Chapter Text
The evening news echoed slightly through the barely furnished apartment, reporting on another incident that Beatrice might have paid attention to before… well, just before. She didn’t put much energy into following such things these days.
To say the apartment was barely furnished might be an understatement. A Spartan would feel it could use a bit more sprucing up. But that was never Beatrice’s thing. Even before joining the order, every room she'd ever inhabited had been decorated for her, each item chosen meticulously by her mother and her prized team of decorators to give off the best image for the next photoshoot.
In the order, everyone was given the same necessities to survive. Most, like Mary and Shannon, chose to add their own touches to their assigned rooms, but Beatrice did what she always did and stuck with what she was given.
And in Switzerland, well, she tried not to think of that one, where almost every surface of the one-bedroom apartment was covered in Ava's constant collections of "I've always wanted one." The crooked bookshelf Ava found at a flea market had been overflowing with random books, some in languages she knew for a fact that Ava didn't understand. She didn't dare linger on the memory of the small fridge filled with 8 different types of pickles, or the 5 mismatched bowls Ava had brought home, without explanation, that they had eaten everything out of.
Beatrice sighed as she looked at her reflection, freshly showered, meticulously dressed. Her clothes were perfectly pressed and she ran the tips of her fingers down the placket, the line of buttons aligned perfectly with the button-fly of her jeans.
Would it kill you to undo a button every now and then? Ava’s voice had a tendency of judging her even when she wasn’t present.
With a moment of hesitation, Beatrice unbuttoned the top button with a nod and grabbed her jacket. She was on a mission, a promise that needed fulfilling.
Well, to be quite honest, she didn't agree to the promise, but it was forced upon her. It had been Ava's request, the last before she disappeared through the arc, before leaving Beatrice alone, whispering confessions of love into the emptiness.
To let her go.
To live.
Pausing at the door, Beatrice quickly rebuttoned the top button before leaving.
The bar was packed as always, both dart boards and the shuffleboard table currently in use by small groups of drunken college students. It wasn’t a gay bar, per se, but being as close to the university as it was, there was a good diversity of patrons. She let her eyes rake over the crowd, more out of habit than necessity, searching for anyone that could be an enemy in disguise… or somewhere to sit. Spotting an empty place at the bar, she moved easily around the bodies. She slipped onto the empty stool and smiled at the bartender. “Hello, John.”
“Good evening, Beatrice. We’ve got a new cider on tap if you’re looking to try something new. Lei’d Back Lilikoi.” The slim bartender was older, in his late 40s, early 50s with salt and pepper hair. He was dressed in a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Thin suspenders and a tie rounded off the look with a half-apron tied around his waist. “Shall I start a tab for ya?” He was a gentle soul that was good at his job and had more than once lent an ear when Beatrice had stayed until closing a few nights.
Beatrice nodded. “Well, I’m certainly up for trying something new, and I’m not adverse to passion fruit, so yes, please.” The drink appeared in seconds, the yellowish liquid bubbling as she looked around her once more. Two months. It had been two months since she lost Ava, two weeks less since she left the Order. She had decided to go as far away as possible.
Just then the door burst open with more force than necessary.
“ALOHA BITCHES!” A small group of frat boys came through the door, rowdy and half drunk as they met up with the group at the shuffleboard tables.
Beatrice shook her head, returning to her drink. The cider was tangy and tickled her senses, something she’d come to enjoy. The bar always had a wide range of ciders from one of the local breweries and she felt more a part of the crowd by supporting the local economy.
She’d been a child the one time she had been to Hawai’i, a diplomatic trip with her parents, but it was nothing like she remembered. She had been restricted to activities approved by her parents and she had been closely watched by her two nannies and her parents’ ever present security detail, but as an adult, she was free to explore the tourist-laden islands freely.
Ava would love Hawai’i. She could almost imagine Ava being behind the bar, having to stumble through learning the more tropical-themed recipes with all these ridiculous college kids lining up to hit on her. It was something she’d had to deal with in the Alps. Ava was just so full of life that people naturally flocked to her.
