A/N back again! No consistency to updates sorry. Any recognisable dialogue probably belongs to the BBC.

It was going to be the sort of birth that Shelagh would quite happily hand in her resignation and live the rest of her life living on a canal boat, painting watering cans. Unfortunately, Shelagh hated boats, small spaces to live, and she couldn't paint if her life depended on it.

So it would be the sort of birth she would happily join a convent to avoid.

Mave Carter was thirty eight. That on its own, wouldn't have been a problem. Shelagh had delivered babies to women in their fifties before now with relatively few complications.

Unfortunately, Mave Carter was accompanied by Meg Carter. Meg Carter was an old stick in the mud, who feared hospitals, who feared healthcare professionals, who would happily strike out against them, and who would have preferred that her sister and her sister's husband had called the hospital when the labour pains started, not her.

Personally, Shelagh thought Meg Carter was annoyed that she wasn't having a baby as well. Which was ridiculous.

Mave Carter was having twins. She had come to hardly any prenatal sessions, out of fear of displeasing her twin, and so had a rather incomplete history of the pregnancy. Meg Carter was only ever going to make things more difficult.

Baby one had gone like clockwork. A beautiful, bright red and screaming baby girl. Baby two had involved a transverse presentation. Shelagh had to climb onto the bed, to turn the baby round, all the while keeping Patrick and Trixie appraised of the situation. The external manipulation was fine, it wasn't a difficult transition, but it was while she was holding baby in place, waiting for the head to engage, that Trixie's face turned ashen and she lifted the blood soaked rag.

A few choice swear words crossed her mind but she made sure to keep herself calm. Patrick was instantly trying to baby out with forceps. Meg Carter had made an appearance, trying to push Patrick away from her sister. Shelagh had forgotten herself for a moment, letting go of the baby to pull the woman off Patrick (she had been pushed aside herself, but it had stopped the woman long enough to let Patrick get back to saving mother and baby's life).

Then Mave had haemorrhaged. And baby wasn't breathing.

They had worked together, Patrick saving mum, and Shelagh bringing baby back to life. They had worked a miracle that day, without requiring surgery. The two sisters had re-bonded with their twins.

After, when mother and babies were doing well and Mave was on a ward under close observation, she had been stood with Patrick by the desk. It had been before he kissed her, before everything had changed. They had stood side by side, both exhausted. It was the end of their shift, and they were watching the clock, waiting for seven o'clock so they could go home. So they could see Timothy.

She hadn't felt so at peace in such a long time.

"I feel like an Officer and a Sergeant after the Battle of the Somme!" Patrick had announced with a heaving sigh a few minutes to the o'clock. Shelagh had smirked, shaking her head in soft amusement before he nudged her slightly, ducking his head down to her a little to say "and that doesn't mean I think I am the officer!"

She had laughed outright then, a light hearted laugh just as the clock struck seven and they could leave. It had been a long shift made even more difficult by the Carter twins birth. But being able to leave with him, to go and pick Timothy up and then on to the pub for dinner; it had felt right. It had felt like life was good, even though she was exhausted. She would love her two boys forever.

It was this memory that Shelagh was thinking about when the first letter arrived. She was staying in her brother's flat in West End Glasgow. He must have got her address from Julie-Anne. She ran a finger over the ' ' on the back.

A huge part of her wanted to rip the envelope open to read what was inside. She had done as he had asked, had called him to reassure him that she was at the hospital safely and that she had seen her brother. A part of her then had wanted to whisper please come, I need you beside me on this. I'm sorry for fighting, but please, please come.

She hadn't spoken to him since.

The number of times she had picked up the phone, dialled the number and then put the phone down again was obscene. And she had only been there a week. She hadn't mentioned anything to Cameron when she visited. He had enough on his plate without his baby sister realising that she was in love with her best friend, and he was probably in love with her too if the kiss was anything to go by.

No, it was safer to stay away from him, to pretend that her feelings didn't exist. It was so much safer that way, because love got you burnt. Love hurt you. Love only ever ended badly. She would rather jump than be pushed. And if that meant running away? Well, she had more on her mind at the moment than her silly little heart. So she put the letter into her bible, out of sight out of mind.

If only it was that easy.

….

Dear Shelagh,

Patrick wrote, then paused. He wasn't sure what to write to her. The last two letters had been full of concern and unwavering support, wellwishes from the various members of staff and their mutual friends. A picture from Timothy. They had been the sort of letter one would expect from a close friend. But she hadn't replied to either of them. Maybe writing would be easier than talking to her.

But she hadn't replied, maybe she just hadn't read them?

Maybe she didn't want to talk to him. Maybe she hadn't spoken to anyone.

