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Dear Beatrice,
I wish it didn’t have to come to this. You deserve more than a few words hastily scribbled on loose paper.
There is so much I wished to have told you, to show you and experience with you. As a child confined in that orphanage, all I have ever wanted was to be able to see the world. To take in everything myself and experience it outside the pictures and stories in books. Over the last year, that desired shifted to include you.
There wasn’t much of the world I could show that you haven’t already seen. But I wanted us to enjoy it together. Those months in Switzerland were probably the best time of my life. And I know I don’t have much to compare it too, my time with Mary in the dessert is definitely a close second.
Waking up with you, with the only threat being annoying tourists and needy regulars. Spending nights being holding on to each other under the starry skies. Watching you slowly blossom outside your duty to the OCS. Watching you letting go of the rigid chains that kept you incased in this state of duty over life…_over love_.
I have cherished every moment spent with you, every smile, every shared laugh, even the ones at my expense. Those almost kisses on our little porch overlooking the lake. I have appreciated every time you have kept me from veering head first in to danger. Continuously trying to save me from myself and making sure I was always aware of when I was being a selfish brat.
I spent every day there, falling a little bit more in love with you. I am not sure when it happened, just one day leading up to the battle of the Vatican my love for you shifted. And ever since I have just been finding new little pieces of you that swept me along this tidal wave.
I hope I at least have the courage to tell you I love you before this is all over. Because I do, Bea, I love you so fucking much.
And maybe this is the cowards way out, you deserve far more than my sloppy handwriting and a tear stained letter. You deserve the world, flowers, dates, kisses that make you feel like a halo burst. Unconditional love that allows to feel comfortable in your skin, to the point that you’ll let your shoulders slouch when it gets too much, trusting that they will help you shoulder the weight.
You have given your life to your parents to mold, you have given your life fearing losing their love, you have given your life to the OCS… I will not allow you to give your life for me.
I selfishly wanted to run away, I wanted us to go back to the Alps, or maybe some tropical island like St. Kitts. Somewhere where we could be Ava and Bea. Two women figuring out who they were and what they wanted out of life, without the world resting on their shoulders. Somewhere you could love me freely, without seeing the halo first. Without my death looming over your thoughts.
I want everything with you, Bea. But I am going to die tomorrow. I hope once you have gotten past your initial anger of me hiding my intentions from you, that you see the truth behind them. I want you to live, more than that I want you to thrive. Forget all this supernatural bullshit and being a pawn for deities we that have no problem setting us all up to die for their gain.
If my faith is to die, all I ask is that you live.
I’ll gain favor with every overlord in heaven or hell to ensure that I get first dibs on you in the next.
I will not end this note with an apology because I will never be sorry for loving you more than myself. For loving you too much to be another nameless death in a crusade that has been going on for several millennia. For loving you enough, for offering you the freedom you are scared to chase.
There will be honor in my death, but your happiness was my purpose.
I love you with all my heart,
Ava
It has been a month after the battle. A month after her death.
There are days when Beatrice wants to burn the world down. Days when it takes all of her control not to blow the remnants of the Vatican to pieces. As she sits in the shadows as politicians, what was left of the cardinals and archbishops try to find a new way forward.
Listening to various people a day proclaim the God and Christ as the victors of a holy war they had no part in. Claiming that this would be the turning point in history and time to bring more people into the fold. Taking this battle as proof that Catholicism had always been right.
There was no mention of the OCS. Though, Mother Superion is playing a big role in picking the new Pope. Ensuring that they would have someone that work with them and not against them. It was too much of the same thing again. The world was looking for away to move past the entire Adriel debacle. People wanted to forget that they were at the will of a some deity. That they truly were just mortals.
The Catholic Church and most of the Western superpowers were wanted to strike while it was still fresh in their mind, to once again become the world’s dominant religion. To once more continue their systems of oppression and subjugation.
And Beatrice wanted to scream. She wanted to scream until her voice was gone. Until her vocal cords were fried, until she was spitting blood in to the faces of these supposed nobleman.
Mother Superion had told her it was ok to lose herself in her anger as she grieved. To allow her emotions to breathe and move freely. That she would need to let them find their way out. It had been yet another day when she at and heard these men were allowed to claim that their faith in God is what saved the world from eternal damnation. Another day when Ava’s fight and sacrifice was never acknowledged.
While her rage acted like acidic bile that kept trying to crawl its way out of her throat. She preferred it to the cold sadness that has made home in her bones. The sadness that sat on her chest and threatened to suffocate her in her sleep.
The anger ensured that she could make it through a day or training with the other members of the OCS. The sadness felt like it was crippling her from the inside. Memories of Ava explaining how she felt confined in her body, like being incased in ice. Unable to move, but always feeling a little too cold. Like she always on the brink of death. Stuck.
She finally found Ava’s a letter 1 week ago. She would, might have found it sooner if she didn’t spend the first two days breaking every single thing in the room she could get her hands on. Creating a pile of debris in the corner, missing the envelope as it slipped beneath the remnants of the mirror.
On the third day she had sat in-front of the Arc Reactor staring mindlessly, waiting, praying. Ava was not Superman, she was nowhere near the second-coming, yet, she hoped. She hoped that the Arc would react once again, that Reya or whatever was on the other plane would spit Ava back out to her. Or that Ava would burst out with her charming smile and fake bravado. That she would once again be able to hold her once again, that this time she would get to keep her.
The hours had ticked by, she sat and waited, unmoving. She had sat there for a day with her rosary in hand. Fingers instinctually going over each bead, time, and time again. Going from praying to begging to what was left of her faith to be heard. And yet nothing. Camila had found her like that, staring vacantly as her lips formed words neither were quite sure ever served them.
It took Camila awhile to break her out of the trance. The first thing she had asked was what time it was. Hearing that more than a day had passed with no sign of Ava. Something had finally broken inside. The floodgates had been opened and anguish had taken hold. At that moment, it felt like she could drown in her tears. Her sobs were echoing in the chamber, bouncing off the walls and rattling her bones.
She did not lose all hope that Ava would one day return back to them, to her. But she had lost something that day, something she wasn’t sure she could get back until she did get Ava back.