"I'm sorry."
Serena whispered into Bernie's neck, the fabric of the other woman's trench coat at the back of her head, the solid line of Bernie's collar bone against her cheek.
"No need to be sorry."
Bernie whispered, drawing her mouth back and forth against the top of Serena's head, lips in her hair, arms wrapped so completely about the other woman, holding her close, keeping her safe.
"Those...men! Those idiots..."
Another muffled sob vibrated against her and Bernie hugged her closer, running her hands slowly over the soft wool of Serena's coat.
They sat like that for a moment, just sitting together with only the irregular rhythm of Serena's breath breaking the silence.
Eventually she eased herself back, using a hand to wipe the smudged mascara from beneath her eyes. She sighed heavily, looking at Bernie with tired eyes.
"What must I look like!"
She laughed a faint watery laugh and Bernie smiled an upside down smile and tucked a dark hair behind her ear.
She drew in a shaky breath and glanced down at Bernie's lap to where her right hand had fallen, her fingers pale against her black jeans.
She shook her head.
"I knew that sort of thing happened, of course I did! I've fixed many a broken person who's been...attacked or...or...but I didn't know what it felt like first hand. I just... if you were hurt because of me, I'd-"
"Serena, Serena..."
She looked up.
"I'm fine!
She paused, dark eyes narrowed.
"My coat on the other hand..."
She smiled again, a warm smile that made Serena's throat ache again.
"But I love your coat."
She whispered, and Bernie couldn't help but exhale a laugh.
"Serena. I'm fine. It was a few drunken bastards..."
Serena's chin wobbled and as she blinked fresh tears began to fall.
"I'm sorry, its just..."
Her voice was strained and thin.
"...everything is catching up with me...us...I'm tired...hormonal..."
She exhaled and once again looked down between them to Bernie's hand.
"Let me make you a hot drink?"
It was a silent question and Bernie's fingers squeezed her own as she looked up, smiling, and gave a slight nod of her head, Bernie's hand lingering upon her own before she eased herself up from the sofa and made her way silently into the kitchen.
The kitchen was colder than the sitting room, and as she set the kettle to boil she drew the blinds shut and pulled the thick green curtain across the back door.
Then, just as she had done earlier, she knelt down in front of the kitchen sink and opened the cupboard, pushing aside the laundry powder and packets of new scouring pads and dish clothes to reach for the tub of Vanish that she knew would be there somewhere.
She closed the door and shrugged her coat off, laying it across the end of the dining table, shivering as she mixed the powder and spooned it on, leaving it to soak into the red-brown stain.
She watched the tiny blue and white powder soak in and drew in a slow unsteady breath through her nose.
What a shame, she thought, that there was no magical powder to draw out the stain of hurt within a person.
She cast an eye toward the door, through which she could see only the very top of Serena's head leaning back motionless against the sofa.
She stood there whilst the kettle bubbled and boiled, hands by her sides. What would she have done if those men had tried anything more than they had? If they'd hit Serena with that bottle and hurt her? She was a first class idiot for calling them names, she knew that, but in the heat of the moment she hadn't been thinking.
She could kid herself that she would have been able to protect them both, but she wasn't who she used to be, wasn't as strong as she used to be...so what was she supposed to do if such a situation rose again? Because chances are a similar situation would arise.
She pursed her lips. Serena was so strong and yet it had taken so little to shatter her. Perhaps she was right, perhaps she was hormonal and overtired, perhaps it was the shock of such a perfect evening turning so sour so quickly, or perhaps it was that she had just realised what it meant to be in a relationship with another woman...
Serena closed her eyes. The back of her neck ached and she had a headache from crying all the way across her forehead. Her eyes felt sore and so tired that it seemed impossible to keep them open.
She replayed the night in technicolour behind her eyes, how they had walked through the damp streets of the brilliantly illuminated city, arm in arm, filled only with so much love that she had felt she might spill over at any moment, how she couldn't help but glance at Bernie every now and then, only to catch her sneaking a look back, how they'd smiled shyly at one another, how they'd sat sipping wine in the cinema, arms pressed together, occasionally tilting a head toward the other to murmur something in the darkness. How bold she had felt outing herself to Dom, how she had been filled with such a sense of relief and pride.
And then to the meal, despite Ric's brief interruption she had felt so at peace, sharing food, touching hands, gazing at once another above wine glasses and passing little smiles between themselves as though they were the only two people in the world.
And then, and then...she sighed and opened her eyes. She didn't want to remember how sick she had felt when she had realised that those men were shouting at them, that they wanted to hurt them in some way, and-
"Here."
Bernie's voice interrupted her train of thought, two carefully curved white mugs within her hands, one offered out, which she took with a grateful smile as Bernie folded herself into the space next to her, the cushions dipping beneath her weight.
"Thank you."
She looked down at it, she had expected coffee.
"What's this?"
"Hot milk and honey?"
Bernie answered once she had taken a sip and swallowed, frowning against the heat.
"To relax you."
She added when Serena raised an eyebrow in faint amusement.
"Then I'll run you a warm bath before bed."
She paused, realising how presumptuous she sounded.
"Do you want me to stay?"
She asked, her voice quiet, eyes on the drink between her hands.
"I always want you to stay."
Serena sighed, carefully edging closer so that she could lean back against her, Bernie's arm reaching around her shoulders, fingertips just ever so slightly beneath her neckline.
-.-
Not my best writing. More of a 'getting there' chapter. Quick warning, the next will be 'M' rated. xxx