A/N: Hiya. If I ramble, forgive me. I'm a bit nervous. Basically, as usual, not sure how I came up with this. Your guess is as good as mine! :)

Sarah x

Serena sighed as she found herself stuck in theatre with Henrik Hanssen, both up to their necks in Mr. Jeffrey's intestines. "So," she said, trying to keep up the bland conversation with him. Even after all these months, the man still hadn't warmed up to her, not even a little bit. "What do you pan on doing about the Darwin CT2 position, since Dr. Valentine has quit and Dr. Tressler, for whatever insane reason, seems to prefer AAU to Darwin?"

"I plan to go through the usual process," he answered, his eyes drifting to her forehead as he said it. Everyone was doing that today – perhaps Eleanor's make up wasn't as effective as they first thought. "Although it seems nobody from within the hospital wants the placement."

"They must think Darwin is a cursed place if you're a junior doctor," Serena snorted, although she did see the reasons why. She looked up to see Hanssen glancing at her forehead yet again. She rolled her eyes and said, "It's a bruise, Mr. Hanssen, not the world's greatest medical mystery."

He remained silent about the matter until they finished operating, but then proceeded to corner her after they completed the procedure and were washing up. "A word in my office, please, Ms. Campbell," he ordered her in his usual quiet and calm fashion, never betraying what he was thinking, though she had a fair idea what was going through his over-active imagination.

She rolled her eyes and followed him, neither bothering to change out of their scrubs. When they got to his office and she shut the door behind them, she was surprised when he turned and brushed her hair out of the way so he could see the damage. "Did you get yourself looked over after you sustained this?" he asked her.

"I'm a bloody doctor!" she protested loudly. "I think I of all people would know if I've got a concussion!" It was pointing out the obvious but apparently the silly man needed help seeing what was right in front of him today.

"I was just checking!" he defended himself. "How did it happen?"

"Doesn't matter," she dismissed the question, too embarrassed by the truth to tell him. He would only smirk that irritating, self-satisfied smirk when he heard the stupidity of it, hence why she was keeping quiet about her weekend.

He gave her a searching look, and she realised just what he was thinking. "Did someone hit you?" he asked her.

"I thought your opinion of me is that I need a good slap," she snorted, knowing he didn't particularly like her and struggled to put up with her for longer than a few minutes. She knew she drove him crazy – she even did it deliberately for her own entertainment at times – so she could see why he would think that about her.

"Don't be ridiculous," he retorted. "Ms. Campbell, if you have been assaulted, either randomly or by someone you know, then it would be a good idea to tell someone about it, wouldn't it?"

"So you think I've got a boyfriend who decided to put me back in my corner?" she raised an eyebrow at his obvious theory. She burst out laughing. What else could she do?

"It's not funny, Ms. Campbell," he replied calmly, deadly serious about his question.

She stopped laughing abruptly when she saw the worried expression on his face, though she truly struggled to curb it. "And if that was the case, why would it even bother you?" she asked. "You're hardly my biggest fan, are you?"

"You may seem worldly, sometimes arrogantly so, but I do see vulnerability in you that some people would exploit and use to hurt you."

"That's not answering my question," she stated, refusing to let him off the hook without answering her question.

"I know."

He said nothing more, but she could see it really would have bothered him. She didn't know why, but it would have bothered him. The very thought had him agitated, a word that didn't seem to exist in Henrik Hanssen's vocabulary. It wasn't often she got an insight into his true personality like this; it seemed he did not like the idea of someone hurting her, despite all she had done to hurt him. "Look," she sighed. "Would it make you feel better if I promise you nobody has touched me, in any way, shape or form?" she said, making it clear that, not only was there no assault, there was no man like he had assumed.

"No," he said. "What would make me feel better would be for you to tell the truth for once in your life."

"But it's stupid," she answered. "Honestly!" she added upon seeing the sceptical look on his slim face.

"I'm sure it isn't as stupid as you think it is."

"Oh, it is. It's my own fault, really," she smiled.

"Just tell me," he ordered her, clearly frustrated with her defiance now.

Serena sighed. She did not want to tell him what happened, but if she didn't he would only worry. "Promise me you won't laugh, or take the mick," she said.

"Why would-"

"Promise!" she snapped.

He raised his hands and said, "Alright, alright, I promise!"

