This chapter might hurt your heart a little bit, sorry. And also, still on the codeine so hopefully no grammar or any other types of slip ups. Let me just tell you, strep throat=not fun at all.

X

It was Doctor who stopped the joining of their lips.

It would seem as though realization hit him first this time.

He was supposed to be taking her to the TB treatment hospital to make her better! And what was he doing? Sitting in the middle of a foggy road kissing her!

Kissing her,

Something he'd dreamed of doing for ages, kissing her. Holding her in his arms, her body within the embrace of his own.

But he knew it was wrong, and he knew she knew it was wrong regardless of how right it felt to the both of them.

He didn't want to stop,

And that's what angered him. He loved her. He didn't just want to kiss and hold her. He wanted to wake up with her and make her happy, he wanted to have children with her, grow old with her, even fight with her on occasion just to make up with her. He wanted to be able to love her. Because he did, he loved her.

So, because he loved her, he gently lightened the kiss until their lips broke apart, and he looked into her now dark with passion blue eyes, trying to convey all that he was feeling to her, because he couldn't find the words to say it. In that moment the only thing we was apparently capable of doing was taking her face in his palm and stroking her cheek with adoration, and closing his eyes to try and engrain the feeling of her soft skin into his memory.

She knew. She should have known better.

She was a nun for Christ sake. What was she doing? What was she thinking? She clearly was not thinking. She clearly didn't do a lot of thinking whenever he was around. But she loved him.

And now what? He stopped kissing her.

Sister Bernadette tried to read what Doctor's eyes were telling her, but she didn't understand. Moments ago, he had not wanted to let go of her, their lips had the longest conversation without words, and she could feel herself falling more and more in love with him. So what was he telling her now when he had pulled away from the kiss?

Was it just simply a kiss to him? Was their previous kiss, simply a kiss as well? Nothing more? Was she reading this all wrong? Was she hoping for something that wasn't there? Was he only kissing her because he missed his late wife? All these thoughts flashed through Sister Bernadette's mind.

She was hurt,

She was hurt, but she was strong. She, with all the courage she could muster, returned back to her seat from the place in his lap where she was warm and suddenly realized how cold it had gotten outside of the mg. She shivered, and he tried to place a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it off.

Doctor Turner feared that he had given her the wrong impression. Why couldn't he find the right words to tell her? He didn't want to scare her off. She was a nun after all, and he didn't want to lose her. He loved her, why couldn't he just tell her that. Why are words so hard when it comes to love?

"We'd better get going, it will be dark soon and you won't see your way back" said Sister Bernadette in a voice that betrayed how hurt she was feeling under her strong exterior.

"Oh, umm…you're right, best get you to the sanatorium safely and… um, right let's go." Mumbled Doctor Turner whilst turning the key in the ignition and starting up the mg for the rest of their journey.

A journey that was for the remainder of their time silent for neither had words for each other. Doctor had many things he would like to tell Sister Bernadette but could simply not find the right words, and in turn, Sister Bernadette thinking that Doctor had nothing to say to her felt broken and had no words she wished to say to the Doctor.

She felt hurt.

Most of an hour had passed with silence before the pair laid eyes upon the TB sanatorium. Doctor Turner was still desperately trying to find words to say to the woman he loved with every part of himself as she was now filled with a different kind of fear at seeing the imposing building before her. It was large, and it looked well taken care of, it came off looking like a grand hotel out in the country, but seeing it and knowing what it was didn't help her feelings of unease.

Sister Bernadette had never feared death. She was young; she believed in her god, had faith in her church and believed in her heaven. She had no fear of growing old and passing in her sleep. But being young, and TB being such a scary disease, the fear rose inside Sister Bernadette like a tidal wave and she began to shake with anxiety.

Only minutes later, Doctor Turner was at her passenger door offering his hand and helping her out. This time, the blush on her cheek was not visible. She had not anger in her heart, but disappointment. Though she was a nun, she was not to hold grudges to anyone regardless. So when Doctor Turner turned to her offered to walk her in and carry her suit case, she merely thanked him for being most kind, took hold of said suit case and walked straight to the sanatorium without looking back. She would not cry. She would not let him see. She would walk on; he once told her that they were like an officer and a sergeant. She would stand tall at this moment and show that she was strong. She would do this.

She could feel his eyes on her back, but that only pushed her on further and faster, only to be free from his gaze once she entered the building and to be greeted by the nurses she would be getting to know for the next months of her life. Smiling, Sister Bernadette introduced herself and went forward with all the routine tests until after maybe an hour or two later she was finally left in her room and she was free to break down. She let out all the tears from fear of the TB, to tears from her heart breaking for Doctor Turner and as well tears from missing her sisters and her friends at Nonnatus house. She even missed her small dark quarters, for they were home. She fell asleep at some point of the night curled up in the fetal position with a pillow damp from her tears and whispered prayers.

He watched her walk away. He let her just walk away. He didn't even try to stop her. He didn't say one word to her. He knew he could have insisted upon walking her inside, he was her GP after all, the least he could say was that it was just to compare her records with her new TB doctor. He could have pretended that this was a necessary procedure. In all reality, he really should have. Oh how stupid he felt at the thought of this.

He was a coward.

He knew he was a coward and he reminded himself of that every moment of the way back to Poplar. Especially as Doctor Turner passed the spot on the road where they had nearly crashed and ended up in each other's arms. He had to take a moment then and pinch the bridge of his nose to prevent himself from crying at the thought of Sister Bernadette's face after he broke the kiss. He continued his journey back home slowly, but with determination. All he wanted at that moment was to be in the comfort of his home in solitude. When Doctor did arrive home, it was to an empty house as he turned the key in the lock he realized.

Timothy was with Granny Parker tonight, as it was half term. Therefore, Doctor being alone with his thoughts cried.

He cried for the first time in years. Angry tears, sad tears, overwhelmed with love tears. He cried until he had no tears left within him and he was simply shaking. When it felt as if all feeling had left his body and he could do no more, Doctor finally fell into a deep slumber, still in his day clothes, not even bothering to turn off the light. To be honest, he didn't know how he ended up making it to his bed even.

Neither of the two knowing that the last faces their minds saw before meeting unconsciousness were each others.

This kind of sort of ripped my heart out a little bit, but it is necessary for what is to come in the story, so bare with me.