Archive of Our Own

Beatrice appreciated these moments of calm.

To get to come outside and sit on the wooden steps of the back porch with her book and watch the sun make its descent, to trace the swirls of pinks and oranges through the sky.

Beatrice turned her attention back to her book, finishing the final lines of her chapter before putting the bookmark in its place and closing the cover, brushing her fingertips over the glossy cover of Pride and Prejudice.

It had been a long time since she had last read this book, and while the words carried a sense of familiarity, Beatrice could not deny the way that her heart fluttered over certain scenes.

(Though Beatrice suspected that her reactions now had something to do with the way in which this specific copy had found its way into her hand, rather than the story itself.)

Beatrice set the book down beside her, turning her attention back to the sunset ahead.

She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face.

Back in Ronda, the villagers had made a tradition of watching every sunrise, to never take each day for granted and cherish each moment they were alive.

But for Beatrice? She favoured the sunsets, to know that they had survived another day.

They never knew what tomorrow would bring, whether or not it would be their last.

So Beatrice would take these moments when she could.

Especially with what she knew was about to come.

The last few months had been hard. Their time on the run, the losses they’d suffered and being forced to split up from the people that they called family just to give themselves a higher chance of survival…

Beatrice wasn’t sure that they’d get through it, she wasn’t even sure that she would have gotten through it had she not had Ava at her side.

She would do anything for the sake of the mission and their survival, but being separated from Ava?

Beatrice didn’t think she would have been able to do that.

They had covered a lot of distance, different towns, cities and countries. They had found shelter with the few allies that they had made and still had but even then, the only constant that they had were each other.

Somehow, they had fallen into a routine together, training and doing research and chasing leads, learning each other's strengths and weaknesses.

But then there was everything else, the things that made their time together feel… Domestic.

Beatrice would rise early, and by the time Ava would drag herself from bed there would be coffee and breakfast waiting.

They would cook together, spend time together in the quiet afternoon, Ava often taking a nap on the sofa while Beatrice read quietly a few feet away, curled up in the armchair.

In the evenings, Ava would usually flick through the limited channels on the TV until she found a movie, only to inevitably fall asleep on Beatrice’s shoulder two thirds of the way in.

Beatrice had come to cherish each of those moments, looking forward to them, even.

She liked seeing Ava in the mornings, all slow movements and sleepy eyes.

She liked seeing Ava’s excitement when she got the hang of a new move Beatrice had shown her during training and the joy in those eyes when Ava mastered a new aspect of the halo.

Or when they would stand side by side in the kitchen as they shared the responsibilities of preparing dinner, shoulder to shoulder and making easy conversation while they moved around each other. 

But what Beatrice enjoyed the most was when Ava fell asleep on her, the warmth that emanated from her body, consuming Beatrice whole.

Beatrice had lost track of the amount of times she had stayed in place, not wanting to wake Ava, and falling asleep just like that. 

(It had meant waking up many mornings with a sore neck, but it was always worth it.)

She was sad that it was coming to an end.

It was time to move on though, to find their family and prepare themselves for the battle ahead.

Most of what little they had was packed, the bags they had sat by the front door, ready for an early departure.

It was almost over.

"Hey." Ava's soft voice cut through Beatrice's thoughts. "Am I interrupting?"

Beatrice opened her eyes and tipped her head back just enough to be able to see Ava standing above her, hovering on the porch as she took Beatrice in. 

After they had finished their afternoon training and had dinner together, Ava had gone off to shower and do her own thing for a little while.

Ava's hair seemed to be mostly dry by now, there was a gentle flush lingering against her skin, her fingers flexed around the hoodie in her hands as she smiled down at Beatrice.

She was so beautiful.

If Beatrice were to take the time to follow the threads back to the beginning, she knew the exact moment where it all began.

Not in terms of that night, where one life was lost and another was gained, when everything they had ever known had been thrown into chaos, but rather when everything had changed for her .

For Beatrice, it began in a narrow hallway. With soft candlelight, long gazes and a quiet sense of trust that had Beatrice opening up in a way that had left her with the need to physically remove herself from the light.

She had wanted to tell Ava so much before her fear had taken hold.

She almost had.

And it had all started with Ava Silva.

Beatrice knew that was when she had begun to fall in love.

And she hadn’t been the same since.

Beatrice didn't recognise the red tank top that Ava was currently sporting, she could only assume Ava had gotten her hands on it during one of her trips into the nearby town. 

Beatrice smiled back at her and gestured to the empty spot beside her.

