Archive of Our Own

She’s halfway through a crooked smile. Halfway to warming Serena’s heart with the sight. Halfway to swallowing her coffee when the buzz permeates the air.

Then she’s running.

Honest to god, full-hearted, knees-to-chest, running.

And then, she’s gone. Leaving Serena and Raf to stew in their surprise and confusion.

“What the hell?”

A shrug is the only answer Serena can offer, Bernie’s hastily passed coffee cup sloshing in her hand.

The air hangs heavy in the ward as time passes without a word. Serena’s eyes lessen in their usual -pitiful- attempt at discretion as they seek out Bernie’s missing form. The same can be said for Raf and an updated Morven and Fletch who seem to be scanning the ward nearly as often.

They focus -of course they focus- but the absence and anxiety of uncertainty permeate the air all the same.

Their macho army medic had never acted so frazzled before. Not with her hands elbow deep in a sprinkler-esque patient, not even as she herself was wheeled in after her brush with death.

“You actual idiot.”

At once the tension evaporates from the air and shoulders of those who care for her.

A mumble is ignored as they watch Bernie wheel a brunette woman from the lift looking none-to-pleased.

“I feel like I’m being kidnapped”

“Next time I get a call like that you better have been kidnapped.”

Short. Sharp. Bernie.

They watch as she pauses their progress to grab a few folders and studiously ignores the smirking woman sat before her.

“Awe, Bernice was worried about little ole’ me.” The woman’s voice floats through the air breeding confusion and tension in its wake. Her eyelashes fluttering as she reaches for Bernie’s hand. “I’m honored.”

Rolling her eyes Bernie retracts her arm -much to the relief of a certain co-lead. A smile forming on her face as she holds eyes with the woman before her.

“More worried I was going to have to start cooking again.”

“Darling, the world would burn to the ground-” A rather loud umf is forced from her lungs as Bernie’s files are dropped none-to-kindly on her lap. “Hey! Have some sympathy, I’m the one dying here.”

“You die and I’ll kill you.”

“Aye, aye, Major.”

Bernie is mid-eye roll -the woman in mid-mock salute- when they’re broken from their bickering by a snicker from the peanut gallery.

Sharp eyes. Twin smiles. A smirk.

“Seems we have an audience.”

“Your favorite.” Bernie replies, taking back up her position behind the wheelchair as her eyes cut to Fletch’s barely concealed grin. “Problem?”

“No, no. No problem at all.” A pause. “ Darling .”

Bernie’s glare is almost painful as Fletch finds himself backing up into a clearly humored Raf.

“What? Only she can say it?”

“Clarice,” A slight hip bump to the wheelchair. “Is heavily drugged, what’s your excuse?”

“One Motrin counts as heavily drugged these days, does it?”

Laughter follows Bernie’s retreat into her shared office. Serena quickly ducking her head to hide the disappointment gracing her face.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were in.” Bernie stops short for a moment, before wheeling Clarice’s chair to a stop beside her own

“Just between meetings, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, you’ll have the office to yourself soon enough.” If her tone comes out terse it’s not her fault. Her mind plagued with Darlings , and laughter, and green.

“Not a bother.” Bernie replies with a smile to Serena’s bowed head. A sight that is missed by the intended party, but which brings a knowing smirk to her brunette comrade.

“I’m Clarice.” She announces, ignoring Bernie’s tut and shaking head.

Serena meets her eyes for a moment with a polite -albeit short- smile.

“I’d shake your hand, but it seems this one,” A quick nod to Bernie’s sitting form, “has all but handcuffed me to this chair.”

“Has she now.” This earns Clarice a crack in Serena’s façade as her eyebrows rise in amusement

“I’m not saying I’m against cuffs, but at least get the fluffy ones. Am I right?”

“Clarice!"

"I'm just saying, show a girl a good time, buy me dinner first."

"You're ridiculous."

"-ly awesome."

Serena's eyes cut to Bernie's as humor invades her face.

"It's the drugs."

"One motrin, Bernice! One motrin!"

A roll of the eyes and Bernie is back to studiously ignoring the woman beside her.

