Chapter Text
The first thing Serena notices is the heat. There is no way to escape it. It hits her like a wall. It makes her sweat instantly and she is thankful for Bernie’s advice to change on the plane. She’s wearing a linen dress and a hat, and hopes she doesn’t look too much like a colonial nightmare.
Because of stringent security measures, something about rebels in the north, Bernie is waiting for her outside instead of at arrivals. Serena looks around, overwhelmed by the noise of families reuniting and taxis clamouring for her fare. She squints in the sunshine, having forgotten to pack her sunglasses in her carry on.
She’s tired, her skin feels tight and greasy after the long flight, and there’s the swooping unwelcome sensation of being in a new place without familiar markers. She swallows past her discomfort, looks around again, and suddenly Bernie is there, waving enthusiastically.
Serena’s chest loosens at once. A smile breaks on her face. Bernie slithers her way to her and soon they are embracing tightly. Bernie is barely breaking a sweat, looks almost comfortable in a long sleeved shirt and flowing trousers. She smells of sun tan lotion and mosquito repellent. Serena closes her eyes and breathes her in, her heart fluttering.
They don’t kiss. Nairobi might be the least conservative place in Kenya, but it still isn’t a welcome place for two women in love.
And very much in love they are. Bernie kisses her temple and grabs her bag after a breathless and awed “you’re here”, and she leads her to a badly parked beat up car.
“It doesn’t look like much, but it does the job,” Bernie says as she opens the passenger door for Serena.
It doesn’t really matter, first of all because the car has air conditioning, and mainly because Serena gets to watch Bernie drive. She gets to watch the profile of the woman she adores, her strong hands as she negotiates tricky intersections, her constant smile as she steals glances at her.
Despite the 8-hour flight, the slight headache pinching her temples and the heat, dear god the heat, Serena feels content and whole.
Nairobi is chaos, but a controlled one. It looks nothing like Holby, or any another city Serena’s visited, but she can’t help but love the colours and the smells.
Bernie points out places as they drive past. A park she likes. A restaurant she wants to take Serena to. A shop that sells all the linen Serena could possibly want.
At traffic lights, Bernie lets her hand stroke Serena’s thigh, a blinding smile on her face.
“You look beautiful,” she says with dark eyes.
“I’ve been on a plane overnight, Bernie, I must look a fright,” Serena replies, but fondly.
“No, still beautiful,” Bernie says with an ease and airiness that Serena finds very attractive.
Bernie is in her element here, Serena realises. She’s happy. She loves the city and its people, loves her work. She shows her the hospital, a sprawling campus of many buildings aptly named Kenyatta, and no less than 10 minutes later, she parks underneath a low rise.
The car park is eerily silent after the noises of the city, and Serena takes a second to breathe in and out, her hat on her lap. Bernie turns to her, takes her hand, smiles.
“You’re here,” she says again, with the same awe and wonder.
And Serena has to smile at that. She is here. Finally. She leans forward and slips a hand in Bernie’s hair and kisses her softly. They haven’t seen each other in a month, and Serena has missed this. Not only the kissing, although that is lovely, but just being with Bernie, having a life with her.
France has spoiled them. Months of being together without a care in the world. Months where they focused on each other and on Serena getting better. Serena still dreams of the sun drenched vineyard, of the taste of ripe tomatoes, of Bernie’s laugh as they walked into the village. It was a charmed time. A bubble. A memory Serena keeps close to her heart.
Nairobi is a chance to make more memories. To start over. It’s terrifying but exciting.
Bernie insists on taking her bag. She introduces her to the security guard, a lively young man called Daniel who, to Serena’s disquiet, casually carries a gun the size of his forearm.
“They all have them. The security guards. You’ll see them at the hospital too,” Bernie explains in the lift.
It’s a nice building. A new build with gardens and a small pool at the back. The residents are a mix of middle class locals and foreign aid workers, and the building is well kept.
The apartment Bernie has rented is full of light and airy. It has a balcony that overlooks the arboretum, two bedrooms, and a living room. It’s blessedly cool even in the midday sun, and even though its walls are bare, there are photos on the nightstands. Serena smiles at the picture of the two of them, taken in France on the vineyard by the owner’s daughter, where they are laughing, arms around waists, carefree and happy.
“Do you like it?”
Serena turns around, and she smiles at Bernie’s uncertainty, her eagerness to please.
“It’s lovely. You chose well,” she reassures.
Bernie relaxes, and shows her the planters on the balcony with great pride. There’s a table and a couple of chairs, but it’s too hot to stay out for too long. The flowers are tropical, not ones that Serena knows. Even the birds are different. The smell in the air as well, something sweet and heady that Serena has never experienced.
