Work Text:
Two:
I think I’m reliving the same day over and over.
I think I’ve been here before.
Wait, sorry. Let’s take a step back.
One, 8:30AM:
When she wakes up, she’s warm.
It’s not what she expected, given she just got pushed through a portal into another dimension after being mortally wounded. (And for what, the third time? This year? That’s got to be a record. I’ve got Jesus so beat by now, she thinks.)
The memory of it fills her: her body weakening, aching for air, a sharp contrast to the years she spent never feeling her lungs at all.
Michael, dying before her eyes, for nothing. All of it, for nothing: they lost. She pulses the halo as she remembers, just barely. Just to prove to herself that it’s still there, that Adriel didn’t somehow take that too.
And: “I love you.” The feeling of Beatrice’s lips against her own, frozen for a moment. Beatrice had been fearful, that much was clear – uncharacteristically so, in a way that made Ava a little dazed: Beatrice the unflappable, rendered very much flapped by… her.
But then Beatrice had moved. Her shoulders went first, loosening, dropping. She gasped against Ava’s lips, and then she kissed back. Finally, finally.
Ava had thought about kissing Beatrice many times, in many scenarios. And her imagination – bolstered by many a year trapped with it – was quite thorough in its machinations. She got a lot of it right, except–
The real kiss ended far sooner than any of the ones Ava had dreamt of.
She didn’t expect to be warm when she woke up. If she were being honest, she didn’t expect to wake up at all.
She’s not sure why she keeps letting these things surprise her.
One, 8:32AM:
Ava quickly realizes why she’s warm. There’s a blanket over her, yes, but the primary source of heat is the body next to her, one arm slung over her midriff.
Ava tilts her head softly, so as not to disturb the figure, and then jolts in recognition anyway. And because of her motion, as her mind processes what – who – she’s seeing, the person – Bea? – stirs.
“Ava?” Beatrice murmurs, voice groggy with sleep. Ava’s stomach clenches painfully.
Ava can see exactly when Beatrice notices their position: her whole body stiffens and she swallows once, hard. She shifts quickly a moment later, withdrawing her arm from where it rests over Ava, and nearly launches herself into a seated position. The burst of motion ends just as soon as it started, with Beatrice perched on the edge of the bed, head dipped.
(This had happened before. Back when they had woken besides each other in their apartment, drawn closer throughout the night by some heady combination of cold and want. Beatrice reacted the same way then, always, as if stunned by the actions of her unconscious mind.)
Ava follows, still dizzy but Beatrice doesn’t seem to notice, until she is seated next to the other woman. It takes her a moment to speak. “Beatrice? Is that really you?”
Beatrice looks up, and her brow is furrowed. “I… Yes. Were you expecting someone else?”
“I–” Ava stops: well, yeah. A tarask, maybe. “I wasn’t really expecting anyone.”
Beatrice almost laughs at that; it’s a sound Ava likes quite a bit, a near-silent exhale. It’s Beatrice’s equivalent to a full chuckle, she knows. But this time, it’s followed by a sigh. That’s not how this usually goes.
“I know our arrangements here are– Less than ideal,” Beatrice says. “But I am sure Mother Superion will call on us soon, and in the meantime, Switzerland is as good a place as any to hide and train.”
It’s a speech that Ava had received a great many times, only– Long ago. Before. Or during, or whatever those two months counted as, but wait–
Switzerland?
What happened to me? Where am I?
One, 8:41AM:
The answer, of course, really is Switzerland.
Even in whatever black hole I’m in, Beatrice is super honest. Typical.
And it seems to be the Switzerland from before, with Adriel just beginning his rise to power. Ava looks around: this is their apartment. Her few belongings lay scattered; Beatrice’s lay folded.
Everything is precisely as she remembers it.
“Are you truly going to make me remind you of your shift every morning?”
Ava jumps, the words breaking her from her thoughts. Beatrice looks at her with raised eyebrows: are you listening to me? I sure wasn’t. Whoops.
“Huh?” she replies dumbly.
“We are both working the morning shift today, though I’d greatly appreciate it if I didn’t have to keep track of your schedule for you.”
Ava nods because it’s the right thing to do, not because she agrees or understands: no part of her understands this.
She gets dressed. They leave together, walk to the bar.
She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand.
One, 11:56AM:
The day continues.
What was I expecting? Fire to rain from the sky?
Well, actually, now that you mention it…
Ava had never liked the morning shift, preferring to both sleep in and work during the busier times. She is oddly relieved to note that here – wherever here is – is no different: she is bored within minutes and inventing her own cocktail by midday.
“Ava.”
Beatrice’s voice is thick with warning, and Ava puts down the bottle with a sheepish grin.
“Yeah?”
“Are you mixing coconut rum and absinthe?”
