Chapter Text
When Ava makes the jump, she’s assuming that she’ll emerge in one of Jillian’s 1,000 rooms, or maybe in Cat’s Cradle, if she’s lucky. Instead, when she bursts through the Arc, she’s back in Adriel’s stupid fucking upside-down cake of a church, about 20 feet from where she took a lethal hit of Divinium shrapnel (totally unnecessarily, as it turns out) and almost died. There are at least two dozen people she doesn’t recognize gaping at her. It’s not what she’d hoped, to say the fucking least.
When her ears stop ringing, she hears feet pounding on cement and a broken, “Ava!” And suddenly, she’s good. Because the body hurtling toward her? That’s exactly who she’d been hoping for.
“Beatrice.”
And of course it’s Beatrice, still somehow graceful as she stops from a dead sprint in front of Ava. Beatrice, who is the least composed that Ava has ever seen her, including that one time she came home early from the bar and accidentally walked in on Ava naked-lounging on their bed after a shower. She can see Bea’s frantic eyes trying to analyze every part of her body for injury, her hands hovering as close as they possibly can to Ava’s body without actually touching her. She doesn’t let herself touch Ava, because, and Ava knows this, because she knows Beatrice, she’s worried that she’ll hurt her. It’s very sweet and absolutely not going to work.
Ava throws her arms around Bea, pulling her close and whispering into her neck, “It’s okay, I’m okay, I promise.”
Ava’s senses are still acclimating to this world, so she’s hyperaware of every part of Bea. She lets herself drop into the sensations, lets everything else fall away. Bea smells different, the normal hint of cloves replaced with something much more clinical and antiseptic. There’s the familiar press of knives against her sternum and stomach, moving with every hard breath. Across Bea’s back below the straps of her knives, Ava feels cotton, smooth against the pads of her fingers and much softer than the fabric of her typical tunic, below that, the tense muscles of Bea’s shoulders and back. Ava presses in gently, curling her fingers into muscle in the way she used to when Bea was tensed up over the books in the bar, or hunched over the cutting board clearly taking out stress over Adriel on the veggie of the day. It seems to work—she lets out a breath and leans her body into Ava.
After a moment, Bea’s arms circle her waist, holding her tightly, and she murmurs, lowly, “Ava.” And Ava lets out a small sob of relief because Bea’s voice around Ava’s name is exactly the same as Ava remembers, the low pitch taking Ava back to nights in Switzerland, when Bea would half-wake at Ava’s return from a late shift, throw an arm around her on reflex and whisper her name into the dark of their bedroom. It was Bea at her least guarded and Ava knew it was a gift to see her that way, relived those moments as often as she could when she was stuck in the hellhole that is Reya’s realm. Bea tightens her grip, and Ava can’t believe she gets to have this again.
She lights up, literally, as she does these days, the halo sheltering Bea in its glow.
While she’d have preferred to stay wrapped up in Bea for at least a few hours before having to acknowledge anyone else’s existence, they get about a minute before other members of the OCS converge on her.
Or, they attempt to converge on her. The second Beatrice hears movement toward them, she turns around and they almost simultaneously take a step back, all except Camila, who flings herself at Ava and then pulls Bea into a hug with them both.
As they pull apart, Ava smiles at Cam and takes Bea’s hand, keeping her close. She can’t help but notice the looks Bea is getting from the other sisters and randoms (former followers of Adriel? The Church? Some other badly-dressed cult?) taking up space in the basement. Bea must notice but doesn’t appear to give a shit. She keeps hold of Ava’s hand and steps forward just slightly so she stands between Ava and the strangers.
Ava, having just spent who fucking knows how long getting the magic metal in her back supercharged by a god, could flatten everyone in the room without breaking a sweat, would do it without hesitation if any of them made a move toward Bea. But she doesn’t pull Bea back, just squeezes her hand and admires the set of her shoulders—protective Bea is just as hot as she remembers.
