I haven't been good at leaving author notes at the tops of my chapters lately. Maybe I've been all written out, sorry/not sorry for the lengthy chapters! But I think I need to say thank you totheverystuffoflife for your endless enthusiasm for this story and moral support for which I am always grateful, and to TheBeautifulNerd too, because you are excellent and need to remember that :)

Lily was leaning against the lockers, reading a set of patient notes for what seemed like the tenth time. Her reading progress was being inhibited by glancing every few seconds over the top of the paper file in order to watch Dylan doing the same task, on the other side of the staffroom window. It concerned her, the way that he had read his first paragraph so many times. She could see his hands shake slightly, and she wished that he would just talk to her about how he was feeling (and then she remembered that it was Dylan she was thinking about, who was, of late, so reluctant to speak at all so would not take kindly to being asked directly about his inner workings.) He compensated quickly for his anxious tics: he turned around smoothly to rest the notes on the counter behind him, and pressed the palms of his hands flat on either side of the papers.

Although seemingly concentrating on the notes in front of him, Dylan's mind was elsewhere. They think they can try and push me around and make my life difficult? he thought. Well, two can play at that game. He was scheming ways to undo the nastiness that was the way he was being treated, to turn it around to the perpetrators who were set on making him look like a fool.

Already, this morning, he had prevented a repeat of the fiasco with the MRI scanner. One of his patients had required an urgent scan, and after phoning MRI to book one he had discovered, again, that all the slots were booked up. On further enquiry, the patients filling the slots were all Ethan's. After running himself half-ragged, reading patient notes, taking his own case histories and divulging reasons for admission, it appeared that three of the patients were merely taking up slots to prevent Dylan's patients getting one. Mentally exhausted already, he called MRI back and cancelled the unnecessary slots, freeing space for his own patient, whose condition had worsened, even in the forty minutes that it had taken to fix this mess.

"I know you don't want to work with me, but I really thought you were above squandering resources and putting lives at risk, simply to 'get one up' on me!" he had snarled at Ethan.

"And I thought you had more integrity than to lie to my face. I suppose we were both sadly mistaken." Ethan's response had taken Dylan by surprise. Previously he had believed Ethan's moral compass to be straight and true, but clearly this was no longer true. It made him feel uneasy to know that the registrar was honestly willing to use his patients as pawns in his strategic game of destruction. He wondered who, exactly, Ethan was out to destroy. The police as yet had found nothing to link Scott Ellisson to Cal's murder, which was unjust seeing as Ethan had received clear threats on his life, the night that Cal had been killed. But as this was purely anecdotal evidence, the police had no proof. It was unbelievable that there was no CCTV footage anywhere, to show that Scott had been here. He must have been. No-one else would make an attempt on the life of an innocent doctor; it could only have been someone who was completely unhinged, with no moral compass to speak of. The whole Ellisson family fitted that description. It was sickening that Ethan was stooping to their level of immorality.

To Lily, this shift felt relentless. Being back in the E.D. meant she had no choice but to be fully alert and on her feet all day. Maintaining a brave face was harder than she had anticipated. Finding time to keep an eye on the clock and take her medication at the correct intervals was harder. She had forgotten how difficult it was to even find time to grab a glass of water and a sandwich in full view of everyone, never mind find a moment of quiet to slip away unnoticed in order to take painkillers that if anyone knew she was still taking they would most probably send her home. Lily was nonetheless insistent: her cognitive function was in no way impaired, and if she felt that it ever became so, she would send herself home.

Dylan and Ethan seemed to be at minor-scale war, which was exhausting. And it was only Monday. She could tell that they attempted not to argue in front of her, but their success to this end was variable at best. She hated to be the one to remind them to stop acting like children. There was no escape from it: they bickered incessantly when they shared the same air, and if Lily happened to be in the same place as one of them alone, without fail someone else would jump in and get a piece of the action, either by commending Ethan for holding the moral high ground (if Lily had bitten her tongue over this once, she'd done it a thousand times) or by criticising Dylan for something totally unrelated to his battle with Ethan.

