Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the short time they had known each other, Ava had never once seen Beatrice angry.

Frustrated, antagonized, exasperated – yes. But truly, full on, unadulterated angry? There had been that time, not so long but still a lifetime ago, when Beatrice had read to her the story of Sister Melanie, and for a sickly, sinking, terrifying moment, Ava had thought she was mad at her. But even then, with her brows furrowed in quiet resentment, she had still looked at her with a modicum of kindness and understanding.  

“It’s not you,” she had said, “It was everyone but you.”

Perhaps Ava had been naive enough to believe that Beatrice was incapable of such emotion, or foolish enough to think she would be exempt should the occasion ever arise. But as she slinks shamefully into the back of the waiting van, hands coated in blood that was not her own, she’s met with the full force of Beatrice’s fury. She barely has time to shut the door before the sister warrior rounds on her, the epitome of livid as she glowers at the younger woman with what could only be described as disdain.

“What were you thinking?” she demands, voice raised. “No, don’t answer that!” she snaps, lifting a hand to silence Ava’s attempt at explanation. “I already know what you’re going to say.”

Beatrice stares, cold and impassive as Ava shrinks beneath her callous gaze, teeth clenched as she works her jaw to bite back a more scathing remark. “We had a plan!” she insists, “We were going to take Adriel on together – the five of us! And what did you do? As soon as things got too much...  as soon as we were overwhelmed, you did what you always do. You broke formation and ran.”

“Yes, because he was getting away!” Ava shouts, defensively. “It’s been three months since the Vatican and this was the first chance we’ve had at capturing him since! I couldn’t let him out of my sight!”

“Then you follow him and wait for back up before engaging!” she reprimands, “Halo bearer or not, you’re not strong or experienced enough to take him on alone! None of us are! And if you had just waited for the rest of us to catch up, this whole thing could have ended completely differently.”

“Instead, Adriel is gone – again! And Camila…” she wavers, the fire momentarily gone as her eyes glaze over with grief, “... Camila doesn’t deserve what he did to her…”

Ava’s eyes well at the thought of sweet Camila and her ever present smile, silently praying to a God she still isn’t sure she believes in that this isn’t the last time she’ll ever see it. Her hands tingle, bathed in the blood of the innocent as she recalls the exact moment it had all gone wrong, reliving the scene like a broken record on repeat… 

Reports of multiple possessions in Barcelona had been swirling around for days, and once it began catching the attention of mainstream media, the OCS knew they had no choice but to intervene. The halo bearer and her elite team of sister warriors were dispatched to contain the issue, and with the sheer number of possessed bordering on the dozens, they knew they were likely headed into the heart of Adriel’s territory. A second and third team had been sent as backup, but the angel-demon was left solely to them, and they had labored over a plan of attack all the way up until it was time to confront him.

The plan was simple enough; stick together, fight together, win together. But Adriel had goaded Ava into abandoning her sisters, tormenting her with mental images of all the terrible things he would do to them and their world once he had won. As soon as he began to retreat, Ava followed, ignoring the shouts of the others as they yelled for her to come back.

It didn’t take long for her to lose them in the fray, and despite her best efforts, Adriel easily bested her in battle once they were alone. Ava was on her knees, wounded and the halo drained, too weak to even lift her head and meet her second death face to face. She can still hear the metal scrape against the pavement as Adriel lifted her fallen weapon, a taunting glint to the sharpened blade as he held it to the light in victory. Ava remembers closing her eyes, simply waiting for it to end, and then…

Nothing.

Nothing but the warm splatter of blood washing across her skin, her eyes opening in confusion and then widening in shock at the sight of Camila standing before her, that damn smile still on her face even as the Cruciform sword sits impaled through her side. 

"No…" she pleads, flashes of Lilith and the Tarask surging to the forefront of her mind, "Not again… please not again!"

Ava doesn’t remember much of what happens next, only knows that she catches Camila’s lifeless body just as an anguished roar is ripped from her lips, and the world is bathed in holy light… 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, returning to the present as Beatrice begins furiously polishing her knives, no doubt needing to keep her hands busy during the long drive out of the city and back to the small church they had claimed as their base of operations. “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen… for her to get hurt. For anyone to get hurt…”

“Look, I get it,” Ava tries again, when Beatrice refuses to acknowledge her words, “I know I screwed up! I wasn’t thinking, and–”

“And that’s exactly the problem!” she shoots back, slamming her hands into her lap. “You don’t think! You just do! You are selfish, and self-centered, and you are no better than the coward you were when this all began!”

Mary, who up until that point had watched silently from the rearview mirror, tears her eyes from the road just long enough to shoot Beatrice a warning look. “Hey,” she admonishes, “Watch it.”

“No,” Beatrice replies, shaking her head. “No. Don’t defend her. God forgive me,” she laughs, humorlessly, “but I may have finally lost my patience for this one. You didn’t ask for this, Ava, that much is understood. We don’t expect perfection, but is it too much to ask for even some semblance of competency?"

Ava's heart stutters at the outburst, playing a rickety staccato as it thrums painfully beneath her chest. She was no stranger to feelings of failure, had grown accustomed to them in the years she spent under Sister Frances's care; she was used to people looking down on her, looking at her like she was nothing more than a burden. But it hits differently when it comes from Beatrice; Beatrice who had been her greatest friend and advocate from the start, now looking at Ava as though she was her greatest cross to bear.

"Okay, enough!" Mary growls, hands tensing on the wheel, "I know you're upset, Bea, and I know you look at Camila like she's your baby sis, but you don't get to take that out on Ava. And you , Ava… you messed up. You should have stuck to the plan like we told you to! But we were up against a horde of possessed and the literal devil himself. Anything could have happened, okay?"

"We all know the risks of going into battle. Camila does too. So don't belittle her bravery by pinning it all on one person. Lilith is with her on the way to the hospital, and she'll let us know how things go. But when Camila comes back to us, I expect you two to have sorted this shit out.”

Ava glances briefly towards Beatrice before quickly averting her gaze, stomach churning at the anger that's still clearly evident in her features. Sighing, she scoots into the furthest corner of the van and settles in for the long ride back. She doesn't think they'll be sorting anything out soon, and she knows she has a long way to go at earning forgiveness. 

Both from Beatrice and herself. 

"Ava, may I have a word?"

It's less a request than it is a carefully worded demand, Ava's shoulders squaring as she pauses mid-step. She had loitered in the foyer of the church since the moment they returned, still dressed in her battle garb as she paced anxiously for word on Camila's condition. While everyone else had settled down to decompress from their mission, she had lingered for what must have been hours now, skipping dinner and later ignoring Mary's call for her to "chill the fuck out" and come to bed. In all that time, she had seen neither hide nor hair of Beatrice, who had swept out of the van upon their return and had blatantly ignored her since. At least, that is, until now.

"Oh, um," she stutters, subconsciously searching for any avenue of escape. "Yeah, yeah… of course."

"Walk with me?" she asks, head inclined towards the door. 

'Oh God, she's going to take me into the back alley and murder me…'

Ava nods, lips taut in a strained smile, "Sure."

She allows Beatrice to lead, keeping a measured half-step behind as they make their way out of the building and into the street. They had sought refuge in a small, inconspicuous church, in a quiet neighborhood off the edge of the city. It had been close enough to the epicenter of possessions that they could mobilize quickly, but far enough away that they were relatively safe from being followed and ambushed. Night had fallen in the time since they had made their way back, their path illuminated only by the moon and the occasional flickering street lamp.

Ava’s eyes sit, trained on Beatrice as they walk the block in silence. She can see the gears turning in the other woman’s head, can practically feel the way she trembles with self-restraint; still clearly furious with Ava for her earlier disobedience, but tempered now and carefully controlled. Nausea swells in her gut, ebbing and flowing like a violent tide, and she knows the only way to get over this is to go right through it.

“You can yell at me, y’know… I know you want to,” she says, turning to look down at her feet. She can handle hearing the words, but Ava doesn’t think she’ll ever be strong enough to actually see Beatrice say them. “I know there’s more you wanted to say… back in the van…”

“I don’t… I don’t want to be mad at you,” Beatrice admits, voice tight. “I do understand that this is difficult for you, that everything is still so new, and confusing, and overwhelming. I know you’re trying your best, but you lack the experience and foresight to know when to make the right decision…”

“You… you are a child!” she continues, slowly growing more impassioned the longer she goes on. “You possess the most sacred and most powerful weapon we have against Adriel, and yet you treat the halo as though it were your play thing – act like this whole thing is a game of superhero! But your actions have consequences, Ava! Life lasting… life ending … consequences, and yet you are still so obtuse… so ignorant to the role you play in this war!”

“You said you wanted to end this, didn’t you?” she demands, stepping in front of Ava as a way of forcing her to look at her. “You said that you would be the last warrior nun, that you wanted to end the cycle of death! And yet, how many more bodies must be thrown in your way before you realize the depth of your own ineptitude? Lilith has already died for you! Camila came close! Who next? Will it be Mary? Will it be me?”

Ava doesn’t realize she’s crying until the first droplet hits her tongue, lips quivering as she tries to hold back the flood. Her chest aches with the hollowness of her heart, every word a blow to its already fragile frame. She can feel the halo pulse against her skin, its usual warmth a stark contrast to the cold look Beatrice gives her; she tries to force her emotions under control, knowing the danger she could draw if she lets too much energy loose. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m sorry that I’m such a screw up, that I can’t get anything right! I know that I still have a lot to work on, and I’m sorry that I’m not the halo bearer you all deserve. I’m trying my best! I am! And I don’t want you to die for me, for any of you to die. I don’t want that… you have to know that I don’t!” 

“Then do better!” Beatrice shouts, hands clenched into fists. “Be better!” Stepping back, she moves to walk away, the conversation done. “You might not be the halo bearer we need, but you’re the only one we’ve got. So start acting like it.”

With Beatrice’s final words hanging in the air, Ava is left on the street corner, biting a fist to stop the hot, shameful tears from flowing. She fails, as is with everything she does, the tears burning a trail along her cheeks to pool and drip from her quivering chin. She closes her eyes, begging for the pain to end, but all it does is cause her more grief. She chokes on a sob and then another, dissolving into a weeping mess as she crumples to her knees.

She’s alone again.

.

.

.

.

.

Further down, Beatrice stumbles as she leaves the sidewalk and crosses the threshold from public property onto the church’s. She looks around, mildly perplexed to find herself outside alone, having sworn she’d left her room in search of Ava. She chalks it up to the exhaustion of the day, both physical and emotional, and decides she’ll get a fresh start tomorrow on making her apology. 

Without the halo’s sight, she never once notices the red wisp trailing slowly behind her. 

Chapter Text

"Ava? Ava, you out here?"

Her eyes flutter, blinking back the haze of half-sleep as she shifts uncomfortably atop the aluminum roof of the van. Her back is stiff, legs numb after sitting there all night, and she can barely feel her hands with how they tremble from the cold. Her face is crusty with dried out tears, and she lifts her arm to rub it against the crook of her elbow before turning around to face the older woman. The smile she offers is pitiful. 

"Hey," she greets, weakly.

"Damn, girl," Mary huffs, shutting the church door behind her as she marches across the small parking lot, "How long you been out here?"

"I dunno," Ava shrugs, staring down into her lap, "Awhile, I guess?"

"A–… awhile?" she asks, skeptically. "Girl, it looks like you've been here all night!" When Ava doesn't respond, Mary scoffs and pulls herself onto the roof beside her. "C'mon, baby H. What’s going on in that head of yours? Talk to me, okay? I can't help you if you don't let me in."

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Ava murmurs, “I’m just being stupid and selfish, feeling sorry for myself when Camila is the one who got hurt… because of me…" 

Mary doesn’t immediately respond, simply stares and takes in the sight of her. Ava looks smaller than she remembers, appears even younger than her already fledgling nineteen years of age. It occurs to her then that she’s never actually looked at Ava before, had never looked at her for who she truly was. It was chaos in the beginning, and with everyone focused on the mission, and she herself hellbent on finding Shannon’s killer, Mary had never stopped to think about it from Ava’s perspective. 

She could only imagine what it must have been like to be trapped inside your own body, with nothing to call your own and no one to care but a sociopathic nun who begrudgingly took care of only your most basic needs. In retrospect, it made sense why Ava ran away so much at the start, why she was so eager to get out and explore. Murderous demons, vindictive nuns, and the crazy super-powered halo in her back aside, Ava had been apart from the outside world for so long, it was logical to assume she had wanted nothing to do with a secret sect of demon hunters that would prevent her from rejoining it.

And even though Ava had eventually changed her tune, had willingly joined them in their journey to rid the world of evil, she was still very much that lost kid she'd been when this all began. There's still a lot of growing up she needs to do, not just because of her youth, but because she had missed out on so many life lessons along the way. And knowing all the emotional neglect Ava had suffered from the nuns at the orphanage, Mary wouldn't put it past them if she had never been taught how to properly cope with negative feelings.

(The innate need to turn everything into a joke suddenly makes a lot more sense.)

Deciding it's up to her to play "Mama Mary", she scoots closer until they're touching, hip to hip as she slings an arm around the smaller girl's shoulder. "Look," she says, curling her hand atop Ava's head, "What I'm gonna say might not be what you want to hear. And it's probably gonna hurt, alright? But before I do, I need you to understand it comes from a place of love. Okay?"

Ava responds only with a quick, short nod, and it's not the acceptance Mary wants, but it is the permission she needs. "What happened to Camila yesterday was your fault. We had a plan – a strategy – and we all agreed to it. You included. We were supposed to stick together, to work our way through the possessed and let the secondary and third teams take on the rest."

"And the thing is, our plan was working. When we fight together, when we move and act like one cohesive unit… I have no doubt in my mind that we are the most unstoppable force on this planet. Surviving the Vatican was proof of that. But… something in you changed, like you completely forgot we were by your side. As soon as Adriel slipped away, you broke the chain and ran after him."

"I didn't want him getting away," Ava defends, quietly.

"I know," she nods, reassuringly. "And as long as we've all been doing this, none of us will ever truly know the weight you must feel as the halo bearer to stop him. But like I said, we had a plan, and you went against that. Without consulting us, without even a warning, you just… tore off from the group, and we couldn't find you."

"We had no idea where you went or what was going on. Not gonna lie, Ava, I was scared… I was really, really scared for you. We all were," she adds, bumping her head gently to Ava's. "Lilith went absolutely berserk trying to claw her way to you, and I've never seen Beatrice fight so frantically as she did."

Ava flinches at the mention of their ninja nun, an action that doesn’t slip past Mary’s careful gaze, but there’s still the matter of her reckless insubordination that needs addressing first. “You were gone maybe two… maybe three minutes tops,” she continues, “That’s not a long time, but in the middle of a fight, every second could mean life or death. When we finally found you, Adriel already had you on your knees. We… none of us thought we were going to make it in time…”

“But Camila… Camila just gunned it, shoved past everyone and everything in her way to get to you. She hasn’t been with the OCS much longer than you, but… she was the best of us when it mattered.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel worse, you’re succeeding…” she sniffs.

Mary laughs, only half-humored as she shakes her head. “I’m not trying to make you feel anything. All I’m trying is to get you to see what happened yesterday from our perspective. But look, just because what happened was your fault, that doesn’t make it your fault.”

Ava blinks, “I don’t get it…”

“I’m not saying I agree with how she said it, but… Beatrice made some fair points in the van on the way back. Hey, no– listen , Ava,” she sighs, tightening her grip when the other girl moves to leave. “Place of love, remember? All I’m saying is that you’re impulsive and you don’t always think things through. You need to learn to slow down and take stock of the situation, to take a step back instead of always charging forward.”

“With that said, Camila getting hurt isn’t all on you. There’s so many other factors that come into play, it’s unfair and illogical to place that blame directly on one person, or one set of circumstances. Who’s to say she wouldn’t have gotten injured even if we all managed to fight him together? Or what if we hadn’t gotten to him at all? What if he had had more possessed than our intel suggested?”

“What I’m trying to say is that nothing is set in stone, Ava… so don’t make a mountain out of a pebble, okay? At the end of the day, Adriel is the one that hurt her, and it’s Camila who made the decision to jump in his way.”

Ava studies Mary, taking in the genuine kindness reflected in her eyes. She wants to believe her so badly that it hurts, and maybe if they had had this conversation before her second encounter with Beatrice, she might have been more inclined to accept it. But the damage had already been done. She had spent all night festering in thoughts of guilt, self-doubt, and inadequacy; had sat for hours in steeping temperatures just for a chance to feel numb again. Her head knows what Mary is telling her, but her heart isn’t convinced. 

As if reading her thoughts, Mary carefully extracts herself from Ava and leaps down from the van. Dusting off her pants, she looks up at the younger girl and nods her head towards the church to show that she’s leaving. “I can sense your hesitance and that’s totally valid,” she says, “You’re allowed to feel the way that you do. I know you want your space right now, and I can respect that. So when you’re ready to listen, come and find me, okay?”

Ava doesn’t really respond, giving only a small, reluctant nod as any indication that she had been heard. Mary gives her a final once over before turning around and walking back towards the door she had exited from, giving a small salute in farewell. 

“Don’t stay out here too much longer,” she adds, “Sister Agnes brought fresh pastries and sandwiches from the bakery down the road, and Bea just put on a fresh pot of coffee. We’ll be in the catechumen room if you get hungry.” 

"Did you find her? Is she okay?" 

Beatrice is on Mary like a heat seeking missile, zeroing in on her the instant she steps through the door. She's the picture of calm and collected, but Mary knows her well enough to know that she's been worried about Ava – anxious even, if the slightly higher pitch is anything to go by. But she doesn't have it in her to go through another personal conversation this early in the morning, waving her off in exchange for a hot cup of coffee and some food.

"She's fine," Mary assures, rifling through the boxes of baked goods, "Or, well, as fine as she can be all things considered. She's obviously still upset about yesterday, so give her some space, okay? She’s still working through a lot of it.”

Beatrice lowers her gaze in thinly veiled shame, “Did she…?”

“No,” she shakes her head, finally selecting a small toasted ham and cheese. Giving it a cautionary sniff, Mary chews into it before responding, “Not out loud, at least. But like I said, give her some room to think. It’s gonna take time for her to process everything.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at her in the van,” she sighs, head shaking with remorse. “I let my emotions get the best of me and–”

“Give it time,” Mary repeats, waving her sandwich at her in warning. “I already talked to her, and Ava knows she can come to me when she’s ready. She’ll come back to you too, eventually, and then y’all can make up and go back to making googly eyes at each other when you think the other isn’t looking.”

“G-googly eyes?” she sputters, composure slipping momentarily, “We do not make–”

“Mhmmm! Big ‘ol heart-shaped googly eyes,” Mary insists, taking a sip of her coffee. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be polishing my shotguns and eating this delicious cheesy meat bread over there. In the corner. Alone.”

Beatrice knows a dismissal when she hears one, retreating to the small corner she had resided in earlier as Mary plops onto a fold-out chair on the opposite end of the room. Taking her own seat, Beatrice lets her eyes wander around the catechumen room they had claimed as their ‘mission control’, watching as the other warrior teams mill about, chatting over breakfast as they pack their bags for the return trip to Cat’s Cradle. The majority of conversation is, to be expected, on the events of the previous day, the women speaking in hushed reverence at the sheer power Ava had displayed.

While many had been wary of her following Shannon's death, Ava had eventually won over the other nuns through sheer determination and force of will. It also helped that Mother Superion seemed to take more of a liking to her post-Vatican, and while they had gone on a handful of missions in the months since, this was the first time they had been joined by other teams. There had been gossip of course, whispers of her first battle against Adriel and how she had performed a mass exorcism on his army that day. Most believed the tale to be exaggerated in one way or the other, but now they had seen for themselves that Ava is both capable and worthy of such feats.

And while they speak of it in awe and admiration, only Beatrice knows the true toll it takes on Ava to conjure such power, both mentally and physically. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the anguish Ava must have felt, and how much pain she had had to push past in order to unleash such a devastating wave of halo energy. Her stomach winds itself into knots at the thought, knowing she only added to that pain, twisting the proverbial knife in what was already a gaping wound. 

'How could I have let myself treat her so harshly?' she muses, despondently. “How could I let my control slip so far? I’ve been upset with Ava before, certainly, but its never been to that point…’

Unfortunately, she doesn't get long to dwell on her mistake, the door pushing gently open as a tentative Ava shuffles her way in. Worse for wear is an accurate description of her current state, though haggard might be more appropriate with the way yesterday's clothes hang from her body; disheveled and unkempt, slightly damp from the early morning air. Beatrice, despite Mary's earlier warning, can't help but gravitate towards the young halo bearer, calling a soft greeting as she crosses the room.

"Good morning, Ava," she says, gently, hoping to convey her earnest welcome. But the reaction she gets is almost visceral, Ava recoiling at her approach, and she has to stop herself from reaching out in comfort as she was prone to do. “Hey, are you okay? You… you never came to bed last night. I was worried…”

Ava takes a few cautionary steps back, creating physical distance between the two as she actively averts her gaze. “Sorry, Be–,” she stops, swallowing back her words. “Sister Beatrice,” she corrects respectfully, head bowed in apology. “It won’t happen again. I’ll try and make my whereabouts more known from now on.”

“Sister Bea–” she begins, taken aback. Ava had never called her ‘Sister’, except perhaps in the beginning when they had met, or as the occasional butt end of a joke. It had always been ‘Bea’ or Beatrice since they had known each other, and she can’t help the twinge of discomfort it spurs in her chest. She knows she had hurt Ava back in the van, but to lose all familiarity between the two and be relegated back to Sister Beatrice?

She doesn’t get the opportunity to question it further as a portal appears in the room, Lilith stepping through. Ava quickly excuses herself to meet the already approaching nun, citing a need for an update on Camila; swiftly, she ducks away, leaving Beatrice confused and concerned that she had missed something important. 

Chapter Text

For a place that was meant to inspire healing, the hospital is anything but welcoming; the air is tainted with the stench of chemical disinfectant and the colorless walls are both impersonal as they are unpleasant. Lilith imposes a commanding presence as she leads the three women through the labyrinth of floors and hallways, keeping a brisk pace in her eagerness to return to Camila’s room. Beatrice and Mary keep a half-step behind, marching in near perfect synchrony as they too are anxious to meet with their injured sister, to ensure with their own eyes that she’s alive and well.

Ava, however, trails at a far more subdued pace, walking just fast enough to keep them in view. She knows she should be more enthusiastic, that she should share in the others’ anticipation and excitement, but she can’t help the ball of dread that sits and sinks in her gut the closer and closer they get. It’s not that she isn’t happy; she is. When Lilith announced Camila had successfully made it through surgery and was resting now, the halo in her back had practically sung with joy and Ava had to excuse herself to the restroom to sit and weep in the stall for ten minutes straight. 

Ava is happy – ecstatic, even. She just doesn’t know yet how she’ll ever be able to look Camila in the face again, doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to see that same smile and not remember the spray of blood that had slipped past it, or how frail and lifeless she had felt in her arms. It hurts just to think about, to even imagine that her light had nearly lost its shine, and if Camila had died she would have had no one else to blame but herself. Despite Mary’s words, Ava knows yesterday’s incident had been completely her fault; first for letting Adriel get to her, then for breaking off from the group, and finally because she was too weak and inexperienced to fight him on her own. 

‘I need to do better,’ she thinks, Beatrice’s words still echoing in her head from the night before. ‘I need to be better.’

Before she can decide exactly how she’s going to go about that, Ava is brought from her reverie as Lilith slows to a halt, a gentle smile on her face as she knocks quietly on an open door. Mary and Beatrice crowd around the entrance, wanting to get close but not overcrowd. There’s a weak, happy laugh – undoubtedly Camila’s – and the two step in closer, leaving Lilith to watch from the doorway as Ava lingers in the hall.

“What are you doing?” she asks, eying the smaller girl in half-amusement. “Get in there.”

“I…” her head shakes with hesitance, "... I can't."

"You can't or you won't?" Lilith tests, head tilted in question. She's not judging, not angry… just curious, and Ava wonders what she must think of all this. After all, she too had taken a hit for the halo bearer and had paid a hefty price for it. Surely, she must have some thoughts. 

"... I don't regret it, y'know," she says, when Ava remains frozen. "Even though I've been through so much, and there's still so much I don't remember about my time on the other side… I don't regret it. Not for a second. Because you are my sister and that is what we do for each other… and I know Camila would say the same." 

“She almost died,” Ava murmurs, and even just saying it out loud is another lance to her already wounded heart. 

“But she didn’t,” she insists. “I mean, I can say this from personal experience that it is far from pleasant, but the stab itself was a clean wound – flesh and muscle alone. She lost a tremendous amount of blood, but the sword missed every vital organ. It is, for all intents and purposes, a miracle.”

“I hardly think a sword through the gut can be considered a miracle,” Ava scoffs, cheeks reddening as she tries to contain her emotions. ‘I can’t cry. I won’t cry,’ becomes her mantra. 

"Look, I know it must be hard," Lilith tries again, glancing once into the room to check on the three before stepping closer to Ava down the hall. "You have a lot to learn and a lot to catch up on. And we'll help you… it's what we're here for. But right now it isn't about you. It's about Camila. And she wants to see you."

The lump in her throat tastes like gravel and goes down like sand. "How do you know?" she asks, quietly.

"Because," she laughs softly, "Camila called for you. The first thing she said when she woke up… it was your name. She wants you here, Ava. She wants to know you're okay, in the same way I know you want to know she's okay too. And she is – okay, that is. But she'll be a whole lot better once you're in that room with her."

"I… okay," she concedes, defeated.  "Okay…" 

Ava takes a cautious step forward and then another; at the time, she had thought phasing through 20 feet of solid stone would be the most terrifying thing she'd ever have to do, but the distance from the hall to Camila's room is daunting in a way that can't seem to be explained. She feels elated and nauseous all at once, head peeking around the corner to announce her presence.

She nearly breaks at the sight. 

Camila looks so small in the huge hospital bed, head propped up by countless pillows. She's surrounded on all sides by a dizzying number of machines, none of which Ava could tell you what for. Mary sits on a chair to her left, Beatrice stands to her right, smoothing back curls of hair from her face as they share a tender look. She's whispering something to her, something Ava can't hear, but it brings a smile to Camila's face and that alone is enough to shatter her already fragile resolve.

Her throat catches on something fierce, choking back whatever attempt at greeting she may have tried. Instead, a strangled sob gurgles past her lips, catching the attention of the other three. Beatrice and Mary share a look, both choosing to step back as Camila's smile further widens, a gasp of relief escaping her.

"Ava!" she exclaims, her voice scratchy. "You're okay!"

Lilith places an encouraging hand upon her back, carefully guiding her forward. But Ava can't move, won't move. It's like she's paralyzed all over again, her limbs heavy like lead and too stubborn to listen to her desperate attempts to push forward. Instead, she pushes back, meeting the confused resistance of Lilith's hand as she gently attempts to keep her there. And when Ava can't move past, she moves through, phasing out of the room and into the hall.

The last thing she sees is Camila's smile falter, a flash of hurt and confusion taking its place. Ava mouths an apology knowing it isn't enough, knowing she isn't enough, and tears down the hall and away from everyone and everything.

She really is a coward.

The room is stifling in its silence as Ava melts into the hall and disappears, the echo of her hasty retreat hanging in the air. Lilith sighs heavily, exhaling her exasperation as she resigns herself to chasing after the fleeing girl, but Beatrice shakes her head and indicates that she will be the one to find Ava. She presses a comforting kiss to the top of Camila’s head in parting, the distraught expression on her face enough to stir thoughts and feelings of resentment for their halo bearer to the forefront of her mind.

“I’ll be back shortly,” she promises, offering her hand a final squeeze. "Don't worry about Ava. You just focus on resting and getting better, okay?"

Camila nods, her smile returning, trusting in her sister to bring their little family back together.

“Are you sure?” asks Lilith, as she passes her at the door. “I was with Camila all night and you three will be making the return to Cat’s Cradle soon. If you want more time with her–”

“That won’t be necessary,” Beatrice assures, “I know Ava best. I’ll know where to find her.”

Lilith yields easily at that, knowing Ava was always more receptive to Beatrice than she was the others. Having been with Camila since her injury, she’s unaware of the tension between the two, but Mary – sensing a shift in her attitude – is quick to warn her, "Be gentle."

As disappointed as she is in Ava, Mary knows she's still reeling from everything that's happened. Perhaps taking her to see Camila when she was still so wrought with guilt was simply asking too much of her too soon. It doesn’t necessarily excuse her behavior, but at least it does explain it, and Ava really doesn’t deserve to have Beatrice go off on her a second time when she hasn’t even emotionally recovered from the first.

But Beatrice doesn’t respond, merely slipping past Lilith as she moves to take her former place at the side of Camila’s bed. It’s enough to cause Mary to worry, an anxious knot tightening in her chest as she contemplates running after them both just to make certain no further drama ensues. But she knows leaving will alert the other two to the unexpected dissonance in their group, and neither Camila nor Lilith need that on their conscience at this time. 