"You? Never."

She would be happy if Ava could always be at her side. 

There was a considerable lack of grace in the way that Ava dropped down beside her, the step giving a slight creak with the added weight as Ava stretched her legs out and leaning back a little as she looked out at the sunset.

"I didn't mean to be gone for as long as I was." Ava said, a faint apology in her tone. "I was only going to lie down for a minute, I swear." 

Beatrice fidgeted with the sleeve of her shirt, looking back out to the sun.

"You don't need to justify anything, Ava. You can sleep whenever you want." 

Ava was silent for several moments, and while Beatrice kept her gaze trained ahead, She couldn't ignore the weight of Ava's eyes on her.

When it came to Ava, Beatrice's body became hyperaware, reactive to every touch, every look, evey movement.

"It’s our last night here. I'd rather spend my time with you," Ava admitted in a voice so quiet that Beatrice hadn't been certain that she had heard correctly.

Beatrice's head snapped to the side, meeting Ava's stare head on, not quite fast enough to hide her own surprise at both the admission and the ease in which Ava spoke them.

Ava had never had any problem with speaking the thoughts in her mind, and certainly not with Beatrice.

They were comfortable. Happy.

Sometimes, when Beatrice was reading, she’d feel Ava’s eyes on her. 

Her body always seemed to react first, the telltale sign almost always being the burning in her ears.

(It had never been an issue before, hidden safely beneath her habit, but nowadays? That blush felt like a beacon that rivalled Ava’s halo.)

She wasn’t blind to the feeling of longing that hovered in the air around them, the tenderness in each touch they shared.

Something had been building between them, Beatrice couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment where it had changed, when Ava’s looks had shifted, only that once she had noticed, Beatrice had been unable to ignore it.

Beatrice had been too scared to bring it up.

Even now, Ava’s confession had left Beatrice frozen in silence.

It wouldn't surprise Beatrice if Ava could see her struggle or, even further than that, knew the exact line of thinking that was currently going through Beatrice's head.

"I'm not going anywhere." Beatrice replied as evenly as she could, "I made you a promise, remember? That’s not going to change just because we won’t be here anymore."

When Ava grinned, Beatrice felt her heart constrict, the warmth that spread through her chest in the way that it always did when she made Ava smile. 

Ava has a presence brighter than the sun, and Beatrice had found herself drawn in long before she was even aware of it.

The center of her universe.

If she were to burn out then surely Beatrice would perish too.

"I know." Ava agreed, sitting up a little straighter for no other reason than to be able to shuffle closer and bump their shoulders together. She made no attempt at moving away, ensuring that there was a constant point of contact between them as Ava looked back out to the sunset, the smile faded the smallest amount. 

Beatrice was fixated. "What's wrong?"

Ava looked thoughtful, and the longer that the silence stretched out between them, the more Ava’s expression seemed to turn almost… Sad?

"There's a part of me that doesn't want to leave." Ava said. "Not because I'm scared of the fight to come, or whatever crazy shit-"

"Ava."

" Stuff , sorry. Whatever crazy stuff is going to come next." Ava continued, almost tripping over her words in an attempt to explain herself. "I mean I am scared. Terrified. But that's not why I don't want to leave."

There was something in her voice that made Beatrice's pulse race. A charge in the air between them that made the hairs stand up against Beatrice's skin. 

Depending on how one looked at it, there was both a blessing and a curse to spending as long as Beatrice had in Ava’s company.

They knew each other inside out, they could read moods based on a gesture, a slight shift in tone. 

So when Ava spoke, Beatrice felt something in her chest. A baseline instinct telling her to pay attention. That this was important.

That Ava wanted to tell her something.

And Beatrice was pretty sure she knew what it was.

Beatrice drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Why don't you want to leave?" Beatrice asked quietly.

Beatrice may have been wrong about a lot of things when it came to her initial assessment of Ava, but the one thing Beatrice had been right about was Ava's honesty.

Ava had never lied to her, and Beatrice knew that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

In a way, Ava’s honesty had the potential to be terrifying.

"Because I like that it's just us." Ava replied. "I like what we have here." 

Beatrice's fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch, an impulse that she didn't fight against, not anymore.

She reached out, hand coming to rest gently against Ava's back, right where Beatrice knew the halo rested.

(Sometimes, when Beatrice touched this spot, she was almost certain that she could feel its warmth) 

"I know. I do too." Beatrice said. "But... It doesn't matter where we are, Ava. We're not going to be split up."

