Hanssen sighed as he watched the clock strike nine. Serena still hadn't shown up, but then, he decided, she might have been on AAU depositing her belongings and on her way to him at this very moment. He was used to Serena being here quarter of an hour early, not quarter of an hour late; his instinct told him that there was something making matters difficult for her in the morning, to cause that half an hour of a difference.
He sat and he tried to figure it out.
Either it was her own self of someone else who was causing the problem. It wasn't her mother, who regrettably died almost a year ago. As far as he knew, Serena's daughter was at university and Edward, with whom Serena was close to becoming romantically entangled when Hanssen left after that car crash, was long gone. So it wasn't her family – as far he knew. There was no sign that she was romantically involved with anyone at all, for that matter. Did that mean Serena's problem was to do with only herself?
Ten minutes later, Serena Campbell strode in, without knocking on the door or announcing herself in any other way. When he looked up to see her, she said, slightly breathlessly, "I'm here, alright? I'm going down to AAU now."
Hanssen stared at her. She was still laden with her ridiculously sized bag and briefcase, and she was yet to take off her coat. She wore no make up, which suggested she had rushed to get here before she was any more late than she was now. "Sit down, please, Ms. Campbell," he told her. Even he was surprised by how gently his voice came out, and it showed in Serena's expression.
"Henrik, the problem you had was that I was late, and now you're keeping me here, which will only make me later in getting onto the ward."
"Have a seat and catch your breath."
Though he could see she was reluctant to do so, Serena slumped into the chair opposite him. If he was brutally honest, she looked awful. She was as beautiful as she ever was, but her skin was pale and her eyes were tired. He looked her over, and wondered just what was going on in her head right now. "What time did you get up this morning?" he dared to ask her.
"My alarm is set for the same time every morning. Six-thirty."
"That's not what I asked."
"Mr. Hanssen, if you don't mind, I need to get to AAU now," she deflected, beginning to rise to her feet.
"Actually, I was heading down there to discuss a patient with Nurse Martinez and Dr. Di Lucca, so I will walk with you."
"Great," she smiled, but he saw and heard the sarcasm. He knew he was irritating her, but to him, it was necessary. He didn't want to. Of course he didn't. But there was no other way to get through to Serena. He watched her try and fail to figure out what he was doing. In all honesty, he wasn't even completely sure of what he was doing.
But he was starting to doubt himself; was it really the best thing to do, to wear her down until she told him what on Earth was wrong with her? She really was one stubborn human being. Perhaps he was only going to reinforce the strength of her walls.
As the walked down the corridor, again towards the stairs rather than the lift, he said to her, "I do wish you would try and explain to me why you're struggling with timekeeping. There might be a way for me to help."
"Let it go."
The words echoed through the empty air, and they caused him to stop, just as Serena had done last night. "Don't you see my dilemma?" he asked her, waiting for her to stop at the bottom of the steps, halfway between the fourth and fifth floors. She turned, and he knew at that moment that she could see nothing of his dilemma. He was beginning to believe she wasn't able to see outside of herself.
He made his way down the steps, stopping so he was standing right next to her. "You see, Ms. Campbell, I have this brilliant surgeon, who is my second-in-command. She's a skilled physician, a good-hearted woman, the life and soul of any party, and she always wants to be the best," he told her, watching her face very carefully. "But recently, she has changed. She comes in late and she hides in her office. She doesn't go out, and she seems to have lost a great deal of her motivation. But I know that she is not lazy, incompetent or antisocial, and it worries me that her behaviour has changed so dramatically. So, do I allow her to continue on her downward spiral, or do I try and get to the bottom of what is causing these changes?"
Serena fell back against the wall, looking slightly stunned. Finally, he seemed to have given her something to think about.
"Downward spiral?" she repeated, staring at the floor. "Henrik, you're so straight and narrow that you wouldn't know a downward spiral if it slapped you in the face."
That comment in itself was a bit of a slap in the face. He was not a robot. He felt. He knew what it was to feel like everything was wrong and nothing was right. "You cannot deny that you have been distracted of late."
"Everyone has been. It's not exactly a bed of roses around here."
Hanssen looked down at her, seeing her contemplate whatever it was that bothered her at that moment. Whatever it was, he was able to see it tearing her apart. Hesitantly, he reached out his hand, and he placed it on her shoulder; it wasn't his typical move, but she was in pain. He saw that in her. He didn't know what kind of pain it was – physical, emotional, mental – but he was beginning to understand that there was something eating her.
She was staring at his hand, and he was staring at her face. It was the description he had for her that seemed to shock her more than anything. The original description. He had only been saying what he thought of her, and it seemed to have done more harm than good. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand; it was almost like she didn't quite believe he was touching her, and he couldn't really blame her for that. It was not normal behaviour for him. Really, if he hadn't known her as long as he did, he didn't think he would have tried this hard.
