i just found your tumblr and wanted to thank u so muchhh for Pure Gold!!!! since I discovered it last year it became my favorite clexa fanfic and every time I miss some good story I just go and read everything again, and it keeps getting better. you're an amazing writer, everything about lexa and clarke's relationship in that fic is beautiful and painfully well written!!! 🫂
Ahhh! Thank you! I honestly love that AU, so I'm SUUUUUPER glad you like it!! And you totally made my day by sending me this. Thanks so much!!!
Ava is fine. As fine as she can be given that she just got told she’ll be killing herself, and someone else, to save humanity, anyway. So maybe not like, fine, fine but it’s all relative. She just...
“I just need a minute, Bea. Can you...?”
The request is out before she can really even process it herself, because Bea is there waiting, and at some point over the past few months, she has come to trust that Bea will have her back and to be okay with it. She still trusts it, even though Bea broke her heart just a few hours ago. And like, given that she almost punched a guy for having the nerve to save her from literally drowning in a swimming pool not even six months ago, that feels like kind of a big fucking deal.
Not for the first time, Ava thinks of who she might be, where she might be, without Beatrice, and feels a gratitude so big it hums through her whole body.
Beatrice immediately jumps to action, because of course she does, grabbing Vincent much more roughly than necessary (not that Ava is going to intervene) and beginning to move everyone toward the door.
“Yes, of course.”
Apparently determined to be the most at all times, Michael instead starts toward the bed.
“Ava, what…”
But he hardly takes a step before Dora has an arm around his elbow, guiding him away. Ava is super fucking grateful, because she really does need a minute and honestly, if she wanted to be around anyone right now, it certainly wouldn’t be him. Like, not surprisingly at all, it would actually be the woman whose eyes are fixed so hard on him that she might melt him, Divinium bomb and all, if he takes one more step toward Ava. Bea’s still got Vincent securely and painfully in her grip but Ava can see the way she’s holding herself, tight as a bow, to keep from doing something that would absolutely not go well for Michael.
“She said that she needs a minute.”
Bea’s voice is a knife and Michael, because he is an idiot, doesn’t seem to notice as she puts it to his throat. Because Dora is not an idiot, her eyes flitting between Bea and the oblivious boy beside her, and because Dora is a sister warrior, it’s one quick twist of Michael’s arm and he’s back in reality. He finally takes note of Beatrice, shoulders slumping a bit, but he doesn’t turn from Ava.
“Right. I just wanted to...”
Bea’s eyes flash and, yep, she’s going to destroy him right there, sorry Jillian and RIP to your idiot son. And to humanity, I guess. At least Ava will get a little more time with Bea as everything burns. Vincent, who is bearing the brunt of Beatrice’s current anger, clears his throat and tries to shift slightly in Bea’s grasp. Beatrice must be ready to murder Michael, or just absolutely lay him out, because she lets him, lets Vincent, move in her hold, even if it’s only like two inches. Bea adjusts her grip and shifts just slightly in the blonde’s direction.
“Was she not clear?”
Ava recognizes that tone. It is the tone reserved for bar patrons who get handsy with Ava and that one absolute creep at the farmer’s market who was so rude that Bea had intervened with an ice cold, “She said she wasn’t interested.” When he tried to snap a picture of her tits as she was bending over to evaluate a tomato, Bea broke his phone and his finger so quickly that they were halfway to the flower stall before he could even figure out what had happened. (“What happened to discreet, Sister Beatrice?” She had asked, delighted, as she tucked a flower behind Bea’s ear and tucked herself into Bea’s side, kissing her cheek and dragging her to the stall with those fruit pastries Bea loved but would only get if Ava asked for them.)
Not looking good for Michael, then. On the plus side, Ava’s a big fan of protective Bea in these low-stakes situations—no risk of real danger for Bea, and Beatrice letting herself be big, take up space, glint sharp like the knives she has tucked in her boots. It’s very hot. She should maybe intervene but like, Ava’s about to die, and not in a melodramatic, my-god-Bea-is-so-hot-it’s-going-to-kill-me way but in a very literal, Jesus-y this-is-my-body-which-is-given-for-you way, so she’s absolutely going to enjoy hot, competent, protective Bea while she still can. Honestly it might do Michael some good to get his ass kicked, anyway. He’s smug as shit for a glorified lithium battery.
Apparently finally understanding his position, Michael frowns at Bea (he’s always frowning at Bea, like he’s expecting her, the fucking deadly assassin nun, to be more impressed by him than she is; it’s very white dude of him), but he turns his body toward the door. Beatrice glares at him until he begins moving, letting Dora follow, before she starts forward with Vincent.
“Hey, Bea?”
Brown eyes soften immediately as they meet hers.
“Can you come back, in a bit?”
“Of course, Ava. Whatever you need.”
She smiles softly at Ava before turning her attention back to Vincent, shoving him out of the room, all hard, sharp edges again.
*****************
Ava sits on their bed (their bed, because neither one of them even thought about sleeping anywhere other than exactly next to each other when they came back and what the actual fuck are they even doing anymore) and tries to get herself together. There’s too much going on in her brain for her to brief the rest of the team right now, but she knows she has to handle her shit, and quickly.
Ava’s just returned from the universe’s worst inter-dimensional sightseeing tour, where she was given a shiny new suicide mission as a souvenir. It fucking sucks and it’s absolutely not fair and it’s also just apparently the only way to save the world, to save Bea, so like, suck it up, Ava, I guess.
Then there’s the pretty fucking severe heartache left from Bea’s response to her admittedly desperate Switzerland pitch. It shouldn’t have been a surprise— Beatrice is a nun, after all, very annoyingly sworn to Jesus and the Church, but Ava felt the rejection so deeply in her body that she hasn’t really been able to breathe properly since. She knows, she knows, that Bea is furious with herself, is dealing with many years of shame and guilt and repression, is absolutely in love with Ava at least half as much as Ava is in love with her. And given that Ava is “die to let you live” levels of in love with her, that’s still a whole fucking lot.
And now that she knows what she has to do, has been reduced to a detonator whose timer is rapidly running down, maybe it’s best that she goes without the hope of a future with Bea, back in Switzerland or anywhere else. Maybe it’s best, but Jesus _Christ_ it hurts, and would it really be too much to ask for her to have this, to have Beatrice get to love her and daydream with her for the final hours of her life? Even if they both knew it was nothing more than a distraction from the absolute shit that is reality, Ava’s pretty down for a distraction right now. She wants to be reminded of how good life can be, how much life can offer. She swears she’ll still do it, still offer herself up, when the time comes. She just wants one moment to daydream with the girl she loves.
“Please.”
She says to no one in particular. To the universe.
Her palms are pressed to her eyelids when she feels the weight of the bed dipping. She takes in the familiar scent of Bea, clean with just a hint of something spicy. (Ava knows it’s the cloves in Bea’s preferred soap, the one she kept returning to over the citrus and woody options in their lineup. Choice was almost as novel to Bea as it was to Ava, so when Ava had placed four different soaps in their basket at the farmer’s market stall, with an “I don’t really know what I like” and a shrug, Bea didn’t say a word about price or excess, just smiled at her gently, “Well, now you can figure it out,” and moved toward the selection of eggs across the way.)
She can’t quite open her eyes yet but her breathing has slowed and she reaches blindly toward Bea’s warmth, her smell, hoping that she’ll understand. Of course she does, and Ava’s hand is quickly and efficiently wrapped in both of Bea’s, one thumb swiping gently over the back of Ava’s hand while the other moves hesitantly over the skin of her wrist.
“Is it okay that I’m back? Do you need more time?”
Bea’s voice is gentle and concerned and Ava feels the halo hum slightly as she lets Bea’s presence wrap around her. Ava squeezes the hand under hers.
“No, I’m glad you’re here. Please stay.”
Ava feels Bea’s weight sink into the bed next to her. Ava’s still working through the reality of her visit with Reya, the unfair feelings she has about Bea’s rejection, the letters she wants to write and goodbyes she wants to say, so she doesn’t speak, just lets herself exist with Bea, confines the loudness of her mind to the inside of her body.
It’s Bea who speaks first, and unexpectedly.
“I lied, earlier. It was cruel, and I’m sorry.”
Ava’s eyes fly open at that, and she finds Bea stripped of her wimple, hair down and tousled in a way that makes Ava ache, makes her want to reach out and touch. Bea’s eyes are red-rimmed, and her jaw is so tight that Ava’s teeth hurt in sympathy. “Bea, what are you…”
“I would follow you anywhere, Ava.”
And, oh. Oh. Beatrice is torturing herself over hurting Ava, because of course she is. Ava, who asked Bea to run away from her lifetime commitment to her faith to work in a bar in the Alps again. Ava, who selfishly wants to rip Bea from the Church and the community that have been her home in favor of a deeply uncomfortable double bed in a flat where it takes 100 years to get the kettle to a boil on the stove because the burners refuse to stay at any consistent temperature. Ava, who keeps taking and taking from Beatrice’s well of love and commitment, even as she knows it must be causing a crisis for the girl she says she loves. Ava, who will be dead in less than a day. Ava, who won’t go out with Bea feeling anything other than love and understanding from her, regardless of what the most selfish parts of her beg for.
“I shouldn’t have asked you, Bea. I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair.”
She means it. She means it. She means it. What she wants, the life she wants in the mountains with Bea and cute Saturday shopping runs and friends at the bar, she doesn’t want it more than she wants Bea to feel how much she matters, how much what Bea wants matters. She’ll break her own heart over and over again to make Bea feel that, to make her feel loved and valid even when she can’t give all of herself, can’t be exactly what she thinks someone else wants her to be. And anyway, Ava only ever wants her to be perfectly herself. Always exactly Beatrice.
Bea’s eyes are exhausted but there’s something more there, the kind of determination she has seen when Bea fights, anticipation and confidence and grit right there at the surface. She squeezes Ava’s hand tight between her own and then drops it, turning her body on the bed to face Ava directly. Suddenly, her hands are on Ava’s neck, thumbs swiping at her jaw. Ava’s breath stutters because _wow_ that feels nice. She grabs tightly to the thoughts that threaten to run down a very distracting path, pulls them right back in because now is not the time, Ava.
“That’s the thing. You don’t have to ask me anymore, Ava. This stopped being...I stopped being... I would be there. I would be there. I lied, to you and to myself, pretending anything else was true. I can’t…it’s not the time, right now, to get into all of this. But I need you to know that, that I would choose you, that it wouldn’t even be a choice.”
And what is Ava supposed to do with that but cover Bea’s hands with her own and let herself cry. Bea’s eyes channel from determined to loving to concerned as she lets them rove over Ava’s face before pulling Ava into her, tangling a hand in her hair.
“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to do this. We’re going to do this together, Ava.”
Ava lets herself breathe Bea in, wraps her arms around Bea and tugs and tugs until they’re lying down, Ava’s head on Bea’s chest and Bea’s hand still in her hair, the other grasping Ava’s forearm on her stomach. They’re quiet for a long time.
“Ava, what happened, when you were gone?”
The question is soft, whispered into the air between them as Bea cards her fingers through Ava’s hair.
“She showed me what needs to happen to defeat Adriel. She helped me understand some things.”
Bea’s fingers stop, and Ava can almost hear her mind working.
“Listen, Ava, I know what Michael said to you,” the way she says his name is so full of spite that Ava nearly cringes on his behalf, “and I’m not sure what this person told you over there but I know…”
“Bea.”
Beatrice stops immediately, always making space for Ava.
“I promise I will tell you and everyone else about the plan. But for now, can I just…be here with you? I missed you, while I was gone. Time is weird, there.”
