I appreciate the reviews so much. I love writing regardless, but it does make it feel more worth it when I hear your kind words, so thank you for leaving your thoughts. Hope you continue to enjoy this next chapter. Haven't written anything beyond this yet, so fingers crossed for a productive afternoon! Please review, even if it's just a few words or some tips to improve.
Becs2202: I'm glad to hear I managed to get them in character and it was fun writing their little fight! Thank you so much for your support with this story.
Mills2808: Thank you for reviewing. One of the things I was aiming for was for some ambiguity as to which was in the right (I have no idea myself, whose opinion is the 'better' one) so I'm really pleased that has worked.
Bonnie Sveen Fan: No need to apologise but I'm really pleased you're still enjoying it. Thanks for leaving a review :)
sweeet-as-honey: Wow, thank you for such a long review. I'm going to leave the flashbacks for now, but that's not to say they won't make a return later if it feels relevant (or if I can't make a decent amount of words haha). I'm really pleased you enjoyed the chapter and Cal's reasons behind his actions - of course, that's not the only reason, but Cal's not going to admit how much Ethan means to him if he can avoid it! Glad you thought their conversation was in character.
7.
Cal shuffles to the edge of his chair and rests his elbows on his knees and his chin on his interlocked fists. He supposes he should be grateful they've deigned to provide him with a chair this time; uncomfortable as it is, it's far better than having to kneel on the floor like he did for Ethan's first injection.
His seat is just about high enough that he can see over Ethan's body to the contents of the surgical tray. He understands, now, why so many people are terrified of needles. The two syringes wouldn't bother him normally, but he has to supress a shudder as he thinks of them being injected into his brother's spinal canal. Next to the syringes is a pair of latex gloves, still in their packet, and a wad of bandages in case the injection causes his brother to bleed. There's a greater supply of bandages than Cal deems necessary to wipe a trickle of blood from a needle prick and he imagines Doctor Nowak pressing them against Ethan's back trying to stem a haemorrhage.
He's so distracted envisaging the worst that he isn't aware Ethan has moved until he hears the nurse admonishing him for doing so. He shifts his gaze and discovers that his brother has uncurled his legs and is propping himself up on one arm.
"What are you doing?" Cal asks.
"You look a little peaky."
Cal shakes his head. "I'm fine, Nibbles."
"Well if you are sick, please turn away," Ethan says. "I'm hardly fair game once I'm anaesthetised"
"Now there's an idea! The fun I could have with a permanent marker."
"You're not funny."
"I beg to differ," Cal says but he offers a smile to show Ethan he's joking. "What do you reckon, comedy moustache or the outline of a-"
"Caleb!"
"Okay, okay!" Cal holds his hands in the air. "Moustache it is."
He expects another reprimand but Ethan gives a resolute sigh and lowers himself back onto the bed. The smile falls from Cal's face. He narrows his eyes as the nurse manoeuvres Ethan's legs into the required position, folded awkwardly against his chest. He wants to remind her that his brother is perfectly capable of moving himself but the words stick in his mouth as he contemplates the day when Ethan can no longer do so.
The nurse unties Ethan's gown and scrubs at his bare back with a sterile wipe. The antiseptic smell drifts towards Cal and he scrunches his nose, wondering why it smells so much more potent than when he uses them in the E.D. His hearing seems to have intensified as well; Ethan's breaths fall loudly on an otherwise quiet room. He glances at his brother. He's frowning and looks as if he's concentrating fervently on an insignificant spot on the wall.
Doctor Nowak retrieves the smaller syringe and steps closer to Ethan, placing a gloved hand on his back. "I'm about to administer the anaesthetic," he says, "please remain stationary."
Cal leans forwards to watch as the injection is delivered. He wants to beg the doctor to stop. He wants to knock the equipment out of his hand. He'd expected it to be easier to witness this time but he still feels nauseous at seeing his brother participate in something that could go so badly wrong. He clenches his fist and fights to maintain a neutral expression.
