Chapter 11:

Another chapter! This one isn't very exciting, but I have already written Chapter 12 which I will post tomorrow. Enjoy!

Henrik watched, his heart in his mouth. He didn't really know why. He couldn't really remember much about Dr Ethan Hardy, prior to a month ago. Guy was an expert, which Henrik found himself clinging to. His hands, during the neurology exam, were as smooth and perfectly stable as his patient's were shaky and uncertain.

Dylan eyed Guy, feeling differently. As a doctor, he had a solid grasp of why and what Guy Self was doing to his patient. On a personal level, he found himself almost waiting for him to hurt Ethan, waiting to jump in and shove Guy and his penlight away.

'Dr Keogh. Ms Beauchamp.' Henrik turned to them, with a curt nod. 'I believe we discussed alerting Dr Knight earlier. Perhaps now would be a good time for you to do so.'

Connie felt a flicker of shame in her stomach at the gratitude she felt at being able to leave the room. On the way to the department, she'd welcomed and anticipated the urge to fight for him and throw her whole self into ensuring he recovered. Yet at the first chance to up it and not have to look at Ethan for five minutes, she was at the door in seconds.

'Sit,' Dylan ordered her. 'I'm not catching you again.'

She did so, immediately. She looked up at him, for once giving him complete charge of a situation. 'What now?' she asked, her voice cracking. 'Do we get Cal back?'

'He's showing signs of normal function,' Dylan said. He flexed his fingers, resisting the urge to crack them loudly against his palms. 'Memory isn't fantastic, but he's just had brain surgery, for goodness' sake. Next few hours will let us know.'

'He could have another bleed,' Connie shuddered, suddenly finding the idea of it grisly. 'Cal's more than a few hours away.'

'And he could be completely fine,' Dylan sat down suddenly and hard, making Connie jump. 'We won't know. It could be that Cal spends thousands flying back, quits a perfectly good opportunity, and Ethan's back to himself in a week.'

'Head injury aside, it'll be more than a week before Ethan's himself again. We've got to be fair to Cal.' Bitterness in her voice stung them both. Dylan didn't know how to react. He prepared himself to sound gentle and kind, but his reply took them both aback.

'Really, Connie? I hadn't noticed.' He slammed his arm down on the metal armrest separating the seats. 'Bovine TB. What are the chances? This was never going to be simple. Never fair. He's a decent bloke. Not far off a consultancy. And this happens? It'll set him back years, no matter how much we try and prevent it. And this? Depending on his motor control, he might never walk again. Talk again. Who says he'll ever work again, in this hospital or not?' Dylan was shouting now. He didn't remember getting to his feet, or clenching his fists. She was shrinking back, staring at him. 'None of this is bloody fair!'

'Dr Keogh!' Hanssen was in the corridor now, two pink spots on his cheeks. His eyes were flashing ever-so-slightly, animating his face. 'If this is how you choose to behave in your own department, I'm disgusted, but you're certainly not doing it here. Especially not when Dr Hardy's so ill. Either you sit down immediately and be quiet, or you leave.' He glared at Dylan, who was silenced.

'I'm going to call Dr Knight and let him decide what's best for him and Ethan,' Connie told Hanssen, ignoring Dylan. 'When is Guy moving him to the ward?'

'Another fifteen minutes. Memory seems affected, and Mr Self is struggling to assess mobility given his pre-existing condition. The neurological damage is the biggest concern. Mr Self believes he's best in this department, and I'll support that decision, regardless of what Mr Albion feels suits him.' As Hanssen paused to glance at Dylan, Connie felt a little surprised. Hanssen didn't like Mr Albion? 'I suggest you contact Dr Knight, and then we'll move Dr Hardy.'

Connie nodded. It was surprising having someone telling her what to do was welcome, at the time. She never excelled being under someone else's instructions. 'Dr Ke- Dylan. Are you joining me?'

Dylan shook his head, roughly. He cleared his throat. 'I'm going to let the ED team know what's going on. I'll cover you for today, so you can stay with him. If that's what you want, obviously.'

'It is.'

'I'll get any of his things from orthopaedics, let them know they've been cleared to free up the bed. Get any notes.' He couldn't seem to keep his throat clear, and Hanssen gave him a sharp glare. 'I'll- I'll meet you down in neuro.'

Connie's fingers shook as she stabbed at the keypad. What time was it in Australia. 12pm, if her maths was anything to go by. She only hoped he had his phone on. Her extensive knowledge of the Holby hospital switchboard wasn't going to be very useful when it came to trying to track down Cal in a hospital Down Under.

Fortunately, he answered on the third ring. She expected him to be either bouncing and grinning, or demanding to know what she'd done with his brother. There wouldn't be an inbetween when it came Dr Caleb Knight.

'How is he, Connie? Christ. Isn't it 3am with you?' the realisation dawned on Cal as he said the words, and she heard the change in his voice. 'Connie. What's happened?'

The worlds snared and tangled each other. 'He's in neuro… fall from the bed… Guy's operated… memory… could be fine… could be… could… maybe… wait and see…' Connie was crying again, and Cal sounded angry.

'I'm coming back. Of course I'm sodding coming back. I'll be on the first plane that I can get a ticket on,' he sounded as if he was spitting. 'Connie… Connie, he won't…'

'He's stable,' she told him, scrubbing at her eyes with a shredded tissue. 'Just get here, Cal. We'll look after him until then. And after that, too.'