She moves her hand up from Bea’s stomach to her sternum, laying a palm flat over where her heart might be. Bea moves with her, keeping Ava’s hand under her own and holding it against her chest when Ava stops.
“Whatever you need, Ava.”
And right now, that’s easy.
“You, Beatrice,” she lets her nose drag against the sharp line of Bea’s jaw, lets her lips ghost behind it, “I just need you.”
Ava feels Bea’s sharp inhale at that and presses closer, tucking her leg between both of Bea’s and wiggling a foot underneath her calf. A minute passes and Bea’s breathing evens back out. Ava decides to let Bea’s warmth lull her to sleep. It was _exhausting_ to spend time with Reya in the other realm. She wants to sleep, just one more time, this close to Beatrice, feeling safe and loved. She knows Bea will wake her in a few hours, a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, a kiss on her head, if she’s lucky. And then they’ll have to move. And Ava will have to go, to let go of all of this.
But for now, the steady rise and fall of Bea’s chest is the only thing Ava wants to know. As her eyes get heavy, she feels Bea whisper against her.
“You’ve got me, Ava.”
Ava rests.
*********************
As Ava anticipated, Bea wakes her gently and she gets a few more moments of quiet closeness before she forces herself to move from the bed.
“Let’s get this over with, yeah?”
Beatrice watches her closely as she moves to put herself together. Ava tries to keep herself together, to act normal, but Bea knows her too well. She’s going to slip.
“Bea, would you mind asking Jillian and Superion to get everything together for a meeting?”
It’s a shit cover, and Bea knows that. She knows that there is no “everything” to get together. Still, she moves toward the door.
“Of course. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Bea has paused to look at Ava, and Ava meets her eyes and smiles. Despite Ava’s best efforts, it’s shaky. Shit, fuck, damn it. She sees Bea’s eyes narrow, god damn it, of course she noticed, but Bea turns around and walks out the door anyway and Ava exhales for a minute.
*******************************
Of course, Bea is suspicious. Her nun is not stupid, and Ava can feel Bea’s eyes on her even more than normal, knows, as she watches Bea put together her gun, exactly what that look on her face means. She tries for teasing, but Bea is not in the mood.
“Well, better not test me, then.”
It would normally be hot. Okay, it still is hot. But also, it makes Ava worry because, like, she has this whole idea that she’ll have a moment to take Bea aside, to tell her that she loves her, to kiss her goodbye. She doesn’t want to fight or phase or struggle with Bea. But she’ll be ready, when it’s time, even if it has to be an ugly goodbye.
They’re pressed close in the van, Bea giving Vincent side eye in an extremely unsubtle way. Ava takes Bea’s hand and squeezes, lets her head rest on Bea’s shoulder. She soaks in the closeness while she can. As they approach the drop-off, Bea ducks her head slightly and says quietly, keeping this for Ava as much as she can, “In this life, Ava.”
Ava lets her lips touch the skin of Bea’s neck, breathes her in and basks in the shiver she feels run down Bea’s spine, acknowledges the sharp grief of knowing she will never get to make her shiver like that again.
“In this life, Bea.”
As she emerges from the van, she tells herself it’s not a lie. She does love Bea in this life, loves her so deeply that it’s going to be the last thing she ever does.
****************************************
It is a lie, of course.
She tells Bea to live and finally, finally, pulls her close and kisses her. The circumstances are far from ideal. She’s on a literal suicide mission, Bea’s on the verge of a panic attack because she now knows Ava’s on a suicide mission, and Yasmine is there, somewhere in the background, wildly unprepared for basically every part of what’s happening and apparently destined to be an unwilling and vaguely creepy spectator to some of the most intimate moments of Ava’s short life.
The kiss itself? Perfect. She has tried to live her second (and third) chances as hard as possible, and regrets instantly not having done this sooner, in a tiny flat in Switzerland, or maybe after she burst from 20 feet of rock and into Bea’s arms. But Bea would not have been ready. She’s pretty sure Bea is planning to renounce her vows, when this is over, and she still can’t quite bring herself to kiss Ava back.
Because Ava is totally gone for this human, she finds it endearing—it’s very Beatrice to need time to run possible outcomes before determining next steps. And honestly, she is proud of the fact that she is one of the very few people who can stop this free-wheeling, secret, ass-kicking nun in her tracks. It’s a perfectly Beatrice kiss.
When Bea finally does respond, grabbing her tighter just as Ava is beginning to pull away, Ava feels her resolve nearly break. It’s not fair; it’s not fair, and she wants to scream and cry and run away and live a real life, a long life, where she gets more than this moment with Bea, gets to see her come into herself and shed all of that shame, to cut her hair and get a tattoo and live. She wants, she wants, she wants.
But Ava presses her lips to Bea’s forehead, tries to live as deeply as she can in this moment and the sensation of Bea’s hands on her skin. Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? She wants Bea to live her life. And she can make that happen. She is the only one who can make that happen.
Bea’s touch and the reality of her body in the world put Ava back where she needs to be. Bea is what matters. Ava loves her more than she loves herself and wow, what a feeling. It’s nothing then, to know what she has to do. Nothing more than love.
She tells a new lie, as she lets Bea go.
“In the next.”
It’s for Beatrice, and Ava hopes it will bring her comfort. As she drops through the floor, she wipes tears from her eyes and wishes she could believe it herself.
TBI au got me in a choke hold over here! i need to see a distant but stubbornly protective lilith make an appearance. i need to see a golden retriever ava treat this living mecha tank lizard humanoid bat from hell like her own personal playmate. i need to see her wipe the floor with the sisters who were talkin smack behind ava’s back (bonus points if it’s public and humiliating👹). i need to see bea get some support from her sister. i need to see the those two divinely altered trauma besties parallel playing with coloring books. i need to see ava confront a guilt ridden duty driven life indebted lilith, look her in the eyes in the most soul seeing manner that she can manage, and say to her that she is forgiven. she is her sister. she is a part of the little family she and bea have both disjointedly and pridefully cobbled together out of disaster and heartbreak. and that nothing, not even liliths guilt, could change that.
This one was the *most* fun to fill, and I'm not just saying that because I finally got some relief from my headache today and learned it was in fact an infection inside my face. This was a hot mess of a chapter and I loved writing every second of it.
More of Ava's "About Me" book at the end.
I covet your prompts!
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Security
“Mother Superion, there’s an intruder!”
Sister Hilary flies into the office, wimple in hand, her long hair trailing down her back. “There’s - a woman - with the Halo-Bearer!” she gets out.
“There should be a woman with the Halo-Bearer,” Mother Superion says, looking up from her Bible. “And I understand if their relationship is causing distress amongst the sisters, but they stay together for a variety of reasons, chief among them safety and -”
“No, not Sister - former Sister? - Beatrice,” Hilary interrupts, trying to get her wimple on her head. “Someone else.”
“Is it another of our sisters?” Mother Superion asks.
“No,” Hilary says. The wimple is fighting a winning battle against her very jittery hands and two hair clippies.
“How do you know it is an intruder?”
“Because I saw her step out of a fiery portal.”
Mother Superion tries very hard to keep a smile from appearing on her face, a battle that she loses nearly immediately.
“Should I ring the bells and call our sisters to attention?” Hilary asks.
“No, Sister Hilary, that won’t be necessary,” Mother Superion says.
“Why… are you… smiling?”
Mother Superion closes her Bible and stands up. “Because it’s not every day that Sister Lilith returns for a visit.”
Sister Hilary’s mouth falls open. “Oh,” she says faintly.
Mother Superion will never, ever get tired of inducing that feeling in her charges. She likes when Lilith visits for many reasons, but the added benefit of Lilith occasionally scaring the shit out of OCS newbies is at the top of the list.
.
.
She finds Lilith exactly where she thought she would - cuddling Ava.
“What will this do to your reputation, Lilith?”
“Hopefully add to the many confusing stories surrounding my legacy,” Lilith replies. “How many did I get this time?”
“So far, only Sister Hilary has run in telling me an intruder is on the premises.”
“Disappointing. I’ll have to work on that.”
“Where is Beatrice?”
“Camila said she was taking Beatrice to the midnight cabinet.”
“Interesting, considering that it’s close to four in the morning.” Mother Superion tries to remember if there’s any alcohol left in the “midnight cabinet.” Which is strange, because in a previous life, she’d have more issues with two of her sisters sneaking off to drink than with the potential things they might be drinking. “What happened?”
“Camila said Beatrice thinks the Halo is healing Ava’s brain but only while she’s here,” Lilith says. “As you might imagine, that was fairly… traumatic for Beatrice to realize.”
Ava shifts in Lilith’s arms. “Lil talking loud,” she mumbles.
“Mom’s here,” Lilith informs Ava.
Ava opens her eyes. “Mom here?” she asks.
“Good morning, Ava,” Mother Superion says. “How are you?”
“Hot. But less hot.”
“Lilith does have a warming effect.”
“In this case, I believe it’s the actual fever she has that caused her rise in temperature more so than me being lit from within by the fires of Hell,” Lilith says. “But the paracetamol should take care of at least one of those things.”
“I can never tell when you’re joking, Lilith.”
Lilith laughs, and Ava, still cradled against Lilith’s body, smiles up at her.
.
.
“How could I have not known?” Beatrice mourns.
“How were you supposed to know?” Camila asks. “It’s not like the Halo’s got an instruction manual and we just didn’t read it. Even if it did, Ava’s done things with it that literally no other Warrior Nun ever did, including ‘healing brain after fruit stand explodes.’ At this point we should start writing a manual.”
She rummages around in the midnight cabinet, so named for its usual hour of use. “There’s nothing in here. We need to do a grocery run. Unless you want to drink cooking sherry or peppermint schnapps.”
Beatrice feels herself physically recoil from both suggestions. “Perhaps we should just… look at the literature again.”
“We went over the literature when Ava was in her coma,” Camila says, “to the point where I now have large swaths of it memorized. There’s nothing about Halo seizures, about healing the brain - and you know it. You’re beating yourself up over nothing.”
“I took her away, Camila!”
“We told you to, Beatrice!” Camila retorts. “We all did. We all thought it would be best. So if you’re going to be mad at someone, be mad at all of us.”
She comes out of the midnight cabinet with a half-full bottle of whiskey and offers it to Beatrice.
“At four in the morning? I’m too old for that now.”
“Suit yourself,” Camila says. She unscrews the top of her ever-present tea thermos and adds a generous dollop of whiskey to the contents.
“What do we do now? Should we just stay here… indefinitely?” Beatrice asks, leaning on the counter. “Let her go through endless, very painful Halo seizures until she’s… until she’s Ava again?”
“She’s already Ava,” Camila replies.
“You know what I mean,” Beatrice says, but she hates the implication in her hurried statement. She’s already Ava.
Camila shrugs. “I think we should let actual medical professionals see her before we try to make any plans.”
“Good. That’s a good idea. You’re very wise, Cam.”
“I try.”
“Do you?”
“No. Not at all. I just wake up like this.” Camila takes a swig of tea.
“You are up awfully early,” Beatrice observes.
“You texted me.”
“Something tells me you were already awake,” Beatrice says, giving her a pointed look.
Camila smiles. “We still have the osmium vest Ava wore on her first few days here. Do you think putting that back on would help with pain from the seizures?”
“It’s worth a shot, at least until Dr. Salvius can get here to see her.” Every time Beatrice sees Ava in pain she swears it will be the last time, she will make it the last time, even though that’s always out of her control. If the vest can dampen the pain… even a little… it will be worth it.
Sister Hilary enters the kitchen looking a bit shell-shocked. Immediately Camila hides the whiskey bottle. “What’s wrong, Sister Hilary?”
“I just… to be clear…” Sister Hilary looks behind her, as though to make sure no one’s following her. “When we see a woman step out of a fiery portal around here, we’re supposed to… welcome her?”
