Bonnie Sveen Fan: Thank you! Always nice to see your feedback.

Grace: Great suggestions! I'll try to factor those in somewhere. Cheers for supporting and following, so appreciated! Trying to update as frequently as I can.

20BlueRoses: Thank you so much! Means the world. I know, poor Ethan, he's a little love bless him. I wanted to write a story where Cal was still alive because I thought it might make for an interesting dynamic, plus I miss him on the show! Directors' worst ever decision was killing him off, I swear. As for Alicia, the prospect of she and Ethan is growing on me a lot. I don't know where I'll take that though.

Nobody in the ED said a word to Ethan, although their expressions spoke volumes. It was almost as if they were afraid of him, and weirdly, he liked that. It meant they steered clear, or gave him a meek smile before carrying about their business. It was like they knew better than to ask him if he was okay, or why he was working.

'Just to let you know, Ethan.' Noel broke the silence in reception. 'I'm here if you need me, not that it's much-' He quietened when he saw Lily's warning look.

'It's okay.' He held a hand up. 'You don't have to tiptoe round me, although I certainly appreciate the consideration. I would just like to pretend things are normal, if that's the same with you all.'

Lily was quick to nod. 'Speaking of normal, there are dozens of drunk and disorderly patients sitting in the waiting room. It's your turn this week.'

He gave a short laugh. 'Right-o. I'll jump to that, then.'

Soon, Ethan found himself wishing he hadn't been so quick to insist on doing his shift. After treating three patients, he found himself drained. He considered that they might have been particularly taxing cases, but nevertheless, he felt out his depth. The only thing that made the situation worse was his adamance prior to starting.

'Ethan.' Mrs Beauchamp had a way of addressing him that was unique to her. It was so harsh, so clinical, yet managed to be warm all at the same time. 'With me, please.'

His trainers scuffled along the floor as he walked, feeling rather like a child who was about to receive a telling off. Connie removed the wedge from the door, letting it slam, and gestured for him to sit down. She then gave him an analytical look, eyes scanning his expression with a level of care and deliberation that made him ill at ease.

Before her lips even opened, he knew what was coming. 'You shouldn't *be here.'

'I am fine.' He replied. 'B-better than fine.' She tilted her head to the side, frustratingly not convinced. 'Honestly, I am fine. I have treated the patients I was given, managed and supervised the nurses. I even advised a medical student with IV cannulation in an elderly patient. In fact, if anything, I would say this shift has been a productive one.'

Hands steepled, lips pursed, she locked eyes with him once more. 'So I'm sure. I have never doubted your competencies in the field, Dr Hardy. All I'm saying is, perhaps it would be wise to take a little break in light of what happened only four days ago.'

'I'm fine, really, I appreciate the concern, but-' He argued.

'It feels normal to be back at work, like nothing really happened?' She suggested quietly, with a touch of sadness.

He was silenced. Desperately, he wanted to nod and spill everything to her. Somehow though, the words were locked up. There was a block in his brain, a cloud circulating his mind, all preventing him from speaking. All he could do was nod.

'Well. Normality does resume before you know it. Until then, it's okay to focus on yourself. Don't push yourself too hard. I won't insist you go home, since you're sure you are fine. Please remember what I've said though.'

He nodded more enthusiastically. 'I-I will. Thank you Mrs Beauchamp.' Glad the interaction was over, he made his way to the door in less than a few seconds.

'Oh, and, Ethan?' She rose her voice slightly.

'Yes?'

'The ICU have some news for you.'

'I'll go up in an hour when I break for lunch. Is it- are they-' He stuttered.

'Just, go now.' Mrs Beauchamp smiled a little. 'The ED can wait.'

-x-

'Discharged? Wh-where?' Ethan's forehead crinkled.

'Downstairs, one of the wards. Nothing great.' Cal replied, heaving himself from the bed into the wheelchair while his brother watched.

'This is... great! Cal, this is great. It means-'

'That I'm not out of the woods yet.' He said, with a look that quelled Ethan's childlike enthusiasm.

'But, even so, you must admit it's-'

'Ethan, it's still hospital.' Cal sighed, expression darkening.

Try as he might, he couldn't help but feel hurt. 'It's positive, though, right?'

'Depends how you see it.' He muttered a reply darkly, before reaching and fumbling round in his bag once more.

'That's my brother. Full of undying optimism.' Ethan remarked.

'Listen. I'm in pain, I'm angry, and I'm bed bound. If I'm not in the best of moods, I think I'm entitled.'

'Yes, of course.' Ethan nodded.

There was a pause for a moment or two. 'So are you just going to wait there like a lemon or what?'

'No need to snap.' Ethan collected the belongings off the bed in a swift movement. 'Shall I take you down now, or are you waiting for the nurse?'

'I should probably wait. Thanks for offering though.' He just nodded, falling quiet once more. Cal raised his eyebrows and shook his head, as if to question why he was still standing there.