"So, Serena, right?" Bernie's shoulders tense, as Clarice's smirk returns. She knows too much. Too much about Serena, and feelings, and heartache, and...too much about Bernie.

"Yes, and you are?" Serena goes for smooth, tries to bite back the feelings bubbling within her.

At this, Clarice's face splits into mock horror. "You haven't told them about me? Shot to the heart, Wolfe. Shot to the heart."

Her answer is an eyeroll and dramatic hand wave of introduction. "Serena Campbell I introduce to you the -very annoying- Clarice Wilson. Clarice," a wave of the hand, "Serena. Happy?"

"Delighted."

"Nice to meet you, Clarice."

"My friends " A sharp look to Bernie -which breeds more questions than answers for Serena, "call me Claire." A mock bow -followed by a wince- and Bernie is rolling her chair over at lightning speed.

"Breathe through it, you idiot. Do you need more medication?" Bernie's voice matches the soothing care in her eyes as her arm rubs at Claire's back.

And then Serena is running. Throwing out an excuse and escaping into the ward.

She does not need to see that. Does not need to see Bernie's hands willingly on someone else. So comforting, so tactile, so much like a kiss to anyone else. Because, for Bernie a hand freely placed on an arm is much like a kiss.

A slight touch as close as a hug.

A kiss...well a kiss is much more isn't it? Not that Serena's dreamt of it, of course not.

It's the principle.

So she rushes into the ward, thirty minutes before she's due to be politely early to her meeting. And she stands. And she waits. And she may force herself to keep her gaze away from the office she shares. And it may work. But it may not.

"Who's the girl?" The voice causes her to jump as she tears her eyes from studying the boxes of gloves along the far wall. Strange that the size small ones always seem to run out the fastest.

"Hm?"

"Bernie's girl." The voice comes from Fletch this time, and she finds herself spinning further to see her three charges beside her. Morven with a wide eyed look, while Raf and Fletch work to volley their eyes between the closed door and Serena's unimpressed face.

"Haven't a clue." Is her reply, ever the stoic. Heart hurting at the thought that radiates painfully through her mind.

Bernie's girl.

A look of annoyance passes along their faces and she knows she's in for a questioning. Unfortunately, those questions are the same that have been filling her brain since Bernie's trainers squeaked down the hall, since the elevator opened to fill the room with breath as well as Bernie's voice, since the touching.

God, the touching.

Hand clenching into the folder she holds, she can't help but grit her teeth before answering their pleading looks.

"I haven't the faintest idea. You can ask her if you'd like."

A chill runs through the air.

"You know she won't tell us a thing. It took three weeks and two bribes to HR before we even found out her birthday!"

"Be that as it may. I won't be of much help."

"You're her best friend, you can't expect us to believe she's never mentioned someone she'd bolt like a bat out of hell for."

Best friend. Friend.

The pain strikes through, no doubt showing on her face.

"Oh, oh no. You're serious." Morven speaks up, "You really don't know."

A breath.

"Don't you all have work to do?"

And she's fleeing again. Into the safety and monotony of another meeting. With another budget cut and another glass of water barely touched.

She's been here before. Here in this room -in that room, in this chair, in Pulses, in Albie's, at home, in her room, at the breakfast table- she's been here before with her mind wandering to Bernie.

What was she doing? Would she like a coffee? A scone? Would they go to Albie's that night?

Normal thoughts for normal best friends.

And then they would turn, usually around the second half of the meeting -she'd fight them off as long as possible.

What would it be like to kiss her? Hold her? Would she get along with Jason in the mornings? Is she just as messy at home?

And then she'd stop herself or try to at least. There's no real way of stopping those thoughts, she's found. Only pausing them momentarily.

Today is different. Her thoughts tumbling through with images of Bernie's smile -not directed at her- Bernie's hands -not on her- and who was this woman? This woman who causes Bernie to touch her, to comfort her, to run to her.

The answer stares her in the face. She knows it does. But it hurts, it truly hurts.

Call her Cleopatra, she huffs. Queen of Denial.

"That must be it!"

"What?" At Serena's voice the trio at the nurses station jump almost comically -or it would be if they weren't staring into the office. Following their gaze, Serena can't help but see Bernie's relaxed face through the blinds, her head tilting in a laugh as Claire winks.

