Archive of Our Own

One.

It all happens so quickly. 

First, Adriel summons a horde of wraith demons to possess the amassed crowd at the Vatican. Then, Mary is swallowed up under the affected crowd, deaf to the screams of her fellow sisters. But it's when the possessed tourists and guards begin to close in on the rest of them that the direness of the situation really dawns on them and someone finally jumps into action. 

Long arms push the four of them together, and in less than a second, the cries of the panicking people disappear as the world momentarily flickers out of view. An empty cobblestone alleyway replaces their previous surroundings but Ava can hear sirens wailing in the distance and she comes to the only plausible conclusion. 

Lilith must've portaled them away. 

The feeling is not entirely dissimilar from phasing, so Ava is the first to recover and as Beatrice and Camila presumably attempt to right themselves from the dizzying experience, the Halo Bearer marches up to Lilith, who also appears a little worse for wear, no doubt from transporting all of them. 

Well, most of them. 

"Take me back," she demands before Lilith can say anything. "We can't leave Mary!" 

Mary was the first person to let Ava make her own choice. She hadn't forced Ava to return to the OCS, instead allowing her to have control over her second chance at life. It didn't matter if she knew—or hoped—Ava would eventually return. Mary let Ava make that decision and Ava wouldn't—no, she couldn't leave Mary behind. 

"You want to go back?" Lilith asks incredulously. "What? So you can deliver yourself and the Halo on a silver platter?"

"We're not leaving without her," Ava steps into Lilith's space, fists raised and ready to fight her way around her, the difference in their combat skills and height be damned. The Halo hums threateningly behind her, lighting the dark street in a golden glow. If Lilith won't help, then Ava will just have to return to the chaos at the Vatican and find Mary herself.

"Ava." 

Beatrice doesn't shout—Ava's not sure if the nun can shout—but her calm tone speaking Ava's name cuts through her single-minded pursuit to wrestle Lilith out of the way like a knife through butter. From where she stands behind them, helping a disoriented Camila to her feet, Beatrice's brown eyes meet Ava's, her own expressing regret and pain. 

"Mary is as capable as any of us," Beatrice reminds them. "If she's still—she'll find a way out." 

None of them miss the quick correction or the if that suggests Mary might not be alive to make it out at all. Ava's about to open her mouth to argue when several police cars whizz by the other end of their hiding spot, alarms blaring and lights flashing.

"We have to get further away," Beatrice declares, sliding back into her role as team tactician. 

They slip through the dimly lit streets, further and further away until they can no longer hear the sirens or see the red and blue lights. Camila manages to contact Mother Superion, and after a lot of explaining about what occurred in Adriel's tomb, they formulate a plan. Beatrice and Ava are to fall off the grid, somewhere they can lay low, and Beatrice can train the Warrior Nun until she's ready to fight Adriel. Camila and Superion will create a temporary base of operations at an OCS location in Spain while keeping tabs on anything Adriel-related. And Lillith will remain in Rome, for now, to search for any leads on Mary's whereabouts. 

They part ways at Roma Termini. 

Camila hugs them all goodbye one at a time, trying not to cry and doing a very terrible job at it. Surprisingly enough, Lilith even allows the youngest of their group to throw her arms around her without protest. 

"Please bring Mary back to us," Camila requests as she pulls back from the embrace. 

Her normally hardened gaze softens ever so slightly in the face of Camila's wide, pleading eyes and Lilith dips her head. "I'll do everything I can." She speaks to all of them then, "I will be in touch." 

Mother Superion and Camila board a train minutes later, the latter waving through the window as it departs the station. Lilith disappears into the crowd of travelers with a "don't die" to Ava and a nod to Beatrice. As the two of them stand there, Ava feels wispy tendrils of melancholy wrap around her heart, squeezing it tightly. However brief, their little demon-fighting group has become the closest thing she's ever had to a family after losing her mother at seven years old. Even Lilith, who despite their initially rocky relationship, had stuck with them when it truly mattered. 

"We will never leave you."

Beatrice's promise from back at ARQ-Tech echoes through Ava's mind, enveloping her in a hopeful warmth and chasing away the shadows of uncertainty dancing tauntingly around her. 

Camila and Lilith and Mother Superion and Mary might not be there right now, but Ava has faith that they'll be reunited again soon. For now, she has Beatrice and Beatrice has her, which is more than Ava had ever thought she'd have when she was lying in that bed in the orphanage. 

Without much thought, Ava moves her hand to tangle her fingers together with Beatrice's. Almost as if to get tangible proof that she's still there with her and that she's not completely alone. 

And at first, Beatrice stiffens up, clearly not having been expecting the sudden physical contact. However, that doesn't deter Ava, who keeps a steady hold on the other woman. She watches as Beatrice's eyes slowly travel from their clasped hands and up until she's looking directly into Ava's eyes. Two shades of brown swirling together in a timid dance. 

