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“I found a lead.”
Beatrice looked up from where she was cooking at the stove, and over to Ava leaning in the doorway.
It was an unusually balmy evening and the warmth filled their apartment. They had the windows opened to allow a soft breeze to billow the curtains, and Beatrice had found herself relaxed in a small kitchen hidden in the Alps. A blush whispered across her cheeks when she took in Ava – strong arms crossed across her chest, long legs stretched beneath the shorts she wore when she wanted to be comfortable, a smile – blinding, dizzying – illuminating her face.
She was effortlessly beautiful, and Beatrice had to blink and look away. She hoped Ava wrote the redness in her cheeks off as a symptom of the warm night and heat from the stove.
“A lead?” she asked, moving to stir the sauce in front of her.
“Yup,” Ava replied, popping the ‘p.’ Beatrice heard her moving closer into the kitchen until – Ava rested her chin on Beatrice’s shoulder, arms wrapping around her from behind. “That smells really good, by the way. So glad we can add ‘professional chef’ to your impressive list of impressive skills.”
Beatrice saw Ava flash her another smile out of the corner of her eye, and willed herself to continue staring forward. Mindlessly stirring the sauce that no longer needed tending to. Not that Ava would know.
Hopefully.
Luckily (sadly), Ava gave one more squeeze before pulling back and away. Beatrice released a quiet and shaky breath.
“It’s spaghetti, Ava,” she finally responded.
“Okay, but you remember the last time I tried cooking – and that was only a grilled cheese. No ‘just’ about it, Bea.”
Beatrice bit back a smile.
“The lead?” she prompted.
“Right! So! I was talking to this guy who came into the bar today, his name is Luis, by the way, and he mentioned something about a party.”
Beatrice shot a look over her shoulder. “I thought this was a lead relating to the OCS or perhaps Adriel, the main reason why we’re here?”
Ava, who was leaning in the doorway once more, simply rolled her eyes. “I was getting there, miss impatient. He said the party was being hosted by the First-Born Children, or maybe that they would be there. I was too excited to really pay attention – don’t give me that look.”
Beatrice smoothed her face and gave an innocent smile. “What look?”
Ava narrowed her eyes, but Beatrice could see her own smile beginning to form. It was her eyes, Beatrice thought. The way they light up and crinkle. They always give her away.
Beatrice’s smile became more genuine before she turned back to the food on the stove. It was almost done, now.
“Either way, this could be the big break we’ve been looking for. We can scope them out, understand how or even where they operate. Maybe grab one and convince him to let us in on their secrets.”
“Reconnaissance,” Beatrice offered.
“Exactly! Reconnaissance,” Ava repeated, snapping her fingers.
“As long as we’re careful, it could be a good idea. We’ve been flying pretty blind so far; while we know the FBC are a threat and helping Adriel, we don’t know the specifics.”
“So, you’re in?” Ava asked, slightly surprised. Beatrice turned the stove burners off and moved the pot of noodles over to drain the water down the sink. While she worked, she looked over to Ava and nodded.
“It would help the mission. Of course.”
Ava moved back into the kitchen to pull down bowls and began plating for them. She passed Beatrice a serving of spaghetti, but did not make eye contact. Her shoulders also seemed tense.
Beatrice accepted the bowl but narrowed her eyes.
“Ava,” she began. The other woman hummed in response, still refusing to look at her. Busying herself with her own bowl.
Beatrice stood up straighter. “Ava… what aren’t you telling me?”
She watched Ava bite her bottom lip and then spun around, putting her bowl on the counter behind her before gripping the ledge. Beatrice felt herself slipping back into her prepared stance, all of a sudden hyperaware of all points of entrance and exits in their apartment.
Her weapons were stashed in the bedroom, which wasn’t too far away, but she would need to hide something in the kitchen next time. To be prepared.
“Look – I’m not – It’s not,” Ava began but sighed at herself. “Okay, yes, that isn’t technically the whole thing, but really, it’s like, no big deal, y’know? We’re two very badass women who have accomplished many things – like, like you remember when took on like, twenty dudes that one time, right? We can handle anything; you and me, Bea, together.”
