Another Cal&Ethan fic because I'm still addicted. Originally this was going to be a multi-chapter but I've had to cap it at 2 parts, partly because I don't think I'd have enough material to keep it going and partly because I shouldn't give myself any more reasons to put off writing Piece by Piece (I'm determined not to stop with that one until it's complete). However, it may explain why there's lots of scene setting and hints to things that in my head I have planned but may not ever reach paper.

This is set 8-10 years post Reap the Whirlwind. Everything happened as it happened with the major exception that Cal survived.

I hope there's still some Cal & Ethan fans on here (wave at me!). Please let me know what you think. Part 2 is about half written and will be up as soon as it's complete.

1.

Their kitchen is noisy. It always is. In the background, the TV prattles away; some newsreader, not cartoons, because it's midweek and they'd never get Millie fed, dressed and to school on time if there was another distraction. Still, the five year old is singing a tune that Cal's pretty sure is the theme to one of her favourite programmes, so they may as well have left it on the kid's channel anyway.

Across the kitchen, Emma is making helicopter noises as she tries to entice their youngest, Oscar, to eat his breakfast. He's crying, pushing the spoon away as soon as it comes anywhere near his mouth.

"He's too clever for the helicopter trick, Em," Cal says.

"Well what would you suggest?"

"I dunno, hold him still, force feed him."

"Cal, he's a baby! I swear, you're going to get us reported to child protection one of these days."

He snorts. "You know I'm joking." He looks down at his daughter, cross legged in front of him, and plants a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm a good dad, aren't I, Mills?"

She turns round to look at him, fixing him with a long-suffering expression that he's sure she's inherited from his brother. "You told me you were going to plait my hair," she complains, "but you've been too busy talking to Mummy and now we're going to be late to school."

"Well, if we're going to be late, you better hurry up with your cocoa pops. Your hair will have to stay down today."

"Not fair! You promised. You can do it quickly."

He sighs. "Fine. Fine. Under the thumb, that's what I am. Come and sit here then, no wriggling."

She does as she's told. Cal brushes her golden brown hair with his fingers. He never gets tired of feeling how soft it is. When he'd first told Ethan he was learning how to French Plait, his brother had been unable to stop laughing. You? Seriously, Caleb? Well, I can suture, he'd replied, how much harder can it be? Still, the skill, though trickier than he had envisaged, managed to please both his daughter and his girlfriend, which he considered a rare success.

"Cal, your phone's ringing," Emma calls across the room. "It's Ethan."

"Can you get it? Tell him I'll ring him back after I've got Millie to school."

"Sure." She answers the call and immediately tucks the phone between her cheek and her shoulder so she can carry on trying to feed Oscar.

He continues to plait but next thing he knows, Emma is in front of him, holding out the phone. "Uh, you might want to take this," she says.

The look on her face makes his stomach lurch. He secures the bobble around his daughter's hair, several centimetres further from the bottom than he usually would, and grabs his phone.

"Ethan, buddy, what is it?" he asks. He heads into their bedroom for some privacy and, more importantly, far enough from the commotion to be able to hear.

"Sorry," his brother says. His voice is quiet. "I know you're busy. Can- can you come over?"

"I can do later, yeah? I'm not working, but Oscar's teething, so Em's having a nightmare trying to get his breakfast down him, meaning it's my job to get Millie to school."

"Oh." Ethan's silent. "Oh, okay."

"Why, what's up? Not like you to actually invite me over."

There's a longer pause this time.

"I… I need to tell you something."

"Okay, shoot."

"No. No, not over the phone." There's an urgency in Ethan's voice that Cal can't quite place. "I'll wait until you get here."

"Is everything okay?" He notices a scribble of purple felt-pen, child height on their bedroom wall. Emma will freak out when she sees that later. Cal's less bothered, especially with his little brother sounding so strange on the other end of the line. "You're being weird."

