A/N: This is my debut in the "Call the Midwife" FFN fandom, although I am a veteran in a few others! I do hope you'll enjoy this chapter, for I enjoyed it so much I wish to write more (even though it was the most difficult piece I have ever begun, due to the diction, and eloquence of our beloved characters!) On behalf of my aching fingertips from clicking away at these keys all day, I present to thee, this fluffy fic!

-Hannanball13 (drown-out-the-crazies)

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It's was only in the grimness of a situation that our Chummy ever exposed any words about her past in India, and her prim boarding school days. It would be a lie to say that none of us were curious about the memories which so slowly, yet terribly blackened her wonderful soul- for it had to be so painfully unrelenting that her insecurities shown through her every action. Her unfortunate lack of self-confidence hurt us all, especially when we all looked upon a woman who was fully, and truly able, not only in her nursing, but also in motherhood.

Peter beamed with pride, bouncing along with the Hindi lullabies, swaying with his wife's rhythmic, intoxicatingly soothing rocking each moment he had a chance. Doctor Turner never felt more productive than after a day with Nurse Noakes on his call. Shelagh had never had a friend more versed in life than Chummy, which she was taking advantage of during the early months of her forming romantic relationship with Patrick. All of the midwives cherished her, wished only the best for her, and loved her with all their hearts. She was wanted in Nonnatus House, respected in Poplar, and taken care of by all of her own, as they were taken care of by her.

Stories of Mater, and memories of her Father were few and far between after she and Peter had wed, and even less so when Baby Fred had been born. Everyone at Nonnatus had been content after the cancelation of the block's demolition, but Chummy was the most. This had been her first real home, with family, and proper support. We were all rooting for her. No one deserved to have so much astonishingly overwhelming vacillation for oneself. She was kind, she was careful, and she was deserving, and how we loved her. She had made her friends, created a family here, and here she would stay, to help us wallop through the challenges she had already faced, and most definitely make them easier for the rest of us.

Chummy trusted everyone in Nonnatus House, and we did her. It wasn't so out of the ordinary that Sister Julienne would be smoothing the dark, fine hair atop Little Freddie's tiny head while his mother was called away from her matronly duties to assist with another's. Often, even Sister Evangelina had taken a liking to lugging the little one around on her hip during monotonous chores, and regular doings. It was surely a sight the way he was fawned over, fussed about and loved within the walls of this old place. Neither Peter nor Chummy went a day without verbalizing their appreciation for all of our support, our time, and our easy hearted treatment of their bundle, and both would give anything for it to be absolutely known. But, what we sought after was the company and great friendship which we already received. Chummy and Peter had forged bonds in Poplar unbreakable, and incomparable. They gave so much, and took so little, yet they barely knew the importance of their being, and the impact they made, and still continued to have on all of us.

It would stay that way, if not forever, then for a very long time.

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Shelagh had been fluttering about the garden for most of the day, digging, weeding, and humming a tune which the flowers whimsically teetered to. Back and forth went the grass, as the hot sun accompanied the delicate ladies' smooth song. There was dirt under her nails, grease in her hair, and sweat trickling down her white brow. Uncharacteristically tattered garments covered her as she tended to the vegetables, and herbs whilst keeping an eye on Little Fred who had fallen into a light slumber underneath the shade of a nearby tree. Chummy had been called away to the birth of yet another Preston Baby. A girl one hoped, as Mrs. Preston had her hands full already with five boys, two under the age of three. Although the young mom was perfectly content with her all male brood, Shelagh had taken to praying for a little girl for the couple, because she knew, even if they didn't say it out loud, they were in desperate need of a tiny babe to swaddle in pink.

The topic of babies had come to immediate attention in the Turner household, and Shelagh was uneasy at the thought at first, and still a tad bit still. Patrick admitted he'd never dreamed of having a little girl, and was relieved the day Timothy was born screaming in all his boyish glory, but if she were to be honest, she always imagined ruffles and bows, dresses, and skirts, not knickers, and overalls. It wasn't that she was immune to the charm of the giggling Baby Fred, or the sweetness of her own Stepson, but it was more that she had never seen blue in her dreams.

