A/N-This story takes place during the first part of CtM episode 2x08.

It was only a matter of time now, thought Sister Julienne. Looking down at the old suitcase on her desk, the sister had to admit that to herself. The clothes in the case could have come from anyone's wardrobe—they were ten years out of date, but fairly basic nonetheless. Nonnatus received donations of clothes much like this for the charity box, although these weren't for that purpose. These belonged to someone, and they would soon be returned.

The sister hadn't known exactly what to expect when she'd visited Sister Bernadette at the sanatorium earlier that day. Whatever she may have guessed, however, it wasn't this. She had known of her dear sister's struggles, but the elder sister had always expected there to be more time. This was moving so quickly, and Sister Julienne wasn't sure what to think.

Her questions weren't about her soon-to-be former sister's decision. She knew that wasn't to be avoided now. Rather, she found herself wondering what Nonnatus, and what she herself, would do without Sister Bernadette.

It hadn't been a long meeting. It had started out pleasantly, with Sister Bernadette looking in better spirits than she had in many months. Mrs. B's cake had been a blessing to the young sister, and Sister Julienne had been delighted by the news that her beloved friend had responded so quickly to the treatment and would soon be discharged. She wasn't expecting everything to be as it was, but she had thought she'd have some more time to help Sister Bernadette with her crisis. But that wasn't to be. Sister Bernadette's request for clothes made her intentions clear enough.

"I don't feel able to wear that now," she had said of her habit, her face and eyes reflecting the weight of those words. And so, after taking a few moments to adjust to that news, Sister Julienne had brought up the suitcase.

"We keep everything in storage after a sister joins the order," she reminded her young friend.

Sister Bernadette nodded. "That will be fine," she said, and suddenly her eyes looked distant. "What was I wearing that day? I'm not sure I remember."

Sister Julienne frowned. "I can't recall. It's been so long."

The distant look faded. "Oh, yes," she said, smiling slightly, but then growing serious again. "Ten years. Sometimes, it seems like forever."

The elder sister nodded. "It has been a long time," she added.

"Yes."

Taking on a more direct expression, Sister Julienne changed the subject slightly. "I suppose returning to Nonnatus won't be ideal, then."

Again, a one-word answer—"No."

"Chichester, then," the elder sister suggested. "You can have as much time as you need, so you can decide what to do next."

Sister Bernadette nodded again. "That sounds all right."

There was silence then, a few moments or several minutes. Sister Julienne couldn't accurately measure, but finally she needed to speak.

"I suppose we must discuss the procedure." Sister Bernadette stared at her for a moment. "For leaving the order," she added.

After another nod from the young sister, Sister Julienne had then explained the process as thoroughly as she could. It wasn't particularly complicated, but it had to be conducted in person, and there were papers to sign and items to be turned in. Still, although the process itself was simple, Sister Julienne knew that the renunciation of vows would only be the beginning. Sister Bernadette had been in the order for ten years. She would have to learn to live in the world, to get used to a different name again, and to face the looks and questions of not only the sisters and the nurses at Nonnatus, but all of Poplar if she decided to return there.

If she would return, Sister Julienne thought again, staring into the suitcase at the simple items it contained—a grey suit, an off-white blouse, a handbag and wallet. That was all. Aside from the brown shoes that Sister Evangelina was currently polishing, these simple items were all that remained from Sister Bernadette's previous life. Looking at the neatly ordered paperwork contained in the grey-green folder on her desk, Sister Julienne came to another realization. In Sister Julienne's mind, her dear friend had always been Sister Bernadette. She had heard her original name, of course, when she had first met her ten years previous. As head of Nonnatus, Sister Julienne was aware of the backgrounds of all the sisters here. Still, she had thought of the young woman exclusively as Sister Bernadette for a decade. This other name had essentially been a word on a page to her—and now it would be a name she would have to get used to, if her sister really decided to leave.

If. She was fooling herself. She knew it wouldn't be if, but when. She knew that soon enough, no matter how long the decision process took, she would soon be looking at her dear friend and seeing Shelagh Mannion-no longer her sister, trusted assistant and, as Sister Julienne had sincerely hoped, her heir apparent.

Sister Julienne looked up from the papers, clearing her head. Yes, she would have to get used to this new name soon enough, she thought, and perhaps yet another name before too long.

The subject of Dr. Turner's letters had only come up briefly in her visit to the sanatorium, very near the end of her time there. The older sister had been preparing to get up as the nurse had arrived, delivering another letter, and Sister Bernadette had been unable to disguise the look of delight on her face as she received it. Sister Julienne could see the address on the back, but she didn't need to see that to know who it was from. After the nurse had left, Sister Julienne found that she had to ask.

"You've read the letters?"

A blush, a nod and a smile were Sister Bernadette's response.

Sister Julienne nodded as well. That was all she needed to know. She didn't ask about what the letters had said. That was none of her business, although the look on her friend's face said as much as she could have spoken.

"All is well enough in Poplar," Sister Julienne had said then. "Everyone is well."

Sister Bernadette was still looking at the letter, but she had offered a slight smile at this news.

"We all miss you, of course," the older sister had added, her smile fading as she took her friend's hand. "We will continue to keep you in our prayers. Always."

Here, Sister Bernadette had looked up, carefully placed the letter on top of the cake tin on her lap, and had given Sister Julienne a serious look.

"Thank you," she said, squeezing Sister Julienne's hand.

