Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

January in Chicago sucks.

Plain and simple. It’s cold as hell and windy as fuck and Ava genuinely wonders why anyone lives here.

That said, she’s lived here for almost sixteen years now and if anyone talks shit about her city she’ll fight them.

Still, it fucking sucks and she hates it.

Especially today, because today, she made the dumbass decision to surprise her boyfriend in the middle of the coldest afternoon of the year.

Ava’s been super busy at work the last few weeks, with Hans taking a vacation and then coming back from said vacation with a cold that’s kept him down for another week - she’s been working basically every night.

She doesn’t mind it really, her checking account certainly doesn’t mind it - the tips have been rolling in with people looking for just a smidgen of fun in this shitty fucking cold weather.

Still, she’s neglected JC and they’ve had troubles enough as it is with him constantly badgering her to finally move in with him.

She’s been a little hesitant about it. She likes her apartment. It was the first thing that ever really belonged to her. It’s nothing special and she certainly won’t win any homemaker of the year awards, but it’s hers.

JC’s place is nicer, it’s closer to her work and he has a much better bed than she does.

Every bit of common sense she has tells her that this is a no brainer - but every time he asks she tells him no. Which upsets him each time, but Ava is very good at distractions and she manages to sidestep it.

She just needs more time to decide, to figure out exactly why she needs to move in with him.

So far she hasn’t come up with anything substantial to really push her over the edge, but any day now she thinks.

Any fucking day now.

Despite all that, she does feel guilty about being so busy the last few weeks. So she’s going to make it up to him.

Which is why she’s walking through the streets of Chicago, freezing her tits off with some very expensive and uncomfortable lingerie underneath of her Chicago Bears jacket.

Warming her hands up, Ava goes to press the buzzer for his building when she sees Mr. Thompkins open the door from inside. “Ava! I thought you’d dumped that boy, I hadn't seen you in so long.”

“Not quite yet.” Ava says with a smile. Mr. Thompkins lives on the first floor and Ava constantly sees him coming and going as he works across the street at a flower shop. “Been a busy week at the bar is all.”

“Surprised people are even going out in this weather.”

Ava laughs. “Gotta go out in this weather, have to find some way to ignore how miserable it is.”

“No ma’am, this is the kind of weather that makes this city great! Builds character.”

“All I’m building are icicles in my hair!” This makes him laugh as he holds the door open for her. “I might swing by your shop when I leave, my place is severely lacking in green at the moment. Think you can recommend a low effort, super cute plant to go in my kitchen.”

He grins at her as she passes by. “Most definitely, shops open till six, come on by!”

“Will do, careful, the crosswalk is slippery as shit.” This makes him laugh deeply, eyes bright under his glasses. “See you soon.”

They part ways as Ava makes her way inside. When she steps in the elevator she’s grateful to be alone because she has to reach into her pants and pull the thong out of her ass. It’s not like a regular thong, not as comfortable and a little tighter- the whole fucking thing is tight.

She hopes JC gets his eyefull and strips her out of it quickly because the thigh clips might be cutting off her circulation.

Four floors later, Ava is making her way down the hallway towards his apartment.

It could be her apartment, she thinks. Their apartment.

Instead of walking all the way here in this cold ass weather, she could just live here. Come home here every night and climb into bed with him.

Then she wouldn't have to put on shit like this to make up for not being around much.

She could wake up next to him every morning. Listen to his obnoxious routine of situps and pushups before he spends two hours in the shower doing his hair and shaving his…everything.

The guy shaves more than she does.

Not that she hates it, she doesn’t - he’s gorgeous.

Still, by the time he finishes in the bathroom it’s almost ten and any nights Ava does stay here she has to set an alarm to wake up at six just to get a good hour in there to herself.

Could she live like that every day?

Yeah, she’s not ready to commit to it yet.

Any day now though.

Thankfully, Ava has a key so she can slip in and surprise him properly. She assumes if he worked this morning that he’s probably playing video games - Call of Duty or…Warzone…something came out today. She’s not sure, he was excited though.

When the door opens, Ava is already out of her jacket and halfway through unbuttoning the long sleeve shirt she wore underneath. “Hey Jay? I thought you might want -”

She stops, the key in her hand that she unlocked the door with falls to the ground.

Because there’s music on the stereo, playing over the sound of her voice, and JC is propped up on the arm of the couch with his pants around his ankles, and there’s a girl with his fucking dick in her mouth.

A thick, twisting rot settles in her stomach. She came all the way over here, spent all this money on lingerie for him because she felt guilty and he’s here getting a blowjob from someone Ava’s never seen in her fucking life.

Two years, two fucking years she gave him - she trusted him when she was just starting to get herself settled as a fucking person. She dealt with so much shit from his friends, from Randall and Zori hating her guts, they still do - she knows they do.

All those parties she hung off his arm to impress people at his business meetings. The godawful fights all over the country to help him promote his work.

All of it, she gave him all of it and he couldn't give her two fucking weeks of being busy before he had to stick his dick in someone else?

In her building rage, Ava sees the bowl of keys next to the door and spots the key fob of his car - his pride and fucking joy.

She snatches it and puts it in her pocket before grabbing the bowl and throwing it onto the ground.

The bitch chokes on his dick when she hears it, gagging as she stumbles away from him.

“Ava,” he practically falls over trying to pull his pants up. “Shit, I - it’s not what it looks like.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” She sees the girl standing up, arms crossed over her chest and staring at the door - Ava standing between her and an escape. “Not what it looks like? Was she sucking snake venom out of your cock, JC?”

He sighs, like she’s being ridiculous. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…it wasn't -”

“Don’t, don’t you fucking apologize to me. I cannot believe this shit. Two weeks? All it takes it two fucking weeks of me trying to work hard and hey.” Ava sees the girl trying to slip by her and snatches her by the arm, driving her into the wall.

“Ava!” JC trots over behind her to stop her, but she has a forearm pressed into this girl's chest.

“I didn’t know!” She shouts, her eyes wide with fear like Ava’s going to hit her. Because she has considered it multiple times. “He - he never told me you existed. I thought he was single, we met at a bar a few days ago!”

“It’s true,” JC says and Ava’s heart sinks. He’s been pretending she doesn’t even exist?

Just like the rest of the goddamn world.

Ava lets the girl go, steps back and watches her race out of the house, not even bothering to grab her shoes at the door.

“I’m sorry,” When JC touches her shoulder, Ava turns so fast her back tightens, but it’s worth it when her fist connects with his jaw and sends his ass onto the fake hardwood floor.

Her hand hurts, her back hurts, her stomach is turning over like she might puke and her boyfriend is bleeding from the nose.

Ava has never felt lower to the ground. “Fuck you,” she says. “I gave you everything. I gave you-”

“No you didn’t,” JC wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “You never gave me shit about yourself Ava. I feel like I barely know you, after two years.” He stays down, scooting back and pressing his back into the side of the couch.

“I gave you more of myself than I’ve given anyone else! I gave you…” she can't even form the words right to make him understand.

She trusted him, she gave him that and nobody has ever gotten that from her before.

He did and he wasted it.

“I think that says more about you than it does me.”

It hurts, it hurts so fucking much because he doesn’t understand how hard it is for her. He doesn’t get it. He never fucking got it.

She turns away from him, furious, and slams the door behind her on the way out.

Tears start to well in her eyes as she fights with her jacket as the elevator door opens and she steps in.

She moved too fast to punch him and tweaked her back, plus one of her fingers might be broken, but none of it will matter if she freezes to death because she can't get her goddamn jacket on.

“Motherfucker!” She shouts, finally slipping her arm in only as the door opens and a few older women are standing there with handfuls of groceries. “What?!” She barks at them, and they part ways to let her pass.

Stepping back outside is almost a blessing because the chilly air hits her like a bus. She can feel the chill press into her cheeks, lifting her head up to stare at the sky and will her tears down.

JC cheated on her.

JC cheated on her with some stranger and told this person that she didn’t even exist.

They were going to go to a Bears game in two weeks. She has a fucking ticket at home to a game to go with him.

All that talk about moving in with him and starting a life with him. His bullshit about introducing her to his parents and how much his mom would love her.

None of it fucking mattered now.

Nothing ever matters, in the long run, for Ava.

Everyone and everything that ever steps into her life is temporary.

As she sticks her hands in her pocket to protect them from the cold she feels the key fob sitting there and her eyes move to his car - parked just outside the building. He brags about this fucking parking spot more than he bragged about her.

Pulling out the fob, Ava turns it over in her hands a few times.

She closes her eyes, thinking about seeing him like that. Thinking about what he said to her.

“I think that says more about you than it does me.”

Like he has any fucking right to judge her. He has no clue how hard it was for her to let him in. He has no clue where she came from or what she dealt with.

Because she didn’t give him the chance too. Because she kept everything to herself.

Because she thought small secrets were enough. She thought telling him her mom died when she was young counted as letting him in.

So what if she failed to mention that she watched her die.

That she looked into her mom’s eyes as she bled out.

How the look on her mom’s face was almost desperate, like she was waiting for her seven year old daughter with her broken fucking back to magically save them both.

He doesn’t know how much Ava still hates herself for not being able to.

No, no no no no.

She’s not going to let him win. She’s not going to go down that road and let him hurt her.

She’s tired of the world fucking hurting her.

So she unlocks his car and climbs into the driver’s seat, starting it up and taking off.

Ava has no idea where she’s going.

------------------------

JC likes to golf.

Well, JC likes to pretend he golfs. He has a set of golf clubs in the back of his car from the last time he pretended to golf and dragged Ava out at seven in the morning to walk across a giant ass golf course for six hours last summer.

Fortunately, he never took the clubs out of his car and Ava is grateful for that today.

She just drove, drove out of the city just enough to find a space where nobody else really is.

The car is parked on a bridge, a few cars have come and gone but nothing for the last five minutes or so.

Ava’s spiraling a little, she knows it, but if she’s being honest, she welcomes it.

Because fuck JC and fuck that girl who slept with him.

She’s so done with people. Just all of them.

With one of JC’s golf clubs in her hands, Ava paces back and forth.

The easy choice would be to smash his windows in with this thing. Maybe dent the fuck out of his side paneling or bust his headlights.

But it doesn’t feel like enough. She needs to do something crazy. She needs to let all of this out in a way that makes him fucking hurt.

A way that makes him hate her guts.

Then it’ll be easier.

“Fuck it,” she whispers and gets back in the car, setting the club on the passenger seat.

Ava takes the car and positions it facing the side of the bridge, if any cars come by right now they're just going to have to fucking wait.

She gets out of the car, leaving it on but in park and grabs the club. From there, she presses it up against the back of the seat and carefully rests it on the gas pedal.

The engine starts to rev.

Ava looks out at the bridge again, it’s not a far drop, but it’s enough.

She reaches in, grabs the shifter and yanks it down before falling backwards as the car takes off.

She sits on her ass on the hard pavement and watches JC’s car go full speed off the bridge, taking out some of the railing in the process.

When it hits bottom, the noise is louder than she expects - the splash of his precious baby isn’t nearly as satisfying as she hoped it would be.

In fact, it only seems to make everything feel worse.

Then she hears the siren and the car pulling up on the bridge.

Ava hears the crunch of footsteps approaching her. “Ava, what the fuck?” JC’s voice is there, above her, angry.

Good.

She looks up at him and sees him glowering at her. “You stole my fucking car?”

“Ma’am, please stand up.” Someone else says, Ava looks beyond JC and sees the cop approaching. “Right now, Ma’am.”

So she does, because Ava’s not here to get tased or anything stupid like that. She just wanted JC to feel what she felt.

“I cannot believe you, Ava! Jesus fucking Christ, my car?! After one mistake!”

“Don’t fucking talk to me.”

“Ma’am, did you drive his car off of this bridge?” The cop, with his bald head and sunglasses asks her and Ava gives him a slow nod. “Alright, turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

She does, keeping her eyes on JC the whole time as he just…glares at her.

Maybe she went too far, but when hasn’t she?

Maybe she was tired of letting the world kick her while she was down again and again.

Just once, she wanted to kick back.

Now she’s being handcuffed and read her rights and a cop is dragging her into his car as he calls out on his little radio.

Ava complies, doesn't fight or argue, she doesn't care anymore.

The cop presses her head down to guide her into the back seat of his patrol car and Ava sits as the door is shut.

Suddenly, everything is quiet and it all soaks in.

She drove JC’s car off a bridge. She damaged city property and destroyed a perfectly good set of golf clubs.

The last thought makes her laugh, which she does for a good minute before it shifts and suddenly her eyes are burning.

She won’t cry though. Not here, not in front of him or this cop or the other two cops that have shown up and keep looking over at her through the window.

It’s almost forty minutes later when the cop finally takes her away. JC gets a ride with another one. Ava wonders if she’ll ever see him again.

She doubts it, if she does she might hit him, or he might hit her.

About halfway to the station she remembers she’s still wearing fucking lingerie.

------------------------

“Cabbage pizza?”

“Yeah!” The sweet, very large man sitting next to her in the holding cell is so fucking excited about this. “It sounds weird, but the cabbage is just replacing the crust. You cut it into slices and put a mixture of pizza herbs like oregano and stuff on each side, fry it up a little, then put some sauce on it and cheese, pepperoni or whatever pizza toppings you like. It’s a very delightful, low calorie alternative.”

Ava can't deny she’s curious. “I might have to give that a shot. I wonder if pineapple and cabbage go well together.”

He pulls a face. Whenever Ava brings up liking pineapple on her pizza it’s a 50/50 that the person she tells is going to make a face. “You’re one of those huh?”

She laughs. “You know, usually when I hear someone say that to me it’s because I’m bisexual.”

“That I’m fine with, pineapple on pizza though? Shameful.”

“Have you tried it?”

He scoffs. “I was married to a vegetarian, we tried to make pizza work between the two of us for years. Pineapple did not make the cut.”

Of course, because trauma exists in every nook and cranny of Ava’s life, she suddenly finds herself in the memory of making JC try pizza rolls for the first time. He bitched and moaned about it for the entire time Ava had them in the toaster oven.

It felt more like she was preparing him poison than food.

Then he ate them and gave a simple “hmm, not bad” and that was the end of it.

Suddenly, there were pizza rolls in his fridge every time she came over.

She never saw him eating them again, but they were still there.

No, no she can't do this to herself. She can't think about the good stuff because today proved they were fucking broken long before she walked into his apartment today.

Now she’s in a holding cell at the police station, waiting to be processed and get her fucking phone call - talking to a man with a tattoo on his head about pineapple on pizza.

The fuck even is today?

“Silva?” Someone calls out and she looks to the bars where a cop is standing there, an older woman with red hair and pretty good sized arms. “Come on, you can make your call.”

Taking a breath, she pushes to her feet. “Save me a seat?”

The man laughs. “Nobody will touch it.”

He’s the biggest person in the cell so Ava believes him.

When the officer led her out of the cell, Ava put her hands out like she was ready to be cuffed again, but instead the cop rolled her eyes and guided her down the hall to a more isolated room where a phone sat on a table next to a single chair.

“You’ve got one call and ten minutes.”

She expected the cop to leave, but instead she just closed the door and stood there.

So Ava shrugged and sat down, still not entirely sure who she was going to call.

She’d become so ingrained in JC’s life that all of her friends were his. Instinct told her to call Chanel, she loves Chanel so fucking much and mostly, that felt mutual.

But Chanel was JC’s friend first and Ava cannot imagine a scenario where she picks Ava over him.

Which fucking sucks because she really really liked Chanel.

Still, all the people she met through JC were out. She wouldn't be able to explain away what she did.

So she picks up the phone and hopes the number she remembers is still the same.

It rings once, twice, and then on the very end of the third ring, she hears the click. “Hello?”

Ava swallows the lump in her throat. “Mary?”

The silence that follows stretches for so long Ava thinks Mary hung up on her.

She’s not sure her heart could take that.

“Where are you?”

She closes her eyes. “What?”

“This number, I don’t recognize it. Where are you?”

Ava can feel her foot tapping nervously beneath the table, her heart in her throat. “I uh…I got arrested.”

Another silence. “You got arrested.” Mary says it so flatly, almost like she saw it coming. “What precinct?”

“I’m not sure…” Ava looks back to the officer at the door. “What precinct is this?”

“11th, Harrison.”

“It’s-”

“I heard her,” Mary cuts Ava off. “I’m not in the city right now, and won’t be until late tonight. I’ll come get you, but it won’t be until the morning.”

For as much as Ava wants to beg, to plead with Mary to come get her and take her home - she knows she barely deserves the kindness of Mary offering anything at all.

“Oh…okay, thank you…thanks. I’ll be alright for tonight. Probably deserve it right?” She says with a lame ass laugh that makes her feel two feet fucking tall.

Mary sighs. “I’ll be there in the morning.”

“Of course, see you then.” The line clicks before her sentence finishes and Ava hangs up the phone, exhausted. She pushes to her feet as the cop walks over to her, still not a drop of sympathy on her face. “I guess you’re stuck with me tonight.”

“Mmm, well let’s take you to your suite then.”

--------------------------------

Ava wakes up early, so early that she’s not entirely sure it counts as sleeping.

The ‘bed’ she sleeps on has the world's thinnest mattress on it and the cell is freezing cold. She’s so bundled up in the blanket they gave her that she’s pretty sure she’s going to fuse with it at some point.

Beyond the cell, she can see movement in the next room where the night shift is still working.

She’s in jail. Sure it’s just a separated holding cell, but she fucked up enough that she had to spend the night here and she’s burned so many goddamn bridges that Mary didn't seem to care all that much that Ava had to stay.

How the fuck did she get here?

Stuck somewhere and all alone, god it’s so terrifyingly familiar she can't help but think she really is cursed.

Sister Frances told her that once, years ago - when the boy Ava was sharing a room with got really sick and had to be taken to a hospital and moved to a better facility to handle his care.

Frances told her she was a disease. That bad things happened to people who spent any amount of time with her - to anyone that gave a shit.

To hear that at thirteen years old, after a boy who was genuinely very kind to her had to be stretchered out of the building, broke something in her.

A lot of things are broken in Ava.

When the sun finally starts to rise, Ava decides to be hopeful that Mary won’t make her wait too long.

She gets up, needing to find some warmth, and starts to do push ups.

This is not something she does regularly, but JC does almost every morning and he says it’s great for getting warm in the morning.

Meanwhile Ava would drag the whole fucking comforter on her back with her to the kitchen for her morning coffee.

Ava’s not in terrible shape by any means. She walks everywhere and tries to do yoga with Chanel. “It’s good for your back!” Chanel would always say to her, and maybe it is but christ it’s painful.

Still, she can manage a decent amount of push ups and though she’ll never see JC again to tell him, they do help warm her up.

It might be another hour, maybe two, before she finally sees someone coming to see her.

Two people actually and oh thank god one of them is Mary.

When the door opens and she sees her, Mary only gives Ava a passing glance before she gestures to the cop to let Ava out.

The cell door creaks open and Ava steps out, she wants to hug Mary, to tell her how grateful and appreciative and sorry she is - but she knows better.

That’s not something that’s afforded to her anymore. “Thank you,” is all she says and a nod in return is all she gets.

Twenty minutes and a stack of paperwork later, Ava is free to go with a $300 fine for the bridge and 100 hours of community service.

All in all, she gets off lucky since JC decided not to press charges.

The walk of shame out of the station and into Mary’s car is worse than just about anything though, because she feels like shit. Her back hurts, she’s dirty and gross, she’s still wearing lingerie instead of real underwear and Mary hasn’t said a word to her.

Ava, who is never great with awkward silences, can't keep herself in check. “So out of all the places you’ve had to pick me up from, where does this one rank?” She smiles, she wants to see Mary smile or laugh or…something.

Instead, all she gets is a sigh. “Right up there with the edge of that fountain you passed out on a few years ago. You remember the one, where you were a few inches away from drowning in your sleep.”

“I like to think drowning would have woken me up.”

Mary looks over at her. “You were blackout drunk, Ava. You didn’t even wake up when Shannon and I carried you to the car.”

Right, she really doesn’t remember that night at all. Just that she had been to a football game at Northwestern (she didn’t even go to Northwestern) and a lot of people bought her a lot of drinks at the after party.

She kind of wishes she had a lot of drinks in her right now. “Well then maybe this isn’t the worst one.”

“It’s up there,” Mary says as they pull up to a stop light. She feels Mary look at her, regarding her, and Ava looks at her as well. “So what happened? “

Here we go.

“I uh…” she sighs, the longer she sits with what happened the shittier she feels. “I caught JC cheating on me and…maybe stole his car and drove it off the Harrison Street Bridge.”

“What the fuck?”

Ava winces. “I know, it was…it was stupid.”

“No shit,” Mary presses a little harder on the gas pedal than needed when the light turns green. “You went to jail for that fucking guy?”

“What does that mean? I gave him almost two years of my life!”

Mary snorts. “Look how that went for you.”

“Hey!” Ava doesn’t need another goddamn lecture. “Don’t pretend you know anything about what JC and I’s relationship was like!”

“How could I?” Mary snaps back and Ava suddenly remembers she has exactly zero high ground to stand on. “You made it pretty fucking clear that once you were with him and his little posse you had no fucking use for me and Shannon.”

Oh god it hurts, it hurts so much because Ava knows it’s true. She didn’t do it on purpose. Not really, but Mary and Shannon had their shit together so well, they were more like big sisters than friends most of the time.

JC and his friends just let her be, she felt more freedom - like she was her own person.

She got lost in that, too lost, and then suddenly a year had passed and she’d ignored dozens of calls and texts.

“Mary I’m sorry, I know-”

“Let’s not do this right now, alright?” Mary’s tone leaves Ava no room to argue. “You didn’t want to talk to me for the last sixteen months, I don’t want to fucking talk to you for the next sixteen minutes.”

Ava closes her mouth, fighting off every urge to cry and instead just focusing on the buildings as they pass her through the window.

Another shitty day and it’s not even nine yet.

---------------------

Everything hurts.

Her back hurts. Her head hurts. Her feet hurt. She’s got pinch marks on her thighs from the buckles she wore for the leggings of the lingerie she was stuck in all night.

Ava is, quite simply, done with the human race for today.

So when she made it home without another word from Mary, she went up to her apartment, showered for about an hour and put on her comfiest sweats and biggest t-shirt before wrapping herself up in her robe and opening a bottle of vodka.

Now, she’s about three quarters of the way through it watching a documentary about foxes and debating whether or not to order a pineapple pizza.

When someone knocks on her door a few minutes later, Ava looks at it for a minute trying to remember if she already ordered a pizza.

She definitely thought about it. She pulled up the app on her phone and looked through them, but she doesn’t remember buying one. She didn’t get out her debit card and pay for one.

Ohh, maybe she was on the app long enough that they just knew! Maybe…maybe they saw her staring at that pretzel crust pizza for like ten minutes and just decided she earned it.

When the knocking on her door happens again, Ava gets up, nearly tripping over her coffee table.

She races to the door, still holding out hope for a free pizza.

Instead, what’s waiting for her on the other side is Chanel. Chanel as in one of JC’s oldest friends.

Chanel who is like six feet tall and looks incredibly upset.

“H - hey…” Ava casts her head down, this is going to suck.

“What the fuck, Ava?” Chanel snaps at her and Ava winces. She’s pretty sure she’s about to get her ass kicked.

“I know,” Ava tries, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

Chanel takes a step towards her. “You better be fucking sorry.” When she’s too close, Ava tenses up, ready to be hit. She’s seen Chanel beat up chicks that fuck with her friends before. She’s been one of those friends getting support before.

Now she’s gonna get punched.

“What are you doing?” Chanel’s voice softens, the anger fades a bit and Ava looks up tentatively.

“Is…isn’t this the part where you usually fuck someone up for fucking with your friends?”

Chanel’s eyes narrow. “No, I just came from there. I laid into JC’s ass for like ten minutes. Why are you cowering?”

Ava’s so confused. So fucking drunk and confused. “I drove JC’s car off a bridge. I…I figure you’re here to kick my ass for that.”

“What?” Chanel yells again and Ava’s head throbs. “He cheated on you with a fucking movie theater usher! He cheated on you even though you went to a fucking NASCAR race with that boy to watch cars go around in circles while you wore the ugly ass uniform of his pathetic little start up company all day.”