"Are you all right, Lily?" Connie's voice pulled Lily out of her head.

It was the end of Lily's shift, and by rights, the end of Ethan's too, but there was no sign of him. Lily had been standing outside the staff room, leaning against the wall to the left of the door, wishing she had remained in the staffroom. She wanted nothing more than to not be standing upright. Tomorrow, there would be a whole lot of being on show, and right now she wanted to be at home, hiding from the world in peace.

"Yes," she replied. Was it a lie, if she was also convincing herself of its truth?

Connie took a step closer to Lily. "I expect you rather want to be at home, getting some peace before tomorrow." Not for the first time, Lily wondered whether Connie had the ability to read minds.

Meekly, she nodded. She looked around, checking that Ethan wasn't in earshot. Unable to meet Connie's eye, she said quietly, "I'm dreading it. I'm wishing it away… but that never works, does it?"

The Clinical Lead's eyes glistened. She watched Lily knot her fingers, wringing her hands so hard it looked uncomfortable. Connie's heart ached for the young couple. They'd seen too much tragedy, experienced too much injustice for two such good people. She reached out impulsively to gently separate Lily's hands. "You are a remarkably strong young woman, Lily. You would do well to remember that. Chin up, and remind the world who they're dealing with, okay?" Then, she heard rushed footfalls coming towards them, which could only belong to Ethan. "I'll see you in the morning, Lily. One more day of strength."

Lily wished that it would only be one more day of strength.

Zoe's skype tone erupted from Dylan's laptop, spreading around the living room of the boat. Before he'd had time to think about it, he had clicked 'answer.' Her face filled the screen, and immediately he felt her eyes scrutinising his appearance. How did she manage to do that, even through a screen?

He had expected her to observe pleasantries and make small talk, at least say 'hello' first, but it was clear that Zoe was in no mood to do any such thing.

"Dylan, I've been trying to get hold of you for a month!"

"Well good evening to you too." He checked his watch. "Or should I say 'afternoon' on account of the time difference?"

"Don't start with that, I haven't got time to debate your sarcasm!"

Dylan observed the limited view he had of Zoe's surroundings. "You're still in work," he remarked.

"Yes, because I figured if I caught you more or less as you got home from work, you might finally answer me, to get me off your back." She looked at him as if daring him to challenge her accurate assumption. "You need to talk to me, please."

"Did you miss me?"

Zoe pressed her fingertips to the space between her eyebrows. She knew that Dylan was putting up a front; he was being deliberately obstructive in order to distract her from… from what? What was he trying to hide? "Not now, Moriarty," she said, sighing a little. "I saw the news… about a doctor from Holby, and I've been worried sick."

Dylan ignored the way his stomach lurched at her words.

"I've been trying to find out what happened since news reached us over here," Zoe went on, "but my geographical location doesn't lend itself to accessing news sites in Holby. I even made Nick try and get in touch with the hospital, but that was impossible."

"That would be due to the plague of journalists swarming the hospital, and the E.D. in particular, for the last four weeks. I seem to remember Hanssen taking a hard line with anyone trying to contact the hospital for information."

When Zoe spoke again, it sounded like she was speaking through a lump rising in her throat. Dylan realised he had to tone down the way he was beating around the bush. She had no idea what she was walking into. He couldn't tell her the whole truth. As the seconds ticked on, he wondered whether he would be physically able to say anything. He felt as though his mind was fogging up with the pressure of what he knew. He wasn't a good person to break this news. He'd do it wrong, he'd make an unnecessary comment or be unhelpfully brisk. Why had he clicked 'answer'? It would have been easier to let sleeping dogs lie: what Zoe didn't know couldn't upset her, and the news he would shortly have to break would undoubtedly upset her deeply.

"All we've been able to find out," she said quietly, glancing over the top of her laptop (it sounded, from the muffled crashing about, that someone clumsy had just entered the room Zoe was in) "is that it was a male registrar in his thirties from Holby's E.D." She looked at him with a pained expression, her eyes wide. "I know it's awful, but I've been hoping that it was a locum, that it wasn't someone I knew, because the only two fitting that description are Ethan and Cal." She covered her mouth with one hand and squeezed her eyes shut. The thought of anything happening to either of them was frankly atrocious - Cal was half of the life and soul of that place, and Ethan had Lily, and their two children. When she opened her eyes again, she noticed that Dylan's brisk exterior had slipped. "Dylan, who was it?"

