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Be the light in the dark of this danger
'Til the sun comes up
~
Beca Mitchell has always been extraordinary. Far more extraordinary than most children extraordinary enough to be branded with the burden of the title. While her peers may have been strapped in for eighteen years of Ivy-League-certified success along with all the toil that goes with maintaining their prescribed level of extraordinariness, Beca spent her childhood hiding. Hiding her strength, her speed, her flight, her heart—the more invisible she was, the less extraordinary she came across, and the more she was allowed to forget the massive responsibilities that rested on her shoulders when she turned eighteen.
She was twenty-eight now, with powers far beyond what her younger self could’ve comprehended.
And responsibilities to match.
The world knew Beca Mitchell as their masked hero, infallible and perfect in every way. A whole city of people waking up and going to bed every night, safe in the knowledge that Beca would be there to shield them from anything, be it fire, flood, or bullet storm.
Day after day, Beca is there for every collapsing building, every armed robbery, every metaphorical and every literal runaway train. There were those who slip away—car accidents, domestic disputes, things that slip under her radar—but she tries not to dwell. She learned early on that dwelling only gets in the way of saving everyone else, so she works harder, pushes further, takes every extra mile the world offers her to make up for the losses.
But Beca Mitchell is tired.
So, so, so tired.
As she glides through the clouds, she watches the world moving far below—her world. The world she’s been protecting for the last ten years. The cars race along the freeway, sunlight flashing off their roofs. Out by the quay, boats bobble off the shore and people, little more than dots and dashes from so high up, mill about. Enjoying simple pleasures like strawberry ice cream and jogging by the water. She smiles, envious, but glad that her world is safe for another day.
Miles outside of the city, Beca descends onto a ledge along the cliff face, obscured by the bends of the winding, white bluffs. She stands there for a moment, taking a deep breath of the salty, sea air as the waters crash far below her feet.
She knows that there’s a chance her phone will ring again soon, sending her back to the city for another mission. Another soul to save. Another obligation to rest her conscience. Another laudable excuse to let responsibility wear her down.
Just another night.
She wonders how much longer she can take.
She wonders if this is all there ever will be.
Just as the guilt begins to seep in, a pair of arms circle around her middle. “Welcome back, babe.”
Beca leans back and melts into the warmth against her back, craning her neck to accept the little kisses trailed along the exposed skin below her neck. She doesn’t speak, closing her eyes instead to savour the moment.
“Tired?”
Beca nods.
The arms squeeze her tight, then fall, only to return moments later, scooping her up behind her knees and along her back.
Beca sighs, content as the sunlight against her lids ebb away and the cool air of her Safe Place rushes against her warm skin. When her eyes open again, she smiles at the sight of sky-blue eyes that never fails to ground her fears. When she looks into them, nothing else matters. “Chloe,” she whispers, curling tight against her chest.
Chloe lays her on the couch and takes her feet onto her lap. She peels off her boots one at a time and slowly works her thumbs against the tired flesh.
Beca winces, then sighs when the pain eventually subsides enough for her shoulders to relax. “Chloe?” she asks, hugging a cushion to her chest. It’s one of Chloe’s—pink, frilled along the edges, with a tacky heart embroidered at its centre. It’s objectively ugly, but it smells vaguely like her, and it makes her Safe Place feel like home, so it only makes sense that Beca loves it more than she can bear to say out loud.
“Mmhmm?”
“How was your day?”
Chloe grins in a way that tugs a smile on Beca’s lips immediately. “Pretty good. I had lunch with Aubrey today, and she spent fifteen minutes grilling the waiter about the salad she wanted to order. That was pretty funny until it got uncomfortable. Oh! And the last article about Victorian hair art did pretty well, so we’re thinking of doing a series of historical pieces on mourning jewelry around the world.”
“How’s the book deal for the blog? I know you guys were pretty excited,” Beca says. She mumbles her thanks when Chloe puts her legs down across her lap, then eases the pillow out of her arms to carry her once more into her lap. Beca sighs contentedly, curling up like clockwork to rest her head against Chloe’s chest.
Chloe kisses her forehead, her fingers drawing lazy circles along her back. “It’s really coming along. It’s still a little surreal, to be honest, but given the amount of content we’ve produced in the last three years, we’re thinking we might even have enough to put out two or three books in addition to the travel book series that Stacie has been brainstorming.”
