It had been two and a half days since the disastrous adoption interview and subsequent fight between Shelagh and Patrick. Every moment, Shelagh regretted her words spoken in anger more. She had known better but, in the moment, as she saw her hopes and dreams of a child crashing down around her, her illusion of who her husband was shaking and the truth that their relationship may have a crumbing foundation come to light, they came out. And they seemed the only right words to say. And now, now the house was steeped in anger and unfamiliar, their relationship non-existent. Patrick didn't speak to her, or if he did it was clipped and cold. That was when he was home, he would leave early and come home late avoiding her and their home as much as possible. He was barely even sleeping in the same room and bed as her. He hadn't hugged her, kissed her, touched her or even glanced at her in a friendly way since before the interview started. Shelagh craved his touch, craved his affection, any of his attention.

She didn't know what to do, marriage was still fairly new to her and relationship strife was something she knew nothing about. She had made him his favorite foods with little success, currently his plate of pot roast was sitting on the table under the cloture in a vain attempt to keep it warm. Dinner was now over two hours ago. She wasn't sure if he was late tonight because he was with a patient, or if he was doing paperwork at the surgery just to avoid her and their home, she hoped it was the former. He had always called when he thought he would be late or with a patient but now? She had thought about calling the surgery, but she didn't want to be the nagging wife, she had already created a rift, she didn't need to create another.

Seeing it was late, she sent Tim to bed. She would wait up for him by herself. Maybe they could talk when he came home. It was almost midnight when she heard the green MG pull in. She anxiously sat on the settee, trying to concentrate on her sewing as she waited for him to come in. She resolved not to be annoyed at the late hour, or her stone-cold dinner, if he was this late it must have been a rough day.

Hearing the door open, and Patrick fumbling his was in, she casually glanced towards it and called "Patrick?". She could not believe what she saw, it was Patrick, her Patrick stumbling, eyes bloodshot and completely and utterly drunk, still holding a half full bottle of whiskey.

"Smashing! You're still up…even better you can see me (takes another swig of the whiskey) this way, worthless and broken- just like I am!" Patrick slurred as he spoke.

Shelagh didn't know what to do, she didn't need to upset him further. Trying to change the subject and perhaps begin to sober him up, she asked "Would you like me to warm up your dinner? Maybe some tea? A hot bath?"

"No! I want you to leave already! Leave me like I know you will."

"Patrick"

"LEAVE SHELAGH, JUST LEAVE ME! I KNOW YOU WANT TO, WHY WOULD YOU STAY WITH ME. YOU SAID YOURSELF I'M BROKEN; HOW CAN I TREAT PEOPLE AND NOT TREAT MYSELF." Patrick sobbed. "I TOOK YOUR ONLY DREAM…. COULDN'T EVEN GIVE YOU A HAPPY HOME. SO JUST GET OUT, LEAVE!" Patrick finished while gulping down more whiskey.

Tears rolled down Shelagh face, she wanted nothing more than to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay, they were married, better or for worse. Neither noticed that he had woken Tim with his screaming, and Tim was watching wide eyed from the hall.

"Patrick, love!"

"DON'T! LEAVE ALREADY-JUST GET OUT. LET ME WALLOW IN MY BROKENNESS WITHOUT YOU JUDGING ME. YOU ALWAYS WERE TOO GOOD FOR ME! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND YOU WILL LEAVE ME FOREVER ANYWAYS? I KNEW I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU BUT-"

Patrick sat the nearly empty bottle down on the coffee table then turned around and started towards the front door.

"Patrick" she cried. "Please please please…. You're not broken, You are more than good enough for me. I won't leave!"

Tim seemed to jump out of nowhere "Dad! Dad!" tears rolling down his small face. Anxiously looking between his parents.

"Go to bed Tim!" Patrick growled as he bent down to grab Shelagh's shoes, although nearly losing balance and toppling over.

"LEAVE. NOW." He said forcefully as he thrust her shoes into her hands.

No no no no no…this wasn't happening. He wouldn't really kick her out, he loved her, she loved him…everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. This was just the alcohol talking, she knew it from her father when he would come home drunk. If she could just get him calmed down.

Not knowing what else do she slipped her shoes and a jacket on, grabbing her purse.

"Mum!" Tim pleaded as he watched and knew what was happening.