Beatrice and Camila exchange a glance.
“Depends on what woman,” Beatrice says, her voice overlapping Camila’s: “Depends on what kind of portal.”
Sister Hilary looks back and forth between them. “This… is a very odd convent.”
“We should mention that in the brochure,” Camila agrees.
“Should I… tell the other sisters to put their weaponry away?”
Beatrice stands up and finds a group of sisters stretching down the hallway, weapons in hand. Most have typical implements for hand-to-hand combat, but she sees Sister Moriah with what looks like a pair of timpani mallets and Sister Livya holding a frying pan.
“I mean, Mother Superion said it was just Sister Lilith, but it was… a very large portal,” Sister Hilary goes on, her face getting redder as she speaks.
“Is the portal still open?” Beatrice asks.
“No,” Hilary mumbles.
“Did anything else come out of it?”
“Not that we could tell.”
“Then I think it’s probably okay to put your things away,” Beatrice says gently. “But I appreciate your concern.”
“The concern isn’t for you,” a voice rings out from the back of the group of assembled sisters. Sister Kat weaves her way through the line of armed women until she’s nearly toe-to-toe with Beatrice. “This is our home, and if there are demons here then it is of our utmost concern to put them down.”
A chorus of various agreeing statements joins Sister Kat’s voice.
Beatrice takes a deep breath. Sister Kat doesn’t know Lilith, she reminds herself. None of them do.
“Bea!” Ava calls from the other direction, joy in her voice. “Lil here!”
The assembled group of sisters turns away from Beatrice, now fascinated by the appearance of their Halo-Bearer, barefoot and in her light purple PJ’s covered with penguins, who’s walking hand-in-hand with the demon woman from the portal. Or, to be completely honest, tugging the demon woman forward excitedly, because it is very obvious who’s controlling the entire procession.
Ava stops short looking at the nuns with their weapons, now apparently in a standoff with her Beatrice. “Bea?” she asks worriedly.
“It’s okay, Ava,” Beatrice says. “They don’t know Lilith the way you do - everyone was just so surprised she showed up here so early.”
She turns to give the assembled sisters a glare, as though to say Do not challenge me on this.
“Gonna hurt Lil?” Ava asks, and Beatrice sees her hand, in Lilith’s, clench. The Halo whines and flares, and Ava pushes Lilith behind her as she makes her other hand into a fist.
Ah, fuck.
“No one wants to hurt Lilith,” Beatrice says.
“Pardon me, but if there’s an actual demon here…”
Beatrice is ready to throttle Sister Kat.
But as it turns out, she doesn’t have to. Ava frowns. “Not a demon!” she yells at Sister Kat. “Ava’s Lil!”
She takes two steps forward, letting go of Lilith’s hand.
“Ava, don’t -” Beatrice tries to get out, but it’s far too late for that. Ava’s free hand comes up and a golden blast of light flares out of her body. The flare is big enough to push back everyone around her, including Beatrice.
Beatrice counts herself lucky, though; she remains standing. So do most of the sisters, Lilith, Camila, and Ava herself. Sister Kat, obviously the focus of Ava’s anger, ends sprawled on the floor, her staff tossed down next to her.
Ava stands over Sister Kat. “You said who am I now,” she says. “I am Lil’s friend. Not your friend.”
“Ava,” Beatrice says sharply.
Ava looks over at Bea.
“We don’t use the Halo to hurt people unless they hurt us first,” Beatrice reminds her firmly.
“Gonna hurt my Lil,” Ava says.
“She wasn’t,” Beatrice says.
“I might have,” Sister Kat interjects from the floor.
Lilith puts a hand on Ava’s shoulder, looking down at Sister Kat. “I’m no threat to anyone here,” Lilith says. “This is my family. I don’t plan on harming anyone. And I might look like a demon, but I’m… I’m just Lilith.”
She leans in, lowering her voice. “But let me be perfectly clear: you would not hurt me, because I simply would not allow it.”
“Lilith, why don’t you take Ava back to our room,” Beatrice suggests.
“Sisters, please put your weaponry away,” Camila adds. “We’ll meet in the dining hall for breakfast at six.”
Ava looks at Lilith. “Wanna color?”
“You know I do,” Lilith says. “Hold tight.”
There’s a quick movement, a red-gold flash, and both of them disappear.
“Show-off,” Camila mutters.
Beatrice puts her head in her hands.
The sisters, half-grumbling (half upset because they weren’t actually going to fight a demon, half irritated that they were woken for that), half-marveling, disperse.
.
.
Ava finds her coloring books in her suitcase and shows them to Lilith. “Bea bought Encanto,” she says. “And also Frozen. Lil choose?”
“I like that one,” Lilith says, and points at Frozen. She does this mostly because Ava’s body language suggests she desperately wants Encanto, and taking it away from Ava would be just plain mean. And that’s not Lilith.
“Two sisters,” Ava says. She hands Lilith the coloring book and goes rummaging in the suitcase for a box of crayons.
“Which one do you like better?”
Ava comes out with the crayons - a big box of new Crayolas - and sets them on the table near Lilith. “Elsa has powers. She feels bad when she hurts people.”
Lilith flips the coloring book open and finds a picture of Anna and Elsa in the forest with Olaf. She reaches over and takes some crayons. “Do you feel bad when you hurt people?”
Ava nods solemnly. “Elsa goes away to be safe.”
She stops flipping through her Encanto book, looking over at Lilith. “Ava and Bea go away to be safe?”
“No, you and Bea left so you could see doctors to help you,” Lilith reminds her.
“Lil goes away to be safe?”
Lilith sets down the blue she was using for Elsa’s dress. “I did, but it’s different for me. I’m not… I don’t have a place here anymore.”
“Bea says we make our own places.”
“Beatrice is very smart.”
Ava carefully colors Mirabel's hair. “Mirabel has no powers. She’s sad.”
“I think Mirabel has powers,” Lilith says.
“Movie says no.”
“Hear me out,” Lilith says, picking up a crayon to color in Elsa’s hair. “Mirabel knows how to tell people about her weird family. She wants to make people happy. And she learns from her mistakes. And in the end, she’s the one who starts rebuilding the relationship with Bruno and rebuilding casita.”
She’s glad that Ava doesn’t ask a lot of weird questions like When did you see Encanto? When do you, as a terrifying-looking half-demon-ish woman, go to the movies?
“Do you think those are powers?”
Ava frowns.
“I can’t build a house,” Lilith offers.
“Lil could,” Ava says, always her biggest fan. “Ava helps.”
She moves onto coloring Mirabel’s skirt.
“Ava,” Lilith says softly, “how much do you remember from before? Do you remember… what I did?”
“Lil brought Ava home,” Ava says, her attention still on her coloring book. “Lil brought Ava back to Bea.”
“Do you remember anything else?”
“Lilith helped the bad man go away,” Ava says. Mirabel’s glasses get some attention from a green crayon.
“Oh,” Lilith says.
Part of her is immensely glad that Ava remembers only being pulled free of Reya’s realm as “coming home to Bea.” Lilith remembers all of it, all of the blood and screaming and fighting. Ava lashing out at anyone who came near her, tortured into believing any familiar face was just a torturer in disguise. The wounds from the divinium unhealed after months in Reya’s realm, Ava in pain with every breath she took. She remembers thinking Ava would die before she was safe. She remembers thinking only of Beatrice in those moments, forgetting everything about a Holy War and whose side she was meant to be on. Beatrice would never forgive her if she didn’t get Ava home safely.
Part of her is glad Ava lost most of it.
Part of her wants forgiveness she knows Ava can never give her.
Part of her doesn’t believe Ava would give it if she knew.
“Lil sad?”
Lilith looks up to find Ava studying her carefully. “What?”
“Lil crying,” Ava points out. “Lil sad?”
Lilith wipes tears from her face. They fall to the coloring book and eat away Olaf’s face. She hopes Ava won’t notice.
Ava puts down her crayon and comes over to wrap her arms around Lilith. “Lil need cuddle time?”
“I don’t… I don’t know,” Lilith says, and she wipes away more tears. “What’s cuddle time?”
Ava smiles. “Bea and Ava lay in bed, say nice things, touch hair, feel safe.”
“That sounds nice,” Lilith says. “But it sounds like something special you do with Beatrice. I wouldn’t want to take that away from you.”
“Okay,” Ava says. She takes Lilith’s hands instead, and sways them back and forth. “Lil is strong. Lil is brave. Lil is good. Lil is friend. Lil is family. Ava loves Lill.”
Her voice is sweet and light and pure and it feels like it could burn away everything that’s twisted and wrong within Lilith if she’d let it.
.
.
Mother Superion finds Beatrice two teacups into the whiskey, sitting on one of the low walls surrounding the garden. It’s a hair’s breadth after seven in the morning. “Dare I ask what happened?”
“Ava Halo-blasted Sister Kat because Ava thought Sister Kat was going to harm Lilith,” Beatrice says. “The sisters armed themselves and formed a mob because you told Sister Hilary that the interesting-looking woman who walked through a fiery portal was no big deal.”
“Ah. Perhaps I should be a bit more… firm when giving instructions. Or, in this case, a lack of instructions.”
Beatrice takes another sip from the teacup. “I think the Halo is healing Ava’s brain by causing extremely painful seizures that only happen while she’s here.”
“I see.”
“So if I take her away from here, she won’t heal. But if she stays here, she goes through episodes of what seems to be excruciating pain.” Beatrice finishes off the teacup. She looks up at Mother Superion. “What do I do?”
“I wish I could make that decision for you,” Mother Superion replies. “I think you know there aren’t any easy answers with Ava’s care anymore.”
She sits down next to Beatrice and gently takes the teacup out of Beatrice’s grasp. “You’re scheduled to be here for a while. Stay. See what happens. We can call Dr. Salvius to come and see Ava, see if we can keep Ava comfortable if healing is happening.”
“And the sisters who watched their Halo-Bearer choose a demon over them?”
Mother Superion looks out to where the sun is rising. “Lilith’s no demon. And they’ll recover. They’re sister warriors for a reason. Part of that reason means accepting their Halo-Bearer as whoever she is. I’m sure there were plenty of things the original sister warriors didn’t like about Areala.”
“I highly doubt the things they didn’t like about Areala included her using the Halo against them when she got upset,” Beatrice says.
“Who’s to say? I wasn’t there, and neither were you,” Mother Superion says. “Now, please come in and eat some breakfast. It’s not good to have this much whiskey on an empty stomach. Camila saved you some pancakes.”
The brain trauma au has me obsessed. The pure wholesome love between them both. It’s so cathartic to read. Any glimpses of this world you can continue to provide I’ll be eternally grateful
This one today is less joyful than "Raspberry Kisses," but it sets up the one after. And sometimes pure love means struggling together.
.
Fight or Flight
“Good afternoon, Beatrice.”
It’s Daniel, the incredibly kind man who runs Ava’s day program. He’s of the suited type, looks like he was a professor in another life. She’s never known him to speak in anything but an even-timbred, gentle tone, and even now, when she’s pretty sure he’s not calling to discuss something that would require such a gentle voice, he’s using it.
“What’s wrong?” Beatrice asks immediately, heart in her throat. If something’s wrong with Ava, why isn’t Kate calling me?
“I apologize for the interruption,” Daniel says. “I don’t want you to worry.”
“It’s a little late for that,” Beatrice says, and forces out a laugh.
Daniel chuckles too. “I’m so sorry. I was wondering if you could come down to the center. Ava is…”
He pauses, and Beatrice flashes several words through her head - dead dying on fire in pain blind deaf missing screaming using the Halo remembering a life she cannot have anymore - before he says, “... having a tough day. We had some visitors here, and I think she got a little overwhelmed. Kate’s been trying her best, but…”
“But she’s not me,” Beatrice says ruefully.
