Gillian Kearney Fan, Ethan is certainly behaving suspiciously, so he might well be in trouble! Thank you for your review.

Tanith Panic, thank you for your review. I'm glad you like the way the drama's building up - this was the original prompt for the story, so it's good to get here at last! Lily certainly isn't in a good way, as you'll find out. Thank you for your review.

CBloom2, one thing I love about Ethan is that he really wants to help people and he'll do more than most people would. But in this case, yes, it has backfired! I think you're right about Cal. Thank you for your review.

EDSidekick, Ethan is very sweet, but it is a very unusual thing to do - to some people, anything unusual is suspicious. Cal is struggling - but he hasn't run away yet. Thank you for your review.

sarahmichellegellarfan1, thank you for your review - I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter.

Zoe led Sophie into a cubicle and helped her onto the bed. "I'll have a look at your wrist first, then I'll book you in for an x-ray. Can you tell me how it happened?"

To her surprise, Sophie lowered her head and didn't answer.

"Did you fall onto an outstretched hand? Did you receive a heavy blow to the wrist?" prompted Zoe.

"I… fell," said Sophie awkwardly.

Zoe raised her eyebrows. There was obviously a bit more to this than she'd imagined. Her first instinct said domestic violence, but that thought lasted barely a second. After all, she knew Sophie's boyfriend very well. "Were you hit by the car?"

Sophie hesitated. "No. I wasn't."

"Well, that's one good thing," said Zoe. She waited, but no more information was forthcoming. "Okay. Did you jump out of the way when you saw the car coming?"

"I didn't see it coming," said Sophie.

Zoe suppressed a sigh. Doctors usually made terrible patients and it seemed aspiring doctors were no exception, but she couldn't really blame Sophie. She'd had a terrible shock. "Okay, Sophie. I know this is difficult for you, but I need you tell me exactly what happened so I can make sure I'm giving you the right treatment. I realise you're very distressed, as we all are, but if you want to be there for Lily, I need to treat you as quickly as possible and that's going to be difficult if you don't tell me anything."

"I… I don't want you to think badly of me," whispered Sophie as her eyes filled with tears.

"I can't imagine ever thinking badly of you," said Zoe. "I heard you were a bit of a heroine – again! How could I ever think badly of you?"

Sophie started to cry.

Zoe rubbed her shoulder. "It's okay, Sophie. You're safe now. Mrs Beauchamp is doing everything she can for Lily and I'm going to help you. Would you like me to call Ethan?"

"He's not very well," wept Sophie. "And I don't want him to hate me too."

"Sophie, why would anyone hate you?" said Zoe. "Ethan certainly won't hate you. He loves you and you've been so good for him. He's happier and more confident than he's ever been, and that's made him into an even better doctor. And it's not your fault Lily got hurt."

"Because it was my fault,!" cried Sophie. "Lily only got hit because she was pushing me out of the way. She only needed to push me out of the way because I was being stupid. And now she's hurt and it's all my fault!"

Connie had treated colleagues before. The simple fact was that accidents happened and while ideally, you didn't treat anyone you were close to, you couldn't send someone with a suspected tension pneumothorax to St James' just because you felt some sort of vague maternal instinct towards her.

Connie set to work, giving orders, her voice calm and confident. There were many injuries that needed treating, but their immediate concern was the suspected tension pneumothorax. This could be confirmed with a radiograph, but there was no time. They had to act now – or lose a very promising doctor. If Lily went into cardiac arrest, which would happen if she wasn't treated quickly, there would be little hope of bringing her back.

The monitor beside Lily's bed showed the expected tachycardia and hypotension. They could see the distended veins in Lily's neck and hear her noisy, shallow breathing.

Connie told her team in a steady voice that she would perform a needle decompression and began to list what she needed. Lily was already receiving oxygen, but the correct site needed to be located and prepared. This was done quickly, as it always was – as it had to be – but it seemed longer because it always did when it was someone you knew.

Connie watched as the site was cleaned with povidine solution and prepared the needle. Her first task was to relieve the tension, but this wouldn't solve the problem. It would only buy them time. Connie just hoped it would be enough.

She inserted the needle into the second intercostal space at a 90 degree angle to the chest wall, just over the third rib. If she got it even slightly wrong, she could hit a major blood vessel or even the heart – but Connie Beauchamp seldom got anything wrong. Once the needle was inserted, she stopped and listened. For an agonising microsecond, she thought nothing would happen, but then she heard the rush of air.

