Chapter Text
In her sevenish years in the OCS, Beatrice had experienced the gambit of missions. Stealth and reconnaissance. Some of the less subtle variety. Some violent and deadly. Some where she hardly even breathed in anyone’s direction. They trained and trained to be in the best position they could be in to handle the most dire of situations, but truth be told, most the time, things weren’t so dire. She’d heard a soldier talking in a church once when they had come home about their time serving. “Oh, you know, it was ok,” they’d said as they were asked about a deployment with a member of their local parish. The sister warriors had been there as a stop-through on their way back to Cat’s Cradle. “Pretty boring, actually, until it wasn’t.”
Beatrice thought about that a lot because that held fairly true for them as well. Though she’d always heard her parents’ scolding tone when she found herself getting restless or, dare she say, bored. “Boredom is the product of a weak mind, Beatrice. What did I say on the way here? Children are to be seen. Not heard.” She thinks she was maybe six when she’d gotten dismissed with the wave of her father’s hand as she tugged at one of his belt loops at some sort of political function, only meaning to ask if she could use the restroom.
The only other thing she remembers about that event, and many like it, is the clothes. Dresses that felt scratchy and wrong, and shoes that pinched her toes and peeled her heels raw. She hated those outfits, she could never run any play with the boys like she wanted. Which, in hindsight, was maybe the point. She hated everything about those events. She did remember answering, “Yes. Father,” and standing at his side for the remainder of the evening with her hands folded in front of her. It was the first memory of her feeling less than at her father’s hand.
All that to say, since Ava was chosen by the halo, the OCS has been anything but boring. The conflicts they’d found themselves in had been difficult on every level. The technical skill required sometimes left even Beatrice feeling inadequate. The level of planning put into each piece was nearly down to the second. They had tried to leave no stone unturned. The missions themselves were rough and hard on bodies not aided by otherworldly abilities, and the emotional toll in the aftermath left them reeling for weeks afterward on a lot of occasions.
They hadn’t had a break really since Ava had joined them, after Shannon. Beatrice didn’t count Switzerland so much, they’d trained and trained, and she knew the looming conflict weighed heavily on the younger woman each day they were separated from the order. Beatrice had felt a little bit bad for Ava then - when she'd had some time to think about it all. Ava had the halo thrust into her back, and with it, she’d been dragged into a war for a world that had been anything but kind to her. For all Ava's, frankly understandable, hesitation and reluctance at the beginning, she’d tossed herself headlong into her role as the Halo Bearer. Had the situation been with anyone different, even with some of the sisters, Beatrice wasn't sure they would have stepped up like Ava had.
Now, Ava had been back for almost a year after being gone for ninety-five days, and the holy war Lilith had warned about was upon them almost immediately upon her return. It was just another thing her beloved Halo Bearer struggled with, especially after a particularly gruesome mission outside of Lisbon to help recover what they could from the chapter that had once called the Shrine of Fatima home. “Beatrice, I dragged this war back with me. I should have stayed. Maybe then-”
“No. Ava,” she had softly comforted as she cradled the other woman in her arms as they sat in the sand of Para dos Galapos watching the sunset. “It would have come eventually, and now we have you here to fight with us. We need you with us. I need you.” It was the first kiss Beatrice had initiated between the two of them, but as silent tears rolled down Ava’s cheeks, she couldn’t help herself. “I love you.” She’d brushed her knuckles across the swell of the Halo Bearer’s cheek, catching those tears as they slowed. “I would fight a million wars if it meant being by your side.”
Ava let out a wet laugh, tucking her head beneath Beatrice’s chin with an adorable little wiggle, letting the once-older woman hold her close. “Hopefully, we can stop after just the one.” Despite her earlier comment, Beatrice found herself agreeing. One was far more than enough.
That was months ago now, and they were all exhausted, but still, they pressed on. They had to. This mission was just like the last few had been. They’d been essentially following wraith activity, zigzagging their way across Europe to the most popular of holy sites. As they sped down the empty road through the Italian countryside, Beatrice felt some sadness for what the outcome of this mission could be, The Basilica di San Francisco was a special place to her, and there was a decent chance that after today it would no longer be standing. The resting spot of St. Francis of Assisi could fall.