Ava smiles at her, "Where to?"

She trusts Beatrice implicitly to take them somewhere safe and she hopes she knows this. Hopes she can see how much faith Ava has in her. 

Maybe she does because, finally, the tension leaks out of Beatrice's face and her hand in Ava's relaxes, fingers slotting further together. "Let's go, Ava. I think you're going to like our next destination very much." 

And there's little Ava can do aside from follow as Beatrice leads them over to the bus schedule, still hand-in-hand. 

They can do this as long as they have each other.

Two.

Ava loves Switzerland. 

She spends the entire bus ride practically glued to the window—thankfully, Beatrice had opted for the seat on the aisle—watching the breathtaking scenery pass by in a beautiful blur of blues, greens, and whites. Several times she has to use her sleeve to wipe away the fog left from breathing on the glass.

They get off at a small mountain ski town overlooked by the Alps. Beatrice takes no time at all in finding them a place to stay. The landlord's an older gentleman who only speaks German. Most importantly, he doesn't ask questions and takes the cash Beatrice hands him for several month's rent in advance before giving them a set of keys and pointing at a rickety set of stairs. 

Dropping her duffle bag at the door, Ava wastes no time investigating the space.

The apartment itself is a single bedroom with a small kitchen and bathroom tucked into one corner. Clearly, it's been decorated by a man if the flannel pattern on most surfaces is anything to go by. Or a flannel-loving lesbian. Inside the bedroom, there's a coffee table, a chair, a futon, and a full-sized bed wedged into the far corner.

Beatrice clears her throat, "I apologize that it's so—"

"Awesome!" Ava finishes, flopping face-first onto the mattress. 

"I suppose it is quaint in a charming sort of way," Beatrice agrees. 

It's quiet for a moment as she moves through the apartment, checking for things that Ava can only begin to imagine are important when one first moves into a new place. She can't actually see what Beatrice is doing because her face is pressed into the comforter and the exhaustion from over twenty-four hours of travel is quickly creeping in. 

"...Ava?"

It's difficult to physically separate herself from the cozy bed, but Ava manages. Barely. "Uh-huh?" she hums, squinting at Beatrice through drooping eyelids. She's obviously missed whatever had been said while drifting off to la-la land. 

"I asked if you wanted to try and find a shop open to purchase some groceries," Beatrice explains, an amused smile pulling at her lips. "But I can see your priorities lie elsewhere. Maybe a quick rest before we brave the outside world?"

"I knew I liked you," Ava teases as she kicks her shoes off. Standing for just a second, she pushes the comforter down the bed, grabs the flannel quilt from the end of the mattress, and hops directly back in, pulling the covers all the way up to her chin. She frowns at Beatrice, "What are you doing?"

While Ava was turning herself into the human equivalent of a burrito, Beatrice had settled down on the smallish sofa that, although decent-looking, would not do for the kind of recuperation that a mission gone wrong and being on the run requires. 

Absolutely not.

"I'm taking the sofa?" Beatrice says slowly, and Ava can just about see her eyebrows pinched together in confusion in the last few rays of light from the setting sun that streams through the curtains. 

Ava sits up. "You are not sleeping on that when there's a perfectly good bed that can more than fit the both of us." 

It's either a trick of the light or Beatrice's face colors, Ava's sluggish brain can't tell. But it won't shut off entirely until Beatrice is as comfortable as she is.

"Oh no—that's—I'm perfectly fine here," Beatrice's normally eloquent manner of speaking is nowhere to be found. In fact, she's picking at one of the sofa pillows instead of maintaining eye contact. 

"Bea," the nickname draws those intelligent brown orbs back up to Ava's own, and the younger of the two smiles cheerily. "I can and will use my freaky Halo strength to get you in this bed, so it'll be easier for the both of us if you just get over here." Ava adds one last, "Please?" 

There's a moment where Ava swears Beatrice is contemplating actually fighting her to stay on the sofa, sizing her up and calculating her chances, but then she sets the throw pillow aside and silently gets to her feet. Her movements are stiff as she pads to the side of the bed Ava's not currently occupying and neatly peels back the covers. Only hesitating for a second or two, Beatrice slips underneath them, yet remains as far as she possibly can on the other edge of the mattress. The two lay in silence for a bit.

They're so far apart that to Ava it feels like there are miles between them when, in reality, it's no more than a foot of empty space. Regardless, there's a chill in the air and her old friend, loneliness, lingers on the outskirts of her mind, teasing her. 

As with most of Ava's decisions, she follows the impulse to reach across that invisible line separating the two of them and grasps both of Beatrice's hands within her own. Her bedmate stiffens up but doesn't resist when Ava tugs her into her body and wraps her arms around her shoulders in one quick maneuver. 

"I'm really glad you're here," Ava says into the crook of Beatrice's neck before she can think to stop herself. 

