This takes place sometime between episodes 4x07 and 4x08 of CtM.

Two files sat side by side on Sister Julienne's desk at Nonnatus House. It had been a busy morning, organizing old paperwork for long-term storage, and the sister had been glad of the help she had received. With the resourceful assistance of Sister Winifred, the paperwork had been sorted, filed, re-filed and boxed, with the current files organized and the older files sent to the storage room. Why she was now sitting here staring at these two particular files was something of a wonder to consider.

Both files were similar on the outside—the usual olive green folders full of notes, records and dates. Both were curiously labeled, each with two names. The original names had been neatly crossed out—a single, clean line running through so the writing was still clearly legible—and each had a new name written just as carefully above it. The file on the left was older—twelve years old, with its neighbor only four. What struck the sister most of all, though, was not the files themselves as much as the stories behind them, and the two dear women they represented.

It had been late in the sorting process, and Sister Julienne was just getting to the last few folders in the nurses' file when Sister Winifred had called her attention to the folder, which had been found in the drawer of sisters' records. A curious expression on her usually smiling face, the young sister pulled the folder out of the drawer and held it up.

"Sister Julienne?" she asked, looking at the name on the file. Sister Julienne turned to look and noticed that she had pulled the file from the very back of the drawer—the place where they had kept the records of sisters who had left the order. Sister Winifred raised her eyes.

"I know you said these files go in the box, but what about this one?" She brought the file over so that the elder sister could see the names—"Sister Bernadette" had been crossed out, with the name "Mannion, Shelagh" written above it.

"Ah!" Sister Julienne's eyes widened with recognition.

"Sister Bernadette, and Shelagh—that's Mrs. Turner, isn't it?"

Sister Julienne gently took the folder, nodding. "Yes." She ran her fingers along the names. "I remember the day I re-filed this, two years ago now."

"You want to keep it out of the box, of course." The young sister smiled. This hadn't been a question.

Sister Julienne nodded. "Two years," she said again. "What a difference that makes."

"Indeed," Sister Winifred said. "I hadn't even met her two years ago. She's always been Mrs. Turner to me." She reached for the folder. "Where should we put it, then? Back in the sisters' file, or maybe in the nurses' drawer?"

Sister Julienne gently waved the younger sister's hand away, keeping her own hands on the folder. "Now that's a curious matter. She's not technically employed by us, you know." That was true, although Shelagh wore a Nonnatus uniform with the full blessing and support of Nonnatus House, and especially Sister Julienne.

She placed the file on her desk. "We can leave it here for now. I'll have to consider it."

Sister Winifred returned to her task, removing dusty old folders from the drawer, wiping them off, and placing them in the clean new box that would soon be gathering its own dust in the Nonnatus House storeroom. Sister Julienne returned her own attention to the nurses' files, arranging the current ones in order and removing any that were ten years or more out of date, stacking them on her desk. After a time, Sister Winifred looked up again. She was holding a particularly worn-looking folder and eying it curiously.

"Do they usually keep in touch?"

Sister Julienne looked up. "Pardon?"

Sister Winifred held up the folder. "The sisters who have left. I don't think I've heard much about it before."

Sister Julienne stood for a moment, looking at the earnest young sister. She thought back, trying to remember. "Some of them have, but not closely. An occasional letter or Christmas card, and there are some who have kept in closer touch with particular sisters. For the most part, however, when a sister leaves the order we rarely see her again."

Sister Winifred's eyes brightened. "So, Mrs. Turner's case is rather… unusual, isn't it?"

Sister Julienne nodded. "Yes. Very unusual. In my experience, it's unique." Here, she smiled. "But then, so is Shelagh Turner."

The young sister also smiled. "Yes. I sometimes wish I'd met her when she was still Sister Bernadette, if only to hear her voice in chapel every day. It's lovely."

Glancing at Shelagh's folder again, Sister Julienne paused for a moment, lost in nebulous thoughts she couldn't track, until finally one took shape. "There was a time when I sincerely hoped she'd follow in my footsteps. That this would be her office one day."

Sister Winifred stood up. "And now?"

"Now, I see what Sister Evangelina is always saying. That everything happens for a reason." She picked up the folder, opening it and leafing through the papers. A list of facts, dates, vital statistics—all woefully inadequate to illustrate the life they represented. And then, Sister Winifred suddenly laughed. Sister Julienne stared at her, questioning.

"Sorry, Sister. I was remembering something young Timothy said to me the last time they were here." She walked over to join Sister Julienne as she closed the folder again.

"He said that he's glad Mrs. Turner isn't a nun anymore, because he's not only gained a mum. He's gained a lot of crazy aunties as well."