The Saint that she had spent every day for almost a decade reciting his prayer whenever she felt particularly unworthy. She even found herself reciting it now, just at the thought like it was an unconscious habit she'd built up for times of doubt.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.
It wasn't her who had stumbled into the prayer on her own. Of course, it wasn't. After a late night of talking with Shannon, Beatrice had found a warn-out laminated prayer card tucked in the pages of her personal bible the next morning at prayer. On the back had been, in Shannon's blocky handwriting: words to live by. And if that didn't tell you who Shannon was to the core, Beatrice wasn't sure what would.
Beatrice found it funny, more ironic than funny, about how they'd twisted words about peace to somehow justify violence carried out in the Lord's name. Soldiers and Armies had been doing it for centuries. It wasn't lost on her that she was doing the same thing long after she'd stopped blindly trusting that old book.
As if blowing up the Vatican wasn’t enough, several of the once beautiful cathedrals had been destroyed in the name of this war. She didn't know where she stood with her faith in all of this just yet. The things they’d seen. The things they’d had to fight. Hell, whatever this ‘other side’ was… or whomever Reya was… She didn’t know. She just knew that this world was being threatened, and if she and her sisters had anything to say about it, anyone threatening that, including ‘God’ could go pound sand.
After the Vatican, the next thing to go had been the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris. That one had ended in a ball of fire. One that had caught Camila across the leg and scarred her permanently. Beatrice didn’t think she’d ever forget the smell. It was overwhelming. She could hardly breathe in the thick smoke as it was, but somehow as Ava called upon the halo to lift a beam off the youngest’s trapped leg, Beatrice could still somehow smell the flesh if she thought about it. It took her weeks to get it out of her olfactory system, the phantom of it still sometimes thick at the back of her throat after a particularly bad dream.
Camila was back now. Her leg healed enough to be cleared to accompany them on their trek to Assisi. Though it was worth mentioning that the threshold for acceptable injuries to be operating with in the field had significantly decreased as this war had waged on. But Camila could run, and fight and do what she needed to do, and the extra couple of weeks to get from that 85% to 100% was a luxury they did not have. Camila was strong, capable, and ready, but Beatrice still found herself worried about the younger sister.
“How is your leg feeling?” She turns to face Camila over the seat of her row in one of the last remaining OCS vans. Ava had tucked herself against Beatrice’s chest between her legs as she sat long ways across the bench, using the window as a backrest. The Halo Barer catching a quick nap before they got to the cathedral. The calm before the chaos was never something Beatrice had thought she would ever see Ava embrace, but this had become a habit of sorts for her. Nap where she could on the way. Allowing the halo a final quick charge before using it for all it could, or would, give. Beatrice had yet to figure out which one it was. The halo seemed more fickle, more sentient now that they understood some of it more.
Beatrice would need to wake her soon.
Kiva lifted his head off of Camila’s lap and abruptly sat up on the seat, apparently startled from his own little nap at the concern in his person’s voice. Up to this point, the only sounds in the van had been Ava’s occasional soft snore and the sound of tires on the pavement. The Dutch Shepherd tilted his head at Beatrice, only for her to smile at her companion, rolling her eyes at how clingy he could be. “Nee. Blijf.” No. Stay there, stupid. I’m ok.
“Auf.” Lay down. Camila reached out to scratch behind his ears, encouraging him to lay back down before she turned to the woman she considered her closest friend and mentor. She had considered lying but didn't see the point. Beatrice had a way of seeing through her that way. “It’s aching today.” Camila allowed herself to confess, with a comforting smile toward her worried friend as she squeezed at her quad below Kiva’s chin. “The weather, I suppose.”