And Beatrice melts faster than a slice of butter on a fresh piece of toast. One hand cradles Ava behind her head while the other arm wraps around her waist to hold her securely. It's hard to say whether the embrace is awkward or not considering Ava can count the number of times she's hugged another person in the last decade or so on one hand, another of those times also being with Beatrice. But it has the intended effect. 

"I can honestly say I wouldn't want to be with anyone else," Beatrice admits, her breath tickling Ava's ear. 

Both girls drift off into a blissful—and very much needed—sleep, tangled up in one another. Two souls caught in the eye of a hurricane soon to come, the events of the past several days finally catching up to them. 

Three.

Ava knows she has to do this. Not only has it almost killed her once, but she can't afford to let the world down by dying from something that can be prevented by learning such a trivial skill. And Beatrice is always insistent on preparing for all and any situations. 

So, it looks like Ava's doing this. 

The calm water is so clear Ava can see her reflection staring back at her, almost tauntingly. Beatrice, already in the water, patiently waits for Ava to join her. There's nobody else in the pool this early, the sun that's just barely risen over the mountains ensures that. All of the sane people are most likely still in their homes sleeping. Yet, that might also be a mercy because the last thing she wants is an audience for this potential shitshow. 

"Ava? Are you ready?"

Right. She's supposed to be getting in the pool, not standing on the first step leading into the water for the last three minutes like a dumbass. 

"Yup," Ava slides her clammy hands down the sides of the red one-piece bathing suit she bought at the shops the night before. It reminded her of the ones the lifeguards wore in Baywatch, so she obviously went with that one over any of the more toned-down colors. Beatrice, on the other hand, went with a more modest tankini top and plain swim shorts. Although it took a little while to get used to, Ava enjoys seeing her in civilian clothing. She seems more…free out from under the weight of her habit. 

"I'm so ready." 

Beatrice's astute eyes almost seem to pierce through Ava, as if Beatrice is the one with otherworldly abilities. "Are you sure? Because we can do this another day. There are plenty of things that we could focus on in the meantime. There's always the Halo pulse?" 

Since arriving in the small Swiss Alps town, the two have engaged in all aspects of Warrior Nun training. Ava knows she's already years behind because she doesn't have any of the foundational training all members of the OCS get, so Beatrice has had to cover endurance, strength, combat, and weapons training on top of perfecting using the Halo's powers—the latter being slightly more difficult than Ava anticipated. 

She may or may not have blown up a tree when working on the Halo pulse the other day, which would have been awesome if she weren't supposed to be aiming for a fallen log. 

"No," Ava shuts down that idea. "Let's do this." 

Beatrice doesn't respond, just waits, standing in the shallow end of the pool for Ava to join her. 

Taking the first step down, Ava's pleasantly surprised when her foot hits the water and it's not frigidly cold. Instead, the early summer weather has warmed it up enough to be more than tolerable and she takes the remaining few steps down until she's standing a yard away from Beatrice, submerged up to her waist. 

"Nice work,” Beatrice tells her. 

Rolling her eyes, Ava drags her arm through the water, watching it ripple around it. “Maybe if I were a toddler.” 

“Give yourself a little more credit. Getting over the initial fear in order to start something is usually the hardest part,” Beatrice waits until Ava looks up to give her a small reassuring half-smile. It causes Ava to feel a little fuzzy, so she does the only thing she can think of.

Splashes the older girl with one wide sweep of her arm.

“Okay, Sensei. Are we doing this or what?

Over the next half hour, Beatrice goes through what she dubs the ‘basics’ of swimming, which consist of floating, controlled breathing, treading water, and several different swimming strokes. All of this occurs in the shallow end so that Ava doesn’t have to deal with the added pressure of actually keeping herself afloat all on her own just yet. Once Ava feels comfortable enough with everything she’s learned, Beatrice suggests moving things to the deep end. 

“You think I’m ready for that?” Ava asks nervously, remembering the helplessness and utter terror she felt after falling into the pool at the house JC and his friends were squatting in.

“You already have the strength and the endurance,” Beatrice points out. “And we’ve gone over the different techniques. All that’s left is to apply the theory into practice.” Noticing Ava’s clear uncertainty, she adds, “I wouldn’t be suggesting it if I didn’t believe you were ready.”

She’s right, Ava thinks to herself, Beatrice isn’t a liar, so if she thinks I can do it, then I can do it. 

“Let’s do it.” 

In her newly restored confident state, Ava momentarily forgets her previous cautiousness and the sole of her foot slips on the bottom of the pool, sending her spilling forward. 

Panic courses through her at the sudden shift in momentum and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Beatrice sticking out an arm to help steady her. Completely bypassing the offered appendage, Ava latches onto her in the same way a koala might latch onto a branch, her arms locking around Beatrice's neck and her legs wrapped tightly around her waist, eyes squeezed shut.

