Chapter Text
“Let’s give it up one last time for our two finalists!”
Beatrice’s polite smile never quite wavers as she skims over the Miami crowd one last time. She watches as her opponent, Dora Michaels, keeps basking in the persistent applause of her local city, and she has more than earned it: She is a fairly newcomer to the top level scene, but her powerful groundstrokes and deceptively fast speed are tailor made for this court. There’s certainly moments where Beatrice wishes she was braver: some opportunities at the net, a bit more bite on her serve… If she was braver, she would have used her speech to call out Florida’s ridiculous policies against her people. But going against her upbringing has always been difficult, and so she ignored her desires, once again.
But still, Beatrice is always pragmatic. Finals at this Open are far from a bad result, and it sets her favourably for the grind ahead. She got more points to add to her ranking which is always valuable as draws get tougher and tougher quicker, and the humid conditions she pushed through always do wonders for her conditioning as the most important of the season is just starting. As she leaves the premises, as she does her last press obligations praising Dora and being coy about the positives this result will bring, she’s satisfied. She’s not happy , but happiness is overrated.
-
At last then, the whirlwind of stops between Australia and the United States has ended, and so Beatrice is finally going home.
Oh no, not London, nowhere near. This stopped being home the moment her junior doubles partner and her decided to extend their chemistry to Beatrice’s childhood bedroom, with considerably less in the way. It was the last time Beatrice considered her parents’ home hers, and the last time Beatrice played doubles with a long term partner. Yes, she’s weirdly proud of that pun.
No, Beatrice is going back to Spain.
She is lucky in her own way, Beatrice supposes. It was made very clear to her after that disaster that it was either tennis or complete social isolation through a strict and far away border school, with the only goal of breaking her. So, she chose tennis. She’s skilled, traveling the world, competing at the highest level and testing her body in ways that lead her to discover something new about herself every day.
Of course, Father was already one step ahead of her again, she realized way too late. Both offers absolutely destroyed her social life.
She has no time for it, after all. She has a very small team, handpicked by her Father. Coach Duretti isn’t necessarily bad, but at his age it is very clear that he’s not all that interested in a rising prospect, wanting only the recognition of having trained a multi Slam winner. Her physical preparation is led by William, a complete Duretti stooge that seems to resent the man half the time, and the others working with him fail to even address Beatrice with minimal respect.
It could be worse, she knows. She’s very aware of the strong rumours surrounding Lilith and her former coach Adriel. She knows those are just rumours largely thanks to Vincent Ulloa, the WTA President that was very often seen with Adriel…
But as mentioned, and it’s far less dreadful to think about, she is going to her home base in Spain, so she can finally be reunited with Jillian Salvius. The Arq-Tech CEO is a global icon in the world of sports science and the best doctor Beatrice knows, due to her occasionally useful familial connections. The two women hit it off immediately two years ago, quickly finding ways to adjust her training and building up her fitness for the clay season. It paid off strongly at Roland-Garros, as she was the last in a highly sought after line of teenage Slam finalists, assuaging Duretti’s ambitions for a little while.
Because yes, she did not win Roland-Garros. Nor did she last year, being stopped in a nail biting three sets Final again, after cleaning up the clay season with Masters wins in Madrid and Rome. Twice she was stopped by Shannon Masters, the reigning number one player in the world and, with a ridiculous 15 Slam wins in the last 21, the best player since Areala Dominguez decades ago. As far as Beatrice is concerned, there is no shame in losing to Shannon: she grew up admiring her and Shannon is genuinely one of the most pleasant persons she has ever met. Beatrice just got multiple Masters wins, an improvement in her Final performance, the benefits of Jillian’s planning evidently proving dividends earlier on in the season while keeping her energy up for the grueling two Slam weeks. Unfortunately, she still crashed out in Round Two of Wimbledon, in front of a stunned local crowd - Beatrice scoffs, as she always does when ruminating about them - and a very displeased Father.