Mary knows she’ll need to trust in Beatrice and Ava to smooth things over on their own, but she throws up a quick prayer anyway, hoping a little divine intervention might help speed up the process. With a mental sign of the cross to finish off, she returns her attention to Camila, a soft smile playing at her lips as she reaches into the large, inner pocket of her coat and pulls out her tablet.

“Here,” she says, laughing at the way Camila’s eyes immediately light up. “Thought you might want this for your time here.”

“Oh! Thank you,” she grins, already fiddling with it as she tries to open up the piano app. “I’ve been practicing a new song lately. I promise to play it for you all when I get back.”

“You can play us whatever song you want,” Mary promises, patting her arm. “I’m just really glad you’re okay... I’m glad you’re still here.”

She just wishes the rest of their team were here too.

“Are you ever going to stop running away?”

Ava hisses as the halo flares, its warmth spilling across her back as she fights to keep it under control. She knows its reacting to her emotions, knows she needs to calm down and keep it in check, but the sudden appearance of Beatrice is enough to get her already frantic heart rate spiking. 

She’s sitting on the corner of the roof, legs dangling over the edge, and for a brief moment she considers throwing herself over the side just to get away. She doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to survive another one of Beatrice’s tirades, and frankly, Ava would rather take on a few dozen broken bones than go through all that again. Instead, however, she settles for clenching her fists, ignoring the burning ache in her back as she continues to stare out over the ledge. 

She doesn’t look up as Beatrice approaches, refusing to look back and see the frustration she knows is etched into her features. Just feeling her presence is enough, and silently she marvels at how quickly her perception of it has changed; not even two days ago, Beatrice by her side was enough to make her feel invincible. Now, it’s heavy and oppressive, and she isn’t sure how she can handle the drastic change in their dynamic. She doesn’t mean to be, but a part of her is now scared to be near Beatrice…

“Are you here to yell at me again?” she asks, hands fiddling anxiously in her lap.

“If I knew it would work,” she replies, and while she hasn't raised her voice, the undeniable edge to her words is loud and clear.

"I'm sorry," she begins, only to be cut off as Beatrice lets out a derisive snort.

"Are you?" she asks, cooly. "You've said that word a lot in the past few days. Saying sorry means you've acknowledged your failures and that you mean truly to repent. And yet, once again, at the first sign of distress, you choose to run away instead of facing it head on. You can say you're sorry all you want, but the sentiment falls short when you make no attempt to actually make up for your mistakes."

"Why are you here?" Ava asks, feeling herself get defensive. "To rub it in? I already know I'm a failure! You've made that abundantly clear…" 

“I’m only here to bring you back,” she responds, and Ava forces her eyes shut, trying to remember a time when she didn’t feel so utterly useless. She would take Sister Francis on her worst day over Beatrice’s apparent indifference, wondering if this was it; if she had finally reached the end of her near limitless patience and would suffer the cold shoulder from here on out. 

‘I really am a screw up…’ she thinks, ‘The one person I thought I could trust above all else… and I ruined it. Just like I ruin everything else…’

Abruptly, she pushes to her feet and brushes past Beatrice, eyes still averted – still too afraid to see the disappointment she knows is there. Her halo blazes at the contact, burning white and bright, and Ava nearly crumbles from the searing heat. Beatrice stumbles as well, far more roughly than Ava had actually touched her, looking suddenly as though she doesn’t understand the situation.

“Ava?” she asks, and her voice is softer, calmer than it was before. 

“Please don’t,” she says, shaking away the pain as she finally glances over. She’s puzzled by the look of confusion on Beatrice’s face but chooses not to dwell on it, determined to create as much space as she can between them. “I don’t need to hear it again, Sister. I just… need to be alone. Please let the others know I’ll be back before we leave for Cat's Cradle. And tell Camila... tell her I’ll make it up to her…”

And before Beatrice can stop her, Ava is gone again. 

Chapter Text

Beatrice searches for almost an hour, roaming through every accessible portion of the hospital – even sneaking into areas marked off limits – in her quest to find their wayward halo bearer. Ava is nowhere to be found, and after making her second round of the building, it’s made very clear she doesn’t want to be. Eventually, Beatrice has no choice but to return to the others, shame weighing heavy on her shoulders as she slips quietly into the room.

Mary notices her first. “Did you…?”

“I…” she shakes her head, rejected, “...no.”

Lilith sighs and makes to leave, already drawing on her power to create a portal directly to their missing warrior nun. But a gentle hand on her own is enough to put her at ease, Camila shaking her head with an understanding smile. “It’s okay,” she says, “Give her space.”

Camilia is exhausted from the commotion and falls asleep not longer after Beatrice wanders back into the room, dazed and defeated from the strange encounter on the roof. Mary and Lilith look at her with questioning stares, but she can’t really recall what happened with any distinct clarity; all she remembers is leaving in search of the other woman, knowing Ava’s unchecked claustrophobia would lead her to seek a place out in the open. The rooftop seemed most appropriate as it would offer her both the space and privacy she needed, and she remembers making the climb up countless numbers of stairs.

But then, everything becomes muddled after that. She remembers reaching for the door, pushing it open, and then… nothing. A flash of bright light, followed by a few moments of darkness. She comes to only when Ava's shoulder connects with her own, jostling her out of whatever haze had clouded her mind. 

"Please don’t. I don't need to hear it again, Sister," she had said, and Beatrice can still feel the sting of forced formality between the two; feels the wall she had inadvertently placed with her previous animosity – the one Ava now appears adamant in maintaining – growing taller and further apart. It was now the second time she had had a lapse in memory, and she’s terrified to think of what she must have said or done to make Ava so withdrawn.

Beatrice thinks she knows what’s happening, has experienced it once or twice before. The unchecked aggression, the mental confusion and blackouts, the headache she can’t seem to shake; it’s all pointing to the classic symptoms of a concussion, and considering how many hits to the head she had taken during their most recent battle, she wonders why it never occurred to her before. Of course, between Camila’s near-death encounter and the rising tension between her and Ava, she hadn’t stopped to assess her own bearings. 

And while it does explain her random mood swings and the sudden gaps in memory, it doesn’t excuse her behavior. Beatrice takes small comfort in knowing what went wrong, but she doesn’t know how to mend the sudden fracture in their relationship, isn’t sure how to go about repairing her friendship with the younger woman. She doesn’t even want to consider the “something more” that’s been dancing between them for some time now, won’t let herself dwell on a “maybe” that would never even happen. 

Instead, she focuses her attention on what she knows can still be saved, on what parts of them that can still be salvaged and put back together. As much as she doesn’t want to acknowledge it, time and space – as suggested by both Mary and Camila – seem an appropriate place to start. Patience, after all, is a virtue, and Beatrice is well disciplined. She can give time; she can make space.

Except, it seems… she can’t.

When Ava limps in from the hall ten minutes later, Beatrice leaps from her seat by the window. "Ava? Where have you been? Why are you…" she pauses, taking her in, "... is that blood?"  

Ava only offers a half-shrug in answer, nervously clutching a bouquet of hand picked flowers that had seen far better days. Her smile is tepid, nodding at the other two women in acknowledgment as she makes her way to Camila. Shyly, she places it on her bedside table, next to the tablet Mary had brought. 

"She's sleeping," Lilith tells her.

"Good," she answers, quietly. "She needs her rest…"

Lilith eyes the smaller girl, inspecting her disheveled appearance and the slow, still healing wounds. "You could use some rest as well," she murmurs, "What the hell did you do? Jump off a cliff?"

Ava's smile grows, more genuine but still somber. "Just… let out some steam," she replies, carefully reaching for Camila's hand. "Went for a run. Fought some wraith demons. Stole flowers from the garden."

"Nice," Lilith smirks, at the same time both Mary and Beatrice cut in.

"Sorry, but you fought who again?"

"Wraith demons? On your own?"

Ava seems to bristle at their questions, her jaw tightening even as she continues to hold Camila's hand with nothing short of reverence and care. "I know you may not see me as competent, but I am capable enough to at least hold my own against a wraith or two."

“That’s not what I said,” Mary defends, frowning. 

Beatrice has the decency to at least look ashamed, her fingers digging into the cloth of her habit as the anxiety swells inside her. "I'm sorry," she apologizes, "I didn't mean to infer–"

"It's fine," Ava cuts off, stepping back from the bed. "I know I haven't given you all much reason to believe in me or my abilities. It is what it is."

"Hey now," Mary says, glancing nervously between the two, "That's not–"

"True?" she guesses, hands now shoved into her pockets. "Yes, it is. And it's finally time I admit it." Ava hesitates, and then continues, "Look, can I say something? I… I had a lot of time to think about it and I need to get this out before I lose my nerve. The thing is… the thing is, I know I'm not the halo bearer you guys wanted, needed or even deserved. I know going from someone as skilled and qualified as Shannon to some no-name nobody like me is… well, you've all seen how it's been with me."

"I've done more things wrong than I've done them right and… and I know I have a lot to make up for. I…" she pauses, staring intently at Lilith before letting her gaze fall to the slumbering Camila, "... I won't let this happen again. I know it's your sworn duty or whatever to protect the halo, and then you all got stuck babysitting me instead… it wasn’t fair to you guys, and I'll do my best to make your job easier from here on out."

Ava looks to each of them, gaze lingering briefly on Beatrice before turning to look away at some far off distance none of them could see. "I promised to be the last warrior nun and I meant it. But no more sacrifices… not from any of you, and certainly not on my behalf. One way or another, this whole thing is going to end with me. I'm the expendable one here, okay? All I am is a vessel for the halo, and technically, well… I'm already dead. So when it's my time… you guys need to let it happen…"

The silence that ensues is heavy, Ava's words weighing on all of their minds. Beatrice can't read the expressions on Mary's or Lilith's faces, but she knows her own is some amalgamation of frustration, confusion, and grief. Did Ava really think so little of herself? These obviously weren't new feelings; there was no way such thoughts could have just sprung up overnight, even with as difficult as the previous day had been. Beatrice had always known that beneath Ava's bravado lay years of physical and emotional abuse, that her time in the orphanage had taken any sense of safety and self-worth she may have had and crushed it into non-existence. But to hear it said aloud, for Ava herself to lay it all out there in the open…

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Mary begins, hand waving to grab her attention, “That’s a lot to unpack right now, but basically what I’m getting from all this is that the next time Adriel tries to kill you… you want us to just let him? Because if that’s what you’re saying, I think you and I need to step outside and have a whole ‘nother talk.”

Ava, despite the solemnity of her words, laughs and shakes her head. “Things are going to be different the next time Adriel and I meet. I’m gonna be better than I was yesterday, and he won’t get the best of me so easily.” Glancing down again at the sleeping nun, she goes on, “After everything we’ve been through in the past few months, I know I should have taken things more seriously from the start. And I’m sorry it took Camila getting so hurt for me to realize just how much I’ve really slacked off, but I’m ready to do what needs to be done to see this through to the end.”

“Okay, that’s fine, but–”

A knock at the door interrupts their conversation, a nurse quietly announcing her presence as she comes in to check on Camila. “Sorry,” she says, holding up a clipboard, “Just need to see how she’s doing. I’ll be quick.”

“That’s alright, we’ll step out and let you work,” says Ava, already shuffling towards the door. “Actually,” she adds, once they’re all in the hall, “I’m gonna head out. I know the plan was for us to stay the morning and head back to Cat’s Cradle after lunch, but I already spoke with Sister Joan before we left and she said I could catch a ride back with them in their van. She said they’d stop and pick me up since the hospital is on the way out of town. They should be here soon, so I’m just going to wait by the front to meet them.”

“... uhm, okay then,” she mumbles awkwardly, a minute after no one responds. “I guess I’ll see you two back at the Cradle tonight, and… I’ll see Lilith and Camila when she’s discharged?” Stepping back, she waits for someone to say something, but the other three remain silent in their own thoughts. “Right, okay. Good talk! See you when I see you…”

She’s already halfway down the hall when an irate Lilith turns on Mary and Beatrice and demands, “Okay, seriously! One of you needs to explain to me what the fuck that was!”

Hearing the hurt and confusion in her voice, Ava decides to skip the elevator and simply lets herself sink through the floors, heart dropping the entire way. 

“Excuse me. Pardon me. I am so very sorry.” 

Apology after apology rush past Beatrice’s lips as she hurries through the main lobby, barely able to avoid running over patients and orderlies alike in her haste to reach the exit. The automatic doors slide open as soon as she is near enough, hand flying to shield her eyes from the sudden burst of sun. Black dots dance across her vision, lashes blinking rapidly in her attempt to adjust to the light, and she knows she’s losing precious seconds to catch Ava in time.

It’s a little ridiculous, she knows. Ava isn’t going anywhere. She’s merely returning home with another team, and while she doubts the younger woman will be there to greet them upon arrival, she knows they’ll at least be within the same vicinity again come nightfall. But there’s something in Ava’s words that scare Beatrice, even more so than the ‘I’m expendable, let me die if I have to’ spiel she had tacked onto near the end. 

She gets the sense that she’s losing Ava, and Beatrice fears if she doesn’t do something to rectify it now, she may never get what they had between them back – friendship or more. She curses her inability to remember what exactly it is that she had said to the other girl to set her off on such a self-deprecating, self-sacrificing course of action. She knows what she said in the van was out of line, but what about the times after?

Offering up a short prayer for assistance, Beatrice wanders around the loading zone, searching every direction for Ava. She paces back and forth along the street, ignoring the strange, curious looks she gets from those waiting on rides, still praying for her miracle to happen. But a couple minutes of waiting soon become five, and five become ten. Ten drag on, and she knows she’s too late. 

Ava is gone for a third time that day. Beatrice only hopes it doesn’t mean for good. 

Chapter Text

Ava wakes with a start, thrashing violently out of the sheets and onto the frigid stone floor of her room. She hobbles, gaining her bearings as she lunges for the cruciform sword at her desk, ripping it from its sheath as the halo burns in warning. Her hands clench at the hilt, eyes roving wildly as her chest heaves and her body sings with adrenaline, searching anxiously for an opponent that wasn’t there. 

The blade hums blue, its glow ethereal in the scant moonlight. Ava gives a testing slash, attempting to draw out whatever hidden threat lurked in the shadows. Her eyes narrow as she takes a few cautious steps around the room, circling something unseen as the halo continues to pulse and prompt her to fight. 

"I don't… I don't know what you want," she whispers, guard lowering after several tense moments of nothing. "There's nobody here…"

The halo heats up in response, and Ava groans at its protests. She sheathes her sword and lays back in bed, attempting to grasp the last remnants of a sleep that had only just found her. The drive from Barcelona had been a long one, cramped in the back seat with a team she was mostly unfamiliar with. Of course, they had been gracious and kind, even a little in awe of the way she used the halo. They made polite conversation and even offered her snacks, but… it wasn't the same. 

They weren't her team.

They weren't her family.  

Her face twists with pain as she recalls her earlier words at the hospital. Ava knows it could have been better timed, probably better said too… but she also knows that it had to happen. She had already lived her first life as a burden, she wouldn't waste her second doing the same. The halo had given her purpose, but it was her friends who gave her drive, who made her want to be more than what she was. She couldn’t continue to let them throw themselves in front of her because she was too defenseless to help herself, especially when she knew she wasn’t worth the trouble.

“Do better, be better,” she murmurs, Beatrice’s words the new mantra she had chosen to live by. A sigh works its way past her lips, heavy with an emotion she can’t define; just the thought of the other woman sends her heart lurching with confusion and no small amount of hurt. Ava isn’t stupid; she knows there’s no way anything would ever become of them, but that didn’t stop her from thinking that there was something more to her and Beatrice, a connection that ran deeper than the ones they shared with the others. 

‘Or maybe I was reading it all wrong,’ she thinks, throwing an arm over her eyes. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time I mistook something for what it wasn’t…’

It’s for the best, she eventually decides. Whatever may or may not have been between them had been broken, destroyed by her selfish impulse and inability to rationally think things through. Even if she wanted to make amends, Ava knew now was the time to burn that bridge. Whether or not she would actually defeat Adriel is up for debate, but Ava knows her chances of coming out of this alive either way are slim to none. So whatever time she had left, she would dedicate to training, studying, and whatever else needed to be done to make sure she would be the last of her kind – the last warrior nun. 

With another sigh, Ava rolls onto her side, arms wrapped around her pillow in a lonely hug. She shuts her eyes, trying once more to fall asleep. A minute later, she twists around and throws herself onto her other side, desperately trying to find a position that was comfortable. She flops onto her stomach, then back onto her side. Ava tosses and turns, kicking sheets and pillows until she’s too worked up and rolls out of bed with an angry huff. 

“Fine, you win!” she hisses, feeling the halo glow as she throws on her hooded blue shirt and exchanges her sleep shorts for pants. She straps on the osmium vest for good measure, uncertain to where she was being led or what the halo was up to, and slings the sword over her shoulder. 

"What am I even doing…" she grumbles, slipping into the corridor. She navigates her way through the maze of chambers and empty halls, led only by whatever instinct was inside her urging her to move. She finds herself by the entrance of all places, alarmed to hear the sound of a vehicle rolling up, tires crunching over gravel.

‘What the hell?’ she thinks, curious. ‘It’s almost two a.m.’

Ava phases through the wall, bypassing the door to avoid detection. A black van pulls up, and it’s only when Mary jumps out the drivers side does she remember they had left Barcelona at completely different times. She barely has time to throw herself into the nearest bush before Beatrice steps out from the passenger side, instantly on alert as she senses another presence.

“Did you hear that?” she asks, hand reaching for one of her many hidden knives.

Ava freezes in an impromptu impersonation of an ice sculpture, thankful she had thought to wear the vest as she feels the halo glow. ‘Seriously, what is your problem?’ she asks it, ‘Why are you throwing such a tantrum lately?’

“Hear what?” Mary yawns, throwing open the back door to the van as she collects her stuff. 

“There’s someone else here,” she insists, drawing her weapon. It’s only when the blade glows blue that her head snaps up, head swiveling as she searches the courtyard. “Ava?” she calls, hesitantly at first and then more loudly. “Ava!”

‘Shit… shit…’ she thinks, panicking as Beatrice draws closer. “Shit!” she cries, leaping to her feet and bolting towards the gates. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

Beatrice blinks, taken aback. “Ava….?”

“Oh my god, what the actual fuck? ” Mary shouts, clutching her chest in surprise. “Ava! What the fuck are you doing! Where are you going? And why are you running? Why are you running!?”

But Ava doesn’t stop, sprinting as fast as her 5'4 frame would allow, phasing through the thick walls and out into the city streets. She keeps running, one churning leg after the other, until she can’t run any longer, bracing her hands atop her knees in some random alley a dozen blocks away. She’s a little ashamed at how long it takes for her to catch her breath, making a mental note to tack “cardio” onto her already long list of things to improve.

When she can finally breathe without a stitch in her side, Ava straightens out and takes her first good look around. Her first thought is that it’s an alley. Dark, dirty, with a vague hint of vomit wafting through the air? Yep, definitely an alley. 

But then she catches the tail end of something red and wispy turning the corner at the other end of the street, and Ava feels her blood run cold. Of course there would be a wraith – when was there ever not a wraith? Sucking in a breath, she prepares herself for another bout of running, sprinting after the spirit as it slips further and further away. Fortunately, she’s able to catch up, skidding to a halt just in time as two men go barreling past. 

She watches for a moment as the two duke it out, trading blows as they scuffle along the street. She can’t tell what they’re arguing about, only that it has something to do with one of them owing the other money and… err… fornicating with their significant other. If you ask Ava, its an absolutely ridiculous reason for anyone to get possessed, but she supposes when you’re a demonic wraith looking for darkness in a pinch… it’ll do. 

The scraping of her blade as she draws it from its sheath is just loud enough to give the two men pause, heads turning as one to stare at their intruder. 

"Bitch, get the fuck outta here with that Excalibur bullshit!" one of them grunts, eyeing the sword warily. 

"Mind your own damn business!" the other growls.

"Sorry," she shrugs, already brandishing her weapon. "Can't do that. You got a freeloading demon hiding inside you and it's kind of my job to get rid of it." Giving the sword a twirl, Ava laughs and adds, "Besides… Excalibur ain't going nothin' on me."

"You look like shit."

"Aww, thanks, babe. You noticed!"

"That wasn't a compliment."

Ava's eyes roll as she drags herself the rest of the way through the wall, letting the sword clang to the floor as she falls face down onto her bed. She hears more than sees as Mary pushes off the door and stands over her, hovering momentarily before she feels a searing pain between her shoulder blades.

Ava screams into her pillow.

"You got a lil something in your back," says Mary, waving a small knife in her face as Ava turns to stare at the older woman.

"Huh," she blinks, eying the bloodied blade, "So that's what that was…"

Mary scoffs and throws the knife clattering into a corner. "What are you doing, Ava? Is this a joke to you? Because it stopped being funny like a day ago."

Ava sighs, head flopping once more into the pillow. She mumbles something incoherent.

"Come again? I didn't hear that," Mary grumbles, arms crossed over her chest.

Lifting her head, Ava replies, "Couldn't sleep… I was out fighting wraiths."

"Was that before or after you decided to play Jack in the Box and pop outta them bushes on us?"

Despite Mary's apparent irritation, Ava can't help but laugh at the memory. "Oh man, you should have seen your face," she grins, quietly. "You were terrified…"

Mary huffs, annoyed. "You better hush up now before I decide to put that knife back where I found it."

"I'd probably deserve it," she replies, and with the way she says it they both know she believes it. 

The room falls silent, Ava's eyes fluttering as she slowly slips into a half-sleep. She's exhausted. She can feel the bed dip as Mary sits beside her, groaning as a hand is placed atop her head and gentle fingers scratch at her scalp. It's a rare show of physical affection, and Ava finds herself leaning into it. 

"Is this what this is all about?" she finally asks, hand still smoothing through Ava's hair. "About what you think you do and don't deserve?"

Ava remains silent, on the precipice of sleep as Mary continues to scratch her scalp. Mostly she's too tired, but the other part of her is too afraid, scared to let Mary into her heart and head when even she hasn't figured it all out. She only hums in response, unsure of what to say or do. 

"... I get it," Mary eventually says, "I mean, not a hundred percent of it, but I get it. I do. Whatever you may be feeling, all those feelings of failure and self doubt… you aren't the only warrior nun to ever feel this way. Shannon felt it too. She'd go through these periods of depression and extreme lows… she wouldn't talk to us for days, sometimes a whole week , due to the guilt."

"Look here, kid," she sighs, head shaking, "I don't know what you're going through, but you don't have to walk this path alone. I'll follow you, the same way I followed Shannon. We all will. And I know you're still upset, so take the time you need to process and get your shit straightened out. I said it before and I'll say it again… I'll be here when you're ready to talk."

Ava bounces gently as Mary's weight is removed from the bed, whining quietly as her warmth and comfort is instantly missed. But she doesn't move, buried in her cocoon of pillows and blankets, too afraid of what she'll see if she looks up. She can hear Mary make her way to the door, silently counting her steps as she gets further and further away. 

"One more thing before I go," she adds, door held ajar, "I know there's still some hurt feelings between you two, but maybe try talking to Beatrice? At least just to let her know what's going on in that head of yours. You don't have to forgive each other all at once, but… she's really upset about last night and what you said at the hospital. She won't say it out loud, but… she really doesn't need to…"

“... just think about it, okay?”

The door clicks shut and Ava finally lets the exhaustion take her, falling into a restless sleep. Her last thought is that everything that needed to be said between them has already been said…

… there's nothing left for them to talk about. 

Chapter Text

The church bells toll and it sounds like the start of the world, clanging rhythmically into the silent dawn. Ava sits alone atop the roof, stradling the ridge as she watches the sun rise slowly over the horizon. In her time since joining the OCS, it had become a ritual of sorts; while the nuns and other religious attended their obligatory prayers, she had made a habit of climbing to the highest point of the cathedral and watching as the first morning light kissed the sky. 

She can still remember the first time she watched the sun rise over the ocean in those first confusing, chaotic days of post-halo life. She had watched and read so many stories about the sunrise, expecting to watch it and feel reborn. Instead, it had felt… hollow; beautiful, to say the least, but all together underwhelming and uninspiring. It was only after Ronda that she came to understand the significance of a sunrise and all it had to promise.

“Is it a special sunrise?” Ava had asked, perplexed by the idea that so many people would wake up early just to watch the sun come over a hill.

“They’re all special,” Mateo answered, wistfully, “There was a time when we thought we wouldn’t see another.”

Ava appreciates the sentiment now more than ever. With her time limited and days numbered, she knows there’s only so many more sunrises she’ll get to see. She takes a second to let it all sink in, to breathe in this moment and commit it to memory. She takes particular care to remember the colors, the way splotches of red and orange bleed into the receding hues of blue and purple, the way the sky seems an endless prism of possibility. She’s never been one for prayer, but Ava sends one out anyway, a small token of gratitude to the universe for giving her this day.

She takes one last minute to sit in silence and then the bubble bursts, and Ava knows its time to return to reality.

With shaking legs, Ava pushes herself to her feet and slowly makes her way towards the access ladder, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. It was now her eighth night without proper rest (not that she was counting), the halo’s incessant pulsing keeping her awake and agitated until she ran off into the city to hunt any wayward wraiths lingering in the nearby neighborhoods. Fighting demons was the only thing that seemed to appease it these days, and she wasn't about to argue with a glowing hunk of metal burning in her back. But she can’t fault the halo for wanting to do its job, and perhaps with her recent reconviction to be the last warrior nun, it was merely giving her a push in the right direction.

Despite the late night hours and continuously sneaking away from the relative safety of OCS property, Ava is gaining valuable experience with every exorcism. Training is all well and good, but what is the point if she only gets to put it into practice on sanctioned missions? It’s exhausting work, but after spending twelve years in a bed, Ava is mostly content to miss out on a few extra hours of sleep. Besides, with her new schedule having been implemented, if she skips breakfast, she has enough time to catch a quick nap before her first activity of the day. 

With everyone still in prayer, its easy for Ava to slip back into her room unnoticed. She stops to grab a towel and change of clothes, hurrying to the communal bathroom to clean up. Ava showers quickly, not even bothering with her hair as she scrubs away any residual evidence of her late night escapades. She’s still getting her ass handed to her on a few occasions, but she’s come away with less injuries than the night before, and it’s now the third night in a row that she hasn’t been stabbed since starting.

‘It’s the little victories,’ she thinks wryly.

On the way back, Ava sneaks into the kitchen, pilfering an apple and a slice of toast to tide her over until lunch. It’s a pitiful meal, but its just enough to silence her grumbling stomach, and she knows she needs the sleep more than she needs to eat. Quickly scarfing it down on the walk back, she locks her door behind her and throws herself onto the bed, having just enough awareness to remember to set her alarm.

She’s unconscious even before her head hits the pillow, slipping into the blissful embrace of sleep.

Beatrice squints into the light, hand shielding her eyes as she steps out of the chapel and into the brisk morning air. Smiling perfunctorily to a few passing Sisters, she makes her way to the armory, having taken it upon herself to cover inventory in Camila’s absence. Her chest aches at the thought of the younger nun, desperately missing her warmth and bright demeanor. She had spoken with Lilith the night before, who informed her that Camila had been discharged a day ago and was resting at the church they’d stayed at prior, taking the extra time for her to regain a little more strength before making the long drive back. 

She would have portal’d them back to the Cradle, but Lilith still hadn’t mastered long distance jumps, and so far Ava – with the safety net of the halo – was the only passenger she had successfully traveled with. 

Her chest gives another uncomfortable twinge at the thought of Ava, who she had not seen since the night of their return. A whole week had come and gone without the halo bearer, and mornings had gradually lost their appeal now that she no longer had the younger woman’s presence to look forward to. Beatrice begrudgingly acknowledges that this whole “time and space” thing isn’t exactly working in her favor, and she resigns herself to yet another day without Ava by her side.

Beatrice thinks the worst part about this whole thing is that, despite Ava’s glaring absence in her own life, she was never actually that far out of reach. In fact, Ava's presence can be felt in every nook and cranny of Cat's Cradle; from whispers of her growing prowess amongst the newer members to murmurs of respect from the more veteran warriors. She was somehow everywhere and nowhere all at once, but the only place she never seemed to be was with Beatrice herself. 

It had been quite the shock to learn the day after their return that Ava’s schedule had suddenly been rearranged; no longer would her training and studies be dictated by her team, but rather she had been set on a track similar to that of a novice recruit. When pressed for an explanation, Mother Superion merely replied that Ava had asked for it herself, stating a need to focus on the basics and work her way up. And logically, Beatrice could understand that; they had jumped straight into stick fighting and sparring just days after the girl had learned to walk , and then it had been a barrage of battles before she was even taught to throw a proper punch. 

