They were walking back to the car in the dark, husband and wife, doctor and nurse, their bodies tired but their minds invigorated by the victory of lives saved, when he brought it up.

"So…new dress, Nurse Turner?"

Shelagh laughed. After his gobsmacked look of pride at the surgery, she'd been wondering if Patrick would ask about the change in her appearance. "It's only temporary. Patients wanted to be treated by trained nurse who actually looked like a trained nurse, so Sister Julienne let me borrow this." She caught his eye and returned his cheeky grin. "Do you like it?"

Patrick took a step back to survey her, his eyes glittering, then glanced down the empty road. He stepped close, pressed her back against the side of the car and kissed her.

"Patrick," she gasped. "I'm in uniform!"

"Yes," he breathed, his hands tracing teasing circles low on her hips. "A rather fetching one, too."

She kissed him again, not caring for once if anyone saw them, lost in the feeling of his long body against hers. She'd missed him. She'd never thought she could miss him as much as she had during their estrangement after the adoption interview, or even before, at the sanatorium, when all she had were his letters. But she had missed him, and she'd worried that he'd gone to a dark place where love couldn't reach.

But love, she had been reminded, always stretched as far as it was needed, across miles and misty roads, through heartaches and hardships, just as long as you kept offering it. So she kissed him sweetly, and full of longing and relief, thankful that everything had been set to rights again.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better," Shelagh said, after she'd caught her breath. She smoothed an errant lock of dark hair off his forehead and rested her hand on his cheek. "I was worried, for a while."

"I know." He turned his head slightly, kissed her palm. "I was, too."

"You must let me know, Patrick, if you ever feel -"

"I will." His soft smile and the love in his dark eyes were as good as any promise.

"You're a good doctor. You care so much. And I don't like to see you exhaust yourself like you did this week." She grasped his hands in hers, running her thumbs across his knuckles. "So, in the future, if we get too busy and you need help, I can step in, see to some of the patients, act as a nurse. I don't mind."

Patrick's smile turned roguish again. "Acting Nurse Turner? Does this outfit come with that title?"

Shelagh rolled her eyes. "What is it about this uniform? Should I be worried?"

He laughed. "It's not the uniform, Shelagh. It's you. You were - you are -" he gave a little contented sigh. "Amazing. You always amaze me."

The way he looked at her - like they were on that road once more and he couldn't quite believe they'd found each other - brought a lump to her throat and made her tremble all over, and all she could do was embrace him again. "Oh, Patrick."

"Home?" he murmured after a moment.

She pulled back and nodded, her eyes shining.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, their own silent way of 'I love you,' and then released her. She felt the loss of his warmth keenly, despite the summer heat. Well, home wasn't far, she thought, and got in the car.

"I will admit," Patrick said as he drove down the main road. "When you mentioned missing nursing, I wondered, once or twice, what you might look like in one of those uniforms."

She raised an eyebrow. "Only once or twice?"

Patrick chuckled sheepishly. "Tell me, does Nurse Turner ever make house calls?"

Shelagh blushed at his implication but grinned, Cheshire cat-like. She was rather enjoying this game. "Oh, I'm afraid not," she said lightly. "But if you are still feeling poorly, I've heard your wife is a trained nurse."

"Indeed she is. One of the most accomplished I know." He pulled the car to a stop in front of the flat and turned to her, stretching one arm across the back of her seat. "Well then, what does my wife recommend?"

She looked him straight in the eye and smiled ever so slightly. "Bed rest, dear. Lots of bed rest."