Two more drinks in and she had fallen down an almost drunken rabbit hole of imagining showing Ava what she’d discovered and done the past month. She almost laughed out loud at the thought of Ava learning she knew how to surf. What would Ava say if Beatrice took her to explore Haleakalā on Maui, which was also called the House of the Sun, to watch the sunset together. She could hear the ever constant “holy shit” that Ava loved to blurt when full of wonder.
Emptying the last of her pint glass, she signaled for a glass of water as she sighed heavily. She needed to get Ava out of her mind.
She wasn't quite sure why people often drank to try to forget their troubles. When Beatrice drank, it was like the memories came pouring back and she could smell the sweet perfume Ava had worn in Switzerland and taste the sorrow on her lips from their first and last kiss. Maybe drinking was just her method of self-sabotage when she was supposed to be moving on, finding a girl, falling in love again, and living happily ever after.
Sipping her water, she let her eyes drag across the bar once more. It had gotten less busy as people moved on to a club that had dancing, or wherever drunken collegiates went. Half the barstools were empty as people tended to congregate at the booths and tables in their own groups. Her eyes suddenly found those of a woman watching her.
The woman was cute, about the same height as Ava, but her hair was short, almost a pixie cut and her skin was a touch darker. She wore a bikini top under a shirt that was buttoned-up halfway, leaving a bit of her skin exposed to the hot air that filled the bar. It reminded her a lot of being back in the bar in Switzerland.
With Ava.
Maybe she was drunker than she thought, or being mid-sip finishing her water, because Beatrice didn’t notice the woman move until she was slipping into the seat right beside her, a smile lighting her face up.
“Do you mind me sitting here?"
“Of course not.” Beatrice smiled, dabbing her mouth with a small napkin. "I'm told it's a free country."
"Oof, no politics at the bar, " the woman joked, signaling John. "To make up for such a faux pas, you have to let me buy you a drink."
"You don't have to do that…" Beatrice started, definitely not prepared for the interaction.
"It's your punishment, remember?" The woman grinned; the tip of her tongue captured between her teeth. “It’s called a vacation.” The woman leaned close, to speak over the music as John placed two shots full of ominous, blue liquid down. If she closed her eyes, Beatrice could have imagined a more playful voice, less seductive, bordering on pestering and irritating – a voice she longed to hear again. “You definitely look like you need one.” It was a joke, but Beatrice felt her walls coming back up even in her slightly inebriated stage.
How in the lord’s name was she supposed to ever go on with her life?
The woman brushed a hand against her arm, and it was everything in Beatrice not to jerk her arm away. This was wrong. She wasn’t ready.
“I do indeed,” Beatrice gave her a small smile. It wasn’t in her to be rude. “But I can’t accept it,” At the woman’s suddenly crestfallen look, she raised a hand, “I’m… still getting over someone and I’d hate for you to invest your time in an interaction that won’t end in your favor.”
The woman pursed her lips. “Oh Hun, then you definitely need it, no expectations.” She leaned a little bit away to give Beatrice some space before leaning over the counter. “John! Another round of vacations!”
John winked with a grin before tossing the towel he’d been wiping the counter with over his shoulder and reached for a clean mixer.
“What? No.” Beatrice raised both hands in a stopping motion. “I think we have a misunderstanding…”
“No misunderstanding, no worries.” The woman laughed. “I’ve been there.” She gestured to the shot glass. “John’s drinks are the best solution."
Well, if there was an understanding of no expectations, Beatrice couldn't object without being rude. Maybe she could make a friend? Beatrice nodded, lifting the glass. "Thank you. I’m Beatrice."
"That…is an awesomely old-fashioned name." The woman moved a little closer to the edge of her stool, an inch or so closer to Beatrice. "It's Hebrew, you know, means bringer of joy."
Beatrice raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Do you happen to know the origin and meaning of every name thrown your way?"
