Chapter Text
Beatrice had always prided herself on being able to stay focused on her mission. The key to being an effective warrior was to compartmentalize, to let nothing distract her. She remained centered at all times. Driven. Devoted.
For a long time, this was her only way, and it suited her well. It made her a good soldier, serving her cause with everything she had to give. Calm. Collected. Fearless.
She’d stayed composed when the explosion went off that would claim the life of Shanon. She carried her sister’s broken body, laid her down, continued the fight. She allowed herself only a brief moment of grief, a tender kiss pressed to a dying friend’s forehead, before she was focused on her mission once more. Because that’s who she was.
Steady. Dependable. Selfless.
Then, she met Ava.
/
It wasn’t a problem right away. Sure, she found herself drawn to the girl from practically the first moment they met, but she didn't let it cloud her vision.
At the Vatican, when Ava was in the tomb longer than nine minutes, Beatrice kept her cool. She detonated the explosives, reached Ava, and barely batted an eye at the man– angel, devil, whatever– that awaited them in the crypt.
When they reached the surface and faced off against Adriel, Beatrice was ready to die by Ava’s side to protect the Halo.
At least they would all go down together, her and her sister warriors.
But they didn’t. Lilith whisked them away. Ava–the Halo–was safe. Her duty was done.
/
Her duty, it turned out, was just beginning.
“I need you to get Ava away from here.”
Mother Superion had called her into a small closet, the only private place in the building they’d broken into near the Vatican to stow away while the commotion died down. Lilith couldn’t transport them very far, not all at once, so they took shelter while the police combed the streets.
Everyone looked crushed as they lay in wait, bloodied, bruised, and undeniably beaten. Mary was nowhere to be found. Father Vincent had betrayed them. They were left, forsaken and alone, hiding out in a dark, empty office.
“Where?” Beatrice asked, eager for orders. Her superior’s command would make her feel better, as it always had. Having clear instruction would remove the fog of doubt that Adriel’s appearance had cast over her, she knew it.
“I’ll arrange everything. Go to this address.” A piece of paper was pressed into her hand. “It is a safe house. Keep Ava from harm, train her for the fight ahead, and wait for our signal.”
“Understood,” Beatrice said. “But, Mother–”
“There is no time,” she said. “We’re being hunted. We all must leave.”
“Where will you go?”
“It is better if you do not know. Wait for my call,” she instructed again. Then, she wrapped her arm around Beatrice’s shoulder in a hug that was over so fast that she barely had time to register it. “Be safe.”
/
The implications didn’t hit her until they were in the car, alone. A nine hour drive awaited them. As they drove away from their friends, Beatrice finally considered that it would be just the two of them for the foreseeable future for the first time since Mother Superion had given her the order.
“You okay?” a voice interrupted her thoughts.
Beatrice looked over at Ava in the passenger seat. She had made herself comfortable quickly, feet crossed and perched up on the dashboard. With a surge of pity, Beatrice realized that she looked exhausted, completely drained from phasing into the tomb and the fight that followed.
Beatrice didn’t answer, and pushed her sympathy aside. “You shouldn’t put your legs there. They’d be shattered by the airbag in a crash.”
“You won’t crash,” Ava said. “I trust you.”
“It isn’t a matter of trust,” Beatrice said, but didn’t push it further. It wasn’t like Ava couldn’t heal from a broken leg in a matter of seconds. Maybe she’d even learn a lesson.
“Where are we going?” Ava asked. Beatrice frowned–had Ava really just gotten into a car with her, driven off into the dark of the night, without knowing where they were even headed?
“Switzerland,” she supplied. “You really should ask more questions, you know. I could be kidnapping you.”
“Yeah, right. Besides, I’m trying to be a team player,” Ava said. “Aren’t you the one who wanted me to be less selfish, or whatever?”
Beatrice considered this. “Yes. And you’re doing well,” she said. When she looked over at Ava, she was happy to see a small smile on her face. It had just begun to fall when Beatrice looked back at the dark road.
“Are we gonna be okay?” Ava asked, barely audible over the sound of passing cars. Beatrice was reminded of Ava when she first arrived at Cat’s Cradle, the fear plain in her voice. But she was different, now.
So much about the girl had changed in such a short time.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Beatrice said, and meant it. She would die before she let any harm come to Ava. It wasn’t just her duty anymore, it was her purpose.
