Work Text:
After 11 days in Switzerland…
“Whatcha making?” Ava asked, having crept up on Beatrice as she put together dinner for the two of them. Crept up was generous considering Ava was rarely ever silent, even with effort.
“Zürcher Geschnetzeltes. I found veal at the market today and figured I’d try my hand at the recipe. There’s a book in the pantry, you know, left here by the last tenants. We’re meant to be blending in, so why not try local cuisine.”
Beatrice slid the mushrooms into the pan, turning to Ava for help. If she was going to be attached to Beatrice’s hip, she could at least lend a hand.
“Could you start reducing the wine?” Beatrice asked, nodding over at the bottle already prepped on the counter. Beatrice was meticulous in the kitchen, following recipes to a T. She was already halfway through the cookbook she’d found upon inspection of their apartment, cooking up something new for herself and Ava as often as she could.
It wasn’t that Ava couldn’t feed herself, she was more than capable. But she hadn’t touched an appliance in their two weeks in the apartment, opting for food that required no flame unless Beatrice was the one preparing it. And, Beatrice figured, one could only eat so many cold sandwiches before it drove you crazy.
“Uh—” Ava started, holding the wine bottle away from herself as if it had personally offended her.
“And if I said I don’t have a clue how to do that?”
Oh. Once it clicked, it was obvious.
“You don’t know how to cook?” Beatrice asked, and Ava confirmed her suspicions with a nonchalant shrug.
“Never learned, no. And before you ask, I never watched cooking shows, Diego didn’t like them. He liked oldies, cowboy stuff.”
Beatrice continued stirring, shifting the pan back and forth to occupy her hands. Beatrice wasn’t always sure how to navigate Ava’s past, nor the mentions of it. Most of what she knew, Ava hadn’t told her. It had been records taken from the orphanage, not anything Ava would have willingly offered up. Back then, they’d studied Ava for a purpose, and reasoned that it was for the greater good. But, as with most things as of late, Beatrice questioned it, trying to grapple with what now felt like an intrusion.
But what she knew couldn’t be unlearned so she chose now just to listen, take in the stories Ava truly wanted to tell.
“Kinda like how you always make me change the channel when the reality shows come on,” Ava teased as she scootched closer to Beatrice. “I always get stuck with the picky roommates.”
Beatrice smacked Ava’s shoulder with the closest clean spatula, rolling her eyes. “This picky roommate is cooking your dinner so choose your next words carefully.”
Ava put her hands up, pleading eyes in full effect. “Of course, of course, I’ll help you by not getting involved. I’m sure I’d burn the water or something.”
The wheels in Beatrice’s head were already in motion.
The following morning, Beatrice laid out a handful of ingredients on the counter while Ava was still asleep and wrote down a recipe she’d stored in her memory for years. It was tried and true, always a go-to and a favorite of Camila back at the convent.
Pancakes. Simple, delicious, and very reasonable for a first-time recipe. A sufficient confidence booster, Beatrice supposed.
As soon as Ava emerged from their room, hair still sticking up in every direction, she perked up upon noticing Beatrice’s setup.
“What’s all this?” Ava asked as she trudged over, pajama pants that definitely did not belong to her dragging under her feet from the excess length.
“Breakfast. But you’re going to make it,” Beatrice said proudly until she saw Ava’s sudden look of horror, quickly amending it with, “And I’ll teach you. It’s quite simple, don’t worry.”
Ava did not seem to think this was a worry-free endeavor but still rolled up her sleeves, reluctantly looking over everything on the counter.
“These are the ingredients for pancakes, and here,” Beatrice handed Ava the pad of paper on which she had jotted down the recipe. “This is the recipe. It was a favorite at the convent.”
“Pancakes?” Ava asked as she skimmed the recipe. “Seems easy enough.”
Beatrice nodded, handing Ava a bag of flour. “I believe in you.”
Ava lit up, taking the bag and attempting to tear open the top.
“Wait, here,” Beatrice started as she fished through her pockets for her penknife. Too late, though, as the bag finally tore open with enough excess force to send half the flour into the air. A white cloud bloomed in between them, obscuring Ava and narrowly missing Beatrice, courtesy of her stellar reflexes.
The silence was deafening as the cloud cleared, flour falling to the floor and coating the front of Ava’s clothes, clinging to her hair, and sticking to her eyelashes.
“Uh—” Ava started before coughing, blinking several times to clear her eyes. “This place isn’t equipped with a vacuum, is it?”
Months ago, such a mess might’ve been a nuisance, an annoyance to Beatrice. But something about Ava had chipped away at her, barely noticeable at first but certainly noticeable then when Beatrice didn’t scowl, didn’t scold, but laughed.
She was quick to recover, fighting the butterflies in her stomach, but Ava already saw it, already starting laughing herself and the tremors in her body just shook more flour onto the already coated floor.
“You,” Beatrice started, pointing at Ava but with a smile she wasn’t sufficient at concealing, “stay put.”
It turned out that there is no good way to clean flour off of anything, let alone a living, breathing person with opinions and an affinity for pushing Beatrice’s buttons. They got the job done, though, and with the floor mopped, Ava in a new set of clothes, and Beatrice having now opened every bag that contained loose ingredients, the cooking commenced.
Ava could follow directions when so inclined. Beatrice, on the other hand, could exercise restraint from nitpicking and allow for some imperfections. It was not a wraith they were up against. It was breakfast, not life or death.
Ava placed blueberries on each pancake as they fried, making smiley faces with the fruit.
It was just so Ava.
It was so Ava to add a little light, to smile, and make the rest of the world fall away for at least a moment.
A few pancake-flipping attempts later, they sat down with plates in hand, willfully ignoring the bit of leftover flour now visible on the tabletop as the sun hit it just right.
“I’d call that—” Ava said as she poured a ridiculous amount of syrup on her pancakes, “a success.”
“I’m inclined to agree.” Beatrice took a bite, struck by a moment of aching sadness when the taste brought her back, if only for a moment, to the convent, seated next to Camila and Lilith and eating this meal together.
It must’ve shown on her face because Ava paused, hesitant. “No good?”
