Prompt 20: "Why are you so nice to me?"
Summary: Sister Bernadette after her first rough delivery with Dr. Turner. TW: self-hatred, abuse, language
A/N: I'm back! With a sad one, but I promise there's more fluff and smut to come soon. :D
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"You killed her! You stupid bitch!"
Jackson Kent threw Sister Bernadette against the wall and had his fist raised to hit her as Doctor Turner grabbed him from behind.
"Get off of her!" he shouted as he tried to subdue the raging widower.
"She killed my Sally! She killed my son! It's her fault!" Mr. Kent spat in fury.
"It's no one's fault, Mr. Kent, these things happen!" Dr. Turner had managed to drag Mr. Kent backwards far enough to get Sister Bernadette out of harm's way, but he needed the man to calm down.
"What do you know?!" Mr. Kent fought against Dr. Turner's grip. "You with your perfect wife and perfect son and your well-off flat? You and these bloody nuns, don't know nothing about real life!"
"You can yell all you want, it won't bring them back, Mr. Kent!" Dr. Turner grunted as he shoved the man out of the bedroom and bolted the door.
"You can't keep me out of my own room!" Mr. Kent hollered.
"I can until the coroner gets here, now go and cool off or I'll call the police!" he shouted through the door.
Mr. Kent threw his fist against the door and finally stormed away screaming.
Dr. Turner sighed in relief. The poor man's reaction wasn't unwarranted, but it didn't change the fact that they'd just lost his wife and only child to a violent hemorrhage and a stillborn birth. He turned and leaned heavily against the door. It seemed the whole room was covered in blood. He closed his eyes and tried to force away the image of his Marianne in Sally's place with a tiny, blue Timothy in the corner. It was the only reason he hadn't hit Jackson. His own son was barely two months old and he couldn't imagine the rage and unrelenting agony he would feel if anything happened to either member of his precious family.
When his nausea had subsided, he opened his eyes and forced himself to focus on the young nun. He'd worked alongside her before, but she was incredibly quiet and he didn't know much about her apart from the fact that despite what Mr. Kent said, she was an exceptional midwife. She couldn't be older than early 20s and so he wasn't sure if she'd ever lost a patient before.
"Are you alright, Sister?" he asked cautiously. He also wasn't sure if she'd hit her head when she hit the wall.
Sister Bernadette sat on the floor, eyes glazed over. She didn't respond.
"Sister Bernadette?" he asked again as he stepped towards her and held out his hand. She visibly flinched and he froze. "It's alright, it's just me. Mr. Kent is gone."
He stepped towards her, intent on helping her up, after her eyes met his, but the look on her face stopped him. It was partially fear, but mostly sad anticipation. She was waiting for him to punish her. He'd seen the same look on his sister's face enough times to recognize it. He felt a sudden urge of fierce protectiveness over their newest nurse.
He eased down onto the floor - he knew his height could be intimidating - and just sat and waited. He didn't want to leave her alone in a room with two dead patients, but he also didn't want to scare her further. She'd been doing remarkably well in the East End for such a young, soft-spoken girl and he would hate for this to send her running.
They sat in silence, surrounded by the smells of blood, amniotic fluid, and stale flesh: smells that would've destroyed others, but felt like a day's work to them. He wondered why she entered into nursing. Was it simply interest or was she driven, like him, to find a way to put a positive drive behind the constant smell of blood in his memories?
"Are you angry?" he heard her ask hesitatingly. At least she was feeling safe enough to talk.
"Not with you." he answered honestly. "You did everything you could. We both did."
"But I'm her - I was her midwife." she argued gently. "I was supposed to keep her safe."
"With all due respect, Sister, we're not miracle workers. Sometimes disasters happen that we have no control over." his eyes darkened. "He should never have hurt you."
"Yes he should have." she whispered. "I deserved it."
"No, you didn't." he promised vehemently. "Even if a single part of this mess was your fault, which it isn't, he had no right to touch you."
Sister Bernadette cast her eyes to the floor. She knew it was pointless to argue. She would never believe him and he would never stop trying to convince her otherwise. She did wonder, though.
"Why are you so nice to me?" she asked. People, but men especially, didn't have the best track record of being kind to her.
"You make it easy to be." he replied simply. Truly looking at her for the first time, he realized just how young and pretty she was. He couldn't help but wonder if whatever horrors her past held were partially responsible for her vocation.
"I should clean up." she said quickly, standing and turning from his gaze. She didn't think there was anything menacing in his looks, but somehow that made them even more unsettling.
"I'll help you." he offered.
"Thank you, but it's not necessary, Doctor." she replied. "I'm sure you have other patients to attend to and there's nothing more you can do here."
He understood. She wanted to be alone.
"Are you sure you'll be alright?" he asked, clearly not referring to the clean up.
"I'll be perfectly fine, thank you Dr. Turner." she answered unconvincingly, but without room for argument.
He nodded and gathered his things.
She wouldn't know until many years later than he hadn't actually left. He'd waited until the coroner arrived so that Mr. Kent wouldn't come home while she was there alone and only headed back to Marianne and Timothy once she'd pedaled away on her bicycle.
He wouldn't know until many years later that that afternoon, he'd become the first man she ever trusted and respected. Sister Julienne had told her when she arrived that Dr. Turner was a good man, but people had said that about many men who had turned out to be cruel. It gave her hope in the world knowing that he wasn't one of them.
20 down, 30 to go! Almost halfway!