A/N: This is a modern AU. A snapshot, if you will, of Doctor Turner and Nurse Shelagh MacDonald. It's pre-romance beginning /the beginning. Timmy is younger, about 8 maybe?
Shelagh has an old friend to stay and Timmy left his bear.
…
"So, how will you be spending your weekend off? Knitting or crochet?" Trixie teased, handing Shelagh a cup of tea and flopping down onto the chair next to her. "Or are you really going to push the boat out and go food shopping?"
Shelagh smiled good naturedly. She and Trixie may have been roughly the same age, but they acted so completely differently. It had been a running joke since Trixie had started working on the ward six years ago.
"I really am pushing the boat out!" Shelagh smiled. "One of my old uni friends is coming to stay, he's on leave from the army and is doing a tour of us boring stay-at-homes. We're going out to dinner and maybe going to a show in the West End."
"I would have been so proud of you if you had finished that with 'going to the pub/club/bar'," Trixie sighed dramatically. "So, tell me all about him! Is he good looking? Available?"
"Anyone listening to you, who doesn't know you, would think you were desperate!" Shelagh tutted with a smile before continuing, "Yes, he is very handsome in a tall, blonde, strong, in uniform kind of way. I don't know how he manages it! He is an officer in the army, just been promoted actually. He was my flatmate in first year, studying history and politics. We hit it off instantly. Best of friends."
"Did you date him at any point?" Trixie probed slyly, watching her friends face.
"Oh yes," Shelagh replied instantly "In third year, we were dating for the whole year. Then, at the end, when I was offered a job here and he was selected for a position in the army, we called it all off quite amicably, and said we would remain friends. And we have! He has a wife down in Oxfordshire, she was a friend of ours and I talk to her all the time."
"Isn't that, you know, weird?" Trixie wrinkled her nose a little.
"Oh no," Shelagh chuckled. "We sort of fell into a relationship because we were so close all the time. I preferred him as a friend. She's lovely and she doesn't have a problem with me, so all is well."
"Are you excited then? To have him over?" Trixie asked, sipping her tea.
"Oh yes," Shelagh smiled brightly, "I hardly ever get to see him. I really do miss him when he isn't around. He is just the right amount of sarcasm, and cheek. And of course, there's that edge that only comes with having known someone for as long as we have. He's taking me to that little place, down on the corner, that we read the review of last week? Oh, whats it called…. Oh well, nevermind. I'll let you know what its like. If its good, we should all go there next socialising night! But, anyway – no, he is absolutely lovely. So charming, and such a gentleman! I can't wait to see him!"
"Trixie!" Came a desperate call down the corridor, and Jenny burst into the room. "Oh, Shelagh! Even better! Sister Evangelina wants to know all about Mrs Johnstone and her twins and I can't find her file anywhere! Please, help! Or the old bat will boil me alive and feed me to her cats!"
Shelagh chuckled, putting her tea down and winking at Trixie, who was trying desperately not to laugh. Jenny was one of their newest members and she still hadn't quite learnt how to deal with their opinionated head of ward. "No rest for the wicked!"
"Shelagh," Trixie called after them as they left "If you're the wicked one, then the rest of us are absolutely the devils in disguise!"
"Well, I don't think I'll disagree," Doctor Turner smiled slightly, entering the staff room and heading directly for the lockers. He seemed even more distracted than normal, Trixie noted, his appearance slightly more unkempt and his eyes a bit glazed. "Except that Shelagh is probably more akin to an angel in disguise than a devil."
"That was my point Doctor," Trixie shook her head slightly in amazement. The man was so incredibly clever, and wonderful with keeping the mothers calm and safe, but he was ever so dense sometimes, in cases like this. "Are you working this weekend?"
"What? Oh, no, I booked the weekend off months ago to take Tim away on a mini-holiday, but he's come down with some sort of virus. It's like he's regressed to being five again. He's out in the waiting area with the childminder now, so I really can't stop to chat too long. I hope you have a good weekend Trixie, don't get into too much trouble. Bye!" And with a distracted wave, he was gone, trying to pull a jacket on while packing his rucksack. It was endearing and amusing to watch.
