The alarm clock let out a single beep as it struck three in the morning. Lately, Serena had been awake for that beep far too often. It was driving her crazy. She couldn't sleep, and as a consequence, she couldn't get up at the right time in the morning. She had hoped her body would adapt to its new habits, but it hadn't. It left her to run around like a headless chicken in the morning and still not get to work at the right time. It was maddening.
She was trying to sleep. She really was. But her mind wasn't having it. Instead, her brain decided to replay scenes from throughout the day over and over in her head. One scene that came up a lot was the incident on the stairs that occurred over sixteen hours ago. Henrik Hanssen was reaching out to her. In his actions and in his words, it was becoming increasingly apparent that he believed there was something wrong with Serena.
And Serena, as stubborn as always, could tell him she was fine until she was blue in the face, but he was never going to believe her. She was beginning to understand that now. And maybe it would be easier just to take his hand and let him in, but she didn't know how. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know where to start.
Unable to keep trying to sleep while calm evaded her, Serena sat up and stared through the darkness. It was horrible. Her mind was over-active when it was supposed to rest, and it slowed down when it was supposed to be active. It was doing everything wrong.
In her heart, she knew something was not right. She knew this. This had happened before.
But why was it happening again now? Everything was fine; she had no reason to be like this. She had no excuse. She had come to terms with her mum's death, and she had nothing else to attribute her behaviour and feelings to. It was ridiculous; she felt like a total fool. But it was real, too.
She obsessed over it. That was something she could not help but do. After all, it was having an effect on every part of her life. She felt as rotten at home as she did at work. That feeling...she had no words to describe it.
And then there was Hanssen. She would have told him if she knew how. He probably thought she was just being cantankerous, but she found it easier to deflect his concern than try and explain what was happening to her. Besides, how could she tell him what she couldn't verbalise. An articulate woman she definitely was, but this was something she couldn't put into spoken words. Serena was fit to explode, as she had no outlet. Her biggest fear was that she was going to detonate in the presence of someone who was completely innocent, who was unaware of the way she was living.
Her head in her hands, she could feel her chest tightening, anxious about when she would manage to wake up when she eventually forced herself into sleep. She was caught between not giving a damn and caring too much, and she somehow managed to do both simultaneously. That was the worst part. It was a horrible, vicious cycle, and one she could not find a way out of.
She lay back down and stared at the digital display that told her she had wasted twenty-five minutes of precious sleeping time. Not that it mattered. It probably made no difference, because she knew her mind didn't want to sleep. It wanted to obsess.
Twenty-five past nine came around, and Hanssen began to worry. Even by Serena's current standards, this was very late. He did not hesitate as he picked up the phone and dialled her mobile number, but it went straight to voicemail. Seeing no point in leaving a message she would likely never listen to, he hung up.
Five minutes later, Serena came crashing in the door, looking worse than he had ever seen her look before. She was busy on her phone, probably seeing the message that told her she had missed his call, and dropped her briefcase down on the floor. "I'm here!" she announced as she put the phone in her trouser pocket. "I'm going now."
Hanssen got to his feet, somewhat horrified by the sight in front of him. "Are you alright?" he asked her. The first direct address he had made to her, concerning her health.
"Yeah, yeah," she waved a hand at him. "Alarm rang and I dozed off."
And then he realised. Well, he thought he did. He had no way of knowing for sure that he was right but, to him, it made sense. "You were still awake when your alarm went off, weren't you?"
The look on her face confirmed what he feared. Serena lived a quarter of an hour's drive through the city from the hospital, which meant she left sometime after nine. She probably took about half an hour to shower and get ready, which meant that the only sleep she had was sometime between six-thirty and eight-thirty.
"Please, Ms. Campbell, do not operate on patients today," he told her. Again, she looked outraged.
"But I am fine!" she exclaimed.
"No, you're not."
He bent down and picked up her briefcase from the floor, and he handed it to her. Her hands were small and they were trembling ever so slightly. "Can I go now?" she demanded, her voice coming across as angry. "I'm late enough as it is."
She was staring up at him; her dark eyes were hollow and full at the same time. Hollow of happiness and full of torment. He closed the door and guided her gently to the sofa at the far end of the room. "Try and relax," he advised her; she looked in danger of going into a panic attack, or else shouting the odds at him.
"I need coffee," she informed him.
It was a simple statement, but it told Hanssen a great deal. It told him she may not stay awake without caffeine. It told him she was exhausted. It told him she needed to tell him what was going on.
"There will be coffee on Keller. I'm going to swap your shift with Mr. Levy's," he explained to her. She looked around at him with predictable irritation. "Despite the presence of Dr. Copeland, Keller is far less stressful a place to work than AAU is. He has no surgery scheduled; Dr. Copeland, Mr. Law and Nurse Harrison have that situation covered. It may also benefit you not to have to deal with Dr. Digby or Dr. Shreve."