As if on instinct, Beatrice's hands move to support Ava, one at the small of her back and the other at the nape of her neck. But unlike when Ava had sought out comfort from the other girl after Superion chewed her out in Cat's Cradle that first day, there's no hesitation in her movements now. No signs that Ava's propensity for physical touch and blatant disregard for personal space is making her uncomfortable. 

Confused though? Possibly. 

However, in the short time they've been on the lam in Switzerland, Ava's noticed the Sister Warrior has—not exactly relaxed per se—but softened somewhat to physical affection. From Ava, at least. It's probably helped that Ava refuses to let either of them sleep on the couch, forcing the both of them to share the bed. 

"Ava?" Beatrice speaks softly and a little out of breath, the second syllable pitched slightly higher with concern. 

"I'm good," Ava pulls back but doesn't release her hold entirely, arms loosened so that she's no longer restricting Beatrice's airway. "Do you think we could maybe pick this up again tomorrow?" 

Beatrice flicks her eyes around Ava's face, brows drawn together. Whatever she's searching for must not be there because she nods with a close-lipped smile. 

"I think that's an acceptable idea. You've done much more than I expected from you on your first try. Some might even say you did swimmingly. "

"Beatrice!" Ava fully shoves her away, laughing gleefully and forgetting about her fear. She follows Beatrice out of the pool and over to where their towels are, where she wraps the plush fabric over her head and around the upper half of her body. "That was terrible, but I guess I was pretty swim- pressive." 

There's a sudden choking noise from behind her. Beatrice must've taken a sip of water just as Ava delivered her pun. She coughs a couple of times while shooting the Halo Bearer a weak glare. 

Ava wears a sheepish smile. "Sorry! And I thought I'd be the one drowning today." 

Rolling her eyes, Beatrice is clearly trying to keep a straight face as she tucks her towel neatly around her waist. "Terrible puns aside, I have no doubt you'll be a pro in no time."

And less than a week later, she is.  

Four.

It's late when Ava returns to the apartment from the bar. She should've been back hours ago, but Hans called out sick and Ava owed him for covering one of her shifts from last week after she completely depleted the Halo during training and lost the ability to stand for half the day. So, Ava stayed until closing and locked up for the night. 

The apartment's mostly dark when she steps inside, shutting the door softly and flipping the lock into place—Beatrice's voice in her head reminding her to do so. She puts her keys in the bowl by the door and hangs her bag up on the coat rack they bought at a second-hand shop down the street. 

Dim light from the bulb above the stove illuminates the kitchen in a warm glow. She and Beatrice tend to leave it on for the other so neither of them trips coming in when it's so dark.

And now that she's thinking about it, Ava's the only one who ever trips over anything in the apartment, in the dark or otherwise. Her roommate is too observant and graceful for any of that. 

Speaking of, said roommate is still awake. 

The lamp on the bedside table on Beatrice's side is on, casting her in a soft light. She's propped up with her pillow against the headboard and a book in hand. Presumably, one in French she bought at the small bookstore near the bar. And Ava can't even tease her for showing off because Beatrice just reads in different languages for fun. 

Ava leans on the frame between the kitchen and bedroom. "Aw, you waited up for me?" she teases as Beatrice closes her book and places it on the wooden side table Ava fished out of someone's garbage the week before. 

"Rather, I knew you'd be home soon and we both know loud you can be when you return," Beatrice returns fire in her steady tone like she's pointing out that the weather is nice and not poking fun at Ava's inability to make a quiet entrance. 

"Hey," Ava points a finger at her. "Rude."

"Did you want me to lie? Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor," Beatrice rattles off one of the Ten Commandments, unintentionally reminding Ava for probably the first time in the three weeks that they've been here that Beatrice is still a nun. Something that's easy to forget when she sees her wiping down glasses at the bar in a sweater and not a habit. 

"Jokes on you Sister Know-It-All. We're not neighbors, we're roommates. So your point is moot."

Beatrice doesn't dignify that with a verbal response. 

"Anywho, some rando at the bar spilled his Heineken on me and I'm sticky, so I'm going to pop in the shower?" Ava jerks her thumb at the bathroom

"Erm—enjoy?" 

"Will do."

They've spent enough together now for Ava to recognize Beatrice's sudden awkwardness during normal conversations. Sure, she's all confident when it has something to do with the mission or strategy, but not when it comes to Ava's default state of being—childish innocence and a thirst for life. This is definitely one of those moments. They are getting fewer and more far between these days, but Beatrice still occasionally gets flustered over Ava's lack of a filter. 

Ava's found these moments pass more quickly when she doesn't call attention to them—and oh does she want to. She finds the blushing and the stammering adorable, especially because it's coming from a highly trained and highly skilled combat nun capable of killing a person with a pinky. 

But she lets it go.