Beatrice felt her heart flutter slightly, but her eyes remained sharp and focused. Ava was looking at her now with a hopeful smile before her throat bobbed as she swallowed.
“Luis might have mentioned that I should bring my girlfriend to the party,” she rushed out.
Beatrice felt her stomach drop, her heart freeze, and her face burn.
Girlfriend.
“… Oh,” she said softly.
“I would have corrected him, Bea, believe me. But then he kept talking and was saying something about the party being super hush-hush and only those in the know were allowed in. And – I think I had him trusting me, enough to invite us to go, at least. So, I figured in that moment if I told him that we – that we weren’t, that we’re not,” Ava cleared her throat. “Well, I didn’t want to break that trust by telling him. We could’ve lost the invite, or something. And like you said – this would be a great opportunity for reconnaissance.”
“Reconnaissance,” Beatrice repeated, but her mind was miles away.
Girlfriend.
Ava grabbed her hand and Beatrice blinked once. Twice. Felt herself find her center once more. Ignored the burn in her cheeks, up the back of her neck.
“Bea. We don’t have to go. I can go by myself; say you weren’t feeling well.”
Beatrice felt herself frown. She wouldn’t let Ava go by herself, especially if there was a chance for danger.
“No,” she said before taking a quick breath. She shook her head and closed her eyes. “You’re right,” and opened her eyes to see Ava’s eyebrows tick up. “It’s bound to happen every once in a while,” she added.
Ava’s concerned look faded slightly to amusement; eyes narrowed in mock insult.
“Watch it, Sister,” she whispered.
In that moment, Beatrice took stock of how close they were standing in the already small space. Ava’s hand, so warm in her own, with her thumb rubbing the back of her knuckles. Ava’s reliance on touch as a reassurance had first thrown Beatrice; made her skin burn wherever they had touched, made her want and want, made her want to run and hide and scream.
But now she could feel her stumbling heart begin to calm.
She pulled her hand away gently, taking a step back and turning to pour sauce over her noodles.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Ava repeated, surprise coating her words. Beatrice was likewise surprised.
“Okay,” she said once more, turning back to Ava. “You and me.”
Ava’s answering smile was once again blinding. Her eyes – so big, and brown, and expressive – crinkled at the corners. Beatrice felt her soul sigh.
God, grant me the strength.
.
The party was held at a building made of stone and an open courtyard in the middle was already filled with swaying and dancing figures. The afternoon so far had been a pleasant one, though Beatrice knew the chill would take over once the sun sank below the mountains. She had just barely managed to convince Ava to let her bring along one of the other girl’s cardigans. It was soft, and smelled like Ava. She had to remind herself not to breathe too deeply.
The rest of her outfit, however, she had less control over.
It’s a party that we’re going undercover for, Bea. You can’t dress like you actually are a nun, Ava had said. And then suddenly Beatrice had a sleeveless tank top thrown at her, followed by a pair of shorts she hadn’t worn in forever and barely remembered why she even bothered packing them in the first place.
The tank top was one of Ava’s. It was an olive-green color and about a size too small for Beatrice; where it fit Ava’s smaller frame perfectly, it appeared as more of a crop top on Beatrice. It had been some time since she wore regular clothes in public – even longer, if ever, since she wore something so revealing. She kept pulling the beige cardigan closed.
Ava noticed her fiddling and reached over to grab her hand, lacing their fingers together. She gave a soft smile to Beatrice and squeezed her hand three times.
“You look hot, Bea. Stop worrying so much,” she said, leaning in close enough that her voice whispered against Beatrice’s ear. She repressed her shiver when Ava pulled back, letting their cheeks brush softly. “Now let’s go find some evil angel worshippers, girlfriend,” Ava winked, pulling Beatrice by the hand deeper into the party.
I am going to die tonight. The Warrior Nun is going to kill me. This is it, my end.
Beatrice plastered on a stiff smile as she stood next to Ava, who had pulled a random party goer into conversation. She tuned out the conversation as she let her eyes drift across those around her.
