This is my first Holby City FF, but I love Bernie with a passion so couldn't help but start writing this!
Ms Berenice Wolfe inhaled deeply on her cigarette as she sat alone on the bench in the peace garden, light spots of rain falling around her. It had been a tough and challenging shift – no one could argue with that – but she couldn't help but feel that she could have coped with it a bit better. It was trauma after all. This was her bread and butter. It was what she did. However, as with all trauma cases, there was no guarantee. The fine line between life and death was ever present, sometimes to the point of haunting her every move. The divorce was taking its toll on her personally and, as hard as she tried to keep her personal and professional life separate, they couldn't help but become intertwined occasionally.
The latest blow of Marcus encouraging the kids to take sides and write statements against her had hit her harder than she cared to admit. As she inhaled deeply again, she recalled the moment she'd opened the envelope and cautiously unfolded the official-looking headed paper. As she'd quickly read through the content she'd felt her stomach drop and her heart take a leap inside her chest: how dare Marcus encourage her children to do this to her. She knew that she'd not been there as much as some mothers during her children's early years but she'd been there as much as her job would allow. Surely some kids would be proud that their parent was not at home because they were engaged in active service in a war zone?
Admittedly she'd always been different to all of the other mums at the school gate waiting at picking-up time. For a start, she wasn't there every day – maybe for a fortnight every six months or so when she was back on R and R. Secondly, she wasn't there chatting about how the cleaner had forgotten to bleach the en-suite toilet or the challenge of ensuring the perfect rise in a Victoria sponge. She had, however, been ready to leap into action when one of the infants had an anaphylactic reaction to a wasp sting in the playground and she'd been the first to assist when one of the year 3 children had an asthma attack as the morning school bell had rung. She'd always known that her career had come first, but then, she was a trauma medic and her comrades needed her. After all, her children had Marcus at home pandering to their ever whim. She knew that he spoilt them rotten whilst she was on tour. Her tours had been long and arduous; made longer by the fact she was the most effective medic they had and her presence was sorely missed when she wasn't there. Not helped by the fact that Bernie could not say no to the job. After all, the army was her life; it was what she was born her do. Her father, her grandfather and her great-grandfather had all fought for king and country; the army was in her blood and she wasn't about to let the side down.
She'd known that every time she'd come back from tour, or home for a few weeks, that her children were becoming increasingly distant. Latterly she'd put it down to the fact that they were growing older and no longer needed mothering; they had their own lives and their own independence. Initially she'd put it down to the fact that Marcus was there all the time and she was the distant, absent parent. After all, he was the one doing the weekly homework, taking them to cubs, dance lessons and swimming galas. She always compared herself with her male comrades who spoke of the same issues when they returned home to their wives after sending time being posted to Germany, Canada or beyond. It was always difficult to try to fit into the routine of children's structured activities when you'd spent the past six months living and breathing as part of a unit, part of something so communal.
Marcus had always worked in the NHS. He'd never been inspired by the call of the armed services despite Bernie's regular insistence. He'd always felt safer working reasonably regular hours, with a reasonably regular team. Whilst she'd been away witnessing life and death on the front line, he'd been steadily working his way up the NHS ladder. He felt safe with regular, scheduled operations. He had a steady team working with him on his scheduled and elective operations. The predictability of his days meant that he could effectively work his career around being there for his children the best he could. He'd been to every single sports day and nativity that both Charlotte and Cameron had participated in. The school office always expected his ticket request with regular anticipation – one seat, preferably towards the front, as close to the centre as possible. He always wrote the same on every single application form for every school play that he came to watch. The office staff couldn't help but wonder where the children's mother was; they spoke of her often enough but very few staff at the school had ever seen her in the flesh.
Bernie's hand shook as she lifted her cigarette to her mouth to take another drag. She shivered as she pulled her coat tighter around her body as the fine rain fell persistently and more heavily around her. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and sighed deeply. She'd always known that the transition to civilian life would never be without its challenges but what she was experiencing at the moment was something else entirely. Of course, initially it wasn't helped by her struggling to fit in as part of a team, and more latterly by the news of her secret relationship with a fellow medic whilst on active service being spread round the hospital quicker than an outbreak of the norovirus. As a single tear escaped from one eye before running down her cheek, she couldn't even be bothered to brush it away.
"Bernie," came the concerned voice as she heard footsteps come hurriedly over towards her. "What are you doing sitting here in the rain?" Serena paused, putting one hand on the other woman's shoulder, "you're absolutely soaked!"
"I, I, I'm fine," Bernie stuttered hesitantly, "just tired and had a difficult day." Serena couldn't help but notice that Bernie's voice seemed huskier and slower than usual. Bernie leaned forward and steadied her head on her hand, resting her elbow on her knee. Serena sat down beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders before pulling her closer.
"How about we get you home and warmed up a bit, you're freezing," Serena said gently, "you can't stay here," she added as she felt Bernie begin to shake her head slightly. Gently, Serena helped the shivering blonde to her feet and together they made their way to Serena's car. The drive to Serena's house was made in near silence as Serena focused on the road ahead and Bernie fixed her stare out of the window. Pulling up on the drive, Serena glanced over to Bernie and reached over before gently taking her hand.
"Come on you, where's that stiff upper lip? That great British reserve? There's not much that rocks the steady nerve of Major Wolfe." Bernie glanced up at Serena and gave her a small but genuine smile. "Let's get you inside and warmed up then we can talk later if you're up for it." Serena said softly to the shivering and soaking blonde who sat beside her.