Request: PM (for Bonnie Sveen Fan)

Characters (in order of most featured): Jessica Harrison, Zoe Hanna, Cal Knight, Ethan Hardy, Lucas/Amelia, Adam Truman, Noel Garcia.

Rating: K.

Warnings: RTC.

Prompt: Jessica and Zoe are on a night out when Jessica ends up getting injured. In the ED later, Cal and Ethan are in charge of her treatment. Jessica's excessive drinking is worrying. Can Zoe support her friend whilst the brothers work out her drinking and additional worrying symptoms, whilst managing to juggle Jessica's two children and tricky "husband"?

Drunk Mum

Jessica throws her head back as she downs another shot. Then another. And another. She's struggling to stay upright and it's not even midnight yet.

Vodka pumps through her. It makes her feel better. She slides into the crowd of swaying bodies, joining them, the place throbbing with music and drunken laughter. It feels like the world is spinning before her. There are people and faces and bottles of alcohol, unfamiliarity greeting her with every stumble. She's laughing. They're all laughing.

Now there are hands on her. A face is in front of hers. Somewhere, in the confused tangles of her brain, she recognises this person; their kind brown eyes, short hair and tight dress. They're guiding her, pulling her out, clumsy with their own intoxication. Who is it? Names flicker into her mind. It's impossible to grasp a single-

Wait. Zoe. That's the one.

"Aw, no, I was having fun!"

Cool air runs through her hair as they stumble out into the night. They leave the excitement of the pub behind. There's a couple of lightweights vomiting in an alley, making Jessica's stomach churn. She wants to be back in there. Not out here, with Zoe, who's struggling to light a cigarette.

"Just a few more. A few more."

"You've had enough," Zoe says. She's holding Jessica clumsily, her wrist between a thumb and forefinger. "I might take you home, alright?"

"I'm a big girl. I can handle my shots."

"You're drunk."

"Not drunk," she refuses. "Suitably tipsy."

Jessica stumbles back in, leaving Zoe and her unlit cigarette behind. She's back into the drink-fuelled madness. It's exciting. Relieving. A couple more shots and she's holding onto a stranger, sweat accumulating by her shoulder blades, her hair in tangles.

Then it happens. What always happens.

In the window of the building, her eyes fall on a young woman. There's a baby cradled in her arms.

Jessica's heart aches. It's squeezing.

The familiarity of it consumes her. Racing thoughts. What ifs. Someone is breathing on the back of her neck, little hairs standing up. Can't stay still. Her hands are tingling, shaking too, and her breath somehow is catching. Mocking her. Her body is punishing her, drying her mouth out as if she's swallowed salt.

There's nothing and then there's everything and it changes like the seasons. It always does.

Crash. Lights, closing in. Glass splinters. Metal squashed into an accordian. Darkness - the scariest part is when the darkness ceases.

Jessica works herself out of it quickly, breathing heavily. Her body aches.

More vodka.

She can't stop. With every drop, the pain is dissolving. It feels good. Better. The worry disappears and she's laughing, dancing, ignoring Zoe as she speaks, her clothes soaked with tobacco. It's going to hurt in the morning when she has no medication. It feels nice now.

Jessica takes one step forward, the world spins, and the floor gets closer. Too close. She hits it. There's consequences: searing pain; several gasps; and then nothing. Everything considered, the 'nothing' part is the very best part.

"This is Jessica Harrison, forty-four, intoxicated and KO'd on the scene. Had a lot to drink, fell over and blacked out. There's a deep laceration on her forehead. Pretty nasty."

Bright lights guide the way. She's moving, but her feet are resting on something. It doesn't make sense until she remembers the existence of wheelchairs. It's funny how she manages to forget, so she laughs to herself as the paramedics pass her over. New hands take hold of the handles.

"Hi, Jessica. Let's get you to cubicles, shall we?"

Zoe walks beside the man who said that. The one with short bristly blond hair, long legs and a stethoscope wrapped lazily around his neck. The name of the man is in Jessica's head somewhere but she can't work it out, so she doesn't. There are more pressing issues, like the blood trickling down her forehead. It tastes like pennies. Her dress is stained with droplets of it.