Forcing a smile, as not to scare Tim and to put on a brave face for herself, she kissed his head "It's okay Tim, I'll be back once he settles- it's just the whiskey. Make sure he gets to bed with some water and aspirin"

Patrick leaned against the wall, looking as though the wall was the only thing able to keep him upright. Watching her and Tim. Tears ran down his face, his eyes bloodshot. Shelagh moved slowly and deliberately, as she walked up to him and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I love you Patrick, that's why I'll do what you ask."

She then went to the door, opened it slowly and turned one more time, hoping, hoping he would call out, say don't go. But instead, all she saw was a little boy crying and her husband staring angrily. Walking out she shut the door and sat down on the stoop, unsure of what to do next or where to go. All the sudden she heard the familiar click of the lock, she turned around to see Patrick stumble away. Standing, she went to the door and looked in, he had kicked her out, locked her out without even looking back.

He was all she had, was it all a mistake? Getting married so soon, moving in with them, giving up her entire world to be with them, when one night he could simply come home and decide it was over? No, it couldn't be over. She was so sure of it when she left the sanatorium and never doubted, not even the last couple rough days, but had he? Was he regretful of their relationship all along? Did he really think he wasn't good enough for her? The wind was blowing, and it was sprinkling rain, reminding her that she needed to find somewhere to go…. perhaps she could go to the surgery and stay there tonight…fumbling through her purse she found her spare surgery key and started to walk.

Memoires came flooding back of her father after her mother died. The whiskey, the anger, the actions. While her father never kicked her out, he had blamed her for her mother's death, when there was nothing she could have done to save her, she was barely five. It's what pushed her in to the convent, at least there she was out of the way. Oh how she longed to run to Sister Julianne but knew she couldn't she had closed that chapter of her life.

Patrick woke with a dry mouth and pounding headache. Opening his eyes, he was still in his suit from… yesterday… maybe? He was on top on the sheets, the bed not being unmade previously, where's Shelagh? Looking around, everything started to flood back to him. With each memory of the previous night his stomach churned, bile rose in his throat, despair and anguish seemed to grip his heart tight.

"Shelagh" he croaked out, hoping it was all a nightmare. The bedroom door opened but it was Tim that came in, with a glass of water and burnt toast. "Good you're awake." Tim quipped not bothering to hide his annoyance. "Here" Tim proffered aspirin and water, followed by the toast. Patrick reached out and took it, quickly popping the aspirin in his mouth followed by a drink of water. Unsure if he trusted his stomach with food, he sat the toast down on the nightstand. "Thanks Tim" Patrick sputtered; he really wasn't sure what else to say to his son, even though he had lots of questions and fears as to what had happened. He knew from his son's demeanor and attitude that his memory of last night's events s probably wasn't serving him.

Tim shot him an angry glance then turned to leave, as Patrick cleared his throat to speak. "Where's…where's um… Mum?"

Anger flashed across Tim's features, followed by pain as he spat

"How would I know?! You kicked her out last night and she hasn't come back. What if she never comes back?! I hate you! I HATE YOU!" Tim yelled as he ran from the room, hot tears streaking down his face.

Leaving Patrick once again alone, but this time Tim's words swirled mean whirlpools around his mind. Why did he go to the bar, he knew he shouldn't but the demons roused by the adoption interview wouldn't leave him alone. Now, those same demons sneered as not only had them robbed him of days, moments, years of life but also of the happiness Shelagh had brought to him. What if she really did leave him? Why wouldn't she leave him- he kicked her out of their home, who knows where she even went… his past had stolen her dream of having a child… he had nothing going for him, his life was falling apart all over again, just like after the war. They warned him at Northfield that if he didn't keep the war tucked away, this could, would happen. He had done so well, so well until that women from the adoption agency had to poke him, stoke the fire that had only been barely smoldering before.

Why did it matter for an adoption anyway, he was a successful doctor, with a large practice. He was…or had been successful despite his breakdown. But no, they didn't see any of that, they just saw the real him, he was broken, a failure, failure for not being able to save the boys from the war, failure for not being able to cope with it, a failure for breaking down, a failure for not being able to save his first wife from the cancer, a failure as a father to Tim, and now a failure to Shelagh, his second chance. FAILURE. No matter how hard he tried he would never escape it, all he was, was a failure. Sighing, he rose stumbling to the bathroom, knowing he would be late to work and rounds, just another way I'm failure he thought.

