Chapter 15

Summary: "Whatever happens here, we remain." Also, Patsy remains a BRICKtm.

A/N: Hey yallllllll. Welcome back to fallout angst! But also, I'm working hard to balance every chapter that has angst with some cuteness and sentiment. :) Shoutout to Catalynmj for being an AWESOME beta!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Patrick slept soundly through the remainder of the night. Shelagh knew that, because she never managed to close her eyes after the incident. The early hours of the morning ticked slowly by as she watched his chest rise and fall and her fingers traced the bandages on her arms. She'd never felt so stupid. She'd felt helpless and hopeless before during their entire ordeal, but she'd never felt stupid. She should've seen it coming. They'd been married for three years, she'd sat beside him while he told her all about the war and Northfield, and she'd held him when he told her about the nightmares where he'd accidentally hurt Marianne. She knew it was in him, she should've known it could've been brought forth by a shooting.

A shooting, for heaven's sake. Of course he was traumatized.

She tried to think back to what he was saying during the nightmare, but she could only remember bits and pieces. The only thing she knew was that he was trying to protect her.

From what? What horrors lie in your brain, Patrick dearest?

Patrick stirred briefly and tried to turn on his side. Shelagh smiled softly and held her breath while she gently coaxed him to return to his back. How many times have you done that with no one to stop you, Patrick? She wondered to herself. Stubborn man, he was going to tear his stitches in his sleep.

From down the hall, Shelagh could hear the faint sounds of Angela scuffling across the room room with Tim's name babbling on her lips and braced herself for the inevitable teenage groan that would soon follow. For the sake of their recovery, a part of her was glad Angela now found so much solace in her brother, but she couldn't completely ignore the sting of her daughter not instinctually coming to her instead. How much more would that horrible day take from her? From them?

Angela's hurried footsteps left the childrens' room and grew louder as she padded towards the master bedroom. Shelagh could hear their conversation through the door.

"Mummy! Daddy! Wake ups!"

"Ange, shh, we're supposed to let them sleep, remember?" Tim gently scolded. Angela's behavior hadn't changed in the mornings since they'd returned home, but no one was truly upset. Just like every morning, she wanted her parents, and just like every morning, Tim stopped her from barging in and Shelagh resigned herself to another moment of rest.

This morning, though, the respite was welcome. How on earth was she supposed to explain how she went to bed fine and woke up bandaged because their father attacked her in his sleep?

"Good morning, Miss Turner." Patsy greeted Angela. "What do you say you and Tim help me put breakfast together for mum and dad before Nurse Franklin arrives?"

"Trix!" Angela shrieked happily before the trio of feet and voices disappeared into the kitchen.

"Mmm…rr the children up?" Patrick asked sleepily. Shelagh subtly pulled the covers up to her neck. She didn't want to scare him before they could talk.

Patrick turned his head towards her and rolled his shoulders uncomfortably into the mattress. He hated sleeping on his back, but the faster he could heal, the faster he could sleep holding Shelagh again and that was enough to keep him horizontal.

"Are you cold, darling?" he asked, concerned. The room was quite warm to him, though she did tend to run a bit colder. Still, the last thing they needed was for her to be running a fever and the sight of her completely under the blanket threw him a bit - as did the worried look on her face. "Shelagh?" He turned on the lamp, reached his hand out to feel her forehead, and froze.

Dried blood coated his nails.

He threw the blanket off himself to check his stitches and his heart plummeted when he realized the blood hadn't come from himself.

"Shelagh?" his voice was shaking and Shelagh cursed herself for not having the foresight to clean his fingers as well as the wounds they left behind.

"Patrick, it's alright. I promise you, no serious harm was done." Shelagh spoke as calmly as she could, but she knew it was for naught as he slowly pulled the blanket down and away from her. The gauze on her arms glared back at him and he paled.

"I...I didn't know…" he stuttered, "oh God, Shelagh...I'm so sorry...what have I done?"

"I'm not angry, love." she promised. She meant it. She was never angry. There was a part of her deep in the night that was terrified of him, and it wrecked her, but that part was gone with morning light and only sympathy for him remained.

"I hurt you!" he cried. "I promised I would never hurt you."

"You didn't mean to." she insisted. She framed his face with her hands and forced him to look at her as her thumbs caressed soft patterns on his cheeks. "You had a nightmare and you were scared, Patrick."

His face was towards her, but his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to her arms in horror.

"Who's coming to help today?" he asked gravely.

"Nurse Franklin, I believe." Shelagh replied, remembering Patsy's remark. Patrick nodded.

"I'll have her bring a cot and move me." he declared. "I won't let it happen again."

Another time, this would've been a moment when he walked away from her, decision made and final, but he couldn't run from her this time.

"Absolutely not." Shelagh insisted firmly. "You will stay right where you are, Patrick Turner." She saw him tense and the determination grew behind his eyes.

"Shelagh-"

"No!" she snapped. "I will not let this take anything more away from our family. I would rather have you near me having a nightmare than on the other side of the room where I can't touch you."

"I will not be responsible for causing any more pain!" he yelled at her.

He'd never yelled at her like that before.

"Is everything alright in here?" Patsy burst in, quickly realizing what she thought was physical pain was actually an emotional fight. "Sorry to intrude." she swiftly apologized. "Um, the children almost have breakfast ready. Shall I have them bring it up or would you like a moment?"

Shelagh and Patrick glanced at each other. Their eyes were watery, their skin flushed. Behind their hurt gazes, however, still lay an impenetrable layer of love and forgiveness. It was buried a bit, but it remained.

"I think we need a moment to get Patrick's hands cleaned up," Shelagh indicated softly and Patsy nodded, "but then yes, breakfast would be lovely." Patsy looked to Patrick and he agreed.

"Of course," Patsy replied, "I'll just grab a cloth." she paused. "I don't know if it was my place or not, but I should let you know you don't have to worry about Timothy and Angela asking questions." Both Turners looked up at her in shock. "No, no, I didn't tell them what happened." Patsy explained. "Timothy had a back issue of the Lancet on the table discussing Cholestasis* and I thought it might be a good cover since it's on his mind. It'll explain the bandages and the scratch marks. Angela's too little to fully understand, I think." She looked up to see both of them with tears in their eyes. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Shelagh sighed with a smile. "I just have to keep reminding myself how truly grateful I am for everything you and the rest of Nonnatus does for us everyday."

"Thank you, Nurse Mount." Patrick spoke sincerely. "You have no idea what that means...and thank you for last night as well...I'm sorry about...everything."

"It's no trouble at all Dr. Turner." she replied. "Shelagh helped a great deal. I couldn't have done it without her."

Patrick gazed over lovingly to his wife. Maybe it was true. Maybe there wasn't anything they couldn't overcome.

"I know what you mean."

He took her hand as Patsy left to grab a washcloth.

He wasn't going anywhere.

*Cholestasis: an itching condition caused by hormone fluctuations during the late second trimester and early third trimester of pregnancy.

Thank you guys so much for reading! HUGZ.