Sister Julienne couldn't help but chuckle, and inside she felt nothing but gratitude. She had once been afraid that perhaps she would lose one of her most beloved sisters. Who would have known that it would have taken this unusual path to not only restore such a vital relationship, but to make it all the stronger?

The filing hadn't taken much longer. Soon she and Sister Winifred had carried the boxes to the storeroom, and the young sister had taken her leave to see to her daily rounds. It was an office morning for Sister Julienne, so here she was at her desk, looking at those two files. The second one had come to her mind when Sister Winifred was turning out the light in the storeroom and the two sisters were about to go their separate ways. Just as Sister Julienne had turned her back, Sister Winifred called after her.

"I just had a curious thought," she said as Sister Julienne turned again to face her.

"And what is that?"

Sister Winifred smiled. "I was thinking of those file drawers. It just struck me that there's one person we know whose folder has been in both places."

Sister Julienne looked at her for a moment, and then nodded. "Ah, yes. I'm glad our newest novice is settling in so well."

This remark was met by the usual wide smile. "Yes. Very well, it seems. She seemed a little… unsure at first but she looks much happier now."

"Yes, she's finding her joy, it appears," replied the older sister.

And so now here she was with both files on her desk. The newer one had a definite place, in the drawer of sisters' records. "Miller, Cynthia" had been neatly lined through and replaced with "Sister Mary Cynthia" above it. It was the exact reverse of Shelagh's folder. In fact, their whole lives seemed to be odd mirrors of each other, reflecting in different directions. Recalling her earlier conversation with Sister Winifred, she realized that it wasn't only Shelagh Turner's path that had been unique. At least in her 11 years at Nonnatus, she couldn't remember a single nurse on their staff who had decided to join the order. Perhaps it had happened in the past, but she knew of no such cases. She marveled at the curiosity of it and she could only concede that it must be God's hand, because only He would be able to orchestrate such a thing.

Her thoughts turned to the soft-spoken young novice who was just starting to find her way in her new role in the order, gaining confidence in her studies and a new found happiness in both her nursing duties and the daily offices. Sister Julienne had admired Cynthia Miller's dedication, compassion and commitment to her work and her patients. Now, she was getting to know her as her newest beloved sister. Then, there was her dear former sister who had also struggled in her first year after leaving the religious life, although she now seemed to be thriving beyond Sister Julienne's wildest imaginations. It was a wonder to see how well Shelagh fit into her new life, and to clearly see how her old life had prepared her for it. Sister Julienne had never seriously doubted that Shelagh had made the right decision, especially once she knew the reason for it and saw the joy in her eyes when she spoke of Dr. Turner. Still, she had to admit she had struggled with the idea of not seeing her dear friend every day. She had mentored so many young sisters over the years, and she loved them all. It must be natural, however, that some would become more dear than others. Still this one was even more so—almost a daughter, if she had to categorize it. And she was contented and proud, knowing now so well that Shelagh Turner was where she was supposed to be.

Two young women, two folders, two lives. They had even swapped uniforms, in a sense. There was Shelagh's new uniform, which she now wore every day at the surgery. Then there was the habit she had left behind. Sister Julienne remembered the spare one she had left in Sister Mary Cynthia's room. The small size of it called to mind the former Sister Bernadette, but as the number on the tag had been faded to near-illegibility, there was no real way of knowing who the previous wearer was, even though the one readable digit did match. It didn't matter, though. What mattered was that Sister Julienne herself had been witness to a remarkable series of events, and these two young women had both been called, as clearly as if there had been an audible announcement.

Returning her attention to the folders, she still wasn't sure what to do, aside from one thing. Thankfully, her handwriting was small enough for there to be room. Finding her pen, she added "(Turner)" after Shelagh's name on the file. Then, taking Sister Mary Cynthia's folder, she placed it back in the sisters' file, leaving Shelagh's folder on her desk. This would take some more thought, she concluded. What's to be done with a situation that has never happened before, and was likely to never happen again? It was a conundrum indeed, but not one for which Sister Julienne had time at present. It was nearly time to join the sisters and nurses for lunch, and so she headed to the door.

Pausing in the doorway for a moment, she glanced at the folder on her desk and remembered another day, two years ago, sat at a desk in another room very much like this one. She had watched as a sister signed a paper, removed a ring and was a sister no more. She had also watched, just over a year later, as a young nurse walked down an aisle in chapel, followed by loved ones and dear sisters. Both had begun new lives, answering the calls that they heard so clearly. She knew that peace did not last and trials would always come in this lifetime, but she was assured that her beloved friend and sister had been prepared to meet whatever challenges would arise. Now, for just a few moments, Sister Julienne could only stand here, stare at a simple green folder and marvel at the wondrous wisdom of God.