What Ethan doesn't know is that you love him. More than you've ever loved anyone or anything. In fact he's probably the only person you've ever loved.
You weren't a good son to your mom, nor to Emilie, sure you tried. You tried to make it up to Ethan, for failing with mom by trying to care for Emilie in her final days. You're glad of that, you're glad but if you're honest about why you did it, it was more to make it up to Ethan than anyone else.
You are an eternal let down. You're a shitty brother, a worse son, and at times a passable doctor. But you do love him. You do.
When the helicopter came down, when the metal nearly decapitated you, came flying within inches of your head. You'd been hit by that sudden clarity. It had been Ethan's face that had flashed momentarily through your mind, a burst, a warning. His stupid glasses reflecting in the sunlight, that eyebrows down look he gives you when he's had enough of your bullshit. His stupid sprayed on jeans. His enormous, ridiculous heart.
When you'd finally brought yourself to long enough to stop the ringing in your ears and Charlie had pulled you to the feet it had been your brother you immediately sought.
When you couldn't find him you immediately panicked. He would have been there. If he could have. He'd be front and centre helping people. So where was he?
Your palms had begun to sweat and Charlie had that sympathetic, calming look on his face but all you wanted was to push him away and dig Ethan out with your bear hands. 'Once we get Grace out we'll find him ok?'.
And god forgive you, but you don't care about Grace. Not then. Not even remotely. You want Ethan. You need to find Ethan. Your stomach is filled with a cold, certain dread. He's dead isn't he? He's in bits from the propeller, you're probably walking over his severed foot right now. You leave Charlie. You get down on the ground. You scramble around, literally looking at limbs to see if you recognise those stupid, stupid jeans. You'd recognise his big, clown shoes anywhere. Is that his foot? His arm?
He's not there.
Which leaves two options. Trapped under the carnage somewhere or inside the hospital or pub. Well you've already tried the hospital and pub, so trapped is looking likely.
You put your hands over your eyes, trying to block out the image of him entombed, suffocating alive, impaled, severed, dead. You're not with him. You are not there.
Again. Why change the habit of a lifetime right? You're never there for Ethan. You are the master of running away, what did Ethan call you once? The great Houdini. Well sensational escapes were definitely your thing. Leave at every chance, run at every issue. Escape. You don't want to run this time though. You want to stay. You need to find him, be with him, come whatever. You're not leaving him again. You scramble down to the debris. You will find him.
After an hour of repeated efforts to lift wood, plaster, cement, concrete, any kind of rubble your hands are bleeding and raw and you're still brother-less. Is he dead? Are you actually, categorically and unequivocally alone now? No parents, no siblings, no child, the last one standing? You don't want to be the last one standing, not without your safety net.
Suddenly Jez is beside you pulling you away from the debris. 'Mate, stop, it's unstable'.
'My brother…' you fight back 'my brother…'
'We'll find him Cal'. He tells you. 'We will ok?'
You don't trust people much in this life. You probably only trust Ethan really. You want to believe Jez though, you at least want to trust him on this. On finding the most important thing in your life.
An hour later your trust is rewarded. The siren goes off and you know, you can just feel it. It's Ethan. And he's ok enough to turn on the siren.
And when you hear his voice. It's better than City winning the final, it's better than anything you've ever heard. You're not waiting for somebody else to get your little brother out of there, you are getting him right now. A surge of protectiveness runs through you, to the tips of your fingers and you clamber your way inside. Is he hurt? Is he ok?
Alicia's there too but you don't spare her too much of a glance. You have tunnel vision on Ethan. He's sitting down, covered in dust, blood, he stares at you, wide-eyed awkward in his boxers and you make a joke because the sound of your own heart beating is so wild and loud in your ears you don't know what else to do.
He's ok. Your silly little brother. He's ok.
And suddenly, absolutely, so are you.