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Serena Campbell would do her best to watch over the love of her life. Having been rescued and working steadily with a mental health professional to better handle her Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Bernie had her moments, though she would do her best to manage them.
She is alive.
Given the details of Bernie’s situation, the UK government has given her the world, just about. They’d fund whatever therapy or medical treatment she might need, the costs of housing, furnishings, food. Anything. Serena looks through the few rooms of the house, nothing too big, but just enough for them and a guest if Bernie feels comfortable enough. “Bernie?” Serena calls gently, never yelling, never wanting to startle her.
Finally, catching sight of her beloved through the windows leading to the back garden and pool area, Serena calmly opens the door, seeing the woman standing there, “Bernie?”
Bernie smiles, head tilted back, her large brown eyes open and staring at the powder white sky.
“You okay?” Serena attempts again, walking up to stand next to the other woman.
Humming her approval, Bernie grins even more, “I saw a snowflake.”
“Oh?” Serena exhales a soft chuckle, touched by her childish wonder. An occasional flake drifts through the air and she feels Bernie take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you expect more?”
“I hope so.” Bernie licks her dry, cracked lips. She hadn’t been released from hospital for very long, still recovering. “The African desert isn’t known for its blizzards.”
“I wouldn’t think so.” Serena answers, never stopping Bernie from speaking about her ordeal, but never asking about it either. Never wanting to trigger her.
Bernie swallows, her voice far quieter as she speaks again, “I-I didn’t think I’d get to see it again.”
Smiling ruefully to herself, Serena pulls Bernie’s hand closer, bringing it up to her mouth, pressing a soft kiss against the back of it, “well, you’ll have many more snowfalls. We’ll make certain of it.”