She cast a sidelong glance out the window to the gray skies and the clouds that seemed to grow angrier the closer to Assisi they got. Beatrice finds herself nodding with a hum of agreement. That was a bone-deep ache she knew well. Nearly a decade of doing this had left her with her share of injuries. As she was aging, she noticed things seemed to linger just a little while longer each time, and she was only 25. She couldn’t imagine how Mother Superion must have been feeling. “I’m ok, Beatrice. I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t up to it. As much as I hated being out the last few months, I would have been a liability.”
Beatrice nodded with approval before she smiled fondly at the young nun. It was incredible, really, how far Camila had come in such a short time. The perfect embodiment of rising to the occasion. If it wasn’t for her, things could have gone so much worse on every mission Beatrice had taken her on. When she thought she would be condemned to be alone after the loss of Shannon, then Mary, and finally Lilith… Camila had filled those incredibly large shoes nearly seamlessly as she fought at Beatrice’s side. “You’ve grown so much, Camila. I’m endlessly proud of the warrior - and woman - you have become.”
“Becoming. I’m not that old. I don’t plan on being done yet.” She teased the woman in front of her with a cheeky smile. Beatrice never shortchanged the encouragement, even when she was new to the Order. The sister warrior knew how best to motivate those around her and generally aired on the side of kindness with those new to the OCS. It was something Camila deeply admired. But this, something about it felt like it had a finality to it.
Not that the other missions they had been on recently weren’t serious or dangerous. However, the air around this one felt more dangerous than most. It was an instinct, almost a sort of premonition, Beatrice had developed over the years. A feeling that tingled up her spine, and made sure she paid extra attention. Apparently, Camila felt it too. It was usually ok, but it did mean that it required more diligence on their end. “No.” Beatrice smiled despite it all, glancing down quickly to Ava shifting against her. “No. I suppose not.”
“You know,” Camila trailed off as she watched her dear friend’s expression soften as she checked on her sleeping love. Seeing them together made her heart soar for them. Even though it’s been hard, seeing them happy in the in-between was helping her get through this. “I learned from the best.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” The blush colors the tips of Beatrice’s ears as she hides her face in the crown of Ava’s head, pressing a kiss there. She’s done a great deal of healing from her childhood with Ava’s help, both in their time in Switzerland and since she returned. However, she still wasn't used to that kind of soft, honest, praise. She was still working on believing it.
Camila reaches forward, squeezing Beatrice’s arm that rested on the top of the seat, drawing the older woman’s attention back to her. “I do. And, Beatrice,” she waits for the former nun to look at her again, wanting to make sure she was heard on this. “I’m so unbelievably proud of you. Becoming yourself. It’s been a privilege to watch and be included.”
Beatrice feels that tell-tale sign of emotion sting, prickling the tip of her nose and the corners of her eyes. The months without Ava were hard. So incredibly hard.
She didn’t have Shannon, her old confidant, and first comforter, to go to. She didn’t have Mary to hit her with that particularly weird dichotomy of hard love delivered as gently as the situation called for. She didn’t have Lilith to sit next to her in quiet understanding. Her old friend was dealing with her own darkness, and there was almost too much history there. It was too raw for both of them to be of much comfort to each other. The order she’d spent her entire adult life serving was practically in shambles, and people were looking to her to fix it because somehow, even though Ava had saved Mother Superion… that promise Beatrice had made to take care of the rest of them stood.
Beatrice was a natural leader. She’d never particularly wanted to be one. Though she supposed it had been drilled into her enough as a child. “You are a leader, Beatrice. Not a follower. I suggest you start acting like it.” She’d had that thrown at her in nearly every situation imaginable. It was always strange to her because somehow she never seemed to be enough for her parents, but on the other hand, there was a degree of acknowledgment with that particular insistence of her father. That confirmation that even as hard as they were on her, they believed she was more skilled and far more competent and mature than her peers.
So she stepped up because she was told to. She was also apparently the best person for the job, not that she necessarily agreed with that. Beatrice did have a basic understanding of her competency, and though she never found it to be good enough, she did know that no one else was left with her experience or skill. Even when there was, she had a particular penchant for leadership. People seemed to follow her whether she wanted them to or not.
