AN: The first few chapters are heavily angsty, but there will be fluff later as well so don't despair too deeply :)
Also for those who have read other stuff I've written, I know this is covering the same time period as Little Things Mean a Lot and thus has some overlap in premise. Basically I spend far too much time thinking about Delia's recovery process and how it would have impacted on their relationship. I make no apologies for my obsession :P

The first thing she was aware of was pain. Her head was throbbing so badly even her hair follicles ached and her skin felt raw, burning all along her left side from ribs to hip as if she had been caught in a fire. Had there been a fire? She tried to move her legs and found she couldn't. Was she paralysed? Was she trapped under something in a burning building, half unconscious from smoke inhalation? Was that why it was so difficult to think? In a panic, she wrenched open eyelids that seemed to be made of lead and felt the terrible dizzying sensation of disorientation at the sight that greeted her.

The light had been so bright that she had only a second to take in her surroundings before her eyes had snapped shut again of their own accord, but it was enough to tell her that something was very wrong. There had been a small room, a bed with curtains half drawn around it, machines and cabinets. She felt it should mean something to her, although she was almost sure she hadn't been there before, but it was so hard to think through the pain in her head. After what felt like a long time, she tried opening her eyes again, slower this time. Green walls, a water jug on a little table beside her, a door with a window in it,a light bulb above the bed that hummed slightly, as if there were a very small bee trapped inside.
The dreadful disorientation was absent this time, but the room still refused to explain itself as she gazed around with the slightly blurred vision of the newly awake. Where was she? This wasn't where she was supposed to be... was it? Her confusion escalated into alarm as she realised that she didn't know. Not only where she was supposed to be, but anything. She began to search her mind desperately for any scrap of memory that she might be able to hold onto and found she could not come up with anything at all. It was only when she realised that she couldn't even recall her own name that she began to scream.

Once it had started, she found she had no control over the sound she was making. The long, unbroken note seemed to be coming from outside herself, jabbing into her already aching head like a white hot blade. Her lungs began to hurt but she couldn't even stop to draw breath. Dimly, she wondered if it was possible to die of screaming so hard you stopped breathing, but the thought didn't scare her because there was no room in her mind for any more panic than she was already feeling.

Suddenly there were people everywhere. She wanted to ask them to help her but she couldn't get the words out through the scream that was still pouring from her in a torrent like water from a burst dam. Two women in dresses with puffed sleeves and high white caps were holding her arms down, though she wasn't making any attempt to move them. Three more were gathered around the bed, all shouting at once while a man prepared a syringe that a moment later was plunged into her arm.

At last the scream tailed off into a whimper and she was able to draw in a long, shuddering breath that hurt as much as it soothed her oxygen starved lungs. She wanted to thank the people for whatever they had done to make the noise stop, but now the room was softening around the edges, melting into darkness like butter into toast. Before she could work out how to make her tongue form words, her eyes had closed and unconsciousness had engulfed her.

For a long time, she knew no more.

... ... ... ...

When Patsy had arrived at Nonnatus that evening she had been a little concerned about her missing bike, but not overly worried. She thought that perhaps a well-meaning neighbour had recognised it as belonging to a midwife and, seeing it parked outside the Nurses' home, taken it upon themselves to return it to the nuns. Or maybe Delia had been delayed and left it at the hospital. It hardly mattered. If her bike wasn't there she would accept a scolding from Sister Evangelina and borrow one of the spares from the bike shed. Mostly she was thinking ahead to what would happen after her shift. She could feel (or imagined she could feel) the slight weight of the key she had just had cut for Delia in her pocket and it made her want to laugh aloud or dance down the street like a show girl because finally all she had never quite dared to dream had come true.

She certainly hadn't been ready for the sight that greeted her when she pushed open the door.

