Serena's fingers fidget nervously with the two fresh wine glasses she has placed on her desk, sliding them a little this way and then a bit more that way until she is satisfied they are in the perfect position…for now. A restless hand brushes across the desk's bare surface sweeping away invisible debris. Her anxious eyes flit around the office she shares with Bernie Wolfe, double-checking that everything is as it should be. They come to rest on the extra chair that sits innocuously by the wall. Desperate to distract herself from any and all thoughts of what she is about to do lest she lose her nerve, Serena sets her focus on the positioning of the chair. She has already moved it closer to her once, her pulse noticeably quickening as she imagined Bernie sitting by her side, close enough to reach out to, close enough to kiss. Deeming the temptation possibly too distracting, she had pushed the chair back towards the wall but now, as she gives the matter further consideration, it seems impractical to have Bernie sit so far away for what is to be a rather personal conversation so she pulls it close once again. She will just have to resolve to be strong.

Only a matter of days ago she and Bernie had shared a kiss…a kiss that began chastely enough as one cautiously sought the other's consent and on receiving that consent, it was held a moment longer until it became a kiss that was deep and deliberate ….and in that simple act they had irrevocably turned each other's world upside down.

In the time ensuing the kiss, Serena had given much deliberation to all the questions and emotions that it had brought bubbling to the surface to the point where there was little else she could think about. That kiss…so unexpected…so bold… so completely wonderful…and all its implications had taken over every spare synapse. If breathing had not been an involuntary reflex she may well have expired so taken was her mind by the task of working loose the tangle of emotions it had created within her, emotions that swung like the pendulum of a clock fluctuating between doubt and certainty, shock and exhilaration.

For the days and nights since, she had argued back and forth with herself as to what it was exactly she felt for Bernie. Was it friendship or was it more? Dissatisfied with her romantic forays to date, was she simply a disgruntled, middle-aged woman experimenting with something previously untried? Was it simply a phase she would eventually pass through? Where could it all possibly lead to?

It was nothing these days for a woman to be in a relationship with another woman, she had rationalised, and they were both footloose and fancy-free so why shouldn't they take their friendship further but then equally so, she had argued, she had never been attracted to a woman before so why now? How would she explain it to people…to her family? She couldn't even explain it to herself. Did she even need to explain it? She wasn't a lesbian….or was she?

The kiss, Serena recognised, was far more than just a kiss. It was the culmination of months of 'dancing' around each other finding excuses for an incidental touch here and there, a moment's unsuspecting gaze or a chance to be close and share personal confidences. It was a crucial marker in their relationship, an invitation to take the next step. Would they dare to put at risk what they already had and acknowledge to themselves and to one another that their feelings ran deeper than mere friendship or would they deny it, pack it away never to be opened again in order to preserve the friendship?

After much too-ing and fro-ing, the heart, as it so often does, had won out. Love is simply love, gender-blind and indiscriminate in who it brings together, Serena had reasoned and following much deliberation, she could not deny that it actually was love she felt for Bernie for she had fallen in love before and recognized the symptoms – that rapid rise in her pulse rate whenever Bernie was near, increased respiration, pupils dilated, acute sensitivity to any physical contact with the woman no matter how minor or innocent. Serena had them all and she was unsure of the cure or even if she wished to be cured.

In spite of all the uncertainties she still held, Serena gathered her courage as she made the final decision to venture forth into this unknown territory. She could do this; she could imagine a future with Bernie Wolfe; a future that was more than friendship and one that their kiss had seemed to instigate. Furthermore she wanted it, perhaps more fervently than she cared to admit even to herself. They could make it work or, at the very least, they could give it a go. At this stage in her life she didn't wish to be left wondering as to what might have been. Surely, if there was even the slightest chance of a happy future together, they owed it to each other to try.

Now that she had made her decision, Serena was eager to share it with the object of her affection. Despite the sensation that butterflies with the size and grace of elephants were trampling her stomach, her spirits were high as she waited for Bernie's inevitable appearance at the end of the day's shift. There had been a few brief moments of panic as she considered the possibility that her feelings may not be reciprocated but she had quickly brushed aside the idea, after all, it had been Bernie who had initiated the kiss in the first place.