Oh god, that really was the longest day of her life. She’d almost take another night in jail over that.

“You’re not…mad at me?”

“Oh no, I’m fucking pissed at you.” Chanel’s voice raises a little. Ava gives up trying to predict anything. “But only because you didn’t call me after the fact. Instead you went and stole his car, drove it off a bridge and got arrested!”

Again, the more she hears about it, the worse it sounds. “I know, it was stupid.”

“Yeah, it was. You know that boy isn’t worth it.”

“I thought you loved JC.”

“Oh I do, I’ve known him since he was fourteen - which means I also know he’s a douche who thinks he’s some hot shit business mogul when the truth is, all he does is manage social media for lame ass energy drink companies!“ Chanel steps over to her again, this time Ava doesn’t back away. “You deserve better than him. Period. And yeah I’m fucking mad that you thought I’d pick his fluffy haired ass over you.”

In what can only be described as a deadly combination of drunk and tired and still kind of thinking about that pretzel crust pizza, Ava jumps into Chanel’s arms.

Thankfully, Chanel is built like a tree and catches her easily enough. “I’m sorry,” Ava cries, because she’s wanted to cry for like eighteen hours. “I should have called you or went to your place. I was just so upset and uncomfortable - Chanel, I was in lingerie for him and I had to spend the night in jail with panties so far up my ass the tag was tickling the back of my throat.”

She hears Chanel laugh in her ear. “You’re such a dumb bitch. Lingerie in Chicago in January?”

“I know,” Ava sighs when Chanel puts her back down. “Sorry, sorry I drooled on you a little. I’m drunk, by the way.”

“No shit, Ava it’s not even eleven yet.” Chanel rolls her eyes but moves deeper into Ava’s apartment and closes the door behind her. “I am sorry this all happened.”

“Thanks,” Ava moves back to the couch and sits down, or rather falls down unceremoniously. “It could have been worse I guess, I only got a little fine and some community service.”

“Oh that can be gross though, any idea where?”

Ava shakes her head. “No, they're supposed to contact me and tell me where to go. Maybe it’ll be something cool like…at a zoo or something. I can sweep those little fake streets and watch the monkeys play or...what?”

Chanel pats the top of her head. “Nothing, babe, you just live in a really cute little dream world sometimes.”

“Hey, don’t patronize me! The universe owes me some good! You watch, I’m gonna get assigned to the zoo, or oh! Maybe like a strip club or something!”

---------------------

“A homeless shelter?” Ava stares at the little document the cranky old lady at the city office hands her.

There is no sympathy or guilt in her eyes either, no in fact Ava’s pretty sure she could catch on fire right here and this lady would ask her to take a few steps back and burn alive out of reach of her desk.

“You’ll start Monday morning, be there by ten to start your shift. You’ll work four hours a day, two days a week until the conclusion of your required hours of service.”

Okay, so not the zoo or a strip club (Chanel was very quick to point out how dumb that sounded). Still, she could make this work. She was going to.

Her life was in complete fucking shambles and she’d be going from working at the homeless shelter in the morning to working at the bar at night for the foreseeable future, but she could make this -

“Sister Beatrice will be the one monitoring your attendance and effort, informing us of your compliance with the required fulfillment of your service.”

Oh good, more fucking nuns. She made some very inappropriate gestures the last time she saw a nun. Granted, Frances probably didn’t know what they meant, but it sure made her feel better.

Ava can see it now, Sister Beatrice is probably some old hag who sucks on lemon candy and smells like feet. She’s going to hate Ava the moment she sees her.

This is going to suck.

Chapter Text

“Three, two, one.”

The alarm on her phone sounds as Beatrice watches the clock roll over to five. She reaches out and gently taps the button to turn it off before refocusing back on the designs in the ceiling she’d been tracing with her eyes.

She knows every inch of this ceiling, of this tiny room she calls her own.

White walls, one window with the curtain pulled shut. An old rocking chair left by the last sister who stayed here sat underneath it. The nightstand where her lamp and phone rest alongside a copy of Northern Lights that she’s been reading to help keep her mind busy as she falls asleep.

It’s been a bit harder the past few days. There’s no real reason for it, nothing in her schedule has changed, but sleep has been more troublesome this week than usual.

Still, her day has started, so Beatrice takes one last breath before pushing off her blankets and getting up.

She takes her time to remake the bed, as she does every morning. At this point she could do it with her eyes closed.

Once her bed is made, Beatrice slips down gently to her knees, leaning over the side of her bed and closes her eyes.

She prays, as she does each day.

She spends the next hour praying .

She prays for her sisters, each one of them on their own path not only today, but every day.

She prays for Father Vincent, who looked very tired yesterday during service and has seemed tired the last few weeks - something Beatrice can relate to.

She prays for Mother Superion to have a day with little pain - to ease each one of her steps.

She prays for Sister Camila to laugh today, as it always brightens her day.

She prays for Sister Lilith to hear Sister Camila laugh, as it seems to be the only thing that improves her mood.

She prays for the people she met at the homeless shelter yesterday, and those she will meet today.

She prays for the sister’s who are no longer here and the ones who are finding their way home.

Lastly, she prays for herself, for a little help when the sun goes down and she wishes to find sleep without dreams.

She prays for it to be easier tonight than it was the night before.

Even though she understands why she might not deserve His love at the moment.

Her knees are sore by the time her prayer ends, but Sister Lilith has always said that just means she’s done it right.

So Beatrice gets up and goes about preparing for her day.

A day she has plotted to a tee.

She showers, dresses and sets her sights on the first place she likes to go each morning.

The kitchens for a cup of tea.

There are already signs of life this early in the morning - soft chatter filling the space as she steps through and moves to the counter. Beatrice longs for tea from a kettle, but she settles for a mug and a microwave instead.

For the most part, she ignores the chatter around her, but her ears are too finely tuned. “-ster Lilith told me that Father Vincent has been thinking of leaving the church.” One of the chatting Sisters says. They're both older, cloistered nuns - unlike Beatrice who is merely a sister with simpler vows. These two spend every day here, devoted to prayer and peace of mind.

Whereas Beatrice is free to spread the word of God in her designated areas. Being with the people, helping them and providing acts of service in His name.

Still, gossip doesn’t seem to care how devoted you are.

“How would Sister Lilith know such things?”

“You know her family, the connections they have - nobody is more embedded in the church than Sister Lilith.”

The other one scoffs as Beatrice takes her mug, steaming hot, out of the microwave. “She certainly doesn’t act like someone who is invested in church secrets, Tara. I think we’re just sharing gossip at this point.”

This draws a sharp laugh. “Of course we are, Anna - that is the whole point of our mornings, is it not.” When Beatrice turns to leave, she feels their eyes on her. “Good morning, Sister Beatrice.” They offer her a smile, both of them, which Beatrice never takes for granted.

“Good morning,” she smiles, then sees them gesture to a spot next to them.

Beatrice holds in her disappointment, she had somewhere she wanted to be before morning prayer.

Instead, she sits down next to them and puts her mug on the table next to their empty plates. “How have you been? I feel like we’ve hardly seen you the last few days.”

“It’s been rather hectic at the shelter. Winters usually bring in more people trying to escape the cold - this year in particular has been hard.”

Anna sighs at that. “It has, we’ve been asking loiterers off the front steps of the printing press almost every day. Most of them are just trying to find a little warmth.”

“Sister?” Tara cuts in, seemingly out of nowhere. “You’re close with Lilith, are you not?”

Oh here it goes. “We do aikido training together a few times a week, yes.”

“Right, of course. I was just curious if she’s mentioned anything to you about Father Vincent? There are rumors abound as you know.”

Beatrice smiles. “There are always rumors abound in Cat’s Cradle.”

This makes them both laugh. “You’ve adjusted well here, my dear.” Tara says, raising her mug of coffee like one would a beer in a bar to toast. “Sister’s have questioned Father Vincent’s commitment to the church for years. He’s too loose with the rules, too free with his words.”

“Not to mention he disappears for days without anyone seeing him and we are left with Father Paul to guide us through our prayers.”

Father Paul is not a favorite. Far too dramatic and nasally. “I can assure you that Lilith hasn’t said anything to me about Father Vincent. If there’s one thing Lilith detests more than sin, it’s gossip.”

Again they smile and again Beatrice checks the clock. She needs an escape. “Sisters? I’m afraid I have a few urgent matters to tend to before morning service. I apologize for abandoning you without any interesting news.”

“No, not at all, Beatrice. Go go, leave us here to wallow in our boredom.” Anna waves her off and Beatrice stands, tipping her head to them both before securing her tea in her hands and making her way out.

With her head down, Beatrice goes to where she knows he’ll be waiting. She hates that she’s already made him wait this long already.

Her path leads her to the courtyard, one of three on the grounds, this one the smallest. She cracks open the large door outside, not opening it all the way as it groans far too loudly, and slides through it.

As soon as he sees her, he barks

“Alright Cosmo, I hear you buddy.” Beatrice puts her cup down on a bench before sitting down beside it before Cosmo lays his head in her lap. “It’s good to see you as well, buddy.” She pets his head and rustles his ears, watching his tail wag all the while.

Cosmo arrived at Cat’s Cradle almost the exact same time that Beatrice did. Both of them were lost and hurting, alone. Cosmo had been left on the side of the road when Father Vincent found him and brought him here.

Superion was insistent that he was not allowed on the grounds, by any means - but when Beatrice saw him he gravitated towards her.

It was the first time anyone had made her feel wanted in her entire life.

She was so new here, after four years in a London congregation where she was treated very much like a stain on the wall - the sudden love of this puppy melted her heart.

Father Vincent pushed for him to stay, which was all the help Beatrice needed.

Mother Superion put his care on her, and she spent the first year chasing after him all across the grounds.

It took time, but he eventually settled and more and more of the sister’s grew to enjoy his presence just as much as Beatrice did.

Cosmo, in a lot of ways, was the first true victory of Beatrice’s life.

A lost soul in need of a home, and love and care - she gave that to him.

In return, he gave her a purpose.

Which was all she ever asked of anyone. To make use of her.

She spends the next twenty minutes with Cosmo, feeding him and checking his water - then throwing his ball for him a few times until he decides he would rather just chew on it.

Bidding him farewell until she returns home tonight, Beatrice takes her mug back to the kitchen with five minutes to spare, Anna and Tara both gone now, and sets it in the sink.

From there, she adjusts her whimple and makes her way to morning prayer.

She and her sisters all gathered as they did every morning - Father Vincent waiting at the pulpit as Beatrice takes her usual spot in the pew next to Camila and Lilith. They're the three youngest sisters here and they all sort of gravitated to one another.

Mostly it is Camila’s doing, she arrived two years ago and befriended them both - before that she and Lilith only ever really spoke during aikido - but Camila wouldn't settle for that.

So they’ve become friends, all three of them, and each morning they find seats next to each other.

The morning prayer carries on for almost two hours. Beatrice has mastered the means of focusing on the words, the patterns of her breathing and the sound of those around her.

She loses herself in it, letting the prayers wash over her.

Do they ever touch her spirit? She doesn’t really know, but the words bring her comfort - as does this place and her sisters around her.

This is her home. The only real home she’s ever had and Beatrice has an affection for it.

When the prayer finishes, Beatrice crosses herself one time and gives a final call to God - asking for forgiveness.

As she does every day.

After morning service, Beatrice secludes herself to find a bit of isolation to reflect and sit with herself. It’s something she’s found helps release the weight of each day before she sets off into the world beyond the walls of Cat’s Cradle.

Of course, as always, her time is cut short when Sister Camila finds her. “You do know we’re nuns and not monks, right?” Camila has a smile in her voice. Beatrice doesn’t have to open her eyes to see it.

“I am aware,” she says, opening one eye.

Camila stands above her, a few books in her hands and her head tilted to the side curiously. “You look tired.”

Beatrice laughs and leans back against the wall. “I have had a bit of trouble falling asleep.”

“I see, well I’ll say a prayer for you tonight before I go to bed,” she moves closer and sits down next to her. “You know, assuming I don’t pass out first.”

“You are always funny, Camila.” Beatrice says with a flat, teasing tone.

One that only makes her grin wider. “Tell Lilith to pray for you. She’s thorough and still believes God owes her a favor after she was assigned to teach the literature courses at the school.”

Oh Lilith was enraged by that assignment. “I do not believe it wise to ask Lilith to cash in her favors on my behalf.” Beatrice wipes at her robes, knocking off bits of dirt and dust. “I should be going soon. It’s nearly eight.”

“Mmm, you better dress warm. It’s already freezing out.”

“I assumed.” Beatrice doesn’t mind the cold. She likes the way it slows the world down.

Certainly, it pains her to see so many less fortunate pass through the shelter in so much agony from the weather, but it also takes out the riff raff of those just wanting free meals or trying to sell their sin to others.

When she stands up, Camila stays in her spot and looks up. “What’s on your agenda today?”

Camila holds up the books she was carrying. “A bit of my own reflection.” She holds one up and Beatrice sees Dave Armstrong’s name.

“I see, a bit combative but the research methods used are impressive.”

She sets it back down and sighs. “Combative isn’t ideal, I was hoping for a light read.”

“Perhaps I’ll bind you a collection of Dr. Seuss for my next project. There are a few scattered in the archives, I believe.”

Camila laughs with her whole heart. “I would definitely say a prayer or two for you after that.”

“I’m not sure that’s in good faith, Sister.”

Rolling her eyes with her smile still intact, Camila waves her off. “Go, start your day. I’ll see you this evening for supper.”

Beatrice nods at her once before making her way back to her room to prepare for the day.

--------------------------

Mother Superion is a magnificent woman, truly she is. Beatrice has long looked up to her and admired her - she’s shaped her stay at Cat’s Cradle to match her efficiency and grace.

That being said, Mother Superion can really get going if she finds something she’s passionate about - or something that annoys her.

Today, it was the latter.

Because Beatrice has been tasked with guiding a young woman through community service at the shelter today. While it’s not the first time this has happened, they have a long standing relationship with the city here in terms of these kinds of rehabilitations, this one certainly drew the most ire out of Mother Superion.

“She’s young,” Superion tells her first. “A bartender by trade and based on what I was told, she’s a bit obtuse and unbecoming.”

Beatrice merely nods along. She’ll listen to Superion and respect her words - but Beatrice believes in giving people their own chance to make an impression. “I see, and she will be with us for how long?”

“Her name is Ava Silva and her service lasts for 100 hours. She will be working from 10AM until 2PM on Mondays and Thursdays, for as long as it takes to complete her required hours to the state.”

“Alright, and she is expected today?”

Superion nods. “She is, and you are to make sure she arrives on time, make sure she stays until her appointed time to leave and do not let her slack off. This is not a vacation.”

There will be no trouble there, the Sisters that run the shelter do not tolerate laziness. “Understood, I will see that it is done.”

“I know you will,” Superion softens then, just enough. “Go with God.”

Beatrice bows forward just a bit before taking her leave.

She dresses in a lighter habit for the day - lighter both in color and weight. It’s gray, soft and warm, but not as restricting. She also puts on a heavy coat with a covering for her head and nestles her hands in the pockets before setting out to where the bus will be returning to take more of them out into the world.

It’s a never ending cycle of work that needs to be done. They are scattered all over the area - doing what they can to serve.

Beatrice has worked in many different spots. From schools and libraries to hospitals and support groups.

This is the work she loves the most - the part of her life that helps her stay on the path.

She enjoys being out in the world and seeing people, guiding them along and doing what she can to ease their burdens.

It makes her feel useful and brings her joy - she takes pride in seeing someone’s shoulders release their tension when they know they're no longer alone.

The bus ride is uneventful and Beatrice busies herself with listening to music to pass the time.

She’s always had a bit of a soft spot for symphonies and lets the sounds of Sophia Dussek fill the space between here and the shelter.

As the bus doors open to drop her off at the Salvius Shelter, Beatrice pulls her jacket up a bit to cover her cheeks as she feels the bitter chill in the air. It’s not snowing, which somehow makes it even colder this time of year.

With hurried steps, she forces her hand out of her jacket pocket and opens the door in a hurry, stepping inside to the bustling sound of voices.

The shelter is full already, which is not entirely surprising given the weather and just…the way things are.

Beatrice keeps her hood up as she makes her way through the main room - where most of those who have sought shelter are staying.

There are multiple beds for resting alongside both walls, then rows of tables in the middle of the room for sitting, conversation, games and places to eat.

The scattered mass of people all look so tired and worn down - there are a plethora of red cheeks and heavy clothes. They were running low on blankets last week, Beatrice imagines it’s even worse today.

She can make a note to tell Beth about it before she leaves - she’ll offer to pick up more if necessary.

Checking the clock on the wall before stepping back into the kitchens, Beatrice notes that it’s a quarter to ten.

Once she clears the large double doors to the back, the noise of the main room shifts from chatter, to the sound of spraying water and Taylor Swift.

Valerie must be here today.

Beatrice takes off her coat as the heat of the ovens fills the air and warms her up almost immediately - she really does love the kitchen here.

She hangs her jacket up and readjusts her whimple before ducking into the cooking area.

“Ladies,” Beatrice says to the room and three sets of eyes find her.

“Sister Beatrice,” Valarie smiles with her whole soul. “We were wondering if you would tempt the fates of this weather and find your way here today.”

“Oh yeah, Dora here was ready to pull a double if you weren’t.”

Beatrice finds Sister Dora, the one who takes the morning shift here, and smiles. “Not looking forward to leaving, I see?”

Dora sighs. “Not at all, it’s only become colder as the day has gone on - and it is so warm back here.” Dora pushes up off the chair she was sitting in and makes her way to where Beatrice is at the entrance. “The morning dishes are all but finished, I left a few at the request of Beth, who told me you had someone coming today to work.”

“I do, she’s here for community service.”

“I see, well I made sure to leave many messy plates for her to get started on, then she can deal with the lunch rush.”

Beatrice looks over at the small stack of dishes. “Thank you, Dora. Where are you headed after this?”

“Back to Cat’s Cradle - I have to speak with Sister Elizabeth about a joint venture in a courtyard remodel. Plus-”

“Plus you drove yourself here and Portillo’s is on the way home?” Beatrice finished with a cheeky smile.

One that Dora returns in kind. “I spent my morning feeding others, it is now my turn.”

“May all be fed.” Beatrice nods at her and Dora laughs before stepping past her with a soft touch on her shoulder. “See you this evening.” She gets a wave in response before Dora is out the door and Beatrice steps over to the sink and pulls up the sleeves of her habit.

She grabs the dishes left for her charge and starts to wash them. The lunch rush will be busy enough, there’s no need to add more work to this person’s first day.

Keeping a diligent eye on the big ticking clock on the left side of the kitchen, Beatrice sees it inching particularly close to 10AM and looks to the door.

Still no sign of Ava.

The thing is, if Ava doesn’t show up, it really does not affect her in the slightest. She reports back to Mother Superion who would handle it.

Sure, it might put a little more work on the rest of them here today - but really Beatrice is used to that anyway.

That doesn’t erase the slight disappointment at knowing someone is so clearly not doing anything to better themselves or be useful to their community.

Perhaps it is naive of her to think that people should strive to be good. She has, for the last ten years of her life she has strived to be better than the person she was. To not give in to sin and temptation - to not be a glutton for things that she does not deserve.

It hasn’t always been easy and it doesn’t always feel worth it - but when she finds joy in others because of her work - she feels whole.

When she looks up at the clock again and sees it four minutes past ten, Beatrice turns off the spraying water and tucks the nozzle back into the sink.

She dries her hands and looks toward the ovens where Beth and Valerie are preparing a few massive bowls of noodles and sauce for spaghetti and moves to give one look out into the main room to see if Ava is coming.

At first glance, she doesn’t see anyone who would be rushing to the back to make up for being late. There’s no one who really stands out - just the same collection of tired, hungry and cold.

The door closes behind her as she moves out into the space. She is intent on doing a quick check, to make sure no one needs anything.

Then she hears it.

“Megatron! Terrorize!” Is followed by a series of vocalized sound effect explosions and Beatrice turns to the sound and sees a woman with her arms held out to the side as five small children watch her in awe.

“They don’t say that though, not in the movies!” A kid protests and the woman smiles proudly.

“They did in Beast Wars though! They were dinosaurs on a special planet, still fighting their war like in the movies. Things were a little different and this guy,” Beatrice sees her hold up some kind of purple action figure. A robot looking thing with…a dinosaur head on it’s arm. “He was my favorite. Megatron! He was so cool.”

“He’s a bad guy though.” One of the little girls says with a pout.

The woman beams in response - it seems to be her default setting and Beatrice can understand why.

She gives herself five seconds to appreciate it. Five seconds to watch this girl in all her beauty and joy for life, explain this phenomenon to these little ones as if it is her passion in life.

People like her don’t usually come here, and when Beatrice takes her in her outfit, a Chicago Bears jacket, with a hat to match and pristine white pants - Beatrice can assume she is not here looking for shelter.

So when the five seconds end, Beatrice takes a deep breath and steps forward. “Ava?” She asks tentatively and suddenly deep brown eyes are staring back at her. “Ava Silva?”

Her jaw hangs open for a moment, eyes widen before she turns around all the way. “Yeah…uh…yeah that’s me. Are you…” Ava’s eyes flick up to the habit on top of Beatrice’s head, then back down. “Sister Beatrice?”

“I am, and you’re late.”

Ava’s slack jawed stare drops to a frown. “I’m not though.” She turns with a smile to the kids and hands one of them the toy. “I showed up and saw these guys struggling to get Megaton here transformed - and as a lifelong Predacon, I had to help my people.”

“I’m…afraid I don’t know what that means.”

Then Ava smiles again. “It means I got here at 9:56, I’ve just been hanging out here - is that not allowed?” She doesn’t ask it sarcastically, like she’s trying to make a point. She genuinely seems to worry she’s breaking some kind of rule.

It’s enough to disarm Beatrice entirely. “No, you’re fine. You’re more than welcome to tend to people out here.” She looks to the kids, who have all sort of moved on to play their games again - ignoring the grown ups as if they were never there. “You’re good with children.”

Ava shrugs. “They’re easy, kids just want fun stuff, you know? Sucks they're here and not at a park or school at recess with friends or whatever, but helping kids have fun is easy.”

“And worth doing,” Beatrice adds.

“Sure, so do you just want me to spend time out here or…?”

She shakes her head. “We will be serving lunch in two hours, there is plenty to do before that. Tables need to be cleaned and whatever the cooks need us to do we must accommodate them. We should also make rounds and check on people while they wait. If someone has a need, find me and we will get them sorted out. It doesn’t seem like I have to give you a speech on how to treat people.”

“Nah, I know how to deal with people.”

“So it seems, are you ready?”

With an easy smile, one that touches her eyes in every way, Ava steps towards her. “Lead the way, Sister.”

-------------------------

The next two and a half hours are a flurry of work and movement. The attendance seems to double, which is an exaggeration but doesn’t feel like it.

Beatrice almost wishes she’d asked Dora to stick around to help, but Ava is surprisingly on point and handles any situation that comes her way with ease.

She’s so full of life and energy that Beatrice feels a bit out of place around her. She makes jokes on the fly, not all of them winners, and finds ways to connect with even the stodgiest of folks at the shelter.

Whether it’s making funny faces at the little ones or sitting down to play a game of checkers with an elderly man, Ava is like a multitool.

There is a draw to her, Beatrice can see it when Ava approaches a young man who comes in looking for his father who isn’t homeless or in need of a meal - but has a few friends that are.

“He’s not really supposed to be out on his own.” The man says, leaning against a pillar as he talks to Ava who is sitting with the older man as he chats with his friends. “I see you made sure he was alright though.”

Ava nods with a smile. “Oh yeah, Geoff and I got along like old friends. He’s a Civil War buff and I’ve watched like seven documentaries on it.”

“You like Civil War history?”

“Oh no, I just watch a lot of documentaries.” Ava says and the man laughs - even though it wasn't that funny he sure laughs like it was.

Beatrice, tied down with passing out blankets, watches her as he moves through the row of bunk beds, as many crammed into her as they could fit.