There must have been at least fifty people. Perhaps sixty, if there were more people behind the walls of the courtyard. She couldn’t spot any noticeable weapons, no one suspiciously monitoring the party, nor favoring a specific side while walking indicating a concealed gun.
Her eyes narrowed as she watched a man sneak up behind a woman, placing his hands over her eyes. Beatrice tensed as the woman let out a shocked scream – but then deflated when the woman turned and, when seeing who the man was, laughed and pulled him into a hug.
Moving to the tall walls of the courtyard, Beatrice made note of the various windows. So far, they had all been dark, with minimal to no movement behind them. She circled back to the entrance of the courtyard, flicked her eyes to the back exit –
“… right, Beatrice?”
Her attention snapped back to Ava, who was smiling at her expectantly, tension noticeable in her smile and eyes.
“Right,” Beatrice agreed with a nod of her head and a probably-too-forced smile at the person Ava was talking with. A man with short brown hair, about the same size as Beatrice.
This must be Luis.
“That’s wonderful to hear,” he said. “How long have you two been together?”
A quick glance to Ava, who was already looking at her.
We probably should have planned this better, Beatrice thought angrily to herself. Preparation was what she did, but she was so nervous about having to pretend to date Ava without her very real, absolutely not pretend feelings shining out of her face like a brightly superpowered halo she completely forgot that… dating someone comes with a history. One people would most likely ask about.
Before Beatrice could stumble through a response, Ava was speaking for them.
“About a year, now. It’s pretty cheesy, but I was sort of lost, trying to figure out who I was. I had aged out of an orphanage and didn’t really have a home. So, I was going wherever the wind blew me. And then,” Ava shrugged, now looking directly at Beatrice, face soft and open. “I met Bea. And suddenly, for the first time in my life, I had a home.”
A beat, where their eyes stayed locked and Beatrice could barely breathe. Then – Ava turned back to the man, smile now mischievous. “She was totally out of my league and I was so obnoxious back then – totally called me on my bullshit – but somehow along the way I was lucky enough to call her mine. She hasn’t been able to get rid of me since.”
The music around them faded to a dull roar in Beatrice’s ears. It felt like she was submerged under water, far too aware of how her heart was pounding in her chest.
Oh Ava, she thought. If only you knew. I have no intention of ever leaving.
Beatrice sucked in a sharp breath and flashed a smile to the man. “Ava has been a great lesson in patience – and courage,” she finished, looking back to Ava. “I’m lucky to have her.”
And if Beatrice’s voice was a little too hushed, if it possessed a little too much honesty, if her hand squeezed Ava’s a little too tightly… Well. She was a good actress, is all.
Ava stared at her with wide eyes, lips slightly parted and curled at the edges.
She needed to leave this moment. It was becoming suffocating, having to stand with Ava, saying these things, feeling these things – she needed to flee and calm down.
“Excuse me,” Beatrice said. “I’m going to fetch something to drink.” And turned to leave without waiting for a response.
Except Ava was still holding Beatrice’s hand. So, with a quick, “it was nice talking to you, Luis” thrown over her shoulder, Ava was pulled after Beatrice.
“Watch out Oscar nominees, there’s a new Meryl Streep in town,” Ava whispered excitedly to Beatrice. “Way to really sell it, Bea. This is going to be the easiest mission ever – FBC won’t know what hit them. We’ll charm ‘em, steal their secrets, find out how to stop you know who, and boom. Back home in time for our shift tomorrow.”
Ava knocked her shoulder against Beatrice’s when they stopped at the drink table. It was filled with various cans, bottles, and a tub of unidentified liquid. It was slightly pink, and when Beatrice snuck a tentative whiff, it burned the inside of her nose. Wincing, she grabbed a water bottle from a bucket.
“We’re not fighting Voldemort, Ava,” she said, not looking at her. Ava’s hand slipped from hers, only to grab the water bottle from her. “Hey,” Beatrice protested, but Ava held it out of reach.
Beatrice stared at her unimpressed. “Ava that was my water.”