If she wasn’t so hurt by the blatant avoidance, Beatrice might have actually been impressed. It was actually quite mature of Ava to take responsibility for her own training, to recognize what needed improving and what steps she needed to take in order to get better. But in layman terms, it really freaking sucked that Ava felt it meant she had to start from the complete bottom and “earn” her worth as the halo bearer. She may not hold the most finesse, but Ava was already a good fighter with more than enough heart to make up for whatever she may have lacked in skill. It hurt even more for Beatrice to realize she had only added to that lack in self confidence…

With a tired sigh, Beatrice unlocks the armory and sets about her morning task. She grabs the clipboard hung upon the wall, checking that last night’s inventory was signed off on before going about to ensure everything was still where it should be. There were no active missions at this time, and with training set to begin after breakfast, it meant nothing had been signed out. It’s a quick job; she’s in and out in ten minutes, setting the clipboard back into place and heading towards the dining hall to see if she might offer assistance with setting the tables.

Mary intercepts her halfway, beckoning her from a corner pillar as she waves gently to gain her attention. 

“How is she?” Beatrice asks, always the first words to slip past her lips. “Is she okay?”

“Ava’s fine,” Mary assures, “She got into a few scuffles, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Honestly, the girl is getting pretty good at this."

The tightly coiled knot in her chest releases, and Beatrice feels like she can breathe for the first time that morning. While she herself had been forced into taking the “cold turkey” route, Mary had chosen to respect Ava’s wish for space by keeping tabs on her from a distance, tailing her on her less than subtle escapes into the city at night. When she originally found out Ava was sneaking out to go demon hunting on her own, Beatrice had been livid in her worry and was two steps from barging into Ava's room – distance be damned – before Mary caught up and talked her down. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Mary warns, hand heavy on Beatrice's shoulder. "Don't you remember what happened the last time you went off on her?"

"She's being reckless! She doesn't know what she's doing yet!" she insists, hand twitching anxiously to remove the older woman's hold on her. They both knew if she really wanted to, no one could stand in her way. But a part of Beatrice must acknowledge what Mary is trying to stop her from doing, from pushing Ava even further than she already is. 

"Then let her learn," Mary replies, gently. "I know you want to protect Ava, and you think by sheltering her and holding her hand through everything is what she needs. And sometimes it is. But the girl grew up in a hospital bed – her only interaction with the outside world was a damn TV screen! She needs to go out and actually experience making her own decisions… and if some of those decisions end up being mistakes, you need to let her figure it out by herself."

The fight seems to leave Beatrice at that, shoulders dropping as she deflates. "But why must she insist on doing it all alone? Hasn't she been alone long enough?"

Mary sighs, hand dropping to her side now that Beatrice is no longer threatening to storm Ava's sanctuary. "I know how you feel, Bea," she says, quietly. "I do. It's… hard for me to say, but I see a lot of Shannon and me in Ava and you. And I want you two to have more than what we had, to be more than what we were. It's not easy. It never stopped being hard."

Beatrice wants to insist that it isn't like that between them, but Mary gives her no opportunity to reply, and a part of her just doesn't have the heart to deny it.

"But you remember how it was," she goes on,  "Shannon went through the same struggles Ava is feeling now. She'd go through her phases of ups and downs, highs and lows. The halo is a burden, but it isn't Ava's to bear alone… it's why she has us – has you. But sometimes she's going to need time and space to remember that all on her own. And sometimes the best way for you to help is to give her that…"

Beatrice exhales at the memory, reminded once more of why she's allowing so much distance to remain between them. She had promised Ava that she would never leave her, and at times it felt like a betrayal of that oath, but Mary was right in that Ava needed time to grow and learn things on her own. She was always reminding Ava to trust her team, but that trust went both ways, and Beatrice would have to trust that she would soon come back to them. 

For now, she would have to settle for Mary's morning reports, gleaning whatever scarce information she could get on Ava's progress. They're breadcrumbs really, but it's just enough to keep her faith fed.

With most of their team separated, Beatrice spends the majority of her days in the library, researching Adriel and the origin of the halo. If she can't be there to tutor and train Ava, she's determined to still keep herself busy, compiling every fact and detail that might prove useful in their quest to defeat him. She reads, takes notes, and reads some more, working through the morning and afternoon until her hands are cramped and her back stiff. 

It's nearing dinner time when Beatrice finally allows herself to retire, no longer able to focus on the words before her. Tidying up the desk she had claimed as her own, she gathers her belongings and makes her way back to her room, wanting to drop off her notebooks before heading to the dining hall. As she passes the entry to the training room, the sound of battle catches her ear, and she pauses to observe the fight.

Her heart stutters as she glimpses her first sight of Ava in days, the halo bearer dodging nimbly as Sister Evelyn swings her sword. She steps back, briefly phasing as an arrow whizzes through her at the same time Sister Anne lunges, falling into a tuck and roll as she misses her tackle. It suddenly occurs to Beatrice that Ava is up against the entirety of Sister Joan's team, and while she isn't dominating the fight by any means, she's certainly holding her own rather well. 

Her actions are more fluid, more precise; she seems more aware of herself and her surroundings, and while Ava still heavily telegraphs her moves, Beatrice could tell she was already beginning to refine and polish her technique. As uncomfortable as the separation has been for Beatrice herself, Ava seems to have thrived in her new routine, and it provides her a modicum of comfort knowing it'll be worth it in the end. 

Of course, as soon as the thought crosses her mind, Ava seems to lose focus entirely, defenses dropping completely as she stares at something Beatrice can't see from her corner in the hall. Sister Joan notices the distraction a fraction too late, calling a frantic "TIME OUT!" just as a cross bolt strikes the halo bearer through the shoulder. 

Ava gives a wounded cry, and suddenly, all Beatrice sees is red. 

Chapter Text

“Pick up the pace, Ava! Just a little further to go!”

Ava nods in silent acknowledgment and forges on without complaint, matching the grueling pace set by the sister warriors running alongside her. Despite the early hour, the day was plagued by a rare bout of humidity, the moist heat further suffocating her already burning lungs. Sweat dampens her brow, her clothes slick with perspiration as she forces one tired leg in front of the other. Her quads are aching and her heart feels as though it’ll beat right out of her chest, but she can see the finish line up ahead and Ava refuses to be left in the dust yet again.

She takes a moment to regulate her breathing, bringing much needed air to her oxygen starved lungs. The fatigue had kicked in two kilometre ago, but with a clear end in sight, she feels a brief rush of adrenaline as she forces herself to push beyond her limits and surges just ahead of the pack. Ava catches the eye of the lead nun, a delirious grin stretching across her lips at the bewildered look she gives her, and winks in passing as she sprints up the last ten meters of hillside to where Mother Superion awaits with her stopwatch. 

“37:51,” she announces, Ava slowing into a jog before completely collapsing into the dirt, arms raised in victory even as she wheezes for air. 

“Yes! I… I did it! Finally!” she half-laughs, half-coughs. “Halo bearer: one! Sister warriors: zero!” Another cough wracks her body, Ava curling onto her side to avoid choking as she continues to gasp for breath. “Ack, oh god… my spleen…”

One of the other runners, Sister Teresa, walks over and gently toes her with her boot. “Here,” she offers, handing the warrior nun a bottle of water. “You look like you could use a drink.”

Ava reaches for the water and drinks greedily, gulping down half the bottle in a single mouthful. 

“Slow down,” Teresa warns, though she sounds more amused than annoyed. “Don’t drink too fast or you’ll upset your stomach. And stand up. Walk it off. I know you’re in pain, but you’ll feel better later if you cool down before sitting down.”

Ava eyes her warily, taking in her flushed complexion. The run had obviously taken its toll on the other woman, but she was nowhere near exhausted, looking as though she could easily do another 10k if she needed to. “How?” she asks, forcing herself back onto her feet.

“How what?” she replies, confused.

“How?” Ava repeats, simply gesturing to her and her relaxed posture. “I’m practically dying here, and yet you look… mildly inconvenienced, at worst.”

Teresa lets out a small laugh, head shaking at the younger woman’s words. “I’ve trained considerably longer than you,” she admits, shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “It’ll come to you the more you work at it. But also, don’t sell yourself so short. From what I hear, you couldn’t even walk a few months ago. You’re doing well for someone without any formal training.”

Ava sips at her water, eyes searching as she takes in the woman before her. She had been training with Sister Joan’s team in an unofficial capacity since their return from the mission, and while they were all kind and eager to help, Teresa had been the most welcoming. She had essentially taken the halo bearer under her wing, offering tidbits of advice and wisdom when needed. She was humble and a hard worker, skilled in various disciplines, and while she rarely spoke, when she did, her words held weight. 

(Who was Ava kidding? She was like the discount store version of Beatrice, and Ava isn’t entirely sure how she feels about that.)

“What?” asks Teresa, when Ava stares a fraction too long.

“Nothing,” she says, looking away. “Just thinking that you remind me of someone.”

“Is that good or bad?” she asks, head tilting.

Ava shrugs, grinning shyly. “Uhm… neither, I guess? It was just an observation, really.”

Thankfully, Teresa doesn’t push it, offering only a kind smile before moving to stand with the rest of her team. Ava watches them with something akin to longing, wishing desperately that she could just go back and be with her own team – her own family. They’re friendly enough as is, and more than willing to show her the ropes and help her hone her skill, but it isn’t the same as being surrounded by her sisters. 

It’s strictly professional, and while Ava trusts them to have her back in a fight, that’s about as far as that trust extends. But the lack of personal attachment is exactly what Ava needs if she’s ever to become the last warrior nun, and so she continues on, keeping everyone at a distance where they belong. Downing the last of her water, she makes her way to the other nuns, clapping her hands together in faux excitement.

“Okay, ladies. What’s next?”

The next few hours pass in a blur of endless activity. Ava is immediately swept into combat skills, the lesson of the day on grappling and how to land when thrown; Ava gets thrown – a lot – but when she finally manages to outmaneuver Teresa, pinning her successfully to the mat, she almost feels good about herself. Sister Joan drags her to the shooting range not long after that, and she spends the next hour taking shots at a paper cut out before being passed onto Sister Anne, trading her gun for throwing knives and more target practice. 

Lunch offers a much needed respite, and after having missed out on breakfast, Ava is voracious in her appetite. She slams her tray down onto the table and annihilates two bowls of stew, even downing the salad Joan forces on her (“micro nutrients are just as important for good health and recovery,” she’d said) and half a loaf of bread. With her stomach satiated and the afternoon heat in full swing, Ava spends the next few hours in a private study room under the careful tutelage of Sister Evelyn. Mother Superion had been adamant in having a warrior nun that could, at the very least, properly read and write, and so she's forced into taking a crash course on all of the education she had missed during her time in the orphanage.

Around three o’ clock, Ava is given another break, stealing away to her room for a much needed power nap. Its hardly enough to make up for a full missed night of sleep, but it’s just enough to reinvigorate her, giving her the extra mental clarity to get through what is arguably the most difficult – but undoubtedly her favorite – part of the training day.

“All right, sisters,” she grins, twirling her sword in a playful challenge. “Hit me with your best shot.”

Ava stands front and center in the main training hall, surrounded on all sides by Joan and her team. They’re armed with weapons of their own, and despite knowing she’s about to get her ass beat, she can’t help but feel the excitement build in her chest. It was the one time she was allowed to go all out, drawing on the halo’s power to even the playing field, and there’s nothing quite like going up against an entire team to get the blood flowing.

“We won’t go easy on you,” Joan warns, brandishing her daggers. “You know that by now.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ava replies, smirking as she catches the slight flicker in her eye, stepping to the side as Evelyn attempts to hit her from behind. Whirling around, she brings her blade down in a searing arc, a clang echoing through the hall as their swords meet. Phasing through her, she kicks her from behind, sending her toppling to the floor. The halo thrums in warning, and Ava ducks just as Teresa fires her crossbow, the arrow sailing into a pillar somewhere down the room. 

Throwing herself into a roll, she scrambles to her feet, blocking and backpedaling as Joan launches at her with all the fury and might of an elite sister warrior. She was her team’s leader for good reason, and Ava is quick to sustain injury as a blade catches her arm, carving a deep gash from her wrist to elbow. She breathes a ragged, “it’s fine, keep fighting!” as she finally manages to get away, having only a moment to catch her breath before another crossbolt is sent flying her way.

‘C’mon, Ava, focus!’ she tells herself, struggling to keep up as Evelyn and Anne attempt to tag-team her. ‘Do better! Be better!’ She blocks and parries their combined attack, phasing through whatever she couldn’t avoid, slowly falling into the rhythm of the fight the longer it goes on. Ava knows she’s not going to beat them, but she thinks she’s holding them off rather well, feeling triumphant in the fact that not even a week ago, she had been down for the count in less than five minutes. 

She feels a sudden but subtle shift in the air and Ava’s head swivels as her eyes search her surroundings, still mindful of the warriors around her. She weaves between Joan and Anne, gaze roaming beyond them to one of the many entry points to the hall, and what she finds is enough to drain all the fight right out of her. Her body slackens, defenses dropping as she stares with wide eyes and frantic heart, unaware as Joan tries to intervene.

“TIME OUT!” she orders, but Ava is oblivious to the danger, taking one feeble step forward before a crossbolt tears into her shoulder and out through her upper chest. 

Ava cries out, head dropping to stare in confused agony at the pointed tip protruding from her body, stumbling a few feet before crashing to her knees. Anne rushes to her side, but there’s an unearthly howl of rage as Beatrice storms onto the scene, thwacking her fellow nun with what could only be described as a heavy journal. Joan hurries to assist, attempting to talk to the infuriated woman as she does her best to defend against the hailstorm of blows. 

“Calm yourself, Sister!” she grunts, blocking a blow from her book. “It was an accident! We’re sorry, we–” 

The world around Ava darkens, pinpricks of black dancing across her vision as she braces herself on her hands and knees. She blinks slowly, bewildered by the unexpected appearance of Beatrice, whom she hadn’t seen since the night of their return. She’s fighting fiercely against Sister Joan and her team, taking them on with nothing but the might of her fury and the heft of her notebook, and at any other time, she might have found the whole situation hilarious. But her head slowly turns, lifting to glance at the end of the training hall, and she feels her rickety heart skip a beat. 

Camila was finally home.

Lilith and Camila stare from the back of the room, mouths agape as they watch the chaos unfold, and Ava tries to stand – tries to run to her this time instead of running away, but she can’t move. An abrupt sob escapes her lips; she’s confused and overwhelmed, and everything is too much, too loud, too everything . Ava feels the halo sizzle, an anguished cry ripping from her throat as she screams its release, unleashing a shockwave of energy that rattles the building to its core. A blinding light fills the room, and when it recedes, Ava can be found face down on the floor.

“Ava…? Ava!” Beatrice is on her feet in seconds, blinking through the flashes of light as she tries to make her way to the fallen halo bearer. But Sister Teresa reaches her first, flipping Ava onto her back so that she can breathe, gently sweeping an errant strand of hair from her face. Ava grasps Teresa’s hand and holds it weakly to her cheek, and Beatrice finds it hard to ignore the intimacy of the gesture, jaw tensing as she reaches to wrap her arm around Teresa’s neck and allows the nun to lift her to her feet.

She steps up to offer assistance, but Ava nearly falls back, murmuring a shaky, “No, please… please don’t try to help…”

Beatrice’s face heats with shame at the blatant rejection, unsure of how to reconcile Ava’s request with her own innate need to provide service and value. To make matters worse, the hall is quickly filling with sister warriors, the concussive expulsion of halo energy having likely drawn their attention. Most looked ready for a fight, likely assuming they were under attack, and she doesn’t even know where to begin to explain the situation. Mother Superion strides in moments later, and she knows things have now gone from bad to worse... 

Ava, however, seem wholly unconcerned with their growing audience, attention still fixated on Camila. Teresa helps her halfway before Ava disengages, limping a few yards on her own before the last of her strength escapes her. She falls to her knees and Camila rushes to fall with her, bending down with open arms as Ava kneels before her and buries her face into her side. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she cries, her tears soaking the front of Camila’s habit as her arms wrap desperately around her waist. “I screwed up. I… I shouldn’t have ran ahead! I did this to you, I hurt you,” she weeps, pressing a repentant kiss to where she knew the still healing wound lay.

“Ava, shh…” Camila tries to reassure, tears prickling at Ava’s clear distress. Lilith had filled her in on what she had missed, but never could she have imagined it being this bad, heart aching at the pain and guilt Ava had inadvertently placed on her shoulders.  “It’s okay, I’m okay… everything's gonna be okay. I don’t blame you for what happened… you must understand that…”

“But why? Why would you…” she can hardly finish the sentence, clinging only more tightly as Camila lowers herself fully to the ground, cupping Ava’s tear soaked face.

“Because you are my halo bearer, and you are my mission. I swore vows to protect you,” she answers, smiling through her own tears as she presses a kiss to Ava’s forehead, “But more importantly, because you’re my little sister and I love you, and I would do anything to see you from getting hurt…”

The admission earns her a fresh wave of tears, Ava sobbing as she lets all the pent up regret finally come to the surface. “I’m sorry, please… please don’t do that again,” she pleads, head shaking. “Please, I’m not worth it! I’ve… I’ve been training. I’ll be better next time. I’ll… I’ll be good. I’ll be good! So please…”

Her voice trails off, Ava slumping unconscious as the exhaustion and blood loss finally take its toll. Camila gives a frightened gasp, looking to Lilith for help, who reaches down and effortlessly lifts her limp body and hurries off to the infirmary. As Beatrice watches them leave, she catches the disapproving glares from Joan and her team, and her stomach sinks with a terrible realization...

Beatrice had screwed up... and this time, she has no one and nothing to blame but herself. 

Chapter Text

“Wha–”

“Shh… go back to sleep…” 

“W-wha’s goi–”

Ava tries to strain but her body won’t move, unresponsive to her will as she tries to rise up and assess her surroundings. She can feel her brows pinch, trying to open her eyes – she can’t . She whimpers quietly and a hand presses gently to her cheek, stroking tenderly at the rough patch of skin, lulling the sudden panic that threatens to rise and pull her under.

“... what was that?” Ava knows this voice but can’t quite place it, “... an accident… happens in training…”

“... shouldn’t have used… wouldn’t have hurt her , unlike you…” That’s Lilith.

Drifting in and out of a sea of light-headeness, Ava’s attention sharpens as she recognizes the familiar voice. Their words slowly piece together, forming a temporary sense of understanding before falling away, forgotten. 

“She stopped fighting! I called the time out as soon as I noticed,” the unfamiliar voice retorts, gruff and defensive. 

“And what of your teammates?” Lilith challenges, an unmistakable bite to her tone. “Do you normally teach them to shoot a defenseless opponent when their back is turned?”

“And what of yours?” Joan – ‘oh, it’s Joan!’ Ava thinks – snaps back, just as accusing. “I assume its common practice for one on your team to ambush attack a supposed ally!”

“While I cannot explain the reasoning behind Sister Beatrice’s uncouth behavior, she was only acting in defense of the halo bearer,” Lilith replies, evenly. “She is… protective of our warrior nun. Perhaps a tad more than the job calls for, but it was well intentioned.”

“Yeah? Protective, you say?” Joan retorts, heatedly. “And you know what? That is exactly why Ava requested to transfer teams. Your team treats her as though she is fragile, like a child that must be coddled and sheltered from the world. Ava must be made ready to take the mantle of warrior nun and lead us as her predecessors did before her. My duty is to the halo bearer – same as yours! – and I will do what must be done to ensure she is ready to fight the war that is already at hand."

There's a beat of silence, heavy with the tension of a thread pulled tight. Even in her state of semi-consciousness, Ava can feel the sudden charge in the air, shifting minutely in her discomfort. The hand against her cheek had stilled but gently resumes its ministrations, stroking little circles in an attempt to coax her back to sleep.

"What do you mean transfer?" Lilith demands, but there's an undeniable quiver of uncertainty to her voice. 

"Ava asked that I submit a formal transfer yesterday. I have the paperwork on my desk… all I need to do is hand it to Mother Superion."

There's a high pitched ringing followed by a rush of wind. "You mean this paperwork?" 

"Where did you… did you just go into my–"

There's the sound of paper being torn in half, shearing Joan's words as she gives an aggravated huff. 

"Your petulance is unbecoming of one who was once the next in line! You'll get her killed, the lot of you!" she asserts, "Just like you got the last halo bearer killed!"

Lilith actually snarls, the growl rumbling deep in her chest as it builds into something animalistic and frightening. There's the sound of her claws extending, followed by the drawing of a blade, and Ava screams at her body to move – to do something to stop what will inevitably end in bloodshed. She can feel the halo react to her desperate pleas, feeding off her emotion as pulses of energy course through her body.

The hand tries to hold her down, and she feels more than hears as the hand's owner leans down and whispers words of comfort into her ear. She instantly recognizes the faint hint of honeysuckle and sunshine, Camila's familiar scent curbing the fear and anxiety as she holds Ava to her. And yet the halo still burns, heating up along her spine as what feels like lightning courses through her veins.

“Stop it, both of you!” she demands,  "You're upsetting her!"

Ava can't see it, but she feels it as Lilith appears by their side, and she instinctively curls towards her warmth – as far as her still rigid body will allow. Everything hurts; she feels so much like a small child, and all she wants right now is for her big sister to make it better. Lilith’s larger hand presses above Camila's, carefully sweeping at Ava’s sweat soaked hair.

"She's febrile," she murmurs, worriedly. "What of her injuries? Why is there still blood? How has she not yet healed? It's been over an hour…"

Ava whines as they both pull away, lowering her fully onto the bed so she lay flat. She can feel them pushing her shirt aside, peeling back the heavy gauze; it's wet and warm where they touch, and she can sense their apprehension as Lilith demands more bandaging.

"What's happening?" Joan asks, nervously. "Why isn't the halo healing her?"

"I don't know!" Lilith sneers, pressing fresh gauze to her shoulder. Ava whines at the pressure. "Shh… I know it hurts, I'm sorry…"

"Should… should I call the surgeon?" 

"No, it's fine. She just needs more time to rest. Leave us," she commands, her tone leaving no room for further argument. "And the next time I see you, you best know your place. Ava may ask for your assistance with training and missions, but that doesn't make you her team."

"Ava is ours. We loved her first, before any of you even thought to give her a second glance. You would do well to remember that no matter what you or your team would give to protect the halo, it is nothing compared to the lengths we will go to ensure Ava's well being. She is more than just the halo bearer to us, and we will not allow you to undermine that."

The door creaks as Joan makes a silent exit, having nothing left to say in the wake of Lilith’s declaration. Ava feels tears well at her eyes, Camila's thumb delicately wiping them away as the other nun continues to work at her shoulder. She weeps at the sheer tenderness of it all, swearing to be better, to one day be worthy of such affection. She wants nothing more than to open her eyes and beg their forgiveness, to plead with them to stay with her despite her infinite flaws; and yet she wants to tell them to leave, to run while they still can. She feels wholly undeserving to even be in their presence, and she knows it’s not long before she sinks this ship.

How long before she sinks them with her?

“So much has happened since we’ve been gone,” Camila whispers, as Lilith finishes dressing her wound. 

“Clearly, there’s more to this than we were made aware of,” she replies, and Ava feels her pull away, listening as she cleans up the mess. A part of her is relieved to know she isn’t leaving. “I don’t know where Mary has run off to today, and Beatrice is still sulking in her room last I checked. Ava needs rest, as do you. It was a long journey back, and the hour is getting late. I–”

“I’m not leaving her,” Camila interjects, and Ava feels as she slips her hand into her own.

Lilith’s tone is lighter, a laugh to the edge of her words as she replies, “Neither will I. We will stay with her in the infirmary tonight. She seems more relaxed with you near… perhaps you two will share the bed, and I will keep watch from the chair.”

“That hardly seems comfortable…”

“Comfort is the least of my worries,” Lilith replies, “Ava is my main concern at this moment. I want to be sure she remains undisturbed tonight. Tomorrow, we will seek the others and hopefully get some answers to this mess they’ve made in our absence.”

Camila doesn’t respond, but she seems to agree as the bed dips and Ava is encased in the warmth of her body. Despite her warring thoughts and emotions, Ava naturally attempts to burrow further into her embrace, even as her body continues to refuse her control. Even without words, Camila is able to understand what Ava appears to be doing, gently lifting her up so she can loop one arm around her and pull her tight.

“There, isn’t that better?” she murmurs, and she’s so close Ava can feel her smile. 

There comes a loud scraping as Lilith drags her chair towards the bed, and though she isn’t physically able to feel her, her nearness alone is enough to put her at ease. Her presence is solid and reassuring, and for the first time in a week, Ava starts to remember what it feels like again to be safe in the company of another. 

“Rest now,” she implores, tugging the sheets over the two.

The exhaustion quickly catches up to her, and Ava starts to nod off as Camila strokes her hair. Her gentle humming fills the room, the soft melody floating in the diminishing space between the three as Lilith places a single hand to her back. Slowly, the tune transitions into a song, lulling Ava back to sleep.

“If I had words… to make a day for you, I’d sing you a morning golden and true… I would make this day last for all time… then fill the night deep in mo-oonshine…”

The halo glows with Ava’s deep contentment, and as the wound finally begins to close and her skin gradually knits itself back together, her last fleeting thought before drifting off is that maybe just for tonight, she can let her heart heal a little too. 

Chapter Text

Beatrice blinks as the early morning sun crept along the sky, the light blinding in its resonance as she hurriedly makes her way from morning prayer to the infirmary. The other sisters give her a wide berth as she crosses the path from the private chapel to the main building but she pays them no mind, ignoring the hushed whispers that follow in her wake. Her footsteps echo through the corridors, marching to a hasty beat that slows considerably as she approaches. The apprehension is as unbearable as it is maddening, and Beatrice pauses just as she comes to the doorway. 

She hesitates, lingering momentarily as she lets her eyes roam the room before anyone knows she’s there. Beatrice knows she’ll have to go in, but at least she would have a moment more to prepare. With a steadying breath and a quick prayer for strength, she pushes onward and takes the last few steps from the hall and into the infirmary. 

She's met with the sight of Camila and Ava cuddled in bed, a mess of tangled limbs as they lay curled against one another. Camila is half atop the halo bearer, face nestled into her neck as Ava's chin rests atop her head, arms wrapped tightly about her bedmate. A dried trail of drool is evident from the corner of her lips, and despite her numerous anxieties, Beatrice's heart is warmed at the sight of them.

“Sometimes I forget how young they are…”

Beatrice startles as Lilith announces her presence, seeming to materialize from the darkened corner of the room. She watches the taller woman approach, carefully observing her for any outward signs of resentment or ill will; the last time they’d seen one another, Lilith had been less than pleased with her when she’d learnt of the scolding she’d given Ava post-battle. There was no doubt she would be unhappy with the current situation at hand, especially with the events of the previous night…

To her surprise, Lilith hardly spares her a glance, gaze fixated on Camila and Ava. Lilith had always smiled with her eyes first, and the way they crinkle at the corner now is all it takes for Beatrice to know that she isn’t upset. In fact, its almost unusual how at peace she appears, seemingly content to keep watch over the still slumbering two. 

“Our youngest, and our most innocent,” she murmurs, lips thinned in a smile. “But also our most stubborn and foolhardy. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Beatrice replies, quietly. “I think we’re all quite stubborn in our own ways.”

Lilith’s smile turns more into a smirk, eyes rolling in fond exasperation. “It seems to be a shared trait amongst us,” she says, eyes flickering to the smaller nun beside her. “But you… you’ve only ever been stubborn for what you believed to be the right reasons. Vanity and pride mean little in the face of faith and logic, and since I’ve known you, you’ve been steadfast in both.”

Beatrice merely shrugs. “Why doubt that which can rationally be proven, and what is faith but the belief that what cannot be explained is the work of a higher power beyond our comprehension?”

"Of course," she says, nodding her agreement. "You have always believed that, and it's precisely this unwavering faith that has made you the steady foundation upon which our team stands. I suppose my only question is… what changed?"

“I’m not certain I understand,” says Beatrice, voice tinged with confusion.

Lilith eyes her curiously, and Beatrice feels herself stiffen defensively beneath her scrutinizing gaze. “I wish to speak with you,” she says, deciding subtly won’t do. Her head tilts towards the door, “But I don’t want to disturb Ava and Camila from their sleep. They’ve had quite the ordeal and need as much rest as they can get. The weather seems rather fair. Will you walk with me outside?”

It’s less a request than it is a thinly veiled demand, but Lilith is her senior – both in age and rank – and Beatrice is bound by obedience. She steps back towards the door, a silent acknowledgment that she will comply, and waits patiently as the older nun nods her approval. But instead of immediately following, Lilith approaches the bed; there is clear adoration written across her features as she rearranges the blanket the younger ones had kicked off in their sleep. She leans down, lips pressing to where their heads meet, and gives each a fond touch before pulling away. 

Beatrice is rendered speechless by the sheer reverence displayed, marveling at how far Lilith had come in the months since her return from Hell. Whatever had happened to her on the other side had transformed her, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually as well. It had softened and smoothed her sharp edges, and while her powers could be mistaken for demonic, she had become nothing short of the halo bearer’s guardian angel in the time since her return. 

Lilith slips past her and into the hall, head jerking towards the exit. Beatrice follows, and together they make their way outdoors, the silence heavy but not entirely uncomfortable. Despite the reprimanding she knows is coming, Beatrice is still heartened by the knowledge that Ava is loved so deeply by those on their team. Even now, when things are so terrible between the two, Ava’s wellbeing is and always will be her main priority.