The visit hadn't lasted much longer after that. The nurse returned shortly to take Sister Bernadette's temperature, and with a few brief words, a clasp of hands and a promise to send the suitcase as soon as she could find it, Sister Julienne had taken her leave.

It had been a bittersweet meeting. She didn't know when she would see her friend again, but she knew it wouldn't be at the sanatorium, and when she did see her, the younger woman wouldn't be in her habit.

Standing before the open suitcase, the sister did the most sensible thing she could think of. One by one, she carefully folded the jacket, the skirt, and the blouse, then placing them carefully and neatly back into the case along with the handbag and wallet. The thought crossed her mind that she hadn't known many sisters who had left the order. She had heard of a few, but they didn't stay in touch. A card or a letter on occasion from some of them, but that was about the extent of it. Holding back tears, she picked up the folder again, not knowing what she was looking for, but wanting to flip through the papers again for some reason.

She prayed for her sister, as well as for Dr. Turner. She had known from their earlier conversation, and from simply watching her friend's face upon receiving the new letter, that this was no passing crush for the young sister. Whatever was to happen in her friend's future, the doctor would most likely be playing a part.

She recalled a recent clinic, when Nurse Miller and Nurse Lee had been casually discussing a recent letter from Sister Bernadette. As they had remarked on her improving health, she'd noticed a small, distracted smile from the doctor, who had been standing nearby. She herself had said nothing to him about what she had seen. In fact, she was sure that anyone else who had seen this look wouldn't have thought twice about it, but Sister Julienne knew better. She knew that this man must care a great deal for Sister Bernadette, and so regardless of her decision, he would be affected by it. Being honest with herself, though, Sister Julienne was fairly sure she knew what her friend's decision would be. She had been faced with a similar dilemma herself once, and although her final decision had been the opposite of what she expected Sister Bernadette's would be, the result hadn't made the deciding any less difficult.

And so she prayed for Sister Bernadette—for Shelagh, as she must soon learn to think of her, and she had also prayed for the doctor. They would both need all the prayers they could get, no matter what the future held.

"Here we are! Good as new!"

Sister Evangelina strode back into the room, brandishing the newly polished pair of shoes.

Sister Julienne quickly closed the folder and looked up, forcing a smile.

"Excellent!"

Eying the suitcase, Sister Evangelina placed the shoes on the desk next to it before turning to examine its contents. "Oh, I see you've tidied this up," she said. "Good." She patted the suit jacket, carefully scooting it slightly over to make room for the shoes, which she then carefully settled into place.

"I suppose this will have to do," she said, closing the case. Then, as Sister Julienne picked up the folder to return to the file, her sister had a thought.

"Wonder what this is all about, really." Then, giving Sister Julienne a direct look, she continued. "She didn't tell you, did she?"

Sister Julienne couldn't lie, but she had to be careful here. As much as she trusted her dear sister, Sister Bernadette had not given her leave to tell anyone else the details of her struggle.

"In fact, she did," was her answer, and Sister Evangelina raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

Sister Julienne frowned by way of apology. "I'm afraid it's in strict confidence for the time being, Sister." She walked around the desk and put a hand on Sister Evangelina's shoulder. "Rest assured, however, that when I am allowed to say, you will be the first to know."

Sister Evangelina nodded. "Fair enough" was her reply. She turned then to close the clasps on the suitcase.

"Whatever it is, I hope she'll be well, but I must say this is rather unexpected." She picked up the suitcase, raising and lowering it slightly in her hand as if weighing it.

"Not much to start a new life with," she remarked. "You don't suppose she'll change her mind at the Mother House?"

Sister Julienne considered that, but she knew the answer. "No. I don't think so."

Sister Evangelina frowned, looking down at the suitcase and placing on the floor. "Well, then." She looked up, then. "He must know what He's doing. We must keep her in our prayers."

"That we will, Sister" was Sister Julienne's reply.

With one last glance down at the suitcase and a resigned shrug, Sister Evangelina left the room.

It was all done now, thought Sister Julienne. The suitcase was all packed. The remnants of a life about to be resumed were all in order. She knew she would be hearing from her friend when the decision was finally made, but she fervently hoped that wouldn't be the end of their communication. Nobody knew what the future held, she thought, except One. Remembering Sister Evangelina's words, she tried to take some comfort from them. She knew He would have a reason for this, but she had no idea what that was. She must trust and pray. Still, the sorrow could not be avoided. She would not doubt or question her friend's decision, but she would miss her dearly. She knew she had to see her again at least once, but after that, there was no way to know.

As she sat down at her desk, her eyes were drawn again to the suitcase, sitting on the floor ready to be sent. She opened a drawer, retrieving a mailing label. She would send it first thing in the morning, just to make sure her sister would receive it before the end of the week. Taking her pen, she wrote her own address first—"Sender: Sr. Julienne, OSRN" and the address for Nonnatus House. Then, she turned the label over and thought. In a strict technical sense, regardless of how her friend now thought of herself, she would be Sister Bernadette officially until she signed the renunciation papers, but for some reason the OSRN seemed like too much. If her sister was going to leave, that would possibly be an unpleasant reminder, although Sister Julienne hoped that her sister wouldn't regret her association with the order even if she did decide to give up her vows. Still, after a brief moment, she addressed the label simply "To: Sister Bernadette" at the sanatorium. That would be enough for it to be delivered properly.

There. It was done. She would rise from her desk and take the suitcase to the dispatch room in search of string to attach the label to the case. She would send the package and hope it would be delivered with expediency. That, along with her continued prayers, was all that she could do. Everything else was in Sister Bernadette's—and God's—hands.