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Hospitals are terrible.
The atmosphere shifted out of nowhere from silence to chaotic noise. The smell of antiseptic and cleaning products hung heavy, and the long, sterile corridors seemed to stretch on forever. The food was bland and unappetizing, and the metal chairs were uncomfortable as fuck.
Beatrice's gaze fixed on the chocolate bar suspended in the vending machine, the stupid chocolate bar she wanted to eat and didn’t have change to get and then she did after asking around for some change but now the stupid chocolate bar was stuck in the vending machine. She kept looking at it, the stupid bar was hanging from the corner, refusing to move. Each kick failed to dislodge it, and she felt mocked by its stubborn presence.
With a frustrated huff, Beatrice glared at the chocolate one last time before turning away collapsing onto the unforgiving metal chair. She buried her hands inside her hoodie’s pocket, her leg bouncing anxiously as she stared blankly at the floor, a few loose strands of hair framing her face.
She’s exhausted, both mentally and physically. She has lost track of time since receiving that late-night call. The details of her arrival were hazy, how she managed to change from her pajamas to the leggings and hoodie she had on now, doesn’t know how she was able to get her keys, her phone and wallet before leaving, nor does she remember how she drove herself here. All she knew was that she was here, and that was all that mattered.
Beatrice's mind was consumed by three haunting words: Ava , back , and amnesia . The rest was a blur. She doesn’t recall Dr. Salvius´s call, all she knows is Lilith made her sit down on the uncomfortable chair and said she’d be back.
“Beatrice.”
Speaking of, she thought.
Lilith crouched before her, concern etched on her face.. “How are you doing?” She asked softly, producing a chocolate bar from her pocket and opening it for Beatrice.
Beatrice inhaled deeply, her eyes welling up with tears “I don’t know, How am I supposed to feel?. Ava just came back after two years, I don’t know how or why, and she´s in that room and doesn't remember who I am.” She says her voice is breaking. “And Jillian doesn't know if her memory will return. It might... or it might not.”
Lilith slid into the seat beside Beatrice, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.
"Then help her remember," Lilith said.
Beatrice's voice barely above a whisper, "What if she can't?"
Lilith's grip tightened. "Then create new memories with her."
Beatrice nodded, her eyes welling up, and sniffled. "Okay." She took the chocolate bar and nibbled on it, finding comfort in the taste.
After a moment of silence, Beatrice spoke up,"Camila?"
Lilith's gentle tone reassured her. "Her flight gets in today, in about three hours. She managed to book the earliest available."
Beatrice took another bite of the chocolate, her thoughts drifting. "She hates airports."
Lilith's hand rubbed soothing circles on Beatrice's shoulder. "She'll be fine. We all will."
—————————--
Beatrice stands outside of the room where her girlfriend is… former girlfriend? Was she still considered a girlfriend if said girlfriend didn’t remember who she is?
She stares at the door as she takes some deep breaths because that’s supposed to be calming, though right now she feels anything but calm and heavily doubts that some air intake is going to change that.
Beatrice thinks about her current predicament and wonders how she should tackle it, should she run? Ava doesn’t remember her anyway, though if she did Superion would send Lillith to bring her back and kill her herself, should she just go in and say, ‘Hi love’ and kiss her as she usually did? No, that was too far, Ava would probably freak out.
Taking a few more deep breaths, Beatrice steeled herself before entering. The antiseptic hospital smell hit her like a punch to the gut. Ava,wired up, looked up from her bed, eyes locking onto Beatrice's. Other than the several wires around her she looks… the same, her hair is longer but she looks the same, she looks good and most importantly alive and Beatrice thanks God for that.
“Hi.” She says. “I’m…” Your girlfriend? Your friend? Your acquaintance? “I’m…”
“Beatrice?” Ava thankfully answers for her, her voice is hoarse but it’s still her voice and once again Beatrice finds herself thanking God that she still has the chance to hear it again.
Bea to you.
Beatrice sighs, hearing her full name come out of Ava´s lips seems so...wrong, it feels both familiar and also sad in a way. Because to Ava she was Bea, her calling Beatrice when she wasn't mad made them seem like strangers... which, Beatrice supposes, right now, they are.
As she stands there, looking at Ava and vice versa, Beatrice wonders how exactly can the world be this cruel. Two years ago Ava sacrificed herself to save the world, Beatrice stills wakes up in the middle of the night with images of Ava and divinium shrapnel running through her mind. The world had been so cruel to some who just wanted to live and enjoy life.