A beat, then repeated: “Yeah?”
“I do not drink alcohol.”
Ava is silent, fearing what wrath may descend upon her if she repeats herself again. Thankfully, Beatrice continues quickly: “But even I – a nun, Ava – know that coconut rum and absinthe would be a dreadful, horrible combination.”
Ava looks at the cup then up at Beatrice, and before any semblance of sense can kick in, she drinks.
Bottoms up!
Beatrice is right: the drink is awful. She swallows – barely – and inhales quickly. It takes all of her willpower not to make a face, but Ava manages, because she’s always been motivated by spite like that.
Beatrice rolls her eyes, and the fondness in the look warms Ava infinitely more than the shot.
If she’s going to be in Switzerland limbo, she might as well have fun with it.
One, 11:31PM:
Beatrice went to sleep nearly two hours prior, scheduled for the morning shift again the next day.
Ava is restless, mind still whirring with thoughts of Adriel and Reya and where am I, am I alive, what’s happening?
A busy mind, however, cannot stop a tired body, and Ava finds herself falling into her old routine so easily: changing into old sweatpants and clambering slowly into bed next to Beatrice, careful not to wake her.
Her eyes slip closed, and she vows to learn more about her situation tomorrow.
Two, 8:30AM:
She’s warm again.
Maybe that’s what’s different about this dimension: Beatrice is ever-so-slightly cuddlier.
No complaints!
But then Beatrice is waking, sitting, and it all feels too similar. Ava stares vacantly, until:
“Are you truly going to make me remind you of your shift every morning?”
Those are the exact words, Ava realizes, that Beatrice had used yesterday.
Maybe they’re simply creatures of habit, though, because Ava responds identically too: “Huh?”
The conversation continues, the same as it had. I don’t work the morning shift today, though. But Ava does not voice her confusion; instead, she dresses, goes to the bar. Lives it all over.
The same exact day.
I think I’m reliving the same day over and over.
I think I’ve been here before.
What the fuck?
Three, 8:30AM:
She’s warm, but this time she’s not surprised.
Now, as Beatrice sits up, Ava decides to do it differently. She stands before Beatrice does.
“I’ll get dressed first!”
“You are– Very awake this morning,” Beatrice replies.
“You know me! Always happy to live another day!” The joke falls flat, given their situation. Ava sighs.
Three, 8:44AM:
Ava opens the bathroom door and steps forward to find Beatrice waiting immediately outside. They stop just short of colliding.
“I– Whoa. Hi.”
“Sorry,” Beatrice stammers, flushing darkly. “I didn’t mean to– We’re going to be late.”
Ava wants to kiss her. She usually does, but it’s stronger in this moment – closer to need than want – and it would be so easy: they’re so close that Ava can (does) start to count the freckles that dot Beatrice’s cheeks.
She gets to twelve when Beatrice moves, and it’s a little thing, barely shifting her weight, but for some reason it reminds her of the way Beatrice’s shoulders had slumped when they kissed, and Ava startles backward.
She doesn’t know where she is. This might not be her Beatrice. This might not be Beatrice at all.
“I’ll take the shift alone,” she hears herself say.
“What?”
“You deserve some rest. You’ve been working overtime as manager! Take the day off.”
“I really shouldn’t–” And if that isn’t good evidence that this is the real Beatrice, Ava doesn’t know what is. I bet she’s never taken a day off in her life. Damn.
“I insist. It’ll be fine! I promise. I won’t even make more of my own cocktails.”
Wait. That was a past version of–
“You’ve been making cocktails? Ava, really.”
“Just kidding! Just kidding. That was a joke. I would never.”
Beatrice scowls, but there’s no bite. She’s like this – almost pliant – around Ava sometimes.
“You’ll truly be fine?”
“Yes,” Ava assures her. “Yes, yes. Go– Watch some TV. I’ll be fine.”
Three, 1:10PM:
Her shift is different without Beatrice’s presence. Worse. She reaches for her phone several times, itching to text her companion.
No. This might be what I need to do to break out of this loop. I have to try.
Morning is never busy, but it’s busier alone, and at least that’s nice: busy is good. Busy means less time alone with her thoughts.
(She’s had enough of that for many lifetimes.)
It’s shortly after one o’clock that something else changes: the post-lunch crowd has filled the bar when Michael walks in, and there’s no one else to help serve drinks. She turns to talk to him – even in weirdo-world, befriending the ally-slash-walking-bomb seems like a good idea – when a patron calls out to her.
Ava hands him a beer, turns, and– Another voice.
She hands out drink after drink and finally, when she has a moment to look at last, actually talk… Michael is gone. He had his conversation, and he left.
She didn’t meet Michael.
