Chapter Text
When Ava comes back, things are different. It had been a slow build to a new normal, with Beatrice giving living her life the best try she could despite the Ava sized hole in her chest. She wandered around the continent, feeling lost and free all at the same time. It had been a shock that after almost three months of no Ava, of bopping around Europe, unsure of what she was searching for, that she would re-emerge outside of a cafe in Lisbon.
She had been staring blankly at her espresso and pastel de nata, contemplating how Ava probably would’ve eaten sixteen of them when she had heard her voice. “Are you going to eat that, Bea? Because I certainly will, they were always my favorite.” The initial shock wore off quickly. It had been a crushing hug, strange looks from passersby, and an altogether too long walk back to Beatrice’s hotel just outside of Belem before she finally could collapse into her fully. The initial reunion was a mess of tears and fumbling hands. Questions falling from lips, fingers tracing the lines of one another’s face, I love you’s whispered desperately into the others skin. For the first time in months, Beatrice felt like she could take a full breath.
Since that day, things had been good, too good. From the way “I love you” flowing from her lips felt as easy as breathing after months of regret, to the way Ava’s hair felt like silk as she tangled her fingers in it as they kissed, to the ever present weight of Ava’s eyes as they followed her around the room. It was as if Ava was afraid that Beatrice would disappear if she looked away. That they shared.
Beatrice couldn’t bring herself to take her eyes off of Ava, afraid she’d blink and she’d be gone again, snatched into another dimension. That fear would sit deep in her belly and she found herself laying awake at night, unwilling to close her eyes for fear she’d miss the rise and fall of Ava’s chest as she slept, the physical reassurance that she was actually here. Memories of Ava slipping into the arc flashing before her eyes, the tauntingly grey blade of the cruciform sword refusing to turn blue, and her own desperate sobs as she clutched at Camila’s shoulders filling her ears. She wouldn’t let Ava go again, she couldn’t. She would do whatever was necessary to make sure it didn’t happen again, consequences be damned.
It was this fear that would often manifest the worst. Her hands would shake, her words would get caught in her throat, and her heartbeat would pound loudly in her ears as all she could see was an empty portal and no Ava. She would stare into oblivion, or snap from sleep in a rush of panic, chest heaving, searching for Ava to ground her. Would brokenly whisper promises that she would never leave her again into the crook of Ava’s neck, even as said girl would trace shapes into her back, murmuring reassurances that she had done the right thing. “I’m here, Bea,” she would say soothingly, “I’m here because of you. You saved me. I’m not going anywhere.”
They were connected at the hip, constantly finding a way to maintain contact to the other. Pinkies would loop in the waistband of the other’s pants or their knees would knock against each others on the train. It was their anchor and also the source of contention. There was still a holy war coming and Beatrice would often watch, worry gnawing at her insides, as Ava seemed ready to take the weight of the world on her shoulders once again.
It filled her with pride as much as it terrified her. When they argued, the looming doom was usually the catalyst, and Beatrice would lash out in fear of losing her. Today was no different. Ava had broached the topic of returning to OCS to train, that the holy war was coming and they couldn’t live in their cocoon forever. Beatrice’s temper, always barely controlled as it was, had unleashed from her chest, “I don’t care! You’ve done enough, this isn’t on you anymore. Let someone else handle it.”
Ava gave her an indignant look, “Oh now you want to run away with me? To not do the right thing? That’s rich, Beatrice. Duty is how we got here in the first place and now you want to turn your back on it?”
Beatrice feels like she’s been slapped and the words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them. “I can’t watch you disappear again. I just got you back.” She eventually breaks, hears herself beg in a small voice, “Please don’t go.”
Ava’s expression softens, she takes Beatrice into her arms and tucks her face into Beatrice’s neck. “I’m not going to, Bea. Not without you. Never again without you.”
“I promised I would never leave you.” Beatrice hears herself say. It always came back to this. She had lived while Ava was gone, just as she had asked her to, but she never stopped doubting whether or not leaving had been right. The lingering worry that Ava had come out of the arc to no Beatrice and thought she had abandoned her fully haunted her.
“You didn’t leave me, Bea. You gave me another chance. A better chance.” Ava’s hands are cradling her face, forehead pressing against hers as she says “they can’t beat us, Bea. Not when we’re together.”
A full body shiver goes through Beatrice at those words, identical to the ones Ava had uttered all that time ago after she had come crashing to the ground from stories above the earth. Ava had the same glint in her eye now that she did then. The same quiet confidence and tenderness. Beatrice feels her breathing start to even out as she wills herself to believe everything will be okay.
“Okay, “ Beatrice whispers, tension leaving her body, “together.” Ava smiles that blinding, full-toothed grin that is just so Ava. She knows she’s won, as she often does, and that Beatrice will be there no matter what. There’s a soft brush of lips, a murmured “I’m sorry,” and Beatrice gets lost in the dark pools of Ava’s eyes. She lets them ground her as she takes a deep breath, finally letting go of her fear.
She knows that this time, when the last battle is finally here, when she says “I love you,” it won’t feel like saying goodbye. This time she knows, just as she knows that the sun will rise after it sets, that it isn’t. This time she knows, she’s doing the right thing.