"It was Cal," he replied hollowly. Zoe covered her face with her hands, and he felt that he had to carry on. "He was stabbed, there was nothing they could do." He couldn't tell her that he had been the one to find Cal, bleeding out and struggling to draw breath, slumped in the pouring rain outside the E.D., too far out of sight for anyone to find him before it was too late. "I should have told you sooner. It got harder and harder to answer. I didn't know what to say."

Zoe wiped her eyes with her thumbs. She pressed her lips together tightly, before mouthing something to someone Dylan couldn't see. "It's okay." She sniffed. "When's the funeral?"

"Zoe -"

"I'll get a flight, it'll be fine -"

"Zoe, please -"

"I'll sort it, okay?"

"Zoe!"

She finally stopped, and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Dylan looked up at the ceiling. "It's tomorrow."

The rush of disappointment the Zoe felt at that moment was almost unbearable.

For maybe the first time ever, Lily woke up before Ethan, on the morning of the funeral. It was a grey, dismal day, with low clouds that seemed to suffocate her with the grief she had not yet let free, but that she knew would be liberated this morning. It was going to rain today. She reached for Ethan's hand - his arm was draped across her chest and it wasn't comfortable - and lifted it so his palm was on her shoulder. She allowed herself to be immobilised by his presence for a while, her fingers closed around his hand.

A few minutes later, she felt Ethan stirring beside her.

"Morning," she mumbled, omitting the 'good' because nothing could make this a good morning.

Ethan did not reply. He snuggled closer to her, holding her close and resting his forehead against her upper arm. Instantly, Lily felt the moisture of his tears on her skin. Today would be a hard day.

Dylan looked in his bedroom mirror, straightening his tie. He was still in two minds about going to the funeral, but now that he was up early, with the morning booked away from work, it would be rather a waste not to go. He knew that Ethan would not want him present. But Lily had made it clear that she did want him there, and Cal had been a well-liked colleague; perhaps those who were being nasty to him lately would use non-attendance as more fuel for their fire. None of them would be vile enough to be outwardly unpleasant to him at Cal's funeral, at least.

Nevertheless he felt very uncomfortable, driving to the little church on the outskirts of town. He parked well out of the way, to leave parking spaces for more worthy attenders than him.

Lily and Ethan were silent, sitting in the intimidating black car with the funeral director who had made their lives so much more bearable this last two weeks. Respectfully, she also remained quiet.

Ethan felt sick, knowing that the coffin behind them contained his brother. At times, his relationship with Cal had been strained to say the least, but it was still horrific to know that his brother was gone, never to return. He clenched a fist in anger. Scott Ellisson was walking the streets of Holby as a free man. He could commit exactly the same crime tomorrow, tear another family out of their reality and force them into a dark new one. A furious tear escaped his eye as the hearse pulled up at the church. He made no effort to wipe it from his face; it wasn't until he felt the touch of Lily's delicate fingertip that he realised he'd cried at all. She worked the tension from his fist, and turned to look at him solemnly.

"Ready?"

"No, but then, I'll never be. Let's go. Into battle." He squeezed her hand, and her expression told him that she had recognised his discreet reference to Sherlock.

As the coffin was lifted from the car, Ethan spotted something amiss. "Claire," he said urgently, getting the attention of the funeral director. "Those flowers - I've never seen them before. We didn't choose those."

On the top of the coffin, the words 'Be More Cal' were spelled in blue and white flowers. These had been chosen by Ethan after much deliberation, and after Lily's reassurance that these words would not cause offence, rather mild amusement on an otherwise dark day. But Claire was carrying a much smaller arrangement in her arms. Fragrant white lilies, their orange stamens standing out wildly in a sea of white petals and an ocean of black mourning clothes. Carefully arranged around the base of the lilies, there were cream-coloured roses and white carnations.

