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Sometimes she'd end up outside your door late at night, you'd hear her pace, faintly, but she was there. You became so in tune with her that your body almost reached for her, even then. She guarded you when she couldn't sleep, she protected you even as you did. She was always there, present and watchful.
There's an ease when she's around, a bubble that the two of you share that you've never understood. But for the first time in your life you'd never felt more safe than when she was near. When she was choosing you, when she wasn't turning you away.
Now, though, you realize just how selfish you'd been indulging yourself and not finding out why. Never acknowledging what was happening, letting her suffer in the cold halls outside your room, sleepless and alone.
As you've been learning her over the last few weeks, trying to understand, trying to see the world through her eyes as she lets you into hers, you realize just how blind you've been to the wonder of her. How blind to her devotion you've been.
You see her now, guarded but soft, lovely but unsure. She makes you happy in a way you've never known. She's stoic and steadfast, sure, but there are moments when you do something exactly right, or catch her at exactly the right moment and she comes alive with affection for you and it's... everything.
She deserves to feel the same, to be adored, supported, safe. And you're soaking up every moment with her to try and learn how. You've been selfish your whole life, but she makes you want to give the whole world up for more time with her. For any sort of comfort you can offer.
But then the moments happen, the tense ones, the soft ones, the... delicious ones. Sometimes you'll fall into her arms or pin her after a successful move and you... don't know what to do. Time stretches between you, the universe expects and commands, but both of you just...
You wonder how close she is to kissing you.
How close you come to kissing her.
God there have been so many. You, frozen, memorizing the shape of her lips, the way they part and her eyes drop to yours. The flex of her jaw, the tiny dimple at her cheek. You memorize the lines of her, dream of the curves and the presence of her.
Long for her.
But she's taken vows and you're the halo bearer and even though you know exactly how she feels, if you ever end up like Sister Shannon you cannot and will not leave her with that kind of pain.
You don't know how to prevent it, the distance you've kept yourself at, and the restraint of not telling her how you feel has become almost unbearable. But you don't know how you could ever say that kind goodbye, not anymore.
----
You've been living in a tiny apartment together for a month now and if you were in another universe, living another life, where you'd met somewhere and fallen in love, this little life in Switzerland would come as close to perfect as you could ever have imagined.
The place came with most of the decor, flannel and wooden and basic, but in the time you've been here it's become more home than you've ever known, she has. It's not luxurious like the villas from before, but it's yours and hers and that makes all the difference.
She keeps it agonizingly neat and you keep the fresh mountain air flowing because she's been locked away in a convent training and you'd been trapped in a bed for far too long and the both of you are finally a little bit free.
You're learning how to cook for her, Mary would be proud, little things here and there that you grab at the farmers market in town that she won't buy for herself. You go with the cash tips you stash away and surprise her during the shifts you don't work together and she beams . As if nobody has ever done anything just for her before.
Sometimes you'll bring her back flowers too, you're learning her, learning how to spoil her with subtleties she doesn't have to read into that make the apartment feel like more than just a safe house. It's not about giving the flowers, the gesture always felt flat in movies or books, it's about bringing in light and color. Anything to make her soul feel lighter, her burdens a little less. To try and make her smile in gentle, ordinary ways.
On the weekends before your shifts you'll go to the market together, hands grazing as you walk through the tents and the bins, always laughing. Casual surveillance to see how much influence Adriel has gained, feeling the pulse of the community. But so far most of the locals just smile and wave and probably assume you're a couple because you notice the adoring looks, the secret smiles when you catch their eyes.
You do look good together; you'll never tell her that, but it's nice to imagine it could be real for a few hours.
You pick everything up, enjoying the textures and the colors and the smells of fresh and foraged and she watches you. When you catch her she huffs her exacerbation for your fidgeting and touching and you nudge her with your hip to loosen her up and she laughs and then she does. And it's breathtaking when she lets go.
Sometimes when the sky is clouded and the temperature drops and the air is crisp and foreboding, she tells you of her memories growing up, slowly unlocking the origins of her shame. She gets excited with new moves she wants to teach you as you master them one by one, telling you stories of Shannon and her own struggles with training so you don't feel so useless. That it's never been about ability, but about discipline. That you'll get there too.
She's constantly sharing, constantly asking questions, constantly moving forward. She likes to talk about art. About poetry. She likes languages and she wants you to know the intricacies of her mind. Like if she stops sharing them for even a moment all of this might end. Her time with you might run out.
It sometimes feels like she wants to fit lifetimes into seconds and there's a sadness attached to it that neither of you acknowledge because tomorrow it could all change.
