, I really don't know when I would have told you."

"I wish you had," she whispers. She crosses the room through the darkness, delicately, searching for him, somehow no closer than she's been to him at any point in these last eight years. "You could have told me, Ethan, I wish you'd told me when you first got the diagnosis…"

"What, so you could make it better?" Ethan snaps, and Alicia sighs.

"No. So I could have supported you. So you might have felt you could tell me when you started noticing symptoms. But… but more than anything, Ethan, I wish you'd told me because perhaps if we'd had time to talk about it before it was happening, perhaps you might have felt we could have done this together."

"No. No, we couldn't." His tone is adamant, uncompromising. "We couldn't, Alicia. I couldn't have done that to you. You'd already been through so much, it had barely been a year since Eddie, and then when you told me… I couldn't. I couldn't be that selfish. You deserve better than I can give you, Alicia, you did then and you still do now. You deserve someone who'll look after you, not someone you'll have to watch die slowly and aggressively, not like this. I couldn't even guarantee I wasn't going to turn into an abusive monster, I couldn't risk taking it all out on you, you know how awful Huntington's aggressive behaviour can be. And then you told me you were pregnant and you were so happy, I saw what telling you did to you, and I thought… I couldn't see it rationally, I was so sure, I was completely convinced she was positive, I could only see the bad in everything after it set in. I was convinced she was positive, I didn't think I even needed the test results to know that, I knew having to abort was going to destroy you and I knew miscarrying after the test was going to be just as awful, and I'd have done that to you either way, Alicia, it would have been all my fault, I should have been more careful, I should never have risked getting you pregnant."

"Ethan…"

"No, no listen, please. You deserve an explanation. It just felt like it was all my fault, it felt as if whatever I did I was going to cause you so much pain, I thought… I thought it would be better if I just left, I knew you'd be upset but I though at least you'd be able to move on with your life that way, I didn't… I couldn't, I just couldn't see that it was possible she wouldn't have it, I thought it was inevitable that I'd contaminated her, I never imagined I was leaving you alone with a child…"

It takes Alicia a moment to process the sounds that follow him trailing off, to fully take it in.

She doesn't think she's ever seen him cry like this, not even that awful night she'd told him she was pregnant, and the blissfully happy moment she had imagined had gone so horribly wrong.

There's nothing she can say to make it better. She can't tell him that it's okay, because it's anything but, because he left her and he left their daughter and whatever his reasoning, it can't ever take the pain away.

And yet at the same time, a part of her does understand. She doesn't like it, can't accept it, but she understands.

She suspects the Huntington's has been controlling his behaviour for far, far longer than any aggressive symptoms he might now possess have been in evidence.

"Why don't you open the curtains?" Alicia suggests gently. "We can't talk properly like this, I can hardly see you."

"No, no, I don't want you to see me like this…"

"Oh, come on, Ethan, you had the curtains drawn and the lights out before you knew it was me yesterday, I know you didn't do it for my benefit. I'm not going to leave, if that's what you're worried about. I don't care how bad it is, I'm going nowhere."

Nothing. She imagines him pouting at her in the gloom, a sullen child.

"You do realise there is no way Chakra is going to go along with sitting in here in the dark, right? Or not without trying to turn it into a game, anyway. So if you'd rather look at her colouring than scrabble around on the floor with her, daylight probably isn't a bad idea."

She doesn't think he's going to oblige at first. She's half afraid that he's going to snap again, that he'll lose it with her like yesterday and that will be it, she'll have blown it for today already, be left with no choice but to abort this latest attempt and come back tomorrow, risk them becoming locked in a vicious cycle of visits lasting only a few minutes, getting nowhere, stalemate.

But he shifts in the darkness, silent, slow, and then he's pulling at the curtains, hesitant, and slowly, dull, March sun fills the room.

He can't look at her, Alicia realises. It's as though he can't bring himself to meet her gaze, fearing her reaction, eyes fixed firmly to the floor.

He stands in the corner by the window, slightly hunched, leaning heavily on a walking aid. He's thinner than she remembers, frail, and yet he's Ethan, still Ethan, even after all this time.

He might be ashamed to be relying on a walking aid in front of her, but all Alicia can think is that after eight years of Huntington's progression, it could be so, so much worse.

"Ethan," Alicia says gently. "Ethan, it's okay."

She crosses the room towards him slowly, cautious. There's another chair beside the one she assumes must be his; she lowers herself into it, waits for him to copy her.

They stare at each other for a moment, searching each other's faces.

"You haven't changed," Ethan says at last.

There's something in his tone Alicia can't quite place.

"Nor have you."

He raises his eyebrow, thoroughly unconvinced.

"Well, apart from you look like you haven't seen the sun in eight years," she teases. "You're still you, Ethan. I don't give a damn about the rest of it."

He shakes his head, adamant. "Alicia, you're not thinking straight…"

"Ethan. Listen." She lays her hand over his; thankfully tremor-free. Let's just take this one step at a time, okay?"

He falls silent, closes his eyes wearily. There's so much defeat in him now; it's written all over his face, undeniable.

It's as though he's given up, as though he's just waiting.

She doesn't want to think about what part of it all he's waiting for.

"Eight years," Ethan says at last, breaking the silence. "Where do we even start?"

