a/n: I posted this first back in February of this year, but realized I never posted it here. In the CtM 2012 CS Chummy speaks to Trixie about being noticed. In the background of the scene is a nun (probably Sister Evangelina). In this fic that nun is Sister Bernadette. Aside from that small change this fic is canon-compliant. Just a three-shot look at where Sister Bernadette is in those early episodes of series 2. Thanks so much to the lovely my-little-yellowbird for listening to me yammer about this fic!

Chapter 1: Invisible

Clinic was busy. The vaccination program brought a rush of parents and children and cold weather brought in more than just the usual gripes and complaints of early babyhood. Babies with coughs, runny noses, and fevers jockeyed for time against mothers with proteinuria, severe morning sickness, and the normal aches and pains of a growing pregnancy. Sister Bernadette paused for a moment as her patient left the cubicle. She resisted the urge to let out a frustrated breath and instead whispered a short prayer for patience. The day had been long and trying, and was only half finished.

An exclamation of pain from Fred and a burst of laughter from a group of children pulled her from her quiet moment, and she set about removing the tray of soiled instruments to ready the room for the next patient. She stepped from the curtain, tray in her hand, nearly into the path of Dr. Turner as he rushed past in a burst of cold moving air. "Sorry, Sister," he said, voice trailing behind as he shucked off his overcoat and entered into a cubicle. She heard him begin to converse with a patient in low tones.

Staring at the path he had taken, she tried to push the pleasing scent of wool and cigarettes from her mind. She deposited the tray with the other soiled instruments before turning to the kitchen to check on a urine sample. Nurse Franklin was lounging against the hatch, reading a magazine, and she took note of Nurse Noakes chatting with a young woman at the pamphlet table near the windows. Fred was nearby the table, struggling with Christmas tree trimming and keeping a group of rowdy boys at bay. The patient list was beginning to thin out, seats emptying as mothers and children exited after being seen. Approaching the kitchen doorway, she took notice of her last patient, putting on her coat and winter wrappings, assisted by a woman who looked to be her mother.

"Which one did you see then, love?" The older woman smiled as her daughter buttoned her coat over her protruding stomach.

"I don't remember her name, Mum. One of the nuns. That one with the funny glasses."

"More respect for your betters, young madam."

The women turned to leave, and Sister Bernadette watched them go, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Her glasses were old, yet still serviceable, even if they were beginning to show their age, and the lenses were somewhat scratched. Until recently she had never thought of what others saw when they looked at her glasses. Her patient's rude remark reminded her of her own unhappiness with the unattractive frames, and how she had once removed them to view herself without them in her cell's mirror. Sister Bernadette shook her head and willed her cheeks to cool. There was no reason to remember past follies in the middle of clinic. Moving the band of her wimple, she placed it more comfortably under her chin. There was work to be done and little time to tarry. The urine sample awaited her. She walked into the kitchen, pleased to find Nurses Noakes and Franklin now occupied by chatting at the hatch. Moving to the counter she reached for the sample she sought, but couldn't help and overhear the conversation between the two young nurses.

"Do you remember what it felt like? Feeling as though you'd never stop growing, like Alice in Wonderland when she ate the cake. Dreading being noticed, and fearing you aren't visible at all?"

"Can't say I do."

Nurse Franklin's flip answer didn't inspire a reply from Nurse Noakes, and yet as they both left the hatch Sister Bernadette kept replaying Nurse Noakes's words in her mind. She could only assume the nurse was making allusion to the young girl she had been speaking with at the windows, comparing her to herself. Only recently did Sister Bernadette know the dread and the fear that Nurse Noakes spoke of. How her stomach would clench and her breath would catch...the remembered scent of wool and cigarettes came to her then, and she pursed her lips, trying to push the thoughts from her mind.

Moving to take a spirit lamp from the shelf, Sister Bernadette caught her image in the window. In the hazy half-light the image was distorted, and her wimple looked almost like a fall of hair at her shoulders. Her cheeks began to burn again as the remembered image of herself without her glasses and wimple came to her mind. There were moments when she still could not forgive herself that vanity. That very next morning she had asked Fred to remove the large mirror that had been in her cell and to replace it with a smaller one. The new mirror was barely wider than the pane of glass that she looked into now. Yet, the image of herself, hair unbound, was fresh in her mind, and she wondered if the fear that Nurse Noakes spoke of, the fear of being forever unnoticed, was what had driven her to remove her wimple and glasses that evening.

"Sister?" The raspy voice behind her, along with the scent of a freshly lit cigarette, made her breath catch, and her heart start to pound.

She faced him. "Greetings, Doctor."

His eyes widened and he smiled. "Ah, Sister Bernadette. I thought it was you in here." He smoked in silence for a few moments and watched as she lit the lamp. "I was reading of urine test strips that are being developed. One day soon you may never have need to boil urine again."

"Quite?" Sister Bernadette squinted and added acetic acid to her vial. She chanced a glance at the doctor's profile before looking back at the tube. His brows were drawn, as if he were remembering something he had earlier read. She liked when he would discuss medical breakthroughs and new ideas during lulls at clinic. He seemed animated and social in those moments-the weight of his exhaustion and burdens lifted momentarily . Part of her wondered if his little asides were the only adult conversations that he had during the day, conversations outside of those he held with patients or colleagues.

"Yes. In the States, a husband and wife duo are working on something they call Albustix. You may remember my telling you about Clinistix, for finding glucose in urine? Same principle."

"I would think the results would be fairly simple to read," she offered, using tongs to take hold of the vial. She looked over and noticed that he was watching her. He seemed almost relaxed as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, smoke trailing upward from his cigarette. He was enjoying their conversation. Her stomach jumped with the knowledge, and she forced herself to concentrate on the tube and lamp instead of his informal pose.

"Quite. The results would be less open to interpretation. More accurate. Though there is always the chance of a false positive, one supposes. More testing will have to be done."

"Of course. It does seem that a dipstick test would certainly be easier, and faster, than boiling urine over a spirit lamp." Sister Bernadette gave him a small smile before looking back at her lamp.

"It may be quicker, but mark my words, many a young nurse would over-saturate the paper and then where would we be?" Sister Evangelina barged into the kitchen, slapping her bag onto the counter. "Boiling over the spirit lamp forces concentration and concentration will always deliver better results."

Sister Bernadette opened her mouth to respond, but Dr. Turner beat her to it. "Sister, I would have thought that you would have been interested in test sticks. The ability to test urine quickly would free the nurses for other duties of care."

As Dr. Turner turned away from her, Sister Bernadette bit back her disappointment and blocked the conversation from her mind. She held up and examined the vial of urine, finding the liquid to be clear, denoting a lack of protein. She cleaned up her station while the doctor and her elder sister continued to debate dipsticks and a nurse's time-keeping abilities. Dr. Turner mumbled an apology and moved to the side as she used the sink to wash her hands. He stubbed out his cigarette as he listened to Sister Evangelina's complaints about nurses and their lack of practical training.

Unnoticed, she skirted past them and left the kitchen to call her next patient.

-end chapter 1

a/n 2: All I know about boiling urine I learned from two scholarly articles. ;) If I'm incorrect, please let me know! Also the 'husband-and-wife' duo I mention are Helen and Alfred Free.