“Oh no, you did good, Ava. I was just thinking—” Beatrice tried to find the words. “I was thinking about our friends.”
Our friends. Because even with so little time together, Ava undeniably made a mark on her sisters.
Ava nodded in recognition. “I guess I’ll have to show off my new skill when we’re all back together.”
“I guess you will,” Beatrice said, buoyed slightly by Ava’s outlook.
“Does this mean I’m on breakfast duty from now on?” Ava asked before stuffing an inadvisable amount of pancake into her mouth that only led to syrup dripping down her chin and onto the tabletop.
Mother Superion’s voice played in her head, as it often did when Beatrice sought direction of her own.
“That’s the thing about skills, Ava. Sometimes, you have to use them.”
And Ava did, even waking up before Beatrice several times to get a head start. She experimented, grabbing random ingredients at the market while they went shopping (a chore Beatrice previously had to drag Ava along to) yet rarely read recipes.
“I’m just going by feeling, Bea,” she’d say, shaking more salt onto her first attempt at rösti. “Gotta let the food speak to me.”
Ava found about as much success as she did failure but there was no denying that starting the day with Ava’s newest breakfast idea could lighten even the dreariest of moods.
If anyone ever asked, Beatrice would say it was completely necessary training and Ava, as the Warrior Nun, should have life skills and combat skills.
Or maybe Beatrice found peace in the domesticity of it, cooking for each other and sharing meals and sweeping spilled flour off the floor. Even Mother Superior’s killer glare couldn’t force that information out of her, though.
Ava’s trial and error (and Beatrice’s guidance) paid off, though, on the same night Beatrice stayed hours late at the bar while trying to fix the latest critical delivery error. She’d never trust Hans with inventory again.
Beatrice approached the door to the apartment with tired eyes and aching feet, surprised to see a beam of light from under the door and a savory smell wafting into the hall. She swore she could hear music, although faint enough to not disturb the neighbors.
As she opened the door (that always creaked obnoxiously, mentally adding fixing it to her to-do list), Ava spun around from her place in the kitchen, balancing a plate in each hand. The knee-length skirt she’d bought from a vendor down the street a few days ago flared dramatically with the sudden movement, some kind of sauce smeared on the front.
“Bea!” Ava smiled as she set the plates down. “Perfect timing.”
Beatrice saw the state of the kitchen but willfully ignored it, instead looking at Ava’s impressive efforts from the last few hours. The table was set, an off-white tablecloth draped over the top with a candle in the middle.
“Reminds me of the convent,” Beatrice had mentioned once in passing. The power had gone out and they lit candles around the apartment. Ever since, Ava brought home candles left and right, expanding their collection beyond what they’d ever realistically use. “You never know,” Ava said as she inspected another she’d found upstairs at the bar. “We could always bring them back as souvenirs.”
Before Beatrice had a chance to speak, Ava, strangely nervous-looking, beat her to it.
“I know we have a strict food budget—”
“Ava.”
“—but I made some extra tips and—”
“Ava—”
“—saw this in your cookbook and wanted to apply myself, or however you say.”
Beatrice waited for Ava’s appeasing smile to signal the end of her nervous ramble.
“I was going to say, this looks lovely.”
Ava’s relief was palpable, even if she brushed imagery dust off the tablecloth to keep her hands occupied.
“Well then,” Ava said, rounding the table to pull out a chair. “M’lady?”
Beatrice had to chuckle at the theatrics, sliding into the chair and unfolding a napkin onto her lap, not all that different from how she used to at her parent's fancy dinners. This, she could tell, would be much more pleasant.
Ava took her seat, pointing at the open recipe book next to Beatrice’s bowl.
“It’s älplermagronen, and that recipe definitely lied about the one hour time commitment thing,” she said, air-quoting with the hand not occupied by her fork.
“And the music?” Beatrice asked, seeing Ava had dusted off the record player at some point in the evening.
“Found some old records in our closet. If I had known Sister Frances was keeping me from discovering ABBA that whole time, I would’ve been pissed,” Ava said as she mouthed the lyrics.
“I have a dream, a fantasy, to help me through, reality…”
Fitting.
“Maybe I should stay late at the bar more often,” Beatrice teased, impressed as she took a bite.
“Or,” Ava started, pointing her fork at Beatrice. “We could cook together. You know, for training.”
Ava gave her best pleading look, the one that Beatrice could never, ever say no to. How could she?
“Of course. As long as you help with groceries.”
Ava's smile glowed brighter than the candle, wiggling in her seat.
“Deal.”
After 4 weeks in Switzerland…
Ava was bouncing off the walls, as per usual.
Not literally, of course, the apartment was too small for that. Still, Beatrice could nearly see excess energy vibrating off of Ava’s body, seemingly seconds away from spontaneous combustion. It was what Ava would usually call too fucking early in the morning, only a weak ray of light shining from the horizon. The only reason she was awake in the first place was because someone didn’t blow out the candle they lit before going to bed and someone left it right next to the curtain. Someone was not Beatrice.
Suffice it to say, the smoke alarms worked and Beatrice added “replace curtain” to her to-do list.
That is, the notebook she kept on the kitchen table with the never-ending tasks and chores that came along with living in a one-bedroom apartment in Switzerland while accompanied by a girl who until very recently couldn’t walk and now carried the burden of fighting for the Catholic church as the angel/demon they accidentally released into the world assembled a frightening number of dedicated followers.
So, seeing “Ava: attempt walking on water” next to a grocery list would’ve been utterly bizarre if this wasn’t their life— if Beatrice wasn’t a tactically trained demon-fighting nun and Ava hadn’t been risen from the dead by an ancient relic. The bar for bizarre was admittedly quite high for both of them at this point.
“Walk on water? Like Eddie Money?” Ava asked, leaning over Beatrice’s shoulder to skim over her list. She started to hum some tune Beatrice didn’t recognize, tapping her fingers on the back of the chair.
“Or Jesus, I suppose,” Ava said after Beatrice’s quizzical look.