“Right.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Beatrice says. “Can I bring her anything?”
“Another set of clothes might be a good idea,” Daniel tells her. “Something comfortable. And perhaps her wheelchair, to get her home.”
Oh, she so wants to ask but she knows that would take more time, and something tells her Ava needs her now rather than later.
“I’ll bring something suitable. Thank you for your call.”
.
.
When Beatrice arrives at the day center, she sees Daniel standing outside one of the community room doors. It’s closed. Next to him is a woman she vaguely recognizes as the day program nurse. Neither of them look worried, precisely, but neither of them is smiling, either. From behind the door Beatrice can hear Kate’s voice, the tempo even and relaxed, and Ava’s voice, slightly louder, periodically interrupting.
“Ah, Beatrice,” Daniel says.
“Can you tell me some more about what’s happening?” Beatrice asks.
“Of course,” Daniel says. “We had a group of young people visit us from the college today. There were maybe twenty-five of them. They’re all studying to be occupational or physical therapists.”
Twenty-five sounds like a big number of people to fit into the day center along with all of the clients and their support workers. Daniel seems like he knows what Beatrice is thinking, because he says, “We set up some of the community rooms as quiet spaces for our friends who would possibly want a less-crowded area for themselves. And we offered Ava the choice to go. Over and over.”
Beatrice has no idea where this is going.
“But she kept telling us she needed to stay,” the nurse says. “She needed to stay to keep an eye on one of the men, who she was convinced had done something to her.”
It just keeps getting worse.
“What did he look like?” Beatrice asks. They don’t know any men in town, least of all any men who fit a description of a “young person from college.”
“He was tall, a bit lanky, and had longer hair,” the nurse says. “If you ask me, he looked a little like a handsome Jesus.”
“Really, Janice?” Daniel’s voice is quiet, but his irritation is obvious. Beatrice isn’t sure if Daniel’s upset that Janice would think so little of the Lord or so highly of this young man, or if it’s something else entirely.
“I just thought… handsome Jesus. Can you blame me?”
Shit. The description matches exactly one person Beatrice knows that Ava, no matter how brain-damaged, will remember for the rest of her life. And even though Adriel is not here, cannot be here, would not have returned from Hell to be a physical therapy student, the Warrior Nun would always be on her guard around him. Even a Warrior Nun whose memories of being said Warrior Nun were spotty at best.
“She attacked him,” Daniel says, having finished rolling his eyes at Janice’s comments. “And after we were able to separate them, Ava had a meltdown.”
Beatrice bows her head. She hates meltdowns, mostly because she knows what a toll they take on Ava - physically and mentally. “How long?”
Daniel looks at his watch. “She went in there about forty minutes ago.”
Shit. A really long one. Beatrice can still hear Ava’s voice from the other side of the door.
“Is there anything going on at home that would have caused her to become so upset?” Daniel asks.
“No,” Beatrice says. “She’s been fine. We’re planning a trip to visit family in a few weeks and she’s been very excited about that. I think today was just probably a fluke.”
Daniel nods. “I understand.”
“May I…?” Beatrice gestures at the door.
“Oh, of course.” Daniel steps out of the way. “We weren’t able to give her any of her anti-anxiety medication or clean her up, so she might be a bit of a mess when you see her.”
She’s my mess, Beatrice thinks. Then she realizes she’s forgotten to ask something: “The young man - is he…?”
“He wasn’t injured,” the nurse says. “He says he understands that things happen, and doesn’t intend to pursue things further.”
Beatrice breathes a silent sigh of relief.
“It’s what Jesus would do,” the nurse says, and Beatrice wants to shake her. “Forgive, you know. Turn the other cheek.”
“Why don’t we let Beatrice see Ava?” Daniel suggests, and opens the door.
Inside the community room the shades are pulled and the lights are off. It’s cool and dark. Kate’s sitting near the door on the floor. In the center of the room is a long table that’s been flipped on its side, and Beatrice hears ragged breathing from behind it.
Kate looks up when Beatrice enters. “Hi,” she says quietly.
Beatrice nods in response and closes the door behind her.
“Kate? Ava is scared!” comes a very loud, very panicked voice from behind the table. “Ava is scared! That man is bad!”
“It’s okay, Ava, you’re safe,” Kate says in a soft tone.
“The man is bad!” The voice raises in volume. “Make him stop!”
It’s accompanied by a slam against the bottom side of the table.
“Ava,” Beatrice says, trying to keep her voice as level and calm as Kate’s. “I’m here.”
“Bea,” Ava breathes out in relief. “Bea!”
When she comes up over the table she looks like a girl who’s fought the world and nearly lost, and Beatrice lets out a cry of surprise. “Ava!”
Ava’s nose is bloody and her lip is split. Her forehead is lacerated, and as she reaches out, Beatrice sees that both of her hands are bruised. And she can see why Daniel suggested a change of clothes - Ava’s outfit is torn and bloody. There are more bruises on her arms and legs.
“What happened?” Beatrice demands, wrapping her arms around Ava but looking at Kate.
“Ava seemed convinced that a college student who was visiting today was actually someone she knew and was afraid of,” Kate says. “She tried to attack him.”
“Tried to?” Beatrice asks. “Forgive me for saying so, but she looks like she fought off the entire village.”
“She went after him, fell, and then everything else happened when we had to restrain her to get her in here,” Kate says.
“Bea, he was here,” Ava says into Beatrice’s chest. “He was… it was… why?”
She wails the last word and her hands clench into Beatrice’s shirt. “You left Ava!”
The clenched hands turn into fists and beat against Beatrice’s back. “Why?” Ava screams.
Beatrice gently steps back and turns halfway, moving out of Ava’s range in a quick two-step. Ava goes for her again, and Beatrice steps back.
Ava screams and turns the fists on herself, punching her knees, her stomach, her head. “Fuck you! You left me!”
Beatrice steps decisively towards Ava and reaches out, putting her arms under Ava’s armpits and grabbing onto Ava’s wrists, crossing Ava’s arms in front of her body. Beatrice takes two quick steps backwards, pulling Ava off balance, and takes them both to the floor.
Ava jerks back against her, but Beatrice holds her tight. Ava brings one knee up and slams it into her face, screaming. Beatrice merely shifts her weight to bring her own legs up and cross them over Ava’s, pinning Ava’s legs to the floor.
Ava howls. “Left me, Bea! Left me!”
She rocks back against Beatrice. “Left me!”
The scream turns into a sob. “Left me, Bea. Left me with him.”
“I know,” Beatrice says, trying to keep her voice steady. “I know. I’m so sorry.”
She knows it doesn’t matter that the college student isn’t Adriel. She knows it doesn’t matter that Ava was safe the whole time, and if it was any other day and any other visitor, Ava would have been absolutely fine. Some things, some days, will never be over for Ava, and there’s absolutely no rules as to when and where it’ll hit.
“Bea…” Ava sobs. “Bea.”
“I’m here,” Beatrice says, and she rocks them back and forth. She looks over at Kate. “You look all right. Did she hurt you?”
Kate shakes her head. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you how I came to work here.”
“No.”
“Let’s just say that you and I… have similar backgrounds,” Kate says. She reaches beneath the collar of her short-sleeved button-down and takes out a pendant that’s very familiar to Beatrice. “I’m OCS-adjacent from Boston. They were looking for someone in the area who could…”
She gestures to Ava, who’s still sobbing and rocking herself back and forth in Beatrice’s grip. “... hang out with the Halo-Bearer.”
It doesn’t surprise Beatrice, not exactly. “She didn’t…?”
“Use the Halo? Only once we got her in here,” Kate says. “And then it was just the two of us. I didn’t realize she still had control over it.”
“She doesn’t,” Beatrice says flatly. “Not often. Not really.”
Kate takes this in.
“I wish I would have been informed about your… affiliation,” Beatrice says, realizing that she sounds far too stiff but unable to stop herself. “I wasn’t…”
“We didn’t think it was that important,” Kate says.
“But you thought it was important enough for someone from the OCS to be keeping eyes on her on a daily basis,” Beatrice retorts.
Kate accepts that.
“I don’t appreciate secrets,” Beatrice says. “Especially not when it comes to Ava’s care. This feels like a serious intrusion into our privacy and a massive decision that was made without my input. I am her guardian and primary caregiver - I should have been informed. She’s not an asset, she’s not anyone’s Halo-Bearer any longer. She’s just… Ava.”
“Bea,” Ava says brokenly. “Bea.”
“I’m right here, sweet girl,” Beatrice says, and she kisses the top of Ava’s head. She looks over at Kate. “I think I can take things from here.”
“Are you sure?”
Beatrice forces herself to take a deep breath before she answers. “Yes. We’ll be fine. Would you let Daniel know that we’ll be leaving for vacation a bit earlier than planned?”
“Is this because of me?” Kate asks.
“No,” Beatrice says, although the answer is definitely partly. “We’ve been away from our family for too long.”
“Mom?” Ava asks faintly.
“Yes,” Beatrice says. “It’s time we went to see Mom.”
“I’ll give you your space,” Kate says. “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”
She leaves, closing the door behind her.
“Bea,” Ava says, exhausted, “Ava was bad.”
“No,” Beatrice tells her. “You did exactly what you thought was right. I’m sorry you were so scared.”
“Ava was bad,” Ava repeats, and Beatrice hears tears in her voice. “Ava was bad and Ava is hurt.”
“I know,” Beatrice says. “I’ll take care of you when we get home and help you feel better.”
She leans down and kisses the top of Ava’s head again. “Do you have a safe body so we can go home?”
“Ava was bad.”
“No,” Beatrice says. “You’re never bad, Ava. You do the best you can with what we give you, and sometimes it’s just not enough.”
She loosens her grip on Ava’s arms and relaxes her legs. “Do you have a safe body?”
“Yes,” Ava whispers.
“I brought you some clean clothes. Do you want to change?”
Ava nods.
“Okay,” Beatrice says. She lets go of Ava entirely and gets to her feet. On the floor Ava seems far too small and far too broken. Beatrice misses her Warrior Nun.
But that is her Warrior Nun, she reminds herself. The Warrior Nun who fought her hardest against everyone who tried to stop her from attacking Adriel… Adriel just happened to be a college student who’s probably back at campus changing his major.
.
.
Ava falls asleep in her wheelchair on the way home, so Beatrice wheels her into the bedroom and goes to get her computer. She’s going to change their tickets. They’ll go early. They need to be… away from here.
“Bea?!” comes a terrified scream from the bedroom.
“I’m right here,” Beatrice says, and runs back into the bedroom.
Ava’s on her feet, drunkenly trying to find her. She stumbles and almost falls; Beatrice catches her. “What do you want to do?”
“Cuddle time,” Ava answers immediately.
“Let’s do it,” Beatrice says.
They lay in bed, Beatrice’s arms gingerly around Ava’s undoubtedly-aching body. Ava faces Beatrice, quietly looking up at her.
“Bea?” she breathes.
“Yes.”
“Ava did… was Ava… wrong?”
Beatrice closes her eyes. She doesn’t know what to tell Ava. Attacking the man was wrong. Fighting Kate and Daniel and whoever else tried to help her calm down was wrong. But in a world where the majority of Ava’s memories are bound to be caught up in fighting, one way or another, can she be faulted for using her skill set to attempt to fix what she saw as a problem?
“Next time,” Beatrice says, hoping there will not be a next time, “ask them to call me first. I will come and I will help you. We’ll do it together. Like we always did.”
“Bea mad?”