She thought about Shakespeare’s observation in the second act of his Twelfth Night often. The idea that “some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” Only Beatrice had replaced that with the idea of being a ‘leader,’ whatever that was. She hadn’t yet figured out where she came down in terms of that quote. She’d been born into the expectation, but at the same time, it’d been forced upon her, and she’d just gone along with it, working herself to the bone to live up to what was apparently her ‘birthright’ and expectation. So maybe it was all three, but that didn’t mean it was necessarily something her soul had consented to when it was being stitched together.
Regardless of how she felt about it, people looked to her to be what they needed. She felt strongly about living up to that expectation. Stronger after the first time a sister warrior was hurt under her watch. After that particular mission, Beatrice had found herself in the quiet sanctuary of the cathedral they would call a place to rest for the evening while the rest of her sisters slept on the couches in the lobby. She’d knelt at the altar and made her second vow in front of God. A vow to be better. A vow to be everything those entrusted to her deserved her to be. She hadn’t realized at the time that she’d made the vow in front of Shannon, too. The future warrior nun stood at the back of the cathedral, watching carefully as her heart broke for her young sister. Nineteen was too young for that weight, and Beatrice was too kind, too good.
Beatrice had walked away from her other vows. This vow, however, was not something she saw herself being able to renounce. Not as long as she was breathing. Failing at this was not a dereliction she would ever allow herself.
She almost had, in those months after Lilith helped her send Ava to Reya’s realm. She’d been caught in a pit of grief and despair. If it wasn’t for her responsibilities keeping her going, and Camila’s steadfast friendship and endless understanding, Beatrice would have let herself drown in it. Some days she wanted to, but on those days in particular, there would be Camila with her gentle smile calling Beatrice back to herself.
“If you two are done being sappy back there, we are about twenty minutes out.” Beatrice was called from her internal droning on the matter by Lilith, who could always be counted on to both ruin a moment and pull Beatrice back from the darker parts of her contemplation. Beatrice made quick eye contact with Lilith, through the rearview, and mouthed a quick thank you. Lilith just offered a nod, contrary to her harsher words - Of course.
“Ava, love,” Beatrice doesn’t miss the playful gag coming from the backseat and the muttered ‘gross’ from the grumpier driver. It brings a smile to her face, how normal that teasing felt even as they were driving headfirst into what was surely going to be another nightmare. She squeezed the Halo Bearer close to her chest, calling her gently from sleep. “Time to wake up.”
Beatrice will never tire of watching the smaller woman slowly drag herself from the dredges of sleep. It was one of the most adorable things she’d seen. It almost always happened the same way. A small little noise of protest. Wiping at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand to get rid of any evidence of her drooling habit, or rubbing at her eyes, or both. But she almost always, nightmares aside, came the rest of the way awake with a soft smile. Especially if she was wrapped snugly up in Beatrice like she was right now.
Beatrice always expected her to complain, or ask for “five more minutes, Bea,” but for all her immaturity when they had first gotten to know each other, the halo barer had yet to do anything of the sort in these pre-mission naps. A testament to the nearly four years it had been for Ava in that other place. Ava didn’t talk about it much, but it was clear that she wasn’t just an idle guest of Reya’s.
Ava stretched as much as she could in the seat and pressed herself closer to Beatrice’s chest in the process. The sleepy smile grew a little brighter as her eyes opened. Ava tilted her head back and stretched her neck up in a silent plea for Beatrice to kiss that smile right off of her. And really, who was Beatrice to deny such a request?
It never worked. Her lovable goof never failed to continue smiling through the kiss as she muttered, “Morning, Bea,” against her lips.
“It is well past morning.” Lilith chides again as she watches the couple through the mirror before focusing back on the road.
“Morning to you too, Demonspawn.” Ava teases as Camila fails at hiding her giggles from the backseat. Kiva, not one to be excluded, lets out a soft woof. “You too, Brother Kiva.”
