Again, thank you so so much for all the reviews. You've all been really generous with your feedback and I appreciate you taking the time to leave a few words.

Final part from me. I'm happy with the first half of this chapter, less so with the end. I should really have done a further edit on the last half but if I did that it would be another week before it was up (so busy at the mo) and I didn't want to make you wait.

Anyway, I hope it's okay and I'd love it if you can leave one final comment.

x

3.

Cal can hear someone calling his name. He can feel someone tapping his cheek, pressing on the pulse point of his neck. But he can't breathe. He can't get any air into his body. The panic shocks him into opening his eyes and he sees his colleague's face right in front of him, full of concern.

"Breathe into this," Iain says, holding an oxygen mask up to his mouth. "Come on, Cal, deep breaths."

Now that he's lucid enough to understand what's happening, his fears leap to Ethan. He's not going to breathe, not going to follow any of Iain's instructions until he knows his brother's okay. And if he's not, well, they may as well have left him to die in the sand.

"Ethan?" he chokes. He tries to peer around Iain but although the levels of sand have dropped as far as his waist he's still too weak to move.

"Ethan's gonna be fine," Iain tells him.

Iain seems to get the hint and shifts his position slightly so that Cal can see his brother sprawled in the sand. There's an oxygen mask over Ethan's mouth and Jez is in the process of fitting a neck brace, but Ethan's eyes are open and looking at him.

The relief sends him gasping for air and he's glad when Iain stretches the elastic of the mask around the back of his head. Every breath feels as if someone is sticking knives down his windpipe.

"Okay Cal, I'm gonna get an IV up and running."

He feels Iain straighten his left arm but doesn't register what he's been told until the sharp prick of a needle assaults his skin. "What for?" he murmurs.

Iain grimaces. "We could be here a while. Ethan told us about your leg. We're getting him out first so there's room to get the equipment in to free you."

Cal begins to shiver. He wants to escape this torture chamber as soon as possible. Although he's desperate for his brother to get to safety, the thought of being stuck without him sends another tear spilling down his cheek.

"Hey, it's okay," Iain says, "You're safe now."

He doesn't feel safe. Sand is still cascading from the roof. Although the hole in the wall has created a big enough space for the sand to pour through and spread itself thinner, the noise as the grains hit the floor reminds him of being buried alive. They were so close to dying. He'd thought it was over. As he remembers, black spots impair his vision and he struggles to hold his head up.

"Whoa, stay with us, mate," Iain says, his hands returning to Cal's neck to check his pulse.

"Cal!" A second voice calls weakly.

It's Ethan's voice that rouses him. His brother sounds hurt and terrified and as if he's put his last scrap of energy into calling his name. Cal blinks and eventually everything returns to focus.

"Ethan," he gasps.

"Cal, focus on your breathing." Iain swivels to face Ethan and Jez. "He's fine, nearly fainted, that's all."

Cal tries to follow the instruction but it's hard to keep his breaths slow and deep when he can see his little brother being loaded onto a board. He wishes he was fit to treat his brother. It's not that he doesn't trust the paramedics, but no-one can give Ethan same level of care he could. Besides, they weren't there. They don't know everything that happened.

"Ethan has a… head injury," he manages to say.

"We know. We're looking after him." Iain attempts his rehearsed fake smile. "C'mon mate, you've got the A-team!"

Cal makes a small noise in response. He's not going to waste any of his precious breath stoking Iain's ego when he may need to reserve it for helping Ethan.

But in Iain's favour, he continues to respect Cal's viewpoint as he works, ensuring he doesn't block his line of vision to Ethan. The only reason Cal doesn't object to the collar Iain's fitting around his neck is because it would detract from watching every movement as the second team of paramedics carry Ethan out of the jagged exit.

Once his brother is on route to the hospital, Cal is forced to consider his own condition. He still has to concentrate on each breath but the pain in his chest is finally subsiding. The sand has freed his torso completely and the layer on his legs looks as if it could easily be brushed off. Although he feels much calmer without the weight of sand surrounding him, he's cold, having had layers of insulation stripped away. The only source of warmth is Iain's hands against his icy skin.