“Yes, like that. The Halo will help you, of course, but like everything else we’ve done, it’ll take practice,” Beatrice explained. They’d been here for a month now and training was… coming along. Practice, practice, practice, Beatrice would say.
The moment of silence was unlike Ava so Beatrice turned around, expecting Ava to have zoned out from their conversation but instead finding her pensive.
“Ava?”
“Uh, yeah so… it sounds cool and all but, I don’t think I’ve ever told you because I mean I’ve had no reason up until now but um—” Ava whirled her hands around for a few seconds before clapping them together.
“I don’t know how to swim.”
Before Beatrice had a chance to speak Ava continued, the words rushing out of her.
“And I mean obviously I won’t need to swim if I can just walk on the water but—”
“Ava.”
Ava paused, sucking in a lungful of air that conveniently gave Beatrice time to intervene.
“We can start there. Learning to swim, that is.” Beatrice was about to scribble down “Ava: learn to swim” on her list but decided against it. The hitch in Ava’s breath would’ve been missed if Beatrice was not so environmentally aware.
“There’s no shame in it, Ava. We aren’t born innate swimmers, you know.”
Beatrice folded the notebook closed, sliding the pencil into the spiral binding.
“And I would never throw you off the deep end. We go at your pace.”
That hadn’t been the approach to any of the training in the past weeks, nor had it been the way Ava was welcomed into the OCS. The pressure had been on since day one but after arriving in Switzerland, Ava had taken everything Beatrice threw at her in stride. Maybe that was why Beatrice didn’t mind taking this one thing slowly.
Or she was going soft.
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” Ava declared, albeit unconvincingly, with a cheesy grin.
Ava fiddled with the hem of her shirt, no less energy than she had a minute ago, just a significantly more nervous air. It gave Beatrice an idea.
“Why don’t we go now? The lake by our trail is plenty shallow. We would’ve headed that direction anyways this afternoon.” Our trail; the trail they’d been using for Ava’s training, very rarely occupied by anyone else but maintained well enough for what they needed.
Ava hummed, spinning in a circle once before hitting Beatrice with those pleading eyes and asking, “Breakfast first?”
“Breakfast on the go.”
Ava grumbled but tore two bananas off the bunch, tossing one to Beatrice before disappearing into their room.
“And put on some layers. It’ll be a cold walk,” Beatrice called after her. She knew Ava was shuffling around her side of the closet, planning to steal one of Beatrice’s sweaters. She didn’t mind one bit.
The cobblestone streets were quiet with not another person in sight. It wasn’t abnormal, though, as the town rarely came alive before noon on the weekend. Leisure, although not something Beatrice was all that familiar with, seemed to be the way of life around here. It was one of the reasons she supposed Mother Superior chose it. The people were relatively docile and the crime was nearly nonexistent, the worst Beatrice witnessed being petty theft.
However, she doubted Mother Superion knew about the single-bed arrangements when she had to hastily set them up after Adriel’s release. Not that she wanted to change their living situation. It meant she could keep an eye on Ava, which was her job. It was her mission, her purpose.
Out of the corner of her eye, Beatrice could see Ava skipping alongside her, getting a good deal of air time every few steps before getting distracted by a pebble. She rolled it around in her hand, inspecting it and shoving it in her shorts pocket alongside the other dozen pebbles she’d acquired so far.
“Quite a collection you have,” Beatrice commented as the path turned from cobblestone to dirt.
Ava shrugged, twirling around once to glance behind them before catching back up to Beatrice.
“You know how they always skip rocks on water in the movies? It’s on my bucket list. These babies are particularly skippable, feel how smooth it is,” Ava said as she reached into her pocket full of rocks and held one out to Beatrice.
Ava loved to touch, loved to feel, and she always included Beatrice. Like when they passed by vendors in town with woven sweaters and handmade jewelry and Ava dragged Beatrice over, telling her you have to feel this. Beatrice would’ve otherwise walked right by, but seeing things through Ava’s eyes was different. So she’d take the wool in her hand, touch the necklaces and bracelets, and see Ava beaming at her with a smile brighter than any star.
Beatrice took the stone, feeling along the edges like Ava had done while they continued on.
By the time they reached the shoreline, the sun peeked over the horizon just enough to cast an orange glow across the sky. The water was calm, the only rippling in the water being where a couple of ducks waded around further into the lake. Ava stood beside Beatrice, making a crater in the dirt with the toe of her running shoe and pointedly looking everywhere except the water.
“Second thoughts?” Beatrice asked as she stripped down to her tank top and biker shorts.
“Sheesh, of course not,” Ava said as she hopped up and down on one foot trying to get unstuck from her pant leg. “You underestimate me. I’m going to make this water my bitch.”
Beatrice’s glare only prompted a nervous smile from Ava, who mouthed language in acknowledgment.
“Water looks clear, not like there’s waves or anything…” Ava seemed to say mostly to herself.
Beatrice took a few steps forward until her calves were partway submerged, the water chilling at first but tolerable after a few moments. The sand drifted up between her toes, scratching at the calluses on her heels. It wasn’t long before she heard the sloshing of water as Ava joined her, now side by side.
“Kinda chilly,” Ava said as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “What’s next?”
Beatrice continued forward, the water (thankfully) crystal clear as the ground started to slope. “I’ll go ahead, see how deep it goes. You can stay there if you want.”
“No, no, I’ll follow you,” Ava said as she made careful, lunging steps towards Beatrice until they were both submerged to their hips. “What if you need rescuing?”
Ava didn’t catch Beatrice rolling her eyes.
Slowly but surely was Beatrice’s approach as the water soon sat just below her chest. She turned back towards the shore, watching as Ava trailed her fingers over the surface of the water to create little waves. Ava glanced up, flashing a shit-eating grin before splashing some toward Beatrice.
It was barely a mist by the time the splash reached Beatrice, but she recoiled her arm to prepare a tidal wave of water as Ava squealed, begging, “No, no, no, wait, wait, WAIT!”, trying to backpedal but only tripping over herself in the process and flailing underwater.
She emerged quickly with her hair plastered to her face, obviously some water still up her nose, and her hands raised in surrender.