It’s riskier than Ava planned on being, more fundamental a change than she expected, but it’s also too late now. Maybe, she ponders, she was supposed to meet him later on, and this was the necessary correction.
Her shift ends soon after, and she returns home. Beatrice is there, seated on the couch with her hands folded on her lap as if posed for a portrait.
“You’re here.” It’s not the smartest thing Ava has said, but she’s focused on the way Beatrice’s hands look. Clasped together, squeezed tight. She wants to hold Beatrice’s hand like that.
“You noticed.” I deserve that. “How was work?”
“Good. All fine, like I promised.”
“Oh. Good.” Ava looks up, then, at the tone in Beatrice’s voice. She’s… disappointed?
“What did you get up to today?” Ava asks.
“I found something this morning. I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Something?”
“A memory.”
Beatrice is looking at her own lap now, hands back to worrying. She bites her lip, and Ava feels her heart thump-thump in her chest. God, her lips, her hands, her freckles, her–
Her.
I’ve been thinking too. About you.
Three, 9:09PM:
Beatrice stands to get ready for bed, and that’s when Ava speaks: “What did you find?”
She’s been holding the question back for hours, and it is only the thought that this might be her one chance to find out that makes her act.
Beatrice turns back but doesn’t meet Ava’s gaze.
“This bracelet,” she says, lifting her right hand limply. And yes, there: it’s delicate, which is why Ava hadn’t noticed it earlier, but clearly sparkling now that she’s looking for it.
A bracelet with one charm, there around Beatrice’s wrist.
“Oh.” She pauses long enough for Beatrice to nod once and lower her hand, and then: “It’s pretty.”
“Thanks,” Beatrice says. She turns toward the bathroom, but Ava can still see her smile.
Four, 8:30AM:
Ava is sick of this.
Seriously: again?
I’m living the same day over and over, and it has to be one of the few days I wake up at 8:30 in the fucking morning?
Fine, she decides. Fine. The universe is trying to tell her something, so she’ll listen.
She knows what led her here: she didn’t take Adriel down soon enough. She lost. This time, she won’t lose.
So Ava shrugs Beatrice’s hand off her stomach and turns to gather her clothes, avoiding the way Beatrice stares at her back.
“You’re in quite a rush this morning,” Beatrice says.
Ava still doesn’t look. “Mm, what? Oh. Yeah.”
“You’re not normally this excited about the morning shift.”
Right. The morning shift.
“I– Well! When in Rome, you know?” Ava shrugs.
“When in Switzerland, wake up early?”
“Yeah.” Sure: she’ll go with that. “Exactly. Except–”
“Yes?”
“Can you handle the shift today?” Finally, she turns to Beatrice.
“What? Why?”
“I have things to do.”
“Ava.”
“What?”
“I know you do not like the morning shift, but I also know you do not have… ‘things to do.’”
“Says who?”
“I do. Your roommate, best friend, and boss.”
“You don’t know everything about me.”
Beatrice’s brow furrows at this, and she blinks twice. “I–”
“I mean, seriously? I can’t take one day off without you getting on my case?” Ava waves one hand. She’s desperate, now, to do something different enough to break free: I have to change this. I have to get out of here.
Beatrice swallows and shakes her head. “I suppose you’re right,” she whispers.
“I know you’re little miss perfect, but the rest of us have problems occasionally, and I’m going to sort one of mine out.”
“Ava, if you need help…”
“I don’t! I don’t need your help. I just need to go, alright? I’m going to go.”
“Okay.”
“Good. Good! It’s settled.”
“I’ll call Hans. See if he can fill in. I– I hope you do whatever you need to do today.”
Ava dresses and leaves without a word or a glance, focused entirely on thinking through the new opportunities before her. And as she goes, she misses the way Beatrice presses a fist to her mouth.
Four, 9:01AM:
A man, proudly holding a stack of pamphlets, accosts her only a few blocks away from the apartment.
“Have you heard the word of Adriel?” he begins, and oh, this is not his day. Poor guy.
“What word is that? Weirdo? Liar? Fucking dumbass? Wait, that’s two words. Sorry.”
The man’s eyes widen. “How dare–”
“How dare I? How dare you!” Ava steps forward, into the man’s personal space and then some, and he steps back.
She chases – stalks – him for three steps until his back hits brick and he stops.
“Adriel will come for you,” he says in a low voice.
“I’m sure he will, but it’ll be too late.”
The man reaches out to shove Ava away, and that is all the provocation she needs: she swings one fist up and into his jaw, and the sound of his skull cracking against the brick fills her with an odd, uncomfortable glee for the briefest moment.
He falls to the ground hard but is groaning, stirring, alive.
Shit. Good. Fuck, I almost–
Ava’s hands tremble. She squeezes them into fists. It doesn’t help.