She's still guarded, but she tries. And you're trying so hard to see her through all of what's unsaid. Know her through all that is. Love her through everything in between.
----
She plans and cooks meals and prefers cozy nights in without pressuring you to join, knowing how many boxes you have left to check, how important that is to you. How many people you still want to meet and experiences left to discover. But she always waits up for you with a smile so wide and an ear eager to listen. Sometimes you wonder if she could be your greatest adventure of all.
You get so excited to be near her when you come home you barely allow yourself the time to fuss over chores. Your things are often strewn about the house, mismatched but functional and you know she secretly likes the movement and the mementos that you collect. She likes your little adventures and the small ways you've learned to express yourself along the way.
When she fusses you, just to do it, you tell her homes should be lived in while she thinks that everything has its place. Quick accessibility and simple functionality, ephemera only makes for distractions. But you're growing on her too and when she brings something home for you you make sure to be very enthusiastic about the effort. You've learned she likes bookmarks and pens that have different flows and inks. She likes to write and record and document.
She likes to remember.
You're a mess on a good day, all of this is stressful and complicated and difficult, but you're trying all the time. You're learning to communicate too, to stay present when things are hard, to tell her how you feel rather than running from it. You can tell it surprises her how much you're trying, that it's important that you do this together.
She's organized enough for the both of you but for all the right reasons and it just... works. You're learning how to be conscientious and considerate, learning how to exist with someone so opposite to you, and you like surprising her with how effortless this little life with you can be.
----
There's always something humming from the corner of your bedroom from the old records you found buried in a trunk in the basement. Once you started filling the space with music it kind of... stuck. You catch her swaying sometimes, smiling as she mouths the words, blushes when she catches you watching her as if she's not the most graceful and beautiful person you've ever seen. And it's nice and normal and her smile brightens up the entire universe, most especially yours.
You fall asleep next to her, warm and safe in her oversized sweaters that you can't help but cling to, that you can't help but steal because they smell like her and wrap around you in all the ways you wish she could. That sometimes you wake up deep into the night and she has. Arms and legs and the warmth of her behind you.
It's never been spoken of, the closeness, the lingering touches, the longing looks, the way you fit perfectly into the crook of her neck, but you're sure there's something there.
Sure she might love you.
Sure that you're inexplicably in love with her.
----
The training has been grueling. Sweaty and dirty and strenuous, but you're getting more agile, more in-tune, more confident. She looks at you in awe, pride pouring from her eyes and praise dripping from her lips in a way that makes you long to kiss her.
Taste the curves of her the way she's taught you how to weaponize your own.
That makes you want to do everything right for her because she glows when you do.
She scolds you less and encourages you more and seems to find thrill in teaching you to fight exactly as she does. And you're really good at it. Good at learning and watching and showing up now because there are only so many days left of hiding before Adriel's following becomes too large and the end of the world will come knocking, but for now, this and she are... everything.
She's changed too. From fighting at the forefront with frustration in you to being so much more gentle with her technique as it grows to synchronize with yours. You've developed a language, an aesthetic to feed off each other. A fluidity from where she begins and you end and incorporating that into your fighting technique has been effortless. Your body responds to hers, the halo does too, and with just a word or the tone of her voice you move.
She gives space for your opinions and has helped you grow the trust in your intuition, your abilities. Where before she was your protector, always standing in the way of danger for you, now she's your partner and you wish that she could see, could translate that into more.
If it were up to you, you'd choose forever like this. With her, on a grand adventure, growing and learning and existing together.
----
You come home after a late shift exhausted and overstimulated and she's sitting on your couch reading, her glasses round and thin making her even more beautiful and you stand in the doorway and marvel at her for a few moments.
Her finger strokes the spine of the book and she smirks as she turns the page, a gentle knowing that pulls at your insides as she waits for the motions of predictability to you coming home. You can tell she's not reading by the gentle sway of her foot, and you can't believe you're this lucky.
She's waiting for you to tell her every detail and every observation from the evening, to reheat the food she's inevitably made and plop down on the couch and cozy under the blanket with her. To pretend like she's not waiting for you with as much excitement as you have coming home to her.
Routine.
But you don't, not this time, as you lean against the door frame and you watch her little dimple disappear as she looks up to you expectantly, wondering why you're frozen there, observing.
"Ava?"
You smile, because she's radiant, soft and lovely as she calls to you. Her voice, melodic and lofty and refined.
"Hm?"
She places her book down and starts to get up but you outstretch your hand and pause her. "No, please stay comfortable, I'm just watching."
"Did something happen?"
Shaking your head and tossing your cardigan onto the chair, you smile, the tension in her body palpable with your lack of discipline, with the tiny mess. There are still idiosyncrasies she holds onto and order is definitely one of them.