Suddenly she feels very homesick. She swallows a hard knot of unease, her dress already sticking to her back even though they’ve only been outside for 2 minutes. Bernie is talking about how the building works, but all she can do is chose a point in the distance and focus on it.
“Serena? Serena? Are you okay?”
The worry in Bernie’s voice snaps her out of her little trance.
“Yes, yes, of course. Just a little tired,” she replies, not wanting to dampen the light in Bernie’s eyes.
“Why don’t you have a shower? And a nap? I thought we could stay in tonight, and then I’ll show you around tomorrow? Maybe meet up with Samuel and a few others if you feel up to it?”
And it is sweet, how kind and solicitous Bernie is. Love swells up in her chest, this lovely aching feeling she’s almost always felt when in Bernie’s presence. She feels less homesick, and even less so when she takes a step forward and sinks into Bernie’s arms.
“Sorry, I’m a little emotional. I am very happy to be here, it’s just…”
Bernie holds her tightly, in one of her patented Wolfe hugs.
“It’s all a little new and overwhelming?” Bernie guesses softly.
Serena nods and closes her eyes. She lets Bernie’s heartbeat soothe her.
“We will go slow,” Bernie promises.
We. Serena likes that, a lot.
She feels far more human after a long, cool shower and an hour nap in Bernie’s, well, their bed. She falls asleep to doves calling out to each other in the scorching afternoon sun.
When she comes to, Bernie offers her a cup of strong tea and a kiss, and she takes both with a smile. The sun is slowly coming down on the horizon, and it promises a spectacular sunset, right from the bedroom window.
Bernie scoots onto the bed and they sip their tea, backs against the headboard, legs intertwined. It’s just them, for the first time in a long time and Serena revels in their closeness and the privacy they suddenly have.
She glances at Bernie and a surge of desire washes over her. Bernie is dappled in gold from the setting sun and she looks so beautiful and at peace. She turns and smiles, her eyes dancing and Serena takes both their mugs and kisses her deeply. If Bernie is surprised, she doesn’t show it and slips her hands on Serena’s shoulders to hold her close.
They kiss and kiss, they have all the time in the world. Serena rolls on top of a laughing Bernie, but there is only delight and love in her eyes.
“I’ve missed you,” she says softly, her hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo.
Serena smiles. There are so many things she could say now. Words of love and devotion. Sometimes she thinks there no words to explain just how much Bernie means to her. She is the light that fills all her cracks. The love Serena feels for her is a pulsing sun in her ribcage that threatens to burst out. It’s overwhelming and wonderful.
Instead of saying all this, Serena kisses Bernie again and shows her. She sucks Bernie’s bottom lip into her mouth, her hands slide along Bernie’s arms until they reach Bernie’s hands and clasp them tightly. She brings them above Bernie’s head and lowers her torso until they are flush together. Serena is only wearing shorts and a soft T shirt, and she moans when Bernie slips a thigh between her legs.
Bernie is looking at her with very dark eyes, but seems happy to let Serena dictate the pace. There is so much Serena wants to do, with her, to her, and the possibilities make her dizzy for one glorious second. Because she’s still a little sleepy, and because she feels vulnerable from her earlier wobble, she starts with soft kisses. Brushes of lips, a nip of teeth, a slow swipe of her tongue, and Bernie is trembling. Serena slowly rocks against her thigh, her moans muffled in their kisses, and it is a testament of how much she has missed Bernie, how intoxicating she finds her, when she comes with a surprised cry, her entire body shaking.
Bernie envelops her in a tight embrace, one hand in her hair, the other on her lower back, and she smothers Serena’s face in kisses., whispering words of love.
The sun is going down when Serena gets her breath back. Bernie seems content to just hold her and stroke her back, but Serena has other ideas. Packing wasn’t the only thing on her mind this past month. She has a healthy imagination and a wonderful memory, both of which she puts to use as she slowly undresses Bernie.
The linen shirt ends up somewhere by the door and Serena gets distracted by the freckles dotting Bernie’s pale skin. She plays a long game of connect the dots that leaves Bernie writhing beneath her.
“Serena, please,” Bernie moans, her hands buried in Serena’s hair.
Serena smiles around a nipple, gives it a gentle bite that makes Bernie gasp and buck. She looks up to see Bernie painting, her eyes black and her skin flushed to an attractive shade of pink.
“All in good time, my love,” Serena replies, her voice low and deep.