Ava met her gaze again, and Beatrice found herself caught off guard by how pleading those eyes suddenly seemed to be.

Before Beatrice could even ask, Ava was speaking again.

"I just… I just want us to stay the same."

"What do you mean?" Beatrice asked.

Ava's foot began to tap against the ground, a nervous habit that she had picked up along the way over recent months. One that Beatrice had learned to recognise as a sign that too much energy was building up, that it wouldn't be long until Ava was off her feet and moving around.

"I like that we train together. I like that we hang out and that you always figure out the plot twists in the movies we watch and that you don't mind when I fall asleep on your shoulder, even though I know your neck always aches the next day." Ava explained. "I like that we can just talk about anything and everything and I don't want to lose any of this when we're with the others… When we’re not alone anymore." 

Beatrice could only stare on in silence, hand still resting gently against Ava's back purely because she didn't know what else she was supposed to do.

Because Ava's words had been predictably honest, a certain rawness in them that Beatrice could feel them being spoken straight from Ava's heart. 

But while Beatrice had expected honesty, she hadn't expected for her to be the source of the conversation, and by extension, Ava’s concerns.

So now Beatrice had found herself in a situation where she had absolutely no knowledge of how to deal with it.

This felt heavy. 

There was talk of feelings, feelings that Beatrice couldn't deny that she felt, but had zero right to have.

Ava deserved it all, the romance and tenderness, the happy ending.

Beatrice just wasn't all that certain that she deserved those things for herself.

"You… You aren't going to lose those things Ava." Beatrice replied, painfully aware of the way that her voice wavered. "Regardless of who we're with, I'm not going to change who I am around you."

Beatrice had learned so much during these last few weeks, not just about Ava but herself too.

They had already become so close, but now it felt as if that bond had only gotten stronger. 

(Beatrice wasn't ready to use the word that she knew would be more appropriate for what was happening between them.)

Ava had helped Beatrice onto a path of acceptance, of coming to terms with who she is.

"Don't hate what you are. What you are is beautiful."

She had only spoken those words once, but Ava's actions over the last few months had kept them alive.

It had Ieft Beatrice with a lot to think about, about her role within the OCS, as a nun, even.

What she could do if they succeeded in defeating Adriel. 

(What kind of life could she have?)

Things that Beatrice shouldn't be thinking about when the risk of Adriel was still so prevalent. 

Her words hadn't seemed to do much to settle Ava, that longing look had almost become pleading. 

Oh.

Ava wanted Beatrice to say something more specific, didn't she?

"You… You mean a lot to me, Ava." Beatrice said. "And the last thing I want is for you to think that I would treat you any differently when we reunite with our friends." 

In the blink of an eye Ava was on her feet, and Beatrice's hand was left hovering uselessly in the air, watching as Ava took several steps ahead. 

It was only now that Beatrice realised that the halo was alight, a pulsating light that rivalled that of the descending rays before them. 

Beatrice found it all the more beautiful. 

She lowered her hand back into her lap, and watched Ava in silence, knowing that she would speak again when she was ready. 

She heard Ava let out a quiet sigh. 

“It’s not just that. There’s more.”

When it came to Ava, or rather, when it came to her and Ava, Beatrice had long since accepted that there was always, always more.

"Beatrice… There's something I want to tell you but I don't know how to do it without feeling like I'm going to put pressure on you." 

If Beatrice hadn't already figured out the line of thought that Ava was following, this would have been the moment in which it had all made sense. 

She could hear the weight of longing in Ava's voice, the quiet uncertainty of allowing herself to be vulnerable in Beatrice's presence. 

Was Beatrice prepared to hear Ava's confession? Knowing the words in theory was no comparison to having them spoken. 

Once those words were out in the open, there would be no taking them back. No pretending that they didn't exist. 

And regardless of whether Beatrice was prepared to hear what it was Ava had to say, what right did she have to deny Ava the right to speak her own truth? 

Beatrice couldn't do that to Ava, she couldn't deny Ava the opportunity to be honest about her feelings. To be brave when Beatrice could not. 

When Beatrice got to her feet, she was almost thankful that Ava's back was to her, that Ava couldn't see the tremble in her hands as Beatrice moved closer. 

She kept a small amount of distance between, leaving Ava just out of her reach. 

Though if the growing light of the halo was anything to go by, Ava knew that Beatrice was there. 

"You can be honest with me, Ava." Beatrice whispered. "You can always be honest with me." 

Her gaze dropped in time to see Ava's hands curl into fists at her sides, flexing her fingers as the tension faded from her body. 