She lets it go with a sigh, always trying to accommodate you, and you just as quickly pick it back up to put it away; you just enjoy goading her. She's fun to rile up and fun to fluster and if this is even a little what heaven might be like in the end, you never want to leave.
With all this religion and all these rules and angels and demons and portals to God knows where, you like to take liberties where you can. Hold onto little fantasies and hope for normal, little enjoyments like annoying your... annoying her, because at the end of the day you signed up for exactly none of this.
Except maybe exactly the last month with her.
You just wish you knew what she is.
You wish she were so much more.
That you could tell her.
Because you're realizing that she might just be the love of your life.
----
You walk to her and lean over, pressing your lips to the top of her head in a casual sort of way that you know leaves her breathless with the harmlessness of it all. Because you can. Because it's normal. Because it's intimate.
"Hans was in a mood tonight. I think he needs a shift or two off the clock, boss."
She clears her throat and you turn as you hang the sweater up on the back of the door. "We've spoken about this, a strict schedule is imperative for concealment. It allows us to train without raising suspicion. He looks like he's important enough that his shifts take priority over yours and it's easier for us to slip away."
"But he's tired, Bea. He works a lot."
"And you aren't?"
"I have a mythical halo shoved between my shoulders that heals me and will recharge me when I'm tired, I don't count."
She huffs, muttering under her breath that you're the only one who matters. Means it with her whole chest. Feels it with her whole soul.
"I'm not, you know," you finally plop down next to her, looping your arms through her right and leaning against her shoulder. "You're just as important as me. I couldn't do any of this without you. I don't want to."
You've gotten good at pushing her past her comfort zone while still allowing her the boundaries she sets for herself. She doesn't pull away, never afraid of what every touch could mean, but you're almost always the one who reaches for her first. You wonder if she can't help herself any more than you can't. If indulging in this now is the only way you'll survive what comes next.
She untangles herself from you and stands, running her hands down the flowy pants that you insisted she buy because they felt so much like her and you trace the movement with your eyes, appreciation. "Have you eaten?"
"Bar snacks and a beer."
"That's not sustainable, we've discussed your lack of fuel foods. I'll pull together a salad for you if you heat up the rice and vegetables I made earlier." She reaches for your hand to help you up and you eagerly accept with a grin.
"Will you sit with me?"
She smiles, gentle as a moonbeam. "Always."
----
"What's on your mind?"
It's not surprising that she'd ask, you're pushing your food around the plate more than you're eating it and she knows the signs of when you're distracted.
Normally it's all of this. The weight of it catching up with you.
But this time you're remembering the day you made it through the stone, before Adriel and running and the end of the world.
When she'd believed in you and told you she'd always be by your side. How you'd escaped and landed in her arms and time had stopped. She'd cradled your head in her hands and smiled at you so beautifully you weren't sure you'd ever want to exist anywhere but in that moment .
She was so proud, so in awe of you.
Happy .
That was the moment, the definitive one, when you knew you'd never be able to live without her. It scares you sometimes thinking she might not be afforded the same luxury. That someday you're going to ruin the façade of your undercover life and inevitably break her heart.
You remember how you'd overcome your fear with her. Pushed through and followed the sound of her voice, the absolution in her tone. How once you'd finally emerged on the other side breathless and overflowing with gratitude, the only thing that would have made sense was to press your lips to hers. To show her everything you felt. So she'd know exactly how much she meant to you. How much it meant when she promised you'd never be alone.
Just how prominent and permanent between those lines of them and you she intended to be.
She looked at you with intention, with desire and it'd taken everything in you not to kiss her.
The way you almost had.
You'd stopped yourself then, painfully so. She'd just come out to you, just allowed you to see her fully for the very first time, breathtaking and tearful in her honesty not hours before.
But she'd bitten the inside of her bottom lip just enough and your stomach dropped and you... looked, and then looked away, catching your breath and then she cleared her throat and moved away. You'd seen the way she looked at you, felt the pull, like it all could be real, and it scared you. It was too soon. You never want to take anything from her, especially not advantage; you only want to give.
It has to be as safe for her as she always has been for you. When you kiss her you want it to mean something. You want her to know it's what you've always wanted. That she is. You want to be worthy of her before you're courageous enough to tell her.
You finish the last of your rice and rinse off your dishes and make your way to the living room with just a hum and your hand drags across her shoulders as you pass, so she knows you're okay. She'll follow, you're sure, you just have to decide how brave you're going to be with your answer tonight first.