“The tomatoes have ripened since the last time I was out here,” Lilith muses, as they meander through the garden. “Camila will be pleased. I imagine she will spend the majority of her remaining time on leave out here, tending to her vegetables and flowers.”

“The basil is thriving as well,” Beatrice comments, as they steer towards the herbs. “They served a beautiful caprese salad at supper the other night.”

“I’m sad to have missed it,” she replies, reaching out to pluck a leaf. Rubbing it between her fingers, she inhales the slightly peppery, sweet scent before letting it fall to the dirt. “But I suppose I missed a lot of things while we were gone.”

‘And there it is,’ Beatrice thinks, ruefully. To her credit, she doesn’t falter, walking steadily even as the intensity of Lilith’s gaze threatens to bore through her. “It’s… it’s been a rough week,” she admits, quietly. “Ava has pulled away since the attack in Barcelona…”

“Do you care to elaborate?” Lilith presses.

It’s here that Beatrice pauses, feet slowing to a halt as she stares thoughtfully into the distance. “You heard her at the hospital,” she begins, quietly. “Ava took Camila’s injury hard and has committed herself to being the last warrior nun. She began attending the novice training classes the day after we returned, and has acquainted herself with Sister Joan’s team in the interim. She’s also been avoiding Mary and me ever since we came back. Yesterday was the first time I’ve seen Ava all week.”

“Speaking of Sister Joan’s team… did you know Ava asked Joan to present a formal transfer request to Mother Superion?”

Beatrice’s attention snaps towards Lilith. “She what?”

“Ava requested to transfer teams,” she repeats, heatedly. “I destroyed the letter, but its not long before Joan drafts up another.”

“No…” Beatrice denies, head shaking. “No, she can’t do that! Ava is ours! I hold nothing but respect for the skill shown by Sister Joan and her team – they’ve proven themselves more than capable and competent, but they don’t know Ava like we do! They look at her, and all they see is the halo! If yesterday is any indication, they don’t care if she gets hurt either – let the halo take care of it, right? But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t experience the pain! That doesn’t mean she doesn’t suffer! They may help her grow as a warrior, but will Ava even be Ava anymore once they're through?”

“You’re preaching to the choir, sister,” Lilith drawls, arms crossed. “I told Sister Joan they could humor Ava all they want, but at the end of the day, they will never be her team. Even if Mother Superion approves the transfer – which I doubt she will – that doesn’t mean they can simply replace us. What we have with Ava, what we’ve all gone through together… they can never take that away from us. But they can take Ava, unless we do something to stop it.”

"How?" Beatrice questions, eyes lowering. 

"We can win Ava back," Lilith assures, hand resting on her shoulder. "There's still time to fix this. But you need to tell me what happened – everything, no matter how insignificant it may seem. And you must start from the very beginning. If we can figure out where things first went wrong, then we know where to start."

Beatrice hesitates, reluctant to admit her shortcomings. But she also knows that Lilith is right, that identifying what went wrong is the first step in making things right, and though there are still gaps in her memory, it's enough to get the ball rolling. Indicating to one of the stone benches placed about the garden, they take a seat and she begins the story as far back as she can recall. 

"You and Camila left for the hospital. Mary, Ava, and I returned to the van to make the journey back to the church and…" she pauses, shrugging her shoulders, "I don't know what came over me. I was worried, and frustrated, still high off the adrenaline of battle and… it must have gotten the best of me. I yelled at Ava, called her a coward and incompetent. I said so many terrible things – things I knew would hurt her…"

Lilith had heard this part before, but she nods and motions for Beatrice to continue.

"I gave her the cold shoulder the rest of the drive back and ignored her all evening. Eventually, even in my anger, I… I couldn't stand to be apart from her any longer. I knew I had been unfair to her, that Ava is still new and learning, and that what happened wasn't truly her fault…

"I went in search of her," she goes on, voice trailing, "I… I don't know if I ever found her…"

"What do you mean?" asks Lilith, confused. "How can you not know? You either found her, or you didn't."

"I remember leaving my room to look for Ava, but after that, things get hazy. I don't remember much from that night except that I somehow found myself in the streets outside the church, unable to recall how I had gotten there."

Lilith frowns, concerned. "You're having issues with your memory?"

"I took a couple of hard blows to the head during the fight," she replies, "And when Ava released the blast from her halo, I do recall momentarily blacking out before waking up on the pavement. I concluded I likely had a minor concussion the following day at the hospital, after it happened again."

Lilith "hmm's" thoughtfully, staring curiously at the woman sat beside her. "It's a fair assessment, but we'll get back to that soon. Tell me what happened between that night and your visit to the hospital."

“There’s not much to tell,” Beatrice says, fingers playing nervously with the cloth of her skirt. “Ava never came to bed that night, and when she didn’t show up for breakfast, Mary went out looking. She and Ava talked apparently, but Mary encouraged me to give her time… said she was still working through her emotions from the day before. Ava eventually came back in. She… she called me Sister Beatrice…”

Lilith winces in sympathy. Ava almost never addressed them as sister; it was always too formal, too impersonal for the halo bearer, who thrived off personal connection. 

“And then what?” she asks, attempting to move the conversation along. She can already see the way Beatrice seems to wilt, practically exuding with hurt over the forced formality between her and Ava. 

“Then you came back to let us know Camila was out of surgery and that we would be allowed to visit. And well… you already know what happened at the hospital.”

“You said you realized you had a concussion at the hospital after another lapse in your memory,” Lilith reminds, gently. “What happened there?”

Beatrice’s brows pinch in concentration, attempting to conjure as much of the memory as she can. “When Ava ran from Camila’s room, I remember thinking of places she would go to hide. You know how she hates confined spaces, and I thought perhaps the roof would be the best place to start.”

“I… I remember walking up the stairs. I know I pushed open the door and then… nothing. Any time I try to remember that moment, all I see is black. Everything is blank, and I come to only after Ava pushes past me. She says something about not wanting to hear it again, that she only wants to be alone, and then she leaves. I don’t see her again until she comes back to Camila’s room and makes that awful speech about letting her die if it ever comes down to it…”

Lilith’s frown deepens at the reminder. “I hated that speech,” she grumbles, irately. “It’s foolish for Ava to believe that we would simply let Adriel kill her, but I fear her words indicate that she’s already come to the conclusion that she’s going to die regardless.”

Beatrice gives a sharp, shuddering breath and Lilith is startled to find her eyes red and watery with unshed tears. She takes a moment to compose herself, blinking heavily as she lifts a hand and daintily wipes at the corner of her eye. Lilith watches, lending strength through the silence of her presence, and waits patiently for the younger nun to pull herself together.

“This… this is my fault,” she whispers, her voice strained. “I never should have said those things to her! And the times after… I can’t recall what was said, but I know I must have only made things worse. Because every time after, Ava pulled further and further away, and now I’m afraid she’s so far gone that I… we will never get her back…”

“I just… I thought giving her space was the right thing to do,” she goes on, attempting to justify what she now realizes was a horrible oversight. “Mary said Ava needed room to learn and grow on her own – that she would come back to us when she was ready, like Shannon always would.”

“But Ava isn’t Shannon,” Lilith reminds, quietly. “Just because that strategy worked with one halo bearer, that doesn’t mean it will work with the next. A day or two of space is fine, give her time to clear her head and all that. But you know Ava is terrified of being left alone. Give her too much time to overthink, and… well… here we are.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Beatrice murmurs, conceding her defeat. “I’m used to having all the answers, to making all the plans… but with Ava – how could I have ever planned for her?”

Cautiously, Lilith reaches across the bench and takes Beatrice’s hand. “You care for her,” she observes, softly.

Beatrice stares unblinkingly at their joined hands, mulling her words carefully. Swallowing the sudden, heavy lump in her throat, she squeezes Lilith’s hand and nods, glancing up to look her in the eyes. 

“More than I know how to say…”

Lilith draws her closer, offering her embrace. “Then we will fix this,” she promises, firmly. “But I sense there is more to this story that you aren’t telling me. What aren’t you telling me, Beatrice?”

Ava wakes to a heavy feeling in her chest, body leaden and weighed down. For a brief, terrifying moment she fears she's back at the orphanage; she gasps, inhaling sharply, and nearly chokes on a mouthful of hair. It's this strange, unusual predicament that forces Ava to glance down, sputtering through curly locks as she realizes Camila is sprawled atop her.

Carefully extracting the hair from her mouth, Ava awkwardly pats her head dry as she looks around the room. It takes a moment for her to recognize her surroundings and another to remember how exactly she had gotten here. Memories of the previous evening flash through her mind and she can immediately feel her eyes begin to water. 

Ava tries to fight it, tries to keep it from spilling out, but the grief and guilt is still too much for her heart to bear. She had done nothing to deserve the tender care that Lilith and Camila had shown her, and the instinct to run is only heightened by the fact that she’s physically trapped beneath the young nun. She contemplates phasing through the bed and onto the floor, but she’s too afraid of waking Camila that she simply lays there, trying not to let her shameful tears disturb the other woman.

Unfortunately, its her erratic breathing that alerts Camila, head lifting groggily as she slowly comes to. Peering through half-lidded eyes, she stares at the weeping Ava and is instantly awake, pushing herself up onto her elbows to hover worryingly over the warrior nun. Carefully, she cups Ava’s cheek, thumb brushing away her tears as she coos softly into her ear.

“Shh, it’s okay…” she whispers, smiling softly as Ava grabs her wrist and clings tightly. “It’s okay, Ava… let it all out…”

“I’m sorry, I-I’m so sorry,” she replies, chest spasming as she hiccups. 

“Why are you sorry?” Camila asks, prying gently. “You keep apologizing for things, but as far as I’m concerned, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“How can you say that?” Ava cries, her voice as broken as she feels, “How can you say that I’ve done nothing wrong when you literally just got out of the hospital for one of my mistakes? You nearly died! Lilith did die! Mary and Beatrice may as well be next!”

“I’m the worst halo bearer in the history of all halo bearers!” she declares, her regret giving way to resentment. “I released Adriel from his tomb, wraith activity is at an all time high, and I’m still too stupid and impulsive to follow the most simple fucking instructions!”

Camila almost chastises Ava for her language but is tactful enough to know that now is not the time or place. Instead, she tugs Ava into her arms and holds her tightly, trying to keep her from falling any further apart. “What do you want me to say, Ava?” she asks, “How do I make this better? How do I make you better?”

“I don’t think you can…” she answers, eyes averting as she shakes her head. “I’m a screw up and a burden. I think that’s just naturally what I am. Beatrice told me that my actions have consequences, but that I was too ignorant to understand. The thing is… she’s wrong. The accident, my paralysis… losing my mother… those were all consequences of my actions, and I had to live with that knowledge for the past twelve years of my life.”

“I don’t understand,” Camila replies, confused. “You were hit by a drunk driver. How were any of those things your fault?”

“Because I’m the reason my mother never saw him coming,” she confesses, for perhaps the first time since the car crash had happened, “Because I was being stupid and immature, and I kept taking my god damn seatbelt off. Because she turned around to tell me to stop, to put it back on… and then he hit us, and the last thing I ever saw of my mother was the horror on her face seconds before I went flying out the windshield…”

“When I woke up at the orphanage, she was already gone. I never went to her funeral, never even been to her grave… the only thing I could do to honor her memory was cry, and I couldn’t even do that properly. Sister Frances said that my crying was a distraction to the other children, and eventually I… I stopped crying for her altogether…”

Camila’s heart breaks for Ava, for the years of pain she had kept buried deep inside. “You were a child, Ava. Of course you were acting immature. It’s what children do.”

“I was still old enough to know that what I was doing was wrong,” she bites back, bitterly. “But you’re right, I was a child. Maybe I didn’t know any better back then, but I do now – so what’s my excuse this time?” 

Sighing, Ava sits up and carefully detaches herself from Camila, wincing as she swings her legs over the side of the bed and tries to stand. The other woman quickly scrambles around the other side, attempting to help her up, but Ava refuses to accept her hand. Pulling down the collar of her shirt, Ava peels back the heavy bandage caked and dried in blood, inspecting the newly healed skin, wondering to herself why she still feels so weak.

“Ava, you need to rest,” Camila pleads, urging her back to bed. “The halo healed your wound, but you still lost a lot of blood. Your body needs time to recover from that.”

“I’ve already wasted too much time,” she huffs, grabbing the headboard and hoisting herself to her feet. “I’m not letting another person die because of something I did wrong. I finally have the power to make things right, and I’ve done nothing but take it for granted. I won’t let any of you sacrifice yourselves for me again. ”

“It wasn’t your fault!” 

“Yes it was!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Camila asserts, taking Ava’s hand as she yanks up her shirt and forces her hand to the scar in her side. “Do you feel that?” she demands, pressing the halo bearer’s fingers into the raised skin. “I’m not dead, Ava. This scar is proof that I survived, and that I’m healing.”

Ava swallows thickly, eyes trained intently on the jagged pink line, hand suddenly trembling as she’s faced with the aftermath of Adriel’s attack. 

“I am alive!” Camila states, vehemently. “I’m alive, and I’m here, and I’m present. The same can be said for Lilith. And I’m sorry about what happened to your mother… I can’t even begin to imagine the turmoil you must have felt, keeping that in for all these years. But the accident wasn’t your fault!”

“You made bad choices, I won’t take that away from you… but that doesn’t mean you’re solely to blame. Bad things happen, Ava, and sometimes there’s nothing we can do to control that. But we can control how we choose to react, and I know you think punishing yourself like this is the only way to repent, but you’re seeking forgiveness in all the wrong places…”

“You need to start with forgiving yourself.”

Ava eyes her warily, “I don’t know how to do that. I wouldn’t even know where to begin...”

Camila smiles encouragingly, hopeful that she had made the start of a breakthrough. “Now is a good day to learn.”

Chapter Text

There’s a commotion from the main hall when Ava leaves the infirmary that morning, the halo bearer trading a quick, curious glance with Camila as they make their way to investigate. The armory drones with activity as several sisters flit in and out of the gates, carrying boxes of ammunition and various weapons that they store and pack into bags. Mother Superion stands off to the side, silently supervising, as Sister Joan commands the group from the center of the room.

Ava cautiously approaches, a hesitant Camila two steps behind. “Hey, what’s going on here?” she asks, stepping beside Sister Teresa as she straps on her battle gear.

“Oh, Ava!” she startles, blinking at the younger woman’s sudden appearance. Immediately, she launches into an apology, “I’m so sorry about yesterday! I only realized you had stopped paying attention after I released the arrow. I know the halo heals you, but it mustn’t have been pleasant…”

Ava offers her a distracted smile, a comforting hand placed on her arm as she continues to look about. “It’s fine,” she assures, “It’s good motivation not to let it happen again!”

Teresa grins good-naturedly, nodding her head, before glancing behind her towards the other woman. “Welcome back, Sister Camila. It’s good to see you back where you belong. I prayed for your swift recovery.”

“Thank you, Sister,” Camila answers, her smile stiff as she takes in the familiar scene around them, hoping and praying that Ava doesn’t put it all together. 

“So, what’s going on?” Ava asks again, motioning for the nun to turn her back, helping Teresa tighten the straps of her padded vest. 

“A new mission,” she answers, brows pinching curiously as Camila discreetly attempts to tell her to stop. “We received news overnight that a shipment of divinium is being moved across the border to Portugal sometime this evening. We are to secure the package and safely deliver it to Dr. Salvius at ArqTech for research and development.”

Ava nods her head, humming thoughtfully as Teresa thanks her for her assistance and excuses herself to check her bags. The OCS had entered into a tentative alliance with Jillian after Adriel’s return, the tech giant utilizing her knowledge and resources to improve upon the order’s gadgets and devices, and providing further insight into the properties of divinium and its connection to the “other side”. In turn, all she wanted was the promise that once Adriel was captured, they would use his control over the halo to re-open the portal that had taken her son from her. 

Camila can see it the instant the idea forms in Ava’s head, stomach lurching as she watches her hurry over to Sister Joan without a second glance in her own direction. She can’t hear what’s being said from this distance, but she already knows what’s being asked if the fierce look of determination on her face is anything to go by. Hands clenched into fists, she takes a step back and then another, head shaking with remorse as she turns around and rushes away. 

"What aren't you telling me, Beatrice?"

Beatrice stiffens, feeling small and insignificant beneath the intensity of Lilith's stare. Her head lowers, gaze dropping to the ground as she contemplates an answer. So much had happened in such a short amount of time – where could she even begin? She exhales slowly, allowing the anxiety to escape her lungs, mentally signing the cross for strength as she prepares to lay bare her sins. 

"Lilith, I–"

"Hold that thought," she interrupts, hand held up to silence her. Lilith stands, squinting into the distance before abruptly disappearing into a portal. She pops back into existence on the far end of the garden, steadying a ragged Camila as she shouts something unintelligible. 

Beatrice is on her feet in seconds, sprinting the distance as fast as her legs can take her. Lilith's features are twisted in fury as she once again disappears, leaving Camila bent over as she gasps for breath. Dirt flies into the air as she skids to a halt, hands supporting the younger nun as she regains her bearings.

"What is it, Camila?" she asks, worriedly. "What's going on?"

"Ava!" she cries, and Beatrice feels the exact moment her heart stops, seizing in her chest as the muscle contracts painfully. "She's gone! Or… sh-she's going to be! I don't know! I didn’t know where you had gone! I couldn't find you guys for the longest time!"

Nausea swells in her gut and Beatrice briefly feels herself go faint, but she knows now more than ever that she needs to be strong. Steeling her nerves, she helps Camila stand and urges her to follow along, mindful of the fact that she was still recovering from her injury. Together, they hastily make their way back indoors, following the sound of Lilith raging the closer they get to the main hall.

"What did I say!" she snarls, forehead pressed menacingly to Sister Joan's as they stare each other down. "I told you last night – not even a whole twelve hours ago – that you are not to become between us and Ava! She isn’t okay right now, and you dragging her off on a mission is not helping with that!" 

"Ava is an adult and fully capable of making her own decisions. Furthermore, she is the halo bearer – heaven’s champion. She belongs to no one but God Himself," Joan reminds, voice calm despite the way she glares back. "Besides, Ava came to me, not the other way around. She wants to come, and who am I to stop the warrior nun?"

A growl rumbles deep in her chest, hands shaking with how hard she clenches them. Even from far off, Beatrice can see her nails sharpened into claws, and she knows its taking everything Lilith has not to lash out. “If you won’t talk sense into her, then I will. Where is she?” she demands, hotly.

“I sent her off to pack a bag and grab her gear,” Joan replies, eyes narrowing as Lilith turns sharply on her heel to walk away. “Where do you think you’re going?”

There's a collective gasp as Joan reaches out, grasping at the back Lilith's habit. The other woman tenses, muscles tightly coiled, and she looks ready to snap at any moment. 

"Do not touch me," she says, voice low with warning.

"Do not interfere with my operation," Joan retorts, hand still wrapped around the cloth. 

"Let. Go."

"Make me," she challenges.

It happens in a flash, Lilith whipping around as she lets her fist fly, the loud crack of bone on flesh as her knuckles crash into Joan's cheek. To her credit, she stands her ground, hips and head slightly twisted as she had rolled with the punch. There's a faint spark of mischief in her eye as she turns back to face her assailant, spitting a wad of blood from her mouth as she wipes at the corner with her thumb. 

Instead of retaliating, however, she smiles proudly and begins to recite, “But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you…” Stepping forward, she presents Lilith with the unmarred side of her face, “To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also.”

Lilith knows a taunt when she sees one, a roar of indignation ripping from her throat as she launches at the other nun. The sheer audacity with which she had quoted scripture was like a finger to the trigger, temper flaring as Joan expertly evades her next attack. Though she was no Beatrice, she was certainly no slouch either, blocking and parrying every blow thrown her way. She was fast too, matching Lilith strike for strike as they duke it out, both eager to prove themselves better than the other. 

“Beatrice…” Camila pleads, quietly begging for her to intercede. “Make it stop! Please, make it stop!”

She spares the younger woman a concerned glance, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as she nods, preparing to jump into the fray. But she barely takes a single step forward before a blinding light engulfs the room, Beatrice throwing an arm in front of her face to shield her eyes against its radiance.

She blinks, black dots dancing across her sight as the light fades and her vision readjusts, feeling the beginnings of a headache pounding behind her eyes. Several seconds pass before she can see clearly again, eyes widening as she’s met with the image of Ava in all her angelic glory. She stands between the stunned Lilith and Sister Joan, clearly calling upon her divine power to effortlessly hold them both at bay, her face stern with righteous fury.

“Enough!” she shouts, shoving them apart. The halo flares brightly in warning before dimming, the power receding as Ava takes command of the situation. Despite the severity of it all, Beatrice takes a moment to truly appreciate the sight of her, donned in her battle gear, looking every bit the powerful warrior nun she is. 

“What are you doing?” she demands, glaring at Lilith before snapping her head towards Joan. “Why are you fighting each other?”

The hall is silent, neither woman willing to admit their fault in the matter. Ava sighs, hand sweeping through her hair in exasperation. “We don’t have time for this – whatever this is! It’s going to take hours for us to reach the border, and we’ll need time before dark to go over strategy. The van is packed and everyone is ready to leave if you are. We were just waiting on you.”

“Of course,” Joan nods, shooting Lilith a final glare before moving to grab her gear from where it sits in a pew. “We can leave immediately.”

“The sooner, the better,” Ava agrees, bending down to pick up the bag she had dropped in her haste to intervene.

“Ava,” Lilith calls, all traces of animosity gone as she lays a gentle hand atop her shoulder. “I know you feel as though you need to prove yourself, but this is not the way. I’m asking you to reconsider, to take more time and think this through.”

“I know you’re just trying to look out for me, but I can do this,” she replies, earnestly. “I know you haven’t been around to see it, but I’ve been training really hard this week.”

“I know, and I’m proud of you,” she insists, squeezing her shoulder with encouragement. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about the progress you’ve made. But Ava, that’s not what this is about and you know it. I… I’m worried about you. Not physically, but… here,” she taps a finger to Ava’s forehead, “and more importantly here…”

Ava looks down at the finger pressed to her heart and can immediately feel the swell of emotion rise up, clearing her throat at the sudden lump that finds itself lodged there. She lets her mind wander, thinking back to the night before; Lilith and Camila had shown her so much love and patience, doting on her in her most vulnerable and weakened state. She had done nothing to earn such affection, and yet they had given it so freely, so willingly. 

A part of her wonders if she’s really going about this in all the wrong ways; she had acknowledged her mistakes and was making a conscious effort to improve. That had to count for something, right? She looks away, contemplating a response, eyes roving her surroundings for a sign – any sign – to tell her that what she's been doing is right or wrong. 

She considers Lilith's words, Camila's too, and thinks that maybe she had rushed into this too quickly. But then her eyes land on Beatrice standing a few feet back, and she's reminded all too vividly of why she began this journey of self-improvement in the first place. She falls back, retreating to Joan's side as she offers what she hopes is a reassuring grin.

"You worry too much," she says, punching her teasingly against the arm. "I think you're losing your edge."

"And I think you're losing your mind," Lilith grumbles, wrapping a fierce arm around the younger woman as she pulls her into a hug. "Why won't you let me talk you out of this?"

Ava flushes shyly at such open affection, but lets herself be held. "Lilith, you're embarrassing me," she mumbles, quietly, feeling very much like the kid sister being sent off to camp for the first time alone. 

"Good, maybe you'll get so embarrassed you'll want to stay and hide in your room," she replies, slyly. "Is it working?"

"No, it's not," she huffs, feigning annoyance as she pushes away. "I'm going, and that's final. I know I haven't been the halo bearer you guys need or deserve, but I'm the only one you've got. It's time I start acting like it, and if that means I gotta start venturing off on my own to work with other teams… well, I'll do whatever it takes. Do better, be better… that's my promise from now on."

Beatrice feels something stir within her at the words, a familiarity to them that she can't quite place. She sees a brief flash of what feels like a memory – Ava on a street corner, tears in her eyes as she flinches back – and something almost clicks into place. But that night is only fog, and her head aches from the earlier light of the halo; she winces, face scrunching as she attempts to recall the events of that first night. 

‘Why?’ she asks herself, ‘Why can’t I remember?’

She watches as Ava and Lilith continue to exchange words, the older woman clearly trying to sway her into staying. But Ava is adamant in going, exasperation growing the longer they delay. Eventually, she simply steps back, shoulders shrugging in half-apology as she slings her bag over her shoulder and turns to walk away. 

Beatrice trades desperate, panicked glances between Lilith and Camila, but neither move to stop her. She wills herself to follow, wanting to give chase, but her legs feel heavy as she stands frozen in place. She wonders if this is how Ava once felt, all those years in bed, unable to control her body despite every prayer and plea for it to move. 

"What are you doing? You're just letting her go?" she asks, nearly demands. "Lilith, weren't you the one to say you couldn't give Ava too much space!?"

"Yes, but I also can't force her to stay," she replies, bitterly. "Ava made the decision to leave… she has to make the decision to stay. I trust Sister Joan about as far as I can throw her, but I know her team is at least capable. If Ava really believes that this is what she needs, then I have to trust that she'll do what needs to be done, not just for the mission, but to ensure she makes it back to us safely."

The thought of Ava of going into battle without them – without her – to watch her back is enough to release Beatrice from whatever invisible force is holding her back. She breaks into a run for the second time that morning, her boots clacking against the stone as she hurries after the halo bearer, praying that this won't be a repeat of the hospital. She shoves past the double doors, nearly barreling into a group of new recruits as she searches the courtyard for the van threatening to take Ava away again.

Beatrice spots the vehicle as it idles by the gate, the back doors open as Ava and Joan load their bags into the trunk. She doesn't hesitate to call out, urging her legs to move faster as she races up the cobblestoned driveway. Ava turns just in time, her look of confusion morphing into one of surprise as Beatrice crashes into her.

The two sway as Ava tips back onto her heels, hands lingering by her sides before coming together, resting tentatively on the small of her back. Beatrice clings to her, arms wrapped tightly around her neck as she tries to convey through the embrace everything she doesn't yet know how to say. And Ava, even as inarticulate in the language of touch as she is, garners an inkling of the message.

Her chest blooms with warmth, radiating through every nerve ending in her body, but she doesn’t let herself dwell in it. Ava catches Sister Joan’s eye and silently asks for a few minutes alone. Their team leader gives an understanding if not reluctant nod, climbing into the back of the van as she gently shuts the doors behind her. Gingerly, she attempts to pull away, but that only seems to make Beatrice hold on tighter.

“I don’t have much time…” she says, quietly.

“Don’t go,” Beatrice implores, leaning back just far enough to look her face to face. “Please don’t go. I know it may be too little too late, but I am sorry for the things I said to you, and for the way I’ve behaved. I have no excuse for the way I treated you in Barcelona, and I certainly have no excuse for failing to try and make amends in the days since we returned…”

“I can’t even begin to explain the reason behind the things I’ve said and done to you,” she goes on, “but please know that I never meant any ill intent. I… I can’t say I’ve been much myself lately, and–”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Ava cuts in, gently prying Beatrice’s arms from her neck. “You’ve always been the one to tell me the hard truths. I’ve just been too stubborn to listen. But I hear you now, and I’m taking the steps I need to make myself into the best version of myself – the best warrior nun that I can be.”

Finally, she manages to pull far enough away, stepping back to create a safe distance between them. “Do better, be better,” Ava recites, soft and bittersweet. “That’s what you told me, and that’s what I plan on doing.”

Beatrice wants to scream that she didn’t say that, and if she did, she can’t remember the context in which it was said. But it seems to be the foundation upon which Ava has created this supposed better version of herself, and she has hated every single moment of its existence. She attempts to say as such, but the back door opens as Joan sheepishly peeks her head through, indicating that they need to get going.

“I need to go,” Ava states, hand reaching for the van. 

“No, you don’t,” Beatrice pleads, “You can stay… here,” her eyes avert, nervously, “... with me. I don’t like the way things have been between us lately. Let’s work this out, Ava. Please, let’s just work this out.”

“Look, I…” she hesitates, eyes closing as she shakes her head. “I’ll be back in a few days,” she says instead, “I-I’m not sure what there is to work out, but maybe… maybe we can revisit this when I come back?”

Beatrice knows that this is likely the best she’s going to get, but that doesn’t stop her from reaching out, grasping Ava firmly by the arm. “Then you make sure you come back.”

Ava nearly falters beneath the weight of her words, nodding minutely to indicate she had heard. Placated, Beatrice nods and lets her hand fall away, fingers dragging across the inner side of Ava’s wrist and along her palm, wanting to draw out the contact for as long as possible. Eventually, she runs out of Ava to touch and hold onto, and her hand falls uselessly to her side.

It hangs there, limp and lonely, fingers twitching in their emptiness as Beatrice watches the van drive away. 

Chapter Text

Day fades and night encroaches, curious eyes watching through the panes of well-worn glass the ever changing art of the sky. Colors splash and mingle, painting a portrait of a sunset the world would never see again. Fleeting in its existence, eternal in its beauty, Adriel watches the sun sink beneath the surrounding rooftops, setting the sky ablaze in crimson and orange as he stares far off into a distance only his eyes could see.