'Well,' thought Trixie, picking up last February's copy of Women's Own, filched from the waiting room in the antenatal clinic, 'That explains why he was acting funny.'
…..
"But daaaadddd," Tim whined, clutching at his blanket, tears in his eyes. "I need him!"
"Timothy," Patrick Turner said in exhaustion, closing his eyes and praying for strength. "You told me only the other day that you were a big boy now, and didn't need Rupert anymore."
"Then I want Rupert! I can't go to sleep without him daddy!" Tim cried, before promptly bursting into tears. Patrick hated it when his son was sick. And Tim had a high fever and hadn't stopped being ill when dad came home, like he usually did. He was actually, properly sick. And seeking comfort from a teddy bear that Patrick couldn't find. If he wanted to get any sleep before Tim was sick again, he would need to find that damned bear.
"Well, where did you last have him?" Patrick said patiently.
"When Carrie dropped me off at the hospital. I was playing with him in the waiting room," Tim said tearfully, moving to put his thumb in his mouth.
"Then, I shall call the sister in charge and ask if its been handed in, ok?" Patrick fished his mobile out as his son nodded and rested his head against the arm of the sofa. Julie-Anne was ward sister tonight.
"Hello, Sister Julie-Anne Parker," She answered her desk phone brightly. It always amazed Patrick how positive she could be on a night shift.
"Hey Julie-Anne, it's Patrick, I know you're on a shift, but I don't suppose someone has handed in Timothy's Rupert bear? He's ill."
"Oh, poor dear," She said sympathetically "As a matter of fact, Shelagh found it earlier, and recognised it as Timothy's. She said she would bring it in on her next shift. She didn't want to leave it in Lost Property. Don't tell Tim, but I think she was planning on giving him a bit of a wash too."
"Thank god," He sighed in relief "Do you think she'll mind me just knocking on her door to pick it up? Tim really needs sleep."
"Text her and warn her you're coming, I hope Timothy feels better soon Patrick," Julie-Anne said "Good night."
"Night Julie-Anne, and thank you." Patrick put the phone down, and quickly wrote a text to Shelagh warning her of his arrival. Then he turned to his son. "Right then kid, Shelagh took Rupert home with her so she could look after him until she saw you again. Lets go and get him."
…..
"Shee?" Chris called, peering at the yellow bear on the arm of his friends sofa curiously. "When did you get a tatty Rupert Bear? I haven't seen it before."
"Oh, that's Timothy's," Shelagh said, as if it explained everything. Chris looked a bit confused for a second.
"That's Timothy Turner, the Doctor's boy?" He asked, trying to recall information from all her letters over the years. She nodded. "Is there something you aren't telling me if you have his son's teddy bear. Here?"
"For heaven's sake, you're worse than Trixie!" She sighed dramatically "Timothy left it at the hospital today when he came to meet his father. I just took it till I see him next. Now, if you've finished with the Suggestion Squad, I'm going to go and get my pajamas on. Ok? Don't break anything."
"As if I would!"
…..
"Right, come on Tim," Patrick said gently, locking the door behind his son and letting himself into the block of flats without ringing up. They took the lift to Shelagh's floor, and Patrick knocked on the door, hoping she wouldn't be asleep already. It was late, and Shelagh was hardly known for her social excursions.
To his surprise (and horror), the door was opened by a good-looking man, about Shelagh's age with a tanned complexion and blonde-brown hair. The not-known man's eyes widened in surprise, and Timothy stepped behind is father's legs quickly.
"Oh, um, hello," Patrick said, "I was looking for Shelagh?"
"Well, I would assume so," the man said drily, looking Patrick up and down with his cool blue eyes. Patrick was suddenly regretting only throwing a zip up over his tracksuit bottoms and t-shirt. "As this is her flat."
"Well, um, yes … is she there?" He asked hopefully. He wasn't sure if he should introduce himself or something. What was the proper etiquette for situations like this? Although, he wasn't sure if he trusted himself not to floor this man.
"She's just getting ready for bed," the newcomer replied smartly. "Maybe I can help?"
