This, is my sorry first attempt at fanfiction for Sister Bernadette and Patrick Turner, I do not own these characters or settings, everything belongs to the lovely people at neal street productions, bbc, and jennifer worth of course! as well as Heidi Thomas!
I suppose if anyone likes this at all, I could try and turn it in to a real ff and not just a one shot in the mind of a tortured Sister Bernadette.
Stop,
Stop thinking like that!
In her cold, dark, and simple room, Sister Bernadette lay shivering from head covering to the tips of her toes.
But that was not what was keeping her from sleep.
Cold, she could handle.
Cold, she could survive.
Even the tightening of her chest and the recurring breathlessness were bearable.
Tonight though,
Tonight, like many other nights as of late, what was she was learning to find unbearable was the place her mind began to journey to.
That forbidden place, that place where she would imagine the warmth of his chest against her bare back, and the tickle of his stubble nestling against her shoulder.
STOP!
Broken from her imagination as her mind seemingly remembered who she was, Sister Bernadette lay once again in her cold, hard bed. In the dark dampness that was a sure sign of the oncoming winter, unknowingly tracing her index finger over the now faint white scar lining her palm.
It was wrong, she knew it was wrong.
But how could it be wrong! Something that felt so good and natural surely could not be wrong. Love is a part of all life. Love IS life. Love between two people, love between a mother and her child.
But why does it hurt so much? Why must it hurt so much? Yet at the same time, how is it even possible that it can feel so good? How can love tear her apart and fill her with warmth all at the same time.
How is love possible when she loves GOD. The love for her god causes no such pain. The love for GOD gives her strength and leaves her feeling content.
Yet, even being in the same room as him she feels those same things, and more, she feels pride for him, his gentleness with patients warms every part of her like a horlicks on a cold winter night after a long and difficult birth.