Because, this is still the problem for Beatrice. She’s a great player, but she’s still mostly a great clay player because it’s where her passion lies. She can excel on hard courts, especially slower ones as her Miami final attests to, but nothing compares to the harshness of a well kept clay ground, the heavy balls spinning up to her pulsing temples, the perfect slides as you trick an overly zealous opponent charging the net. Then there’s the incredible physicality of it, where you run and run for hours under a cruel sun, until one inexorably breaks. Beatrice loves the monotony that sets in: moving her opponent right, then left, then right, then left, keeping them pinned left, a topspin forehand to the right. She loses herself in it, ignores the cruel words of her keepers and embraces the inexorable embrace of the heat. And then, when her opponent starts struggling, her skills come out: a cunning drop shot, a perfect lob to the baseline, a flatter forehand in the corner, a vicious serve wide combined with a flawless drive volley to the opposite end. Bad clay players try to outskill the court and panic too quickly, Beatrice earns the chance to execute them.
But Wimbledon’s grass is a completely different game. The courts are too fast, too clean for her patient game of endurance. The Londonian weather is awful, with unpredictable stops being routine and disrupting her careful planning. So she overthinks, gets caught flatfooted, misjudges her serve and volley timing… But if she is truly honest with herself, it’s the crowd. It’s millions of British folks who become tennis connoisseurs during the fortnight, keen on seeing a British talent finally succeeding at home. It’s her parents, staring expressionlessly as she flails on the court, as she flails in front of the British press, as she acknowledges her failure to them, head bowed. It’s funny, every tennis player will readily say winning Wimbledon is their biggest dream, but for Beatrice the existence of this tournament is a nightmare she can never escape from.
She sighs, putting her book down, and closes her eyes. This is pointless to consider right now. Wimbledon is months away, and she really doesn’t want to kill the one part of the season that truly brings her joy. She has big goals this clay season, and the prize of one new attempt at taking Shannon’s crown is too big to pass up on. She makes sure everything is in order as the warning of their descent to Madrid rings loud and clear, bringing her focus back to the present.
-
The way to Jillian’s villa from the airport was fairly long and busy despite the morning, but Beatrice doesn’t quite mind it. They have been in touch consistently, but it allows her time to finalize preparations, answer a few emails, listen on to her favourite tennis podcast - it’s extremely macho, but Beatrice appreciates how she never gets mentioned in it - as the frenetic centre of Madrid gives way to the natural beauty of the country. For someone like Beatrice, who grew up in multiple shades of gray, it’s already a paradise.
As they finally arrive past the gates, Beatrice feels a surge of relief as the familiarity of the grounds embrace her. Jillian’s villa has been the one constant in her life for the past two years, the one place in the world she can stay put for weeks and be wholly herself. Sure, it’s still very much a place where she has to think, breath, eat tennis, but it’s done in her ways. That’s the one thing she has been successfully able to negotiate with Father, since the results have obviously paid off. Although, if she doesn’t win the French Open this year and still does horribly at Wimbledon…
‘No.’, Beatrice chastises herself, needing desperately to keep a lid on her gnawing feelings that always prowl at the back of her mind. ‘This is good for me, and it will pay off. It has to.’ She takes a deep breath, centres herself, and signals her arrival. And almost every bad thought clears out as Jillian’s bright smile welcomes her.
“Beatrice, how wonderful to see you again.” She says as she starts fussing about her jet lagged appearance. Beatrice marvels at how, despite being one of the brightest minds in the world, Jillian truly never stops being a mother. It’s certainly not a feeling Beatrice is quite accustomed to. “Everything is ready for you, I set you up in the same room as before, I do hope it’s alright with you?”
“It’s great to see you again Jillian, and yes it is more than fine.” Beatrice gratefully reassures her, reaching out for a warm and familiar hug. “I apologize if I am quite impolite today, but with the plane ride and the tournament ending later than expected, I do not think I will be good company until I take a fairly long nap.”
“Oh don’t worry my dear, this is all perfectly understandable. Michael might be disappointed that you won’t spend much time with him immediately but I will handle him.” Jillian conspiratorially winks, before sobering up as she anticipates what Beatrice is going to ask. “And no, still no cure, but there’s been no sign of atrophy or anything degenerative, which is better than the treatment we attempted last year.” The doctor blinks rapidly before attempting another brave smile. “But you will be able to see him later, let me worry about all of that for now.