Beatrice snaps out of it when Ava awkwardly clears her throat, so Beatrice smiles at her although it's barely there and it doesn’t reach her eyes as it normally would, normally she’ll get tickled until it does, but not this time. This time there’s no one there to make her smile.
“Yes, I’m Beatrice.” She replies, still standing there. Ava’s eyes travel from her own to the chair beside the bed and Beatrice takes it as an ‘okay’ to get closer so with another deep breath she wills her legs to move to sit on the chair.
“Susan says we’re… together?”
“Yes, we’re together,” Beatrice says, the words sound heavy… but what else is she meant to say, she can’t exactly lie to her, Susan already told Ava about her. Besides what else was she supposed to say, there’s no manual, no script for this. What exactly are you meant to say in these situations? She can see in Ava’s eyes how hard this is for her, as she seems to be looking at her so intently as if searching her memories for any hints as to who this person is.
“Cool.” Ava says with a small smile.Her eyes searched hers, seeking memories that weren't there. “Last name?”
“Young.”
“Beatrice Young.” Ava says, as if trying it out.. And then nods in approval. “I like it. It suits you. It sounds very english.”
“Um, thanks.”
“Am I...” Ava hesitates for a second, although Superion told her everything she still wants to make sure. “Am I a Young too?”
Beatrice shakes her head once, bites down on her lip and reaches for Ava’s free hand, looking up for consent first which is freely given with a slight tilt of Ava’s head.
“I suppose Superion has told you everything?”
Ava nods. “Oh yeah, about the whole reincarnated Jesus thing?” Beatrice nods, that’s a way to put it, she supposes. “She has, kinda fucked up if you ask me.”
“Yes, it is.” Is all Beatrice says, because yes, it was in fact, very fucked up. “Is there anything you want to know?”
Ava looks at her for a second, “Can you…” Beatrice gives her a small nod in encouragement, letting Ava know she’s free to ask. “Can you tell me about us?
Beatrice was caught off guard by the question, the last thing she expected Ava to ask. Though she’s also aware the questions surrounding their relationship were probably the easiest to answer. Ultimately she’s happy for this question because the truth was, Beatrice wasn't remotely prepared to delve into the complexities of Adriel's ruthless rise to power, which included orchestrating the Pope's assassination and dominating most of humanity.
She struggled to articulate how her best friend, once on the brink of killing her, had become her closest friend, sporting black scales and wings that defied explanation. Nor was she ready to reveal that Ava's return to this world was actually her second.
So Beatrice decides that yes, she can definitely answer any and all questions about their relationship. Those were far much easier though probably more painful to answer. Superion’s words appear in her mind “Make her remember.” Now Beatrice isn't sure she can do that, but maybe she can give Ava something to start on.
“We were friends.” Beatrice begins, “Best friends,but If I think about it there was always a hint of something more from the start, we circled around it for a while. I was a nun, you see.”
Ava gasped. “You were a nun?”
“Yes.”
“Now you are not? Why? What happened?”
“You did.” Beatrice replies, lightly pushing her finger against Ava’s arm. “You kissed me and that was it.”
“You divorced Jesus because of me?” Ava 's eyes widened, hand on her chest. “Because I…” She pointed to herself. “...kissed you.” She pointed at Beatrice.
Beatrice rolls her eyes fondly. “Yes, Ava, I divorced Jesus because of you.”
“Nice.” Ava smirks. “So I’m an excellent kisser, a divorce Jesus for me kind of kisser, cool.” She wiggles in bed.
Beatrice shakes her head with a small laugh. Her heart feeling lighter, seeing Ava’s cheeky smile and humor after two years was like a healing balm on her heart, seeing her smile because of Beatrice gives her hope that maybe they will be alright in the end.
“Do you want to know how it happened or not?” Beatrice asks amused.
“Oh yes, please go on.” Ava says eagerly.
“We were undercover in Switzerland, and you coaxed me into having a night off, you gave me a couple of lemon drop shots, we danced, we laughed all night, it was probably 4:00 am in the morning when we decided to call it a night.” Beatrice recalls, she still remembers how their hands kept grazing against each other as they walked, the chills it sent to her spine every time they touched. “We barely made it halfway back to our place when you pushed me against the wall and kissed me.”