She turns and takes one step, two, before breaking into a run back to the apartment.
Four, 9:27AM:
She shoves the door open, lets it slam against the wall without a care.
She is reeling, mind replaying the crack again. Again. Again.
“Shit, shit, shit–”
“Ava?”
Shit.
Her head whips around: who’s there? It’s Beatrice, looking a great deal smaller than Ava has ever seen her in the kitchen.
“I thought you would be at work,” Ava manages.
“I– told Hans we were both sick today.”
The idea that Beatrice would lie to Hans makes Ava look, finally, really, and what she sees makes the tremble of her hands resume: Beatrice’s eyes are lined with red, and she’s breathing heavy, hard. She’s been crying.
It all comes back. A replay of a replay.
The way Beatrice had gulped when Ava tossed off her arm. How she looked at Ava when she turned to leave, betrayed.
What have I done?
Ava stumbles forward two steps and stops cold. She wants to take Beatrice in her arms, or cup her cheeks with her hands, or– Or–
She can’t.
So she does what she’s always done, the thing she knows will hurt Beatrice the most, and she doesn’t even care. This is better. She doesn’t know it, but this is better.
Ava turns, and she runs.
She makes it four blocks before she hears a weak “that’s her,” turning to see the man – supported on both sides and flanked by an additional half dozen others – walking toward her.
Ava spins.
There are three more cultists there.
Something hits her on the back of the head, and her vision goes dark.
Five, 8:30 AM:
She wakes to find that even a good bludgeoning won’t stop the time loop.
That’s good to know.
Crap.
I’m going to be stuck living this day forever, huh?
Six, 8:45AM:
Her physical exhaustion doesn’t change from try to try, but her mental exhaustion seems to increase exponentially.
She is so out of it when Beatrice tries to wake her that the other woman assumes Ava is ill.
Sure, it’s something like that.
Beatrice insists she stay home, and Ava sleeps the day away.
Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.
Eleven, 8:30AM:
“Run away with me.”
Beatrice isn’t fully awake yet, so Ava certainly isn’t. The words escape her anyway, slurred with sleep, and Beatrice is seated – kneeled somewhat awkwardly on her knees next to Ava, and that’s new – moments later.
“What?” Beatrice says.
It takes Ava a moment to remember what she said, but she stands by the words when she does.
“Run away with me. Just for today, don’t worry.”
“And do… What?” Beatrice looks as confused as Ava’s ever seen her, all (adorably, beautifully) crinkled brow and cocked head. Yep, she’s definitely never played hooky before.
“I don’t know!”
“Ava, are you feeling alright?” Beatrice lifts her hand like she’s going to feel Ava’s forehead.
“What? Yes!” Ava stands, buoyed now by this new idea, and Beatrice’s hand falls limply back to her side. “Come on. We’ve been here for– A while now.” (She doesn’t remember how long it’s supposed to have been, can only count the replays now.)
“And we have jobs. Lives,” Beatrice reasons.
“And we’ve never explored! Let’s explore!”
I love you.
The thought comes unbidden, unexpected. It’s often there in the background, but it jostles to the forefront of Ava’s mind then and almost passes her lips. She stares searchingly at Beatrice.
Beatrice stares back and then closes her eyes. Breathes, then: “Fine.”
And when Beatrice’s eyes reopen, they’re lit by a fond exasperation Ava wants to bottle, save, hold forever and ever and ever.
Eleven, 4:12PM:
Beatrice manages to turn their day off into a workout, and if Ava didn’t love Beatrice with her whole heart, well– She’d definitely hate her right now. Probably.
Maybe.
At least a little.
“I really can’t use the halo? Not even a teensy bit?” Ava pants between each word.
“No.”
“Just for a second?”
“No.”
“Honestly, how would you even know if I did? You’re way above me anyway.”
Beatrice looks down from her position – nearly to the top of the rock (“mountain,” Ava had called it) they’re climbing. She rolls her eyes.
“I’ll know,” Beatrice says.
“How?”
“I’ll just know.”
Ava grumbles her response. But true to Beatrice’s promise, Ava makes it up.
Eleven, 4:40PM:
“Was it worth it?” Beatrice asks, and there’s an undercurrent there, something almost nervous about the way she blurts the words.
They’re perched quite close, legs slung over the side of the rock. Hands resting on the rock’s surface as they had while climbing, only now they are close enough that a breath, a breeze, could close the distance between them.
“Huh?”
“The climb. Was it worth it?”
The sun has begun to set, and the clouds are low, a spinning swirl of pink and purple and blue.
Ava wants to be sarcastic – exercise is never worth it, thank you very much – but even she can’t bring herself to do so now.
“Yeah,” she murmurs instead.
“It’s beautiful, right?” Beatrice says.
