Hi everyone, hope you enjoy the update. Please keep the reviews coming, I appreciate each and every one.
casualtyfics111: Thank you so much, your feedback is so so kind. I'm glad the dialogue worked well as I loved watching their bickering (the jokey stuff not the full on arguments) on the show, but it's hard to replicate. You're right, it must be especially frustrating for Cal as he's otherwise healthy, it's just a challenge to regain independence and even the smallest tasks have become a challenge. And Ethan just wants to help and fix things as he's always done, but it's not so simple this time. Thank you for the comments on my writing - trust me, it's not effortless, sometimes each word feels like it's being dragged out my brain and I edit a lot, but it's such a compliment that it seems it so thank you! I don't know about other stories yet as I want to focus one this, but I certainly have a lot planned out for this and I really hope I manage to put those ideas into words. Thanks for your continued support.
InfinityAndOne: Wow, thank you for your comments on my writing, it's so generous to say you never tire of it. I'm really glad it comes across as emotional - I feel it while writing it, but I'm never sure it'll be conveyed the same way to someone whose not in my head lol. They're both struggling with what's happened to Cal as well as Ethan's diagnosis which, as this story is set a while ago, has only just happened as well. Thanks again and hope you enjoy this chapter too.
7.
Cal dreams that he's at work, except instead of being in the E.D. he's treating patients in their small and unsterile flat. Every injury is one which requires bandaging and soon he notices a shortage of dressings. He tries to ask his brother to get some more but Ethan has disappeared and Cal realises he's the only doctor working. He feels the familiar adrenaline fuelled anxiety of a hectic shift but perseveres, working his way through the patients as quickly as possible.
His next patient looks like a mix of Mrs Beauchamp and the hot receptionist at his gym. There's no obvious injury and he greets her warmly, glad of both a break from bandaging and having an attractive woman to talk to. When he asks her what's wrong she doesn't respond and so he clears his throat and repeats himself. But instead of replying, she leans closer. For a moment he thinks she's going to kiss him but then he realises he's flat on his back and the wailing of a machine is ringing in his ears. She places her fingers on his eyelids, gently closing his eyes. The world around him turns darker and his body grows heavier. He tries to call out, to ask her again what is wrong with her, or even what is wrong with him, but he can't speak. He can't even move.
Cal wakes with a start. His room is silent. His mouth is dry and he's even though he feels shivery, he's coated in a thin layer of sweat. Desperate for a glass of water, he throws his clammy bedcovers to the side and gets out of bed. But as he tries to put weight on a part of his body that isn't there, he crumples and lands on the floor with a heavy thud.
For a few moments he lies there, startled, and waits for his heartrate to return to normal. Everything stings. He's sure there's a small carpet burn on his wrist. He slumps into a slightly more comfortable position, albeit still on the floor, and grunts. He's spent the last two weeks desperate for some respite from thinking about his leg but it had happened at the worst possible time.
"Ethan!" he shouts into the carpet. He waits for the mortifying moment his little brother comes to his rescue but nothing happens. He lifts his head an inch off the floor and shouts again. "Ethan!"
But the next noise that slips from his mouth is a cry of frustration as he remembers why Ethan isn't responding. His brother is out at the hospital pharmacy. Last night Ethan had brought him his due dose of painkillers with a worried expression and informed him that was the last of his opioids. They'd agreed, with only a minor squabble about irresponsibility, that Ethan would nip to the hospital first thing to pick up the forgotten prescription.
Cal's fist thumps the floor. His anger is largely rooted in shame; what kind of idiot falls over getting out of bed? He wishes he was back in his dream. This reality is worse than any nightmare he could have.
But he grits his teeth and pushes himself into a sitting position. He knows he's capable of getting himself up if he really tries but it seems like too much effort to waste on something that should be simple. He rests back against his bed and contemplates staying there until Ethan returns home and can do the hard work for him.
It still feels inconceivable that he forgot about his leg. He feels like it has infected every moment since he woke up in hospital and he'd concluded it'll feel like that until the day he dies. He wonders if his brain just wanted to torture him some more, to shock him so badly that there's no chance he'll forget it again. That's probably it, he think, everything is going wrong for him these days.
Ethan picks up his brother's painkillers and thanks the pharmacist. From the slight flush on her cheeks, he surmises that she's made the connection between the name on the prescription and the hospital's hot topic of which doctor lost their leg in the helicopter crash. He's grateful that she doesn't do anything further than inject some sympathy into her reciprocate smile.
