Chapter Text
Ava was only distracted by Beatrice’s departure for a moment, as Vincent tumbled from the cabinet. In the dark church basement, Ava could hear only her heartbeat as he laid motionless on the floor. She’d just shot someone - but there was no rest for the wicked. “Bea! Get down here!” Ava shouted up the stairs, flinging off the moment of shock as she had done a thousand times before at work. Kneeling beside Vincent, she deftly flipped him over onto the dark carpet.
It was a new wound, fuck. Ava heard Beatrice’s steps coming back down the stairs. The stab wound reopening would be one thing, but Vincent’s cockroach-like mystique wouldn’t be able to surmount this. Even without any of her supplies, even without taking any measurements, Ava had seen enough death to know what was coming. Pale face, shallow breath, a massive amount of blood. She put it together at once, the blood she’d seen upstairs was from a new injury, a wound Vincent received… Protecting them?
“What is…” Beatrice trailed off as she saw him, joining Beatrice on the floor in an instant. “Shit.” Surprisingly gentle, Ava watched as Beatrice took one of Vincent’s limp hands in her own. “Vin, can you hear me?”
“I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you this, but he’s -”
“I know,” interrupted Beatrice. “I know.”
Hating not being able to do anything more than just sit there, Ava observed Beatrice. Given everything, the tenderness towards Vincent was surprising. But also wasn’t - they’d been close once, right? He stayed alive to warn them, he stayed alive to complete the mission. Was that enough for redemption? Hard to say, and Ava knew she was far from having enough information - and it wasn’t her call to make.
Vincent’s breaths grew shallower, his face paler. Ava glanced over at Beatrice. Damage wrought by Vincent himself was still painful across her face. Her head was tipped downard, eyes closed, lips moving imperceptibly quiet. Was she… praying? Since when did Beatrice pray? Yet again, Ava felt the pang of not truly knowing her best friend.
“Amen,” concluded Beatrice, aloud now. Vincent took his final breath. “We need to burn this place down.” Callously, Beatrice pulled his keys and wallet from his pocket, stuffing them into her jacket.
“What?” Ava rose, following Beatrice back to the staircase. How stoic she’d become once again, though Ava swore she saw the tiniest glint of a tear in the dark basement. “Why?”
“Too much evidence.” Beatrice took the stairs two at a time. “And I don’t want them to know we lost Vincent. At least not yet. He was still valuable leverage that we just lost.”
“He was a person, Beatrice.”
“You think I don’t know that?!” Beatrice’s biting reply was somewhat of a surprise. Biting too was the callous way she dragged one of the men she shot over the threshold of the window. She dragged the second corpse over the adjacent window, before continuing to speak. “He also tried to kill me, he tried to kill all of us.” Her jaw was tight as she finished speaking, frustrated and emotionally raw. Beatrice’s emotions were becoming less and less of a mystery to Ava, though hard to witness.
“He was also your friend, once.”
“Ava, please.” Beatrice’s hands shook, she balled them into fists, then opened them back up again. “I can’t.” Her voice cracked on the last word. As a weak cover, she picked up a bible from the pew shelf, and began ripping out its pages, scattering them across the floor. Unsure of what else to do, Ava followed suit. Her emotions were so raw, she didn’t even know where to begin.
Yet compartmentalization was always an option - and not even a bad one, right? Ava didn’t need to think about Beatrice’s spiral, or her own, or the fact that she just shot someone with shockingly little thought, or the fact that she barely knew her best friend after years of lies, or the fact that she was in love with -
“So…” Ava spoke aloud, if only to throw her train of thought off the tracks. “Favourite passage?” She ripped out another handful of bible pages and tossed them on the floor.
For a few heavy seconds, Beatrice said nothing. “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.”
“Did you just have that memorised and ready to go?” There was a teasing edge in Ava’s voice, one that she hoped lightened the tension a little bit.
“I suppose I did…” Beatrice paused for a moment, pensive. She stood in front of the sepulchre, to Ava she looked holy. “Though favourite, I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“Hopefully you don’t get sick of me prying into your life. I need to know you again.”
“Need?” Across the room, Beatrice made incredibly loaded eye contact with Ava from across the room.
“Yes. Need.” Ava sighed and retrieved yet another Bible to scatter across the floor. How symbolic. “That, and I really don’t want to sit in silence with my thoughts right now.”
Another pause. Finally, “I understand,” from Beatrice. “You desire to be involved aside, it feels like too much, too quickly.”
“And yet I’m handling it far better than you anticipated, right?” Ava tried to sound upbeat, tried to sound hopeful. She felt unsuccessful.