"We just- uh- I was actually just heading to bed three."

Morven's retreat is met with heckles from Raf and Fletch as they shuffle under Serena's gaze.

"Anything you'd like to share?"

"We think they're together." A head nod has Fletch confirming Raf's words

"And- uh, what makes you think that?"

If Serena's voice comes out higher than normal, it's definitely due to her untouched water. Nothing to do with the weight she feels choking her chest nor the words ' You're too late' taunting her mind.

"The touching. The bickering. That look." A flick of the wrist and the trio are glancing back into the room as a look of connection cross the duo's faces

"The only thing is," A pause, and Serena hopes the words that follow will help her back into her comfortable couch of denial, "she would have told you, wouldn't she?"

She's a private person.

The words hang in her head. But speaking them? Speaking them would blow a hole in her plan of denial. Speaking them would make this relationship plausible. Speaking them would mean a whole piece of Bernie's life had been hidden from her. A piece of her life she'd like nothing more than to fill herself.

So she turns and she walks.

Walks toward the office, intending to grab her coat, lock her computer and dash to the safety of her home once more.

"Serena!"

The voice as friendly as it is does nothing but set her mind and feelings aflame. Green pooling within the depths of her mind as she distinctly feels her stomach clench.

Maddening.

"Feeling any better, Claire?" Ever cojural

"Much. Can't wait to get out of here. Do you fancy heading with us to the bar you and Bernie always go to? I hear the tequila is killer."

Cataloguing the fact that Bernie had talked about her to Claire away for further unraveling later, Serena is stopped from her declination due to Bernie's distracted voice.

"You've got a broken rib and enough bruising to look like a dalmation, you're not going anywhere."

"Sorry, mom, didn't realize it was a school night." A roll of the eyes and Bernie is glancing at Serena with affectionate annoyance

"Your older than me, darling."

Claire's aghast "by two weeks!" is drowned by the rushing of blood in Serena's ears.

Darling.

"You've had me confined to this chair for hours, with only you and your brooding to accompany me. I need social interaction!"

"I'm not brooding and Serena has things to do." Bernie's pleading look to Claire is missed as Serena grabs her coat.

"You've detailed everyway my fall could have been worse -including decapitation. I need a drink." Bernie huffs and returns to the x-ray before her, while Claire turns pleading eyes on Serena. "Please don't leave me alone with her. She's been making an alphabetical list in that dramatic head of her's I'm sure of it."

"Um…" And maybe it's her own sadistic nature or the fact that she hasn't been around Bernie all day, but she finds herself agreeing. As Claire cheers in Bernie's defeat, she rises from the chair -much to Bernie's dismay- and slowly trudges to call the lift.

Bernie and Serena hang back, caught in a look.

"You're an enabler, you know that right?"

"There's nothing that can't be fixed with a little alcohol."

"Says the doctor."

A hiss of pain can be heard, breaking Bernie from their gaze as she rushes from the office toward Claire's general direction. Stopping in her tracks she takes in the smirking faces of her colleagues and Claire.

"One of these days you're going to cry wolf and I'm going to ignore it."

"Pun intended?"

"Shut up, Fletch." An eye roll and Bernie is striding forward, her arm reaching out to steady Claire's form. "You okay?"

"Of course! Calling your name didn't seem to do much, apparently false pain is the only way to get your attention these days." A glance from Claire is sparred to Serena, as Bernie fights down a blush.

"Pull another act like that and I'm leaving you here." Bernie comments as they walk to the lift, Serena locking their office behind her

As she makes to follow them, Serena can't help but catch the whispered " Definitely dating. "

And it hurts.

Claire is nice. Serena hates to say it. Claire is nice, and funny, and everything she would want her friend to find. If, that is, she wasn't completely and utterly in love with said friend.

But Claire is. And Serena is.

Which makes each sip of wine that much more necessary and each laugh that much more painful.

After getting their drinks they settled into a table along the far wall. Cokes for both Bernie and Claire (one a show of solidarity the other a testament to the Bernie-patented glare), and a large shiraz for Serena.