“Wow, very brave of me.” Ava says.
“Very forward too.”
Ava smiles but then her eyes soften, looking vulnerable. “How…” She swallowed. “How did it feel? For you I mean.”
As they walked side by side, the sounds of the bar fading into the background, Beatrice felt her heart racing with anticipation. They had spent countless nights working together, exchanging playful banter and stolen glances, but tonight was different. For Beatrice, it felt different. She had seen the way Ava looked at her when they were dancing, a look she’s seen on her lately. It made her nervous, excited…
Ava stops beside her and naturally Beatrice does too, her eyes locked onto Beatrice’s, her gaze sparkling with vulnerability. Beatrice saw the hesitation in her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat.
She wanted this, Beatrice realized. She wanted Ava.
Without breaking eye contact, Ava took a step closer, her face tilting upward. Beatrice's pulse quickened as Ava’s lips brushed against hers, sending shivers down her spine. The world around them melted away, leaving only the soft pressure of Ava's lips, the taste of her sweetness, and the rush of emotions flooding Beatrice’s chest. It felt like coming home, like she'd finally found the one thing she'd been searching for.
In that instant, Beatrice knew she was all in. She was ready to surrender to the feelings she'd been suppressing, to explore the connection between them.
Beatrice finishes retelling the story with a smile on her face, reliving the magic of her first kiss with Ava.
“It sounds…” Tears pricked at the corner of Ava’s eyes. “It sounds like a beautiful moment.” She says and Beatrice can see the guilt and frustration settle in, the frustration of missing a chunk of her life at not being able to remember a moment that might have changed everything.
Ava sniffles. “How..” She swallows. “How long ago was that?”
“Ava..”
“Beatrice, please.” Ava pleads, her eyes piercing through Beatrice.
Beatrice sighs with a nod. “That was, um…” There’s a hint of fear in Ava’s eyes when she says this. Like she knows what comes next and doesn’t really want to know the answer.. Ava wouldn’t be human if she wasn’t wounded by all of this.
“That was three years ago.” Beatrice answers honestly.
Ava's eyes welled up with tears as the weight of her lost memories crushed her. Three years gone. Moments, experiences, love, all erased. Ava's heart ached, not just for the forgotten memories but for the connection she sensed with this woman. It was as if her heart recognized Beatrice, even if her mind didn't.
"Why does it feel like...home?" Ava whispered to herself.
"I don't remember," She says, the words slicing through Beatrice's heart. "I have no idea who you are, but..." Ava's pause hung in the air like a promise. Beatrice's eyes clouded, but she held onto Ava's hand, her touch warm and gentle. "This," Ava continued, gesturing between the two, her voice barely above a whisper, "feels familiar somehow."
"We'll figure it out, Ava," Beatrice said, her tone infused with gentle conviction. As she spoke, Beatrice's fingers intertwined with Ava's, her grip firm but tender. It was a touch that anchored Ava to the present, reassuring her that she wasn't alone in this sea of uncertainty.
"Together," Beatrice continued, her eyes burning with determination, "like we always do."
----------------------------
"We're not expecting anything from you, Ava," Beatrice whispered softly, her arm wrapping around Ava's back and waist, holding her upright as her body shook with sobs.
Ava's frustrations poured out in ragged gasps, and Beatrice drew her closer, offering a haven of comfort. Her fingers traced gentle circles on Ava's back, right where halo used to be. It was odd, Beatrice thinks, she was used to feeling a slight tingling whenever she did that, a dimmed light following her fingers. Now, there was nothing, only harsh lines of where the halo used to be. The memories live only with Beatrice now.
When Beatrice woke up this morning, she hadn't anticipated this emotional storm, but she'd sensed something was wrong the moment she walked in. Ava's eyes had held a depth of anguish, the lost expression she carried lately was magnified.
Ava's words had tumbled out in a desperate rush as soon as Beatrice asked her what was wrong. "I feel like I'm letting everyone down. Every visit, people tell me things I'm supposed to know, but I don't. It's infuriating...I don't remember anyone."
Beatrice remembers a brief moment back when she first started at the order, in one of her first missions a fellow sister miscalculated an explosion ratio, all Beatrice remembers was the pain she felt when her head hit the ground, next thing she knew she was in the infirmary with the memories of the last three days gone.
