It seems like most of the Patsy and Delia fanfic is starting to dry up and that made me so sad. I thought I'd contribute a little something to the cause while we all wait for the Christmas episode! Let me know what you think!

Patsy sits in the hallway outside Delia's room. Delia's mother puts a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be alright, dear. The doctors think taking her home to Wales may help her recovery." Patsy gives a weak smile. "Yes, of course. Whatever is best for Delia must be done. May I call or come visit her sometime?" Mrs. Busby, tired, but ever kind lets her down gently "Let's see how she does, okay? We haven't got a telephone but I dare say you can write," she smiles. "Yes, of course, I'd like that" Patsy says.

All the days after that hospital visit are still mostly a blur to Patsy. She barely remembers staying up all night, furiously cleaning the flat, but the sunlight shining through the window onto the jug of fresh flowers is still vivid to her. She can't remember moving back to Nonnatus, but she remembers lying up most nights, trying not to wake Trixie with her sobs. Did she eat at all? She doesn't remember any meals. She remembers getting sick in the backroom when Delia's confused expression at the hospital hit her out of nowhere. She knows that she attended Fred and Violet's wedding but the only detail she recalls is how she imagined herself and Delia reciting the vows instead. How, she wondered, how could everything they shared now only exist within her? It was too much. Too many memories, feelings, so much love. It was a cruel burden to be alone with it all. If her Delia were there, she would scoop her up into a hug and tell her everything would be alright. Brave Delia, always strong for the both of them.

Patsy had her routine. She could get up every morning, sit at the breakfast table and be pleasant. She could go out on her assignments and care for her patients. She could do everything that was expected of her. She knew that she wasn't allowed to break down. She had been strong before, long ago, in the face of so much pain. She was practiced in the art of doing what must be done. As long as she didn't have to confront herself and the feelings, she could manage.

The problem for Patsy was that it's impossible to avoid oneself forever. At the most inopportune of times, Delia would come rushing back to the forefront of her mind. At a delivery, when the patient's husband walked into the room with a look of awe on his face "Oh, dear, you've done so well," he cooed to his wife, kissing her on the temple - Patsy cried then, and the new parents looked at her questioningly. "Oh my, I'm sorry. You're just such a beautiful family, and new life always gets me a bit misty eyed, congratulations to you both." Leaving the room, Patsy leaned against the wall to gather herself. Something about seeing the couple, with such love between them, reminded Patsy of her own love, making her feel the emptiness instantly and causing her tears to appear without warning. "This won't do" she thought to herself, squeezing her fists at her side. She couldn't let herself break in front of other people, couldn't allow such vulnerability. "I have to write to her."

It had been three weeks since the accident. Patsy had written to Mrs. Busby almost immediately after she left for Wales with Delia and knew her reply by heart - "Delia is better now than when you last saw her. Her bruises are starting to clear and she is able to move around more, which seems to be helping with her soreness. The seizures have stopped and for that we are so grateful. She still struggles to remember her father and I but is trying so very hard. She remembers nothing of her time in London, of course, but I know she would love to have a friend through all this. Perhaps, you can remind her of your time together. Thank you for your letter and your concern for Delia. It means so much to us that you care for her so."

Two weeks Patsy had sat with that letter, trying to figure out what to do. "She remembers nothing of her time in London, of course..." Mrs. Busby's words floated about in her mind. "Perhaps, you can remind her of your time together." Knowing Delia was well meant everything to her. Even without her memories, she was alive! Her seizures had stopped! Still, where did Patsy fit into her life now? If Delia struggled to remember her own parents, Patsy could only imagine how scary this must all be for her love. She wanted to help in any way she could, she wanted to get her Delia back. The question was, how could she remind Delia of their time together without lying or saying too much? She only knew she would have to figure it out. She had to connect with Delia somehow, no matter how confusing or hard it might be. Patsy was nothing if not loyal and she would spend her life helping Delia through this, if that's what it took. After all, Patsy carried all their love within her now - she had plenty to spare.

Dearest Delia,

I am your friend from London, Patsy. You might remember me as the redheaded woman crying in your hospital room three weeks ago. I am sorry for that. It was very emotional for me to see you in such a state. Although, of course, much worse for you, so I apologize if I upset you. Your mother tells me that you are doing better now and working very hard to remember. She thinks that you would appreciate correspondence from a friend. I would love to get to know you all over again, and help you to remember your time in London, if that is agreeable to you. Do let me know, please. In the hospital, you asked me if I had a lot friends and I said no. The truth is, I do have friends - just none who have meant as much to me as you. You were my best friend. For that, among other things, I have missed you very much. I am sending my best wishes for your recovery, always.

Yours,
Patsy Mount