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Bernie sat in her car, just staring ahead of her, into the darkening car park. She had come off her shift hours ago. Cameron had told her to go and get some sleep as he was discharged from AAU an hour ago. Really, she had no excuse to still be here. Her hotel room was where she ought to have been, with a book and a glass of wine after the day she'd had. But she couldn't bring herself to start the car and drive.
She was angry. She was furious enough to punch the steering wheel in front of her – the only thing preventing her from doing it was the risk of the airbag deploying. Bernie didn't need a smack in the face; she knew she'd screwed up big time today. Everything Serena had said to her was true. As soon as Cameron had told her the truth, she should have come clean with Serena. Hadn't she learned by now that lying to that woman never did any good? Hadn't she learned that being lied to hurt Serena? And hurting Serena was the last thing Bernie wanted to do.
So now the day had ended, and the night was drawing near. Serena had gone home thinking that Bernie didn't appreciate the Trauma Unit, or Serena's help with it. And she was not naive; she had heard the real meaning of those words. She had heard that Serena didn't feel Bernie didn't appreciate the friendship, the support, the presence she was gifted with when she met Serena. In that moment, they had danced in striking distance, and Bernie had neglected to move. It was a bad move on her part.
That knowledge was what made Bernie so furious. Not that Serena felt it – Serena had every right to feel that way, given how Bernie had treated her recently – but that she had made her friend feel that way. She was angry with herself.
“Stupid Berenice Wolfe,” she muttered, unable to keep her rage internal any longer. “Can't even keep a friend for longer than ten seconds.”
Where was her courage? Why was it she could find it on the front line but it abandoned her in domestic territory? Her bravery reigned supreme when faced with a medical crisis, and yet when a personal crisis arose, brave was the last thing she felt. Why? Why did she have to be like that?
Was she deliberately putting Serena at arm's length? Or was this just her screwing up again?
It wasn't good enough.
Serena was not an unreasonable person, so what was she so damn scared of? “Oh, get a grip, woman,” she hissed at herself; she pulled the seatbelt over her shoulder and clipped it.
Bernie's fingers hesitated on her key before she turned the ignition, still debating her destination. She didn't know whether to forget about it, or find Serena and tell her that she was wrong. That even if it seemed otherwise, Bernie did appreciate her.
She barely registered which direction she took as she drove. In fact, she struggled to pay attention to traffic lights or roundabouts, never mind anything else. Darkness had fallen completely now; orange street lights guided Bernie's way as she hoped she wasn't doing the wrong thing here. It was quite possible she was. It was also quite possible she wasn't. At some point, Bernie thought to herself, she had to take that chance, rather than just do nothing. Doing nothing very rarely helped anyone – hadn't Cameron taught her that today?
Cameron had taught her a fair bit today. For example, to stop lying. Not that she had heeded it. If she had, she wouldn't be wondering whether or not Serena realised her value in Bernie's life. He had also taught her to question what she had told herself she felt about Serena; did she really looked at Serena like she had looked at Alex? Was she really doing that without even realising it?
And maybe if Cameron could see it, so could other people. Fletch. Raf. Hanssen. Morven. Maybe even Serena herself.
But if Serena had seen it, surely she would have said something. She would have set Bernie straight with a “just friends” speech. And it was with that knowledge of Serena's personality that she calmed herself. Even if the likes of Raf or Hanssen agreed with Cameron's observations, they were by no means stupid enough to voice their opinions to Serena. Bernie smiled to herself. That was an act of stupidity that would be punished severely by Serena Campbell.
The way Bernie had found Serena was with her today, as soon as she realised what Cameron meant, had taken her aback a little. The comforting Serena had done had not been expected of her. But then, when did Serena ever do the expected? Her strong morals dictated a lot of her actions, as did her love for her family, but when it came to Bernie, there was no way of knowing what was going on inside that head. All that time they were dancing in striking distance, and she had no means of finding out what it meant.
And before she had noticed what she was doing, so deep in thought as she was, her knuckles were rapping a wooden door. There she stood, listening to the footsteps drawing near.
As the door swung open, she found herself somewhat satisfied by the momentary surprise that graced Serena Campbell's face. But it was to Bernie's surprise that she was given entrance without question, and led to the sitting room.
“Where's Jason?” she asked, noting the lack of his presence in the room.
“He's up in his room. It's his hour – nobody disturbs him between nine and ten unless the house is burning down. Even then, he probably won't want to know,” explained Serena, that familiar small smile on her lips. “Got to keep his routine.”
