God! This one took forever to write. Thanks again for the reviews ( CBloom2, Guest, Tato Potato, beckyboogle, 20BlueRoses and ETWentHome )

Hope you enjoy!

Lost Without You: Chapter 4 - Bargaining

{ Cal }

I don't think I'll ever get used to the empty feeling the apartment has taken on since Ethan's- Ethan's- Ethan's….disappearance.

It hurts to look around it sometimes – there are so many memories of him here, I didn't even realise how many there were. His name alone brings up a thousand and one feelings, memories and painful truths about me. They all seem so painfully vivid.

Ethan stood in the kitchen, making coffee as he berates me about my safety on a night out.

Ethan curled up quietly in the armchair, re-reading a book about bedside manner.

Ethan sprawled across his bed early one morning. I had stopped to look at him and ended up being late for work.

Ethan rolling his eyes at me after a girl – the third one that week – closed the door behind her.

Ethan sighing as he goes to answer the door, obviously hoping that I was going to do it.

Ethan flopped on the sofa beside me, picking holes in the 'Die Hard' plot.

Ethan crying and actually letting me comfort him after a tough shift in the ED.

Ethan attempting to hide his smile as I joke about something.

The list goes on. It goes on even further if you lengthen the range to all my memories of him.

Ethan striding into the Emergency Department, a spring in his step.

Ethan being picked on by Mrs. Beauchamp.

Ethan being bullied in the playground.

Ethan floundering about his feelings for Honey.

Ethan speaking exasperatedly after being covered in putrid smelling stomach acids.

Everything I ever did was to protect Ethan. Or at least, everything in the past 6 months. I wanted so desperately to keep him safe, yet, when he needed me most, I wasn't there. What if I had been with him? Would I have been able to save him? Why wasn't I with him?

My eyes sting with unshed tears and I have to fight against the sinking feeling in my stomach. Ethan had always been a very fond person, and he loved to keep photos. Ethan's photo albums. They should be under his bed. I stop for a minute and scratch my head. Pushing myself out of my chair, I decide that I should go and find them.

I stand in front of Ethan's bedroom door, suddenly frightened. Maybe, if I don't go in, he'll come home tonight, that's a fair bargain, right?

I begin to think that going in would be like killing him. It terrifies me, the thought of going in and missing that chance of his resurrection. I know I'm being stupid, but I still hesitate. Thinking about the other night, when I fell asleep on his bed – twice – and the feeling of home that surrounded me, the feeling of security, it pushes me forwards, and I open the door once more.

Glancing around the familiar room, I feel a sense of loneliness wash over me. Nothing had ever been able to shift Ethan from the top of my priorities list, even when I didn't realise it. But now, someone might as well have just torn my list of priorities down. I had never thought about what would happen if Ethan were to die, it was something that had always scared me too much to think about, so I had never thought about it in detail. Yet now, I get a front row seat to a high definition, 3D, surround sound screening. I'm never going to see him again. Never going to have any new memories of him, and that crushes me, completely and utterly crushes my soul.

I never realised that losing someone would hurt this much. Everyone seems to think that I'm not going to be able to cope and I think they're right. I remember talking to Dixie just yesterday when she came to see how I was after hearing that I was in the hospital as a patient. I remember her seeming to think I wouldn't be able to cope either, ( "I doubt I would be able to handle losing the last person that I loved." ), at first I thought she was just saying that tot make me feel better, because surely she had lost the last person she loved? But, then again, maybe she hadn't; she was close to lots of the staff at the hospital and I'm sure she still has other relatives. I don't have any other relatives and I'm not quite that close to the other members of staff, and Taylor certainly didn't love me. So, Ethan really was the last person that I loved. And Ethan is gone. The last person that I loved is gone.

I fall back onto the bed, exhausted.

"Okay," I say, to no one in particular," What if I'm nice to him for the rest of my life? I can do that. If I'm nice to him for the rest of my life, will you just give him back?"

I only half expect a reply, but I have to try.

"What if-" I prop myself up on my elbows, looking for bargaining material," What if I'm nice to everyone for the rest of my life?"

Again, no answer.

"What if I never let a patient die, ever again?"

I jump up and stride into the kitchen, a crazy idea swirling inside of me. I rag a drawer open and pick up one of the sharpest knives, my hands shaking.

"What if, what if I cut one of my fingers off? Would you give him back then?" I ask, incredulous.

I raise the knife above my head and place my left index finger on the table in front of me. I stare at it, the image going blurry as water builds up in my eyes.

"Come on!" I practically scream, furious at myself. I take several swings, but none of them get close to the table or my finger, my sub-conscience pulling my arm back in a very successful attempt to save the important digit. I sigh, angrily and throw the knife onto the table with a clatter.

"WHY?!" I scream, distraught, "WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DIE? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LEAVE ME?"

As always, reviews are appreciated. Also, on my profile there is a poll on which story you want to see re-written next, go and vote!

- Cale xx