The woman speaks first once they are seated on the sofa.

'I'm PC Davidson and this is PC Brooks. Do you mind if we speak to you first, Ethan? It's just following procedure.'

'I-'

All eyes turn to Alicia as she tries to utter a syllable, then falls quiet, helpless once more. Even to someone ignorant, her distress is apparent: spending the night awake has only contributed to her unkempt appearance.

She looks ill.

He gives her a little nod. 'It's okay.'

'I was going to, uh, offer to make some coffees. I have squash too, or milk, or- or wine! White!'

Each looks bemused at the attempt of humour.

'We're driving, tempting though that offer is!' exclaims PC Brooks, if only to make her feel less awkward, glancing across at his colleague carefully. 'Two teas and sugar in one if you wouldn't mind.'

'Course!' she gives a quick wave of the hand before turning and flouncing out the room.

It is an impulse for Ethan to levitate out of the chair, hovering and peering. He fails to be discreet and in doing so induces a small, polite cough from both officers simultaneously. He hasn't purposefully shut them out. Questioning is of utmost importance to him — anything to quicken the process of showing Eddie's true colours. However, his mind is clouded with fatigue, and occupied almost entirely with her.

PC Davidson is eyeing him dubiously, papery crinkles of confusion in her young skin hidden well by a curl of blonde hair escaping from her hat. Maybe she sees he is a complex character, murderer material. It wouldn't be a lie. Or she might be thinking he is being deliberately obtuse. That he exaggerated the allegations, or he is strange for feeling jumpy over the most routine of things like his friend making hot drinks. All of these things would be true in their own way: he let a man die for justice and he had emphasised the bad side of his former mentee and Alicia was dealing with boiling water despite being so shaky.

'Sorry, mate, is it alright if you could give us your full attention?' PC Brooks finally asks.

'Of course, I- I just worry about her. Neither of us have slept, and—'

'It is fine.' PC Davidson assures. 'I have here that you made a complaint against Eddie McAllister at 12:33am this morning. Is that correct?'

'Yes.' Ethan says, running his hands over his knees.

'And you wish to pursue this?'

'I do, yes.'

'Okay. Can you describe your relationship with Mr McAllister?'

'Doctor, actually,' Ethan corrects. 'He transferred to the E.D. of Holby City Hospital around March 2018 as a graduate in medicine. It was intermittent work at first, but became a regular position after we had staffing changes. I didn't have much to do with him as I was occupied trying to complete my consultancy exams, which I'm pleased to say I did successfully. It was... a busy time.'

He thinks about the blog, the cry for help, that one fleeting night where every second was precious and then how he shouted the day after and feels sick.

'So he was a colleague?' asks PC Brooks.

'That's right. He was assigned to Dr. Alicia Munroe so that she could mentor him, but then became assigned to me as from a few days ago. It was Alicia herself who requested the change for personal reasons. I thought no more of it and agreed without knowing the reasons why at that point.'

'Describe your relationship with Alicia for us.' PC Davidson says flatly.

It is a perfectly reasonable question but his mind is blank, focused only on how her pen is hovering an inch above the paper. Ready to scrawl his heart on the paper. He can't bear all to a stranger.

'I don't think words do it justice,' says Ethan thinly. 'I am not sure they could ever.'

The officers exchange glances.

'Can you try?' PC Davidson prompts, eyes wide, coaxing him like you would a child.

'Friends and ex-partners.'

'That all?' PC Brooks asks sceptically.

A loud yelp followed by a sharp intake of breath reaches their ears and his muscles jump into action, springing up, driving him into the kitchen leaving the police behind, perplexed and muttering something. It is all inconsequential to him. They make it clear enough they are on borrowed time but they are likely going home to families and safe houses after shifts with laughter and love. He is on borrowed time to fix Alicia, who is seemingly doing more and more damage to herself.

She is standing by the kettle. Her right hand clutches her left, feet frozen to the floor in fear, eyes squeezed shut, lips clamped together.

'Scald?' he asks, yanking her arm under the light and turning the cold tap on haphazardly. 'Stay like this for ten minutes.'

'I spilt it all on the floor,' says Alicia miserably. 'Now they don't have drinks. I can't even make cups of tea—'

'They are not going to care about drinks!' he hisses.

Her lip wobbles and he half feels like waiting for her to snap out of it, to bend over laughing and hooting that it's all one big joke and she's never known a person so gullible as he, and—

'Is everything alright?' PC Davidson appears at the door, obviously having heard the commotion.

'We've just had an accident with the water,' replies Ethan, throwing down a tea towel and mopping the floor with his socked foot quickly. 'Be through in a minute.'

The woman takes her cue and duly plods back into the living room.

'Focus on your hand and we can sort this later. Come through when you're ready.'

Though still concerned, Ethan leaves her and goes back through apologetically. The police look visibly bored, no matter how much they try to disguise it. He feels at once paranoid they perceive him to be a time waster. The case is the most paramount of all: he owes it to himself and her to prevail. Justice didn't exist when his brother was fatally wronged. But it will exist now. He manages a wide smile in a bid to inform the police, though subtly, he will cooperate as much as is necessary.

Even if it means finding answers to the tough questions.