"Caleb, I-" He's sure there's a tremble in Ethan's voice. "No, listen, I'll talk to you later, okay. Just- just get here as soon as you can. Please."

Suddenly, the dial tone is in his ear. Cal frowns at his phone. It's not like his brother to end a call so abruptly. A feeling of dread settles in the pit of his stomach. He knows there's one bit of news that could explain Ethan sounding so strange. The thing that is ever hanging over them but they never talk about. Even Emma doesn't know.

But there's been times before when Cal's convinced himself his brother is about break that news to him and it's been something else altogether. The last time wasn't even long ago when Ethan had been looking after Millie while Emma was in hospital having Oscar. Cal had gone to pick his daughter up and found Ethan, pale and upset, and thought the worst. It turned out he'd lost Pink Teddy while they were out for a walk and Ethan was terrified of his niece waking up from her nap and finding out. It hadn't been an issue. That particular teddy had already been replaced once, the same having happened to Cal when he'd taken her to the play park, and Pink Teddy the Third was purchased from the toy shop before Millie had even noticed him missing.

He heads back into the kitchen. Oscar's screaming now, banging his fists on the table of his high chair, and Millie has her fingers shoved in her ears.

"Wow. That noise is painful," Cal says. His voice sounds wooden and he hopes Emma hasn't noticed.

"I blame you," she replies. "I bet that's exactly how you were as a child, throwing a tantrum over anything and everything." She glances at him. "What's wrong with Ethan?"

"Dunno, he wouldn't tell me on the phone. I'm going to go over after I've dropped Millie off." He pauses, replays her sentence. "You thought there was something wrong then?"

"Yeah, maybe." She purses her lips together in that thoughtful expression that had first endeared her to him all those years ago, while she was the paralegal drafting his witness statement against Scott. "Millie, go and put your shoes on please. And don't forget your school bag; it's by the stairs." She waits until their daughter has left the room. "I think he was crying. Before he registered it was me that answered, not you. He covered it up pretty well, but I still heard."

"Really?" Cal's heart skips a beat. "You sure? Ethan's not much of a crier."

She shrugs. "Perhaps he's just got a cold."

"Yeah. Perhaps."

She rubs his arm. "Go and see him. Put your mind at rest."

"Okay." He exhales deeply. Emma may not know exactly what he's fearful of but she first met them both when they were both vulnerable and leaning on each other heavily, and she knows anything to do with Ethan still gets to him. "Will you be alright by yourself with Oscar?"

"Debateable," she says. "It's a good job it's Ethan you're ditching me for. Anyone else and you'd have a lot of making up to do."

He murmurs in approval, leans forward and plants a kiss on her lips.

"Daddy, I'm waiting."

He rolls his eyes to Emma. "Duty calls. I'd better go."

"See you later. Oh, and can you get some more teething lotion while you're out?"

"And some ear plugs, yeah? No problem."

Ethan's house isn't far away geographically but it still takes a while to get there because his brother, somewhat illogically in Cal's opinion, decided to buy a countryside cottage rather than somewhere central. The winding lanes are a nuisance to drive down. Once, Cal would have sped down them, risking the sharp turns at a high speed, but he has a family now and has to keep at a responsible 50 miles per hour. Ethan said he chose it because he preferred to have his morning jog through the fields rather than along concrete pavements, and because why not, as it's still within reasonable driving distance of Holby. Cal suspects his brother feels safer there than in the chaos of the city centre given the increase in knife crime, especially after everything that happened to them years ago.

Cal's own home is in complete contrast; a spacious new-build not far from the centre of Bristol. They'd told everyone they were moving to be within closer proximity to both Holby for Ethan, and Bath where Emma's family live. In truth, they had just found out she was pregnant with Millie and it was the lure of having enough bedrooms for an expanding family that sold it to them. They would never have afforded a house that size in London.

He pulls into Ethan's drive. The jelly-like feeling has returned to his legs now that he is here and about to find out whatever it is that had his brother so rattled this morning. He would happily sit in the car for a few minutes, gathering his courage if he didn't know that Ethan would be at the window waiting for him to arrive.