Bernie closes her eyes, and Serena can feel her frantic heartbeat against her lips. It’s quite the power trip, to have Bernie Wolfe desperate in her bed, and Serena does enjoy the way Bernie’s hands clench and unclench in her hair. She scoots down the bed, however, always eager to give Bernie exactly what she wants and needs.
“How I have missed this,” she says against Bernie’s bare thigh.
The rest of Bernie’s clothes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, and she lays gloriously naked under Serena’s greedy eyes.
Serena drags her blunt nails up and down Bernie’s upper thighs, nestled comfortably between them, her eyes glued to Bernie’s face. She drinks in every twitch, every breathless gasp, every strangled whimper. Feels every one of them deep within her.
When Bernie throws her a beseeching look, she finally relents with a low chuckle. She kisses Bernie’s pale inner thighs, laves the skin with her tongue, and finally takes Bernie in her mouth. The cry she gets as a reward makes her lose her rhythm, but she’s quick to recover and the cry is joined by a string of moans.
The first time Serena did this, many months ago, she’d been struck by how easy and natural it had felt. After an initial moment of hesitation, more due to logistics than anything else, giving Bernie this much pleasure had been such a rush Serena had come without being touched for the first time in her life.
Now, she sets a pace of swirls that has Bernie melt into the sheets, her hands still clutching Serena’s hair. Serena keeps her eyes firmly locked onto Bernie’s, her arms around Bernie’s thighs to keep her firmly in place.
Bernie has never looked as beautiful as she does when she comes, her back arched, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a soundless scream. Her skin appears to glow in the orange light of the sunset, and Serena thinks she has never seen anything as breath-taking.
When she comes to, Bernie makes weak hand grabbing gestures, and Serena goes willingly, nesting into Bernie’s neck, plastered to her side.
The room is quiet but for the hum of the air conditioning. Serena traces fanciful patterns on Bernie’s hip, an easy smile on her lips.
“I can’t believe we get to do that every day now,” Bernie says as she turns to face Serena.
Serena chuckles at Bernie’s obvious excitement.
“Every day? My, my, Ms Wolfe, are you keeping me in your dungeon?”
Bernie laughs, and Serena marvels at how free it sounds, nothing like how it was during her visit to Holby in the early summer.
“I shall bribe you with imported Shiraz and mandazis,” Bernie promises.
She has shown Serena what the little doughnuts look like, and she hopes they don’t pale too much in comparison to her beloved Pulses pastries.
“No pain au chocolat in your lair?” Serena teases.
Bernie huffs with a smile.
“There’s a French doctor in Obstetrics, I’m sure she’ll know where to find some.”
Serena’s eyebrow almost touches her hairline at this piece of information. Bernie has never mentioned a foreign female doctor before.
“Hold your horses Campbell. She started last week. Is happily married to a local anaesthetist, and has a 10 year-old that adopted Jade.”
“The ward cat? That flea bag?” Serena asks incredulously.
Bernie flushes in offense, but then she smiles sheepishly.
“She doesn’t have fleas anymore. And Baptiste took one look at her, and she at him, and it was love at first sight. Celeste is furious,” Bernie laughs.
And suddenly all traces of homesickness are gone. At least for now. Serena can’t wait to meet these people. She wants to be a part of Bernie’s life, and share it all with her. That’s why she moved to Nairobi. She knows names, has seen a few faces on Skype and on Bernie’s phone, but she wants to do it all for real.
This is her life now. Bernie. Kenya. And all the people in it. With typical Serena aplomb, she can’t wait to get stuck in.
The next day, Serena’s first full day in Nairobi, Bernie takes her on a tour of the city.
Bernie’s Nairobi is a collection of cafes she enjoys, the local park she goes running in first thing in the morning, and the walk to the hospital. Kilimani, where the flat is, is surprisingly leafy and boasts two good parks. It is just to the west of the centre of the city, and Serena can see the skyscrapers in the distance. Bernie did choose well. The neighbourhood is calm and safe, and only a 20-minute walk separates them from the hospital.
Bernie freely admits she has done very little sightseeing, too consumed with the opening of the trauma centre, and confesses to knowing next to nothing about the city and what it has to offer. Apart from a few locals haunts Bernie has frequented with her colleagues, Nairobi’s nightlife remains a mystery to her. On this, they are equals and Serena likes that they are going to discover their new town together.
In the evening, Serena gets to meet Samuel, Bernie’s favourite registrar, and a small group of colleagues that work across various wards at the hospital.
Samuel is thrilled to meet her, and hogs Serena’s attention during the entire dinner.
“And then Dr Wolfe said we should amputate, and the guy had to admit he was faking!” Samuel is saying, glee in his eyes.