She laughed. "That would be a skill. No, sorry I didn't mean to seem creepy. It's just a crazy coincidence. I'm majoring in theology, and we were just going over Dante last semester."
Beatrice grimaced internally. She definitely did not come to the bar to discuss God or anything of the sort. "Ah yes. I believe I've heard of the character in his works."
"She wasn't just a character. She was the manifestation of love, guiding him through heaven.” The woman lifted her glass. “I’m Shannon.”
Beatrice froze for a moment at the name.
It was long enough for her to notice. “Don’t tell me this mystery ex was named Shannon.”
Beatrice laughed nervously, shaking her head as she picked up the drink. “No, her name was Ava. One of my sisters was named Shannon, before she died.” Beatrice was sober enough to know she was saying too much, but not sober enough to stop herself from responding. She tapped her drink to the rim of Shannon’s before downing the shot. It tasted like coconuts and orange if they were on fire, and she winced.
“Huh,” Shannon set her empty shot glass down and tilted her head to the side. “That was a lot for a couple sentences.” She accepted the next set of shots from the bartender. “I’m an only kid, so I can’t imagine losing a sibling.” She slid one of the shots to Beatrice. “We should totally drink to her!”
"Alright,” Beatrice released a small laugh, accepting the next shot. “But she wasn’t a sibling. She was a… Sister with God? We were both nuns in the same order.”
“NO…WAY!” Shannon’s mouth dropped open, her dark brown eyes raking over Beatrice’s form from head to toe. “You’re a nun? But,” her brows furrowed as if trying to calculate everything.
“I was a nun, until a little under 2 months ago.” Beatrice blinked, her vision starting to blur slightly. What drink was she on? Five? Six? She should probably get going soon. She didn't live far away, but she didn't intend on roaming the streets while inebriated. “When Ava left, I couldn’t be there.”
“That,” Shannon lifted her shot glass, “is super hot, no offense, but it’s like real life fanfic. Secret nun-on-nun action in defiance of the church and a broody Mother Superior set to separate them forever.”
“Mother Supereon was very supportive actually.” Beatrice shook her head, lifting her glass. “To the Shannons of the world. New and old.”
“Fuck yeah!” Shannon tapped her glass to the other before quickly downing the drink.
The shot didn’t burn as much as it should. Beatrice set the empty glass down and accepted the glass of water from the bartender. “I think that should be the last.”
“Sadness. How about one more for the road?” Shannon raised a finger just seconds before another shot was placed in front of Beatrice alone. She gave John a look of confusion.
“Okay, just one more, but no more sad declarations.” Beatrice picked up the shot, pausing for a moment.
“Um, I didn’t…” Shannon started but trailed off as she watched Beatrice take the shot.
Beatrice looked down at the empty shot glass, the taste of lemon and sugar on her lips bringing back a memory she tried to ignore. It’s sweet. As she looked down at the glass, she noticed a soft glow from under her shirt and she froze. It was the divinium cross that Yasmine had given to her before they parted ways. So she could better find what she was looking for.
Had she been a little more sober, she would have moved far more smoothly than she did, which was not the case as she spun on the barstool and nearly slid off if not for the hand that grabbed her arm, supplying a balance she desperately needed.
“Hey, Bea,” the familiar voice was the same yet different. There was the playful rasp she loved so much, but there was a heaviness to it, a gravity that wasn’t there when they were last together. “Am I interrupting?”
Beatrice couldn’t get her mouth or brain to work. So many questions were taking up all the mindpower she had–starting with how?
“Something tells me your name is Ava.” Shannon pursed her lips, her eyes going from Beatrice to Ava. “And I’m suddenly a third wheel.” She gave Beatrice a cautious look before stepping back and away.
All the etiquette classes she took as a child went out the door. Beatrice would have said goodbye to Shannon, if her mind wasn't completely spinning. It was like the entire room disappeared except for her and Ava. “Ava?” Beatrice brought her hand up, cupping Ava’s jaw. “Are you really here?”
