Morning seemed to come all too soon to Nonnatus House. By the time the sun crept over the windowsill, Patsy was on her third cigarette of the morning, already dressed for the day. She'd hardly slept at all, instead laying awake, straining her ears for any signs of distress from down the hall, and watched Delia toss and turn, tangling herself hopelessly in their sheets.

"She can't be a day over sixteen," Patsy said quietly, taking a long drag.

Delia was leaning against the headboard, finally having given up the battle for sleep despite her exhaustion. "I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't even that old." Her voice was grim. "She looks so young. But it happens; you and I both know that." She paused, thoughtful. "Do you suppose she told the boy and he hurt her?"

"Maybe," Patsy considered. "But that doesn't explain why she would have her sister with her, or why she wouldn't let us call her parents."

"Yes, that worries me. She looked so frightened."

"I know," Patsy agreed. "I admit I was a bit taken aback. But I suppose it does us no good to guess what happened; we'll just have to hope Rose will tell us."

"I think she will," Delia said. "She came here, after all. She remembered what you told her that night; she trusted you enough to come for help – that's something – and I'm sure she'll trust you enough to tell you what happened."

Patsy made a little noise of disbelief.

She looked up as Delia moved forward, weaving their fingers together and looking into her eyes determinedly. "Trust me, Pats," she said, "It's you she came to – it'll be you she tells the truth to."

Patsy's jaw tightened as she remembered Rose's bruised face, her quiet, desperate eyes, the fear in her voice.

"What if I can't help her?" she finally whispered, having to look away from Delia's earnest stare.

Delia's hand was soft as she traced Patsy's jawline, cupping her cheek and forcing her gaze back up.

"You," she said firmly, "can do anything." Patsy brought her hand up, covering Delia's and leaning into the warmth.

"And you won't have to do it alone," Delia promised. "I'll be there. Sister Mary Cynthia will be too. And Sister Monica Joan. We'll all help Rose together, okay?"

Patsy nodded but before she could reply, a door down the hall creaked open, effectively cutting off their conversation. They sat in silence listening to little feet quickly patter down the hallway towards the stairs.

Delia brushed a kiss against Patsy's cheek bone. "I suppose that's my cue," she laughed. "I'll keep Lily entertained. You just worry about Rose for now."

She pulled on her district nursing kit, and Patsy looked on distractedly. "What will we do when you have to leave for rounds? Or when it's time for clinic?"

Delia paused doing up her buttons. "I don't know," she admitted. "I suppose I could take Lily with me, but I don't think they'll want to be separated. Could they just stay here? Perhaps Sister Monica Joan could stay with them?"

"I think you're right; I don't think Rose could relax at all if she didn't know exactly where Lily was, no matter whether she trusts me or not." Patsy stubbed out her cigarette carefully, considering. "And I'd rather not to take her to clinic with me despite her need for a checkup. I'm quite certain she doesn't need to be subjected to the public right now. But I'm not sure it'd be fair to leave them with Sister Monica Joan, or vice versa."

"We'll figure it out," assured Delia. A distant thud sounded from downstairs. "Oh cripes, Lord knows what she's gotten into…"

Patsy watched fondly as Delia hurried from the room. She briefly considered lighting another cigarette. Instead, she took a deep breath, bracing herself for the day. Usually her Nurse Mount persona was enough to get information from even the most reticent of patients. More often than not, adults and children alike responded well to her firm instructions and no-nonsense bearing. But this was an entirely different situation and she found herself quite at a loss at how best to proceed.

She didn't want to be overly clinical with Rose, as gaining her trust would be imperative to learning the truth, but when she considered the alternative, Patsy couldn't help but remember her own youth. The way adults' voices had curved with pity after they learned of her past. The way they half-heartedly performed obligated kindness. Their too soft voices that belied their lack of understanding - she hadn't needed their insincere, delicate handling; the camps hadn't made her fragile, they had given her a core of steel. She could still feel the way it had made her burn with embarrassment, furious at their inept platitudes and the way she had been admonished for not showing enough gratitude for their efforts. Could still feel the tears that had stung her eyes and the painful chore of gritting her teeth and choking them back. She wouldn't put anyone else through that.

