AN: Do not own them, but love them dearly. I am very much in awe of so much work which has been written here, so thanks to everyone for writing such wonderful stories! This is for Sweetburgundy x
She is falling. Her thoughts had not been on the road nor focused on the purpose of her brisk steps. The inevitability of her fall is caused by her own distraction; she is aware of that and this ruffles her even more.
Caught by surprise nonetheless, her hair frees itself of several pins, and a blush appears on her face. This is something she could miss right now – people seeing her in a physically vulnerable state. Yet the early daylight seems her only companion, and the birds continue to sing without giving her away.
When she gets back up, she notices the dirt on her skirt and how several grains of sand have lodged themselves in the palms of her hands. She senses a mild headache coming on, but the pearl earring which has rolled into the grass slips her notice as she silently proceeds to walk towards the hospital.
In the hall her mind is no longer elsewhere – it has shifted from a twirling sensation to a steadiness familiar to a competent nurse. No doubt the apron she'd be wearing would hide the stains on her frock, and if not, changing could wait.
"Mrs Crawley!"
Doctor Clarkson comes to a stop in the corridor, relieved to finally see her. The curt comment he was about to make dies on his lips when he notices her dishevelled appearance and instead she gets a silent, questioning look. Her answer supplies for him the testiness of his intended remark about her lateness, though.
"I'm sorry; I had a small accident on the way over."
To his now knitted eyebrows she simply answers "- nothing to worry about, I'm perfectly fine."
And picking up on her apparent ability to distinguish priorities, it is swiftly that Richard goes on to relate that Mr Lowry is already being prepared for the operation.
"You are missing an earring, Mrs Crawley."
They are almost done for the day, and the sun is settling its hues on the infirmary's wooden walls.
Her hands come up to her ears, surprised at the comment, and a low hum of disappointment escapes her when they find but one instead of two white twins.
"I must have lost it…"
Her expression becomes troubled when she thinks back to the morning fall and to the telephone call she had received. And then her mind turns, as it still so often seems to do of late, to her darling boy.
"Matthew gave them to me."
With that, Doctor Clarkson's expression becomes a mirror of Mrs Crawley's.
"Would you like to go and look for them?"
"No, thank you, doctor."
She dismisses the nagging feeling in her stomach, turning back to the clipboard on the bedstead.
But as the attention of someone in love sees many things others would overlook, Richard did not miss the suppressed strain in her voice.
"Nurse Garnett!"
A young woman looks up from the bed she is making, letting a blanket fall into place.
"Yes, doctor?"
"Could you please take over from Mrs Crawley for a moment?"
Isobel wants to fix him with a glare. She was so sure she was able to carry on without being fussed over these days. Oddly enough, she feels the desire to oppose him leave her nevertheless.
Grateful, and a bit relieved, she smiles at him then and hands the clipboard to Emily.