Forgetting feels like drowning, suffocating under the weight of lost memories. She remembers waking up the next couple of days with a sense of disorientation, grasping for fragments of those three days, fragments that were all shrouded in a thick fog.
That was a brief moment only, at the end of the day she still had all of her memories of who she was intact, of the people around her. She can only imagine how Ava feels. Every visit, every conversation, is probably a painful reminder of what she's lost. People shared stories, laughter, and tears, and Ava was left only trying to understand, to remember.
After a few minutes of quiet, Beatrice spoke, her voice filled with conviction: "You're gonna remember, Ava. I know you will."
“And If I can’t?” Ava asked, her voice barely a whisper, as if she was afraid of the answer, would she still have Beatrice around, will the people who everyone says are her friends stick around? Or will they leave her, discarded and forgotten just like her memories.
Beatrice's expression softened, her eyes filling with conviction. "Then we'll make new memories," she said, her voice steady and reassuring. The words echoed back to their past, to the countless moments they'd shared during training. Beatrice knew Ava's deepest fear: being left behind.
"I won't leave you, Ava," Beatrice whispered, her voice laced with promise. Beatrice's fingers intertwined with Ava's, a gentle squeeze conveying her commitment. "We'll create new moments, new laughter, new tears. Together."
Ava's face burrowed into Beatrice's shoulder, her voice muffled but audible: "It's different with you."
Beatrice's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?" she asked, though she thought she knew.
Ava's words were barely audible, but Beatrice felt the vibration of her voice against her skin, "It's not as scary when you're with me."
Beatrice's eyes closed, and she rested her chin on Ava's shoulder, their bodies pressed together in a tender embrace. For the first time in a while, a glimmer of hope flickered to life. “We'll face it together," Beatrice whispered, her breath stirring Ava's hair. "We'll find your way back."
"New memories," Ava repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
Beatrice smiled, her eyes shining with determination. "Together, Ava. Always together. In this life or the next."
--------------------------
Connectors.
According to the doctor, the fleeting sense of familiarity Ava experienced was known as a connector, a fragment of her past that resonated deeply. They weren't memories, per se, but echoes from a life she couldn't recall. Echoes that whispered secrets, hinting at a shared history. Like the morning Beatrice brought her pancakes, a simple gesture that stirred an inexplicable sense of significance.
Connectors. Those fleeting moments of déjà vu that left Ava breathless and yearning for more. They happened often, almost exclusively, when she was with Beatrice.
A gentle touch on her hand, and suddenly Ava felt a rush of familiarity, as if Beatrice's fingers had grazed hers countless times before. A soft whisper in her ear, and Ava's heart skipped a beat, recognizing the warmth of Beatrice's voice, even if her mind couldn't place it.
The smallest gestures triggered these connectors: Beatrice's smile as she sipped coffee, the way she tucked a stray hair behind Ava's ear, or the soothing melody of her laughter. Each instance left Ava with an unshakable sense that they had shared this moment, this feeling, before.
Ava craved those moments, cherishing every shared glance, every soft-spoken word. Beatrice's gentle smile, her reassuring touch, stirred something within her. It was as if her very soul recognized a kindred spirit, a haven from the chaos.
It's why she chose to stay with Beatrice when she was discharged, now don’t get her wrong, she liked Camila, she was friendly and sweet, Lilith was a bit cold and stoic but she had a protectiveness to her but neither made her feel like Beatrice did. Beatrice didn’t look at her with pity, didn’t talk to her with condescension, didn’t sound like she was tired of reminding her of things.
In Beatrice's eyes, Ava saw a glimmer of home, a sense of belonging she couldn't quite explain. Her memories may have vanished, but her heart remembered the feeling of being seen, of being understood. And with Beatrice, that feeling was all that mattered.
Beatrice tells Ava their apartment is a one bedroom, with just enough space for a queen size bed and a small couch. She tells her it was meant to be a temporary safe house only but after what happened Beatrice couldn’t part with it, the memories they built there were too precious to be left behind, somehow in between the chaos they both made a home of this place.
As Ava sits in the passenger seat, the quaint Swiss town unfolds before her like a storybook. The charming buildings, with their pastel facades and wooden shutters, feel both foreign and strangely familiar. She catches glimpses of colorful flower boxes spilling over with blooms.
Despite the fog of amnesia, Ava feels an undeniable pull towards the scenery. It’s as if her heart recognizes the beauty, even if her mind can’t quite grasp why.