It was as she contemplated the position of the chair yet again that Bernie appeared.

"Close the door," Serena instructed.

Bernie noted with bemusement as she did as she was told that Serena's manner showed little sign of the awkwardness they had experienced over the last few days. On the contrary, she appeared to be brimming with a certain cheeriness.

To confuse her further, Serena produced an extravagantly expensive bottle of Shiraz from the bottom drawer of her desk and with a tempting smile and nod of her head, invited Bernie to join her in a glass.

"Drinking in the hospital? You are a rebel," Bernie said, accepting the offer while clearly impressed by Serena's daring.

"Takes one to know one," Serena quipped back as she filled Bernie's glass. She was having to concentrate as she could feel the reality of Bernie's presence rapidly drawing the wind from her sails, creating doubt where there had been none.

"My kinda gal." Bernie's attempt at keeping the mood light, however, to her dismay, its effect was quite the reverse.

"If you're trying to tie me in knots then…"

"No…Serena…" Bernie quickly jumped in, unable to bear the thought of their friendship unravelling as a result of her rash actions, "Serena, that's the last thing I want."

In all honesty, Bernie couldn't say she regretted their kissing…it had been something she had secretly wanted to do for weeks…but perhaps she could have handled the aftermath better.

As Serena presented Bernie with her glass of wine both women took unusual care to ensure their fingers did not touch as it passed between them.

Desperate to put her colleague at ease, Bernie took up the seat beside the desk, oblivious to the unsettling effect such proximity would have on her friend.

"I kissed you because I wanted to….but beyond that I wasn't really thinking…"

As an excuse it sounded rather feeble even to her own ears but she hoped Serena would at least give her points for honesty.

"Me neither…needless to say," Serena added with a weak laugh in an effort to diffuse the discomfort that filled the room as well as her own rising uncertainty. Her full attention was now focussed on Bernie's words.

"I can see how uncomfortable the whole thing's making you….so I think we should toast our undeniable sexual chemistry…"

Serena couldn't restrain a small smile of relief. Bernie had felt it too. It wasn't just her own imagination running wild. It was real. They could make it work.

"And say no more about it."

"What do you mean 'say no more about it'?" Serena's brain screamed.

The words left her floundering and confused. "You…you want to forget it ever happened?" Serena asked as she fortified herself from the shock with a slug of her wine. Any bluster that had been left in her sails had now all but disappeared.

"Well…." Bernie hesitated, her heart warring with her head. More than anything, she wanted to take Serena in her arms and kiss her again, deeply… passionately …and show her how much she cared about her but she could see the extent to which the situation had disturbed her friend so she said what she knew she must say. "I think it's wise….um…me, messy divorce….you, dyed-in-the-wool heterosexual…as romance goes, it's a bit of a non-starter…"

"No….." Serena conceded, hiding her disappointment behind an unconvincing smile and an attempt at humour, "it's not exactly Mills & Boon, is it?"

"But we do make a great team though," Bernie added in the hope that she had said all the right things and that their friendship would remain intact. "Here's to keeping it confined to theatre…"

Bernie raised her glass expectantly but the toast was left hanging in mid-air. Instead, Serena placed her wine glass on her desk and looked directly into Bernie's now puzzled face.

"No…no…I'm going to have to stop you there," Serena said as she brushed away Bernie's unwanted words with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'm sorry but…. I don't want to confine what we have to theatre…. and I'm going to push the boat out here and suggest….hope…that you don't either."

Bernie struggled for words. Serena had deviated so completely from the script she had prepared in her head that she was at a loss as to what she should or shouldn't say next. She hadn't thought to have a Plan B.

"Maybe….but wouldn't it be easier...?" Bernie began.

"Nothing truly worth having is ever easy, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes…but..."

Now that she had started, Serena's courage gathered to the fray and she wasn't about to be interrupted.

"And after thinking it through….Good Lord, I've thought of nothing else for days I'll have you know….You're right, we do make a good team but I think….I know I would like it to be more than work…if we…if you want to…..As much to my own surprise as anyone else's, I liked kissing you…I liked it a lot….and I had quite hoped we could do it again…sooner rather than later. I don't really care what people will think or say. It's the twenty-first century for heaven's sake. If it's an issue, we can deal with it….together….can't we?"