"I'm fine."
Again, her words ricocheted against the walls, bouncing back and forth until their energy ran out. Serena stood up straight again, and he let his hand drop from her shoulder.
They proceeded on their path to the Acute Admissions Unit, but with a tension in the air between them. She was obviously unhappy about his attempts to understand what was happening. After all, she was ten minutes late even today. He had actually thought she would be here early just to prove a point. In fact, for Serena not to do that was slightly bizarre.
Scrubbing out of theatre at a quarter to eight that night, Serena found herself alone with Raf. She wanted to ask him questions. Questions about how the hell Hanssen knew when she was arriving on the ward or that she was avoiding social interactions. But she didn't. She didn't want to know. She wasn't sure she really even cared.
"Come out for a drink with me tonight," Raf suggested. "It's been a long time since we got together."
"Maybe another time," she answered, not even considering it as a possibility. She didn't add that she had to go and see Hanssen at eight, before she went anywhere, because she didn't want Raf to know she was being reprimanded. It was embarrassing, really. She was one of the most senior surgeons in the hospital and yet she was being disciplined for poor timekeeping. It was what she would expect of a scatterbrained F1, not herself, but she couldn't help it. Mornings were the hardest part of the day for her, and she couldn't get any control over it anymore.
Their hands washed and dried, they both turned and leaned against the sink at the same time. "You know, Serena, a couple of drinks won't kill you. You weren't shy of it a few months ago," he reminded her. He was right, of course. She had got very, very drunk with Raf on several occasions, and they had a great deal of fun and had important conversations. These days, though, important conversations were exactly what she wanted to avoid.
"I know."
It was all she could say, because she knew he was right.
So she walked away, unable to hold this conversation with Raf. He saw through her too easily; she had learned that through her ordeal with her mum. How else would she wind up drunk in the office with him, before burying her mother's ashes and then being packed away to Paris for a few days?
She went to the locker room and got changed out of her scrubs. It took a lot of energy to put her arms over her head and struggle out of that light blue scrub top; she just felt so tired, all the time. Every single day, she felt absolutely bloody knackered.
Once she was dressed, she found herself examining her body in the mirror. She had lost weight, but not with intent. It just happened.
She sighed and went back to her office; by the time she got there, it was dead on eight o'clock, so she gathered her belongings, put on her coat and shut down her computer. Unwillingly, she pressed the 'up' button on the lift and waited. She couldn't really be bothered with this carry on of reporting to Hanssen twice a day, but it was more than her sanity was worth not to do it. And besides, she knew now he was doing this to her with the best of intentions.
His words this morning had shook her a little; she had never known him to speak positively of her, or display any real concern for her. She wondered if he cared more about her than she did about herself. Mind you, that wouldn't have been much of a feat.
She found her knuckles rapping against Hanssen's office door. "Come in!" he called. Once more, she walked in to find him packing his things away, although today he was at the stage of putting his coat on. "Ah, Ms. Campbell. I'll be with you in a moment."
She watched him, wondering how much of this was engineered by him. Yes, he had spoken to Raf this morning, and she understood why when she met that patient, but she didn't need someone to walk her to her car.
And yet, she waited for him. She didn't have to, but she did. Why? Why was she doing this to herself?
Once he was in the corridor with her, she asked him, "Ready?"
He nodded, and headed for the stairs. She would prefer the lift, mostly because she felt so exhausted, but she didn't want to let on that she wasn't feeling as completely fantastic as she wanted him to believe. "How was your day, Ms. Campbell?"
"OK. We ended up with Jackie Matheson in theatre at about six o'clock. Her spleen ruptured all over the place, as we predicted."
"How is she now?"
"Stable," allowed Serena.
"Have you thought any more about our conversation this morning?"
"No," she lied. Truthfully, she had thought about it a few times. She had wondered why he was doing what he did, and she had thought up many names for the Swede in her head throughout the course of the day. "Why do you give a damn?" she couldn't resist asking.
He paused for a moment before he answered her. "I want to know that you are reasonably happy and healthy. It is your fundamental human right to have the best standard of life that your circumstances permit."
Serena did not say a word. Instead, she memorised his words so she could cross-examine them later on. She didn't realise that she wasn't paying attention to the outside world from that moment, until suddenly she was at the driver's side door of her car, Hanssen at her side. "Ms. Campbell," he said quietly. He was hesitating, and that never bode well. It always meant he was unsure if what he was going to say was wise. "If you do need any help, please contact someone you trust. Contact me, even. It would never go any further."
As much as she wanted to say she would never need to take up such an offer, she wasn't sure if that was true. So she said, "Thank you, Henrik," and got in her car, watching him stride away to his own.