Of course, seeing as today meant a trip to the surgery and consulting the authorities, it was more than likely that any decisions over Rose's treatment would soon be out of her hands.

Sighing, she followed Delia's path downstairs, knowing that whatever planned approach they had, Rose's story wasn't likely to be straightforward or easy to deal with. Trauma, no matter its cause, never was.

XXX

Delia paused in the doorway of the kitchen, watching in muted horror at the scene playing out in front of her. Lily knelt on a chair she'd pulled over to the counter; her thin arms were shaking with the effort of lifting the full jug of juice, her glass was rattling closer to the edge with every forceful splatter that landed inside it. The next uneven pour had it tipping and Delia darted across the kitchen, barely managing to catch it before it met the floor, saving the glass but not the juice.

"Oops," whispered Lily. Her eyes were wide and she flinched as Delia shook spilt juice from her hand.

"I didn't mean to, I swear! I jus- just wanted to…" She trailed off, tears starting. She curled shaking shoulders inwards, making herself even smaller.

Delia discreetly wiped her hand on a nearby tea towel, careful to keep her voice soft and bright. "It's alright Lily, accidents happen." She extended her dry hand slowly, ushering the child from the chair. "We just need to find a mop now, no harm done."

Lily continued to cry softly and Delia knelt in front of her, taking the girl's hands in her own. "Hey now," she began. "It really is okay, it's just a little mess. Listen, my friend Barbara dropped a whole bottle of milk in the exact same spot just last month. And it splashed all over the floor too, you should have seen it. The puddle was far bigger than this little one - nearly as big as a lake!"

Lily sniffled, smiling. "Really?"

"It was so big I thought we might have to rent a boat just to get to the next room!"

Lily giggled, "That's silly."

Delia grinned back at her, "A little silly, maybe. But you know what we did?"

Lily shook her head, dark curls flying.

"We went and found a mop and cleaned it up together. And then," she paused dramatically, "we had biscuits to reward ourselves for all the work we did."

Lily's brown eyes gleamed. Delia nodded solemnly before raising an eyebrow, "Do you know anybody who likes biscuits?"

"Me!"

"You do? How wonderful!" She stood and smiled at the child anxiously shifting from side to side. "What do you say? Shall we clean this mess up and go find some biscuits?"

"Biscuits for breakfast? My, Busby, you are a bad influence."

Delia turned, laughing as she spotted the redhead leaning up against the doorframe. "And here I thought you'd be impressed with my efforts to teach the merits of a hygienic workspace, Nurse Mount."

Patsy rolled her eyes fondly and instead of replying, smiled down at Lily who was peeking at her shyly from behind Delia.

"Hello Lily," she said warmly, "Did you sleep well? I hope Nurse Busby here wasn't - "

A scream cut her words short, and she whirled, heart pounding, dashing towards it without a thought.

"LILY!" The desperate cries were punctuated by the crashing of a door flung open and the pounding of running feet down the upstairs hall. "LILY!"

They arrived at opposite ends of the staircase at the same time, skidding to a halt; Patsy could clearly see the blind terror written on Rose's pale face.

"Where is she?" Rose demanded, her chest was heaving as she clutched the banister with white knuckles. "Where did you take her?"

"Rose, slow down - "

"Where is she?!"

"Rosie?" Lily's eyes were wide as she edged around the doorframe, Delia quietly following. "Rosie, what's wrong?"

Rose came down the stairs so fast Patsy sprang forward, panicked at the speed, sure the girl was going to trip and injure herself further. Rose paid Patsy no mind, hurrying around her. She fell to her knees in front of Lily, grasping her sister's shoulders.

"I woke up and you were gone, Lily! You know you're not supposed to leave the bedroom without me! You're meant to wake me up if you need anything, you know that!"

