Chapter Text
- - -
She knew they expected her to have some sort of panic attack whenever there was so much as a slight bang or clatter in the AAU. Not an uncommon assumption, about someone who has come home from war. All those bullets flying, they'd think, it must have been so traumatic.
Contrary to that popular belief, though, Bernie didn't have a problem with noise. She liked it, actually, and it was part of what kept her at Holby. The busy wards and the hum of equipment kept her ticking, and provided a pleasant soundtrack to every working day. On a daily basis, plenty of patients would crash to the ground, knock things over, bang fists, shout at the doctors or at each other. She hardly noticed.
No, Bernie Wolfe wasn't frightened by loud noises.
What she hadn’t realised yet was that she was fucking terrified of silence.
- - -
She hadn't figured it out until she and Marcus had separated. The telly was usually on when she'd get home and Marcus snored like a train, more often than not well asleep before she got to bed. There was no room for silence in her day.
The first night in her new third-storey flat hit her like an ambulance full of bricks.
She'd tracked her few bags in the door, stocked the fridge a bit, and set up the essentials: a kettle, her modest weight station, and the WiFi. She thought briefly that this probably wasn't what Alex meant when she imagined Bernie "sorting her life out". She shrugged it off.
Exhausted from the move, she reckoned an early night was in order. Might help her settle into her new nest.
- - -
The bed wasn't uncomfortable. She'd brought an old duvet from the house and couldn't really ask for a cosier set-up in her box room, the concrete of the apartment complex deflecting the summer heat. She didn't have a problem with tight spaces either, a bonus considering the cramped feeling of her new digs. She liked the whole place, and it wasn't far from work. As soon as she'd seen the place she'd made an offer, two months of rent up front. She’d keep an eye out for something better.
Staring up at the spotty ceiling, she decided she'd refer to this as the master bedroom if anyone asked.
Making sure she had her alarms set for the morning, she curled into the folds of the duvet and waited for herself to nod off. A street light threw slanted light through the blinds, painting the room a dim shade of orange-green.
Sleep came to her in fits. She tried not to check the time, rolling instead in search of a snug position that might be more conducive to some shut-eye.
At 4.07am, she woke in a sweat.
Sitting bolt upright, she strained to slow her breathing. She quieted herself, eyes scanning the room and ears working overtime. A creak in a neighbour's floorboard. A car horn down the street. Little else. In darkness, she swung her legs out of bed and did a quick once-over of the hallway, bathroom and the kitchen-living space. She found nothing, heard nothing but the sound of her bare feet padding softly on the wood floor and the thud of her heartbeat.
No alarms, no sirens, no fighter jets overhead, no gunfire.
That didn't make her feel any safer.
- - -
Four more nights like that and she had resorted to camping in the office, where she felt a million times more at ease and could get more than a few hours of fitful rest. She hid it well enough: plenty of spare sets of clothes and a roll up mat that fit snugly under her desk when she wasn't using it. She was content to hide like this for however long she needed to, because the flat gave her the absolute creeps.
She was sure Serena knew what she was up to, and she'd just been minding her own business.
She was sure, because she arrived every morning with a second coffee to accompany her usual disarming smile.
- - -
She'd had worse, really. Anything is great compared to the dust, and the constant almost-sunburn.
Her back, however, did not take kindly to the new sleeping arrangements. A twinge while in surgery and her grip loosened, very nearly carving a deadly laceration in a patient's liver. She got it together in time, but it felt as though there was no end to the subsequent stiffness.
She lay poker-straight that night, praying for the pressure to subside. At least she was sleeping.
- - -
She woke to the sound of the office door creaking open, bringing with it a rise in the volume of the humming ward.
She blinked herself awake, hoisting herself up in her elbows to greet the new day, and her office-mate.
Serena looked down at her, all sunshine and smirk, and cleared her throat. Bernie was expecting a right dressing down, but all that came was a muffled sigh.
"Coffee?" Serena asked, lifting the Pulses cup slightly and gesturing towards Bernie.
Bernie struggled to her feet, teeth bared against the ripping sensation in her back and graciously accepting the offer of caffeine.
Whatever Serena wasn't saying, Bernie could practically feel it boring into her. She resolved to have a talk about it, soon. Maybe not the part about being afraid of her tiny apartment, but the bit about sleeping in the office.
It'd be better to sound lonely than to let slip about her fears.
At least the loneliness part wouldn't be a lie.
- - -
The next morning, Serena hesitated after coming in the door, slinking to her side of the desk to silently place a stack of files in her workspace. When she knew Bernie was awake, she levelled a stare approximately at the tile next to her head, avoiding eye contact.
"So, care to explain this, then?" She asked, gesturing weakly towards Bernie, whose eyes were full of sleep but whose mind could not miss such an opportunity when handed to her.
"No point in suggesting I've been floored by your beauty?"
Serena scoffed, but she blushed all the same and dropped the subject in a flurry.
