I'm not really that keen on Ethan's recent personality transplant, but it did give me the idea for this story. It's slightly based on the beginning of the last episode, Survivors (16.04.16).

Cal stopped the car. "Okay? Can you walk from here or should I take you right up to the entrance?"

Ethan adjusted his sunglasses and tried to convince himself that they were perfectly acceptable attire for an ED registrar. "I'm a doctor, Cal. Not a patient."

"I bet half the patients in the waiting room don't feel as bad as you." Cal's voice contained both sympathy and amusement. He knew how bad a hangover could be (and he'd kindly provided Ethan with a bucket, paracetamol and a glass of water, all of which Ethan had appreciated), but he seemed to think there was something very funny about Ethan getting drunk and coming home without his glasses.

"I'll manage," said Ethan. He rubbed a hand over his aching forehead and tried to convince himself that standing up wasn't a bad idea. "Thanks for the lift." He looked through the windscreen and cringed as he remembered the conversation they'd had as they'd left the flat.

"Why is it so dark, Cal? It's not that early, is it?"

"You're wearing sunglasses," said Cal. "That does make things look darker."

"Oh, right," said Ethan. "Of course."

Cal was making that strange expression somewhere between amused and worried. "Ethan, are you sure you want to work today? It's not easy, working with a hangover. I usually only get away with it because I've got you to cover for me and you can't cover for yourself."

"I'll be all right," said Ethan, with a confidence he didn't feel. "I just need to wake up a little bit. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Good luck," said Cal, and patted Ethan's arm. "I'll keep looking for your spare glasses – and you give me a call if you need to come home."

"Thank you, Cal," said Ethan, with genuine gratitude. "For everything you've done for me this morning."

Cal smiled. "It's not like you've never done it for me. Now, take things as easy as you can; keep drinking lots of water and remember: you can have more painkillers at 11.30. I'll see you later."

Ethan got out of the car and carefully picked his way across the car park, trying to jar his head as little as possible. The paracetamol had taken the edge off the pain, but he was still pretty high on the scale of one to ten.

"Ethan!" came a much-too-loud shout from across the car park, and Jez came running towards him.

Ethan looked at him in slight annoyance. He was sure Jez had drunk more than he had last night and it was positively indecent that Jez was able to run and shout while Ethan could hardly walk.

"Hey, Ethan Hardman!" Jez was standing right in front of Ethan now, but he didn't bother to lower the volume. He looked Ethan up and down, an amused look on his face. "I like the shades."

"I lost my glasses last night," explained Ethan. "These were the only prescription pair I could find." Actually, it had been Cal who'd found them while Ethan was lying moaning on the sofa, but that was a mere detail.

"Yeah, I think I remember you running round without your glasses on!" said Jez. He sniggered. "Among other things."

Ethan frowned. "Amongst other what things?" Oh great: now I can barely even string a sentence together.

"It wasn't just your glasses you took off," said Jez, with a wink that filled Ethan with terror.

"Ethan!" said another voice, and Iain joined them. He was looking concerned. "Ethan, are you okay?" He patted Ethan's arm. "Look, try not to worry. It happens to the best of us."

Ethan tried to smile. It might have been a bit easier if he'd known what Iain was talking about. "Thanks."

"I mean, sure it will be a bit embarrassing when you see her again," said Iain. "But you're both mature adults. You can get past this."

"Oh… um… I'm sure you're right," said Ethan. "Thank you, Iain."

Jez patted Ethan on the back. "I always thought Cal was the fun one out of you two. I've been forced to revise my opinion." He burst out laughing. "Seriously, Dylan's face! I don't know where you found the nerve, mate."

"I… I like to surprise people occasionally," said Ethan nervously.

"And you succeeded, mate," said Iain. "I'm sure Mrs Beauchamp was very surprised too!"

"Mrs Beauchamp?" quavered Ethan. "I don't remember seeing her at the pub."

"We didn't see her," said Iain. "It was just a little prank phone call. Don't you remember?"

"Yes, I-I think I vaguely remember," said Ethan, not entirely truthfully. "I'd better go. My shift's starting soon. Um… great night last night. Let's do it again tonight."

Ethan walked into the ED as quickly as his headache allowed and made his way towards the reception desk.

Jack shouted to him. "Kiss me, Foolhardy! I'm feeling very hurt and left out, you know."

Ethan approached warily. "Hey, Jack. I'm sorry if I've done something to upset you."

"You can make it up to me now," said Jack. He reached over the desk and grabbed Ethan's hand. "Do you have any idea how hot you looked last night? Seriously, when you got up on that table, I nearly died. I almost wish I had so you could have resuscitated me. And how come you never told me you were such a good singer? I was trying to get Lofty to do X Factor with me, but now he's gone, maybe you could take his place?"

"I… um… I'll think about it," said Ethan.

He tried to extract his hand gently from Jack's, but Jack held it more tightly and turned it over so he could kiss Ethan's palm.