Beatrice was undeniably enamored with Ava. Calling it a crush felt too simple, too ordinary, but she wasn’t willing to admit to it being more than that. Still, she could acknowledge that she was in awe of Ava, her strength, her resilience. Everything about the bearer drew Beatrice further and further in.
She knew it as soon as she felt the panic begin to grip at her when Ava was stuck inside the tomb, knew it as soon as she had to fight to govern her emotions, to remain steadfastly in control. She was irrevocably screwed.
“I promise,” Beatrice whispered. She had never heard her own voice so soft before. It embarrassed her.
When she looked back over at Ava, she was relieved to find the girl’s eyes closed, asleep.
/
Their life in Switzerland was easy to fall into. It was serene, days filled with training and work, nights filled with cooking dinners and reading to each other. Beatrice wished, more than once, that it would never come to an end. She was haunted every day by the fact that it had to.
What was not so easy, however, was Ava’s incurable need to be touching her at almost every moment.
Her fingers would graze against Beatrice’s whenever they walked together. There were hugs. Cuddles. Kisses–on the cheek, the forehead, even the backs of her hands on the rare occasion that Ava needed to beg to convince Beatrice of something.
Beatrice had never been touched so much in her entire life, platonically or otherwise. It was driving her insane.
And it wasn’t the only thing to do so.
“What do you think? About the angel?” Miguel’s voice came through her earpiece, words feeding easily into the microphones she’d placed along the underside of the bar. Ava had been offended when she first noticed them, along with the cameras Beatrice installed as soon as she’d been promoted.
“To track traffic and keep an eye on things while I’m upstairs,” she’d claimed when Hans asked about the new security measures. He accepted the answer, because he had to. Beatrice was his boss now.
“Don’t you trust me?” Ava had whispered once he left. “I mean, I’m not going to say anything to blow our cover, you know that right? You don’t have to listen in.”
“Of course,” Beatrice said. “But a lot is said at a bar when people think no one is listening. We could overhear something important, and you can’t be everywhere at once.”
Ava had let it go. After all, Beatrice wasn’t using it to drop in on Ava’s conversations. In fact, she made it a point not to, to respect Ava’s privacy.
Then Miguel appeared, and everything shifted. Beatrice suddenly found herself tuning in whenever she spotted him on the security cameras. And every time, he seemed to nudge the conversation towards Adriel. It made Beatrice suspicious. More than that, it made her worry.
“Hans?” she called out into the other room. “Ask Ava to come up here.”
She ignored his grumbles in German and waited for Ava.
/
Ava slammed the door to the apartment, hard enough to shake the walls, and Beatrice winced. She already had to replace the glass once when Ava came home frustrated and, without meaning to, shattered the window pane on the door.
She stood up from her place on the couch and walked into the kitchen, prepared to lecture Ava for the second time that day, but froze when she saw her.
Ava was obviously upset. She’d thrown herself down at the kitchen table, and everything about her was tense, from her shoulders, to her tapping foot, to the way she rolled her lips between her teeth as she sat and stewed.
Beatrice considered a more gentle approach. “Hey,” she said, stepping into the kitchen. “How was the rest of your shift?”
“Fine,” Ava said, shrugging. She didn’t look up at Beatrice. “Made some drinks, talked to some customers, sent a dude flying.”
“You what?”
At this, Ava glanced up at her. “Yep. Sorry. To be fair, he really deserved it.”
“He–what did he do to deserve to be ‘sent flying?’”
“He was one of Adriel’s goons,” Ava explained. The tension in Beatrice’s shoulders coiled tighter. “He was pestering me, following me, he–”
“Did he recognize you?” Beatrice asked. In her mind, she was already planning how quickly they could evacuate. She really should have had a go-bag packed from the moment they arrived. It was stupid to think that they could live here in peace indefinitely, that they wouldn’t–
“No. Definitely not.” Ava cast her eyes downward. “He was just trying to convert me and everyone else on the street. I let my anger get the better of me. I’m sorry.”
Relief flooded through her. They were safe, for now. But Ava couldn’t just be using the Halo’s powers out in the open, not for some minor annoyance. They’d practiced self-control, meditative breathing, restraint. Apparently, not enough.
“Did anyone see?” Beatrice didn’t want to ask, she wanted to focus on comforting the obviously-still-upset Ava, but she needed to know if they’d been compromised.