Ava looks away from the sky and directly at Beatrice, allows herself the moment of weakness, as she replies: “Beautiful.”
Eleven, 5:09PM:
Ava has been staring at their hands for several minutes now.
She feels like she’s paralyzed again, like moving her pinky finger – and that’s still all that’s needed, a millimeter, a moment, for them to touch – would be her greatest achievement.
I love you.
Then she notices it: the bracelet.
Beatrice must’ve found it while I got ready this morning.
“Your bracelet–” Ava starts, and she regrets it immediately when Beatrice pulls her hand away, lifting her wrist.
“I–”
“Is it new?”
Beatrice shakes her head. “No, it’s–” A sigh: a decision. “It’s from my family.”
Ava sits up straighter: didn’t expect that one.
“Your family,” she echoes.
“It’s the only memento I brought with me to the convent. Silly, I know.”
Ava stops herself from rolling her eyes: leave it to Beatrice to assume that her curiosity is judgment.
“Not at all. It’s really nice.”
Beatrice examines her wrist, as if searching for this so-called niceness. She does that almost-laugh again and shakes her head.
“It’s supposed to have magical powers, actually.”
Ava turns to fully face the other woman, pulls one knee up: “Wait, what?”
“I know.”
“No, no, tell me more. What sort of magical powers?”
“I have no idea. Obviously they’re not real.”
“Says who?”
“Ava.”
“Beatrice! I mean, come on. I’ve got some maybe-angel-maybe-demon-maybe-whatever’s halo stuck in my back, and it brought me back from the dead. A magical bracelet is like a two on the scale from normal to ‘the lives we’re literally already living.’”
Beatrice chuckles – actually, truly – at that, and Ava almost floats, unbidden, into the air. She catches herself, one hand gripping the rock.
“That is fair,” Beatrice allows. Then she looks up: “Sorry, God.”
It’s all a little funny.
“I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me! You should’ve told me I wasn’t the only magical one around,” Ava teases.
I’ve always known you were magic.
“I’m not magic.”
“The bracelet begs to differ.”
Beatrice scoffs, but her smile belies her whatever air of annoyance she’s trying to give off.
“Seriously,” Ava continues. “What powers is it supposed to have?”
“I truly don’t know. It was passed down from mother to daughter in my family at birth. We’re simply supposed to watch it, the story goes, until its rightful owner approaches us.”
“And how will you know when that is?”
“Apparently they will say something specific.”
Ava looks at the bracelet, takes in the details she didn’t notice before. The chain is gold – definitely real, too. Damn – and the singular stone is a dark blue that reminds Ava of the last moments of the earlier sunset, deep enough to get lost in.
The halo pulses. Ava grips the rock a little harder, worried she’s about to float away again.
“Neat,” is all she manages to say.
Twelve, 11:00AM:
Ava wakes with a new sort of hope, one she hasn’t had since that first fateful run-through of this stupid, stupid day.
They walk to work together in comfortable silence, immediately start prepping the bar.
The first time Beatrice walks upstairs, Ava follows.
“Bea,” she starts.
Fuck, do I call her that yet? I guess I do now.
“Ava? You need to be downstairs. What if a customer arrives?”
“It’s fine.”
“Ava, what–”
“I need to talk to you.”
Beatrice stares for a moment. She clearly finds whatever she’s looking for in Ava’s gaze because she nods and jerks her head to the side: over here.
They sit.
“This is going to sound crazy,” Ava says carefully.
“Okay.”
“No, like super nuts.”
“Ava, it’s okay. What’s the matter?”
“I think I’m living the same day over and over again.”
Thirteen, 11:00AM:
It didn’t go well. A knock sounded downstairs after her words, and Bea’s gaze had broken away.
“Ava, we– I–” Beatrice looks to the stairs and back at Ava, sighs, and stands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I–”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Ava says. It’s so not fine. “Go.”
Beatrice goes.
Ava stays late that night, unwilling – unable – to have Beatrice look at her with that same confused pity again. She’s asleep by the time Ava gets home, so Ava slides in next to her.
The less-than-ideal outcome doesn’t fade her hope, though. So this time, when Beatrice heads upstairs, Ava takes a moment to flip the sign on the door – Closed – before following.
“Bea.” Shit, again? Bad habit.
“Ava? You need to be downstairs. What if a customer arrives?”
“I closed the shop.”
“Ava, what–”
They sit in the same spot as last time. Beatrice looks at her with the same question in her eyes.
“I’m reliving the same day over and over,” Ava says without preamble.
“You’re… What?”
Ava repeats herself.
Beatrice frowns. “How do you know?”
“What do you mean ‘how do I know?’ Because I’m living it!”
“Sorry. Right. How– How long?”
