Prompt 13: "I can't breathe."

Summary: An alternate way of discovering Sister Bernadette has TB. Potential TW: thinking about death.

A/N: Well the last two were cute, so we were due for some angst. I can 100% promise that I will never ever kill either half of this beautiful OTP because I couldn't bear to write that, but anything else is pretty much fair game.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Her lungs ached as she hurried to the Parish Hall kitchen. Perhaps she was coming down with something? She'd been finding it harder and harder to cycle over the past couple of weeks and running the three legged race with Timothy Turner hadn't helped one bit. Neither, she supposed, did the sudden reappearance of his father who seemed to bring with him his own brand of breathlessness.

She couldn't think about that now.

Dr. Turner was there to see his son win the race and now the two of them could go enjoy the Fete together and she could wash her hand and retreat to back to Nonnatus where no one would see the utter shame she felt at every flutter of her heart.

"Would you like me to take a look at that?" he asked softly.

Or not.

His voice washed over her, more soothing that the cold water she'd been running her cut under. She knew she should say no. She knew - they both knew - that he didn't need to be here in a medical capacity. It was a simple cut. She could clean and bandage an injury like this in her sleep and he knew it, so why was he here?

Don't go down that road.

"Yes." she replied without her brain's permission.

This was madness. She should have told him to go. She should have told him that she was pretty sure Timothy also suffered a scrape when they fell and he should be tending to his son, but she couldn't say anything. The air felt like it was closing in around them as he stepped closer and reached out for her hand. Her stomach felt like it was splitting in two. This was everything she'd dreamed of when she couldn't stop herself and everything she knew she would never have and the overwhelming feel of something so simple as the touch of his hand had her blood pounding rapidly through her body as she fought both the instinct to run and the instinct to fall into his arms.

When he lowered his head towards her hand, it didn't even occur to her that he might kiss her until she felt his lips on her skin and suddenly it was too much. Everything was too much and her lungs burned and her heart ached and her legs shook.

"I can't breathe." she whispered.

"I can't either." he admitted as he met her eyes and dared to search for the same feelings he felt day after day.

"No, Doctor Turner, I can't breathe." she stammered before everything went black.

Patrick felt every morsel of medical knowledge threaten to leave his head in pure panic as he haphazardly caught the woman in front of him and lowered her the floor.

"Sister Bernadette." he tried to get through to her in vain. "Sister Bernadette!"

When she still didn't respond, he finally felt the emergency part of his brain kick in. Praying to a God he wasn't sure he believed in for forgiveness, he swiftly removed her cap and wimple to get the restricting band off her neck. He felt his entire body surge with love at the long-yearned-for sight of her soft blonde hair, but now was not the time. He was searching for the clasps to the top of her habit so he could get his stethoscope anywhere useful when he heard someone else come into the hall.

"Help! I need help!" he called out desperately.

The footsteps hurried their pace and he could've died with relief as Sister Julienne rounded the corner.

"Sister Bernadette!" Sister Julienne gasped at the sight of the young woman unconscious on the floor and the thoroughly distraught doctor.

"She said she couldn't breathe and she collapsed." he felt his voice breaking with worry. "I can't…"

"Here, let me." Sister Julienne forced herself to be calm as she gently removed Patrick's hands from their death grip on Sister Bernadette's habit and undid the clasps she knew far better than he did. She hadn't seen Patrick Turner look at anyone like that since Marianne and suddenly her Sister's sadness over the recent weeks began to make sense.

"Doctor Turner." Sister Julienne spoke quietly, but firmly as she tried to reach the man slowly retreating into in terror. "Your patient needs you."

His eyes met hers and the understanding in them broke through the petrifying thought that she might not be alright and into the idea that he could still help her. With shaking hands, Patrick placed the stethoscope against her chest. The immediate relief that she was alive was quickly drowned by the other sound echoing in his ears.

Crackles.

No, no, no, this wasn't happening.

He nearly ripped her habit with how fast he moved the cool metal to the other side of her chest.

Both sides.

Crackles on both sides.

Probable Tuberculosis.

"Doctor Turner, what's wrong?" Sister Julienne couldn't help but let her own worry creep into her voice.

"She needs an ambulance." He nearly whimpered. "To the London. She needs an x-ray."

Sister Julienne thankfully understood that he couldn't manage anymore than that.

"I'll call right away." she ran from the hall to the phone box.

With nothing to do but wait, Patrick cradled her head into his lap and stopped fighting the building tears of grief.

"I'm sorry." he cried. "I'm so sorry for everything. I'm sorry for how I feel, I'm sorry if I scared you, I'm sorry I didn't realize you were ill sooner." He gently rocked as he let himself take her hand in his. He needed to feel her pulse. He needed to know she was at least here with him now. He thought he was dreaming when he felt her fingers squeeze back against his own.

"Sister?" he asked in desperate hope.

"Doctor Turner?" she mumbled so quietly he almost didn't hear it.

"I'm here. I'm here." he wasn't even sure if she wanted him there, but by God he was not going to leave her.

"Don't...go…" she whispered as she fell back into unconsciousness.

He had no intention of going anywhere.

"Doctor, the ambulance is here!" Sister Julienne called out as she ran into the hall with the paramedics.

"Sir, we need you to step aside." One of the young medics tried to ease her off his lap so they could get her onto the stretcher. He was reluctant to let go, but her health was more important that his own comfort.

"I can't leave her." he said to himself more than anyone else, but Sister Julienne heard him.

"Go with her to the hospital." she urged.

"Sister, I-" he tried to explain as he realized who he was talking to.

"Go, Patrick." she insisted. He stopped fighting at the use of his given name. "We can discuss...everything else later."

Sister Julienne watched two of her dear friends leaving the hall, both in dire straights, and prayed harder than she could ever remember that the Lord had a purpose for all things.

13 down, 37 to go! Hope you enjoy!