She was making her way to her feet after hearing the shrill outcry of the small child in her current care. He had her fumbling toward the carriage as if he were in immediate danger, when it all it was—was a bout of hunger. With him cradled in the crook of her ready arm the fussing nearly ceased, turning into a sporadic whining which she could inevitably chirp away with a sweet psalm. And that is precisely what she did. He radiated warmth from his midafternoon snooze, and against her chest it felt welcome, for it seemed she was battling a bug similar to a mite, but not as severe. Her nausea was little throughout the day, and much worse at night, though she didn't complain to Patrick, she had let Chummy know in the midst of one of their chats, but even as a nurse, her friend didn't pry. She was brought up never to pry, Mater would disapprove, and for years she had only tried to do what Lady Browne had intended her daughter to. It took a long while for Chummy to find she was just more than a long dog with a short name, but a being worth more than just this and that.

Shelagh wrapped her arms around Freddie, before grabbing a bottle having begun to heat already. Sister Evangeline had seen to it that the milk had been on at the exact time it had to be, and was now rummaging through a cabinet for perhaps a crisp or two. "Chummy leave you with the little chap again?" she boomed, taking a pastry-type cake to her mouth. "Seems she never can take him herself…"

The younger, working clothes clad woman only smiled as a meek response, knowing this was just her former fellow Sister bickering. Instead she turned most of her attention to Baby Fred, "We're just a little peckish now, aren't we?" she cooed, tilting the bottle for him, beginning to rock left to right. She hadn't ever been as flustered over Sister Evangelina's comments as she was now, watching Freddie enjoy his midday suckle, content and wonderfully cared for. It was all Chummy who'd made him the well-groomed, calm lad he was these days, but she had her own qualms about leaving him be as often as she did. Sister Evangelina didn't need to be adding to her terror that she may become as worse a mother as her own. "You know, Sister," she began, glancing up from the child, "I believe you'll find every free moment Nurse Noakes receives is spent with Freddie, and I don't know how you get off pretending that she is incompetent in her motherly role."

A wide eyed Evangelina furrowed her brow, "Well you're just tongue and cheek now that you and Doctor Turner exchanged your vows, don't forget I am still much older than you," the old woman pointed accusingly.

Shelagh sighed, "It's just that you shouldn't speak of Chummy that way. She is still obliged to care for the women and babies of the district even with her own child. He will be waiting for her here at Nonnatus, to be loved in a way we cannot when she gets back." After placing the half empty bottle on the table, she swiped a strand of her hair from her glasses, and adjusted the baby so that he was to be burped.

The Sister shoved the rest of the delectable to one side of her mouth, "I apologize, I didn't know that Nurse Noakes' absence was such a tender topic for you Nurse Turner," she replied insincerely. "What has you so touchy these days, huh?" Sister Evangeline demanded, rinsing her fingers of chocolate crumbs.

"There is no particular reason, Sister," Shelagh lied. "You just take a moment to think before you say such things around Chummy," she stated a matter of fact. "She does her best, and her best is perfect." She wiped spit up from Freddie's lips, and traced down the bridge of his nose to the edge of his chin. "He's perfect," she whispered truthfully. A grand smile came across her face which showed her pearly teeth. Sister Evangelina rolled her eyes, escaping the room with a huff.

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It wasn't until later in the evening that Chummy arrived home, haggard, and looking worn down. Fred was on his back in his bassinet; arms outstretched, legs curled, and lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he fought off sleep. It was as if he had been waiting for her. Peter had called to inform his removed wife that he'd be missing dinner for a bit of overtime, and Patrick had rang to say he would be late too, so Shelagh thought it best to stick out the rest of her day off at Nonnatus anyway. She was warding off the sandman as well, looking nearly as exhausted as the taller woman, both sets of their eyes glossy from obvious tiredness.