“About two weeks, I think.”
“The same day.”
“Yes.”
“Why? What–” Beatrice is clearly struggling, stammering over her words and gesturing vaguely with her hands to fill in the gaps. “What happened before? To start this.”
It’s a damn good question, one that Ava realizes suddenly she doesn’t have a good answer for. Besides the truth, but that’s not going to go over great. Beatrice is staring, though.
“We lost.”
“What?”
“We lost. Adriel won.”
“You’re… from the future? How long? Years?”
“No.”
They both know what that means: the fight is soon and short.
“And what? You died again?”
Ava twists her lips and casts her gaze upwards. Fine, alright? Fine. “Not exactly.”
She tells the story. Most of it, at least: the less… personal… parts. She tells Beatrice about Michael, Mother Superion (oh, Mother Superion), Adriel, the portal–
“You saved me,” she finishes. “You put me through the portal to save my life. And you did.”
Beatrice is wide-eyed and shocked, right hand absentmindedly gripping the cross she wears around her neck. Tethering her to what she knows: her faith. Believe in me too, Bea.
“Why was I there with you? Why are you here with–” Beatrice breaths in, always too perceptive for her own good. “Me?”
“Bea–”
“Did something happen?” Beatrice’s voice is low and shaky.
“I don’t know what you–”
“Did something happen between us?” Cold, and why? She’s usually so warm.
Ava swallows, and again: “Bea–”
Beatrice pushes back from the table, and her chair slides with a squeal. Ava jerks back as if slapped.
“I don’t believe you,” Beatrice mutters. Her eyes squeeze shut. “You are not Ava. You are a temptation. An empty promise. I won’t–”
Beatrice runs away.
Thirteen, 10:10PM:
Ava gets into bed.
Beatrice hasn’t come home.
Fourteen, 8:30AM:
She should feel warm, but she doesn’t.
She feels very, very cold.
Despite the weight of the quilt and the heat of Beatrice against her, Ava shivers.
Fifteen, 11:00AM:
“I’ve been reliving the same day over and over.”
Sixteen, 12:36PM :
“I’ve been reliving the same day over and over.”
(Ava trips on her way up the stairs this time and knocks over a whole crate of limes. It takes forever to clean up and delays their conversation.)
(It doesn’t change anything. Same outcome once again.)
Seventeen, 11:00AM:
“I’ve been reliving the same day over and over.”
Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one.
Twenty-two, 11:00AM:
She’s not sure why she keeps telling Beatrice. It’s one thing to relive a day by force. It’s a different beast entirely to relive an outcome by choice.
I’ve lost it. Whatever: I always figured that would happen sooner or later.
It’s like a compulsion, like breathing: wake up, get dressed, tell Beatrice you’re having a great time recreating groundhog day right here in Switzerland.
It always ends with Beatrice running. To a customer, to the door, it doesn’t matter: it happens every time.
So Ava sleeps, awakens, and tries again.
“I’ve been reliving the same day over and over.”
And so it goes, until:
“You saved me. You put me through the portal to save my life. And you did.”
“Ava–”
Words – new ones – spill from Ava’s lips: “And now I’m here. I keep waking up here, next to you. I keep trying different things. One day I was awful to you. Just a total asshole, and I made you cry, and I’ve never felt worse.”
Beatrice smiles a bit at that and yeah, I know. I deserved it.
“One time we ran away. You made me climb this big-ass mountain, and we sat and talked about the world, and our lives, and your bracelet.”
“My bracelet?”
Ava points at Beatrice’s hand, raised to clasp her cross: “You told me about its powers. Actually, you know, it looks like the portal a bit. Yet another gateway to another world.”
Beatrice jerks her hand down and sits back hard, and for a moment her chair rocks onto two legs, almost tips with the force of her movement.
“What did you just say?”
“It’s like a gateway to another world. Why?”
“That’s– Those are the words.”
They stare at each other – I love you – until Beatrice shakes her head.
“I thought the story was so stupid. The idea that someone would come up to me and tell me I was carrying a gateway to another world… It seemed impossible. Blasphemous, even, to believe in any magic that wasn’t God.”
“You mean– I mean– Come on. It can’t be that uncommon a phrase, right?”
“Ava,” Beatrice says, almost pleading. “Whatever you see in this charm isn’t what I see.”
“What?”
“It’s just… a plain charm.”
“No, it’s swirling– I can see it–” Ava points: look, please, see what I see. You’ll see it, if you look. “It looks like the portal. It really does.”
“It’s not swirling. Not for me.”
Ava stares for a moment longer, caught in the hold of the deep, deep blue.
“Oh.”
“That means I’m supposed to give you the bracelet.”
That jolts Ava back from her tunnel vision: Beatrice is already moving to unclasp it, and Ava reaches out quickly to cover the nun’s hand with her own.
