"This is bloody ridiculous." Shelagh exclaimed as she slammed the telephone down. Patrick was surprised by his wife's outburst, bloody was quite strong language for her, she was usually so soft spoken. Trying not to cry, she explained her outrage. "They only went and hung up on me." She saw anger fill Patrick too.

"I'll talk to them." He almost demanded, holding out his hand for the receiver. Shelagh sighed exasperatedly.

"No, I'm going to call Nonnatus House first," she decided. "There's no point in us sitting on hold all day. We need to organise, and this is more than a two-person job." He put his arm around her and kissed her head, not minding the taste of hair lacquer. "Thank you," she whispered. "You stay on the phone. I can go through our records again, and they might let you jump the queue since you're more senior."

"Or maybe they just know better than to be at the receiving end of a midwife's wrath." They both chuckled lightly, and Shelagh squeezed his hand, just as he had squeezed hers this morning. She picked up the receiver and Dialled Poplar 495. Sister Julienne sounded as though she had been crying, and little wonder. The familiar response of 'Nonnatus House, midwife speaking' sounded odd when it was not her own voice speaking it. But she had not said it in so long now.

"Sister," Shelagh tried to sound firm and calm, butting on her best nurse voice, "I'm afraid I have to ask you to come to the surgery. As soon as you can."

"Is it to do with the coroners arrangements?" She asked tentatively. Shelagh so wished she could say yes, wished she didn't have to burden someone else with this news. She looked back at Patrick, god knew it was breaking him. He lit a cigarette again. He must have kept some.

"No."

After putting the phone down, she went and sat next to Patrick on the hard wooden chairs next to the filing cabinets. She took his hand firmly in hers. They sat there, shoulders touching, two hands clasped together, like climbers, grasping onto one small outcrop of rock, which could offer such stability. A foothold, they were falling, and each caught the other. She took his cigarette, as she had after many births. But usually, well, there used to be joy. There was relief, ecstasy even, pride in their work. There was none of this now, only a confused sort of despair. Because this was their fault. No, she couldn't think like that, Patrick would, and she would have to stop him. This was not their fault. They had only tried to help. They hadn't caused this. There were others to blame. They had not created this menace. They were not responsible, it had not been their job to test the safety of this drug. They could not have prevented this. This was a global issue, this was happening worldwide. But they could have prevented those in poplar. She could have prevented it, if she hadn't pushed Patrick. She had caused this. She had asked him to prescribe something. She only wanted to help. But now, she'd caused their pain, and Patrick's too.

She wanted to tell him, to confess all to him. But now was not the time. Her head always fell naturally onto his shoulder, she was that small. She couldn't bring it up yet, they had to be practical. So she sobbed, and he sobbed. She let go of his hand. An uncontrollable wailing overcame her. They reached their hands out to each other, grasping onto whatever part of the other they could reach, each trying to cup the others head in their hands. God she felt a fool, wailing like this. But it let Patrick sob. Panting through her tears, she whispered to him.

"We need to calm down before sister julienne gets here." She pulled out her handkerchief, and wiped her own eyes before giving it to him. She stood up and straightened her clothes.

"I'm going to make a pot of tea for when they arrive." Always the nurse, Patrick thought. Always calm in the storm. God he loved her. She didn't deserve this. If he had just stayed out of her life she wouldn't have to feel this pain right now. He had brought this on her.

"I'm sorry Shelagh." His voice was soft and broken. She squeezed his hand and went through to put the kettle on.

She stared listlessly put of the window. Her soul felt heavy and leaden. It was all she could do to stop her hand shaking as she put four cups on the tray. She wanted to scream. She wanted his hand to hold hers and stop it from quivering. She was a nurse. She had to be above this. Her hands could not tremble thus. I shouldn't have left him. She might have stopped being a nun, she might have been able to marry Patrick, but she could not be a wife to him now. She had to be a nurse, and he had to be a doctor. They had roles that had to be put before the natural devotion they felt. She couldn't hold him, they could not sit and cry together. They had to work. But as the kettle began to whistle, she remembered. She could tell him. She so often forgot still. But while her hands were still set fast in their medical duties, her lips were not bound by god.

She ran through to the waiting room.

"I love you, Patrick." She almost shouted. He came towards her, as he once had on a misty day, when they had seen each other clearly for the first time. He thrust his hand towards hers. They stared at each other for a moment, certain that if they dared kiss they would descend into tears. Or something else. Or both. Sister Julienne would love to walk in on that.

"The kettle," She gasped. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.

"Get the nice biscuits. But perhaps don't offer them to Sister Julienne. We can have them ourselves first."

His hands were shaking, as hers had been. Sister Julienne and Nurse Crane were there, she could not comfort him as she wished to. But she knew what he needed. She reached out to him, Stroking his shoulder.

"Sit down Patrick." He did, but she could see him still crumbling. Nurse Crane did everything right, sending sister Julienne back to continue with the funeral arrangements, making plans to bring in Nurse Mount to help, telling Patrick he wasn't to blame.

"Oh I will be," he answered. "If one more woman, pregnant or otherwise takes one of those vile pills." She had to do something, move them on from this. She would take Nurse Crane's approach.

"Well, then there's no time to loose." She said, in the nurse voice. The calm voice of reason that they all knew how to put on. "Sister Julienne, you head back to Nonnatus, I'll show the filing system to nurse Crane, and we can get started on the filing system.

A.N.

Please review. Please. I am hungry for attention.