"If you could just wriggle onto the bed for me, please."

Jessica does. It takes more effort than anticipated. The entire hospital is spinning.

Zoe comes into Jessica's vision. "Oh, Jessica," she says, examining the laceration. "What have you done, huh?" It's the exhale that follows that statement which sounds the saddest. Then everything that was funny or vaguely interesting before no longer remains in her mind. You're right, Zoe. What have I done?

A couple tests later, it's almost entirely official (official enough to put money on) - Jessica is physically fine. The cut is stitched up, she's given cups of water and a cubicle. Cal twitches the curtain, checking on her. She's lying on her side, fists loosely grasping the sheet, and staring into space.

"How's it going?"

Cal almost drops his coffee. "Shhh, Ethan. I'm trying to be stealthy," he closes the curtain, shoving his brother as they get some distance between themselves and Jessica. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," he says. "She seems tired."

"She has just knocked herself out. It takes a lot out of a person," Cal shivers in a sort of 'been there' type of way. Accidently. He doesn't miss Ethan's disapproval in his expression and doesn't make reference to it either in fear of sitting through a well-meaning but annoying lecture.

Saying that - not that he'd ever, ever, ever admit this - he does notice weariness in Jessica now Ethan has mentioned it. Exhaustion. She seem paranoid and shaky. Cal had been prepared to sort her out and send her off, just the way he should, but thinking on it, he doesn't feel it's right.

Cal decides to be careful for once. "You know, I think we ought to pull out her notes."

"It's only a laceration. Is it necessary?"

"I'm being thorough like everyone keeps telling me to be. God, can't please anyone."

"Need a hand?"

"No. I've got this." On a mission, Cal clicks through the computer. He finds what he needs within seconds. Good old hospital records. Surviving of any fires.

Jessica Harrison. 44. Female. Previous admissions. Cal skips to more recently and ignores the drink-related injuries of the bog standard head injuries - because damn, there's a lot. April '17, hospitalized with acute chest pain. No diagnosis - stress takes the blame. November '17, recommended Triazolam for insomnia but refuses despite being advised to take it. December '17, unknown accident, no injuries, just precautions taken. January '18, taken to St James' hospital due to a severe-

"Caleb!"

He snaps his head up. Ethan, flushed and panicked, is calling him. And has been numerous times, according to his expression. He turns and Cal follows him, into the cubicle, where Jessica is gasping for breath.

"What's going on?" Cal demands. She's gripping the bed sheets.

"In and out, you're doing great," Ethan says encouragingly. With a wholly different look, he spins to Cal. "And you tell me, Mr I've got this."

"Yeah, well, she was fine. Straight to res-"

"No, no," Jessica gasps. She reaches out for Cal's wrist, holding it tightly enough to restrict blood flow. Desperately. "It's… fine. Happened… before."

Cal is close to the emergency button, but Ethan gives him a look. "Cal. It's a panic attack," he says knowingly. "Jessica, you're doing so well. Let go of his wrist and start clenching your hands into little balls. Concentrate on that."

Shakily, she nods. Obviously she trusts his judgement. Luckily for them - Jessica is the sort to be stubborn, Cal can see that from a mile off. Clenching her fists and taking deep, exaggerated breaths, she returns back to herself. Slowly but surely.

When Cal has come back from fetching her a plastic cup of water, she's entirely solaced. So calm you'd never have guessed anything was ever wrong.

Those are the people you need to watch out for. The quiet ones.

"This has happened before, has it?"

Jessica nods at Cal, grateful for the water. "On occasion."

"Was there any trigger for it?"

"No, no, I just…" she sucks in a breath. "Got a text. Childminder had to go home. My children, they'll be alone."

"DOn't worry about that. We'll get them sent here."

"A-And I saw a baby, and it just…"

Ethan intervenes. "Just what, Jessica?" He says softly.

Quickly, shutting herself off again, she shakes her head. "Nothing. Please, could you make sure my children are okay?"

"Me?" Jessica seems to think Ethan is capable. "I, uh, sure."

Cal slaps his brother on the back, sending him off. He focuses attention back to Jessica. "Doing okay?"