“Thank you, and thank you for telling me, but if you need your time for Michael-”
“Nonsense Beatrice, stop with this awful guilt you’re again trying to convince yourself of.” This is where Jillian is the best mum, she’s direct and always tries to make Beatrice face forward, not retreat in her own mind as Mother loved doing. “I can help you and it’s my pleasure to see you succeed. And Michael loves you, he never misses any of your matches, you know? Happiness is good for him, God knows he needs some. So none of that guilt Missis, we’re going to spend productive weeks and you’ll have another great clay season, alright?” Teary eyed, Beatrice nods before falling in a mother’s embrace, hugging Jillian tightly before excusing herself one last time and going to her room.
It has not changed at all, Beatrice is surprised to note. It was always fairly bare, just as she prefers it, with a bookshelf full of her favourite queer novels that she obviously cannot bring anywhere with her. She’s even surprised to see, with a twinge at her heart, that some new additions were put in the top row, where she keeps the books she has yet to read. Her desk has her lamp, her pens put in an appropriate colour scheme and her multiple training sheets, surveying the progress she made in exercises over the course of her stays. Bar the new books, Beatrice is almost suspecting that Jillian took care of the room exactly as she left it, and she’s too tired to deal with the complicated feelings that being considered the way she is are doing to her. So she lays in her extremely soft bed, nuzzles her sheets, and closes her eyes for a while.
-
Beatrice wakes up hours later, taking note of the time immediately. If she’s still correct about Jillian’s routine, she will be able to join them for dinner soon. She rises up, stretches languidly as she takes comfort in the best sleep she has had in… well, since she left Jillian’s villa last year, honestly. She did say it was home after all.
She dresses comfortably, not too stressed about being on time for once. She then pads around in the halls, looking at Jillian’s gallery ornamenting the crisp white walls. It was always one of her favourite past times here, after all the scientist has impeccable taste and it’s one of their main topics when not talking shop. Oh, there’s a new one there, Beatrice realizes, taking the place of a classical painting that - Beatrice remembers with another warm feeling bubbling up - she did have some critical thoughts on. And… Well, this new one is quite explicit. And queer. Explicitly queer, in a way that makes Beatrice fiercely blushes. She still sneaks a few last looks at it before moving on.
She finally gets to the dining room, frowning as it is empty. The lingering smell of a well cooked meal coupled with the beautiful weather outside probably just means that Jillian took Michael outside to eat. She never lets him ignore a perfectly good day to just breathe outside, Beatrice recalls fondly. As she prepares to go join them and gets through the electric door, she is halted by an unfamiliar voice.
“Well shit, Jillian promised me a whole meal, but I didn’t realize I’d get my snack so early.”
‘Excuse me? ’, Beatrice thinks affronted, and turns around to tell this stranger what’s what and… oh. She’s met with a woman around her age, maybe a little younger, sporting an easy grin and mischievous eyes as they roam over Beatrice’s form. Her body is laid back on a walker she keeps a tight grip on, though even from there Beatrice can see how her wrists bend a little awkwardly and can’t quite stop trembling slightly. Beatrice raises her gaze to her face framed by messy brown curls, strongly ignores that all in all she is really quite pretty , and fixes those eyes that are now very much focused on hers. “This seems quite disrespectful to someone you have only just met, don’t you think?”
The stranger chortles. “Jesus, and I thought Jill saved me from the nuns already. My apologies Sister, I will do all my prayers and rinse my foul mouth with overpriced mouthwash before doing my penance in bed. Or something else.” Beatrice splutters as the girl’s grin turns a little softer, a little more genuine. “You must be the hot shot tennis player Jill told me about and Mickey was so stupid excited to see again. I’m Ava, residential aide, conference speaker and guinea pig. Oh, and I guess Jill’s adopted daughter. I’d curtsy but stuff’s hard, you know.”
‘Why wasn’t I warned though… ’ Beatrice’s grumbles as her dream routine is now in shambles due to a very uncouth woman with an utterly bizarre introduction. Still, her manners kick in, hopefully not too late. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Beatrice Young, and I am expected to share your hospitality for the next three weeks.”
“Jeez, just wanted to greet you, but hey if you wanna hit me with your social security be my guess.” It’s a tease, Beatrice understands. The more Ava sends her biting sarcasm, the more she’s able to pick up on the nuances. Hopefully she won’t have to learn them much more over her stay. “Anyway you had the right idea, they’re both outside, so! Shall we join them Sister?”
“Please stop calling me that.”
“Please stop acting like your humour is nun existent then.”