It was in one swoop that Chummy had Freddie in her aching arms for a little cuddle. They were after all overdue for a moment of peace. Even through her exhaustion the broad shouldered lady swooned over the boy, and quickly he had drifted off to dreamland the second she laid him in her own crook.

"Hello there, Little Bean," she directed hushed, unnoticing of Shelagh sitting upright now, victor in her battle against her heavy eyelids. "It deems me comforted to think that one day you may meet Frieda Preston and understand why your mum had to be away for so long, today."

There was a settling silence, filled with light breathing, and the crickets in the night.

Shelagh cleared her throat, "I'm sure he doesn't mind," she laughed.

Chummy's head shot up startled, before adding, "Well, it does make our time together all the more precious…" she smirked letting out a nervous giggle, "but, I do wish I could be with him every moment of every day. It's a strange, and uncontrollable, curious, desire- that I need him to be with me during all the minutes of every hour." As she adjusted the boy's jumper she raised her brow, "I am sure glad he looks more like his Daddy as time goes by, he will be a right handsome chap, I bet."

Shelagh chuckled a little more, "You're certainly right about that, Chummy. And, although I may not be a parent yet, I have delivered my fair share of these tiny babes, and I think that curious feeling you have, may be the least curious in the entire world."

"I would never mean it in a bad way," she interjected quickly. "I mean, it's the best feeling I've ever experienced, but at the same time the worst, because it's downright impossible for me to be at my deliveries, and nursing him at the same time…" Chummy looked about ready to tear up as she observed her son with every ounce of her attention.

"Why, of course," Shelagh assured, "you're a great mother, all of the good mothers are the same."

There was another pause, lengthier than the last. As Shelagh crossed and uncrossed her arms, and examined her fingernails, she grew impatient with her own anxiousness, and had to interrupt for another time. "Chummy?" she inquired.

The uniform clad midwife connected to her friend's gaze, seeming the least bit disturbed, enjoying the company of a light mannered woman so late at night. "Yes?" There was a pleasant curve to her mouth, one the still rather new Mrs. Turner enjoyed.

"Not to stray away from my own business, and rudely into yours…" she lowered her voice as if ready to say something taboo, "….but, when you found out you were expecting Little Fred, what were your thoughts?"

The dark haired woman seemed to hold on to her child tighter, as if it were the first and last time he'd be in her grasp, "I tell you it was a right shock… I was in Africa after all when it completely dawned on me, even though I had-had my own suspicions for a little more than a month..." she blushed at the talk of her own maturity, and then grew rather happy. "To answer your question, and not to sound too terribly cliché: I was brimming with excitement and fear simultaneously. It was the most confused, and sure I had ever been…"

Shelagh held on to her own bright smile for a while, listening to Chummy's enthusiastic recollection, while attempting to keep the real question buried deep enough so that she could finish being told the response to her prior inquisition. She nearly burst as her fellow midwife's enchanting memory came to a close, but there was still hesitation in her voice, "And how did you tell P.C. Noakes?!" she wiggled in her seat like a small child being told a fable.

"Poor Peter thought I had a flu, was completely worried I'd caught a bug on our journey to Sierra Leone," Chummy explained, "so I had no time to cook up a creative way to give him the news… we hadn't been… trying," she breathed embarrassed still mentioning such a thing her Mater would scoff, and spit at her for discussing. "I just told him. I said, 'Peter, I hope midwifery is of interest to you, because you may be taking it up!'" She shook her head, "It took him a few seconds to catch on, and when he realized, I thought he would fall over, but instead he took me in his arms, and he went on with his sweet-nothings about how I'd be better soon… I took that as him being happy."

Shelagh had Chummy's hand in her own by the end of the vindication, "Do you think Patrick would be happy too?" she asked hopefully, as if her friend would know the answer. But, as the real meaning came to light, Chummy could only squeeze the inspirited woman's fingers, and wonder how Doctor Turner could feel anything but.

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