“Okay okay okay, you win,” Ava said as she coughed up lake water. “I’ll be an A+ student, promise.”
“Since you didn’t drown just then, I’d say you’re doing well.”
Beatrice let herself fall backwards towards the deeper water, the weightlessness of floating relieving her of the aches and pains she’d forgotten to acknowledge as of late. A sore knee here, a stiff neck there, all just became typical in her line of work.
She tilted her head back and spread her arms out, taking in the sky that was still a pretty orange hue before starting to kick her feet to keep herself afloat.
“Right now I’m treading water. I’m not headed in any direction, the objective is just to keep my head above the surface and expend as little energy as possible,” Beatrice explained as Ava watched hesitantly from a few feet away.
“I kick back and forth, just below my knee. Again, saving energy. That would be crucial in the event of an emergency.” She exaggerated her movements below the water so Ava could see, knowing Ava preferred a visual to any wordy explanation.
“Here,” Beatrice said as she reached out one hand. “I won’t let go of you.”
Ava took her hand, grip tight enough to cut off circulation. Beatrice held tighter in return.
Ava took a tentative step forward, eyes going wide as her feet were met with nothing but water. She quickly sunk down to her chin, the water lapping up around her face. She pulled Beatrice’s hand, bringing her closer until she seemingly remembered the instructions and kicked out wide with her legs.
“You’re good, I have you,” Beatrice reminded her, confident Ava was catching on as she pursed her lips in concentration, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. Slowly, her legs swung less dramatically, the water around them settling. She kept Beatrice’s hand in her vice grip, though.
“Don’t forget to breathe.”
A lungful of air later, Ava was smiling. And, treading water.
“Pretty good, huh?”
“A+”, Beatrice nodded.
They traded running time for swimming time that day, their shoes and sweatshirts long forgotten on shore as Ava observed Beatrice, picking up on skills quickly as her initial fears began to dissipate. Beatrice had kept her promise and always stayed near, a helping hand (and occasional makeshift flotation device) as Ava went from clumsy to more precise.
It was around noon when both grew tired, their hands pruned and hair frizzing. It was also when Ava saw her opportunity to win the unofficial game in which she had technically surrendered, because who was she if not bold?
As their feet found the sand again and they were only submerged up to their waists, Ava took her chance. Arms out wide and with the rest of her strength, she pushed a mini tsunami towards an unsuspecting Beatrice. But, Beatrice was never actually an unsuspecting target. Hearing the disturbance, she whipped around at the opportune time to receive a wave to the face, leaving her momentarily shocked.
And that’s about as far as Ava had planned. Beatrice had a shockingly quick recovery time and Ava, although much improved from hours ago, was no match for her. Beatrice dove towards her before Ava could even push off from the ground, arms grasping around her waist and lifting Ava over her shoulder.
“I SURRENDER!” Ava yelled with no luck, the muscles in her arms and legs useless and jellylike from so much time in the water.
Beatrice couldn’t help but smile, deciding whether to spare Ava from another quick dip in the water.
“No more funny business, I-I swear it,” Ava tried to say between giggles, convincing Beatrice to let her off easy although she didn’t completely believe it. She set Ava down in the shallow water, keeping her hands on her until she steadied on her feet.
Ava, with her entire body still shaking with barely contained laughter, was such a sight.
From then on, “swim at the lake” was a permanent fixture on Beatrice’s to-do list.
The next time they went to the lake Ava was far more confident. She stayed within arm's reach of Beatrice but leaned back, letting the water support her upper body so she could look up to the sky. It was still early in the morning, the crescent moon visible to the west.
“You know, this is one of the first things I did when I was resurrected,” Ava started as she brought herself upright, moving her arms back and forth lazily in the water. “Jumped right into a swimming pool.”
“What was the logic in that?” Beatrice asked, not even in jest, but mostly curiosity.
“I was tired, thought it could shock the sleep right out of me. JC saved me from drowning, which is a whole other story. But I wanted to experience everything, make up for lost time.”
“Coffee wasn’t an option?”
Ava rolled her eyes, tilting her head back to the water so her hair fanned out like a halo.
“I never said I was thinking clearly. It worked, though. And it feels like forever ago now.”
Beatrice hummed in agreement. Time had a weird way of passing.
“We can always go to the pool in town if you want. I know there’s a nice one near that hotel.”
Ava shook her head, sending water rippling around her as she flashed a cheeky smile.
“I like it here with you. Our own secret getaway.”
Beatrice couldn’t argue, so that was that.
After 6 weeks in Switzerland…
Beatrice sat on the couch, watching out the window while rain poured down as if there’d be another biblical flood. The bar stayed closed, no one leaving their houses in this weather. Beatrice thanked God they lived on the upper level, the lower apartments no doubt at risk of flooding at this rate.
“So,” Ava started when she hopped over the back of the couch, plopping down on the cushion next to Beatrice. “Is this the plan for today? Stare longingly into the foggy abyss?”
“Unless you have a better suggestion,” Beatrice retorted with more snap than she intended, taking her attention from the storm to the giddy-looking girl sitting next to her. Beatrice softened immediately, regret bubbling up.
It had been a long few days, the weather trapping them in the apartment. If it wasn’t for Beatrice’s “planning for the worst at all times” mindset, they would’ve run out of food by now.
The hours had dragged on as Beatrice prayed for mercy, not from the storm but from God himself. It was as if he was testing Beatrice, unforgiving in his trial of her wits and resolve. She’d busied herself as of late, shoving away the thoughts often curated by a wandering mind— a mind that wandered to Ava.
She was a temptation unlike any Beatrice had faced in a long, long time.
It put her on edge, frustrated at a mind that wouldn’t quiet and nowhere to go to clear it. But Ava, now regarding her with a look of concern, was far from a deserving target for Beatrice’s frustrations.
“Sorry, it’s just— it’s been a long day.”
“Well, good thing you have me, then,” Ava declared as she shoved her hand into her sweatshirt pocket, producing a small cardboard box and holding it up proudly.
“Snuck it out of the bar. A patron left it there.”
“And what is it exactly?”
