Chapter Text
(The first dream comes that first night Beatrice spends alone. The rest of the day was a blur; leaving Adriel’s temple, returning to Dr. Salvius’ base and telling her of what happened, getting the OCS ready to deal with another major conflict while still being Pope-less. It was a mess, and one Beatrice is glad she stayed rather numb through.
It is only when she got to her room that the emptiness became a problem. She is alone and in a room that provided no comfort.
Her bag lies on the ground, filled with the few items she had kept on her person from Switzerland (a precious photo of herself and Ava at a ‘staff party’ where Hans had left early and essentially left herself and Ava alone, the rosary beads her grandparents had given her for her communion which were made of Spanish marble and cost a small fortune, a sheet of paper with a phone number that Camila had quickly pressed into her hand as she left Cat’s Cradle with Ava all those months ago). Everything else in the bag was new, unfamiliar. The fire at the movie theatre had taken most of their belongings. She was alone.
Totally and utterly alone.
Her body acts of it’s own accord, picking a jumper up from her bag despite the warm weather they had been experiencing and walking her down the hall to a room she consciously did not want to go into. Ava’s room. But she is so alone.
Ava’s room, unlike hers, is a mess of clothes and items, thrown out of a bag on the floor. It almost made Beatrice anxious, but the anxiety just holds onto her heart instead and made her eyes pool with water. No, not anxiety. Grief. Ava really is gone.
One deep breath settles Beatrice’s mind, and she almost makes it incident free until she sees a piece of paper on the bed.
Beatrice
Her name spelled across the front. In Ava’s messy and borderline illegible handwriting, despite the calligraphy lessons Beatrice had given her. Water splashes the page and Beatrice rubs at her eyes to get them to stop.
Her hands hover over the fold of the paper, her hands static but her mind screaming at her to open the letter. But a calmer voice spoke above the screams.
I don’t want to have read Ava’s final words in this world.
She should always have words Beatrice hasn’t yet heard or was expecting. Beatrice can’t live in a world with no new-Ava words. She wont.
And though this world is Ava-less, nothing demands Beatrice accept that. Not yet, not ever.
So she sobs. She didn’t feel the first tears fall but by the time she is conscious of them the page was dotted with tears which had already fallen.
She lies her head down on Ava’s pillow, tries not to think about how she can smell Ava all around her and it makes her think of their home and their bed in Switzerland, and she cries herself to sleep.)
——
‘No!’ Ava yells and the Halo pulses strong enough to push everyone through the fair, and Beatrice sis saved from being at the receiving end of a shotgun bullet.
Beatrice’s dream is so realistic, her memory being relived.
‘Ava!’ Beatrice calls out, seeing the new Warrior Nun herself thrown back from the blast and unmoving.
‘Bea.’ Ava chokes out and Beatrice’s blood runs cold. Ava hadn’t called her that, not here. Beatrice remembers the first time, after the long drive to Switzerland when she had just wanted to order food and Beatrice had wanted to make their own dinner to save money. All Ava had to say was that nickname in her soft and pleading voice and Beatrice had cracked.
Which was not for long after this day.
But Dream-Beatrice does not react. She can’t move her own muscles to do so.
‘Ava, are you okay?’ She continues, right beside Ava now, hands cradling whatever part of Ava’s body she could reach. The sight of her like this, blood covering her face and her body curled in on itself makes Beatrice feel ill. Ava should have never been in this position in the first place.
‘Something’s wrong. I can’t move.’ Ava gasps out, panic clear across her facial features. Beatrice can feel it too, Ava’s panic spreading to her like a yawn, slow but inevitable.
‘Can you feel my hand?’ Beatrice grabs her hand and squeezes it hard. She tries to be realistic in most instances of her life, but everything in her is begging Ava to say she could feel her.
‘Y-yeah.’
‘You just over exerted yourself. Probably just temporary.’ Please, dear God, if you’re ever just or kind, don’t let this be the end for Ava, don’t leave her back where she started.
With Mary urging them to move faster, Beatrice lifts Ava from the ground. With Mary’s help -
- Beatrice tries, she tries to turn to Mary and say she’s sorry, that she misses her, that she would be avenged and Shannon would be too, but her body remains stuck in what had occurred, an itchy sensation holding her hostage -
With Mary’s help they walk through the doorway of the Warrior Nun’s room in the Cat’s Cradle and somehow simultaneously enter the van Vincent had waiting, the road rumbling underneath the wheels already.
