Okie dokie. You said yes so here it is my wonderful friends. Don't worry, I'm not one to abandon fics so Collision is still on the go. I've just also been writing this one and I'm a little obsessed...
The idea behind this came from a post I saw on Tumblr of Jemma Redgrave as Doctor Bramwell and Catherine Russell in something set in a similar period – does anyone know what that is? And of course, the fanfic writer in me went to crazy town and I began to think about putting Bernie and Serena in the Thrift. This piece, I have a feeling it's going to be quite a long fic, is the result of weeks of daydreaming and lunch hours. I'm having a blast and I hope you enjoy it. There will be other familiar faces, some will work at the clinic and some will have different jobs within this new world I've put them in. Some will be younger, some will be the same age as they are in the show. Just so you know, Bernie is 29 and Serena is 30.
This is my very first AU so do be kind. I do have a fascination with the Victorian period in British History so I hope that a lot of what I write will be historically accurate. However, if there's any other history buffs out there that notices anything that I've got wrong, come school me! Though I must point out that there are some things that I've had to allow some 'artist freedom' to fit with the Bernie and Serena as we know them.
Anyway, I'm officially on two weeks leave from work. Get in! So I'm heading home to spend Christmas with my family. This means, more time for writing. Look out for lots of updates for this and Collision. Which is actually the main reason why I'm posting this now. That's what happens when you're on a train for 3.5 hours heading North.
I hope you enjoy it and please remember to drop me a review or PM to let me know what you're thinking. Merry Christmas everyone! xxx
Chapter 01
Being a female doctor in 1885 was not easy and yet Berenice Wolfe wouldn't change it for the world. There had been more than a few people in her life that had tried to push her in other directions. Marriage and motherhood being the main avenues. Bernie, as she was fondly known as, wanted none of it. She had no desire to ever be tied to a man, to be told what to do or to be restricted to keeping a home for her family. It was all frightfully dull compared to what she grown used to.
Two weeks ago she had returned from Africa where she served as Head Field Surgeon for the British Army. She had been surprised at how easily she had been accepted by the soldiers. It seemed that when it came to war, the young men didn't care who held the scalpel as long as they came out alive on the other side. As time went on, she became somewhat of a mascot to the men. She had even been given a full position and left Africa with Major on her dress uniform. Rather unusual for a woman.
On her return to Britain, her Commanding Officer had offered her another post in Africa but as she had been station there for four years already, she felt it was time to return to Holby. Her reunion with her family had been joyous to a point but their only questions for her were to do with marriage and children. Marcus Dunne, an old friend whom she had gone through training with at the general hospital, had sought her parents' permission to ask for her hand in marriage. They had consented. Despite wanting to catch up with her old friend, she had avoided him for fear he would propose.
Things began to look up for her future in Holby when her father, the one who had supported and encouraged her endeavours, told her about a small clinic in the centre of Holby's most industrial area. Publicly funded by wealthy donors, it served the poor at no cost to the patient. No one asked questions, no one was turned away. Everyone who stepped through the doors was treated equally no matter the state they presented themselves in. Her father had told her that there were currently two doctors with ample surgery experience between them, one trainee doctor, a Head Nurse and four nurses. They had been trying to recruit an experienced surgeon for months but the ones worth having were not willing to give up the big pay packets or the social standing the large general hospitals offered. He suggested it might be the perfect place for a surgeon who had returned from war. Bernie couldn't have agreed more.
It was on a rainy November morning that Bernie found herself making her way to the clinic her father had spoken so highly of. She had worn her dress uniform which gained her a few stares as she passed various men and women but she hoped it would give her an edge with the surgeon in charge at the clinic. While she had been accepted into the army, there were very few men who would accept her as a fully qualified doctor and surgeon in Holby. Perhaps her references and rank would outweigh her sex.