Ava's head dropped towards the ground. 

"I have feelings for you." Ava whispered. "And I think… No. I know. I know I'm falling in love with you." 

Love.

Ava loved her.

Beatrice closed her eyes in a weak attempt to stop the tears from falling before they had a chance to form. 

She had known this. Of course she had. 

Beatrice was no stranger to the looks or touches shared between them, the moments of joy that Beatrice felt when they were together. 

Because Beatrice had been falling for so much longer. 

Ava had just found her voice first.

She opened her eyes and reached out, tentatively letting her fingertips touch the light on Ava's back. 

"Ava…"

Ava turned on her heel, lifting her head to meet Beatrice's stare, her own eyes were watery. 

"I know you have your vows, that you're like… married to God and everything, and I would never ask you to give that up, but I can feel something between us and I'm scared that when we leave this place then we'll always just be a maybe." Ava took a step closer, dangerously close into Beatrice's space. "I just wanted you to know that whatever this is between us, that I feel it too." 

Beatrice felt a single tear roll down her cheek, she watched Ava's gaze track the movement. 

(A part of her wondered how it would feel if Ava were to reach out to wipe it away, how gentle would her touch feel?) 

It was more than just God and her vows. It was everything that she had been told from childhood. 

That who she was, was a sin. That she didn't deserve to have anything like this.

There was one night, a while back now, when Beatrice had opened up to Ava about parts of her childhood, the moments when Beatrice had begun to notice the things that made her different from others.

How, when Beatrice had been a child, she loved to read. That she tore through books as if each one would be her last.

That her parents had slowly steered her away from romance and towards other classics. And when they felt Beatrice had experienced enough of those, they had put a stop to fiction altogether.

Not that it had stopped her. 

Beatrice had told Ava of long nights hidden beneath the blankets, flashlight in hand as she tore through the works of Jane Austen, Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë and countless others, wondering how they had written stories of such feelings.

One of Beatrice's earliest indications that she was different came with the realisation that she didn't want a Mr Darcy or a Captain Wentworth to declare their love to her.

She wanted to be them. 

Beatrice wanted to emerge from the mist as the music reached its crescendo and declare to another that it was  for her. That it was all for her. That her feelings had not changed.

Beatrice wanted to tell somebody that they had bewitched her, that she loved them and amongst the morning rays of sun they would share a breath and…

Well, It was the picture of romance.

In short, Beatrice's first realisation came from reading Pride and Prejudice by flashlight and picturing herself falling in love with an Elizabeth of her own one day.

(Beatrice's second and considerably more objective realisation about her sexuality had come from watching Kiera Knightly encompass the role in the 2005 adaptation, something Ava had found somewhat hilarious, but that was an entirely different story.)

From then, Beatrice had stopped reading such stories.

Perhaps that was why Ava had started introducing those books back into their temporary home, shyly handing her the copy of Pride and Prejudice that was currently on the porch. 

Maybe she wanted to show Beatrice that there was nothing wrong with romance, that she was allowed to read and enjoy it. 

But even as Beatrice had once more tore through those novels with fondness, she still didn't believe that a love story was something that she deserved. 

Even though she loved Ava. 

"I feel it too Ava." Beatrice replied. "I have for quite a while now." 

She didn't flinch when Ava reached out, her fingers gently curling into the material of Beatrice's shirt, keeping them tethered. 

Ava didn’t look surprised at Beatrice’s admission, almost like she had known as much. If anything. There was a slight curl of her lips, a happiness to have the confirmation even as her eyes regarded Beatrice with curiosity.

"Why didn't you say anything before?" Ava asked quietly. 

Beatrice's hand moved higher, knuckles brushing delicately across Ava's cheekbone as she did her best to smile, although she knew that it must have seemed sad. 

"Because, quite simply, I'm not as brave as you, Ava." 

"That's not true." Ava replied immediately and without hesitation. "You are brave, you've always been brave. You're being brave right now." 

“To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.”

As a child, Beatrice had understandably not fully understood what Jane had been trying to convey when she had first read that line.

But then, a few weeks ago, on a warm and beautiful night, Ava had taken her out.

To blow off steam, she had said. 

But Beatrice had been apprehensive, and as she watched Ava on the dancefloor, effortlessly blending in (yet to Beatrice, she was the only person illuminated in the lights) with the crowd as she danced.

Beatrice hadn’t wanted to join her, too self conscious of what others might say or think at her presence.

