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bonnissance · 7 years

Note

fic title: rivers and roads

[i said if ya hit me w a fic title and i’d clap back w a drabble]

roads and rivers (is how we ended up here), Serena/Bernie (Holby City [part of the we can share a heartbeat for the night (share our hearts for the rest of our lives) aka they meet on the maternity ward AU also aka the Bernie/Marcus/Serena throuple verse but currently absent Marcus]) teen, 3.5k+ big shout out to Lo for the title and also beta-ing 💖 tags: family outings, friends to lovers, first kiss, soft gay feels.

‘God, I’m not looking forward to holidays,’ Serena huffs, shoulders slumping, on the other side of the table. ‘I mean, I am—it’ll be nice for the kids to have some times off and I know they’re excited—but I’m dreading Ellie stomping around the house and terrorising the nanny when she’s bored.’

Bernie barks out a laugh before Serena pins her with a glare.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ she apologises, palms up in surrender. She sucks in a shaky breath and stares at the mug cradled in her hand; ponders a few moments before offering up an idea.

‘You could always try tiring her out before the holidays start? Take her out shopping on your weekend off, make a day of it and don’t let her catch on you’re bribing her for good behaviour.’

She looks up to see Serena smiling like the sun.

‘God, Bernie, that’s brilliant. Oh, we could go to London!’ She’s so bright Bernie has to look away, proud smile on her own lips, congratulating herself on a good idea. ‘You should come too!’

Bernie’s head shoots back up and she blinks.

‘Oh come on, don’t look at me like that, when was the last time you left Holby?’ Bernie opens her mouth to reply. ‘Christmas doesn’t count!’ Bernie closes her mouth. ‘And you said Cam’s friends were going camping that weekend?’ Bernie nods. ‘So with Marcus away till next month it’ll just be you and Lottie in the house. Oh, please? The girls would love it, and you could use a change of scenery.’

Bernie mulls it over, nibbling her bottom lip, looks up at Serena’s hopeful face and knows she could never say no. She nods with a huff. ‘Fine, fine!’ She’s too far away to prod Serena in the chest so settles for pointing at her and glaring. ‘But if this is just a ruse to take me shopping, don’t expect me to come quietly.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ Serena shakes her head, face suddenly solemn. ‘But…if we do end up clothes shopping,’ she starts and Bernie rolls her eyes. ‘I promise you can sit it out and, I don’t know, you can hold my coat or something.’

Bernie considers the offer, thinking it over as she looks at Serena’s shy, hopeful face, finally relenting with a curt nod. She gets a shining smile as reward and drinks it in, sitting back in her chair with a smirk and letting Serena’s voice wash over her, as she rambles about all the places they might visit.

Bernie drives them to the station just past the crack of dawn; Serena wide eyed and excited while the girls grumbling in the back seat. They don’t stop whining until Serena flicks on the stereo and starts blaring the Spice Girls—their newest obsession—and starts singing at the top of her lungs to drown them out.

Bernie joins in the singing and girls start yelling, giggling, squealing, as Bernie warbles through wrong lyric after wrong lyric, but continues on regardless. They’re all in stitches by the time they get to the station—ten minutes earlier than ten minutes early—tears streaming down their faces as Bernie powers through the rest of the song.

Serena is still giggling as she buys their tickets, Bernie is still humming as she waits with the girls on the platform, Charlotte and Elinor still singing and now dancing as the train draws due.

Serena joins them with three minutes to spare, two coffees in a tray and paper bag stuffed with pastries, to find them still dancing. She grumbles about children having far too much energy for this time of day and Bernie smiles at the false irritation. Bernie may be an early riser but she’s as keen for an early morning snooze as the next woman; it’s Serena’s who’s consistently awake in the early morning, even when she doesn’t need to be, and she’s always chipper once she’s had her coffee.

Serena flicks her eyes to the time—one minute out—and then to the tray in her hand. Bernie sees the longing, hungry look in Serena’s eyes, know she won’t drink till they’re sitting, and prays the train isn’t delayed.

It isn’t, thankfully; it’s right on schedule, in fact. Apparently so are they, Bernie realises, when Serena pulls out an itinerary out of her handbag two minutes after they step off the train in London and starts rattling off the list of places they’re going to see today.

Bernie’s not sure what else she expected—of course Serena has a schedule, of course she organised things to make they won’t miss anywhere that girls asked to visit, that she wants to see, or the one place Bernie mentioned she’d like to go—and Bernie follows along willingly, keeping their brood together and trailing behind Serena as they roam around the city.