Ava looked at Beatrice with amusement, tilting her head before opening the box.
“Cards. I used to play all the time with my mom before, you know…” she drifted off before shaking her head and flipping the deck into her hand. “I thought it’d be a good way to pass the time.”
Beatrice nodded as Ava began to shuffle the cards skillfully, all the symbols and colors flashing before her eyes. It reminded her of the street performers they’d see after late nights at the bar, showing off card tricks as people tossed coins into their upturned hats.
Beatrice forgot that the comment probably warranted a response as she watched Ava’s peculiar, and frankly unexpected, skill.
“Muscle memory,” Ava chuckled when she caught Beatrice staring. “Weird, isn’t it? The things your body remembers how to do? Haven’t shuffled a deck since pre-quadriplegia.”
It was times like that when Beatrice realized how much she didn’t know about Ava. Or, didn’t know yet. It made the little details feel like special trinkets to collect and store for later, glimpses into a past that walked the line between nostalgic and painful. Beatrice had plenty of those herself.
“Any games you like?” Ava continued, pulling Beatrice from her thoughts.
“Uh, no, actually. I’ve never played card games.”
Ava’s hands stopped mid-shuffle and Beatrice risked a glance up. Ava looked shocked.
“Never? What did you do for fun as a kid?”
Beatrice caught herself before she displayed any obvious offense to the question, instead responding with, “Strategy-type games, I suppose. Like chess, for example. My mother loved chess.” A trinket. She sincerely hoped the mention of her mother was smoother to Ava’s ears than it sounded to Beatrice’s own.
“Chess. That does not surprise me,” Ava said as she evened out the deck, either not noticing the touchy subject or choosing to bypass it. Beatrice was thankful.
“That just means I need to expose you to some actual fun. For starters, Bullshit.”
Before Beatrice had time to scold for language, Ava hopped off the couch, stealing a cushion and tossing it to the opposite side of the tiny ottoman to create a makeshift table. She handed out 20 cards to Beatrice and 20 cards to herself, placing the remaining 12 on the ottoman before sitting down cross-legged on her cushion.
“Okay,” Ava clapped her hands together before picking up her cards and holding them close. Beatrice collected her cards as well, feeling slightly out of her depth. “It’s a pretty simple game.”
“I’m altering it a little since there’s only two of us. The 12 cards already in the middle will stay unknown so we can’t count cards, Miss Strategy,” Ava jabbed playfully, examining her hand. “The point of the game is to empty your hand first without getting caught in a lie. If you get caught in a lie or accuse incorrectly, you would typically pick up the whole pile, but for our purposes, I’ll reshuffle the pile and take a few cards out each time to keep up the mystery.”
Easy enough.
Ava was right. Beatrice was a strategist, an expert at the long game, and nothing if not patient. She was precise, ready to deliver a blow at just the right moment to put her competitor off their game, positioning herself for the win. She always studied her opponents, never going in without a plan of action and the utmost control of the situation. They wouldn’t see her coming until it was far too late, underestimating her the last thing they may ever do.
However, it only took one turn for Beatrice to realize that there was no need for strategy when Ava didn’t have a poker face.
Although, Beatrice already knew that. Ava wore her emotions for all to see, her expression genuine. Beatrice wasn’t sure if Ava could be anything but genuine in that regard, not when she felt so strongly, and experienced life so intensely. There was an innocence to her in that way, a refreshing authenticity.
And because of it, even when she was in the midst of a card game all about lying, Ava’s nature betrayed her.
Ten minutes in, Ava put down her remaining cards, claiming, “Three queens,” with a full-body shimmy.
The tips of her ears turned pink, her hands aimlessly fiddling with her remaining cards as she raised her eyebrows expectedly at Beatrice.
Ava could be ridiculously bad at hiding her tells, but there was reason to believe she had chosen to lie every single turn up to this point with the sole purpose of hearing Beatrice accuse her of “bullshit”.
Let it not be said that Beatrice wasn’t also competitive. However, there were obviously two games being played. Lose a battle to win a war, as she’d say. Give Ava the profanity she seemingly found so assuming coming from Beatrice, but win Bullshit. No way Ava could win if she got stuck with the entire discard pile now.
“Bullshit,” Beatrice enunciated loud and clear.
Ava broke into giggles, flipping up the three cards she’d just placed.
Three queens.
Unbelievable.
“Gotcha!” Ava laughed as she threw her hands up in celebration. Beatrice couldn’t help but crack a smile at Ava’s exuberance.
“Better?” Ava asked with an uncharacteristic quietness. Her eyes roamed Beatrice’s face, searching for something.
Beatrice nodded honestly. “I appreciate the distraction, Ava. I’m just a bit in my head lately.”
It was a gross understatement but to explain any further seemed counterproductive. They were here to train Ava; strengthen her mind, body, and connection with the halo, not to fuss over Beatrice.
“A little?” Ava pressed, albeit carefully.
Beatrice shrugged, pushing the scattered cards back towards Ava.
“Another round? I won’t go easy on you this time.”
Ava, to her credit, took it in stride.
They played all kinds of games after that; canasta, double solitaire, gin rummy… but Ava’s favorite remained Bullshit, even if Beatrice, now well-practiced, consistently wiped the floor with her.
Ava laid down two cards, a tension in her lips that told Beatrice she was fighting a smile.
“Two fives.”
Beatrice nodded, thinking of her next play. It’d been difficult to focus, Mother Superion's most recent call that morning having been less than encouraging. Adriel was acquiring followers by the hundreds, maybe thousands. Supporters were even showing up around town, lining the streets and handing out pamphlets.
Ava had improved but she wasn’t ready. The halo wasn’t nearly as reliable as either of them wanted and Beatrice knew that scared Ava too, even if she didn’t admit it. The halo didn’t just make Ava the Warrior Nun— it kept her alive.
Beatrice had to rely on what she knew, all the knowledge stored from hours of reading at the convent, lessons from Father Vincent, and horribly boring lectures from Mother Superion.