The man gets his father up and ready to go, shaking Ava’s hand for a long time with a very delighted smile on his face.

He hands Ava something, a card that he pulled out of his suit jacket before taking his leave with one last look back at Ava who has already moved on to something else.

About twenty minutes later, Beatrice finds Ava back in the kitchen getting ready to serve lunch. “Was that man out there selling you insurance?” She asks, not entirely sure why she cares - but if someone is coming in here selling things, she’ll have to tell Michael.

Ava laughs. “Insurance? No. His penis? Yes. Oh…” Ava grimaces when she sees the blush that Beatrice feels color her cheeks. “Sorry, I forgot you’re a nun.”

“How could you have possibly forgotten?” Beatrice looks up towards her whimple and Ava shrugs.

“I know, you’re just young and…I’m not used to that. Most of the nuns I knew were old and cranky. The ‘slap you on the wrist with a ruler’ type.”

Beatrice feels her brows furrow. “You have a history with nuns?”

“I do,” Ava says and while Beatrice is ready to hear some kind of story, her mind suddenly loses focus as Ava starts to take her Bears jacket off. “It’s hotter than -” she fixes a look on Beatrice. “An oven in here.”

With all the effort she has, Beatrice refuses to look downward despite noticing that Ava has on a sleeveless black top that shows off an ample amount of her arms and neck.

She’s better than that. “Good catch,” she sends back instead, her voice lighter than she intends. “Though I do not believe hell would smell this nice.”

Ava seems impressed. “Can’t deny that, Sister.”

“Please, you can call me Beatrice.” She offers this to most people who speak to her for longer than a few hours. If Ava is going to be here for an extended time, it will be easier this way with other sisters coming and going.

“Okay, Beatrice. I gotta say, hell related jokes did not fly at St. Michaels.”

She’s not sure if Ava expects Beatrice to know what St. Michaels is, but she does. It’s a foster home on the south side of the city - or it was. As far as Beatrice knows it closed down last year due to a lack of funding.

As Ava moves to hang up her jacket, Beatrice regards her a bit more, Ava is stronger than she looks under her coat. She has very well defined arms and shoulders that flex as she reaches up on her tiptoes to put her coat on the rack.

When Ava turns back to her, Beatrice casts her head down and stares at her feet, the skirt of her habit hanging partly over them.

A stark reminder of how different they are, yet they are here together today and, if she’s being honest, Beatrice has enjoyed Ava’s presence today.

“So he was asking you out on a date?” Beatrice wonders, finally looking back up as Ava is leaning on the big metal countertop with one elbow.

“Oh yeah, played his big fancy businessman card too like…he can get us a reservation at Atelier and how he knows the chef - like I give a shit who the chef is.” Ava rolls her eyes as her sentence finishes.

Beatrice has tried and failed a few times to remember the last time she’s seen eyes that deeply colored. “You accepted his card despite not wanting to go out with him?”

Ava waves a hand out. “Eh, it’s just easier that way. Some guys really don’t like being told no.”

That she knows. Under different circumstances entirely, but she understands the danger of saying no.

“Plates are coming!” Beth says and that ends the conversation because food is ready to be served.

Which is how they spend the next forty or so minutes. Just moving through the shelter handing out plates and containers of spaghetti and bread to people waiting for a nice meal.

It’s nonstop work and movement and with each plate she gives out, Beatrice earns a smile and a thank you. It makes her feel good - feel useful. This is why she is here - to serve others and make sure that the suffering in the world is lessened.

The purpose of days like today, when her feet hurt and brain is in constant motion are the days she enjoys the most.

This one, however, has something else entirely going on.

“No no, you have to really go for it!” Ava kneels down next to a table of people, a few younger children again just…in awe of her. “They didn’t cut these noodles at all so they're super long, if you’re gonna get one in one slurp you gotta…here.” Ava reaches down into the plate and grabs a single noodle, sticking it in her mouth just a bit. Then she starts to slurp, sauce splattering all around her as the little ones giggle and cheer her on.

When the noodle slips between her lips a dab of sauce sticking to the corner of her mouth, she smiles.

It’s hard to look away from.

The chaos starts to slow around one and Beatrice feels the weight of it in her bones when she finally makes her way back to the kitchen and sees Beth and Valerie have moved out back to have their smoke break and chat as they like to do.

Which leaves her alone with Ava.

Ava, who is sitting at a small table tucked away next to the freezer with one window that looks out into the alley. She’s got a plate of her own with two pieces of bread and a massive stack of food.

Beatrice moves to the kitchen to make her own plate, having not actually eaten today - she’s a little lightheaded and knows it will get her through the rest of the day.

She makes herself a plate, with a healthy serving that she feels comfortable with given Ava’s.

Sitting down across from Ava, she doesn’t get a single acknowledgement because Ava is far too enamored in her food.

It makes Beatrice smile. “Enjoying it?”

Ava hums with delight. “Fo goo.” She mumbles and Beatrice can't stop her eyes from rolling. She stabs her fork into her own stack of noodles as Ava takes a sip of water and swallows. “Sorry, it’s really good. Screw Atelier, this dude needs to bring me here if he wants to get in my pa…” Ava clamps her mouth shut and winces. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Ava.” Beatrice dabs at her mouth with a napkin. “I have to ask, are you a fan?” She points to the hat atop Ava’s head and gets a smirk.

“I guess, I don’t really follow it but it’s good when they win, right? Makes everyone in the city happier. Plus an old friend of mine was a big Bears fan - he gave me this hat for my birthday a few years ago and I don’t know, it just kind of stuck.”

There are stories there, between the foster home and the hat - an unopened book that Beatrice has only had the chance to read the back page of - it piqued her curiosity.

“What about you? Probably the other kind of football, right? British?”

“I am from London, yes - but neither sport really catches my eye.”

Ava pushes her empty plate to the side and sips on her water. “Do sisters get to watch football? If they happen to be into it?”

Beatrice picks a piece of her roll off. “Some are fans, I know a few sisters who keep up with the Bears. However, with the games being on Sunday it makes watching difficult.”

“Ah good point, though I imagine a lot of praying goes on during Bears games.”

“Without a doubt.” Beatrice eats for a moment longer, then decides she wants to share more. “I do remember a few years back, when the Cubs won the World Series - the entire city was watching - even at the convent we turned on the final game and watched. I was very new to the city and the environment was so different than I was used to. It was quite exciting.”

“Oh god, the Cubs series run. I watched it from St. Michaels. That week was the kindest those nuns ever were to me. It was pretty crazy watching the whole city come together like that.” Ava reaches up and touches the bill of her hat, tracing her finger along it. There’s a weight to her expression - as if something is heavy is on her mind. “Hey Beatrice?”

“Yes?” She answers immediately, surprising herself.

“Will you consider me a sinner if I go back for seconds?” She asks, the emotion in her face shifting on a dime as her playfulness returns.

Beatrice can't help but comply. “So long as you think you can make it through washing dishes after a second helping, then by the grace of God.”

“You’re climbing up my ‘best nun ever’ rankings really quick, Bea.” Ava says as she takes her plate to the kitchen - the nickname she said so casually lodging itself in Beatrice’s mind.

By the time Beatrice finishes her first plate, Ava is done with her second.

“It was like half of my first!” She defends herself against nothing more than a side-eyed look from Beth when she comes back in.

Beatrice sets out to retrieve the plates and bring them back in for Ava to wash.

It’s a process and once she’s fetched them all, she pulls her sleeves up again and she and Ava form a sort of assembly line.

When they finish, it’s five minutes to two and Beatrice can tell that Ava is waning. “You can go if you like,” she says, the dishes are done and someone will be coming to relieve her in a half an hour.

Ava looks up at her from the chair she’s been sitting rather awkwardly in, her back stretched out as if she’s uncomfortable. “Are you sure? I…do I have to sign a punch card or something?”

Beatrice shakes her head. “No, I merely report back to Mother Superion that you worked your full shift and were helpful and engaging.”

“Ohh, best grades I’ve gotten in years, Bea.”

Again, like a prodding needle, it sticks to her. “You’re a hard worker, Ava.”

She laughs. “I’m a mess.” Ava stands up then, a little gingerly - it seems odd given how good of shape she’s in that this day took such a toll on her. “But thank you, today was a lot more fun than I was expecting.”

“I’m glad to hear it, I’ll see you again Thursday?”

Ava is already slipping her jacket on. “Unless I come here tomorrow for lunch.” She jokes as she slides her arm through her coat and starts to button it up. “Have a good rest of your day, Bea.” Ava’s voice is softer than it’s been all day.

“Same to you, Ava.”

With that, Ava ducks out of the kitchen and makes her way out into the cold.

On her way back to the convent, Beatrice keeps replaying the same word over and over in her head.

Bea.

Chapter Text

“Fuck it,” Ava says before adding a third painkiller into her palm and tossing them all in her mouth.

She ducks down under the flowing water of the sink and takes a few swallows before her pills are down.

More often than not, two of these is enough to get her through a shift - but her back has really been stiff since her night in jail. She just needs to get through tonight and then she’ll go do yoga or some shit with Chanel in the morning.

The loud thump of music in the bar pulses distantly through the walls of the staff bathroom. Ava pulls out her lip gloss and touches herself up before tucking it away and tousling her hair a bit.

It’s been a fucking disaster lately, she really needs to cut it.

When the bathroom door opens, she spots Hans taking a few steps in before he sees her. “Shit, sorry - I thought-”

“It’s fine, I’m all wrapped up in here.” She gathers up her shit and turns off the sink. “Thanks for the pills, by the way - back’s been a real bitch the last few days.”

Hans nods. “Of course, I have to do this or I would be carrying your ass around all night.”

“Hey, a lot of people would pay good money to carry this ass around all night.”

Hans laughs at that. “Right well go take it out there and start getting us some of that good money then.”

Ava gives him a salute before dipping out of the bathroom and getting to work.

Working at the bar has always been easy - natural. It’s just people and Ava can handle that so long as it’s understood that everything in here is temporary.

That’s part of why Ava loves this job so much. She doesn’t have to tell anyone about herself. That’s not her job.

No, her job is to listen, serve drinks and be a fantasy to people just looking for a good story to tell the next morning.

Ava flirts like crazy here because it works. Both men and women will latch onto her because she knows when to smile, what to say and how to make them believe she’s been in on their jokes the whole time.

She likes people, she loves to hear their stories and learn about them - study them. Ava has always been good at reading people and knowing their motives. It’s a skill she developed when she was still in the group home trapped in bed, trying to detect what kind of mood Sister Frances would be in so she would know how to approach it.

Thinking about Sister Frances turns Ava’s thoughts to Sister Beatrice.

Thinking about a nun in a bar is probably the kind of thing that will get Ava sent straight to hell but she’s not delusional in thinking the pearly gates won’t already be locked up tight when she tries to get in.

Besides, Beatrice is absolutely nothing like Ava expected. For starters, she wasn't old at all - couldn't have been a day over twenty-six or twenty-seven.

Not to mention she was hot. Christ help her was Sister Beatrice hot.

Ava genuinely didn’t think nuns were allowed to be hot. Like all the nuns she ever knew looks vaguely familiar to the wicked witch of the west or something.

She can't help but wonder what Beatrice might be like in a setting like this. Without her habit and her big robes. What she might look like with her hair down and a drink in her hand.

There’s no doubt she’d have Ava’s attention, that she would be one of the customers who came in here that Ava actively flirted with - with intent to take home.

Still, it’s silly because Beatrice is literally married to God and probably thinks places like this are cesspits of sin or something and she’s probably already said a handful of prayers for Ava’s soul since the day they met.

Thoughts of Beatrice slip away when the bar starts to get busy. Ava feels her muscles loosen up and her head start to get fuzzy as the medication kicks in.

It’s good, really good and oh fuck her arms kind of feel like jelly.

She serves drinks with a flourish that night. Her laughs are a little louder and her smiles a little wider. She feels pretty fucking amazing as the clock strikes midnight and she only has an hour or so left on her shift.

When she sees an older man settle into the booth next to her, roots of gray hair, rounded glasses and a nice button down t-shirt - Ava steps over to him. “What can I get you?”

He looks up at her with a weak smile. “Scotch, on the rocks.” His accent is thick thick - like what she remembers from her trip to Spain a few years ago with Shannon and Mary.

“You got it boss,” Ava moves to the liquor and grabs a bottle. She pours him a touch extra because he looks exhausted and sets the drink in front of him. “Bad day?” She asks and his smile flickers at her a little.

“It was fine,” he says, spinning the glass slowly on the counter. “It is fine, I enjoy my work very much.”

Ava hums, “but?” There’s always a but.

“Sometimes it doesn't feel like enough.” He picks up the glass and places it under his nose before finally having a sip. “Sometimes I believe my work needs to reach more people - that others need help beyond this place.”

She goes over his words a few times, trying to pinpoint what the fuck it is this guy might do for a living that has him stressing so much about not doing enough.

She lands somewhere between stand-up comedian and engineer.

Not that it matters, she just has to play the part. “You know, there’s nothing stopping you from packing up and moving on, if you think some other parts of the world could use your help.”

He looks up at her, his smile a bit wider. “You believe it to be that simple?”

“Why not?” Ava tosses a washrag over her shoulder. “You don’t even have to leave the state at first. Champaign, Peoria, Danville could use all the help it could get.”

The second drink he takes is much bigger, almost half the glass. “I like the way you think.”

This makes Ava laugh. “That’s a first,” she picks up the bottle of scotch for him to see. “More?”

He takes another drink and finishes it off, then slides the glass to her.

“Perhaps you are right,” he says as she pours him his refill. “Perhaps I will see where His will takes me next.”

Oh…fuck. “You work for God?” Ava asks, like a fucking idiot.

Thankfully, it only makes him laugh. “I work in His name, yes.”

“Shit, so you’re what? A priest?”

He nods before taking another drink.

Ava’s gone from thinking a nun was hot to getting a priest drunk.

Maybe Frances was right, maybe she is devil spawn.

“Are you…allowed to do this?”

He nods once, as if he was expecting the question. “In moderation, yes.” He says, then finishes his second glass of scotch. “Which by the look on your face tells me you will not be serving me a third.”

Ava shrugs. “I mean hey who am I to judge anyone? That’s your job, right? Besides, I was in jail three days ago - if you want to get hammered, I can get you there.”

For the second time this week, someone close to God shocks the shit out of her and doesn’t make her feel two feet tall.

Instead, he twirls the glass in his hand a few times before sitting it down on the counter. “I think, for tonight, I will save your soul and head home.”

“My hero,” Ava takes the glass and dumps out the ice before running it under the tap. “Are you good to drive home?”

“I walked,” he sets a few bills down on the counter, Ava has to blink a few times because one of them is a fucking fifty. “Thank you for listening.” He says. “Your job and my calling are not so different.”

Ava runs her washrag through his glass. “You want me to tell you to say four Hail Mary’s and never do it again?”

“I will make do.” He taps the table once and then turns and leaves.

Ava watches him go, confused and a little uncertain - worried even about the guy.

But that emotion evaporates very quickly when she takes the tip he left her and shoves it in her bra.

------------------------------

When her shift ends, Ava’s coming down from her meds and feeling a whole lot restless.

She takes off her apron, the bar still bouncing with another five hours before closing time. Ava pulls down a shot glass and grabs a bottle of vodka. She flips her wrist to check her watch.

Five past eleven, she took the pills almost six hours ago so she should be fine.

If she’s not, fuck it.

Ava pours herself a shot, downs it, then adds another and throws it back too.

There’s a debate going on in her mind, whether or not she should find someone in this place to take home.

She’d love to have a good orgasm, but the truth is she can make that happen with her vibrator back home - it’s just a matter if she needs that body heat to go along with it.

Picking up her phone, Ava doesn’t have any messages waiting.

It’s a strange kind of disappointment, knowing that nobody is out there thinking about her tonight. It’s not surprising, she’s driven them all away.

Mary and Shannon used to check on her, but she ruined that.

JC used to check in to see when she’d be off work, but she wasn't enough for him.

Chanel isn’t really a texter, and for as much as Ava adores her, they don’t have that kind of relationship.

Ava’s never really been someone’s favorite person, which is such an odd thought to have, but it’s the one she’s having in a bar by herself with a fuzzy brain and the emotional drop of her come down.

She was her mom’s favorite person. That’s something she hasn’t forgotten.

She wonders what her mom might think of her - what she became.

Probably not much. Ava highly doubts her mom had visions of her tending bar, slamming vodka shots like water and driving someone’s car off a bridge.

Though if her mom didn’t want her to turn into this then she should have fucking stayed alive.

“Get the fuck over it,” Ava whispers to herself before pouring one more shot and knocking it back. “Fuck this.”

Ava adjusts her top to push her tits out a little more and starts her search for a body.

She just needs someone, she doesn’t give a fuck who they are or where they go, she just needs someone to fuck her until she can't think.

Moving out onto the dance floor, Ava lets the vibration of the music settle into her bones and moves to it. She can't dance, but she doesn’t have to, she just needs to rock her hips and make a little eye contact - that’s what this place is for.

Everyone here is looking for the same goddamn thing she is.

For Ava, it comes almost twenty minutes later in the form of a man in a tight black t-shirt and a crooked little smile.

He tells her his name, but Ava forgets it before they leave the bar.

“My place,” she says as he puts his hand on her waist and pulls her up to kiss him. He’s taller than she is, a lot taller, he has to dip down a little to reach her.

Ava guides him, feeling his hands wander all over her. She kind of hates it and when he hits a particular spot on her lower back where her scar is, Ava tenses a little and instinctively pushes his hand down further, to her ass.

He seems a bit confused by it, but then they're in her apartment and she takes her shirt off and it doesn’t matter.

She keeps the lights off, turns some music on and stops thinking.

His arms are nice, his body is warm, but Ava won’t look at him. She doesn’t want to connect, she doesn’t want to participate in the dirty talk he whispers in her ear as he fucks her.

She flips over of her own accord, wanting to disappear - wanting to detach. She just wants to fuck and feel good - that’s it.

When he figures that out, it’s easier.

Forty minutes later, she’s laid out on her mattress and he’s pulling up his jeans and Ava tells him to turn off the stereo before he goes.

Once he’s gone, Ava disconnects entirely. She just…lays in her bed and stares at the way the light from the street outside her window dances across her closet door.

She has no idea what she’s supposed to feel anymore. Everything just keeps going, keeps moving and Ava feels like she’s barely holding on sometimes.

JC broke her heart, she won’t really say it to anyone but he did.

It’s not even really about him, she’s just so tired of never being enough for anyone.

--------------------------------

Morning comes too soon, her alarm blaring only irritates her so Ava shuts it off and buries her phone under her pillow.

She rolls over, the light outside too bright as she buries her head under the comforter and tries to recapture her sleep.

Just when she’s about to slip back into it, her phone starts to buzz uncontrollably again.

Ava sighs, digging it out from under the pillow, fully ready to hurl it into the wall - when she sees her own alarm message on the screen.

GET TO THE SHELTER DUMBASS

Fuck, it’s Thursday.

Ava sighs and rolls over onto her back, which is still a little tight but not as bad as yesterday.

She drags herself out of bed, thighs a little sore from her shitty one night stand that kind of makes her stomach feel full of rot.

It’s a habit she does not want to pick up now that she’s single - that’s a path she went down once before and it only made her feel like trash.

No, she won’t bring some stranger home again. She has her vibrator for that and Chanel is always going on about all of her sex toys and shit, maybe she can hook Ava up with something good.

A long shower and a Pop Tart later, Ava is bundled up and making her way down the street to the shelter.

She really needs to get a fucking car, but she can barely afford her apartment and food - plus at least all the walking balances out the frozen food and alcohol she consumes every day.

Ava does make a bit of a detour, despite not having a ton of time before she has to be there, for a cup of coffee.

She’s a basic bitch, Starbucks is more than good enough for her. She will throw Dunkin’ Donuts coffee back in the face of anyone who tries to give it to her though. She has some standards (with coffee at least).

As she’s in line for her order, Ava wonders if she should get anything for Beatrice.

Does Beatrice drink coffee? Do nuns drink Starbucks?

She can remember Frances coming into her room some mornings with a mug and setting it down on the nightstand before dragging Ava around like a ragdoll to start her morning.

What would Beatrice even want from a place like this? Ava can't imagine her drinking a white chocolate mocha latte or anything so extravagant.

Black coffee? A splash of milk?

Maybe she’d like a pastry or something?

No, Ava thinks. Beatrice is a nun and looks like someone who has their shit together. Whatever Bea does to get through her mornings, Ava sure she’s already done it.

Yet, when she’s up there ordering her Cinnamon Dolce Latte, she takes a chance and buys a chocolate croissant. That’s a British thing, right? Or is it French?

Whatever, it’s fancy and sweet and Beatrice might like it. She was nice to Ava that day, which Ava had not expected at all.

So what if she’s also stunningly beautiful? It’s not like Ava can act on it with her or do anything - Bea’s a nun, which feels a bit like a waste but whatever.

By the time she makes it to the shelter it’s 10:12 and Ava is running as fast as she can without spilling her drink. She notices that the shelter isn’t as crazy today as it was on Monday. Probably to do with the sun being out today (which doesn’t make the city any warmer), still there are people here and work to do so Ava is ready to make the most of it.

Turns out, working here isn’t really the worst thing in the world. It’s got a lot of the same qualities that make working at the bar fun. There are people, all with stories, all of them looking to unload a bit and when Ava can do something good for them, the joy they give her is enough to recharge her steadily declining battery.

When Ava makes back to the kitchen area, she spots Beatrice almost immediately.

Her back is to the door and to Ava, she’s standing in front of a large counter, sorting out plates and silverware out of huge boxes.

Ava’s not even sure how she knows it’s Bea - mostly because from the back she just looks like any other nun.

There is a simplicity to her movements though, a grace (which sounds lame as fuck but that’s the only word Ava can think of).

Beatrice has a way about her, one Ava can't really pinpoint, but her body doesn’t move like a frail nun - no…there’s more under those robes that meets the eye.

Certainly it’s a sin to check out a nun, but Ava’s never really seen a nun look like this before.

Even beneath her big nun robes, Ava can see the curve of Beatrice’s ass and knows for a fact that Beatrice has a really nice one.

Obviously, she can't be bartender Ava here - no blatant flirting or cheeky gestures. Bea is a nun and Ava will respect that so long as Beatrice respects her.

Still, in this tiny little window before Bea knows she’s here, Ava will let herself wonder what that ass might feel like beneath her fingertips.

“Sorry I’m a bit late.” Ava says, and is surprised when she doesn’t startle Beatrice.

In fact, Beatrice doesn’t stop her work at all. “Do you think you can stay an extra twelve minutes to make up for it?”

“Oh uh…I mean…yeah?”

Beatrice looks back at her over her shoulder, finally letting Ava see her face - and the soft smile on it. “Then that will be enough.”

Again, Beatrice is just…nothing like what Ava is used to. “I uh…I don’t come entirely empty handed.” Ava shuffles over and stands next to Bea, seeing that she’s already set out about fifty plates. “I brought you a chocolate croissant.”

Ava holds up the little Starbucks baggie and wiggles it. “You…brought me a pastry?”

“Yeah, I mean I am late and it was kind of because I desperately needed coffee. I wanted to come with a peace offering.”

It takes a second before Beatrice actually accepts the bag and holds it out like she’s examining it for anthrax or something.

Her face takes on this adorable little pout. “Don’t hurt yourself, Bea. It’s not a bomb.”

“I know that,” Beatrice sets the baggie down on the table and frowns. “Thank you, however I don’t have time for it now and you need to put on an apron. We’re making biscuits from scratch today and the cooks have asked us to prepare it - which means we’re putting all the ingredients in that very large mixer over there.”

Ava glances over at the huge metal pot that almost looks like a cauldron or something - with a long, curved mixing attachment looming over it. “Biscuits from scratch huh? I didn’t get shit like that at St. Michaels.”

“Yes well, the women who run this kitchen take pride in their work so we will be following their instructions to the letter.”

“Right, of course,” Ava takes a sip of her coffee before setting it down out of the way and shedding her jacket. “So Sister Bea, how’s your morning been?”

Again Beatrice halts mid setting something down and looks over at Ava like she’s grown a second head. “My…morning?”

