Hiya, I'm brand new to this fandom, so new in fact that I probably shouldn't be writing fic yet, but I couldn't resist, so here it is. I.m sorry if it's OOC or simply bad!
A plaintive whimper escaped Patrick's mouth. It was barely audible and Shelagh knew that she never would have heard it had she not been awake. A second followed, just as painful as the first and the fist that had been clenched around her throat since Patrick had left this after their meeting with the adoption agency tightened further.
She hadn't meant those awful words, she didn't even know what they meant. Shelagh was well aware of his competency as a doctor, it had nothing to do with that. She even had benefited from his proficiency, so she knew they weren't intended like that. They had simply been a culmination of their first fundamental disagreement and, if she was honest with herself, she had meant to hurt him.
Shelagh closed her eyes and let out a tremulous breath, hoping to release the knot in her belly. The feeling was both foreign and an ugliness inside her heart. It brought a shame she had never experienced and never wished to again. She stared at the ceiling, her hands clenching in fists when Patrick twitched next to her.
Why had she done that? She'd been asking herself the question since they'd silently gone to bed. There had been no kisses, no love, none of the touches she'd come to adore and crave. They'd been two strangers lying side by side in a silence so present it could have been a third person in bed with them. When Patrick had finally fallen in a restless sleep, due mainly to exhaustion, she let herself take a deep breath that didn't last her very long. The noises had started almost as soon as he'd gone under, each one branding itself on her heart and his pain became hers as penance.
Why had she meant to hurt him? He was a good man, a wonderful husband, a brilliant father. He didn't deserve the pain she knew she had inflicted. Patrick twitched again and Shelagh turned on her side, facing his back. His hair was damp with perspiration and she reached to touch him, to soothe the nightmares the day had clearly awakened but she stopped short of touching him. She couldn't. She frowned and pursed her lips and realized she didn't know how. Her hand closed into a tight fist, and she inhaled sharply, bringing her hand over her heart. She knew how to touch him in intimacy, but she didn't know how to bring him comfort, she didn't know how to start fixing what she'd done.
A tear rolled over the bridge of her nose and fell noiselessly onto her pillow. Her hand opened over her racing heart as tears kept falling. She knew why. Shelagh dug her fingers into her skin until her nails bit into the skin. She'd hurt Patrick because she had felt inadequate. Not in the day to day as his wife, but as his partner, as the person he was meant to trust the most. She had felt that sliver of fear when she realised that maybe he didn't trust her with more than what they were right now. That he couldn't trust her with what he'd been because someone else had had that privilege.
Shelagh had never felt jealous of his first wife, not when Marie had left her with so much to be grateful for, but at that moment she'd been afraid that he felt she was not enough to know all of him. It might have been because she didn't know how to ask. She didn't know how or where to start. Patrick had always been the one to take the first steps. She had always only reacted. He'd been the instigator in all things, she had never learned how. It wasn't a bad thing, she cherished the way they had started, but now she wished she had been bolder, was bolder.
The mattress jumped under her as Patrick jerked awake. Shelagh closed her eyes, lying as still as she could. She felt the bed dip toward the middle as he sat on the edge. He sighed deeply yet shakily and she felt it flutter in her heart. He got up and walked out of the room, grabbing his robe on the way. Her eyes reopened as the bedroom door clicked closed. Shelagh stretched her hand over to his side of the bed. The sheets were warm and slightly damp. She wished it was his skin under her hand. It should be. It will be.
She took a deep breath as the fist around her throat loosened and smoothed the sheets. She could be bold. She had told him herself. She could learn how to start. She would learn how. It would be small, but he would know, she would make him aware, would let him know how loved he was, how cherished he was not matter what.
The decision loosened the fist around her throat. Shelagh took a deep breath for the first time that night. It was something possible, she didn't have to learn, she simply could do it and show him how much she cared. Pleased with herself, she turned toward the door to wait for Patrick, not even aware of falling asleep.
