Chapter Text
"There she is. There's my girl…"
The words are soft and barely spoken, fading into the empty space that lay between them. Something stirs within her at the sentiment; 'my girl,' it repeats, in the same soft, slow cadence of her heartbeat. The joy in that statement is undeniable, but so too is the pain. Beatrice blinks through the haze, vision clearing as the fog of corruption lifts from her mind. She stares, eyes searching in their confusion as she's met with Ava's shy, dopey grin.
"Ava…?" she questions, voice wobbling in uncertainly.
Ava only stares back, eyes darting over every expanse of Beatrice's features, as if mapping her image and committing it to memory. Her smile widens, quiet laughter bubbling from her throat before falling suddenly silent, eyes fluttering shut as she slips from consciousness. Beatrice attempts to catch her as she falls, only to find her hands already occupied.
It's only then she notices the holy blade, hilt deep through the halo bearer's abdomen.
"No…. no!" she cries, hands trembling as they release the sword, allowing Ava to slump and fall fully to the floor. She hits the ground with a heavy thump as Beatrice's own legs give way, following her down as she crumples alongside her, the weight of her actions sinking into her like heavy stone.
“Ava!” Beatrice pleads, palms pressing to either side of her cheeks as she strives to bring her back, shaking gently at first and then more frantically when she receives no response. “Ava, wake up! Please, please, you need to wake up!”
The younger woman groans, eliciting a sob of relief from the nun as she tenderly strokes her face, coaxing her back to consciousness. “That’s it, yes!” she encourages, “Yes, yes! Open your eyes! Look at me!”
“B-Bea…?” Ava whispers, peering tiredly at her through heavy eyelids.
“Yes, it’s me,” she answers, lips twitching into what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “It’s me, I’m here.” Smoothing a hand through Ava’s hair, Beatrice chances a glance at the sword, choking back her despair as she’s reminded once more of what she’s done.
As if sensing her anguish, Ava grins and murmurs, “I guess you could say I-I… wasn’t cut out for this whole warrior nun thing…”
Beatrice reels back, aghast at her attempt to lighten the mood – as if lightening the mood were even an option in this scenario. “Ava… Ava was that pun …?” she asks, incredulously. “Are you making jokes? At this moment? Ava, I-I stabbed you!”
“T-twenty two more times and… and you can call me Julius Caesar,” she chuckles weakly, much to Beatrice’s combined horror and chagrin. “... too soon?”
“Ava!” she admonishes, head bowing as she presses it into the other woman’s neck, desperate to hide the tears prickling at her eyes. “Ava, please… how can you act so… so casual at a time such as this!?”
“...’m sorry,” she apologizes, quietly. “I just… I just wanted to see you smile… one more time.”
“Don’t say that!” Beatrice hisses, jerking back. “Don’t talk like you're not going to make it!”
Ava’s eyes shift away, sad but knowing. “I was… I was never going to make it out of this. I knew that coming here. I’ve known it since this all began…”
“Ava…” she begs, as her head starts to nod, eyes blinking rapidly as she fights to stay awake. “Ava, no! No, no, no! Stay with me!” Her eyes lower once more towards the sword, hand clasping the hilt as she whispers her apology. Although it was likely the only thing preventing her from bleeding out, it was also the one thing preventing the halo from healing her. And while divinium wounds took much longer, removing the blade was the only way to start the process...
The cry that rips itself from Ava’s throat is guttural, hands flying to her stomach as Beatrice drops the sword to the floor before doubling down on the wound, hands pressing atop Ava’s to stem the flow. Ava’s face is ashen at this point, skin normally flushed with life paling as the last of her light begins to dwindle. Beatrice chokes on her tears, shaking her head as she pleads for her not to go, applying further pressure to keep the fading warmth from spilling out between her fingers.
“Hold on, Ava. Just hold on,” she says, her entire being seeming to tremble with fear and desperation. “I just… I need to find a way to contact the others! There’s a phone at that workstation. If I just–”
“... stop,” Ava says softly, voice so weak Beatrice barely hears her. “B-Bea… s’okay…”
“No!” she rejects, head lifting to search the lab, frantic for something – anything – that could help her. “I told you not to talk like that! We’re… w-we’re going home, okay? Together!”
Ava’s lips twitch with a smile. “...you’re here, means ‘m already there.”
