Content Warnings (will update these chapter by chapter): general themes of mental health and graphic description of panic attack (at the very end, you can stop reading at "that was an awful lot of blood" xxx)

Set after Born Lucky but on a different timeline to baby Matilda :)

Basically I'm Ethan trash and this is all the-benasaurusrex's fault thnx loofy you made me like this

This is my first fic in the fandom so I hope it's ok ! if you could leave feedback that would be hella cool thank you x

Contrary to popular belief, Ethan was not an anxious person.

Cautious, perhaps. Thorough, certainly. He was as prone to mulling over a diagnosis at the end of the day as any doctor, wondering if he'd been precise enough, if he could have done anything differently. But he'd been through too many years of medical school to lack confidence in his basic ability as a doctor.

Which made the tightness in his chest as he hovered on the ED's threshold unusual indeed.

He shook his head, gripping his briefcase tighter and telling himself it was nothing. Maybe it was something to do with his time off- the only voice he'd heard for the past few days was the automated line for sick staff, which he'd apologised to repeatedly. He'd most likely be in cubicles today, anyway, nothing too stressful. Everything's fine.

He felt a little lightheaded as he headed towards the staffroom, but kept repeating it in his head. By the time he reached his locker, he almost believed it.

This would all be a lot easier if Cal deigned to show his face. Ethan wouldn't have been called in at all if they weren't short-staffed; his brother hadn't been home all week, and if he was too distracted to show up at a place with clean clothes and a shower, you could bet your next month's wages he wouldn't be at work. Probably chasing up his next conquest, Ethan thought bitterly. He wouldn't have been so angry- or worried, not that he'd admit it- if Cal would just pick up the phone when Ethan called. Cal's voicemail must have been almost full, the amount of exasperated messages he'd sent.

Focus. You've got enough to be going on with without worrying about him.

"Ethan?" The doctor turned at the voice, smiling as Rita appeared at his elbow. "What are you doing here?"

He huffed out a laugh. "I do still work here, don't I? I hope you haven't decided to get rid of me already."

"No, course not, it's just-" Rita hesitated, thinking better of what she had to say. "I didn't expect to see you back so soon, is all."

"I am on rota, aren't I?" Ethan asked. "Well, then. Can't sit around feeling sorry for myself forever." He took a set of notes from the waiting pile and flipped them open.

"Ethan," she rested a hand on his arm. "Nobody would think any less of you if you decided to take some more time off, you know."

Ethan smiled, tight-lipped. "I'm touched, Rita, thank you, but I really don't think that'll be necessary. I've never felt better."

"Alright," Rita looked sad. Maybe they'd replaced him with some attractive locum in his absence. It wouldn't be the first time a locum had waltzed into the ED purely to undermine Ethan, after all. "I'm around if you need me, okay?" Ethan nodded, heading into cubicles.

He couldn't rely on other people. not today. He was a doctor. Whatever strange nerves these were, he had to deal with them on his own.

"Rita, I just think we should talk to him!"

"Listen, we all have different methods for things like this." Ethan could hear Rita's voice just inside the staffroom. He stilled, hand on the doorknob, listening. Normally he would feel guilty for eavesdropping, but right now he had a feeling there was some sort of blanket rule to dry up any serious conversations when he entered the room.

He was sick and tired of the way people kept looking at him. It was like when he'd been in hospital for a spell, as a child, and nobody was quite sure how to act around him anymore; desperately attempting to seem normal but actually walking on eggshells. Honestly, it had him worried that everyone else knew something he didn't- he'd been under the impression that he'd had a mild case of the flu, not a terminal disease. The awkward silences and stares that followed him as he started treating patients were one thing, but Lofty had practically dived in order to help Ethan pick up a dropped thermometer, Lily hadn't corrected him on a single fact today, and even Louise had offered him a cup of tea. Louise.

He couldn't help but feel like whatever he suggested right now would be met with polite and understanding smiles, no matter how ridiculous it was. Ethan knew he should probably be flattered, but it was weird. Not to mention uncomfortable and distracting.

"The man just wants some normality, Lily, and it's our job to give that to him."

"But he didn't even show up at the funeral! He wouldn't have missed it unless there was something seriously wrong-"

"Remember how hard it was to get Dixie to Jeff's funeral? As long as he's healthy and not a liability to this department, I'm not going to fuss over him like a child, alright?" Rita sighed. "Look, I know you're just trying to help, but if he wants to keep busy I say let him."

Ethan heard a coffee mug being set against the tabletop. "Alright. But at the first sign that he shouldn't be here-"

"I send him straight home. The whole team is here to support him, remember, not just you."