Hotter, even, as she stands there in what must be clothes loaned from Arq-Tech security, tapered black pants tucked into familiar boots and a long-sleeved black shirt with the Arq-Tech logo on the sleeve. Ava never really thought the paramilitary vibe would do it for her but she also never thought a fucking nun’s habit would be top five on her list of turn-ons either so she’s down to roll with basically whatever at this point. She has a sudden vision of Bea as a mime. She could learn to love stripes. Ava lets herself stare for a second longer before turning back to Cam.
Camila is smiling her biggest smile, tears in her eyes, and she reaches out to squeeze Ava’s forearm.
“Welcome home. We missed you.”
Ava isn’t willing to let Bea go right now, but she turns her hand somewhat awkwardly to grip Cam’s forearm back, letting her smile grow as wide as it can. She feels tears start to prick at her own eyes.
“I missed you, too,” she wipes at her suddenly wet face, “so much.”
Camila steps into a half-hug, wrapping her arm around Ava’s waist and leaning into her side. Unlike Bea, she’s back in her habit, the semi-tactical version, and suddenly Ava, wrapped up in two of her very favorite people, is crying harder, the weird, happy tears of disbelief she hasn’t cried since the early halo days, years ago (years ago) now. Bea presses close in concern, body still between Ava and whoever is out there, the hand not in Ava’s coming up to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. Ava presses up to kiss her forehead, smiling and laughing as she comes back down.
“I’m counting this as the next, Bea. You ready?”
Bea’s eyes are still clouded with concern but her smile grows as big as Ava has ever seen it. She’s beautiful.
Bea blushes.
“Said that out loud, huh?” Ava shrugs, keeps grinning. “You should probably get used to it.”
Camila gently jostles Ava.
“You’re very cute, the two of you. You’ve also got an audience. Are you feeling well enough to travel? Just back to Jillian’s.”
Ava moves forward, pulling Bea to her side, so she can see the rest of the room. Camila’s right. If anything, there are more people in the room now, most with more recognizable Arq-Tech or OCS affiliation. They’re staring at her, not even pretending to be doing anything else. But Ava sees all of their eyes keep flickering back to Bea, like they’re keeping track of exactly where she is and what she’s doing. Ava doesn’t like it, purposefully angles her body so that the halo is visible to them, lets it flash to life and hum lowly. There’s a murmur. Good.
“Cam, who the fuck are all these people?”
Camila ducks her head around to look at Ava’s back, comes back with a raised eyebrow.
“Thought I’d give them something to look at, at least. In fact...”
Ava smiles, decides to show off a little as she lets the halo create a dome of light and warmth around the three of them, now able to keep Cam and Bea protected with hardly a thought. It’s worth it for the looks she gets from them, delight and awe from Camila, something like relief and affection from Bea. The murmur grows louder. Ava can feel their eyes.
“To answer your question, Cam, I feel fucking fantastic. Please get me out of this room.”
Camila nods and starts walking toward the elevator.
“Of course. Let’s go.”
Ava falls in behind her, Bea at her side.
Ava takes the ride as a chance to be as close to Bea as possible. Camila basically shoves the both of them at the back door before hopping into the driver’s seat. Ava climbs in first, tugging Bea in after her and throwing her legs over Bea’s lap, tucking herself into Bea’s body. Bea cradles her close. Ava’s not actually in her lap, but this is the closest comfortable option for a car ride. It’s not the safest position, but she could literally wrap the van in a bubble if she needed to (Reya fucking sucks but she did teach Ava some cool new tricks) so she’s not worried about it.
As they pull into the road, Camila calls Superion, puts the phone on speaker.
“Camila. Is it true?”
“Yes. She’s back.”
The tentative and hopeful “Ava?” that comes through is almost enough to make Ava cry again.
“It’s me.”
There’s a sob on the other end of the line. Bea’s arms tighten around her.
“Welcome home.”
And then Ava’s crying again, pressing her face into Bea’s neck while Bea runs her fingers through her hair.
“We’re on our way, Mother. Half an hour so.”
“Good, good. We’ll see you soon.”
Camila looks in the rearview, actually winks at Ava when she catches her eye.
“Actually, could I speak to Dora? I was hoping to discuss the logistics of the Arc and revising some timelines.”
Superion answers after a moment, confusion evident.
“I’m sure she’s here somewhere but can it not wait?”