Ava nodded, her hand coming up to cover Beatrice’s. “You are one tough girl to find when you don’t want to be found.”
“How did…what… where did you…” Beatrice stumbled over the words before closing her eyes and taking a calming breath, leaning forward to press her forehead to Ava’s. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Ava laughed softly. “I’m back!”
“You’re back.” Beatrice felt the laugh rip itself from her chest, unable to suppress the giddiness she felt. “I have a million questions I need answered, but at the moment it feels like such a waste of time to ask them.”
Ava smiled, turning to place a kiss to the palm cupping her face. “Maybe you have somewhere we can go to talk?” She let her eyes find Shannon in the bar. "Somewhere not as…busy?"
“Oh. Yes, come with me.” Beatrice slipped her hand into Ava’s and began to pull her towards the exit of the bar. The chilled night air was a blessing as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, avoiding the others that walked the busy street.
Ava’s hands held Beatrice’s in a protective grip, as if she were afraid they’d get separated. It wasn’t a long walk, and Beatrice traversed it mostly on auto pilot, her mind racing. Ava’s hands were wrapped around her own. Ava was walking beside her. Ava was here, going back to her apartment with her. Beatrice looked to Ava to see her eyes completely locked on her own, watching her closely.
She almost walked right past her building, but Ava seemed to knowingly stop, her eyes not leaving Beatrice’s face. Beatrice gave her a questioning look.
“I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to say hi for like two days?”
“Two days?” Beatrice unlocked the building door, allowing Ava to go in first before making sure the building door locked behind them. For some reason, even in her inebriated state, she felt her protective instincts resurfacing. “You’ve been here for two days?”
Ava finally looked away, tugging Bea to the elevator to hit the up button. “If you think that’s bad, you’re really going to hate how long it took Camila to find you.”
When they entered the elevator, it left the two of them in a silence that, for the first time in a while, felt uncomfortable. "Ava." Beatrice had a million questions she needed answers to, but there was one that preceded the others. "How long has it been for you?"
"Well, it's weird 'cause time isn't really the same there and all but according to Jillian, it would have been about six years for me."
"Six years." Beatrice swallowed, her grip on Ava's hand slacking. "So you probably don't even… you don’t …" She trailed off, not wanting to voice what was one of her biggest fears. What if Ava didn't even remember the kiss?
"Every night I thought of you," Ava's eyes were on their hands, "of that kiss." She traced Bea's knuckles with her thumb. "I remember the look of disbelief in your eyes when I said I love you."
"So, you…" Beatrice had faced down rows of enemies attempting to destroy her, rooms full of wraiths, and a horde of Adriel's followers. None were as terrifying as one tiny warrior nun.
"Bea, I am still in love with you, and I really want to show you exactly how much, but you're also really drunk right now and I'm trying to be chivalrous. " As the elevator door opened, Ava stepped out, tugging Bea with her until their motion just stopped.
Beatrice pulled Ava back to look at her, seeing nothing but truthful affection in her eyes. "I love you, Ava." Beatrice brought her free hand up to caress the soft cheek she'd dreamt of touching again. "I know I am slightly inebriated and you might think that has an influence over my admission, but I made a promise to myself that I would tell you as soon as you returned."
Ava leaned into the touch, her eyes darting back and forth between Bea’s eyes and her lips. “Fuck chivalry,” she commented before leaning forward, pressing a kiss to soft lips.
Unlike their first kiss, Beatrice was prepared for it. There was no moment of hesitation, no dumb struck look on her face as Ava released her hand and wrapped both arms around her neck. Beatrice circled Ava’s waist, pulling her closer, sinking into the kiss that she never wanted to end.
It was Ava who broke off the kiss, licking her lips with a giggle as she pressed her forehead to Bea’s. “We should…”
“We should go inside,” Beatrice spoke just as Ava was suggesting the same, causing a chuckle of her own.