"Doing fine," she says.

Cal smiles. He doesn't believe her. In the back of his mind, he's re-reading the notes in his mind.

January '18, taken to St James' hospital due to a severe panic attack. Referred to a psychologist. Never attended the appointment.

Zoe rushes in. Cal could laugh at her expression, but he's far more impressed at the speeds she can reach in those very high heels. It seems like most in this place are good in high shoes.

"What happened?"

Cal carefully sneaks from the cubicle to give them privacy. He catches Jessica's hand sliding into Zoe's, who squeezes it tightly. He's glad Zoe is there. Jessica needs all the support she can get.

Five minutes with Jessica is all Zoe needs to realise something is wrong. Something big. She seems in pain.

"Would you like morphine? Is something hurting?"

Stubbornly, Jessica shakes her head. "It's fine. Just fine."

"This came on quickly…"

"It comes in waves," Jessica closes her eyes. "I swear, I'm fine."

"Nothing is wrong in admitting you aren't."

Jessica shakes her head. Zoe knows there's no way of swaying her once she's made her mind up about something.

Binge drinking. Let's oversee the laceration, it's an unimportant detail. What's important is the drinking. Why is she drinking so much?

I rang the childminder to sort the children out. Ethan is waiting outside for them, so that's sorted - but Jessica goes out a lot by the sounds of it. Not good. For drinking? On her own? How much does she have?

Why is she drinking? For fun, or for a reason?

She suffered a panic attack. She's had one before, or numerous ones. Panicked about children - caring mother - and then something about a baby didn't help. What's the significance in a baby? She doesn't have a baby.

Zoe mentioned she was in pain. Seems uncomfortable. Additionally seems troubled, anxious. Anxiety? Undiagnosed anxiety is likely. Doesn't explain the pain.

But the anxiety, is that the answer? Is that why she's drinking?

Don't know. This shouldn't be this complicated. Maybe I'm caring too much. It's always harder when it's one of our own.

Cal scribbles out the last two sentences with a skinny black line. This is meant to be a professional set of observations, not a diary.

Will ask the patient. I still need to work out what the 'unknown accident' is.

Ethan does his best to get The Shining out of his head when he sees them - which he still hasn't forgiven Cal for forcing him to watch - by making it logical. They're not even twins. Nor frightening. They are two kids. They are frightened.

"I'm doctor Hardy. Ethan, I mean," he says, ushering them along. It's a bad time in the ED for two kids to come along. Friday night. There's a brawl kicking out in the reception seats, and the little boy shrinks back. The girl is close enough to get elbowed, so Ethan brings them both closer and walks.

They don't speak. Both look around, obviously recognising the place but still uncomfortable. The little boy fidgets. Ethan pulls open the relatives room, which is eerily still due to lack of use this night. They do as they're told and go in.

For a few seconds, there's a silence. They look about. Unamused. It all must be rather boring. The little girl yawns, and the boy soon follows whilst rubbing his hands into his eyes. Poor children. He tells them to sit down, that they must be exhausted.

Ethan stands, hovering like a nervous babysitter. "Uh. Right. Do you both have names?"

The little girl looks up at him. The atmosphere changes. Ethan suddenly feels very much like the child in the room. "Do you have a name?" she says, and rightly so.

The sarcasm invokes a sense of guilt in Ethan. Of course they have names. They're children, not vermin. "Yes, it's, uh, Ethan. I told you."

She smiles in a satisfied way. "I'm Amelia," she says. "This is Lucas."

Cal is thinking by reception. Intensely. He's been asked if he's alright about five times, and each time, the question had confused him so much that he'd been unable to answer it for a couple seconds. Thinking is… well, it requires a lot of energy, especially when doing it so very intensely.

When Adam strides in, he snaps out of it. Tall, gelled black hair and a weathered face. He looks like a soldier. Head held high. Approaching the desk, he disregards the queue.

"Jessica. Where is she?"

Cal puts a hand on Noel's shoulder, stopping him from replying. "Hi, sorry. I'm in charge of her treatment."

"Is she okay?"

