AN: Again, originally posted on AO3, a WIP which may take a few weeks for me to update as I'm very busy at the moment! Bernie and Serena are in an established relationship, everything happens the same as in canon, but it diverges from 'I do, I do, I do' (S19E13). The incident with Elinor still happens but she doesn't die. It is set in about April 2017.
After thirty years in medicine Bernie felt she had become immune to most things. She'd had to, all doctors had to. There is no time to grieve when a patient dies on the operating table. You have a whole ward of patients still alive, that need their doctor to be at the top of their game. As a student, she had vowed not to become a doctor that was unaffected by death, but she soon realised that they had to deal with it later, in their own way.
It didn't mean she didn't care about the patients that died. A lot of them had been close friends, even more had been children. In a war zone, sides don't matter when the young are affected. She was ashamed that she couldn't remember the first person she'd seen die, but there had been so many over the years.
Every doctor had to find their own coping mechanisms. For Bernie it was exercise, putting headphones in and running until she could barely stand, nothing in her head except the jolts through her feet, the salty taste, the cold air hitting her lungs. She knew for Serena it was relaxation and being around the people that made her happy.
They understood each other, sometimes when Bernie got home she would be restless and Serena would smile and tell her dinner would be ready in an hour and a half, letting her release that energy and anger. If Bernie knew Serena had worked a difficult shift she would run a bath, get a bottle of Shiraz out and then hold her close, massaging the tension from her shoulders.
It was trickier when they were on shift together, but they compromised, and Bernie had found over the last five months that sometimes she didn't need to run immediately, and Serena occasionally would suggest a brisk walk to clear their heads.
The worst thing about death was almost always having to tell the patient's family. It was something that she hadn't been exposed to in the army; once a soldier died, their loved ones were notified through the official channels.
Working in the NHS, she had initially found it difficult, she had taken the anger personally and come close to tears when people broke down in front of her. It had taken her a while to adjust, to remind herself that people weren't angry at her specifically, but she was there to rant at and they needed the release.
The expression of grief and hopelessness that she had seen today would be ingrained into her memory for a very long time, she knew. Mr Gilbert had come in a few days ago with gallstones. They had removed them and he was doing well, almost ready for discharge. He was in his seventies, but generally fit and well and his outcomes were looking good.
His wife had waited outside the ward for visiting time to start every day, twice a day, and she stayed until it finished. Each day they had sat and done a crossword together, because that's what they did at home. He drew for her when he was alone, she brought in pictures of beautiful flowers she had seen because she knew he was mourning the lack of spring colours inside the dreary hospital ward.
That afternoon, disaster had struck; he had developed excruciating pain and a fever. They diagnosed acute pancreatitis; it could often be a complication of having gallstones, or the procedure to remove them. Unfortunately, the CT scan had shown he already had damage to his pancreas, and there was very little they could do.
They moved him to intensive care, but the inflammation had spread to his other organs and he went into multi-organ failure. The outcome wasn't good and once they had set him up on ICU, Bernie returned to the ward to find his wife.
She had taken her to the relative's room, got a cup of tea for her, gone through all the steps they teach you in medical school on how to break bad news. The words still stuck in the back of her throat.
"Mrs Gilbert, I am sorry. I'll take you up to be with him, is there anyone you'd like to call?"
She had looked up at Bernie in complete despair. Whilst medicine was often rewarding, moments like these made it seem pointless. Bernie had torn down this lady's world. Her lecturers had always said if you break bad news well, the family will never forget, but if you do it badly they will never forgive.
She knew deep down this was rubbish; there was no way to do it well. At the end of the day, it was devastating and whilst the family may not blame her for what has happened, she was still the bridge between them believing their loved one is alive, and knowing they aren't.
Once her clinical duties were done, she had sat in the office, completely numb. She had caught sight of the photos on her desk. One was of her and Cam and Charlotte from about 3 years ago, she had been on leave and they'd gone to the beach. They were all standing, huddled together on the edge of the pier, fish and chips in hand, delighted smiles on their faces.
The other photo was more recent, her and Serena at the Christmas party in Albie's. They'd both been a little worse for wear, meaning Serena had become more affectionate and Bernie's usual embarrassment was long forgotten. Someone had managed to get a picture of them sat together, Serena's head on Bernie's shoulder, her own lips pressed into Serena's short, soft hair, one arm around her waist. They both had their eyes closed, relaxed and happy.