----
You've been testing the waters as of late. Kissing her temple or her cheek or the palm of her hand, casual and calm and you revel in her soft surprised blinks, in the little ways she allows herself to feel, to be adored. Or maybe she doesn't notice what you're doing at all.
Sometimes you lay your head on her shoulder, or across her lap in a soft, absentminded way that helps ground you both in comfort; being here alone is hard. She leans into you, reaches for you, allows herself to need you.
She wraps her fingers around the side of your neck when she laughs, around your hips when you're training, pulling you closer, fleeting but firm, keeping you connected and you think she's getting closer to letting go.
You worry sometimes about her little comments, that she might think you're leading her on, that you'll choose whatever pretty boy that flirts with you at the bar over her, but you're trying to allow your connection to grow organically, at her pace. For her to be ready.
But she does observe you constantly, longingly, you can tell she battles with herself over how she feels and what she experiences and whether she's allowed to exist freely like this. You know she struggles, you know she gets jealous of the men that float in and out of the bar and how effortless you banter with them.
You're not sure she realizes it's for show, it's your job, and that you'd rather spend all of those seconds talking to her. Flirting with her. Loving her. That you only have eyes for her.
You wish you knew how to make it easier. You thought more physical affection would help. Would be safer without being directly obtrusive. Maybe it's just making it worse. You see the depths of her shame, of her fear of being seen fully, and you wish you had more experience so you could help her see that she's worthy. That she's... miraculous.
But she's different too, after just a few weeks, and it gives you hope.
She stands closer to you here, encourages you to fall into her arms. Sometimes her fingers drag across or link with yours when you're relaxing together, just when you're near. She holds your hands when she comforts you and doesn't think twice about the contact. She's present and gentle and she smiles more easily. She's always been the first to wrap you up, first to her knees, first to cradle you and call out your name. She's always there. But now she lets you be there for her too.
There's a freedom now, she's more free, she moves more fluidly in everyday life, like she's moving with time rather than trying to fight against it. Like she's settled. And you know this is temporary, that you can't hide away forever, but watching her come into herself, being part of it, has been one of the great joys of your life.
You've started noticing the way your body reacts when you're near her too. Instead of falling behind her, the need to protect her has grown stronger. You're quick to make sure she's okay, quick to care for her, quick to prod her gently when you can feel she's holding back. Quick to apologize and quick to assuage.
Loving her like this feels like coming into yourself, caring for her feels like finding the meaning of home.
There's always been a draw to her, of course, but this feels different. Her fingers run through her hair and you can hardly breathe. She puts her sweater on and the hem rides up and your eyes are glued to exposed skin. She wraps her hair in a towel as she exits the shower, precision and elegance and your stomach drops. She wraps you up in a hug after a hard day and you wish you could crawl into her, feel the safety of her strength, the warmth of her embrace. You wish you never had to leave.
She holds you like you're precious. She holds you like she doesn't know how to let go. She holds you like fulfilled promises and hopeful dreams.
Even like this, unspoken and undertow she's effortlessly everything you've ever wanted her to be while patiently waiting for her to become who she deserves to be.
You're just afraid there won't be enough time.
It's constantly on your mind, tonight especially.
----
She studies you, honed and deliberate now as you decide how you want to answer her. How honest you want to be, moving to sit in the chair adjacent to the couch, wondering where this is going.
What your exhaustion means.
Clandestine and quiet and cautious.
You smile at her softly and she scans you for discomfort, the unease she's used to, until she's satisfied you're okay and her eyes dart to your lips with your smile, as they always do, and she turns and clears her throat. She's predictable but she's lovely too.
"Just thinking about how different everything is now, how much better it keeps getting the longer we're here."
"Ava, we're in hiding and Adriel's followers grow in number every day."
"But we're free too." She tilts her head and eyes you curiously, perhaps never knowing that she wasn't, that hiding behind her vows and her duty don't save her from the binds of her shame. "Haven't you ever wanted exactly this? New names and a new life and to live?"
The pause from her makes you wonder if she's thought about it too and never dared speak it aloud. That she could want more. "Sometimes."
It's honest and surprising and progress.
"Everything is beautiful here, Bea." She meets your eyes as you reach for her hands and tangle your fingers together. "We are."
Her eyes drop to her lap and she sighs. "I don't know how to exist like you do, with everything looming over us."
"Sure you do."
She reaches to tuck your hair behind your ear, hold your jaw so affectionately and you don't dare breathe. "You've come so far, but you still can't see it. There is no freedom in what we're training for. It's just to prevent... to keep you from... to get you ready."
You lean into her touch and she swipes the corner of your eye with so much softness you could cry. "I know where this leads, but isn't there some part of you that is happy here? With me?"
