I wanted to write something based on Ethan's appearance in his second Holby City episode (Missing You Already) as I think it could have stirred up some emotion for him and for Cal. I've written two chapters, but I'm going to rewrite the second as I think it's too similar to my other stories and I'd like to take it in a slightly different direction.

Cal knocked on the bathroom door. "Hurry up, Ethan! We're going to be late!"

Ethan checked his appearance in the bathroom mirror. Every hair was in place and his tie looked straight, but Ethan still felt there was something wrong.

He examined his face carefully, aware of Cal's repeated knocks and demands to hurry up.

It was his eyes. They were sad and sombre as you might expect, but there was something else in them. Something which Ethan really hoped no-one else would notice.

Hopelessness.

The undeniable fact that one day, he would be the young man who was taken from his friends too soon.

"ETHAN!" shouted Cal from outside the door. He was actually sounding worried now. "Are you okay?"

Ethan sighed and turned slowly away from the mirror. He unlocked the door. "Sorry, Cal."

Cal looked him up and down. "Why are you wearing that to work?"

"I'm not going to work," said Ethan quietly.

"What? Why not?"

It wasn't a stupid question on Cal's part. Ethan hadn't told him when the funeral was. It had been difficult enough telling Cal that Arthur had died. Ethan hadn't referred to it since. He didn't think he could.

"Ethan?" said Cal, confusion and concern on his face. He put his hands gently on Ethan's shoulders. "Ethan, where are you-"

He stopped and sadness came into his eyes. Ethan knew at once he'd guessed.

"Arthur's funeral," said Cal. His voice was quiet, but there was something in it that made Ethan tense.

"Yes," said Ethan, his voice little more than a whisper as he forced it out past a wodge of emotion.

Cal nodded slowly. "So, you are actually going."

"Of course I'm going," said Ethan, his voice strained. "He's my friend."

It was Cal's turn to look emotional now. His eyes looked bright and he pressed his lips together, perhaps in an attempt to stop them from shaking, but he was unable to hide the tremor in his voice. "Emilie was our mum."

Ethan had known Cal would think it. He even guessed Cal was going to say it, but he wasn't prepared for the force of the words on his emotions. He reeled away from Cal's words and ran. He heard Cal call his name as he wrenched open the door, but he slammed it closed without responding. He hurried into the lift and pressed the button for the ground floor several times in a desperate attempt to make the doors close before Cal could reach him.

At last, they slid shut with a click and the lift began its descent. Ethan closed his eyes, his breath coming in little gasps which he knew came from emotion rather than exertion. He didn't feel angry with Cal because Cal was right. Emilie was his mother and Ethan hadn't been at the funeral.

He didn't feel angry with Cal.

The lift hit the bottom floor with a clunk. Ethan stumbled out and left the building. He got into the car and drove off, but he parked around the corner, taking his glasses off and letting his head sink into his hands.

He hated himself.

He hated himself for (probably) being able to go to Arthur's funeral when he couldn't go to Emilie's.

He hated himself for even thinking about that now, when his mind should be focused only on one person.

Ethan sat up, removed his glasses and wiped the tears from his eyes. He knew no-one would mind or even be surprised if he arrived with red eyes, but the last thing he wanted or deserved was sympathy. Today was for Arthur and Morven. Not Ethan.

His time would come.

Ethan sat in a pew several rows from the front and looked ahead of him, hoping his glasses would hide the tears in his eyes.

Arthur had battled through so many problems, including a panic disorder and uncertainty about his career. He'd come through all that and was feeling positive about his future and he'd finally found someone special to share his life with.

Then it had all been taken away from him.

Some would point out that at least Arthur had died happy and loved, but Ethan could take no consolation from that. Happy and loved was better than unhappy and unloved (or was it? Would being unhappy and unloved have made it easier to say goodbye?), but it was still too soon.

Much, much too soon.

Ethan was likely to have another thirty years at least, but Arthur had been given months and in the end had only got weeks. Ethan found his hands had clenched into fists. Somehow, he resisted the urge to drive them into the pew in front. What had happened to Arthur was so unfair. It was wrong. It shouldn't have been allowed to happen. How could there not be a cure after all this time?

Of course, some people didn't even have weeks. Ethan had seen it in the ED far too many times and knew he'd seen it many times more. A life could be lost with no warning. One single moment of bad luck and then it was over.

Ethan blinked hard. Why did life have to be so cruel?

