Chapter 14

Summary: The past will always find us.

A/N: Yo. This story is really hard to write right now, so I'm sorry again. I do, at least, have an idea of where I want to go now! SHOUTOUT to my Beta, catalynmj1015 for encouraging me through my writer's block and helping me keep the action going. :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

With Shelagh safely out of harm's way and Patrick steadily growing stronger, the Turners were released from the London. Neither were particularly thrilled with the idea of further bedrest, but the idea of being nestled in their flat, with their children, was worth the forced condition of a live-in nurse. Sister Julienne offered, of course (after all, she was already essentially fulfilling that role), but after seeing how guilt-ridden both Shelagh and Patrick looked at the thought, she agreed to a rota. After all, Shelagh would be out of bed before long and Sister Julienne knew once that happened, the little Scottish fireball would insist on helping her husband herself. "Though," Sister Julienne surmised with a grin, "if heaps of meals continued to arrive at their door along with a couple hours of help, Shelagh wouldn't have the heart to push them away…"

And so, yet another new routine commenced just as the last one began to settle.

The Nonnatuns stayed in 12-hour shifts, one in the daytime and one in the evening, and for the most part, things were easier; even if a little embarrassing. It was one thing to be taken care of in the hospital by strangers. It was quite a different thing to be taken care of by friends (even if those friends were professionals) in one's own home. Patrick proved to be a much better patient when unconscious than when awake, especially as every movement required assistance and he wasn't keen on having his colleagues (or his wife, really, but he'd cross that bridge when they got there) helping him eat or use the facilities. Shelagh, meanwhile, was struggling with not being allowed to really help Patrick, beyond talking to him and slowly watching her flat descend into untidiness.

It wasn't that Timothy wasn't trying his hardest to keep things clean, it was simply that he was a teenage boy, and she was extremely efficient. It didn't matter how many times he attempted to straighten the tablecloth, somehow it remained crooked. Meanwhile, Timothy was struggling a bit with having the seemingly endless parade of nurses in the house. He loved the Nonnatuns, he really did, and living with them while his parents were in the hospital was actually quite nice. But for him too, sharing his own space was different than sharing theirs. Tim wasn't thrilled that he had to feel embarrassed coming to breakfast in his pajamas in his own home…amongst other things…like when Trixie did the laundry and he walked in while she was folding his underwear. He couldn't look her in the eye for days. The only one who seemed purely joyous about the arrangement was Angela. Her parents were back, her mother was there to read her bedtime stories, she was back in her own bed, and her nurse friends visited every day. Life was good.

At the end of the day, though, the minor irritations ebbed and flowed as they did normally in the Turner household, and the light of day saw heaps of cooperation and love that even Shelagh didn't know her family possessed.

The nights were different.

At first, Patrick was so tired from healing that sleep was forcibly peaceful, as his body gave in to the needed rest. With growing strength came growing dreams, and with growing dreams came growing nightmares.

Shelagh didn't even know they were happening at first. She would occasionally wake from back aches or a desperate need to pee and see Patrick wasn't entirely asleep, but she assumed it was merely soreness and if it was anything more, he would wake her or call out for that night's companion. Eventually, he did wake her, though not at all how she expected.

She returned to bed in the middle of the night after a trip to the smallest room and a quick stretch and instinctively curled herself into him. She found his breathing labored and his skin flush with sweat.

"Patrick! Patrick, wake up!" Panic crept into her brain at the thought of complications or torn stitches. She was not about to see him rushed back to the London. "Patrick, darling." She grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to shake him awake. At the touch of her fingers to his skin, his own hands leapt from their grip against the pillows and his nails sunk into her. "Patrick, please, you're hurting me! Stop!" He couldn't, though.

"No, I won't let you." He muttered fiercely. "Not like this. Get away from her!" His clenched fingers tightened further.

"Patsy! Nurse Mount!" Shelagh hollered towards the door and sent up a prayer when she heard the rapid door slam in response.

Patsy swung open the bedroom door in record time. As light flooded the room, both nurses gasped as they saw where Patrick was unknowingly drawing blood from his wife's skin. Shelagh saw something almost imperceptible shift behind Patsy's eyes, but let it go as she rushed to Patrick's side of the bed.

"Dr. Turner, it's Nurse Mount, can you hear me?" Patsy asked. She delicately tried to pry him away from Shelagh, but he lashed out.

"I won't let you touch her!" he screamed in terror and Patsy let go immediately.