Connie removed the needle, leaving the catheter in place, and disposed of the needle. The catheter was secured with tape and they all waited to see if the tension was relieved so Connie could insert a drain to suck the air from the chest.

But the tension hadn't been relieved.

For once, Connie had failed.

"Oh, thank goodness," said Ethan, wheezing slightly. "I don't have my phone so I've been knocking on doors."

The policeman gave him a suspicious look. "How about we go and sit in the car and have a little chat?"

"That would be brilliant. Thank you," said Ethan. "I'm really not feeling very well so I think sitting down would be a very good idea."

The policemen were very kind. They seemed to realise he was a bit wobbly. They both held his arms, helping him out of the garden and into their car.

"What's your name?"

"Ethan Hardy."

"Perhaps you'd like to tell us what happened in your own words, Mr Hardy."

"Oh, it's 'Doctor'… Dr Hardy… but it really doesn't matter," said Ethan, beginning to get flustered. He pressed a hand to the back of his head, which was hurting. He could feel a lump, but when he checked his hand, there was no sign of blood.

"Dr Hardy?" The policeman looked a bit, well, cynical. "If you don't mind me saying so, you don't look old enough to be a doctor."

Ethan smiled. "Oh, thank you very much. That's very kind of you. I'm actually a senior registrar."

The policeman gave him an odd; perhaps he wasn't used to good manners. "So how about telling us what happened, Dr Hardy?"

"Oh, well, I suppose it all started when I was in bed, listening to the radio," said Ethan. "I heard a report of an accident in Holby High Street."

"All right, Dr Hardy. Try to keep it on topic, please. I'm a patient man, but if I show you respect, I expect to receive a little in return."

Ethan gasped and coughed a few times. "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to sound disrespectful. Did I start the story too far back? I'm afraid I do tend to babble sometimes. Okay, I was driving along, looking for a place to park."

"So, you know someone who lives round here, do you?"

"No, I don't," said Ethan, "but I wasn't feeling very well – I have tonsillitis - and I realised I shouldn't be driving so I decided to park the car and call a taxi."

"Why were you driving if you were unwell?"

Ethan hesitated. "I'm very sorry to mention it again, but my girlfriend Sophie is shopping in Holby High Street with her friend Lily, who's a doctor. I heard on the radio that a pedestrian was hit by a car and treated by a doctor at the scene." He stopped and coughed into a tissue. "Excuse me. I'm so sorry. I really shouldn't be out of bed, but I couldn't get Sophie or Lily on the phone so I started panicking that Sophie was the one who was injured. So I decided to drive to the hospital to find out what had happened, but I felt unwell, as I said."

"That's quite a story, Dr Hardy."

Ethan smiled and rubbed at his aching head. "There usually is quite a story where Sophie is involved."

"Can I ask where your car is now, Dr Hardy?"

Ethan pointed through the windscreen. "That's my car."

The policeman nodded over to his shoulder to his colleague, who was sitting in the back seat. He started speaking into his radio.

With some shock, Ethan realised he was checking he really did own the car. He rather shakily continued. "As I parked the car, I heard a smash. I thought at first that I'd been in an accident. I'd felt a jolt just before the crash, but it turned out I'd just run over a policeman. I'm so sorry: I mean a sleeping policeman. Obviously, I would never run over a real policeman or anyone else!"

He laughed nervously and waited for the policemen to join in, but they didn't. Ethan swallowed painfully and continued.

"I got out of the car and I saw the greenhouse and a boy running away."

"You saw a boy running away."

Ethan nodded. "I tried to make a citizen's arrest, but he pushed me over and I hit my head on my car. I have a bump on the back of my head. I imagine I also have bruises on my, um, well…" Ethan blushed. He had to mention all kinds of body parts as part of his job, but when he wasn't working, it all became rather embarrassing. "I landed in a sitting position so I imagine I have… bruises."

The policeman looked over his shoulder at his colleague again. "Anything?"

"Dr Ethan Hardy is the owner of the car."

"Can I see some ID, Dr Hardy? Your driving licence, perhaps?"

Ethan coughed some more and got his wallet out of his pocket. He showed his driving licence.

"Thank you very much, Dr Hardy. You do appear to be who you say you are and it's also clear you're not very well. But there are a few points in your story that worry me."

Ethan leaned back against the car seat, his eyes closed. "I'll be happy to assist you as much as I can, but I really need to get to the hospital."

"All in good time, Dr Hardy," said the policeman. "The first thing I'd like to know is: why did you leave money in the greenhouse?"