Cal nods. "Yeah, she's going to be fine. It's just a small injury."

"I figured it was an injury, mate, you don't go to A&E for a laugh."

"Adam," Noel calls warningly. They'd both forgotten he was there. Noel gets back to speaking to someone who actually joined the queue, clutching her arm to her chest.

"As I was saying," Cal says, irked, "she'll be fine."

"Well, can you tell me exactly what happened?"

This is obviously not going to go well, Cal gathers, by the sort of person Adam seems to be. He breathes outwards and readies himself for the explosion. "I'm afraid I can't tell you everything, what with patient confidentiality, but-" And additionally, Cal doesn't know everything yet.

"Seriously? My wife-"

"Your ex, you mean?"

Adam gives him daggers. "My wife is in a cubicle somewhere and I'm not allowed to know what's wrong? Am I even allowed to see her? Will she have to wear a paper bag over her head as to not breach your precious patient confidentiality?"

Cal has dealt with many Adams' in his time. So he's calm. "She collapsed in a pub, that's the bare bones of it."

Cal could make life easier for himself - he could tell Adam everything. But not only would he get in a lot of trouble, he wouldn't know what to say. He hasn't worked the puzzle out yet.

"Wow, how kind of you to actually let me know that. Really appreciated."

Adam begins to storm off, right in the direction of cubicles. Cal immediately goes after him. He catches his shoulder, almost getting hit with it by how savagely Adam turns around again.

"Tell me where she is."

"She's gone for a scan, but you can wait in-"

"I'm not waiting anywhere! I'll wait outside the scan. What scan?"

"Adam," Cal says. "The answer is no. Please respect that we need our space."

"No, you respect that she is my wife! And I cannot sit and wait whilst you all do as you please. How on earth do I know that you're treating her injuries sufficiently? I don't! There could be negligence and I'd have no idea, and-"

"You're really not helping, right now."

"Neither are you! Show me where she is and you can get back to work."

"I told you, she's in-"

"Oh, you-" Adam shoots his hands out, aiming to push Cal back for his shoulders to keep walking on.

He misses.

A rush of pain attacks him. Cal steps backwards, hitting into a wall. He brings his hand to his lip, which has started to bleed. Great. Weak pain throbs through his lip.

"Right," Cal says, using a tissue to mop the blood. It blossoms across the white. "Now you'll definitely have to wait out here." He waves off security. "Sit, Adam."

Two children. What on earth does one do to occupy two children?

They weren't interested in watching the old grainy television. Neither were keen on playing Snap or Monopoly yet. Ethan had offered them his phone in pure desperation but there wasn't anything to do on there anyway. They weren't sleepy either.

So they ended up practising handstands against the sofa, which truly ruined Ethan's professional reputation; but he figured it was in the recycling anyway.

"My turn!"

Amelia held her chin up, indignant to Lucas. "You don't even do gymnastics! It's my turn," she stretches her leg out, poised, and pushes herself over her head. She's in the air, legs bent slightly, a huge grin on her red face as she manages to stay in a good position for a couple seconds before her back arches. She falls back onto the sofa.

"That wasn't very good," Lucas grumbles, but there's envy in his eyes.

"Here, Lucas," Ethan says. "Take your shoes off and I'll help you do it."

Lucas does as he's told. Then, clumsily, he pushes himself onto his hands and Ethan holds his legs into position. Lucas is wobbling all over the place but he's laughing triumphantly. When he loses strength, Ethan helps him back down.

"Very good!" Ethan praises.

"Your turn."

"My what?"

Amelia smiles mischievously. "You heard Lucas, now you have to do it."

"Oh, no, I'm much too big. If I fall then I'll squash you both."

They don't seem to care. They're grinning and giggling, virtually blackmailing him into it - "You're meant to entertain us so entertain us!" - and he has to say yes in the end, despite not having an athletic bone in his body.

"Alright, but move back."

They already have. Lucas is in peals of giggles and Amelia is almost hysterical as they watch. Ethan wonders why it's so amusing until he realizes.

Yeah, it's not as easy as he looks.

