Serena gently took Bernie's hands in hers, and Bernie buried her head on her shoulder. They remained entwined for a long time, Serena stoking Bernie's back and murmuring: "Everything will be all right – everything will be okay – I'm here for you."

Finally, Bernie murmured: "But what if it's not all right? What if I can't get better?"

Serena put her finger on Bernie's lips "Shush"… That night, as they slept in each other's arms, Bernie did not have nightmares. The one who did not sleep, however, was Serena. Bernie's confession had shaken her – it was much worse than she'd expected. Moreover, she had no idea how to get her partner to see a therapist. As they drank their morning coffees in the kitchen, she made an attempt at levity: "About Christmas – Jason told me there would be a Dr Who Special on BBC1 – I think you're a fan too – I'm sure we can make room on the sofa for you; and I can even buy another pack of sausage rolls."

Bernie gave her a half-smile: "Yes, I'm a fan – I guess I wouldn't mind having to fight aliens sometimes – could be easier than real life…And then, Unit has this memory serum – one injection and you forget everything – that would come in really handy."

"You can always ask Santa, but I'm not sure he's got that in store."

"Probably not." Bernie had huge dark circles under her eyes, and she was feeling like death warmed over. The thought of going to work did not appeal, especially as she was expected to teach that morning. At least, if she'd been operating, she could have hidden behind her surgical mask. And she wouldn't have had to talk much. Her throat felt as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper.

Serena said tentatively: "About last night …do you think …have you made any plans to …"

"I don't want to talk about last night. Not now- I have to get ready for work."

"I know you don't want to talk about it, darling, but…You know you can't go on like that."

"Like what, exactly?" Bernie felt the beginning of a headache coming.

"Well …Hurting? You were the one who said I should see a therapist after Eleanor's death – and you were right. I admit I wasn't convinced at first, but – it helped, really – almost as much as Shiraz and chocolate."

"You're you, and I'm me – and the situation is totally different! Anyways, I have to get to work, and so have you. "

Serena didn't try to push the matter further. It wouldn't be any use, and if Bernie felt cornered, she would only get more defensive: "Right! See you tonight?"

"Okay…"

Bernie took a cold shower in the hope of waking up completely, and swallowed two paracetamol tablets before driving to the hospital. The lecture she had to give was on damage control surgery in case of blast abdominal injuries and was cadaveric-based. She did not really look forward to it – she usually preferred her patients alive, but it had been part of her training, and she knew it was a good way for medical students to learn. When she arrived in the dissection/operating room, the first thing she noticed was that it was abnormally hot – not the best environment to work with corpses. One of the attendants told her there was a problem with the air-conditioning system, which ought to be resolved in a short while.

"Let's hope it is", she snapped – and then immediately apologized: "Sorry – I know you have nothing to do with it." She went to get prepped, and before coming into the room again, she took a deep breath. The students were waiting for her – a dozen of them, who looked up expectantly as she came in.

"Right – let's get down to it." The body was covered by a white sheet, and as she pulled it back, she almost shuddered. The bodies they used were from the hospital's morgue, and usually they were young or middle-aged men. This one looked very young, a teenager almost, and he had bruises on his face and upper torso. He had a tattoo on the shoulder, one she knew all too well – "Celer et Audax" – the motto of her own regiment, the Rifles. He looked like … he looked like the one she hadn't been able to save. Of course, she hadn't been able to save all the men she'd operated upon, but he had been different. Daniel had been an army nurse who'd been attached to her unit in Afghan. Fresh out of training, he'd been eager at first- so eager that he'd had the regimental motto tattooed on his first leave… However, Bernie had seen him retreat into himself as the days passed. He'd become less and less talkative, and she'd seen him throw up several times after he'd assisted her in theatre. She'd tried to talk to him, but he'd remain uncommunicative. He'd lost his eagerness, and although he was still efficient, he did his duties mechanically, without his initial passion. And then, one day, he'd left abruptly after a particularly difficult operation on a patient who'd been disfigured in a bomb blast. Bernie had gone after him, intend on trying to talk to him again, and she'd found him staring unseeingly into the air, his service gun in hand. When she'd walked towards him, he had pointed the gun at her, yelling: "Don't come closer – I'll shoot." Alex had been there, watching the scene – Bernie remembered how Alex had put her hand on her shoulder, restraining her…

"Don't, Bern – look at him – we don't know what he's going to do!"

"He's not going to do anything! He's not going to shoot ME! I can stop this before it's too late and he's out of the army altogether."

There was nobody else around, and Bernie hoped she could put an end to it quietly- she took a few steps further towards him. The gun was still aimed at her.

"Major Wolfe, do not go over – stop right now – this is an order." Bernie wavered – technically, Alex was her superior and if she went ahead, it would mean defying an order. She looked into Alex's eyes – they were steely, emotionless. She took another step, and extended her arm – and then…as in slow motion, she saw Daniel turn the gun towards himself, and shoot, straight at his heart. She and Alex rushed to him, but it was too late – the nurse had been a good shot, and the bullet had reached its target.

Bernie had felt guilty for a long time after that – he'd been so young, almost Cameron's age. Alex had raged at her, saying that it was one thing to endanger one's life in the course of duty, and another to take unnecessary risks to save bloody suicidal idiots. That night, they'd taken other risks – if they'd been discovered in bed together, they could have been court-martialled...

Bernie forced herself to take another good look at the body – it was NOT Daniel – this man was shorter, a little stouter, and he had ginger hair. She was just beginning to explain the procedure to the students when the door opened and a woman walked in. The students stood up straighter and greeted her with respectful "Ma'am" s.

"Good morning, Major – I'm just here to observe – end of semester evaluation routine.", said the newcomer.

This was the last straw for Bernie – she'd recognized the woman – they'd met once before, in Iraq. Colonel Stewart was a Consultant Surgeon with an impressive reputation. Bernie had been on her first Iraq tour then, and Colonel Stewart already on her fourth. About ten years older than Bernie, she was dedicated to her work and an inspiring figure. Actually, Colonel Stewart was one of Bernie's career role model. The idea that she would be observing was nerve-racking, as Bernie was functioning on very little sleep, and a very high stress level. Moreover, the temperature of the room was intensifying the smells, always unpleasant in the presence of a corpse.

However, she had no choice in the matter, and she began her presentation, asking the students about possible secondary fragmentation, and the reasons to perform a laparotomy in case of a penetrating gunshot injury. It seemed to go quite well at first. When they came to the treatment of the damaged bowel, resection, however, things began to turn to the worse. One of the students asked a question about resection margins, and Bernie's answer – that it was wiser to resect non-viable bowel and close the ends, leaving them in the abdomen for anastomosis at a second procedure – did not seem to satisfy Colonel Stewart entirely – her eyes seemed to switch behind the surgical mask. When it came to the usefulness of an ileostomy or a colostomy, the Colonel intervened and contested Bernie's procedure. At first, Bernie managed to remain calm, and to suggest that it was something she had done many times on the field, and that she had never lost anyone. However, it did not satisfy the Colonel, and she went on needling Bernie until the latter couldn't take it anymore. Very sedately, Bernie put her instruments back on the tray and said "With respect, Colonel, you seem to want to do it yourself – I'll leave you to it, then.", as she walked out of the room, her head held high. Her mistake was not to wait long enough to add sotto voce "you bloody stupid patronizing bitch" … When she turned to close the door, the Colonel was right behind her, and had obviously heard every word...

(to be continued)