"How long?" he murmurs.

"We're getting the firemen in now," Iain says. "They should be able to give us a time estimate. You alright mate? Pain bad?"

"Nah. Cold."

Iain nods. "Jez, chuck us a blanket."

The younger paramedic obliges and comes to crouch down next to them. "I've been talking to the guys," he says. "They don't reckon it'll take long to winch that beam off your leg, it's getting the area clear enough first which could cause a delay."

"Great." Iain drapes the blanket around Cal and slides onto the floor next to him. "You hang in there, mate."

"Alright if I give them a hand?" Jez asks. "Try to speed things up a bit."

"Go for it. I'll keep tabs on this one."

It seems to take hours for the team of firemen to create enough of a void in the sand for their equipment to sit flat on the floor. Cal's in no rush to get to hospital but he's desperate to get out of the chamber and back to his brother.

He's faintly aware that he's leaning on Iain. He knows his friend will mock him for this next time they're together in the pub but he's less concerned about that than he is when the chief fireman gives an order and Iain disappears to collect the back board from his ambulance.

Although he's sore and can feel exhaustion seeping through his body, Cal rolls his eyes as Iain returns. He sneaks a hand out from under the blanket and pulls the oxygen mask away from his mouth. "I don't need that board!"

"You're not getting a choice, mate," Iain tells him. "You fell, what, a good ten foot? We're immobilising you before you go anywhere." He points at the oxygen mask. "And put that back on, your sats are shocking."

"Don't assume… I'm gonna… get in the habit… of doing as you tell me," Cal says as he returns the mask to his mouth.

"Would I?" Iain grins. "You're sounding more yourself, how's things?"

"Need a drink. You're buying."

Iain exaggerates his deliberations. "Suppose I can stretch to a half."

Cal tries to smile but the short conversation has caused a wave of fatigue. "Another time, yeah?"

Iain calls Jez over and together they position the back board between Cal and the wall. He knows he's at a difficult angle to be transferred onto it and if he had any serious concerns about a spinal injury then he'd be sick with fear that they may jolt him. Instead, he's more worried whether their insistence on immobilising him is going to cause a significant delay. He needs to get to Ethan now. He needs to know how his little brother is doing.

He watches as the firemen slide their winch under the heavy beam he's trapped beneath. They count each other in and then gradually crank the handle of the machine. For a moment nothing seems to happen and Cal wonders whether even the metal of the fire service's equipment is strong enough. But then the pressure suddenly disappears from his leg and he can see the beam a few inches above him. Pain shoots through his ankle. He cries out but doesn't have chance to compose himself before the strong hands of his colleagues slide him onto the board.

He's flat on his back and still gasping from the pain before anyone turns their attention to his ankle. He can feel, but can't quite see, Iain gently sliding his shoe and sock off his foot. It hurts but he tries his best to keep his groans to a minimum.

Iain traces his finger up the sole of Cal's foot. "Can you feel that?"

"Yeah."

"And wriggle your toes."

It aches but Cal does as he's told.

"Okay. Looks like a simple fracture to me, mate, but I'm sure they'll get you to X-ray pronto."

Cal can do nothing but wait as Iain secures his leg in a splint and Jez straps him onto the board. He hates how they've trapped him again so soon after he got free and would tell them as much if he was sure it wouldn't cost him his breath.

The ride to hospital is horrible and he wonders how he was so exhilarated to be in an ambulance only a few hours ago. Every bump sends a surge of pain through his ankle. He feels sick from not being able to see where they're going. Iain keeps up a steady reel of conversation; jokes and football results interspersed with inquiries as to how he's doing. Cal limits his replies to one word answers wherever he can.

But when they reach the hospital he's far from comforted. His colleagues swarm around the ambulance and he's overwhelmed by the amount of people welcoming him. As he's wheeled down the corridor towards Resus, he notices for the first time how bright the ceiling lights are. They hurt to look at.