Bernie could only smile at her love for her nephew. At how she made such easy allowances for his eccentricities. The woman really did have a big heart, even if it was guarded. In the light of the tall lamps in two of the room's corners, Serena's dark eyes sparkled, although Bernie was sure the half empty bottle of Shiraz sitting on the coffee table had made its contribution too.
Without shoes, Serena was a fair bit shorter than Bernie, but it suited her. It made her seem relaxed and calm, which was just how Bernie needed her to be at the moment.
Bernie only realised how she had stared at her when Serena raised a hand and waved it, saying, “Earth to Bernie!”
Bernie snapped out of it, internally kicking herself for staring; she as only finding herself proving Cameron might have been onto something earlier. Serena took Bernie's coat and disappeared out of the room, to where she assumed a kitchen could be found. She fell back and sat on the sofa, kicking her own shoes off without even untying the laces. When Serena returned, an amused smile spread across her face. “Make yourself at home,” she chuckled as she poured a glass of wine for each of them. She handed Bernie a glass and sat down, leaving barely an inch between them. This was another thing Bernie had noticed – this volunteering of physical proximity, and contact, on a level that Serena did not offer to other people. She let only Bernie dance in striking distance. “How did you know the address?” Serena asked curiously.
“Oh, um, you left a letter from home on your desk ages ago. I memorised the address.”
Serena had obviously had not been expecting that answer. “That's...well...”
And she didn't know how, but Bernie's explanation was already on her lips. “I said I had your back. That means knowing where to find you if you're in trouble at home.” As each word left her mouth, she realised it was nothing but the truth. She had not memorised that address out of curiosity. She memorised it because it was another way to be on Serena's side. It was only now that she recognised it for exactly what it was.
She dared glance around at Serena, whose face was sharply in focus as Bernie studied it. The expression was unreadable. So she turned away again and, for something to do, she drank deeply from her glass. When she spoke again, she was glaring into her glass so hard that she thought she might shatter it. “You said earlier that you don't think I appreciate the Trauma Unit, or you.”
“I did.”
“You're wrong.”
Bernie stiffened. She hadn't meant to say it like that. It wasn't meant in a confrontational or blunt manner. Again, she turned to see the reaction, wincing to herself a little as she did so. But again, Serena's expression was not to be deciphered. And because she was Berenice Wolfe and she didn't have the first clue what to do now, she kept digging that hole.
“You're so, so wrong. That Trauma Unit has given me a chance to make roots for myself. And I couldn't have done it without you. I know that,” she explained. “And you. I don't just value you because you help me with the Trauma Unit. I value you because you're intelligent, and goodhearted, and funny, and a good woman, and you're beautiful. I mean, what would I do without you?”
And just like that, everything settled back into its place. That last bit of unresolved strain between them dissolved. The bond between them was back, but Bernie couldn't help but wonder how and why Serena was forgiving her so easily. It was clear she had had her feelings seriously hurt today, and she had been put in a horrible position by Bernie, but the anger was gone. That last bit of resentment was gone from her face – and Bernie hadn't even known it for what it actually was until it left Serena's features.
They did not speak for some time; she wasn't sure if it was moments or minutes, but it was long enough to settle back into their ways.
But something about their ways had changed. There was one less layer of a wall between them. One of the battle lines had been withdrawn. Serena's body relaxed and rested comfortably against Bernie's, with no need for reasoning. Bernie looked into Serena's face again – she seemed to spend a lot of her time doing that recently – and witnessed a shift in her. She watched as something was stripped from her friend's guard, but could not know what it was.
She found herself reaching out, her hand on Serena's face and neck, thumb on her cheekbone, and smiled slightly. “I appreciate you. In fact, I'm damn lucky to have you, and I know it.”
Serena's lips turned up into a warm grin, before she pulled Bernie's arm down and entwined it with her, resting her head on Bernie's shoulder, both lost in their own thoughts while they drank their wine. The more relaxed they got, the further from Serena Bernie's mind drifted – there was no need to fixate on what she had managed to repair. Soon enough, though, the silence got to her, and she had to break it.
“Did I tell you about when Ric punched Hanssen in the face?”
That did the trick – it always did. The very thought of it filled the broken air with Serena's laughter, and the memory of the momentous occasion forced Bernie to join her.
Even as she giggled, a realisation hit Bernie that only confirmed Cameron's observation: Serena's laugh was fast becoming her favourite sound.