He's about to walk away when he feels a presence by his side. Charlie smiles at him warmly but hands his patient's prescription to the pharmacist and waits until she leaves to fetch it before speaking.
"Didn't expect to bump into you today," he says.
"Just picking these up." Ethan shows him the packet in his hands. "For Cal."
Charlie nods. "How is he?"
"Um." Truthfully, Ethan's not sure. His brother has been insisting he's fine ever since they arrived home but Ethan knows Cal better than to believe it. His brother's temper has grown quicker and he shows obvious frustration whenever he battles across the room on crutches or nearly overbalances while reaching for something in the kitchen. That's not to mention the tears in the corner of his brother's eyes every time a failed attempt at independence leaves him shouting for help.
"Good days and bad days?" Charlie prompts
"If only a mood could last whole days," Ethan says with a wry smile that quickly fades. "No, that's not fair of me; he's been through a lot. But he- he's all over the place, Charlie, not that he'll admit it. One minute he's wise-cracking, the next he's silent or- or chucking his crutches across the room. And then he tells me he's okay as if I'm asking the most foolish question in the world."
"You're worried about him, aren't you?"
"Oh, I'm always worried about Caleb. Even before all of this. He doesn't handle bad news well, never has done." Ethan looks at the ground, flustered. He knows he's giving away more to Charlie than his brother would like, but it's not as if Cal's never done the same. "I just wish I knew how to help him," he says.
Charlie scratches the back of his head. "Has he considered counselling?"
"One of the nurses tried to put him in touch with someone," Ethan says. "He refused the referral."
"Maybe he'll feel different now he's not in shock?"
"No, I know my brother."
"I know you do," Charlie says, softly. "But remember, this isn't Cal how you've always known him. His life has changed dramatically. He's still coming to terms with who he is now; the new Cal with an uncertain future. Imagine how he must feel."
"I don't need to imagine," Ethan says. "I know how it feels to have your future stolen."
Charlie looks up, startled. As realisation slowly dawns on the nurse's face, Ethan gives a slight nod to confirm his suspicions.
"Oh, Ethan," he says, "I'm sorry."
"I thought Cal might have told you."
Charlie shakes his head. "He didn't say. I didn't press the subject. Thought I'd stuck my big nose in rather too much already."
Ethan shakes his head. "I know you were of comfort to him."
"He said that?"
"Well, he talked to you, didn't he? Not to me."
They halt their conversation as the pharmacist returns with the medication Charlie ordered. He pays with his own credit card and Ethan looks at him quizzically, certain the prescription wasn't for himself.
"For one of the regulars," Charlie clarifies. "I know I shouldn't, but it's the only way there's even the slightest possibility she'll take them."
"That's kind."
"Just doing my job," Charlie says. "But don't tell Connie!" He steers Ethan down the corridor to a quiet spot overlooking the carpark. "Ethan, Cal only confided in me because I couldn't be hurt by the discovery like you. He was trying to save you from pain."
Ethan shrugs. "None of that matters any more. He's my brother and I nearly lost him, I don't want to waste time on petty arguments."
"Time to be there for each other now."
"Yeah," Ethan says. "That's assuming he'll let me."
Charlie places a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "If he changes his mind, I have a friend who's a trained counsellor. Say the word and I can get Cal bumped up the list." He pauses. "That applies to both of you."
"Thanks, Charlie, I'll suggest it to him again. But I don't need it."
Charlie gives a small chuckle. "You two are more alike than you know."
Ethan shakes his head but he can't help but smile.
"Come downstairs and say hi to everyone while you're here?" Charlie asks.
Ethan checks his watch. It's still early enough for it to be conceivable he'll get back before Cal wakes. Although the decision for him to go to the pharmacy was a mutual one, Ethan knows that if his brother's in a low mood, he'll be less inclined to try and will require help from the moment he gets up.
"Just quickly." It's only been a few days since Ethan was last in and he's had longer spells of annual leave and sick leave after his car crash, yet he's already feeling like he misses the department. The sense of normality in going to work has kept him sane throughout the trauma of the last few months; the truth about their heritage, finding out he carries the Huntington's gene and now Cal's accident. Plus the perpetual rush in the E.D. prevents his brain from wandering into a place he doesn't want it to go. "Um, Charlie," he says, as they enter the lift. "I'd appreciate you keeping it to yourself about, you know, my diagnosis."
