Chapter 10

Summary: Together, but apart.

A/N: SORRY I DIED AGAIN. Literally the only thing I can promise at this point in terms of updates is that I will not abandon this story, lol. Thank you for sticking around!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"My dear, Shelagh." Sister Julienne's relieved voice soothed her and she squeezed her hand. She could have sworn Patrick was just beside her.

She could feel Sister Julienne softly stroking her hand, willing her back into the world of the living, but she indulged her fears and kept her eyes closed. If they thought she was sleeping, they couldn't tell her she'd had a miscarriage. If they thought she was sleeping, she wouldn't have to see the pity in Sister Julienne's eyes. If they thought she was sleeping, she wouldn't have to see the fear in her children's faces now that both their parents were lying in hospital beds.

"Timothy." Sister Julienne called out gently. He must be sitting nearby, Shelagh thought. "She's waking up." God help her, she wanted to see him, but she wasn't ready yet. His lack of response from wherever he was sitting hinted he wasn't ready either...and he was possibly quite angry. Timothy and Patrick were both masters of the silent treatment when they wanted to be. She felt Sister Julienne's hand slip away and the rustle of the older woman's habit as she stood. "I believe it might help her to have you close."

"No it won't." Timothy snapped lowly. Shelagh felt her heart clench. "It didn't help dad, and it won't help her." He pushed his chair away roughly and his furious footsteps echoed on the tiles.

"Timothy, please," Sister Julienne called after him, but he wasn't coming back. Shelagh willed her to stay turned towards Timothy's retreating form, but, of course, the nun had too keen a sense of distress to ignore her for long. "I know you're awake, Shelagh." Shelagh's breath caught. "You don't have to do anything right now, my dear, just rest and listen." Sister Julienne sat back down at her bedside and Shelagh let the fleeting feeling of safety wash over her as the nun adjusted the blankets and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Patrick is still asleep, but the doctor says he's improving greatly. While you're both here, Timothy and Angela will stay at Nonnatus." She felt Shelagh try to speak and quickly soothed her. This wasn't a time for arguing. "I don't know how much you remember of what happened, but you need to rest. There was some blood loss, but you're still pregnant, Shelagh, do you understand? You haven't lost your baby." Shelagh felt an uncomfortable surge of happiness and relief, but was too tired to hold onto it. Instead, for the first time in her life, she let the world fall away as Sister Julienne's calming hand on her back lulled her to sleep.

"Watch where you're going, young man!" A nurse hollered at Tim as he shoved past her and out the hospital doors, but he didn't care. He needed to move. He wasn't even sure where he was heading, but he knew he couldn't stop. He couldn't go back to the maternity ward because he couldn't bear seeing his mum, he couldn't go to his dad's room because he wasn't allowed by himself, he couldn't go home because no one would be there, and he couldn't go to Nonnatus because he didn't want to deal with his sister. He just wanted to be anywhere that didn't have anything to do with the fact that his family was falling to pieces and there was nothing he could do about it.

He wanted to talk to someone. He desperately needed to fall apart to someone, but he couldn't, not when he knew that waiting on the other side of that conversation was a heap of platitudes about staying strong and waiting for the sun to come out. He didn't want to hear any of that. He knew better than that now. Sometimes, the world just fell apart for no reason and it was just awful. Why did no one else seem to understand that? Why did there have to be a reason for everything? Why on earth would there ever be a reason for him losing his mother and now having both of his parents in the hospital? There wasn't a reason for that. It didn't matter what any of the Sisters or nurses said.

He stewed in his thoughts and let his feet take him where they would, until eventually, he found himself paused in front of a familiar grave marker. The words "Marianne Turner: Beloved wife, mother, and daughter." stared back at him.

He didn't want to be here.

'Maybe someone else wanted you to be?' a little voice in the back of his head prodded at him. No. He just spent the entire walk here giving up on all hope of the universe making sense or having a plan. His mind was on death. That was the only reason why he was here. He would pay his respects to his birth mother and go somewhere else.

As he knelt on the soft earth, he realized how long it had been since he visited. He used to go all the time, especially during the first year when Patrick was so lost in his work. Perhaps it was the active imagination of childhood, but he always felt like she could hear him when he spoke to her here. Maybe that's why he stopped visiting as much. He supposed it hurt more as he got older and her presence felt further and further away.

"Why does everyone leave?" he whispered to the cold stone. He wasn't surprised to not hear a response. Even if she could talk to him, why would she want to talk to a son who stopped visiting and who just abandoned his new mother in the hospital because he wasn't strong enough to deal with seeing her in pain? Tim felt himself start to cry and he leapt up to rub eyes and hurry away before he completely lost it.

"Timothy?"

He cringed. Sometimes, he hated how small Poplar was. Someone was always there, for better or worse, whether you wanted them or not… He wiped his eyes one more time and turned around.

"Hello, Nurse Mount." he murmured. He prepared himself for the onslaught of "Are you okay?" or "Let's get you home." or "I know it's hard." Instead, Patsy smiled eerily knowingly at him.

"I'm not sure this was the break from the hospital I would've picked, but to each his own, I suppose." she remarked as she gestured to the Turner grave. She'd never been to Marianne's grave before, but it wasn't hard to make the connection between the distraught young man and the marker which bore his surname. "I take it your mother is awake?"