“I just wanted to get a head start because of...the weather. Beatrice can keep Ava company while we discuss the details.”
“Ah.” Superion says, obviously amused. “Yes, of course. Let me go find Sister Dora for you so that you two might discuss...the potential for rain. Hello, Beatrice.”
Ava stares out the window at the clear blue sky, wonders how it is that being very badly wing-womaned by two nuns invested in her queer lady romance isn’t even close to being the weirdest shit that’s happened to her in the last day alone.
“Hello, Mother Superion.”
Bea’s voice is even, because of course it is, but Ava sees the pink in her cheeks, runs her thumb along the color, watches it become more pronounced.
“It will be nice to have you back at the house.”
“Thank you. It will be good to be back.”
Back? Has Bea been gone? She raises an eyebrow at her. Bea traces it with her thumb, murmurs, “tell you later” into Ava’s ear. She shivers and makes a kind of embarrassing, and definitely loud enough to be heard in the front seat, noise. Camila clears her throat.
“Right. Any word on Dora?”
She takes the phone off of speaker and busies herself working through what, Ava puts together from key words, is total bullshit mixed with some small talk.
Ava takes full advantage of a moment alone-ish, letting her hands wander, tracing patterns across Bea’s sternum and over her bicep, down her arm, along her jawline and the shell of her ear, taking note of the things that make Bea’s breath hitch and filing them away for later. And, like, they’re not fucking in the back seat—everybody’s clothes are on and she’s keeping it PG—but it’s gotta be just as bad, maybe worse, in terms of shit other people don’t want to see. Because Ava’s just like, adoring Bea, or whatever, with Camila right there in the front, and she knows it’s fucking gross, way too intimate for anyone but the two of them.
Ava’s pretty much beyond shame at the moment, what little she had abandoned in Reya’s realm, but she feels a little bad for subjecting Cam to their...whatever it is. Not too bad, though, because she basically gave Ava a thumbs up (a wink, actually) to all but jump Bea and Cam will 100% be giving her shit for this later, anyway. Now, though, Cam appears to be totally ignoring the rearview (really throwing traffic safety to the wind here), her voice much louder than necessary as she speaks to Dora.
Bea lets Ava’s hands wander and keeps hers mostly still around Ava’s body, steady and sure, eyes always waiting for Ava’s when she looks for them. Ava knows that she and Bea have to talk. Of course they do. But she’s just spent a few years hanging around gods and demi-gods and angel-demons whose only understanding of physical contact is violence, not that Ava would’ve been looking to cuddle one of those total fucking egomaniacs anyway. It’s just, after the halo, she had gotten used to being tactile with the people in her life, to showing affection and care with her hands. She had taken full advantage of her ability to touch, and to let herself be touched (or to decline to be touched).
And then she was alone again, able to touch but almost always through violence, able to feel but offered little more than pain. Reya touched her to mess with the halo, occasionally, and while Reya wasn’t Sister Frances, Ava always felt the echo of her, of that kind of violation, a perfunctory interest in Ava as the inhabitant of a body she was obligated to care about.
So Ava kept the phantoms of Bea’s hand on her face, Bea’s arms around her, for as long as she could, thought over and over of the casual brushes of her hands on Bea’s back and shoulders in the bar and in their flat, of the press of her body in sleep, of the sensation of Bea’s hair, damp from the shower, when she’d cave to Ava’s begging and let her play with it, sometimes keeping in the braid Ava loved weaving over and over.
(Bea taught Ava to braid a week into their time in the flat, after she caught Ava watching her put her own braid together before training. She brought home some colorful thread, taping it to the table in front of both of their chairs in sets of three.
“Bea.”
She had kissed her cheek for the first time, then, a little overwhelmed with the simple kindness of Beatrice. Bea had looked something like bashful, lifting her shoulders lightly as she sat, “It’s great for dexterity.” After a moment, quieter, “And I thought maybe you would like to learn.”
After a night of sitting and practicing with her like she hadn’t been doing it her whole life, like there was nothing more interesting than watching Ava learn to fold the string into a pattern, Beatrice had smiled at her and said, uncharacteristically shy, “Maybe tomorrow you could try with my hair. If you’d like.” Ava had to stop herself from kissing her.)
