Prompts of Turnadette

Summary: OTP Prompt 1/50: "We're not just friends, and you bloody know it" (Original prompt is "We're not just friends, and you fucking know it", but it's Turnadette, so gotta keep it realistic. :D)

A/N: These are going to be a series of one shots based off a list of 50 general OTP prompts by ships4you via tumblr. Aka, work has hit a new level of boring and I need something to do and writing looks more productive than day dreaming about CtM? Prompts will range from K-T, so I'm labeling the entire story as T. If I write anything M, I will announce it at the beginning of the chapter!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The misty English countryside whipped past as Dr. Turner drove Sister Bernadette to her temporary respite at the Sanatorium. Under other circumstances, the setting might have been romantic, but neither of the silent passengers so much as glanced at the scenery. Sister Bernadette passed the time desperately trying to quiet the jumble of thoughts and worries in her head as she stared at her lap. Dr. Turner stared straight ahead at the road, willing his eyes not to stray to the distraught woman beside him, although his self control kept wavering and he found himself sneaking several glances and wishing he could reach out to grab her hand in comfort.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. None of it was. HIs wife wasn't supposed to die. He wasn't supposed to fall in love with a nun. Said nun was definitely not supposed to get tuberculosis and be taken away from him. Not that he was supposed to be thinking along those lines anyway. Things had been tense between them since he foolishly kissed her hand 'and really, what did you think was going to happen, Turner?', but they'd been borderline unbearable since he'd examined her. She'd refused to look him in the eye the entire time, which honestly was for the best since he was pretty sure he'd stopped breathing at the sight of her collarbone and he wasn't sure he would've been able to keep from kissing her if she'd looked at him.

Sister Julienne would definitely not have approved of that.

Now though...now he somewhat regretted not kissing her senseless during her examination...or in the clinic kitchen...or in plain view after they'd shared a cigarette. He'd thrown away so many opportunities and now, despite the fact that he had a great deal of faith in the triple treatment, he might never see her again. If only he could be convinced that she didn't return a single one of his feelings. It would be much easier to ignore his inappropriate affections if he didn't see them mirrored every time she sighed at him.

As if to torture him further, Sister Bernadette let out a soft sigh as she began to fidget her fingers.

"Are you alright?" He asked somewhat dumbly. Of course she wasn't alright, but what else was he supposed to say? Everything seemed off-limits between them lately.

"I'll be fine." she muttered. He might have imagined the incredulity in her voice, but he couldn't be sure.

"Good. That's good." He fumbled. Lord help him.

"You didn't have to drive me, you know." She spoke without looking up from her hands. "Fred or Sister Evangelina could've taken me, or I could have taken the bus."

"Absolutely not, you were not about to travel 30 miles on public transit with Tuberculosis." It came out more emphatic than he might've intended, but at least it got her attention.

"I would have been fine, Dr. Turner." She insisted, not without a twinge of the bite he knew she hid behind her quiet demeanor.

"You're sick. You deserve to have someone look after you." He was trying desperately not to let his feelings slip through his words, but he felt he was failing.

"Isn't that why I'm going to the Sanitorium? So people can look after me." She tactfully avoided his implication.

"Yes." He deflated. "Yes, of course."

The ride continued in silence and what felt like years later, Dr. Turner pulled the green MG into the driveway of the Sanitorium. He looked over hopefully at the women he hadn't meant to fall in love with, but she was still staring determinedly at her ever-fidgeting hands.

He sighed and opened his side of the car, but then instead of going around to open her door, he sat back down and closed the door. Sister Bernadette looked up in confusion.

"Is something wrong, Doctor?" She asked.

His breathing was faster than usual and she hated herself for noticing how it made his neck flush. Why couldn't he just let her out of the car? Why couldn't he feel how awful it was for them to be trapped together when neither of them could say the words they wanted to say?

"The triple treatment is very effective." He whispered.

"Yes." She spoke softly. "You told me."

"It's very effective, but it's not foolproof." He sighed.

Her face went white. Of course she knew that, but why on earth would he remind her? Why would he want her to think about dying?

"Why would you say that?" She whimpered. "You're a doctor, why would you-"

"Because I can't let you walk in there knowing you might not walk out again." He finally exclaimed. "I'm so sorry Sister, but I can't."

"I'm sorry too, Dr. Turner," she worked to keep her voice level, "but I have to go."

His heart dropped. He'd said too much and now he might not only never see again, but she would walk away disgusted with him.

"I know." He admitted.

With a final sigh, he got out of the car and gently helped her out while trying not to notice how she turned away as he held her arm. He sadly offered her suitcase out to her waiting hand.

"Would you like me to walk you in?" He asked.

"No." She lied. "I'll manage from here." She paused for a moment. "I do thank you, Dr. Turner." She threw as many of her feelings into her words as she could and prayed that he would understand. "I thank you so much for your friendship."

She turned and began to walk towards the domineering building, but he stopped her. Her parting comment pushed him over the edge and consequences be damned, she was going to know everything.

"Sister Bernadette." He turned her around to face him. "We're not just friends, and you bloody well know it."

"Dr. Turner-"

He silenced her with a chaste, but clear kiss that left no doubt in her mind.

"Please get better." He pleaded. Not wanting to force her to respond to his hideously irresponsible actions, he quickly got back into the car and drove away.

For the first time in weeks, Sister Bernadette smiled. Through the fog and haze of her thoughts and illness, one thing was finally clear. The future Mrs. Turner was going to get better.

One down, 49 to go! Bring it on, work boredom. :D I hope you enjoy.