The other option was to send her home, but he was sure that was the worst thing he could do.
To his surprise, she said, "Thank you."
He nodded at her. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you, or am I going to have to make you take sick leave?"
"I can't do either of those things, Henrik."
Hanssen knew that. He had just hoped the threat would force her to open up. "I'm finding it difficult to understand your behaviour," he admitted. "Actually, I'm finding it difficult to understand how you are surviving on what little sleep you are getting."
Serena shrugged. "I always survive."
"If you do feel like venting, you know where to find me."
"I'm not capable of telling you," she told him. For the first time, she was acknowledging that there was something to tell – something she had relentlessly denied until now. "And believe me, you don't want to know."
Hanssen let the breath he was holding go. "And you wouldn't believe me if I said I did, would you?"
"No."
He knew that was the answer, and didn't know how to pursue it further. "Alright," he said, standing up, "down to Keller."
Looking down at her tired face, he saw she didn't particularly want to do anything. Was she sticking in at work – as best she could – because she felt she had no option? Did she enjoy her work at all these days? Was she losing interest in being everything she had always been?
When she did not move, he cautiously held his hand out to her; maybe he didn't know what lurked beneath the surface, but he felt she could do with some patience and understanding.
In the office Serena shared with Ric Griffin in her earlier days working in the hospital, Serena stared at the piece of paper in front of her. What she was writing made no sense. Really, it was barely coherent. She had managed to power her way through Sacha's paperwork – albeit on autopilot – to do this in the last half an hour of her shift, and it was useless.
On an hour and a half's sleep, this wasn't going to work, was it? But then, did it matter if what she wrote was a mess? If this was all she could muster? She didn't want to come across as stupid, unintelligent, worthless. Everything she was.
Even her handwriting was messy; she would normally have quite pretty writing. She used to, at least.
There was a knock on the door and Serena threw a stack of papers on top of that one piece of paper, to hide it from wandering eyes. "Come in!" she called. In walked Essie Harrison, Sacha's partner.
"Sorry," she smiled. "Sacha just asked me to pick up his phone charger."
"Not a problem," she smiled, getting out of the chair and allowing Essie to search for the plug and USB cable. The blonde rifled through the drawers and didn't find it, so moved on the top of the desk. Serena very nearly panicked when Essie's hands fell onto the papers, lifting all but the bottom one. Thankfully, she was too busy searching for a charger to pay attention to what was written down.
Serena looked around and found a white charger still plugged in, though with the power off.
"Is that it?" she asked, pointing at the wall.
"Ugh, yes," Essie answered. "I don't know how many times I've told him not to leave the cable hanging out like that!" She went down and took the charger, and left after thanking Serena.
When the door was closed behind Essie, Serena sat down and exhaled heavily. That was too close. She looked at the time and found it was five minutes to eight, so she went through her usual end-of-shift routine. She lifted the piece of paper, knowing she couldn't leave it anywhere in here for fear of Sacha or any other person finding it; with that in mind, she folded in three and then in two again, and stuffed it in her coat pocket.
She went to the lift and got herself to Hanssen's office, knocking on the door. She really had to remember to do that in the morning; she somehow didn't think he appreciated her haphazard arrivals, but she was so rushed, so wound up, that she always forgot.
When she was invited in, he was already set to go home. How strange. "Shall we?" he asked her. Why was he doing this every night? Nonetheless, she nodded and followed him to the stairs. The paper in her pocket felt like a lead weight; she was completely conscious of its existence. When they reached the first floor, Hanseen unexpectedly asked her, "Will you be alright this evening?"
"Of course," she smiled, trying to convince him. Was it worth it? Was it worth the effort to try and make him believe that she was fine? Wouldn't it just be easier to let him see her?
At the main entrance, she stopped, and she said, "Goodnight, Henrik."
"Goodnight, Ms. Campbell," he replied, and she waited for him to walk off to his car. She watched him get into the driver's seat and start the engine.
What was she doing? She wasn't alright! Why wasn't she trying anymore? She needed someone to know, to understand, and the person who needed to understand was the person who could tell her she didn't have a job anymore.
So she ran. She ran towards Henrik Hanssen, towards his reversing car, and forced him to slam on the brakes when she put her hand on the bonnet. He opened the window and he looked a bit frightened. "Serena?" he asked, and it was obvious she had worried him.
She rummaged in her pocket and found that bit of paper, folded and slightly crumpled. Her hands shook slightly as she passed it to him. All she could do was tell him, "Read it," and rush away to her car, sure she had left him flummoxed.