Shelagh awoke on the floor of the maternity home in Patrick's office, last night's events still burning in her mind. Quickly rising and picking up the blanket and pillow she had used, she wanted to leave before anyone arrived, including Patrick. She knew they needed to talk, but not here and not now, she needed just a bit longer to process her thoughts. Fixing her hair quickly in the mirror in the bathroom, anyone she would happen to meet would never know, she was in yesterday's dress and makeup, and had been kicked out of her home.

She walked to the park and sat on the bench, she wanted to make sure Patrick was gone by the time she got back to the flat. What was she going to do if he didn't want her, like he said? Yes, he had been drunk but sometimes alcohol was a marvelous truth serum. She had nowhere to go if…if it was over… she had left everything to be with Patrick, she couldn't run back to the church. Sister Evangelina would have a hay-day with this. Her marriage didn't even last a year… unwanted tears ran down her face, it was all her fault. If she could just give Patrick children then this never would have happened, if she wasn't so persistent on wanting a child this never would have happened. Maybe this was just God's way of ensuring she never truly had a child of her own. Silently she prayed; prayed for her and Patrick, their marriage, prayed for Timothy and that she could accept God's will. Guilt bubbled up again inside her over her harsh words from after the interview, the moment when Patrick needed her support, her love and she turned and spat that about how his past was not going to be something they could keep from coming between them. The words seeming to only put more distance between them. With the benefit of time, reflection and prayer she realized that this wasn't something to come between them, but something they must face together. If he wasn't able to share about his time in Northfield, then it was just something she would have trust that he would deal with on his own. 1 Peter 4:8, floated through her mind, "Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins." She did love Patrick, more than she ever could imagine, so that's what she'll do, keep loving him earnestly and hopefully, he still loved her. Love did cover all sins, when Jesus died on the cross, his love covered all the sins. Her and Patrick's love could cover this, she knew it. If, if he would forgive her for forcing him to reveal this private matter, then threatening him over it. Rising she started towards home, or at least her home for now, whatever was to come, she trusted the Lord's plans.

Turning the corner, relieved she noticed the green MG was gone. Stepping inside she noticed the dinner she left for Patrick was still in its place on the table, along with the toaster sitting out, along with a couple of glasses for juice. Sighing she continued on to their bedroom, where she found the bed, wrinkled from sleep but not unmade, along with toast sitting on the nightstand. Grabbing a new dress, she quickly went into the bathroom to change then start her housework.

Patrick arrived at the surgery and went straight to his office, he couldn't treat people today, he would just fail them like he did with everything else. Calling Nonnatus House, he would have the nurses do his rounds and check on those he was supposed to see, stressing he only wanted to be bothered for a true emergency. He wondered if Shelagh had gone there last night, if so, he knew this call wasn't going to go well at all. But maybe if she was still there, he could talk to her or at least have her listen to him, saying how sorry he was. However, once Sister Julianne answered, he knew that was not the case. Sister Julianne was her normal happy self and didn't seem to know anything about the events that had transpired. Citing a cold as the reason for avoiding rounds, she wished him to feel better and hung up. Patrick tried to do paperwork, saw the few patients that actually came into the office but mostly he just sat, thinking of what he was going to do, how he was going to survive Shelagh leaving.

Shelagh cleaned the house from top to bottom, did all the laundry and made a special dinner with dessert again. If this was the end, she wanted them to at least have clean clothes, a clean home and a nice homemade meal, if not for Patrick, for Tim. Poor Timothy was collateral damage in all of this. Soon enough, Tim came home, yelling "Mum!?"

"In the sitting room, Timothy dear!"

Shelagh had not expected the boy, almost a teen, to come running at her and wrap her in a hug.

"Mum! You're here! You came back. I love you! Please please please don't leave me…or dad. Please we need you! Mum." Tears soaked began to soak through her dress from Tim's face, pressed firmly against her.

Never did Shelagh expect this, holding Tim tight in a hug. They stood that way for a very long time, until Shelagh felt Tim move, letting him go, he continued to hold her and look up to her face. In his tear-streaked face she could see the fear of her leaving him, and the love he had for her.

Placing a kiss on his head, she spoke "Oh Timothy I could never leave you…or your father. I need you too! Now did you have a good day at school? How does cake sound for dessert?"

"Chocolate cake?! Smashing! School is a bore…like normal. Mum I missed you so much"

"I missed you too Timothy. I have just pulled one out of the oven. Why do you get started on your homework, while I start dinner?"