“Yeah,” Ava saunters over to her, tying up her robe at the back as she does. “I mean…you’ve been here since…what? Eight?”

“Seven forty-five.”

Ava nods before grabbing a handful of plates out of the box and sorting them out the same way Beatrice has been. “Right, so when do you normally wake up?”

“At 5AM.” She says, her stance relaxing a little.

“Godda -” Ava’s jaw locks up and Bea’s eyes flick over to her. “God…demands early mornings from his followers, I see.”

What she expects is a light scolding or annoyance - what she gets is a pleased look and the tiniest little smirk. “Very well done.”

Ava can't stop her cheek to cheek smile. “Thanks! Still though, 5AM is rough. I’m pretty sure I went to bed at 5AM after a few shifts last month.”

“Well, we have a curfew at the convent so any late night for me would be lying in my bed reading - which has taken me well past midnight a time or two.”

“Ooh,” Ava resists the urge to bump their hips together. “Look at you, rebel nun staying up past midnight.”

That seems to make Beatrice tense up a bit again, her smile fading and her eyes looking back down at the task. “Yes, well…it is what it is.”

Ava’s not entirely sure what she said wrong, but it’s pretty clear she said something wrong.

So they finish this little task in silence for a few minutes before Beatrice directs Ava to go pick up some flour from the back.

On her way there, she spots Valerie and…the other one whose name she can't remember, sitting on a pair of fold out chairs with a tiny table between them. They're playing cards and smoking cigarette’s - hair tied up in nets and one of them is laughing.

“Morning ladies,” Ava says, tugging up the sleeves of her shirt.

They both look over at her with hearty greetings. “You came back!” The one Ava can't remember says, a beaming smile on her face.

Ava laughs. “State mandated, you better fucking believe I came back.”

Valerie snorts. “Happens to the best of us, kid.” She says, tossing down a card onto the table. “Don’t even start with that no spades bullshit either, Beth I know you have them.” She threatens the other woman, Beth, who doesn’t flinch.

“So wait, you’ve been to jail?” Ava can't help herself, she finds another chair and slides it over, turning it around to use the back as an armrest to lean forward on as she sits.

“Oh yeah, more than once. Longest stint came when I kicked a cop in the balls during a protest.”

“Oh shit, really?”

That’s when Beth chimes in. “To be fair, fucker deserved it.” Beth sips at her drink, that Ava is pretty sure is iced tea but given the state of the situation could very well be some kind of rum. “We were at a rally for transgender rights maybe…two decades ago, some restaurant was refusing service to them and Val’s daughter here is trans so we took up the cause. Dick bag tried to get grabby, drag her away, so she kicked his tiny little dick and got taken away.”

Okay, this is totally not what Ava expected to hear today, she was convinced everyone here was a nun. “Holy shit, that’s amazing! How long did that get you?”

“Just a few weeks - I had about fifty eyewitnesses who all saw the little prick grab me first and try to get rough with me. Paid a fine, got community service like you, but try fifteen hundred hours of it - didn’t matter, I’d do it all over again for that pathetic little squeak that cop made when I dropped him.”

They all laugh at this, Ava delighted beyond fucking belief at the whole thing and kind of seeing valerie as her new hero.

She wants to know more, she sees the flash of a tattoo under Beth’s sleeve that has to be a story too and is ready to dive into it when she hears her name.

“Ava?” Looking back, she sees Beatrice standing in the doorway, body tense and hands behind her back. She looks very uncomfortable and out of place. “I - I’m sorry to interrupt but the flour, please.”

“Oh right,” Ava pushes up to her feet. “Sorry, Bea. I’m on my way.”

With one single nod, Beatrice turns and makes her way back to the kitchen.

“Poor kid,” Beth says with a chuckle before they go back to their game. “Ava, the bag on the left side of the shelf there is only half full - should be easier to carry and more than enough.”

Ava nods. “Thanks!” She moves over to where the bag is and kneels down to pick it up. Remembering her stint at the gym with a personal trainer (Cassie, who had incredible stamina in bed) and knows to lift with her legs.

Before she picks it up though, she can't stop her curiosity. “So what’s her deal?” Ava asks, trying to sound vague - mildly curious.

When in fact, she’s desperate to know.

Valerie peeks up at her. “Sister Beatrice?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s a nun.”

Ava rolls her eyes. “I noticed, I just mean…she’s so young.”

“She is, but she’s also been working here for the last four years and she was even younger then - but of all the sisters we’ve had come through here, she’s by far the best one.”

“Really?”

This time, it’s Beth who speaks up. “No doubt, hard ass worker - never late but also never too rigid. She treats people fair and doesn’t take any shit.”

Okay see, they are not helping Ava’s curiosity in the slightest. Now she wants to know everything. “So I’m not wrong, right? She’s not like most nuns.”

“I mean I suppose not, but don’t get it twisted, she is still very devoted to God and the church and all that stuff - when she’s working on Christmas, she leads the big mass prayers and offers guidance to people - she’s one of God’s finest.”

Ava can agree with that, she still thinks she can bounce a quarter off the ass of one of god’s finest.

They're gonna stick Ava on a bullet train straight to hell one day.

“She’s also not one to leave waiting so you’d better skedaddle.”

Valerie snaps her fingers and Ava laughs before realizing she’s probably right.

It’s a bit disappointing, she thinks - but also kind of stupid on her part to think that there is some wild, untamed side of Beatrice hidden away down there.

People don’t become nuns on a whim, and though Ava has no idea how long Bea has been one - she’s pretty sure Beatrice is fully committed to this whole ‘married to god’ thing and that’s…fine.

So what if Ava has a tiny little infatuation with her, it wouldn't be her first and it wouldn't be her worst.

Her back protests just a bit as she hauls the bag of flour out of the back room and into the kitchen.

That’s where she finds Beatrice still hovering over the plates they set out, she’s adjusting the forks and spoons in a certain way - lining them all up properly.

Ava doesn’t think that matters, they’ll all be picked up and moved out to the main room when the food is served anyway.

“Got the flour,” Ava says, earning a hum from Beatrice who stops what she’s doing and moves over to the mixer. “Sorry it took so long, I didn’t know those two were so wild.”

Beatrice smiles just a bit “They certainly have stories to tell.” Ava watches her lift up the two pretty good sized jugs of buttermilk and set them on the table.

“You’re strong, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?”

Ava shrugs. “Just saying, those jugs aren’t light and you just lifted them up like they were nothing.”

“I’ve done this many times before.” It’s an easy answer, Ava will let it go, but she knows Bea’s got muscles under there. “The recipe is here, we have to follow it to the letter.”

“I know, don’t wanna fuck up the biscuits.”

Beatrice sighs. “Can you stop cursing so much?” She asks, sounding annoyed for the first time.

“Oh, yeah sorry…it’s just a habit.” Ava grins. “Which, you know a thing or two about.” It’s a lame joke, but harmless - she thinks.

Except Beatrice doesn’t really acknowledge it. “It’s a large batch, so we have to measure carefully - we can't afford to mess it up.”

“So we won’t!” Ava beams, jabbing an elbow into Beatrice’s shoulder before picking up the bag of flour and waiting for instructions.

They do the work well enough, get everything in the mixer and get it started - Beatrice doesn’t say anything and when Beth and Valerie return, Bea moves out into the main area to help with anyone who might need something.

Ava decides to do the same.

The next hour and a half keeps her busy. There’s always something that needs to be done. One of the TVs goes out, so Ava puts her long days of reading instruction manuals at the foster home to good use and figures out how to get it working again.

She talks with some people here on their own, gives them a little company. She teaches one girl how to make origami to help her pass the time and even gets a bit caught up in one guy’s songwriting and catches herself singing it even after she leaves him to work.

There’s a fight between two mom’s over the space they're in and overcrowding that Ava puts herself in the middle of - where one of the mom’s is very aggressive and has to be asked to leave.

That’s when Beatrice shows up again, a firm hand and a stern voice, telling the aggressive mother that if she doesn’t settle down, she and her son will be asked to leave.

It seems to do the trick, but when Beatrice turns to leave, the mother flips her off and Ava sees it.

“Hey,” Ava snaps, stepping between the woman and Beatrice even though Bea doesn’t turn around. “Show her some respect.”

The mom balks a bit, like she’s surprised she got caught, but then her glare returns. “Leave me alone,” she says, and sits down. “You have no idea how hard it is to have nowhere else to go, and neither does she.”

There’s no point in arguing, or trying to prove anything - everyone here is struggling and Ava understands that. So she leaves it be and leaves them alone and decides to make sure Bea is okay.

As soon as she opens the door to the kitchen, a small bag is being shoved into her face. “Here,”

Ava takes it, even before she realizes it’s the croissant she bought for Bea. “What’s this?”

“It’s yours.”

“No, it’s yours. I got it for you.”

Beatrice takes a step back. “I don’t want it, I’m sorry. It’ll be better if you have it.”

There’s something different, off - it has been all day. Beatrice is brisker and stiffer - not mean, but not as soft as she was before. “Is something wrong?” She puts the bag down on a stool next to where the coats hang and examines Bea’s rigid posture.

“No, I think we’ve just lost sight of the goal here today - or I have. We are here to serve these people and that does not include treats and excuses.” Beatrice puts her hands behind her back. “Promise me you will not be late again as you were this morning. I won’t divulge today’s tardiness to Mother Superion, but only if it doesn’t happen again.”

Yeah, something is definitely wrong. “It won’t, but it does feel like a waste to not at least enjoy the treat I brought you - I mean penance for being late, right?”

Those brown eyes glance up at her, stare into her own and there’s frustration in them - along with just a bit of fear. “I don’t enjoy chocolate.”

“Oh, well what do you like?”

Beatrice shakes her head. “That’s not the point, Ava. The point is that we’re here to work - not…” she sighs. “This isn’t a social event. We have work to do and it’s better if we focus on that.”

There’s too much tension in her body, too much force in her voice. Beatrice is pushing too hard, she’s upset about something and it isn’t a pastry. “So maybe I won't buy you Starbucks, but we can still be friendly, can't we?”

“I don’t need any friends.”

Ava doubts that. “What if I do?”

That stops her, stops the frantic movement around the counter where she was doing busy work with absolutely no focus.

It draws Beatrice’s attention back to her, steadies her hands. “I don’t think you have trouble making friends.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ava does, god she really does. Real friends? Friends who don’t just want something from her? She’s had like three, and each one of those she’s fucked up royally. “Look, if me getting you that pastry made you uncomfortable then I’m sorry. That definitely wasn't my intention.”

“No it’s…” now Beatrice looks downright sad and Ava kind of hates it - she really didn’t think giving Bea a little treat would ruin her whole day. “I’m sorry. I just…I need to stay focused. I have a purpose here and it is to serve these people, to do His work. So while the sentiment is appreciated, please don’t bring me anything.”

“Alright, no more treats.” Beatrice relaxes then, not fully, but more than before. “What about the friends part?”

Beatrice won’t look at her again, just stares at the table between them. “You don’t know me, Ava.”

She’s pushing it, she doesn’t really know why, but something about Beatrice makes her want to push - like she needs to.

Like they both need her to push. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

“Plates are up!” Beth calls from the stove, meaning food is ready to serve.

Without hesitation, Beatrice turns and gets to work. All Ava can do is follow her.

-------------------------------

“I understand,” Ava stops just as she’s opening the door when she hears Beatrice’s voice. She freezes, looking back where Bea is tucked into the corner next to the coat rack, phone in her hand as she listens. “No, it’s fine Sister Parker. Yes. Yes I can wait. I will. See you then.”

Ava watches her, only slightly shocked by the notion that nuns have cell phones (because none of them at St. Michaels ever did) and watches Beatrice tuck it into her big coat.

She then picks up the coat she was holding in her hand and hangs it back up, a defeated look on her face.

“Bea?” Ava calls out to her, taking a cautious step in her direction. “Is everything cool?”

Beatrice nods a few times. “It is, it’s…the bus that comes to pick me up is having some trouble and will be running late.”

“Oh,” Ava didn’t know nuns had buses either. “Back to the convent?”

“Yes.”

“I uh…what are you going to do?”

Beatrice turns finally to look at Ava. “I will wait here I suppose, it will come eventually.”

Ava frowns, looking out as the shelter has thinned out significantly since the big meal was served. Everyone loved the biscuits and gravy (Ava included, she had five two and a half servings).

Still, the thought of going home and leaving Beatrice here to wait for three hours felt kinda unfair. “You know, my apartment is like…two blocks from here. If you wanted somewhere cozier to hang out while you wait?”

She already knows the first response will be a no. “That’s alright, Ava. I wouldn't want to impose.”

“I offered, Bea.” Ava puts on her best smile. “I promise it’s no trouble. It’s like a ten minute walk.”

There’s a slight pause, then the hint of a smile twists in the corner of her lips. “And somehow you were still twelve minutes late.”

“Oh wow,” Ava can't help but cackle. “Alright, sister. Come on, I’ll point out the Starbucks that seduced me along the way.”

To Ava’s surprise, Beatrice follows her out.

They both shuck their coats on and Beatrice puts her hood up over her habit as they make their way out into the cold.

It was almost three after everything was cleaned up and Ava stayed around to help.

The city itself is always busy, the streets full despite the cold.

Ava knows this path like the back of her hand, but she takes it slow, not really wanting to rush Bea or this chance to hang out with her outside of the shelter.

Beatrice moves gracefully, always it seems. Her hands tucked into her pockets and each step careful - Ava studies her closer than she probably should.

Her nose is a bit red, the cold clearly getting to her, but her face is as relaxed and calm as ever. Eyes bright and focused, as if she’s ready to swoop in and do her nun servicing stuff should anyone require it.

“If you don’t mind, can I ask you something? About being a nun?”

Beatrice glances over at her. “Of course.”

“What’s it like to live there? Is it ever like…hard or weird to live with a bunch of people all the time? Like…do you ever have sisters you just can't stand?”

It delights Ava to no end when Beatrice laughs. The sound is charming, soft and gives Ava a flash of a bright, toothy smile. “It has happened before, yes. More often when I lived in London, but when I was sent here, Cat’s Cradle was much more accommodating.”

“So you had some real stuffy old bints in London, huh?”

Beatrice rolls her eyes, a glint in them. “Is that your attempt at British slang?”

“You know it, how’d I do?”

A shrug. “Not terrible, I suppose. Though I would never refer to a fellow sister in such a way, my sisters here are more…modern. It was a welcome, and needed, change.”

“Left at this light here,” Ava points to the street that leads to her building and Beatrice nods. “So no stinkers in Chicago or do you still get some?”

Beatrice sighs. “I suppose there are occasionally a few I do not enjoy being around much - however, I am a firm believer in things…and people…coming into your life for a reason.”

“So faith then?” Ava has to move a little closer to Beatrice when the sidewalk gets crowded, their shoulders bump together.

“That is the foundation of it all, yes.” Beatrice says and Ava can't stop herself from making a contentious noise. “You do not believe in faith?”

This is not a conversation they should have, Ava thinks, but she started it. “Not really. I’m not…I don’t mean to disrespect your belief or anything though.”

“You’re fine, Ava” Beatrice is very good at disarming tension. Ava thinks it’s something she uses a lot in her position. “My beliefs also stretch into understanding that not everyone will think the same way as I do.”

Ava suddenly wishes her ten year old self had someone like Bea to spend time with her back at St. Michaels. “I guess I just…kinda lost my trust in god. I don’t know. He didn’t do me any favors and I didn’t like the idea of my fate being in someone’s hands that aren’t my own.”

“That makes sense.”

“Really?”

Beatrice smiles again, that cute, toothy one. “It does, my situation is different, I suppose. I needed someone to take control of my life away. I needed guidance and…stability. God gives me that, my sisters and my home give me that.”

“So you trust in…faith and all that? His faith?”

Ava doesn’t realize she’s slowed her step until she sees Beatrice do the same to keep steady with her. “I am His faith, I think.” Ava must make a face, because Bea is quick to explain. “What I mean is that…faith is the belief that no matter how bad things might seem or feel or be - that they will get better. Which is where I believe I can act, in His name, and be that faith for others. I can help them, support them, talk to them or even just sit next to someone as they go through something. I have done all of these things, in an attempt to be the faith and hope in their life.”

There’s really no argument for it, Ava wouldn't even if she could think of one. Because it’s kind of beautiful really and it says a lot about Beatrice that she wants to be that for someone.

Yet, what comes to her mind the most is the image of Bea refusing the pastry this morning and telling Ava she didn’t need any new friends.

All she could think about, is if Bea had any friends at all. “What about you?” She wonders, drawing a cute little crinkle to Beatrice’s brows. They're coming up on Ava’s building. “I mean…you are the faith and hope and all that in other people’s lives - who gives that to you?”

“I - I don’t know what you mean?”

“I mean…when you’re sad or need help or…whatever, do you have people for that?”

Beatrice looks forward again, still walking as Ava uses her shoulder to gently guide them towards the entrance of her apartment complex. “God,” Beatrice says simply. “He is my faith.”

“Okay, but god can't really give you a big hug and eat a carton of ice cream with you.”

“You know, I’m starting to think you have a sweets addiction, Ms. Silva.”

Despite the obvious deflection, Ava smirks. “Oh for sure, I love tasty things in my mouth.”

The fuck?

“That’s…”

“No, I know - that’s not how that was supposed to come out.” Ava wants to throw herself in front of the trash truck coming down the street. “I just mean you’re right, I do love sweets.” Ava strides forward a few steps and holds open the door for Bea. “Here, this one is mine.”

Beatrice looks up to the top of the building and back down, taking off her hood. “This is a nice complex.”

“I’ll be honest, it’s too nice for me. It sucks me dry.”Jesus Christ, Ava. “Money wise, I don’t…most of my paychecks go to my rent.”

Ava decides then, as they make their way up to the third floor, that she’s just going to stop talking.

Her mind races with trying to remember the exact state she left her apartment in when she left this morning. She vaguely remembers the guy who was there and knows he didn’t leave anything - well maybe the condom in the trash, but that was in her room and Bea won’t be going in there…will she?

No.

Just as Ava goes to put the key in the lock, the handle turns and opens on its own and she remembers suddenly that Chanel texted that she was coming over with big news.

“Sorry, I forgot someone would be here, she’s great though. Chanel? You here?” Ava calls out as she holds the door open for Bea to come in fully.

“In the kitchen!” Chanel answers, Ava can hear the simmer of something cooking on the stove. “You better be ready to get down on your knees and satisfy me girl because you will not believe the night I have planned for us!”

Ava winces, feeling Beatrice stop literally mid step like a fucking cartoon character. “I’m so sorry,” Ava tries, but Beatrice is beat red already and looking down at her feet. “I didn’t-”

“Hey, I made some chicken if you…oh…what the fuck?” Chanel comes out, wearing an apron and the shortest fucking shorts she owns in the middle of winter in the midwest - holding a pan of sizzling chicken. “Are you a stripper?”

“Chanel!” Ava snaps.

“I should go,” Beatrice takes two huge steps out of the apartment.

“No, Bea, I’m sorry - Chanel doesn’t have a filter.”

Beatrice smiles, it’s almost genuine but Ava can tell she’s not entirely okay. “It’s fine, Ava, really. You have…you’re not alone and there’s…chicken. It’s fine. I can wait at the shelter and find my way to the bus when it arrives.”

“Are you sure?” Ava doesn’t want to press, but goddammit Chanel. “I can send her into the kitchen and demand she doesn’t speak.”

“I’m sorry,” Chanel steps forward, hands full of food and half dressed - all six feet of her looking like she’s ready for the beach in the middle of winter in Chicago. “I was just surprised. I mean a nun in Ava’s apartment is kind of like…well a nun in a whore house.”

“For fucks sake, Chanel - go eat your chicken!” Ava raises her voice, pointing her finger up at Chanel and watching her hold her pan and her stupid spatula up in surrender before leaving them. “I’m so sorry, I forgot she would be here.”

“Ava, it’s fine - she’s…she seems very fun.” Beatrice probably had a dozen words ready for that one. “I think I would be more comfortable downstairs however.”

“Okay,” It bothers her more than it should, the idea of making Beatrice uncomfortable around her. She already seems so uncomfortable in the world as it is and Ava gets it. She doesn’t want to add to that. “I am sorry, still. You can go, no hard feelings.”

“Thank you,” Beatrice laughs again, timid and soft. “I’ll see you Monday?”

Ava nods. “At ten sharp.”

“Have a good evening.” She says with one final nod before turning and hastily leaving the way she came in.

Beatrice took exactly two steps into her apartment, into her life, and now she’ll probably request an assignment change.

“Chanel,” Ava shuts and locks the door behind her once Beatrice is out of sight. “What the fuck was that?!”

When Chanel reappears, she’s without the pan and the spatula and even the apron. “Well forgive me for not knowing you’d have an actual fucking nun with you, alright?” Chanel looks to the door. “Who was that anyway? Was she really a nun? She didn’t look a day over twenty-five.”

Ava sighs, taking off her coat and tossing it onto the couch. “She is, a nun I mean. I don’t know how old she is.

“Well that’s a shame, she’s cute.”

All Ava can do is hum, because Chanel has never been more right in her entire life. “So what were you on about? Before you embarrassed me in front of my clergy friends?”

“Well, I know you’ve been feeling kind of shitty since JC went full smooth brain, and as your friend who also happens to work events at the United Center, I may have scored a couple of tickets to the Rihanna concert tonight.”

Ava takes three long steps forward and grabs Chanel by the shirt. “Tell me you’re not fucking with me.”

“Never ever, honey.”

“Oh my god, I love you so much!”

“Damn right, now go pick out something to wear while I eat my chicken and you should eat too because we are getting fucked up tonight.”

Ava shouts in delight as she dances through the apartment to her room, suddenly re-energized and so excited she can barely stand it. She hasn’t been to a concert in months and Rihanna is just…oof.

She starts digging through her closet and her draws, throwing things on the bed to mix and match later.

As she goes to look over her very limited jewelry collection - she catches sight of Beatrice on the street below her bedroom window.

Bea, with her hood up and talking to an older man with a cane - who laughs at something she says and then gladly walks with her across the street.

Ava watches her then, forgetting the concert for a bit just to…watch.

For as much as Ava wants to be her friend, wants to help fill the loneliness she sees in Beatrice’s eyes sometimes - she realizes that isn’t really her place.

This is all just temporary. She’ll do her community service and they’ll part ways and their lives will never intersect again.

It’s sad, in a way, because Ava thinks they could be really close under different circumstances.

In this life, however, she thinks, it’s just not meant to be.

Chapter Text

It tears at her for two days before she finally decides to step into the confession booth on Wednesday evening.

Beatrice slipped out, just after dinner and before heading back to the living quarters for leisure time where Camila had wanted to play a board game.

She loves games and is very excited to play, but Beatrice has to clear her conscience first - she needs guidance and a firm hand.

She needs faith.

Sinking down to her knees, Beatrice adjusts slightly to keep her balance before tracing her hand across her chest and marking the cross. “Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been two months since my last confession.”

There is always a dread that comes with this. Always a feeling of rot in her stomach and bile in her throat.

Something akin to a bad memory flashing in her eyes and marking her a monster.

Her heart is sin, her feelings aren’t proper - not for the life she’s chosen. Her thoughts betray her, as they have the last few days. She hates thinking of it as a sin - thinking of herself as a sinner - but it is something she cannot allow to fester.

“On Monday, a woman I know at the shelter brought me a treat in the form of a pastry. It…it was a very kind gesture. Given with no intentions or expectations - yet…I managed to twist it. To be seduced by it, by her. I - I do not wish to feel this way. I don’t want to think of her in such a way. It diverts me from the path. His path. I made it right. I gave the pastry back to her and asked her not to bring me another. I know I must be stronger and I will be, but in the moment I…I wanted to hold her, to thank her for thinking of me.”

Beatrice wrings her hands together over and over again, trying to focus on the sensation of it, to stop the overwhelming burn in her throat. “I think of her often since we’ve met and I would ask for strength and guidance to help keep me on the path. To keep me from these thoughts I know are wrong.” Beatrice takes a shaky breath and closes her eyes. “This is all I can remember. I am sorry for these and all my sins.”

