Chapter Twenty-Four

My final chapter! I've ended this openly, but am already writing my next story- I'm unsure of the characters but would really love to know who you'd like to see. I've begun on two, one with Ethan again and one with a different focus. It's going to be another story with a staff member injured/unwell, but I don't want to give anything else away. I plan to wait a few days to post it. I usually have at least two chapters written before I post one- I wrote this final one just after Chapter Twenty was published! Please give any feedback- it's been really rewarding! I'm definitely going to write another Ethan story again.

'How does that feel?' said the cast technician, as Ethan looked at his leg. The scars were still pronounced, but they weren't shocking to him anymore.

'Weird.' He said, relieved when the snug boot liner was eased over his leg. 'When can I walk fully?'

'Not yet!' Dylan said, warily. He'd come down with Ethan, as Connie had been called to RESUS. 'You'll have physio this afternoon. Slow and steady.'

'Always,' Ethan said, grinning. His skin felt strange, and his leg looked so pale and fragile. It looked as if it could snap at any minute. 'Cal's going to have to w-w-watch out with this. I can ki-ck him away.'

'Yes, Dr Hardy. While I understand your motivations fully, I'd medically advise against it,' Dylan began to wheel Ethan back towards the familiar lift leading to the rehab unit. 'You've done well,' he said, his voice changing a little. 'I'll be honest. When I saw you in RESUS when they brought you in, I had my doubts as to how far you'd come. But you've proved me wrong- in a very nice way.'

'I'll b-be back alongside you in R-RESUS before you know it,' Ethan said, firmly. He rolled the sole of the orthopaedic boot along the footrest of the wheelchair, feeling the ridges. It was odd to be able to put any weight at all on his foot, and he felt unnerved by it. 'T-T-They think the s-seizures will improve. Stress related. I'm c-constantly getting better with my s-speech. Suturing less. No. Stuttering less.'

'I mean, you are suturing less. Hopefully quite significantly less, or the board will have to get involved,' Dylan remarked, kicking the door open into the REHAB unit. 'Here we go. God. Fresh paint. When did we last get that at the ED?'

His first steps weren't easy, and his fingers stung as they clung to the bars, Kim's hands firmly supporting his waist. He gritted his teeth, gasping, as he lifted one foot, and then the next. Connie stood outside, her eyes suspiciously sparkly, as she watched him through the window. He didn't hear Kim's words of encouragement, focusing on the NHS badge pinned to his jumper, sat on the chair in front of him. Dr Ethan Hardy. That was what he fought towards, his feet feeling as if they were moving through concrete. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes, his muscles burned- but he'd done it. Six steps.

Reflecting on that last week as an inpatient, he was surprised by how good he'd felt. He was proud of himself, something alien in this new world. He'd said goodbyes, and felt sad, and then happy that he felt sad. He'd read aloud to Cal, and managed to beat Alicia in a game of snakes and ladders. He'd taken five steps on his crutches, and managed an MRI, although the diazepam perhaps deserved the praise for that one. He'd slept through the night for the first time, and his speech was improving all the time.

'All ready?' Lofty asked, passing Ethan a book. He nodded, smiling shyly.

'Thanks for everything… you know. I'm really grateful.' Ethan said, stumbling over the words in a slightly different way than usual. 'You've been great, L-Lofty. You really have.'

Lofty grinned. 'You've been a good patient, Ethan. Better than your brother would have been.'

Ethan grinned back. 'There's a compliment.'

Connie appeared, wearing jeans and a jumper, far from her usual office style. 'Sure you don't fancy another week with us?' Lofty asked Ethan, who shook his head with a great deal of certainty.

'Got everything?' Connie asked, looking around the room, which now seemed even less hospitable. She'd spent the evening before with Cal, shifting furniture and arranging her home for her visitor. Even Grace had appeared, dragging her feet and complaining a bit, but enjoying the chaos. 'Let's get going. I try to avoid this place when I'm not working.'

'I'm less lucky,' Ethan said, shifting himself into the wheelchair. He'd learnt that skill a few days before, but watching him still made Connie anxious. 'Can't get away.'

'You'd better try. I've taken anything fragile or sentimental and put it on my wardrobe,' Connie warned him, but she was smiling. 'Ready?'

Ethan took a deep breath, and nodded. 'Let's go.'