Patrick rushed to the ward Timothy was in, his overcoat flapping behind him. He was later than he wished he was, but hopefully the three of them would still have a good visit. Walking in, he noticed the ward was quieter than usual, but he only noticed how quiet when he saw Timothy. The boy was propped by pillows, a sullen look on his face and he was spinning the propeller on the Spitfire Shelagh had given him for Christmas with flicks of his finger. Patrick took the chair Shelagh should have been sitting on and looked at Tim. The boy didn't look up, just kept flicking the toy airplane with a metallic tick and whirling noise. Patrick frowned. "Where's Shelagh?"

Tim shrugged. Tick-whirl. "Is she fetching something?"

Tick-whirl. "Visiting hours are over."

Patrick looked at his watch and winced. He had expected to be here much earlier. The tick-whirl became faster, Timothy not even waiting until the propeller had stopped before hitting it again. "They made her leave."

Patrick looked up. The next flick was so strong the plane slid forward unto the bed. "They always make her leave." Puzzled, Patrick stretched forward and took the plane. He held it in his hand to keep Tim for abusing it again. "Why did they make her leave?"

Timothy waited a bit and gave a sideway look at the matron who was sitting at the desk. "Because she's not my mother."

The reason shocked Patrick and he gave his son a long look. The boy was looking at his sleeve and he was pushing his thumb in a small that had formed at the cuff. For the first time Patrick noticed the red rimming his boy's eyes. "I'll speak with them. I'm sure they will let her stay longer if they know we will be married soon."

There was a small ripping noise when Timothy pushed his thumb through the fabric. "When will you get married?"

"As soon as you're on your feet again," Patrick said with a smile. He had expected Timothy to look up or at least be happier, but the boy looked even more sullen. "Tim?"

"What if…" He didn't seem capable of finishing his sentence. Tim swallowed convulsively and Patrick left his chair to take a seat next to his son, depositing the Spitfire on the tray table.

"What if what, Timothy?"

"What if she doesn't want to anymore?" The words were hushed as if they were a big secret he was afraid to let out.

Taken aback, Patrick tried to catch his son's eyes. "Why wouldn't she want to?"

Timothy quickly flicked his eyes to his father and looked back down at his ripped sleeve. "She may be angry because you had to postpone the wedding because of me."

Patrick covered the hands that were worrying the hole. "Tim, of course she's not angry because you were sick. She's very worried." There was a long pose and a sidelong glance to the boy on his left. The next words were so low Patrick had to lean forward to hear them. "What if she doesn't want a broken boy?"

Squeezing his son's hands, Patrick let one go and tipped up his chin. "You're not broken Tim, don't ever let me hear you say that again. You will recover from this, perhaps not as fast as you wish, but you will. And Shelagh loves you, you know that. How could you even think she wouldn't anymore?"

Tim freed his chin from his father's grip and sent another furtive look at the boy on his left. Patrick followed his eyes and stared at the child reading a comic book. "Tim?"

"Ben says step-mothers don't love their husband's children and that's why he's here."

Appalled at the sentiment, Patrick put his hands on Timothy's shoulders. "You and ben are here because you were very sick. It has nothing to do with step-mothers. I'm sure his parents visit him."

"They don't really. Ben says it's because his step-mother replaced him with a new baby, they don't need him now. He says you'll do the same," Tears welled up in Tim's eyes and Patrick squeezed his shoulder, sending a thunderous look at Ben who looked back at him defiantly.

"There are all sorts of reasons why people don't get along Tim," chief in his mind was because Ben was a little brat, but he thought better than to say that to his son. "I'll never replace you. No one ever could and Shelagh would never think like that. You know that. Is she not here every moment she can be?"

Tim nodded and sniffled back, passing his hand under his nose. Patrick took out his handkerchief and passed it to his son. "One day we might have a baby. Parents often do, but that won't mean we'll love you a jot less. Is that understood?" Tim nodded again before blowing his nose. Patrick leaned forward and kissed his son's forehead.

"Now, I'm about to be told to leave myself so I want you to go to sleep. You need to recuperate so we can have this wedding and be a proper family. How about that?"

Tim slid down under his covers. And Patrick pulled them up to his neck, kissing his boy once more. "I'll speak to the matron about letting Shelagh stay as long as she wants. Alright?"

"Yes, please."

Pleased that Timothy seemed calmer, Patrick passed a hand on his hair. "Goodnight, son."

"Goodnight Dad."

Patrick walked to the Matron and told her in no uncertain term that Miss Mannion was to be considered as Tim's mother before we tiptoed out of the ward, intent on finding his fiancée. It was time to reschedule their wedding.