Doesn't want to ruin the progress they've made in their friendship or jeopardize their fast-formed bond—and although Ava hasn't had much experience making friends, she's positive it doesn't usually occur under these circumstances. Where one person accidentally gets a superpowered holy artifact thrust into their back and the other is a nun tasked with teaching the first person how to use it to save the world. 

And Ava wouldn't have it any other way. 

So she lets it go because eventually, Ava thinks that Beatrice will feel comfortable enough just to be with Ava and not feel the need to force emotions back, awkward or otherwise. She's already let down a significant number of walls since Ava met her and Ava finds herself more in awe of Beatrice every time another comes down.  

The light on Beatrice's side flicks out and Ava can only imagine she's hiding her face under the covers because the sudden darkness temporarily messes with her eyes. She pulls a pair of pajamas out of one of her overfilled drawers and creeps along the wall until she finds the bathroom.

Showering is high on Ava's list of things she's grateful for since returning from the dead. However, she's not really sure how long a normal shower is supposed to take, and Ava's positive hers are on the lengthier side.

Although neither Beatrice nor their landlord has said anything on the matter, so Ava will stick with her indulgent showers until they become an issue. 

It's silent as she pads into the bedroom in a fresh pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, her recently cut hair towel dried to the best of her ability but still a little damp against the nape of her neck. Her feet carry her to the right side of the bed— her side of the bed. The thought brings her an inexplicable feeling of comfort that settles deep inside her chest, something she hasn't truly felt since before the accident. 

Beatrice takes up the other half of the bed, lying on her side, facing the center. 

Facing Ava. 

The blinds behind her must be open because white light from the nearly full moon rising against the dark sky splashes across the room, some of it reflecting off the sleeping girl's face. And though the thought crosses her mind that this might be incredibly creepy, Ava soaks in this other version of Beatrice she so rarely gets to see. All of the creases and frown lines that she wears like a layer of armor are smoothed out, her jaw relaxed and her shoulders, normally rigid with responsibility, are loose and unburdened. 

More carefully than she's ever done anything in her entire life, Ava slides under the blanket, positioning herself on her side so she can still observe Beatrice's peaceful expression but do so from a horizontal position rather than hovering over the mattress like a serial killer. Something she'd have no explanation for should Beatrice suddenly wake up. 

Minutes go by and Ava's sure by now she has every square inch of skin mapped out, from the curve of her chin to each individual freckle dusted across her nose and over the expanse of her cheeks. To the top of her forehead where smooth unblemished skin meets brown hair pulled back in a bun at the base of her neck, the few strands that have managed to escape frame her face in the low light. 

Ava doesn't know why she's so fascinated by Beatrice, she just is. Then again, she doesn't know how anyone isn't. 

Are people always this fascinated by their friends? Possibly, if they're as brilliant as Beatrice is. Still, she's only ever had one other friend, Diego, and never did she study him while he slept. 

A soft sound freezes Ava's inner monologue in its tracks. 

Beatrice shifts minutely, her dark eyebrows scrunching together and the corners of her mouth pulling down in a frown. The same sound, softer this time, what Ava can only compare to a low whine, escapes her again. She appears to be dreaming, eyes moving rapidly beneath her lids, and there's no telling whether it's a good dream or a bad one. 

Without thinking, Ava reaches out and traces the skin above Beatrice's right eyebrow with the very tip of her index finger. Follows the curve of it down and tucks some loose brunette strands behind the sleeping girl's ear. If she lets herself linger there for longer than necessary it's because there's nobody there to question it. 

The crease in Beatrice's forehead smooths out and her frown relaxes as she lets out a little contented sigh.

Satisfied, Ava brings her hand back to herself, tucking it between her head and the pillow. "Night, Bea," she whispers into the night, grateful that, despite the circumstances, she gets to go through her second chance at life with Beatrice by her side. 

Five.

Ava slams into the mat for the nth time, flat on her back, and stares up at the bright blue sky, arms and legs sprawled out in a very convincing impression of a starfish. She wonders if she's slow to get up whether her teacher will have mercy on her and call it quits for the day since they've been out here for hours at this point . 

"That time was much better."

The view is subsequently obstructed by said teacher standing above her, brown eyes gazing down at Ava in amusement. Beatrice holds out a hand to help her up. "Let's try it again." 

No such luck then. 

Taking the offered appendage, Ava lets Beatrice do all the work pulling her to her feet in a childish display to express her feelings on the matter. Once she's upright again, Beatrice drops her hand, takes several steps back, and waits for Ava to make a move. 

They've been practicing different throwing techniques. Beatrice demonstrated a number of moves at the beginning of the session and then let Ava try them on her without any resistance. When Ava proved she understood the application, Beatrice upped the stakes and started fighting back. 

And that's when Ava became best friends with the ground.