Bernie was quite impressed with herself on that, as she watched Serena bow her head and bolt from the office. She knew it'd come up again, though.
- - -
She and Serena had become quite adept at ignoring things, at religiously avoiding certain topics while speaking with one another.
Their endless, shameless verbal tennis was one, replete with an undeniable sexual tension that Bernie wished she could act upon. There was also the fact that Bernie had ever so slightly cheated on her husband of twenty-five years (twenty-two when the affair began). Bernie's sleeping habits would quickly become another such topic of non-discussion.
- - -
Two weeks on the office floor and Bernie still hadn’t explained herself, and Serena was the only one who knew it was happening. By this point, she’d been getting enough sleep to start thinking clearly about what was going on. She’d woken up, afraid for her life, and not been able to figure out why. Especially since she hadn’t had any such episodes up until that point. She no longer thought that it had been a side-effect of being in a new place.
On her lunch break, she decided to sneak up to Psych and have a quiet word. Grateful for their understanding and discretion, she walked away with an appointment slot with a consultant for the following morning. She felt like this might be something she could get a handle on, with a bit of elbow grease.
- - -
PTSD comes in all shapes and sizes. That’s what the consultant said to her, not certain he’d found a solution but willing to give her some advice.
Maybe she hadn’t wanted that verdict, but she didn’t give a single toss about it, if it meant she had a means of dealing with it. She’d never be able to even budge with Serena if she wasn’t sure she’d feel safe sleeping anywhere but the hospital – enticing as the idea of office shenanigans was.
He had launched into a monologue about the many things that can affect an ex-soldier, some of which did resonate with Bernie. When he began to elaborate on the story of one US Marine who’d started hearing phantom noises on his too-quiet farmstead, she felt something click.
He nodded his encouragement as she admitted that she felt some truth in his words. He suggested she sleep with the radio on, or get a white noise machine. Bernie left his office a little confused, but steadfast in her determination.
She wanted to get past this nonsense so she could get on to doing the more important things in life.
- - -
Upon her return to the ward, she cornered Serena as she stepped away from a patient’s bed.
“Got a minute?” She half-asked, grabbing Serena gently by the sleeve and steering her towards their office.
As she pulled them into their dimly lit headquarters, she loosened her grip and turned to face Serena, who closed the door with a low click and shot her a puzzled look.
Bernie briefly thought that this really wouldn’t be a bad place for some hands-on action, with the blinds shut and door locked, nobody would suspect... She forced a cough, attempting to rid herself of such thoughts. Not yet.
She settled herself against her desk, crossed her arms and faced Serena.
“I’m sorry I’ve been taking up space here, it’s just I’ve been... the flat... it got a bit much to be living in my own head.” She worried she might talk herself into a corner with that, but she’d already started.
“I’ll be out of here tonight, so you needn’t worry about waking me in the morning.”
Serena’s eyes flashed with what Bernie might have called concern if she’d tried to put a name on it, but she was simply trying not to get lost in the hazel depths.
“You know,” Serena started, seeming relieved to finally be talking about this, “You can stay with me any time, if you need to. I don’t bite; Jason keeps to himself in the evenings and you’d have a room to yourself.” She looked hesitant, but spoke with clarity.
Bernie wondered if she could be talked into the biting part.
She shook her head.
“I might just take you up on that. For now, though, I think I want to give my place another go. Make the most of the rent I’ve shelled out already.”
She didn’t miss the twitch of disappointment as it passed across Serena’s face, and she kicked herself for turning down an opportunity to spend some quality time with Serena. She decided she’d definitely take her up on the offer, once she’d regained her ability to sleep like a functioning human being.
- - -
A bit of online research brought up a website that played a constant feed of background noise. She could pick from café noises, waves lapping at stones with the odd seagull, or the sound of heavy rain.
Biting the bullet, she relocated herself to her apartment and settled in for the evening, tossing out the few unrecognisable bits of food she’d left in the fridge, and working on some simple weights exercises for part of the evening. As 10pm rolled around, she had a quick shower and shrugged into a loose t-shirt and cotton boxer-briefs.
As she towel-dried her hair, she pulled up her laptop and set up a rainstorm playlist, already feeling a warm rush of comfort at the sound of distant rumbles of thunder.
It reminded her of winter holidays when she was little, sneaking to the window to watch the sheet-lightning dance while her parents scrambled to find a way to light their array of mismatched candles.
Her lips lifted in a smile at the memory, as she set the laptop on the bedside locker and slipped into the soft embrace of her duvet.
- - -
She woke in the morning to the trill of her alarm, her back for once not screaming for her attention. Astonished, she sat up and pinched herself, beaming like a fool when she confirmed that it wasn’t a dream. She didn’t wipe away the tears as they fell, silently, tracking down her face to fall to her chest.
- - -
She decided to give it time, consulting with her new friend in Psych, before admitting that the sound therapy was working a bloody charm. It wouldn’t be a cure-all. She’d be going in for weekly sessions with a therapist down the road, on the back of recommendations from her consultant.