The clinic was not at all what she expected. Only a little larger than a school house, the place was spotless but ill equipped for any kind of trauma surgery she would expect to see from an industrial area. There was a waiting room that was already full to the brim and an archway that led to what she assumed was the in-patient ward. The wooden beds she could see were full but she was pleased to see that the sheets were at least clean. There were offices facing the waiting room which she assumed were not only the staffs administrative spaces but were also consulting rooms. Perhaps even the surgery theatre if the place really was as small as it appeared.
A young man walked into the waiting room in a white uniform she didn't recognise. The small red cross on his breast pocket assured her that he was a member of staff at the clinic and she quickly headed toward him.
"Excuse me," she drew his attention to her and he stopped.
"You one of our donors?" he asked with a frown.
"No" Bernie shook her head. "I was hoping to speak with Doctor S Campbell. I saw his name on the plaque as I came in. Is he the Head Surgeon?"
The man smiled and shook his head slightly as if she'd said something funny. "Yeah that's right," he scratched the back of his head. "Doctor Campbell's in that office there," he pointed toward a closed door. "Only one in at the minute so go right in."
"Thank you," Bernie said with a brusque nod before heading straight to the door he pointed to. She knocked loudly against the wood and a woman's voice replied.
"Come in!" She shouted.
Bernie slipped inside and looked around. A woman had her back to her, she was busy looking through various jars and vials on the shelves behind the desk.
"Take a seat Mr Davis and I'll be right with you," she said.
Bernie let out a little impatient sigh. "Not Mr Davis I'm afraid," she said in a loud an stern voice she usually reserved for difficult soldiers. The woman turned to look at her, a startled expression on her face.
"I was expecting my next appointment," the woman snapped.
"I was told to come straight in," Bernie snapped back.
"Well if you want an appointment then I'm afraid you will have to return tomorrow. We're full today," she answered with a dismissive nod. She turned her back again and continued to search through the jars as she had been doing when Bernie arrived.
"I'm not looking for an appointment," Bernie held her ground. "I'm looking for a job."
The woman stopped what she was doing and looked up at her. "We already have enough nurses..."
"I'm a surgeon," Bernie interrupted even though she wasn't sure if she still wanted the job. "I'm a fully qualified doctor and have served the last four years as a surgeon in Africa for the British Army, three of them as Head Field Surgeon."
"Really?" the woman's voice was dry, as though she were humouring Bernie but the lift in her eyebrow was a sure sign she now had her full attention.
Bernie took a deep breath and stepped toward the woman, offering her hand in a sign of 'peace and friendship'. "Perhaps we should start over," she suggested.
The woman looked at her hand for a moment before a smile broke out on her lips and she shook her hand. "I'm Doctor Serena Campbell, Senior Surgeon."
"Ah!" Bernie returned her smile and laughed a little. "Major Berenice Wolfe." She tightened her grip on Serena's hand, she felt overwhelmed at meeting another female doctor. "It's not very often I meet other female doctors."
Serena smiled. "I think you're my first Major."
Bernie laughed at that. "I think I'm the only one."
Serena leaned into her slightly, her eyes conveying conspiracy. "Hopefully not for long," she smirked. "Once we have the vote there's no stopping us." Bernie looked into Serena's eyes, her smile was contagious and she found herself smiling too. Perhaps in this woman she may find a kindred spirit.
It was at that moment that Bernie realised they were still holding hands. She looked down at them at the same time as Serena. She was the first to snatch her hand away for which Bernie was grateful. She didn't know if she could have. "Do you have your references?" Serena asked as she made her way toward her desk. Bernie followed but remained on the other side of the desk, glad there was something in between them. This feeling was not unusual for Bernie, she'd felt it before but never with someone who was barely an acquaintance.
Bernie quickly fished her references from her bag and handed them over. She expected to be made to wait while Serena read each one but instead she sat at her desk and nodded toward the door. "Perhaps you would like to see Mr Davis while I read over these?"
Bernie knew she was being tested but she found to her surprise that she didn't mind. In fact, she looked forward to showing off just how good she really was.