“Exactly. This is a party, Bea. Have a drink, c’mon. Aren’t you the one who is always saying we need to blend in? Just one, I promise, just one.”
Beatrice bit her lip and looked away.
“This is a mission, Ava. I need to stay alert,” she said under her breath, knowing Ava was close enough she would be the only one who would hear it.
Ava grabbed her hands and pulled her even closer, until her hands were steady and solid on Beatrice’s hips. She did her best to swallow her gasp but her eyes shot back to Ava’s.
“Bea,” she whispered – pleaded. Their height difference was almost nonexistent with the boots Ava was wearing tonight so they were almost nose to nose. Still, Ava looked up at Beatrice through her eyelashes, big brown eyes drifting across her face. “For me?”
Beatrice’s hands had flailed out to the side when Ava first grabbed her, but now slowly slid across Ava’s back. Tentatively. Softly. She could feel Ava’s warmth through her own thin tank top, the tips of her fingers brushing the bottom of the halo in her back.
She couldn’t look away from Ava. She felt frozen, stuck to the ground. There was a piece of Ava’s short hair that curled against the side of her face and her heart tugged, wanting to brush it back. To caress her cheek, her jawline. Press her thumb against her bottom lip. To lean in… to…
Her eyes snapped back up to Ava’s and Beatrice took an abrupt step back. Her chest was suddenly heaving and it felt like her fingertips were tingling.
“One drink,” Beatrice caved. Her voice was shaky – out of breath – and she felt like she would combust at any moment. Grabbing a plastic cup, she dipped it into the tub of pink liquid before taking a large drink. She almost choked, coughing the moment the drink burned across her tongue, down her throat. Almost strong enough to replace the buzzing in her chest.
“Woah, careful there, Beatrice,” Ava said through a laugh, gently slapping her on the back.
“I’m fine,” Beatrice croaked.
Ava’s hand remained on her back.
When they had first been assigned their station in the Alps, just the two of them, Beatrice was frightened it would be awkward. Sure, they had trained by themselves and hung out at Cat’s Cradle one-on-one, but this would be different. It would be only Beatrice and Ava, living together in a town that did not know them.
They had a mission to remain undercover. They had found a bar to work at. But there were also moments of quiet downtime that Beatrice knew not what to do with. She did not know how to handle the times where she simply existed, alongside Ava, in a place surrounded by mountains and beauty and anonymity.
No Sisters watching them, no friends joining them for dinner. No one else.
But, to the absolute reckoning of Beatrice’s heart, it had been easy. One of the easiest things Beatrice had ever done.
They worked well together, even when stuck in a small one-bedroom apartment. They knew where the other would move before it happened, turning it into a dance. Ava woke up early with Beatrice and trained with her; Beatrice learned to accept the easy touches Ava offered her, understood that touch did not always have to hurt. Beatrice could be soft because Ava was there for her. She could be soft because Ava was there.
It started with quick hugs, a hand trailing across her back as Ava passed behind her. It grew to hand squeezes, laced fingers, hugs that turned into them simply holding each other. Ava’s hand rubbing her back, while Beatrice cupped the back of Ava’s head. After only a month, Beatrice found herself relying on those touches. They reassured her that Ava was still there.
She was real, and solid, and alive.
That they were facing it both together.
Maybe not the way Beatrice secretly hoped. But her feelings were her own responsibility. She could not afford to let her heart sabotage the mission.
(She could not let herself be the reason something happened to Ava. She would not allow it. Come literal Hell or highwater. The Devil himself would have to pass through Beatrice before he could harm Ava.)
Beatrice took another sip of her drink, welcoming the burn this time. It helped to ground her.
“We should dance.”
Beatrice raised her eyebrows.
“Pardon?”
“You are pardoned,” Ava said cheekily. The hand on Beatrice’s back ghosted up her spine until Ava was moving a piece of Beatrice’s hair behind her ear. Her fingers lingered, tracing the outline of Beatrice’s ear, making her skin prickle.
“How exactly does dancing help us gather intel on the FBC?” Beatrice asked with a rim-rod straight spine.