Seeing the photos stirred something deep inside her. She wanted Serena close, to tell her she loved her. Life was fragile, fleeting, every moment counted. Every day she found herself falling more in love with Serena. She had never felt anything like it. With Marcus, it had started as fondness, yes, she had loved him and they had a bond, but it wasn't deep. With Alex it had been passionate, furious, explosive, but shallow. A result of circumstance and frustration and fear.
In Serena, she had everything: an equal, a deep love that had blossomed from friendship rather than lust. Yes, they had their disagreements, personally and professionally, but they could work it out. She had become better at telling Serena how she felt, rather than passive-aggressive silence when she was upset, and Serena never liked to go to bed on an argument, so they talked.
She looked at her phone and saw a text from Serena.
Hope work's not too bad, Jason is at Alan's tonight, do you fancy going out for dinner? Xxx
She smiled, hoping Serena wouldn't mind that it had taken her four hours to reply. She rarely checked her phone at work, but she tended to if Serena wasn't on shift with her.
Not great, we're losing Mr G, wife is devastated. Don't really feel like going out, sorry. Will be done in an hour, love you x
She got back to the paperwork, continuously glancing at the clock. Before she left the hospital, she went up to ICU and hovered out of sight, watching Mrs Gilbert talking to her husband. There was no knowing if he could hear her, but it was often good for relatives to do this before a patient died. She left the couple in peace, longing to get home.
When she got back home she dropped her bag on the floor, exhausted. She could smell a delicious aroma from the kitchen, hearing Serena bustling around. Hanging up her jacket, she made her way through. Serena turned away from the stove to kiss her, Bernie held onto her and lengthened the kiss, not wanting to let go.
"I've made Thai green curry, it'll be ready in about twenty minutes, but I can keep it warm if you need to go out," she said as she broke away from Bernie, looking into her eyes and seeing a mix of emotions.
"No, I'm so tired. I'll go and shower, change into something more comfortable."
Serena nodded and pressed a quick kiss onto Bernie's cheek, "I'll open the wine."
She washed away her emotions, trying not to think about the day, but it was almost impossible. She imagined being in that position, if it had been Serena, and she felt physically sick. She couldn't quite believe how much had changed. Just over a year ago, they had met, outside the hospital. They had seen an equal in each other, female surgeons of a similar age, messy relationships with their children, even messier ones with their (ex)husbands. Now she was here, living with her and Jason. A family, although not conventional.
She heard Serena calling her and she finished towelling her hair, slipping into her light joggers and a t shirt. Over dinner, she told Serena briefly about what had happened. She took Bernie's hand across the table and rubbed small circles with her thumb, soothing her.
"It never gets easier, does it?"
Bernie shook her head, "I hate it Serena, telling families there is nothing more we can do. They come to us expecting healing and life, and we fail them."
"Hey, no, don't talk like that. You didn't fail, sometimes it's not meant to be. You did your best by that patient, and gave him the best death possible in the circumstances. Giving him dignity, and his wife those last few moments, is more helpful than putting him through endless surgery, CPR and everything else," she patted Bernie's hand. "Come on, let's move to the lounge and finish this wine."
Bernie got up and put the plates into the dishwasher, starting to clear up the kitchen, but Serena stopped her. "We'll do that later, Bernie, come and relax."
She linked their fingers together and lead her to the sofa, picking up the wine bottle on the way. Bernie curled her feet under her as Serena went back for the glasses, and took the drink gratefully. She turned the TV on, a detective programme had just started, but Bernie was hardly concentrating on it. She rested onto Serena's shoulder, who in turn wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in close.
They stayed like that for a while, sipping their drinks, Serena occasionally commenting on who she thought the murderer was. She kept glancing up at Serena, marvelling at how lucky she was and wondering what it was about her that made Bernie want this domestic life so much.
"You're not concentrating on this at all are you?" Serena smiled down at her affectionately, brushing her unruly fringe away from her eyes. "What on earth do you keep staring at me for?"
Bernie blushed and straightened herself up to look Serena in the eyes. Her voice was soft when she spoke.
