A/N: thank you to anyone who read, and those who left a review. Here is the next instalment!
Scars - Part 2
"A hot bath and dry clothes. Help yourself to anything else." Serena added a generous slosh of bubbles to the water and twisted the faucets.
Clean, bright blue scrubs along with a trademark, grey NHS hoodie accompanied a fresh, fluffy towel on the side with a new toothbrush.
"This should warm you up." The older woman continued, her chosen priority to raise Bernie's temperature and reduce the risk of hypothermia, "Are you sure you're not dizzy? Or nauseous?"
With violent shudders, the former army medic meekly shook her head, "Just a barbarously pounding headache."
"As expected," A candid statement, "Just to be sure. What is the day and date? Location? Who invented the telephone?"
Bernie exhaled a sigh, enveloping her arms tighter around her saturated clothing, "Tuesday the 18th of February 2016. Holby. Albert Einstein." Her voice was dry and she swallowed thickly.
She arched her eyebrow sharply, lips parting momentarily.
"I'm joking. Alexander Bell."
"Right, of course." Serena nodded sincerely, a slight curve twitching her lips, "Well, I'll leave you to it. I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready. Oh, and please don't lock the door. I do not desire the hassle of needing it re-hinged following the actions of an emergency."
"The water's freezing!" The blonde had entered the en suite, dipping her fingertips into the swirl of water briefly before sharply retracting.
"No, it's not. You're just freezing. Trust me, it will warm you up gradually." And the general surgeon's voice faded as she waltzed out of the bedroom and breezed into the hall.
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"Feeling warmer? Here's a hot chocolate." The mug grated along the polished counter, a concerned yet disappointed expression stitched to her features and her fingers curled around her own steamy beverage.
"Thank you." She settled on the stool opposite the brunette at the breakfast bar, hands tentatively enveloping around the mug, drawing it in closer towards her. "Serena, why are you doing this?"
The brunette pursed her lips and paused momentarily, "What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean." Curt and pointed, the fuzzy sensation that clouded her head had faded slightly. She felt more Bernie, again. "I don't deserve this, from anyone, let a lone you. I have no one to blame aside myself and my stupid judgement. I'm a train wreck of a screw up, with a track of errors."
"You were adamant that you did not want to go to the ED. I respect that." Serena's shoulders twitched, matter-of-factly, "Actually, Bernie, thinking back, I was probably too cursory in the raw of the moment. I shouldn't have been so hasty to decline your offer...maybe then, this state of affairs wouldn't have occured."
"No, no. I think you had every right." The former army medic disagreed hotly, "Don't allow the guilt to embrace. This is entirely my fault. I accept the repercussions - though actually dealing with them is a whole different matter..." She trailed off with a murmur.
"Well, yes. I cannot deny that I am not disheartened and disappointed with your deceit. However, you are a fine trauma surgeon and we have to work together." It was a candid comment as she sipped at her hot cocoa, "So, let's not make this awkward. I still care about your welfare and health, it would be irresponsible of me to leave you in that state, with concussion."
"Mm, I suppose so." Damp blonde locks, tangled and curly, tumbled forwards as Bernie dipped her head, fingertips clumsily caressing the pounding sensation of her head. She winced, a tiny dribble of blood still steadily streaming from the cut.
"Are you in pain?" Serena comprehended shortly after that he question was pointless and rhetorical, "The laceration is still bleeding, I thought it would have stopped by now." Shifting to her equilibrium, she reviewed the wound, "Looks like it could do with stitches. However, we shall have to improvise. I have a suture kit somewhere."
The general surgeon returned moments later, equipped with the medical satchel she kept at home. "I won't lie, this is going to sting, as you already know..." Informative as she snapped disposable gloves about her wrists and prepared to disinfect the area.
"Now, I am quite out of practice at this. It's been a while. Though, we shall try to balance Fletch's." Studiously, she proceeded to close the laceration with neat precision.
"That should be easy for a woman of your skill. I have seen his suturing." Her directness was rewarded with a chuckle from the brunette, and she flinched again. "The whiskey is certainly wearing off now." No longer numb, it was tender and sore.
"I'll get you some paracetamol afterwards...how did you manage to obtain such a deep graze? I didn't comprehend parks to be such dangerous places for sensible grown ups." Serena narrowed her gaze, curious of the events leading up prior to her arrival.
"They aren't..unless you are foolishly intoxicated." A beat. "I tripped over, and had an invasive encountering with a couple of trees. Nothing major."
"You've had quite an evening - well day - it seems."
"Something like that." The blonde muttered and averted her eyes, the symmetrical pattern of tiles aligning the floor suddenly holding a bizarre interest.
Serena disposed the gloves and efficiently tidied away the medical supplies subsequently to being satisfied with the finished suture result. Once again, she grasped her hot cocoa sprinkled with cinnamon and resumed her seat. "Bernie, what were you even thinking? Hanssen would just adore a surgeon in your predicted state tomorrow, performing in his hospital." Sarcasm, just great sarcasm edging her words.
"I clearly wasn't." Bernie scoffed bluntly and exhaled a deep sigh, "Perhaps I'm not adapting to civilian life quite as well as hoped."
She arced her eyebrow sharply, "And this behaviour is tolerated in the military?"
"No. Not at all." A simple shake of her head, followed by a meek murmur, "But a cold shower does wonders."