Ava smiled and let her hand fall away.
“It doesn’t,” she said simply. Beatrice blinked at her in shock. “But – it’s a beautiful night, Bea, and the music isn’t too terrible. C’mon,” she said, voice trailing off to a whisper. “… while we still have this night.”
Beatrice’s eyes flicked up from Ava’s fond smile to her eyes. She stared at her and felt like she was floating.
If she allowed herself, Beatrice would admit that she was selfish. She wanted, she dreamed. She was proud of taking her vows, of promising to protect.
But – God above – she ached for someone to love. To find someone, to love her soul, to know her as Beatrice knew herself. She had shoved those desires behind thick walls – but then… Ava knew how to phase through those pretty easily, after all.
Beatrice knew this job did not usually provide a long tenure. Even more true for the halo bearer.
While we still have this night.
Beatrice loved Ava.
She would do anything for Ava.
Even if she didn’t get the ending she wanted, Beatrice would take any story Ava shared with her.
Taking a deep breath, she placed her cup on the table behind her, and stepped closer to Ava. Ava stepped backwards into the crowd, never once looking away from Beatrice. Trusting her to catch her, to guide her. To hold her and protect her. Putting her faith in Beatrice.
It was something that broke Beatrice’s heart, and mended it all the same.
Eventually, they stood still in the middle of the crowd; bodies pushed and twirled around them, moving to the heavy bass of the music. Beatrice could feel the sweat cooling on the back of her neck, could feel the way Ava clutched her shirt, holding her close.
Space between them was nonexistent. Ava’s breath washed over Beatrice’s face and her eyes fluttered shut. Her hands drifted from Ava’s hips to her lower back, pulled her impossibly close until they were flushed against one another.
Beatrice could feel Ava’s breath hitch; was unsure whose heart she felt pounding. Perhaps it was both of theirs, racing terribly fast as the world around them seemed to slow to a crawl.
They begun to dance. It was an unhurried sway that did not match the beat of the music thundering around them, but neither moved to fix it. Ava’s hands traced Beatrice’s back, up and down, holding – pulling. Eventually, her fingers found their way into Beatrice’s hair, tangling, tugging lightly, making Beatrice’s eyes squeeze shut. She lowered her head as her sigh ghosted across Ava’s neck, making her fingers tighten once more.
Beatrice’s hands gripped Ava’s hips.
“Bea,” Ava whispered.
She could feel butterflies in her belly. She felt so soft and vulnerable – it was foreign, and frightening, and so addictive. Beatrice was almost tempted to check that she was still on the ground and not floating among the heavens.
Ava’s hand, the one not playing with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck, skimmed up her arm, across her collarbone, and rested on Beatrice’s sternum.
Oh, there was no hiding the pounding of her heart, now. Ava would know. Perhaps had already known. She was too smart, like that.
When Ava gasped delicately, Beatrice slowly opened her eyes.
Ava’s eyes were wide and her pupils were blown to the point the warm brown was almost black. She looked astonished, staring at her own hand on Beatrice’s chest. Disbelieving. In awe, almost.
But that was not right, for she was Ava.
Of course Beatrice’s heart would belong to her. It would have never belonged to another.
Digging deep within her, Beatrice found the frayed ends of her courage, and pulled it forward. She let her hand rise, and finally, she brushed Ava’s hair behind her ear. Lightly traced her face, down her jawline. Cupped Ava’s face like she was something to worship.
She saw Ava’s eyes flicker down to Beatrice’s mouth and Beatrice couldn’t stop her tongue from wetting her lips. In response, Ava bit her own bottom lip, pulling the soft flesh.
The world around them was gone. The music was drowned out by their heavy breathing and fast hearts. The strangers dancing and laughing disappeared.
Like most things, it was only Beatrice and Ava.
Beatrice wasn’t sure who kissed the other first. They may have met in the middle, but all she knew was that there was nothing on this realm or from the next that could stop her from bending down and pressing her lips to Ava’s.