Beatrice smiled into the top of Ava’s head again, rolling her eyes fondly with a chuckle. Since she’d wrestled with her own relationship with The Church, Beatrice had found these sorts of comments out of her girlfriend increasingly entertaining. Not that Ava wasn't blasphemous before, but since returning from the other side, it had been clear that the Halo Bearer gave absolutely "zero fucks" - Ava's words, not hers -about any sort of religious decorum.
Once Beatrice’s chest had stopped shaking against her, Ava looked up at her favorite person, endlessly proud for pulling a real smile out of the most stoic of the sister warriors. One more quick kiss and Ava slowly extracted herself out of Beatrice’s arms, twisting her back to release a string of pops. That can not be healthy, halo or no. “Twenty out?”
“Si.” Camila chimed in from the back seat. Her back popped as well as she twisted to grab the gear from behind her and start passing it forward for the final checks. We could all use a vacation, a massage, and maybe a nap, Beatrice thinks. The months nonstop of this fighting were taking its toll. Even on Camila, who hadn’t been operational for a while now.
Ava takes her bag from Camila, nodding her thanks. “We good on the plan?” She wanted to confirm with the van so there weren't any lingering questions or concerns. This one was as straightforward as it could be with everything going on. They didn’t have much time to prepare, but this had become second nature to them. “Lil, you-”
“Don’t call me that,” Lilith warned from the front seat. She didn’t think Ava couldn’t not be annoying. It was a coping mechanism that Lilith had little patience for. It had been endearing enough, though, that Lilith often humored Ava, who was usually just trying to get a reaction out of her or a bout of mostly friendly bickering. The familiarity of it comforted them both.
“Very well. Night Hag.” The halo barer's jokes were something Lilith had increasingly little patience for, despite her softening around the edges a bit. Lilith shook her head borderline fondly, in spite of herself. Because, of course, Ava would jump from a familial nickname to that. The first few times she had done it, Beatrice had scolded her behind closed doors. Informing her about how much Lilith had been struggling. She had never thought Ava to be cruel, but there was a line she was dancing dangerously close to. However, as a testament to truly how fucked they all were, the joke landed as Ava intended and had somehow been helping Lilith cope. Likely due to the healthy dose of sarcasm and irony, the names were delivered alongside. “You got the nightgown.”
“Seamless Garment.” Beatrice corrected with an exacerbated snort and a fond roll of her eyes. She knew damn well Ava knew what it was called and actively chose to use the wrong names for effect. She had done that for as long as the two had known each other. The smaller woman loved to irritate the nuns with that particular bit. Beatrice came to understand it for what it was as she got to know the Warrior Nun better. The simplest form of defiance.
“Yeah, s’what I said.” She waves with the back of her hand. “Anyway. Frairy Museum. Cam overwatch, the bell tower should work. If it doesn't, just let us know on coms. Bea, me, you, and Ki got the lower Basilica. Divinium and whatnot. I’ll bounce down to the crypt and make sure St Francis hasn’t decided to walk off or anything. Saved rounds? Bea?”
“Vincent,” Kiva let out a low growl at the mention of the former Father. Yeah, Ava thought, same buddy. “Has ensured it has been closed to the public. Mother Superion has the monks safe at Convento di San Damiano for now, so it should be clear. Expect anyone still around to be hostile.”
“Engage with extreme prejudice.” Ava fills in on the back end, pressing her teeth together hard to flex her jaw as she remembers pulling Camila from burning rubble. The hesitation on her part had nearly cost them, Camila. It never failed to jar Camila and Beatrice when they heard Ava talk like that. The harshness of military jargon coming from that young, bubbly girl she once knew Ava to be was shocking, to say the least. The seriousness. The edge to her expression, eyes hard and jaw set. Lilith wouldn’t admit it, but it concerned her as well. “Bird lady?” And then she would say shit like that immediately following. It took a while to get used to the whiplash.
“There’s a chance it isn’t here. We have no idea what to expect. If it’s not, we have to be ready to exfil immediately. I’ll make the call. Security at the museum is negligible. Expect confirmation or word in 20 minutes.”
