A/N: just a random idea I had; basically, my take on what could have happened following Serena's refusal of a drink with Bernie at the end of "The Cowards Way". First chapter is short and a general scene setter. All will be explained as the story progresses!
Contains mostly Bernie/Serena, with some flashbacks to Bernie/Alex. There will be 2 alternative endings; one Berena, one Balex :)
hope you enjoy!
Scars - Part 1
The blonde was slumped against the rough bark of a tree, a smouldering cigarette carelessly propped between her thumb and index finger, and a bottle of scotch discarded on the ground, the remainder of the golden liquid leaking onto the grass. Blood crusted the side of her head, a fresh trickle of the sticky, crimson substance continuing to dribble from the cut.
"Bernie?"
Serena squinted through the opaque lighting, eyes flickering closed momentarily when she learnt that the casualty was one of her colleagues. Though she had a bitter dispassion for the woman currently and was riled and disappointed with her deceit, she didn't wish her any harm.
An unfamiliar sensation of slight guilt tickled her. It was an unsettling feeling that twisted her stomach into knots. Perhaps if she hadn't so sharply declined the offer of a drink, and allowed her the undeserved opportunity to explain, they wouldn't be in this state now. But, no; she hadn't actually done anything wrong in this.
"Bernie? Can you hear me?" She descended to her knees with poise, fingertips clasping around her wrist to establish a pulse while she visually assessed the situation.
The former army medic's orbs flickered, "Oh, Serena," Bernie scoffed rather sourly, scrambling to snatch the bottle of whiskey and regain her equilibrium.
"Not so fast. That laceration to your head looks nasty, not to mention your concussion." Stopping her colleagues attempts at escaping was relatively simple, the brunette began examining to raw wound.
"I'm fine-" Her words were slurred and muffled through her violent shuddering, and she hissed and swore at the pressure applied to the injury, more sensitive and sore than she had previously comprehended. She wasn't actually convinced she even recalled it's existence.
"Fine is a very refined word, and something you are currently not." Serena stated, her attitude strict and assertive, "We need to get you to hospital. That cut is going to need stitches. You have concussion with an equally high risk of developing hypothermia."
The spring air was still chilly after dusk had fallen, the last traces of natural light chased and swallowed by the impending darkness of the evening. It whirled in a biting motion, wispy gusts of wind enveloping anything within it's path. And raindrops pattered from the velvet skies.
"I am not going to the hospital."
Serena had been correct; the rumour mills. Gossip had spiralled throughout the hospital at a curt pace, and she was the subject. Hospital was the last place she desired to be present, regardless.
Bernie ascended to her feet with a jostle, her clothes saturated from the precipitation just an additional weight to her effort. Her stubborn demeanour was dominant, she exhaled a mist of white smoke from the remains of her cigarette and clumsily grasped the scotch.
"Er, no. I think you have had quite enough of that." The brunette seized the bottle of liqueur, followed by the cigarette which tumbled to the ground and was stamped out, "And that. Fine, if you don't want to come to the hospital, you will come home with me."
"You have good taste." Serena murmured momentarily, peering at the label on the whiskey. It was exquisite and delightful, expensive and lavish.
Grudgingly, her stubbornness had subsided considerably and she allowed herself to be guided towards the car. She was cold. The pounding sensation in her head becoming more noticeable and equally discomfortable. "Just take me back to my hotel. Please."
"No. You are coming home with me. Concussion is a serious thing, Bernie. You know the rules and procedures. You simply cannot be alone." The car engine roared to life, and she stamped on the accelerator once again.
"Rules." It was a muted mutter. Bitter. And she allowed her head to leisurely lean against the window, her exhaustion finally starting to catch up with her.
Rules were exactly what landed her in trouble in the first place.