Beatrice's heart seizes at the admission, lowering her head to press against Ava's face. "How can you say such things to me? Now? Of all times?"
The halo bearer's smile falters, giving way to guilt. "I should… have told you sooner…"
"You're not… you're not thinking straight," Beatrice replies, lips ghosting Ava's cheek as she speaks. "You're in shock. It… it's the blood loss talking."
"No," Ava refutes, her eyes falling shut once more. "... s'all me, Bea… s'all me."
Beatrice clenches her fists, clutching at Ava's hands as she lowers her head and stifles a sob against her neck. She sniffles; once, twice. The dam breaks, the flood of tears unrelenting in their deluge, her body shaking with every painful cry.
"W-what am I supposed to do with that!?" she demands. "Please, Ava. Please! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! If I could take it back… if I could take it all back! Just don't go! Please! Don't go where I can't follow you!"
But it's too late. Ava's body falls slack, the tightly coiled tension releasing as she's allowed her final respite in the arms of the woman who had given her new life purpose and direction. Beatrice shakes her shoulders, slowly and then more roughly when she doesn't respond, crying loudly for her to wake.
"This isn't funny anymore!" she shouts, harshly. "Stop playing, Ava! Get up! You have to get up!" She presses a hand to her neck, a low, agonized whine escaping her lips as she finds no pulse.
Swiping furiously at her cheek, Beatrice lays Ava flat as she straightens up, hands finding the center of her chest as she starts compressions. "Look at me!" she pleads, silently counting in her head. "Open your eyes and look at me, God dammit! Ava!"
The count hits thirty and Beatrice's hands fly to Ava's head, one hand pinching her nose shut as the other cradles her jaw and tilts it back, opening the airway. She hesitates only briefly, another hiccup of a sob bubbling from within as Beatrice lowers her lips to Ava's. She breathes slowly, watching the other woman's chest rise, giving one more before going right back into compressions.
She cycles through the motions twice more, her movements growing sloppy as she tires, exhausted and overcome by grief. Beatrice's lips still against Ava's in her last ditch attempt to breathe life back into them. Her hands fall away to clutch at her shirt as she presses her mouth more earnestly against hers in a first kiss that never was and now would never be.
“Please, I need you...” she shudders, tears trailing hotly along the curvature of cheeks to splash and streak against Ava’s face.
Beatrice rocks back, a broken wail piercing the silence as she tugs Ava's body into her arms. She cradles her gently, the bearer's back pressed to her front as she wraps her arms tightly around her waist and holds her close. Her hands are wet and slick with blood, a nauseating reminder of her part in this, but Beatrice is too stricken to dare letting go. She can't. Not now and uncertain if she ever will.
She buries her face in Ava's hair, muffling her howls of anguish as she weeps bitterly. Beatrice doesn’t know how long she sits there, curled around the other woman as she lets her sorrow flow freely. It’s only when she hears the sound of footsteps does she look up, staring blearily through swollen eyes as a lone figure approaches.
Instantly, she’s on edge, clutching Ava only that more tightly as Adriel saunters into the room, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “How unfortunate,” he grins, chuckling smugly as Beatrice reaches for the sword and levels it at him. “She was a brave girl, that one. Foolish… but brave nonetheless.”
“Not a step closer,” Beatrice warns, one arm held protectively around Ava’s body as she slowly kicks her feet along the floor, distancing them from the fallen angel as he stands with his hands held up in mock surrender. Gently, she lays Ava down, getting up as she moves to stand defensively between her and Adriel. "You did this, you manipulative bastard! She’s dead because of you!”
“On the contrary, Sister Beatrice,” he replies, grin growing as he nods his head towards the sword, its blade freshly stained in red, “Ava’s blood is quite literally on your hands.”
“You used me,” she grits out, teeth clenched as she slowly advances on him, brandishing the sword threateningly. “You sent your wretched wraiths and possessed me! Ava’s blood may be on my hands, but it was you that guided them!”
"And I did it with such precision," he taunts, Beatrice bristling with fury at the clear amusement in his voice. "I admit, my wraiths had some difficulties with getting to you, but Ava? That poor girl had so many insecurities, and she was so taken by you she– aghhh!"
Beatrice doesn't enjoy violence, but there is a certain satisfaction in the way Adriel cries out when her blade slashes across his chest, carving a lengthy gash into his torso.
