Trixie's towel is draped over her arm as she taps the floor with her foot. She glances at her watch, and begins banging on the bathroom door.

"Valerie! You have been in there for eons. Please hurry along."

As she attempts to listen through the door all she can hear is a groan. Nurse Franklin's anger quickly morphs into concern. She moves closer to the door.

"Are you okay in there?" She asks as her hand hovers above the doorknob.

She elicits no response.

"Do you need assistance in there?" With no response Trixie pushes the door open. As the door closes Trixie finds Valerie sitting on the cold tile floor in her bathrobe. Without a word Trixie obtains a cool rag, and hands it to her co-worker, and roommate. Trixie kneels next to Valerie without a word. Her nursing instincts take over before she can stop them. She begins assessing the situation, before she is able to remind herself that Valerie has the right to privacy. The smell of emesis, and iron tells her all that she needs to know. She clears her throat.

"It was rude of me to barge in here. I'll shall excuse myself, and leave you alone with the porcelain throne," she slowly rises from the floor. Before she reaches a fully erect position she feels fingers around her wrist.

"Please stay," Valerie asks quietly.

Trixie nods subtly, and finds a seat on the floor. Valerie turns towards her. Trixie smiles at her.

"I guess it is lucky that I am at the bottom of the list today."

"I feel like a total and complete idiot," Valerie begins.

"Your pity is no good here," Trixie warns her.

Valerie wipes the tears from her face, "You're right. There is no point in dwelling."

"So are we going to talk about the elephant in the room, or are we going to hope it fades into the background?"

"This is totally one hundred percent what it looks like. I haven't even managed to bathe. I have been barfing my guts out for the better part of fifteen minutes. I vomited all over some poor, unsuspecting elderly lady's bushes on my rounds earlier."

"You are the last person that I suspected to be in this situation."

"Really? The last?"

"Aside from the sisters," Trixie clarifies.

"And why is that?"

"Because you are so put together. You have your head on your shoulders. I certainly thought I would be far more likely to be…" Trixie trails off.

"I can't even bring myself to say it. I am a midwife, and I am unable to say such a simple sentence."

"I have so many questions. Of course, none of them are any of my business."

"As if my life is so glamorous that I have a breadth of hefty secrets that I keep from you. Just ask."

"I know how this happens. I just can't imagine when this happened, or with whom."

"A few months ago. We had a few gentleman visitors, and…"

Trixie cuts her off, "McNulty! He was so young, and naïve."

"I am not, yet here we are."

Trixie grins, "Not we, sister."

Valerie exhales, "Yes, me. What am I going to do? I…"

"Do you have a plan?"

"A very solid one," she nods.

"I'm listening," Trixie looks at her intently.

"Keep this quiet until I have a plan."

"That is a horrible plan. You live in the midst of a gang of midwives. That plan is never going to work."

"A gang?"

"A gaggle? Valerie, it doesn't matter what you call them. The point remains the same. You have a very limited amount of time that you will be able to keep this from them. I understand that this is a life changing decision, but you aren't going to have much time to decide."

"What am I supposed to do? I can't go back to working in a bar. Trixie I…"

Trixie offers her one of her trademark smiles, "It is perfectly natural to be scared."

Valerie wags her finger, "Don't give me one of your standard speeches. I have heard the speech. Hell, I have even recited the speech."

Trixie offers an understanding nod, and a hug, "I'm here if you need me."

---

A few days later she is headed down the hall to her room when sister Monica Joan stops her in her tracks. She touches her pajama clad arm with her hand.

"You reek of menthol," the Sister calls her out.

"I have a bit of scratchy throat. I put some on my chest," Valerie fibs.

"Do you believe with age comes wisdom?" Sister Monica Joan questions.

Valerie furrows her brow, "Not necessarily."

"Certainly with experience comes wisdom. Many things escape me these days, but you know I feel it my duty to keep a watchful eye over all of you, as much as each and every one of you watch over me."

"I appreciate the concern, but I'm sure it is nothing more than a common cold virus," she once again fibs.

"Why don't you keep this with you until it does?" Sister Monica Joan places a necklace with a pendant of a saint on it in the palm of her hand.

"Thank you," Valerie scurries off to her room.

Once she is safely inside she secures the door. She finds Trixie sitting on her bed with a book. Trixie's gaze remains fixed on her.

"You look as if you have just seen a ghost."

"I think she knows."

"You think who knows?"

"Sister Monica Joan."

"I highly doubt that."

"She said something cryptic to me in the hallway."

"Valerie, that is her signature. I wouldn't give it too much thought."

"She gave me this," Valerie holds out the pendant.

Trixie squints, "I can't see from here. What is it?"

"It is Saint Anne."

Trixie grins, "The Patron Saint of Mothers? You are in trouble if Sister Monica Joan knows."