For a second, the tightness returned to Ethan's chest, but he suppressed it with a deep breath. It seemed strange that Lily was so worried about something emotional, as mean as that sounded-

God, what if this was something to do with Cal? That would explain why he was avoiding Ethan's calls, why everyone was looking at him like he was about to erupt at any moment. Of course. That was unfair, though. Rita had mentioned something about a funeral. If Cal had lost someone, an old friend maybe, well. It was better he stayed off work than came in distracted. What had Rita said? Something about him keeping busy? Maybe his good-for-nothing brother was doing something, for once in his life. Ethan felt strangely proud, if a little guilty.

I should probably try calling him again. Kinder, this time, Ethan mused, resolving to talk to Lily about it later.

"Ethan, I was hoping I could catch you, have you got a minute?" Ethan looked up as he heard Rita enter the staffroom. She shut the door gently behind her, and sat down beside him, setting a largish cardboard box on the table. "How are you doing?"

Ethan smiled slightly. Even as a nurse, and a friendly one at that, Rita hardly ever paid such close attention when other people came back after an illness. "A little light-headed, but as well as can be expected, thank you."

"Want me to pop the kettle on?" When Ethan shook his head no, she bit her lip. "Alright- I understand if you're not in the mood right now, darling, but I've got some of Cal's things for you. Take whatever you want, yeah? I can cover for you for a little bit if you like."

"What?" Ethan blinked. He lifted the lid of the box, to see the contents of Cal's locker. "How did you get these?"

"Well, Max has keys to all of these lockers- yeah, comforting thought, isn't it?" she grinned as Ethan's expression caught between amused and suddenly very paranoid. "Anyway, we thought you deserved first pick. Anything you don't want we can ask around, Iain will probably want a look."

Ethan snorted. "He won't be happy with this, you know," he warned. To be honest, he was surprised at Rita. Nurse managers shouldn't be getting involved in any practical jokes, let alone rooting through somebody's locker. He imagined Cal's face as he went in on his next shift- yeah, now he couldn't blame her. After the way he acted with most of the department, getting one up on him was too good an opportunity to miss. And after everything Cal put him through on a regular basis, Ethan definitely deserved first pick. "Thank you, Rita."

She nodded. "I'll be around if you need me, yeah?" she said, grabbing her coffee mug and leaving Ethan alone with the box. Sadly, there was no diary- though maybe that was more of a blessing. One reading of Cal's poetry had been more than enough. But as Ethan's hand reached for the stethoscope, the tightening in his chest came back, stronger than ever. He struggled for breath for a few heartbeats, hands trembling, before it evaporated and he was left with.

Well.

With what felt like a crushing sort of empty.

It shouldn't be all that surprising, really. For someone who'd tested Ethan's emotional spectrum to its limit- fear, anger, love, resentment- most of the time there was just a big patch of nothing when he thought about his family anymore.

He thought that it might actually be deliberate at this point. Worrying about the time they'd wasted hating each other, focusing on the family they could have been, maybe could still be… there comes a point where all that loneliness and all that wishful thinking starts eating you up, and Ethan had a job to do. A life to live. He had to do something to protect himself.

Most of the items in the box were rubbish. It was a well known fact that the brothers were pretty much polar opposites in neatness- that's why Ethan argued his suture work was so much tidier. He rooted through old receipts and flyers until he found a thick rectangle of shiny photo paper. The edges had some wear and tear, but the picture had never been folded. Ethan turned it over, then promptly dropped it onto the table.

It was their garden. The old one, before the second move, with the big rhododendrons and the tree Ethan had broken his arm falling out of aged nine. In the picture, three people looked at him with frozen smiles- teenage Cal stood with his arm around eleven-year-old Ethan's shoulders, back when Ethan had still had braces that made him lisp. They were both in school blazers, Cal's tie hanging loose, Ethan's uniform ironed and hanging off him. They were mid-joke- Ethan's hair had the look of the recently ruffled.

Behind them- Ethan had to remind himself to breathe- Matilda looked on fondly, the strap of her blue sundress starting to slide off her shoulders. She looked young, happy. Because she was, Ethan realised. This had to have been taken before… well, before. Before their dad had not so much walked out as been thrown, and Cal stayed out drinking until dawn, and Ethan had been so anxious to speak in the same class as his bullies he'd almost wet himself. Before everything had got complicated and loud.

He turned the photo over, and saw printed in Cal's very neatest handwriting Nibbles' first day at high school. The picture was almost twenty years old, but Cal still had it in his locker. Which must have meant he'd carried it to all his hospitals, even the ones halfway across the world.

Ethan hesitated. He almost felt guilty for taking it out of the locker, but he definitely didn't want anyone else getting a look at this. Swiftly, he pocketed it, making sure it didn't crease.

Folded into the corner of the box was a grey t-shirt that still smelled like Cal's laundry soap. Cal always used the same one, even as a teenager, since he was allergic to most brands. Ethan used to joke that it was like a nasal warning siren. Now it just smelled like.

Well.

It just smelled like missing someone.