“Dope.” Despite the casual response Ava always seemed to default to, Beatrice was so proud when they would run through these last-minute briefs. Ava had turned into a leader with some actual command presence. The confidence and the ease at which she engaged with the plan inspired a level of trust from those following her. The difference between the nervous girl who was clearly ‘faking it till she made it’ and this leader was night and day. She’d really come into her own, with her own style she was comfortable with, and frankly, it showed.
Before, Beatrice would have followed her anywhere because, one, she was gay as hell, and two, she would always do her diligence to take care of the Halo Bearer. Now, however, halo or no, she’d follow Ava because she was competent, and inspiring in a way that demanded respect.
“Cam?”
“I’ll be monitoring coms and satellites from overwatch. There’s been recent unexplained seismic activity in the area. Not sure what it could be, but I’m guessing restless spirits or wraiths. Watch your backs and be safe, everyone.”
Beatrice twisted in her seat, smiling at Camila as she slid the magazine into the rifle and tapped it secure. Leave it to Camila to bring the sweetness back into this. Beatrice truly hoped the young sister would never change. She took small comfort in the fact that if she hadn’t yet, with all they had been through, there was a good chance she wouldn’t.
The car slowed as they rolled up to the main courtyard of the Basilica. Finally, looking up from the knife she’d been twirling in her fingers, Ava’s eyes went wide. It was larger than she expected to be. A lot larger. She’d looked over the blueprints and read as much as she could to prepare, but they didn’t do it justice. She swallowed past the churning in her gut.
Beatrice watched her love’s awe turn to nerves. They were going to be spread out. Far enough to be dangerous. Even with Ava’s improved phasing and Lilith’s teleporting. A part of the plan they had gone around in circles about back at Cat’s Cradle with Mother Superion. Ultimately, Beatrice had convinced her that this was their team and it was a plan they were comfortable with.
Beatrice trusted the plan. She wouldn’t have okayed it if she didn’t. Ava and she came up with most of the COAs. Spending endless hours around a table pouring over blueprints and documents and ‘sacred’ texts. It had become just one more thing they did together. The dance of forming these strategies is something Beatrice had never thought to want out of a partner. It was something that, even with the less-than-ideal circumstances surrounding this new aspect of their relationship, she thoroughly enjoyed. It was intellectual, but it was also practical.
As much as she trusted Ava’s judgment, it always touched her when at the end of a strategy session, Ava would give her the final say. The final stamp of approval. The absolute faith Ava had in her discretion healed the years of self-doubt. All the Halo Bearer had to do was give her that little nod that Beatrice had come to know as her final word. It was especially special because it wasn’t lost on Beatrice that Ava didn’t have to do any of that. As the Warrior Nun, she had the final say, but not a single time had Ava ever played that card.
Mother Superion as well, it was just her job to play Adriel’s devil's advocate and make sure they had through every possible contingency. She was not going to lose any more from this group. Not that she had favorites. Beatrice just had to remind Ava of the same thing - the plan was good. She placed her hand over Ava’s fingers as they twitched against the glowing medal. Easy, love. Trust your team. The warrior nun took a deep breath and nodded as she swallowed the fear of all the what if’s that threatened to plague her mind. Her nervous expression shifted, resolute, as Lilith shut down the engine. It was time. Ava’s chest rose and fell in a final calming breath before she scooted to slide the door back, clicking her tongue at their fury protector. “Most important. Kiva?”
The Dutch Shepherd let two low barks out from his perch next to Camila. His intelligence was a constant surprise to Beatrice. Though by now, she figured she probably shouldn’t be. He’d seen her through a lot, and she was genuinely convinced he understood every bit of their briefs. Which made when he didn’t listen to her commands all that more frustrating. Because he was doing it on purpose. Specifically when he would look at her before he continued what he was doing.
“Right. Right, of course.” Ava nodded, one hand on the door handle, one hand palm up toward Kiva. His large paw covered her entire palm. “Good boy.” She dropped a whisper and kiss to the top of his head before turning to the rest of the van. “In this life and the next.”
“In this life and the next.”