This is based on the 30th anniversary episode. I'm afraid there won't be much Jonnie or Charlie as I really want to keep everything as much like the original as possible and I don't want to be typing up scenes word for word and adding nothing new. This is focused on some of the other characters and the dramas that could have happened to them. There will also be three extra characters who have left the ED. They didn't return (or even send a message) in the episode, but I wanted to bring them back for Charlie's anniversary.

This is also my 50th story on fanfiction, so thank you for encouraging me to write so much. I'm sure I wouldn't even have got to five stories without your support.

Rita brushed her fringe off her hot forehead and wondered if this was a mistake.

Spending an hour sitting on a muggy station platform was not her idea of fun. At this rate, she was going to be unattractively clammy by the time she arrived (not that she was worried about looking good for anyone in particular: definitely not) and all for what?

How many people were going to be glad to see her?

One – and he was going to have a million other people to talk to.

An invitation had been sent to almost everyone Charlie had ever worked with. Had it been more exclusive, Rita doubted she would have been on the list. Not with Louise taking such an active role in the organisation of the party.

But she was and she'd felt she ought to come – she'd even slightly wanted to come – but now she was halfway here and already regretting it.

Rita closed her eyes. She knew she'd messed up. She'd messed up so horribly and she doubted there was anything she could do to change that. She'd felt so trapped and afraid and hopeless and Iain was the only person who'd made as though she was worth anything at all.

But then Iain had dumped her. Proving she was nothing. And then Rita's lie was exposed: the desperate lie she'd told, mostly just to shut Louise up because there was no way she could have admitted the truth; a lie she'd regretted as soon as she'd left her lips. But by then it had been too late.

The lie had sealed her fate and it was a fate Rita felt she deserved. If it wasn't for Charlie's party, she wouldn't have gone back. Charlie was the one person who hadn't wanted to let her go. The one person who'd bothered to contact her since her departure to check she was all right.

Rita jumped as the PA system burst into life again. An impersonal and completely unbothered voice informed Rita that there was a fault on the line and the train was running twenty-one minutes behind schedule.

No mention of whether the train was still stationary. No mention of whether she might have to wait a whole lot longer than twenty-one minutes.

Maybe this was a mistake. She wasn't going to be welcome and she'd been running late even at the start of her journey. She should just go home now. Cut her losses. Save herself perhaps an hour of sitting here, feeling sticky and uncomfortable. Not to mention another couple of hours cooped up on a train.

Rita got to her feet and walked towards the steps in feet that were already sore from the shoes she'd chosen to wear.

Yes. She would go home. Charlie would understand.

Ethan wasn't looking at her, but he caught the movement from the corner of his eye as Alicia walked out of the ED. Ethan considered leaving her alone: he didn't want to intrude if she wanted space and he certainly wasn't going to make another attempt to prove he wasn't the pathetic loser he still suspected he was, despite all his attempts to be more like Cal.

He'd tried so hard. He'd thrown himself into drinking and socialising. He'd embraced the salsa and although he wasn't on Cal's level as a dancer – he didn't know anyone who was – he really could move a bit and he actually enjoyed it.

But he still wasn't Cal and it was such hard work and no matter how hard he tried to slam the door on his diagnosis, it was always there. Always reminding him.

He looked at Alicia again. He could see even from this distance that she was unhappy.

He walked away from the group and through the door, heading towards Alicia. Please let me say the right thing this time. Please let me make her feel better. Please let me be more like Cal…

Zoe walked out of the station, her trolley bumping along behind her and stopped for a minute, taking in her first sight of the city she'd known so well. It felt both familiar and different: the sights and smells were as she remembered them, but something felt odd and out of place.

It took Zoe a moment or two to realise it was her.

Had she really changed so much? Zoe didn't feel as though she'd changed at all. Her time in America, although successful as far as her work was concerned, had seen another catalogue of disasters in her personal life as she fought to convince herself that this was what she wanted and needed; that this was a better option than staying and breaking Max's heart over and over again.

She often thought of him. Actually, she thought of him more often than not. Those eyes looking into hers: cheeky and boyish yet full of the wisdom Zoe had failed to acquire in forty-one years.