“No,” Beatrice says, and it’s true. She’s not mad at Ava, just mad at a world that’s not built for Ava to live in anymore. There is no perfect place for a former quadriplegic former Warrior Nun who’s now living in a body she doesn’t remember run by a brain fighting for sense and equilibrium.
hi hello!! your Brain Damage AU for avatrice honestly unearthed so much emotions and confronting truths about how I view my own self worth - thank you thank you thank you. could I request for a part 4 where ava and bea discover a new different way to find joy together (specifically with ava helping bea too??) and beatrice negotiating her feelings about their relationship? you've just written it in a way that truly shows it's just such a beautiful and pure love and it's making me have faith in love (in all forms and capacities) again.
all the love
Let's have some PURE BEAUTIFUL STUFF TONIGHT! With JOY! This is less than I wanted to write for tonight, but it's a perfect little vignette.
Raspberry Kisses
“See if she’ll do it again.”
“See if she’ll…?”
“Do something we trained her to do,” Camila says. “You watched her do an entire bo form - if that’s in there, there have to be other things still in there. Maybe it’s all in how you trigger it.”
“So I should just…”
“What would you do when you trained?” Camila asks. “Start there.”
Beatrice thinks about it. “I did promise her we’d go out to the lake later. Maybe we can try something there.”
“See? You’ll figure it out,” Camila says.
“Bea! Ava wants to talk to Mom!” Ava calls from the bedroom.
“Do you want to talk to Camila first?”
“No, Mom!” A pause. “No, Cam!”
Ava appears from the bedroom, still in her pajamas. “Talk to Cam!”
“Hi, Ava!” Camila says from the computer screen. “How are you?”
“Ava is…” Ava considers this, looking at Beatrice. Then she leans in a little closer. “Ava wants a tattoo.”
“Oh, you do?” Camila asks, grinning. “What does Beatrice think about this?”
Ava looks back at Beatrice. “Bea said maybe.”
“Well, let Beatrice think on it,” Camila says. “I’m sure she’ll have thoughts on it. And if she thinks about it until you come to see us next month, you can get your tattoo from the same artist I did.”
“Special,” Ava says.
“It would be special,” Camila says. “We’d have something in common.”
“Who did your tattoo?” Beatrice asks over Ava’s head.
“Sister Moriah,” Camila says.
“Nice,” Beatrice says.
“Okay, talk to Mom,” Ava says.
“Ava,” Beatrice says. “Try again.”
“Thank you for talking Camila,” Ava gets out in a rush. “Can I talk to Mom now please?”
Beatrice and Camila both freeze.
Ava looks back at Beatrice. “Bea, talk to Mom?”
“Ask again,” Beatrice says, forcing the words out, hoping beyond hope Ava will repeat her usage of the first-person pronoun.
Ava turns to Camila. “Camila, Ava talk to Mom?”
Beatrice is immediately deflated. “Yes, I’m sure Camila will get Mom for you,” she says.
And Camila does get Mother Superion, and Ava begins chattering away the second she sees her beloved “Mom” on the screen. Beatrice sits back on the couch and lets them talk, trying to think up things to do at the lake that might bring back her Ava, even just for a little bit.
.
.
“We’re going to train today,” Beatrice says, setting down her backpack. “Then we can go swimming.”
“Ava doesn’t want to train.”
“Can you do this for me? I want to try some things.”
“Why?”
“Do you remember what you did at the farmer’s market? When you worked with the staff?”
Ava nods, still side-eying Beatrice.
“I want to do some of those things with you,” Beatrice says. “It looked like you were having fun.”
She’s praying Ava will take her at face value. She does want to do things with Ava, and the things she knows best are active things. On top of that, Kate and everyone at Ava’s day program are often talking about how there’s a great deal of weight to be placed on muscle memory, and if there’s anything Ava should have muscle memory of, it’s the things Beatrice forced her to do for hours in order to be ready to save the world.
“Okay,” Ava says.
They start off with stretching. Beatrice demonstrates and Ava follows along. They do some sit-ups - Beatrice usually asks Ava to do ten, and Ava usually gets through eight before she yells at Beatrice. Today, her eyes tell Beatrice that she’s not sure what’s happening but she wants to please, and she does the full ten.
“Good girl,” Beatrice says, and Ava scoots back to sit cross-legged in the grass.
“Bea… happy?” she asks, confusion still in her expression.
“Yes,” Beatrice says. “Are you okay?”
“Ava is…” She frowns. “Ava wants Bea to be happy.”
Well, shit. That’s not what Beatrice wants.
“Should we do something else?”
Ava freezes. She bites her lip and looks away from Beatrice.
Shit. Now Beatrice has overloaded her, and Ava’s going to shut down.
Beatrice sits down on the grass next to her. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Can I tell you why I actually brought you out here?”
Not looking at her, Ava nods.
“Before… when we first met each other, I was working on training you. We did a lot of stretches, and martial arts, and fighting. And we worked with the Halo. And you… were amazing.” Beatrice takes a deep breath, because she’s getting lost in her memories and all of them hurt. “You could do so many amazing things. You could run on water. You were prepared to take on the world, and we were prepared to do it together.”
She shakes her head. “I just wanted to see if we could do that again.”
Ava looks down at the ground and twists her hands together. Beatrice isn’t helping with the overload.
“We can just sit here and be quiet, though,” she says. “Whatever you want.”
Just stop talking, she yells at herself.
Beatrice closes her eyes and tries to meditate. Tries to find her center. She used to know exactly where it was.
She hears Ava get up but forces her eyes to stay closed. If Ava wants to take a walk, that’s okay. She knows the area, and usually doesn’t go too far. Beatrice keeps trying to find her focus.
And not just here, not just in meditation. What’s she meant to focus on now? Ava is… Ava is, and Beatrice keeps wanting to change her. Maybe she should stop. Maybe these glimpses of Ava will keep coming through, and when they happen, Beatrice can just enjoy them as they are. Maybe she shouldn’t force them. Maybe -
The sound of the Halo snaps her out of her meditation. Beatrice’s eyes flash open and in an instant she sees Ava doing her half-run towards the lake.
“Ava!”
A flare bursts out of the Halo and Ava takes off across the water.
“Ava!”
In motion she is fluid perfection. Her feet seem to barely touch the water, stride after stride taking her further and further out across the lake. She is an angel in motion. Beatrice stands in utter shock.
“What is happening?” she murmurs. First the staff, now the running - Ava is somehow doing exactly what she could do before her accident. And even better, she can hear giggles spilling out of Ava’s mouth as she darts off across the water: she’s doing this and she’s happy.
Beatrice feels something on her face and reaches up to find she’s crying.
Then she hears a joyous shout of, “Bea!” as the Halo goes out and Ava drops unceremoniously into the water.
It’s always something between joy and terror these days.
.
.
When Ava’s hauled back out of the water - still laughing - and they’re on the shore eating PB&J sandwiches and drinking lemonade, Beatrice says, “Did you have fun today?”
“Ava had fun.”
“And you’re not just saying that to make me happy?”
Ava shakes her head. She has a smear of jelly on her mouth.
“Can I help you get the jelly off your mouth?” Beatrice asks.
Ava nods.
Holding her breath, unsure about what she’s going to do, Beatrice leans in and gently kisses Ava, tasting raspberries and sunlight. She feels Ava smile under her lips, and one of Ava’s hands - thankfully, not the one with the sandwich in it - comes up to touch her cheek.
It feels normal. It feels right.
Beatrice pulls back. “Is this okay?”
Ava nods, her eyes starry. “Bea is… very good,” she says, her voice husky.
“Are you comfortable with this?”
“Yes.”
“May I kiss you again?”
“Yes,” Ava says, and leans in, turning her face to one side. “More jelly?”
Beatrice laughs. “No, there’s no more jelly. You’re just cute and I love you.”
“I…” Ava starts out softly. “I… loves… Ava loves…”
Beatrice holds her breath and prays for… for what, she doesn’t know. But she feels like something’s happening. Some change. Maybe just for an instant, but she’ll take whatever she can get.
“I love… Bea,” Ava says. “I love you. Ava… loves you.”
And Beatrice kisses her again, still tasting raspberries.
Hi! I was the brain damage anon that requested for part 2 and now you have part 3 and I am in tears! I can’t help but think, how will their life be with “for always” 😭 anyway since you’re on a roll, I’ll capitalize on it. Prompt for brain damage AU: Ava realizes that Bea is better off without her because she loves Bea and Bea assuring her that Ava is it for her (okay I’m getting myself worked up)
Okay, I legit almost made myself cry with this one, so... here you go! And @lenadamnvers - I know you prepared tissues, please pass them out!
Song of Solomon 6:3
Beatrice takes a deep breath in as the yoga instructor says, “If you’re done with your reflection and cool-down pose, feel free to pick up your mat at your own pace. I’ll see you all on Thursday. Thank you for such a special class today.”
The yoga instructor’s name is Saoirse and she looks like everything Beatrice wishes she could be these days - put-together, well-rested, immaculately dressed. Beatrice, who’s never really been one to compete with women on a “who’s the prettiest” scale, feels downright dowdy next to Saoirse. She tries not to draw too much attention to herself, puts her mat in the back of the yoga classroom, and attempts to think only about yoga and relaxation and maintaining strength and definitely not Saoirse.
Saoirse is distracting.
Beatrice has no time in her life for any distractions.
“Nice work today, Beatrice,” Saoirse says, and Beatrice realizes the instructor has stopped directly next to her mat.
“Oh! Thank you,” Beatrice says, and feels her cheeks get hot. “You’re… a good instructor.”
Saoirse smiles. “Thank you. I enjoy providing a safe and relaxing space for everyone to come and learn. I think you’re a bit more advanced than most of our students, though.”
Beatrice is pretty sure her face gets hotter. “I used to… work out a lot.”
“It shows,” Saoirse says, raising one eyebrow. “If you’re interested, I run a class for students who are a bit higher-level on Wednesday nights. It might be more your speed.”
“I have… responsibilities on Wednesday nights,” Beatrice says. She gets to her feet and rolls up her mat. “But thank you.”
“Do you have responsibilities right now?” Saoirse asks. “We could… get a juice.”
Beatrice tries to discreetly check her watch and sees it’s just after one. Ava’s still at her day program, and will be until either three o’clock or Beatrice picks her up. She could get a juice with Saoirse. As a friend. A friendly juice. With a friend.
“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Beatrice says.
“Awesome!” Saoirse says. “Let me check out with Marlene up front and I’ll meet you outside.”
“All right.”
Beatrice waits outside, the sun warming her cheeks and blowing back a few strands of hair that have come loose from her bun. Her stomach is full of butterflies, and some of those butterflies are demanding What do you think you’re doing?
It’s just that everything is about Ava, she tries to tell the butterflies. We do everything for her. Her needs decide everything for us, from where we go to who we see to what we do on the weekends. This could just be for me.
It doesn’t work. The butterflies don’t listen. And Beatrice knows why - she feels guilty immediately. Ava doesn’t get a day off. Ava doesn’t have things that are “just for her” that are also fun - she has her day program, where therapists and care providers work with her on a wide variety of skills from the moment she shows up until the moment she leaves; she has special days for occupational therapy and physical therapy; and she has doctors’ appointments. She doesn’t have a yoga class where she can maybe flirt with a yoga instructor, or the freedom to go out for a juice with someone.
And that makes Bea sad, as she would say to Ava. Beatrice tries very hard not to make Ava sad.
It’s just juice, Beatrice tells the butterflies. She can just be a friend.
By the time Saoirse comes out of the yoga studio Beatrice has nearly tied herself in knots, and she’s almost made up her mind to tell Saoirse that she can’t have a juice, despite how absolutely insane that would sound.
“There’s the best juice place around the corner,” Saoirse says. “Have you been to Fruit Whirled?”