She's not supposed to use the Halo—"You might find yourself in a situation where the Halo's depleted," Beatrice had reasoned—but there's no way she's going to beat the seasoned fighter at this stage without it and Ava really wants to go back to their apartment for lunch. 

So, this time, she fakes Beatrice out by pretending to go in for a leg sweep. However, at the last second, she phases through her. The move surprises Beatrice enough that Ava's able to spin, hook a leg around the other girl's waist, and use her previous momentum to bring them both toppling down on the mat, this time with Ava on top and Beatrice flat on her back underneath her.

“Gotcha,” Ava singsongs, propped up with her hands on either side of Beatrice’s head. 

Still frozen, Beatrice blinks up at her for a beat, lips parted slightly. Her expression quickly morphs into one of mild annoyance. “That one doesn't count because you cheated." 

Ava playfully pats Beatrice on the cheek. "I don't think the bad guys are going to be playing fair when they try to kill us, so why should I?" 

Her reasoning is enough for Beatrice to lose the irritated frown. For once, Ava knows she's actually making a really good point and puffs her chest out proudly. 

"In that case, using the Halo to phase behind me was clever, especially because I wasn't expecting it."

"C'mon, Bea." Ava stops holding herself up, flopping onto the other girl's body and eliciting an 'oof' as the sudden addition of her weight knocks the breath out of Beatrice. She rests her head on Beatrice's collarbone, arms stretched out on both sides. "You kicked my ass the forty other times we did it today. Let's just call it a tie."

There's a pause where all Ava can hear is the steady beat of her friend's— no not friend. Beatrice feels more like her person than just a friend at this point, after all that they've been through, not that she quite understands the implications of such a statement. The rest of their family is scattered, so each other is all that they have right now—heart. 

"A tie?" Beatrice drawls, "That's very generous of you." 

Lifting her head to peer up at her, Ava nods sagely. "It's one of the many great qualities of the Warrior Nun." 

"Oh? She sounds wonderful, I'd love to meet her. Do you know her?"

"Hey!" Ava protests, only succeeding in pulling a chuckle from Beatrice, the sound vibrating against Ava's ear where it rests against her chest. 

"Sorry," Beatrice lies. 

Huffing, an idea pops into her mind, and a devilish smile forms on her face. "You're about to be." 

She doesn’t give Beatrice any time to process the threat before committing the ultimate act of torture: tickling. The sound that sneaks past Beatrice's lips can't be described as a yelp—it's more on the side of a short bark—but it's what Ava feels the Sister Warrior would refer to as undignified regardless. Her fingers lightly digging into Beatrice's sides are more than enough to make even the stoic nun herself squirm. 

But Ava isn't completely heartless. She only continues for about three seconds until letting out a little cackle and falling to the left to let Beatrice up. 

Freckled cheeks tinged pink, Beatrice sits up, looking at the sky. Ava watches as she takes a deep, steadying breath and wonders not for the first time what thoughts are running through the other woman’s mind. These days, she finds Beatrice often dropping her 'feelings shield' as Ava refers to it in her head, allowing her emotions to show instead of the mask of dissimulation she wore when they first met. It's easier to gauge her thoughts now, but Ava's not an expert in reading social cues. That, she blames on the twelve years of imprisonment in her own body in a catholic orphanage, so she opens her mouth to find out.  Her stomach, however, has other plans, letting out a loud gurgle that distracts her from flat-out asking. 

"I think we've earned lunch," Beatrice decides, watching as Ava's face lights up at the mention of food, question momentarily pushed to the side as she eagerly nods. 

"I couldn't agree more." 

One.

Ava's so fucking late. 

Beatrice is going to kill her she's so late.

She really should have remembered to plug her phone in last night like Beatrice is always reminding her to do. That way, she could have at least called her to let her know what happened. That she'd be late to work her shift at the bar with Hans this afternoon. But Ava didn't remember, so her phone must've died sometime while she was on her run before she tumbled down the side of a mountain. This means she's—Ava looks down at her watch—already over an hour late to her 15:30 shift and Beatrice probably thinks she totally bailed. 

"Fuck!" 

Beatrice was just promoted to manager last week and some of the…er…personality traits she exhibited back at the Cat's Cradle have returned in full force. Namely, the ones where Beatrice follows all the rules and strives for absolute perfection, aka becomes a little bit of a pain in the ass. Ava finds it adorable. Hans, who's worked there much longer and was passed over for the position, not so much. Although the guy still follows any order Beatrice gives because Ava's pretty positive he's terrified of her. 

It's safe to assume no one will be happy with her tonight, and Ava really doesn't have anyone to blame but herself. 

And that stupid fucking tree. 

It all started because Ava's developed a liking for running. In all of her years, even when she couldn't even walk or sit up, Ava never thought she'd be the type of person to enjoy running of all things . Yet, as it turns out, there's something entirely cathartic about her feet pounding repeatedly against the ground and the rush of dopamine that accompanies pushing the limits of what she can do—and it doesn't hurt that Ava has a supercharged battery in her back. 