It was slow, sensual. Ava’s mouth was soft beneath hers, and Beatrice sucked gently on her bottom lip. She felt Ava lightly bite down and then quickly soothed Beatrice with her tongue.
The hand in her hair tightened, and she pulled Ava’s face closer, gripping her hip with her left hand. She felt Ava sigh into her mouth, lips gliding across her own. The kiss tasted like the cheap beer Ava had been sipping on, and like salvation. Her tongue pressed prayers into Ava’s, and Beatrice could do nothing to prevent this absolution.
She didn’t want to.
Eventually, they had to pull apart. They didn’t move far, with their foreheads resting against each other, noses brushing.
Beatrice felt found, like she had stumbled upon her own deliverance. This was peace, she realized. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was living her truth – and that brought on an unfamiliar lightness. It made her laugh, made her smile.
“Ava,” she whispered, stroking her fingers across her face. Down, to trace the smile that was beginning to bloom, mirroring Beatrice. Her thumb pulled at Ava’s bottom lip.
“Woah,” Ava whispered and Beatrice couldn’t help but giggle. The sound made Ava’s smile grow until it was nothing but teeth and crinkled eyes.
Without saying a word, they both met in the middle once more. They had to readjust as they both couldn’t stop smiling into the kiss, but quickly it turned more heated. Hands grabbed a little tighter, teeth bit and tongues soothed, they stood so close they could barely breathe. This kiss was hurried and loud and Beatrice could barely stop herself from crying.
She loved Ava. She loved Ava with all she had – and she knew being the Warrior Nun meant nothing good – nothing safe. But they had this moment, they had this night to prove to the Fates above that they had each other.
It was a desperate kiss, burning and bruising. Beatrice felt something wet on her cheek, but was unable to tell if the tear was from her or Ava. Ava, who was beautiful and good and bright, and who was kissing her with the same ferocity, the same urgency.
They both knew how this story would end, one day.
But for now…
Beatrice loved Ava. And Ava was kissing Beatrice; she was stroking her hair, tracing her lips with her tongue, sighing into her mouth. Ava was rewriting Beatrice’s foundation, leaving her fingerprints across her skin as evidence. Proof of her metamorphism.
They pulled back once more, though Beatrice kept her eyes shut.
“Ava…” She couldn’t speak. The words were stuck in her throat.
“I know,” and of course she did.
It was Ava. Of course she knew.
Beatrice opened her eyes and felt a tear escape. Ava’s thumb reached up and brushed it away, palm resting against her cheek.
“I know, Bea.”
And – it was Ava. So Beatrice knew, as well.
It was her eyes. Always her eyes. They give her away.
Beatrice loved Ava. Ava loved Beatrice.
They both knew how the story would most likely end. The odds weren’t in their favor, after all.
But that didn’t mean Beatrice wouldn’t fight until the very end. Because haven’t they suffered enough? Haven’t they bled and cried and lost enough? Haven’t they earned a tenderness of their own? How much longer must they fight until they were offered grace.
Perhaps, it would never come. Perhaps, their ending had already been written long before they had a beginning.
Ava’s fingers tangled with Beatrice’s. A squeeze – once, twice, three times.
I love you.
Beatrice had made a vow. Beatrice had read the Bible until she had it memorized. Beatrice had fallen in love.
She could not allow herself to believe that her God would place Ava in her life, and not expect Beatrice to love her. It was inevitable.
Beatrice squeezed Ava’s hand back – once, twice, three times.
Ava cleared her throat. “Hey, just for, y’know, clarification. You aren’t, like… pretending right now, right? … This is real?”
Beatrice tilted her head and gazed at Ava with a soft smile; fond, oh so fond.
“This is real, Ava,” Beatrice answered.
Ava smiled in response. “Cool.”
Beatrice shook her head and let out a laugh. Watched as Ava’s face softened, her smile small and secret.
“I told you,” Ava began. “It’s you and me, Bea.”
The moon was high above them now. Beatrice had no idea what tomorrow would bring. She didn’t know what Adriel was planning. She couldn’t promise that Ava wouldn’t get hurt.
But they still had tonight.
“Together.”