Mr Harold Davis was the perfect patient for her to do that. He worked at the Steel Factory and had been injured trying to fix a piece of faulty machinery. He was a family man in charge of supplying for four children, his wife and his elderly mother. He needed his job now more than ever. The bones in his index finger were shattered beyond repair, the rest of his fingers poked out a weird angles, their bones protruding from the skin.
"Mr di Lucca is our resident specialist at amputation," Serena supplied from behind her desk while Bernie was assessing the extent of the man's injuries.
Mr Davis looked over at Serena in horror and turned back to Bernie. "Please miss, I can't lose my hand miss," he begged.
"Doctor," Bernie corrected him as she leaned in further to get a better look at what she was dealing with. "And I see no reason why we need to amputate the entire hand."
"You can save it?" He looked hopeful. "I need my job, miss... er Doctor. I can't lose my job."
"Doctor Wolfe we don't have the resources..."
"I didn't in Africa either," Bernie said. "But my job was to return men to the battle field and I was very good at it. I will return Mr Davis to the Steel Factory too."
Serena looked a little surprised but instead of arguing she nodded. "Show me what you can do," she said.
Bernie nodded and turned to Mr Davis. "Mr Davis, we're going to need to do surgery now."
Serena had called for Doctor di Lucca who had been resting at home after his night shift to cover the patients in the waiting room. Bernie knew that if this operation failed it would cost her the chance to work at the clinic. But she was never one to back down without a fight and she had no intention of losing this one.
"The index finger is too damaged to save," she said, looking up at Serena who was ensuring Mr Davis remained unconscious. The other woman had been watching her every move as she worked.
"You're saving the others?" She asked.
"You saw me re-set the bones Doctor Campbell," Bernie said as she prepared the tools she needed to remove the index finger. "We will bind the fingers and put his arm in a hard cast. Given time and exercise, he should have full use of his hand."
"Even without his index finger?" Serena raised an eyebrow.
"If there's one finger we can do without it's the index. Grip comes from the outer fingers and the thumb; he can still use a pen, pick up a knife and fork, do up his buttons. We can learn to function without it." It didn't take much to remove the finger in question, the bones had crumbled and all that kept the finger attached was the skin on his palm. "Not everything is so easily thrown away."
"We don't have the experience or resources to allow the time for this," Serena said.
"You do now/" Bernie looked over her mask at the other woman.
Serena raised an eyebrow and even with her own mask in place, Bernie knew she was smiling again. "I haven't given you the job yet," she reminded her.
Bernie laughed. "I was yours as soon as you saw me reconstruct the first finger."
"Mine?"
Bernie laughed again. "Imagine the possibilities." Serena's eyes widened at that and Bernie wondered if she'd gone too far. The other woman looked a little flustered.
"If you're nearly finished, I'll stop the chloroform and get you some plaster for the cast." Serena's abrupt change of conversation told Bernie that she had indeed gone too far. She needed to remember that she was no longer in the army now. There were social conventions to adhere to.
"Yes I am," Bernie said, watching Serena quickly dash from the room. While the other woman was gone, she prepared the hand for dressing. She thoroughly cleaned the sutures and bound the fingers.
"Here you go," Serena said as she entered the room again. The plaster was already mixed in a small bucket which didn't sit well with Bernie. Serena must have seen her hesitation. "It's kept in a sterile place Doctor Wolfe, you have nothing to worry about."
"I'm just used to preparing my own," she said. "Perhaps you can help me with this?"
"You don't need my help," Serena said quietly.
"No I don't," Bernie said, picking up the first piece of cloth and dipping it into the plaster. "But two sets of hands make faster work than one. We want to be finished before he wakes up."
Serena hesitated a moment before rejoining Bernie at the operating table. "We can't pay you what the army paid you," Serena said suddenly.
Bernie smiled. She had the job.
Eeeep! What did you think? Do I have people to obsess with over this idea? Let me know what you're thinking and don't forget to introduce yourselves – I love meeting new people! xxx