She smiles, gentle and full of resolve but shrugs nonetheless. "With you."
Hope blossoms in your chest and you're afraid of the moment slipping away so you fill it. "You're so good at your job and I'm good at mine and training with you is exciting and this is our home and it's just our little corner of the world, you know?"
She almost whispers. "Are you happy here?"
"With you?" She blushes at your honesty. You recover quickly, keep the conversation going. You'd leave it there because of course you're happy with her, but you don't want to scare her. "With all of this? Of course I am."
A cheeky smile curls at the corners of her mouth. "I mean, the views are spectacular. The air is clean."
She finds your eyes. "And the company isn't so terrible."
You scoot forward, ready to retort, ready to play back because she's goading you now. But then you really look at her, really see her, and a sadness waxes over your heart and your breath catches in your throat and she looks concerned.
She's quick to hone in, quick to feel the shift in your soul. "Ava?"
"Sometimes I wish we had more time."
That's something you're learning to live with, time moving too quickly. You count them now, the moments and the memories, clinging to them, praying they'll slow until you're near her again, the seconds before and the minutes after. Even when she's right in front of you.
Between choices. Between responsibilities. Between who you were and who you're becoming. From her heartbeat to yours.
Before her and now with her and... whatever comes next.
Time has never been your friend.
"I do too."
You sit in silence and watch each other, breathing and calm and deliberate. It's never scared you, the quiet with her, you've learned to read between her lines and hear between her heartbeats and when time weaves so effortlessly between you, it's lyrical, melodic, it's beautiful in a way you've never experienced before her.
"What if we skipped training tomorrow and just went to the lake for fun? You could finish the book you were just pretending to read and I could do anything but use the halo to fake battle a stupid angel dirtbag and we could just... hang out in the sun, recharge a little."
To her credit she actually takes a few moments to consider it and doesn't immediately shoot you down, progress, and you offer a little pout and the puppy dog eyes she can't resist and you wait for her to make a decision.
She sighs and rolls her eyes and you do a little wiggle because you know that she's gonna cave and a little beach date with her sounds absolutely perfect.
"Okay fine, but we have to fit in a run before, keep our stamina up, you know the higher elevations are good for that and we need to take advantage of it every opportunity we have."
"Yeah okay okay, but you'll come?"
"Yes, Ava, I'll come."
----
By the time you'd gotten ready for bed she's worked out the entire itinerary for your little getaway tomorrow. She rushed to the bathroom doorway as soon as you turned the knobs and the water stopped, waiting for you, presenting it to you in her little notebook the second the shower curtain parted. You stood there confused and wrapped in your towel, but with how much pride shown in her eyes all you could do was laugh because she'd planned... your down time... to the minute.
And insisted you look at it before the droplets of water were even off your skin. You wonder if there's something she's masking, something she's not telling you.
But you love her.
You crawl into bed and she turns away to wash her face and execute her nightly routine. She always goes last, always making sure there's a barrier of space between you and her and whatever lies after. Separation of you and danger, even if that danger might just be time.
The vanity is positioned just perfectly enough that you can watch her reflection with awe from across the room. How precise she is, how methodical. How calming her motions are, fingers and arms and skin.
The vision of her, soft and sleepy and clean.
She's regal and reverent and feels so real in these intimate moments that you're grateful you get to exist in this home with her. That you're blessed enough to witness. That she trusts you enough to share this side of herself with you because you're sure she knows you can't take your eyes off her.
She exits the bathroom, hangs up the towel she's blotted her face with, and goes to check the locks on your door one more time. Her clothes for your run are laid out across the rocking chair, folded and concise, and she moves one of her knives to the nightstand too, just in case. She lets down her hair, running her fingers through it, letting you watch her, letting you enjoy her.
You smirk at her as she adjusts her pajamas next, as nervously unsure about getting into bed as she always is, and you pat the space next to you, whipping the comforter free on her side so she'll join you. There's always that hesitancy, like she'll never fully feel comfortable with the initial invitation, but you always try to lighten the weight of it for her because this is her space too.
It's easy once she lets go.
You curl away to your respective sides, back to back, and count the moments before she scoots back and you find yourselves touching. The temperature drops at night and she especially runs cold, easily seeking out your warmth in the darkness. It's nice the halo at least offers her that.
The peace rarely lasts.
She has nightmares often, almost immediately after she falls, soft whimpers and anxious sighs. Sometimes you stay awake and make sure she gets to a deep sleep, just so you know she's okay. Other times she slips out of bed and paces the apartment, like she used to do at the convent. You're always awake with her, even if she doesn't know, ready to offer comfort, ready to be present when she's ready to share them with you. But she never does.