Lily bit her lip and ducked her head, "I know," she whispered.

Rose pulled her sister close, "I was so scared; I thought you were gone."

Lily's voice was muffled against Rose's shoulder, "I just wanted something to drink. And you're so tired now, I just thought…"

Rose sighed and let go. "It's alright," her voice was quiet, "It's ok, I know you didn't mean -" she broke off, sighing again. She tried to stand, grimacing as her injured ribs protested sharply. Patsy and Delia both rushed forward, each taking an arm to help her stand carefully. Rose glanced at the nurses sheepishly, flushing at the compassion she saw in their gazes. "I'm so sorry, Nurse, I don't usually make such a fuss, I just woke up and she was gone and I thought - I thought - "

"You don't have to apologize Rose," Delia soothed as they gently steered the two girls back towards the dining area. "Really, I'm sure waking up not knowing where Lily was was awful, especially in a place you don't know very well."

"Besides," Delia continued, as they settled Rose at the table. "We're both nurses - Patsy's a midwife! We've heard far louder in our time." Rose flushed again, but her lips turned up slightly as Delia winked.

Patsy marvelled, as always, at Delia's undemanding way of putting people at ease. A warm hand, a kind word, a soft grin, a gentle teasing lilt in her voice; Delia always knew exactly what a person needed most in the moment.

"Now," Delia said brightly, glancing at Lily playfully. "I believe the young lady and I had some biscuits - I mean business - to attend to?"

Lily looked up, giggling. She moved, as if to stand with Delia, but then seemed to think better of it, worrying at her bottom lip. Her eyes turned back to her sister and she sat back down, steadfast, by her side.

Rose nudged her, "Go on, then." She smiled, looking tired. "I think Nurse Mount had some questions for me anyway."

Lily hugged her sister, looking far too serious for her years. Her dark eyes searched Rose's for a long moment before she finally nodded and went to Delia.

Patsy watched Lily look back over her shoulder, as if she were checking to make sure her sister really would be fine left with the red headed nurse. She watched as the little girl, her brow furrowed as if in deep contemplation, reached out and took Delia's hand. She watched Delia's face, already warm and open, soften further as she glanced down at the small hand tucked into hers. Patsy drew a shaky breath when Delia's eyes met hers, the look in them so full of happy surprise and uncomplicated affection that her heart raced and ached.

Her eyes stung, and she blinked. The moment broke, and she watched the two walk to the kitchen, twin dark heads glinting in the morning sun.

Beside her, Rose shifted. Patsy snapped back to reality. She had a patient to take care of; she could ruminate on impossibilities later.

XXX

Rose didn't know where to begin. Nurse Mount sat quietly across from her and she could feel the nurse's patient gaze, but couldn't meet her eyes. Instead, she focused on the hands folded on the table. They looked strange sitting there - locked in a pattern of tensing and relaxing, as if they were unused to being idle. They were worker's hands, she thought. For all that Nurse Mount spoke posh, her hands didn't look soft and useless like a lady's. They were well-callused and strong. The fingers, long and thin, were unadorned with any nail varnish. The skin looked dry and cracked-red, like hers did those times she forgot everything but scrubbing, trying to get clean. The left hand had a thin, white scar on the back of it and as Rose watched, the right slid to cover it, a seemingly subconscious move to hide from view. These were hard hands, she knew. But they'd also been gentle and quick while checking her injuries. They'd been tender when they'd held her own hand. They'd been - Nurse Mount had been - soft and firm and so kind. She'd been so kind.

Rose looked up. Nurse Mount was still watching her and met her eyes resolutely. Rose heaved a sigh, breaking the silence, and her injured ribs protested. "I suppose," she winced, "I suppose you have some questions."

Nurse Mount nodded. "I do."

Rose grit her teeth and closed her eyes. Already she could feel tears welling, and struggled viciously to hold them back. She'd cried enough. Now wasn't the time for tears. Now she had to be strong. For Lily.

"Go on, then," she said. "I'm ready."