"Oh, yes. You see I, well, I work with her. Doctor Patrick Turner. She picked up my son's teddy bear earlier, and he's ill, so is refusing to sleep without it. I did text her…"
Suddenly, the man's whole demeanour changed. He smiled suddenly, and pushed the door open. "Come on in, I'm assuming that the little fellow hiding from me is said son? Well, Rupert is sat, pride of place, on Shelagh's sofa. I'll bet he's been waiting for you."
Timothy peeked out from behind his father's legs suspiciously. The guy knelt down, and held out his hand. "Hello," he said gently "My names Chris, I'm a friend of Shelagh's."
Timothy debated for a second before hesitantly shaking the offered hand. Patrick didn't know whether to be angry or proud at his son. He wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling full stop.
"Chris?" Her familiar voice floated through the hallway. "Why is there a draught?"
"You've got a visitor," Chris called back, easily standing up and leading the way into the flat. In the dim hallway, decorated in a distinctly Shelagh way, Patrick put a name to his emotion. Jealous. He was jealous of Chris.
"Visitors?" Shelagh asked, appearing in the doorway to the living room, in her dressing gown with bare feet and a mug of tea. Patrick had never seen her looking so domestic. "Oh, hello Patrick, hello Timothy. Is everything ok?"
Without a word, Timothy disentangled his hand from his fathers and scurried over to Shelagh, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his head against her. Absently, Shelagh smoothed his hair gently, while shooting a curious look at his father.
"He's burning up!" she exclaimed, laying a hand against his face. "Patrick, is he ok?"
"Not feeling well Shelagh," Tim said, rather snuffily. "And I lost Rupert."
"Well," she handed her tea over to Chris, and adjusted herself so that she was level with Timothy and he was leaning against her shoulder. "He's been missing you terribly. He's on the sofa, would you like me to get him?"
Timothy shook his head, wrapping his arms around Shelagh's neck. She frowned for a second, before looping her arms round him and standing up, lifting Tim up off the ground and leading the way into the living room. By the time Patrick had followed Chris into the room, Shelagh had Tim lying on the sofa, Rupert wrapped tightly in his arms, and was singing a soft Scottish lullaby to him, while stroking his head gently. If Patrick had had any doubts about his feelings towards the younger, Scottish midwife, he was now entirely certain. He was head over heels in love with this woman. It wasn't lust – because it was seeing her and the way she acted with Timothy that made his heart swell and his features soften.
He stood in silent awe, unable to tear his eyes away as he leant against the doorway. At the end of the song, Shelagh pressed a kiss to his brow and stood up quietly, leaving Timothy and Rupert asleep on the sofa. She indicated for them to leave the room, slipping past Patrick to the kitchen. He caught a waft of estee lauder, cinnamon and some other undefinable feature that was just Shelagh.
"I don't think it was Rupert he wanted," Patrick said softly, watching as Shelagh bowed her head a little and blushed. "Thank you, for everything."
"From what I remember of being his age," Shelagh said quietly, looking up to Patrick. "It was when I was ill, and only when I was really, desperately ill, that I missed my mother the most. Sometimes, its just having soft words and someone to stroke your hair."
"Even if he never knew his mother?" Patrick asked, a furrow marring his forehead.
"Even if he has never known her," Shelagh confirmed. "He's a good lad, and you do remarkably with him."
"I don't think I would have managed the last few weeks without you," Patrick sighed, pouring himself a glass of juice and leaning casually against the counter.
"Patrick," Shelagh said slowly. "You know I love looking after Timothy, but, have you ever thought of hiring a nanny? Someone who can devote all of her time to Timothy's wellbeing and take the pressure off of the cooking and housework too."
"I've had au pairs," He said quietly, "You know that, and you know how well Tim took the last one."
"Then let him decide," Shelagh advised quietly.
"Not sure that would work," Chris interjected, watching in amusement as both Shelagh and Patrick started. They had forgotten he was there. "I think, in his eyes, no one will ever be quite as good as Shee."
"Shelagh is a natural with him," Patrick said to his glass, barely loud enough to hear. Then suddenly, he looked up. "Oh, god, I am so sorry! I've interrupted your evening royally! I am a terrible friend. Thank you for Rupert Shelagh, I'll just go and grab my son and be out of your hair."