"We need to calm him down." She explained as calmly as she could to Shelagh, though she could see her eyes were welling up in pain. "I can't get him off you like this. He doesn't know who we are."

"He's had nightmares before, but not like this." Shelagh gasped. "He always knows I'm here!"

"He thinks he's protecting you. He doesn't understand." Patsy replied.

She paused. If the Turners had discussed Patrick's experiences in the war then Shelagh could help the situation greatly, but if not, then she could be about to open an enormous hole in their marriage. Worth the risk, she decided.

"Did he ever give you something specific to say or do if…something like this happened?" she asked tentatively. Shelagh took a few deep breaths before a fleeting memory broke through the pain.

"I don't know if this will work, but could you fetch my perfume from the table and my scarf from the door?" Shelagh asked, her clinical mind turning as her wife's heart hoped. Patsy readily grabbed the items and sprayed the scarf. "How did you know?" Shelagh asked.

"Makes sense, really." Patsy replied, not willing to admit she'd once done the same with Delia's smell to keep from having a panic attack after the bike accident. She held the scarf tightly to Patrick's mouth to force him to breathe through his nose and slowly, his hands released Shelagh's arms and he returned to a peaceful slumber.

The two women breathed in the new-found silence for a few moments before Patsy spoke.

"Do you want me to help you to the couch for the rest of the night?" she offered sadly to a shaking Shelagh.

"No." Shelagh shook her head. "I want to be here when he wakes up."

"I'm not entirely sure that's a good idea." Patsy replied honestly. She felt confident that Shelagh had a better understanding of what was happening than she was letting on, but she'd also seen what war neurosis could do to a person and there was no doubt in her mind that Patrick was suffering from memories of being shot. Shelagh was her patient as well and she needed to keep them both safe.

"I know it's not what you would advise, but it's what I need to do." Shelagh insisted. "He nearly died for me, Patsy, he jumped in front of a gun." Shelagh sniffled a bit, but didn't let go. It wasn't the time. Crying was reserved for when she was alone and others were not dependent upon her keeping her head. Patsy sighed. She wasn't going to win this argument.

"Will you at least let me dress the cuts?" Patsy asked wryly. "Or would you rather I disappear so you can dust the flat and get that infected?"

Shelagh glared affectionately. "That's not fair."

"You're the only person at Nonnatus who cleans more efficiently than I do, and I have to say, I'm rather offended by it." Patsy teased gently. "I'll go gather a bit of water and some bandages. You stay right here." She squeezed Shelagh's hand and left the room.

Shelagh traced the blood. There'd been so much blood in her life since that day in the clinic, but this was different. This wasn't the act of a drunken stranger or an act of God; Patrick did this to her. Patrick, her Patrick, drew blood from her arms in an act of violence. But not really, her brain argued. She agreed with the thought. She'd seen him in the throes of a war nightmare before tonight. The night he opened up to her about Northfield, the memories must have been fresh in his mind because he woke her screaming at 1am in a panic.

He was trying to protect her.

God, she wished she knew from what, or from whom.

Patrick shifted beside her and she jumped. She hated that she jumped.

"Shelaghiseverythingokay?" he slurred. Her sudden movement must've woken him. Shelagh frantically grabbed the sheet to wrap her arms so he wouldn't see. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel guilty or wary around her. The fabric stung against the fresh cuts, but she swallowed the wince.

"Everything's fine, dearest, go back to sleep." She whispered lovingly.

"Why are the lights on?" He asked, blinking against the brightness. "Is it the baby? Did you call Nurse Mount?" His hand instinctively reached for her stomach and her heart ached. He truly had no idea and it was going to destroy him when he found out.

"It's alright now, Patrick, really." She insisted. "Patsy's just fetching me…a glass of water. Baby's perfectly fine. I'm perfectly fine." Patrick's furrowed brow remained. "Patrick?"

"Something feels wrong." He said. "I can't explain it, I…it doesn't matter." He shook his head and made to turn away from her onto his side as always, but she stopped him.

"Patrick, you know you have to lie on your back." She reminded him gently.

"Right." He sighed. "Sorry. Half a century of old habits die hard." He grinned and Shelagh gave him a quick kiss before helping him ease back into the mattress.

"Cheeky man." She teased as she brushed her fingers through his hair.

Patsy softly cleared her throat from the doorway. Shelagh's breath caught for a moment before she saw Patsy holding a glass of water and a knowing look. Patrick waved to Patsy before closing his eyes once more.

They would discuss it in the morning.

Thank you guys so much for reading! BIG HUGZ