You roll over, searching for her when you feel the bed dip beside you. She freezes and shushes you and runs her finger along your jaw, runs them gently through your hair to try and lull you back to sleep and after all this time you still pretend. Tonight you're going to ask her.
But you know her, you know that she needs to work out some of her anxious energy before she can confront a problem she can't solve, so you even out your breath and wait for her to exhale the worry that she disturbed you and make her way out of the bedroom.
There are sixteen steps from your bed to the kitchen. You've learned to count them because of how often this happens, how often she's far from you in some form of unease. You hear her pull out one of the chairs and settle down, eventually soft sniffles make it to your ear and you know that it's time the two of you talk.
You slip out of bed, stealthy as she taught you and bring the softest blanket with you because you're sure she's shivering.
"Hey you."
Her head snaps to you as you come into view of her, slowly in the darkness so she doesn't go into fight mode, draping the blanket gently over her shoulders. "Ava, why are you awake?'
It'd be easy to brush this off as a fluke, that this time she wasn't quiet or didn't settle you well enough, but she deserves to know that she hasn't been alone. "I'm always awake when you are."
"You are?" She looks guilty and you're quick to adjust the blanket and tuck her in in a gesture of comfort. To still her mind. To calm her.
"I just never said anything because I thought you'd rather be alone. But I'm always here." The tears are thick as they fall off her eyelashes and she reaches up to wipe them from her cheeks and you whisper her name into the darkness of the room.
She smiles, pained and burdened, like she doesn't deserve that from you. That it's her job and not yours just the same. "You are now, aren't you?"
You grin at her because you are and she knows it. It means you're finally doing something right if she believes you're going to stay, that you won't run from her or this again.
"What are they about? The dreams?"
She takes a deep breath and turns to look up at you. "You."
"Me?" Her forthrightness surprises you. Maybe it's the late hour or the closeness the two of you have been building. Maybe it's the fact that you're both doing all of this blind, all of this alone. But you're hopeful it's because she wants to let you be part of her, beyond the halo and its champion.
Where it's just you and her. And that's enough.
She nods and you offer her your hand. You need to get her into a safe space, warm and soft where she can be vulnerable and you can be present without pressuring her when she's uncomfortable.
"Come to bed with me."
----
Tugging her behind you you set her up in the bed, wrap the blanket a little more fully around her and pull the comforter over her lap. She protests just a little, not liking to be fussed over, but the sternness in your look quiets her and she settles and waits for whatever you're going to do next.
She accepts your forwardness, letting you take charge, which tells you that she's genuinely exhausted and overwhelmed with carrying this for so long.
"What's going on, Bea?"
She swallows hard and hangs her head in shame and it hurts you, when she shows it, that it's something she has to carry and you don't know how to ease it without minimizing her pain. You've learned just to sit with her, honor her with your presence, but it's not easy. "I'm... unsettled."
You fight every urge to wrap her in a hug but sit, motionless, eyes focused instead, hoping it'll be enough. She finally meets your gaze. "Afraid."
The breath is stolen from your lungs because her being afraid isn't something you're familiar with. She's a pillar, strong and unrelenting, and you wonder if this is how she feels when you're... messy. When you don't know how to open up to her even when she tries. "Why?"
You scoot up closer to her, knee to knee and reach for her hands, running your thumbs across her palms hoping she'll relax into your touch. "What are you afraid of?"
"I can't tell you." She usually doesn't turn you down anymore, always finds a way to meet you where you are and talk through your disagreements. It's one of the most important things you've built while you've been here, the open, safe dialogue that comes from absolute trust. "Saying it out loud will make it real."
And it hurts, the rejection in her tone and she feels it in your fingertips and sees it in your posture and even through her turmoil she pauses and it leaves you with some hope that maybe you can make it through this too. Maybe she can get some relief if she can just let you in. "Please?"
She sighs. "Failure isn't something I'm particularly strong at navigating. And now that you're part of all this, if I fail, I could lose..." She sighs deeper, shifting her weight in her unease and swallows hard, trying to keep her tears at bay, trying to hold onto her composure. "I'm afraid of failing you."
"I've never been afraid with you beside me, if that helps. Ever since phasing through the stone I've never trusted anyone the way that I trust you."
She shakes her head and you wonder if you've fucked it up, not quite sure how to do this, how to say the right thing. "For as much as I trust my abilities, trust you, trust God even, there's always the possibility we're iIl equipped for this. Even with the halo. Even with your training. There's just no way to know."
You take a deep breath, decide to take a risk. "Are you afraid of dying?"