She’d tried so hard to live on memories of touch, and it had kept her going. Now that she’s back? She’s not going to deny herself the comfort of touching Bea, of feeling Bea’s touch. They’re making up for a lot of lost time.
“I like your new look,” Ava says as she pulls at the fabric of Bea’s sleeve. “Mercenary chic. You’re,” she makes eye contact with Bea, “killing it.”
Beatrice laughs. Ava wants to make her laugh forever. Ava is in love.
“Dr. Salvius sent some clothes.” Bea had been gone, then. Ava bookmarked that for later. “I couldn’t wear the habit anymore. I won’t be putting it on again.”
Ava stills her hand on Bea’s elbow, presses gently.
“Bea.”
She smiles at Ava. Jesus, Ava is fucked for her. Absolutely gone. It’s the best feeling in the world.
“I knew before we went to the temple. It was always going to be my last mission for the Church. As a sister, anyway.” She eyes Camila in the front seat. “I want to talk to you about it. But later?”
“Of course,” Ava resumes the pattern she had been tracing on Bea’s forearm.
After a moment, Bea moves her hand from Ava’s legs to touch the material of Ava’s tunic, runs her fingers along the patterns pressed into the dark leather. She doesn’t ask, but Ava answers.
“It’s stronger there. There’s a kind of…energy that Reya wraps around it, but it doesn’t work here. She did teach me to do something like it with the halo, though—it’s pretty fucking cool. I’ll show you later.”
Ava covers Bea’s hand with her own and taps their twined fingers gently on the leather.
“And anyway this was really only for training, for everyday stuff. There’s a whole fuckton of other armor she has for the real fights. Honestly, Bea, it’s unbelievable.”
Bea’s body stiffens for a moment before she forces herself to relax. Ava feels the familiar pattern of intentional breathing against her body. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Bea puts a finger under her chin and holds her steady, eyes serious.
“You said earlier that you were okay.”
Ava grins at her, “Fucking fantastic, I think I said. And I am.”
Bea rolls her eyes lightly.
“Right, yes. Fucking fantastic.”
Ava gasps, puts her hands over her heart.
“Language, Sister Beatrice.”
Beatrice leans closer, taking Ava by surprise.
“Not a sister anymore.”
Her voice is low, breath hot on the skin of Ava’s neck. Ava swallows.
“Well, fuck.”
“Language, Ava,” and Ava can hear the smugness in her tone, is so happy that Bea is teasing her that she could fucking cry. Ava immediately flips her off, and Bea grabs her finger, curls it gently back in to make a fist, which she pulls close to her chest.
“I know you said you’re okay, but,” she squeezes around Ava’s wrist, serious again, “you don’t have to be. I know you want to take care of yourself and that you hate feeling like a burden. I understand why. I respect how independent you are,” a wry grin, “even when it makes my life harder.”
Ava flattens her hand and puts her palm against Bea’s sternum, feels the press of leather where the strap of her knives sits. She stays quiet as Bea breathes in.
“But you are part of a family now. You are loved, and the people who love you want to know the truth, when they ask how you are doing. They want to listen and to be happy or sad with you, or to help you, if they can. It is not weak to let yourself be loved that way. I know this must feel a bit like the pot calling the kettle black. I promise I am working on letting myself be loved, too.” Bea smiles softly at her, her eyes growing wet, and Ava traces her hand up her neck, to her cheek. “You helped me understand that I might be worth loving. For myself.”
“Bea.”
Bea turns her face into Ava’s palm and presses her lips to the skin she finds. Ava’s body lights up.
“The point being, we all want you to actually feel fucking fantastic, and we don’t need you to pretend when you aren’t.”
Ava notices suddenly that the van is actually silent. Camila is no longer half-yelling at a sister in alternating languages. She is instead quietly driving, hands at ten and two, knuckles white on the wheel. Bea has noticed, too, is watching Camila quietly. Cam is the one who speaks next.
“I haven’t been listening. I swear. But Dora had to go and I’m waiting on someone to call back to confirm a transport plan for the Arc so I just happened to hear...”