Claire seems to look longingly at the true drink only averting her gaze as Bernie nudges her arm.

A touch.

Once they find themselves a table, their somewhat-stunted conversation is interrupted by the appearances of Raf and Morven (the latter seemingly uncomfortable to intrude, the former not so much).

"Mind if we join you?"

"Not at all, I'd love to meet more of Bernice's friends." A conspirator's face breaking out

"First 'Darling' and now 'Bernice', you've got to tell me your secrets!"

"Don't get any ideas." Claire smiles, bumping Bernie's shoulder, "She's a puncher."

"That was one time, Clarice. One time." A sip.

"I had a bruise for a week."

"Next time don't jump out of the closet and try to scare ex-army members. Simple as that."

"Out of the closet? Think that particular ship has sailed." At Bernie's deadpan stare she continues, "It was too easy, I had to."

"Well, uh. It's nice to meet you, Clarice!" Morven cuts in, Claire's friendliness creating a comforting air

"Oh, no, Claire is fine. This one" A nod toward the smirking blonde, "is the only member of club 'Call Claire by her full name'. And you are?"

"I'm Morven, and this is Raf." She introduces, swirling the straw in her drink as she takes note of the name

"Ah! Bernie has told me so much about you both! I heard-" A sound of pain leaves Claire's throat as she turns her glare on Bernie. "Don't kick the wounded! What kind of doctor are you?"

"The kind that will be waking you up every four hours for new meds, do you really want to chance me slipping in a laxative?"

"Rude."

A mock cheers is mimed from Bernie as she returns to her ping pong match of glancing at Serena then glancing away.

"I have no idea how you work with her."

Serena wants to defend. Push into the conversation with how wonderful Bernie is to work with, to talk with, to- But she sees that teasing smirk again and focuses back on her drink.

"Drinks anyone?" Bernie offers, moving to stand from Claire's side. "My treat after I left you all alone on the ward today." Unnecessary guilt passes over her eyes and in blinks is gone.

With orders of drinks and a firm " No, you will be sticking to coke or water," Bernie is off to the crowded bar. Serena's gaze follows her before she is able to force herself back to the table. She wants to join her, she truly does. If even a moment of alone time with Bernie is an option, she'd cling to it.

But she doesn't. Instead she stays staring at her drink while in the company of the person who took her place.

Sadistic.

"Okay," Claire addresses the group as soon as Bernie has retreated far enough into the crowd. "I've got a limited amount of time and enough dirt to last a lifetime. One of you give me a sip of your drink and I'll be an almost open book."

Three sets of eyes meet in a strange switching dance. Raf's drink instantly pushed in Claire's direction.

A smile lights her face as she takes a lengthy sip and settles back into her seat.

"I'll only tell you what facebook already knows. But seeing as Bernie is out of sync with the ages, you won't have known. Lets see, have you found out her birthday yet?"

Head nods.

"I can't imagine she let that one slip, snooping I'm guessing? I actually have a picture of last year's!" After a few moments of searching, a picture of Bernie knocked out wearing her scrubs and a precariously placed party hat is shown.

"Apparently she had a long day. I came home to find her half-on half-off the couch. Didn't have the heart to wake her but the hat was necessary."

A laugh pulls at their throats as they work to hold them back not wanting to chance the return of an alerted Bernie. Serena's eyes scan the exhausted form and can't help but wish to sleep beside her every night. Or be the one to pull the blanket around her as it's clear Claire had done.

"She had to work on her birthday? Raf takes that off as a national holiday."

"Hey! It is!"

"Ah, you know Bernie. Ever the worker- Oh! This one!" Claire interrupts herself throwing the image onto the table without preamble

The image shows a slightly younger Bernie and Claire, their arms wrapped around each other as the busy sight of army fatigues blur around them. The image of Bernie in her own fatigues causing Serena's breath to catch. She tries to ignore the other woman in the picture, does her best to focus on Bernie's smile, but the other member of the hug causes a boulder of ice to sink within her stomach.

"When was-" But Morven's words ware cut off as she follows Claire's line of sight to a woman leaning far to closely to Bernie to be polite

The group watch as she seems to offer a drink to which Bernie smiles and gestures to the table. Eyes not moving from the blonde's face, the woman continues to speak.