She blinked to clear the image away and walked towards the taxi rank, stopping as she saw someone ahead of her she was sure she recognised: someone with dark curly hair and a body she'd admired more than once, if several hundred times fewer than she'd admired Max's body.

"Lofty?" she called out as she began to run as quickly as her shoes and trolley allowed, but he was already in the taxi and the door had slammed behind him and Zoe couldn't even be completely sure it was him.

She slowed to a more sedate pace and walked towards the taxi rank. Lofty, or his doppelganger, had taken the last taxi. The sigh of annoyance that escaped her lips was quickly followed by relief and she stood for a moment on the path, wondering where that had come from.

But the answer to that was easy.

It was always scary, going back. She was glad to put it off for a few more minutes.

Cal watched as his brother went after Alicia. He tried to feel happy that Ethan was still trying and hadn't given up, despite the complete mess he'd made of it earlier in the pub. His jeans looked ridiculous, but Cal couldn't find a smile.

None of it mattered anymore. It was Charlie's special day and he could be about to lose Connie.

Cal's hands clenched into fists. He hated being so helpless. Charlie had done so much for him and he'd been helping people now for thirty years. He deserved to be celebrated. He deserved to see how much everyone loved him.

And now this. His friend Connie and her child were fighting for their lives.

Cal felt a tightening in his chest as he thought of how Connie must be feeling. He knew what it was like to be afraid of losing your child; to fear you might never see her again.

Would they even have seen each other before they were whisked away, Connie in the ambulance and Grace in the helicopter? Cal didn't know. He tried not to think about it because much as it had torn him apart, he was now glad that he'd been able to say goodbye to Matilda.

He wished he could go into Resus and help, but Elle and Dylan seemed to have it all under control and Cal knew he couldn't do it. He'd always been a coward. He'd run from Matilda and he knew he'd run from treating Connie now if he'd had half the chance. Connie was the opposite: she would always face everything, no matter how hard it hit her. Nothing would have made her run from Grace. She was probably fighting to be allowed to see her, even now.

Connie was the incredible parent - and doctor - Cal had wanted to be but couldn't.

Cal closed his teary eyes and prayed for the safe arrival of Connie's little girl.

Lofty knew there was no point. He'd long ago lost count of the number of texts he'd sent, but the number of replies he'd received seemed to be printed indelibly into his brain: zero. All this time and nothing from Dylan. Lofty had guessed Dylan was disappointed he was leaving and he'd been flattered by that, but he'd hoped that once Dylan had calmed down, he would contact him.

He hadn't.

All Lofty heard of Dylan was the occasional update from Robyn and Max, and that was more likely to be describing something apparently ridiculous Dylan had done than to let Lofty know that Dylan was okay. Lofty could have asked of course, but he held back from it: afraid of their reactions and perhaps also afraid of his own.

Hi Dylan, I'm in a taxi, just left Holby Station. Hope to see you at the party.

Lofty knew there was a chance that Dylan wouldn't even attend. A text from Lofty was unlikely to change his mind about that.

But still he hoped. Just as he'd been hoping all these months to hear from the man who'd become such a surprisingly good friend.

Robyn leaned against the wall, tears sliding down her cheeks. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't fair. She couldn't lose anyone else.

She and Glen were happy now, but they would only have a short time together. Connie, of course, wasn't particularly close to Robyn, but Robyn admired and respected her; perhaps even loved her in a way. At times, Connie seemed to have no heart at all, but perhaps that was because she'd poured every ounce of it into the ED. And into being Grace's mum.

Robyn felt a hand on her arm and looked up. Louise's features, often sardonic, had softened with concern and for once, she kept her mouth closed, speaking all her compassion with her eyes.

"I know I'm being silly," hiccupped Robyn as she wiped her tears away.

"It's okay," said Louise in an unusually gentle voice. She put her arm around Robyn. "I know we deal with stuff like this every day, but this is people we know."

Robyn nodded and strained her ears, desperate to hear the gentle thrumming of an approaching helicopter. She heard nothing.

"We've just got to keep positive," said Louise. She sounded close to tears too. "It's all we can do."