The silence that follows her confession looms over her like a dark cloud. It isn’t long, but in that time she convinces herself that the door to the booth is going to burst open and her father will be there, having heard it all, and he’ll punish her.

Silly, she thinks, he would never come all the way out here just for her.

“It is alright, child.” She recognizes Father Vincent’s voice immediately, the thick accent, and soft tone. “You have shown great courage seeking out forgiveness.” Beatrice feels the opposite of courageous. “Our minds are forever moving, working and are impossible to control at all times. You understand what you’re feeling and you make steps to correct it - that is all we can ask of ourselves.”

“How do I handle it? I will be seeing her every week for the next few months.”

Father Vincent answers quickly. “You will do it as you have done everything else to bring you here, sister. With grace and faith in His guidance. She has come into your life for a reason - be wise and be cautious but do not shut out the chance that she is in your life now for reasons beyond what you know now.”

Fate. Faith. Purpose. She thinks of these things and remembers how Ava told her she’d lost them - lost her trust in God and his guidance.

Perhaps that is her purpose, to give Ava a little bit of that faith back. To be His hand on her shoulder, to help her. “Thank you, Father. You are right. I will be better, but I will see this through.”

“I know you will. Your penance shall be three Our Fathers so that you’ll grow in the virtue of temperance.” Beatrice nods. “Now please make an Act of Contrition.”

Reaching up, Beatrice grabs the cross around her neck and holds it, saying the prayer she’s been reciting in her room the last few nights.

-------------------------------

Beatrice always feels better after a confession. It’s impossible to stay forever on the path, she knows that, but with guidance and understanding - she feels relieved to be back on track.

That track, however, does take a detour to the training grounds behind Cat’s Cradle where she and her sisters stay physically fit through various ways.

For Beatrice, that’s aikido and thankfully, Lilith was also free to spar with her.

They go back and forth, as they always do - when it’s just the two of them they let loose a little bit more than usual.

Beatrice feels like she’s seeing the contest a little better than Lilith. Her strikes are sharper, her moves are faster.

When Lilith goes low to try and sweep her leg, Beatrice leaps over it, turns her hips to build momentum on her way up and swings out at Lilith.

Who falls down on her back and barely manages to get her staff up to block Beatrice’s attack.

“Agh!” Lilith grunts, using her strength to push Beatrice away and roll over onto her feet. She comes at Beatrice in a flurry then, left and right, trying to break her guard.

Just when Lilith almost gets her, Beatrice spins her staff and takes Lilith’s weapon down onto the ground with a clack. Then she steps forward off her front foot, raises it and kicks Lilith directly in the chest.

This sends her back onto one of the mats and when Beatrice comes at her ready to strike again - Lilith raises her hands, “I yield.”

Beatrice stops immediately, putting the staff behind her back and holding out her hand to her sister.

Lilith takes it, letting Beatrice pull her up to her feet. Both of them are sweaty and short of breath - it’s one of Beatrice’s favorite feelings in the world.

While she loves her home and loves her routine, Beatrice is quite convinced that if she didn’t have these sessions, she might lose her mind.

“You were aggressive today,” Lilith says as Beatrice moves to grab their waters.

She brings one over to Lilith with a frown. “I was?”

“You were,” Lilith pulls off the lid and takes a long drink. She pushes back her training habit, splashes a bit of water from her hand to her forehead before pulling it back on. “You also missed breakfast.”

Beatrice moves to sit, the soreness in her legs catching up with her. “I went to confession.” She says. It’s easier to talk to Lilith than most of the others here. She isn’t contrived or loquacious - she won’t preach either. Most of the time it feels like she doesn’t care, but Beatrice knows better.

“I see, so you’ve something to atone for then?”

This is where it always gets dicey. Beatrice has thoughts…feelings…things that she knows are wrong and that she knows are sins, but they exist within her regardless.

Things she has never told anyone. Things she knows will make those she’s grown to care about look at her differently.

That doesn’t take away the occasional blinding urge to tell someone.

“I did, but it’s been taken care of. A minor misstep.”

Lilith nods once, leaning back against a light post that isn’t on at this hour. Her almost empty water bottle and hanging by her side.

Moments like these, it’s almost too easy to forget where they are, what they are. “Someone at the shelter catch your eye?”

Beatrice tenses for a moment, it’s a good assumption to make. Most missteps in this place come from desires of the flesh - it is a constant battle. One that many of the sisters will gather around with a deck of cards during leisure hour and discuss.

She’s never participated. “Whatever it was doesn’t matter now. I’ve moved past it.”

“Clearly,” Lilith says, her tone thick with doubt.

“I beg your pardon?”

Lilith lets out a long sigh. “I’m just making an assumption, based on how harsh your attacks were today - that you are perhaps not as ‘past it’ as you would like to believe.”

“So because I bested you today you think I’m still punishing myself?”

The response makes Lilith roll her eyes in that way that drives Beatrice mad. “Punishing me, perhaps. You become defensive far too easily.” Lilith pushes off the light post and starts to move to her bag.

Beatrice stands up in a flurry. “No, I want to know what you mean.”

“It doesn’t matter, Beatrice” Lilith doesn’t look back to speak with her, doesn't stop what she’s doing.

She just focuses on her bag and putting away her towel.

“What do you want from me?”

Finally, Lilith breaks and exhales. She zips up her bag and hoists it over her shoulder before rising to her feet. When she turns to look at Beatrice, there’s a softness in her features.

Sympathy.

“You don’t have to punish yourself for every thought. You are the best of us - so much so that it makes all of your sisters pale in comparison at times. Yet, so often I feel like you think you don’t even deserve to be here.” It’s infuriating. Beatrice clenches her fist and tucks her chin down to her chest. She’s irate and has no idea why. “You put your trust in God to guide you, did you not?” She doesn’t answer, just looks up at Lilith without a word. “So trust him, you are where you’re supposed to be, on the path you are supposed to be on.”

She sees an opening and she takes it, less harshly than originally intended. “What about you?”

To her surprise, Lilith smiles. “I have more freedom here than I ever would outside these walls. I found my peace here - for better or worse. This place was my escape.”

Beatrice balks, it’s not what she expected to hear. So often it feels like Lilith wants out, like she’s tearing at the walls to find any weakness so she can run away.

“It is mine as well.”

Lilith’s softness fades, she readjusts the bag on her shoulder and takes a step back. “We should wash up before we’re late and Camila makes us recite lines from her stories in character as punishment for making her wait.”

There is no amount of self-searching worth that.

---------------------------

When the next day she’s supposed to see Ava comes around, Beatrice feels cleansed of her.

She’s had her night of it - let herself get lost in the thought of Ava and used rationality and prayer to guide her through it.

This isn’t the first time Beatrice has felt attraction to someone she’s met out here in the world - outside the walls of Cat’s Cradle. None of this is really new to her, but she is still human and weak and it takes work for her to let these things go.

Still, she’s done it now, she’s moved past it. So when 10AM strikes on Thursday, Beatrice steps out into the main room of the shelter fully prepared to greet Ava with a short hello and a task.

Much to her delight, Ava does show up on time. She walks into the shelter with her big Bears jacket on, a hat to match, and a pair of sunglasses.

This is where Beatrice falters a bit, it isn’t sunny outside - not at all. In fact it’s been flurrying all morning.

The other thing Beatrice notices is how wild Ava’s hair is sticking out underneath her hat.

She looks flushed red and her steps are slow. She’s not even looking around at the people already there. Usually, Ava is fast with a smile and a hello for anyone who glances her way - today, she’s almost robotic.

At one point, Ava stumbles and looks down to offer a quick apology to a backpack on the floor.

Beatrice feels a frown settle on her own expression as Ava approaches her. “Morning,” Ava rasps, her voice barely carrying between them.

“Good morning, are…are you alright?”

Ava takes a deep breath and nods. “Just peachy,” she sounds entirely not peachy at all. “Look, I had a long night last night. Chanel convinced me to do shots and then I convinced her to take…you don’t want to hear about this.” Ava gives her the flash of a smile - mentioning Chanel again. Beatrice knows well enough to not make assumptions, but based on what she saw (and heard) at Ava’s apartment, plus this - it’s safe to say that they are together. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not at my best, but I’m here.”

“You are,” Beatrice tries to remember the tasks she had set out for Ava, doing her best to ignore the way Ava’s lips look without makeup - chapped and full.

Shaking her head, Beatrice remembers the path, remembers the work she’s done the last few days.

Ava is here, and Beatrice’s job is to make use of her. “The tables need to be cleaned, and to be honest so do the floors. Sister Dora is working with me today in the back because she missed the last few days with an illness - so if you could remain out here and tidy up the space, that would be great.”

“Yeah,” Ava swallows thickly, then makes a bit of a face - like she’s tasted something awful. “Sure yeah, just point me in the direction of the cleaning shit.”

There’s no joke about her language, no apology - Beatrice doesn’t know why she expected it. “There is a maintenance closet in the staff room beyond that door,” she points to the door in question. “Take a few minutes to gather yourself.”

“Right,” Ava moves past her then, not another word offered and Beatrice feels a wave of disappointment settle over her.

Though she has absolutely no idea why, this is exactly what she wanted.

She buries it, tucks it away like a skill she’s mastered as well as aikido and takes a breath. There’s work to do and she’s going to do it.

Beatrice returns to the kitchen where Sister Dora is currently hammering down on large slabs of meat, tenderizing them in a way only she can. It’s always quite a sight to see.

“Earning yourself another trip to Portillo’s I see?” Beatrice teases Dora as she walks by, tying up an apron around her waist to start work on chopping up a box that appears to have every tomato in the state.

“I actually quite enjoy this part, a good way to take out my frustrations.” Beatrice smiles, grabbing a knife and spinning it delicately between her fingers. “Did your charge arrive on time?”

“She did,” Beatrice is never one for gossip, but the setting feels right and she has an urge to talk about Ava. “I believe she is hungover.”

A trace of a smile touches Dora’s lips. “Hungover on a Thursday? Truly God is testing you today.”

“Nothing I cannot handle.”

Even as she starts slicing, even as Dora continues hammering, Beatrice can feel eyes on her. “The people here really enjoy her.” Dora says, sounding a bit like she’s prodding for something.

What? Beatrice has no idea. “She’s quite lively, speaks freely and has a fondness for four letter words.”

“I’m quite certain Mr. Salvius has a crush on her.”

Beatrice falters a bit, her next slice entirely too wide. “Michael?”

“Hmm, he was in the last time she was here apparently, he asked me if I knew her name.”

“Why does he not just ask her?”

Dora turns her head entirely to Beatrice then, hammer mid swing. “I do not believe he has actually met her, just saw her from upstairs.”

Oh, well that makes sense, Beatrice supposes. Ava is beautiful, even someone as restrained and focused on not valuing these things as she is, can appreciate the beauty of another person.

Beatrice wonders what Michael might say to her, she wonders what Chanel might think of that. She wonders how Ava handles being so widely adored.

She wonders, lastly, why these thoughts are crossing her mind at all.

Beatrice drives them away, refocusing on her work. “I’m sure they will have the chance to meet, however, I do believe Ava is taken.”

“Oh? You’ve inquired.”

This earns Dora a glare. “Don’t be absurd. Ava is merely an open book.” She will not divulge that she’s been in Ava’s apartment. That she’s met Ava’s significant other.

Because, in the grand scheme of things, it does not matter.

The conversation fades after that. The music from the kitchen fills that space nicely and Beatrice allows her mood to life as she and Dora find a rhythm. When the last of the tomatoes are sliced and ready to go, she washes her hands and sets out to check on Ava.

Out in the main room, Beatrice scans around looking for Ava or…any sign that Ava has cleaned anything.

The floors are still try, every table is still covered in junk and messy. The shelter isn’t very full today, so finding Ava should be easy.

Instead, Beatrice doesn't see her, not even a trace.

She wanders deeper into the shelter, her feet carrying her towards the maintenance closet she directed Ava too almost an hour ago.

The door to it is open, which it wasn't before, but just a crack.

Carefully, she pries the door open and watches as the fluorescent lights from the shelter light up the sight of Ava fast asleep.

She’s on a little stool tucked into the corner, her head pressed against the wall using a few extra coats hanging up as a pillow. She still has on her own coat, and her sunglasses - her coffee on the floor at her feet now turning cold.

Beatrice takes a moment to look at her, study her - this enigmatic person that is so wildly different from herself that Beatrice can barely understand her.

Yet, she does. In the strangest sort of ways Beatrice feels very connected to Ava. There’s no real explanation for it, but there is something in the way she feels around Ava that makes Beatrice more alert.

Awake, more so than before - like the memories of each day stick longer than they used to.

Her mouth hangs open slightly, little breaths escaping from between her lips. Beatrice lets her gaze move from her lips to her jaw, up to her ears and all across her delicately porcelain features.

Ava’s skin glows, despite the way she might feel today, she’s still remarkably vibrant. Beatrice can't help but think she should be on display in the lights of the city.

Not here, not in this place with the requirements on her given by the police.

That’s when Beatrice remembers that Ava is her charge, first - that she broke the law and the responsibility of her penance falls to her.

“Ava,” Beatrice speaks softly, reaching out to shake her shoulder. When all she gets back is a snort, she raises her voice. “Ava!”

“BRKGJTL THERGHD COMING!” Ava jolts upright, then immediately slips off the stool and crashes onto the floor and into her coffee. “Ow…fuck,” she groans and reaches for her back. “What the hell?!” She snaps and her sunglasses have come off and Beatrice sees the anger in her eyes.

“You fell asleep.” Beatrice says shortly, not about to be yelled at for doing her job.

She’s prepared for an argument, for Ava’s true colors to come out - for the world to prove her right.

Then Ava’s glare softens, her head drops and she grimaces as she stands up. “Sorry,” she breathes through her nose, picking up the crushed styrofoam cup that once held her coffee. “I’m sorry. I just sat down to take a minute and…it was really warm in here and dark and I-” Ava looks genuinely apologetic - it’s disarming. “I’ll get started.”

“Are you alright?” Beatrice asks for the second time that day, again wondering why she cares.

Ava nods. “Just tired and have a bit of a headache, well…and now my ass hurts from falling.”

Beatrice uses every bit of strength she has to stay focused on Ava’s face and not the fact that she’s running a hand along her own backside.

It’s hard not to feel a little bit badly for Ava. She looks a mess and though she should have known not to go out and party the night before she had to come out and work in the morning, Beatrice knows it can't be easy to adjust when you work nights at a bar.

“Take a minute to gather yourself, then please go clean off the tables - lunch will be ready in an hour.”

She watches Ava nod again. “Of course, yeah…I’m on it, boss.” Ava lifts up her sunglasses for the first time, resting them on top of her head.

Her eyes are heavy, with bags under them as she squints at the lights shining down on her.

Perhaps she hadn't paid enough attention, but it’s a bit of a marvel how deeply colored Ava’s eyes are.

Beatrice looks away, too distracted, too much. She has to tone it down. Yes, Ava is pretty and she’s accepted that - but this all needs to end.

Taking a breath, Beatrice prays for a bit of strength before Ava starts to pull the cleaning supplies out of the closet.

Once Beatrice is sure that Ava won’t fall asleep again, she slips back into the kitchen.

Dora is still doing her thing, now forming patties and chatting with Beth who is working a large flattop, where the sizzle and smell of meat fills the room.

Slipping past them without a word, Beatrice ducks into the small bathroom connected to the kitchen and turns on the light.

She catches sight of herself in the mirror - pausing for a moment to really look at herself. She doesn’t do this often - her morning routine is very practiced. There’s no reason to take in the sight of herself and even then she’s not like this.

Not in full attire, with her habit on.

This is who she is, and she’s worked very hard to be okay with that. She’s content, she’s a sister, a servant to others - that’s her place.

That’s where she belongs.

Opening the medicine cabinet, Beatrice starts to look through the limited things in there. First aid kids that don’t look like they could handle much beyond a papercut. There is a bottle of stomach medicine and a thermometer that looks like it fell out of the 1940s.

Not seeing what she’s looking for, Beatrice closes the medicine cabinet and shuts off the bathroom light on her way out. She moves past Beth and Dora, still hard at work, and goes to the next part of the kitchen where Valerie is dipping large baskets of fries into a bubbling mess of oil.

“Valerie?” Beatrice calls out, drawing a pair of blue eyes behind thick glasses towards her. “Do you happen to know if there is any ibuprofen back here?”

“Oh sure, not in the back but I have some in my bag.” She dips another basket of fries into the oil, causing it to bubble and pop relentlessly. She then moves to where she and Beth both hang their bags by the back door. “You got cramps again, honey?”

Beatrice shakes her head. “No, no it’s for Ava.”

“She got cramps?”

Beatrice smiles. “No cramps. Just a headache.”

“Ah, yeah that’ll do it.” She watches Valerie digging through her things, pulling out a coin purse and what looks to be a foldable baton out of the bag before finally producing a massive bottle of pills. “How many do you think?”

“Oh I…I’m not sure. Two?”

Valerie frowns at her. “What kind of headache are we talking about?”

“She…” Beatrice sighs. “She’s hungover from a late night last night.”

“There it is,” Valerie tips the bottle and pours three pills into her hand. She offers them to Beatrice who holds out her hand, palm up, and lets them drop in. “Also give her this,” Valerie closes the lid on the pills, tossing it back in her bag with the rest of her things before taking three long strides to where the fridges sit. She opens one and then produces a bottle of green Gatorade. “Tell her to drink the whole thing, electrolytes will do wonders for her.”

“Alright,” Beatrice takes the bottle as well and tries to imagine herself in a life where she is this person. Where her morning hangs on NSAIDs and a sports drink.

It doesn’t fit right, but she thinks of Ava’s nights out and pictures her dancing, laughing and drinking - throwing back shots and living so free.

Beatrice doesn’t know how she feels about it. She doesn’t even know if her image of it is right. She’s only ever seen that world in the occasional movie.

Taking the hangover aids with her, Beatrice makes her way through the kitchen, hiding the pills at her side as if Dora’s going to see them and interrogate her or something - and steps out into the main floor.

This time, she does see Ava.

She’s leaned over a table that has been cleared off and on the floor at her feet is a bucket with soapy water that she dips a rag down into and then rings out.

Ava has also taken her coat off and this leaves her in an oversized white t-shirt that has something called DuckTales on it.

What really catches Beatrice’s attention is the way Ava’s forearms flex as she rings out the rag to let the excess water pour into the back.

Beatrice isn’t blind, she’s well aware that Ava’s arms are in shockingly good shape. As far as Beatrice knows, Ava isn’t an athlete or anything, but she clearly takes good care of herself or has exceptional genetics.

That’s the rationality she tells herself, she’s wondering about Ava’s genetic makeup as she stars blatantly at her coiling forearm muscles.

She takes in the sight right up until the condensation on the bottle of Gatorade almost causes it to slip out of her hand.

Be better, she scolds herself, fighting off the growing frustration at her wandering mind.

“Ava?” Beatrice calls out to her when she gets close enough and Ava is kind enough to offer her a smile despite clearly not feeling well.

“Hey, I found the bucket,” Ava says, tapping her foot against it with her white sneakers. “I hope this rag was clean, it was just kind of-”

“Here,” Beatrice shoves both of her hands out. “Ibuprofen and some Gatorade, for your headache.”

Ava blinks once, twice and then in rapid succession before she opens her hands to accept the hangover aids. “Wait…really?”

“Is this acceptable? Advil was all I could find and -”

“No it’s prefect…” Ava has a very deep furrow in her brow, staring at the bottle of Gatorade in her right hand. “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

Beatrice is taken back by Ava’s tone - she sounds almost confused. Like she isn’t used to someone wanting her to feel better. “It’s nothing, Ava. It’s also partially selfish because we’ll need you when the food is ready.” She adds a little smile to the end of her sentence to make sure it isn’t too pushy.

When Ava smiles back, Beatrice relaxes.

That is, until Ava’s tongue pokes out of her mouth and she deposits all three pills onto it before taking a big drink of the Gatorade and swallowing them down.

Beatrice looks away a second too late and instead catches the bob in Ava’s throat as she swallows. It’s such a small thing, just like her tongue, just like her blinks - these are things every person in the world does.

Yet, Ava makes them all more interesting. Beatrice has no idea how she does that.

She can hear Ava continuing to drink, to swallow and then she makes a gasping noise as she finishes. “Fuck, I needed that.” She says and then her lips purse guiltily. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just...I hope it helps.”

Ava nods, closing her drink and setting it down. “It already has, thank you, Bea.”

Bea.

----------------------------

When their shift ends, Beatrice is in very good spirits. Ava bounced back tremendously and with Dora around, lunch time went very smoothly.

Beatrice has always enjoyed it when things work as planned. Going off plan is hard for her, it’s a huge part of why her life in the convent works so well. She has her schedules and her routines, she knows what to expect almost every day and there are no surprises.

This day has her mind wandering, thinking back to a time when her life was chaotic - when she was always afraid of what might come of each morning.

Trying to judge her father’s moods became a daily stresser for Beatrice. Some days he would be soft spoken and distant, those were the good days.

Other times, he would notice her. He would seek her out to vent the frustrations of his job, his company, his disdain of the gardeners.

He was the type of person who could flip on a dime, one word would turn him against her. So Beatrice was forever careful and did her best to make sure she followed the steps to keep him from noticing her.

Until she wasn't careful.

She shakes her head. That was another life, another version of her - one that she let go of years ago.

Now, she’s had a good shift and she’s served a lot of people in need and she’ll go home tonight and continue binding that new book she’s been working on for a few days now.

No one will yell at her. No one will call her into the room asking questions that she knows have no good answers - just so they can have a reason to punish her for them.

Instead, she’ll laugh with her friends, she’ll have a good dinner, then take in a deep breath at curfew and pray to God for peace.

Peace, she thinks, does not fit in the same space as Ava.

Who comes to her mind when she steps out into the cold where Beatrice is waiting for Dora, who left early to make a delivery to a few people she knows who live on the street in the area and don’t like to come to the shelter.

Ava Silva is not peace, but she is joy. Now that she’s feeling better, Ava is all smiles as she taps away at her phone.

Chanel, Beatrice assumes.

When Ava’s gaze shifts up to see her, Beatrice looks away. “Oh hey, you’re still here.”

Beatrice hums as Ava bounces over to her. “Just waiting on Sister Dora, she should be back any moment.”

“So that’s a no on coming back to my place again then?” There’s a teasing lilt in Ava’s voice - like she knows it was as much of a disaster as Beatrice did.

“Not today, I’m afraid.”

Ava clicks her tongue. “That’s a shame, I made peanut butter chewies.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what those are.”

“Oh Bea,” Ava sighs. “Seriously, I know you nuns have some codes and stuff but do they not serve any sweets over there?”

Despite herself, Beatrice laughs. “They do, but I really am more of a savory kind of person.”

“I think you just haven’t tried the right stuff. Peanut butter chewies are so good, and so easy even I can make them! Literally just four ingredients and mmm, perfection.” She can practically feel Ava bouncing next to her and if Beatrice is being honest, Ava is a very good saleswoman. Her enthusiasm is impossible to ignore. “So I know the Starbucks thing was a bust, but if I save you one, can I bring it to you on Monday?”

Too much, she feels like it’s too much. This thought of Ava thinking of her over the weekend. The thought of her setting out a tiny piece of some treat she’s made just for her - it’s too much.

It’s terrifying because Beatrice wants to try it. She wants to taste it and have it be good so she can tell Ava she enjoyed it.

So she can be the one to make Ava smile.

Which is the opposite of good and she knows it.

No, she has to say no. “I don’t know.”

She gives Ava a crack and Ava crawls through it. “Come on! Just one little piece - honestly, you’d be doing me a service trying it. I would love to tell people that my peanut butter chewies are nun approved.”

“That’s cheating,” Beatrice says with a glare that doesn't stick. “You cannot use my mission to serve to pass off your treats on me.”

“Oh I think you’d be surprised at how good I am at bending the rules, Bea.” Ava says this with a smirk, a half quirk on the left side of her mouth that sets up shop in the back of Beatrice’s mind. “Just one?” Ava asks so softly, so hopefully, that there is not enough strength in her soul to deny her.

“Fine,” she sighs. “Fine, just one.”