He’s been regaling Serena with all the stories Bernie has conveniently been keeping out of their bi weekly phone calls. Serena laughs, partly because Bernie is sulking at the end of the table.
The other colleagues at their table are mostly all men and Kenyan, with the notable exception of Esther, a paramedic Samuel is desperate to date, and Lauren, a young American doctor on her year abroad who wants to specialise in trauma surgery. She looks at Bernie as if she hung the moon and stars, but it seems professional, rather like Morven when the young woman had operated with Bernie for the first time.
Bernie introduced Serena as her partner, and no one batted an eyelid, so Serena figures this particular group of people is fine with the fact they are together.
As the night progresses, it is clear that Bernie is greatly admired and well liked. She is almost everyone’s boss, but is gently teased throughout dinner and the drinks that follow.
With a few beers in him, Samuel shares that Bernie is the best doctor he has ever worked with.
“It’s the way she performs surgery. She’s so confident and strong, and she thinks in a way no one else does. I want to be like her when I grow up.”
Samuel is 31. Serena smiles in her wine glass, absurdly proud of Bernie and her achievements.
“And she teaches. She’s not like other big shots. She takes the time to explain and then she lets you try for yourself,” Samuel continues, his shining eyes trained on Bernie, who is deep in conversation with Dr Mwangi, an emergency doctor.
“Why don’t you marry her, then?” An amused voice says behind them.
They both turn to see Esther. Samuel flushes but he recovers well.
“There is only one woman for me, Esther, and you know it’s you. Why don’t I buy you a drink?” He offers smoothly.
“I already have one, lover boy,” Esther replies dryly.
Samuel’s face is the picture of sadness.
“When will you give me a chance, Esther?” Samuel asks plaintively.
Esther lets out a big laugh. Serena likes her already.
“Go get your drink, lover boy.”
Samuel leaves them with wounded eyes. The bar they chose is lively but the music isn’t loud enough to make conversation difficult.
“I feel like I know you already. Bernie does nothing but talk about you,” Esther says.
Serena blushes.
“It’s been months of “Serena would know what to do” and “Serena is the best vascular surgeon” and “Serena looks amazing in her scrubs””
Serena squawks an offended “what?”, and Esther bursts out laughing.
“Ok, ok, maybe she only implied the last one. But I am so happy you’re here. She missed you so much,” Esther continues more seriously.
“I did too.”
“You going to marry her before Samuel does?”
Serena splutters. Another great belly laugh comes out of Esther. Bernie looks up from her conversation and Serena can see her roll her eyes, even on the other side of the bar. She’s wearing tailored linen trousers and a tight black shirt that has Serena’s heart beating fast.
It’s not like they haven’t discussed the future. After all, Serena moved to another continent so they could be together, and the words “for eternity” echo around every time they look at each other with shining eyes.
But marriage? Neither of them have fond memories of the institution, and Serena has rather grandly declared in the past that she would never remarry. Now, however, looking at Bernie smile and laugh and just be, Serena feels a little differently. What would it be like, to be married to Bernie? To be her wife? The word makes her lightheaded for a second.
Esther nudges her and guffaws, her head shaking.
“We could power the entire hospital with the heat of your looks,” she says with great amusement.
Serena blushes, embarrassed, but also oddly proud. Not bad for two women over fifty, she thinks while she takes a swig of her frankly revolting wine.
“And what about you and Samuel?” Serena asks to focus the attention away from her.
It’s like Esther and her are already close friends. The other woman has an easy quality to her, a disarming smile that Serena can’t resist.
“He’s too young for me. And he thinks too much of himself. We will see in a few years,” Esther replies.
Serena is impressed. Samuel is handsome and obviously thinks the world of Esther. And she can see what attracted him in the first place. Esther is like the sun. She warms everyone near her. She has amazing curves, and is obviously proud of them. Samuel is not the only one looking at her tonight.
That’s something that Serena is consciously doing more of, noticing women and what she likes about them. It’s not even sexual. She is just more aware. And women are amazing, she’s come to realise. Bernie chief among them.
Samuel comes back from the bar and drags Esther to the dance floor, and she goes willingly, her great laugh ringing above the music. Bernie is at Serena’s side the next second.
“Having fun?” Bernie asks with soft eyes.
“I am. I like Esther very much,” she replies.
They watch the couple dancing. Samuel looks like he’s in heaven and Esther is shaking her head, laughing but throwing some pretty impressive moves nonetheless.
“She likes you. I can tell,” Bernie says.
The crowd around them means they are pressed against each other, and Serena can feel how warm Bernie’s skin is, even through their clothes.
Bernie leans towards her and her lips brush Serena’s ear. Serena shivers.