"How did you know?" Tim asked, shocked. News couldn't travel that fast, even in Poplar, and besides, Patsy was nowhere near a phone.

"You wouldn't have left otherwise." Patsy explained with a sigh. "It's always easier to be angry with them when we know they're going to be alright. You can't be angry when they might not survive. You don't want it to be the last emotion you feel towards them." she paused and looked away. "I'm sorry, Timothy, you don't need to hear all of that."

"No, it's alright." he insisted. "Thank you for...being honest."

Patsy's unease melted a bit and she gestured to a nearby bench. They could still see Marianne. Patsy moved her hands to adjust the skirt of her dress and it was only then that Tim noticed they were filthy.

"What were you doing out here?" he asked, then quickly followed with "If you don't mind my asking."

Normally, the question would've thrown her and she would've hidden comfortably inside a mask of nonchalance, but she felt connected to the young Turner. He'd been forced to grow up faster than he should have and it gave him an air of jadedness that ironically calmed her. Everyone these days had some sort of trauma in their past, but Timothy had lost one parent and now had two in intensive care and she could understand how worried he must be.

"Visiting as well." she replied. "My parents passed when we were...overseas... I don't really have anywhere to visit, but Mr. Hereward was gracious enough to arrange a small area for me." She left out the part where Trixie had pressure him after learning about her past. Tim didn't need to know the interpersonal drama of Nonnatus.

"You lost them both?" Tim asked quietly.

"Yes." Patsy replied. "It was sometime ago, but it helps to have somewhere to be with them."

They sat in peaceable silence as Tim let his gaze settle on his mother's resting place.

"I don't want to be angry, but..." Tim finally said. Patsy remained quiet, but her eyes encouraged him. "Dad was hurt protecting mum and now mum is hurt from worrying about dad and I just...I can't."

"You can't help but feel that they don't worry about you and Angela?" Patsy clarified. He nodded. It was a horrid thought, but it'd been swimming around his mind for hours and it was cleansing to hear it outloud.

"I know it's not true, but I can't help it." Tim's voice trembled. "Mum was so scared when she started bleeding and she looked at dad for help, but he obviously couldn't move, so she looked at me and I just froze. I didn't do anything. And then when the nurse took her away, Angela was crying, and I yelled at her, and then when mum woke up, I ran away and I yelled at Sister Julienne and I just don't know what to do anymore!" His rant carried him back to Marianne and he stomped his foot into the ground. "Why did you have to die?" he screamed at the grave. "It's your fault! If you hadn't died, mum would still be safe and dad wouldn't have had to save her in the first place! I hate you!"

Patsy stayed on the bench until Tim's yelling finally turned to tears and he slunk down into the dirt. She truly understood. It was easy to blame the dead or the living when you couldn't blame the dying. She also knew that while Shelagh's faith was strong and the family regularly attended church, Tim was likely about as observant as his father, which made personal crises even more difficult. While she herself did not believe, she often wished she did. It seemed so much simpler to believe someone was guiding it all. Without faith, she (and Timothy and Patrick) were reliant on their gut and their strength, and that wasn't easy at times.

"You won't be angry forever." Pasty assured quietly.

"Mum's going to be furious with me for leaving." he cried.

"No, she won't." Patsy promised. "When you're ready to go back, I think you'll find she's anxious to see you, whether that's in a few minutes or in a few days."

Tim nodded and continued to let himself cry, even as Patsy knelt beside him and placed her one remaining flower on Marianne's grave.

On bed she hadn't slept in in years, Marianne Turner also wept. Her son's screams brought her back to the darkness of her last days in her once-happy home. The room hadn't changed a bit, though she knew its real-life counterpart must look drastically different after years in the hands of another Mrs. Turner. To Marianne, though, the bed was still slightly broken on the left hand side, the duvet was still stained from Timothy's antics, and the pillows were as soft and pliant as they ever could be. Her fingers dug into the fabric as she heard Tim's voice over and over in her head. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

"Marianne Turner, you stop your blubbering this instant."

Marianne shot up off the bed and laughed at the familiar sight of Sister Evangelina scowling at her. How many times had they been in this position after her diagnosis? She'd cry and Sister Evangelina would softly comfort her before smacking her arm and telling her to pull it together and enjoy the time she had left with her boys. Why should it be different now?

"Sorry Sister." Marianne apologised. "It seems old habits die hard."

Sister Evangelina smiled.

"That they do, Mrs. Turner." she sat down on the bed and sighed. "I heard him too. Can't imagine that's easy to stomach, even if the lad doesn't mean it."

"I just want to help him." Marianne sniffled. "Patrick too, and Shelagh, and Angela. There's so much suffering."

"The Lord has certainly seen fit to test your family." Sister Evangelina agreed solemnly. "They're a strong bunch, though, they'll pull through."

"I haven't seen Patrick since he was first hurt." Marianne remarked. "I'd hoped it meant he was awake, but listening to Tim now-"

"We will never have any control over where He needs us to be, no matter how much we may want it and you know that." Sister Evangelina said with a practiced tone. "Though I will admit, I had hoped for a deeper understanding now that we're here on the other side." she smirked at her secret and Marianne brightened. She'd always loved the brash Sister. "All will come back together as it should in time." Marianne nodded.

"I truly hope so, Sister. I truly hope so."

Thank you so much for reading!