He can tell the moment the anaesthetic takes effect for Ethan gives a shaky sigh and the tension slumps out of his shoulder. Cal can only imagine how horrible it must feel lying there unable to move and, despite his trembling bottom lip, he thinks Ethan's doing a good job at remaining composed. He knows that he wouldn't be faring as well if their positions were reversed. Then again, he thinks, if he'd been the one to be diagnosed with Huntington's, he'd probably have ended up in a drunken stupor in a ditch the other side of Holby.
Doctor Nowak prods the base of Ethan's spine with a probe. "Can you feel anything?"
"No," Ethan says.
He works his way up Ethan's back, seeming to press harder each time but eliciting no reaction. "Good," the doctor says. He accepts the syringe from the nurse and holds it up to the light. "Ethan, we're ready for the injection. Same as before, the most you'll feel is a little pressure."
Cal winces as the experimental drug is pumped into his brother. At first Ethan doesn't visibly react but as the remaining few millimetres are injected, he sees his brother grimace.
"Okay?" he asks.
Ethan responds in the form of a noise somewhere between a grunt and a whimper.
Cal wishes he knew a way to comfort him. During the first treatment he'd held his brother's hand. It had been stupid of course, Ethan hadn't had any sensation in the appendage, but Cal had been so desperate to prove he was going to be supportive that his arm had moved seemingly of its own accord.
If he were to touch somewhere Ethan could feel, he knows it would need to be from the neck up. Cal considers stroking his brother's hair and lets his hand linger just above Ethan's ear as he debates. He decides it's feels too much like something he would do to soothe a girlfriend he cared little about and so settles for a repeat gesture, slipping his hand beneath his brother's and giving it a squeeze. Ethan's hand remains limp but the crease lines on his forehead fade.
Doctor Nowak drops the needle into the sharps bin and steps to the side allowing the nurse to tape a bandage over the puncture wound. "We're all done for now," he says, his back still to Ethan as he disposes of his surgical gloves. "I'll see you in a week for the next round of tests."
Cal's struck by how quickly the doctor's excused himself again and whips his head round to glare at his disappearing back. "Nice to see you too," he mutters, unperturbed by the nurse's presence.
"Cal," Ethan warns. "He's just busy. You know what it's like."
Cal hums his disagreement. They're busy in the E.D. too and yet most of his colleagues manage the odd pleasantry amid treatment.
The nurse remains professionally neutral as she finishes dressing Ethan's back and drapes a blanket over the lower half of his body. She manages a smile as she tells Ethan to rest until the anaesthetic has completely worn off, but Cal decides he doesn't like her much more than the doctor. His brother deserves more consideration.
He slides his hand out from between Ethan's and leans against the back of the chair, attempting to find a comfortable position.
Ethan looks at him blankly. "Um, aren't you going?"
"Nothing better to do," Cal says. "Unless you're trying to get rid of me?"
"No, no," Ethan stammers. "It's just- I know it's far from the height of fun."
"Well I wouldn't spend my day here for just anyone, Nibbles."
Ethan gives a weak smile. "Thanks."
"You could make it up to me if you wanted, you know." Cal raises an eyebrow. "Do you realise what a difficult position you're putting me in, having to turn Rosie down on your behalf?"
Ethan's eyes widen. "You've not told her yet?"
"I was hoping you'd change your mind," Cal says. "I mean, when was the last time you had a girl that fit asking you out? Surprised it isn't me she wants!"
"But I don't even know her. We probably have nothing in common whatsoever."
"Then get to know her! From what I've gathered, you two would have plenty to talk about."
"Caleb, I sincerely hope you're not about to suggest that just because we have the same condition we'd be compatible."
A twinge of guilt constricts Cal's throat. He feigns a coughing fit to buy enough time to think of a suitable response but Ethan sighs deeply, evidently not fooled.