Today, she ran one of the mountain trails, stopping at one point to admire how it overlooked the small tourist town she and Beatrice had found themselves in, how picturesque the buildings seemed, all nestled together like in one of those postcards she'd flipped through with JC. That part of the trail sloped down into a steep hill and Ava found herself leaning against a tree branch that appeared deceivingly strong enough to hold her weight when in reality, it really couldn't. 

The branch broke with a sinister snap! and Ava scrambled for purchase for the longest second of her life, before tumbling down the mountainside until another tree demonstrated Newton's First Law of Motion and stopped her dead with a resounding crack that echoed through the air. 

That doesn't mean Ava didn't put up a good fight, though. The tree trunk may have split open her right temple, causing blood to drip down her brow and into her eye, but she's sure she left multiple dents in the bark from where different parts of her body collided with it. Thankfully, the Halo healed her head wound and her other bumps, bruises, and scratches, leaving only dirt, blood, and a limp from what Ava assumes is a rapidly healing broken ankle. 

Which brings her to right now, only a block or so away from the bar. 

And a probably-pissed-off Beatrice. 

See, this isn't the first time Ava's been late to a shift. If she's being honest, she's usually five to twenty minutes late to work more frequently than not. But she's never been this late, so she knows she's going to be in some deep shit—especially now that Beatrice is manager. 

Ava turns the corner of the street Bar La Vasseur is on, moving around a few people milling about the path and altogether avoiding the idiot spewing nonsense about Adriel and the Firstborn Children. He's been showing up for the past few days and it's put both her and Beatrice on edge. During their weekly update with Camila yesterday, Mother Superion assured them that Adriel's followers have started popping up in many places all over Europe, so it's unlikely they've been compromised. 

Spotting her reflection in the mirror, Ava winces at the image that stares back at her. Most of the blood is on the upper part of her face, something she hides easily enough by tugging her cap down over her eyes. There's not much she can do about the bottom of her tank top, which she used to wipe some of the blood out of her eyes, but she does try and brush the dirt off her black leggings. 

It's not too crowded when she pushes through the bar doors. Hans is busy with two customers and Ava's almost able to sneak past him up the steps to the office and storage room where she has a spare shirt tucked away on the off chance someone spills a drink on her—something that happens way more than she likes, usually when a football game is on. 

"Ava!" 

Hans calls out as her sneaker hovers over the first stair. Ava freezes and slowly spins around, ducking her head to cover her face. "Hans…hey." 

"Heilige Scheiße!" Hans curses, putting down the bottle of vodka in his hand and stepping out from behind the bar. "What happened to you? Are you okay?" he asks in his thick accent. 

"Oh, this?" Ava pulls at the bottom of her shirt, keeping her head down. "It's not mine. Some dude crashed his bike into a street sign and I stayed with him until they took him to the hospital. Poor guy is never going to live that down. Sorry for being so late." 

For once her small stature is useful because Hans doesn't seem to see past the brim of her hat. 

"As long as you are not injured," Hans replies. "We'd lose many customers if the 'beautiful bartender' was not here to serve them their drinks." 

Ava laughs. It's no secret that some of the regular bar patrons flirt with her, but that's kinda part of her job. She's not interested in any of them, of course, and it definitely doesn't hurt that they tend to tip her more generously. And their apartment's rent isn't paying itself. 

"You say that like men and women don't fawn all over you," Ava retorts with a pointless eye roll because she's still angling her head down, which reminds her that there's another person she's really going to have to apologize to. "So, uh, how mad do you think the boss is?"

"I don't think mad is the word I'd use."

The way Hans says it like he knows something Ava doesn't, nearly has her tilting her chin up enough to look him in the eye and fuck up her whole story. If she causes a scene, Beatrice will most certainly blow a gasket. They might even have to leave because the whole point of Switzerland is to be laying low. 

"Well, better get it over with then," Ava pivots to the stairs. "I'll talk to her, get a clean shirt, and be down in a few."

"Good luck!"

Ava carefully climbs the steps one at a time instead of her usual two. It feels very much like what she imagines a walk to the principal's office would be like if she ever actually went to an actual school. Also, if the principal happened to be the most important person in her life. As her head pops over the railing, she immediately zeros in on Beatrice, who's pacing back and forth near the desk in the corner, tension clearly visible in her rigid posture. When Beatrice spins to face her, Ava can see her mouth moving silently, deep worry lines carved out between her eyebrows. 

"Bea.."

Beatrice's eyes snap to her just as her name leaves Ava's lips, and they both freeze, blinking at each other with disparate emotions. 

While Ava’s expression is one of quiet acceptance of the verbal reprimanding she’s about to receive, the varying emotions flickering across her face throw Ava for a loop. She doesn't have enough time to process each individual one before Beatrice is moving quickly toward her. 