Having said what she had wanted…needed…to say, Serena's bravado began to vanish as rapidly as it had appeared. Suddenly she felt completely exposed and couldn't bear to look at Bernie for fear that she had just made a complete fool of herself. Instead she turned her attention to the glass of wine on her desk, fixing her stare on the swirl of the dark red liquid as she slowly twisted the stem between her fingers. All at once every doubt she'd had came screaming back at her. Had she misjudged the situation? What if Bernie didn't feel the same way? Was the kiss a spur of the moment thing after some kind words and Bernie now regretted it?

Bernie had always admired the way Serena confronted problems head on and her admiration only grew for she fully appreciated the risk the woman had taken in revealing her feelings for her with such openness. It was more than she, herself, had been willing to do. Quite frankly, she envied Serena her nerve. Despite her feats of courage in the war zones of the world where she had mended ravaged bodies amidst a peppering of explosions and gunfire, Bernie faced a constant battle when it came to tackling the more basic things like her own emotions. Her immediate default setting was to turn and run.

"Are you sure it's what you want?" Bernie asked. The warmth of her hand as she placed it gently on Serena's thigh did not go unnoticed. "You're not uncomfortable with…"

"It terrifies the life out of me," Serena answered candidly as she continued to avert her gaze, "but in a way that's…I don't know….exhilarating….if that makes sense….so yes, I'm as sure about it as one can be with these things…." Serena finally turned to face the woman she loved, her eyes wide and pleading, "Bernie, I'm too long in the tooth to play games….to deny how I'm feeling so I'm up for it…if you are, of course."

The sheer bravery of the woman set off a discernible hum around Bernie's heart that steadily rippled through her whole body. She leaned towards her friend and lightly crooked a finger under her chin then gently drew Serena's mouth towards her own. However, before their lips had a chance to meet, a sudden sharp rap on the door instantly flung them apart and set them upright in their seats. The knock was followed by the appearance of Raf.

"Oh, Bernie, good you're still here…." he began then, noticing the opened bottle of wine on the desk and the half-filled glasses, sensed that perhaps he had interrupted something. "Celebrating are we?"

Doing her best to hide her fluster, Serena replied drily, "No…not exactly."

"You wanted me for something?" Bernie asked, putting him back on track and perhaps saving him from the sharp end of Serena's temper because, at that moment, she looked anything but pleased to see him.

"Ah…yes. I know, strictly speaking, you're finished for the day but I was wondering if, before you leave, you could take a look at Mr Collins…the motorbike accident…in 24. I'm a wee bit concerned that we may be looking at a blockage in the femoral artery and I'd like your opinion before we think about having to go in again."

"Right….I'll be there in a moment," Bernie said as she relieved him of the file containing the most recent set of x-rays and test results which he held out to her.

With the reassurance that Bernie would soon be there and still with the distinct feeling that his presence wasn't quite welcome, Raf took his leave. Bernie, too, reluctantly stood and made for the door. As she opened it, she turned back to Serena and, determined to take her cue from her friend and not avoid her emotions this time, she said quietly, "We need to finish this conversation…."

"Yes we do."

"Dinner?"

"Tonight?"

"My place?"

"Okay….7?"

Bernie smiled in agreement then turned and made her exit.

"I'll bring the wine," Serena called out after her. It was probably information that was already taken for granted but she thought it only polite to make the offer.

Serena slumped back limply in her chair as she watched Bernie's figure disappear down the hallway. Her energy was now totally drained. This 'falling in love' business was more wearing than running a marathon, she thought bemusedly, and something better off left to the young but being older and wiser, she well knew that one didn't get to choose when they were to be struck on the side of the head by the brick of love nor the circumstances surrounding it.

oooOooo

In spite of or more likely, because of the vast number of bland, army-style meals she had consumed over the years, Bernie did appreciate a good, home-cooked dinner, however, she'd never had any real inclination to perfect the art of cooking, herself. Wasn't that what restaurants were for? She could do the basics but that was where her skill set and her interest ended. She remained truly in awe of those talented artisans who managed to whip up a gourmet banquet for eight from half a pound of mince, three assorted vegetables and a bottle of wine and all in under an hour. From memory, her fridge presently contained one wilted lettuce so she had no chance of conjuring up anything the least bit edible. A meal at this short notice would have to be on the understanding that the roast chicken, accompanying baked vegetables and, as an added bonus, dumplings (a surprise she'd discovered in the freezer section…who knew you could get pre-cooked dumplings?), would be compliments of her local convenience store.