"Don't you dare speak ill of Ava!" she snarls, knuckles bleaching with how tightly she clenches her fists. "You are nothing but a thief, taking that which does not belong to you! You've taken the halo, and now you've taken Ava. You have sinned against Heaven, and Hell, and me. I don't know what punishment awaits you on the other side, but I will not allow them their chance until I have made you pay your penance myself!"
If pain is what made Beatrice a sister warrior then grief is what makes her an act of vengeance, wrath incarnate as she tears into Adriel with all the sorrow and rage she holds in her heart. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wonders if this is what Sister Melanie must have felt standing against the Nazi lieutenant, "each slice an act of hate." But an act of hate against who, she isn't entirely certain. Against Adriel? The Church? Herself?
She doesn't know. She doesn't care.
Beatrice cuts into him faster than he can heal, swinging the sword with reckless abandon until she's breathless and spent. And then, with every last ounce of strength she has left, Beatrice lunges and drives the blade through his torso, angled up to slip through his ribs and straight into his heart – if he even had one to begin with. She steps closer, lodging it deeper as she stares into his eyes and silently prays for his tenure in Hell to be gruesome and everlasting.
She wants this to hurt. She needs it to hurt.
And it does. Adriel's face is twisted with pain, his bloodied lips gnarled in a grimace. But instead of fear, he stares at Beatrice with something akin to respect, chest bellowing with a hearty chuckle as he throws his head back and laughs.
"I knew you had it in you," he grins, sending Beatrice flying with a mere flick of the wrist. She lands against the far wall with a sickening crack, pain blossoming through her back and chest as she feels a rib or two snap. "You play modest well, Sister, but beneath those layers of careful restraint you are as vicious and vindictive as they come. I could find good use with someone like you by my side…"
"And what makes you think I would join you?" she wheezes, clutching her injuries as she struggles slowly to stand.
"You're lucky I'm even asking this time," he replies, grunting as he retracts the sword and carefully inspects it. "I could simply repossess you, and without your beloved halo bearer to free you, you would be my servant until the end of your mortal life. But I am feeling generous. What would it take for you to join and lead my army?"
"Nothing!" she asserts, glaring heatedly as she braces against the wall, hardly able to stand through the pain. "What could you possibly offer that I would want? You've taken everything!"
Adriel hums thoughtfully, contemplating her for a moment before stepping towards Ava's unprotected body. Beatrice's eyes widen, her muscles tensing with aggravation as he kneels carefully by her side and places a single hand on her chest.
"You say I've taken everything," he states, as his hand begins to glow. "But what if I could give something back?"
"What are you doing!?" she cries, frantically. "What are you doing to her? Stop! Don't you dare touch her!"
"The halo is infinitely more powerful in my possession," he reminds, as the portal flickers briefly behind him. "It was able to bring Ava back once. I can use it to bring her back again. That is, if you're willing to bargain…"
Beatrice startles as Ava gasps, coughing violently as Adriel's hand seems to phase through her chest in reach of the halo. The younger woman grasps his arm, struggling against him as he lifts her from the floor and drags her to her feet.
"What do you say, Beatrice?" he smirks, glancing at her over Ava's head.
Beatrice stares, dumbstruck as she watches Ava continue to flail in Adriel's grasp. It was only moments ago she had died in her arms, and now here she was alive again, the proverbial bargaining chip in a game that neither of them had wanted to play. She shuts her eyes, attempting to process through the emotional whiplash, seeking a solution to what seemed an impossible situation.
"Beatrice… Beatrice, look at me…"
Her eyes snap open, finding Ava's in an instant as the other woman struggles to look at her from over her shoulder.
"Ava…" she breathes, helplessly.
"I'm not worth it," she says, wincing as the halo pulses with power, sending a shockwave of energy coursing through her veins. "Whatever he’s promising, don’t fall for it. Remember the mission…"
"Damn the mission!" Beatrice cries, angrily. "I don't care anymore! All I care about is you! Ava, I-I…" The words falter, even now, unable to be said.
"I know," Ava grins, understandingly. "But I care about you too… and I can't let you go through with this…"
Adriel, having silently watched the exchange, scoffs at the sentiment. "You mortals are so emotional," he muses, as Ava turns back to face him. "What have you decided, Sister Beatrice? My patience is growing thin.”