Her smile lights up even in the darkness, her eyes search yours a little in disbelief because you're obviously missing something. You're so tired of missing the mark. "I'm afraid of you dying, Ava."
It's quick, ingrained, instinctual. "I'm not going to die."
"You're a halo bearer and you're twenty years old and it's not a burden you've ever deserved. You didn't sign up for any of this. You've already died once."
"But look, I'm right here. And for a dead girl I think I'm doing pretty alright. I kick some insane supernatural ass now."
"Ava."
"Look, we can't change that I have the halo, that there are demons and stuff everywhere, but we can break the curse. There's nothing that says I have to die. Again, I mean."
"History, Ava. No matter how much literature and lore I scour through, warrior nuns and halo bearers are disposable to this cause, their sacrifices noble and worthy, but inevitable. I believed that, I've devoted my whole life to it, but now that you're..."
Now it's real. Now it's you.
And you get it, every time she goes into battle, every fight, every weapon that's drawn on her you wonder if it'll be the last time you'll ever see her. Developing that unwavering trust in her abilities with guns pointed at her head and demons staring at her soul has been your biggest challenge.
You understand, you agonize over it too.
"It's you and me, Bea. They won't beat us, not now. I believe we can do this, I know it."
"Ava, you can't know that."
She's always right. You can't know it, but if there's one thing being here has taught you, it's that you have everything to live for. This life, any life with her is worth dying to try and keep. You can't know for sure, but you can be strong for her too.
"You're right, I'm sorry."
Because you are. It's easy to talk in certainties, to get swept up in excelling at your training. Being seen as worthy of the halo, proving everyone wrong. But she's lived so much more of this than you, lost more, and even at your most valiant, you're still inexperienced.
"Do you remember the first time you opened up to me about your pain? When you told me that you're skilled at everything because you thought it would make you valuable?"
She breathes in slowly, a stutter in her exhale, her back straightens. "Of course."
"None of this means anything, not really. But you do. Not for whether you can save me or how well you can fight, but because of who you are."
She scoffs softly, meaning for you to miss it but you're so tuned into her you hear it like a gunshot. "All I am is a warrior nun."
"And all I am is the halo bearer."
You're baiting her because you know she doesn't see you that way, and you don't want her to tell you, you just want to be able to show her that she's valuable, failure or success.
"That's not..." It takes all of three seconds and your smirk for her to realize what you'd just done and something passes through her eyes that feels a little like pride.
"There are a million things to love about you, and even if we fail at this, we'll fail together, and you're still going to be worthy of a lifetime of happiness. Of acceptance. Even if it's not me that--."
It sounds foreign coming from your mouth, defeat, unfiltered and honest, but she needs to know that she can find this again. That not everyone will refuse to accept her. That she can find love if she lets herself. That she can live.
"You will never fail me, live or die. This, we will always matter. And even if..." It's unfathomable that this could be taken from you. That an angel could kill you and you could leave her behind. But it's still real. "I never want you to be anyone but who you are. I want you to let people see you. I meant what I said, you are beautiful."
She blushes because that's not exactly what you said but it's the truth and she deserves to know. The blush gives you a little burst of joy because you wonder if anyone has ever told her that before. If she's ever let anyone see her this completely so that they could.
----
"Would it help if I told you what I'm afraid of?"
It's hard to know if this is the right way to be there for her, to let her know that she's not alone. She's always existed in her own solitude, fought her own demons, but you think maybe this time could be different. "Your fears are important, but you don't have to be alone in confessing them if that'll help."
"I'll always want to know." She reaches for you, placing her hand on your knee and you watch it, let yourself feel the movements of her fingers, relish in the sensation of being touched and feeling it.
Ever since you told her of your fear of paralysis she's made an effort to show you that you aren't imagining any of this. That it's real and you can feel the connection she bridges from her body to yours. Never mind you're both touch starved, but she's thoughtful even in the smallest of ways, deliberate and selfless.
"I'm not afraid of dying, but if I do," her eyes go wide and her whole body tenses, but you push forward. "I'm afraid the halo will see how worthy you are, how selfless, how wise and loyal, and it'll choose you next. That someday you'll feel more alone than I do, that it won't end with me and it'll end you. You deserve more than this, even if it's an honor in the Order, it's not worth losing you."
She pulls you into a hug now, wraps you tightly and runs her hands over your back. You bury your face into her neck as if it's where you've always belonged, were always meant to fit. "Oh Ava." It's whispered and soft and pained and you don't dare let go. You never want to let go.
The moments when she's so casual about her affection make your body crave for more. But you don't dare press her further, allowing her the safety to fall into this on her own time.