As they pass a small café with outdoor seating, she sees couples sharing moments, and a pang of longing strikes her. It’s a bittersweet mix of confusion and warmth; she’s aware of the gap in her memory, yet there's a flicker of recognition when she glances at Beatrice. In that moment, her heart seems to whisper that their connection is real, urging her to trust in the feelings she can’t fully recall.
“This is it.”
Beatrice stops the car and gets out when she appears at the passenger side to help Ava out, she notices how Ava looks in wonder at the building in front of her. The outside of the building is charming and picturesque. It features wooden balconies adorned with flower boxes bursting with colorful blooms. The facade is a blend of light colored stucco and natural stone, giving it a warm, inviting appearance.
“Wow,” Ava murmurs. “This is where we lived?”
“Yes,” Beatrice replies, closing the car door behind her. She gestures for Ava to follow, and together they ascend the stairs, stopping at a familiar red door. “This is it,” Beatrice says, fumbling with the keys. “Are you ready?”
Ava glances at Beatrice, who offers a soft smile and an encouraging nod. When the door swings open, Ava hesitates, rooted in place. A part of her wants to embrace the familiarity of the red door and the welcome mat at her feet, but another part is hesitant, afraid to step inside. She turns to Beatrice for reassurance. Beatrice nods, her smile gentle, and gestures with her hands, silently urging her to go ahead.
Ava stands at the threshold of the room, her heart racing as she takes in the scene before her. She sees a small couch adorned with colorful pillows and a blanket draped casually over one side. Nearby, a small wooden coffee table holds an open book and a mug. In the corner, a potted plant adds a touch of life, its leaves catching the last rays of sunlight. It feels both foreign and achingly familiar, like a dream half-remembered.
But it’s the post-its that draw her attention, a bunch of colorful notes scattered around the room, each one placed by Beatrice. Some cling to the fridge, labeled with reminders for groceries; others on the bookshelf, each note detailing the books in it and their significance. “This one is your favorite,” reads one note beside a novel, while another says, “You hated this one.”
Ava feels a rush of emotion as she realizes these notes are Beatrice’s gentle reminder that she deserves to feel at home, even in the haze of her amnesia. She glances at Beatrice, standing quietly, her expression soft yet watchful. There’s a tenderness in the way Beatrice observes the space, and Ava feels a rush of loss, and a longing to reclaim what feels just out of reach.
Ava walks toward the shelf above the couch, her eyes wandering over the array of knick knacks that tell a story of their shared life. But one object captures her attention: a delicate rose encased in glass, resting beside the books. She reaches up carefully, her finger brushing against the smooth surface, the texture sending a shiver of recognition through her. This rose feels hauntingly familiar.
“Um…” Ava clears her throat, the sound breaking the silence. “Where is this from?” The question comes out in a croak, laced with emotion.
Beatrice sighs softly as she approaches her. “That’s the Rose of Remembrance. We found it at the night market during Christmas,” she explains, positioning herself beside Ava. “An old lady was selling them and shared the story behind them.”
“What’s the story?” Ava asks, her curiosity piqued.
“Legend has it an elf planted a rose garden for his lover, but she was promised to someone else. One night, when they met, her fiancé followed her and killed them both in a fit of rage. It’s said that the roses will wilt if not nourished with blood. But if you give one to someone you love, it’ll live forever.”
Ava’s heart swells as she glances back at the rose. “You gave it to me?” A small smile breaks through the fog of her memory.
“Mhmm,” Beatrice confirms, a gentle smile on her face. “The old lady gave it to me while you were distracted playing with a child. She said if I really love you, it should never wilt. I mean, it's probably a fake rose, but the sentiment is what matters, I suppose.”
“Right,” Ava says quietly, her gaze fixed on the rose. She feels a deep longing to remember, as if she’s searching every corner of her mind for even the smallest fragment of that moment.
Ava continues walking around the place, heads into the kitchen to find an array of posts too, she smiles at the note placed next to a bright yellow duck mug “You love this mug.” it reads. She stands still for a moment observing the illuminated streets of town through the kitchen window. The air is thick with unspoken memories, and in this moment, Ava knows she is home, even if she can’t remember how or why.
As Ava steps out of the kitchen, she spots Beatrice packing a few items into a duffel bag, placing it by the door.
“What are you doing?” Ava asks, her heart racing at the thought of Beatrice leaving.