As soon as he's on his hands, his own weight drags him down. His back arches. He falls back onto the sofa like Amelia did, but without the grace. Somehow, his head comes into contact with the floor and there's an almighty crack noise. Pain radiates from his skull.

Ouch, ouch, ouch. He considers curling into a ball and crying. But would a responsible adult do that? No. Well, they might if there's nobody about, but he has two giggling children to take care of. So he laughs through it.

"Okay, no more handstands," Ethan says as he picks himself up, hiding the agony. They'd truly played him.

"I did that once. Ice will make it better." Amelia says as though she's the adult in the room. Perhaps she is.

"I am a doctor, you know," he says - almost to remind himself rather than her because he's meant to be grown-up - but smiles. "Ok. Let's play Snap or something. I don't think there's a possibility of any of us getting injured with that."

They're pulling out the weathered pack of cards when Amelia says something questionable. It's in response to a question, one which Ethan had expected a neutral answer to. Not… that.

"You kids must be exhausted," he says, shuffling the cards. "I'm sorry that you're dragged down here at this hour. I'm sure your mum will be sorted soon."

"It's okay. Drinking isn't nice. Just make her better."

Ethan looks up at her. He hadn't said that Jessica had been drinking. Some parents are funny about their children knowing about that sort of pastime so he'd kept hush-hush about it.

"It happens sometimes," Lucas adds. "Sometimes she gets drunk and nanny comes round to put us to bed. Like she can't breathe."

"She can't breathe because of the drinking?"

"No. Just… before. She can't breathe. And it hurts, she says." Amelia says. She accepts the cards from Ethan, who is stunned, long since forgetting his handstand injury that throbs incessantly to remind him it's still there. "Mum says it's okay though."

"It's not-" Ehan is interrupted by the door opening.

Cal peers his head round, smiling, but there's a cut on his lip. "Can I have a word?"

Ethan immediately forgets his throbbing head. He bobs his head. Then he turns to the kids, who aren't really listening anyway. "Uh, you know what to do. You guys start. I'll join in on the second round."

He walks, coming to his brothers' side. They stand by the door, away from Lucas and Amelia's earshot. They're deep in conversation. Seems like Ethan almost giving himself brain damage has almost made them into angels.

Ethan ghosts his hand where Cal's lip is, not quite touching it, and makes a wincing noise. "How did you manage that?"

"Adam."

"Jessica's husband?"

"I mean, I think. I don't know what he is to her. Ex? She's certainly worth a lot to him though if he hits me in the face for her."

"Oh, Cal..." Ethan frowns.

"It's fine. It doesn't even hurt," Cal says in that carefree way which indicates that it does, but he's just being Cal; you know, indignant and annoying. "Anyway. How are the kids?"

Ethan remembers the handstands. "Fine. They're fine. Entertained, for sure." He considers saying what they said. Cal is her doctor, after all. "They said something… worrying."

"Aw, they said something that worried you? You're too old to be getting picked on my primary school kids."

"About Jessica," Ethan elaborates huffily, and that shuts him up. "She drinks a lot, apparently. And she can't breathe. They said something about pain, whatever type it is. It's very unclear but it's as though she's drinking to mask whatever is wrong with her."

"That'd make a lot of sense."

"She did say she'd had a panic attack before, didn't she?"

"Yeah," Cal says. "What with everything I've read up on, her notes, the panicking, the anxiousness in general, I'm suspecting anxiety. Someone is coming down already to speak with her."

"It still doesn't explain the pain, though. Zoe mentioned she's hurting and there's nothing in her notes," Ethan says.

Cal pauses, deep in thought. They don't speak. Ethan rests his head on the doorframe and sighs.

A burst of laughter distracts them. Lucas and Amelia are giggling over a game of cards, scattered over their playing surface. Amelia tries to hit him and he dodges. They laugh harder. Outsiders wouldn't know what was going on at home. He wonders if they're used to this. Their mother being ill. Drunk, panicky, troubled, hurt. Like it's chronic, seeming to never...

Chronic…

"Chronic pain from anxiety!" Say Cal and Ethan at the same time.

It was a good guess, but they were wrong.

