Merry Christmas everyone!

I've been thinking about this fic for a while, as this is my favourite Christmas song of all time! In this fic, berena have avoided one another since Bernie's return from Kiev. It's set over three Christmases, following the three act structure of the song, and so will be split into three chapters (unless I get carried away as per usual). The next should be up tomorrow (fingers crossed).

Hope you enjoy - let me know what you think!

When the kids start singing and the band begins to play, ohhhh!"

"Mr Park, can you please get back into bed?!"

"So let the bells ring out for Christmas!"

Fellow drunks in the bays next to him continued their song as Serena helped the young man back into bed, trying her hardest not to wrinkle her nose against the familiar stench of urine, White Lightening and vomit that clung to his skin. She made a mental note to put in a request for someone to make sure he had a wash before leaving, though she didn't think she could be so cruel as to make anyone give him a bed bath, on Christmas Eve of all days. She carefully pulled the blankets back up over the patient before scanning his chart.

"Well, Mr Park, seems like you've won yourself a nice trip to theatre."

"I hope its not Little Red Riding Hood," he muttered, his eyes twitching as he fidgeted in his bed.

"Looks like it's your lucky day, then," she replied, replacing his chart at the end of the bed and quickly sanitising her hands. "And if you're really lucky you might even get to have Christmas dinner with us." She began to walk away.

"I don't want it," he called after her. He scowled down at his hands, picking the grubby, calloused skin around his nails. "Just let me go, will you? I've taken enough time."

Serena turned back around, sighing. "I really do recommend that you stay," she advised, pursing her lips. "If they ulcer isn't treated soon it could perforate—"

"I don't care," he slurred, folding his arms determinedly with a drunken pout.

Serena took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the sight before her. Joshua Park was a regular on their ward, had been for at least a year now. He was twenty-three years old, yet his body, through years of self-inflicted abuse, was beginning to give up, one little step at a time. She wondered what it would be that would catch the young man out first. Alcohol poisoning? Liver failure? A drunken accident? It was tragic, really. He had so much living left to do, was so young, yet here he was, all alone in a hospital bed on Christmas Eve, his life destroyed by addiction.

With a heavy heart, she perched on the edge of the bed.

"Mr Park, I have to inform you that without this operation, there is a good chance you could die," she explained, interlacing her fingers in her lap. The young man looked at her with a flash of sadness in his eyes, before bowing his head.

"Look, doc," he began, his tone as sombre as was possible given the amount of alcohol he had consumed. "I have spent the last two Christmases in this hospital. We both know I won't see another one. I can't spend my last Christmas in a hospital bed, nil by mouth, watching whilst everyone else is having a good time." He looked at her solemnly, his forehead wrinkling as he appealed to her emotions. "I mean, if it was your last Christmas, how would you want to spend it?"

She smiled sympathetically at him, before realising he was asking her a genuine question. She hummed, her eyes lifting to the ceiling as she considered.

"I, uh," she mused, clearing her throat. "I've always wanted to slow dance to Fairytale of New York. I have this fantasy of being twirled around and laughing in the moonlight with the love of my life, as the clocks chime for Christmas Day." She smiled down at the floor sadly, keeping her eyes averted from the nurses' station at which a certain blonde trauma surgeon was standing, filling out some blood forms. Her jaw clenched as she felt emotion building behind her eyes and she quickly cleared her throat.

"Please," he continued. "Please, Ms Campbell." He looked at her with wide eyes, helpless and scared, resigned. It was a look that said he had given up, that the addiction had won and that there was no fighting back against it. But it also had that sadness, that particular brand reserved only for those who were expecting the worst, so familiar in her job, the sadness that sighed, 'I don't want to die'. Serena recognised this, in the man's eyes, no matter how tiny that part of him was, and clung to it with all she could.

"It doesn't have to be like this," she started gently, daring to rest her hand on his. "There's still time. I could get you into a treatment programme today—"

"Another one?" He spat with half a laugh, turning away but still keeping his hand beneath hers.

"Yes, another one," she repeated firmly. "You might have given up, but I've got a long way to go yet. You can get past this."

He shook his head, looking down at their hands and biting his lip. "There's no use," he sighed. "I can't do it. Just discharge me already, will you?"

She stared at him with a sigh, brushing her thumb over his knuckles and giving his hand a squeeze before standing up off the bed, and agreeing to let him go.