Beatrice pauses, glancing back at her. “I planned to stay next door. I thought you’d prefer to sleep alone since you don’t…” Know me.
“Please stay.” Ava reaches for her hand, her eyes filled with desperation.
“I really don’t think I—”
“Beatrice, please,” Ava insists, squeezing her hand tightly. “Things don’t make a lot of sense to me these days, but this?” She gestures between them. “This makes sense to me.”
Beatrice bites her lip, determined not to cry. She can see the fear in Ava’s eyes, the fear of being left alone in this unfamiliar place.
“I… I want to remember what it feels like to fall asleep with you, to wake up with you.” Ava whispers, her voice so soft that Beatrice almost doesn’t catch it. The vulnerability of her words sends a shiver down Beatrice’s spine.
Taking a deep breath, Beatrice steps forward and wraps her arms around Ava. Without hesitation, Ava clings to her waist, holding her shirt tightly like a lifeline. “Okay, if it makes sense to you, it makes sense to me,” Beatrice says softly.
“You’ll stay?” Ava asks, hope shining in her eyes.
“I’ll stay.”
-----------------------------------
As time goes on, Ava finds it initially easy to adjust to her new reality. She works to relearn aspects of her life, figuring out how to navigate this unfamiliar territory. At first, she and Beatrice establish a routine that seems to work. Beatrice, with her boundless patience, takes the time to explain everything to Ava, sharing stories from their past, soothing her anxieties, and helping her understand the frightening nightmares that wake her up at night.
Beatrice helps Ava get a job at a bakery near La Vasseur, conveniently located just a few blocks away. This allows Ava to walk over for lunch with Beatrice and makes it easy for Beatrice to pick her up after work. The bakery is close enough to their home that Ava can walk or take a single bus if Beatrice can’t make it.
It works until it doesn’t. It starts with small misunderstandings, Ava snapping at Beatrice out of frustration, masking her annoyance and anger at the situation. Gradually, Beatrice starts to pull away. First, they skip lunch together, and then Beatrice comes home late, citing extra responsibilities at the bar.
Ava feels the sting of Beatrice’s distance, fearing that she’s grown tired of Ava’s struggles and the effort it takes to be patient. It hurts because Ava is trying her best. Each time she closes her eyes, she longs for her memories to return, yet they remain frustratingly elusive. She fixates on photographs of them, willing the memories to flood back, but each time she’s met with emptiness.
What frustrates her even more is the belief that her former self would have known how to handle Beatrice’s withdrawal, while this new version of her feels lost. She resents not knowing how to navigate their changing relationship and despises that her old self wouldn’t have faced this struggle at all.
And Beatrice, Beatrice has been going to the bar even when she doesn’t really have to. She hides out at the office until she has no choice but to head home. The downside of living in a one-bedroom apartment is that there’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to catch her breath from the current situation. So the bar is the best option she has.
She’s struggling with everything, because having patience is much harder than it seems. She finds herself getting frustrated having to retell stories Ava should already know and she can see that Ava is trying, she sees her struggling, nodding to herself as Beatrice shares something new, as if making a mental note and it makes Beatrice irrationally angry that she can’t do anything to fix it.
But she doesn’t say anything, because it’s not Ava’s fault she had a strange artifact shoved onto her back and was forced to fight a battle she had no business in. It’s not her fault that some jerk went crazy over that artifact, nor is it her fault that she was caught in the middle of a grand war humanity was unaware of. It’s not her fault she was thrown back into this world after sacrificing herself to save it with all her memories wiped out.
She’s struggling because, at the end of the day, Ava is still Ava. Memories or not, she remains the same lively person she was before she left. She still loves puns, has a hard time keeping still, and her laugh and smile are just the same. It takes everything inside Beatrice not to kiss her, because that’s one of the things she wants most.
And she doesn’t say a thing because it’s not Ava’s fault that Beatrice is having such a hard time controlling herself around her.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Ava said one morning at breakfast. She had asked Camila for advice, and the woman had suggested that sometimes Beatrice just needed Ava to be direct. So here she was, determined to bridge the gap between them.
Beatrice paused, her fork hovering over her eggs, unable to respond. It was true, she had been avoiding Ava, and she couldn’t deny it. After a moment, she cleared her throat, finishing her bite and folding her hands in her lap.