“But then again what’s not to like?” Bernie whispers.
Serena laughs and she stands a bit closer to Bernie.
“We’ve never danced together,” she says suddenly.
They never had the occasion, even in France. The closest they have come to is swaying together with Guinevere in Bernie’s arms, Serena humming a soothing melody.
“No. And I’ll have you know I am an accomplished dancer,” Bernie says, a little smug, just like when she’s done something spectacular in theatre.
“I would hope a decorated officer of our armed forces knows how to waltz and fox-trot,” Serena replies, never missing a beat, her eyes alight with delight.
Bernie smiles.
“And samba. Our mess officer is Kandahar was a good teacher.”
Serena flushes at the thought of Bernie pressed against her. Bernie chuckles, obviously fully aware of where Serena’s thoughts have taken her. But then her eyes turn downwards.
“We can’t dance together here,” she says with regret in her voice.
Serena is about to say that she understands, that she came to Kenya fully aware of all the consequences, but Bernie’s lips are at her ear again.
“But there are places. Esther told me,” Bernie continues.
Serena’s heart aches at the sweet hope in Bernie’s eyes. Bernie wants to dance with her, and in the UK they would have little difficulty in finding an appropriate place. Here, however, they are faced with far more obstacles.
As ever when faced with a problem, Serena resorts to humour.
“As long as you don’t get me arrested, Bernie, I will gladly put on a pair of heels and dust off my dancing skills,” she says firmly.
Bernie’s eyes light up and Serena suddenly wishes they weren’t in public. It must show, because Bernie clears her throat, entranced with her beer bottle, her fingers picking at the label.
“We’ve stayed long enough, no?” Serena asks lightly.
Bernie presses her lips together, eyes dancing, and nods. They wave their good byes, and are followed outside by Esther’s great laugh. Serena refuses to feel self conscious.
Bernie flags a cab that thankfully has air conditioning. The driver is blasting Nigerian pop and drives like a maniac, but they make it home in one piece and Bernie throws him enough shillings to cover the fare.
Daniel greets them warmly from his booth, calls out a cheerful “Evening Doctors” in a terrible British accent.
Serena pounces as soon as the door to their flat shuts behind them. Bernie ends up with her back against the wall in the hallway, Serena between her legs, Serena’s hands in her hair.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all evening,” Serena gasps out against Bernie’s lips.
Bernie moans in reply, her hands splayed on Serena’s lower back, pressing her closer.
“I am going to rip this dress off,” Bernie manages to say, eyes dark.
The thought thrills Serena, but she likes the dress very much, a soft and comfortable beige number, and wants to keep it. Instead, they stumble to the bedroom, never stopping their kiss, and end up on the bed in a heap of limbs.
Serena slithers on top of Bernie and grins. It’s dark outside but the lights of the city give the room an ethereal glow. Bernie’s hands ruck up her dress to her waist, and then over her head.
“So beautiful,” Bernie breathes out, her voice awed.
Serena smiles, and they end up in each other’s laps, facing each other. Serena whimpers at how close they are, her sensitive skin enjoying the friction with Bernie’s clothes. Bernie drags her teeth along Serena’s neck, nipping at the pulse point and sucking the skin underneath her ear. Serena keens, arches her back, tries to get closer, her hips moving in circles.
Bernie reaches around her back to unclasp her bra, her hands flat on Serena’s back. Her breasts feel heavy and tight, and she cries out when Bernie bends to take one in her mouth.
“God, Bernie, yes,” she hisses out, head thrown back.
Bernie seems content to worship every inch of her body. She sucks and nips and soothes, until Serena is mad with desire. She tries to hurry things along by slipping her hand between her own legs but Bernie chuckles and grabs her wrist, brings it behind Serena’s back.
“Behave, Serena,” Bernie whispers in her ear.
Her entire body is shaking, and Bernie is still fully clothed. It really isn’t fair, Serena manages to think, before Bernie presses her fingers past the waistband of her underwear and she loses all rational thought.
She groans, and then gasps when Bernie starts a rhythm, her lovely, talented fingers deep in her. Bernie’s eyes never leave hers and it’s quite the sight, Bernie Wolfe and her dark eyes.
It doesn’t take long for her to come, head buried in Bernie’s shoulder. In her defence, she had ogled Bernie all night with less and less puritan interest. It still feels new, being this attracted to Bernie, and sometimes the depth of her desire surprises her, as if Bernie is tapping into a part of her that she hadn’t known even existed.
Bernie is whispering words of love in her ear and she lets herself be enveloped by Bernie’s love, rocking slightly in their embrace.
The night is still young.