Her shoulders felt heavy as she flopped into her desk chair, resting her head into her hands and steeling herself against the despair she felt. He was so young, with so much potential wasted. Hearing another round of cheer from across the ward, she allowed herself to glance up and see him waving his arms around with the rest of the drunks before turning her face away, her eyes squeezing shut as she thought about all the time, the opportunities that she herself had wasted. There was her family, her daughter who she had worked too hard on her career to have time to build a close relationship with. There was her ex-husband; she had wasted so many years making excuses for his ways, allowing herself to feel worthless when really it was him that was the waste of space, undeserving of her time. And then there was the real thing that was playing on her mind, had been ever since they had kissed that very first time, on the floor of the operating theatre.

Berenice Griselda Wolfe.

She had wasted so much with her. All the time she had spent wishing, praying for the nerve to voice her feelings, to just take the plunge and sod what other people say or think. And then when she had finally reached that point, Bernie left. Her heart was shattered. How could she forgive that?

It had been more than a month now since Bernie had finally returned from Ukraine. On the day, Serena had woken up with a sense of purpose that this was finally going to be sorted, kill or cure. But when she had arrived on the ward, and their eyes met for the first time in months, Serena couldn't do it. She had turned away and ran, and had been running ever since. She made sure that their shifts never overlapped if at all possible, and when they did she avoided their office at all costs, unable to bear the thought of having to hold a conversation with her. When a big trauma came in, and they were forced to work together, she avoided all contact, not looking her in the eye and remaining strictly professional in her manner. Raf had tried to talk sense into her on multiple occasions, saying that it was affecting the ward and the patients, but she just couldn't. Her heart ached too deeply.

But she was in love. She knew she was in love from the way her heart both soared and ached whenever anyone mentioned her name, from the butterflies of nerves and anticipation that swirled in her stomach whenever they inadvertently ended up alone in the lift together, from the way she just couldn't see a future with anyone else, even if they were to never speak again. And surely, if she loved her, there was no point in prolonging her own misery, denying herself what it was she really wanted?

"Trauma call!"

Morven's shout broke through her thoughts. She stood quickly, blinking away the memories and the regret and striding pointedly over to the trauma bay to prepare for the incoming patient.

"What've we got?"

Her heart faltered as she heard Bernie's voice behind the curtain, listening as Morven relayed the details of the red phone call.

"Female, mid thirties, multiple stab wounds."

"Right, we'll have to get her straight to theatre."

"It's all backed up." Serena stepped through the curtain, daring to speak directly to Bernie for what felt like the first time in years. "We'll have to open her up in here."

Bernie hesitated, holding her eye contact, her eyes widened in shock at Serena's sudden amicability. "Can we do that?"

"Well, you're the trauma surgeon." Serena couldn't resist that little quip. Bernie took a deep breath.

"Right, Morven, you scrub in. We'll do it in here. Serena, you assist?"

She looked up at her colleague questioningly. There were other surgeons around; usually, this would be an excuse for Serena to step back. But she couldn't stop thinking of Joshua Park, and all the time she had lost already to her own bitterness.

"Okay," she nodded quickly, holding Bernie's gaze momentarily before rushing off to prep for surgery and call for some emergency theatre supplies. Soon they were operating, working as one as they so often did, and still had in these past months of silence, but this felt different. Serena's outlook had shifted; she allowed herself the intimacy that came with working together on saving a life, instead of closing herself off to it. She allowed herself to feel.

"Good work," Bernie praised the team as the patient was finally wheeled away to the post-op ward. "All of you." She looked up at Serena with a small smile, an offering.

And Serena baulked.

"Excuse me, I should get back," she replied, quickly escaping back onto the ward.

Why couldn't she do it? Why couldn't she allow herself the luxury to forgive and forget? How could she allow herself to believe that Bernie wouldn't run away and hurt her again, that she could have changed?

"Ms Campbell!"

A voice sounded across the ward. She turned with a sigh.

"Yes, Mr Park, I will do your discharge sheet in just a moment."

"No, wait," she pleased. She stopped and walked over towards him.

"What's the matter?" She asked, trying to keep her voice patient when all she really wanted to do was go home and hide. He hesitated, and she raised her eyebrows in intrigue.

"Just…" He trailed off, looking around nervously, at the other drunks. She noticed this and stepped closer to him, pulling the curtain behind her.

"Everything alright?" She asked again, her brow furrowing. His hand tightened its grip on his bedsheets, and she saw his jaw clenched.