Now, after six weeks, it felt like she knew so little. The OCS entrusted her with training the Warrior Nun. Beatrice understood the history of the church and tarasks and wraiths and she could wipe out a dozen people with just hand-to-hand combat while blindfolded. But Adriel was an unknown, a new and uncharted territory, and if she let Ava face him before she was truly ready…
“You okay?” Ava asked as Beatrice’s eyes came back into focus on her hand of cards.
“I’m okay, Ava.”
Beatrice put four cards down, a risky move and one she hoped would steer Ava away from whatever she was thinking of saying at that moment.
“Bullshit.”
Beatrice shook her head, revealing the four aces.
“No, I mean, I’m calling bullshit. You’ve been… off since you contacted Mother Superion. I know it’s not going great out there with Adriel and all but—” Ava paused, not finding the right words and shrugging instead. “I might as well be talking to myself today.”
It felt worse when Ava sounded sad, with not a hint of anger or frustration in her voice.
Beatrice shuffled the cards around in her hands, far from comfortable with where the conversation could be going.
“It’s just—” Beatrice forced her hands still. Her mother would’ve been annoyed. “Adriel is gaining quickly. Power, followers, everything. But I will not put you in a situation that I’m not confident you’ll come out of. We have to wait— wait and hope Duretti speaks up, buy us some time.”
Beatrice realized it sounded more like she was talking to herself, reasoning with the circumstances.
“I can’t be far from ready. I mean, we’ve been training nonstop here,” Ava said, putting her cards down.
“It takes years, Ava, years to train a Warrior Nun under any other circumstance.” And I might not be good enough to do it.
I could fail.
I can’t fail.
Not with this. Failure didn’t mean brushing it off and trying again. Failure could mean the end of the OCS, the end of the Warrior Nun, and by default…
“Bea, I want to be out there—”
“No,” Beatrice startled even herself, sounding sterner than she intended.
“We’ll keep training,” Beatrice carefully lowered her tone, regaining control. “And I promise you’ll have your chance, but not before we’re called back in. We both have a job, and I’d be disregarding mine if I sent you to face him now.”
Ava was quiet for a moment, looking pensively at Beatrice. It was like Ava could look right into her soul.
It was terrifying.
“Okay,” Ava’s voice was soft, not as though she was giving in but instead like she was understanding.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re a great teacher,” Ava said, the corner of her mouth quirking up.
It was worth a lot.
“I could say the same about you,” Beatrice replied, gesturing to the half-played card game between them.
“Right, where were we…”
2 months after Ava’s return
Ava was the most tactile person Beatrice had ever met. Beatrice noticed it instantly, Ava’s affinity for touch, and soon she experienced it first-hand. It wasn’t all intimate touches, not even close. Ava touched for the sake of it, like brushing shoulders with Beatrice as they walked, putting her hands on Beatrice’s back or shoulders when she scooched behind her at the bar, a kiss or two on the cheek in way of greeting or farewell. It came as naturally as breathing for Ava.
Ava would tell stories when it was just the two of them, far from the bar or OCS or even the ears of friends, about not having touch. How it was years that she lay in a bed without being able to feel the harsh touch of Sister Frances, the friendly touch of Diego, or anything in between. There was just nothing.
No touch, no autonomy.
Now that she had both, she never wanted to be without again. And Beatrice couldn’t blame her, never would blame her, for seeking it.
For Beatrice, it was foreign for different reasons. Even before she took her vows, she didn’t, couldn’t, rely on touch. With parents as physically distant as they were emotionally, she grew used to its absence as a child, adapting as best she could. Years later, after being told the touch she craved from another— and to give to another— would condemn her, the choice was clear.
Desire could not be her hamartia.
Until Ava.
Ava, who carved away at years of conditioning piece by tiny piece, not with an axe but instead as gently as water eroded stone lest Beatrice crumble.
Ava, who understood that although Beatrice left her habit with the OCS, she wasn’t liberated of a shame that had grown bone-deep nor the guilt she carried heavy on her shoulders.
Ava, who otherwise showed little patience in any other area of her life, was exceedingly patient with Beatrice.
She touched innocently, a palm on Beatrice’s cheek after they kissed. That was comfortable for Beatrice, becoming well-explored territory once they reunited. Beatrice let herself touch in return, gliding her fingers up from Ava’s neck to her face, tracing patterns over her nose and eyes and connecting each and every freckle. Ava’s sigh of contentment was emboldening, and that alone frightened Beatrice at first. It reminded her of the power she held in her touch and the gravity of it when Ava was on the receiving end.
So Ava let Beatrice lead. Touch me where you want to be touched, Ava had told her. Show me where, and I’ll return it.
It progressed over the days and weeks, exploring further and sometimes receding. They learned each other's bodies slowly, Ava picking up on Beatrice’s wordless tendencies quickly when words didn’t suffice. Some things were still too heavy for her to say out loud.
Then lips followed hands as they both became bolder, the halo reacting to Beatrice’s kisses on Ava’s scar. It wasn’t new, Ava having told her about how the halo's apparent connection to Beatrice had only become more prominent since Ava’s return. “It’s like the halo knows you, it recognizes you,” Ava had said.
Beatrice could feel it pulse beneath her fingertips and under her lips. It was like a divine sign that pulled her towards Ava, beckoning her closer.
Closer, until their bodies were flush as they lay in the bed they shared, in the apartment they returned to when Ava asked because there was nowhere else Beatrice longed to be as much as at Ava’s side.
It was hard work, Beatrice found, to challenge the ways of thinking that she’d adopted over the years, going from a cold home to a strict boarding school to a convent as a (formerly) devout nun. To look at Ava with desire and act on it felt earth-shattering, exposing her to a whole new worldview and leaving her with more questions than answers.
But Ava was there to guide, to teach, and no matter how many times Beatrice stumbled, she was always there to steady her.
So when Ava, already kissed to breathlessness, laid beneath Beatrice and looked at her like she was the only person in the entire world, every religious experience paled in comparison. Ava basked in the attention and Beatrice willingly gave it, old shame rolling off her shoulders when she admired the golden glow of the bedside lamp against Ava’s bare skin.