"You'll do no such thing!" Shelagh said sharply.
"She's right," Chris agreed. "What if he wakes up, wanting her?"
"Besides, he's just got off to sleep, you can't move him!" She continued.
"But-" Patrick started, but was quickly cut off by Shelagh. He was suddenly reminded of the feisty, no nonsense woman he saw at work every day. God, he loved her.
"No buts, Doctor Turner," She ordered "I've got a put me up if you would rather sleep in the living room with Tim, or a spare room with an actual bed. But either way, you, and your son, are staying here. You can take him home in the morning after I've given him some breakfast and reassured myself that he is okay. Understand?"
"Yes, Sister," He said, a little cheekily. Shelagh coloured a little.
"I'm sorry for ordering you about," She said quietly, a little embarrassed, but firm nevertheless. "But I insist. Chris and I were only going to meet up with a few friends after going to the Tate. I'm sure he won't mind only seeing the exhibition, will you Chris?"
"I'd rather only see the exhibition," Chris muttered. "Look mate, if you know Shee half as well as I do, you know you're better off just doing as she says. Let her be a mother hen. I really, truly and honestly don't mind. Scout's honour."
"Like hell you were a scout!" Shelagh chuckled. "There, it is all decided! Do you want the put up or the bed?"
"Whichever will cause the least amount of trouble," Patrick conceded.
"I'll give you the put me up, then you can be with Timothy if he wakes up," She decided, and left the room.
"I really am sorry to intrude on your weekend plans," Patrick said quietly to Chris. Chris shrugged, and put his mug in the sink.
"And I really do not mind," Chris reassured him. "Besides, Shelagh loves your son, she really does. I think she would rather have you both here, where she can fuss and make sure he is ok. And she will be satisfying a maternal need to make sure your kid is well. Just, go with it mate. You can't fight Shee, its like trying to stop a volcano from erupting. Impossible."
"Yeah," Patrick said, and Chris noticed his face. Yup, he had it bad. "Timothy loves her too. He ran away from an au pair that he hated while I was on a night shift. Managed to get all the way here and stayed the night with Shelagh because she refused to send him back. Au Pair hadn't even noticed he had gone. I've had a bit of trouble with childcare as a result. Shelagh has been helping me out on her days off. I hate asking her, I feel like I'm freeloading, but she insists. The volcano is the right analogy. If she is passionate about something, she'll fight for it. I've worked with her for nearly eight years, when she was fresh from Undergrad training. I know."
"She protects the people she loves," Chris shrugged. "Count yourself lucky that you and your son are on that list."
"No," Patrick disagreed quietly, "Shelagh doesn't just protect her friends, she protects everyone who deserves protecting."
…
The next day, after Patrick had taken Timothy home and Shelagh and Chris had finally made it to the museum café, Chris decided to broach the subject that Shelagh honestly seemed to have missed. Bless, she never did notice when people liked her.
"So, Doctor Turner, he's the one you keep talking about in your letters, right?" He began carefully.
Shelagh narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously over her mug of tea, "You know he is. But I talk about all of my colleagues and friends. Your point Christopher?"
Maybe he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was… Oh well, he was known for being blunt after all.
"He's a bit old isn't he?"
"Doctor Turner isn't old," Shelagh defended instantly, rising to the bait. "His girlfriend gave birth to a son then took off to America when the boy was three years old. Doctor Turner was barely a year into his specialty training. But he managed it, he is a brilliant obstetrician and a fantastic father. Just because he is a decade older than you or I does not make him old! He works long, stressful hours and Timothy can be a handful when he wants to be. I should know. So what if he has a few lines on his face?"
"Don't you feel like he's taking advantage? If you look after his kid for him?"
"Patrick Turner has never asked, demanded, suggested, implied or expected any help from me with his son. I just happen to have a little bit of time spare to help look after the wee lad. He's so sweet, and I really do not regret any time I spend helping Tim with his homework!" Shelagh replied indignantly, her eyes flashing.
Chris nodded at her thoughtfully, then flashed her a disarming smile. Shelagh was disarmed.