"Her answer is no, asshole!" Ava replies in her stead, drawing his attention as she takes his arm and shoves it further into her chest. His hand hits the halo, amplifying its output tenfold as it flares to life, a golden, ethereal glow encompassing the room.
“What are you doing?” Adriel questions, curious at first and then angrily, “What are you doing!?”
Ava’s eyes flicker toward something behind him, gritting her teeth at the sheer power radiating through her. The heat alone is searing, seeming to burn her skin from the inside out as she clamps both hands on his wrist, locking them together. Slowly, she begins to walk him back, her strength augmented by the halo even as its power endeavored to tear her apart. Adriel attempts to pull back, but she only holds on more tightly, a rumble of agony building in her throat as the halo’s light grows blinding.
Beatrice shields her eyes, squinting through her fingertips as she tries to make sense of what’s happening. But the light is too bright for her to see, eyes watering until its too painful to keep them open. She can only listen, desperate and confused as Ava’s shout turns deafening, drowning out Adriel’s demands to be released. Her voice is the last thing she hears before the light explodes, sending a shockwave of energy rippling through the room.
Beatrice is unconscious even before she hits the floor.
"Something's wrong."
Camila blinks, rubbing tiredly at her eyes as she shifts against Lilith. The two had fallen asleep in the library, curled against one another on a reading couch as they delved into the warrior nun book in search for clues on how to handle Adriel. The older woman is rigid and tense, hands clenched as she stares searchingly into a distance only her eyes could see.
"What do you mean?" she mumbles, stifling a yawn as she withdraws reluctantly from her warmth. "What's going on?"
"I don't… I don't know," Lilith replies, voice terse as she stands. "Something feels wrong. I can't place it, but it was the same feeling I got the night I caught Beatrice in the armory."
Suddenly, her head snaps towards the doorway. "Where's Ava?"
"... in her room?" Camila answers meekly, though going by the wild, panicked look on Lilith's face, that might not entirely be true. "I-I don't know… last time I saw her, she was cleaning out Beatrice's room. She said she would go to bed right after…"
Lilith curses beneath her breath, storming from the library as Camila hurries to keep up. They reach Ava's room in a matter of moments, Lilith all but wrenching the door off its hinges as she slams it open. Camila can feel her stomach sink at the sight of Ava's empty bed, the sheets cold and untouched.
"Maybe she–"
They rush to Beatrice's room next, only to be met with the same result. Lilith grows furious, face darkening as she growls angrily.
"That idiot!" she cries, stomping back into the hall. "We should have known better than to–"
"We found Beatrice! She's at ARQ-Tech! They just sent a team to retrieve–"
The two turn as one, watching as Mary comes barreling down the corridor. Her excitement quickly gives way to confusion, glancing back and forth between the enraged Lilith and solemn Camila. She takes a step back, arms crossing defensively over her chest, as if to physically protect herself from what she fears is coming.
"What is it?" she asks, quietly. "What's wrong?"
Camila looks briefly towards Lilith, as if waiting for her to answer. But she refuses to speak, merely shaking her head as she disappears into Beatrice's room for a moment alone. Realizing that it's up to her to break the news, she sighs wearily and replies, "Ava… Ava's gone…"
Mary eyes her skeptically. "What do you mean she's gone? Like, she's gone from her room, or she's… she's gone…?"
Camila hesitates to answer, unsure of what she's supposed to say. It's no small coincidence that Beatrice is suddenly found at the same time Ava is suspiciously missing, and it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together…
Before she can manage a reply, a heart wrenching sob breaks the tension. Mary and Camila rush inside the room, the younger nun bracing Lilith as she threatens to fall, one hand clamped shakily over her lips as the other weakly clings to the wall for support. Mary moves to assist, helping Camila lead her towards the bed where they sit for several moments, quietly consoling her the best they can.
"Lilith… Lilith, what is it?" Mary asks, when her tears slowly start to subside. "Talk to us, please. Tell us what happened."
"I can't…" she whispers, head shaking. "I-I can't…"
"Can't, or won't?"
