How ironic, Ethan thought now. How ironic, that Cal was dead Ethan was the one with the defective gene. The dirty one.

A wave of self-loathing washed over him. He scrabbled with desperate hands to the box of medicine. He was a burden and he just wanted out. It was too much. He wasn't strong. He wasn't clever. His hands shook as he popped the paracetamol out of its packaging, until there were ten white pills on his lap. All he wanted was to stop the pain, to join his brother. Because really, if there wasn't something after this shitty life he had been given, what was the point? Why drag through each day, knowing oblivion was coming. And that's what he wanted right then. Oblivion. The peaceful painless oblivion. He scooped up the pills and swallowed them dry, wincing at the acidic taste. He washed them down with red wine and lay back. It was coming. He could finally be with Cal.

He waited as the medicine dissolved in his stomach and entered his bloodstream, and wondered what people normally did in this limbo between life and death. He got up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. So many people; friends, colleagues, distant relatives. But ultimately, you come into life alone and you leave it alone. All these people, relationships, conversations. Ultimately meaningless.

He clicked on Charlie's number. Charlie was kind. Charlie liked Cal. Ethan just wanted something to do, to pass the time. Charlie picked it up on the last ring, and he sounded exhausted, reminding Ethan that it was still 3am. Concept of time seemed blurred.

"Hello?" Charlie called anxiously.

"Hello...Charlie," Ethan slurred. He must have drunk more than he had realised.

"Ethan? Are you alright? Where are you?"

"I'm alright. In fact...you could say I'm more than alright," Ethan said with a manic laugh.

"Ethan. Where are you?"

"I'm with the angels."

"Where are you?!" Charlie shouted, fear and frustration rising in his voice.

Ethan didn't reply for a moment, enjoying the dizzying feeling he was getting in his head.

"I'm with Cal."

"Oh God Ethan. No."

Charlie turned to Duffy, shoving her awake. "Call an ambulance." Duffy looked up, her eyes wide with surprise, before grabbing her phone.

"Ethan are you at home?"

"I just wanted it to end." Ethan said. "And it has. I'm going to go to heaven."
"Ethan have you taken something?" Charlie waited. "Are you at home? Ethan! Please. Talk to me."

Black spots swum at the edge of Ethan's vision as he sunk back into the sofa. He could hear Charlie's voice, so distant. But he was too far gone to be pulled back to reality. He felt like he was floating. He closed his eyes, drifting to sleep.

Suddenly he was being harshly shaken awake.

"Open your eyes Ethan! I mean it. Open your eyes!"

Ethan's eyes opened before rolling back.

"OK. He's still conscious." A male voice, talking to someone else. Who? Ethan wasn't sure, and he didn't really want to think about it.

More hands, grabbing him, soft plastic against his skin. Voices, hushed and then frantic, swimming in and out. Needles pricking his skin, masks up against his face. At first he tried to struggle, but then he just accepted it. If this was what dying felt like…? Well, at least he would finally be rid of the Huntington's.

He felt a rush of cool against his skin, more voices, more commotion. Someone talking to him, telling him he's alright. An angel? He tried to fight again, but he's so exhausted. Finally, finally, he conceded to the darkness.

When he woke, he realised he was not dead.

And it was a disappointment.

Because the sheets felt disappointingly real against his skin, the sound of monitors disappointingly loud in his ears. He was alive, and Cal was not.

Robyn came first. She couldn't meet his eye as she smiled and checked the cannula, his blood pressure, his haemoglobin count. He felt sick and didn't want to talk, but she kept up this constant stream of chatter until she finally disappeared out of the door.

Connie came later - an hour later of a day later, Ethan couldn't tell. She also smiled at him, and at least she could look him in the eye.

"We're looking after you Dr Hardy. You're going to be alright."

Then she scribbled something on a clipboard and disappeared.

Ethan was trapped for too long, stuck with his own thoughts. He wanted a distraction - anything to take away from the thumping in his head and the dry crackle in his throat.

Finally Charlie shuffled in, looking exhausted. Ethan wondered what he was worried about.

"Are you alright?" Ethan asked. "You look tired."

Charlie laughed sadly. "You don't look too great yourself."

There was an awkward pause.

"Ethan. I found this." Charlie pulled the Huntingdon's folder out of his bag. The incongruity of the folder took Ethan's breath away. He pulled it closer, thumbing the pages.

"Ethan I read it. I'm sorry but I needed to know."

Ethan counted the pages, the sharp edge of each page giving him a grounding in reality.

"Were you scared no one would help you end your life now Cal is gone?

Ethan looked up at him. He was struggling to make the words match up to sentences, to make Charlie understand. Finally he was able to shake his head.

Charlie waited, but Ethan didn't say anything else, and eventually he left, leaving Ethan alone again.

A dizzying revolution of nurses and check-ups. He was not allowed to fall asleep - or at least stay asleep, because a nurse woke him every half an hour. He felt watched, and drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep. He hadn't eaten or drunk since taken the pills, and he desperately wanted the feeling of sun on his skin and wind in his hair.

Connie came back.

"Dr Hardy? How are you feeling?"

"Goo..d" Ethan's tongue lay heavy in his mouth, slurring his words. "Can I go home?"

Connie smiled regretfully. "Not yet, unfortunately. We've still got a bit of work to do."

She read his notes quickly, checking his pulse again.

"We're going to have to do a psych assessment, Ethan." Her tone was kinder, and she used his first name. "I know you're going through a horrific ordeal, and I'm not going to pretend that I understand. But trying to kill yourself? This is not normal. And it doesn't need to be normal."

Ethan didn't reply. He knew something like this was coming. How could he explain? He wasn't trying to kill himself. He just wanted to be with Cal.