And Serena would like nothing more than to walk over.

She truly would.

But it's not her place. It's not her place and Claire -the person who is allowed to do so- is quickly sliding from her seat.

"This always happens." She whispers, "One moment." Her voice comes out rushed as she makes a beeline for Bernie

The group watch as Claire slides her arm around Bernie's waist and leans into her with a smile.

Well, that's not entirely correct.

Raf and Morven watch, Serena glares. Tries to hide her glare. Then drinks.

Raf chuckles as Claire makes a show of offering a handshake to the redheaded woman only to have it awkwardly returned with her smile fading.

As their drinks are offered, Claire is the first to lead the way back to the table. Meanwhile, a slip of paper is not-so-slyly slid into the front pocket of Bernie's shirt as she makes her way passed the woman with her hands full. A wink and the redhead's eyes are following her retreat.

Claire pauses at the edge of the crowd to fix Bernie with a pitying look.

"Someone's in trouble." Raf's commentary is unnecessary but helpful in snapping Serena from her glare toward the redheaded woman.

If only asking Bernie out were that easy.

"You're clueless." Claire's voice floats over the noise as they near the group's quietted corner

"What?"

Claire spares her a glare as she settles the drinks in front of Morven and Raf before sliding into her own seat.

"I ask again, what?"

"She was flirting with you, you idiot."

"I'm the idiot when you fell down a flight of stairs fleeing a spider?"

"That's not the point and thank you for sharing that with the class, Bernice."

"Well, from the looks of it you've been sharing quite a lot with the class, Clarice." Her hand motioning toward the phone still sat on the table

"Not the point."

"Carla wasn't flirting."

"Oooo Carla."

"Shut up." A quick wide-eyed glance from Bernie, and Serena isn't sure if she'd imagined it

"It's a wonder she ever gets a date. A woman could be falling over herself for her and still, nothing."

"I would notice if someone were flirting with me. Just because you happen to think the world would be, doesn't make it true."

Silence and pitying looks cause her to huff and reach for the card in her pocket.

"She's interested in transferring to AAU. See? Business card." She comments, flipping the card in front of Claire's face

Claire -for her part- glances at Serena with a look of ' how innocent can she be '.

A sigh.

"This happens everytime we go out, you'd think at least someone would hit on me. But no."

"Don't get dramatic." Bernie mutters, "Now, why the hell are you showing them that picture?"

"I was bribed."

Clearing her throat against the emotions rising within it, Serena thinks the proper thing to do would be to speak at this moment. Or any moment, really. Before her silence begins to seem strange.

"So, a spider, you say?"

A chuckle and the tense atmosphere has broken.

"It was barely bigger than an ant." Bernie says, as Claire puts on a wounded face

"If an ant was on steroids and protein shakes!"

"I don't see why you couldn't have waited until I got home."

Home.

Shit.

Here come the tears. There goes the denial.

Blink fast, Serena. Blink fast.

"I am not some damsel in distress. I was just, a little, in distress."

Raf's beginning to think they'd win at a staring contest, the kind Mikey favored when blinking was prohibited.

"So, you live together? That's so cool! I can't believe it took a giant spider for us to meet you!"

"Tiny spider." Bernie corrects, "And God, no. We don't live together."

"Can you imagine?" A fake shiver draws another gasp of pain from Claire's mouth

Bernie's hand instantly reaching out to rub circles on her back as the pain subsides. Pulling a tablet from her pocket she passes it over, scooting Claire's drink closer in a clear command.

"Watch out guys, I'm having another Motrin. Lord knows what I'll say next!" Claire mocks, dutifully taking the medication

"I guess, I'm just a little confused. I thought you lived together?" Morven continues

The display and potential answer weigh heavily on Serena's shoulders.

"Why would you think that?" Bernie questions, eyebrows drawing together. The personification of confusion.

"Well, I just- And, uh, you said- With the-" But Morven is saved from her stuttering by the appearance of Bernie's teasing smile. Quickly taking a swig of her drink, Morven is sure to keep her eyes focused just above Bernie's right shoulder.