At this point, Beatrice is really not sure that her Father has not infiltrated the villa, sending her way a massive nuclear weapon that threatens to undo everything she carefully prepared. She is only slightly aware of how ridiculous this sounds.
-
“Beatrice! Ava!” Michael yells at them, a smile threatening to split his youthful face. ‘Ha, he named me first. ’ thinks Beatrice at her most vindictive and juvenile, and Ava just sends him a soft smile.
“Hello Michael, good to see you again” Beatrice approaches him while gently ruffling his longer hair. It wasn’t as easy as she would have liked, befriending Michael. She certainly felt for him being born with this extremely rare disease, and the constant pain in his muscles and bones. Sadly, Beatrice had a hard time getting past the fact that he had a mother who loved him unconditionally and would do anything for him. It was only when she spent some time with him sitting on his bed, reading one of his books, and looking up to see Jillian at the doorstep, tears freely falling down her face, that she truly realized how selfish and awful these thoughts were. They were inseparable ever since, and Beatrice looks forward to spending time with him about as much as she does training.
“I see you met Ava.” Jillian nods, making sure Ava has enough place to sit on their bench. It’s a process as well, Beatrice notices with some guilt again. She places her wrists slowly on the picnic table, brows tight with focus as she then takes small steps out of her walker, her ankles bending with the effort. Once she’s satisfied, she swings slowly to sit on the bench, a small breath of relief leaving her mouth. Not that Beatrice was watching at all.
Ava might be very crude and thoughtless, but Beatrice truly cannot fathom doing this routine every day. “We did. I wasn’t aware you adopted though, but I am happy for you both.”
Ava rolls her eyes at Jillian there, shaking her head disappointingly. “You really hid me from the superstar Jill? That hurts all four of my feelings.” Jillian does look slightly guilty, her hand reaching Ava’s shoulder in a soothing manner. “I’m sorry dear, you’re right that it’s a little shameful of me considering how much I told you about her. I suppose that I was so excited for my two girls to meet that some things just left my mind.”
Two things don’t escape Beatrice’s notice here. First, Jillian is blatantly lying to Ava, at least by omission. She’s well aware that Jillian did not tell her because she was afraid that a break in her routine would be disturbing, and potentially leave Beatrice to feel as if she would be an intruder this year. Second, the way Ava leans into Jillian’s touch, seeking out the warmth she’s providing, and how her eyes shine with immediate forgiveness, all of those signs are extremely clear to Beatrice. It’s how she looks at Jillian as well, after all.
“It’s alright Jillian, honestly. You can both make this surprise up by telling me how you met.” Beatrice offers, finding herself surprisingly interested in the story.
“Oh dear God.” Jillian murmurs as Michael giggles and Ava seems delighted.
“Okay, so, you know St-Michael's? The orphanage? Yeah doubted it” Ava starts as Beatrice shakes her head. “Well I was stuck there for a long time after an accident, hence this bad boy.” As she points to her walker, carefully placed so she can maneuver back into it. “And well, turns out there aren’t a lot of people who are into a teenage girl with a severe physical condition, five dollars to her name and a list of enemies longer than John Wick’s.” Wait, what?
“So I'm celebrating my eighteenth birthday.” Ava continues as if she did not throw a curve ball that left Beatrice dizzy. “And since I can finally go out a little, I hitched a ride with one of my physios to the local hospital. We all heard about that generous donation a certain weirdo doctor was gonna make-'' Jillian blushes slightly, but an affectionate smile grows “-and that she had new technology and shhhhhstuff. Yeah stuff. So we get there and I meet the man of my dreams.” She sighs dramatically as she extends her arm to Michael, who is laughing so cutely as he manages to hold her wrist. “But sadly I needed to ask his mom for his hand, and lucky me, it’s the science lady!” Ava holds for the surprised reactions, though only Michael plays into it. “So we got to talk a bit, I offered to help her with her projects and spend time with my buddy if that could help, so for a while I was just spending my days here before Jill finally ended up adopting me.”
“I still believe we were fated to meet.” Jillian says as she looks at Beatrice. “Just like us, it seems.” She sighs though, looking a bit guilty. “I do wish I could do more for the others, though. I can’t quite acquire the orphanage as it belongs to the Church and, well, it wasn’t that interested in taking care of it clearly.” A shadow passes on the faces of Beatrice’s dining partners. “Although, ever since I made a donation and spoke about my intentions to improve care for the children too often ignored, it seems to have taken notice. Sister Frances is out as head of the orphanage, and not a moment too soon.”