“Yes!” Ava pumps her fist and then they both look as Dora shows back up in her car and starts to park to pick Beatrice up. “Okay, so Monday then! Also thank you again for the hangover cure - saved my ass today Bea, cause I gotta work tonight.”

Beatrice nods once, “I’m glad to have helped.”

Just as Dora pulls to a stop, Beatrice is prepared to part ways.

Except, Ava is looking at her, just…really looking at her. “Do you uh…is it okay if I give you a hug?”

“A…hug?” The words fall out of her mouth as if she doesn’t know what they mean.

Because in a lot of ways, she doesn’t. Why would Ava want to hug her? Beatrice hasn’t hugged anyone in so long. She doesn’t hug her sisters. Her parents never hugged her.

In fact, the last hug she actually remembers came from the driver of the car who took her to the St. Edwards back in London.

An older man who took sympathy on a fifteen year old girl who had just been told she wasn't welcome in her own home anymore.

“It’s okay if it’s weird, I’ve always been a bit of a hugger. Ever since I’ve been able to, at least.”

There’s a softness in that sentence, a depth she can't place.

It’s too much to deny her. “I - I suppose.”

Ava grins, very wide and toothy and then suddenly she’s wrapping her arms around Beatrice.

All of the air leaves her body when Ava presses up against her. She feels strong hands push into her back, Ava’s nose nestling into the crook of her neck.

She can't help herself, she lays her hand softly over Ava’s neck and her hand lands on the warm skin of her neck.

Without thinking, strokes her thumb over the warmth. Her eyes open and from this angle, she can just see Ava’s neck through her hair and where her fingers are currently resting.

Right along the tip of a tattoo that just barely shows itself above the collar of her shirt.

Too much.

She pulls back sharply, but Ava doesn’t even flinch. “Thanks, Bea. I’ll see you on Monday then?” Beatrice nods, she can't speak - she wouldn't dare.

Then Ava’s phone goes off and she answers it, giving Beatrice a wave, offering the same to Dora before making her way in the direction of her apartment.

When Beatrice gets in the car, she does her best to smile and listen as Dora tells her a story about where she went - who she met.

If Dora notices the turmoil in Beatrice’s mind on the ride home distracting her, she doesn’t say anything.

---------------------------

Something isn’t right.

Beatrice wakes up the next morning in the wrong place.

It’s not her home, not her bed, she feels different too.

The clothes she’s wearing are not her usual sleep attire - she feels naked. She wants to look down and see, but her head won’t go there. It’s as if the truth is at her fingertips, but she can't quite reach far enough to feel it.

Then there’s movement next to her and Beatrice startles. She turns to find someone in bed with her.

Ava. Ava is in bed with her.

Ava with her back to her - the mark of a tattoo on her back that Beatrice can't decipher - it’s muddled. Beyond that, Ava isn’t wearing anything. Her naked back is completely exposed all the way down to where the blankets rest on her hips.

“Bea?” Ava calls out, then rolls onto her stomach and turns to look at her.

Those dark, warm eyes find her then, a small smile on her lips - all the air in Beatrice’s lungs evaporates. “A - Ava,” she speaks softly - as if speaking too loud will ruin this.

She feels…oh…she feels warm and overwhelmed, this sensation of being next to Ava is incomparable. Her hands move on their own, touching the back of her neck. She can feel the faint hairs on Ava’s skin beneath her fingertips.

Without thinking, without breathing really, she starts to massage her neck and shoulders. It elicits a delightful, deep sigh from Ava who closes her eyes and widens her smile.

It settles her down, this sound from Ava, and Beatrice moves over, shifting over to share Ava’s pillow.

Their faces are so close now that Beatrice can see every inch of her - it’s startling, how beautiful she is. Something wells up in her chest that she can barely contain. She wants to kiss her, to hold her and spill every secret of her life to this girl she barely knows.

How did they get here?

Is this even real?

“Don’t overthink it.” Ava says, as if she can read Beatrice’s mind. Then one of Ava’s hands comes up from under the blanket and lays gently across Beatrice’s cheek. Her heart stammers in her chest. Nobody has ever touched her so carefully before. “Take what you need from me, then throw out what you don’t.”

That’s when it starts to crumble, the warmth in her chest turns cold. The air around them thickens and the light from a window she can't see fades out.

Beatrice’s eyes snap open and everything is familiar again.

She’s in her room, in the convent, in her sleeping clothes and under her own blankets.

Dream. It was a dream, just a dream. A nightmare maybe, she’s really not sure.

All she knows for certain is that the ache in her chest is so deep it feels like she’s dying.

Beatrice closes her eyes, calls back to her countless hours of mediation and works to steady her breathing.

Everything was fine. Once she got back here everything felt like it had settled back into place. She had fun tonight. She finished the book she was binding, she watched television with her sisters who all made silly wagers on what would be said on screen. She prayed, a good prayer for those she cares about and those who need someone to care for them.

Now, all she sees - all she feels, is Ava.

Her fingers still burn with the sensation of Ava’s skin beneath them. When she closes her eyes, she can still see Ava’s face looking back at her.

She hates this. She hates the way she feels. All the work she’s done to bury it, for so long she’s been able to keep it down.

Now she’s having dreams, feelings and instead of finding any delight in them, they only make her feel sad.

Beatrice checks her phone, it’s only a quarter past two - she can't get up now. Literally, the convent is locked down.

This is a test, and Beatrice has passed every test God has put in front of her on her journey to find this peace. To settle into this life she’s built where she feels needed and necessary.

To overcome the feelings she’s never been able to escape.

She just wants to feel okay, to be okay with herself.

So Beatrice grabs the cross she wears around her neck every day off the nightstand and closes her hands around it. Then tucks it under her chin and recites a prayer, asking for strength to overcome this.

Despite how useless it feels, it’s all she knows how to do.

Chapter Text

Not that Ava is keeping track (she totally is) but it’s been about forty-five minutes since she came up for air after making the girl underneath her come.

While this girl’s bed is actually super comfortable, Ava’s buzz is starting to fade and that weird post orgasm guilt is starting to kick in and she’d really like to go home.

She never knows how long to hang around after these kinds of things. Especially with girls, where it always feels a little more intimate and intense - as opposed to guys who usually act fairly distant.

Jenny is cute, nice enough - a little clingy and really needs to trim her nails better, but Ava had fun.

Still, it’s time to go, she needs a shower.

“So I think I’m gonna head out,” she says, already swinging her legs off the bed as she does.

The hand that was hanging over her waist falls off and lands on the bed with a soft thump. “Already? You don’t want to stay? I make really good french toast.”

“I have a thing in the morning,” she hates how lame and fake it sounds, but she does. The problem is that saying she has court mandated community service just doesn’t feel like the kind of thing to drop after a hookup.

“Oh,” naturally, it doesn’t sound like she bought it.

As she pulls her bra on and tries to remember what fucking room she kicked her pants off in, Ava offers a smile. “I’m sorry, Jenny. I would love to but-”

“Jamie,” she says and Ava’s stomach drops. “My name is Jamie.”

Well, fuck

“Right, sorry…I - I knew that I just…I’m sorry.”

The look Jamie gives her is kind of like a punch in the stomach because she looks genuinely hurt. Like maybe this thing meant a whole lot more to her that it did to Ava. “It’s fine, get home safe.” Jamie sounds completely disconnected now however, angry even.

Which sadly rules out hanging around in her place while she waits for an uber to pick her up.

Ava finds her panties on the dresser and quickly steps into them - as she pulls her shirt out of a pile of Jamie’s clothes, Ava uses a free hand to set up an uber to pick her up a block down the road.

When she finally finds her pants, she hops to put them on and turns back to the bed. “I am sorry for rushing out, Jamie. I did have a good time.”

Jamie has her back to Ava, bright blue hair dancing along her white pillows. Jamie was sweet and pretty - but there was no spark beyond the physical.

Ava’s not sure she’s even looking for a spark at this point. “Sure, goodnight, Ava.”

That feels like all she’s going to get and Ava isn’t about to push. She’s the asshole here and she knows it.

So she grabs her Bears jacket and throws it on over her henley before leaving the apartment and tapping the electric lock on her way out.

It’s no wonder people don’t stay in her life - she’s a fucking scumbag really.

On her way down to the lobby, which is five fucking floors she doesn’t remember walking up when she had her hand down Jamie’s pants, she is turned down by three different uber drivers.

It’s late as fuck and cold outside - so she gets it, but shit she was really hoping she wouldn't have to walk to the L train.

However, that turns out to be her only option when the app glitches and closes on its own.

Ava sighs, stuffing her phone in her coat pocket along with her hands before taking a shaky breath as the cool air hits her face.

The walk to the train isn’t horrible, she knows this neighborhood and the streets are still busy enough that she’s not too anxious.

Still, it’s cold as hell and Ava has no idea how she keeps ending up in these situations.

She does though, because between the hours of eleven and one in the morning, the loneliness settles so deeply into her soul that she has to find ways to hide it or it will destroy her.

That means finding a body to keep her warm, a distraction. Something empty and meaningless.

The funny thing is, she still had this when she was with JC - this emptiness. She’s had it her whole life - like a cement block on her ankles, keeping her underwater.

Ava’s done everything she can think of to overcome it. To stop blaming herself for every trouble of her life. To stop thinking that if she asks too much of people they’ll look at her the way Sister Frances did.

That they’ll see the burden she truly is deep down.

So she fills her empty spaces with people. With bodies and drinks and as much chaos as she can fit into it.

The louder she can make the outside world, the less she has to hear the cries for help in her own head.

Because what does she have to feel sad about? Her life is better. She can walk, she can run, she can take care of herself - all things she couldn't before.

She’s fine, she’s okay - she’ll get better and grow up and things will be better.

They will, she has to believe they will.

When she reaches the train, it is mostly empty compared to the streets and Ava takes a seat near the window to watch the city move past her.

Ava really does love living here, this is her home - even if the winters blow. She just wishes she could find a little more stability.

She wishes she’d kept the stability she had.

Mary hasn’t contacted her since she brought Ava home from jail that morning, even though Ava said she could - said she’d answer and be there.

She hasn’t heard from her.

She has no right to expect it, not after shutting both she and Shannon out.

It really wasn't her intention to push them away - she just got so caught up in JC’s life. He wanted to be an entrepreneur and she was ideal for hanging off his arm at fancy parties and business trips.

All that stuff she did with him felt important. She knows now that it wasn't, he’s still in his same shitty apartment, hustling down every offer he can trying to strike it big and make some kind of life changing contact. He’s chasing a dream that doesn’t exist.

Ava just got lost in the feeling of being needed. He needed her, he told her that so often. He needed her at his side. He needed her on his arm. He needed her to help him take the stress off every night.

That’s always been her fit, really - even now. She works at a bar because she’s nice to look at. Because people think they can sleep with her or stare at her tits and slam drinks as she laughs at their bad jokes.

She’s an accessory. That’s what some stuffed shirt told her once when she was at a cocktail party with JC.

He made some kind of comment on school funding and the underprivileged - it was just a flat out lie and she called him out on it.

The way he looked at her then, his eyes roaming up and down her body (in a dress she fucking slayed in) and snickered at her before telling her she was just an accessory and her opinion wasn't needed.

JC was upset. When she told him what the guy said he was mad and played the part - but instead of fighting for her, they just left.

Then Ava heard him mention talking to that same guy on the phone a few weeks later about another party and just…let it slide.

So much of her time with him was just letting things slide.

Including the two people who actually took her in when she moved out here with absolutely nothing.

Ava takes out her phone as the train moves closer to her dropoff and types out a message.

It’s late, Mary’s been an old lady since Ava first met her so she knows she’s already asleep - but that makes it easier.

Ava: can I buy you and shannon dinner sometime? i know it won’t magically make everything better but i’d really like to try and start fixing it

Ava: i miss you guys and i know it’s my fault

Ava: i’m sorry

She leaves it at that as the train stops. She tucks her phone away and starts jogging down the street towards her building, passing by the closed Starbucks and thinking randomly of Beatrice.

That’s been happening more often lately, these random thoughts of Bea fill her head and make her smile. It’s simple things, just…wondering what Beatrice might be like in these moments.

How would Bea handle the L train at one in the morning?

Would her back still be straight as she sat, or would fatigue make her slouch - make her breathing a little heavier and her eyes a little droopier.

Ava knows Beatrice is a nun and she knows that’s not a commitment that anyone makes casually.

It’s never something she’ll act on, but the truth is that she has a tiny little crush on her.

When she thinks of Beatrice now, she just likes to imagine her in mundane, everyday situations. No habit, no big robes, no restrictions - just…Bea.

The thoughts of it carry her all the way to her apartment through a long shower.

She wonders what Beatrice might be like beneath the water with her. Ava’s never seen her hair, but in her mind it’s dark and silky - Beatrice takes care of herself for sure.

It would feel nice under her fingertips, maybe Bea would make soft little noises of delight as Ava cleaned her.

Not exactly her usual late night fantasy, but it keeps her warm when she climbs into bed.

She gets to see Beatrice tomorrow.

That makes her feel better than it probably should, given her history with nuns and all.

------------------------

Not hungover but still pretty exhausted, Ava makes her way to the shelter loaded up on homemade coffee (that sucks and she sucks at making it) and carries a small treat wrapped in tinfoil for Bea.

It’s silly for sure, to be this excited about seeing Beatrice, but she is.

Beyond the physical stuff, Beatrice being super cute and also hugging her last time they met and figuring out that Beatrice is also quite firm - Ava really does find comfort in her presence.

She’s also using this as a distraction tactic to ignore the fact that so far the messages she sent to Mary last night have been ignored.

Mary saw them, she has on her receipts and Ava can't help but wonder if that’s intentional to make her point even further that she wants nothing to do with Ava.

If she doesn’t hear back by the end of the day, Ava will let it go - she won’t try again.

For now though, she pushes it aside and bounds into the shelter to find it pleasantly quiet. There are people there, but not many - she imagines it will pick up later this afternoon after she’s gone because it’s supposed to snow at some point today.

Still, she goes around offering smiles and soft conversation to anyone who looks like they need it.

Ava feels slightly connected to a lot of people here because before Mary and Shannon took her in, she was well on her way to ending up in the same situation.

She moved into the city with so little money or clue as to what it took to actually survive on her own. There was never anyone around to teach her - once she got her body back and got the fuck out of St. Michaels, she just assumed she’d get a job right away and find an apartment.

Everyone on television made it look so easy.

Not taking in the need for experience and references and connections and any idea on how real life actually worked.

Ava bounced from couch to couch, sometimes bed to bed depending on the person. At eighteen she was discovering herself, her sexuality and her personality all while trying to find a place to plant roots.

She wanted everything and nothing - she wanted both an anchor and freedom.

She wanted things she didn’t understand. Then Mary saved her from making a really bad decision involving a party bus and a guy named Trick and that’s when she started to find herself.

So what if she lost herself all over again, at least she had a job this time.

All these thoughts and reflections die off when Ava makes it to the kitchen. In fact, she is stopped dead in her tracks.

Because Beatrice is there, as always. She has a spray bottle in one hand and a wash rag that she’s using to clean up the counter in the other. Typical Beatrice things.

However, what catches Ava’s attention the most is Beatrice’s body. More specifically, the way she is dancing to the sounds of Doja Cat on the speakers.

It’s not much - just a little sway in her hips, but she is definitely unaware of anyone else in the room.

Now, Beatrice’s robes are pretty big and heavy, but not so much so that Ava can't make out the shape of her.

So seeing that shape sway and move to the music is kind of the most attractive thing Ava has seen in a long time.

It shouldn't be, she knows it shouldn't be, but Ava can't deny it.

Sister Beatrice is fucking sexy.

“Bea?”

“Ah!” Beatrice jumps, startled in a way that Ava didn’t know was possible. So much so that she turns around and actually sprays cleaning water at Ava - the mist hitting her face gently. “Ava,” Beatrice sounds breathless, clutching at her chest. “You…you’re here.”

Ava runs a hand over her face, smiling as she does. “Eight sharp, Sister - as promised.”

“Of course,” Beatrice takes a deep breath. “You…” she looks at the clock, it’s 8:10 now. “How long have you been standing there?”

She can't help herself, she smirks and starts to wiggle her hips. “Long enough to see you get your Sister Act on.”

That’s when it happens, Beatrice blushes a deep pink and turns her head away shyly and oh…

It’s almost so pretty it takes the fun out of it, because steady, borderline stuffy Sister Beatrice is one thing.

Shy, adorable and embarrassed Sister Beatrice is something else entirely. “I apologize,” she says, her hands clasped tightly together in front of her. “I wasn't paying attention.”

No, this won’t do. “Bea, it’s okay to have a good morning. In fact, I think it’s great.”

“I know,” she says. “I just…I didn’t know you were there.”

Ava smiles. “Don’t worry, I keep your Doja secret safe, okay?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“That’s whose song you were grooving to.”

“Yes well…” Beatrice doesn’t finish the sentence, instead turning back to the counter and continuing her work.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Ava digs into her jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of peanut butter chewy wrapped in saran wrap.

She holds it out to Beatrice like a bar of gold. “Is this…”

“Yep, my homemade chewies! The last one of the batch, just for you.”

The feeling of seeing Beatrice actually reach out and take it from her is probably a hell of a lot more exciting than it should be.

But Beatrice deserves treats, she thinks. Bea is a good person and a good soul - nun or not, Ava thinks she’s the kind of person who should have fun things.

So as Beatrice unwraps it and then puts it up to her nose to sniff, Ava laughs. “I didn’t lace them with weed, Bea.”

Ava keeps to herself that the sudden realization of little weed chewies is kind of a fucking brilliant idea though.

Rolling her eyes, Beatrice picks a piece off and sticks it in her mouth. Ava sees her tongue slip out just a bit to taste it and hates how Bea’s nunness amplifies every minor thing she does.

Because tongues should not be that sexy - and yet.

She wipes the feeling away and watches the reaction.

Bea’s eyes light up a bit and Ava knows she’s won her over. “Oh,” she says, then looks up at Ava. “This is not unpleasant.”

Ava snorts. “Well shit, thanks Sister.”

“No I’m…” Beatrice sighs. “I mean it’s very good.” She takes off more and eats it.

“I told you!” Ava throws her hands in the air. “So my next batch, I’m bringing you some extra to take back to your friends, okay?”

“Ava,” the stuffy accent is completely lost when she tries to speak with a mouth full of food.

“Ah, no no, it won’t be for a while so you’ll have plenty of time to process it or whatever, enjoy that while I get started - just point me in the direction to work!”

With Beth and Valerie making chicken fingers and fried potatoes, Ava is assigned with potato peeling.

It’s not the most fun she’s ever had on a Monday morning, but her doing this while Beatrice tenderizes chicken strips on the other side of the big counter isn’t the worst thing ever either.

Again Ava is hit with a thought of what it might be like to have this moment with Bea in a different setting.

To be at the counter in Ava’s apartment, making a meal together before sitting down to watch Love Island or…like…Little House on the Prairie for Bea (Ava has no idea what nuns watch on TV).

She gets a bit caught up between peels just watching Bea. Studying the tiny little hints of her hair that peek out from underneath the habit. The beads of sweat that form on her forehead - how she’s not melting in those robes back here in this hot ass kitchen Ava will never know.

Ava knows for a fact that it’s silly to have a crush on a nun. She also knows it’s mostly pointless. Beatrice won’t suddenly give up her vows because Ava’s got nice tits - but there’s no real point in denying that she’s attracted to her either.

In a lot of ways, it’s a good way to pass the time here - to watch her and get to know her and see what she can and can't get away with.

As far as gaydars go, Ava has always had a pretty good one and the way Beatrice decidedly won’t look at her chest or the way she brushed the back of Ava’s neck when they hugged last time set off all the alarms she has.

So yeah, Beatrice is at least a little bit gay - Ava’s not sure what that identity is yet, exactly - but there is something there.

Something she can test.

Which happens about an hour later when Ava has peeled more potatoes than the state of Idaho has and feels the tingle of sweat on her back.

She wore two shirts today, a sweater and a very small undershirt that doesn’t really cover her all that well.

It’s the kind of thing she wears around the house when she’s trying to either be comfortable or sexy. It’s light and not restrictive - in fact, it kind of feels like she’s naked when she wears it.

So when she puts her potato peeler down and has finished up her tenderizing and washes her hands, Ava grabs the bottom of her sweatshirt and peels it off.

Her chest is fairly prominent in this and the gap between her shirt and her jeans is significant as well.

“You wouldn't know it’s freezing outside with how hot it gets in this kitchen.” Ava comments halfheartedly as she folds up her sweater and sticks it on a stool by the door where the coats go.

Beatrice hums from behind her and Ava turns to see her drying her hands, still at the sink and not paying attention.

Which gives her a front row seat to watching Bea turn around.

Her eyes go wide as saucers. She recovers quickly, to her credit, but the way her eyes snap to the floor and the washcloth in her hands falls to the ground tells Ava all she needs to know.

Beatrice bends down to pick up the washcloth and turns around again to face the sink. “I - I can see about opening the back door,” she says in a strained voice.

Strained enough that Ava kind of feels bad. Like maybe she shouldn't be doing this to a nun who has vows and devotion and probably doesn’t have a whole lot of fun getting turned on and not doing anything about it

Even if she could.

Even if Ava would let her. “That’s alright,” Ava moves over to where they keep the spare aprons and grabs one. It’ll do a little to keep boobs covered up, but her shoulders and neck are still fair game. “Maybe I’ll go wander the floor for a bit, see if anyone needs anything.”

“Good,” Beatrice says way too quickly. “That’s good, I’ll stay here.” Beatrice shakes her head. “I’ll…let you know if we need any more help back here.”

Ava smiles, even though Bea can't see it, before ducking out onto the floor.

She actually quite enjoys tending to the people out here. It’s sad how many of them are just looking for a little normalcy. Someone to talk to, someone to spend a little time with or unload on.

It reminds her a lot of the lonely people that wander into the bar.

At one point, Ava finds herself with a man, an older man with a big gray beard and a box.

Just…a box, at first Ava thinks it might be full of clothes or something, but he’s far too interested in it - and talking to it.

She takes a few steps over to him, keeping her pace slow so she doesn’t freak him out.

When his gaze finds her, he smiles. “Hi,” Ava says, offering a little wave.

He gives her a very kind expression. “Good morning,” he looks down at the box and smiles. “Would you like to meet Darcy?”

Okay, now Ava is completely invested. “Yes, oh my god you have no idea,” she takes the two steps over to look into the box and gasps.

Darcy is a cat, a beautiful calico cat with beautiful blue eyes and…a very full belly. “Oh my god, oh…is she pregnant?”

“She is, she’s about to burst I believe - I had to get her out of the cold. I’m kind of hoping I can keep her here for a few days to keep the babies out of the cold.”

“Oh I’ll make it happen,” Ava says as she sinks to her knees to pet Darcy. She has zero authority to let this cat stay here, but she’ll fight someone if she has to. “Hey girl,” the cat meows dramatically at her. “I know, you’re probably not feeling too great, huh?”

The box looks good enough, Ava doesn’t know shit about cat births (or any births), but there are newspapers lining it and it’s pretty good size. Darcy keeps meowing, very distressed. “Do you mind if I go and get someone else to help?”

“So long as they don’t try and take her away from me,” he says with a soft smile - but a genuine concern in his voice.

“No no, of course not, she’s your girl. Give me two minutes.” Ava stands up and practically jogs back to the kitchen.

She pushes the double doors open and doesn’t bother to scan. “Bea?” She calls out, drawing up the eyes of both Valerie and Beth. “Is Beatrice here?”

Valerie grins at her. “She stepped out back for some air.”

“Oh, well I uh…there’s a thing out on the floor.”

Beth gestures to the back here Ava assumes Beatrice went and without another word she goes in that direction to find her.

Opening the back door, the cold air hits Ava’s neck and shoulders and makes her shiver. Trying to be sexy always has a price.

“Bea?” Ava calls out to her, seeing Bea in a big coat with her back to her - tense up at the mention of her name.

“Just a moment,” she says and Ava balks a bit - because it’s cold and there’s a cat having kittens in the shelter.

Ava takes a step out. “Everything okay?”