She paid for her third month of rent, finding herself settling into a rhythm.
Serena hadn’t asked her anything about it since she’d stopped kipping in the office. Bernie didn't miss camping out on the tiled floor, but she did miss waking up to Serena Campbell smiling down at her.
- - -
Bernie had made it to four months in her flat. Actually sleeping there, she was starting to hate everything else about the place, not least that she couldn’t have anyone over for tea because it was so small. She’d been keeping half an eye on local listings, but decided she needed to double her efforts.
- - -
Autumn arrived in a northern wind and seemingly unending list of trauma cases. Her schedule was all over the place, but one Friday she finished her shift at five after midnight, walking out into the crisp air of the night. With the weekend off, she popped a text to Serena wondering if she had plans for the following night, not expecting a response at such an hour.
She'd lit a cigarette and taken two deep drags before her phone lit up in her hand. Serena was still awake, and had once again extended an invitation for Bernie to stay over. She’d never forgive herself if she turned down such an offer twice, and so she sent off a quick message of affirmation, wondering if she should call a cab.
Serena told her not to bother, that she’d there in a flash. Pulling the strap of her shoulder bag across her chest, Bernie breathed smoke into the darkness and waited.
- - -
Serena arrived to Holby carpark a little over fifteen minutes later. Bernie packed herself into the passenger seat of the car, only to find a hot water bottle in a pink fluffy cover on the seat.
Her brow twisted into a question as she turned to face Serena.
"Didn't want to waste the heat on a bed I wasn't in."
Bernie's chest constricted. Serena shouldn't have even been awake at all, never mind happy to come get her from the hospital on her night off.
They drove in silence, Bernie clutching the hot water bottle in her arms.
The warmth in her chest was coming from an entirely independent source.
- - -
Nestled on Serena’s living room sofa and nursing cups of decaf tea, they talked. Bernie opened up about her counseling, about the silence, about having felt like there was something lurking and feeling unbelievably lucky that the Psych consultant set her on the right track so quickly. She admitted that she hadn’t felt like she was even in a relationship with Marcus for years, and that falling into things with Alex had felt so right, once upon a time.
Serena listened, mostly, offering the occasional supportive pat on the knee and only bristling slightly at the mention of Alex.
The tea lulled them into a hazy, relaxed conversation without the slight buzz they’d have gotten from their usual tipple. Despite having been awake, Serena was taken slightly by surprise by Bernie’s text, and there wasn’t a drop of wine in the house. Bernie swore she’d buy her a bottle at the earliest convenience. Serena said they’d have to share it.
By three in the morning they were more than exhausted. A rough week on the job was catching up on them both. Their teacups were bundled together on the coffee table, their handles almost touching.
Serena rose from the couch, offering Bernie a hand as she steadied herself. Pulling her up, she made use of the momentum, and Bernie found herself stumbling into Serena’s personal space.
Evidently, Serena had also decided this was a good time to push past something else they’d been ignoring.
Bernie felt herself sway forwards, as Serena pressed a sleepy but confident kiss to her lips. She hummed into it just as Serena pulled away, her eyes closed.
“I’d been waiting for that for far too long, Ms. Wolfe,” she said, taking a slight step back but keeping her hold on Bernie’s hand. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Eyes wide, Bernie swallowed hard.
“I... no, not in the slightest, actually.” No, she didn’t mind at all.
“Good. Now, let’s get us to bed...”
- - -
Serena assured a protesting Bernie that there'd be plenty of space and that she would be out like a light in seconds, and not to worry about the background noise annoying her. She also assured her that there’d be plenty of time for monkey business later and told her not to get too excited.
Bernie imagined sharing a bed with Serena under different circumstances, giddy at the thought. She rummaged through her bag, pulling out her laptop and sheepishly booting it up in a corner of the room. As the sound of raindrops began to fill the room, she noticed the edges of a smile blossoming on Serena’s cheeks as she pulled nightware from her dresser.
“If that’s what you like, you’ll have no problem once winter rolls around. Good old Velux windows,” she said, pointing upwards, “they’ll make you feel like you’re out in it.”
Bernie slipped into borrowed pyjamas and made a half-hearted attempt not to stare as Serena got changed, and then gracefully turned down the duvet and slipped into bed.
“None of that,” Serena said, sitting up against the headboard and spotting the look on Bernie’s face. “Although if you fancy staying tomorrow night too...” She trailed off, alert to the blush creeping across Bernie’s skin as she climbed under the covers of the queen-sized bed.
- - -
This bed had the absolute best mattress that Bernie had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Maybe that’s where she’d gone wrong with Marcus. Their bed had seemed like a concrete slab. Or a dissection table.
With Serena curled up beside her, Bernie wondered if she'd ever felt quite this safe in her entire life. As Serena dozed off, out like a light as she'd promised, Bernie grinned into the night.
Never in her life had she been so glad to hear someone snore.