"Um… Jack…" said Ethan, going red. "I'm very sorry, but I'm actually straight."

Jack pouted and looked fed up. "Well, that's not how it looked last night!" He let go of Ethan's hand and folded his arms. "You might want to go and explain that to Jez. Now, if you don't mind, I have patients to assist."

Ethan took the opportunity to escape. He walked towards the staff room as quickly as he felt able, his head beginning to throb again, and saw Max sweeping the floor. "Hey, Max."

Max held up a hand so Ethan could high-five him. "If it isn't Ethan Hard-On!"

Ethan gasped. Tell me I misheard that. Please tell me I misheard.

"So, I don't need to ask if you had a good time last night," said Max, grinning as he leaned on his broom. "Seriously, that girl. What was her name?"

Ethan looked at him helplessly. "I don't know."

Max looked sympathetic. "Don't you just hate it when that happens? You wake up with a girl and you can't remember her name."

Ethan began to feel panicky. He definitely hadn't woken up with a girl, but he didn't remember getting home.

Though wouldn't Cal have mentioned it if Ethan had brought a girl home?

"And that other girl," said Max. "I seriously thought her husband was going to punch you. Especially when you…" Max started laughing. "When I woke up and remembered that, I thought I'd dreamed it. But then I got my phone out and there were all these pictures and videos…" He spoke between bursts of laughter. "The way you just whipped it out and waved it around!"

Ethan had to hold on to the wall for support. Why hadn't Cal told him about all this? Why had he let him go to work?

Robyn came up to them and touched Ethan's arm. "Ethan, have you apologised?" she asked in a low voice.

"I… um…"

"Because I really think you should," said Robyn.

Ethan swallowed. "Um, who in particular were you thinking I should apologise to?"

"Good question!" said Max. "Which one did you mean, Robyn? I mean, Lily did look like she was actually crying. And Louise looked seriously ticked off. And I don't think Dylan will ever come near the pub again… though that's no bad thing. That guy doesn't know the meaning of the word fun."

Ethan looked at him in horror. "Lily was crying?"

Robyn stroked his arm. "Don't worry. I'm sure she's okay now."

"I don't imagine Mrs Beauchamp's too pleased with me either," said Ethan sadly.

Robyn's eyes were as wide than they'd been the first time she'd seen Zoe and Max kissing. "Do you mean she found out about… Oh my God." Robyn looked seriously worried.

"Can't they sack you for things like that?" said Max.

"I… I don't know," said Ethan honestly.

Rita interrupted them. "Robyn. Max. Haven't you lot got some work to do? Oh… Ethan." Rita put her hands on his shoulders and looked deep into his sunglasses. "Are you okay?" she asked in her caring voice.

"I don't know," said Ethan again.

"Oh, sweetheart," said Rita. She rubbed his shoulders, which for some reason made his head vibrate. "Everything's going to be okay. Just give it a bit of time and I'm sure everyone will have forgotten about it. Don't worry. And if you ever need a chat, I'm always here."

"Oh.. um… thank you, Rita," said Ethan.

When he finally made it into the staff room he found Zoe.

As soon as she saw him, she turned away. "Ethan. I don't know what to say to you. I literally don't know what to say."

"I… I'm sorry," said Ethan. "I'm really sorry for… um… I'm sorry."

Zoe turned to face him. "That doesn't change what happened, though, Ethan, does it?" she said sadly.

"Um… no," said Ethan. He could be reasonably sure about that from the look on Zoe's face. "No, it doesn't."

"I mean…" Zoe shrugged helplessly. "We've got to work together, Ethan."

"I know," said Ethan in a small voice, just as Connie burst into the staff room.

Her eyes were narrowed to slits as she looked at Zoe. "I don't know who is responsible for that little charade last night, but I warn you. When I find out…"

"It was me!" burst out Ethan, quite unable to watch Zoe suffer for his crimes. Especially not when he'd clearly made her suffer already.

Connie looked startled. "You, Dr Hardy?"

"Apparently so," said Ethan.

"Ethan, you don't have to do this," said Zoe.

"Of course I do," said Ethan. "It was me, Mrs Beauchamp. I'm very sorry and I fully understand if you decide to dismiss me. I actually think it might be something of a relief after last night."

Zoe glared at him. "Fine! Sack him. See if I care." She stalked out.

Ethan watched her go, then he turned back to Connie and hoped she'd put him out of his misery soon.

"Dr Hardy," said Connie.

Ethan swallowed. "Yes, Mrs Beauchamp?"

"Don't you think that, when someone errs, it's only right that they should pay for their crimes?"

Ethan was finding it difficult to breathe. "Yes, Mrs Beauchamp. I do. I am so sorry. I know it's a bit of a cliché to say I don't know what I was thinking, but I really don't."

"That will be £100, please," said Connie. "I want it on my desk by the end of the day."