The response takes a few seconds to come. “It’s fine. I’m fine, I just needed a moment to clear my head.”

Alright, now Ava feels like shit because Beatrice was having a good day and then Ava pushed her and she has to stop doing that.

She’s attracted to Bea, but Beatrice is a nun and if she is gay (which Ava knows for a fact now) then it isn’t fair to push her like that.

“Okay, I uh…there’s a kitty on the main floor that is about ten minutes away from giving birth and I thought you’d want to know.”

Beatrice blinks at her a few times, her doe eyes looking impossibly brighter in the outdoor light. “A…a cat?”

“Yep, some guy brought his girl in and she’s about to pop.”

“We aren’t a veterinary clinic.”

Ava laughs, because Beatrice sounds like someone trying to convince herself that this is a problem. “It’ll be fine, Bea. I just thought you might be able to help. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I’ve never delivered kittens before, Ava.”

“Yeah, but you’re, you know!”

Beatrice’s brow knits together. “I really don’t.”

Taking a step towards her, Ava keeps her hands behind her back. “I don’t think we really need to do anything but the guy seemed kinda stressed - I think this cat is pretty important to him and you’re really good at making people feel comfortable.”

That’s an understatement, because there’s not another person on the planet that could have made Ava excited about coming to work with nuns every day after the way nuns treated her when she was at her most vulnerable.

Except Beatrice. Sister Beatrice with her soft eyes and her freckled face and that kind voice with the cute little accent.

Beatrice with her patience and understanding, who has yet to judge Ava despite so many indiscretions already. “Alright,” Beatrice nods once. “Show me.”

-------------------------------

“Milo, I think.” Ava says, so quiet that only the tiny little kittens in their box can hear it. “That’s a good name for you.”

Darcy delivered all six of her babies with relative ease and with Beatrice (and a plethora of passers by) all watching, Ava stayed on her phone and used it to help guide them all through the whole process.

Now, things have settled down and momma cat is resting and her babies are too - with Ava keeping watch to make sure things are okay.

The truth is that her shift here ended almost an hour ago, but she doesn’t want to leave yet.

Darcy’s owner has been sleeping - clearly exhausted from taking care of her and getting her out of the cold - so Ava promised to stand guard for a while.

Now she’s here, heart so full of joy and delight that she can barely contain it.

She wants to touch them, to hold the little ones in her arms and press her face into their little furs.

But she won’t, the websites told her not to do that this early. Still, she’s watching them,

“You’re still here?”

Ava looks up as Beatrice steps over to her. She has her hands in her pockets, her coat on - she must be on her way out. “Yeah,” Ava shrugs. “I don’t work tonight and I just…wanted to make sure everything was good over here.” She reaches over and brushes her hand along Darcy’s back - gentle and careful as she rests.

There’s an extended quiet as Ava feels Beatrice settle down onto her knees next to her. Ava glances over at her, offering a soft smile to her as she does.

Beatrice returns it and Ava can't help but admire how pretty it is. “I didn't know you were so fond of animals.”

“Oh yeah, I love them. I grew up watching basically every documentary about them I could find and I -” she hesitates, because this is a lot. Sharing things about her past comes with incredible restrictions. Only two people outside of herself know Ava’s whole story. “I used to want a kitten when I was younger. I’d dream about it, talk about it constantly. My roommate at the time probably got sick of me talking about it so much.”

“You can't have one now?”

Ava shakes her head. “My building doesn't allow them and I’m not home enough to really take care of it. It’s…maybe when I figure some stuff out and get a little more stability.” Ava can't help the bitter laugh that escapes her. “Plus I might just be shit at taking care of stuff.”

She looks over at Beatrice after the curse, half expecting to be scolded for it.

Instead, Bea gives her a curious look. “Why do you say that?”

“Been told as much, I spent most of my childhood being told I wasn't good for anything.”

Fuck, she really didn’t want to say that out loud - but her brain hasn’t really thought about her kitten quest (that’s what she and Diego called it) in so long.

Bringing it up, apparently, brings a lot of pain too.

“That’s…at St. Michaels?”

Ava’s eyes snap over to her. “How do you know about that?”

“You’ve mentioned it,” Beatrice says with a frown.

All of Ava’s sharpness fades. “Oh…well yeah - they went above and beyond to make me feel like a useless waste of space.” Okay, Ava knows she needs to reel it in now - she hasn’t spoken aloud about any of it in so long.

“That’s why you were so tentative of nuns, isn’t it?” Ava shrugs. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that, Ava.”

“Don’t be,” Ava is not a fan of sympathy or guilt laced apologies. “You didn’t treat me that way.” She looks over at Bea again, seeing her with a cute little curve in her brow - bordering on angry. It’s the first time she’s really seen such an emotion in her. “You’ve been nothing but good to me, even when I probably don’t deserve it.”

To Ava’s complete surprise, Beatrice actually slides further down onto the floor, taking up a seat against the wall beside her. She sits neatly, hands folded over one another in her lap - legs stretched out and still covered by her high socks despite the rise of her skirt.

She looks entirely too human like this, too real - it’s almost overwhelming. “Some of the Sisters I knew in my first convent in London were like that, very angry at the world - very spiteful. Harsh, for no reason other than their own misery.”

The last thing Ava expected was a peek inside the curtain of her life. She isn’t about to let this pass her by. “Pretty wild to think about for people who chose that life.”

“Not everyone chooses it,” Beatrice says, her lips pursed and her voice heavy - purpose behind her words. “Sometimes it can be a last resort, an escape.”

Ava stares at her, trying to read her. “Was it that for you?”

Beatrice glances at her, a small smile threatening. “I’d rather not talk about it.” She doesn’t say it with finality or frustration, just a fact.

It’s something Ava understands entirely. “Fair enough, I have those too - things I probably should tell someone but don’t.”

“I imagine most people do, in my time serving people, I’ve seen a lot and learned even more - most of all, I’ve come to the conclusion that surface level personalities are a necessity. If everyone showed their true selves all the time I don’t think anything would ever get accomplished.”

This is the most open and free Beatrice has ever spoken, in a fucking amazing way. Ava wants to extend this moment as long as she can. “Because we’d all just be neck deep in our trauma all the time?”

When Beatrice laughs, truly laughs, something snaps in Ava’s chest. “Something like that, yes.” They sit for a moment, just…looking at each other.

Then the coil snaps and Beatrice looks away and Ava swears she can see the moment she remembers who she is.

“I’d better go before the bus leaves without me.” She stands up far too gracefully for someone in as heavy an outfit as she’s wearing and Ava watches her the whole way.

“I’ll see you Thursday?” Ava asks, knowing the answer already.

Beatrice nods, “Eight sharp.”

“I would eight to be late.” She tries, because puns are running in her head every second of the goddamn day and nobody appreciates them.

It takes a second for it to process, making Bea tilt her head a bit like a puppy. Then she shakes her head. “Yes well, I would eight to have to punish you.”

Oh fuck

“I knew you were my favorite nun for a reason.”

It’s too much, she knows it, but she doesn’t care. Beatrice should know.

Still, it makes her draw back a little and nod, hands again in her pockets. “Have a good evening, Ava.”

“You too, Bea.” she says, then watches her leave - deciding not to overthink any of it.

Not right now.

----------------------

Mary: Fine, but let’s not go out

Mary: Swing by the place tonight at seven if you’re free. Shannon will make fish tacos.

Ava sees this message just as she’s stepping into her apartment, her whole body lighting up at the crack in the door just waiting for her to burst through.

She immediately sends back a delighted “OK!” accompanied by a plethora of emojis.

There’s plenty of time to kill between now and then so Ava relaxes and watches some television. Her options are a bit limited though. She had to give up about half of her subscriptions because she needs money.

That’s not even mentioning the late notice on her rent sitting in the pile of mail on her table.

It’ll be fine, she just has to have a good month or two at work to catch up. A $300 fine didn't seem like a lot at the time, but with how tight her budget is, she’s having a hard time catching up.

After a long, much needed shower at five, Ava is digging through her clothes to find something to wear. Her wardrobe has shifted a bit in the last few years. Things have gone from comfort and her ‘style’ to more bartender (revealing) and arm candy (revealing but fancy).

She can't help but wonder what she might buy if she were shopping just for herself and not for some kind of objective or goal. Something just to make her happy instead of something to get her money or attention.

It’s too big of a thought for right now, to realize that Ava has very little sense of self at the moment. Outside of her Bears jacket and the hat Diego gave her, she really doesn’t have any favorite articles of clothing.

Eventually, she settles for a long sleeve black top that dips a bit lower in the neck than what might be appropriate for a dinner with two people who are more like older sisters to her than anything else - but it’s the best choice she has.

Ava is touching up her makeup when she gets another text.

Chanel: AVA 911! BULLS GAME AT THE QUARTER HAS A HUGE CROWD! THAT BARTENDER IS HERE AND WANTS TO MEET YOU FOR THEIR JOB OPENING!!

Fuck, fuck fuck.

Ava only mentioned in passing that she was looking for another bar to work at, one that might pay a little better, and of course Chanel ran with it.

It’s a good job, The Quarter does almost double the business of her current spot and they get a lot of fancy ass clientele that love to tip well.

Her phone buzzes again.

Chanel: ALSO FREE SHOTS BITCH! HURRY UP!

She checks her watch, it’s only 5:40, she still has time to swing by the bar, meet the bartender who wants to put in a good word for her and still make it to Mary’s.

Taking a look at herself in the mirror, Ava is suddenly grateful for her low cut top because it’ll get her the attention she needs to show this guy she can bring eyes and people to the bar.

Ava taps out a quick response to Chanel as she makes her way out of her apartment.

Ava: alright i’m coming! i can't stay tho i’m having dinner with a friend

She goes, with every single intention of saying hello, talking to the bartender there and maybe having one drink with Chanel.

Every intention, and after the first drink, the bartender is busy, swamped in fact - because the bar is a fucking mess of people and tips and noise and the vibe is immaculate.

Ava would love to work here. The music is good, the lights and energy is palpable and shit there are so many attractive people everywhere she looks.

It’s perfect.

Until it isn’t.

Until bartender guy makes a pass at her, grabs her ass and Ava asks him to stop, asks him about the job and he tells her the variety of ways she can get it.

There’s a moment, a brief, devastating moment, where Ava considers it. She thinks, for just a half second, that one night with a guy who is clearly a disgusting pig could get her the kind of job that would give her so much extra money.

Then Chanel is there, having overheard, and Ava has to hold her back when she punches bartender guy in the face and they get kicked out and Ava’s heart is broken.

Because she has all the credentials to do this job. She could work there - thrive there - but nobody ever gives a shit about what she’s capable of.

They never care about how far she’s come or how hard she’s worked.

All you are is an accessory

Ava slips deep into a bad mood then, and everything falls away.

So she follows Chanel a few blocks down to another bar, one she’s never been to before and drinks two shots, then four and then Chanel sticks a pill on her tongue and everything turns foggy after that.

It all fades into thumping music and buzzing muscles and emptiness.

She feels hollow and free, until she blacks out entirely.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Ava groans, the first sensation she feels is a deep, sharp pressure behind her eyes. The most devastating headache imaginable.

She rolls over, her stomach twisting with rot and oh fuck…how much did she drink last night?

All of it is blurry, even as the world starts to fully refocus. When she opens her eyes, the blinding light from outside might as well be torture.

There is some solace in being in her own bed, and…well she’s alone so that’s another bonus.

The more she settles with this hangover though, the more she realizes it’s a lot more than just alcohol. Her mouth is dry and her hands are trembling as she tries to rub her eyes.

Ava’s had a lot of hangovers in her life but this one is different, her stomach is actually hurting. Not sick and gurgly, but genuine sharp pain.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Right, the door - Ava rolls over, fighting off the urge to vomit and clutches at her stomach. God, what the fuck did she do last night?

Her feet manage to carry her, only stumbling a bit when she bumps into the bedroom door frame.

When another round of knocks comes, Ava’s head feels like it’s being sliced open, “I’m coming!” She shouts and regrets it immediately.

Then she opens the door, and wishes she wouldn't have woken up at all.

Mary is there, eyes narrowed, arms crossed, looking every bit as upset as she should be.

“Fuck…Mary…”

Then Mary laughs, humorless and frustrated. “Well shit, Ava. Proved me right again!”

“No, wait, I’m sorry I-”

“You know what the worst part is?” Mary is staring a hole through her. Worst of all, Mary is looking at her like she doesn’t even recognize her. “The worst part is that Shannon and I both were worried that maybe something had happened to you. We were worried when you didn’t answer my fucking texts, didn’t answer Shannon’s fucking calls, didn’t come the fuck over like you said - we were worried that maybe something had happened.” Mary shakes her head. “Hell maybe a part of me hoped it had, just so you’d have had a good reason to disappoint us both again.”

A sob bursts out of Ava’s throat as Mary talks to her, yells at her, spills every truth at her feet. “I wanted to be there, I wanted…”

“You know what I want?” Mary snaps back and Ava flinches a bit as she steps inside. “I want the girl I used to wake up early to drive out to the city and hit up breakfast before we went to the gym together. I want the girl who would sit up late at night with Shannon when she couldn't sleep because you were twenty-one and up late anyway and didn’t want her to be alone. I want the girl who actually gave a shit about people and had a good heart and was worth my goddamn time!”

It’s all so familiar - hearing about how bad she is. How disappointing she is. How much the world would be better if she wasn't there.

Ava sinks into it, refusing to look at Mary again, hugging herself and begging her tears not to fall.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and nothing else. It’s all she has. She can't fix it - can't mend it back together. She broke it, she broke the best relationship she ever had.

Mary is quiet for a while, long enough that Ava looks up to make sure she’s still there.

When their eyes meet, Mary looks to the door. “Don’t…don’t contact me again. I don’t want you over for dinner. I don’t want to chat and catch up, I don’t even give a fuck if you end up in jail - I’m done, Ava. We’re done being hurt by you.”

Ava nods once. “I won’t.”

With that, Mary moves to the door again, making her way out. Just before she closes it behind her, she looks back at Ava. “You keep living like this, you’re going to end up dead.” She sounds sad, almost defeated - like she sees the ending coming already. “And after everything you’ve been through, Ava - that’d be a pretty big fucking waste.”

She slams the door behind her and Ava exhales, her throat on fire as quiet tears roll down her cheeks. She walks over to the door, presses her hands against it and debates running out into the hall and begging Mary to stay.

To help her.

To fix her.

Because she doesn’t know how to stop messing up.

Instead, she locks her door. Then slides down on the floor and curls up into a ball.

Maybe Frances was right all along, maybe she is the problem.

Chapter Text

Beatrice watches with a smile as Cosmo bounds across the yard towards the ball she’s tossed for him.

Mornings like this are rejuvenating. The sun is out (though it is still dreadfully cold) and Cosmo is playful - it’s the perfect way to start a day.

For the first time in almost a week, Beatrice had a very good night of sleep. A combination of meditative prayer and training so hard in the evening that her legs felt like jelly, Beatrice was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

It’s given her the kind of energy she needs for another day at the shelter with Ava.

There is a guilt that comes with feeling the need to prepare to be around Ava. Not even for herself, but for her - for the fact that Ava hasn’t asked for any of this.

Ava has no idea the turmoil and suffering she’s put Beatrice through since they’ve started working together by simply being herself. It’s not surprising that Ava has tried to build a connection between them, Beatrice learned very quickly that wanting connections was a part of Ava’s personality.

She likes people, she likes laughing and enjoying each day - she likes to share those joys with others. They are all endearing qualities, the kind of qualities that are worth admiring.

The problem is that Beatrice is broken and can't find a way to admire those things about Ava without twisting them into something wrong.

At this point, Beatrice has accepted that she is attracted to Ava - it’s counterproductive to pretend otherwise and keep making excuses.

No, Beatrice knows she has to accept it, so she can begin to move past it.

Ava Silva is a test, another test that God has put in front of her and she will overcome it just as she has everything else.

She will continue with her place here, continue to serve others and continue to be with her sisters.

A few months will pass and Ava will move on and most likely forget all about her.

That’s the thought that twists in her stomach the most. The idea of Ava moving on.

Beatrice catches herself thinking about Ava a few years from now. Waking up one morning in someone’s arms, Chanel perhaps, and starting her day with a smile.

How many days will pass before Ava never again thinks of her time at the Salvius Shelter? How many days before Beatrice is no longer a name she remembers, but instead just ‘a nun she worked with once before’.

Because that is the inevitable end of all of this - it has to be.

Ava is far too vibrant and full of emotion to not fill her life up with memories that will far surpass and easily replace these few months they’ll spend together.

If Beatrice is being honest, that’s what she wants. She wants Ava to have that kind of fulfilling life.

Ava, Ava, Ava.

It isn’t lost on Beatrice how much she thinks about her - how dangerous that is.

As Cosmo comes back with his ball, a bit of snow on his nose from digging it out of a pile, Beatrice sees Camila coming towards her with a pair of plates in her hand. “Good morning, Camila.”

“Morning Beatrice!” Camila holds one out to her, a small stack of cookies on top. “Oatmeal and chocolate chips, fresh from the city courtesy of Sister Taylor.”

More often than not, Beatrice is fast to turn down sweets. She isn’t entirely sure why - they just aren’t in her usual daily meal plan.

Today though, she feels an urge to indulge - to get her indulgences where she can. “Thank you,” she takes the plate and sets it in her lap. “I would love to know where Sister Taylor finds all of these things. I swear the woman comes back with a new box of goodies every single day.”

Camila laughs as she sits down next to Beatrice, plucking a cookie off her plate and breaking a piece off. “She’s well connected in the sweets game, or so she says. Apparently there’s a cheesecake in town somewhere that has a ten week waitlist. She’s been promised one I’ve heard and it’s the talk of the kitchen.”

Beatrice nibbles on the cookie, quite surprised at how gooey the chocolate inside is. “How have you been, Camila? I feel like I’ve not spoken to you as much recently.”

At the question, Camila lights up. “I’m doing great! You probably haven’t seen me because I’ve been so busy,” she lets out a long sigh as if to emphasize this point. “I’ve been studying a lot - I’m going to start teaching at St. Agnes when the new term starts next month.”

“Oh, that’s lovely. I know you’ve been interested in getting back into teaching.”

Teaching was what Camila had been studying for before she came to Cat’s Cradle. Beatrice has never really divulged into Camila’s life before taking her vows - it’s a bit of an unspoken rule. You listen if someone tells you, but you don’t really ask.

It’s one of the comforting aspects of the church for Beatrice. They wipe your slate clean, allow you to begin anew.

Still, Camila has always been a fairly open book. “I’ve missed it. It’s been tough, I’m trying to stretch out the curriculum a little - it’s a bit…dated.” Beatrice smiles, she thinks of Ava then and the colorful words she might use in that situation.

“I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully, your personality alone will keep them engaged.”

The beaming smile Camila gives her is a good reminder that not everything in this place is so bleak.

That truthfully, Beatrice’s thoughts on Cat’s Cradle have been deeply clouded as of late by her own struggles. There is joy here, comfort and peace - a place full of women who want to be here, enjoy being here.

She is one of them, she has felt that way for some time. Her recent melancholy is merely painting it in a bad light.

When these feelings she has do finally pass, and they will, everything will be as it was.

In fact, the thought alone boosts her mood.

“What about you?” Camila asks, peeking up over the last bite of her cookie. “How’s the shelter? Dora told me you have some new girl there.”

Beatrice does appreciate God’s sense of humor - in throwing her obstacles at her head first just as she reaches a point of believing she’s moved past it. “It’s been good, with winter truly settling in we’re working a lot harder - but Ava has been nothing but helpful.”

“Ava huh? What’s she like? Is she all covered in tattoos and dressed in leather?”

All Beatrice can see is an oversized DuckTales shirt and Ava asleep in a closet. “She is nothing like that, you’ve seen too many movies.”

“Fair enough, it wasn't meant to be judgemental - leather and tattoos are cool!”

Now Beatrice finds herself picturing Ava in a leather jacket, nothing as large and puffy as her Chicago Bears coat, but something snug and rough - with the collar raised and that smirk of hers on her face.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

She clenches her fists in her lap and sighs. “Ava’s just another person who is trying her best. She’s kind and outgoing - a bit too outgoing at times perhaps, but she has a good heart.”

The negativity continues to swim in her head but goes unspoken. It’s like it’s trying to cry out and make it’s presence known - that all these thoughtful words she’s saying about Ava shouldn't exist.

Yet, the more she talks about Ava aloud, the quieter those voices are.

Beatrice thinks the world should know how good Ava is.

She thinks Ava needs to hear it more than anyone.

“I’m glad you didn’t get a stinker then - I know how important your work at the shelter is to you.”

Beatrice nods, it is important, but perhaps not as much as others might think.

It probably just looks that way because it is the best way for her to escape from herself and serve.

She is passionate about it in the sense that she needs it.

When Cosmo comes back, ball in his mouth and rests his head on her knee, Beatrice scratches the top of his head.

He reminds her of Ava, she thinks, as so many things do now - it’s quite annoying but has also added a bit of variety to her life. To think of Ava when she sees something on the television for a restaurant or a preview for a movie, Beatrice would wonder if Ava ate there or saw it.

She knows it’s bad, she knows it’s too consuming and that she’s making something so great out of nothing - but Ava has built a home in Beatrice’s psyche.

Even now, her oldest friend Cosmo with his big brown eyes, makes her think of Ava.

Ava would like Cosmo, Beatrice thinks, remembering how sweet she was with the kittens.

Beatrice thinks of Ava in that moment, this girl who the world doesn’t seem to go particularly easy on, still trying her hardest.

All she wants, beyond her own sins and torturous thoughts, is for Ava to be happy.

Long after Beatrice is no longer a part of it, she wants Ava to have as many small joys in her life as possible.

“Camila?” Beatrice calls out, slipping them out of the comfortable silence they’d fallen into. “Do you think I could have another cookie?”

Camila’s eyes light up. “Wait really? You want another?” Beatrice nods. “Sure! Of course, Sister Taylor always buys too many - take two!” She picks up a few off of her overflowing plate and sets them on Beatrice.

She doesn't eat them though, instead she takes them to the kitchen and wraps them up neatly in saran wrap to take with her.

---------------------------

Preparation and practice are two very different things.

For Beatrice, she spends the majority of her life preparing. She likes to know what she’s getting into in every situation. She needs structure and consistency - she needs direction and guidance.

That’s what she’s been since she was very little. Even before she shattered her parent’s dreams for her, Beatrice walked along very thin lines of how to express herself.

Not one choice Beatrice made in her life went without thought and preparation.

So when the idea to bring Ava a cookie came to her, she tried to be spontaneous and go with it.

Now, she’s pulling up to the shelter with a cookie in her coat pocket and having severe doubts.

Because this is not how to get over her. This is not how to push past all of this.

She wants to accept her feelings for Ava not so she can act on them, so she can process them and will them away.

Beatrice is already well aware of how much repentance and prayer she’ll need to make up for the vile turns her brain has been taking the last few days. She can handle that.

This though, wanting to give Ava something to make her smile - it’s not right. It’s not healing.

It’s selfish.

So Beatrice keeps the cookies tucked in her coat pocket as she steps into the shelter, and that’s where they’ll stay.

Early mornings here are always quiet - she quite enjoys the shelter at this hour. There are still people here, some who have stayed overnight and others who have made their way in early.

It’s never failed to amazing Beatrice how many of them are just…happy. How many of them smile at her and chat with her - with each other.

Their lives are hard and they have so little to call their own. Yet, so many of them find a way to be joyous and to live their lives regardless.

Beatrice often believes she feeds off their positivity in ways that keep her going.

About halfway through the main floor, Beatrice hears footsteps moving a bit fast to catch up to her.

She tenses for a moment, instinct from her aikido training and an understanding that not everything is always kind in the city.

“Sister Beatrice?” She recognizes the voice instantly, Michael.

“Mr. Salvius,” she says with a smile, turning to greet him.

His face is a little red from chasing after her. “I’ve told you to call me Michael.”

She nods once. “Yes I remember.” He laughs at her blatant disregard. He runs the shelter, in a way he is her boss, and Beatrice knows her place. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m…not sure,” he sounds a bit unlike himself. A bit uncertain, which is rare for him and one of his better qualities. Usually Michael is in control and assertive, but always kind.