'Go to Alicia, she needs you.'

He gave a short laugh. 'Meaning?'

Cal rolled his eyes then. 'Meaning, she's very ill and probably could do with some company.'

'I don't want to see her too much. She'll get the wrong impression, and-and-'

'What do you mean, the wrong impression? Even for you, this is stupid. Go and see her. If not for yourself, then for me.' Cal thrust a crinkled five pound note in his brother's hand. 'And get her some flowers too. She likes carnations.'

As Ethan made his way to the little shop on the ground floor, he couldn't help but feel offended. All things considered, it was probably inappropriate to be so bound by the minutiae of the interactions with his brother. That said, it was hurtful. He was sure that Cal hadn't meant harm, but his impatience hit a sore point. It hadn't been easy to stay awake, watchful, while his eyelids were burning with exhaustion. The panic. The guilt. The regret. The thanks he got was irritablity. Thanks - it wasn't even about thanks - it was about recognition. Just a tiny slither wouldn't have gone unwelcomed.

He browsed the flower section in the shop. An array of bright colours looked out of place in a hospital, but all the same, he tried his best to focus. They weren't labelled. Ethan supposed the recipients would mostly be unconscious or unwell, and therefore unaware and unbothered of the specific type. It didn't help his dithering in the slightest.

The shopkeeper eyed him suspiciously. Again, it was all too easy to take it personally. He grimly thought about the reality. Nobody in their right mind would steal from a hospital shop, not least a spectacle clad, mousy haired, anxious-looking junior doctor with dark shadows bigger than bin bags under his eyes. The mere thought was insulting.

It was worse that Cal knew things he didn't. It's a well-known fact that there's competition between brothers, but it should never have been that way over a person. Constantly rivalling one another for her affection for a year had led to the demise they found themselves in. In Ethan's head, he knew it wasn't worth it. Even though he knew his brother was nearly as ill as she, thoughts begun to plague him. It wasn't fair that Cal knew so much about her. Despite his best efforts to make a go of things with her, what happened with his brother would always remain engraved into her memory. A sudden surge of anger grasped him tightly. As guilty as it made him feel, he would exchange Alicia in a heartbeat for the lifestyle he had a year previous. Wipe her out, a complete clean slate. Everything seemed bitterly easier then. Much easier than loitering in a newsagents looking dodgy over a bunch of cellophane-wrapped weeds. Not usually the cynic, he began to to berate himself. He was where he was. Cal was where he was. Alicia was where she was, and they were all there together. He had to be in the moment and fulfill his unspoken duty.

'Can I help you?' The woman asked finally, looking rather timid herself.

'I- I'm looking for some flowers.' Ethan attempted with confidence.

Her eyebrows knitted together, bemused. 'Right? Who are they for?'

'My...' He begun, falling quiet again. 'Alicia. They're for Alicia. Sorry, I mean... a friend.' He said flatly. 'Sorry, I haven't really slept.'

'It's fine, love. You look worn out, you poor thing!' She observed, giving him a look as if she knew nobody would succumb to such levels of sleep-deprivation for a "friend".

'Yes, yes.' Ethan nodded solemnly. 'I am rather, uh, worn out.'

'So, we have daffodils, and then these lovely pink ones.' The woman smiled.

'She likes carnations. I'm-I'm rubbish with things like this. Whichever are the most-'

'Carnations? Here you go.' She plucked a bunch out from the stand. 'If you follow me to the till, I'll gift wrap them for you. Unless there's anything else you wanted?'

'Uh... I'll just pick her up some chocolate. For when she's, uh-'

'Certainly.' The woman waited patiently as he selected a bar, then scanned it on the till. 'Is she a close friend then, this Alicia?'

'She's-she's a colleague. Works here, actually, as do I. Up on the ED. She's just been admitted. Yes, a doctor.' Ethan said.

'Dr... Munroe?' The shopkeeper asked, curiously.

'Yes. How did you-'

'She's a regular. Spritely, full of life. Hope it's nothing too serious!' She said cheerfully.

'Ah, yes.' Ethan just nodded. 'Thank you. All being well, she should be on the mend soon.'

'Well, my fingers are crossed. Give her my best. Julie, she'll know who.' The woman said. 'Hope she likes the flowers.'

'Thank you for your help.' Ethan gave a small smile, mustering as much politeness as he could.

He rubbed his hands together as he walked down the corridor, the scented alcohol gel serving as a harsh, clinical reminder as to why he was there. Armed with flowers in one hand and chocolate in the other, he felt weakly hopeful that she would be awake for long enough for him to say something. Anything. He didn't know what, but it didn't matter. Usually, he'd have formulated something to say, but he felt adopting the approach with spontaneity would allow him to be more personal.

The words dried up as he approached the door. A familiar figure, hunched by the window, peering in. Scott.

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