There are so many questions Alicia wants to pose to him in that moment. She wants to ask him how bad it is, wants to ask him how he's coping, how he's been spending his days for the last eight years because besides the bookcase overflowing with medical journals, his surroundings aren't giving her much of an idea. Selfishly, she wants to ask him how he could do this to her, how he could get it all so wrong, be so blind to the fact that she loves him, that if this is how it has to end for him it's going to break her heart but she would rather that than any happily ever after she might have without him.

So many questions, and none of them are going to do either of them any good.

Not yet.

"You said… yesterday…" he trails off. "Sorry. I realise I gave up my right to know these things a long time ago…"

She shakes her head, reassures him. "No, no, it's okay. Although if you're going to ask if there's anyone else, the answer is no, there never has been. And not just because I haven't exactly had the time, either."

"No. No, no, it's not that." He brushes it aside, although Alicia is certain there's a faint trace of a smile in his features, a lightness about him that wasn't there before. "Her… Chakra… (he's so not convinced, Alicia realises; she can only hope her tastes will grow on him) her birthday's in April…"

She sighs. "Ah, okay. That." She had hoped he would leave that one a little longer, that she wouldn't have to upset him with it all so soon.

"Thirty-two weeks?"

"You remember?"

"Of course I do. So…" He closes his eyes for a moment, awkward, as though he's struggling to decide how to pose this particular question. "What…"

"Ethan…" She grips his hand a little tighter. "You were sort of right about the anomaly test. Well, we both were, really. I was right that she was negative, you were right that something was wrong." She pauses; there's no easy way to do this, no way of minimising the damage. "Exomphalos. Minor, thank god, only needed primary repair. It shouldn't have been early delivery, not really, but add in oligohydramnios and a placental abruption and…"

He pales. "Oh, Alicia…"

She shrugs. "She's fine now, really, more or less. It could have been so much worse."

"More or less?" he worries.

"Some possible gastro issues. It's minor, she's fine. There's no reason to worry about her, Ethan. She's honestly fine."

The truth, of course, is that she's been doing all the worrying for the both of them for eight years now.

"I don't know how to talk to her," Ethan confesses. I've never had a clue with kids, I can't…"

"Hey, you didn't manage too badly yesterday."

"Listen, about last night, I wasn't angry at you. I was wrong, I shouldn't have shouted at you like that, I should have trusted you, and I certainly shouldn't have shouted in front of Chakra. I'm sorry. But I wasn't angry at you, I just… I was scared, I know that sounds ridiculous but I just have no idea how… she's a tiny human, she's so much more complicated than an adult, it's like a whole code language I don't understand…"

Alicia tries so hard not to laugh, but it's too much to hold in. "You were scared of talking to your own seven-year-old?"

"But she's not mine, is she? No, not like that, I don't mean it like that," Ethan covers hastily. "I know she's mine, Alicia, no part of me doubts that. But she's yours. I'm a stranger to her, a stranger with a horrible illness and no idea how to talk to kids, I don't know what she likes, I don't know what makes her laugh, I don't know how to comfort her when she's sad, I don't… You're the one who's been there. I don't know any of those things, I don't know how…"

"No," Alicia says firmly, cutting him off. "No, you don't. But that doesn't mean you can't learn." She stands, purposeful, quickly, subtly, scans the room for any sign of a wheelchair. "Shall we go and get her? Poor Kerry the receptionist probably can't wait to hand her back, once you get her going she doesn't stop talking."

He stares at her, as though it's the most ridiculous suggestion in the world.

"I'll wait here, you go."

"Hey, come on, you might as well come. Do you need anything to… you know? I can help, Ethan, you can ask me to…"

"Alicia. Alicia, I'm staying here."

Alicia decides this is not the moment to ask him if his sudden abrasiveness is an attempt to conceal the fact that he's not up to the walk down to reception.

"Sure, I'll go get her. Back in a minute, okay?"

As she waits for the lift, she hopes the worry in her voice was detectable to only her.

A few things to say at the end of this one: firstly, as ever, thank you so, so much to my wonderful reviewers, you guys are the best. Glad nobody hated the name! For some reason I just could not imagine Alicia giving her child a 'normal' name. Chakra's name was actually inspired by the mandala wall art in Alicia's bedroom and what looked like an oil diffuser in I think episode 37 of the last series. Alicia has struck me as a character with a potentially unexpected spiritual side for a while now, so I saw that and I ran with it. Exomphalos is also called Omphalocele, it's basically a condition that means a baby's organs develop in a sac outside the body. It's usually corrected with surgery soon after birth.

20BlueRoses- that's exactly what I was aiming for with Chakra liking 'old' things, I'm so glad you noticed it.

Panicpeachpit, I have heard nothing positive about health visitors either! The Avalon theme kind of evolved when I was planning this, it mostly started out as a good location for Ethan's clinic and with lots of potential for Alicia/Chakra scenes- Glastonbury is really, really pretty and totally worth a visit. But it occurred to me after I started writing this that actually, there are a lot of similarities between the stories of Avalon and Ethan and Alicia's storylines on Casualty. The biggest one is probably the Ethan-Alicia-Cal love triangle and Lancelot's love for King Arthur's wife Guinevere. I promise the Avalon theme is going to remain minor in this, but it is interesting.

Also, I have a two hour flight tomorrow, I will be taking my laptop and I will be using that time to write. Would you guys prefer I work on Finding Avalon, or Atoms in the Universe? And any requests you would like me to try to work into either one of those? Let me know in the reviews. I will be flying at 1pm tomorrow UK time, so I will go with the majority then.

-IseultLaBelle