Summary: It's nearly Serena's birthday, her first since Elinor's passing. Bernie wants it to be special- to be whatever Serena needs it to be. || A bit of grief, fluff, fluff, and more fluff.

Notes: Sorry for the lack of updates recently. This semester is totally kicking my butt. Here's a little fluff piece for now!

Mornings hurt the most. The act of waking up to a new day, and for the briefest of moments, forgetting it all. But then, it would happen. Serena would remember and that same, cold hand would clamp around her heart, tighten its grip, and break it into piece all over again. And it wasn't long before guilt washed over her, angry that she could ever— even for a second— forget.

In the wake of Elinor's passing, days moved like weeks, and the months moved like years. Somehow, the world around Serena Campbell had continued to turn, endlessly cycling around her as she stood still. Her work, once her safe-haven, had become nothing more than an obligation. Everyday, she went through the motions as if on autopilot; signed the necessary paperwork, tended to the necessary procedures. Saving lives had become something of a cruel slap to Serena, as she felt she'd failed to save her own daughter.

She read Elinor's last article every night before going to sleep. She'd sit up against the headboard and lean into the light from the lamp on her nightstand, a hand over her chest as Elinor's voice played in her head. Though she'd come to memorize the first few sentences of the piece, there was something about holding a physical manifestation of her daughter— seeing the thoughts that Elinor had pieced together, had invested so much of herself in.

Some nights, Bernie sat up beside Serena, feigning interest in her own book. Mostly, she just wanted to keep an eye on the grieving woman; it didn't feel right to fall asleep while Serena choked back tears in an effort not to make noise. Bernie knew that— no matter how much time elapsed— there would always be a missing piece to Serena's heart.

Nearly three months had gone by. 103 days. In some respects, Serena's life was just beginning to return to normal. Slowly, she allowed herself the little pleasures once again; a smile here and then, an unguarded laugh or giggle, a hug from the one woman she trusted the most. The agony was still very present, but Serena was finding ways to cope.

Bernie often kept a close eye on Serena during their shifts. She'd been balancing more than her fair share of work, and though she'd never let it show, Bernie was quietly losing steam. Any time a trauma arrived, whether it was a young woman of Elinor's age or an older gentleman of 70, Bernie was the first to arrive. Especially now with Jason back at work, Bernie ran herself ragged up and down the ward.

Serena's birthday was just around the corner, yet another item on Bernie's list. She'd been planning a quiet evening just the two of them, knowing full well that Serena didn't want a big do as it would be her first birthday without Elinor. And so, Bernie respected Serena's wishes. It'd been weeks since they'd gotten to spend any time alone, and it'd been longer since they'd been… them. They saw each other every day, and yet, Bernie missed Serena a great deal.

Trapped in theatre for nearly four hours, the blonde consultant had lost all track of time. What was meant to be a routine appendectomy turned into a splenic repair when an unsuspecting, and overly ambitious, F1 went in guns blazing. The poor lad had never seen so much blood in his life. If it hadn't been for Bernie, they would have surely lost the patient.

Her back aching and her vision a bit blurry from exhaustion, Bernie shuffled back to the office as fast as she could.

"I'm sorry. We had a bit of a surprise in theatre," she piped when she found Serena waiting for her; a navy shawl wrapped around her shoulders, she stood by the coat rack in an elegant black dress and her lips painted a brilliant red. Bernie stole a glance at Serena and blinked in awe, her breath hitching slightly. "Wow… you look…"

Serena offered a sly grin and struck a pose, her black heels reflecting the light from above. It had been a while since she'd last made Bernie blush; Serena had almost forgotten what it felt like.

While Bernie scrambled to pack her bag and tidy her desk, Serena couldn't help but check the time. It was already half seven. Their reservation had been made for 6:45. "As much as I appreciate the gesture, I don't know if we're going to make our date. You're not yet dressed, love."

Reaching for the bag of clothes she'd packed away that morning, Bernie held up the sack triumphantly. "I'll be just a mo," she promised before heading towards the door. But, Serena blocked her before she could leave. "Oi!"

"Bernie," Serena began quietly, closing the door behind her. "It's all right. I'd be just as happy with a take-away and a night at home."

"But—"

"Really," Serena assured.

As Bernie searched Serena's eyes, as she held Serena's gaze, she could see how tired the woman was— how the smile she'd been wearing all day was wavering, how her armor was just beginning to crack. "Right," Bernie nodded. "Take-away it is, then."

Several hours later, Bernie and Serena were sitting together on the couch, content after a curry dinner and a shared bottle of Shiraz. Her head against Bernie's chest, Serena curled into the blonde woman's side, now in the comfort of loose trousers and an oversized shirt. "Thank you for tonight."

"Of course." Bernie could hear the sadness in Serena's voice, and it killed her that she couldn't do anything to take the pain away. But then, she remembered something. "You ready to open your presi?"

"What?" Serena peered up at Bernie. "You didn't have to—"

Before Serena could finish, Bernie rose from the sofa and disappeared. A few moments later, she returned with her hands behind her back. "I didn't get a chance to wrap it properly," she said, somewhat guilty. Her bottom lip tucked in, she passed the gift to Serena and sat beside her.

It was black. Leather-bound. Engraved in gold. Of Lions and Lambs, the cover read. Bernie watched as Serena grazed the lettering, almost as though she were afraid to touch the words. Just below the title, was the name Elinor Campbell.

"The original is still on your shelf," Bernie said. "I just thought you might want something more… durable."

Her eyes tingling with tears, Serena flipped through the pages. It was all there. Every single word. Turning to face Bernie, Serena hugged the book to her chest. "Bernie," she whispered, nearly speechless. "Thank you," she finally said. Flicking away a tear that had escaped, she cupped Bernie's face and leaned in for a gentle kiss.

When they pulled away, Bernie smiled that same smile. "Happy birthday, Serena."