It’s far more efficient that her “wander around until something seems fun” approach to family outings—the way that always makes Marcus sigh but the children cackle with glee, trying their luck as they tug on Bernie’s hand towards yet another ice cream store, fingers still sticky from the last daytime dessert—she’s happy to carry the sandwiches in her backpack. She likes that Serena has forgiven her for the last debacle, that she trusts Bernie to keep them all feed this time.

She’s reconsidering her gratitude by the time they reach the aquarium. This place might have been Bernie’s idea but she’s certain she’s got blisters forming under blisters, lunchtime feels miles away, and all she wants to do it sit down and strap some bandaids to her toes.

She keeps her grumbles to herself as they walk through the corridors: she sees Charlotte spark up as a shark swims overhead, sees Ellie walk up close to a sting ray with her mouth gaping open, sees Serena silently coo over a cluster of nudibranch. Sees them enjoy themselves and all is forgiven.

She and Serena do their best to keep an eye on the kids racing over the mesh flooring, echoes reverberates around the glass cases as they marvel at all the underwater creatures. She has to remind Ellie not to tap on the glass three times, till Lottie starts doing it for her, as they wanders past tank after tank, filled to the brim with aquatic life. She finds herself standing beside Serena more and more with each passing room, till they exit, elbows brushing, and walk out into the gift shop as a group.

They walk along the side of the Thames, crossing over Westminster Bridge. Serena stop in the middle—calls out to the children to wait a moment—and leans against the railing. Bernie sidles up next to her, a child on either side of them, and they all look out over the water.

Bernie closes her eyes, to soak in the sun, as they bask in happy silence. A few minutes later she feels someone tap on her arm; opens her eyes to see Serena smiling at her, Lottie yanking on Serena’s hand, Ellie a few feet behind them and further way.

‘Come on!’ she urges, stumbling backwards, beckoning Bernie forward, laughing loud. ‘The kids are hungry.’

Bernie rushes to catch up, blinking sunspots out of her eyes; slips her hand into Lottie’s, still clinging tight to Serena. She smiles as they they both raise her daughter off the ground without a word, as she laughs long and loud, swinging an arc between them.

They settle in the speckled shade of a silver birch—Elinor’s choice—the light breeze offering further respite from the summer sun as they munch on the picnic Serena cobbled them together.

Serena starts snacking on a punnet of strawberries half way through her egg and cress and Bernie nicks the other half of her sandwich—Serena catches her in the act, doesn’t say a word, eyes sparking—and offers her a strawberry.

Bernie leans forward, her thieving hands full, bites into the pink flesh, just shy of the green top, groaning as the tang washes over her tongue. She sits back as she chews, swallows, content; splays out onto her back and stares up at the clouds.

She only sits up when she remembers she has another half a sandwich to eat. Sits up to see Serena smiling at her fondly before popping the last strawberry in her mouth.

‘Where are we going next, Mum?’ Ellie pipes up when she’s finished her sandwich. Serena hums thoughtful and pulls out the schedule; Bernie can’t help groaning.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that,’ she mumbles when Serena’s head snaps towards her, looking away to pick at the edge of the blanket. ‘It’s been a lovely day, really.’

Serena smiles gently and reaches over to pat the top of Bernie’s hand. ‘I was going to say…’ Bernie looks at her, curious and suspicious, and Serena quirks an eyebrow. ‘That we can do whatever we like with the afternoon. Personally, I’m hoping for a snooze and then a quiet train trip home,’ she says glibly, eyeing Bernie knowingly, smirking when Bernie starts to blush.

‘Oh, um, that sounds nice,’ Bernie mumbles, grateful and embarrassed in equal measure. ‘I’ll keep on eye on everything while you have a kip?’

Serena nods, settles down on the rug, kicking the backpack onto the grass as she stretches out her legs. Bernie yanks the bag towards her to use as a pillow as they girls run off to play faeries. Bernie lies down, perfect vantage perfect for watching the girls chase each other around tree trunks, while Serena naps beside her.

The trip home is uneventful, Lottie half asleep against Serena’s shoulder and Ellie bopping in her seat beside Bernie.

The conductor announces Holby Station next stop and Bernie straps herself back into the backpack and bundles Charlotte into her arms; takes the lead while Serena checks the seats and ushers Elinor up the corridor and holds her hand as they wait in front of the door.

