Thank you for keeping with me and this story! Here is chapter 20.

Chapter Twenty:

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Ethan groaned, rolling over and burrowing under his pillows. Whatever machine he'd set off, someone would stick a needle in him or adjust something or other. He didn't need to know what it was. "Sharp scratch" was a rubbish way to describe any injection, let alone the TB ones.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Come on, fix me, he thought. He didn't feel any more pain than usual. Heart rate felt normal. Breathing rather well.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Reluctantly, he rolled back over, shuffling to sit back up against the pillow. What was going on?

'Fire! Errr… that way, please. Sir! No! You can't go to the toilet, we need to evacuate the department. This way, everybody, please!' Big Mac was shouting. Ethan's brain scrambled to process so many words at once.

Fire Alarm. Evacuate.

Why was he on his own? He hadn't been on his own for a while. Who had been with him? Duffy? Dylan? No. Someone beginning with a c. Cal? Connie? Charlie? Charlie. That was it.

'Ch-Charlie?' he called, softly.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

It was loud and wasn't stopping. Fire. He needed to leave.

How? He could hardly walk three steps, let alone fully abide by the Holby City General Hospital Fire Policy (revised January 2016). Why wasn't Charlie there? How long had he been gone for?

Ethan found his body moving before his brain had quite caught up. He realised he was clinging to the sides of the bed, slowly lowering himself down to the floor. About 5 centimetres above the floor, he lost his grip, landing on his back. Taking a deep breath, he rolled onto his stomach, face down on the blue-grey lino, and started to crawl towards the door.

Running along the corridor as fast as he could, Charlie felt sick. 'Ethan. I've got to get Ethan.' Charlie told Duffy, as he passed her and one of the Locum doctors. 'You go.'

He found his way to the side room, and glanced in at the door. He saw the bed was empty, and inhaled with relief. Someone had thought to get Ethan out. Looking behind him, he saw the first pale flecks of smoke beginning to rise up. Thank God Ethan was out.

Ethan could see someone at the door. He was trying to shout, tell them he was still there, but his brain just wasn't producing the words quickly enough. The figure walked away.

His arms burned as he slowly dragged himself along the floor. His hip wasn't strong enough for crawling, not yet. If he was honest, he doubted it'd be feeling strong enough before he qualified for an NHS replacement due to old age. The door between his room and the corridor which led to help was an obstacle and a bloody big one at that. He threw as much of his bodyweight forward to his shoulders, roaring out with pain and effort, vision clouding, and it gasped open.

The pride he felt was quite impressive, particularly considering his workplace and current place of residence was potentially an inferno. He was feeling almost giddy with tiredness.

A loud crash from down in the corridor was enough to make him properly jump, sending his heart right into his mouth. Grunting, he made progress- steadily but slowly. Where was he even going? Away from the banging and clattering, that was for sure.

Outside, Charlie finally caught up to Duffy, who was frantically being briefed by David. 'Where's Ethan?' they both asked one another at the same time.

'I don't know. His bed was empty, I looked,' Charlie garbled. 'He'll be out here somewhere.'

The look in Duffy's eyes made Charlie's stomach clench. 'No,' she shook her head, as if her ears were full of cold water, 'No, Charlie. I said you were with him, that you'd be getting him out. I told Big Mac to keep going. I thought you had him. Why weren't you with him?' Her eyes filled with angry tears. 'Charlie! You left him, didn't you?'

Dr Keogh strode over, quickly, after shouting something over his shoulder. He'd just arrived after receiving a call from the hospital. 'It's bloody cold out here! Don't stand about waiting. Dr Hardy can be transferred back to Neuro. It's the incinerators, there's no fire, but that smoke's nasty, so best keep him away.'

'Dylan, we've not got him.' Charlie grabbed Dylan's hand, although he wasn't sure why. 'I thought someone else had him, he's not here.'

Silence.

Dylan felt as if there was ice slowly climbing his spine. His body felt as if it could go into panic at any second. He shook his own head. 'What?'

'I… I… I went to get water. I was gone about two minutes, Dylan, that's all. As soon as I heard the alarm, I went back, but his bed was empty. Someone's got to have him out here.'

'No. Nobody else.' Dylan's brain was going too quickly. He couldn't think.

'I saw his bed was empty,' Charlie gripped Dylan, 'Dylan, he's got to have tried to move. He must have been behind the door. He must have. Or he's here. Someone might have got him. He might be here.'

'And he might not,' Duffy had tilted her head up to the sky, trying to stop her tears from falling. She had to be a nurse. Calm. Collected.

Those four words were all that it took for Dylan to start running back towards the department, his arms and legs moving in a way they hadn't done in years. His brain was working like a SATNAV, piloting a route for him. Where would he have gone? Would he have the knowledge to work out what the alarm meant? Was Charlie right? Was Ethan out with everyone else all along?

The corridor seemed longer, wider, and darker than he remembered it. Thick smoke was beginning to trickle through the vents, more like concrete than air. Dylan ripped his sweater off, wrapping it tightly around his nose and mouth.

Ethan lay on his back, panting. He could see the smoke swirling, and reached out. It was so thick that he could almost shape it with his fingers. He just needed a little break. Then, he'd carry on dragging himself. How much longer would he take? How much longer until he was back in a soft, warm bed.

'Cal.' He said, suddenly, the sound of his voice surprising himself. 'Move. Go get Cal.'

With a heavy cough, he turned onto his front, flopping like a fish, and then scrabbling to grip his palms onto the floor. All he wanted to do was shut his eyes and curl up.

'Keep go.' He whispered to himself, feeling the bumpy lino under his fingertips moving. His elbows burned. 'You do it can.'

The alarm blared on, deafening Dylan as he moved down the corridor. The smoke was black- not grey like he'd expected, but a deep, charcoal black. He'd be lucky to spot Ethan at five paces at this rate. Where was he?