This is the second to last chapter (unless I suddenly find a massive plot hole - highly unlikely but I'm just covering all the bases!) Just so you know as you read this chapter, Arthur is completely made up, he's not a character in Casualty and is definitely not the same Arthur as the one in Holby City!

"This isn't getting any easier, or any less painful," Lily said, trying hard not to limp across the physiotherapy room on her new prosthetic foot. Ethan walked alongside her loyally as she slowly paced up and down the linoleum floor.

"You are doing better every time I come to watch. You walk more freely every single time," he encouraged.

"And you have to remember, you're training new parts of your leg to take all the impact of walking," the physiotherapist said. He was a middle-aged man called Arthur, who didn't mind repeating this to Lily for what seemed to be the millionth time. The in-between times didn't matter so much; his sole focus was on helping his patients walk away for the final time.

"Yeah, and training myself to cope with blisters in places I never thought possible," Lily hissed, frowning with the effort.

"That will ease, in time. Like the rest of your recovery process, it will take time," Arthur said patiently. Lily let out a rush of breath and stopped, mid-way across the room. Ethan took her hand instinctively and she squeezed it a little harder than he had been expecting. He winced.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to do that," she said.

"It's okay, if that's what's going to get you through this then squeeze away. But do try not to crush all of the bones in my hand, I might need them for my shift later," he smiled.

"All right, enough of the sarcasm Dr Hardy!" she said breathlessly. She made her way to the other side of the room and sat down heavily.

"Remind me again why I'm doing this?" she asked. "Why am I putting myself through this, every single week, when I'm clearly not getting any better?"

"Don't be stupid," Ethan said gently. "Can you remember the first time we came? You could barely take one step on that foot. And yet you still battled on. By the time we reached this end of the room you were in tears, but you still did it."
"That didn't answer my question," she retorted irritably. She was directing her anger more at herself than at Ethan, because she truly couldn't see the progress she'd made, since that first session that was so bad even Zoe heard about it (although Lily was unaware that this was only because Ethan had poured out his woes over tea in her office.)

"Okay then. Cast your mind back further. When Mrs Beauchamp visited you, the first thing she said when she came back was 'I can't imagine we'll be without Dr Chao for very long.' And do you know why she said that? She's visited colleagues in hospital before, and none have sounded so earnest about returning to work as you did that day. That's why you're doing this: because you're an amazing doctor, you know you are, adn you love your job." Lily leaned against him, smiling.

"I do, but not nearly as much as I love you. I think I'm ready to go home now."

"Your wish is my command m'lady. Thank you for your help, Arthur, we really appreciate it." He noticed Lily's face drop when she realised her wheelchair was at the other end of the room. "I can't believe we're doing this again. Come on you!" He picked her up like she weighed nothing, and carried her across the room to the chair.

"You didn't have to do that you know," she said over the kitchen table later on.

"I like coming to physio with you. You need me," he replied, deliberately not making ey contact.

"That's not what I meant, Ethan Hardy, and you know it! I meant carrying me across the room again."

"I wasn't going to have you crawl, those leggings are new, are they not? And since I'm the one doing the washing round here, I think I have every right to decide what you're not allowed to do in your clothes. God, I sound like my mother!" It was a sure sign that Ethan was getting over his grief, that he didn't even flinch at his words anymore. Lily took his hand.

"I'm going to bed, okay? Thank you for today."

"You're very welcome, as always. Do you want me to bring you a cup of tea before I get ready for work?" he asked. Lily deliberated, then nodded. "Would you like me to help you?" he said, seeing the tiredness in her eyes. He may have converted the dining room into an easy-access bedroom, but that did nothing for the exhaustion after a session making it hard for Lily to get anywhere at all.

"You shouldn't have to this for me," she sighed.

"But I do, and I don't love you any less for it. I'd do the same thing again."

"Have I told you lately how brilliant you are?" she said, smiling wearily.

"Oh, not nearly enough," he joked, helping her out of the chair and onto her crutches.

When Lily was asleep, Ethan drove to Holby for his night shift. He thought he was imagining it at first, but as the night wore on, he became sure that Dylan was avoiding him. He was confused, but for Dylan things were crystal clear. He'd messed up big time for Lily, so the more he stayed out of her life the better. When he ended up in resus with Ethan, as seven o'clock and the end of the shift drew near, he barely made eye contact with him at all. The patient was losing output fast, but Dylan was determined not to ruin any more lives. He was far too aware of his patient's wife standing outside resus, her hands resting on her baby bump.

"Dr Keogh, he's been asystolic for thirty minutes. These continuous cycles of compressions are not going to bring him back." Dylan paused Ethan's chest compressions to check for a pulse at the man's neck.

"Resume CPR," he ordered. Ethan sighed, powerless to disagree. Panting, he tried to reason with the consultant.

"Dr Keogh, you need to consider -"

"No, continue compressions," he said gruffly.

"But -"

"FINE!" Dylan snapped. "If it's what you so desperately want, I'll call it. Stop compressions. Time of death – 6.59am. Happy now?" He stormed out of resus, ignoring Ethan's pleas to return and walking past his dead patient's wife without giving her a second glance. Reaching the locker room, he closed the door behind him and leant against it, breathing hard. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. Despite his best efforts, a tear escaped his eye and he brushed it away angrily.

There was a gentle knock at the door. Dylan didn't move.

"Leave me alone Dr Hardy."

"Dylan, it's me," Zoe said anxiously.

"Don't, Zoe. I really, really don't want to talk about it."