“No,” Beatrice says, then realizes she has, often. “Actually, yes. I forgot that’s what it was called.”
Ava calls it “Juice Box,” the butterflies remind her. That’s why you don’t know what it’s called.
“You’ll have to tell me what’s good there,” Saoirse says. “Marlene just told me about it - I haven’t actually been there.”
They walk the quick block to the juice bar talking about nothing in specific - Saoirse’s teaching schedule - Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, Wednesday nights, and Sunday mornings - and Beatrice’s job - not that exciting but very rewarding, Catholic Church-adjacent, a calling more than a career.
Beatrice holds open the door to Fruit Whirled and lets Saoirse enter before her. The smell of freshly-baked muffins is enticing; Beatrice knows they taste best with a strawberry-banana smoothie.
“Hey, Beatrice! What are you doing here on a Tuesday?” a friendly voice calls out from behind the counter. Iliza, the owner and head chef, grins as she recognizes one of her regulars. “And where’s your girl?”
“Um, Saoirse, this is Iliza,” Beatrice says. “She owns Fruit Whirled and makes the delicious muffins you can smell.”
“A pleasure,” Saoirse says.
To Iliza, Beatrice says, “Saoirse teaches yoga around the corner. We thought we’d just get some juice after class.”
“Oh, at Marlene’s,” Iliza says. “Yeah, I’ve taken a class or two there. With Armand.”
“He’s a great teacher,” Saoirse says pleasantly.
She moves over to look at the glass bottles of juice in the case, and Beatrice turns to Iliza with a panicked look on her face. Iliza’s grinning, seeming very amused.
“What do I do?” Beatrice whispers frantically.
“Seems like you’re doing just fine,” Iliza says. “Unless… you don’t want to be doing just fine.”
“I feel like I’m cheating on Ava,” Beatrice says.
“By getting juice?”
“By… doing something for myself,” Beatrice says, which sounds even more ridiculous when it’s out of her mouth.
“You’re allowed to do something for yourself,” Iliza says. “Ava goes to her day program.”
“That’s her job,” Beatrice points out.
Iliza shrugs. “You have to do what you feel comfortable with,” she says. “But she seems nice. And you seem like you could use something like this.”
“I’ll have a strawberry-banana smoothie,” Beatrice says.
“You will?”
“That’s what I always get.”
“That’s what you always get when you’re here with Ava,” Iliza points out. “Why don’t you try something new today?”
Beatrice sighs and looks up at the menu. “How about… mango peach?”
“You’ve got it.”
“And a cranberry-orange muffin.”
“I’m on it.”
Saoirse comes over to place an order as well, and when she goes to pay, Beatrice stops her. “It’s on me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Beatrice says. She sticks a generous tip in Iliza’s tip jar as well.
“Thank you,” Iliza says. “See you on Wednesday night, Beatrice?”
“You know you will,” Beatrice says, and tries not to make it sound like her stomach’s in knots.
Back outside, Saoirse heads over to a table with an umbrella and sits down. “Seems like a great place,” she says. “And the owner certainly knows you well.”
“Yes, we - I - come here often.”
“You and ‘your girl’?” Saoirse asks. “Iliza seems like she knows you both.”
Beatrice forces down a mouthful of her mango peach smoothie. “Yeah, we… come and get smoothies on Wednesday night.”
“So you’re in a relationship?”
“It’s complicated,” Beatrice says.
“How so?”
I used to be a demon-fighting nun and my girlfriend was a former quadriplegic with a holy relic embedded in her back; then she saved the world and went to an extra-planar dimension where she was tortured but luckily I got her back and then - if you can believe this - a fucking fruit stand was blasted to smithereens by a drunk driver and one of the pieces of that fruit stand hit my beautiful wonderful brilliant girlfriend in the head and now she’s brain-damaged and it’s like living with a struggling child in an adult body who knows she’s supposed to be an adult in an adult body.
“We just… we’ve gone through some rough stuff together,” Beatrice says, because anything else would be far too ridiculous an answer. “We don’t get out much.”
“She sounds pretty controlling,” Saoirse says.
No, I’m the controlling one, and I have to be, because Ava thrives on schedules and routines and it makes our lives easier when she’s in a good routine.
“She likes routine,” Beatrice says instead. “I do too, honestly.”
“Is she the reason you have… responsibilities on Wednesdays?”
And every other night.
“Yes,” Beatrice says.
“You couldn’t leave her just for a night? To come try out a new class?” Saoirse asks, smiling as she leans towards Beatrice.
No, because when I leave her she panics unless she knows I’m going to leave her and we’ve prepped her for me to leave. She freaks out when she wakes up in the middle of the night and thinks I’m gone. We’ve lived here almost a year and she still tries to run away in the middle of the night because she thinks I left her when I’m literally sleeping in the one bedroom in our apartment.
Her phone rings, which feels like a relief, until she realizes it’s Kate, Ava’s 1:1 staff.
“Hi, Kate,” Beatrice says.
“Hi, Beatrice. Sorry to call you like this.”
“It’s all right,” Beatrice says. “How is she?”
“I think something’s wrong with her shunt,” Kate says. “She’s been complaining of a headache and she vomited twice just now. We’ve got an ambulance on the way and they’ll take her to Mass General - I’ll go with her.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Beatrice says immediately.
“She’s asking for you,” Kate says.
“I’m sure,” Beatrice says, and she feels sick, like she caused this by coming out with Saoirse and not going to pick up Ava immediately after class. “Please tell her Bea loves her, and I’ll see her soon.”
“You’ve got it,” Kate says. “See you soon.”
Kate hangs up and Beatrice looks over at Saoirse. “I have to go,” she says.
“Issues with your girl?”
You have no idea.
“Yes, unfortunately,” Beatrice says. “I, um, this was nice. Maybe we could do it again some time?”
But she doesn’t mean it, she knows she doesn’t mean it, and she’s scrambling her purse and her yoga mat and her muffin and her smoothie and trying to get out of there as fast as possible, because Ava is in pain and she’s not there to help her understand it.
“Okay,” Saoirse says. “Do you… need a ride somewhere?”
Shit. She does. Their car’s in the shop, and it wasn’t going to be an issue since everywhere they’d need to go during the time needed for its maintenance was within walking distance. But she hadn’t planned on this.
“I don’t want you to go out of your way…” Beatrice says, her brain screaming at her to move faster.
Saoirse shrugs. “I don’t have anything to do right now.”
“Then yes, I could really use a ride to Mass General.”
.
.
In the car Beatrice can’t stop shaking. Shunt infections and shunt failure are two huge, life-threatening complications for anyone with a shunt. Ava had one - an implanted device used to drain excess cerebrospinal fluid - put in shortly after her injury, and while it had been massively important to her survival in the days and weeks after the accident, its usage was now not critical. But a shunt being an implanted medical device in Ava’s brain, any issue with it is absolutely cause for concern.
She forces her fingers to cooperate with her, to call Camila.
“Beatrice! I thought you would call tonight.”
“Sorry, Camila, no,” Beatrice says. “There’s been a bit of an emergency and I’m calling to ask for prayers.”
Saoirse looks over at her from the driver’s seat.
“Of course,” Camila says. “Without question. Can you tell me more?”
“Something is potentially wrong with Ava’s shunt,” Beatrice says.
“That’s terrible,” Camila says. “We will absolutely wrap her in our prayers. And you let us know if we need to be there… in a hurry.”
Beatrice knows Camila is referring to Lilith teleporting her or all of Ava’s OCS family to Boston, and manages to say, “I will. I’ll call with an update later.”
“Love you, Cam.” Beatrice hangs up and squeezes her hands into fists, trying to keep them steady.
“You don’t seem very religious,” Saoirse says after a moment.
“I’m… friends with a bunch of nuns,” Beatrice says. “Prayer’s… what they do.”
“Understandable,” Saoirse says. “Ava - that’s your girlfriend’s name?”
Beatrice nods, trying to figure out how to process the word girlfriend. She doesn’t think about it, and rarely uses that word herself. She is Ava’s and Ava is hers; there really isn’t a correct word for their relationship, not anymore.
“Tell me something about her,” Saoirse says.
“She loves otters,” Beatrice says, and then bursts into tears.
Ava does love otters, and Beatrice is suddenly terrified that she’s never going to take Ava to the aquarium or the zoo again. That she’ll have to sleep on her own in an empty bed. That she won’t have to ever check in with someone about her feelings, because no one will ever ask her Bea feels…? and wait ever-so-patiently for the answer. That she won’t have to make waffles or chocolate chip cookies, that she won’t ever see Ava radiant again at the lake, swimming or using the Halo.
“Beatrice,” Saoirse says, somewhere beyond all this, “you need to take a deep breath.”
It sounds so much like something she tells Ava often, and Beatrice complies. She forces herself to breathe, forces her hands to hold each other.
She’s going to kiss Ava and tell her exactly how much she loves her the minute she sees her.
“And Christmas lights,” Beatrice says. “We keep them up all year because she likes them so much.”
“She sounds wonderful.”
“She is.” Did I tell her that this morning?
“We’ll be there really soon,” Saoirse says. “Um… and thank you for letting me do this for you.”
“I’m just glad you… we were together,” Beatrice says.
.
.
A nurse asks Saoirse to wait in the aptly-named waiting room, but takes Beatrice back immediately to a room where Beatrice can hear Ava before she can see her:
“Ava wants Bea, Kate! Ava is scared!”
The nurse twitches back the curtain and Beatrice sees Kate sitting at Ava’s bedside. Ava, no longer in the shortalls and red T-shirt she left the house in but now clad in a hospital gown, tries immediately to get up.
“No, no, stay there,” Beatrice says, and comes over to Ava, who only managed to sit herself up on the gurney. She hugs Ava tightly and whispers, “You are so wonderful.”
“Ava is scared,” Ava whispers into Beatrice’s neck.
“I’m sure,” Beatrice says. She looks over at Kate.
“They’re waiting for her to get a CT scan,” Kate says. “She vomited once more in the ambulance. Dr. Medgorjy - is that her neurologist? - will be down to see her soon. IV is for fluids, anti-nausea, and pain meds.”
Beatrice nods, taking this all in. “Thank you. You’re amazing.”
“Ava is scared, Bea,” Ava says, and twists her fingers into the bottom of Beatrice’s hoodie.
“I know, sweet thing,” Beatrice says, and kisses the top of her head. “Can we let Kate go?”
“Kate is here.”
“Yes, and Kate should probably get back to work,” Beatrice says. “Can we say ‘thank you’?”
“Ava is Kate’s work,” Ava says, rather presciently, since it’s how Beatrice sometimes refers to her 1:1 support.
“You are,” Kate agrees readily, “but Bea is here now, and you like her better.”
“That makes Kate feel sad?” Ava asks Bea seriously.
“I don’t think that makes Kate feel sad. I’m sure Kate has people in her life she likes better than other people,” Beatrice says.
“I do,” Kate says. “My wife, for one.”
“Kate has a wife,” Ava tells Beatrice, as though they didn’t both hear Kate’s words.
“I wish them all the happiness,” Beatrice says, and wishes that truth didn’t burn in her mouth. A wife. Beatrice could have had a wife too.
“I’m going to go, Ava. I’ll see you later,” Kate says. To Beatrice, she says, “Text me?”
“I will,” Beatrice promises. “Thank you for everything.”
After Kate’s gone, Beatrice checks over Ava. She seems mostly okay, but there’s a look of pain in her eyes and a sallow color in her cheeks. Ava clings to Beatrice as Beatrice stands next to the gurney, putting her head against Beatrice’s chest and rocking from side to side.
“How do you feel?” Beatrice asks softly.
“Ava hurts. Ava is scared. Ava says no more doctors.”