"No, you don't get it!" she says, desperate for them to understand. "I can't… I can't feel it anymore! I can't feel the halo. I… I can't feel Ava! I tried to reach her, tried to teleport, but I couldn't… there's nothing there anymore…"
Camila and Mary trade worried glances, the implications far from lost. While the limits of Lilith's powers were still undiscovered, it was learnt pretty early on that her abilities were in some way tethered to the halo. It was this connection that allowed her to teleport to them at the Vatican, and could in part explain why she had come back from the other side so devoted to Ava. The bond between them ran deep, and for Lilith to claim it was broken, that Ava and the halo were no longer there…
"No," Mary denies, pulling away from the other two. "No, she wouldn't. She promised she wouldn't!"
"Mary…" Camila begins, as her own eyes begin to water.
"No! This is bullshit!" she shouts, angrily. "You two can sit here and wallow all you want, but I'm going out there to find her! And when I do, I'm bringing her sorry ass back to bed and locking her in her damn room for being stupid! I swear that kid is gonna be grounded until kingdom come!"
She's gone before Camila can even attempt to stop her, watching helplessly as the door slams shut. Only a few minutes later, the roar of her bike cuts through the night, fading away as she drives off into the streets. With a heavy sigh, she turns her attention back towards Lilith, placing a hand gently atop her own.
"Maybe… maybe the halo is just drained," she tries, attempting to reason her inability to sense her divine counterpart. "Maybe that's why you can't feel Ava…"
"No," Lilith murmurs, head bowed. "Even at her weakest, I could always sense Ava's presence. This is different. I can't explain, but I just know it is. I can't feel her. It… it's like she was never there at all…"
"W-what does that mean?" she asks, terrified of the answer but in need of the truth.
Lilith doesn't reply. She merely looks to Camila, eyes glazed in sorrow, and it's all the confirmation the younger nun needs. Her shoulders slump in defeat, head lowering as she allows herself to lean against the taller woman, hiding her face against her neck. A quiet sob can be heard, muffled against the cloth of her habit, but it only grows louder as Lilith turns and engulfs her in a hug. They sit, sharing the burden of this newest loss, clinging to one another like they're the only lifeline the other has left.
The retrieval team arrives with Beatrice about an hour later. Lilith and Camila are there to greet her, hands clasped tightly as they watch Sisters Anne and Evelyn unload her stretcher from the back of the van. Sister Joan approaches, a somber expression on her face as she pulls her tablet from a bag and carefully hands it to Lilith.
"Dr. Salvius alerted us that a silent alarm had been set off," she explains, tapping and swiping through the screen as she pulls up security footage. "Adriel's team had disabled security, but there was one set specifically to alert her should the portal ever be triggered. I would try to explain, but… I think it's better if you just watch…"
The video is difficult to get through. Watching Beatrice attempt to resuscitate Ava is particularly painful, especially with the knowledge that she had been the one to kill her. But it's Adriel's subsequent revival of her that has them on edge, and though they can't hear what's being said, it's obvious that he's using her as some sort of leverage against Beatrice. What happens next, none of them can seem to explain. Ava starts to fight back as the glow from the halo grows exponentially, growing so bright the entire screen washes out.
And then the footage cuts to black.
"What's going on? Where's the rest of it?" Lilith demands, looking to Joan for explanation.
"That's it," she sighs, swiping once more at the tablet as she pulls up pictures of the aftermath. "The lab was almost completely destroyed. It was like a tornado or something had completely blown through the room…"
"You… you said the portal was triggered?" she asks, grasping for even the slightest sliver of hope.
As if reading her thoughts, Joan shakes her head. "It was triggered when Adriel came in contact with Ava's halo, but Dr. Salvius checked the readings on the machine and there was no indication that anything, or… or anyone had gone through…"
Lilith returns the tablet. "Understood. Thank you," she says, quietly, as she and Camila turn to follow the others towards the infirmary.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Joan calls after them. "We didn't know her as long or as well as you, but… I can understand why Ava meant so much to your family. She saved my life, and that of my team's. I don't know what happens next for the OCS, or if Adriel is truly gone for good. But I want you to know that you have our support. We're here for you all if you'll allow us to be."
Lilith doesn't reply, only nodding to acknowledge her words as she retakes Camila's hand and leads her into the Cradle. When they reach the infirmary, Beatrice is already laid out on a bed, the medical staff bustling about as they tend to her wounds. She's awake, but her eyes are glazed over, seemingly unaware of her surroundings as she stares blankly at the ceiling.