"I'll have the op," he muttered, his face contorted with self control. "Just get me into this detox, will you?" She saw the fear in his expression, and let out a deep breath, a small smile creeping onto her lips.

"Okay," she said gently, her hand coming down to squeeze his. "I'll make some calls. I'll get you booked in for that op as soon as possible and in the meantime make the staff are aware you're detoxing, alright?"

He nodded sharply, nibbling on his bottom lip. "What if I fail again?" He whispered, his eyes darting back and forth between Serena's hand on his and the closed curtain around them.

She sighed, perching on the edge of his bed. "There are always going to be little slip ups, relapses," she began slowly. "But you've got to remember the big picture. One momentary lapse of judgement or control doesn't have to be the end. There will always be people around to help you get back on track, and you will. We understand that it's hard to keep on the wagon and we're not going to give up on you, I promise that."

He took a deep breath, steadying. "Thank you, Ms Campbell," he said eventually. "For doing this, for giving me another chance. I don't think many doctors would have persevered this much, with the amount of times I've been in here."

She smiled. "Well," she replied, standing and drawing back the curtain. "Prove them all wrong. Prove to those miserable old buggers that second chances are worth it, that people can change."

Serena froze, realising the hypocrisy of her words. Second chances are worth it. People can change. She saw Bernie across the ward, her face blank as she finished the paperwork on the trauma case, her lips downturned by default and the dark rings under her eyes. Had she ever stopped to wonder how she was, since she had got back? Was she in contact with her children? How was the divorce going? Where was she living? Where was she spending Christmas? Her heart twisted. The woman she loved, the woman who had turned her life upside down and inside out, deserved better, she realised. She deserved a second chance, yes, but most of all, she deserved someone to care.

For the remainder of the shift, Serena concentrated on getting Mr Park into surgery and making all the necessary arrangements for his rehab when he was out of recovery. She made sure he went for his post-op on Keller, knowing that Essie was working tomorrow and that he would get the best care there. By the time she was finishing her shift, she was exhausted, both from the busy work and by the niggling in the back of her mind that she should talk to Bernie.

She was just packing her laptop and some admin files into her satchel when Bernie came into the office for her coat. Her breath caught in her throat as she willed herself to say something, for either of them to just break this wedge that was stuck between them. But she couldn't bring herself to open her mouth. What could she possibly say?

Bernie lifted her coat from the hanger behind her chair, her eyes downcast as she did so, avoiding looking at Serena. She looked so sad, it broke Serena's heart. But still she couldn't speak. Would Bernie even want to forgive her, after she had put her through all this?

"Merry Christmas," Bernie murmured as she opened the door, her head jolting in Serena's general direction but not daring to make eye contact. She made to leave.

"Bernie, wait," Serena suddenly called, as she was half way through the door. Bernie turned around, her eyes wide. Serena bit the inside of her cheeks, wanting to say a thousand things but unable to think of the words. Instead, she simply made an offer. "Albies?"

Bernie's face lit slightly, her eyes softening their guard somewhat and her shoulders relaxing. She simply nodded. Serena smiled gratitude, grabbing her coat from the back of her chair and shrugging it on, before walking with her colleague in a semi-awkward silence to Albies.

When they arrived, Albies was full to the brim. It was Christmas Eve, after all. Many of the other staff were in there, and both of them took the time to wish a Happy Christmas to their friends. Serena thought she saw a glint in Dominic's eye as he embraced Bernie, looking to Serena and back to Bernie with his eyebrow raised in question. Bernie quickly swatted him away, and Serena dismissed it. She had spoken with Raf about their relationship, after all. She couldn't judge Bernie for needing someone to lay off on too, despite the fact that she had chosen the biggest gossip in Holby to do so. She shook her head. No more hypocrisy, she reminded herself, as they took to their stools at the bar and ordered a bottle of Shiraz to share. Everyone deserves a second chance.

For the first couple of glasses, their conversation was restricted to awkward comments about the weather, or enquiries of "Oh, what shifts have you got on over the festive period? Oh dear, drew the short straw there!" Even though they both were more than aware of one another's positions on the rota. When Bernie had disappeared off to the toilet, about half an hour after their arrival, Serena had half expected her not to come back, though she had left her handbag on the chair. It took her a good ten minutes to return, though, and when she did… was that a new lipstick?

"Sorry, um," she mumbled as she sat down, refilling her glass. "There was a queue."

Serena pushed her glass towards her, prompting her to pour the remainder of the bottle into it. They drank in silence again, Bernie toying with the stem of her glass.