It takes them a minute or so to realise they’ve stood up far too early and Bernie’s arms ache by the time the door open and they step out onto the platform. She breathes in she adjusts her daughter on her hips: Holby air has never smelt so sweet.

Serena sneaks behind the wheel while Bernie straps Charlotte into the backseat; her eyes sparkle mischief as Bernie sinks into the passenger seat.

Bernie decidedly does not look at Serena as she clips her seatbelt, shuffles herself comfortable, and stares out the window. As if she hadn’t had enough of that on the train ride home.

Serena snort, starts the car, starts driving them home; takes one left turn too many and pulls up outside Bernie’s favourite curry house. Bernie turns to finally look at her, brow furrowed, as Serena leans over to rummage around in her handbag.

‘In you go,’ Serena urges, shoving her wallet into Bernie’s hand. ‘Unless you feel like cooking tonight? Because I’m certainly not.’

Bernie hums agreement, smiling; steps out onto the curb and starts practicing their order memorised long ago.

It’s still light when they pull into Bernie’s driveway but both children are fast asleep, lulled by the low radio and hum of the road after a long day. Bernie bundles out of the car first and opens the back door as quietly as she can, unclips Ellie and scoops her up gently. Ellie snuffles as she flops her head into the crook of Bernie’s arm and Serena’s head pops up over the roof of the car.

‘I can carry her,’ she says, shutting the car door behind her.

Bernie shakes her head gently. ‘I’ve already got her.’ She walks around the car towards the footpath to Serena’s house. ‘You get the door and keep Lottie company till I get back?’

‘I’ll grab her, they can bunk in together,’ Serena says as her keys jangle in her hand. ‘It’ll be a nice excuse to have pancakes for breakfast,’ she adds cheerily, bustling past Bernie on her way back to the car.

Bernie leaves the front door open and flicks on a few lights on her way to the playroom; she’s tucking Ellie into the bottom bunk when Serena walks in.

‘Oh, leave me the hard job,’ Serena huffs good naturedly—they both know Charlotte always takes the top bunk— as she readjusts the sleeping child on her hip. ‘How’m supposed to get her up there?’

‘Here,’ Bernie says, arms out, walking forward with a smile. ‘Let me.’

She grips Lottie under the arms, pulls her out of Serena’s, hauls her up high and plonks her behind into the top mattress. Serena bends down to check on Ellie as Bernie slips of Lottie’s shoes before ushering her awake enough to crawl into bed.

Charlotte settles as Serena stands up on her tiptoes, tucking her as she says good night.

‘Night, mum,’ Lottie mumbles sleepily and Bernie sidles up to Serena.

‘Night sweetie,’ she says, stroking Charlotte’s hair. ‘You too, Ellie.’

Elinor responds with a snore. The two adults bite back a round of giggles; pad towards the hall, switch off the light, shut the door quietly behind them.

‘God, I could murder a glass of wine,’ Serena says as she pads down the stairs half an hour later, freshly showered and newly clothed. She walks into the kitchen to find a glass of shiraz already breathing on the bench. ‘Oh, you angel!’ she exclaims as Bernie rummages through the cutlery draw to find forks for dinner.

Bernie looks up through her fringe, smiling shy: she likes making Serena happy. ‘Thought you could do with a reward after today,’ she says with a shrug. ‘You wrangled us all day and bought dinner.’

‘Too right,’ Serena replies with a smirk, picking up the glass and breathing in the aroma. She hums, contented, takes her first sip before leaning against the bench. ‘Need any help?’

‘Nope, got everything.’ Bernie shakes her head, a touch proud of being so on top of things. ‘You just drink your wine.’

‘Guess I shall then.’ Serena smiles against the lip of her glass and looks out the kitchen window. ‘Seems like a it’ll be a nice night, fancy eating outside?’

Bernie looks over her shoulder, sees the clouds primrose and peach against a cyan sky, turns back with a nod. ‘Get the door and I’ll bring it out.’

Serena winks, grabs the wine, opens up the back door; settles the bottle and her glass on the table and scurries back to the kitchen. She grabs a bag of food off the bench, blatantly ignoring Bernie’s protests that she can manage on her own, and scampers back outside with their bag of sides.

She sits down and helps herself to naan, happily munching away as Bernie joins her with everything else. They spread it all out on the table, Bernie making sure the tikka masala is nearest to Serena while Serena shuffles things until the lamb vindaloo is by Bernie’s right elbow. They pick and chose from the array as they load up their plates.