“No. I can’t. I can’t take your only connection to your family.”
Beatrice smiles ruefully. “My family isn’t worth staying connected to. Plus, if you’re telling the truth about reliving the day… I’ll get it back soon enough.”
I hate that she’s always right.
Ava remains silent as Beatrice wraps the chain gently around her wrist. It’s light. And it’s warm.
Twenty-two, 11:48PM:
“Everything resets when you fall asleep?”
Ava looks up from her hands: one loosely fisted, the other toying softly with the bracelet chain.
Beatrice is watching her expectantly.
“Yeah,” Ava says. “I fall asleep, then I wake up, and it’s the same day again.”
She doesn’t tell Beatrice that head trauma seems to do the trick as well.
“Oh.”
“What is it?”
“I’m–” Beatrice shrugs, and the motion sits awkwardly on her. “I’m exhausted. I’m sorry, I–”
Ava knows the time – it’s much later than they usually stay up, and still neither of them has made any move to turn off the television or leave the couch – but she hadn’t known Beatrice was staying up on purpose.
Got myself a girl that stays up past her bedtime for me!
But the wave of giddiness fades within seconds, leaving behind only guilt: Bea is blinking back sleep, for her. For what? Why bother?
“Bea, uh, shit! Go to bed! It’s okay. It’s alright.”
“I don’t want you awake by yourself.” But she’s bleary-eyed, Ava notices now, and failing to hold back a yawn.
So Ava says, “I’ll go to bed too,” even though sleeping – ending this day, this beautiful day – is the last thing she wants to do.
It works, though, because Beatrice slowly nods and stands, and she’s a bit unsteady on her feet, and it’s so cute, and that hurts even more.
They crawl into bed together, slipping under the covers on their respective sides. They had decided those sides on night one and stuck to them: creatures of habit, both of them.
Then something changes: Beatrice doesn’t stay on her side. Instead, she rolls, eyes closed – plausible deniability, or something like it – and falls into a familiar position: hand over Ava’s stomach, body curled against her. The way they wake.
Full circle moment right here.
“Goodnight,” Ava whispers, but Beatrice doesn’t answer.
They’re both asleep within minutes.
???, ??:??:
Everything is blue, and everything is cold.
That’s more like it. Death, my old bestie, we meet again.
I’m not even mad. Really. I saw it coming.
She looks around and she thinks this is what it feels like to be the eye of a hurricane: colors sweep by her but she is steady, secure.
Okay. Maybe I’m a little mad.
I mean, really? Right after that? First I get the girl, then nope! Then you make me go through all that shit of living that day over and over, and I get her again, and nope! Seriously, can we stop the fucking around?
I want to live, okay?
I want to live.
I want to live.
I want–
She looks at her wrist. Wait. The bracelet– It’s… causing this.
The colors swirl out of the charm and surround her, blurring faster and faster and faster and–
One, 6:00AM:
She wakes up in the middle of a field and thinks it’s a solidly mid-tier place to come back from the dead.
And Ava would know: she’s experienced the whole spectrum. (Worst: that creepy church morgue, the very first time. Best: Beatrice’s arms.)
But most importantly, it’s not Switzerland, and Ava has no idea at all what that might mean.
She stands and runs in a random direction until she stumbles upon a road and a town. She enters a shop, covered in mud and bruises, and asks for the date and the time.
The shopkeeper, looking at her like she’s insane – and maybe I am! So what! – points up at the TV.
One, 6:15AM:
The universe has a sense of humor, bringing her back even earlier in the morning.
6:15 ? Seriously? Is this hell, and I’m doomed to never sleep in again in my life?
One, 6:26AM:
There’s a bus stop right outside the store. She begs a few dollars off the shopkeeper, waits, and hops on the next bus that arrives.
One, 6:49AM:
She gets off at the last stop, shocked and pleased to find out she’s just outside of Lyon, only a short distance away from her goal: the Swiss town.
One, 7:30AM:
One small distance for nunkind turns out to be a very long distance via public transit.
Three scheduled buses in a row never show up. She sighs.
One, 9:02AM:
Eventually, a bus appears. She takes it to the train station, takes trains to the hills, and starts what she knows will be a miserable hike.
She tries to use the halo, and it sputters angrily at her.
Duly noted. Recharging still. You and me both.
One, 11:00AM:
Ava walks up, and the apartment door is open. But nothing seems to be disturbed, and—
“Beatrice?”
The woman in the kitchen looks up.
“Ava?” Beat, then again: “Ava?”
“Bea.”
“Ava.”
“Bea.”
(Not all repeating is bad: each time Beatrice says her name, Ava’s heart races a bit faster.)
“Ava. It’s you. You’re back?”