"Serena, I—" She faltered, her eyes seemingly unable to tear away from the crimson liquid swirling in her glass. "I'm sorry," she choked out, glancing up to see Serena staring at her wistfully.

Serena paused. "I'm sorry too," she replied, looking back down at her glass with a sigh. "I shouldn't have been so… unreasonable."

Bernie shook her head sadly. "You had every right," she assured. "It was me who was unreasonable, walking out like that, never getting in touch."

"So why didn't you? Get in touch?" Serena asked, her fingers pinching the stem of her wine glass tighter, her eyes averted. "I sent you texts, emails—"

"I wanted to reply, I did, I just…" She waved her hand in the air, as if grasping for the right words. "I panicked." She met Serena's eyes, reassuring her that she was finally telling the truth. "I didn't know what to say or how to explain or… anything. I couldn't bear you telling me to sod off, or whatever." She laughed nervously.

"I wouldn't have done that," Serena said quietly, folding her hands in her lap. "I wouldn't have cared what you said, I don't think. I just wanted to know that you didn't… didn't hate me, for some reason."

Bernie's hand shot out to cover Serena's, her brow furrowing. "Of course not!" She gasped. "I'd never hate you, Serena, for anything. You have to believe that. This was about my wrongdoing, not yours."

Serena hesitated, her eyes on their joined hands in her lap. "Truce?" She murmured eventually, the corner of her mouth turning upwards slightly at the echo of her words all those months ago, when she had been entirely unaware of the turn their relationship, and her life, would take.

Bernie smiled warmly, picking up her glass and holding it up to her. "Truce," she repeated. Serena picked up her glass too, clinking it against Bernie's.

"Another bottle?" Bernie asked, somewhat tentatively, her eyes flicking to the empty bottle on the bar. Serena glanced at her watch. 9pm. She'd have to call Jason and tell him not to wait up.

"Well, it is Christmas Eve, I suppose," Serena grinned, pulling her phone out of her bag whilst Bernie ordered the next bottle.

After that, it was as though they had never really been apart. They chatted animatedly, Bernie telling her about all the weird and wonderful things she done in Ukraine and Serena filling her in on all she and Jason had been up to since she had been away. They finished that bottle, and another, and when Sacha and Dom managed to convince the bar staff to get the karaoke out neither of them had any hesitation in getting up there and singing a duet to Voulez-Vouz.

When the bell rang for last orders at eleven o'clock, they were sad to see the night end, and stumbled out of the door arm in arm, wrapped up and braced against the cold as they attempted to walk home without either of them falling over and breaking something. The night was bright and clear, the sky alight with stars and a bright crescent moon. They giggled as they walked, feet sliding on the frosty pavement as they continued through the city, to the neighbourhood where they both lived.

"Hang on a minute," Bernie said through chattering teeth as they stopped on the bridge over the canal, not far from their homes. Serena turned around to face her with a grin, wobbling slightly as her feet skidded.

"Everything alright?" She asked, still holding onto her arm for support as they both took in the sight around them. The banks of the canal were lit up with bright, twinkling fairy lights, making the smooth water shimmer beautifully. There were few people around, seeing as it was so late, and the air was quiet but for the odd car passing by, music spilling from some unknown nightclub a few streets away, or the occasional siren in the distance.

"Of course," Bernie replied on a breath, her eyes scanning the city around them. "Just… you forget how beautiful Holby can be, don't you, being cooped up with stabbings and RTCs all day." She smiled drunkenly, and Serena turned her head to watch as a boat glided along the water.

"Yes," she sighed eventually, her grip tightening on Bernie's arm, pulling her closer to her so that Bernie's arms by default came up around her, pulling her in a warm embrace. "It really is quite something."

Bernie took a breath. "I missed it," she began, hesitating. "I missed you." She turned her head back to meet Serena's eyes just in time to see her expression falter at the intimacy of her words. Her gaze was so intense, so penetrating, so longing, that Bernie found it too much to handle all at once, and quickly turned her head back to the stars.

"You know," she reminisced, trembling slightly with recollection and the winter wind that burnt her cheeks. "It crazy how opposite this year has turned out to be. If you had told me this time last year that I'd be standing here, working for the NHS and, though it pains me to admit it, quite enjoying it, minus the paperwork, having left the army, blown up by an IED, left my husband, out of touch with my children, I'd have said you were barking mad." She laughed, her breath coming out in a cloud of condensation that Serena watched swirl and fizzle out with fascination. "It's been shit, really, hasn't it? This year?"