Serena claims the last of the butter chicken and Bernie reaches over to steal a piece of meat; ends up with the largest bit on Serena’s plate and stammers an apology—she only wanted some—while Serena laughs and pushes Bernie’s fork away. Bernie relents, accepts the offer, and makes sure Serena gets the last vegetable pakora.

They’re both stuffed by the time they mop up the last of sauce.

Serena sits back with a heavy sigh, rubbing her stomach, and picks up her wine. Bernie stacks the plates, taking them back inside before Serena can find it in her to move, and dumps in them in the sink to deal with later.

She grabs a second glass and heads back outside, notices the royal blue of the sky and darkening cloud, and switches on the outside porch light; thinks about cloud watching of that afternoon, turns around to grab the throw from the back of the couch, strides past Serena and the table and out into the middle of the grass.

She flaps out the blanket, smooth it down; turns to beckon Serena over, brandishing her empty glass.

‘Come on then,’ she urges, and Serena giggles, eyes delighted, grabs her glass and rushes to join, pouring Bernie’s glass before she settling down next to her.

Bernie counts the last drops of the bottle dripping into Serena’s glass, both their faces tinged pink and smiling. She shakes to shift the last, stubborn, fourteenth drop, splashing it onto Serena’s hand. She laughs as Serena’s tough darts out to lick it off the flesh by her thumb, feels her cheeks flush as Serena moans appreciatively.

‘Think we’ll need another bottle?’ Bernie prompts, already shifting her weight to stand, assuming the answer.

She pauses a Serena actually mulls it over before replying. ‘Maybe one more glass?’

Bernie nods and jumps up, smiling; walks back inside and pokes around the wine rack until she finds the second bottle of the label they’ve just drank—she knows Serena always buys in pairs—and barks triumphant when she finds it.

She trudges back outside, grabbing another blanket on the way; lets Serena deal with the cork while she drapes the throw over Serena’s shoulder.

She sits down, passes over her glass, and huddles in close as Serena’s pours. She reaches out to take back the glass and the blanket falls off her shoulders; she grumbles as she pulls it right and holds it tight as she sips, as Serena sips.

She tries not to grumble as the blanket keeps falling off Serena’s shoulders, to drop low on her back with each mouthful; knows she fails when Serena flicks off the blanket with a huff and necks the last third of her glass.

‘Sorry, Serena, I didn’t—’ Bernie cuts herself off as Serena rolls onto her knees, shaking her head, and unwraps the blanket from Bernie’s shoulders. She plonks back to sitting, shuffles down to the middle of the rug; flicks the blanket down over her feet, and holds the other side up.

Serena turns back to look at Bernie, eyes expectant. ‘Come on then, hurry up,’ she says, eyes on Bernie’s half full glass. ‘It’s cold.’

Bernie blinks, smiles, skulls her wine; wiggles in beside Serena and follows her lead to lay down. She breaths deep and feels her body relax against the ground, lying beside Serena, looking up at the night sky, at the twinkling stars, crickets chirping in the night air.

‘Did I ever mentioned Ellie went through an astronomy phase when we were in America?’ Serena asks, breaking their silence after long minutes of stargazing. Bernie hums out a ‘maybe’—the fact sounds familiar but she’s not sure if she knew before now—and Serena chuckles. ‘Well she did, went mad for it for good two months until she got bored—it was quite impressive actually—and dragged me along too. I ended up learning quite a lot. I wonder…’ she trails off for a few moments, humming to herself, before pointing towards a cluster above her head.

‘Here, see this one?’ Bernie tilts her chin up to see better. ‘That’s Pegasus. And that one.’ Serena moves to points up into the sky right above them and Bernie drops her chin. ‘That’s Hercules.’

‘I’ve heard of them,’ Bernie pipes up and Serena chuckles. Bernie can see her eyes crinkle in the dark.

‘And over there, those three stars,’ she adds, reaching across Bernie to point down towards their toes, her body curling closer as Bernie follows her finger. ‘That’s you!’ she says brightly, giggling at her own joke. ‘Well, your hair anyway,’ she corrects herself, dropping her hand. She props herself up on her elbow and looks down at Bernie. ‘But I expect you already knew that��’

Bernie shakes her head. ‘I always zoned out whenever people started talking about my name, to be honest. There’s a play as well?’ Serena nods and Bernie shrugs. ‘Haven’t the foggiest about either.’