Usually at that time all those who weren't currently on duty would be sitting together in the parlour, or else going about their own affairs in their rooms. Instead Trixie, Sister Winifred and Nurse Crane were gathered around the telephone in the hall, listening to Sister Julienne apparently arguing with someone on the other end of the line. She thought Trixie might even be crying, though she had never seen her do so before. Something truly awful must have happened.

'She must be there! Her things were found in the street after an accident. Witnesses say the girl involved was taken away in an ambulance. If she isn't on a ward perhaps... perhaps you could check if a body fitting the description has been taken to the mortuary'.

They had all been focused so intensely on what Sister Julienne was saying that no one had noticed Patsy until she put a hand out to Sister Winifred, who happened to be standing nearest, and murmured 'what's happened Sister? Has someone been hurt?'

That was when the chaos erupted. Sister Winifred had screamed, actually screamed as she saw who was standing beside her. Trixie had almost knocked Nurse Crane flying in her rush to hug Patsy and Sister Julienne had put the phone down without a word of explanation to the undoubtedly bemused person at the other end. For a while there had been nothing but noise and confusion as Patsy was hugged and exclaimed over and so many questions were asked on both sides that there was no hope of answering any of them.

At last the full story was explained and Patsy had pieced together what must have happened.

Oh God. Delia.

To someone looking at things from the outside, not much would appear to have changed in the scene, except now the one clutching the telephone in a white-knuckled grip was not a nun of middle years but a young red-headed woman, standing with her back to those who waited a few yards away talking about what a 'nice young woman' Delia was, and how anxious her parents would be as though they were unaware of the waking nightmare they had just plunged Patsy into. But of course, they were. Patsy had been making sure of that for months.

For a few moments after she put down the receiver Patsy had stood as if frozen, trying to remember how she would have acted if this had happened to someone else. She couldn't fall apart now. It was more important than it had ever been to keep up the pretence about her and Delia, if she didn't she might never see her again. Oh God. No, she couldn't think like that. Patsy closed her eyes for a moment, gathering up the tattered shreds of her composure into something that almost resembled her usual manner and considered how she could answer the question Nurse Crane had just asked. She had been on the phone for a long time, but still she didn't feel like she really knew anything at all. Was there any news?

'No. At least, they wouldn't tell me much, especially over the phone. You know what the rules are like. But they couldn't get in touch with her parents either and Delia... Delia isn't well enough to make her own decisions right now. They're considering letting me act as her next of kin, just until they can find a relative. Since our names are down on the lease together there is proof at least that we know each other and the hospital does know me from my time nursing there. Matron knows Delia and I were close so they said we might discuss making... allowances. I have to go there to speak to them'.

In spite of her iron-willed effort to keep herself under control, the trio gathered around her could see she looked dreadful. Her face was pale and haunted, hands visibly trembling just the slightest bit. But for practical, composed Patsy even this slight tremor betrayed how intense her emotions must be. It must, thought Sister Winifred, be the shock of knowing how easily this could have been her. After all, Patsy's little Welsh friend had been riding her bike. The poor girl must be still in shock and of course, concerned for her friend.

Only Trixie's gaze contained more than wide eyed sympathy, and she watched Patsy with a measuring gaze that suggested she understood the depth of her friend's distress to a far greater degree than she was letting on. Not that Patsy noticed of course. She was running her hand distractedly over her now unravelling plaits and biting her lip, deep in thought and seemingly unaware that everyone was staring at her. The silence was becoming a little strained when Nurse Crane stood up briskly.

'Well then. Would you like me to run you over in my car?'

The words had clearly been intended as solicitude, but they were barely out of her mouth when Trixie turned to stare at her in horrified disbelief and Sister Winifred gave a little squeak of alarm, clapping her hands over her mouth. In an uncharacteristic show of discomfiture Nurse Crane coloured to a deep crimson and inhaled sharply as she realised exactly what she had just said.

'Oh Dear, I'm so sorry. I meant... well, would you like a lift to the hospital? You can't take the bus in this state and I wouldn't suggest you get on a bicycle either'.