“Hans came to see what the fuss was about, but I played it cool. Said that he was bothering me but I took care of it.” Ava shrugged, and Beatrice knew that she shouldn’t push it further.
“Okay,” Beatrice said, sitting down next to Ava. “That’s…okay.”
It wasn’t the end of the world. A setback, maybe, but a minor one. Tomorrow, they would get back to training, let Ava work out some of the anger she was harboring for Adriel and his followers, and be back on track.
She looked up to find Ava chewing on her fingernail, eyes downcast.
“Ava?” she prodded. “Are you all right?”
“I…I just don’t want to let you down,” Ava admitted. She let out a long breath, then her eyes flicked up to Beatrice’s. “I really, really don’t want to mess this up, and I could’ve today. Without even thinking about it, I–”
Beatrice was surprised to find her hand reaching for Ava’s. “You didn’t, though,” she said, her thumb rubbing over Ava’s knuckles. “Best not to dwell on what could have been. Just…move on and do better.”
“Do better,” Ava repeated, following it up with a half-hearted laugh. She shook her head, looking down. “You make it sound so easy, Bea, but that’s asking a lot, you know?”
“I know,” Beatrice said, wearing a serious expression. She squeezed Ava’s hand until Ava looked up and held her gaze. “And I know that I’m asking a lot of you. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think that you could do it. You’ve been doing so well. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not just because of one mishap.”
“Okay,” Ava said. She dropped her eyes, licking her lips, and Beatrice tried her hardest not to stare. Ava cleared her throat, leaning back in her chair. “So… dinner?”
Beatrice nodded, smiling. “Dinner.”
/
She was supposed to be working on inventory. Instead, she’d spent the last ten minutes watching Ava talk to Miguel.
They were speaking in hushed tones, way too quiet for Beatrice to hear from where she sat feet away. She considered, briefly, going upstairs to grab her headset, but knew that that would be wrong. Ava deserved her privacy.
That didn’t mean that Beatrice had to like it.
They raised their glasses, clinking together, and Beatrice couldn’t look away, a dark, swirling feeling growing deep in her chest. It gnawed at her, and she felt like she should get up and intervene, like she should do something, but it wasn’t her place.
Ava was allowed to have a friend. Ava was allowed to have more than a friend. It would be wrong of her to stop her from having what she deserved.
No matter how many times she repeated this fact to herself, her heart didn’t seem to want to listen. She twirled her pen, forcing her breathing to remain steady as Ava took a big swig of water and grinned at Miguel.
This was fine. It was fine. It was fine.
/
The rest of the shift passed with ease once Miguel left. Beatrice went upstairs, pouring over her papers until Ava knocked on the wall of her makeshift office.
“Hey, boss,” she said. “Time to punch out.”
Beatrice’s eyes found the old clock on the wall. It was later than she’d realized. She pushed herself away from her desk, putting away her work for another day without a word. She followed Ava down the stairs, but instead of heading towards the exit, Ava began to walk towards the bar.
“I’m tired Ava, let’s just go home,” Beatrice said to her retreating form.
“We need to talk about what Miguel told me.” Ava’s hand grabbed at her wrist, pulling her forward.
She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to talk about Miguel at all, and certainly not at the bar, where anyone could overhear. Besides, she couldn’t understand what Miguel could possibly have to offer that would be of consequence to them.
“You got charmed by some blond.” The bitterness seeped into her voice, and she inwardly cringed at the sound of it. Still, she tugged her hand away from Ava’s, not wanting to be dragged along any further.
“It’s more complicated than that,” Ava said. As if she couldn’t stand to not be touching,her hands immediately gripped at Beatrice’s arms. “Have a drink with me.”
“Fine, I’ll have a water.”
“Nope, no water, not tonight.”
This sent Beatrice floundering–she’d never had a drink, she admitted–and Ava broke out into a grin that had Beatrice’s heart fluttering.
“Oh my god. Okay, this is gonna be great!”
“What is?”
“I get to be the one that gets you drunk for the first time!”
Beatrice’s eyes widened. “I thought it was just one drink?”
“Not tonight, sister. I’m not letting this opportunity pass,” Ava said, and then she was touching Beatrice again, and she couldn’t bring herself to argue any further.
/
The drink Ava got for her was surprisingly bearable, sweet and tangy with a slight burn in the back of her throat. Ava almost immediately ordered them another round, and then all bets were off.