When they come back into the cubicle - Robyn kindly offered to mind the kids whilst Noel kept an eye on Adam - both women are there. Zoe is sobered up, a woolen jacket around her shoulders. She's sat on the edge of the bed with her hand on Jessica's shoulder. Jessica is clutching a tissue. It's got black mascara smudges on it. Most of her makeup is cried off.

Cal speaks first. "What's wrong, Jessica?"

"I can't…" she puts her hand to her head. "I can't stop thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Ethan asks softly.

Jessica looks up at them both with watery eyes. "The accident," she whispers.

It's a rainy day. Jessica has a grey hoodie on. It's her favourite one. She pulls the hood over her head, sheltering her head whilst laughing.

"Cold cold cold cold…"

She slides herself into her car, slamming her keys in. Better get a move on. The kids need picking up from school. Jessica pulls the door in.

Music plays from the radio. She drums her nails against the wheel. Minutes pass. It's half three. Or is it twenty past? This is a memory, so it's all hazy.

She doesn't know this song. 'I'm like a kid who just won't let it go, twisting and turning the colours in rows'... The words are unknown so she 'dah dah dah's the rest, making her way through traffic. Her mind slowly slides from caring about following the tune. She's late. The kids will be waiting in the rain. Her 'dah dah dah's get more frantic.

Then she finds a turning she hasn't gone down before. A turning that in the future would make her break out in a cold sweat.

She goes down it.

The memories are hazy. It's a mish mash of images, trees, sharp turns, regret, trying to turn around, hitting something…

A car ahead of her with a mum and baby.

Next thing she remembers, she's sat down, hyperventilating on the grass with tears down her face, and her favourite grey hoodie is stained with blood.

Cal starts. "So that's why you're panicking-"

"-and why you're strange around babies-"

"-and that explains the chronic pain too, from the impact of the car accident, you hurt your back..."

"So it's not simply anxiety."

"It's trauma," Cal concludes after Ethan, clapping his hands together. "Panic attacks, re-living the event… And you've been coping with it with the drinking?"

Jessica looks ashamed when she nods. "Yeah, I mean… it's a distraction, isn't it? Once you find a crutch, it's hard to let go. I've been going out a lot. Getting very drunk."

"You're not sleeping well either, are you?" Ethan says. Sympathetically, because not sleeping is a huge drain on energy. Energy she needs as a single mother to two and additionally a full-time working nurse.

"No. I don't want to, no medication, sleeping is the enemy. Each time I try and sleep, I just see… them. I know it wasn't my fault, I know that, but it just sticks with me. They were okay in the end, I just," she inhales deeply. "Hate to think of the what ifs. A mother shouldn't be without their baby. A baby shouldn't be without their mother."

"Not sleeping well would've made your panic attacks worse," Ethan says, forehead creased. "It would've made everything worse."

"I know," she whispers. "I'll do as the doctors tell me now. I can't take this anymore."

"Glad to hear," Cal says with a gentle smile. "Medication and a couple referrals. You'll be on the right track. At the very least, some painkillers for the chronic pain."

Zoe's hand rests on Jessica's shoulder. "Hey. We're here for you, you know? You should've reached out. Got help."

Jessica doesn't speak for a while. When she does, her voice sounds choked. Lowered and brittle. "I don't want to risk the kids. What if people decide I can't cope?"

"But you can. And you will. The kids are safe with you. Know how I know?"

Jessica looks questioningly up at Zoe, tears in her wide eyes.

"Because, even with blood pouring down your face, too drunk to know your name, you were caring about them. Panicking because of them." Zoe pulls Jessica into a one-armed hug. "Hey, you care about them too much to ever do them wrong. They're safe. Forever and always. You cope. And if you feel like you can't…."

"There's no-one to rely on," Jessica says quietly.

"...my babysitting is always an option," Zoe smiles, squeezing her closer. "We'll do this together."

Guest: Ah bless you! Thank you for your review!

Bonnie Sveen Fan: Definitely was a cool scene haha enjoyed watching it! No, nobody deserves to go through such awful trauma, poor Alicia. It was very lucky she had them, yeah, good for her to open up. You're welcome, and thank you for your review!