"He feels the same was about you, just so you know," he smirked, drinking his tea, and enjoying watching the mix of emotions across his best friends face.
….
Of course she would have a boyfriend. How could someone that kind, that loving, that beautiful not have someone on the scene? Someone who made her heart flutter and her smile a bit wider. Who was he kidding. She worked with him, he was a colleague and a friend. She helped him out so much because she loved Tim, and she was his friend. She was his friend, she would only be his friend. He shouldn't have hoped. He shouldn't have let himself fall quite so hard.
He was a decade older than her. He had a son. He had responsibilities and lived for his work life. She was young, if a slightly old personality, she had options. Her only responsibility was feeding her cat. He should have realised he was falling for her. For her kind heart, her careful hands, her soft voice, her amazing ability to calm an entire room with her entrance. She was a fantastic midwife, and she would make an absolutely amazing mother.
How could she love someone like him, when she had someone like Chris around?
….
"How was your weekend? Was it divine?" Trixie asked, as soon as she saw her friend Monday morning. They were in the staff room, while Dr Turner was sat at the desk, just beside the door. He could hear everything. And while there was a part of him that wanted to just sulk off back to his office, there was an even greater part of him that had to hear the conversation.
"It was very good. You know how I found Timothy's bear on Friday before I left? Well, Timmy has been rather ill this weekend, so Patrick ended up bringing Timmy round to collect the bear. I insisted they stayed the night. Patrick looked exhausted, and worried, and I hoped both of them would be able to get a good night sleep. He ended up sleeping like the dead, right next to his boy. Didn't even notice me pottering about and keeping Tim quiet when he woke up. Poor dear. I popped round yesterday after Chris went home, Timmy looked a bit better and was more himself. He was rather clingy on Friday night. He told me all about how he and Patrick watched the whole series of Doctor Who completely uninterrupted. Oh, bless him."
"Who, Patrick or Timmy?" Trixie teased significantly. In the corridor, Patrick sat up a little straighter, confusion on his face. "I ask you about your weekend with that old friend of yours and you tell me all about spending time with Doctor Turner and his son. Now, Sister, if that doesn't tell you something I'm not sure what will!"
"Oh, hush Trixie," Did she sound embarrassed or was he imagining things? "Did you want to hear about the restaurant?"
"You mean, you actually made it, in and amongst being the doting not-mother to an ill eight year old?"
"Trixie," Shelagh warned. He could just imagine her shooting the younger woman a stern glance. And Trixie knowing she had pushed just a little to hard and looking contrite. "Anyway, we went to the restaurant, and to be perfectly honest, it wasn't that impressive. I think I prefer our usual haunt. We saw Dreamboats and Petticoats on Saturday, again. And he left about 11 on Sunday morning to pop back to his home in Oxfordshire before going up to Carl in York. Caroline was having a wee problem with the baby. He just wanted to make sure she was ok. I can't wait to see the wee one! She's nearly due."
Who was nearly due?
"Is Chris excited about being a daddy?"
"Oh, you should have heard him, he can't wait! Oh, Trixie, you'll never guess! They've asked me to be godmother!" She sounded so excited. "I mean, I know I was best man at the wedding, but I never expected that honour! I can't wait! I've been sewing little things for the wee one since Caroline came and told me she was pregnant!"
"Any why wouldn't Chris and Caroline have asked you?" Trixie teased. Patrick was sat in a daze. From what he heard (and knew of Shelagh) she wasn't dating the fellow at her door. She was his friend, only his friend! Maybe he could hope again, maybe she would…
Patrick Turner stood up, not realising that he had a great big megawatt smile on his face, nor noticing the extra spring in his step. But Jenny did, as she passed him on her way into the staff room.
"What's got Doctor Turner grinning like a Cheshire cat?" She commented idly, not noticing Trixie's sharp look at Shelagh, or Shelagh's flushing red.
….
A/N I wasn't sure where/how to end, but that seems like a good enough place for me. Dr Turner is happy because Shelagh isn't dating anyone, Jenny is being dense, Trixie too sharp and Shelagh is embarrassed. Seems good enough for me!