‘Pull over here. We need to stop the bleeding.’ Had her voice really sounded this collected and calm? When her heart pounds loud enough to deafen herself and her hands shake slightly.
Camila helps her hold the fabric to the arrow wound in Ava’s chest.
‘You’re going to be okay.’
Ava smiles in response, and she looks at Beatrice alone with this soft expression that Beatrice can’t help but just sink into, almost forgetting the other two sisters in the van with them.
‘How’s she doing?’ Vincent cuts across and Beatrice all but jerks to consciousness, avoiding Camila’s curious look she can see out of the corner of her eyes while also avoiding the warmth in her cheeks from the prolonged eye contact with Ava.
‘Well she’s smiling. I’ll take that as a good sign.’ Mary says and Beatrice glances back to Ava only to her still looking, smile still world-endingly soft.
The van takes off again with a growl from the engine.
~~
(Beatrice wakes up and for a split second, while she’s surrounded by the smell of Ava, she convinces herself everything has been a bad dream and she was waking up in Switzerland. It’s the sound of sister nuns training in Dr. Salvius’ courtyard which came to hear ears before she opened her eyes which told her different.
Her face is crusty with dried tears.
She tries not to think that Ava would have wiped them away before they’d dried if she was still here.
But something from her dream sticks with her. ‘Bea.’; the way Ava had said something different. Maybe Beatrice’s mind was affecting her memories, editing to make them more palatable for re-experiencing.
Though truthfully Beatrice cares little for why her memories had changed in her dream. Only that her dream had stuck with her and she had seen Ava again. The other factors were minor and periphery.
She only had to recreate those circumstances to see Ava again, and at the current moment seeing Ava again is pretty much all Beatrice wishes for.
So she goes about her day, training herself into exhaustion and trying not to count the minutes before she could sleep again.
‘Beatrice!’ She could hear Yasmin calling her from across the courtyard, but she ignores it and continues her form practice, circling the punching bag and hitting it with odd punches in a variety of fighting styles. ‘Beatrice!’
It doesn’t stop but neither does she. Beatrice knows that Yasmin must mean well, she is kind and Beatrice understands that. But she has also been looking at Beatrice with a face of pure pity the last few days, and Beatrice does not do well with pity, regardless of the circumstances.
And these circumstances, the present moment and their predicament, none are static and therefore is nothing to be mourning. It was temporary and could- no, it would be fixed.
She is so lost in thought, so internally adamant that she would save Ava despite any cost, that when a hand lands on her shoulder she turns with speed and raises her arms in a defensive stance, only to see Yasmin standing in front of her, backing away sheepishly.
‘Sorry-’ she begins, but so does Beatrice.
‘No, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-’
‘No, I should warn the highly trained individuals I sneak up on-’
‘Yasmin, you are fine,’ Beatrice interrupts, not feeling like a well-intentioned but annoying back-and-forth which is bound to occur. ‘What is it? Questions about training?’
Beatrice can see her facial expression, she can see the pull of her cheeks and the tilt of her eyebrows and she can physically see her pity, but Beatrice remains of faith and prays that Yasmin had a question on proper form of taekwondo move. But, as with so, so many things, her prayers go unanswered.
‘No, I just wanted to say I am sorry. About Ava.’ She almost whispers her name, and a shock of anger surges through Beatrice, illogical but undeniable. She exhales sharply to try to regain control of herself. ‘I just see how you’re still fighting, which is impressive don’t get me wrong, but I know what she meant to you and,’ Yasmin babbles on and Beatrice’s hands clench and unclench with a rhythm.
‘Yasmin, I am fine.’ She turns from the new nun and returns to her workout. Jab, hook, undercut, hook again. A system momentary and helps Beatrice work through her thoughts. But the remaining presence of Yasmin is like a thorn in her side, her workout not calming her like usual.
‘You say that but I don’t think anyone fully believes you.’
She says it like Beatrice wasn’t able to hear, but when she turns to look at her Yasmin is barely holding back tears.
‘It’s been a hard few months for us all, but holding it all in is the worst thing you can do. Especially with so many around you who want to help. Ava’s death doesn’t mean-’
‘Ava isn’t dead.’ She near shouts it accidentally, the sounds of other nuns training nearby halting for a moment, it felt like her belief alone had caused the world itself to stop. But she was never that important, and so the world resumes.