‘Ah, well then, Berenice was an Egyptian Queen,’ Serena starts with a smile, checks to see if recognition registers on Bernie’s face: there’s a flicker and not much more, but it’s a start, and Serena charges ahead. ‘Right, so, her second husband—the first shagged her mother and she had him assassinated, I know! Riveting stuff,’ Serena adds in a rush as Bernie blinks, astounded, at the aside. ‘So husband went to wage war with Syria so she cut off all her hair and offered it to Aphrodite in exchange for his safe return, and it worked!’

‘Lucky lady,’ Bernie quips. ‘Maybe I should have held off on the trim, the rest of it might have come in handy now,’ she muses, smushing her chin into her chest to try and get a look at her cropped curls.

‘Too bad you already offered it to the salon floor,’ Serena teases, reaching out to flick at the ends of Bernie’s hair. ‘Though it’s worth it,’ she adds thoughtfully, ‘knowing you’ll never get sick in it again.’

‘Definitely,’ Bernie says seriously, vehemently, and Serena smiles, drops her chin, chuckles deep. Bernie chortles too and Serena looks back up, gazes at Bernie, creases of her cheeks still cutting deep.

Bernie blinks, at Serena’s face: shining down from barely a foot away, shining brighter than a galaxy glittering behind her. Something blooms in her heart, branches out through her veins, takes root in her spine—she’s so beautiful, is the only thought, the only thing she can feel, at that moment, is Serena’s beauty, the most beautiful—Bernie flicks her eyes down to Serena’s still smiling lips, looks back up to see her sparkling eyes; shifts up onto her elbow and brushes her fingertips over the the nape of Serena’s neck before she realises what she’s doing.

She’s so soft, is the only thought that runs through Bernie’s mind as she kisses Serena, as Serena kisses her back, before she realises what she’s doing—what she’s done—pulls back, panicking, to see Serena hovering close, her eyes still closed and her lips parted.

She holds her breath as Serena’s eyelids open slowly and she blinks down at Bernie. She breathes out as Serena’s eyes turn dark and intense, wanting in the dead of night; grunts as Serena dives forward to capture Bernie’s lips, push her hard against the ground, hands frantic and searching until they settle on her shoulders.

Bernie breaths into the kiss, feels herself relax, feels Serena relax against her, as they keep kissing with the stars twinkling above them.

#berena #Serena Campbell #Bernie Wolfe #biancagrieve #thank you sweetpea #i wrote a thing #ficlets for fun #ot3 is gonna be a thing #holby city #Serena Campbell: bisexual extraordinaire #tiny precious wolfe!puppy

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bonnissance · 7 years

Note

fanfic ask: F, H, K :)

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

The grave side conversation from you disappear like your cigarette smoke (now the taste of your kiss is all that remains) (canon compliant angsty af)

She stops at Elinor’s grave, bends down to add her flowers to Jason’s bouquet, talks as she kneels beside the tombstone.

“Hi, Ellie, um, I mean Elinor, it’s, ah, been a while.” Bernie laughs, a touch wet, and shakes her head at her own folly. “Sorry, I’ve never been very good with grave sides, usually avoided them once I was out of uniform, always thought graves were for the family,” she says as she stands and buries her hands in her pockets.

“They are, really, but not all families are blood…and, well you are family, in a roundabout sort of way. Or you would have been, if things had been different.” She nibbles on her bottom lip, feels her eye burn. “I wish we’d have been family,” she whispers, harsh and broken, and tries to suck in too much air for her constricted throat.

“I wish I could’ve gotten to know you better, I think if we’d had more time we would have gotten on rather well, don’t you?” She chuckles again, wet and hollow. “Like a house on fire, always butting head, I’m sure.” She smiles at the memory of the few begrudgingly polite conversations they’d managed to have. She knows they would have gotten on in the end.

“There was a lot I liked about you, you know, bright and clever and headstrong. You were so talented and fierce…you were so like your mother.” She breaks off, haggard breathing, tries to slow it enough to keep going. “You know, I’m not even sure I think you might be out there somewhere—or whether you’re just nowhere anymore—but if you are there and sort of, floating around…could you keep an eye on her, please, if you can?”

She breathes deep, deeper, still can’t quite calm herself completely. She goes on anyway.

“I know you might be mad, that she doesn’t visit, but I know she would if she could manage it. She had to leave—maybe she told you before she left? I don’t know, I don’t even know where she is—but losing you was, too much and she loved you so much that she had to leave,” Bernie blurts out in a rush, tears burning in her eyes. “You know she loves you very much, and you know she’ll always miss you, so if you can, can you visit her, sometimes, wherever the both of you are in the world? Please?” Her eyes water, sting, weep and she lets them as she pays the last of her respects.