After the fourth shot, things got a little blurry. One moment, they were laughing at the bar over something Ava claimed Beatrice had said long ago. The next…
“I love this song! Come on, let’s dance,” Ava said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Beatrice said, but she found she was already being led away before her mind caught up with her body’s movements. Then she was standing in the middle of a crowd. Moving bodies, thrumming bass.
She was frozen. Ava wrapped her arms around Beatrice’s shoulders, tugging on them until she was on her tiptoes at Beatrice’s ears.
“Dance with me,” Ava said, voice low enough that Beatrice felt the tips of her ears burning. “Please?”
“I…” Beatrice couldn’t come up with a single thought. “I don’t–”
“Just…do this!” Ava threw her arms in the air and jumped to the beat. She laughed, throwing her head back, and Beatrice finally started to move along with her, but nothing like the silly dance Ava was doing, simply shuffling her feet back and forth.
“You’re ridiculous,” Beatrice said, but she could feel the smile pulling at her lips. Ava looked beautiful like this. Free and full to the brim with happiness, like she might have been if her life hadn’t taken such a bad turn at such a young age.
“Come on,” Ava said, reaching for her and pulling her from her thoughts. “You know you want to.”
And she was surprised to find that she did.
Dancing felt different when drunk. She’d had plenty of dance lessons as a child, training in ballet practically from the moment she took her first step. It had come in handy plenty during her time at the Order–the core strength, the fluidity, the grace–it all transferred over to help make her the fighter she was.
This wasn’t like any of that. The beat was pounding in her ears, driving every movement. It was absurd, fun, and addicting. She couldn’t stop laughing each time she caught Ava’s eye.
Ava’s hands were all over her–her arms, her shoulders, her cheek–and Beatrice, much to her own surprise, was reciprocating with ease.
It was like she wasn’t in control of her own body. Her arm slung itself around Ava’s shoulder. Her fingers grazed over Ava’s jawline. More than once, her face was so close to Ava’s that she could practically feel their noses brushing.
“You’re good at this!” Ava said, her eyes raking down Beatrice's body, and she had to suppress a shiver.
This is dangerous, she thought, her heart lurching. But she couldn’t stop. She’d never seen Ava smile so much in all of their time together, and she was hooked. She wanted to stare, to memorize every bit of Ava until she was certain she could never forget, but she knew she couldn’t allow herself to.
Beatrice shut her eyes, swaying to the music, and tried to lose herself to the feeling.
When she opened them again, Ava’s movements had slowed. She was watching Beatrice with wide eyes, the softest expression imaginable written over her features.
“You’re so pretty.” She barely caught the words as they left Ava’s mouth, the music so loud, but once she did they crashed into her at full force. She swallowed over the sudden lump in her throat, then opened her mouth, hoping that her inebriated brain would come up with something eloquent to say, but nothing came.
Ava took a step back, her smile subdued. “I’ll get us another round,” she said, and before Beatrice could argue she headed for the bar.
/
By the time they left, it was nearing midnight. She hadn’t had a drink in over an hour, and her world was finally settling.
“It’s late,” Beatrice said. “We probably should head straight to bed.”
Ava raised her eyebrows at her, and Beatrice realized what that had sounded like. She flushed, clearing her throat, but was grateful when Ava said nothing.
“Right,” Ava said. “Training. A warrior nun’s work is never done.”
“It will be one day,” Beatrice said, somber. “We have to believe that.”
“I know,” Ava said. “I just wish...I wish I had never let Adriel out.”
“You can’t blame yourself,” Beatrice said, remembering their conversation from just that morning at the lake, when Ava said this was all her fault. “Any of us would’ve done the same. You couldn’t have known what he was, or that he’d even be alive. You definitely couldn’t have expected–well, him.”
“I know,” Ava whispered. She looked down for a moment as they walked away from the bar. “I mean, what even is he? The texts all call him an angel, but… he seemed like a devil to me.”
Beatrice contemplated this. “Or if he is an angel, does that mean that all angels are just… dirtbags?”
Ava’s hand brushed against hers, and Beatrice quickly stuck her hands in her pockets, overloaded on Ava’s touch for one night. If she allowed herself to keep enjoying Ava’s touch, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop, not with what was left of the alcohol in her system.
“Ugh,” Ava scoffed. “No. Not an angel.”
“Well, he’s not human.”
“For sure.”
“Then what is he?”
A beat passed, and Ava stopped moving. Beatrice followed her gaze across the street.