“Honestly, yes. Truly.” Beatrice continued making a mess of the place, scuffed wooden floors coated in thin, ripped passages. How darkly symbolic. “I don’t think I’ll be quick to forget how you just shot someone.”
“Not very accurately, though.” In the moment it took her to blink, Ava saw his silhouette in the dark, jerking backwards as the bullet caught him in the shoulder.
“Was the accuracy on purpose?” The question was pointed, but asked in a way that made it seem like Beatrice already knew the answer.
“I… No,” sighed Ava. And she wasn’t lying - the moment of impact played over in her mind. She wasn’t an experienced marksman, but she did intend to kill. And shockingly, it wasn’t even her first. “I am a killer now.”
“What happened at the hospital was a bit different than this. At least, I think it was.” Beatrice threw several half-ripped bibles down the basement stairs, where Vincent’s dead body still lay. “You chose to be here.” Her tone was impossible to decipher, but it was far from malicious.
“I feel bad because I don’t feel as bad as I should.” Ava stopped with the papery debris for a moment, instead opting to grip the back of the pew in front of her, a weak attempt at grounding. She needed to focus. Everything was so distracting. Beatrice was so distracting, especially in the moody, colourful half-light of the church.
“Care to explain?” There was still such a formality about Beatrice at times, oddly comforting, as it was one of the few things that hadn’t changed for Ava recently.
“When he came down the stairs, I barely had a conscious thought beyond ‘it’s him or you.’” Pausing, Ava took a deep breath. “I’ve spent so much of my life trying to help and save others. This shift, I… I should feel worse. Guilty. Guilier, at least.”
“Should I feel guilty?” Whatever Ava had expected Beatrice to ask, it wasn’t that. She didn’t have an immediate answer, but Beatrice filled the heavy silence. “I’ve done far worse than you, and far more.”
“No. I don’t know. No.” Ava waffled, indecisive and not at the same time. “No. You’re Beatrice. You’re a good person. Despite everything, I still know you. I know who you are.”
“I have my moments of guilt. Not often, but sometimes.” Beatrice crossed the room, towards the sepulchre table stacked with candles. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but it looked like she was blushing. “More than anything, I want… Need you to be okay.”
“I will be.” And despite all the uncertainty as of late, Ava was certain of this. If she had Beatrice, everything would be fine.
“Is that a promise?” Beatrice asked, as she lit several candles on the table.
“Yes.”
“I’d like to discuss this more later, but it’s time to go.” Without further comment, Beatrice tipped over the table, and flames quickly licked across the paper-laden floor. Within minutes, the pews and floors would go up in flames.
In retreating from the building, Ava stopped in the doorway and watched the rapid progress of the flames. This was crazy. This was crazy! She just leveraged a hostage to kidnap a rival gang member. And now they were burning down a building. Normally she just spent the evening with a pint of cookie dough ice cream and a trashy TV show… Did she love this?
“I need you to drive my car.” Beatrice’s voice brought Ava back to reality, as did the touch of Beatrice’s hand against hers as the keys were exchanged. “I’ll send you the address.”
“Okay.” Ava took the keys. She knew she should be moving faster, she could hear the fire building behind her, but her thoughts felt so congested. Conflicted. Excited? She could see the reflection of the fire in Beatrice’s eyes, and couldn’t help but wonder if she’d looked the same way on that fateful night.
“Okay?” The concern in Beatrice’s face and voice was obvious.
“Okay.” Ava managed a smile, then reached out to pull Beatrice into her. She needed the warmth and contact. “Can I drive like a criminal?”
“What on earth does that mean?” Beatrice chuckled though, and wrapped her arms around Ava, making no move to rush her or shun the contact.
“You’ll see,” whispered Ava. “You’ll see why they stopped letting me drive the ambulance back when I was an EMT.”
“Uh oh.” Beatrice laughed. “Just don’t get pulled over. That gun doesn’t have a serial number.”
“Got it.” Ava pulled herself away from Beatrice, painful as it was to do so. “Let’s go.”
“Let’s.” Beatrice nodded. “I’ll see you there.”
Climbing into the car, Ava felt like a woman possessed. Starting the engine and hearing it purr only reaffirmed the emotion. This was a far, far nicer car than she’d ever driven before. And hey, if this was her life now, why not enjoy it? Would Beatrice approve of this being her life? Is this really what she wanted? Shaking her head, Ava pushed those hard-to-answer questions away for now. Best to just enjoy the now, focus on the difficulties later.
Taking a few difficult deep breaths, Ava lowered the mirror on the sun visor. The little built in light lit up the blood on her face, damaged cuts from the exploding glass of the attack. She looked wild. On the passenger seat beside her, her phone lit up, likely the address from Beatrice. Feeling as though she was on the brink, Ava shifted the car into gear. It was time.