After a quick trip through the shower and a fresh change of clothes, Bernie headed to the kitchen to see to the final preparations of the meal. As she carved the chicken and plated the vegetables she thought about what it was she was going to say to Serena. She hadn't invented the existence of their sexual chemistry…it had been there from the start and she had felt it's force more strongly every day, drawing them together like filings to a magnet, closer and closer to that inevitable kiss. The question was, did she want to take it any further? Her instinctive answer was yes she did, but was it wise?

Bernie had always taken the opportunity to learn from experience. Unfortunately, her most recent experience with love had taught her that it could hurt like a bitch and the only relief was time. She wasn't sure if enough of it had past to allow her to face the possibility of bearing that amount of pain ever again and even more importantly, she didn't want to risk hurting Serena in that same way. Why did relationships always have to end, she asked herself not for the first time, and why did someone always have to suffer? Would she and Serena have to eventually pay the price for daring to love each other?

Bernie roused herself from her musings long enough to take a glance at the clock. She still had enough time to make a gravy for the dumplings if she was quick.

It was promptly at 7pm and right at that crucial stage of stirring and simmering which determined whether the gravy was going to be lump-free or not that the buzzer to Bernie's apartment rang letting her know that Serena had arrived and was waiting in the lobby.

Just a few more seconds were needed, Bernie decided as she studied the thickening, brown liquid. The buzzer rang again impatiently. Ready or not, it would have to do. Bernie quickly removed the saucepan from the heat and poured the mixture into the waiting gravy boat, noting with self-satisfaction that it was just the right texture and consistency, then hurriedly attended to her guest. On the small CCTV screen she could see Serena waiting anxiously for her to respond.

"Sorry, Serena," she apologised into the speaker as she pressed the button to allow her friend access to the lift, "Come on up….fifth floor…502."

Moments later there was a light knock on her door which she opened to a nervously-smiling Serena who immediately held forth the two bottles of wine she was carrying.

"Two bottles! You're planning a big night," Bernie joked as she gestured for Serena to come inside.

"I'm blaming you…I didn't know what we were having for dinner so I couldn't decide which one to buy, red or white," Serena explained as she entered Bernie's modern, open-plan apartment for the first time, "so, in the end, I bought both. Now I look like an alcoholic."

Bernie relieved her of the incriminating bottles and led the way towards the kitchen where she placed them on the bench while she reached down two glasses.

"I was worried that you might have second thoughts and not turn up," Bernie confessed tentatively as she stood beside Serena and poured the wine, making an independent decision to have the red which she knew Serena preferred.

Serena stepped a little closer as she accepted her glass of wine and laughed drolly. "Hardly…I haven't been able to concentrate on anything else all afternoon….Hanssen came in to talk to me after you left and I can honestly say I don't recall one word he said….I hope I haven't agreed to sign up for the Foreign Legion or something equally foolish."

Once Bernie had poured sufficient wine into her own glass she turned and faced Serena with it raised slightly.

"To us," she toasted. Her voice almost a whisper.

"To us," Serena repeated as they chinked their glasses in agreeance then each took a deep, fortifying swallow of the soothing, red liquid. What kind of 'us' did she mean, Serena couldn't help but wonder. Us as friends or as lovers?

"At the risk of sounding completely ridiculous, I have to confess that I actually arrived here about fifteen minutes early….I've been sitting in the car killing time by trying to answer the questions on the BBC News Quiz….and did rather well, I might add."

"Oh, Serena," Bernie laughed, "why didn't you just come up? You know it wouldn't have mattered."

"I guess I didn't want to seem too eager…too pathetic."

As Bernie looked over her glass at the embarrassed flush on Serena's cheeks, she was sure there hadn't been a time she had wanted to kiss her more than right now but for reasons she was unsure of, she refrained. Instead, she put down her wine glass and went to fetch the necessary plates and some serving cutlery, effectively moving out of the way of temptation.