“I’m so—”
“I’m sorry I can’t seem to remember anything,” Ava interrupted, her voice filled with urgency. “But I’m trying, Beatrice. I promise I am.” She desperately hoped that Beatrice understood how hard she was working, fearing that if she didn’t, Beatrice might grow tired and leave. The thought of that was unbearable.
Beatrice’s gaze shot up to meet Ava’s, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, frustration spilling over. She could see the desperation etched on Ava's face, hands clenched into fists, struggling to contain her emotions. What pierced Beatrice’s heart was the fear reflected in Ava’s eyes, fear of being abandoned, fear of being a burden. Beatrice hated herself for not handling the situation better.
“Ava, no, that’s not—” Beatrice rushed to reassure her.
“Then why? Why are you avoiding me?” Ava interjected again, her voice trembling with urgency. She needed to understand why the one person she felt safe with in the midst of her mental fog was pulling away. “Are you—” She swallowed hard. “Are you tired of it? Of me? Just tell me, please, and I’ll…”
“No.” Beatrice responded immediately, standing up and walking around the kitchen table to stand in front of Ava. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, aching to reach out. “I’m not tired, Ava, I swear. I’m just… struggling.”
“So am I!” Ava shot back, frustration bubbling over. “And honestly, I don’t blame you. It’s been months, and my memory hasn’t changed. I get it if you’re tired—”
“I’m not tired!” Beatrice snapped, her frustration boiling over. “It doesn’t matter to me if you remember or not—I want you, Ava, memories or not.” It was the truth. “I don’t care if you can’t remember whether I prefer pancakes or waffles! I don’t care if you still struggle with my phone number, or even how we met. I. Don’t. Care.” She emphasized each word, hoping Ava would truly understand and believe her. “I meant what I said before: memories or not, we’ll face this together, always.”
“But then why are you avoiding me?” Ava’s voice broke, and the tears she’d been holding back finally spilled over.
“Because I’m an idiot,” Beatrice replied simply with a shrug, letting out a heavy sigh. “I wanted to maintain this facade for you, to give you someone to lean on. I thought you needed someone strong to guide and support you, to—”
“I don’t care if you’re strong or not.” Ava interrupted her, again. One hand on the table while she wiped away her tears with the other. “Just you being here is enough. I meant what I said before, you make everything feel less daunting, less scary. You—” Ava sighed, gesturing between them. “This—what we have—it makes sense to me. I don’t need you to be strong; I just need you here.”
“I’m sorry,” Beatrice said softly. “I really am.”
Ava glanced away from Beatrice for a moment, taking a deep breath as if summoning her courage. She walked to the bedside table, opened her designated drawer, and pulled out a piece of paper. Unfolding it as she returned, she chuckled softly, the notion feeling a bit silly.
“I’ve been writing down everything I know about you,” she said, holding the list out to Beatrice.
“Ava…” Beatrice took a few hesitant steps closer.
“Like how you like your pancakes,” Ava continued. “What your favorite sweater is, that you need natural sunlight to wake up. I just…” Her voice faltered as she looked down, tears beginning to spill again. “I just don’t want to forget, not again.”
That’s the last straw for Beatrice, in a second she takes Ava in her arms, immediately feeling her press and sniffle softly from her place on her shoulder. “Lo–Ava. You’re not gonna forget again.”
“Please don’t avoid me again, it hurts too much.” Ava says against her shoulder, her arms tightening around her.
“I’m sorry.” Beatrice repeats. “I won’t. I promise, never again.”
Ava lifts her head to meet Beatrice's gaze, drawn in by the honesty shining in her brown eyes. After a moment of contemplation, she breaks the silence.
“You…” Ava starts, her voice barely above a whisper as she looks away. “Just a moment ago, you said…”
Beatrice notices the hesitation in her voice and gently lifts Ava’s chin, encouraging her to look back. She waits patiently, her eyes steady.
“You said… you wanted me. Did you mean it?”
Words never came easily to Beatrice, so how is she supposed to say that yes, she meant it. How is she supposed to tell Ava that for the past two years, she has searched tirelessly for her, exploring every corner, poring over books, testing every theory, and praying to a God she’s unsure she even believes in anymore, all in hopes of finding her again.
So in the rush of her emotions, she leans forward, kissing Ava deeply, swallowing the surprised groan that escapes Ava’s lips before they are fully intertwined. The kiss is gentle; it’s encouraged by honesty and want and attraction. But most of all it feels like coming home.