"Oh, Cal," he says. "That was your point, wasn't it?"
"Not my only point," Cal replies sulkily. "I'm sure she likes, um, foreign films and five-hour scientific lectures as much as you do."
"Really," Ethan deadpans.
"And she is hot."
Cal's not sure whether to take Ethan's silence as agreement or disgust. He picks at a bit of dead skin at the corner of his nail as he hesitates, trying to weigh up how far he can push his brother and whether it's cruel to annoy him when he's not in a position to throw a punch.
"Perhaps," he begins, "it would be beneficial for you to talk to someone who's going through the same as you."
"What's there to talk about?" Ethan challenges.
Cal fidgets in his chair. "I dunno, I just thought-" He breaks off. "Forget it. I was wrong. I messed up as usual."
"What do you mean?" Ethan asks sharply.
Cal exhales as he realises he's dropped himself in it. He runs a hand across the back of his head. "Shall I go get us some coffees ready for when the anaesthetic's worn off?"
"No, tell me how you messed up."
"It's nothing."
"Cal!"
"Okay," Cal says. "It's no big deal." He sincerely hopes his brother agrees with that statement. "Look, it was my idea for you and Rosie to go on a date."
The surprise on Ethan's face is immediately replaced with a frown. "What on earth for?"
"I, um, thought you'd make a nice couple," Cal says but he can hear the lack of conviction in his own voice.
"You thought because we both have Huntington's Disease we'd be better for each other than we would for anyone else."
Cal can't help but find it strange to hear the familiar tone of anger within Ethan's voice without the frustrated gesticulations that usually come with it. "No, not like that." He groans. "I know I'm useless at this, Ethan. This supportive big brother stuff. And even though I want to be here for you, there's no pretending I'm not against this trial. I thought it might do you good to be around someone who understands your perspective better than I do." He looks away from Ethan, down in his lap. "That's all. I know it was wrong."
"But Cal," Ethan says, his tone softer this time. "I'd rather have you, no matter how useless you are, than some woman I hardly know."
Cal's chest throbs. "Yeah?"
"Obviously," Ethan tells him. "Besides, a relationship is the last thing on my mind at the moment. But even if I did want one, I certainly don't appreciate you telling me who it has to be with."
"At least I set you up with someone decent," Cal grumbles.
As Ethan fails to disguise a smile, Cal feels the tension in his shoulders ease. Perhaps Ethan is only avoiding an argument because he's lying on a hospital bed, but Cal hopes there's more sentiment behind it than that.
He watches as Ethan battles against the anaesthetic to move his legs into a more comfortable position. The simplest solution would be to reach out and help but Cal knows his brother would be offended. One day Ethan will become reliant on assistance for everything but the incapacity is only temporary for now; the discussion about how Cal is going to care for him can wait.
Cal shivers involuntarily. If he's finding it hard to witness his brother undergoing treatment, it's going to be near impossible to watch him deteriorate into a relative stranger, a victim consumed by a disease. Everything that makes Ethan his Ethan is going to be stolen from him. How can life be so cruel as to destroy the person Cal loves the most?
But the alternative would require a miracle and Cal doesn't believe in miracles any more. He hadn't expected Ethan would either. A moment passes where he contemplates the trial through his brother's eyes. He's not so insensitive that he can't comprehend the need for hope, the need to believe the trial is genuine, effective, that it will provide the foundations for established successes. But Cal knows the only thing worse than an absence of hope is having it obliterated. This trial is going to shatter his little brother's heart for the second time. And he'll fall from a greater height considering his head's been in the clouds.
Cal angles his upper body out of his brother's eye line so that he can clasp a hand over his mouth and stifle a shuddering sigh. He's never been so desperate to be wrong. In fact, he'll give just about anything to be wrong. Because otherwise, it means they're living in the kind of world where the best people are given the worst sentence. And because that means he has no choice but to watch his baby brother suffer an undignified and painful death.