For you.
“I’m back.”
For you, for you, for you.
Beatrice isn’t moving, so Ava does. She steps forward without thought, but then she stops, arms awkwardly hanging in an aborted embrace: wait, does she even want to see me? How long has it been?
That’s when Beatrice comes to her senses: she tugs Ava into a hug.
“What happened to you?” Beatrice gasps, and then she sniffles.
Ava suspects Beatrice is crying. That’s okay: Ava is crying a bit too.
“You saved my life, Bea.”
“It’s only been three days, but– That’s seven years over there, Ava. Were you gone for seven years?” Beatrice pushes to hold Ava at arms length, examines her.
“What? No, no. I was… I was in here. In Switzerland.”
Beatrice’s hands drop. “You were… here?”
“No! Shit. Sorry. Uh–” Ava waves her hands: let’s rewind.
But before she can say anything, Beatrice gasps: “Is that my bracelet? I… I thought I lost that.”
One, 11:27AM:
“This is a lot to take in.”
Ava nods: believe me, I know. I lived it.
One, 11:31AM:
“I gave you the bracelet?”
“I said the magic words. You know: please, and thank you.”
“Ava.” It's probably meant to be reproaching, but the way Beatrice is staring at her, all wide eyes and awe, ruin the effect.
“Just kidding. I mean, well, I did say the magic words, so not kidding about that.”
“And that’s what saved you?”
“Seems like it. I guess it really does have magic powers after all.”
“I hope my mother never finds out,” Beatrice deadpans.
“You can have it back, if you’d like. It’s your family's bracelet. I don’t want to keep that from you.”
Beatrice waves off the thought with a sweep of her hand. “No. I don’t want it.”
Ava nods, looking down at the chain and the charm.
“It really does look like the portal to me, you know," she says, thoughtful. "Maybe it– Maybe it really is related, and it got me unstuck.”
One, 11:40AM:
“I dreamt of that day,” Beatrice murmurs. They’ve been silent for a few minutes now, taking each other in. Beatrice's hand had lifted to Ava's brow, thumbing over a bruise there, and Ava had leant into the touch.
That is how they stand now.
“Huh?”
“The day you relived. I think I’ve been dreaming of it lately. We worked the morning shift together, yes?”
“Yeah. Whoa. That’s weird.”
“It’s the day I realized I love you.”
Ava blinks and makes a noise that she instantly hopes to never make again. It’s half-gasp, half-whimper, and Beatrice’s eyes go wide, and her hand moves to cover her mouth as she laughs.
“Shut up,” Ava says. “Shut up! You– You love me?”
Ava’s sure her face is just as stupid as that noise, dumbstruck and giddy, and she’s dizzy again but Beatrice seems to notice, so she grips Ava’s elbow with her hand. Steadying her.
“I love you.”
“You love me.”
Beatrice rolls her eyes, fond. “As I have said. As… As I said before, only you had already gone into the portal.”
And oh, yeah, this probably sucked for her too.
“I’m here now,” Ava replies softly. “And I love you too.”
One, 11:42AM:
“You’re not in your habit.”
Beatrice lifts one hand, touches her neck as if to confirm that Ava is correct.
“I’m not sure what my plans are yet, to be honest” is her reply.
Ava nods: of course. She has no right to come here and demand Beatrice stay with her. Not after all of this.
“Right,” she says. “Right.”
But Beatrice is looking at her like she’s equal parts marvelous and utterly, utterly foolish. It’s admittedly usually a mix Ava would be fine with, but she’s confused about it now.
“Ava,” Beatrice says, as if that explains everything. “I meant I’m going with you. Wherever you’d like to go.”
“Oh,” Ava says. “Oh!”
“If that’s alright, of course.”
Ava likes almost everything Beatrice does quite a lot. But this Beatrice – this new, maybe shy Beatrice, still rubbing her neck and looking downward – might be her favorite Beatrice of all.
“It’s more than alright. Only–”
“Yes?”
Ava sighs. “Look. It took me about six buses, three trains, and two hours of hiking to get here. So can we start officially carving our own path after calling the OCS for a car, maybe?”
Beatrice giggles, and it makes Ava laugh too. They come together again as Beatrice tugs Ava in by the elbow, hugging first, and then Beatrice is kissing her: lips, nose, forehead, lips, making sure Ava is here and real and staying.
“Yes,” Beatrice says. Kiss.
“Yes?” Kiss.
“Yes.”
Don’t worry, I’m staying.
“Good. Figured we should start our adventure off on a good note.”
Beatrice leans back and smirks. “You mean you don’t want to… relive your journey?”
“Relive? God, no. Never again.”
The future, 9:30AM:
Ava wakes up in Beatrice’s arms, and she’s warm.