Moving to the kitchen and the table, Shelagh and Timothy carried on easy conversation, as if nothing had ever happened. Shelagh relished in the moment, the moment where everything felt right and normal.

Shelagh's nerves grew as it got later in the evening, Patrick could be home any moment and what would he think, what would he do when he found her back in the flat, the flat that he had told her to leave less than 24 hours before. Pulling the shepherd's pie from the oven she placed it on the table, wondering how long to hold dinner. Returning to the kitchen she went to the sink to finish a few dishes when she heard the door open. She stood still, fear rising up within her. She could hear his measured steps coming down the short hall and stop abruptly when he reached the kitchen.

"Shelagh?!" Patrick said truly dumbfounded, never did he expect to see her there. No not when he had said so many horrible things, kicked her out of their house. But yet, there she was doing dishes as if nothing had happened.

The surprise in his voice did nothing to calm her, he clearly did not expect her to be there.

"Good evening Patrick. Dinner is on the table" she said demurely. She couldn't turn to look at him, she didn't want to see possibility of the loss of love in his eyes, or the anger that was there last night. Patrick sat down at the table and called Tim in who had moved to the sitting room after his homework. Shelagh dried her hands and sat down, keeping her eyes downcast and never looking up. They ate in relative silence with Tim occasionally trying to start a conversation, or to tell a story from his day. The air in the flat was thick with awkwardness and uncertainty. Tim practically hovered over Shelagh clinging to her and was extremely vigilant to include her in every conversation.

After dinner was finished, not that much was eaten by anyone, Patrick retired to the living room, leaving the two of them together. He could tell his presences wasn't wanted, he contemplated leaving again, going to the surgery but what good would that do? Avoiding his home would do nothing to fix this, it would be just showcasing his failures again, that's what it had done before and what it did last night. His failures didn't need any more time in the spotlight.

He watched as Tim helped her clean up dinner and wash the dishes, without even being asked or complaining. Tim seemed to be acting like buffer between her and Patrick. It was easy to see how much Tim loved Shelagh, how they fit together, how much he needed a mother. Tim may easily choose to stay with her instead of him, at least she had always made an effort to take an interest in him, unlike him who was always distracted by his work. Patrick wished he knew how to undo his actions, take it all back, but she was back, so that had to mean something…. But what? Why would she want to stay with an old failure like him?

Patrick had been reading or pretending to read the same article in the Lancet for the last hour. He didn't know what else to do, his once familiar and comfortable home was stiffing with unsaid questions and unknowns. He stole quick glances at her when he was sure she wasn't looking. Despite the sadness in her eyes and face, she was still absolutely beautiful, which just make him question even more why she was here. She could have anyone, do anything, yet after everything last night she came back here and was sitting sewing as if nothing was the matter. He knew why, their wedding vows was the only thing that was keeping her here with him. He had caused her to fail one vow, her vows as a nun, and now his failures were breaking this one too. It wasn't enough for his failures to just affect him, no they had to seep in and hurt everyone around him.

All too soon, Tim's bedtime arrived, all the way to his room he kept looking back, looking at Shelagh to ensure she would be alright, that she was still there.

His retreat left just the two of them, alone in the sitting room. Shelagh tried to focus on her sewing, but she felt as if the walls were closing in. Her mind racing as to what Patrick was thinking, feeling, wanting. He hadn't spoken almost all night, just sat in his chair, reading and smoking. She had stolen a few quick glances at him when she was sure he wasn't looking. His face was plain, unreadable although she could see the tension in his features and shoulders. Tension because she was there, when he had so clearly made his wants known less than 24 hour earlier? Tension because it had been a hard, trying day at work? Or tension from the demons that had been drug up and brought forth from the interview. Perhaps it was a combination of all those things? Shelagh didn't know, but wanted nothing more than to ease them away, to go back to the happiness and comfortableness that seemed so distant now.

She wasn't sure the way back, but knew it wasn't sitting in silence, ignoring the problem, ignoring each other. Bowing her head in quick prayer, she prayed that if it be His will, they would get past this, they would be the family He had made them to be. To give her a heart to forgive and to let Patrick forgive her, but mostly to end the suffering they both were enduring.

Looking to him, Shelagh boldly spoke, quietly, voice barely above a whisper, giving life to the question that had been in her building since their fight, the question she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to, but at the same time needed to know, the question on her heart, "do you still love me?"