How long had it been since he’d been free to wander the wonders of the world, unbidden by the oppressive rule of the one who called themself God? And yet these foolish mortals, created in His image, were left to their own devices; allowed to forge their own destiny as they saw fit. Indignation stokes the embers of a rage born from captivity, his face twisting in a snarl at the reminder of all that he is, and all that he is not. 

'Soon,' he thinks, hands tightening into fists. 'Soon this world will be mine, and I will be free to do my will.'

"Master?" a voice calls, tentative in its fear, afraid to disturb him so deep in thought. "Master, did you hear me?"

"What is it, Vincent?" he growls, his patience thin.

"It is as you planned," Vincent says, "The halo bearer left Cat's Cradle this morning and is en route to the border. She will be arriving shortly."

Adriel nods and waves dismissively, sending the former father away. Alone, he sets his eyes once more on the sky, hand raised as he calls forth his army of wraiths. 

"You know what to do," he commands, as the last vestiges of light slip away and darkness falls. "Bring the girl to me."

The night is starless, the moon blotted by heavy clouds saturated with the threat of rain. Ava stares, eyes unseeing into the looming blackness as she clutches her hand to her chest. It’s the same hand Beatrice had held earlier that morning, her fingers tracing a line down the middle of her palm, an unconscious attempt to recreate the feeling of that last, fleeting touch. 

It had been hours since they’d left the Cradle, and though her attention should have been focused on the mission, Ava had but one singular focus. Her mind plays the moment again; once, twice, thrice – it goes on and on, like a scene set on repeat. If she thinks hard enough, she can still remember the feel of Beatrice’s arms wrapped around her, pressed so close it seemed impossible to know where she ended and Ava began. 

It had been so long since she’d known what home felt like, but she had felt the stirrings of it in the months since joining the OCS. In Mary she found guidance, with Lilith protection, and Camila an ever present warmth. But Beatrice was her calm in the eye of a storm, the anchor that kept her steady in rough waters, and the hug they had shared felt like a return to safe harbor after months out at sea. 

But how can she reconcile that Beatrice with the one post-Barcelona? Ava knows tempers run hot after every battle, the rush of adrenaline boiling through their veins always leaving them a little on edge in the hours and days that follow. But Beatrice, even on her worst days, had never snapped at Ava as she had. It had shaken her to her core, and even now, a whole week later, Ava feels as though she’s on uneven ground. 

She wants so desperately to believe that everything Beatrice had pointed out was said in the heat of the moment. But then that begged the question: had Beatrice always felt that way? Was she simply too polite, too in control of her own emotions to let it slip, that Ava had been none the wiser? It hurts simply to think about, the mere notion of it picking at the scab of her heart that had yet to heal, tearing it anew. 

Ava shuts her eyes, buckling down on the pain as she tries once more to clear her head. She inhales slowly, letting the air sit and spoil in her lungs until it burns with deprivation. She exhales sharply, the air hissing past her lips before breathing in again to repeat the process. She doesn’t know how long she stands there attempting to regulate her breathing, but she senses a presence approaching, and opens her eyes just in time to meet the kind face of Sister Teresa.

“Are you ready?” she asks, quietly. Ava nods, offering a reassuring smile that Teresa returns, reaching out to readjust the halo bearer’s protective vest. “We were just about to say prayer if you’d like to join us.”

Despite her deep involvement with the church, Ava still had difficulties with the notion of prayer. But she understands the importance of it to her fellow sister warriors, especially in the moments leading up to a fight, and so she tilts her head, indicating for Teresa to lead the way. She earns a friendly squeeze to the shoulder for her efforts, the other woman guiding her away from the back bumper of the van where she had hidden briefly collecting her thoughts. 

“Thank you for joining us,” says Joan, watching their approach. 

“Of course,” she replies, smiling softly to Sisters Anne and Evelyn in greeting. “A team that prays together, stays together.” 

“Amen to that,” Joan grins, eyeing each of her sisters to ensure they were ready. Her head bows reverently, hands folded as she begins to recite, “Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil…”

Ava wasn’t religious, but she had heard the prayer enough times now to follow along, murmuring the words beneath her breath, “May God rebuke him, we humbly pray. And do though, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.” 

“Amen,” they finish, collectively, each signing the cross. 

And just like that, it’s all business. They move swiftly, departing from the relative safety of the van as they jog along the main road; here, it’s all tall grass and countryside, and they have little reason to fear being noticed. With the lateness of the hour and the rural setting, they rarely have to stop for passing cars, easily melding into the shadows at the occasional vehicle. The crossing itself is still several kilometers ahead, but the plan is to intercept the smugglers before they reach the border.

Joan signals for them to stop momentarily, motioning for Evelyn to take cover as she leads the other three further down the road. The whizz of a drone can be heard overhead, Ava’s head turning back briefly to watch as Evelyn deploys it high into the sky to be their eyes from above. She can hear chattering in her ear piece, Joan imparting last minute instructions as they continue to trek along to the intended ambush point. 

The wait, Ava notes, is nearly non-existent.

Sister Evelyn warns them of an approaching cargo truck almost instantly, quickly identifying it as their intended target. Joan throws a spike strip into the road, glancing at each member of her team, silently alerting them to be ready. Ava’s hand falls to the escrima sticks strapped to her belt, forgoing the sword in favor of non-lethal force. Lilith had drilled into her the basics until it was second nature, and she was confident enough in her ability to get through this particular battle without the aid of her sacred blade.

The roar of an approaching engine catches her ear, and she can feel the halo glow beneath her shirt – a clear sign that divinium was near. Her hands tighten around her chosen weapon, eyes flickering to her sisters as they prepare to make their move. It doesn't take long for the truck to appear, cruising along the road, unaware of the trap laid out ahead of it.

Several pops crack through the air as it runs over the spike strip, tires bursting as the truck shrieks along the pavement. It comes screeching to a halt nearly seconds later, Ava running for the driver's side door as Teresa rounds the hood towards the passenger. Ripping open the door, she grabs a fistful of the driver's shirt and yanks him out of the seat, throwing him into the road. 

She gives him a heavy thwack to the head for good measure, knocking him unconscious before climbing in to secure the keys. Quickly shutting off the engine, she stuffs them into a pocket and hurries around to the backside of the truck, following the sound of a scuffle. Ava doesn't hesitate, jumping into the fray as she lifts a man off Sister Anne, her halo burning righteously as she calls upon its strength to toss him face first into the body of the truck.

A sizable dent is left behind, the metal warped as he slides unconscious to the ground. Ava helps the nun to her feet, shielding her with her body as she regains her bearings before leaping back into the fight. Though outnumbered, the sister warriors work in perfect synchrony as a unit. Even Ava, as new of an addition as she is, easily finds her fit amongst the team, working best with Teresa by her side as Joan and Anne partner together. In all honesty, its hardly a fair fight, and they easily dispose of the men that dared to stand in their way. 

Sheathing her sticks, Ava climbs into the back of the cargo space, Joan not a step behind as Teresa and Anne drag the unconscious men off to the shoulder of the road. She feels the halo thrum beneath her skin, pulsing slow and steady before suddenly picking up, practically thrashing in warning as she nears an unmarked crate in the back.

"Wait," she says, holding out a hand for Joan to stay back. "Something's wrong. This… this doesn't feel right..."

"What? What do you mean? What is it?" Joan asks, her voice rising with alarm. 

Ava takes a careful step forward, ears perking at a familiar sound as she quickly motions for Joan to fall back and retreat. "Get out! Get out now!" she shouts, as the halo blazes along her spine. She doesn't hesitate, grabbing the nun by the scruff of her collar as she hurls her out the back and as far away onto the pavement as she can. Her eyes are filled with panic and apology, choking out a ragged, “Run!” as the quiet beeping she’d heard rapidly picks up pace… 

Ava’s world shatters and fractures in a haze of red and blue, and her last cohesive thought is that she really wishes she could have held Beatrice’s hand that morning for just a few moments more. 

Lilith’s eyes snap open, a sense of dread sitting heavy in her stomach; sinking, swirling lowly as she pushes herself up and out of bed. She moves swiftly, bare feet padding silently along the stone floor as she exits her quarters. She glances left and then right, unsure of her destination. Her eyes narrow, sharpening in the darkened corridor as instinct guides her towards the main hall.

The sound of metal scraping against metal immediately sets her on edge, claws instinctively extending as she rounds the corner and cautiously enters the hall. Her brows furrow, lips thinning in a frown as she notices the gate to the armory is unlocked and open, a dark shadow flitting from one weapons rack to the next. A thief, perhaps?

Lilith sneers, stalking across the floor as she rushes past the gate and towards the unsuspecting figure. She lays a hand on their shoulder, whipping them around. “What do you think you–”

A harsh breath escapes her, words half-formed on the tip of her tongue as she stares at the impassive face of Beatrice. She’s dressed for battle, her favored knives strapped to the front of her chest with her retractable staff sheathed at her belt. Lilith stares, reluctant to believe that the woman in front of her is in fact their Beatrice, but there’s no mistaking that face – no denying those eyes, once soft and compassionate now dull and unseeing. 

“Beatrice?” she asks, quietly. “Beatrice, what are you doing? Why are you in the armory? And why are you dressed like that?”

Her only response is a punch to the gut, Beatrice’s fist sinking deeply into her stomach as Lilith wheezes and doubles over. She stumbles back, clutching her abdomen as the younger nun advances, arm swinging in a right handed hook. Lilith dodges, clambering backwards as she attempts to stay out of range, hands held up in a placating manner.

“Beatrice, this isn’t you!” she pleads, cursing softly beneath her breath as Beatrice extends her staff. “Listen to me! You’re not yourself! You need to fight it, Beatrice! You need to be strong!”

The pole cracks across her cheek in response and Lilith can feel her temper flare. She reigns it in, reminding herself that even though this is Beatrice’s body, her sister isn’t the one in charge. She teleports into the armory, snatching her preferred sticks as Beatrice whirls around and marches towards her. Lilith warns her off with a front kick, foot stomping against her protective vest as she lunges forward. 

Beatrice barely falters, staff twirling between her hands before crashing it down atop Lilith. It’s only her quick reflexes that save the taller woman from sustaining serious head trauma, crossing her sticks in an ‘x’ to intercept the blow. Instantly, she shifts into the offensive, bashing Beatrice in the ribs on either side. The smaller nun grunts in pain, and for a brief moment, Lilith catches a glimpse of the sister she knows is still inside her.

But as quickly as she sees it, its gone again, leaving Lilith once more with this creepy, quiet, vindictive shell of Beatrice. Their weapons clack as they trade blows, neither relenting as they fight for dominance. Lilith doesn’t know how they don’t wake the whole convent with their ruckus, but she’s grateful for the lack of distraction, ducking and weaving through narrow swipes and misses. 

Its a relatively even fight until Beatrice brings out the knives, and then its mad dash to not get stabbed, whacked, punched, or kicked. Lilith knows she can’t let this fight drag on any longer than it already has, tossing all sense of fairness aside as she teleports behind her and bashes her across the back of the head with the butt end of her sticks. In an instant, Beatrice crumples, falling like a sack of bricks into the cold, unforgiving stone. 

Lilith hovers over her body, waiting tensely to see if she would remain unconscious. She doesn’t stir, remaining limp and unmoving, and it’s only then that Lilith lays down her weapons and carefully lifts the younger woman up and over her shoulder. 

“What a mess,” Lilith sighs, carrying her off towards their living quarters. She’d keep Beatrice under watch for tonight, gently restrained by the thickest rope she could hope to find at this hour, and alert the others come morning. “What a huge, fucking mess..."

She makes it two steps down the hallway.

Then the doors crash open. 

Chapter Text

Beatrice doesn't know how long she stands there, watching for the van carrying her heart away long after it had already disappeared. She opens and closes her fist, attempting to bring back feeling to her hand that had now settled like dead weight by her side. Somehow, it only makes her feel worse – the realization that there's nothing there but empty space, that she no longer has Ava's hand to fill that gap.

It's ridiculous and illogical to miss someone that had only just left, but her chest aches nonetheless, hollow with the absence of her halo bearer. In truth, she'd been missing Ava long before she got in that van and drove off; it's only now that the physical distance becomes so glaringly apparent, growing further and further at 95 kph.

Briefly, she contemplates standing there until the warrior nun’s return, for fear of adding even ten feet more to the distance already between them. In all honesty, it's rather pathetic how long she genuinely entertains the idea. But Beatrice supposes that's the thing with Ava, how being around her makes her want to be pathetic, and sappy, and completely lovestruck as a fool. And though she was often one to shy away from the 'L' word, too timid and shamed to touch on the notion even with the far end of her bo staff, what other feeling was there to encompass the gnawing ache in her bones; to run, to give chase, to follow Ava to every ends of the earth and whatever realm lay beyond it? 

Beatrice loves Ava. It's as simple and as complicated as that. 

To what extent, she's still not entirely sure, but it hurts to think she may never be given the opportunity to find out. As a friend? Obviously. As a sister in arms? Of course. But as something more? There's always more… 

A sigh escapes her, heavy with the weight of her melancholy. She lets her eyes linger on the gate a moment more, foot sliding along the stone pavement, heel never leaving the ground as she turns back towards the Cradle. The physical act of walking away feels almost too much for Beatrice, and so she drags her feet instead, careless to how that may make her look. 

She's met at the entrance by Lilith and Camila, twin looks of worry on both their faces. She tries to offer what she hopes is a reassuring smile, but it feels false on her face and it must show if the quick, nervous glance the two share is anything to go by. Beatrice lets her shoulders slump, the feigned pretense of being 'okay' falling away now that she knows the others aren't buying it.

"She's gone," she announces, quietly. "Ava's gone. She left. I… I couldn't make her stay…"

"You know that girl, head as thick as a brick," Lilith replies, attempting to lighten the mood. "Once she's gotten her mind on something, there's no changing it."

Beatrice knows its said in a way that’s meant to make her feel better, but it only serves as a reminder that she is the one to have put it in Ava’s head to begin with. “This is my fault,” she admits, for the second time that morning. "I pushed her away, made her feel as though she wasn't good enough. I don't know how to fix this…"

Camila smiles, gentle and kind, as she reaches out and loops her arm through Beatrice's. "A good cup of sweet nettle tea is always the best place to start."

Ten minutes later, the trio find themselves in the kitchen, nursing mugs of Camila's signature blend. Beatrice cups the drink between her hands, allowing its warmth to seep into her skin as she watches the water change color; tendrils of pale yellow bleeding from the tea bag as it infuses with the clarity of the water, darkening to a golden amber the longer it steeps. She can sense the younger nun's gaze upon her, brimming eagerly for approval, and so she brings it to her lips and takes a careful sip.

"It's good," she says, and despite the heaviness of her heart, the way Camila beams is enough to alleviate a small fraction of that burden. "Thank you," she adds, and she means it.

"Of course!" she replies, taking a hearty gulp from her own cup. "You know we're here for you… it's what sisters do."

Beatrice merely nods, taking another sip from her drink. “... how are you feeling?” she asks, the silence too loud for her ears to bear. 

Camila knows a deflection when she sees one, but she humors Beatrice nonetheless, hoping to put her at ease. “Much better,” she grins, “It’s still tender, but the wound is fully closed–” 

Lilith watches the two carefully, tea untouched as she leans against the counter. Her mind races with thoughts of their earlier conversation in the garden, collecting dots in order to connect them. There is something decidedly off about Beatrice's recount of the events leading up to today, and something like nausea swells in her gut as she slowly comes to a terrifying conclusion. 

Aggression, loss of consciousness, holes in one's memory – all symptoms of a concussion, yes. But in their line of work? The possibility of something else is too real to rule out. For perhaps the first time ever, Lilith curses her lack of powers; for all the abilities Hell had bestowed upon her, the ability to see wraiths would have certainly been useful.

They need Ava and the halo's holy sight to confirm her suspicions, and Lilith briefly considers opening a portal in order to steal her away. The look on Sister Joan’s face would be worth it alone, but she knows she needs to proceed with caution. To accuse Beatrice, one of the greatest – if not the greatest – warriors the OCS had produced in recent years of demonic possession was not a matter to be taken lightly. Furthermore, it would need to be handled delicately, to avoid alerting the other nuns; there’s no way Lilith would subject Beatrice to that sort of scrutiny without proper justification.

After further contemplation, it also brought into question: was Beatrice even currently possessed? As far as warrior nuns go, Ava was particularly sensitive to the presence of demons. She was known to light up like a Christmas tree at even the whiff of a wraith, and yet she had shown no signs of awareness when the two had embraced shortly before her departure. 

Her outburst the previous evening could prove explanation. Beatrice was certainly within range of the blast, and Ava was powerful enough to exorcise a swarm of possessed – what was one compared to dozens? But how? How could a whole week have passed without her notice? 

Beatrice had explained that Ava had refused to look at her during each encounter, and considering the nature of their conversations, it was likely Ava had been highly emotional – another trigger for the halo to react. Was it possible she had simply gotten her signals mixed? Knowing Ava’s inexperience, and her penchant to think more with her heart and less with her head, Lilith was beginning to realize that the likelihood of possession was becoming abundantly realistic. 

She lets her eyes flicker towards Camila, unsure if she should confide in the younger nun her revelations. She was more experienced than Ava, but only by a margin, and she worries her clear hero worship of Beatrice would interfere with her ability to look at the situation objectively. If only Mary were here, she muses, but their non-nun sister had left the other day on the whisper of a lead and no one had heard from her since. 

Ultimately, Lilith decides against it. She makes note to let Camila know to watch for any strange behavior, but if Beatrice was no longer possessed, then the threat had passed. It was picking up the pieces that would prove to be the true issue, and it was certainly a mountain of mess for them to get through. But Lilith had promised Beatrice they would fix this, and so she chooses to have faith that they'll come out of this on top. Faith had never failed her before. 

Faith won't fail her now.  

Beatrice watches as the sun descends, lighting the sky in fiery hues of crimson and gold. The view is picturesque through her bedroom window, eyes transfixed on the horizon as she stares listlessly from where she sits, perched atop the edge of her bed. Her fingers sink into the covers, clenching and unclenching her fist.  

Her head hurts… 

... her heart aches .

It had been easier in the company of her sisters, her day spent catching up with Lilith and Camila. They had been uncharacteristically hesitant around her, seeming to choose and speak their words carefully – tiptoeing around every conversation as though she were fragile and made of glass. Beatrice was not particularly fond of this behavior, but she understood where they were coming from and she appreciated their efforts nonetheless. As frustrating as it may have been, it had kept her occupied, preventing her mind from wandering too far down the winding path of despair.

But now, the day dwindles and Beatrice is alone. Camila was still under physician’s orders to rest, and Lilith had spent much of the previous night nursing Ava through her fever. They had retired early after supper, Beatrice retreating to her own room soon after. Any attempt to pray or quiet her mind had been unsuccessful, and the headache that had been quietly pulsing in the background all day had quickly exploded into an all consuming throb.

Through watering eyes, she glances towards the clock atop her nightstand. Ava would be setting the ambush with Sister Joan’s team any moment now, and the sudden urge to get up and move is too overwhelming for her to deny. She leaps to her feet, wobbling as the room spins, and paces the length of her room on shaking legs. 

“I should be there,” she murmurs, heatedly. “I should be the one watching her back…”

Beatrice doesn’t do well with waiting, even less so with worrying. The constant need to be doing, to actively be bringing value to whatever situation she might find herself in is ingrained into every fiber of her being; this week alone had been a test, but she had persevered with the hope that it would bring Ava back to them. To her.

But Ava hasn’t come back. In fact, she’s further than she’s ever been, both physically and emotionally, and Beatrice doesn’t quite know how to handle that. Even her earlier promise to revisit their conversation does little to quell Beatrice’s fears, and the guilt festering in her gut only grows the longer she dwells on it. The things she should have said or done, combined with her perceived failures, dominate her every thought. Every action and word, remembered or not, feels inadequate and not enough.

‘This is my fault,’ she thinks, not for the first time that day. ‘This is all my fault. Everything. I did this…!’ 

Abruptly, the pounding in her head sharpens to that of a knife, sending Beatrice stumbling into the dresser. She barely manages to catch herself, knuckles bleaching with how tightly she grabs on, braced against the furniture as she struggles to stay upright. 

Red.

Everything goes red, her vision blurring as something heavy settles in her chest, sinking deeply in the sea of her soul. Beatrice lurches, heaving against the dresser as it finds anchor, hands scrambling for the small stand mirror at the far end of the dresser. She watches with growing horror as her own reflection twists into someone she can hardly recognize as herself, the whites of her eyes swiftly replaced by pitch black. 

“No, no, no…!” she pleads, a sob of realization escaping her trembling lips.

Behind her, the sun sets beyond the horizon, plunging the world into darkness. The light fades, and Beatrice knows no more. 

“What a mess. What a huge fucking mess…”

Lilith sighs, expelling her frustration with a single, heavy huff. Beatrice dangles limply over her shoulder, head lolling as the other woman quietly makes her way back towards the residential wing. She places one careful foot in front of the other, wary not to awaken the unconscious nun. It’s late, and she doesn’t particularly fancy a repeat of their fight… 

She barely makes it into the hallway before the main doors crash open, the heavy wooden panel smacking against the stone wall. Lilith tenses, fully prepared to defend against this unexpected intruder, when Mary comes backing her way into the hall, cursing up a storm as she drags an unconscious Vincent in by the ankles. It takes a moment for her to notice the other woman, preoccupied by the useless fleshbag that was their former Father, but she pauses and does a double-take at the sight of Lilith standing in nothing but her pajamas, a comatose Beatrice hanging bonelessly over her shoulder.

“Uhh… you wanna explain what that’s all about?” she asks, nodding her head towards Beatrice.

“I could ask you the same,” Lilith replies, eyeing Vincent with nothing short of disdain.

Mary grunts as she drags him further into the Cradle, letting his head bump against the occasional uneven stone. “I was just returning from my latest lead,” she answers, dropping his legs unceremoniously to the ground. “Complete dead end. But I found him lurking around outside just now. Gave him a good whack or two to the head, and here we are.”

Cuffing his wrists together, she raises her brow and adds, “Your turn.”

“It’s a long story,” Lilith sighs, laying Beatrice gently on a pew.

“Give me the short version,” Mary insists, arms crossing impatiently. 

Lilith isn’t given the chance to answer. Vincent startles awake at that moment, crying out as he curls in on himself, clutching his head as he groans with pain. Mary tuts and kicks him with her boot, threatening to crack him again as she raises her shotgun in warning. He throws his hands up instinctively, kicking himself away as she points the barrel at his head and demands an explanation.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” he cries, flinching back as Mary pretends to pull the trigger. “Please, don’t shoot! I came to warn you!”

“And why should we trust you?” Lilith sneers, making her presence known as she brandishes her claws at him. “After everything you’ve done, you think we’re just going to take your word?”

“Please,” he begs, frantically. “Please, you must understand! It wasn’t supposed to be this way! You’re all in danger! His possessed are on their way here now – they’re coming for her!”

Lilith and Mary trade a cautious glance. 

“Who?” Lilith asks, grasping him by the throat. “Who are they after? Ava? She’s not even here right now!”

“No, no… you don’t understand!” he chokes, gasping as her hand tightens against his windpipe. “Adriel knows Ava isn’t here – he set up the divinium delivery! He wanted her gone!”

“What? Why?” she demands, shaking him viciously for answers. “Why would he want Ava gone? If she isn’t the target, then who is?” Vincent struggles against her, fighting against her hold as Lilith continues to rattle him for a reply. 

“Her!” he finally shouts, his head jerking towards Beatrice. “Adriel doesn’t want Ava…”

“He wants her.”

Chapter Text

Lilith expects signs of a fight.

She expects the long streak of tire tracks etched across the pavement; she expects the pileup of unconscious men haphazardly strewn about; she even expects the delivery truck to be in poor shape – though half blown to smithereens is a bit heavy handed by her standards, she supposes Sister Joan’s tactics have still gotten the job done. 

But what Lilith doesn’t expect, what Lilith isn’t prepared for… is to find Sister Joan and her team huddled on the side of the road; isn’t expecting to see Ava, body riddled with pockmarks of divinium, looking so much like Sister Shannon the night she passed away.

And for a brief, agonizing moment, it’s like history is repeating itself.

Ava’s head is cradled in Teresa’s lap, face marred by dirt and debris, her left eye swollen shut. The nun soothes her hands through Ava’s hair, murmuring words of comfort into her ear as Sister Anne works furiously beneath the light of a headlamp. Her hands are caked in blood – Ava’s blood – as she carefully extracts the glowing shrapnel, whispering words of apology every time she digs the long set of tweezers into the gaping holes of her body. Beside her, Sister Joan provides assistance, her face set in grim determination as she packs every new wound with instant clot and gauze.

“C’mon, Ava!” she encourages, pausing momentarily to squeeze her shoulder, “Don’t give up now! We’ve got you! You’re going to make it, so don’t give up on us!”

Lilith stands, frozen, feeling somehow both painfully present and yet mentally detached, as though she were watching nothing more than a scene from a movie. It’s only when Sister Evelyn comes tearing onto the scene, the OCS commissioned van screeching across the road as it slams to break beside them, that something within her awakens. Fury and grief rear their ugly head, and Lilith is in no state to stop it – doesn’t think she could, even if she tried.

She rounds on the group of nuns, lifting the unsuspecting Joan by the straps of her armor as she holds her high, her legs dangling as Lilith all but roars into her face. “What did you DO?!” she shouts, face mottled crimson, eyes glowing effervescent like the fires of hell itself. “What happened?”

Sister Evelyn hops out of the driver’s seat, hand falling to the gun at her side. Joan catches her eye, waving her hand dismissively, and instead motions for her to help her sisters with Ava. Evelyn hesitates, eyeing the murderous snarl painted across Lilith’s features, but Anne calls for assistance and her duty to the halo bearer takes precedence over duty to her team leader. Without protest, she immediately falls into line, taking her place beside their group’s medic.

“I’m sorry, Sister Lilith,” Joan croaks, apologetically. “I’m sorry. It happened so fast. I-It was a trap! Ava sensed it before any of us could even realize what was happening. She grabbed me, threw me out the back of the truck to safety, and warned us to run…”

Joan’s eyes well with tears, head drooping with shame and sorrow. “Ava saved my life. She saved all of us. I don’t really know how she did it but… she used the halo to create a sort of counter blast. The energy she expelled was enough to contain the worst of the explosion, but there was divinium, and… s-she got caught in an aftershock…”

“I’m sorry,” she finishes, hanging limply with defeat. “I’m so, so sorry…”

“You had one job!” Lilith bellows, fists tightening around Joan’s vest as she shake her viciously in her frustration. “Protect the bearer! Protect Ava! Against my best judgement, I trusted you to take care of her! How could you let this happen? How could you–”

She’s cut off, stilling as Ava calls out for her, voice weak and barely there. Lilith doesn’t hesitate, depositing Joan onto the cold asphalt as she drops to her knees beside Ava. All vestiges of hostility melt away, hand finding the younger woman’s cheek as she leans down to press their foreheads together. She takes a deep breath, relishing in the feeling of Ava, relieved to find her still alive.

“Lil…?” Ava rasps, tone ragged but curious. “What are you… are… you really here?”

Lilith sniffles, smiling through the tears she’s so desperately attempting to fight as she nods her head against Ava’s. “Yes, that’s right. I’m here,” she replies, hand tightening against her cheek, silently terrified by her rapidly cooling warmth of her skin. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

Pressing a kiss to her temple, she withdraws, glancing expectantly at the other sisters. “I’m taking her with me,” she declares, leaving no room for question. 

“It would be for the best,” Anne agrees, solemnly. “She needs more medical attention that I’m currently equipped to provide. I’ve removed the divinium, but she’s lost a tremendous amount of blood. Allow me to dress her more serious wounds. She… she should be okay to survive the trip…”

“Do what you must, but make haste” Lilith replies, sternly. She steels herself against the sight of Ava’s pain, digging deep to exude the strength and level head that’s expected of her. “We will need you all to return home as swiftly as possible. There is more trouble at hand tonight that I have time to explain.”

The other sisters share confused glances, but they know a direct order when they hear one, and the former halo heir ranks highest amongst them. Between Anne and Evelyn, it isn’t long before Lilith is taking Ava into her arms, tenderly cradling her against her chest. Quietly, she wonders how many more times she’ll have to carry Ava’s broken body, but its a burden she’s both honored and willing to take – to be the bearer of the bearer. 

With Ava’s head tucked beneath her chin, Lilith casts a final, sweeping glance of Sister Joan and her team. With a curt nod, she summons a portal and steps through, bracing herself to meet what she already knows is waiting for them on the other side. 

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Camila startles from her slumber, eyes snapping open as the church bells ring loudly into the air, a cacophony of sound that shatters the once silent Cradle. She blinks tiredly, head heavy and groggy with sleep. It takes a moment to orient herself, but she soon realizes that it’s still in fact the dead of night and that she hadn’t simply overslept. Her stomach sinks at the implications, tossing off her bed sheets as she clambers for her dresser and begins yanking on her combat gear.

