Chapter Text
Detective Inspector Serena Campbell was in her first month of her new position at the Holby City Criminal Investigations Department. If asked, she would tell you that she had settled in very nicely, thank you, and that she thoroughly enjoyed her work. In fact, only half of that statement was true.
She had indeed settled in well, and had quickly got to know her team’s strengths and weaknesses. She was a fair boss, and extremely supportive of the Detectives who worked for her, and whilst she was still the occasional subject of some hidden ribbing because of her gender, for the most part, her team seemed to support her in return.
No, the part of the statement that wasn't so accurate was about her enjoyment level for her work. So far, she had only been allocated the most minor and mundane cases, anything juicier had been handed off to one or other of her peers. Whilst she appreciated that she was new to the CID, and that her superiors would want to test her worth, she also felt that she would never be able to prove herself if she wasn't given a chance, and a decent case to prove herself with.
Her current case was, excuse the pun, a case in point. An altercation in a club, after a gig held there by a high profile band. Two men, no doubt tanked up on alcohol, had attacked each other, and one of them had been carrying a weapon. Whilst the situation had been halted by the on site security staff, one of the men involved had been injured. Not seriously, but badly enough to require a hospital visit. The other had been arrested for assault. The arrestee had managed to complicate things further when, as part of his interview, he had implicated a member of the security staff as being part of the attack - no doubt in a half cocked attempt to save his own skin. Regardless, it was still something that required further investigation. And to that end, the security person had now herself been brought in for questioning.
Serena scanned the report in front of her, ensuring that she was fully familiar with the details of the assault before beginning the interview. She glanced up, calling over to one of the Sergeants working at the desk opposite.
“Can you run a check on this Berenice Wolfe, Di Lucca? I want to know if she's got any priors before I go in.”
“Bernie Wolfe? No need, guv. She’s been cleared before. She's clean, one of the good ones.”
Serena frowned, shooting daggers at Di Lucca.
“I don’t care if she’s been cleared before. Run it again!”
Di Lucca sighed, before acquiescing. “Right. One moment. Here, her name’s come up in conjunction with half a dozen reports of unrest, but not as a participant. She gets it sorted. Like I told you, guv, she's on our side.”
“Hmm. That’s all well and good, yet still she’s the subject of this allegation, and we have no choice but to take the appropriate actions, Detective Sergeant.”
Serena fixed Di Lucca with a firm look, closing the file sharply, then gathering it up as she rose and walked off toward the interview room.
From the office across the room, she was watched by DCI Griffin, and the visiting DCS Hanssen, who had been responsible for her appointment to the role. Following her with his eyes, Hanssen spoke.
“Keep your eye on that one, Griffin. She's ambitious.”
“What, Campbell? Nah. She's got a kid, hasn't she? Kids make women weak. She hasn't got the balls to make it!”
“She may yet surprise you”, Hanssen turned his cool gaze on Griffin. “That woman is pure ice and steel. You'd be foolish to underestimate her.”
Serena entered the interview room, sweeping her eyes over the slender woman seated in the chair, taking in the messy yet effortlessly stylish blonde hair, and the long, toned limbs encased in a fitted suit. The woman was chatting and laughing with DC Fletcher, who was perched on the corner of the interview desk. Serena closed the door behind her with a decisive click, and went to take a seat opposite the woman. She took a moment to glare at Fletch for his unprofessional demeanour, before she opened her file, making a show of looking through the reports that she had already memorised. Fletch sheepishly jumped down from his perch, walking quickly round the table to take the chair beside Serena.
Finally, when Fletch was seated, Serena lifted her eyes to meet those of the woman before her. As her gaze locked with that of Ms Berenice Wolfe, Serena felt an unexpected bolt of electricity rush through her body, and suddenly the room seemed stuffy and airless. She blinked in confusion, dropping her eyes again to the papers before her, allowing herself time to regroup. What on earth was the matter with her? Not enough breakfast; her blood sugars must be dipping. That must be it. She couldn't think what else would have produced such a strange reaction. She took a deep breath and looked up once more.
“So, Ms Wolfe. I'm DS Campbell.”
“Bernie, please. I’m pleased to meet you, DS Campbell” replied the woman.
Serena felt another inexplicable tug at the sound of Berenice Wolfe’s low, modulated tone. It suited her well, she thought. There was something about the woman before her which exuded elegance. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but with her warm brown eyes and her strong, even features, she was definitely a very attractive woman. And yet everything about her seemed artless, as if it had just fallen to her to be this way, where other women would have to work hard with makeup and styling to achieve a lesser result. She also exuded a strange magnetism, causing Serena to feel unusually drawn to her, a feeling that she was neither familiar nor comfortable with. Caught up in her assessment, Serena struggled to find words to describe her impressions. If she were a man, Serena might perhaps have chosen the label sexy. Naturally elegant and effortlessly sexy. But there was no doubt that Berenice Wolfe was not a man, and, unaccustomed as she was to such thoughts, Serena found it too disturbing to apply that term to a woman.