Ava’s voice echoes in her mind, glowing in yellow and tears running down her face already, ‘I die so that everyone else can live’, and it hits Beatrice again how unfair that is, given all they had been through already, given all Ava had been through her whole life. And Beatrice again for the thousandth time since she let Ava fall through that portal she swears that that will not be the end of Ava Silva’s story.
‘Beatrice, she is gone.’
‘Gone and dead are different. Hell, dead and unrecoverable are different if Ava’s past experiences are anything to go by.’ She curses without thinking, ignoring how Yasmin’s eyebrows shoot up.
‘I don’t know if that kind of hope is healthy.’ Yasmin looks genuinely worried, and Beatrice would feel bad if she didn’t see a flicker of her mother; ‘This life style isn’t healthy, nor is it natural’, and anger surges through her again.
‘Well, then I shall consider it fortunate I did not ask you then.’
‘Beatrice,’ Yasmin tries, but Beatrice cuts her off, eyes closed to avoid seeing Yasmin being understanding despite Beatrice’s treatment of her.
‘I don’t mean to be harsh. I need to be alone at the minute. Best of luck with your training. I will see you at dinner.’
She can hear Yasmin begin to speak again, but she has already turned away and walked fast out of the courtyard.
Once alone, she found herself standing in the middle of Ava’s room, not even remembering how she made her way here. It is similar to their place in Switzerland, Beatrice questions how Ava had managed to find knickknacks to display during the short amount of time they were in Salvius’ house but eventually she simply smiles, in awe of Ava’s continuing ability to amaze her.
Slowly, without giving it much thought, she slowly begins moving her things into Ava’s room. She puts her stuff on her side of the bed- or rather the side which had been hers in Switzerland, the left. Her bag lies the same as in her own room, packed and lacking much of importance, while Ava’s things remain all over the floor. Beatrice is in Ava’s space, and it feels that way.
Lying down that night, Beatrice felt as much. She feels invasive, corruptive in a space Ava had occupied alone. She almost reads the letter, aching for any reassurance that Beatrice’s emotions had been reciprocated and that Ava’s existence on this plane is still evident, but instead she thinks of the first night she had felt like such an intrusion, and falls asleep to the oddly comforting memory.)
~~
Her dream starts almost documentary-style, showing images of the journey to Switzerland in a slideshow. The first night in Switzerland had not been a calm thing. The whole day, and more before, had consisted solely of travel. Motorways after motorways of distance covered before they reached the place Mother Superion felt comfortable assigning them to train. A country Beatrice hadn’t returned to since her graduation from her boarding school.
A place Ava had never seen and, if her constant habit of admiring the surrounding topography was enough to go by, one she was delighted to be in for the first time.
‘Beatrice did you see that tree? It was so tall!’
‘Beatrice that lake looks gorgeous. How far is it from the town we are staying in? I want to visit it!’
‘Beatrice, I could survive falling off that mountain right? Can we test it? And then go camping and make s’mores?’
What definitely didn’t help Ava’s never ending access to a ridiculous amount of energy, was the adorable hideout apartment which had been procured for the two of them.
‘Look at these curtains, they’re like a granny’s! Did you know your grandparents?’ Ava spins around the room, only coming to rest when she sees Beatrice in the doorway of the bedroom.
‘Yes.’ Beatrice replies honestly and shortly, wishing not to dwell too long on her family. Ava’s hands land on her shoulders before she drapes her arm across Beatrice’s shoulder as she slides in beside her, hips bumping together.
Beatrice’s brain grinds to a halt, still entirely not used to being Ava’s only outlet for her constant need for physical interaction. Each touch is mundane and entirely platonic, as it naturally would be, and each and every time Beatrice cant help the miniscule internal panic which is sets ablaze.
She smiles at Ava, before moving from her half embrace and throwing her bag around Ava’s side, landing perfectly on the lumpy looking futon. ‘Best get ready for bed. First day of training tomorrow, it won’t be my fault if you’re tired and cranky.’
Ava moves back to let Beatrice into the room, but then raises her arms in defiance once the words settle in.
‘We fought Adriel literally two days ago. Can’t we wait a bit? Rest?’
‘Do you think he is resting?’
Ava doesn’t get it, not like Beatrice did. Ava is powerful with the Halo, yes of course, but she’s never seen it at full power in a fully trained Warrior Nun. And if they were going to have any chance to beat Adriel, that’s what they needed to make Ava into.