"Seeing as it's only us, I didn't think there would be any need for formalities so we could just put what we want on our plates here and then move to the dinner table," Bernie suggested, handing Serena a plate and changing the direction of the discussion entirely.

Looking at the spread of food, Serena said with a touch of friendly sarcasm, "You've been busy."

"Not really, I'm afraid," Bernie replied with a guilty smile before realising the tongue-in-cheek tone of the comment. "It's all store-prepared as I think you are well aware so you can stop teasing now. I confess. Besides, there's only so much you can do with only a wilted lettuce in your fridge."

"Right," Serena laughed as she pronged a baked potato with her fork and placed it on her plate. "I should be more grateful then."

With plate and wine in hand, Serena followed Bernie from the kitchen into the open-plan living and dining area where a small table had been set. The soft light from two strategically-located floor lamps gave the room a pleasant ambiance. As they each placed their plate and wine on the table, Bernie picked up a small remote control. At the press of a button, the heavy, blue drapes that enhanced what Serena had assumed was a solid wall, began to slowly draw back revealing several floor-to-ceiling glass panels which ran the length of the room. From where Serena and Bernie now stood they had a breath-taking view across the Thames to the light show that was the heart of London.

"Oh, Bernie, that is spectacular!" Serena exclaimed as, wide-eyed, she admired the panorama before her.

"It is quite special, isn't it," Bernie agreed, "after all the destruction I've seen…towns and cities torn apart by bombs and fighting…I needed something that would give me hope. This is it. A reminder that as humans we can create as well as destroy."

Bernie rarely mentioned her experiences in the field. Instinctively, Serena slipped an arm behind Bernie's waist and rubbed a soothing hand across her back. She would be forever thankful that she had not witnessed firsthand the horrors of war that her friend must have seen. Before any melancholy could set in or the nearness of her friend became too much to resist, Bernie gestured that they sit and have their meal.

As they ate, they talked. Safe topics….work issues….research articles….one or two 'Jason' anecdotes. It wasn't time to discuss the big stuff yet. As Serena looked across the table from time to time at the woman opposite her, her eyes were inescapably drawn to the opening of Bernie's shirt where the top two buttons had been left undone, her sapphic glimpses admiring the smooth skin and the swell of her breasts. What would it be like to kiss every inch of that exposed skin? Then, caught by the motion of Bernie's hand slowly turning the stem of her wine glass as she spoke, Serena found herself imagining how impossibly glorious it would be to allow those skilful surgeon's hands full access to her body.

Before her imagination could get too carried away, she realised with a start that Bernie was speaking to her.

"Serena?"

"Oh…sorry….I was…um… having a...um... 'moment'… sorry, what did you say?"

"Would you like some more wine?" Bernie repeated, having noticed that Serena's glass was now close to empty.

"Sure…thanks."

"Is everything alright?" Bernie asked as she poured. "You've gone unusually quiet and you haven't eaten much."

Serena lifted her gaze from her plate to Bernie's concerned eyes but said nothing.

"Serena, what's wrong?"

"I want to make love to you," Serena blurted out and then, in her moment of cognition, added, "Oh God….I've gone and said that out loud, haven't I?"

She could feel her cheeks immediately flush with the brightness of a beacon.

Despite her astonishment, the corners of Bernie's mouth turned up in a barely perceptible smile.

"Now who's trying to tie who in knots?" she asked.

"I'm so sorry, Bernie…I didn't mean it….well, I did but I didn't mean to say it quite so loudly…"

An uncomfortable silence fell over them for what seemed like a millennium until, without any further words, Bernie, her expression unreadable, pushed her chair back, stood, collected the plates and retreated to the kitchen. Serena sat with her head in the palms her hands, berating herself severely.

"You stupid, stupid idiot," she muttered vehemently.

Eventually collecting the few remaining scraps of her pride, Serena also stood and made her way towards the kitchen where she was in time to see Bernie putting the last of the food dishes in the refrigerator.

"I'm sorry I put you on the spot like that," Serena tried again, "it was inexcusable…"

Bernie closed the fridge door and turned to face Serena, resting a hand lightly on each of her friend's shoulders and drawing her in a little closer.

"Stop apologising, Serena….it's fine…I'm fine."