"Your call," the nurse says.
"Thank you."
As the lift descends, Ethan hatches a plan. He'll say a brief hello to his colleagues and then head back home via the shop to purchase ingredients for a full English breakfast. With any luck, Cal will wake up to the smell of bacon, and once pleasantly full they can discuss the rationale behind a counselling referral.
But as the lift doors open and he sees the scene, a sinking feeling sets in in his stomach.
"Ah," Dylan says, marching towards them. "There you are. Multiple RTC, I need you both in Resus."
"Oh, um, I'm not working today," Ethan says, apologetically.
"Then what are you doing here?" Dylan snaps, hands on hips. "You know what, don't answer that, I don't have time to waste listening when I could be finding a doctor who actually wants to do their job."
Ethan sighs. "I suppose I could help out for a short while?" he says. "Let me just ring Ca-"
But before he can pull his phone out of his pocket, a trolley bursts through the doors and he sees the extent of the patient's injuries. He exchanges the briefest of looks with Charlie and then speeds towards Resus at the same pace as the trolley, listening intently as Jez reels off the patient's vitals.
He shoves his belongings in a corner of the room and focuses his attention on his patient. The woman is in her early twenties and unconscious from a head injury. He wants to inspect her pupils but as he didn't come prepared to work, he doesn't have his torch. He scans the room, thankfully to see Alicia coming towards him in her scrubs.
"Can I, um, torch, stethoscope," he asks.
She hands the items over to him with a frown. "Thought you were off still?"
"I am," he tells her. He shines the torch into both of his patient's eyes and releases a sigh of relief. "Right, both equal and reactive but I'd like to get her for a head CT as soon as possible to assess the full extent of the injury."
"Ethan, I've got this," Alicia says with a smile. "Escape while you can."
He hands her back her equipment but hesitates, knowing his departure would leave them short staffed. But before he can take her up on the offer, another trolley crashes into Resus.
"Jade!" the young man shouts. "Jade, are you okay?"
Ethan exchanges a grim smile with Alicia before hastening over to the new arrival.
"Right, this is Connor, he was driving," Iain tells him. "GCS of fifteen, conscious throughout but has been complaining of chest pains. Oh and he's very distressed," he adds, unnecessarily. "That's his girlfriend over there."
Ethan forces himself to push Cal to the back of his mind in order to focus on his new patient.
Cal's a little happier now that he's made it to the sofa as it's much more comfortable than his bedroom floor. However, he didn't have the willpower to go via the kitchen, so his throat still hurts from the lack of water and his stomach is beginning to rumble.
He can't be sure what time Ethan went out but he feels like he's been waiting a long time for him to return. He's only just looked at his phone but he checks it again and sighs when there's still no message. He dials his brother but it rings out to voicemail as it has done every time he's tried.
"Ethan, where are you?" he snaps down the phone. "Ring me."
Although the pain from falling over has subsided, his leg is throbbing. It's an ache which is impossible to pinpoint, feeling like it comes from somewhere that doesn't exist. He takes the stump of his leg into his hands and gradually runs his fingers over it, trying to soothe the pain but gives up after a few ineffective seconds. Nothing can help but the opioids his brother is taking his time in bringing him. He clenches his jaw and tries to hold himself together.
So far the pain has been bearable and while he knows that's largely due to strong medication, it also seems to swing with his mood. At low times like now, it always hurts more. Being alone makes it worse as well, whether he's trying to become engrossed in a film or in bed at night, failing to sleep. The only thing other than painkillers which manages to distract him from his pain is his brother, but Ethan's disappeared and his leg's getting worse.
Yet, Cal supposes he'll have to get used to being alone. Ethan's clearly found something better to do than keep him company. Both his mothers are dead, his adoptive dad absent and his biological father unknown. He doubts his tenuous friendships with colleagues will progress into something deeper than getting drunk and he can't imagine any woman will look at him twice now.