“Hey, it’s Miguel! What’s he up to?”
Beatrice watched as Miguel crouched against a wall, watching something on the other side. He glanced behind him before jogging away.
“Let’s catch up to him,” Ava said, but Beatrice hung back.
“No no, I’m–you go ahead,” she said, even though the words fought her as they left her mouth. She was still slightly affected by the alcohol, she reasoned. That’s why she was struggling to speak. It had nothing to do with the ridiculous feelings that simmered inside her that she couldn’t seem to quell, even after months of direct and focused effort. “I’ll see you at home.”
“Are you sure?” Ava asked.
Beatrice swallowed against the doubt rising in her throat. Yes, she was sure. She needed to be. This was who she was: steady, dependable, selfless.
She couldn’t let her misplaced feelings drive her to monopolize Ava’s attention, to selfishly prevent Ava from living her life in the little amount of time she’d ever had to do so. She was devoted to Ava, yes, but her devotion was supposed to lay in her duty to protect her, not to stifle her.
Beatrice nodded, and Ava left, but not without one last lingering touch to Beatrice’s arm. She felt her soul deflate as Ava jogged ahead to catch up with Miguel.
She shouldn’t have let this happen. She shouldn’t have indulged herself in the night with Ava. Now, she would be tormented by it. And for what? For Ava to go running after some guy, the way Beatrice always knew she would?
She clenched her jaw, dug her hands deeper into her pockets, and turned to walk away.
Then she heard it. The unmistakable noise of a fight.
Beatrice took off running.
There was a group of them brawling in the alley–two versus six, hardly a fair fight. Beatrice charged at the two approaching Ava from behind, easily dispatching the first before moving on to strike the second. A third turned to face her at the commotion, and it took her a minute to take them both down, all the while never taking her eye off Ava.
She knew their training would pay off, but seeing it in action was another thing. Ava was incredible.
When they were done, Miguel looked as if he was in awe– as he rightfully should have been.
“Ava,” he said, taking a step towards her, mouth open in disbelief. Beatrice’s jealousy stirred, sharpened by adrenaline into something dangerous.
“Say goodbye,” Beatrice instructed, grabbing Ava’s arm.
“Goodbye!” Ava called out, allowing herself to be pulled.
They’d barely made it back to the street when he caught up to them.
“Hey! Can I at least thank you?” he asked.
Beatrice glanced over at Ava, who looked at her beseechingly, as if to say don’t embarrass me. “Fine,” she said, turning back to Miguel. “You’re welcome. But we really need to go.”
But Ava had other ideas, stepping past Beatrice to stand beside her new friend. The knife twisted in her gut, but she breathed through it the way she would if it had been more than a metaphor. “Beatrice, meet Miguel.”
“Pleasure,” she forced out, taking his hand.
“You really kicked ass back there,” he said, looking at Ava. “Clearly you’re not all talk.”
“Nope.”
All talk? Beatrice narrowed her eyes. How much had Ava said to this stranger? Had she told them about their training? About the order?
She wouldn't, right?
“Samaritans could use your help,” Miguel said, and it occurred to Beatrice for the first time that she and Ava had never gotten to have their talk about the super-important-thing Miguel had shared with her that day. She figured this had something to do with it.
“The Samaritans?”
“We’re a decentralized cadre,” he started, but Ava interrupted him.
“They’re fighting Adriel.”
Her eyes were alight, and Beatrice had a sinking feeling that there was no talking Ava out of this. Wasn’t this what she’d been wanting? To take direct action, instead of sitting back and waiting?
“Oh,” Beatrice managed.
“Not just in the street. We’ve got plans to take down more of these zealots tonight. You should come with me,” Miguel offered.
“I’m down,” Ava said, looking at Beatrice for permission.
She didn’t grant it. “Let’s hear these plans before we commit to something we can’t honor.”
There was a secret gathering, and the Samaritans were going to crash it. It didn’t sound like a plan so much as an idea, but she knew the look in Ava’s eyes. She wouldn’t be dissuaded.
“You know I’ve been wanting to get more involved in this fight,” Ava said.
“This is not what we talked about.” What they’d talked about was training. Preparing. Not running off on some half-cocked mission with a man they barely knew, all because Ava had a–
Because Ava was–
Ava was giving her puppy eyes.
“Fine,” Beatrice said. “Fine. It sounds like an interesting opportunity But I’m coming with you.”