“The doctors are going to help you hurt less,” Beatrice says. “Sometimes we need them to help us.”
“Ava wants to see Mom,” Ava says.
“We can call Mom later.”
“Ava is scared.”
“What can we do when we feel scared?”
“Tell Bea. Think good thoughts.”
“That’s right. What do you want to think about?”
“Pancakes,” Ava says.
“Those are good. What else?”
“Cam and Yas and Mom and Lil.”
“They are very good.”
“When we go to the library.”
“I like that a lot.”
“And when we go to the movies.”
“That’s nice too.”
“Ava hurts, Bea.”
“I know. We have to be patient, just for a little bit, and things will get better.”
“Ava hurts a lot, Bea. Ava hurts. Fix it,” Ava moans, and she reaches up to grab Beatrice’s arms.
“We’re trying,” Beatrice says, and she wraps her arms around Ava, rocking them back and forth.
“Bea.” Her name becomes a whimper as Ava’s breathing picks up, and Beatrice knows they’re only a few minutes away from a panic attack.
“You are my brave girl,” Beatrice tells Ava. “You are so brave, Ava Silva. You are a warrior. You are always so patient, and you try so hard every day. I know it hurts and I wish I could take it away from you.”
“Bea,” Ava wails.
“I’m trying,” Beatrice says. “I can’t make things happen any faster.”
Ava tries to get up, pushing herself forward on the bed. Beatrice gently redirects her. “We have to stay here.”
“No, Bea! Ava wants to go home!” Ava says, and gets to her feet.
She sways and her knees give way; Beatrice holds her upright and gently lifts her back onto the bed. Ava punches her in the shoulder. “Ava wants to go home!” she screams.
“I know,” Beatrice says. “I want to go home too. Can you stay here just for a little bit longer?”
Ava tries to punch her again; Beatrice catches it and gently squeezes Ava’s fist. “Have safe hands, please. Tell me more good things.”
“Ava is bad.”
“No,” Beatrice says firmly. “Try again.”
“Ava is sad,” Ava wails, and starts crying.
Beatrice rocks her back and forth. “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs into Ava’s hair. “I’m so sorry I can’t fix this for you.”
There’s movement by the door, and, thinking it’s Ava’s neurologist, Beatrice turns.
It’s Saoirse.
Beatrice has no idea how long she’s been there, what she’s seen or heard. It doesn’t matter; Saoirse was never anything more than an acquaintance. She could never be anything more. Beatrice’s entire world is in front of her on the gurney, and she was silly to think there was any way around that.
Neither of them speaks, and Dr. Medgorjy actually does arrive two minutes later, when Ava’s managed to cry herself into a doze sitting up against Beatrice’s chest.
“Wish we were meeting under better circumstances,” the doctor says, and after they’ve exchanged pleasantries, Beatrice realizes Saoirse’s gone.
Probably for the best.
.
.
At eight o’clock that night, after a day of tests and procedures, Ava is declared well enough to leave the hospital. Her shunt is neither infected nor failing, simply not keeping up with the amount of drainage present in the area that was shunted. A quick change to the shunt’s processing level and some meds later, Dr. Medgorjy’s nurse schedules a follow-up and an orderly puts Ava into a wheelchair while Beatrice calls an Uber.
Once home Beatrice asks the driver to wait - she wants to get Ava’s wheelchair from inside the house, since drowsy, hospital-tired Ava will most likely have issues getting from the car to their door. The driver agrees to do so and Beatrice rushes up to their front door.
Saoirse is sitting on the porch with a picnic basket next to her.
“What are you doing here?” Beatrice blurts out.
“I brought you dinner,” Saoirse says, and stands up. “Both of you.”
“How long have you been waiting?”
“Not long.” Saoirse shrugs.
“Why?”
“Because you seem like someone who could use some help once in a while,” Saoirse says honestly.
Beatrice has no idea what to make of this, but she is keenly aware that Ava is sitting in an Uber waiting for her to come back. She unlocks their front door and hurries inside. She grabs Ava’s wheelchair from the coat closet and brings it back outside, walking past Saoirse to the waiting car.
“C’mon, Ava,” Beatrice says.
“Ava is tired.”
“I know,” Beatrice says, and she lifts Ava out of the car like a parent carries a child, turning around to put her in the wheelchair. “Thank you,” she says to the driver.
When the car is gone Beatrice remembers that Saoirse is still on the porch. She pushes Ava towards the front door, having no fucking clue what to do now.
“Ava is tired,” Ava repeats. “Ava wants to call Mom.”
“It’s too late to call Mom,” Beatrice tells her, walking slowly. “We can call Mom in the morning.”
Ava yawns. “Okay.”
Beatrice pushes her up the small ramp onto the porch. “Saoirse, thank you so much for… everything. We’re… she needs to go to sleep.”
“Of course,” Saoirse says. “Um… the food will keep if you put it in the fridge. And, uh, here, let me bring it in for you. Is that okay?”
She’s already walking through the open door carrying the basket. Beatrice, seeing no other real resolution, pushes Ava’s chair through the door and into the apartment. “You can put it on the counter,” Beatrice says. “I’ll come back for it once she’s… when we’ve changed our clothes.”
Saoirse sets the basket down and looks at Beatrice. “Do you need anything else?”
“No,” Beatrice says. “I think we’ve got it well in hand.”
Saoirse nods. “I feel like you usually do.”
“Thank you for today,” Beatrice says, and means it. Wants to mean it. “Maybe we can do parts of it again. The pleasant parts.”
“I’d like that,” Saoirse says. She gives Beatrice a gentle kiss on the cheek and leaves.
“Bea, who is that girl?”
Beatrice jumps, as though she’d somehow forgotten Ava was still present. “Um, that’s Saoirse. She teaches yoga.”
“She kissed Bea,” Ava says.
“She did.” Beatrice sits down at the table and looks at Ava. “I’m sorry if that was upsetting to you. I shouldn’t have let her do that.”
Ava watches her warily. “When does Ava leave?”
“Leave for what?”
“Ava has a new house?”
“Ava,” Beatrice says. “What are you asking me?”
Ava’s face falls. “Bea loves that girl.”
“What?”
“Bea will live with that girl now?”
“Oh, Ava,” Beatrice breathes. “C’mere.”
She scoops Ava out of her wheelchair and carries her into their bedroom, setting Ava on the bed before turning the bedside lamp on. Beatrice sits down on the bed and pulls Ava against her, propping them both up against the headboard. “Now, tell me this again.”
“Bea loves a new girl,” Ava says, picking at Beatrice’s pant leg. “A new girl kissed Bea. So a new girl lives here now?”
“No,” Beatrice says. “Only Ava and Bea live here.”
“But Bea loves a new girl.”
“I don’t love her, Ava,” Beatrice says. “She’s my yoga teacher. We were having juice when Kate called me. She offered to drive me to the hospital to be with you.”
“Bea loves her.”
“No,” Beatrice says. “Who do I love?”
“New girl,” Ava says stubbornly.
“Ava,” Beatrice says firmly.
Ava sighs, and leans back into Beatrice. “Bea loves Ava.”
“Bea loves Ava.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why does Bea love Ava?”
“Ava,” Bea says, and her eyes fill with tears. “I love you because I know nothing else, because I look at you and cannot imagine doing anything else but loving you. You see me exactly for who I am and you love me so wholly. You are pure, and giving, and gentle.”
She leans her head onto Ava’s shoulder, letting her tears soak into Ava’s T-shirt. “You loved me first,” she sobs. “And you can’t remember any of that, so I have to remind you. And that’s what love is, Ava - it’s seeing all the dark places in someone’s heart and turning the light on, singing them home from the darkness to care for them, however they are.”
Beatrice feels a sudden warmth on her face, and realizes that the Halo is glowing softly. Ava turns to look at her, wide-eyed. “Bea, this is okay?”
Beatrice feels wrung-out, but the Halo is a balm to her skin. “Yes, it’s okay,” she whispers to Ava.
“Ava loves Bea,” Ava says worriedly.
“I know,” Beatrice says, and kisses her.
“Ava stays here with Bea.”
“Always.”
“Bea takes care of Ava,” Ava says.
“Yes. But also, Ava takes care of Bea.”
Ava squeezes Beatrice’s hand, and then gently takes Beatrice’s face between her hands and kisses Beatrice’s forehead. “That’s okay?”
“That’s okay,” Beatrice says through the rest of her tears. “You can kiss me.”
“For always?”
“For always.”
Neither of them make it into pajamas before falling asleep. The Halo’s light surrounds them in a warm shawl, a gentle caress over two cuddled figures, before it at last gives way to the sunrise in the morning.
It is the best sleep Beatrice has had in almost two years.
Beatrice isn’t used to fingerprints, but Ava leaves hers everywhere.
When she was younger, there was someone for this. A woman with kind eyes and a kind smile who floated around her parents’ house unseen by them - who had Beatrice’s full attention - and wiped fingerprints off of every surface. Beatrice’s existence, dusted away as easily as an exhale, as if she never existed at all.
Ava leaves fingerprints as if she can never leave enough. They’re everywhere Beatrice goes, little reminders that Ava was here; that she existed in a way Beatrice felt like she never did. It’s in the way her smile lingers after she’s left the room, the way her laughter echoes in the space she leaves behind. And then they’re living in a one-bed apartment in the Alps and everything magnifies. Ava is in very novelty mug, woven into every thread of their threadbare couch, laced through the leftovers in their fridge with their names written in increasingly steady letters.
Beatrice can’t find it in herself to dust them away. Ava is larger than life, the center of everyone’s attention, but not everyone gets the small indent in the mattress where Ava’s body was all night or the wring out tea bag in the sink or the damp towel on the bathroom floor. Those are the fingerprints, the marks, Ava leaves just for her.
She doesn’t know that it’s all she’ll have left. That at the end, she’ll only have the things that Ava touched, the things Ava put her hands on and through, and nothing else. Nothing but greasy fingerprints on the microwave and a flour stain on her left-behind baseball cap and a handprint in the back of the book jacket of Beatrice’s copy of World Without End - all these material thing she hoards after a lifetime of casting such frivolities aside.
But it’s the ones Beatrice can’t see that last longer, burn into her skin and bloodstream. It’s the fingertips against her wrist where Ava dropped her hand while she laughed at her own jokes; the toes where Ava pressed close in the middle of the night trying to get warm; the handprint on her shoulder where Ava leveraged herself to whisper in her ear. Each of these lingers like Ava doesn’t, keeping her tied to the memories of what they had; the promises of what they could.
She thinks of the last fingerprint Ava left: the whispering fingers against the side of her neck she barely felt and the soft press of Ava’s lips against her own that she’ll feel for a hundred lifetimes. They all scream: I was here, I was here. And she prays to God, to Reya, to Ava, that these linger until Ava comes back to leave more fingerprints behind.
thank you @why-does-it-matterr! i think i got a little carried away, but i hope you enjoy!
cw: descriptions of injuries
-
There was a place she used to go to after the Order had days like these. Bad days. Ones that left her numb.
Historically, the place is both tangible and not—a lonely tower at the Cat’s Cradle, and once there, a few long moments of contemplation. But her old home is a long way away, and so Beatrice finds the part of her mind that needs this kind of treatment and sends it elsewhere. As for her body, she deigns to get to work instead of separating herself. The OCS may not be her world anymore, but there are wounded. People she cares for.
In the wreckage of their makeshift hideout, Beatrice wonders if maybe it’s never been the events of the day that seep the feeling from her. Maybe it’s always been this—this thing she must do to herself in order to succeed. Months of wandering have not divested her of the need to perform. The months have, however, been a reminder of all she’s lost.
She sets her feelings aside. There are things to do.
“Can you ask me if it hurt when I fell from heaven?”