….

"Have you heard from Shelagh lately?" Patrick asked Trixie in the staff room one day, staring forlornly at a cookie and trying to make it seem as if this wasn't the most important question of his day.

"Oh yes," Trixie said brightly, not fooled for a second but also not willing to soothe his ego! "I spoke to her on the phone the other night, her brother should be home at the end of the week and she is going to stay up in Glasgow until he is back on his feet, metaphorically speaking. I'll be going up to visit her next weekend, if you or Tim want me to take anything up."

"Oh, um, I'll, I'll ask Timothy, "Patrick had stuttered quietly before returning to his office.

….

"Hallo Trixie!" Shelagh had said with a wide smile upon seeing her friend laden down with bags. "You are aware that you're only staying two nights, aren't you?"

Trixie had huffed and shot her a distinctly unimpressed look. "I'll have you know that only that suitcase is mine, thank you very much! Getting back to London will be so much easier than getting here."

"What have you got in there?" Shelagh asked in surprise.

"Julie-Anne sent you a book, two balls of wool and a new pattern," Trixie began to list as they made their way to a taxi. "Cynthia has made a batch of cookies, her mother made a Victoria sponge. Jenny's grandma, batty Monica Jones has sent you up a book as well, Jenny a dvd boxset she thought your brother would like. I also went by your flat to pick up the stuff you requested and timothy has sent a letter and a little matchbox that I solemnly promised not to open, so I want you to hurry up so I know what is inside."

"Well!" Shelagh was astounded, she shook her head as if to clear it, before relieving Trixie of some of the awkward shapes. "How is everyone?"

"Julie-Anne has been the only thing keeping Evie from boiling over, Chummy and Peter are in Africa visiting her parents before baby is born, Cynthia is still depressingly single and boring – she won't come out with me at all! Jenny has a new boyfriend, he's a lawyer but that's all any of us know. Fred's latest scheme nearly got him fired, so Julie-Anne sent Evie to talk to him and he has promised not to do anything without consulting one of them first. We will see how long that lasts! Jane is off this weekend meeting her Reverend's parents down in Somerset and we have a new, freshly trained midwife called Winnie. She's lovely, but I'm a little surprised she wanted to be a midwife."

"So everything is normal?" Shelagh laughed, pretending she hadn't noticed that Trixie had missed off the Doctor and Timothy. She wasn't going to ask first!. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know, causing trouble in the most stylish way possible! I have a date with an actor on Thursday, about an hour after my shift ends! It will be divine!"

It wasn't until much later, at dinner with her brother drifting off to sleep in the armchair, that Trixie turned the conversation to Doctor Turner.

"I am quite amazed at you both you know," she said suddenly, sipping her wine thoughtfully. "Here I have been for four hours and you haven't even asked how Doctor Turner and Timothy are coping without you."

Shelagh looked down at her desert plate, unsure how to respond.

"Oh, don't worry, I know why you've not. He asked me the other day if I had heard from him, so I told him the truth. He looked a little bit like a lost sheep. I am assuming that he has been trying to contact you and you've been ignoring him. Distance is all very well and good Shelagh, but the poor man looks like a ship that's lost its anchor!"

"A Sense and Sensibility quote," Shelagh joked weakly, "how cultured of you!"

"Ha ha, very funny. My point is that whatever it is that caused this rift between you two, distance isn't making it any better."

"But it is giving me time to think," Shelagh said quietly but firmly, signalling the end of the conversation. "How's Timothy?"

"He's asking after you every time he sees one of us. I don't think he is doing too badly for living with Doctor Turner on his own without you as a buffer to the poor cooking and shocking ironing skills. You know, we never realised that you must do their ironing until Timothy came from school looking so unkempt the other day!"

"He isn't sending the boy to school in a crumpled uniform is he?!" Shelagh was horrified. "Oh, dear!"

…

Six weeks after Shelagh dropped everything and ran up to Scotland, her brother was released from the hospital. While he wasn't completely better, he was medically fit, and Shelagh had, in her quiet but firm way, insisted she would stay as long as required to take care of his health needs. His rehabilitation involved drastic dietary and exercise changes as well as countering the effects of his heart attack.

The letters had been arriving steadily, at least one a week. Her address scrawled across the front. His address scrawled on the back. All six were unopened.

Cameron found them the second day at home, while Shelagh was making breakfast and he was collecting the post from the mat. He saw the cardboard box on the sideboard, six letters inside. All from the same person.

He hadn't been in his sisters life for over twelve years, but he and Shelagh had been thick as thieves growing up, and he knew some of her oldest habits and secrets. This one, collecting something she can't bear to face but can't let go? Classic Shelagh avoidance tactics. Whoever the on the back was, he had confused Shelagh enough to make her want to bury her head in the sand, to turn away from the window and pretend the world wasn't carrying on outside.