The how and the why had no relevance here, all that mattered was the moment that Ava had succeeded in getting Beatrice to join her on the dancefloor. Hands entwined and laughter mingling in the air around them.

Beatrice’s cheeks had ached with the force of her smile, the memory of Ava so close to her, spinning her.

Beatrice had never cared for dancing until that moment.

Her feelings for Ava had existed long before that night, but she could not deny that they had only gotten stronger.

It was a rather mundane display of bravery, especially for somebody who had dedicated their life to fighting demons and protecting an ancient religious artefact, but Beatrice had felt euphoric long after Ava had gone to bed that night.

She had wanted to kiss Ava that night, to thank her and tell her how much it had meant to her.

She had almost found the courage to say something.

But she hadn’t. Instead, Ava had squeezed her hand and whispered goodnight and Beatrice had watched her go.

The kindness in Ava's heart had always been the quality that had drawn Beatrice to Ava, the way that she treated others and even more in the way that she treated Beatrice. 

So when Ava called her brave? Beatrice found that she almost believed it. 

She opened her palm, letting her hand rest flat against Ava's cheek and felt her heart race when Ava turned into the touch. 

The fondness in her eyes grew stronger, the intensity of Ava’s gaze made the warmth start to move up the back of her neck.

"I do have feelings for you Ava. I… I just don't know what to do about that. This was never an option for me, regardless of the vows that I took." 

Ava's other hand came up between, finding its place against Beatrice's racing heart. 

She could feel it, Beatrice knew that from the way that Ava's gaze dropped to stare at her chest for several long seconds before looking into her eyes once more. 

"I'm not asking for you to choose between me and God, I'd never do that to you. I'd never put you in that situation." Ava explained softly. "I'm just asking for you to choose a path that makes you happy."

Choices. 

Choices and happiness and Ava and God and Beatrice. 

Could all exist together? Was there a point of balance in which Beatrice could find a way to be everything she never thought she would be able to be? 

She loved Ava. 

Completely, perfectly and incandescently in love with her. 

Beatrice found herself leaning in, taking a moment to watch Ava's eyes widen. 

She didn't move in closer though, and Beatrice knew that it was because Ava was letting her set the pace for herself. 

"I don't know how to do anything like this." Beatrice admitted in a whisper. "I've never had anything for myself." 

Ava shifted the smallest amount, their foreheads coming to rest together. 

When Ava closed her eyes, Beatrice felt her eyelashes tickle her skin. 

Beatrice's hand found Ava's waist. 

The final rays of sunlight warmed their skin, birdsong filled the air around them. 

"You have me. If that's what you want." Ava whispered, their lips almost brushing with each word. "It doesn't matter in what way. I just want to be with you." 

Beatrice's heart threatened to find its way out of her chest, desperate to find a safe haven in Ava's touch. 

The softness of Ava's words, the equal tenderness in the way that their bodies curled into each other as if they had done this countless times before was enough to make that heat on her neck spread to her ears.

Her heart. 

Her soul. 

Vows or not, Beatrice wanted to give her heart what it wanted. 

What she wanted. 

Shannon had made it work with Mary. 

Maybe Beatrice could too. 

She turned her head a little bit more, their noses brushed together as Beatrice heard Ava inhale deeply and hold onto Beatrice tighter. 

Beatrice could feel the heat radiating from Ava’s face, much in the way that she was certain Ava could feel her own burning cheeks.

They were almost there. 

"I want to be with you too." Beatrice said. 

Whatever happened in the next moment would change everything, and it didn't matter that they were leaving the seclusion of this home. 

It didn't matter that they were going into battle. 

What mattered was them. 

Beatrice and Ava. 

Ava and Beatrice. 

Together, in whatever way that would work for them. 

Together they were balanced. They were brave. 

She would never be Mr Darcy, or Captain Wentworth or any of the other literary icons she had aspired to be like growing up.

But she could be herself. She could be Beatrice. 

And maybe what she had with Ava wasn’t the real love story.

Learning to be unburdened, unbound and finally herself.

Falling in love with Ava had been the easy part after all.

Maybe the real story was learning to love herself.

In time, maybe that was possible, it was already easier with Ava at her side.

Ava, who was so close, and who Beatrice wanted nothing more than to kiss. 

She wanted to. She really wanted to.

“Ava…”

“Beatrice…”

“Can I?”

She felt Ava’s breath against her lips, nose barely brushing against her cheek as Ava nodded.

“Yes… Please.”

Beatrice just had to lean in.

She was almost there.

She just had to be brave.