He's not sure what he's expecting when Ethan opens the door but it's certainly something a lot more dramatic than his brother's Oh, good, I'll put the kettle on. He follows him through to the kitchen and leans back against the work surface. Once, he would have filled the silence by going through his brother's cupboards and helping himself to a biscuit or whatever else he could find. He doesn't think he could eat now if he tried. Ethan has his back to him as he busies himself heaping coffee into mugs, but Cal can see his shoulders are tense and he's shaking slightly.

"Ethan, forget the drinks," he says. "What's going on?"

Ethan glances over his shoulder at him and Cal gets a fleeting glimpse of red rimmed eyes.

"You get Millie to school, okay?" he asks. "You didn't drive like a lunatic getting here, did you? You can't, not with a child in the car."

"I know. I didn't," Cal tells him. "I got her to school. She was sulking though when she heard I was coming here. She wanted to bunk off and go see her favourite uncle."

"Bunking off… She's certainly your child."

"Reminds me of you sometimes too," Cal says. He doesn't know why they've chosen now to talk about his daughter when there's clearly a bigger issue to discuss. "You should see the expressions she pulls when she's telling me off. It's like I'm back living with you again."

Ethan doesn't reply. The kettle boils but Ethan makes no attempt to pour the hot water. He's frozen, staring at the wall. "Cal-"

"Tell me."

Ethan turns to him now. He nods but doesn't look him in the eye. "In here."

Cal follows him through to his study. The curtains are drawn despite it being broad daylight and a view Ethan loves on the other side. He hovers hopelessly by the door as Ethan opens his desk drawer and retrieves a letter.

"I- I have this." He holds the letter out. His hand shakes. "Read it."

"I don't want to." He knows he sounds like his daughter when she's refusing to tidy away her toys, but if it is what he suspects it is then he doesn't want to see it.

"Caleb, just read it."

"No!" he says.

He remembers Ethan on the beach that day, thrusting a document into his hand and he stubbornly folds his arms so he can't do the same again.

"Cal, please," Ethan says and there's a break in his voice this time. "Don't make me say it."

"It's started then?" Cal whispers, numbly. "You've had it confirmed?"

Ethan's face crumples as he nods.

Cal feels like he's been punched in the stomach. His breath is expelled in a rush. He wants to run, to escape to another world where the thing he's feared for years hasn't just come true. But, as much as this feels like a physical pain in his chest, he knows it's a million times worse for his brother. He can't be selfish now. He has to be the strong one.

Cal steps forwards, arms outstretched. Ethan hands spring up defensively, stopping him getting close. He twists out of the embrace and heads back into the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Cal asks in panic. "Ethan?"

"For a walk," Ethan replies. "You can come if you want. You don't have to."

"Of course I'm-" He breaks off, shaking his head. Only his brother would assume he'd ditch him after breaking that kind of news. "But is now really the time for a walk?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well because, uh, you've just- you've had-"

"We knew it was coming."

Ethan shoves his feet into walking boots and Cal can't help but watch as he threads the laces, fearing he'll see his brother fumble.

"Yeah, but you are allowed to be upset."

Ethan's head shoots upwards. "What's the point?!

"You-"

"It won't change anything, will it?"

Cal's saved from having to find an appropriate answer by Ethan turning away from him and heading out of the back door. With a sigh, Cal follows. The air feels colder in the countryside than it had in the city when he'd left this morning and he tugs the zip up on his jacket. It has little impact and it occurs to Cal that it might not be the environment that's colder, but him in the aftermath of Ethan's news.

Ethan takes fast strides, as if he's trying to prove something to them both, and Cal has to jog a little to keep up. The mud squelches up over his trainers. He's come unprepared as always, though usually it's Millie who ends up knee deep in mud every time they visit. His daughter loves a countryside walk, whereas he only really looks forward to the pub on route.