She rips open the door to her room only a few moments later, tugging on her boots as she hobbles into the corridor. The hallway is crowded with sister warriors, each in various states of dress and awareness, rushing to answer the call to battle. Nausea swells in her gut, sitting like spoiled milk in her stomach as she anxiously makes her way to the hall in search of what remains of her team.

She barely makes it halfway down the hall when Lilith suddenly appears, steering her into a side corridor and away from the other sisters. Camila frowns, brows pinched in confusion and worry, but the older woman merely shakes her head and motions for her to follow. When she doesn’t budge, Lilith rolls her eyes and takes her hand, quickly leading her away.

“Lilith?” she asks, voice tinged with a hint of panic. “Lilith, what’s going on? Where are you taking me?”

“We’re under attack,” she warns, gently urging her to hasten with a quick squeeze of the hand. “There’s a horde of possessed congregating just outside the front gates. We need to leave… we need to get out of here.”

“What? And abandon our home? Our sisters?” Camila replies skeptically, heels digging into the floor as she roughly yanks her hand free. “How can you even suggest something like that?”

“It’s not what you think!” Lilith insists, hand extended once more as she waits for Camila to take it. “Please, there’s no time to explain! Just trust me, okay?”

Camila huffs, hand folding over Lilith’s as she allows herself to once again be led toward some unknown destination. “I trust you, Lilith. You know I do! But I still need answers…”

“And you’ll get them, I swear,” she answers, vehemently, as Camila begins to recognize their path toward the vehicle bay. “But we need to leave before they break through the gates. We’re running out of time.”

Running out of time for what, Camila isn’t entirely certain, but the urgency in her sister’s steps is enough to warrant her a moment of reprieve from questions. As they enter into the garage, she’s met with the sight of Mary loading several go-bags into the back trunk of a van, tossing them carelessly as she stockpiles their supplies. She pauses mid-throw at their approach, the two older women sharing an intense stare; a silent conversation passes between the two, Lilith nodding resolutely as she releases Camila and immediately teleports away.

“Wait!” Camila cries, as Lilith vanishes. “Mary!” she exclaims, whipping towards her. “Where did she go? Why do we have to leave?”

“Mother’s orders,” Mary grunts, only half answering as she returns to packing. “Help me finish getting the van ready and then I’ll explain.”

Desperate for answers, Camila does as told, loading an ammunition box into the back with a modicum more care than the non-nun beside her. Between the two of them, it’s not long before the trunk is packed and ready to go. Mary slams the doors shut and hurries towards the driver’s side.

“Get in!” she demands, keying the ignition. 

“Wait, but what about Lilith?” she asks, pulling open the front passenger side. “And what about Be–”

She stops abruptly, teetering precariously in the doorway as she finds the woman in question already seated in the back, hands cuffed as she sits strapped to the middle bench. She’s clearly unconscious, head lolling forward as she sits half tilted to the side, blissfully unaware of her current captivity. Camila gasps at the sight, eyes beguiling her horror as she turns to Mary for answers.

“Lord, forgive my language, but what the hell is going on?” she demands, whimpering quietly as Mary sighs with exasperation and tugs her fully into her seat. “Why is Beatrice restrained? What’s happened to her?”

“She’s possessed!” Mary replies candidly, side eyeing Camila before adding, “Seat belt.”

She barely has time to strap herself in, the latch clicking into place just as Mary hits the accelerator and flies out of the garage. She takes the lesser used path behind the cathedral, the one often used by delivery trucks that leads towards the hillside and away from the town. The speed limit is practically a suggestion at this point, 

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” she mumbles, seemingly dazed by the revelation as they exit through the back roads and continue their drive away from the Cradle. “This is Beatrice we’re talking about! It’s a dangerous accusation! How could you even fathom the thought?”

“Look, I’m just as shocked as you are, but Lilith caught Beatrice taking weapons from the armory. And then she attacked her when she was confronted,” Mary answers, sounding every bit as tired as she felt. “Lilith already had her suspicions after talking with her this morning, but you can’t really argue that she’s not fully herself. And then, on top of all that, I… I caught Vincent outside the doors when I came back tonight. He said the whole thing was a setup, that Beatrice has been the target of wraiths since Barcelona.”

“Adriel wants Beatrice,” she continues, “She’s too devout to have possessed outright, but he’s been sending his wraiths to influence her, to sow discord amongst the team and within herself. He knows the sort of asset she is to the OCS, and turning her against us would be catastrophic to the order. But more importantly, he… he knows how much she means to Ava, and how much Ava means to her…”

“... you mean how much they love each other?” Camila adds, tentatively.

Despite the direness of their current situation, Mary finds herself grinning. “So, you see it too?”

“I’d be pretty blind not to,” she replies, quietly. Mary nods and hums thoughtfully in agreement. “So… so what now?” she asks, turning to stare out the window, watching what little of the world she could see fly by.

“Now we wait, and we plan, and we prepare,” Mary explains, firmly. “We’re headed to a nearby safehouse to lay low for the next few days. We’ll perform the exorcism and give Beatrice some time to recover, and then we’ll work on making our next move.”

“Lilith left to fetch Ava,” she goes on, “Vincent mentioned that the delivery was only a diversion created to draw Ava away from the Cradle, and away from Beatrice. With her gone, it would have been easier for a wraith to take possession, and the horde he sent tonight was to steal her away from us. Thankfully, Lilith sensed a disturbance and was able to capture Beatrice before she could make an escape.”

“... speaking of Vincent…” Camila begins, curiously.

“He got what he deserved,” Mary retorts, bluntly, and she realizes that this is all she’ll get from her on the matter. 

Camila feels herself blanche at the unspoken admission, quietly signing the cross in a quick prayer. Not for his soul, but for Mary’s – that she might find peace now that the man responsible for Shannon’s murder was finally gone. With the conversation at its natural end, Camila settles into her seat and silently prays for the safety of all her sisters, both those on her team and those they left behind. Occasionally, she turns in her seat, simply watching Beatrice sway in the back, jostling to and fro with the movement of the van.

“Lilith knocked her out, but we also dosed her with a sedative just to be on the safe side,” says Mary, when she glances back for the third time in ten minutes. “We didn’t want her waking up unexpectedly and going all ninja nun on us.”

“She’s going to be okay, right?” she asks, softly. 

Camila is doing her best to remain calm, but her apprehension must show as Mary reaches across the center console and gives her hand an encouraging squeeze. “Of course she’s gonna be okay,” she assures, “Beatrice is the best of us, and we’re going to do everything we can to bring her back to her normal self. Once Ava is here, we’ll be able to ensure the wraith is out for good. And then we can all go kick Adriel’s ass for even thinking he can mess with our girl.”

It’s a small comfort, but it carries Camila the rest of the ride to the safehouse, just a short half hour away from the Cradle. It was far enough that they weren’t in its immediate vicinity, but still close enough that they could call and receive support within a reasonable timeframe. It’s a small house in the countryside, the acre or so of property fenced in from all sides, and completely unassuming to anyone that may pass it by.

As they roll up the driveway, they notice the lights are turned on and the door is left ajar. Parking, Mary pulls out her shotguns and steps out of the van. “Lilith and Ava should have already arrived. Let me just double check that its them. You stay here with Beatrice, okay?”

Camila nods and slips off her seatbelt, shifting in her chair to stare back at the other nun. Beatrice is still completely out of it, slumped forward as far as her seatbelt will allow. She wonders if she knows what’s going on, if she had been aware of her possession when it happened. Her heart breaks for her friend and mentor, chest aching with the knowledge that possessions were known to be both physically and mentally taxing. 

She can only hope it won’t cause their beloved Beatrice anything too lasting damage wise... 

But Camila doesn’t get to dwell on it long, Mary’s hand slapping against the van as she makes a sudden reappearance. “Yo, you need to get in there now!” she shouts, opening her door. “Don’t worry about Beatrice, I’ve got her. But Ava is in bad shape and Lilith can’t patch her up on her own. You’ve got the most medical training out of all of us – she needs your help!”

Camila feels the earlier panic make its return, chest constricting anxiously as she leaps from her seat and rushes into the house. “Lilith! Lilith, where are you?” she calls, searching the front room and kitchen.

“Down the hall, there’s a medical room! Second door to the left!” comes her reply, and Camila tries not to think about the clear desperation resonating in her voice. 

She’s not entirely sure what she’s expecting when she arrives, but as Camila turns the corner into the room, its like the rug is pulled from beneath her and she falls to her knees in grief. “Lord, no. Please, no,” she begs, breathlessly, as Ava lay trembling atop the bed, the sheets cradling her body soaked in dark splotches of red.

“Camila, please!” Lilith implores, frantically. “Please! I can’t do this on my own!”

Its the fear in Lilith’s voice that gets to her, snapping Camila out of her stupor as she wipes the tears from her eyes and pulls herself back up onto shaky legs. She flits about the room, taking stock of their equipment and supplies as she begins pulling out everything she knows they’ll likely need; gauze and dressing, bottles of sterile water, an IV and saline drip, suture kit and so on.

Finding a box of gloves, she rolls up her sleeves and sanitizes her hands before placing on a pair. Grabbing a pair of shears, she starts cutting away the tattered remains of Ava’s shirt, exposing the various wounds that lay beneath. Her lips thin with a frown, taking in the clammy, cool feel of her body and the ashen pallor of her skin. Applying a tourniquet, she finds the vein in Ava’s arm, wiping the site clean with an alcohol pad before inserting the needle and pushing fluids.

“We need to stop the bleeding,” she says, instructing Lilith to dump the sterile water into a disposable basin and prepare a syringe as she searches Ava for the most serious injuries. She finds a deep gash to the upper left of her abdomen, stretching nearly three inches across her stomach, and another wound piercing the space between her hip and thigh. A third one lay at the base of her neck, worryingly close to the artery but having missed it by mere centimeters. 

“I need you to debride the wound while I prepare the suture. Flush out any dried blood and dirt, and any smaller particles that may have remained. Pat dry with the gauze… start at the one on her neck.”

Lilith does as she’s told, cleaning and preparing the wound for Camila as she grabs the needle holder and carefully pulls the pre-threaded needle from its package. “These were caused by divinium, weren’t they?” she asks, as she gently pulls at the skin with her forceps and swiftly inserts the needle. 

“It was a setup,” Lilith sighs, heavy with her grief. “Joan… Joan said that she saved them, that she sensed the truck was going to explode and threw her to safety.”

“That’s our Ava,” Camila smiles weakly, attention focused on her stitching. “Saving others before saving herself…”

“And to think… she was such a coward when this all began.”

“I don’t think she was a coward,” Camila replies, “The world was hers for the first time in over a decade. Could you really blame her for wanting to live the life she never got to have?”

“No, I guess not,” Lilith agrees, shrugging. “I just hope she still gets the chance to live that life once all this is over with…”

Camila can only nod, unable to find the right words to say. They work silently but diligently, patching Ava back together the best they can. Mary peeks into the room a little while later, a faraway look in her eyes as she remembers the way Shannon looked when she died, and tries not to think about how Ava looks so similar now. She leans against the door frame, watching quietly as the others work through each of Ava’s injuries – cleaning, stitching, and making her whole.

“How is she?” she asks, as Camila finishes applying the final bandage – a simple butterfly to a cut above her eyebrow.

“As stable as she can be, all things considered,” she sighs, slumping tiredly into a nearby chair. “She lost so much blood… I gave her an IV, but…” Camila trails off, shaking her head. “If this were anyone else, they likely would have died by now, but the halo is sustaining her and… it might take longer than normal for her, but I think she should recover…”

“Should?” Mary repeats, pushing off the wall. “Should isn’t a guarantee, Camila…”

“She needs blood,” Camila replies, exasperated. “But obviously we don’t carry any of that in our safehouses. We would need to take her to the hospital, but with everything going on right now, that could be more dangerous than if we didn’t.”

“Couldn’t one of us donate?” Lilith suggests, tossing the bloodied rags and used gauze pads into a trash bin, tidying up just to keep her hands busy.

“Person to person transfusions are risky,” she answers, shaking her head “Do we even know her blood type?”

“B positive,” Lilith answers immediately, earning her confused looks from the other two. “What? I memorized her file when she first came to us…”

“Okay, well I’m A negative,” says Mary, lips tugged into a frown. “So, I guess that means I’m out. What about you two?”

“AB positive,” Camila replies, as Lilith announces, “O positive.”

“Shit,” she grumbles, running a tired hand through her hair. “What…what about Beatrice? Isn’t she like a universal donor, or whatever they call it? Any time the local blood bank came asking for donations, Beatrice was always there. I remember her telling me that her blood could be given to anyone… so why can’t we give her blood to Ava?”

Camila contemplates it a moment before standing up, leaving the room briefly in search of her tablet. “Did you pack my–”

“Green duffle on the couch,” Mary answers, seeming to know where this was going.

A minute later, Camila returns, swiping and tapping the screen. “C’mon, c’mon…” she mumbles, before releasing a triumphant ‘aha!’ as she turns the tablet around for them to see. “I pulled up Bea’s medical chart. She’s O negative. It’s not a perfect solution, especially because we’ll be doing this directly between them, but her blood type runs the lowest risk of reacting negatively with Ava’s… I say we take the chance.”

Mary and Lilith can only agree.

Slowly, Ava comes to, feeling groggy and drained. Her eyelids feel as though they weigh a million tons, and her body is heavy and unresponsive. It’s only the excruciating pain that confirms she hasn’t reverted back to her previously paralyzed state, feeling somehow as if she were on fire, struck by lightning, and frozen all at once. It takes a monumental effort, but eventually she’s able to squeeze her eyes open, blinking through the haze as she takes a moment for the world to sharpen and clear.

Even just breathing hurts, Ava crying out as she inhales too deeply. Instantly, Camila is by her side, Lilith and Mary crowding around behind her as she soothes a hand across Ava’s cheek. 

“What… what happened?” she asks, her voice hoarse and scratchy. “I feel like I got hit by a truck…”

“Close,” Mary laughs, relieved to finally see her awake. “There was definitely a truck involved.”

Ava’s eyes widen as all it comes rushing back, recoiling in pain as she instinctively attempts to sit upright. Gently, Camila pushes her back down. “Don’t move, or you’ll only hurt yourself further,” she warns.

Ava is anxious for answers. “Is everyone else okay? Did… did I save Sister Joan?”

“Yeah, you did good, Ava. You did really good,” Lilith replies, proudly. 

Ava relaxes briefly, releasing a sigh of relief. “But… wait,” she asks, confused. “W-where are we? How did you guys get here? And where’s Be–”

A soft groan catches all of their attention, the group turning as one to look at the woman sat beside her bed. Beatrice sits slumped, hands tied to the chair that Mary had dumped her in; Ava’s eyes trace the needle inserted into her arm, following the line connecting her to the needle in her own. It definitely explained the strange, warm sensation she’d been feeling there…

“What the fuck?” she mumbles, confused. “Why do you have her tied to a chair? What is going on!?”

Before anyone can answer, Beatrice’s eyes snap open, body shaking violently as she rattles in her chair. Ava’s eyes widen in horror as Lilith and Mary rush around the bed and practically tackle her, holding her still as she continues to struggle and fight.

“W-wait a minute! Stop! Stop it!” Ava cries, worriedly. “You’re hurting her! You’re–”

An unearthly shriek pierces the air, and for a quick second, Ava swears she sees a flash of red encompass Beatrice’s body. The realization is like a punch to the gut, like all the breath had been knocked from her body. Dread runs like a chill down her spine.

“No…” she whispers, despondently. “No, no, no! Shit… shit guys, she’s possessed!”

“Yes, we know!” Lilith grunts, struggling to hold her down, even between her and Mary. “Please, Beatrice! I know you’re in there! Be calm! Fight it! You’re so much stronger than this!”

Ava watches, feeling powerless as the two continue to hold her down, tears pooling at her eyes as Camila quickly explains the situation. Shame and guilt rise to the surface, and whatever feelings of inadequacy she may have felt before only seem to triple with the revelation. She truly is a failure as the warrior nun, too wrapped up in her own hurt feelings to notice that Beatrice’s behavior had been off; merely taking everything she’d said and done at face value. 

‘I don’t even deserve the halo at this point,’ she thinks, bitterly. If she was too useless to notice when the woman she lo– cared about was being targeted by wraiths, what right did she have to call herself the halo bearer? Recognizing the presence of a wraith was practically job description number one, and Ava had failed miserably.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, “I’m sorry! This is my fault. I made it all about me, just like I always do… but if I had just looked harder, instead of pushing you away…”

Weakly, she attempts to reach out, stretching as far as her arm would allow. Her fingers brush the barest corner of her knee, and just like that, Beatrice stills as her eyes clear momentarily. She blinks, looking around dazed and confused. But then her eyes land on Ava, still bloody and oh so broken, her face reflecting so much pain and regret.

She doesn’t know what’s going on, only remembers the brief moment before the wraith took full control. Her heart stutters as it comes to a terrifying conclusion. Did… did she do this? Did she hurt Ava?

A choked sob fights its way past her lips. “Oh Lord, please tell me I didn’t hurt you! Please tell me I didn’t do this to you!” she pleads, eyes widening as she notices the needle in her arm linking her to Ava. A blood transfusion? How badly had she hurt her?

“I’m sorry! For whatever I did to you, I’m sorry!” she apologizes, “Please, take whatever you need from me! As much as you need! Take it – it’s yours! Please, forgive me. I–”

She shudders, gasping as the wraith sinks itself further into her soul. Her eyes cloud once more, and now its Ava that needs to be restrained, Camila pushing her back into the bed as Beatrice is lost to them once more.

“Get it out!” she demands, furiously. “Get it out of her! Get it out right now!” She clenches her eyes shut, calling upon the halo’s power, but she’s still too weak and the halo seems to prioritize keeping her alive over expelling its energy. “Please, you have to save her!”

“Camila,” Lilith looks to the younger nun. “Can we end the transfusion yet?”

She looks between Beatrice and Ava, both fighting respectively to be freed. They had only been connected for ten minutes at most, and Ava had hardly gotten what she needed, but the situation was becoming increasingly dire. “It’ll have to be enough,” she says, quickly extracting the needle from Beatrice and slapping a bandaid over the wound. 

Carefully disposing of the needle, she does the same to Ava, a feral look in the halo bearer’s eyes as she watches Lilith and Mary prepare to perform the exorcism. The room echoes with the first hit, Ava’s face twisted in agony with every punch thrown, feeling powerless as blood flies from Beatrice’s lips. Every now and then they stop to check with her that it was out, but the wraith was stubborn and refused to budge. 

Eventually, it becomes too much for Ava to watch. “Stop! Stop! Enough!” she shouts, eyes shut, the image of them beating Beatrice forever seared into her memory. “I can’t do this. I can’t watch you hurt her! I… I’m not strong enough…”

“It’s for her own good,” Lilith reminds, but Ava would rather fall off a thousand cliffs before watching them hit Beatrice even one more time. 

“Just wait until I’m better!” she argues, “The halo… the halo just needs to recharge, okay? And then I’ll do it myself. Just… just please, don’t hurt her!”

Mary and Lilith share a look, silently asking if the other agreed. But neither of them get to reply, the window shattering as a canister of smoke is shot into the room. The girls sputter and cough, shielding their faces as chemical fumes fill the air. The sound of the front door being kicked in reaches their ears, but whatever is in the air is swiftly putting them all to sleep. Camila passes out first, and then Mary. Lilith manages to hold on long enough to engage the first intruder, slamming them into the door before she too knocks out, slumping to the floor with a heavy thud.

Ava holds on the longest, watching through her fading vision as several silhouettes surround Beatrice. They too are possessed, if the red hues are any indication, and she struggles to resist sleep as Beatrice is released and stands to follow them out. She cries out, or at least she tries to, unable to form anything remotely coherent as the gas takes its full effect. 

Beatrice pauses at the doorway, eyes lingering on the halo bearer. 

Her face is the last thing Ava sees before the world fades to black.

Chapter Text

From the carousel of random thought comes some semblance of order, a subtle awareness of herself and her surroundings. Ava senses movement around her, can hear as several entities shuffle about, and she allows her tired eyes to flicker open in curiosity. She has no recollection of how she got to where she is, or even where she is for that matter. 

All she knows is that Beatrice is gone, and as usual, it's all her fault. 

Ava clenches her eyes shut, willing herself back to the blissful ignorance of sleep – back to a time and place when Beatrice was still here. But her traitorous mind refuses to relent; she can still see her there standing by the door, eyes once filled with compassion and warmth now devoid of all that which made her human. Devoid of all that which made her Beatrice.

Her chest aches with something fierce, a knot that ravels and tangles her insides into a ball of resentment and regret. It sits heavy on Ava’s heart, festering with thoughts of shame and guilt, the quiet bitterness stoking the coals of a sorrow filled rage into an inferno of indignation. She’s only vaguely aware of the condition of her body; she knows she’s in bad shape, but that doesn’t stop her from attempting to rise, summoning every ounce of fledgling strength she’d regained to try and push herself up into a seated position.

Her head makes it half an inch off the pillow before she falls back, breathless and drained. Tears burn at the corner of her vision, eyesight watery as she stares unblinkingly at the unfamiliar ceiling. Her chest spasms with a sob and then another, quietly at first and then louder still. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, sucking harshly to contain the deluge of tears she knows is coming. 

"Beatrice…" Ava calls, despite knowing she isn't there to answer. "Beatrice…!"

"Ava? Ava, calm down," Camila pleads, appearing suddenly by her bedside. A hand falls tenderly to her cheek, thumb caressing beneath her eyelids to soothe away the tears. "I'm here. Mary and Lilith too. They're just down the hall coordinating with the search teams. Do you want me to get them?"

Ava grunts and shakes her head, pulling away from the other woman. She doesn't want Camila, or Mary, or even Lilith. All she wants is Beatrice, and in her current state of agitation, she has no qualms in making that desire known.

"B-Beatrice…" she gurgles, struggling to rise once more. 

"I'm sorry, Ava. I'm so sorry," Camila whispers, eyes red and glossed over with evidence of her own grief. "She's not here. She's gone. They took her… they took Beatrice."

Through the haze of pain comes a brief sense of clarity, Ava's mind zeroing in on Camila's words. "Who?" she demands. "Who took her? Was it Adriel? Was he here!?"

The nun's eyes shift anxiously, as if searching for someone or something to back her up. But there's no one else around, everyone tasked with their own duties as the search for their wayward Sister is set into motion. "OCS rejects," she finally admits, after a brief moment of hesitation. "Crimson's crew wasn't the only batch, and Vincent must have helped Adriel track down others. They came in with gas canisters – completely took us by surprise. There was nothing we could do to stop them…"

"No…" Ava murmurs, voice wavering in despair. "No, no, no…!"

Like a ship lost at sea, it sinks into her that Beatrice is truly, well and gone, and for a moment she falls silent. Everything from the other day comes flooding back, a torrent of sight and sound as she relives every moment from the beginning. Beatrice had asked her to stay, had begged her not to leave. And she had left anyway, too stubborn and too proud, too caught up in her own selfish feelings. If only she had listened. If only she had stayed… 

Something within Ava snaps.  

She tenses, body straining as she forces herself into a seated position, ignoring Camila's panicked pleas for her to stop. She can feel several small pops along her neck, stitches tearing with how taut her muscles coil and clench, growling her frustrations as she fights against gravity and her own damned weakness. Camila places a gentle hand against her shoulder, attempting to restrain her, but she only shrugs her off with a harsh jerk and a glare that could melt glaciers. 

"Ava, stop it!" she implores, frantically. "Please, you're only going to hurt yourself further!"

"No! Beatrice!" Ava replies, hand clamping the wound to her neck as she attempts to throw her legs over the side of the bed. "I have… I have to find Beatrice… I have to bring her back!"

"And we will," Camila promises, fiercely. " We will! But you're in no position to be up and about! You barely survived last night! If we hadn't gotten to you in time you could have died!"

"Then you should have let me!" Ava shouts, whirling furiously towards the other woman. 

Camila's lips tremble. "You don't mean that…"

"Yes, I do!" Ava seethes, jaw clenched as she perches on the edge of the bed and attempts to stand. Her legs wobble and buckle, protesting her stubborn endeavor. A huff of aggravation races past her lips, hands bunching around the bedsheets. 

“You should have let me die,” she rasps, brokenly. Her head lowers in remorse, face hidden beneath the curtain of her hair as she brings her arms up, resting her open palms atop her lap. She stares at the blood on her hands, and it surprises her with how little she cares for her own wellbeing. 

“Don’t say that,” Camila replies, voice quivering. “How could you possibly think we would have let that happen?” 

“You prioritized the wrong person!” Ava answers, angrily. “My life doesn’t matter! I don’t matter! You should have used that time to save Beatrice! Maybe if you’d spent less time patching me up and more time working on getting the wraith out, she would still be here!”

“Maybe she would, we don't know that… but you definitely wouldn’t!” she retorts, her infinite patience wearing thin on the matter. “Do you honestly think that’s what Beatrice would want? Do you think she’d be happy, waking up and realizing you had died because of her?”

“It doesn’t matter what Beatrice would or wouldn’t want! Because she’s not here!”

Camila’s hands fly upwards with exasperation. “It matters because we’re going to get her back! And Beatrice is going to want you there when we do!”

"Well maybe I don't deserve to be!" she snaps. "I had one job! One! And I couldn't even do that right. I failed the mission. I failed the order. I failed her. I don't… I can't…"

Ava seems to crumple in on herself, folding over as she bends down and buries her face into her hands. Camila watches, a pained expression on her own face as she watches the halo bearer weep with all the ferocity of her broken heart. She was the picture of grief, devastation, and loss; her entire demeanor that of one who had already suffered too much, and who was unsure if they could survive it again. 

A delicate hand clamps over her own shaking lips, stifling a small sob as Camila shares in Ava's pain. Beatrice was her mentor and her idol, her big sister and one of her best friends; of course she was torn up at the way things turned out. But she couldn't even begin to imagine the anguish Ava must feel, couldn't fathom the sense of despair over losing the one person she so clearly loved most. 

"I want her back…" Ava whispers, once again attempting to stand. This time she makes it, swaying beneath the weight of her quickly crumbling foundation. "I need her back! I have to fix this! I hav–"

It's too much for Camila to bear, rushing towards the younger woman as she sweeps her into a bone crushing hug. She can't bring Beatrice back, and she can't ease Ava's pain, but she can still offer one small act of mercy. She's already subtly twisting the ring on her finger to reveal the hidden needle, pricking it into the unsuspecting Ava's neck as the warrior nun grunts at the sudden, sharp pain. She falls like dead weight, slumping against Camila as the nun gently lowers her back onto the bed.

"N-No…" Ava groans, fighting desperately against the sedative. "No… please no…"

"Shh… I'm sorry," Camila apologizes, regretfully. "I'm sorry, sweetie. But you can't… not like this…"

"Please…" she begs, her words slurring. "Please, I… I need…"

Ava's eyes roll back. 

Oblivion. 

The return to Cat's Cradle is a solemn affair. 

Ava, still weakened by her explosive encounter with divinium, is laid on a stretcher and carried into the infirmary. She spends the next day and a half drifting in and out of consciousness, plagued by fever and her wounds that stubbornly refused to heal. The halo is worryingly dull during this entire period, flickering only occasionally like a lamp whose battery had lost its charge. 

When she recovers enough to stay fully conscious, Ava alternates between bouts of anger – thrashing so violently in her sheets that they resort to restraints – and catatonic episodes spent staring listlessly at the ceiling. Two days after their return, the nurse leaves to gather fresh supplies for her sponge bath and Ava disappears, utilizing what little strength she'd regained to phase through the mattress and escape. 

Lilith nearly tears the Cradle apart as the cowering Sisters search for their missing halo bearer, scouring every nook and cranny of the cathedral. But Ava is found only a short twenty minutes later, in the one place they should have all expected her to be. 

They really should have known. 

The door to Beatrice's room squeaks open as Mary, Lilith, and Camila hover anxiously in the hall. Ava is simply there, staring out across the room; it's obvious that no one had been there in days, untouched as the night Beatrice was taken. Her eyes roam the room, taking in every inch of detail. The bed sheets are unkempt, several books lay haphazardly on the floor, her table mirror is on the wrong side of the drawer… 

"She knew…" Ava croaks, hands trembling as they curl into fists. "Beatrice knew what was happening and she tried to fight it. She tried to fight her possession…"

"I should have been here," she laments, head shaking side to side, first with denial and then with anger. "I should have been here for her! She asked me to stay and I left! I left her! I should have been here to protect her and I wasn't. She needed me and I wasn't there…"

She swings for the nearest wall, knuckles cracking as they meet the unyielding stone. The crucifix hung by Beatrice's bedside rattles with the force of her blow, Ava's eyes snapping upwards towards the cross. The rage that had quietly simmered within her all day quickly boils over at the image of Christ, the anger desperate for an outlet spilling out in an explosion of fury. 