“I hope that wherever you are you’re happy— God, not, not happy, I mean, but—content, at peace. I hope that you’re at peace, Elinor Campbell, and that you know how just how much you’re loved and just how much you’re missed.”

Bernie rocks her heels as she sucks in a shaky breath. She pulls her hands out of her pockets: swipes at her cheeks, smooths down her shirt, pulls her coat a little tighter around her chest. She nods at Elinor’s gravestone, turns tails, and walks back to the car with her eyes still burning.

This scene required a lot of tears. I cried when the thought occurred to me, I cried when I was writing it - I had keep taking breaks in between paragraphs bc i couldn’t see the screen - and I cried when I was editing, when I did one final read thru of the finished scene.

I even cried just thinking about the finished scene. I also managed to make at least five, and probs closer to 10, other ppl cry. And those are just the ones who told me.

I’m proud of the effort I put in to writing it, I’m proud of the emotion I managed to embed in it, and I’m proud of the response it evoked. The snippet just makes me really proud.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Bernie trapped in a groundhog day of Elinor dying ~2300wrds mature (possibly explicit for mental health themes+character deaths?). major character deaths (All the major characters [there a lot of car accidents + a pulverised hand at one point, if that’s a no no for some ppl]), serious mental health issues, sexual content+bittersweet happy times, angst w no happy ending.)

shout out to @ktlsyrtis for beta-ing and I’m sorry I made u cry at work ❤️

Bernie thought she’d lived the worst day of her life: the day she found Serena by Jason’s hospital bed, stood in the doorway with face full of regret, to shatter Serena’s heart without a word. She thought she’d lived it, that day was over, thought it was done.

She was wrong. It happened again. Then again, and again, and again.

It’s the only thing that happens now.

She doesn’t know how, or why, just that this is it: the only day she lives, over and again.

It always ends the same, with Elinor dying and Serena breaking; that’s the only way it ever ends, on a continuous, never-ending loop.

It starts the same way, every day, the same as before: Bernie wakes up with a smiling Serena in her arms and watches her become a hollowed out husk by day’s end.

She tries to change it, tries to save them; she tries everything she can to save them. Takes Jasmine to surgery with her, leaving Morven on AAU; hopes a more experienced doctor will catch the signs. Sends Raf in to Jason’s surgery with strict instructions and does Ellie’s obvs herself, only to find she’s already too late and Jason doesn’t make it. Races through Jason’s surgery with practiced hand and rushes down to the ward to do everything herself only for Elinor to code before neuro can get the clot.

Nothing works. Elinor always dies. Sometimes Jason does too. One day Serena sits by her daughter’s deathbed and loses both of her children in a single afternoon.

She makes Raf ask about organ harvesting.

She thought that was worst of it, those days were the worst of all; the days when Serena loses them both, when Bernie loses them all.

Until Serena gets hurt.

They won’t let her operate; won’t let her help. They have to lock her in the family room to stop her torturing herself watching Raf and Morven and Jac and Mo try their best to try save the women she loves when she can’t do a thing to help.

Their best isn’t good enough and she never makes it off the table.

Bernie walks into the empty theatre, clean and shining, not a trace left behind. But she swears she can still feel Serena in the room, still feel her near the wall by the sink, under the window where they first kissed. She sinks to the floor and prays she’ll wake up with the feeling of Serena in her arms. Leans up against the wall and prays, staring into the space where Serena once sat, until she feels Serena slipping away.

She doesn’t move, even then, not even when security comes to usher her out.

It takes four of them and a dislocated shoulder before she’s forcibly removed from the theatre.

She wakes up with a bundle of Serena beside her, a familiar crop of hair tickling her nose, and blinks back tears. She breathes in, snuggles closer, clings tighter. Just five more minutes; she’s got the time, just five minutes more.

She tries to keep Serena back for five minutes, keep her from running after Elinor for five minutes.

Not that it helps. Elinor gets them both that day: lacerates Jason’s liver with the bonnet and pulverises Serena’s hand with a front wheel.

Jason survives. Serena doesn’t. Can’t, really, not without her hand.

‘I might as well be dead,’ she spits at Bernie. ‘If I can’t operate, I’d rather be dead.’

Bernie feels bile rise, sickening, coats her throat.

She listens when Serena tells her to go and leaves the ward and lets Elinor die on the bathroom floor. She hears Jasmine’s calls for help echo through the corridor and can’t even bring herself to care.