“Yeah, screw that old bit-I mean bat.” Ava grumbles, her anger simmering as she stares at her plate. Her eyes are so expressive, notes Beatrice. “And you know, I’m insanely lucky, I get that now. I didn’t really at first, I just couldn’t get past all what happened to me and how much better being here is. That’s why I told you I’m a conference speaker.” She reminds Beatrice, who nods, having assumed it was a joke. “It’s ‘cause one day, going back to St-Michael's… Well, things change when you realize not everything is about you. I go back somewhat regularly, trying to be a good person and telling them the right things. I do the same at the hospital, and there I talk to the parents of sick kids, or how I talk to groups of patients about how to find purpose with, not despite, their disabilities. It’s not all that much but…” Ava shrugs. “I am trying to do something, you know?”
And Beatrice does get it. “I am sure you truly make a difference, Ava. I see your passion and care are so obvious. Do not doubt yourself.” And Ava looks stunned, before offering her a tentative smile. And oh, Beatrice notes with a pang, Ava is not just pretty, she is truly beautiful. Once you start peeling back her defences, Beatrice honestly gets how she could make everyone she wants fall in love with her, which is definitely not what she expected a few minutes ago.
After all these emotions, they eat in a congenial mood. Michael spends half his time telling Beatrice about his new legos, which Ava interjects to point out how great of a cheerleader she was in helping him build them. “You did not move one block!” Michael laughs, and if Beatrice was worried Ava would take it poorly, she just scoffs and says “I am the Leader, buddy, I don’t go to war when I have my minions to step on the legos in my stead.” And Jillian just shakes her head, but the tennis player sees clearly that she wouldn’t trade her life for anything.
Being here, Beatrice wonders if she ever would, too.
-
The sun is starting to rise as Beatrice wakes up, her body always in tune with it, no matter where on the globe she finds herself. She starts putting on workout clothes, readying herself for her first run of the day. As she’s done she makes her way to the front door quietly, taking great care to not wake anyone else, and-
“Hey.”
She jumps.
“Holy shit Ava-” She turns around and forgets that she even cursed.
Because Ava is looking at her from an electric wheelchair, her tired eyes noting the swear but not commenting on it. “Sorry, I guess I should start wearing a bell for your stay right?” She rolls over to Beatrice, who is taking note of every minute movement while calming her rapidly beating heart. “I just, you really don’t have to say yes by the way, but I was just wondering if it’s okay for me to tag along? I don’t know how fast you’re going to go but I can go formula one on the streets. It’s just not recommended.”
Beatrice’s first instinct is to say no, as her early runs are her only real times of freedom in her life. But looking at Ava in her chair, how softly pleading she is despite giving her an out and promising to respect it, she can’t really refuse her. Plus, she rationalizes, Ava seems very likely to just go out anyway. Beatrice trusts that she knows the area and nothing would happen to her, but it wouldn’t hurt to accompany her. So she nods and tries to ignore how Ava excitedly wiggles in her chair as they go out in the early lights.
Beatrice sets the pace, starting on a slow jog that is easy for Ava to follow. The pair leaves the villa, following the road leading into a small town bordering the capital. Typically, Beatrice would leave the road and follow the woods’ trail until she gets away from civilization, but she’s not all that sure of what Ava’s chair can do yet, and it is not as if the road is not peaceful in the morning, the wind blowing gently across their faces as they take it all in.
They make small talk, occasionally, largely centered around what they come across. There’s plenty they are both curious about each other, Beatrice can see it in the way Ava’s mouth puckers, then she bites her lip before talking about some tidbits she found about the town. She knows what that means, because there is so much Beatrice is curious about as well, but it’s easier to just focus on keeping her rhythm instead of worrying herself about Ava’s reactions. As they approach the town she increases her pace, once again easily matched by Ava.
They make their way around town, Beatrice never quite realizing how pretty it looks in the peaceful morning, as everyone gets ready for the day. She takes care of stepping out of the sidewalks at their lower point so that Ava can easily follow, a small thanks greeting her when her partner noticed she was being careful about it. And Beatrice thanks her back, because without Ava she never would have gone into town, her social batteries being always very low even for the simplest of interactions.
