Scars - Part 3

"So, when did you join the military?"

Facts. Candid facts. This was something the army medic could recite without dilemma. "I was twenty-two. Straight from graduating medical school. A trauma surgeon was always my ambition, and I undertook my surgery training and expertise with the army."

Serena nodded, her gaze drifting idly back to the television briefly, "Why not stay at medical school to specialise and further your education?"

"The army is in my blood." Subconsciously, the blonde raked her fingers through her tousled locks, fiddling with stray curls, "I'm from a military family. It was always my destiny...additionally, the costs are beyond incredibly steep and money was tight. The forces offered sponsorships and scholarships. It was the most fixed solution."

"And in return, you give a substantial chunk of your life dedicated public services, and in your case, to the war zone." She mused the conclusion, "I've seen how it works. Though, surely, it would have made greater sense to complete the entirety of your medical training with the forces?"

"Yes, you are probably correct." A small coy smile curled her lips, now more shameful and embarrassed behind the justification with her wise years, "However, I was quite the example of a reckless, carefree teen. It was for the best to retain me from trouble. The military aren't exactly forgiving and tolerating of that behaviour."

Serena smirked wryly. It was just fitting. "A wild child. Mind you, I still can't imagine anybody controlling Ms Wolfe successfully. You are quite the free spirit."

"Something like that."

"How come the army, then? Why not the navy, or air force, for instance?" Her curiosity was piqued. Bernie was a fascinating dark horse, with no doubt many tales linked to her chosen lifestyle.

Their worlds were so close yet so far apart.

Bernie twitched her shoulders in the approximation of a shrug, "I go wherever the forces sent me. Understandably, there is a much larger demand for trauma surgeons at combat zones as opposed to the sky or ocean."

Nothing came without a risk, the hazards came with the territory; signed up together. However, soldiers had the initial higher peril factor. They lived at the exposure of bullets and explosions. That was life.

"Of course. Logical." The brunette concluded with a nod. "So, where did the army take you? Was it as rewarding as initially envisioned?"

"Iraq and Afghanistan. That is where I've completed tours of duty. Most recently the latter." Bernie informed confidently, "Yes, I can't say it hasn't been ruthlessly tough. But I certainly don't regret my career choice. Trauma has always been my dominant appeal, and as an army medic I have been able to put my knowledge to good use and practice."

She paused, stifling a long yawn. The pulsating sensation was resuming in her head with a harsh beat, making focusing more difficult. It had been a long day. "Traumas over here often aren't as complex and severe, nonetheless they are still important. I just feel my skills are best utilised at war."

Serena processed the information, a slow nod with piercing eyes, "How discourteous of me! And they call me a doctor." She mused, "You must be exhausted, and here I am asking you to ramble on about your army experiences. Sleep, yes. I'll show you to my room, right now." With her equilibrium regained, she shifted towards the door and paused.

"Your room?" The trauma surgeon's orbs narrowed slightly, shuffling to pull herself from the couch.

"Yes. That is the only free bedroom in the property. Jason has the spare room now, and the third is simply a box room piled with various junk." A swift nod, "You are in no fit state to sleep on the sofa, and I certainly am not-"

Apprehensive, Bernie quickly spoke, "I'm sure I'll be fine on the sofa-" Over her years, she had slept in far worse appealing places that weren't ideal. A sofa was considered a luxury compared to some of the locations.

The older female shook her head fervently, "Nonsense. You have concussion. Plus I will need to monitor that throughout the night as a precaution, and you needn't think that I will be traipsing through the house every hour or so to do so."

"Right-" Bernie exhaled a nervous chuckle.

"It'll be fine, as long as you don't steal all the covers. I hated it when Edward did that."

Comforting.