Shelagh only ever avoided awkwardness – usually related to romantic entanglements. Providing Shelagh hadn't changed (and in this case it was unlikely), she was completely crushing on/potentially in love with the person she was ignoring. It was like high school all over again, when her long term best friend admitted that he loved her and wanted to go out with her. She had been completely blindsided, and so had avoided him for a week, until it was too awkward and he eventually gave up. They were barely speaking by the end of the year. That was what Shelagh did. She would push people away for fear of getting herself hurt. Their parents relationship had taken care of that.

"Shelagh," Cameron had called out, shuffling back into the kitchen. "One for you."

Shelagh wiped her hands, turning around with a smile looking more like their mother than she ever had before with an apron tied around her waist. She held her hands out, taking the letter. Cameron watched her carefully, noting the flash of pain in her eyes when she noted the handwriting.

"I'll read it later," she said, quietly and firmly placing the letter on the sideboard. "Now, sit down and eat your breakfast while I get your tablets."

"You can't avoid him forever Shee," he said quietly, catching hold of her wrist as she bustled past. "That's a hell of a lot of letters stacking up in the hall. I think he wants to talk to you."

Shelagh ignored him by ducking her head, pulling her wrist out and leaving the room.

…..

She hadn't slept a wink in nearly forty-eight hours now, and she was blaming Cameron. She had been quite content, studiously ignoring the letters in the hall. She had been able to bustle about and pretend that nothing was wrong, that she didn't miss talking to him, that she hadn't picked up her mobile on more than one occasion to make sure that they were coping without her reasonably enough.

She just wanted to hear his voice.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn't they have just carried on ambling along happy and content in that strange, not together, not not relationship. Why couldn't everything have stayed exactly as it was?

Sleep was obviously going to keep eluding her until she had made her decision. Life wouldn't go back to the way it was, that much was for certain. Realistically, she had two options: go back to London, and pursue a relationship with Patrick…or stay in Glasgow and cut off all ties with him and Tim.

For some reason, that second one hurt more.

"Shee?" Cameron said in surprise, started by the picture of his younger sister sat at the kitchen table, a mug of Horlicks in her hands, without her glasses on, in darkness. She jumped a little, and turned to look at him, but before she could hide behind her mother hen act, Cameron put a hand on her shoulder. "Talk to me Shee, tell me about what's eating you up. Like you used to before I went away to uni."

"That was a long time ago," Shelagh replied quietly.

"I know," Cameron sank down into the chair opposite. "So I am guessing you don't want to talk, well, I guess I can deal with that. So how about I talk? We've been through a lot, you and I. You more than me because you had the guts to stand up to Pa and walk away. I can remember our parents, and how much they loved each other, and all you can remember is the pain that was left behind after Mams death. All you can remember is Pa ignoring you and then trying to dictate what you should do with your life. And I'm sorry I didn't back you up. But they loved each other so much, and I have had a lonely life since you went to England, I didn't have anyone who loved me unconditionally. I need you to remember though, love is worth the pain of losing them. This fellow you're running away from, remember all the good moments you've had over your friendship…"

Shelagh smiled slightly, remembering birthdays, and coffee and Tim.

"Now, those good memoires, those moments of happiness, do you regret having formed them? No, you don't. That's what love is Shelagh, its forming the good memories to tide you through the bad. You shouldn't keep pushing him away because you are scared that if you let the entire wall down, he will just let you go. I spoke to your friend, the blonde bombshell one, and she said that you and this guy have been friends since you first started working together, and no one is entirely sure when you two stopped just being friends. Do you remember what Grandpappy used to say to us, about love and marriage?"

"Marry your best friend," Shelagh smiled quietly, "At least then, when the love is gone, friendship will remain."

"Do you love him?" Cameron prodded. That Shelagh didn't say anything, just looked down into her mug again said it all. He nodded, and heaved himself up. Shelagh's eyes followed him in confusion to the hall door, and widened in shock and a little bit of fear when he came back in holding her cardboard box of letters.

"Cameron I … can't…" Shelagh tried to push away from the table, but a look from Cameron stopped her.

"Shelagh, you need to know what he has to say. You'll be returning to the hospital soon, before they cut you from the rota entirely. You need to have made a decision before then. Please, read them."

Cameron dropped a soft kiss onto Shelagh's hairline before patting her shoulder. He stood in the doorway for a few moments, watching as she hesitantly selected the first letter, and began to read.

If the small smile on her face was anything to go by, she and her exhausted doctor would be very happy indeed.