"Okay, Cal's been trapped for just under two hours," Iain says. "He's fallen approximately ten foot into a basement; only known injury from the fall is a suspected fractured ankle caused by impact from a beam landing on top of it." Iain pauses for the team to digest the information. "Cal's been buried amid a large quantity of sand which reached neck height, resulting in a loss of consciousness. His breathing has also been compromised; sats have increased to 92% now but were only at 90 when we first reached him. He's had one bag of saline and we've just started him on Entonox for the ankle. BP has remained good throughout and his GCS is back to normal."

Connie's face looms into his view. Cal can't recall ever seeing her smile at him before, but seeing as she looks unusually amenable, he gets his question in before she can speak.

"How's Ethan?"

"Ethan's fine, Cal. He's gone for a scan."

Cal struggles to knock the oxygen mask from his face. "What? Why?"

"Just precautionary." She firmly replaces the mask. "He was KO'd from a head injury, that's normal procedure. You know that."

"I want to see him."

"And you will, in good time." Her gaze shifts to the rest of the team, her smile vanishes. "Let's get him across to the bed."

Cal grunts as they transfer him. A hand squeezes his shoulder and he sees Iain give him an encouraging nod.

"I'll let Ethan know you're here, mate," he says, before heading towards the door.

Cal wants to give him a message to pass to his brother, but he's caught in the middle of frantic hands cutting him out of the borrowed uniform. Once his chest is bare he feels the cold of a stethoscope moving across him.

"Pulse is fine," Connie says, "but he's wheezy. Keep him on 100% oxygen for now and we'll try to get those sats back up to normal." She loosens the neck brace and works her fingers around his neck. "Cal, any pain or discomfort let me know."

He waits but doesn't feel anything except the strange sensation of having his boss's hands on his bare skin. "Is this necessary?" he murmurs.

"Entirely necessary. Right, let's roll him on his side so I can examine his spine."

Cal wants to squirm as Connie's fingers kneed their way down his back but the team are holding him completely still and all he's able to do is answer with a no every time she asks if it hurts. He's relieved when they roll him onto his back and even more so when Connie declares it's safe to remove the collar and board and let him sit up in bed.

"I want 20 minute obs for now," she says. "And another bag of saline. Nurse Miller, please book an X-ray for that ankle." She prods at the wound on his forehead. "Okay this is superficial so it'll need cleaning and dressing and let's get him into a gown." She gives him a fleeting smile. "You'll be fine."

Cal leans back against the hard mattress, only faintly aware of Robyn busying herself around him, completing her allocated tasks. Although the levels of pain are manageable, he feels weak with tiredness. He longs for the moment he can climb into his own bed and forget about the day he's had. He fully intends to discharge himself if they even suggest admitting him overnight.

He's still fantasising about getting home, when he notices a huddle of his colleagues outside the room. Rita, Iain and Zoe are standing in a tight circle as if they're conversing in secret. He's sure they're plotting something. Eventually they filter through the doors and gather by the foot of his bed.

"So," Rita says. "Ethan's in a side room. I imagine there's just enough room for the two of you if you don't mind sacrificing your medical confidentiality."

Cal heart leaps but looks towards Zoe in scepticism. "And Connie's okay with this?"

"I believe she's been called into a meeting," Zoe replies dismissively. "Something about an accident at a call-out that two of her doctors were caught up in? I heard it could take a while."

"Besides," Rita interrupts. "Iain's under the impression that either of you could resort to something stupid like getting out of bed to find the other, if we leave it too long. We'll say we had to move you out of concerns for your own welfare.

Cal manages a smile despite the restrictions of his oxygen mask. "Ethan's been asking for me?"

"He mentioned a vague interest," Iain says with a grin.

Cal's bed is wheeled into the room backwards so he strains to look over his shoulder, desperate to see his little brother. Ethan's in a gown that's too big for him, hooked up to a drip and a nasal cannula. He's still dirty with dust and Cal can see the crimson of dried blood besmirching his blonde hair.

Once the others have gone, there's so many things that Cal wants to say to his brother but even he has enough tact not to start the conversation with 'I'm glad you didn't die'. Instead, he offers a smile.

"Hey," Ethan whispers.

"Hey, bro."