Luckily it seemed Patsy was still too dazed to have registered the double meaning in Nurse Crane's words and turned to her with a pasted on smile and the glazed look of a person who is just barely forcing themselves to recognise your existence.

'Thank you Nurse Crane, I would appreciate that. Would you mind waiting a moment though? I can't go to the hospital looking like this. I have to make a good impression or they'll never find me fit. This is already rather unorthodox'.

'Take all the time you need. I'll wait here'.

The room remained unnaturally silent as Patsy passed by the people who had become her family and headed for the stairs. Although both Trixie and Sister Winifred laid gentle hands on her shoulder or sleeve as she passed by, somehow her expression belied any words of comfort.
It was more than five minutes after they heard the sound of her bedroom door clicking shut before anyone spoke again.

'The poor kid, it must have come as such a shock'.

As usual, Nurse Crane was the first to break the silence, but for once her words carried no command or even disapproval, just a weary sympathy that very few of them had ever heard there before.

'It was enough of a shock to me, seeing her standing next to me looking as right as rain after I'd run all the way here to tell Sister Julienne about her accident. I almost thought I was seeing a ghost'.

'Where is Sister Julienne? It doesn't seem like her to have wandered off at a time like this. I thought she'd have stayed to make sure Patsy was alright'.

Trixie was looking around the room as though she expected Sister Julienne to pop up from behind a piece of furniture and take charge of things, but Sister Winifred was shaking her head as she replied:

'When Patsy told the hospital she didn't know the whereabouts of Delia's family either, Sister Julienne said she was going over to ask Mr Hereward if he could get in touch with the Pastor of Delia's old parish. She thinks he might be able to help them track down any living relatives still in the area, or else find out what's become of the parents. I do hope they find someone. It really is too bad for poor Patsy to be burdened with this. What will they do if this girl doesn't get better? I really think it might be best for her to say no and let the hospital make the decisions. In truth it seems almost improper to do anything else'

'I hardly think Patsy's worrying about that right now Sister. Delia was... is... a very good friend of Patsy's. She can care for her far better than any impersonal hospital official or government welfare officer. Blood isn't the only thing that makes a person your family and I don't see why she should be denied that by people who know nothing about it'

Sister Winifred looked a little shocked at the ferocity with which Trixie delivered this speech, but Trixie glared back at her unapologetically, spots of pink high on her cheeks as she seemed to dare the young nun to contradict her.

'Nobody is suggesting otherwise Nurse Franklin, there's no need to take that tone. Sister Winifred was merely expressing a reasonable concern over the huge responsibility that comes with acting as next of kin to a patient in a critical state. She is simply afraid that it may be too much for Nurse Mount to handle'.

'I can do it'.

They all jumped guiltily as Patsy stepped back into the room. None of them had heard her coming. Somehow in the scant few minutes she had been absent she had managed to change into a smart blouse and impeccably pressed slacks. Her hair was newly brushed and swept back into a neat, practical chignon and her make up had been touched up, although Trixie noticed that she was no longer wearing mascara, as if she anticipated tears in the near future.

Nurse Crane recovered herself quickly and gave Patsy an encouraging smile.

'Of course you can Nurse Mount. You proved your mettle the night of the Bissette still birth and I wouldn't dream of doubting your competence now. Shall we go then, if you're all ready?'

'Yes, thank you Nurse Crane'.

Although she managed to keep her shoulders straight and her expression neutral as she followed Nurse Crane from the room, Patsy found she was entirely unable to meet either of her friends' eyes as she passed them. For that moment she couldn't bear to know whether their looks would contain sympathy or suspicion or even disgusted scorn.
She was half afraid that seeing either emotion would break her altogether and even more fearful that it would not, because she didn't want to admit to herself that as much as she loved these people, their opinion of her scarcely seemed to matter anymore.

It was a relief when the front door closed behind her and she could no longer feel their stares, hot against the back of her coat.