"How long have you thought we were dating?" Bernie asks, eyebrow quirked

Silence greets her.

"I thought we had passed people thinking we were dating. It's been what, six months since your company last decided?"

"Six and half. I guess I won that bet. Told you it wouldn't last a year!"

"No pineapple on the pizza for the next fortnight. A bet's a bet." Bernie salutes to the woman beside her, drawing her eyes back to the confused faces at the table she continues, "We" a gesture between her and Claire, "are not together."

"Aye aye!" Claire smiles and clinks her glass with Bernie's

"But-"

"That doesn't-"

The hastily thrown together sentences of her shocked colleagues barely reach Serena's ears as she works to comprehend what has been said.

And if her shoulders relax, she can claim it's the wine.

And if her smile once again reaches her eyes, it's the stuttering messes her younger charges have become.

And if she suddenly finds a liking in Claire, it's how friendly she is.

Definitely.

One-hundred percent.  

"I'm confused."

"We're neighbors and she's terribly clingy." Bernie offers, nudging the woman beside her softly

"Hey, I know what I like." A wink.

The green still pools. The green's still there. But there's hope.

"Well, I mean. I could see it working." Dom interrupts

"Eavesdropping were you?"

"Just making sure someone had your back with Carla. She's been talking about you all week. Almost had to pretend to switch teams until your knight and shining armor arrived."

A laugh bubbles from Claire as she tries her best to keep her chest from moving.

"I like him! You must be Dom."

"Nice to meet you, Claire. I've heard so much. None of it good, I assure you."

And if it slightly pains Serena that Dom knew, well, that's to be expected.

"I would expect nothing less from this one." And in a softer voice, "Thank you for, well," A glance around the table, "everything."

A head nod and Dom is taken away by the crowd.

"Motrin makes her sentimental." Bernie says on a cough, doing her best to change the atmosphere

"Again with the medication comments!"

"So, wait, backtrack." Raf comments, sticking his hand in the air as if to pause the scene. "Why don't you call Carla then?"

Serena could kill him. She could do it and probably get away with it too.

"Yeah, Bernie. Why don't you?" Innocence is not a look that belongs on Claire's face.

A blush fills Bernie's face as she passes a glare between Claire and Raf.

When it becomes clear that they were at a stalemate, Claire takes up the conversational slack -a role she seems to have perfected.

"She, big macho army medic that she is, is currently in the pining stage of her romance."

A spit take is almost done from three separate angles. A true masterpiece of disgusting fountaining.

Serena manages to swallow her drink, the burn something to cling to as her head begins to pound. This day has been a rollercoaster of emotions, and she has yet to land on a plateau.

Bernie manages to swallow her drink as well. A small cough accompanying her reddened face.

Morven….Morven doesn't fair quite as well. The drink seems to have gone down the rather wrong pipe which leaves her coughing a little longer than ideal. With an apology to the group once she finishes -voice high and face flushed.

"Clarice Rose Wilson!"

"And...the full name. I best be going-" Her quick retreat is stalled by her wince causing Bernie to slide from her seat to assist her.

"I'll see you all tomorrow." Bernie throws to the group, eyes lingering for just a moment too long on Serena.

"Don't forget I know where you sleep."

Bernie's threat is the last thing the table is privy to as the duo wind their way from the bar.

"Well that was-"

"Certainly something." Raf finishes Morven's thought as she trails off

"Certainly." Serena agrees, taking their moment's distraction as a way to crumple the business card and throw it in Claire's abandoned glass.

There's a certain smug satisfaction Serena gets when she glances over to see the woman from before staring longingly at the now closed door, her business card all but dissolving in the coke.

"Flowers for you?" Serena's words catch Bernie off guard as she follows her into the office, only looking up from the papers after she clears the doorway

"Looks as though." Bernie replies with an arched eyebrow but nothing more. Instead she moves on to her seat and begins the process of waking up her computer.

Serena stares at her, eyes slowly scanning up and down the vase on her desk.

"Someone has an admirer." The words sink sickeningly in her stomach. Hasn't she suffered enough?

"Most likely Clarice's doing. She likes to make me as uncomfortable as possible." Bernie replies with a shrug, not moving her gaze from the x-ray she now holds to the light. "Flowers and public displays the easiest ways, I'm sure you know."