“I’m really proud of you, Chloe,” Beca says, lifting her head to plant a kiss on her jaw. Chloe giggles, returning it with a tender kiss on the lips. In Chloe’s arms like this, it’s easy for Beca to forget that she’s extraordinary. Like this, she can believe she’s simply Beca Mitchell, just another woman so in love that nothing else matters. She sighs once more, closing her eyes as her hand presses against Chloe’s shoulder, kissing her back languidly.
“Do you want to tell me about your day?” Chloe whispers into the inch of space between their lips with an encouraging smile.
Beca shakes her head. “It’s…I’d rather not. But I want to hear more about yours.”
“Okay,” Chloe says, swiping the tip of her nose across Beca’s, “well, let me see what else…oh, I know! Today, I watched…”
Beca really loves listening to Chloe talk. She loves a lot of things about Chloe—her carefree smile, her sense of humour, her kindness, her empathy, the way she understands Beca and fills her life with colours she’s never seen before—but she really does love listening to Chloe talk. She loves the everyday stories, the big and small adventures she embarks on for her blog. She loves listening to her passion, her thoughts, the cadence of her voice, and the kaleidoscope of her mind.
“I love you, Chloe.”
Chloe stops in the middle of her story and chuckles. “I love you too, Becs,” she says. “Where did that come from?”
“Just thinking out loud. Sorry,” Beca mumbles, burying her face into the crook of her neck to hide her embarrassment.
“You’re so cute,” Chloe giggles, squeezing her close. “Are you hungry, by the way? I have some leftovers from lunch that I can heat up for you.”
“I don’t want to move.”
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, baby.”
Beca murmurs her agreement, closing her eyes to allow herself to be lulled by Chloe’s warmth and the gentle strokes of fingers through her hair.
Silently, she thanks her, even if it never feels like it’s enough. She knows this isn’t what Chloe imagined when they met in school all those years ago. She’d warned her, pushed her away—she gave herself a million reasons to stay away, but Chloe has always been comfortable making a home inside her hear. After all, trying not to fall in love with Chloe Beale is like trying to stop a waterfall with a butterfly net.
But this isn’t the life she envisioned for them when they fell in love—there were no picket fences, no promises that could be carried over to tomorrow. All they have is a refurbished cave in the bluffs and the promise of love. A fraction of all the things that Beca wanted to give.
Her phone chimes in her pocket, and she groans.
“It’s okay, Becs,” Chloe assures her with a kiss to her head. “I’ll be here when you come back.”
“Maybe…after I come back, we can go to Italy for gelato again?” Beca asks shyly.
Chloe hums with pleasure. “That sounds nice. But only if you’re up for it. You’ve had a long day, and I don’t want you to be too tired.”
“I don’t want to be too tired either,” Beca sighs, sitting up. She nibbles at her lower lip, her eyes catching Chloe’s. The words bubble out from her chest before she realizes they’d been laying dormant for ten years. “I want to fly us all over the world every night and see the world through your eyes. I want to lay in bed with you and just forget the world. I want to go down to the quay sometimes and watch the boats go by while you’re holding my hand. I want…I want a life with you, Chloe. A life that’s…that’s more…more than this.”
“Beca…”
Beca brushes her fingers across Chloe’s open palm. “I know the world needs me to make it safe, but…I need you the way the world needs me. You’re my safe place, Chloe. Will you…wait for me? To give you that?”
Misty-eyed, Chloe reaches for Beca and kisses her gently on the lips. “I will always wait for you. Until the end of time and beyond,” she whispers with a smile, “but you should know that you already have a life with me. I love you, Beca Mitchell, and as long as you let me stay by your side and be your safe place…that’s enough for me. You are enough.”
Beca nods, too many emotions knotted in her throat to speak, and kisses her back.
When she stands on that ledge once more, overlooking the endless horizon beyond their private bluff, her heart soars with possibility. When she leaps into the sky, warmed by the glow of the setting sun and Chloe’s words engraved into her heart, she smiles.
Soon, she will be back on this ledge just like thousands of times before. She will be back in the safety of Chloe’s arms, dreaming of a future beyond the weight of the world as she often did. A future with Chloe and summer mornings on the quay. Ice cream on the coast of the Italian Riviera. Making pancakes for dinner. Making plans for the rest of their lives.
Just the two of them.
But for once, those dreams don’t feel so far away.