His breath hitches and he feels the familiar tightening of his throat. He tries to breathe through it but it feels like something is pressing against his chest. His hands curl around the edge of the sofa. He forces himself to exhale. He wishes Ethan was there to tell him what to do. He can't do this alone. He can't do anything alone. And yet he has the rest of his life ahead of him to feel like this. He gasps for air and a hot tear spills down his cheek. He wipes it away roughly. He channels his brother, focuses on what Ethan would say – come on, Caleb, you can do it. Slowly now, proper deep breaths, in, out, in, out. Eventually Cal manages to get enough air into his lungs to breathe but it still doesn't feel comfortable, not even when he finally lets go of the tears he's been holding and lets them cascade.
With Connor moved to cubicles and Jade awaiting a bed on ICU, Ethan finally manages to gather his belongings and slip out of Resus. He sighs deeply. Jade's condition had been touch and go for a while and even though they got her back, he knows they can't rule out the chance of brain damage until she wakes up.
A gentle hand touches his back and he turns to see Alicia. Her make up is smudged slightly from the heat of Resus but she still looks beautiful to him.
"Thanks for your help today," she says. "I don't know what I'd have done without you."
"You would have managed," he says. "You performed that craniotomy perfectly in very difficult circumstances. You should be proud of yourself."
She pushes a strand of hair out of her face. "I've never done one before."
"I know. That makes it even more admirable."
"Well you walked me through it," she says. "We saved her together."
Ethan nods but he doesn't feel like he's had any successes today. There's a gnawing guilt in the pit of his stomach about how long he's been away from home. He doesn't know if he can bear to check the time.
"I'll buy you a drink sometime," she continues. "To say thank you."
"Oh! Lovely!" He hates himself for the way his heart leaps at the suggestion. "But please don't feel obliged."
"No, I'd like to."
Ethan nods, trying not to blush. "Then I'll look forward to it," he says. He sneaks his phone out of his pocket and shudders at the screen: 7 missed calls from his brother, 2 voicemails and 3 texts. "Oh crumbs," he says, showing Alicia his phone. "Cal must be going out of his mind. I was only meant to nip out to the pharmacy."
"He'll be fine," Alicia says, breezily. "He knows what it's like here. Besides, see it as practice for when you come back properly next week."
Ethan manages a courteous smile but he's less convinced. "I- I'm sorry, I must call him to check."
She nods. "Of course! But text me about that drink."
As Alicia disappears back into Resus, Ethan heads in the opposite direction, already rushing to the car as he phones his brother.
Cal answers on the first ring. "Where have you been?"
"Caleb, I'm so sorry," Ethan says. "There was a major incident. I had to help out for a few hours."
There's a stagnant pause. "You've been working?" Cal asks, in a small voice.
"Yes, multiple casualties from an RTC. I couldn't get away until now."
"But you were meant to be with me."
"I know." Ethan's shoulders slump as he detects the upset in his brother's voice. "I am really sorry. It's not the day I had planned either. Is everything okay?"
"No," Cal says.
Ethan's heart skips a beat. "Why, what's happened?"
"My leg hurts," Cal says, grumpily. "I've not had painkillers since last night. And I haven't eaten; not unless you count cereal out of the box, which I don't." He huffs so loudly the phone line crackles. "And, Ethan, I'm so bloody bored."
"Okay, I'm at the car," Ethan says, battling with the key, "I'm coming home now."
Cal's silent except for a loud sniff.
"Listen, how about I stop off on route, pick up some pizza? Or a Chinese? Your choice, my treat."
"You can't buy my forgiveness with food," Cal says.
"No, but you said you were hungry."
Ethan can tell that the pause is while his brother debates between stubbornness and a free takeaway.
"Fine," Cal says. "Chinese." Then he ends the call.
Cal remains on the sofa as Ethan juggles the many containers from the Chinese. He refuses to look at his brother properly in case Ethan can tell his weary eyes are as much from heavy crying as a lack of sleep. The smell from the takeaway would usually increase his hunger but today makes him feel a little sick. He feels as if he doesn't deserve his favourite food, not after the disaster of the day.
Usually Cal would mock Ethan plating the food rather than eating out of plastic containers, but he feels no humour in it for once. Besides, his brother has clearly allowed one concession, as he hands him the plate on the sofa, rather than insisting he comes to the table.
But Cal frowns and shakes his head and Ethan is forced to deliver the plate to the coffee table rather than his hand.
"Thought you were hungry?"
"Yeah, well, I changed my mind."
Ethan places his own plate next to Cal's and looks at him out of the corner of his eye. "Is this because you're angry at me?"