She starts skiving off. Bernie Wolfe hasn’t shirked responsibility a day in her life but something’s broken inside her. She knows it’s her heart, her soul that’s shattered, slicing right through to her core. She needs to get away.

She wakes at the crack of dawn to watch Serena sleep, peaceful and content, for those last few precious moments, before getting up. Gets out of bed, gets dressed, gets in the car and drives.

Some days she tracks down Cam and does her best to withstand an afternoon with him and his new girlfriend. She’s a few years younger than Keeley, and didn’t know him growing up, so she thinks that’s some progress at least. Other days she shuffles uncomfortably on Charlotte’s couch while her daughter offers her tea so she doesn’t have to look her in the eyes. Most days she just drives till she falls asleep at the wheel; wakes up in a ditch, up a tree, not at all.

She likes those days most of all, when she’s tired to the bone and then nothing and she wakes up well-rested in Serena’s bed. Because no matter how fast she drives, how far she runs, how far away from Holby she makes it, Bernie always, always wakes up in Serena’s bed where she belongs.

Eventually, she resigns herself to living here, in this loop, where she belongs.

It’s been 412 days since she’s fallen asleep beside Serena.

They wake up together every morning but not once, in all those days, has Serena left the hospital. Not once, in all those days, has Bernie taken Serena home. Not once, in all those days, has Bernie taken Serena to bed, to sleep.

Today, Elinor hits Jason and her head on the windscreen and careens into Serena’s unconscious body. None of them survive.

She has to stop this.

She has to stop them.

It’s been 413 days since she last fell asleep beside Serena.

She has to stop them getting hurt, she can stop them, Bernie realises, if she stops the conversation that sent Elinor running from the hospital in the first place.

She tries, plays the peacekeeper, bites her tongue; does her best to keep them all in the hospital.

It never works. Elinor always loses her temper. Eventually Bernie loses hers too.

For all she’s never married Serena, never called Elinor her daughter, she gives a damn good impression of an evil stepmother: tells Elinor exactly what she thinks about her petty, pathetic temper tantrum and the way she speaks to Serena and her obvious need for emotional therapy.

Bernie ignores the shocked, disbelieving look on Serena’s face when she calls Elinor a homophobe and drug addict; promises herself she’ll fix anything she’s just broken, if she gets the chance, if this is what needs to happen to fix something that’s been broken for far too long.

It isn’t: Serena is in the passenger seat when a frantic pedestrian on their way to ED runs in front of the car.

Bernie doesn’t bother scrubbing in for any of them.

She tries to keep them away from the hospital. Calls them all in sick. None of them listen. They go to work and Elinor still visits and Jason almost dies.

She invites Elinor out for brunch, convinces Serena she has the day off, that she planned it all to bury the hatchet.

She isn’t surprised Elinor is late, but she would have expected her to call and cancel, or at least pick up the phone. They wait till 1:30 before giving up. They pick up some coffee and pastries on the way out and spend the afternoon spoiling each other rotten on the living room floor. Jason’s not back till 6.

There’s a knock at 5:01. Bernie opens the front door to two women in blue. They regret to inform her that Elinor Campbell was in a road traffic accident earlier that day, a multi-car pile up. She was dead before the paramedics arrived on the scene.

‘We’re very sorry for your loss.’

Bernie thought she hadn’t any heart left to break. She was wrong. The wail that comes out of Serena is like nothing Bernie has ever heard and another part of her dies too.

She convinces Serena to stay with her one day, away from the hospital, with her fingers and mouth and silver tongue.

‘We’ll never make it out of bed at this rate.’

Good. If she has her way Serena would never leave this bed again.

‘Sounds marvellous, lets do that.’

‘Stop it you, we’ll be late.’

‘Who cares?’

‘Bernie!’

She also enlists the aid of a pair of very fluffy handcuffs Sian bought them for Christmas.

‘Bernie, what on Earth!’ Serena pulls on the cuffs and looks at Bernie, bewildered.

‘I got you the day off,’ she lies, nuzzling into Serena’s neck. ‘To make up for missing your birthday. It’s mine soon and I know you’re going to spoil me - don’t lie - and it doesn’t seem fair if I haven’t pampered you first. I thought we could spend the morning in bed, and go anywhere you like this afternoon, and after Jason comes home we’ll go to mine to have a quiet night in, with no telly, if you like?’ Bernie looks up at Serena’s glittering, gobsmacked face; looks at her blinking down at Bernie, disbelieving. ‘Umm, surprise?’