Beatrice’s legs bracketed Ava’s hips, allowing her to sit upright and run her hands up Ava’s torso, under her breasts, up her chest and then settling at Ava’s jaw as she leaned down for a kiss. She’d done this many times— she knew that the underside of Ava’s jaw was sensitive and under her ear was ticklish, and had committed the feeling of her lips to memory.
When they separated for air Ava removed her hand from Beatrice’s waist, instead placing it on the back of Beatrice’s own and threading their fingers loosely together. Her brain didn’t have time to catch up as Ava guided her hand up to her mouth, tracing her lips before Beatrice’s pointer and middle fingers rested against her tongue. Beatrice couldn’t look away even if she wanted to as Ava’s lips sealed around her fingers, the feeling of her mouth and the visual right in front of her making the heat between her legs border on uncomfortable.
Beatrice leaned back just enough to watch Ava as she slid their joined hands away from her face and back to her chest, pausing as Beatrice’s palm skimmed over the stiff peak of her nipple and squeezed. Ava’s shudder sent a jolt up Beatrice’s spine and the halo pulsed in response, its warm glow muted by the comforter under Ava’s back.
“How’re you so beautiful?” Beatrice almost didn’t recognize her own voice when it was so unrestrained, feeling flooded with emotion but in a way that made her want to surrender to it instead of struggle.
“Coming from you,” Ava said with a lighthearted scoff, cupping her free hand over Beatrice’s cheek and rubbing her thumb over her freckles.
“Do you feel good?” Ava asked as Beatrice leaned into her touch.
Her intention wasn’t lost on Beatrice.
Beatrice’s comfort was Ava’s focus. She’d made it clear when Beatrice timidly broached the subject of sex, attempting to articulate the years spent in fear of her own mind, meticulous (like she was with most things) in the repression of so many thoughts and feelings that even when she tapped into physical desire, she was still lost in a maze of her own making.
Beatrice might’ve been a nun but she was not clueless. Knowledge didn’t equate to comfort, though, not in the beginning.
“I would wait forever, you know,”, Ava had said. “Even if you never wanted to. Just…” Ava took Beatrice’s hands, squeezing tight. “don’t get too caught up in being perfect. What’s perfect is that I get to be with you.”
So when Ava asked, “Do you feel good?” Beatrice understood.
The pressure of perfection didn’t weigh on her at that moment. Fear melted away into a humming anticipation.
“Better than good,” Beatrice said truthfully. “And I want to touch you.”
The admittance came easier than any other had in the confessional booth and there was no need to repent, no need for penance.
Beatrice swore she saw Ava’s pupils dilate as she took in a shaky breath.
“Then touch me.”
Both of Beatrice’s hands landed on Ava’s torso, gliding across smooth skin as she kissed her way downwards. She started at her lips, relishing the taste of Ava’s watermelon chapstick (she was always trying out new flavors) before finding the sensitive place under her jaw. Her teeth grazed over the skin there if only to elicit a shiver from Ava whose hand returned to grasp the back of Beatrice’s neck.
So sensitive.
Ava’s whimper spurred Beatrice on, bolstering her confidence as she sucked a mark onto Ava’s collarbone. It wouldn’t stay, not as long as the halo continued to heal her, but it didn’t matter.
Even after the hours Ava spent training to control and restrain the halo's power, it still audibly pulsed with a muffled flash of light when Beatrice’s tongue laved around her nipple. Beatrice paused, the image of their perfectly nice bed being blasted to bits crossing her mind. Yet Ava just arched her back, chasing the feeling of Beatrice’s mouth, and seemed wholly unconcerned.
They could always replace the bed.
“I swear I won’t phase through this mattress,” Ava assured as Beatrice continued her way down Ava’s torso. “I guess the halo’s not used to this either.”
What a thought.
“I suppose not,” Beatrice said as she (regretfully) had to sit back when her fingers skimmed against the waistband of Ava’s shorts.
“Off?” Beatrice traced over the zipper, not purposely enticing but clearly holding Ava’s attention with the movement.
“Yea,” Ava said breathlessly, already shoving the shorts down her legs as best she could. Beatrice’s typical ‘fold it or put it in the hamper’ rule was long forgotten when the last of Ava’s clothing hit the floor.
The pulled her hair out of her face, the blue scrunchie Ava had gifted her (which had become a permanent fixture on her wrist) coming in handy while Ava’s gaze traveled along her flexing arms. Ava wasn’t shy in the slightest about enjoying Beatrice’s body and heat still rushed to her cheeks with the attention.
“You’re staring,” Beatrice remarked, a smile playing at her lips as she crawled backward and settled between Ava’s legs.
“I can’t help it. You’re a sight,” Ava said with a cheeky smile.
Ironic, coming from her. It was nearly overwhelming seeing Ava from where Beatrice lay, her chest brushing against the mattress as she could nearly taste Ava’s arousal on the tip of her tongue. Ava held her eyes for only a moment before tossing her head back, the muscle on her abdomen quivering with anticipation.
“God, Bea,” Ava gasped, and Beatrice placed a kiss on the inside of her thigh. If either of them possessed more patience in that moment, she might’ve prolonged it. Beatrice had never felt so impatient in her life.
Beatrice spoke many languages. Her arsenal of words was beyond impressive. Yet, if asked to articulate what went through her mind when her lips met warm, wet heat, how it felt when she ran her tongue over Ava’s centre to her clit, or to describe the delicious mix of pain and pleasure when Ava tugged her hair, she would be speechless.
She catalogued every reaction she drew out of Ava as she went from exploratory to increasingly purposeful, a jolt of arousal sparking low in her stomach when Ava’s hips ground against her face. She was unabashed, seeking out exactly what she wanted with a breathy “there, right there”.
Beatrice hooked her arms under Ava’s thighs, holding her still when she focused on Ava’s clit. She wrapped her lips around the swollen bud and sucked.
Ava’s legs clamped down around Beatrice’s ears and all she could hear was the erratic pounding of her own heartbeat. Ava relinquished her hold after a moment, though Beatrice would’ve gladly stayed there forever.
“Can you—” Ava started just as Beatrice glanced up, lips and chin shimmering in the golden light. Ava gave up on words, throwing her head back with a groan.