Holy shit, Ava thinks as she closes her eyes, she's about to physically kick my ass. 

Only that's not what happens. 

Arms wrap tightly around Ava's neck, not with the intention to strangle her—although still enough to knock the breath out of her when Beatrice's body collides roughly with hers—but rather like she's making absolutely sure that Ava standing there is real and not some sort of mirage. 

"Bea?" Ava's own arms instinctively come up to loop loosely around Beatrice's waist, very confused. 

Beatrice squeezes once more, then pulls back enough to put Ava at arm's length with her fingers gently grasping at her shoulders. Wide brown eyes lock onto the right side of Ava's forehead and Beatrice slides her hands from Ava's shoulders, over her collarbone, and up her neck to stop at her jawline, brushing the pads of her thumbs along her cheeks. 

"Ava," Beatrice exhales her name, and pushes the hat off to get a better look at the smeared blood above her brow, the actual wound healed over completely by now. The only evidence that it was ever there is her red-stained skin. "What happened? Are you alright?" 

Oh.

Beatrice isn't fuming because Ava's nearly two hours late with no warning. 

Suddenly, her brain connects all the signs Ava's been too preoccupied with their proximity to take true notice of; Beatrice's face, skin paler than usual, her wide eyes glistening in the crappy lighting, the way she hasn't stopped touching some part of Ava's body since the initial embrace that nearly knocked them both down the staircase. Over Beatrice's shoulder, Ava finds the desk, usually neat and tidy, now a complete disaster. Beatrice's bag is at the center, wide open with all of her things spilling out, her phone, a knife, papers, and other items scattered all over the wooden surface. 

Beatrice is worried. Ava might go as far as to think she was scared, an emotion completely foreign on Beatrice. Ava only remembers seeing true fear in her eyes in Adriel's tomb. 

"I'm OK," Ava assures in a whisper, filled with so much fondness that she can't help her smile. She's so overwhelmed that she can't resist pulling Beatrice into another, albeit this one more brief, embrace. "There was an incident with a tree and a cliff and then another tree, but I'm fine." 

"You didn't answer your phone," Beatrice keeps hold of Ava's wrists as she takes a step back, tethering them together with their arms dangling limply between them. 

Ava breaks eye contact to wince. "It kinda…died," as Beatrice's lips press thinly together, she's quick to tack on, "and I know you're always reminding me to remember to charge it, but I forgot. I'm really sorry, Bea. I didn't mean to be late and I know you just got promoted and—"

"—Ava," Beatrice cuts off her rambling, grip tightening. "I don't care that you're late. You're always late—no, it's true," she says when Ava opens her mouth to defend herself. "But I know it's not because you don't care. You're making up for lost time and trying to fit everything you can into the day, so a lot of the time you end up losing track of it," Beatrice swallows, blinking hard like she's trying to recall where she was going with this. "When you didn't show up after twenty minutes, I tried calling and you didn't answer, and I thought that maybe—that they'd found us and you weren't answering because something terrible had happened to you. I was about to tell Hans I needed to leave because I couldn't wait here any longer not knowing where you were or if you were already gone."

Tears blur Ava's vision, distorting the image of the woman in front of her. Hearing Beatrice choking up over the thought of something happening to her has Ava realizing that had their situations been reversed and Beatrice been the one missing, Ava would have completely lost her shit. It makes her want to tell Beatrice that nothing will ever be able to keep Ava from her, but she doesn't know how to express that properly in words. 

Instead, she says, "I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. That I could have prevented it by just remembering to charge my fucking phone—sorry, I know, language," Ava chides herself. "You are the most important person in my life, Beatrice, and I know God is probably a bit above me in yours, but I promise if I can help it, I won't ever be the one to make you feel that way again." 

"You can't make those kinds of promises, Ava," Beatrice smiles at her like she's a kid saying something adorably cute yet completely impossible at the same time. She cups Ava's jaw affectionately for a second and then drops it to her side. "However, I believe I understand what you're getting at. And God isn’t a person, so I can confidently say you're the most important person in my life, as well."

Ava can't help the grin that stretches from ear to ear. "I'll have you know that I'm a very hard person to get rid of."

"I've noticed," Beatrice is teasing, but Ava hears an underlying hint of something else in her voice. She can't place it before Beatrice is speaking again. "You should probably clean the blood off before anyone sees you."

And there she goes. Slipping back into her tactical mindset with ease, thinking about the mission and what they needed to do to remain their cover. They can't afford to stand out in any way, and a blood-covered Ava with no actual wounds is sure to turn heads.

"Yes ma'am," Ava does a silly little salute, the seriousness of the previous moment gone. She moves past Beatrice to grab the shirt she's stashed up there when Beatrice calls after her. 

"Oh, and what was that you were saying about a tree?"