‘Bea,’ Ava begins with a sigh, the newfound and effective nickname already sounding normal to Beatrice from Ava. ‘We need to rest. At least a little. I need to rest. I think we need to process what happened. With Vincent. And with Mary-‘
‘Lilith is going to find Mary.’ She doesn’t mean to cut Ava off, it is almost a guttural reaction.
‘I know. I know she will.’ Ava’s eyes do that thing again, they melt in a way that makes Beatrice never want to look away. She turns her shoulder to Ava and begins to unpack her bag. ‘I just don’t think us both running on fumes is a good idea. Isn’t recuperation an important part of any training programme?’
Beatrice freezes. It is logical, of course. Rest days are integral to any good training plan, though she knows she rarely gives herself enough time to rest. And on top of that she hates it when Ava makes a good point which contrasts to what she’s said.
‘That’s a fair perspective.’ She admits slowly, already feeling the smile Ava lets loose.
‘Perfect! You’ll join me for some sightseeing tomorrow then! I think I saw the town square on the drive in.’
‘Ava.’ She is about to give out, for what she isn’t quite sure but Ava’s habit of being a nuisance is almost getting old to Beatrice, but then when she looks at Ava she only sees that beaming smile.
‘Beatrice.’ Ava says back in a slight taunting tone, grinning and swinging her head a little. Beatrice sighs. Maybe scouting the local area would be a good idea. Get a lay of the land before assuming things are safe. Yes, this was actually the more logical choice.
‘Fine.’ She punctuates the word by plonking down on the futon which groans under the surprise weight. Ava frowns at her.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Resting.’ She spreads her arms dramatically, showing off the less than luxurious bed she’s made for herself. ‘Or attempting to, at least.’
‘Bea, don’t be ridiculous. There’s room for the both of us on this bed.’ Ava pats the bed with her hand and Beatrice hopes her face doesn’t go as red as it feels, burning her cheeks. Logically, it makes sense. The bed is a four-foot, not quite a double but would fit them both fine enough. She’s not one to move much once she’s asleep, so she doesn’t have to worry about rolling off the bed or even (God forbid) into Ava.
But when her mind conjures the prospect of sharing a bed with Ava, it isn’t the idea that they might bump into each other in the night that terrifies her. It’s that her body may act on her feelings without her conscious brain to stop herself. Beatrice was acutely aware she has feelings for Ava, but that’s not what’s needs right now. And Ava doesn’t feel the same.
‘This couch is fine. I promise.’ Beatrice rolls over to prove her point and has to physically restrain from wincing at the loud creak produced by the old frame. Ava raises one eyebrow at Beatrice and she knows she isn’t going to win this argument. Not that that would stop Beatrice.
‘You’re the Warrior Nun, you need a reliable and consistently better night's sleep than I.’
‘You drove us here while I napped, you need the rest and recuperation more than me.’ Ava responds quickly, not taking any moment to allow Beatrice to argue her way out of this.
‘So you don’t need rest. We can train tomorrow then.’
‘Beatrice.’ She rolls her eyes and Beatrice knows Ava’s patience is running thin. ‘Just get into bed.’
She almost doesn’t. Beatrice is almost committed to staying the night on the futon until Ava looks at her again, only for a second before looking at the ground by Beatrice’s bag.
‘I don’t want to be alone, okay?’
Beatrice lies for another moment, almost resolved in her choices. But Ava’s voice echoes in another memory, one where Beatrice promised to be with Ava if she were a head in a bag and she moves without even deciding to do so.
‘Alright then.’
Ava nods, only glancing back up to Beatrice for a moment with a lip between her teeth anxiously, before they both pull back the covers and sit into the bed. It’s significantly more comfortable than the futon, in the same way that a concrete slab is significantly more comfortable than a bed of nails. Beatrice lies deadly still, trying not to even move the blanket too much and disturb Ava.
‘Thanks, Bea.’ Ava whispers, her head must be somewhere near Beatrice’s shoulder as she feels the breath of the words hit her skin as they’re said.
‘Goodnight Ava.’ She whispers back, feeling her cheeks flush again as a hand reaches for her own under the covers. Beatrice let’s one last harboured breath out, and her heart rate slows at the same time she hears Ava’s breathing deepen as she falls asleep next to her.