“It’s okay, Camila.” Two voices at once. Cam makes eye contact in the rearview.
“She’s right, Ava. You’re our family. We love you. You don’t have to be okay for us to love you. We want to listen. We want to help.”
Ava sighs, leans up to grab Cam’s shoulder and squeeze before settling back into Bea, pressing a light kiss to her cheek.
“I...am going to need some help. I know that. But also I’m okay. It’s complicated.”
“It’s allowed to be complicated,” Bea says, intentionally loud enough for Camila now. Camila nods.
“I do want to talk about it. I really do. But first I want to eat like so much food. Can we please get ice cream? I really want ice cream. Also, weirdly, eggs. And a shower.” She groans in pleasure at the thought. “And, like, god, Bea, can we stay in bed for at least 4 days?”
She says it without thinking because she and Bea had been sharing a bed (in a friend way, because that’s a thing) for weeks before she left and bed had become theirs not hers, something she had held onto tightly when she was gone. She’s honest to god not even talking about sex (not that she wouldn’t ask Bea to stay in bed with her in a sex way, obviously, she just wasn’t right then because Ava would like to have an actual conversation about what’s happening between them that doesn’t involve the time pressure of a violent death or poor fucking Sister Yasmine lurking in the background). But she hears it the moment she says it and, welp, it’s out there now. Moment of loving friendship broken by Ava’s loud fucking mouth.
Beatrice chokes on air. Camila quickly reaches up to physically turn the rearview so that she can’t see the backseat. Which, like, aggressive. Ava didn’t ask Bea to fuck right here, right now. She didn’t ask her to fuck her at all! She pushes away the yet her brain throws at her. Not the time.
The phone rings again. Ava swears she hears a, “Thank you, Lord,” from the front before Cam is speaking loudly again.
Bea appears to have recovered—her cheeks are only slightly pink and she can meet Ava’s eyes. “We can do whatever you want.”
Well that certainly doesn’t help Ava’s brain stay on track. Beatrice clearly sees where her mind goes because she blushes and rolls her eyes. “What I mean,” she flicks Ava’s shoulder gently, “you pervert, is that we can talk whenever you want. I’m not going anywhere. Neither is Camila, or Mother Superion.”
And, right, Bea is being kind and reassuring and lovely, and Ava is grateful, resting her head on Bea’s collarbone and exhaling, “Thanks.”
Ava goes back to tracing patterns across the parts of Bea she can reach and they’re quiet for the rest of the ride, listening to Camila loudly and unnecessarily discuss meal schedules and whether they might have a movie night for the novices soon.
When they pull into the compound, Camila is still on the phone, and she turns to the backseat to smile at them before hopping out, opening the back door for them, and making her way to the entrance, which is noticeably lacking the same kind of gawking crew she had been met with at the temple. Superion coming through, Ava is sure, and she reminds herself to say thank you. Ava takes the chance to press a kiss to Bea’s cheek and begins to extricate herself.
She’s pulling herself up and over toward the door when she feels Bea’s hands on her hips, gripping gently, and on instinct she sinks back down, and oh, yep, yeah, she’s straddling Bea. And Bea is looking at her own hands on Ava’s hips like maybe they’re magic. It’s very cute.
“Um, hi, Bea.”
Beatrice shakes her head and looks up at Ava, eyes still full of wonder, before the panic appears to set in. She starts to move her hands but Ava is quick, trapping them against the swell of her hips with her own and settling further down. She meets Bea’s eyes and smiles.
“It’s okay. I like it when you touch me like this. Unless it’s too much for you, and then I can...”
Ava starts to move a leg and then Bea is squeezing her hips again.
“No. Please stay. I...I like it.”
She runs her hands to the small of Ava’s back and lets her palms spread. It’s almost possessive. (Ava wants it to be possessive.)
“I missed you so much.”
Her voice is so earnest and gentle and Bea that Ava feels herself start to cry again.
“Oh my god,” Ava laughs out, moving her hands to cup Bea’s jaw, “I missed you too. So fucking much. There aren’t even...I can’t even tell you how much.”