Serena cleared her throat, her arms slipping unconsciously around Bernie's waist. "I've had better, I have to say." Her speech was calculated, measured, unsure of just what it was Bernie was trying to say and all too aware of just how close they had come to stand, almost without even intending to. "Arthur dying…" She trailed off, her chest tightening with grief. "It's been hard."

They were both silent for a couple of moments, reflecting on the year gone by, all the heartache it contained. Serena was aware that Bernie was about to speak almost a minute before she did so, noticing how her breath caught in her throat.

"It's not all been bad, though," she continued, avoiding Serena's gaze. "I mean, I did meet you, after all."

Serena chuckled, her arms squeezing Bernie in jest. "Yes, and then moving over a thousand miles away to escape me," she joked. "Way to show a girl how much she means to you…"

Bernie stopped, missing the tone of Serena's words and remaining sombre. "I don't think I'll ever stop regretting that," she started, looking down at the pavement beside them, stopping momentarily to collect her thoughts. "You know, way back when I first moved here, when… when Alex resurfaced, I said to Dr Copeland how I was a coward, how my life could be so wonderful if only I was brave enough." Serena's stomach clenched slightly at the mention of Alex's name, but she remained silent, allowing Bernie to continue. "After I said that, he asked me if I was going to be brave enough now, and I said that I was. I told Alex this too. I said… I said that I wasn't going to be a coward any more. But I was wrong." She stopped, clearing her throat. "I've spent so much time running from the things that could make me happy, all for fear of the pain I would cause when I inevitably mucked it up." Her eyes fell on Serena's, who was gazing up at her with a curious frown. "But not any more," she promised firmly, with a nod. "I will be brave. No more running. No more looking back and thinking what could have been." She paused for a moment, before allowing herself to grin. "Next year is going to be better, I can feel it. This is going to be our year."

She smiled warmly at the shorter woman in her arms, who returned her gaze with a small smirk.

"'Our' year?" She asked, eyebrow raised questioningly. Bernie froze, her mouth opening to correct herself, to take back her words.

Not this year.

She held her breath, her eyes blinking tensely against her own fear. I will be brave. No more missed opportunities. No more running.

"Yes," she replied eventually, her eyes flickering downwards before returning to Serena's eyes and praying for her voice not to crack. "Our year."

Across the water, the first chimes of Holby Cathedral sounded for midnight. Both jumped slightly, but neither broke their gaze. Now or never.

It was Bernie who closed the gap between them; it had to be, after all that had happened. But the moment that her lips met Serena's, their warm breaths uniting, Serena let go. There was no hesitance, like when they had first kissed in theatre. There was no rush, as there had been when Bernie had received the offer to go to Ukraine. Serena was completely ready for it, completely comfortable with this woman and the way she made her feel, and she pulled her closer softly, gently, as their lips moved together with all the tenderness in her soul, her heart fluttering with content at finally being able to enjoy the woman she loved, with all the time in the world. She tugged Bernie's bottom lip into her mouth, her tongue deftly poking out to taste the combination of wine and the delicious flavour that was so exclusively Bernie and… apples? The older woman trailed her hands up Serena's spine to the back of her neck, her gloved fingers gently rubbing circles as the kiss deepened, their bodies flush against one another, rocking gently back and forth as they became more hungry and desperate and needy until they were forced to break apart, each gasping for breath, foreheads resting together as they grinned in elation.

"Have you been eating apples?" Serena had to ask, laughter in her tone.

Bernie giggled, wiping the edge of her mouth with her thumb. "Uh… Dominic cornered me in Albies when I went to the loo, said I looked a fright and told me off for not making enough of an effort trying to win you back, but all him and Essie could find between them was some face powder - which sent me into a sneezing fit - and some apple chapstick."

"Good old Dominic," Serena chuckled. "But I have to say, I was finding you quite irresistible enough anyway."

She closed the gap between them again, this time open mouthed and gluttonous as she devoured her, biting and licking and tasting and consuming and eliciting the most delightful moans and whimpers from the woman before her until both of their knees were weak and their lips red raw.

"Home?" Serena panted against Bernie's lips, her fingers tight on her jacket as she steadied herself.

"Home," Bernie agreed with a nod, her breathing still unsteady as she stood back and allowed her arms to drop to Serena's sides.

"Merry Christmas, Serena."

"Merry Christmas, Bernie."