"Get over yourself, Ethan," Cal snaps.
"If you're hungry, you need to eat," Ethan persists. "I can understand you being annoyed but please don't jeopardise your wellbeing to make a point."
Heat rushes to Cal's head. "I'm not! If you must know, the pain's got so bad I feel nauseous." It's a lie but it has the desired effects for his brother's cheeks flush with guilt. "I'm sure if I had some painkillers earlier I'd be able to eat now."
"Oh, Cal, I really am sorry," Ethan says. "Maybe I made the wrong choice. It's just- I honestly thought I'd be putting lives at risk if I'd come home without helping."
"Why were you even in work anyway?" Cal mutters, annoyed at himself for asking when he was trying to claim that it was the pain and not his mood behind refusing his dinner. "You were meant to be at the pharmacy."
"I was just saying hello."
"Why? Had enough of my company?"
"Don't be stupid."
"Stupid now, am I?" Cal snaps. He doesn't know why he's arguing other than the fact he's sore and irritable. "I'll just add that to my list of other attributes; inept, emotionally unstable, yes I know what you've been thinking, a burden, uh, lopsided…"
"You're none of those things."
Cal scoffs but he can feel his eyes prickling again.
Ethan sighs. "I don't know, maybe Charlie was right."
"Charlie?"
"It's just a suggestion, but-"
"What's Charlie got to do with anything?" Cal says, taken aback "Or is that where you've been all day? The two of you gossiping about me? You're a bad liar, Ethan, I know you weren't working."
"I was working," Ethan says quietly, "but yes, I have also spoken to Charlie."
"I don't believe this."
"Caleb, just hear me out. I- I really think you'd benefit from some counselling."
Cal releases a harsh laugh. He runs his hand through his hair.
"At least try it. If it doesn't help then you don't have to persist."
"No, Ethan."
"Why not?"
"Because what's the point?" He throws out an arm in frustration "It's not going to change anything, is it? It's not going to give me my leg back."
"No, but-"
"But nothing! Fucks sake, Ethan, you should know me better than that."
Ethan visibly takes a deep breath. "Okay," he says. "Okay. You don't want to. That- that's fine."
Cal knows he should follow his brother's lead and let it drop, but he's too wound up now to regain control over his mouth. "No, it's not fine. You think I can't do this, don't you? That's why you want me to talk to some- some shrink. You've never believed I could make something of myself, why would you start now?"
"That's neither fair nor true," Ethan says. "Caleb, I have every confidence in you getting through this, walking again, working again, whatever you want. But that doesn't mean you can't have some help along the way."
"Well I thought you were meant to be helping me," Cal counters. "But you've clearly given up. Trying to palm me off on someone else already."
Ethan puts a hand on his shoulder but Cal shrugs him away.
"You're my brother. I'll never give up on you."
At that thought, Cal's vision blurs with tears. His brother sounds genuine, but Cal can't believe what he's saying. How is he meant to recover when he can't even get through a day on his own? And why wouldn't Ethan give up when the only things he's proved he's capable of are crying and ranting and failing to do his exercises. "Well maybe you should," he says.
Ethan sits next to him and squeezes his knee. "Never," he repeats. He tries to pass Cal's plate again. "Let's just- just eat. You'll feel better when you've got some food inside you."
It all seems futile. Cal knows that he'll still feel this hopeless whether he has a full stomach or is starving. He just wants some escape from this new life of his. He lurches to a standing position so quickly that he knocks the plate out of Ethan's hand with his knee. His heart jumps into his throat. He stares at the mess. No doubt his brother will think he's done it on purpose in anger and shout at him for staining the cream carpet.
"Cal-" Ethan starts.
"Don't," Cal says. He fights to feed his arms through the loops on his crutches. "Just- don't."
But Ethan's joined him on his feet and is following as he hops towards the front door as fast as he can.
"Where are you going?"
"Out," Cal replies.
"Caleb, you- you can't. You're not mobile enough yet."
It's the confirmation Cal was waiting for that his brother thinks he can't do it. He shoves the front door open with one of his sticks and, making the most of Ethan flapping around looking for shoes and keys, dives for the lift and jabs at the ground floor button.
He doesn't know where he's going or how he's going to get there, only that it's away from the flat and away from his concerned little brother.
The urge to run and hide has finally become too great to ignore.