Beatrice lifts a hand to gently wipe away a tear and glances outside to see Camila at the call box by the gate, still on the phone. Bea meets Ava’s eyes.
“Everyone is going to have a lot of questions for you, and I imagine Dr. Salvius will want to run quite a few tests.” She frowns slightly. “Although tell me if you need to rest and I can handle them for you. You should get whatever time you need.”
Ava smiles at her, moves her hands to rest on her shoulders and thumbs at the dips of her collarbones beneath her shirt.
“You’re sweet. I’m really kind of wired, but I promise I’ll tell you. I was serious about wanting to sleep, but I can’t right now.”
“Right. Good. That isn’t actually what I wanted to talk about. This might be the last moment we have alone together for a while and I couldn’t let it go without saying this." She breathes in deeply, holds Ava’s eyes. "I love you. I’m in love with you.”
Ava stops breathing for a second, can’t move, feels the halo hum at her in a gentle reminder. Bea must hear it because her face is suddenly concerned, hands moving to her waist and running over her arms like she’s checking Ava for injury. “Are...are you…?”
Ava shakes her head, laughs. “I’m fine. Promise. I’m more than fine. God. You literally,” it’s bad, she knows it’s bad, “take my breath away. The halo was just giving me a little nudge. I love you so much, Beatrice, holy shit.”
Bea is laughing and Ava is maybe the happiest she has ever been. She can feel the halo singing, waiting to shine, and she doesn’t want to stop it, but the light would be a bit much in the van. She lets it pour through her instead, warmth and light flowing through and from her body, the still-strange feeling of the glow in her eyes.
“Ava.”
Bea’s voice is awed, and Ava preens a little, because yeah, it’s fucking cool that she can do this now. She lets the energy fade and presses a kiss to Bea’s forehead before sitting back against Bea’s knees. Beatrice is looking at her like she’s the most important thing in the world, and the best thing is that it’s familiar, that Beatrice has looked at her that way for a long time, that Ava knows that feeling has nothing to do with the halo. She basks in it.
Bea says again, “I love you. I tried to say it before you left and I’ve been so afraid that I was too late. I never want to worry about that again. You deserve to know how loved you are. If it’s alright with you, I want to keep telling you,” her hands move back to Ava’s hips, almost unconsciously, “to show you, just how much I....” Bea catches herself and her face flushes and my god Ava had missed her, can’t believe she’s being given this gift, lets herself raise an eyebrow teasingly but otherwise stays quiet. Bea seems to gather herself.
“I want to talk to you about this more, later. I just wanted to take advantage of a moment without an audience.” She frowns briefly in that thinking-Beatrice way, a look so familiar to Ava, imagined so many times as she waded through the bullshit of Reya’s world, that she almost starts crying again. “But to be clear, I am so proud that I am the one who gets to love you and to be loved by you. I have no interest in hiding that.” Ava watches Bea raise her chin, sees the flash in her eyes, swoons a little. “I still have some of my own…baggage to deal with." A pause. "A lot of it, honestly, but none of it has anything to do with you. I am very happy for everyone to know that I am yours. I just wanted it to be you and me, when I told you for the first time.”
Ava tucks a strand of Bea’s hair, escaped from her bun, behind her ear and strokes Bea’s face.
“You’re mine?”
“If you want me.”
“Literally never wanted anything more.”
Ava looks at Bea, hopes she can see exactly how much she means it, and then she lets her smile shift from loving to something else, lets the teasing she had pressed down bubble to the surface.
“I mean, just to get back to what you were saying before though, you said you wanted to show me, and I was just curious if you wanted to tell me more about...”
She’s cut off by Bea’s lips on hers, and she sighs out, chills breaking out on her arms when she feels Bea look for warm skin under the hem of her shirt, pull down just slightly so that Ava is pressed even more firmly against her.
There is a knock on the window. Of the open van door. There is a knock on the window of the open van door.
Camila is wearing a shit-eating grin and, totally unapologetic, crosses her arms and stares at them. “Sorry to interrupt,” Ava grumbles “liar” although Camila pretends not to hear, “but Mother Superion was getting concerned. Also,” her eyes are sparkling, “you appear to have forgotten that the door is open. You could at least wait until you get to bed, Ava, seeing as you’ll be there for what was it? Four days?”