"These here? They were ordered late last night, from abroad… Michigan, I think. Lady from Liverpool, if I remember rightly."

Lily couldn't help herself bursting into tears. She turned and cried into Ethan's shoulder.

Unsteadily, he asked whether they had been sent by Zoe Hanna.

"Yes, that's her. She was terribly apologetic that she left it so late." Claire balanced the flowers on one arm, like a waitress, in order to reach into her pocket for a small white card. "Here, she left a message for you both."

Ethan read it first, then whispered it to his wife. "Ethan and Lily, my deepest condolences. I'm so sorry for your loss. I'll be in touch. Love always, Zoe."

Standing some way back from everyone else, Dylan was startled by the sudden appearance of someone he once knew very well.

"Rita." He said her name slowly, hardly daring believe that she was here. Part of him wanted to hug her. Part of him wanted to kiss her - he'd missed that. A large part of him wished that they were meeting again under better circumstances. And part of him was terrified that she'd find out the truth about how Cal had died. Then he remembered that he was just staring at her. "I - no - it's… It's probably inappropriate to say that it's nice to see you, considering the circumstances." But it was nice to see her again. It was better than nice, and he wished he could tell her. Instead, he did what he'd always detested. Small talk. "So, how is London treating you?"

"It's treating me fine, yeah. It's busy, and… well, busy. Everywhere. I've been lucky though, the E.D. I'm working in now has let me into their team dynamic really easily."

"I'm pleased for you, truly." Being pleased for her falling on good times in London did not detract from the fact that underneath it all, he had missed her a lot. He understood why she had left Holby - after her ex-husband found out where she was, there was no way she could stay. He couldn't have expected her to stay in a place where she didn't feel safe any more. But he missed her smile. He missed the way she seemed to catch him before anything went wrong in his head. She was a bright ray of light, except now that light was absolutely out of his reach.

If Rita was surprised by the fact that Dylan chose to sit right at the back of the church, where he was less likely to be seen,the she didn't show it. He managed to contain his own surprise that she chose to sit with him, instead of with her old nursing team.

The service was simple but touching. Lily was astounded that Ethan stood to read Cal's eulogy: she had known it was coming but she had wondered whether he would have been able to bear it. But he read from his paper smoothly, only pausing twice to recover himself. He said everything that needed to be said, holding back where he had to but letting loose a few stories from his and Cal's childhood that even Lily had never heard.

When Ethan reached a point of describing being an adult sibling to Cal, Lily unintentionally let out a loud sob.

"Will and Lizzie aren't here today, but it seems fitting to mention something that I think shows exactly who Cal was, and why we will always have a gap in our lives without him. Caleb was an incredible uncle to our children, although he didn't have long to try. He never once forgot Will's birthday, and I have no doubt that he would have done the same for Lizzie, later this week. And yet," Ethan half-laughed and half-hiccuped, "he feigned forgetfulness of my birthday for the last thirty years, minimum."

Dylan felt immensely guilty. Through his fault, a chasm had been ripped in this beautiful family. He had caused damage to them that might never be repaired. Although Rita was still next to him, wiping tears which had flowed with more ferocity since Ethan had begun speaking, Dylan knew he had to go.

"I'm sorry, I really can't stay here." His voice was barely more than a mutter, but Rita heard every word. She was alarmed - to her knowledge, Dylan was a close friend of Ethan and Lily. Why could he not stay to support them in this difficult time? Come to think of it, why had he positioned himself as far from them as possible? She didn't understand.

Out in his car, Dylan allowed himself to cry.

By the time everyone else was walking out of the churchyard, Cal's coffin having been lowered into the ground in drizzling rain, although Rita checked, Dylan's car was nowhere to be seen.

"Dr Keogh, what are you doing here?" Noel sounded confused, holding the reception phone away from his face to question why Dylan was striding across the department, still in his black funeral suit, undoing his tie and tucking it into his trouser pocket.

"I can do more good here, than I can there," came his abrupt response, although there was an undertone of deep hurt.