"Good," she nodded. "Now. On Friday night, Eleanor's hayfever flared up and she wanted to move her bed from the window to the other side of her room, which, of course, necessitated in moving all her furniture as well. I told her no because I was too tired and it's a nightmare doing it with her help," she sneered at the memory of the last time she let Eleanor help move furniture with her – it had ended in an argument. "Yesterday she went to her friend's house and I went up and did it myself, and it would appear from the resulting evidence that you need more than one person to move a six and a half foot solid oak wardrobe."

"So you proceeded to move it on your own even though you knew it was too heavy," he concluded from her rambling. "That does not explain why it looks like you've just about split your head open."

"It fell on me, didn't it?!" she exclaimed. "Hit my head of the corner of the door when I fell. If you think my head's bad, you should see the rest of my body." His face turned from amusement to discomfort and she realised too late just what she had said and how it must have sounded to him. "Sorry," she apologised for how he took that last statement. "I am black and blue though."

He was smirking, so she raised a threatening eyebrow at him and he quickly hid his amusement at her idiocy.

He huffed, though he still looked thoroughly amused and asked her, "And I take it you didn't get checked for broken bones?"

"I think I would know about it if I broke anything!"

"Not necessarily," he replied, his tone frustratingly reasonable and logical. "People walk on a broken leg for weeks and don't realise," he reminded her. "Come on. Let me check, at least."

Serena laughed. "You are kidding."

"I'm not."

"You want me to take my top off in front of you?" she challenged. "I don't think so somehow."

"Either I examine you or you can go down to AAU and Dr. Wilde or Dr. Tressler can take a look."

Knowing that she would never get away with not letting anyone look at it now that Hanssen knew what happened, she grudgingly started to pull off her scrub top with a groan of pain – her whole body was bruised and aching because of the way the doors of the wardrobe had been pressed into her body. The last thing she needed was for Hanssen to know what her body looked like minus clothes. To her relief he immediately went into clinical-mode, gently feeling for broken bones. When she felt his fingers on her spine, shw had force back a shiver, and it was nothing to do with any pain he was causing.

"Don't do that," she whispered, though she was unsure of what exactly he had done to make her body react to his touch.

He ignored her comment and came to stand in front of her so he could inspect the considerable bruising to her abdomen. "You must be in rather a lot of pain," he commented.

"Nothing I can't handle," she replied, dismayed to find her voice hoarse with nerves.

She heard the raised voices of Michael Spence and Arthur Digby go by and decided Digby had messed up, Michael was berating him and the young doctor was attempting, and probably failing, to defend himself.

He felt her shoulders and collar bone and she had to resist the urge to push his hands off and put an end to this; she knew he was right to do it. She hadn't even thought of broken bones until now. "It doesn't-"

The door opened, cutting Hanssen's speech short, and Michael and Arthur stood in the doorway. "Mr. Hanssen, will you please explain to Dr. Digby that-" but Michael cut himself short this time. "Oh," he said, his face shocked and his eyes twinkling mischievously. She was willing to bet that she would never hear the end of this. "We'll...come back later."

"What a good idea, Michael," Serena snapped mockingly. "And let me warn you," she added before he could turn and leave. "If anyone hears of this, I know it will have come from you two and both of you will pay dearly for it," she threatened, leaving their punishments to their own imaginations. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," grinned Michael while Digby tried to look anywhere but Serena's body. "We'll just go now."

They left, closing the door behind them. "That's us sleeping together then," she sighed.

"Excuse me?" Hanssen replied.

"Rumours, Mr. Hanssen," she explained. "I dread to think what the staff will think of this when Digby inevitably lets slip about it."

He handed her her top, obviously finished examining her, and she was sure she saw a glint in his eyes she had never encountered before. "What are you thinking?" she demanded.

"Two can play at that game," he smirked. "I think it's high time we taught everyone a lesson about spreading rumours based on misread situations."

She laughed, pulling her top over her head and straightening it. "What did you have in mind?" she asked curiously. She had never pegged Hanssen as a man with a wicked sense of humour, but she could practically hear the cogs in his head planning out some sort of revenge. She didn't even need to hear his plans to be able to say, "This is going to be fun."

Hope this is OK!
Please feel free to drop me a review and tell me what you think!
Sarah x