‘You’re mad. Absolutely mad,’ Serena says, beaming, eyes sparkling and smiling bright. ‘You could have given me some warning, you know! You’re just lucky I love you,’ she adds, shuffling to sit up.

Bernie stops her, she hasn’t heard that in so long.

She sobs, eyes burning, buries her forehead in Serena’s neck. Pins her to the bed and says ‘I love you, too.’

It’s perfect, the whole day, one shining perfect day.

She spends the whole of it in bed with Serena. Only gets out of it to nick Serena’s phone–she shoots off a text to Elinor: ‘wont be at work today, wanted to let u know jic u might have dropped by later.’ She reads the ‘cheers was thinking of it might drop by tomorrow tho’ and sighs in relief, prays she’ll see Ellie tomorrow–to switch it off before getting back into bed.

The rest of the morning is spent trying every sweet, delicious thing she’s ever thought of, the early afternoon on every filthy, vicious thing she’d never been brave enough to ask for, till her mind goes fuzzy and she can barely more.

Her body has never ached so good.

She makes them breakfast in bed mid-afternoon: feeds Serena a syrup covered strawberry, licks the maple from the corner of her mouth, kisses the taste of french toast from her tongue.

Bernie sinks back into the mattress, against the soft of the pillows and the warm of the sheets, and wonders why it took her so long to figure this out, wonders if they could have spent all this time reliving their perfect day.

She looks at Serena hovering over her, eyes sparkling and smiling bright, and can’t feel anything other than gratitude, to have finally figured it out, to have this now, to be able to have this again.

It’s not enough, but it is something. And that will have to be enough.

Their bodies give out soon after and they nap until Serena’s alarm goes off.

They pick Jason up from work and pick up dinner on the way. They explain that they won’t be in the house tonight, reason that them being elsewhere won’t interfere with any of his schedules. He’s not pleased about the last minute addendum to his night and sulks a little.

Bernie can’t bring herself to care, not today, not after today.

She tells Serena to call Ellie, when they drop Jason home, to ask if she’s coming to see her tomorrow, asks Serena to see how she is. Serena hangs up mumbling about Elinor being ‘her usual irritating self’ and Bernie breathes a sigh of relief, lets out the tension she’s been holding for months, feels lighter than she has in years.

She leans across the gearstick, takes Serena’s hand, kisses Serena’s cheek.

‘She’ll come round,’ Bernie reassures her, thinking about tomorrow. If they have the time, they’re bound to figure it out, she knows they will. ‘I’m sure of it.’

Serena smiles and nods and keeps hold of Bernie’s hand the whole trip to her flat.

They curl up on the couch, parcels of fish and chips in their laps, and the tang of vinegar in their noses. They smile at each other in between mouthfuls, after every sip of wine, before every stolen chip.

Bernie scrunches up the newspaper, wipes her greasy hands dry, and dumps the ball on the coffee table to deal with later. Looks up at Serena finishing the last of her cod and says ‘I love you’ for the dozenth time today.

Serena pins her with a stare. ‘What’s your game?’ she asks suspiciously. ‘You’re not angling for a dog or anything, are you? Because anyone would think you were trying to bribe me…’ she trails off with a smile as Bernie shakes her head.

‘No game. I’ve got everything I want,’ Bernie replies innocently, grinning wide. ‘Well, mostly,’ she adds, glint in her eye as she smooths her palm over Serena’s hip.

Serena giggles, swats at Bernie’s shoulder, calls her a sap and kisses her soundly.

‘Well, we can’t leave you wanting, can we,’ she mumbles against Bernie’s lips when she breaks away. ‘I think it’s time you took me to bed, Ms. Wolfe.’

Bernie does: leads her up the hall and into the bedroom and makes love to her till neither of them can bear to move. She tells her she loves her one last time, as she curls up behind her her, before drifting off with a smile on her face.

She falls asleep excited to wake up in her own bed, ready to live out the first day of the rest of her life.

She wakes up the next morning in Serena’s bed.

#i'm not putting it in the tags bc the formatting is weird but reblogs are welcome and likes encouraged if y'all want #this post is literally just angst central its perhaps the angstiest thing in the whole world; its def the angstiest thing i've ever written #this is it #the technical difficulties fic i lost and then rewrote and managed to make even angstier #i'm prepared for the tears #i think i can beat my current record #we'll have to wait and see #biancagrieve #fic asks for y'all curious beans #i wrote a thing

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