Patrick stormy eyes snapped up to her, wide and dark, he leaped out of the chair, tossing the magazine across the room, and came to her, dropping down to his knees in front of her, head laying on her legs. "Oh Shelagh! Yes, yes yes, I could never not love you, I never even for a second stopped loving you, my darling-never! Do you…do you love me still, even though I'm a complete failure?" Patrick finished, tears running down his face, his breathe coming fast.

"Patrick you are not! How could you think that?! You are nowhere near a failure or anything of the sort! You have a wonderful son, you are well liked and respected in the community. You have built a fantastic surgery and a maternity home. Think of how many lives you saved; you've helped! You are not a failure!"

Patrick looked at her as she spoke, her eyes gentle but not quite holding his gaze. She wasn't answering his question, just as he feared, his mental failure after the war and the fallout from it and the adoption interview changed her view and feelings for him. Yes, he had all those things, but he failed her, failed and ruined his marriage. His heart felt as if it was being ripped in two, the pain he knew was coming was here and he couldn't blame anyone. Anger rose within, not at Shelagh but at himself, he couldn't look at her instead laid his forehead on her knee, staring at the floor, his voice was unsteady and full of the pain he felt, "But you don't love me anymore?"

Shelagh's heart broke seeing her husband this way, he really believed he was a failure, but a failure at what? And that she didn't love him, how could she not love him now?! He needed her love now more than ever. He was completely broken. This issue went a lot deeper than the words she had spat at him at the adoption interview, she was sure. This must have been in his mind for a long while. Reaching down she lifted his head up, bending hers down, so they were face to face, she then went in for a kiss, one that was tender and full of love. As she began to pull away, she said against his lips "I will always love you Patrick Turner" At this he pulled her back in to another kiss, full of need.

Finally, they broke apart with both of them needing air, Shelagh half slid, was half pulled off the couch, into Patrick lap, both of them needing the physical contact. They sat that way for what seemed like a long time, just enjoying the presence of each other. Patrick nuzzled her hair and then began to speak, "I'm so so sorry Shelagh, for everything…. For last night, and mostly for that my failures have taken away your hope of adoption. Please forgive me, please don't leave, please stay with Tim and me. If not for me, for him- he adores you and he needs you as his mum."

Leaning back into him, "I'm sorry for the words I spoke in anger, they weren't true, they were just an ugly reflection of my surprise and lack of processing of what had happened. I understand that you lived an entire life before me, one I don't need to know the details of and one that I do not get to cast judgment on, it made you who you are. You went to war, then came back, had a wife and a child, built a thriving surgery and maternity home, was a single parent to a wonderful little boy. Patrick, you did all this despite your time in Northfield, it's nothing to be ashamed of- You are thriving! I never should have pushed you with the adoption materials, looking back I can see you didn't want it… that…that part of your life's past, you don't want to start over necessarily, you don't want a child with me."

"Shelagh NO! I do I promise I do, more than anything I wish I could give you a baby, either naturally or by adoption. I just knew with all those questions it would come back…you know…the war. I've worked so hard to tuck it away, never discussing it so then it's out of sight, out of mind… I feared if you knew, you wouldn't want me…" His voice dropped, the sadness, fear and worry mixing together as he continued in nothing more than a whisper "I've always feared I am already dangerously close to you realizing that do not you want me, an old sad GP who works way too much with an almost teenage son."

"Oh Patrick! Knowing doesn't change who you are to me, I loved you before and I love you now, that doesn't and won't change. It's only ever been you, you made me see what happiness can be like, what love is like, you shared your son with me, let me be his mother. I could never not want you, I wanted you before I even really could…you may remember you stole me out of the convent?" She finished with a smile and a wink.

"Shelagh you are an angel, I don't know how but I'm so glad I stole you from the convent. Tim and I need you much more than the nuns." He finished by placing a wet sloppy kiss on her jaw line, invoking a giggle from Shelagh.

"I don't know Sister Julianne might disagree with you…"

"She might have at one time but now I'm confident she sees how much better I am with you!"

Silence fell over them again, this time however it was a comfortable silence. Patrick held her tight against him, realizing how much he had missed this over the last few days, nuzzling his nose in her hair and neck. Shelagh laid her head against his chest and comfortably began to doze.

Eventually as much as he didn't want to ever more, his legs began to protest, shifting his weight stirred Shelagh and she looked up at him. "My love, shall we go to bed?"

"hmmm"

All was right again in the Turner household as Patrick stood, he lifted his wife up and electing a giggle, carried her off to their room.