"Hey, Bea…" Camila greets softly, coming to stand by her beside. Carefully, she places a hand over her own. "Welcome back…"
Beatrice doesn't respond, doesn't even glance in their direction. Her gaze remains steadfast on the ceiling, blinking so slowly one might think she wasn't blinking at all. "Shock," one of the nurses supplies, in an attempt to be helpful.
But a day passes and then another, and Beatrice remains the same. She takes no food or water, receiving hydration and nutrients through an IV as she continues to remain frighteningly still. Camila and Lilith are by her side through it all, diligent in their vigil as they refuse to leave her alone.
Mary never comes home.
On the third day of her return, Camila carefully drops an envelope onto the tray by her bedside. "I found this in your room," she explains, softly. "I was looking for something you might like to read or to pass the time with. I think it's a letter. From Ava…"
Beatrice tilts her head from where it rests on the pillow, her gaze no longer fixated on the ceiling as she turns to stare at the letter. It's the first reaction they've gotten out of her since she came back, and Camila is eager to coax out more.
"Do you want me to re–"
"No."
Beatrice's voice is hoarse from disuse but commanding all the same. She stares at the envelope for several moments more, quietly contemplating its contents before sighing heavily and laying back once again. Camila watches and waits, hoping she'll change her mind, but when she refuses to say anything else, she decides there's no use in pushing it.
She'll read it when she's ready.
Beatrice is released from the infirmary the same day they hold Ava's memorial. It's a small affair, all things considered. The entirety of Cat's Cradle attends the service, Beatrice sat wedged between Lilith and Camila in the front row as the priest drones on about sacrifice and love for your fellow man. It's long and drawn out, overly religious and entirely impersonal – everything that Ava would have hated. If she tries hard enough, she can even imagine the younger girl beside her, fidgeting and huffing impatiently like she was prone to doing during mass.
When it's over, Beatrice quickly excuses herself to her room, feigning a desire to rest in order to escape the pitying looks from the other sisters. She knows it's wrong of her to leave Lilith and Camila to fend for themselves, but she's still in that stage of grief where nothing else really matters. She pushes open the door to her room, entering it for the first time since the night she was possessed.
Her bed is meticulously made, every item perfectly in place. She remembers Camila telling her that Ava had spent time in here before running off to ARQ-Tech, cleaning it up and making it ready for her return. A painful lump forms in her throat at the thought, the emotions she'd fought so long to keep down rising to the surface now that she's finally alone.
Gently, she takes a seat on the bed, cautious not to mess up the sheets Ava had so carefully straightened out. Her hands smooth across the blankets, simply taking it all in as she imagines the trouble she must have had in getting it just right, having never bothered to make her own bed in all the time she had lived at the Cradle. She smiles briefly at the thought, painful as it is.
Reluctantly, Beatrice retrieves Ava's letter from her pocket, having kept a hand on it through the entirety of her service. Her name is scrawled messily in Ava's terrible handwriting, but there's a fondness in her heart as she traces the shakily drawn letters. Camila, bless her soul, had done her best to help the halo bearer improve her writing, but between missions and training, it had never been a major priority.
With trembling hands, she unseals the envelope and carefully pries out the letter tucked safely within. She stares at the paper, having dreaded this moment since she was made aware of its existence. This was the last piece of Ava that she had left, and Beatrice had already said goodbye once before. She wasn't certain she could survive it again…
Eventually, curiosity wins out, and she slowly unfolds the letter, smoothing out the creases as she takes a deep breath and prepares to dive in.
To Beatrice,
I just want to start off by saying sorry for the poor penmanship. I hope this letter is at least legible. I don’t have much time, but I have so much that I need to say before I go.
I could write a dozen different letters, each with the same message but just in different words. In the end, it would all come down to one thing: I miss you. You should be here, but you aren’t. And it’s my fault. I know it’s selfish of me to say, but it’s true. I miss you. And I hope when this letter finds you… I hope you’ll miss me too.
I never thought I’d ever have to write something like this. I mean, the whole paralyzed thing aside, I just never thought that I would have someone to write to when I was gone. I guess in that way I should be grateful, not necessarily that I have to leave, but that I was cared for enough that I had someone to leave behind.
The truth is, my time at the orphanage left me pretty emotionally dead, and for a very short time, actually dead-dead. When I was given my second life, I was reckless and rash, and as you so eloquently put it, I only “did what’s best for Ava.” But you, along with the others, showed me what it meant to truly live – to care not just for myself, but for those around me. You showed me how to see beyond the walls of my own fear, to push past my pain and use it in a way that made it my power.