Moments later and Ava is a quivering disaster underneath Beatrice, said woman has one of her hands doing wonders in between Ava’s legs and her mouth is against Ava’s neck. Ava rocks her hips along Beatrice’s thrusts, placing one hand over Beatrice’s own between her legs, squeezing tight. The other one around her back pulling her closer as she nears her climax.
“Let go, Ava.” Beatrice whispers. “I’ve got you, just let go.”
And she does.
----------------------------------
December arrives quickly.
It blankets the landscape in a soft layer of snow, transforming it into a winter wonderland. The air is crisp and fresh, twinkling lights adorn the outside of homes, creating a warm glow against the early dusk.
As night falls, the town takes on a magical quality. The stars shine above, and the soft glow from candlelit windows invites a sense of peace. The mountains loom in the distance, their peaks dusted with snow, standing over the serene scene.
Ava’s head rests on her favorite pillow, Beatrice’s heartbeat, her favorite sound, resonates softly in her ear. She gazes out the window, watching the snowflakes dance as they fall. She loves this season; she isn’t sure if it was her past self’s favorite, but it doesn’t matter, it’s her favorite now.
She loves how the town square bustles with life, as locals gather around a decorated Christmas tree. She loves walking around hand in hand with Beatrice around the Christmas market, laughter and the sound of carols echoing through the streets, as children build snowmen and toss snowballs.
Ava is pulled from her thoughts when she feels her pillow shift slightly. Moments later, soft hands lovingly caress her back, lingering a moment longer on the circular scar there, an echo of a lost memory, a hint of who she once was. She lifts her head slightly to meet the warm brown eyes she adores, always filled with love and patience.
“Can I ask you something?”
Ava nods and leans down to kiss Beatrice’s chest.
“Are you happy?”
“Bea, I am naked and on top of you and you just gave me three amazing orgasms so I’d say I’m pretty happy.” Ava answers with a smile and another kiss.
Beatrice shakes her head fondly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” Ava replies, pressing a quick kiss to Beatrice’s skin before settling back onto her chest. “I’m very happy, I really am…” She sighs. “I understand I’m not the same as I was before, but…”
“Ava…”
“It’s okay, Bea. I know things are different now, and they probably always will be. I might not remember how we met or how I felt back then, but there’s one thing I’m certain of.” Ava pulls back just enough to take Beatrice’s hand and place it over her heart. “My heart has known who you are from the very beginning, and I love who you are, who we are. So yes, I’m happy. Are you?”
Beatrice pulls Ava in for a kiss, and Ava eagerly returns it. “Yes, I am,” she says, smiling as they part.
Ava showers Beatrice with soft kisses—on her cheek, her mouth, her neck, and finally her shoulder. She presses a gentle kiss just above a rippled scar, tracing her finger over it tenderly for a moment.
“I think…” Ava begins, her finger gliding over a small mark. “I think I know how you got this.” She frowns slightly as she continues to explore the scar. “We were in a fight… I think we were ambushed.” She bites her lip, brushing her lips over the scar again. “You got stabbed while defending me.”
Beatrice sits up, her eyes widening in surprise. A flicker of recognition ignites within her. “Are you serious?”
Ava beams, tears of joy glistening in her eyes. Beatrice laughs and, in an instant, pulls Ava up with her, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist while Ava clings to her shoulders.
“Ava, you remembered something!” Beatrice exclaims, her excitement palpable. “You remembered!”
They lean in together, meeting in a chaotic yet deeply emotional kiss, laughter bubbling between them as happy tears begin to fall. For the first time, something, no matter how small, has come back to Ava, igniting a spark of hope that perhaps more memories would follow.
“I’m so proud of you, you know that?” Beatrice murmurs, before kissing again.
As they pulled away from the kiss, their foreheads resting together, Ava felt a rush of warmth and connection that transcended words. In that moment, everything felt possible. Beatrice’s eyes sparkled with a mix of joy and relief, and Ava knew they were embarking on a new chapter together.
“Whatever happens next,” Ava whispered, her voice steady, “I’ll face it with you.”
Beatrice nodded, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. “Together, always.”
As the last light of day disappeared and the stars began to shine above, they sat wrapped in each other’s embrace, surrounded by a world full of unknowns yet filled with hope. In the silence, Ava felt a gentle whisper from her heart, a promise that even if her memories were still lost, their love would guide her home.