Work Text:
She was woken up from her nap when the plane shook as it pierced through mildly rough air. The envelope that sat on Sister Beatrice’ lap right before she dozed off fell on the carpeted aisle of the economy section.
Just Beatrice now. She revoked her vows two weeks ago, simply agreeing to stay behind for a few more days to turn over her duties and affairs at the OCS to Camila. Her friend kept finding ways to delay her departure until she gently put her foot down. If only she knew why she was stepping away from the only family she ever knew.
She picked the envelope up, smoothing the paper against the surface of the tray in front of her.
“Beatrice,” she heard the voice of a woman behind her, a similar grief lacing its undertones.
“Dr. Salvius, come in,” Beatrice said. She smoothed the last black shirt from a pile of newly laundered clothes that she was packing, just briefly looking up to acknowledge the older woman.
“You are welcome to stay here for as long as you need,” Jillian started, standing beside the nun. “You and your sisters.”
“We appreciate that, Dr. Salvius. But we have overstayed our welcome. We have our work cut out for us, to reconstitute the OCS,” Beatrice replied. She wondered why their host was making the offer to her, and not Mother Superion.
“Well, you know you’re always welcome here, just ring the door,” Jillian said with a smile. The nun expected the older woman to being stepping out, yet she lingered still.
“Is there something else, Dr. Salvius?”
“Yes, uhm, I found this in my study.”
The older woman lifted her hand up, the one Beatrice only noticed was held behind her back until that moment. She was clasping an envelope.
Beatrice instantly dropped the shirt she was folding and grasped the envelope. Her eyes began to water as the idea formed on her mind on what it may contain. She ripped open the paper as politely as possible, eager to get her hands on its contents.
The nun sat down beside her half-full duffel bag as she unfolded the letter with her fingers. She knew at once it was not what she was hoping for. The letters that formed the words were written in block. Ava always wrote in cursive after Beatrice praised her penmanship one time. Her eyes scanned the lines, darting immediately to the name of the sender
Miguel
“I know it was not from who you expected,” Jillian started. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
Beatrice was taken out of her reverie when the seatbelt sign lit up, its dinging alarm heard all over the cabin. The flight attendant trotted down the aisle, telling the passengers to put their windows up. They were beginning descent.
The former nun peered through the window of her neighbor. It was late in the afternoon when she boarded the airport bus back in Andalusia and the sky outside was now dark. She felt her heart hammer against her chest when she caught a glimpse of the lit veins of a new city.
Beatrice pulled out the letter from the envelope one last time just to make sure that it was still there, to guarantee that Miguel indeed put down those words on paper. That she was not dreaming it all.
Dear Beatrice,
This is a letter Ava was meaning to write, yet found herself unable to complete. She said it was cruel to give you hope. That she could not truly wish for you to live your life if you are burdened with longing. She wanted you to be completely unbound, unburdened. Those were her exact words.
I want to start by apologising. I am sorry that taking the one you love the most from you is the only way to save the world. And so, against Ava’s wishes, I offer you hope as reparation.
We have calculated the best way possible to carry on with this scheme without killing Ava. If things go as planned, the worst that can happen is that she is gravely injured - but with enough strength to cross over to the portal and find Reya. She will heal her like she has restored me.
And then she will come back for you.
When I came back from the other side, I ended up at a place where I found home. It was the playground of the last school I was enrolled at before I got sick. I don’t know where that place is for Ava, but I’m sure you do.
And when she finally returns, I know you will know. I’ve been to the other side, and yet I cannot say that I am an expert at the intricacies of these things. But you, badass, tactically trained nun, are smarter than me anyways.
If you are reading this, it means Ava managed to get to the other side. I specifically instructed my mother to burn this letter in case she doesn’t. You see, Dickinson said that hope is the thing with feathers. But hope can also be the brick that would sink a dead heart.
So long, Beatrice. I wish we had more time to get to know each other. I really did find you badass.
Miguel
PS. Thanks for calling me pretty boy. Did wonders for my ego.
Beatrice stepped out of the bus into a familiar cobblestone road. The duffel bag in her hand where she had crammed her whole life into felt heavy, but there was a spring in her step. The dwindling streets leading to her destination where dizzying, but her path was never more straightforward. There was a light in the window on the second floor of a familiar two story building. She could hear the sounds of dishes being cleared inside the room on the ground floor. The family that was living there was starting to settle in for the night. She remembered them to be lovely people who baked their own bread each morning.
She climbed the wooden stairs, careful to avoid the uneven spots that she knew by heart.
Sister Photographic Memory. Beatrice chuckled at the recollection. The echoing of the woman's voice in the former nun’s head no longer gripped her heart. Instead, it gave her the final strength she needed to cross over the dark hallway and stand before a familiar door.
She knocked.
Hurried footsteps greeted her from the other side. Clumsy, lacking finesse. If they were staking someone out, she was sure the sound of those heavy footfalls would give away their position.
Yet there is no longer a need to be careful, no more need for vigilance. The mission was over. She was home.
The door opened to a smile that only appeared in her dreams for the past few years. The woman's hair grew longer than when she last saw her.
“I told you not to stay out too late,” the woman said with mischief in her voice, as she welcomed Beatrice inside.