He's not sure how far they've travelled but when Cal looks over his shoulder, Ethan's house is tiny at the bottom of the hill, only identifiable by being the final house of four singles in a row. Eventually, Ethan slows and Cal draws level with him.

"I am upset," Ethan confides without looking at him.

Cal puffs. He's not as fit as he used to be, between work and family life, there isn't as much time to go to the gym as he would like.

"But at least I know now. The last few weeks… suspecting, worrying, over-analysing every little thing… that's been just as bad."

"You should have told me."

Ethan turns to him slightly now, wrinkles his nose and gives a slight shake of his head. "You're busy with your family. I didn't want to bother you."

"Ethan, you are my family!"

"You know what I mean."

"Is that the impression I've given you?" Cal says, suddenly alarmed. "Because I know too many of my calls are for babysitting favours or- or to ask you how to get rid of a stain before Emma gets back, but seriously, Ethan, you are my brother, I'll always find the time for you if you need me."

Ethan looks him in the eye now but Cal can't tell if his brother believes his statement. He knows there's been too many times over the years when he's forgotten to be a good brother but he thought that slate had been wiped clean after he nearly died as a result of protecting him.

He wonders if Ethan's thinking the same, for, after a few seconds, his brother's gaze softens.

"Come on," Ethan says, jerking his head towards the top of the hill. "There's somewhere I want to show you."

They continue up the hill but the path has become less defined and small pebbles tumble down the slope with every footstep. Twice, Cal nearly slips. But he's been watching Ethan and his feet don't slip at all.

He's done the research; almost obsessively at first, now still occasionally, if an article spikes his interest or when Ethan's acting funny and he's feeling paranoid. He knows that stumbling and clumsiness are often among the earlier symptoms. But as Ethan's not exhibiting any mobility difficulties he knows that it's likely to be cognitive or psychological instead; lapses in concentration, mood swings, depression. He stares at Ethan's back and feels the energy drain out of him. He needs to know.

"Ethan, slow down, will you?" he says. "We've got all day."

"Can't keep up?"

"We need to talk."

Ethan doesn't reply, just keeps climbing, but Cal can imagine his face, set, stubborn, but for a quivering chin. He pushes down on his thigh, elevating him further up the hill and nearly alongside his brother.

"Ethan, come on-"

"Get the hint, Caleb!" Ethan whirls around so suddenly Cal nearly loses his footing again. "There's nothing further I want to say about it."

"It's not just about you though, is it?"

"Yes," Ethan says, fiercely. "This is my illness, no-one else's."

"Look, I know-" Cal starts. Ethan starts to walk again and he hastily follows. "I know," he repeats, louder this time, "that you're the one living with this. But that doesn't mean you have to go through it all on your own." He pauses. "Please. Let me in, okay? I'm here for you."

"I don't need a therapy session," Ethan snaps.

"Good, because we both know how crap I'd be at that." Cal attempts to laugh in the hope it will lighten the atmosphere, but it sounds more like he's being choked. "But, Ethan, you've dragged me all the way here, we may as well talk about it."

Ethan doesn't seem to react to that and Cal can do nothing but watch as he perseveres up the rocky path. But a bit further up, Ethan stops and Cal takes his chance. He's only thinking about his brother, so the view takes him by surprise. They've made it to the highest peak and cascading down before them are fields in a spectrum of colours, greens, yellows and browns, interspersed with trees and hedges, dotted with the occasional building. He whistles in appreciation. He can sort of understand why his brother likes it out here now.

Ethan points to their left. "That's Holby down there," he says. "Bristol on the horizon."

"Really? How do you know?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

Cal shrugs. "Not to me."

He squints. The settlement in the distance could be anywhere as far as he's concerned. He wonders whether his brother would be able to point out the town centre, the hospital, their old road, even. He jumps as he feels Ethan leaves his side. He hopes they're not about to rush off to somewhere else in the middle of nowhere. But instead, Ethan just leads the way around the corner to an old wooden bench overlooking the view.

