Chapter Nineteen:

Charlie was almost asleep as well as Ethan. It was warm in the ED, despite the chill outdoors, and he was enjoying sitting in the calm, a book by his side, rather than running around the department as usual.

Ethan had slept soundly all evening long, much to everyone's relief. Cal had sent Charlie a text (or three) to check on his brother, all of which Charlie was able to reply to honestly telling him that Ethan was absolutely fine. He hadn't even stirred when he'd had to have his 9:30 injection. He looked very comfortable.

It was a fairly busy Friday night, as far as Holby's city centre was concerned, and at 10pm, things were already starting to build up in the emergency department. Charlie yawned, and stretched his legs. He'd run out of water, and there wasn't any in the room. He glanced over at Ethan, who was fast asleep. Surely it'd be alright to leave him for the three minutes it took to walk to the vending machine? He did a quick calculation. Three minutes there. Two to find the right change, key in the code and wait for the antagonisingly slow machine to dispense something that was one of his basic human rights at a ridiculously high cost (he did for the NHS, after all), and then three back. Even supposing there was a delay and he had to wait for someone else to get a drink. Ten minutes, tops. Ethan was dead to the world. And even if he did wake up- Charlie was there for moral support, not medical necessity- plus Ethan was somewhere familiar.

It'd be fine, surely.

Surely.