And she did know.

Minutes drag on in silence as Serena does her best to ignore the bright flowers positioned in the center of the room. She tries. She really does. But she's never been one for subtlety, at least not when this is concerned.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to read the card?"

"Are you that curious, Serena?" A chuckle.

"It's just that… that's an awful lot of money to spend on beautiful flowers and not to read the card seems a shame." Her fingers tangle together below the desk, she can't help being curious

"I suppose they are pretty." Bernie relents, letting a small smile grace her face, "I warn you. Last time she did this it was a crude poem."

"Was it now?" The fact that this had happened before grates on her. But it's fine. It's okay. She can breathe.

Plucking the envelope from the edge of the vase, Bernie begins reading.

"Ah." Her face pinkens softly

"Another poem?"

"Not from Clarice, no." Bernie replies tossing the note across the desk with a sigh, "Looks like I owe her ten pounds."

Quirking her eyebrow, Serena steadies herself to read the note.

And if it fogs over when she sees the description of affection, well, it's just her eyes being tired.

And when she gets to the part about the dinner invitation and her stomach aches? Well, that's definitely the lack of breakfast.

"So, um, dinner?" She manages

"Are you inviting me?"

"No. Well, I mean, yes, of course. You're always welcome. But it seems you may have plans." A breath. "This is the woman from last night, I take it?"

"No, one of my many adoring fans." Bernie's joke is lost on her as the green begins to bubble, begins to seep. "Of course, the woman from last night."

"Ah." She tries to steady herself. Keep her voice and thoughts above the murky green. "So, will you be going?"

And she hopes it's a no. Truly hopes it's a "God, no. I love you, Serena." Even a resounding "no, not tonight" might make her feel better. Though that does leave the possibility for other nights open and good god, how could she sleep not knowing? How could she sleep knowing?

"I will not." A breath. "Hopelessly pinning, remember?"

If Serena thought the idea of Bernie with someone else hurt, the idea of her unhappily alone hurt just as bad. The small longing-filled smile she receives after her omision has Serena scrambling for anything to help, anything to ease the pain.

"I don't think Claire mentioned hopelessly."

"She's a romantic. Believes true love will find a way."

"Sounds like we have a lot in common."

A smile.

"Have you talked to this woman?" As Bernie opens her mouth, Serena continues, "I mean, have you told her how you feel?"

"I've….hinted? I believe so. I must have. Claire realized instantly, Dom just the same."

"But does she know?"

"God, no-"

Bernie's explanation is cut off by Serena's huff.

"Bernie! You have to tell her. Let her make up her own mind."

"And if she doesn't-" At this Bernie pauses, eyes gazing deeply into Serena's before bouncing to every scrap of space away from her eyes

But Serena knows. Serena speaks Bernie.

And if she doesn't want me.

"If she doesn't see how amazing you are, she's definitely not worth your time."

And it hurts. Sure it hurts to push the woman she loves into the arms of another. But she'd do it again if it meant seeing hope replace the worry in those eyes.

"So, um," Bernie starts off slowly, bringing herself to the visitor’s chair to the side of Serena's desk, "would you mind helping me out with a bet?"

"A bet?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'll need more information to do so, won't I?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

"Bernie?"

A pause.

Twin breaths.

"Suppose- Suppose I told you it was you. Suppose I -hypothetically, of course- wanted that dinner to mean more than what you'd think it'd mean?"

"Well," Serena starts, struck for words but understanding the shaking of Bernie's hands. Her courage potentially waning. "I guess I would have to ask what you thought this -hypothetical- dinner meant to me."

"Well, I just-" And she falters. And she tries. She tries so hard.

So Serena steps in.

"You see, if we were to have this dinner. I would want it to mean we'd have more dinners. Potentially candle light, an extensive selection of wine, the works." And if she's doing this, if she's admitting this. She's admitting it all. "It would mean breakfasts, and coffee, and-"

When they moved closer together? Neither could say.

"I'd really like to kiss you, Serena."

"I'd really like to let you."

In the end she lost the bet. Losing never felt so good.