Bernie’s look had become quizzical under Serena’s intense scrutiny, and noticing this, Serena made an effort to drag her errant thoughts back to the case. She cleared her throat before speaking.
“Would you please talk me through the events of last night?” she began.
“Certainly,” responded Bernie, beginning her tale. She fully detailed the events of the altercation, speaking eloquently yet efficiently with relaxed and open body language.
Serena made notes, listening and questioning intently, yet at the same time mesmerised by the movement of Bernie’s lips as she spoke. She had never really noticed before how expressive lips could be when forming words. The little quirks, the upward or downward draws, depending on the sound being uttered. With a flash of disconcerting comprehension, she realised that she could watch and listen to this woman speak all day.
As Bernie finished describing what had happened, Serena quickly rescanned the other pages from the file, assuring herself that Bernie’s words were corroborated by the eyewitness reports that were taken at the scene.
With this confirmation, Serena was generally satisfied that Bernie’s recount of the earlier events was truthful. However, there was nevertheless still something about this Berenice Wolfe which bothered her. Or more to the point, something about her reaction to Bernie. Some sixth sense, something that just made her feel a heightened state of alert. Not entirely comfortable with the feeling, she decided to push a little further.
“I may be new to the area, but I like to know the players on my turf. And your name, Ms Wolfe, has appeared on several reports now. You seem to find yourself around trouble a fair bit of the time. And that makes you of interest to me.” she stated, narrowing her eyes and leaning forward. Beside her, Fletch shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the unwarrantedly adversarial approach she had adopted.
“I'm good at my job, DI Campbell.” replied Bernie, mildly. “I work a lot of events. It's in the nature of my job to step in when things become… Unruly.”
“And as I’m sure you appreciate, it's in the nature of mine to investigate when one particular individual persists in popping up during reports of violence.” Serena spoke firmly.
“Did you encounter many security personnel on your previous, um, turf, DI Campbell?” asked Bernie, curiously.
“One or two. But you stand unique among them!”
“Indeed?” Bernie raised her eyebrows. “Very well, ask whatever questions you need to.”
“How did you come to this job, anyway? There's nothing of you! I mean you're tall, but you're not exactly a bodybuilder?” As soon as she had spoken the words, Serena inwardly winced. This was hardly a professional line of questioning.
“I'm stronger than I look.” Bernie gave a small smile.
“You'd have to be. But you still don't look like you could best a large or inebriated man!”
Bernie had been tolerant to this point, despite Serena’s oddly confrontational questions. But now, she sat forward in her seat, surprised and a little annoyed at Serena’s words.
“Providing personal security is far more than just brawling, as I’m sure you’re aware.” she responded in clipped tones. “Having said that, I am perfectly able to take care of myself. And as someone who has no doubt encountered a lot of sexism in your job, you're surprisingly opinionated about the role my gender should play in mine, DI Campbell. I am more than capable of fulfilling my role as well as any male. In fact, if you check through your records fully, you'll see that in all the reports bearing my name, as with tonight, the incidents in question had all been fully dealt with and defused prior to the arrival of the police, and on every other occasion without serious damage or injury. I believe I can confidently say that I am the only local security specialist who can make that claim. And you, DI Campbell. Are you as good at your job as a man would be?”
Serena bit back her instinctive sharp retort, heat rising in her cheeks as she recognised that Bernie had every right to respond in that way. She felt both ashamed and confused at her antagonism toward Bernie. Bernie had been nothing but pleasant and helpful, her account of the attack had been corroborated by other witnesses, there was no reason at all to have done anything other than thanked her for her assistance, and sent her off on her way. Why, then, had she felt the need to question Bernie further, and in such a sexist and aggressive manner? What was it about this woman that had got under her skin so? She swallowed her ire and shame, and responded calmly.
“I'm stronger than I look, too. I think that will be all, Ms Wolfe. You're free to go. Thank you for your time.”
Bernie, her annoyance dissipating as she watched the struggle play out across Serena’s face, got up from her chair, and walked to the interview room door. She had not been immune to the tension that had crackled between them, although, unlike Serena, she felt able to confidently name the cause. She turned back to Serena as she opened the door.
“Next time, I think we should put this strength to the test. Perhaps an arm wrestle?!” And with a wink, Bernie slipped through the door, leaving Serena staring after her, mouth hanging open.