They sit quietly for a minute, side by side, all the unspoken things making the small gap between them feel huge.

"I like it up here," Ethan says, out of the blue. "Puts things into perspective, don't you think? There's millions of people down there," he nods in the direction of Bristol, "each with their own lives, their own problems…"

"Yeah, and each with their own set of people who care about them!"

Ethan gives a deep, long-suffering sigh, but at least Cal knows his point has been understood.

"I got you here because you needed to know," he says. "I didn't-" he sighs again. "I don't have any expectations, Cal. There are no obligations on you."

"What if-" Cal breaks off. He stares out over the view rather than risking looking at his brother. "What if I want there to be. Obligations, I mean. I am your brother."

"Exactly. And I want you to be my brother. Not a medic or a- a carer." He practically spits the last word.

"That's a long way off yet," Cal says.

"Is it? Even if we knew Emilie's CAG count, it'd still be inconclusive. There's no way of knowing how fast it's going to progress, you know that."

"Well what are your symptoms now?"

He braces himself for Ethan to get up and walk off again, just as he has for every other difficult question. But his brother does nothing except tense. Perhaps it's the view that's helping, perhaps it's a location that Ethan's not ready to leave, but either way, Cal takes it as a positive sign. But his heart lurches, right into his throat, and he realises he's holding his breath. He'd thrown the question so quickly that it's only now the consequences sink in. He's not sure if he's ready to hear how the illness is taking hold of his little brother.

Then he hears a hitch in Ethan's breath. He turns to him. His little brother's chin is on his chest and his shoulders shaking. Cal hesitates. This wasn't what he had intended to do. A quiet sob rips from Ethan's throat.

"Oh, Ethan," he says, "Come here."

This time when he pulls Ethan to him, his brother doesn't pull away. He rubs soothing circles on Ethan's back. Ethan's hair tickles his chin. Cal can feel him shaking against him and he thinks it's the emotion but can't help wondering if it's the disease.

"Sorry. Sorry, I thought I was past this." He pushes himself upright and dabs at his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve.

"Here." Cal hands him a tissue. Any other occasion, he would have laughed at the surprise on Ethan's face. "I have a baby," he reminds him, "Once you've spent the whole day with sick on you, you learnt to carry tissues everywhere."

"Right," Ethan says, faintly. His nose is red. "Well, I'm sorry for- for depleting your supplies."

"Will you stop saying you're sorry."

"It's just… the odd word, at first, that's all it was. That's happens to everyone sometimes, doesn't it. But then, getting things mixed up, not making sense and only realising when I saw the confusion on someone's face." He takes a deep breath. "Not remembering whether I'd given someone a 5mg or 10mg dose or- or whether they have any allergies I should be aware of."

Cal feels his own eyes fill. The thought of his brother losing his mental capacity hurts even more than his mobility being affected. He blinks hurriedly, hoping he can get away without Ethan noticing.

"Not all the time," Ethan says to him, obviously sensing he needed the reassurance. "Not often. But still." He looks away now and dabs at his face with the damp tissue. "I… I wrote a list this morning while I was waiting for you. First thing on it- well, second, the first was to tell you, was to- to hand in my resignation."

Cal's hand returns to his brother's far shoulder. "It's definitely come to that?"

"I can't risk a patient getting hurt because of me," he says. "I'd be a liability. I- I am already!"

Cal's silent. He wishes he could tell Ethan that it wasn't true, but they've both worked in medicine long enough to know that the slightest error could be catastrophic.

"Okay, so- so let's go talk to Connie together. She was alright with me back when I couldn't carry out full duties. Perhaps she can find you a non-clinical role."

"It's not Connie any more. New guy. Ainsworth."

In itself, that evokes a lot of questions, but Cal knows it's not the time. "Okay, we'll speak to him then."

"No. You and he wouldn't get on. And I've heard the rumours. He has a lot of contacts and anyone who gets on the wrong side of him… let's just say, you still have a career worth ruining."