When Ava says it, half-leant out of her seat and tilted toward Beatrice, what she’s aiming for is smooth. What actually happens is that her elbow, precariously planted on the table in front of them, skids across a patch of unidentifiable liquid (it’s probably beer) and she tumbles straight out of the chair. Right at Beatrice’s feet.
“Uhm.” How is it possible for Beatrice to be this pretty from any and all angles? Is it a skill? Does it come naturally? Ava doesn’t know, but it shouldn’t be allowed. It shouldn’t even be legal. “Did it hurt now?”
“Oh my fucking God, do not encourage her.” A strong set of hands slides under her armpits and Ava is hoisted back onto her seat. “Worst. Pick. Up. Line. Ever.” Mary jabs a finger into her sternum as punctuation for each word. “Like, seriously. Do better.”
“Excuse me, that was a very good pick up line. The best pick up line that ever was.”
“Only if you want your audience’s ears to bleed.”
“Well, clearly, you’re not the target audience, are you?” Ava reaches for the bottle she’d been drinking from, but it’s already empty. She could up her game if Mary gave her pointers. She’s seen old videos of her with Shannon — how easily Mary could make her laugh. Their chemistry was off the fucking charts.
As for her and Beatrice — Ava has no clue where they stand. Sometimes it feels that they’re a spark away from deflagration in the best possible way, but then she’ll say or do something stupid and end up like a character in one of those old cartoons she and Diego were sometimes allowed to watch on VHS on Sunday mornings; lab coat burned to kingdom come and eyebrows singed right off.
“Did you say pick up line?” Beatrice interjects, and there’s an odd lilt to the words, as if something far too big to be contained got stuck inside her throat.
“Christ.” Mary rolls her eyes. “I can’t do this sober.”
Supercorp Prompt: Hospital + "you look like shit."
***
The first thing she feels is pain. Everywhere. But, it's not a normal pain that stabs and fades or a dull ache that tweaks with every twist - it's a deep-seated pain. One that she knows is supposed to be much stronger than it is, but it's subdued at the moment. One that will make her scream, but right now it just reminds her of what to come once the medicine wears off. It's unnerving in its patience.
The second thing she feels is cold. Air-conditioned air biting at her exposed arms and face. Then comes the dryness of her throat and the stickiness of her eyelashes. Both minor inconveniences are exaggerated by the bone-weary pain she's avoiding.
Finally, comes the headache inducing sound. The dull hum of the air-conditioner, the ticking of the clock overhead, the incessant beeps of the monitors creating a cacophony of sounds that stab at the neurons in her brain.
She grimaces, then grunts at the pain that shoots through her face when the grimace itself hurts.
Fuck me, she thinks.
Slowly, groggily, Lena opens her eyes and takes in the room around her.
Too bright is her first thought. Her eyes squeeze shut and her fists squeeze the white sheets pooling around her.
Slowly, slowly she tries again, prepared this time for the blinding overhead lights. It doesn't burn as badly, but her eyes water nonetheless, rivering down her cheeks as her blinks turn rapid to clear the film.
Lena sighs when her eyes finally adjust, hesitant to look around the room before she checks that all of her extremities are, in fact, still working. She wiggles her toes and clenches her thighs, suppressing a groan when the muscles respond with a deep ache. Her fingers stretch in her hands and she raises her arms mere millimeters off the mattress before letting them fall back to the safety of the bed.
She huffs out a breath. Okay, how the fuck did I end up here?
She looks down at her arm when there's a sharp tug against her left. Wires upon wires are coming from the crease of her elbow and the back of her hand, and, oh god, she mentally bemoans.
Last thing I remember I was driving to dinner with Ka-
"Kara," She shoots up, as much as she can with all of her injuries and wires attached, enough for her back to seize as she looks around the room. Her throat burns, scratchy from disuse.
She's alone in a hospital room, and she needs to know if Kara is okay. Her heart rate monitor speeds up as she fumbles her still numb fingers against the wires protruding from her arms.
The door to her room slides open and shut, and a "Lena," is called as footsteps hustle to her side. Delicate fingers wrap around her own and cease the near exsanguination she was about to perform on herself to get the damn needles out of her so she can get to Kara.
"Lena, hey," and finally she stills, the voice registering in her panic-induced haze.
"Kara," Lena whispers, eyes already filled with tears at the sight of the blonde. Kara returns the shaky smile with her own, gripping tightly at Lena's fingers.
"Hey, sleepyhead."
That's more than enough for Lena to collapse forward into Kara's chest and let out a painful sob. It hurts throughout her entire body, but she doesn't care because she thought Kara was… she was…
It's minutes later that Lena's grip lessens on Kara's cardigan, her body heavy with exhaustion after such a rollercoaster of emotions flooding her already weakened system. Kara grabs the nearest chair and pulls it right up to the edge of the bed, taking Lena's hands back into her own.
"It's okay," she coos, blue eyes sparkling from her own unshed tears. "I'm right here."
And God, Lena thinks. Kara's usually bright smile is dimmed, skin dark beneath her eyes, hair greasy and limp. Her fingers tremble slightly in Lena's grasp.
"You look like shit," is the first thing Lena says.
It makes the half smile turn full, the blue shine just a touch brighter as Kara laughs her full-belly laugh. Tears leak out of her eyes, and Lena reaches up despite the pain to capture them with her thumb.
"I'm not the one that's been unconscious for half a day."
"I have?" Lena queries. "What happened?"
"Oh, you know," Kara shrugs. "An alien spaceship crashed into us on the 405. It totaled the car."
"I'm sorry, I… what?" Lena's bewildered expression makes Kara shift uncomfortably.
"They were okay! Just a few scratches, but you were hurt and I… I kind of blew my powers trying to get you here as soon as possible."
Lena reels back, mind racing at all this means. "Did anyone see you?" She asks, worried already at the aftermath of Kara potentially outing herself as Supergirl let alone the aftermath of her being associated with a Luthor.
Kara shrugs again. "Lena… I don't care about all of that. I -"
"You should care, Kara. This puts you in danger. Because of me."
"Lena, stop." It's sharp and so unlike Kara that Lena does, in fact, quiet. "You think I'm more concerned with keeping my identity secret than your well-being? You - there - I - there was so much blood, Lena. You were - I don't care, I don't give a shit about any of that. I care about you. I love you, Lena. I would never trade you for some stupid secret. Not again." Kara's breaths are heaving slightly, a sign that she truly did blow her powers. The tremble in her fingers picks up.
Lena blinks quickly, mind racing while simultaneously stuck on one part of Kara's rant. "You - you love me?"
Kara lets out a sharp laugh, one that suspiciously sounds like it's holding back tears. She sits back in her chair, releasing Lena's hands and pushing her fingers through her hair. "Of course I love you, Lena. When have I not loved you?"
"I…" Lena's heart rate skyrockets to the point that the monitor beeps a warning. She slips off the sensor from her finger, a flatline sounding from the screen. She reaches over and turns off the monitor completely because she doesn't want the entire hospital privy to the way Kara makes her heart stutter. "Kara, I don't even know a time when I haven't loved you," she says, eyes boring into Kara's own so she can feel the weight of her truth being spoken.
Kara's entire posture sinks into the chair. The tension in her shoulders melts away and she let's out a huff of a breath that feels both exhausted and exhilarated. "If you're okay, Lena, I'm going to kiss you now," she says, eyes wide and hopeful.
"God, yes, please," Lena responds, laugh bubbling from her throat. She's halfway out of the bed by the time Kara leans forward, practically spilling into the blonde's lap when their lips finally meet.
The slamming of the door was enough to shake the apartment walls.
"Ava…" Beatrice sighs, following the wound up girl into their shared space.
"No, Bea. Just - just stop." The brunette pleads, desperately. She storms past her girlfriend into the kitchen, opening and closing the fridge door, slamming it with just as much force as the front door.
Beatrice grimaces at the creaking of the hinges. "Ava, I'm not-" she shakes her head.
"You're always doing this. You're always trying to save me. Just-just…" she blows out a breath, shaky and frustrated as she grips the handle to the door.
Beatrice folds her hands in front of herself, taking a deep breath to settle the bubbling emotion in her chest.
But Ava is unsettled, fingers clenching and unclenching, her jaw, her hands, her entire body following suit until her head falls against the cool metal.
"Bea, I just…" she doesn't know what to say. She doesn't know how to explain how she feels.
"Tell me what's wrong, Ava. We were fine at the bar," she takes a step closer, hands burning to reach out and touch but hesitating, the heat of Ava's frustration enough to scald.
Ava laughs. "You were fine at the bar."
Beatrice doesn't react to the snark, instead choosing to take another step towards the hostile girl. "What happened? You left to get us drinks and then stormed past not even two minutes later."
Ava groans and turns her body to face her girlfriend, arms coming up to cross her chest as a clear warning to stay back. "You were with Theresa," she sighs.
Beatrice halts in her movements, frown blossoming on her face at the sentence. "Theresa?"
"Yes, Theresa. You were all chummy and…"
Beatrice's face is one of confusion. She remembers chatting with her when Ava left, but can't for the life of her understand why she's so upset.
"She…" Ava sighs, eyes rolling and arms flapping. "She's been crushing on you since freshman year, and I just… I was jealous, okay?"
Beatrice reels. "I - she - what?" Her hands flail out to her sides. "Ava…" she takes another step closer, directly in front of the smaller girl. "Ava I don't care about Theresa."
"How could you love someone like me?" It comes out like a broken whisper. Ava won't look at her girlfriend, eyes downcast to watch her own fingers gripping at the skin of her tightly folded arms.
And, oh, Beatrice thinks. The true root of the problem. This has nothing at all to do with Theresa.
"How could I not?" She responds. Beatrice takes the final step, past the threshold of Ava's guard and cups the side of the smaller girl's face, thumb stroking her cheek.
"I'm stubborn-"
"Determined" Beatrice nods.
"Quick to anger-"
"Passionate" She corrects again.
"Hard to work with-"
"Independent."
"Okay, I get it, you're a human thesaurus," Ava grumbles, arms tightening around her body.
Beatrice laughs softly, tilting Ava's face until her eyes meet her own. "Those things make you you, Ava. Even if they're weaknesses sometimes, they're also strengths, and ones I admire at that. You don't back down to anyone. You know what you want and you go after it." She cups the other side of Ava's cheeks between both hands, places a soft kiss against her forehead. "I'm in love with all of you, Ava, the good and the bad. That won't change, whomever I'm speaking to. It's always you."
Beatrice laughs, a loud, bright thing. Ava presses a kiss against the column of her throat. "Thank you, Bea,"
Ava sighs, uncrossing her arms and finally turns her face up to meet her girlfriend's waiting lips in a grateful kiss. She wraps her arms around Beatrice's waist and lets her head settle against the taller girl's neck, smiling softly at the staccato rhythm of her pulse.
"So… you don't like Theresa?"
"I don't like her, no. I never have."
"Good, 'cause I'll cut a bitch." Ava says it with a smile pressed against Bea's throat. Beatrice laughs, a loud, bright thing. Ava presses a kiss against the column of her throat. "Thank you, Bea,"
And Ava… how can you describe her? She's like the creeping sunlight after a particularly rough storm. A light that warms you from the inside, slowly like molasses, until eventually you're so full of her light that you feel her in every movement, every breath, everything.
She's like a crack of lightning, quick and bright, synapses firing all at once and consuming you in an instant. Sharp and electric, impossible to bottle up and keep.
She's a smoldering fire. Dancing wisps of flame, engulfing you in her smoke, cleansing you of any transgression. She's hot, full of fire, and can burn you if you're not careful.
She can take you and mold you into something better, brighter. She will fill in all the cracks.
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