Ethan didn't so much throw himself into work as bury himself in it. He must have treated three times his usual amount of patients, and if his bedside manner had become somewhat brusque, well. His job was to provide medicine, not a counselling service. Besides, Dylan had been worse than this for years and nobody had fired him yet.

Speaking of Dr Keogh, there he was now, flipping through a patient's notes and rolling his eyes as Zoe spoke to him. "Tread lightly!" Ethan heard, as she shot him a tight smile

As Ethan tried to collect notes from the desk, Dylan cleared his throat. "Oh, um Ev- Ethan, could I have a word?" Setting down the pages, Ethan's knuckles went white. If one more person wanted to dance around him like he was made of glass...

"Well, um, you know I don't make it a habit to pry into my colleagues' personal lives- in fact, I'm only here because Zoe asked me to-"

Ethan huffed out a breath. "Is there a problem with my performance, Doctor Keogh?"

Dylan rested his hands on his hips. "Well, no, but you have been a little- shall we use the term overzealous?"

"Right, then have I caused some sort of upset in the staff?" That was a loaded question. If Dylan didn't get to the point pretty soon, Ethan might decide to cause several upsets with the staff.

"No, but your well-being does have implications for the entire department, so-"

"Then I'm afraid I don't see what the problem is," Ethan gathered up his notes, gesturing over to triage. "If you'll excuse me-"

"Look, I'm not saying you need it," Dylan held up a hand in defense. "But when I was, ah, indisposed, the sessions I had with Ben were very beneficial. Helped me get back on the horse, so to speak."

"How would Lofty be able to- sorry, do you mean Ben Harding?"

"It- it is an option, a worthwhile one, should you-"

"Are you suggesting I need counselling?" he shook his head in disbelief. "What is everyone's problem with me today? When you have an issue with how I treat my patients, Doctor Keogh, I'd love to take this up with you, but I'm really rather busy at the moment."

"Right, yes, okay," Dylan nodded, staring at a fixed point on the floor. "Well- if you could let Zoe know I tried-" he called after Ethan's retreating back as the junior doctor stormed away.

"Okay everybody, we've got a major RTC headed in, two serious injuries, ETA around three minutes."

Lily gripped Ethan's shoulder. "You don't have to do this if you're not ready, you know."

"Oh, not you too!" Ethan rolled his eyes, pulling away from her grip. "I am so- tired, of everybody trying to undermine me! I took some time off, that doesn't mean I've forgotten how to do my job."

Lily, to her credit, looked a little guilty. "You're right. I'm sorry. Personally I think it's very admirable that you've decided to continue." She rested her hand on Ethan's arm, but this time he didn't throw it off.

"It's fine, I appreciate it, really," Ethan smiled. "But honestly, we were both in that crash. I've taken plenty of RTCs since, we even did that dreadful group therapy session."

Lily frowned. "What? I'm not talking about our accident. Ethan-" She was interrupted as Dixie burst through the doors, passing Lily the info. "Alright, what have we got?"

"Right, this is Alex, early thirties, RTC. GCS 10, Sats at 92 percent-"

Right.

That was an awful lot of blood, wasn't it?

Ethan didn't move. Couldn't. He knew he should be following Lily, starting the primary survey, but his chest was too tight- he dragged a few shaky breaths, but his lungs started to hurt, starved of oxygen. He raised his hands, surprised to find them trembling violently. He was dimly aware of things around him- movement, noise- but when he tried to step forward, his legs felt weak.

"C-Cal?" he gasped, still desperately trying to breathe. "I'm- I can't- Cal?"

What was happening? A distant, detached part of his brain tried to run a diagnosis. Had he been drugged? Was he more sick than he thought? The rest of him was focused on his nerves, how every one of them felt electrocuted, fizzing, his heart trying too hard to pump blood but none of it was going to his head, the world had started to look blurry and dark around the edges.

"Ethan? Ethan are you alright?" He tried to answer, to reassure whoever was speaking, but the red-hot pain in his head made him cringe away and he could only look with pleading eyes, chest heaving as he tried to draw air into his lungs. His legs gave out without warning, landing him in an unceremonious heap. "Can I get a trolley here, please?"

Then there were hands, disembodied hands trying to push him. "No," Ethan tried again, pressing his shaking hands over his ears to try and block out the too-loud sounds of RESUS. "I'm- I'm dying- Cal- p-please get Cal."

Asthma attack? Seizure? Stroke?

"Alright, darling, it's alright, we've got you," a gentle hand touched his as he was wheeled out of RESUS. The voice sounded almost tearful, and Ethan desperately wanted to get up, find out what was wrong. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get the world to stop spinning. His mouth felt too dry and god, his chest, why couldn't he breathe-

He gripped tightly onto the hand holding his own, almost afraid he would crush the bone. "Please get Cal," he said in a painful whisper, before his grip went slack and his eyelids felt too heavy to open again.