I’ll never be able to thank you enough for all that you’ve done, and I’ll never be able to repay you for the kindness, compassion, and support you’ve given me through it all. As brief as our time has been, I’ve come to know you as a beautiful person. Maybe the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. I just wish I had more time to know you better.
Even in light of your possession and all the harsh words spoken, you’ve inspired me to be a better person. I admit it hurt to hear you say those things. It still hurts even now. It’s not something I think I could have gotten over so quickly, but given that my time is short, I just want to say that experiencing your anger and disappointment is not something I’d ever want to feel again. I guess that’s why I reacted so strongly – why I started pulling away and pushing myself harder. I just wanted to be someone worthy of fighting beside you.
And I hope that whatever happens tonight, I hope I achieved that in any small capacity. I hope I was brave, like you taught me to be. I hope I went down doing the right thing, even if everything else I’ve done, I’ve done wrong. But most importantly, I hope I brought you back to yourself. Back to the Beatrice I love. Because I have nothing to my name – no money, no property, not even a photo ID to prove that I existed. But if I leave anyone or anything behind on this earth, let it be the love I have for you.
I can’t claim to know what’s going to happen, but I do know you’ll inevitably end up blaming yourself. Please don’t. Please know that no matter how this night ends, know that I did this willingly and of my own free will. I did it to save you, and if given the choice, I’d do it again. I’d choose you every time.
I hope one day we can meet again.
In this life and the next,
Ava
Beatrice lets out a shaky sigh, exhaling the long held breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. Carefully – reverently – she folds the letter and places it securely in the envelope, cradling it to her chest as she lowers herself onto the sheets, down on the bed that Ava had so lovingly made.
With her words still echoing freshly in her mind, Beatrice finally allows herself to mourn.
Epilogue
The sun shines brightly overhead and the vibrant colors of the early morning under its radiant glow is almost offensively chipper and bright; it was as if the world conspired to show Beatrice that life could go on – would go on – without her. A deep frown furrows at her brows, lips tugging downwards in a grimace, as if reprimanding it for even daring to suggest a notion. She was firmly of the belief that everything should be as dark and gloomy as her own emotions – cold, wet, damp. Why had the heavens not yet parted, mourning the loss of their greatest angel? Why had it not shed the tears she herself had spent days attempting to control?
‘Blasphemy…’ her mind cries, as the birds continue to sing and the leaves rustle in a symphony of wind.
She walks slowly through the cemetery, her legs taking her where her mind still refused to go. Logic had always been one of her greatest assets, and yet, even against the overwhelming evidence presented before her, she simply could not fathom what it concluded. Despite her reluctance to revisit such painful memories, Beatrice allows her mind to wander down that road of despair, stumbling over every crevice of guilt and grief. Leading her back to the night Ava Silva gave her life to save her soul… and the world.
“Why?” she whispers, voice cracking in its rawness as she comes upon the memorial stone. Unlike those around it, it was not worn away with time but freshly carved with a name that had no place etched upon its surface. “Why did you do it? Why did you…”
She swallows thickly with emotion.
“It’s not… it’s not fair!” she murmurs, almost petulant in the way her pitch fluctuates. “You weren’t supposed to die! No one was supposed to die! But you… Lord, not you! You had so much life left unlived, so many dreams you’ll never make true…”
“How could you?” she demands hotly, glaring at the stone as if it were Ava herself, even as tears burn her vision. “How dare you? H-how could you just throw your life away as if it were something so insignificant?” She shakes her head, admonishingly. “I told you that you watched too much TV. Y-you just had to go and play the hero, huh? Just like in your silly action movies. But couldn’t you have stopped even for a moment and thought things through?
“You knew it was a trap! You knew what you were walking into! Did you ever stop to contemplate the consequences of your actions? You didn’t. You never do. And you went willingly anyway because… because…”
A shaky sigh escapes Beatrice’s lips as she remembers the letter. ‘Because to you, it was the right thing to do,’ her mind finishes for her.
“Didn’t you realize how much you meant to everyone?” The sudden burst of anger fizzles away like a dying flame, leaving only the bitter taste of regret in her mouth. “... didn’t you realize how much you meant to me?” she breathes, the familiar knot forming in her gut. It starts like a terrible wrenching, as if something were attempting to claw its way from her insides out; climbing up her esophagus, squeezing her trachea and swelling her throat shut.