“Yes?” Beatrice prodded, doing her level best to ignore the increasingly persistent ache between her legs. The sensation would’ve drawn more of her attention if she hadn’t been looking right at Ava. She was ethereal, her cheeks flushed a deep pink to match the lingering marks on her chest.
When no words left Ava’s parted lips, Beatrice nuzzled at her inner thigh, nipping sharply at the sensitive skin.
“Holy fucking— just— inside, please,”
Beatrice’s finger hit little resistance and when she added another, Ava ground down on her hand, narrowly missing Beatrice’s nose. One of her hands gripped Beatrice’s hair and the other pulled the fitted sheet off the corner of the mattress, knuckles going white against the fabric. Beatrice kept steady even as Ava’s movements became increasingly erratic and her words turned to incoherent noises.
She replaced her mouth with her thumb to keep pressure on Ava’s clit, opting for a clear line of sight to watch Ava’s back arch off the bed like a taut bow and her head tilting back against the pillows. The halo flickered to life, its power palpable but not threatening. The halo would never harm Beatrice.
It was as if the world stopped spinning and held a breath, suspended for a moment in time until Ava’s body relaxed like putty in her hands.
Ava gave a flimsy tug to Beatrice’s hand, beckoning her up until they were face to face again. She looked spent, sweat across her brow and a deep flush to her cheeks. But she still wore a thousand-watt smile.
“Wow,” Ava whispered, her breath tickling Beatrice’s nose. “How do you still look so composed? Except, well—”
Ava used her thumb to wipe her own arousal off Beatrice’s chin, stopping under Beatrice’s bottom lip and kissing her instead.
She knew Ava could taste herself and made her head spin, a sharp but not unpleasant twist in her stomach nagging at her. Every movement she made only made her more aware of the wetness between her thighs and Ava was quick to pick up on it.
“Can these come off?” Ava asked as she skimmed the seam of Beatrice’s sleep shorts with her fingers.
Beatrice nodded, becoming frustrated with all the maneuvering from their position and getting off the bed entirely to unceremoniously drop the shorts next to Ava’s pile of clothes. Her baggy t-shirt followed soon after, the air in the room suddenly thick and balmy. If Beatrice didn’t know better she would’ve thought she was running a fever.
Ava took the chance to sit up, putting a pillow behind her to lean against the headboard.
By the time Beatrice climbed onto her lap there was barely proof that Ava had even been winded, a renewed vigor clear on her face as her gaze roamed over Beatrice.
The lingering fear of being so exposed ebbed away in Ava’s blatant admiration. She pressed her lips to the joint of Beatrice’s neck and shoulder and then down to her pounding heart. Beatrice wouldn’t have been surprised if Ava could feel it battering against her ribcage.
“You’ll tell me?” A kiss. “What you like? And don’t?” Another kiss.
“Of course,” Beatrice said, one hand threading through Ava’s hair and the other tracing the circular scar on her back.
“I can’t believe I get to touch you like this, that you let me,” Ava mumbled against Beatrice’s chest as she gently raked her blunt nails over her abs.
Ava’s touch wasn’t teasing and instead was born from a need for contact. She touched Beatrice like she touched a fine silk— gentle yet equally purposeful. She had the wonderment of someone experiencing it for the first time and the appreciation of someone thinking it could be their last.
“Is this okay?” Ava’s hand hovered between her legs but Beatrice swore she could nearly feel a phantom touch.
“Please.”
Ava’s touch was barely there at first, almost as if it was merely a suggestion. But once Beatrice couldn’t hold her hips still any longer, Ava‘s fingertips parted her as the heel of her palm rubbed against her clit.
She didn’t try to hold back her gasp or the answering shiver. She couldn’t have even if she wanted to.
She tucked her forehead to Ava’s neck, vaguely aware that Ava was mumbling something in her ear but her mind was too frazzled to decipher it.
Ava moved slowly, finding where she was most sensitive and then receding. It tightened the coil inside Beatrice and she craved the feeling. She chased it, trying to predict Ava’s movements and meet her halfway.
A snap of Beatrice’s hips slid against Ava’s fingers and pushed them inside of her, if only for a moment. But it was a shock to the system, a spike of pain that created a domino effect when she tensed and then went rigid, an apology on her lips as tendrils of anxiety gripped at her chest.
“Sorry, I— sorry,” Beatrice stuttered as Ava withdrew her hand.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Ava said, brushing the hair out of Beatrice’s face and tucking it behind her ear. Each breath they shared made the tightness in Beatrice’s ribcage subside.
“Are you okay to keep going?”
Beatrice nodded.
“I have an idea, if you—” Ava guided Beatrice until she was straddling Ava’s left thigh, her hands squeezing gently at Beatrice’s hips.
She pulled Beatrice towards her, guiding the movement at first until Beatrice relaxed into it and—
Oh.
Fuck.
Ava chuckled and Beatrice realized she said that out loud.
She couldn’t find it within herself to care, not as she rocked against Ava’s thigh while she kissed and sucked at Beatrice’s chest. Ava’s hands stayed on her hips, urging her faster, harder.
The blood rushing in her ears didn’t stop her from picking up Ava’s gasp from a particularly forceful thrust or the creak of the bedframe underneath them.
Her hands flew to the headboard as she tried to find purchase, her biceps bracketing Ava’s head. Stars danced across her eyelids when she slammed her eyes shut, the assault on all of her senses loosening her grip on any semblance of control.
Beatrice could sense it, just moments before. An impending release that she reached for as her movements lost precision and her legs started to shake from exertion and something else.
It was Ava’s sweet nothings in her ear that nudged her off the cliff and into a welcoming abyss. She held onto Ava and Ava held her right back, planting kisses on her chest and neck and cheeks and the tip of her nose.
As she regained her breath and coherent thought, Beatrice felt Ava’s hand tracing hearts along her back.
“I love you,” Ava said, a tired but satisfied smile on her flushed face.
Ava traced the words on Beatrice’s collarbone.
“I love you,” Beatrice told her, “in this life and the rest”.