They hit their first snag at the café, Beatrice stopping by for breakfast and offering to Ava, but the latter hesitates. “Alright, so it’s not that I am not hungry, but… It’s just…”
“Ava, don’t worry about me judging here, tell me if there’s an issue here please?”
“You’d have to help me eat.” She says quietly, shame lacing through her voice. And oh, Beatrice feels very dumb now. She noticed last evening how Ava has larger utensils, tailor made so that her troubled wrists can grasp them and stabilize for enough time. Beatrice is kicking herself that she just forgot to consider it before leaving.
She bends down in front of Ava, making sure the other girl looks at her. “If I do help you, will you eat breakfast with me?” “Beatrice you really don’t have to-” “I know Ava, and thank you, but I am offering.” She tells her firmly, leaving the ball in her court. Ava frowns, but ultimately nods. She makes sure they get a table outside before Beatrice enters to get their orders.
Two breakfast sandwiches and coffees in her possession later, she meets Ava outside again, and she takes turns feeding themselves. Ava is still quite withdrawn, but willingly goes on to eat and take small sips of her coffee, a soft smile on her face at the taste. The longer it goes, the more Ava gets out of her shell, and is finally fine starting a conversation.
“I bet you are wondering why I’m rolling in this drip?” Beatrice feels a thrill of amusement at the way Ava words it, supposing that the girl is growing on her, but shakes her head. “Actually, not really? It makes sense based on how you had to move yesterday that long distances could be trickier.” Ava nods, relieved that she gets it. “However, I do wonder how you are controlling it? I have seen you adjust the speed manually but you are not holding on to the lever while moving?”
“Oh!” For some reason this excites Ava, who gives another wiggle that knocks Beatrice’s brain down a few pegs again. “That’s one of the things Jill and I are working on, actually!” She raises a hand to brush back her hair, showing a fairly big earpiece emitting all sorts of lights in an unfamiliar pattern. While Beatrice is intrigued, she’s more so wondering if Ava’s hair is as soft as it looks. “This shit allows my brain to send commands to the chair so I can move with it. I don’t really need that because I can still move my wrists and all, but it’s a prototype Jill is really passionate about and I thought, why the hell not help her test it?” Ava shrugs then. “Plus, my issue is kinda neurological, since the accident, so it’s helpful to see the limits of it. I still have the manual option in case the piece screws up a bit, but so far, so good.”
Beatrice nods then, understanding where Ava is truly coming from, but it seems Ava is also getting better at reading her, because she then says “You know, you can ask me about the accident I am talking about. It’s fine.” And Beatrice does hesitate, because she is certainly curious, but… She is only getting to know her, and doesn’t really think she can do the heavy revelations right now. “Another time, perhaps? Thank you of course for being willing to share this with me.” Ava acknowledges it, and Beatrice does hope she gets her meaning, that she will still want to be around to know more for a while.
They finish their meal then, Ava’s hesitation about it long gone. However, it comes back again, in a different fashion. “Sooooo, when do you have to go back?”
Beatrice considers it, but usually she doesn’t really train hard on her first day. “I don’t really have a schedule today, honestly. I might just go do some work at our gym later, why?”
“Well, I was going out for a reason, actually. I kinda wanted to go visit the orphanage today. It’s not far from here… I know you said to hold the heavy stuff, but well…”
Beatrice presses her hand on Ava’s wrist, ignoring how she slightly flushes at the touch. “I’d be honoured to go with you Ava, if you want me to.”
“Oh do I want you. I mean.” They stop, both wide eyed. “To come with me! To the orphanage! No other coming happening!” Ava facepalms. “Please put me out of my misery.”
And Beatrice does the unthinkable: she laughs. She laughs and laughs, and soon Ava is joining her, embarrassment fleeing. Beatrice truly cannot remember the last time she laughed like this, for something so silly, and basks in how freeing this is for a while. “Don’t worry Ava.” She waits until Ava settles back before adding “I’d love to come with you.”
“Holy fuck Beatrice you can’t fucking do this to me.”
A last laugh leaves Beatrice, and she takes off running. Ava squeals behind her, adjusts her speed, and runs after her new friend.