Ethan heard a shrill sound not far from him. It seemed familiar, but in his emotional state, it sounded more like a heart monitor. The monitor Arthur had been on before he…

No. It wasn't that. It was a pager. Ethan couldn't just hear it now: he felt the vibration inside his jacket. He took it out and whispered an apology as he looked to see who was paging him.

He knew already, of course. Only one place was likely to page him.

The ED. They needed him.

Ethan wondered what to do. He couldn't leave. He couldn't walk out of a funeral, not even to help ensure that another group of friends and family wouldn't be in the same devastating position as he was now. He couldn't stand up and walk out, followed by the accusing eyes of the other mourners.

But he also couldn't let his colleagues down. They needed him. There were people either at the ED or on their way to it who needed Ethan to save their lives. He could do nothing for Arthur now and he doubted he could say the right things to Morven. He would be of much more use in the ED. He had to go.

But he couldn't leave. He'd missed the chance to say goodbye in person. Their last conversation had been a brief, snatched exchange as they passed in the corridor, while Arthur was on the phone. They hadn't known that would be the last time. They hadn't known that was their chance to say goodbye.

So Ethan had to stay.

Didn't he?

The decision was taken from him when the sound of another pager filled the air, followed by another, then another. As the sounds rose to a cacophony, guilty, uncertain glances were exchanged, before one member of the congregation took control and stood up, striding purposely towards the exit. Others stood up and slowly followed. Ethan sat for a moment in frozen indecision and then he stood up too.

The cool air hit him hard in the face, telling him firstly how hot it had been in the church and secondly that he'd really done this. He'd walked out of his friend's funeral. One of his closest friends.

But I had to, Ethan told himself as he got into one of the cars and was driven back to the hospital. I had no choice. The ED needs me. There's nothing I can do for Arthur now. It's too late.

Ethan hurried through the doors of the ED, manoeuvred his way around the trolleys containing the first of the casualties and made his way quickly towards the staff room.

Nobody commented on his sudden appearance. In the case of a major incident, the doctors on call were always asked to join the team, enabling them to work faster and help more people. Ethan had even been known to come in when he wasn't on call.

Even so, they would normally have made some comment on Ethan's decision to wear a suit on his day off. The fact they didn't showed how serious the incident was. This realisation lessened Ethan's guilt momentarily, then it returned tenfold because there was nothing good about what had happened. Ethan would rather have been laughed at and ridiculed for his attire, with a video posted on facebook and twitter, than see what was likely to happen in the next few hours.

He took his scrubs from his locker and began to get changed. He heard footsteps and knew someone had entered the room behind him, but he didn't look to see who it was. It wasn't important. Ethan needed to do his job.

Then the person spoke. "You are unbelievable."

Startled, Ethan turned to face his brother. His scrub top fell to the floor. "Excuse me?"

"Ethan, it's your mate's funeral. You should be there. Remembering. Supporting his family. And instead, you're here?"

"I got called in," said Ethan.

Cal shook his head in disbelief. "You were on call at your friend's funeral?"

More guilt crowded into Ethan's head. "Half the congregation were on call!" he said defensively.

"Most of the congregation would have been from Keller or Darwin," said Cal. "They wouldn't have had a choice. Some of them would have to have made themselves available." Cal looked upset. "But you didn't need to be, Ethan! You're the only person from the ED who went. I'm sure Connie would have been happy, even at short notice, to put someone else on call instead and let you mourn your friend." His voice hardened. "But you didn't ask her to do that, did you?"

Ethan looked down at his smart funeral shoes and didn't tell Cal that he wouldn't have dared ask a favour like that of Mrs Beauchamp. It might be true, but it was also irrelevant. That wasn't the real reason why he hadn't asked. He knew the real reason and so did Cal. He'd swapped his shift because he'd had to, but he'd also made sure he was on call because… because…

"Is it going to be like this for every funeral you attend, Ethan?" Cal was almost shouting now. "You can't bear to give anyone the send-off they deserve because it reminds you of your problems? And you always say I'm the selfish one!"

"No, it's not like that," Ethan choked out.

"Maybe it's a good thing that I'm likely to outlive you," said Cal. "You'll have the perfect excuse for missing my funeral if you're…" Cal stopped. A shocked look came to his face and he reached out his hand. "Ethan… I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

Ethan turned his back on him. Slowly and deliberately, he finished dressing and walked out of the staff room, leaving Cal still standing there, a devastated look on his face.