"I love you, that's all," she bit her lower lip, knowing she sounded silly. Serena chuckled and kissed her, chaste and quick.
"For a big macho army medic, you really can be quite soppy. What am I going to do with you?"
"Marry me?" The words left her mouth before she knew what she was saying. She felt the panic rising, they hadn't talked about this, Bernie had only just moved in officially. She went to play it off as a joke, she saw Serena gaping at her, obviously trying to find the words to say no, and she kicked herself.
"Go on then," Serena smiled, and it was Bernie's turn to be frozen with her jaw dropped.
She didn't know what to say, had that really just happened? She wanted to pinch herself, check it wasn't a dream. She could feel herself tearing up, the day's emotion bubbling up from deep inside, mixed with a rush of pure love that made her heart hammer against her chest.
She released it all into a kiss, starting fierce, letting all of that love out to show Serena she had meant it. Serena returned the kiss with the same passion, hot and eager. They got lost in each other, the taste of wine on their tongues, Bernie's slightly damp hair curled around Serena's fingers, Bernie's hands clasped at the nape of Serena's neck.
Eventually, Bernie had to stop, pain shooting down her leg which had got trapped. She winced and Serena grinned.
"I guess that means you won't be getting down on one knee, you might not get up again," she laughed, as Bernie massaged her own calf, trying to speed up the return of sensation.
"Are, are you sure, Serena?" she stuttered, wanting to be absolutely certain, "I didn't really plan it, I just, I realised today that you make me so inexplicably happy, and when you said that… I don't know what came over me. I know we haven't talked about it, and I don't want to pressure you."
Serena silenced her by pressing a finger on her lips. "I'm sure, Bernie. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I want to make it official. So yes, I will marry you."
Bernie felt contentment wash over her, removing those anxious, invasive thoughts, only to feel guilty again.
"I haven't done this properly, have I? I don't have a ring, I didn't even get on one knee, look at me I'm in jogging bottoms for goodness sake. I'm sorry, Serena, it wasn't a great proposal."
Serena felt the tears behind her eyes, Bernie looked so downcast, like she'd failed as a partner, but it simply wasn't true.
"That was a far better proposal than anything else, Bernie, because it came from the heart. Edward did the whole expensive restaurant, ring in the champagne. It was all for his benefit to show off in front of strangers and brag to his friends. This was perfect."
She leant towards Bernie for another kiss, this one slow and lingering. She caressed Bernie's cheek, stroking away the few tears that had crept out, and smiled against her lips.
"I love you," she murmured, as Bernie began to move along her jaw, leaving a trail of kisses up to her ear. She nibbled lightly at the lobe and whispered back, her breath hot against Serena's skin.
"I love you too," she resumed along the curve of Serena's neck down to her collar bones and her skin felt simultaneously on fire and tingling with goose bumps.
Her hands skimmed over the bottom of her vest but Serena caught her wrists. She was well aware that Bernie's back, and her own hips, would not thank them if they continued this on the sofa.
"Shall we take this somewhere more comfortable?"
Bernie looked up at her, eyes filled with love and longing. She stood, pulling Serena up with her, the wine and TV completely forgotten.
"Lead the way, Ms Campbell," she said, and linked their fingers together as Serena practically dragged her towards the stairs.
By the time they were at the bedroom, Bernie was half carrying Serena, their kisses becoming more forceful and desperate. She gently lay Serena on the bed and resumed her journey along the contour of her clavicles. This time Serena didn't stop her as she delicately moved her hands under her vest, caressing her curves as she moved the material up her stomach and over her head.
She paused momentarily, never growing tired of seeing Serena's body, her pale skin, the faint glimmer of old stretch marks, the fullness of her breasts. Tonight, she wanted to worship Serena, show her how much she was loved, how beautiful she was.
Serena started to say something, but Bernie stopped her with a brief kiss. She journeyed lazily down Serena's neck, varying the pressure and feeling her pulse quicken.
Serena arched into Bernie's touch, her body responding to the slow, teasing kisses. She made a point of lingering at Serena's most sensitive points and she let out a breathy moan. Edward and Robbie had never been so attentive to her; she had enjoyed sex with them, with most of the men she'd been with in fact, but with Bernie she had discovered a whole new level of pleasure. She truly understood the term making love, that's what this act was, pure love.