Her fingers trace down your jaw in that gentle awe that she has for you when you're exactly right, exactly hers, and you can feel that she's a little lighter. You take a deep breath and offer her a little more. "So yeah, I'm kinda invested in not dying too."
She nods and immediately yawns so wide and so loudly you can't help but laugh at now fucking beautiful she is. How lucky you are. "I've never seen you do that."
"What? Yawn?"
You shrug. "You're always so proper, so polite, but I like it. Yawning. Or when your hair falls into your eyes. Your freckles. The you stuff. It's sweet."
"Sweet?" Her eye focus on you fully now, waiting for you to say more. Wondering what else you see of her. What else you like. But you chicken out.
"Do you think you'll be able to fall asleep? I could make you tea or I could read you a book? That always helped me."
Defection, you know, but you like to say little offhanded things so she knows you see her. That normal for her is beautiful to you. But you also don't want to be so direct you make her uncomfortable. She quirks an eyebrow at you. You know it's okay.
"What? I read." She rolls her eyes, but they're still sad. "Is there more?"
The nod scares you. Her being afraid scares you. None of this is fair.
"It's about tomorrow and going to the lake for... fun."
Your entire body deflates because you were so excited to have a proper day off with her, no training, no reconnaissance, just the two of you with as little clothing as possible and as much sun and water exposure as you can handle. "There's no way you're afraid of fun, Bea. There's no harm in letting yourself breathe, you're a person."
"I'm an expertly trained, combat lethal, secret agent nun devoted to God. There's no room for personhood, just the mission."
"You realize how insane that sounds, right? Like some weird company line the Pope fed you to do his dirty work and take away your soul. Fuck that, what's the real reason?"
She huffs, crossing her arms and furrowing her stupid cute brows that you wish you could kiss the pout away from. "Fine. I'm struggling to adapt to life with all these freedoms. The instability of field work and training with eyes everywhere which can easily lead to disaster."
"So it's not because you're a spy but because being undercover is messy?"
"Being undercover with you is messy. You want to live every second so loudly and meet so many people and that's authentically you, but it's difficult. You run headfirst into everything and that can get you killed. I can't be everywhere every moment."
It's hard to find the balance with her, of her trusting your progress. Where you can handle yourself and when you genuinely need her. But the last thing you want is for it to cause her stress. "We don't have to go to the lake, it's really okay."
She winces at your passive aggressiveness, confused why you suddenly feel like you can't just be honest with her. "You're misunderstanding me, I want to go to the lake with you, and that scares me. Losing focus scares me. Being at ease with you could ruin everything."
"Okay, is there a compromise besides a morning run to help you feel less unstable? We need to relax too, we work really hard.
"I know we do."
"What if we go to another lake, a different one from where we train? Get out of town for a day where people won't recognize us, would that be better?"
"In theory."
"But in practice?"
She shakes her head, sadly, but you know she's resolute. "It's risky, even with the utmost discretion."
"Logically, as long as Vincent or Adriel aren't at the lake lounging around, we should be okay. It's not like they put up wanted posters with our faces on them. I promise after tomorrow we can go back to our routine and not make any waves."
"Ava, you're you."
"Okay, not as many waves."
"Fine."
She grumbles and you can't help but lean forward and quickly kiss the corner of her mouth, like you always do, like she comes to expect, that makes her blush and blink and stutter.
"Hey, I know all of this is hard, but we're in this together, okay? You're not just a lone wolf spy anymore, you're my spy and I've got your back too."
You puff up a little at the way she can't meet your eyes and at the little quirk of her mouth because even though all of this is unspoken and as subtle as you can make it, you still want her to feel loved. Valued. Like she's more than just the protector of the halo or the vows that she's taken.
She yawns again, this time trying to mask it and you point authoritatively to the pillow and glare at her as she rolls her eyes again and starts to arrange everything to lay down. You do the same, very ready for the safety of sleeping next to her.
This time she doesn't scoot away, doesn't get as close to the edge as she can without falling off the damn bed. This time she stays in the middle, hand tucked under her cheek facing you as you fidget and scoot around trying to get comfortable.
You're on your back, arms bracketing your face to give her a little barrier so she doesn't turn back away, so she stays close. You don't turn to look at her, but you glance every few seconds to see if she's awake and when she's fully looking at you still after the fourth time, you wink at her in the dark. Effortless.
She bumps your leg with hers and reaches to brush your bangs from your eyes with a sleepy smile as she breathes deeply and calms her mind. "Do you feel any better?" It's whispered and gentle and mostly rhetorical but she reaches and tangles her fingers with yours, squeezing deliberately, doesn't let go, and it's answer enough.