Cal still doesn't know where to start. He remembers during their last few moments of consciousness he'd told Ethan he loved him. He knows that Ethan said it back. He's far too tired to try to recall the last time such words passed between them and so instead he considers whether they've changed anything. Ethan still has Huntington's disease. Cal still can't fix it. And yet he feels like they've had a lucky escape.

He could have easily lost his brother today. He still feels sick at the inevitability that Ethan's illness will end his life early but Huntington's buys them time. Accidents can steal a life in an instant. Cal supposes, as a doctor, he should have realised this already, but he suddenly understands how foolish their frequent arguments are. No-one can be guaranteed a long and healthy life. Cal doesn't want to waste any longer dancing around his and his brother's self-imposed boundaries.

"Iain told me Jimmy made it to surgery okay," Ethan said.

Cal nods. "Good."

He's barely thought about the man whose arm he amputated. It's typical of Ethan to care about a stranger even when his own life was at risk and even more typical for Cal to get so wrapped up in his own dramas that he forgets. So many times, Ethan has accused him of only caring for himself. But that's not true; he cares for his little brother too.

"I don't know what I'd have done if you'd have died," Cal says.

Ethan shrugs and stares at his lap.

Cal's forces a laugh. "This is where you say it back!"

"Oh, no, sorry," Ethan says, shaking his head. "Of course I'm glad you're okay. It's just…"

"Go on." Cal fiddles with his hospital wristband as he waits for Ethan to continue. "Look," he eventually says when it becomes clear his brother's sentence is lost. "Neither of us are good at this, at telling each other how we really feel. But in those last few minutes when we thought that was it… there was so much I still wanted to say to you. Stuff that I could have said before but didn't."

"It's just-" Ethan repeats. His lips twitch as he tries to find the words. "All things considered. It would have been a lot easier for you without me, than for me without you."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Don't pretend you don't know, Caleb."

Cal shifts as far onto his side as he can to frown at his brother. "No, Ethan, I do not know."

"Come on, you don't really want to be lumped with a sick brother, do you?"

"No. No, I don't," Cal says. "Of course I don't. I want you to live a long and healthy life. But if something prevents that, then I'll be there every step of the way. That's what I wanted to say. I'll look after you, even when times get bad."

"But that's what I meant." Ethan exhales deeply. "You couldn't be there for me if you'd died. I'd have been on my own. But if I had died, then that would have been the end of Huntington's for us."

Cal's breath sticks in his throat and he's suddenly glad of the oxygen being fed through his nose. "You're not saying-"

"No, I'm not. Honestly, I'm not."

"It could be 20 years yet, Ethan."

"20 years of wondering if this is the day symptoms start." Ethan pulls a face. "That's nothing to be thankful for. But I wouldn't wish it on anyone. No-one deserves this. Especially you." He pauses. "I meant what I said earlier, you know."

Cal manages a smile even though he can feel tears prickling his eyes. "What, that you love me?"

"Not that. Well, that too, not that you'll catch me saying it that often! But I meant about being sorry for what I said. I was just upset and I still am. But I know that blaming you isn't going to help me."

"And what will help?"

"I'm still trying to determine that."

"Well let me know if you come to a conclusion," Cal says. "Just talk to me. Please, I'm here for you."

Although Ethan nods, he doesn't meet Cal's eyes and so the older brother can't help but wonder whether Ethan will ever be able to fully share his feelings.

"I'm sorry too, you know," Cal says.

"You're apologising?" Ethan says incredulously. "And you don't even have anything to apologise for, for once."

"Hey! And I do. I'm sorry it wasn't me who has the gene. I- I've certainly done more to deserve it than you."

"No, Cal!" Ethan replies. "Actually, something that will help is never hearing you say that again. I don't want to waste my time thinking like that. I've done enough of it over the last few days."

"Okay," Cal says. He intends to grant Ethan his wish but just because he won't say it out loud, it doesn't mean he'll stop thinking it. "But let's do something. A holiday or trip. Sometime soon, before you start hating me again."

"I never hate you much, Caleb." He smiles. "So yes, that sounds like a splendid idea."