"I don't know what came over…"

Bernie silenced her the best way she knew how, with the kiss she had been longing to give her all evening.

As they eventually drew apart, both women breath-taken and with pulses still racing, Bernie asked, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"You kiss the very life out of me and then feel the need to ask me that?" Serena replied in mock astonishment.

"Only…I was thinking….perhaps we should take it a bit more slowly…"

Moving out of the embrace that they had found themselves in so she could give Bernie the full benefit of her gaze and in order to convey the sincerity with which she spoke, Serena said, "I'm the wrong side of fifty to be sitting on the edge of the water just dabbling my toes ….At this stage of my life I think I need to be willing to jump in, boots and all."

"You certainly have a way with words, Miss Campbell," Bernie laughed softly then, after a moment's hesitation, she added, "In that case, there's something I should probably tell you."

Serena could feel her every muscle tense with looming dread. What was she going to surprise her with now? Had she and Alex got back together? Or, possibly worse still, was she considering going back to her husband? Was it that she liked her sex a bit on the kinky side with lots of leather, chains and hot wax?

"What?" she whispered, the trepidation clear in her voice.

There was that hesitation again. "Just tell me!" Serena wanted to cry out.

Bernie encircled Serena once more in her arms, mentally took a deep breath and plunged in.

"I just thought you should know that…I love you…."

Serena instantly felt the hot sting from the tears of both relief and elation that welled in her eyes. She desperately wanted to return the sentiment but, choked with emotion, the words would not form. For now, the best she could do was to ply Bernie's neck, cheeks and finally her mouth with a flurry of damp kisses.

Bernie released Serena from her embrace, sought out her hand instead and led her towards the bedroom, flicking off the switches on the way, leaving the lights of London blinking brightly against the darkness of the empty room.

oooOooo

Stripping off for the first time with your about-to-be lover is never as seductive or glamourous in real life as it is in the movies but Bernie and Serena had managed without too much fumbling of buttons, clips and zips, to remove their clothes which now lay scattered in a trail on the floor from the doorway to where they now stood, beside the bed.

If someone had suggested to Serena six months ago that she would be standing here in this bedroom in the arms of a woman….and that woman being Bernie Wolfe no less…. about to make love to her, she would have thought them utterly insane and yet, here she was, naked and wanting, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might escape her chest as Bernie's lips press sweet kisses into the curve of her neck. This point in time seemed to prove rather convincingly the old adage that love isn't something you find but something that finds you for this was a place Serena would not have even thought to look.

"Are you cold?" Bernie asked in a whisper as she sensed Serena tremble in her arms.

Serena looked up into the concerned face.

"No….I'm just feeling a little….no, a lot… nervous."

"Me too."

"But you've done this before….I've never….I'm not sure I know what it is I need to do? It's a bit like expecting someone to do open-heart surgery after only having seen it done on television," Serena said, desperate to have Bernie understand her level of uncertainty. All of a sudden she was extremely self-conscious and sensitive to all of her shortcomings in the art of lesbian love-making.

Wanting to lessen Serena's rising anxiety and provide her with some reassurance, Bernie attempted to draw her closer to her but in doing so Serena stumbled slightly and as Bernie tried to right her they both over-balanced and tumbled in an undignified heap onto bed. There was a split second of embarrassed silence then, as their eyes met, they burst into peals of laughter which worked in the way removing the cork from a bottle of champagne does, effectively releasing all the pent-up pressure that had been restraining them.

Gradually, as the laughter subsided, they manoeuvred into a more comfortable position on the bed, Bernie laying on her back, Serena tucked closely by her side.

"Nobody's life is at risk here," Bernie whispered as she gently stroked Serena's cheek, "and there's no real right or wrong way to do this…it's a matter of finding what works for each other….We'll be fine….besides, you know what they say about 'practice'…."

Bernie felt the bubble of a soft Serena laugh against her shoulder.

"And we are quite the perfectionist types, aren't we," Serena added as she traced a trail of light kisses along the thin, silver scar on Bernie's neck before propping herself up slightly so she could put her lips to the scar over Bernie's heart. Those fateful scars, Serena thought as she did so, without them, their paths may never have crossed.

"We are indeed," Bernie agreed.

oooOooo