"What about you, huh?" she demands, eyes narrowed at the wooden carving. "Where were you during all this? How can you call yourself our 'Lord and Savior' when you couldn't even save one of your most devout believers! She trusted you! She trusted that you would never lead her astray, and look what happened!"

Ava's jaw tightens, teeth clenched as she glares through tear filled eyes. "... I guess that makes us both failures," she says, quietly. Her throat bobs, swallowing the gravelly lump of emotion sitting on her esophagus. 

'You make known to me the path of life.' These were the words Beatrice lived by, and yet, Ava couldn't accept that this was the path God had laid out for her. She couldn't accept that this was all part of His plan, that Beatrice's possession was all part of some grander scheme. It was a fluke. A mistake. And she would be the one to fix it, even if it was the last thing she'd ever do.

"My sword," she says, limping past her sisters at the door, shoving them aside as she hobbles her way down the hall. "Where is my sword!?"

The three women share worried glances, hurrying after their warrior nun as she storms through the corridor. Lilith catches up first, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder in warning. 

"Don't," Ava hisses, the halo flaring as it lights up for the first time in days. 

"Ava, you need to calm down," she replies, hand tightening its hold.

"I said don't!" she shouts, shoving her off. Hurt flashes across Lilith's face, but Ava pays it no heed, her mind singularly focused on the task at hand. She bristles as Mary steps forward, pushing ahead to stand in her way.

"Nuh-uh, baby girl," she says, arms crossed over her chest. "You are in no condition to be leaving your bed. And you certainly have no right to brush us off for trying to help."

"I don't need your help!" Ava retorts, phasing through her. "Why are you even here! You should all be out looking for Adriel! For Beatrice!"

"We have search teams all over Spain, and OCS chapters in other countries have been alerted to be on the lookout," Mary explains, heatedly. "We're doing everything we can to find her, but right now, with you is exactly where the three of us need to be. And you throwing your little tantrum is only proving my point."

"Then help me by bringing me my sword!"

"So you can do what, exactly?" she challenges, brow lifted expectantly. "Hunt them down yourself? You wouldn't stand a chance against Adriel, let alone a strong breeze right now."

"I still have to try!" she answers, bracing against the wall as what little strength she had wanes once again. "I can't just sit here and do nothing!"

"You're not doing nothing," she sighs, rolling her eyes at the younger woman's stubborn insistence. "You're recovering. So when the time comes for us to rescue Beatrice, you'll be good to go. Because as it stands, you're in no shape to fight."

"Oh yeah?" she growls, arms raising defensively even as she sways unsteadily on her feet. And she already knows it's a stupid thing to say, but logic and common sense are lost to Ava at this point, so she says it anyway, "Fight me."

Mary releases a heavy sigh. "You better think twice about what you're saying, Ava. I can whoop your ass even on your best day. What makes you think I can't now?"

"Prove it!" she eggs on, attempting to instigate her into attacking. When Mary doesn't respond, she takes it upon herself to start, lunging for her with a sloppy cross jab. The older woman merely steps aside, slapping it away with ease. Ava stumbles before righting herself, throwing another punch that Mary bats effortlessly.

"Seriously?" she asks, glancing behind Ava towards Lilith and Camila. The younger nun has her hands clasped in quiet prayer, whereas Lilith's lips are set in a grim but resigned frown. She catches Mary's eye and nods once, indicating for her to let it play out. Ava clearly needed to let out steam, and if this was the only way to help their youngest sister work through her pain… 

"Okay, hotshot," she goads, motioning for Ava to come again. "Show me what you've got."

Ava has heart, that much is true, but in her injured state that's about the only she has going for her. There's no coordination to her attack, Ava simply lashing out with everything she has, desperate to make someone else feel even a fraction of the hurt she is inside. And Mary understands that, perhaps the most out of everyone there. 

She remembers the days following Shannon's death, how reckless and unhinged she had been in her search for her killers. Even now, after so many months had already passed, it still hurts to think that she's gone. She knows exactly what Ava is going through, and she wouldn't wish that pain on anyone; the silver lining in all this is that they still have a chance at getting Beatrice back. 

When Shannon was taken, there was no coming back from that…

It's this brief distraction that allows Ava to catch her off guard, and though there's barely any power behind it, a fist hits her chin. Mary reacts instinctively, catching the next punch as she twists Ava's arm behind her back and kicks her legs out from beneath her. Lilith is on her in seconds, breaking her hold on the younger woman as she forces her to take several steps back. 

"Too far!" she growls, eyes blazing as Mary holds her arms up in surrender. 

"I'm sorry, I know," she replies, regretfully.  "I didn't think, I just–"

"Ava? Ava, are you okay?" Camila asks, her gentle voice cutting through the tension as she kneels beside the halo bearer. Ava is sitting, slumped against the wall as she clutches her arm to her chest, shaking softly as she sobs. 

Mary waves her hands in a placating manner, indicating to Lilith she means no harm. Slowly, she scoots around the other woman and carefully approaches the younger two, nodding at Camila to let her know she had this. Carefully, she moves until she's beside Ava, close enough to comfort but not enough to make her feel trapped. 

"Ava? I'm gonna sit next to you if that's okay," she says, only lowering herself to the ground once Ava had given her permission. Carefully, she pulls her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them in an effort to make her larger stature as small and non-threatening as possible. The fear and desperation in Ava is palpable, worryingly and dangerously so, and though Mary had no qualms about kicking her off cliffs, this was one ledge she couldn't allow her to fall from. 

"Do you want to talk?" she asks, quietly. 

Ava shakes her head.

"Alright then," she replies, taking the lead. "Is it okay if I talk then?"

She hesitates, and then nods. 

Mary takes a deep breath, quietly contemplating her next move. "I miss Shannon," she says eventually, and there's that sharp twinge in her chest that comes every time she says it aloud. "I miss her more than I know how to deal with most days. And I didn't think I'd have to lose her more than once, but the more time passed, the more I realized I was still losing her. Just… in the way her clothes don't smell like her anymore, or how I sometimes find myself still turning over my shoulder to share something, and she isn't there to hear it…"

"I hated you in the beginning," she admits, chancing a glance at the girl beside her. Ava had stopped crying, but the tears still hung in her eyes, threatening to fall at a moment's notice. "Or, at least I convinced myself that I did. I was just so angry at you for simply wanting to live your life. Because you being alive was just another reminder that Shannon was dead… and that the only reason you were alive was because she was dead…"

"But I'm glad the halo chose you. Losing Shannon was hard, but gaining you? My dumb, goofy, loveable little sister with a heart of gold? It… it doesn't make it worth it – nothing will ever make losing Shannon worth it. But you… you made it so much easier to bear. And even if you don't believe it, I think you came into our lives exactly when our family needed you most. You were everything we never knew we needed..."

"And I know things have been rough lately," she continues, treading gently with what she knows is still a sensitive subject. "Possession aside, I know Beatrice's words have really affected you, and you reacted in the only way you knew how. So don't go blaming yourself for what happened. This… this was beyond anything any of us could have predicted or prepared for..."

Cautiously, Mary slides over, scooting closer until they're sitting hip to hip. Leaning forward, she turns her head, making sure to catch Ava's eyes. "I don't know what's going on in that head of yours. But I know you're planning something. What exactly that is, I hope I never have to find out. I can see how desperate you are to get Beatrice back, but I'll say this as many times as I need to for you to understand… I didn't lose Shannon, just so I could lose you too."

"So don't go breaking my heart any more than it already is," she says, arms opening as Ava hiccups and falls into her embrace. "I know I don't say it enough but I love you, kid. We all do. Don't ever doubt or forget that, okay? You are just as important to us as Beatrice, and we are going to get her back. But we're going to do it together, because that's what families do… got it?"

She feels Ava nod against her neck, curled so deeply into Mary's arms she was all but carrying the girl. There's a soft sob from behind before Camila comes crashing into them, peppering kisses atop the crown of Ava's head, whispering her own affirmations of love and support. Lilith joins in only a moment or two later, her longer limbs engulfing the three in a strong hug. 

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for the way I’ve been acting..." Ava murmurs, voice muffled from somewhere between them. "And thank you… for being here…"

"Any time," Mary replies, softly. "It's what we're here for. You can be a real brat sometimes, but you're our brat."

Her eyes roll, a small smile finding its way onto her lips. "Yeah, yeah…old hag…"

"Hey," she cries, indignantly, "show your elders some respect!" 

"How about I show you my fist!" she retorts, jokingly.

"Oh, you want to go for real this time?" Mary shoots back. 

"No!" Camila protests, pouting at the two. "No more fighting!"

"Children!" Lilith huffs, voice alight with amusement. "I'm surrounded by children!"

"And you're the biggest child of us all!" Ava teases, grinning as the older woman gives a mock gasp of betrayal. 

"You take that back!" she demands, heatedly.

"I dunno, Lil," Mary adds, 'tsk'-ing skeptically. "She does make a fair point."

Lilith feigns hurt. "Et tu, Mary?"

'This is my family,' Ava thinks as the arguing continues, shaking with watery laughs as Camila playfully blows a raspberry against her cheek. Mary ruffles her hair, and Lilith bears down on them, pretending to crush the three beneath her weight, their loud protests echoing through the halls of the Cradle. 

It's a mess of tangled limbs as they all attempt to detach and retaliate, Camila falling over as she tries to stand. Mary shoves at Lilith, Ava whining with laughter as she's caught in the middle, her heart still heavy but lighter than it's been in what feels like eternity. Her body protests with pain as she pushes both of them, squeezing her way out of their grip as they half-heartedly fight her escape. But it's a welcome pain, the kind of pain that lets her know she's alive and present, and even if briefly, it supersedes the pain she still feels over losing Beatrice. 

'This is my family. I found them, and they found me…'

Silently, she promises to do whatever it takes to find Beatrice, to find their missing piece. To make their family whole. 

'I'll find you too, Bea. No matter the cost, I'll bring you home where you belong…'

"What are you doing?"

Ava stiffens, turning slowly as she offers Camila a guilty, sheepish grin. "Nothing," she replies, attempting to act nonchalant despite having clearly been caught in the act.

"Doesn't look like nothing," the other woman states, hand on her hip in a stance of reprimanding. 

Her shoulders lift in a half-shrug. "I was just… cleaning up," she admits, returning to her task of folding Beatrice's bedsheets. 

"It's nearly 9pm. You should be resting," Camila sighs, stepping to assist the halo bearer as she struggles to get the corners of the sheet just right. 

"I know," she answers, nodding gratefully as the nun helps pull the covers straight. "But I can't… I can't just lay there and do nothing. All I've done since we got back is lay in bed. Even if I can't be out there searching, I need to feel like I'm doing something – anything. And yes, I know… I’m recovering. But I still need to feel like I’m doing something pro-active, like I’m not just sitting idly by while everyone else does all the work.”

“So… you decided to clean?” 

Ava shifts her gaze, suddenly self-conscious. “Well, yeah,” she shrugs, quietly. “I figure I’d… I’d get Bea’s room ready for when she gets back.”

A smile splays across Camila’s lips. “That’s sweet of you.”

“It’s no big deal,” says Ava, “I mean, it… it’s my fault anyway that she isn’t here to do it herself.”

“Hey, now,” she replies, the smile quickly morphing into a frown, “I thought you were doing better after Mary’s talk…”

“I was… am doing better,” she assures, sighing as she takes a seat at Beatrice’s desk, the physical and emotional exhaustion of the past few days still weighing her down. “It’s just a lot to unpack in such a short amount of time…”

“That’s understandable. And I know you didn’t want to talk earlier, but… do you maybe want to talk now?” Camila offers, waiting patiently as the other woman falls silent.

As much as she appreciates the offer, Ava doesn’t think she’s ready, and so she gets back up and shuffles towards the drawer, rearranging the various knickknacks until they’re lined up the way she knows Beatrice likes it. Reaching for the mirror, she picks it up, intending to place it in the corner where it belongs. Instead, she startles, nearly dropping it as the image of something – or someone – flashes across her reflection. 

“Ava?” Camila asks, worriedly. “Is everything alright?”

“What?” she replies, clearing her throat as her voice breaks in surprise. “Sorry, no– yes! Everything’s fine. I just… I thought I saw a spider,” she lies, forcing herself to laugh. “Look, I just... I think I need to be alone for a little bit. If that’s okay?”

Camila appears disappointed by the abrupt dismissal but nods her head understandingly. “Of course,” she says, already stepping towards the door. “But don’t stay up too late. And go back to your room before Mary or Lilith catch you out of bed again. You really should still be resting.”

“I know. I will,” she answers, offering a tight-lipped smile and a stiff wave as Camila leaves, quietly shutting the door behind her. She waits a moment or two just to see if she’d return,  counting down from ten before launching herself towards the mirror. Cautiously, she lifts it to eye level, fully expecting to see the image staring back at her once more.

Instead, it’s only her; just her regular, old face, still slightly worse for wear with the fading cuts from her run in with the divinium shrapnel. She sighs, setting the mirror down, unsure whether or not she should be relieved that it was only a figment of her imagination.

“Were you expecting something else? Perhaps… someone else?”

Ava’s heart leaps, stomach plummeting in dread as she stands, rigid and tense. Carefully, her eyes roam what’s in front of her, searching for anything she could possibly use as a weapon. Futilely, she realizes she only has her own, bare two hands and what little power she had in reserve from the halo, which had yet to fully recharge in the days since the ambush. Slowly, she turns around to face Adriel, only to realize that no one was there.

“Where are you? Show yourself!” she demands, hands clenching angrily. 

“I’m right here,” he replies and Ava whirls around, stumbling back as he appears, towering over her with a smug, satisfied grin. 

“Adriel, you bastard!” 

Ava yelps with shock as she lunges for the fallen angel, only to pass directly through him. Catching herself against the desk chair, she spins and makes another attempt, wobbling unsteadily as her punch meets nothing but air. She growls with frustration, lashing out viciously as Adriel laughs, humored by her fruitless endeavor. 

“Calm thyself, child,” he says, hands held up. “Don’t waste your energy. You can’t touch me because I’m not here. Not in the physical sense, at least.”

“Then where the fuck are you? So I can kick your ass for real!” she seethes, panting heavily as the adrenaline fades and she’s left once again in her weakened state. 

“Tsk, tsk,” Adriel replies, feigning disappointment. “Language, Ava . That’s what your dear, Sister Beatrice would say if she could hear you now, isn't it?"

At the mention of Beatrice, Ava’s chest tightens, constricting painfully as she imagines all the number of possible scenarios the other woman might find herself in. 

“Give her back,” she says, voice low and threatening. “Give her back, right now!”

“And why would I do that?” he asks, tauntingly. “Vincent was a good disciple, and he served his purpose well. But Sister Beatrice?” his grin widens menacingly, “She is smart, resourceful, a master combatant and tactician. She is everything I could ever ask for to serve as my new right hand, and with her leading my own team of OCS trained warriors – washed out as they may be – my reign upon this world is guaranteed."

"Not if we stop you first!"

"Oh? I'd like to see you try," he mocks, "With Beatrice by my side, every and any advantage you may have had is obsolete. And to think… I actually have you to thank for all this."

Ava's eyes widen, stomach twisting itself into knots. "What… what do you mean?"

"Don't you remember?" he asks, sounding amused. "Barcelona wasn't so long ago now, was it? You know by now that the halo connects us, that during that battle I sent you a countless number of images and threats against your cherished sisters. But you didn't budge, didn't retaliate. You were the good little soldier they'd been training you to be…"

"At least, that is… until I threatened her."

Ava's throat catches in remembrance, the slow, sinking realization settling in her stomach like a burning lump of coal. "No…" she whispers, head shaking with denial.

"Yes," he confirms, haughtily.

"No," she says again, taking one step back and then another, as if she could physically distance herself from this painful, unexpected truth. "No, no… that's not… you were threatening all of them!"

"I was," he agrees, nodding. "I still am. But the instant I brought up your beloved Sister Beatrice, you charged at me with such ferocity I almost feared for my own wellbeing. However, your personal incompetence was your own undoing, and without your team to back you up, it was almost too easy to defeat you. If not for Sister Camila, I would have won that day."

"But, everything happens for a reason, and I believe my failure that day was so I could have an even greater victory in the days to come. You see, now that I knew how much Sister Beatrice meant to you, I knew I could use that against you. And Ava… you made it so easy…"

"Shut up!" Ava snaps, eyes watering with tears of remorse. 

"I'll admit, possessing her was difficult," he goes on, ignoring Ava's demands for him to stop. "By her own virtue, it was not enough to simply send a wraith and let it do its job. I had to send several to influence her, and then had to draw you away in order for a full possession to take place."

"I knew the Cradle was too heavily guarded for Beatrice to make a clean escape. It's why I sent the horde, and why Vincent came to 'warn' you. I needed to flush your team out to a 'secure' location where my team could extract her with little interference. And it played out perfectly.”

"Why are you telling me this? Why didn't you just kill me then?" she grits out, shaking with rage as she realizes that once again, they'd been played by Vincent and Adriel. "Why didn't you take the halo the night you took Beatrice? If everything panned out exactly as you planned it, then killing me and taking the halo should have been a cakewalk!"

"I assure you I contemplated it," he replies. "But I waited a thousand years for the halo. What was a few days more? No, I wanted you to know the depths of your own failure, wanted you to wallow in your misery and regret. I wanted you to know what it feels like to have something that’s yours be taken and used against you.”

“The halo isn’t yours, asshole!” Ava argues, angrily. “It doesn’t belong to you, and neither does Beatrice!”

“Oh, but she does,” Adriel contends, “And she will remain in my possession for the remainder of her mortal life. Unless, of course… you’re willing to bargain?”

Ava eyes him skeptically. “... what did you have in mind?”

“I think you already know what I want…”

Her jaw clenches, eyes hardening into a glare. “If you think I’m just going to give you the halo–”

“That is exactly what’s going to happen,” he interjects, hands folding casually behind his back as he slowly circles Ava. “Because the truth is, Ava, I don’t need Beatrice to win. She is as expendable to me as Vincent was, and I have no issue with discarding her in the same fashion. Halo or no halo, you have nope of winning against me. You can’t save the world, Ava, but you can at least save the woman you claim to care so much for."

“The decision is yours,” he concludes, staring her down. "You can either give up the halo and get your precious Beatrice back, or I will take it by force and you will never ever hope to see her again. These are your only options, Ava, and if we're being fair, it's generous of me to even give you the choice. So, what will it be?"

Ava knows she should say no, knows that her priority is the halo and the mission. But with this new knowledge and the confirmation of every fear she'd held since the battle of Barcelona – that all this was indeed her fault – Ava can't find it within herself to care any longer. She just wants to get something right for once, and this? Beatrice? This was the one thing she couldn't afford to get wrong.

"I'll do it," she sighs, voice heavy with defeat. "Whatever you want, I'll do it. Just give her back. Please, just give Beatrice back…"

"Good," he nods, smugly. "Then listen carefully..."

The halls of ARQ-Tech are eerie in their silence, corridors normally bustling with researchers and techs devoid of its usual activity. Even now in the dead of night, Ava knows there should be security roaming the premises, but the entrance had been left unlocked and she had yet to come across even a single guard. Knowing Adriel, and knowing who was with him, it wasn't difficult for Ava to deduce what had happened…

She navigates the familiar path towards the main lab, the one where the portal was stored and where she had initially trained to phase through the stone leading to Adriel's tomb. Her heart aches at the memory, wishing she could simply go back in time and stop herself from making such a mistake. But they had been fooled then, and she had been fooled now, and all Ava wants now is to get this over with. 

Quietly, she pushes past the double doors, fully expecting Adriel and his entourage. Instead, the room is dark and empty, the only source of light coming from the illuminated path towards the fire exit. Cautiously, she unsheathes her sword and enters, treading carefully as she makes her way towards the center of the room. Warily, she eyes the portal, wondering perhaps if Adriel or some other otherworldly entity would come barging through. 

A low whistle catches her attention, and she barely has any time to step back as a knife embeds itself into the wall behind her. Ava gasps, fingers dipping into the cut freshly sliced across her cheek, turning frantically to watch as Beatrice emerges from the shadows at the other end of the room. For a brief moment, she can feel herself sag with relief; even under such circumstances, Ava is glad to see her again. But that relief quickly morphs into panic, Ava lifting the sword in defense as Beatrice flings yet another knife. The sound of metal on metal clashes through the room as she deflects the attack, quickly dashing behind a storage shelf for even some semblance of cover. 

She barely makes it before another knife whizzes by.

"Beatrice!" she cries, calling desperately for the other woman. "Beatrice, stop! It's me! It's Ava! Please, you have to fight it! You can't let him win!"

Diving, she tucks into a roll and ducks beneath a table, scrambling to stay out of reach as Beatrice's footsteps echo through the room.

"Damn it, Adriel!" she shouts, "Where are you, you fucking bastard? I thought we had a deal!"

His voice reverberates with laughter in her head. "And I thought you'd have learnt better by now… you should know to never make a deal with a devil. Beatrice belongs to me now, and soon enough, so too will the halo."

'Great job, Ava. Another trap,' she thinks, disdainfully, 'And you walked right into it – without backup, without telling anyone where you were going...'

Ava curses beneath her breath, flinching as the table is kicked back, leaving her exposed. She grunts as Beatrice lifts her by the shirt and flips her onto her back, wheezing as all the air is knocked from her lungs. Adrenaline courses through her, sharpening her focus as she manages to roll out from underneath the other woman, pushing herself back onto her feet as she scurries to create further distance between them.

"Beatrice!" she pleads, sword held in front of her as she slowly backs away from the advancing nun. "Beatrice, please! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! This isn't you! It's my fault you're like this, but please… please, you have to fight this! You have to remember who you are!"

"I… I don't have enough of the halo's power to free you," she says, slashing half-heartedly in warning. "I'm not… I'm not strong enough to save you. But help me, help you. Listen to the sound of my voice. I know you're in there Bea. Come back to me, okay? I need you to come back, please…"

Beatrice halts her forward march, eyes fixed on Ava in a vacant stare. 

The start of a smile slowly begins to form on Ava's lips. "That's it, Beatrice. You got this! You–"

There's a sharp click as Beatrice extends her bo staff, Ava's smile faltering as she swings at the halo bearer. Ava does her best to defend, remembering her lessons as she blocks and parries the barrage of attacks. Its a valiant effort on her part, but she’s simply no match for Beatrice who had age, experience, and more natural talent in her little finger than Ava had in her entire body. 

One, two, three hits and the sword goes flying, knocked from Ava’s grip as Beatrice bashes the staff against her ribs. She falls back, clutching her side as the other woman continues her assault, grabbing various objects from around the lab as she hurls them at her in an effort to keep her at bay. She gets a lucky shot in, a beaker of some sort shattering against Beatrice’s head, and that’s all the distraction she needs as Ava leaps forward and tackles her to the ground.

Ava doesn’t hesitate, bashing her fist into Beatrice’s face. It’s the first hit she’s landed all night, but it gives her the confidence she needs to do it again, fist flying as she hammers her across the cheek. “Get out of her, you fucking freeloader!” she snarls, rearing back to deliver another blow.

But Beatrice recovers more quickly than anticipated, flipping them over as she pins Ava to the floor. Ava, however, isn’t giving up. Leaning forward, she cracks her forehead against Beatrice’s, the two stumbling apart as they each clutch their head in pain. Through the dizzying haze, Ava hobbles towards the nun and manages to wrench the staff from her hand, cracking her across the back as she swings it at her like a baseball bat. There’s no strategy or finesse to her attack, Ava merely attempting to do all that she can to beat the wraith from Beatrice’s body. It physically pains her to do this, but she knows that at this point, she has no other choice.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry it has to be this way,” she apologizes, tears shining in her eyes. “I fucked up, Bea. I fucked up so bad, but I'm going to make this right! I promise, okay? I’m going to fix this. You're going home, okay... I'll make sure of it..."

Beatrice falls back, stumbling to her knees as Ava swings at her again and again. It takes several hits but finally – finally! – she starts to see the tell-tale sign of the wraith losing its hold, a crimson mist oozing from her body as a haunting shriek pierces the air. With all her remaining strength, Ava slams the staff into Beatrice’s ribcage before tossing it aside; the sword is too far out of her reach, lying uselessly on the floor a few feet behind the other woman. But several knives lay scattered about, the divinium tipped blade glowing blue as she lurches for the nearest one. 

In a last ditch effort, Beatrice kicks herself back, reaching for the sword at the same time Ava lunges. A piercing howl shatters the air, a cloud of red dispersing and dissipating as the wraith is banished back to Hell. Silence permeates the moment, broken a few short seconds later as she gives a sharp, shuddering gasp. 

Beatrice’s eyes fly open…

(She hears a small laugh of relief. “There she is. There’s my girl...”)

.

.

.

… Ava’s fall shut. 

Chapter Text

"There she is. There's my girl…"

The words are soft and barely spoken, fading into the empty space that lay between them. Something stirs within her at the sentiment; 'my girl,' it repeats, in the same soft, slow cadence of her heartbeat. The joy in that statement is undeniable, but so too is the pain. Beatrice blinks through the haze, vision clearing as the fog of corruption lifts from her mind. She stares, eyes searching in their confusion as she's met with Ava's shy, dopey grin.

"Ava…?" she questions, voice wobbling in uncertainly. 

Ava only stares back, eyes darting over every expanse of Beatrice's features, as if mapping her image and committing it to memory. Her smile widens, quiet laughter bubbling from her throat before falling suddenly silent, eyes fluttering shut as she slips from consciousness. Beatrice attempts to catch her as she falls, only to find her hands already occupied.

It's only then she notices the holy blade, hilt deep through the halo bearer's abdomen. 

"No…. no!" she cries, hands trembling as they release the sword, allowing Ava to slump and fall fully to the floor. She hits the ground with a heavy thump as Beatrice's own legs give way, following her down as she crumples alongside her, the weight of her actions sinking into her like heavy stone. 

“Ava!” Beatrice pleads, palms pressing to either side of her cheeks as she strives to bring her back, shaking gently at first and then more frantically when she receives no response. “Ava, wake up! Please, please, you need to wake up!”

The younger woman groans, eliciting a sob of relief from the nun as she tenderly strokes her face, coaxing her back to consciousness. “That’s it, yes!” she encourages, “Yes, yes! Open your eyes! Look at me!”

“B-Bea…?” Ava whispers, peering tiredly at her through heavy eyelids.

“Yes, it’s me,” she answers, lips twitching into what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “It’s me, I’m here.” Smoothing a hand through Ava’s hair, Beatrice chances a glance at the sword, choking back her despair as she’s reminded once more of what she’s done. 

As if sensing her anguish, Ava grins and murmurs, “I guess you could say I-I… wasn’t cut out for this whole warrior nun thing…”

Beatrice reels back, aghast at her attempt to lighten the mood – as if lightening the mood were even an option in this scenario. “Ava… Ava was that pun …?” she asks, incredulously. “Are you making jokes? At this moment? Ava, I-I stabbed you!”

“T-twenty two more times and… and you can call me Julius Caesar,” she chuckles weakly, much to Beatrice’s combined horror and chagrin. “... too soon?” 

“Ava!” she admonishes, head bowing as she presses it into the other woman’s neck, desperate to hide the tears prickling at her eyes. “Ava, please… how can you act so… so casual at a time such as this!?”

“...’m sorry,” she apologizes, quietly. “I just… I just wanted to see you smile… one more time.”

“Don’t say that!” Beatrice hisses, jerking back. “Don’t talk like you're not going to make it!” 

Ava’s eyes shift away, sad but knowing. “I was… I was never going to make it out of this. I knew that coming here. I’ve known it since this all began…”

“Ava…” she begs, as her head starts to nod, eyes blinking rapidly as she fights to stay awake. “Ava, no! No, no, no! Stay with me!” Her eyes lower once more towards the sword, hand clasping the hilt as she whispers her apology. Although it was likely the only thing preventing her from bleeding out, it was also the one thing preventing the halo from healing her. And while divinium wounds took much longer, removing the blade was the only way to start the process...

The cry that rips itself from Ava’s throat is guttural, hands flying to her stomach as Beatrice drops the sword to the floor before doubling down on the wound, hands pressing atop Ava’s to stem the flow. Ava’s face is ashen at this point, skin normally flushed with life paling as the last of her light begins to dwindle. Beatrice chokes on her tears, shaking her head as she pleads for her not to go, applying further pressure to keep the fading warmth from spilling out between her fingers. 

“Hold on, Ava. Just hold on,” she says, her entire being seeming to tremble with fear and desperation. “I just… I need to find a way to contact the others! There’s a phone at that workstation. If I just–”

“... stop,” Ava says softly, voice so weak Beatrice barely hears her. “B-Bea… s’okay…”

“No!” she rejects, head lifting to search the lab, frantic for something – anything – that could help her. “I told you not to talk like that! We’re… w-we’re going home, okay? Together!”

Ava’s lips twitch with a smile. “...you’re here, means ‘m already there.”

Beatrice's heart seizes at the admission, lowering her head to press against Ava's face. "How can you say such things to me? Now? Of all times?" 

The halo bearer's smile falters, giving way to guilt. "I should… have told you sooner…"

"You're not… you're not thinking straight," Beatrice replies, lips ghosting Ava's cheek as she speaks. "You're in shock. It… it's the blood loss talking."