She drops to her knees, all pretenses of being prim and proper dropping with her as a choked sob tears its way past her lips. Beatrice was a sister warrior and the daughter of diplomats; even in mourning she was expected to remain dignified, but at that moment she cares for nothing else but the overwhelming weight of her loss. Of course she had experienced death before; it was an unfortunate but not unexpected outcome in their line of work, but never had it left such a gaping hole in her heart as it did now. She cries loudly like a child, all running nose and wracking sobs, her carefully crafted stoicism slipping away without shame.
“God, look at me…” she huffs, laughing humorlessly as she tries to blink through the briny well of tears. “I… I couldn’t even cry at your funeral… just stood and stared as they built your grave. But it feels as though I've cried every moment since, and I…"
“Look what you’ve done to me,” she sobs, running a knuckle beneath her eye, a futile attempt to stem the flow of her sorrow. “I was perfectly fine until I met you, content to play my role as sister and soldier. And then you had to go and break through my walls, in the same way you broke through twenty feet of stone… persistently. ”
Silence falls for several minutes, Beatrice grieving quietly to herself as she reminisces on the girl who – even in their short time together – had become the single most important person in her life.
“I… I loved you,” she admits, after a brief moment of hesitation. “You accepted me for who I was, with no expectations for me to change. You valued me as a person with no reservations for what I could do, or what I could provide in exchange. Y-you called me beautiful, when for the longest time, I had felt so ugly inside. I’ll admit you were annoying and unrelenting at times, clumsy and irresponsible… but you were also kind, selfless… what you lacked in academics or combat skills you made up for with hard work and determination…just the way you smiled and laughed, the way you just made the world better – the way you made me better…”
“I didn’t know it at first,” she goes on, staring forlornly at the ground. “I’d never really felt this way before. Love, t-the romantic type that is… it was a foreign concept, something I’d read about in books or watched on screen. I had never expected or even dared to hope to experience it for myself, and yet… and yet I fell for you. I fell for you so hard, so f-fast and…”
“I wanted to tell you!” she exclaims, “I should have told you! But I was terrified of what that could mean, of what could happen if I let myself open up to you in the way I was so desperate to. I didn’t know how to love anyone, let alone another girl. All my life I’d been told that the way I loved was a sin. It was why I joined the Church, why I took my vows. But… looking back now… perhaps I did it for all the wrong reasons…”
“And yet…” her voice falters, “and yet taking my vows is what led me to you…”
Beatrice slumps forward, resting almost bonelessly on the back of her legs as she presses her forehead against the stone marker. “I miss you, Ava,” she whispers, shutting her eyes tightly as a fresh wave of tears threaten to fall. “I miss you so much it hurts. And I have no right to feel this way because… because I’m the reason why you’re gone. But I do anyway. I miss you, and… and I’m not the only one,” she sniffs, licking her lips which had chapped between every sobbing gasp.
“Everyone… everyone misses you. It’s not the same without you here. Lilith is a complete mess, Camila hasn’t smiled or sung in days. We don’t even know where Mary has run off to. It just… it’s like when you died, a little part of everyone else died with you too…”
"How do we go on?" she asks, desperately, "How do we keep fighting? You were the glue that held us together, and without you there's nothing left to keep us from falling apart. Please… wherever you are now, give us a sign. Tell us what to do… tell me what to do… I can't… I can't…"
This time she falls all the way to the ground. Grief threatens to consume her whole, and Beatrice allows it, curling in upon herself as her body shakes violently with the force of her pain. She had visited the grave every day since the funeral, kneeling on the plot of freshly turned soil that had become Ava's final resting place.
A body had never officially been found. When the holy light had vanished, revealing the aftermath of Ava and Adriel's last bout, nothing of the two remained. But all that remained of Ava, the meager belongings she'd left in a room that had only just started to feel like her own, were buried here.
And here, Beatrice would stay, as she had every other day, until the temperature fell and the light faded away; reciting the same words of a one-sided conversation, voice carrying away into a nonexistent void. Like Ava, with her penchant for running and moving, excited to explore the world she had for so long missed out on.
Always there one moment and gone the next…
Like a whispered goodbye in the wind.