“I liked it better when you were embarrassed, Cam.”
“Oh, never embarrassed, just not eager to be locked in the car with you while you two discussed your sleeping arrangements. I was already trying very hard to ignore the adorable and disgusting eyes you were making at each other. I expect many movie nights in penance.”
She tilts her head.
“Many movie nights with very strict rules about seating. And hands.”
Ava reaches out to shove her (Camila dodges, cackling) and very begrudgingly removes herself from Bea’s lap, holding out a hand to Bea once she has made it out of the vehicle. Bea appears to be holding up pretty well given that a month ago (two years ago? Ava’s timeline is a full disaster) Ava’s pretty sure she would have spontaneously self-immolated had they been caught in that position. She just clears her throat and climbs out gracefully, lets go of Ava’s hand briefly to straighten her shirt and close the van door before linking her hand with Ava’s again. She’s bright red and absolutely, stupidly beautiful and Ava is so happy she can feel herself glowing, doesn’t bother to stop it this time, the halo enveloping the three of them again.
Camila raises both eyebrows, “That’s new.”
“Yeah me and Hal got to be friends while I was over there,” Ava points a thumb over her shoulder, “so he picks up on my emotions more. It’s kind of fun.”
Beatrice says, “Hal?,” just as Camila says, “We’ll have to put you two in a bedroom on the far side of the house, then. You’ll keep us all up.”
Ava laughs delightedly while Beatrice makes a sound in the back of her throat that’s somewhere between embarrassment and exasperation. Ava tsks and pats her cheek before turning to follow Camila toward the entrance.
“Careful, Cam, or I’ll take it as a challenge.”
Camila laughs again, turning her head over her shoulder to grin at them.
“What a blessing for us all that Beatrice is here to keep you under control.”
Before Ava can respond, she hears Bea’s throat clear and a somewhat quiet, but definitely audible, “Only if she asks me to.”
Camila trips. Ava stops and turns slowly to face Beatrice, who is still red, may apparently now permanently be a slightly pink version of her former self, if the last few hours mean anything. But despite the blush, Bea has her head up and meets Ava’s eyes without shame, with a very attractive glimmer of pride, in fact. And this is a fun new development coming about 3 years sooner than Ava anticipated, honestly.
“Oh my god. Sister Beatrice.”
She gets, fucking wonder of a thing, a small shrug from Bea in response.
“Again, not a sister anymore.”
Well then.
Camila has turned back to face them, is looking at Beatrice like she has never met her but is so very delighted to make her acquaintance.
“Glad you took our conversation to heart, Beatrice.”
Ava will definitely be following up on that, but before she can start, she sees Beatrice’s face suddenly shift, become hard in a way that Bea almost never lets it be. Ava knows who Bea is, what she can do, how, even though she doesn’t seek it, she has killed and will most likely kill again. Those parts of Bea, the soldier-in-the-Army-of-God parts, are usually a well-kept secret, buried under a carefully maintained calm. But Ava sees that Bea here, eyes stone and unrepentant, jaw set.
“It becomes easier, I have found, to let some things go when you watch a lying god leave the woman you love to die on a cement floor.”
Well, fuck, that’s a real shift in mood. Ava is back at Bea’s side in a second, wrapping her arms around her and tucking her head into her neck.
“Bea.”
Her body is rigid. Ava feels the box breathing for the second time today. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Ava mirrors it, feels the body pressed against hers uncoil. Bea holds her closer for a moment before kissing the top of her head and pulling away. She gives Ava a small, reassuring smile and she’s back to normal Bea, finding Camila’s eyes over Ava’s shoulder.
“I apologize. I am obviously still working through some of my feelings.”
Camila is gentle, smiling at Beatrice without any hesitation.
“You have nothing to apologize for. Come on. Mother Superion is waiting.”
Camila opens the gate. Ava stays close to Beatrice, pressing as much of herself against Bea as possible. Bea twines their fingers together and pulls them after Cam.