Chapter 4

Summary: Timothy finds out.

A/N: We are still in super angst mode for a few more chapters, sorry guys! I know it means nothing, but I swear better times are on the horizon!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Timothy Turner was having a terrible day. It started out bad and it just got worse. Normally, when Shelagh or Patrick came home in the middle of the night because of a case, they went out of their way to be quiet and not wake him or Angela, so, when his dad trampled into the flat at 5am, knocked over the coat rack, and let loose several words Tim knew he wasn't allowed to say, he knew it was very bad. He'd stayed in bed and listened as his mum hurriedly tiptoed to the front door, probably trying to shush his dad before Angela woke. She was usually fine, but ever since the announcement of a new baby, she'd been particularly needy and if she woke in the middle of the night, it was a sure bet that she'd spend the rest of it in her parents' room.

"Timmy?"

Angela's small voice from across their cramped room brought him fully into awareness and he crossed dutifully to her bed in preparation for tears when Shelagh inevitably didn't come running. It was definitely annoying sharing a room with his little sister, but he didn't mind it in times like these. He'd become a bit of a parent when his mummy died and it brought him a strange sense of comfort to be able to look out for Angela like this.

As expected, she cried into his pajamas when she called out for Shelagh and wasn't immediately rewarded for her efforts. Tim held her close and tried to explain that mum would come soon, but she had to look after dad first. Angela was not at all satisfied with that explanation and continued to sob until Shelagh finally came to check on them. Tim wished there was a way to explain to Angela that she couldn't be that dependent on their parents. It wasn't that they weren't loving (in fact, Tim would argue they were possibly the most loving parents in Poplar), it was just that they loved everyone. He'd learned a long time ago that while there wasn't anything Shelagh or Patrick wouldn't do for him, there also wasn't anything they wouldn't do for each other, or Angela, or their patients, or their co-workers, and they simply couldn't be everywhere at once. It was okay, he knew they would eventually come, but he also knew he and Angela weren't always priority number one at any given moment and that was a price he was willing to pay for his parents' devotion, passion, and intelligence. Angela couldn't understand that yet, but she would.

It was almost 6am by the time Shelagh came in to hug him gratefully and take Angela down the hall to the master bedroom, so he never fell back asleep. He'd made himself breakfast so Shelagh could rest and burned his toast in the process, then, he missed his bus by a fraction of a second and had to wait for the next one, which left him terribly late for school and humiliated by Ms. Plackard in front of Caroline. In his second class, he found out he hadn't done as well on his last test as he thought and he spend the rest of the hour bitterly dreading the conversation with his father since he'd assured him that he was prepared last week when he wanted to go out with his friends. He'd forgotten his packed lunch on the kitchen table and couldn't stomach the idea of whatever slop the school was going to provide, so, he was now sitting in his fourth class, absolutely starving.

He had just realized he had no idea which war his teacher was prattling on about when the headmistress burst into the room without knocking and blatantly interrupted the lecture.

"Timothy Turner, come with me." The only thing that prevented Tim from rolling his eyes at being called into the headmistress' office was the actual emotion in her voice. Ms. Collins never showed emotion, not ever, not when students were accepted into top universities, and not when they were expelled. Now though, now, she looked horrified. Tim's stomach dropped and he followed without questioning.

The clack of Ms. Collins' heels on the hallway tiles echoed in his ears and he could feel the anxiety building in him with every step. She still hadn't told him why she pulled him out of class, but she was awfully pale and wouldn't meet his eye. What on earth was going on? He was going to dare to ask when she pushed open her office door, but the sight of Nurse Franklin sitting before him with bloodshot eyes stopped his mouth. There was pity in her gaze. The kind of pity he hadn't seen from anyone since...no. No, that wasn't possible.

"Timothy…" Trixie sensed his panic, but she knew she wouldn't be able to calm him now. He would just have to be told the truth.

"What happened?" he insisted. Trixie didn't answer immediately. Standing before the little boy she'd know since he was a child, she couldn't find the words. "Just tell me!" Tim shouted, his fear overwhelming any sense of propriety he felt with either of the women.

"Your father's been hurt." Trixie whispered simply. "He's on his way to the London n-"

"How bad is it?" Tim cut her off. Trixie and Ms. Collins looked down at the floor and it infuriated him. Why couldn't people just tell the truth without trying to hide anything? "How bad is it?" He asked again, fear partly giving way to anger as he felt himself fighting tears. "If you're here to get me instead of mum, then it must be really...is he going to be okay? Is mum with him? Where's Angela? How did he get hurt?" The questions spilled out of him in a desperate need for answers. Trixie felt her strength grow as Tim's faltered. Hadn't it always been that way for her? Only able to take charge when other's needed help? She pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

"He's been shot, Timothy." she finally revealed. She pushed forward at his gasp. She had to keep going or she would cry again. "We don't know how bad it is yet, and we won't know until he's out of surgery. Nurse Mount is at the hospital with him now."

"Why isn't mum there? Was she hurt too?" Tim's heart started racing at the thought of losing both of them. He didn't think he was strong enough for that. But, he supposed, he didn't think he was strong enough to lose his first mother. He didn't want to know if he needed to be strong, though.

"Shelagh's safe." Trixie quickly assured him. "She's very shaken up, though. Sister Julienne took her back to Nonnatus house and that's where I'm going to take you after we pick up Angela."

"I want to go to the London." Timothy insisted. He was still fighting back tears. He wouldn't break in front of Ms. Collins and Nurse Franklin. Not when his dad was fighting for his life.

"I know you do," Trixie nodded, "but we have to get your sister and go to Nonnatus first." Timothy opened his mouth to fight her, but she shook her head. "Your dad won't be out of surgery for sometime," she explained, "and in the meantime, you need to be with your mum and Angela, alright sweetie?"

Under any other circumstances, Tim would've given cheek at the term of endearment, but today, it felt oddly comforting. His mind and heart were still racing so badly that he didn't even register Caroline quietly handing his bag to Ms. Collins through the cracked-open door and her soft whisper of 'i'm sorry.' Instead, all he could feel was an unrelenting wave of guilt. He'd spent the day being irritated and annoyed by minor inconveniences while his father almost died and while he knew there was nothing he could've done about it, he couldn't help the fear that the last thing he said to Patrick was something snarky about wanting a later curfew.

He would make up for it now, though. He would pull himself together in the walk between his school and Angela's nursery and he would be there to support Shelagh because it was what he needed to do. He was no good at mourning, but he knew how to take care of a mourning parent, and if that was the path the day was about to take, then by god, he would be prepared.

Thank you for reading!