Sighing, she closed her eyes, letting herself focus on Bernie's touch. She felt the friction of her bra as she arched her back for Bernie to take it off and hearing a contented hum from her partner. She fumbled slightly at the waistband of Serena's trousers, simultaneously kissing her breasts, Serena helping her and kicking them off onto the floor.
She tried to reach down, acutely aware that Bernie was still dressed and wanting to give her the same pleasure of hot kisses blazing over her skin. Bernie clasped both of her wrists with one hand and looked up, her eyes dark and glinting with pleasure.
"Not yet, Serena, this is about you," she said huskily, and Serena felt a new wave of arousal wash over her, although she still pouted slightly. Bernie let out a low chuckle before teasing at the band on her underwear.
Her touch was light, tantalising, skimming around where she wanted it most. She dipped her head down, pressing kisses along her pelvic bone down to her thighs. She came close to her centre, Serena hyperaware of every contact between them, but she moved away, along the other leg.
"Bernie," she said through a gulp, needing more but not wanting this to end.
"Patience Ms Campbell," although her voice was barely audible, Serena could hear the smirk. Any retort left her mind, as Bernie finally ran her tongue over her core, sparks of pleasure coursing through Serena's veins.
Bernie was lost in Serena, her taste, her sighs, the delicate softness of her skin, the way her body responded to her touch. She delighted in seeing Serena, normally the cool-headed surgeon, coming apart, all due to Bernie. She became impatient then, despite having just chided Serena, wanting to hear her name on her partner's – no, fiancée's – lips.
Serena let out a low, guttural moan as Bernie increased the pressure, combining touch from her tongue and fingers. The pleasure washed through her, each stroke and kiss bringing her closer to the edge, and she uttered Bernie's name over and over. As her mind clouded, Bernie's fingers curling in just the right way, she lost all sense of time and place. Bernie was her world, this moment her eternity, and she let go, as she had to Bernie so many times before, giving her total trust to this beautiful, amazing woman.
Bernie stayed for a moment, as Serena stilled, flushed and breathless, before moving up to kiss her. She felt the vibration of Serena's moan as she tasted herself on Bernie's tongue. Serena regained her senses and pushed Bernie up, making quick work of her t shirt and joggers. She pulled Bernie towards her, so her legs were wrapped around her waist, kissing her eagerly and trailing her fingers over the toned muscles in her back.
She wanted to return the love Bernie had showed her, and gently shifted their position so Bernie was reclined, their legs intertwined. Bernie rubbed against Serena's thigh, as she paid attention to each scar on Bernie's neck and torso. She had been ashamed of them at first, Marcus had been indifferent to them, hating the reminder of Bernie's other life that he felt she valued more than her family.
Serena often caressed each line of taught skin, saying that they told Bernie's story, made her into who she was today. The one down the centre of her chest, paired with the one on her neck, she always spent the most time over. These were the scars that had brought them together, but had also meant they almost never met.
She gasped as Serena brought her out of her reverie by slipping her hand between the two of them and then moaned. Serena was everywhere, her short hair brushing against Bernie's chin, her lips wet against her neck, one hand on her breast, the other setting a slow rhythm. Her arousal built and she felt herself falling apart for Serena. The tension that had been climbing through the day was released, she relaxed into the bed, her face blissful.
Serena sighed, marvelling at Bernie with all her defences down, no trace of the macho army medic. Not that Major Wolfe never appeared in the bedroom, but these moments were just as glorious, when she had given over everything to Serena.
She kissed Bernie gently, pulling her under the covers and sweeping the fringe back from her face. Bernie murmured sleepily, but Serena couldn't make out what she was saying. She set her alarm, loathing the fact she had to work the next day, especially as it was Bernie's day off. Bernie pulled her close, eyes closed but with an open, happy face. She melted into her arms, they fit together so perfectly, and sighed. By all accounts a normal end to a normal day, except that Berenice Griselda Wolfe, her big macho army medic, had gone completely soft and proposed in the most casual, perfect way imaginable to Serena.
AN: The chapter title is the last line from Sonnet 43 "How Do I Love Thee?" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning - it's not as morbid as it seems (She is saying she hopes to be reunited with her love after death) Hope you enjoyed :)