"I don't care about some bureaucratic di-"

"Cal. I'll handle it, okay." He sighs. "I should be able to get something through the NHS pension. Doubt I'd be entitled to sickness benefits yet. I can work, just not as a doctor."

"And what are you going to do? Become the new tea lady at Holby?"

From the withering look his brother gives him, Cal supposes he could have worded it more sympathetically. He can't bear the thought of Ethan, who worked tirelessly hard to become a consultant, resorting to unskilled labour through no fault of his own. He knows that could have as great an impact on his brother's mental wellbeing as the disease will.

"That came out wrong," Cal says. "It just doesn't seem fair that you have to leave when you're still…" he tails off, unsure what word will cause the least offence. He knows that what he wanted to say, still you, is blunt enough to send more tears to his brother's eyes.

"Still in control of my motor functions?" Ethan finishes for him.

"Yeah. That."

"No, you're right, it's not fair." Ethan says. The harsh undertone has returned to his voice again. "None of it is. But it's going to happen."

Without warning, Ethan gets to his feet. Cal's arm drops onto the back of the bench. His hand hurts where it collided with the hard wood. He rubs at it but doesn't examine it, preoccupied keeping his eyes on Ethan in case he's about to rush off again.

But Ethan stays put. He dabs at his eyes and then shoves the crumpled tissue into a pocket and stops moving altogether. He's not even shivering in the cold like Cal is. So Cal gets up, stands as close to him as he can without his brother getting suspicious, and tries to observe him, to make sure he's not about to go into shock up there in the middle of nowhere with no-one to help. But his breath sounds are normal and his chest is rising and falling at regular intervals.

"Do you want to go back down?" he asks. He hopes Ethan agrees.

There's a long silence and then Ethan blinks, as if he's only just realised Cal is next to him.

"No," Ethan says. "There's going to be a day when I can't make it up here. I want to stay as long as I can."

Throughout his journey home, the news seemed to hit him harder, growing, filling his head to the extent he knew he probably shouldn't be driving. But he hadn't stopped, just turned the radio up to full blast and tried to blink away the tears. His throat stung and he felt sick and he wanted to scream but when he tried no sound came out.

By the time he reaches their house, he feels like he's suffocating. His throat is filled with the tears he's been trying not to shed. He slams the front door shut and leans on it. His legs feel weak. His head's throbbing.

"Where have you-?" Emma rushes into the hallway. She takes one look at his face. "What's happened? Is it Ethan? Is he-?"

The thought of having to tell her pushes him over the edge. He clasps a hand to his mouth and releases a noisy sob.

She grabs him then, arms tightly around him, squeezing as he sinks to the floor.

"Cal?"

"Are the kids in bed?" Cal chokes out. He can't bear the thought of his children seeing him like this.

"Yeah. Yeah, I got Millie down not long ago. She tried to stay up, wanted to say goodnight to you but-" she breaks off, can't redirect her focus elsewhere any longer. "Cal, what's going on?"

He buries his head into her shoulder and takes a few gulps of perfumed cotton. He feels her lips graze the top of his head. He doesn't want to tell her. Doesn't want to say the words out loud and make it even more real.

"You're scaring me," she says.

He sniffs noisily. He hopes he's not got snot on her cardigan. "It- it's-"

"Go on,"

He lifts his head and looks at her pleadingly. Another tear trickles down his cheek. Her hands cup his face and she gently wipes the dampness with her fingers.

"It's Ethan," he eventually manages, although he supposes that much is obvious. "He-" his voice trembles. "Shit, he-" The need to gasp for air prevails and he suddenly finds he's incapable of speech. He shakes his head, hoping Emma understands.

"Is he… ill?"

Cal takes another gasping breath. Hot tears tumble onto his cheeks.

"He is, isn't he?" Emma's own eyes grow damp. "Cal, please."

He manages a nod. He reaches for one of her hands and grasps it in his. Her fingers are damp from his tears.