"No," Ava refutes, her eyes falling shut once more. "... s'all me, Bea… s'all me."

Beatrice clenches her fists, clutching at  Ava's hands as she lowers her head and stifles a sob against her neck. She sniffles; once, twice. The dam breaks, the flood of tears unrelenting in their deluge, her body shaking with every painful cry. 

"W-what am I supposed to do with that!?" she demands. "Please, Ava. Please! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! If I could take it back… if I could take it all back! Just don't go! Please! Don't go where I can't follow you!"

But it's too late. Ava's body falls slack, the tightly coiled tension releasing as she's allowed her final respite in the arms of the woman who had given her new life purpose and direction. Beatrice shakes her shoulders, slowly and then more roughly when she doesn't respond, crying loudly for her to wake. 

"This isn't funny anymore!" she shouts, harshly. "Stop playing, Ava! Get up! You have to get up!" She presses a hand to her neck, a low, agonized whine escaping her lips as she finds no pulse. 

Swiping furiously at her cheek, Beatrice lays Ava flat as she straightens up, hands finding the center of her chest as she starts compressions. "Look at me!" she pleads, silently counting in her head. "Open your eyes and look at me, God dammit! Ava!"

The count hits thirty and Beatrice's hands fly to Ava's head, one hand pinching her nose shut as the other cradles her jaw and tilts it back, opening the airway. She hesitates only briefly, another hiccup of a sob bubbling from within as Beatrice lowers her lips to Ava's. She breathes slowly, watching the other woman's chest rise, giving one more before going right back into compressions.

She cycles through the motions twice more, her movements growing sloppy as she tires, exhausted and overcome by grief. Beatrice's lips still against Ava's in her last ditch attempt to breathe life back into them. Her hands fall away to clutch at her shirt as she presses her mouth more earnestly against hers in a first kiss that never was and now would never be. 

“Please, I need you...” she shudders, tears trailing hotly along the curvature of cheeks to splash and streak against Ava’s face. 

Beatrice rocks back, a broken wail piercing the silence as she tugs Ava's body into her arms. She cradles her gently, the bearer's back pressed to her front as she wraps her arms tightly around her waist and holds her close. Her hands are wet and slick with blood, a nauseating reminder of her part in this, but Beatrice is too stricken to dare letting go. She can't. Not now and uncertain if she ever will.

She buries her face in Ava's hair, muffling her howls of anguish as she weeps bitterly. Beatrice doesn’t know how long she sits there, curled around the other woman as she lets her sorrow flow freely. It’s only when she hears the sound of footsteps does she look up, staring blearily through swollen eyes as a lone figure approaches.

Instantly, she’s on edge, clutching Ava only that more tightly as Adriel saunters into the room, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “How unfortunate,” he grins, chuckling smugly as Beatrice reaches for the sword and levels it at him. “She was a brave girl, that one. Foolish… but brave nonetheless.”

“Not a step closer,” Beatrice warns, one arm held protectively around Ava’s body as she slowly kicks her feet along the floor, distancing them from the fallen angel as he stands with his hands held up in mock surrender. Gently, she lays Ava down, getting up as she moves to stand defensively between her and Adriel. "You did this, you manipulative bastard! She’s dead because of you!”

“On the contrary, Sister Beatrice,” he replies, grin growing as he nods his head towards the sword, its blade freshly stained in red, “Ava’s blood is quite literally on your hands.”

“You used me,” she grits out, teeth clenched as she slowly advances on him, brandishing the sword threateningly. “You sent your wretched wraiths and possessed me! Ava’s blood may be on my hands, but it was you that guided them!”

"And I did it with such precision," he taunts, Beatrice bristling with fury at the clear amusement in his voice. "I admit, my wraiths had some difficulties with getting to you, but Ava? That poor girl had so many insecurities, and she was so taken by you she– aghhh!"

Beatrice doesn't enjoy violence, but there is a certain satisfaction in the way Adriel cries out when her blade slashes across his chest, carving a lengthy gash into his torso. 

"Don't you dare speak ill of Ava!" she snarls, knuckles bleaching with how tightly she clenches her fists. "You are nothing but a thief, taking that which does not belong to you! You've taken the halo, and now you've taken Ava. You have sinned against Heaven, and Hell, and me. I don't know what punishment awaits you on the other side, but I will not allow them their chance until I have made you pay your penance myself!"

If pain is what made Beatrice a sister warrior then grief is what makes her an act of vengeance, wrath incarnate as she tears into Adriel with all the sorrow and rage she holds in her heart. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wonders if this is what Sister Melanie must have felt standing against the Nazi lieutenant, "each slice an act of hate." But an act of hate against who, she isn't entirely certain. Against Adriel? The Church? Herself?

She doesn't know. She doesn't care. 

Beatrice cuts into him faster than he can heal, swinging the sword with reckless abandon until she's breathless and spent. And then, with every last ounce of strength she has left, Beatrice lunges and drives the blade through his torso, angled up to slip through his ribs and straight into his heart – if he even had one to begin with. She steps closer, lodging it deeper as she stares into his eyes and silently prays for his tenure in Hell to be gruesome and everlasting. 

She wants this to hurt. She needs it to hurt. 

And it does. Adriel's face is twisted with pain, his bloodied lips gnarled in a grimace. But instead of fear, he stares at Beatrice with something akin to respect, chest bellowing with a hearty chuckle as he throws his head back and laughs. 

"I knew you had it in you," he grins, sending Beatrice flying with a mere flick of the wrist. She lands against the far wall with a sickening crack, pain blossoming through her back and chest as she feels a rib or two snap. "You play modest well, Sister, but beneath those layers of careful restraint you are as vicious and vindictive as they come. I could find good use with someone like you by my side…"

"And what makes you think I would join you?" she wheezes, clutching her injuries as she struggles slowly to stand. 

"You're lucky I'm even asking this time," he replies, grunting as he retracts the sword and carefully inspects it. "I could simply repossess you, and without your beloved halo bearer to free you, you would be my servant until the end of your mortal life. But I am feeling generous. What would it take for you to join and lead my army?"

"Nothing!" she asserts, glaring heatedly as she braces against the wall, hardly able to stand through the pain. "What could you possibly offer that I would want? You've taken everything!"

Adriel hums thoughtfully, contemplating her for a moment before stepping towards Ava's unprotected body. Beatrice's eyes widen, her muscles tensing with aggravation as he kneels carefully by her side and places a single hand on her chest. 

"You say I've taken everything," he states, as his hand begins to glow. "But what if I could give something back?"

"What are you doing!?" she cries, frantically. "What are you doing to her? Stop! Don't you dare touch her!" 

"The halo is infinitely more powerful in my possession," he reminds, as the portal flickers briefly behind him. "It was able to bring Ava back once. I can use it to bring her back again. That is, if you're willing to bargain…"

Beatrice startles as Ava gasps, coughing violently as Adriel's hand seems to phase through her chest in reach of the halo. The younger woman grasps his arm, struggling against him as he lifts her from the floor and drags her to her feet. 

"What do you say, Beatrice?" he smirks, glancing at her over Ava's head. 

Beatrice stares, dumbstruck as she watches Ava continue to flail in Adriel's grasp. It was only moments ago she had died in her arms, and now here she was alive again, the proverbial bargaining chip in a game that neither of them had wanted to play. She shuts her eyes, attempting to process through the emotional whiplash, seeking a solution to what seemed an impossible situation. 

"Beatrice… Beatrice, look at me…"

Her eyes snap open, finding Ava's in an instant as the other woman struggles to look at her from over her shoulder. 

"Ava…" she breathes, helplessly. 

"I'm not worth it," she says, wincing as the halo pulses with power, sending a shockwave of energy coursing through her veins. "Whatever he’s promising, don’t fall for it. Remember the mission…"

"Damn the mission!" Beatrice cries, angrily. "I don't care anymore! All I care about is you! Ava, I-I…" The words falter, even now, unable to be said.

"I know," Ava grins, understandingly. "But I care about you too… and I can't let you go through with this…"

Adriel, having silently watched the exchange, scoffs at the sentiment. "You mortals are so emotional," he muses, as Ava turns back to face him. "What have you decided, Sister Beatrice? My patience is growing thin.”

"Her answer is no, asshole!" Ava replies in her stead, drawing his attention as she takes his arm and shoves it further into her chest. His hand hits the halo, amplifying its output tenfold as it flares to life, a golden, ethereal glow encompassing the room. 

“What are you doing?” Adriel questions, curious at first and then angrily, “What are you doing!?”

Ava’s eyes flicker toward something behind him, gritting her teeth at the sheer power radiating through her. The heat alone is searing, seeming to burn her skin from the inside out as she clamps both hands on his wrist, locking them together. Slowly, she begins to walk him back, her strength augmented by the halo even as its power endeavored to tear her apart. Adriel attempts to pull back, but she only holds on more tightly, a rumble of agony building in her throat as the halo’s light grows blinding. 

Beatrice shields her eyes, squinting through her fingertips as she tries to make sense of what’s happening. But the light is too bright for her to see, eyes watering until its too painful to keep them open. She can only listen, desperate and confused as Ava’s shout turns deafening, drowning out Adriel’s demands to be released. Her voice is the last thing she hears before the light explodes, sending a shockwave of energy rippling through the room. 

Beatrice is unconscious even before she hits the floor.

"Something's wrong."

Camila blinks, rubbing tiredly at her eyes as she shifts against Lilith. The two had fallen asleep in the library, curled against one another on a reading couch as they delved into the warrior nun book in search for clues on how to handle Adriel. The older woman is rigid and tense, hands clenched as she stares searchingly into a distance only her eyes could see. 

"What do you mean?" she mumbles, stifling a yawn as she withdraws reluctantly from her warmth. "What's going on?"

"I don't… I don't know," Lilith replies, voice terse as she stands. "Something feels wrong. I can't place it, but it was the same feeling I got the night I caught Beatrice in the armory." 

Suddenly, her head snaps towards the doorway. "Where's Ava?" 

"... in her room?" Camila answers meekly, though going by the wild, panicked look on Lilith's face, that might not entirely be true. "I-I don't know… last time I saw her, she was cleaning out Beatrice's room. She said she would go to bed right after…"

Lilith curses beneath her breath, storming from the library as Camila hurries to keep up. They reach Ava's room in a matter of moments, Lilith all but wrenching the door off its hinges as she slams it open. Camila can feel her stomach sink at the sight of Ava's empty bed, the sheets cold and untouched. 

"Maybe she–"

They rush to Beatrice's room next, only to be met with the same result. Lilith grows furious, face darkening as she growls angrily. 

"That idiot!" she cries, stomping back into the hall. "We should have known better than to–"

"We found Beatrice! She's at ARQ-Tech! They just sent a team to retrieve–"

The two turn as one, watching as Mary comes barreling down the corridor. Her excitement quickly gives way to confusion, glancing back and forth between the enraged Lilith and solemn Camila. She takes a step back, arms crossing defensively over her chest, as if to physically protect herself from what she fears is coming. 

"What is it?" she asks, quietly. "What's wrong?"

Camila looks briefly towards Lilith, as if waiting for her to answer. But she refuses to speak, merely shaking her head as she disappears into Beatrice's room for a moment alone. Realizing that it's up to her to break the news, she sighs wearily and replies, "Ava… Ava's gone…"

Mary eyes her skeptically. "What do you mean she's gone? Like, she's gone from her room, or she's… she's gone…?"

Camila hesitates to answer, unsure of what she's supposed to say. It's no small coincidence that Beatrice is suddenly found at the same time Ava is suspiciously missing, and it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together… 

Before she can manage a reply, a heart wrenching sob breaks the tension. Mary and Camila rush inside the room, the younger nun bracing Lilith as she threatens to fall, one hand clamped shakily over her lips as the other weakly clings to the wall for support. Mary moves to assist, helping Camila lead her towards the bed where they sit for several moments, quietly consoling her the best they can. 

"Lilith… Lilith, what is it?" Mary asks, when her tears slowly start to subside. "Talk to us, please. Tell us what happened."

"I can't…" she whispers, head shaking. "I-I can't…"

"Can't, or won't?"

"No, you don't get it!" she says, desperate for them to understand. "I can't… I can't feel it anymore! I can't feel the halo. I… I can't feel Ava! I tried to reach her, tried to teleport, but I couldn't… there's nothing there anymore…"

Camila and Mary trade worried glances, the implications far from lost. While the limits of Lilith's powers were still undiscovered, it was learnt pretty early on that her abilities were in some way tethered to the halo. It was this connection that allowed her to teleport to them at the Vatican, and could in part explain why she had come back from the other side so devoted to Ava. The bond between them ran deep, and for Lilith to claim it was broken, that Ava and the halo were no longer there… 

"No," Mary denies, pulling away from the other two. "No, she wouldn't. She promised she wouldn't!"

"Mary…" Camila begins, as her own eyes begin to water.

"No! This is bullshit!" she shouts, angrily. "You two can sit here and wallow all you want, but I'm going out there to find her! And when I do, I'm bringing her sorry ass back to bed and locking her in her damn room for being stupid! I swear that kid is gonna be grounded until kingdom come!"

She's gone before Camila can even attempt to stop her, watching helplessly as the door slams shut. Only a few minutes later, the roar of her bike cuts through the night, fading away as she drives off into the streets. With a heavy sigh, she turns her attention back towards Lilith, placing a hand gently atop her own.

"Maybe… maybe the halo is just drained," she tries, attempting to reason her inability to sense her divine counterpart. "Maybe that's why you can't feel Ava…"

"No," Lilith murmurs, head bowed. "Even at her weakest, I could always sense Ava's presence. This is different. I can't explain, but I just know it is. I can't feel her. It… it's like she was never there at all…"

"W-what does that mean?" she asks, terrified of the answer but in need of the truth.

Lilith doesn't reply. She merely looks to Camila, eyes glazed in sorrow, and it's all the confirmation the younger nun needs. Her shoulders slump in defeat, head lowering as she allows herself to lean against the taller woman, hiding her face against her neck. A quiet sob can be heard, muffled against the cloth of her habit, but it only grows louder as Lilith turns and engulfs her in a hug. They sit, sharing the burden of this newest loss, clinging to one another like they're the only lifeline the other has left. 

The retrieval team arrives with Beatrice about an hour later. Lilith and Camila are there to greet her, hands clasped tightly as they watch Sisters Anne and Evelyn unload her stretcher from the back of the van. Sister Joan approaches, a somber expression on her face as she pulls her tablet from a bag and carefully hands it to Lilith. 

"Dr. Salvius alerted us that a silent alarm had been set off," she explains, tapping and swiping through the screen as she pulls up security footage. "Adriel's team had disabled security, but there was one set specifically to alert her should the portal ever be triggered. I would try to explain, but… I think it's better if you just watch…"

The video is difficult to get through. Watching Beatrice attempt to resuscitate Ava is particularly painful, especially with the knowledge that she had been the one to kill her. But it's Adriel's subsequent revival of her that has them on edge, and though they can't hear what's being said, it's obvious that he's using her as some sort of leverage against Beatrice. What happens next, none of them can seem to explain. Ava starts to fight back as the glow from the halo grows exponentially, growing so bright the entire screen washes out. 

And then the footage cuts to black. 

"What's going on? Where's the rest of it?" Lilith demands, looking to Joan for explanation. 

"That's it," she sighs, swiping once more at the tablet as she pulls up pictures of the aftermath. "The lab was almost completely destroyed. It was like a tornado or something had completely blown through the room…"

"You… you said the portal was triggered?" she asks, grasping for even the slightest sliver of hope. 

As if reading her thoughts, Joan shakes her head. "It was triggered when Adriel came in contact with Ava's halo, but Dr. Salvius checked the readings on the machine and there was no indication that anything, or… or anyone had gone through…"

Lilith returns the tablet. "Understood. Thank you," she says, quietly, as she and Camila turn to follow the others towards the infirmary.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Joan calls after them. "We didn't know her as long or as well as you, but… I can understand why Ava meant so much to your family. She saved my life, and that of my team's. I don't know what happens next for the OCS, or if Adriel is truly gone for good. But I want you to know that you have our support. We're here for you all if you'll allow us to be."

Lilith doesn't reply, only nodding to acknowledge her words as she retakes Camila's hand and leads her into the Cradle. When they reach the infirmary, Beatrice is already laid out on a bed, the medical staff bustling about as they tend to her wounds. She's awake, but her eyes are glazed over, seemingly unaware of her surroundings as she stares blankly at the ceiling. 

"Hey, Bea…" Camila greets softly, coming to stand by her beside. Carefully, she places a hand over her own. "Welcome back…"

Beatrice doesn't respond, doesn't even glance in their direction. Her gaze remains steadfast on the ceiling, blinking so slowly one might think she wasn't blinking at all. "Shock," one of the nurses supplies, in an attempt to be helpful. 

But a day passes and then another, and Beatrice remains the same. She takes no food or water, receiving hydration and nutrients through an IV as she continues to remain frighteningly still. Camila and Lilith are by her side through it all, diligent in their vigil as they refuse to leave her alone. 

Mary never comes home.

On the third day of her return, Camila carefully drops an envelope onto the tray by her bedside. "I found this in your room," she explains, softly. "I was looking for something you might like to read or to pass the time with. I think it's a letter. From Ava…"

Beatrice tilts her head from where it rests on the pillow, her gaze no longer fixated on the ceiling as she turns to stare at the letter. It's the first reaction they've gotten out of her since she came back, and Camila is eager to coax out more. 

"Do you want me to re–"

"No." 

Beatrice's voice is hoarse from disuse but commanding all the same. She stares at the envelope for several moments more, quietly contemplating its contents before sighing heavily and laying back once again. Camila watches and waits, hoping she'll change her mind, but when she refuses to say anything else, she decides there's no use in pushing it. 

She'll read it when she's ready. 

Beatrice is released from the infirmary the same day they hold Ava's memorial. It's a small affair, all things considered. The entirety of Cat's Cradle attends the service, Beatrice sat wedged between Lilith and Camila in the front row as the priest drones on about sacrifice and love for your fellow man. It's long and drawn out, overly religious and entirely impersonal – everything that Ava would have hated. If she tries hard enough, she can even imagine the younger girl beside her, fidgeting and huffing impatiently like she was prone to doing during mass.

When it's over, Beatrice quickly excuses herself to her room, feigning a desire to rest in order to escape the pitying looks from the other sisters. She knows it's wrong of her to leave Lilith and Camila to fend for themselves, but she's still in that stage of grief where nothing else really matters. She pushes open the door to her room, entering it for the first time since the night she was possessed. 

Her bed is meticulously made, every item perfectly in place. She remembers Camila telling her that Ava had spent time in here before running off to ARQ-Tech, cleaning it up and making it ready for her return. A painful lump forms in her throat at the thought, the emotions she'd fought so long to keep down rising to the surface now that she's finally alone. 

Gently, she takes a seat on the bed, cautious not to mess up the sheets Ava had so carefully straightened out. Her hands smooth across the blankets, simply taking it all in as she imagines the trouble she must have had in getting it just right, having never bothered to make her own bed in all the time she had lived at the Cradle. She smiles briefly at the thought, painful as it is.

Reluctantly, Beatrice retrieves Ava's letter from her pocket, having kept a hand on it through the entirety of her service. Her name is scrawled messily in Ava's terrible handwriting, but there's a fondness in her heart as she traces the shakily drawn letters. Camila, bless her soul, had done her best to help the halo bearer improve her writing, but between missions and training, it had never been a major priority. 

With trembling hands, she unseals the envelope and carefully pries out the letter tucked safely within. She stares at the paper, having dreaded this moment since she was made aware of its existence. This was the last piece of Ava that she had left, and Beatrice had already said goodbye once before. She wasn't certain she could survive it again… 

Eventually, curiosity wins out, and she slowly unfolds the letter, smoothing out the creases as she takes a deep breath and prepares to dive in. 

To Beatrice,

I just want to start off by saying sorry for the poor penmanship. I hope this letter is at least legible. I don’t have much time, but I have so much that I need to say before I go.

I could write a dozen different letters, each with the same message but just in different words. In the end, it would all come down to one thing: I miss you. You should be here, but you aren’t. And it’s my fault. I know it’s selfish of me to say, but it’s true. I miss you. And I hope when this letter finds you… I hope you’ll miss me too.

I never thought I’d ever have to write something like this. I mean, the whole paralyzed thing aside, I just never thought that I would have someone to write to when I was gone. I guess in that way I should be grateful, not necessarily that I have to leave, but that I was cared for enough that I had someone to leave behind. 

The truth is, my time at the orphanage left me pretty emotionally dead, and for a very short time, actually dead-dead. When I was given my second life, I was reckless and rash, and as you so eloquently put it, I only “did what’s best for Ava.” But you, along with the others, showed me what it meant to truly live – to care not just for myself, but for those around me. You showed me how to see beyond the walls of my own fear, to push past my pain and use it in a way that made it my power.

I’ll never be able to thank you enough for all that you’ve done, and I’ll never be able to repay you for the kindness, compassion, and support you’ve given me through it all. As brief as our time has been, I’ve come to know you as a beautiful person. Maybe the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. I just wish I had more time to know you better. 

Even in light of your possession and all the harsh words spoken, you’ve inspired me to be a better person. I admit it hurt to hear you say those things. It still hurts even now. It’s not something I think I could have gotten over so quickly, but given that my time is short, I just want to say that experiencing your anger and disappointment is not something I’d ever want to feel again. I guess that’s why I reacted so strongly – why I started pulling away and pushing myself harder. I just wanted to be someone worthy of fighting beside you.

And I hope that whatever happens tonight, I hope I achieved that in any small capacity. I hope I was brave, like you taught me to be. I hope I went down doing the right thing, even if everything else I’ve done, I’ve done wrong. But most importantly, I hope I brought you back to yourself. Back to the Beatrice I love. Because I have nothing to my name – no money, no property, not even a photo ID to prove that I existed. But if I leave anyone or anything behind on this earth, let it be the love I have for you.

I can’t claim to know what’s going to happen, but I do know you’ll inevitably end up blaming yourself. Please don’t. Please know that no matter how this night ends, know that I did this willingly and of my own free will. I did it to save you, and if given the choice, I’d do it again. I’d choose you every time.

I hope one day we can meet again. 

In this life and the next,

Ava

Beatrice lets out a shaky sigh, exhaling the long held breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. Carefully – reverently – she folds the letter and places it securely in the envelope, cradling it to her chest as she lowers herself onto the sheets, down on the bed that Ava had so lovingly made.

With her words still echoing freshly in her mind, Beatrice finally allows herself to mourn.

Epilogue

The sun shines brightly overhead and the vibrant colors of the early morning under its radiant glow is almost offensively chipper and bright; it was as if the world conspired to show Beatrice that life could go on – would go on – without her. A deep frown furrows at her brows, lips tugging downwards in a grimace, as if reprimanding it for even daring to suggest a notion. She was firmly of the belief that everything should be as dark and gloomy as her own emotions – cold, wet, damp. Why had the heavens not yet parted, mourning the loss of their greatest angel? Why had it not shed the tears she herself had spent days attempting to control?

‘Blasphemy…’ her mind cries, as the birds continue to sing and the leaves rustle in a symphony of wind.

She walks slowly through the cemetery, her legs taking her where her mind still refused to go. Logic had always been one of her greatest assets, and yet, even against the overwhelming evidence presented before her, she simply could not fathom what it concluded. Despite her reluctance to revisit such painful memories, Beatrice allows her mind to wander down that road of despair, stumbling over every crevice of guilt and grief. Leading her back to the night Ava Silva gave her life to save her soul… and the world.

“Why?” she whispers, voice cracking in its rawness as she comes upon the memorial stone. Unlike those around it, it was not worn away with time but freshly carved with a name that had no place etched upon its surface. “Why did you do it? Why did you…”

She swallows thickly with emotion. 

“It’s not… it’s not fair!” she murmurs, almost petulant in the way her pitch fluctuates. “You weren’t supposed to die! No one was supposed to die! But you… Lord, not you! You had so much life left unlived, so many dreams you’ll never make true…”

“How could you?” she demands hotly, glaring at the stone as if it were Ava herself, even as tears burn her vision. “How dare you? H-how could you just throw your life away as if it were something so insignificant?” She shakes her head, admonishingly. “I told you that you watched too much TV. Y-you just had to go and play the hero, huh? Just like in your silly action movies. But couldn’t you have stopped even for a moment and thought things through?

“You knew it was a trap! You knew what you were walking into! Did you ever stop to contemplate the consequences of your actions? You didn’t. You never do. And you went willingly anyway because… because…”

A shaky sigh escapes Beatrice’s lips as she remembers the letter. ‘Because to you, it was the right thing to do,’ her mind finishes for her. 

“Didn’t you realize how much you meant to everyone?” The sudden burst of anger fizzles away like a dying flame, leaving only the bitter taste of regret in her mouth. “... didn’t you realize how much you meant to me?” she breathes, the familiar knot forming in her gut. It starts like a terrible wrenching, as if something were attempting to claw its way from her insides out; climbing up her esophagus, squeezing her trachea and swelling her throat shut.

She drops to her knees, all pretenses of being prim and proper dropping with her as a choked sob tears its way past her lips. Beatrice was a sister warrior and the daughter of diplomats; even in mourning she was expected to remain dignified, but at that moment she cares for nothing else but the overwhelming weight of her loss. Of course she had experienced death before; it was an unfortunate but not unexpected outcome in their line of work, but never had it left such a gaping hole in her heart as it did now. She cries loudly like a child, all running nose and wracking sobs, her carefully crafted stoicism slipping away without shame.

“God, look at me…” she huffs, laughing humorlessly as she tries to blink through the briny well of tears. “I… I couldn’t even cry at your funeral… just stood and stared as they built your grave. But it feels as though I've cried every moment since, and I…"

“Look what you’ve done to me,” she sobs, running a knuckle beneath her eye, a futile attempt to stem the flow of her sorrow. “I was perfectly fine until I met you, content to play my role as sister and soldier. And then you had to go and break through my walls, in the same way you broke through twenty feet of stone… persistently. ”

Silence falls for several minutes, Beatrice grieving quietly to herself as she reminisces on the girl who – even in their short time together –  had become the single most important person in her life.

“I… I loved you,” she admits, after a brief moment of hesitation. “You accepted me for who I was, with no expectations for me to change. You valued me as a person with no reservations for what I could do, or what I could provide in exchange. Y-you called me beautiful, when for the longest time, I had felt so ugly inside. I’ll admit you were annoying and unrelenting at times, clumsy and irresponsible… but you were also kind, selfless… what you lacked in academics or combat skills you made up for with hard work and determination…just the way you smiled and laughed, the way you just made the world better – the way you made me better…”

“I didn’t know it at first,” she goes on, staring forlornly at the ground. “I’d never really felt this way before. Love, t-the romantic type that is… it was a foreign concept, something I’d read about in books or watched on screen. I had never expected or even dared to hope to experience it for myself, and yet… and yet I fell for you. I fell for you so hard, so f-fast and…”

“I wanted to tell you!” she exclaims, “I should have told you! But I was terrified of what that could mean, of what could happen if I let myself open up to you in the way I was so desperate to. I didn’t know how to love anyone, let alone another girl. All my life I’d been told that the way I loved was a sin. It was why I joined the Church, why I took my vows. But… looking back now… perhaps I did it for all the wrong reasons…”

“And yet…” her voice falters, “and yet taking my vows is what led me to you…”

Beatrice slumps forward, resting almost bonelessly on the back of her legs as she presses her forehead against the stone marker. “I miss you, Ava,” she whispers, shutting her eyes tightly as a fresh wave of tears threaten to fall. “I miss you so much it hurts. And I have no right to feel this way because… because I’m the reason why you’re gone. But I do anyway. I miss you, and… and I’m not the only one,” she sniffs, licking her lips which had chapped between every sobbing gasp.

“Everyone… everyone misses you. It’s not the same without you here. Lilith is a complete mess, Camila hasn’t smiled or sung in days. We don’t even know where Mary has run off to. It just… it’s like when you died, a little part of everyone else died with you too…”

"How do we go on?" she asks, desperately, "How do we keep fighting? You were the glue that held us together, and without you there's nothing left to keep us from falling apart. Please… wherever you are now, give us a sign. Tell us what to do… tell me what to do… I can't… I can't…"

This time she falls all the way to the ground. Grief threatens to consume her whole, and Beatrice allows it, curling in upon herself as her body shakes violently with the force of her pain. She had visited the grave every day since the funeral, kneeling on the plot of freshly turned soil that had become Ava's final resting place.

A body had never officially been found. When the holy light had vanished, revealing the aftermath of Ava and Adriel's last bout, nothing of the two remained. But all that remained of Ava, the meager belongings she'd left in a room that had only just started to feel like her own, were buried here. 

And here, Beatrice would stay, as she had every other day, until the temperature fell and the light faded away; reciting the same words of a one-sided conversation, voice carrying away into a nonexistent void. Like Ava, with her penchant for running and moving, excited to explore the world she had for so long missed out on. 

Always there one moment and gone the next…

Like a whispered goodbye in the wind.