"Is it Cancer?" she asks. She sounds terrified.

"No." He always finds it surprising how Cancer is the first thing that leaps to people's minds, the thing they're most scared of. He knows, as a medic and as a brother, that there are crueller things out there. "Not that."

"Then what?"

"Em," he says, as if the use of her nickname will prevent her from being mad at him for keeping it from her all these years. "Em, there's something you don't know."

She's silent. He knows she's only ever this quiet when she's upset.

"I lied." He feels her fingers squirm in his. "When I said our biological mum died of a heart attack. It was a lie." He waits long enough to establish she's still not going to speak. He looks down at their conjoined hands and wishes he didn't have to break this to her. "She- she had Huntington's Disease."

There's a pause.

Then. "That's one of those degenerative ones, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Cal takes a deep breath. It barely helps. "It's also genetic."

Her lips tremble before she speaks. "That's what Ethan's got?"

He nods and sags forward into her at the same time. His chest aches. For a few seconds, Emma remains still, but then she grabs him by the shoulders and lifts him up off her. He thinks she's angry at first, but then he sees the fear in her eyes.

"And have you-?" she says, so fast it sounds like one word.

"No." He manages to answer quickly, despite himself. "No, I- we had the test years ago. I'm clear. Millie and Oscar, they're not at risk, I can't pass it on. I'd never have-"

She wraps her arms him and pulls him back against her. "Come here," she says. "Oh, Cal, I'm sorry. I know how much Ethan means to you."

That in itself is enough to send fresh tears to his eyes. He'd be nothing without Ethan. His little brother had picked him up time and time again, solved his problems and forgiven his sins. It was Ethan who was by his side when he woke up in hospital, scared and in pain, and who helped him piece his life back together with patience that Cal couldn't muster. Ethan had allowed him to escape to London despite his own heartbreak over Alicia, helped him study to be a surgeon over Skype, stopped him panicking that he was going to be an awful father. Ethan's done everything to be a good brother to him and it physically hurts Cal to think there's nothing he can do to fix this in return.

"Will you tell me about it?" Emma says, softly. "Huntington's. I've heard of it but I don't really know."

He gives a pained sigh. He doesn't want to talk about it but he'd been in Emma's position earlier when Ethan was reluctant to give him answers and he knows that he has to explain. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and tries to switch his doctor's head on.

"It's neurodegenerative," he mutters, not knowing if that means anything to her. "There's no cure. Affects… well, it affects everything really. Cognition, mental health, movement-" his heart lurches. "He- he'll need a wheelchair eventually. The disease, it causes uncontrolled movements, spasms, jerks." He pictures Ethan the way he'd known Emilie and shudders. "Problems with speech, swallowing." His breath hitches. "Everything," he repeats. "It- it's really-"

Emma rubs at his back. "Cal, try to calm down. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, this wasn't the time."

"It's going to ruin his life," he continues, ignoring Emma's advice. He feels panic rising in his throat. "And then- then it's going to kill him." A loud sob rips from his mouth. "It's not fair! It's Ethan, my baby brother, he doesn't deserve this, Emma! He doesn't."

With that, he bursts into helpless tears. Emma holds him tighter and he feels her rest her chin on top of his head. He can't tell if it's her that's trembling or him. He doesn't know how he's ever going to manage to stop crying for long enough to breathe.

"Daddy?" Her voice is tiny.

Cal looks up. A tear drops off the end of his chin. His daughter is in front of him, clutching Pink Teddy the Third, bottom lip wobbling, looking just like a young Ethan and that sets him off all over again.

"Millie," he manages to gasp out.

"Daddy, why are you crying?"

He drags a hand across his eye. "I- I"

"Daddy's fine, sweetheart," Emma interjects but she sounds choked up too. "Now, you're meant to be in bed. Come on, back upstairs."

Millie takes a couple of steps but then pauses and turns back to face them. "Is Uncle Ethan going to die?"