Now though, he seems nervous. “You’re not sure?”

This makes him laugh. “I suppose I’m not sure if it is appropriate for me to ask you. I just…you’ve worked with the new girl, right? Ava?”

Oh, this is about Ava.

Everything, as it seems, is about Ava now.

“I do, twice a week - including today.”

“Right, today…she should be here in a couple of hours then?” Beatrice nods. “Okay, right,” Michael rubs his hands together - though it’s not cold inside. “”Do you um…please forgive me if this is inappropriate to ask a woman of the cloth, do you happen to know if she’s seeing someone?”

This is exactly where Beatrice assumed this conversation was heading and if she’s being honest, she can't blame Michael for being curious.

Ava is electric, like racing out the front door to watch a lightning storm in the sky as it draws closer and closer. You know in your heart that it’s dangerous, but you’re drawn in anyway.

“I cannot say for certain,” she really can't. Her own assumptions about Chanel tell her that Ava has someone, someone who speaks to her in such a way that one would only feel comfortable with someone as close as a lover. Yet, Beatrice is also firmly aware of how stunted she is in that department. “I’m afraid relationship chatter is not one of my specialties.” She says, then sees Michael smile and it relaxes her. “Ava does not seem the type to want to listen about my relationship with God.”

That makes Michael laugh. “Fair enough, I suppose I’ll just need to ask her myself then - take the risk. Ever since I saw her last week I can't seem to stop thinking about her.”

The irony of it all is so thick that Beatrice has to bite the inside of her cheek not to burst out laughing. “While I can't say what she’ll tell you, I can promise you’ll find her very approachable.”

“Yeah?”

Beatrice nods, thinking to herself that Michael is a good man. She’s only known him as a good man and if by some chance Ava ended up with him, she would be treated well.

She can live with that. She has no other choice. “Yes, absolutely.”

They part ways after that. Michael going back upstairs to his office and Beatrice moving to the kitchen to prepare for the day.

By the time ten o’clock rolls around, Beatrice is laying big, flat noodles out for one of at least seven lasagnas that are planned for cooking today.

It’s the kind of task Beatrice is good at getting lost in. Repetitive, precise, and with the music playing overhead - she lets herself find the joy in it.

When the kitchen door opens, Beatrice’s eyes shift up in anticipation of seeing Ava again. As has been in her mind for the last few days, she’s done pretending she doesn’t enjoy her.

She knows there will be guilt and doubt and fear - she’s dealt with it her whole life.

But Ava doesn't deserve to have that projected on her.

Ava comes in looking mostly like herself. No hat today but still in her big Bears jacket. Her hair is tied back in a messy ponytail and Beatrice is kind of surprised to see that she has jogging pants on instead of jeans.

She couldn't care less if Ava decides to wear something for comfort over style, but she does know that Ava has always worn jeans here.

Still, when their eyes meet, Ava smiles at her. “Morning, Bea.” She says and Beatrice, weak as she is, lets herself be pulled in.

“Good morning, Ava. Right on time.”

Ava smiles softly, taking off her coat and revealing a white button down fully opened with a blue t-shirt on underneath. “No chance of me missing today, I’ve been awake since four.”

“Oh?” Beatrice moves around the counter to the sink, turning on the faucet with her elbow to wash her hands. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Ava steps over to her, brushing a hand against her shoulder to move past her towards the five or so filled up casserole dishes filled with noodles. “Lasagna?”

Beatrice nods, “We had to start early because they’ll need plenty of time to cook. You can fill in the last two if you wish.”

“I don’t know, Bea. Your noodles are so…straight and perfect. Not sure people will be too pleased to get the good noodles and then be stuck with some of my shitty, crooked ones.”

As she dries her hands, Beatrice lets herself laugh - let herself enjoy it. “I don’t think they’ll mind much. Not with Beth and Valerie’s cooking.”

“Fair point,” Ava moves to the sink where Bea was and starts washing her own hands.

Instead of doing what she should and setting to the next task on her list of thawing out the frozen breadsticks, Beatrice instead finds herself just…watching Ava.

She looks at her much in the way an artist might study their own work. Checking over every detail with a professional, curious eye.

Ava’s sleeves are rolled up, her forearm muscles flexing as she washes her hands. Beatrice feels the air in her lungs diminish a bit and changes her sightline.

It moves upward, to her face, where Ava is staring down at the running water, eyes soft and hooded - she looks very tired, Beatrice thinks.

More often than not Ava looks tired. She doesn’t have a full grasp of Ava’s life outside of this place. She knows Ava’s a bartender and that she has a friend (partner?) named Chanel who apparently comes over as she pleases.

She knows Ava drinks and has fun. She knows Ava is full of life and joy.

She also knows Ava looks like she might have spent a part of her morning crying.

“Okay,” Ava waves her hands at the sink, splashing the droplets of water off of them. “How many layers are we talking?”

“Five,” Beatrice answers, keeping her eyes on Ava as she moves around and starts to pull the noodles out of the bowl of water they’d cooked in earlier.

“Ooh damn, you’ve got Janelle Monáe playing in here?” Ava shoots her the widest grin of the morning. “This really is the coolest shelter in the city.”

Beatrice furrows her brow, trying to make sense of half of what Ava said. “Janelle…who?”

Ava rolls her eyes, but not in a way that makes Beatrice feel stupid. “The song,” she points to the sky, as if God has his FM radio on. “She’s the one singing, a lot of good music passes through here - I know you like some of it.” Ava winks at her, a most devastating act as Beatrice has ever seen.

She looks away, she has to, Ava is still just watching and smiling at her. “I - I do enjoy a few of them, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about music.”

There’s no immediate response to that, so Beatrice hazards a look back up at Ava and finds her placing noodles down again. She thinks for a moment that Ava might just move past it all, but then she glances up at Beatrice with a curious expression. “You have a phone, right?”

“I do.”

“Does it have Spotify on it?”

“I…I don’t think so.”

Ava nods, almost to herself, “can nuns have Spotify?”

It’s not a question Beatrice has ever thought to ask. “I’m not sure, I know Camila has something called TrickTok.”

The little snort Ava lets out is adorable, and also a little insulting. “TikTok?” She asks and Beatrice gets it.

She glares. “Yes that.”

Ava smiles again. “Okay, then I bet we could get you Spotify.” Ava finishes lying the last of her noodles down on the penultimate dish before sliding it over and grabbing the final one. “I’ll be honest, I’m kind of surprised nuns have phones.”

“It’s 2023, Ava. We did have to adapt to the modern age at some point.”

“I suppose the message didn’t make it to St. Michaels. The TV I had there came straight out of 1985 I swear. Big dials and everything.” It bothers Beatrice how badly she wants to know about Ava’s past - about Ava in general.

It’s not entirely uncommon for sisters to make friends with people in their day to day lives. Beatrice has never really done it, she’s friendly with people, but never in the sense of opening up to them.

Still, with Ava, there’s such an unstoppable draw - it’s terrifying. “That sounds very much like the television we had at my first convent in London.”

“The one with the stuffy old bints, right?”

Beatrice laughs, she can't stop herself. “I would never say that, but I will not deny you the right to.”

“Pretty sure you agreeing with me counts as you saying it.”

She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “I have cared for all of my sisters equally and with respect.”

“Uh huh, well that doesn’t mean they weren’t old bints, now - here’s my next question. Would you be willing to let me make you a playlist?”

It is an unexpected request, one Beatrice knows from a few movies she’s seen.

In all of those situations, when a mixtape or a playlist was made for someone else, it was always romantic. “Why?”

Ava shrugs, as if it’s not an overwhelmingly huge request. As if Beatrice isn’t frantically losing her mind over it.

“I know a lot of good music and I think you might enjoy some of it. I could set it up, send it to you and even put Spotify on your phone if you don’t have it.”

This is another point of contact where Beatrice knows she needs to cut ties. She needs to put her foot down and call this out as inappropriate and move on. She needs to tell Ava that she is overstepping. That she’s out of line.

She needs to tell Ava to stop trying to be so kind to her because she isn’t worth it.

Because she’s tainted every act of kindness Ava has offered to her by thinking of her smile, of her touch. By dreaming of her without permission.

She needs to sink to her knees and pray to God to rid her of this sin.

Those are all the things she needs to do.

Yet, when Ava looks at her, like she really needs this to be a win to help her through her own day, Beatrice wilts instantly. “A - alright,” she digs her phone out of her habit and hands it over to her.

Ava grins and takes it gently, as if she’s holding on to some sort of artifact. “Oh, no passcode? Look at you living on the edge.”

“I’ve nothing of any real value on there.” There really wasn't. Her photos were limited, her apps were all functional and a part of her day.

The one game on there came with the phone and she never played it.

“Aw, no Jesus nudes then?”

Beatrice sputters. “Wh - what is…why would I have that?”

Ava cackles, throwing her head back with delight. “I’m just saying! Dude’s always buff and topless in the depictions of him I’ve seen - oh my god who is this?!” Ava’s voice changes about four octaves as she speaks.

Then Beatrice sees her face soften and her bottom lip stick out and it melts her heart a little more.

She turns the phone and points it back at Beatrice. “That’s Cosmo, he’s our dog at Cat’s Cradle.”

“He’s so cute! Oh my gosh I want to meet him!” Ava’s voice was sickly sweet and over the top - it makes Beatrice smile. “Also a dog in Cat’s Cradle? There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere.” Ava grins cheekily but Beatrice must give her a look without really thinking because she winces and laughs nervously. “Right, sorry - I forget you’re a nun sometimes.”

Beatrice really wishes she wouldn't.

Refocusing on her work, Beatrice chooses to not pay close attention to whatever it is that Ava is doing on her phone.

There’s really not much left for her to do, the breadsticks are all out and de-thawing, the noodles have been laid. She can smell the sauce cooking in the other room where the stoves are.

That just leaves her standing and waiting - watching Ava tap on her phone with her tongue poking out a bit.

It feels so wrong to think it, but Ava is almost a beacon of sin. There are things about her, angles and curves - a body that represents the deepest temptations they are warned about in the passages she’s read.

Yet, it’s so impossible to not think of Ava that way because she has such an outgoing nature - because she is so kind.

Beatrice has tried to think back to her life before Ava showed up, it was good, wasn't it?

She was happy. She woke up and had her routines, her purposes. She loved her work, she enjoyed her sisters and her home.

Everything felt within reason, logical and precise.

So what happened? How did one person so greatly impact her - change her.

How did one single person alter the foundation of her sanity?

Because that’s what Ava does, she finds a way in. When she taps something on the screen and giggles - an inside joke with herself that Beatrice will probably find out about later and not understand, she digs her claws in a little deeper.

“Oh hey,” Ava speaks up suddenly, making Beatrice snap her gaze up to her eyes - not even sure where she was looking before. “I put my number in your phone if you ever wanna talk or…have a question about any of the songs here.”

She needs to put her foot down. She needs to stop this - it’s too much, too personal. “Ava,”

“Okay!, it’s done, I’m fast as hell when it comes to making playlists and I’m sorry if it’s a little long but I wanted to give you options. I also stayed away from anything too offensive! Since, you know…nun, but there’s some thought provoking songs in there too. You seem a little more edgy than most nuns.”

Beatrice takes her phone back, head spinning as the last words play in her mind. She can't stop herself from laughing. “Edgy? Me?”

“Sure! You didn't scold me when I showed up hungover and passed out in the maintenance closet.”

Shaking her head, Beatrice tucks her phone in her pocket. “Yes, well…you did show up and you did put in the work after your nap.”

The way Ava smiles at her answers every question Beatrice has about why she’s so quick to fall under Ava’s devilish spell.

-----------------------------

Everything was as fine as it could possibly be through most of the shift.

When the lasagna was ready she and Ava served it up to waiting people who flocked and were overjoyed for a warm meal on what was fast becoming the coldest day of the year.

At one point, Ava sat down with a little one and helped her cut her food (her mother was not feeling well and had fallen asleep) and Ava stayed with her the entire time she ate.

It was endearing and charming and cracked at the walls Beatrice had around her heart at the idea that Ava was something to be ashamed of.

Then when things started to die down, something shifted.

Ava’s mood dropped significantly.

Beatrice wasn't sure what happened, but she disappeared outside for about five minutes and then came back sniffling and wiping at her eyes.

A normal person would have walked over and asked if she was okay. A normal person, with feelings for someone they considered a friend if nothing else, would have put an arm on their shoulder and consoled them.

Beatrice just sat and watched her walk by, watched her shuffle out of the room and into the bathroom.

When she emerged a few minutes later, her eyes were red but the smile was back - her facade was hard to notice, but Beatrice could tell she was hurting.

It’s almost one now, when Beatrice finally comes in contact with Ava again, the pair of them standing over the sink at a very daunting stack of dirty plates.

“You wash, I'll dry?” Ava asks, pulling up the sleeves of her button down.

Beatrice nods. “Alright,” she does the same, grabbing a stack of towels to dry and setting them on the counter.

For a few minutes they work in a silent routine. Ava rinses the plates, pours soap on them and washes them.

It takes every bit of strength Beatrice has to not gawk at her arm muscles as they work - to not admire the strength of her fingers and the way her neck is exposed when she tilts her head to the side.

Her strength fails her when their fingers touch on the passing of a plate and she nearly drops it on the floor.

“Easy, Sister.” Ava says with a gentle smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes.

It’s that effort, that ability to shine even when she’s clearly not okay, that reminds Beatrice of why she enjoys being a nun.

To serve, to be the faith people need when they don’t know how to find it. “Are you alright?” She asks, glad nobody else is around - they can hear the music from Beth and Valerie in the back room. Relaxing between lunch and the dinner meal prep that is coming.

Ava doesn't look at her, instead focusing on the plate in her hand. “Hard few days is all,” she says with a soft voice.

Beatrice doesn’t know if she should press, but they're here together and will be for a while based on the still remaining stack of plates. “I’m a good listener.” She offers, not sure what else to say.

She is a good listener - she’s been told that countless times.

“I’m not sure where to start or…what you might not want to hear.”

“I’ve heard a lot from many, Ava. I know my position seems innocent but the world is not - and I spend a lot of time in it.”

That gets Ava’s attention, gets her dark eyes to look over and pause. “I guess I just…” she sighs, and dunks her hands in the sink full of water to scrub. “I have these friends, or…I had these friends, Mary and Shannon. Calling them friends is an undersell, they saved my life.”

She passes a plate to Beatrice who starts to dry it. “Had?”

Ava nods. “I fucked it up. I…I was really lost when they found me. Innocent and stupid - I thought I needed to experience the whole world immediately and fell in with some bad people. Mary found me one day and we kind of connected and she just…kept showing up. Kept looking after me. Eventually I got an offer to do something really dumb and travel the country with some rich asshole who would like…pay girls to hang out with him - probably more than that if they were willing. I had no idea, I just wanted to see new places and stuff, you know?”

Beatrice does not know, not really, but she thinks that doesn’t matter. “And Mary stopped you?”

“Kicked my ass more like,” Ava says with the fondest of smiles. “She literally tugged me away by my ear and dragged me into her car. She drove me to her place and she and Shannon offered me a room and said they’d help me find a job. I - I didn’t get it. They didn’t owe me anything, they hardly knew me.” Ava’s voice cracks with each word. “They did it anyway - took me in and…a year later I had a good job, was making money and even started looking for my own place.”

The stories people live have always fascinated Beatrice. Her life is very narrow, small bursts of the same thing over and over again - the occasional shake up, but mostly she knows what she’s getting.

It’s comfortable and safe, mundane at times, but growing up in a home where unpredictability was terrifying, she appreciates the lack of it.

“Did something happen with them?”

Ava nods, seemingly forgetting her dishwashing assignment for the time being.

Beatrice lets it slide. “I met a boy,” Ava says. I was young and he was nice and cute and I fell hard for him.” She swallows thickly. “I thought the world revolved around him. I started spending so much time with him. I just assumed that’s what you do as someone’s significant other- you give them all of it. You treat them like your number one.” Ava’s voice grows frustrated. “I did that, the problem was that I didn’t know the difference between number one and only one. I forgot about everything else. I started ignoring Mary and Shannon’s calls. I stopped going by to see them. I was traveling the country with JC - on his arm, at his side, supporting him and just…completely lost myself.”

Then suddenly Ava sobs, a jerky, sharp sound that has her wiping at her eyes with the back of her wrist.

Beatrice takes a step towards her without thinking and puts a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright,”

“It’s not,” she shakes her head. “I just keep…fucking up. JC cheated on me, that’s the whole reason I’m here. He cheated on me and I drove his car off a bridge and I lost him. I just lost Mary again because I'm such a disaster and I just…” this time when she laughs, it’s bitter and angry. “I used to always wonder why nobody ever stuck around, lately I'm figuring it out it's because I'm a piece of shit.”

“You’re not,” Beatrice says, her voice more forceful than she intends. “Ava, you’re a good person.”

This time, Beatrice wilts a bit under the look Ava gives her. “No offense, but…you don’t really know me.”

“I don’t, but I know what I see.” She takes her hand off Ava, because she wants to help, but she also needs to maintain her sanity. “I see you in here every day being good to people, strangers. I see you trying, despite the fact that I know you would rather be somewhere else.”

Ava shakes her head. “I don’t,” she says. “Not…not really. I like coming here.”

Beatrice smiles. “That’s kind of you to say, but even still, you do good work - you have heart and I know…” the cracks are expanding. The hold she has on her heart is loosening. “I know what it’s like to feel like the world is up against you.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “I do, it’s…hard and unforgiving at times. Even faith is hard to cling to when you feel like you’re drowning.” The way Ava looks at her, the connection between them, it’s too much. So Beatrice dips into scripture to put a small barrier back. “I know that I still have a long way to go. But there is one thing I do: I forget what is in the past and try as hard as I can to reach the goal before me.”

It’s risky to quote a verse with Ava, she knows that - but the words can ring true even for someone who may not ask for them. “Is that the bible?”

“Yes, I know you probably don’t want advice from it, but take it from someone who has used those words to find a little extra strength to get through a struggle - they can help.”

Ava doesn’t sour on her, doesn’t push away and judge.

No, she looks at Beatrice, watches her, then grabs another plate and starts cleaning. “Thanks for listening,” she says, sounding a bit distant - but in a thoughtful way. “Beats going to confession.”

“I can agree on that, those booths are not comfortable.”

Ava grins. “Music isn’t as good either.” She says, a peppy beat playing in the distance. “You’ll let me know about the playlist, right?”

“I will,” she means it. She’ll listen and try - she’ll indulge Ava as she has every day since their first meeting.

“Michael asked me out.” Ava says then, out of nowhere. “Or Mr. Salvius? I don’t know, he asked me to call him Michael.”

Beatrice tries not to let her interest in the subject shine too brightly. “Oh?”

“Yeah, he’s cute I guess, in a stumbly and pale kind of way. I said yes cause why not? Free meal at least and he was sweet about it.”

“What about Chanel?” Beatrice spills out because her brain to mouth functionality fails her entirely around Ava.

That’s when Ava snorts out a laugh. “No, Chanel and I…wait…did you think we were dating?”

It’s Beatrice’s turn to blush a deep, deep red. She can feel the heat on her cheeks. “I didn’t know, I just assumed with…her being in your apartment. I apologize.”

“No, you’re fine I just…I’ve never really thought of Chanel that way I suppose.”

Of course she hasn’t, Beatrice thinks. She’s not a twisted and disgusting mess like you.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Ava isn’t like her. “I’m sorry,” Beatrice says before refocusing on her task.

“No worries, you’re not entirely wrong to think it - Chanel is gorgeous.” Ava steps closer to her. “Hey? Are you okay?”

No, she isn’t, but she never has been. “Just tired is all, I haven't been sleeping well.”

“Try the playlist when you go to bed, turn the volume down and see if that helps. If it does, I can make you another one.”

Beatrice wants to cry. She wants to fall to her knees and weep because Ava is so much. She’s doing irreparable damage to Beatrice in so many ways she doesn't even know and Beatrice just keeps letting her do it.

“I’ll try,” she says, and she will - because she’s weak.

------------------------------

Nights have become dreadful for Beatrice.

With nothing to occupy her mind, no distractions or tasks at hand, all she is left with is her thoughts.

Her increasingly frantic and betraying thoughts.

She lays in her bed, hands folded over her phone, soft music playing in the headphones she borrowed from the library.

The playlist Ava made for her is sixty-three songs long, she’s heard of a handful of the artists and songs on it, but most are new to her.

She listens, eyes closed and ears open - the music and lyrics easing through her.

For a moment, she lets herself escape in them. She pretends she’s in an apartment in the city - lying in her bed after a long day at work or university. Trying to decompress before her friends come over to spend time with her tomorrow.

It’s all new, all of these thoughts and wonders. If not new, they're finally uncontrollable.

Beatrice knows she couldn't have that - she couldn't handle it. That freedom Ava lives with, that carefree life - it’s not hers.

So this is what she has, this connection to Ava through music that makes her feel a little less alone in the darkness of her empty room.

A song comes on called Hold The Girl and Beatrice listens to it three times.

It hits her deep in her soul - as if the songwriter knew her, met her, and put on paper everything in her heart with prettied words.

These songs, so many of them are reflections of Ava - but some feel like they speak to her. Beatrice has no idea Ava knew that or if this is something they both share - loneliness. A lack of acceptance for the person they are, the person they used to be.

Five songs later, one stands out and makes her feel good inside - warm. It doesn’t resonate with her as much as it’s just a good song.

She remembers as it finishes, that Ava put her number in her phone.

There aren’t many numbers in her phone to begin with, so seeing Ava’s at the top of her contacts list shouldn't be surprising.

Still, it’s there - she’s there and Beatrice finds comfort in that.

Beatrice: Hexie Mountains is delightful.

Her finger hovers over the send button for almost a minute before she does. She hears the sound of the message being sent and turns off her screen.

In the darkness, the next song starts and Beatrice closes her eyes - long since believing she’s going to magically drift to sleep.

When her phone buzzes against her ribcage, she startles.

Flicking on the screen, there is a message for her.

Ava: I know right! I love that one!

It buzzes again.

Ava: I’m glad you’re enjoying the playlist!

Another.

Ava: kinda surprised u r up so late tho lol

It’s Ava, talking to her and being all of herself as she always is.

Beatrice should put her phone away and go to sleep. She has to be up early tomorrow as always for prayer and work and everything.

Her schedule is the way it is for a reason.

Yet, knowing Ava is here, on her phone - talking to her, it holds her attention completely.

Beatrice: I was surprised to find Britney Spears on here.

The response comes so fast.

Ava: STRONGER IS AMAZING!

This goes on for a bit, Beatrice mentioning a song and Ava giving her opinion. When Ava asks for hers, she tries - but Beatrice knows so little about modern music.

Then, when she feels the conversation fading - when she should absolutely call it off and go to bed, she can't.

Beatrice: Are you working this evening?

It takes a bit for the response to come, so much so that Beatrice worries she overstepped, or worse, Ava got bored with her and moved on.

Then it comes, but no words are attached to the message - just a photo.

It’s Ava, standing in front of a massive bar with neon lights and a glow coming up from beneath her that lights up every feature on her face.

She’s wearing a black tank top that dips low enough to make Beatrice’s knees press together. Her dark eyes are somehow brighter with the smokey makeup around them and her pink lips shine like the setting sun off an ocean.

Ava’s the most beautiful girl Beatrice has ever seen.

That’s when she stops texting back. That’s when she turns off her phone entirely and sets it aside.

She has to, she can already feel the parts of her body reacting that absolutely cannot.

Her legs press together as she rolls onto her side and hugs her pillow - tears spilling down her cheeks.

She thinks of Ava, her hands, her body and her lips all over her. It’s maddening and relentless.

It’s all falling apart. Every part of her she’s kept buried is threatening to consume her - it already has.

Ava is ruining her.

Chapter Text

“I think I have a crush on a nun.”

Chanel stops mid-sip at Ava’s late night confession. It’s been mostly relaxed, just the two of them. Ava wasn't in the mood to go out and honestly couldn't afford to anyway - and Chanel was fine with staying in so long as they had booze.

So that’s how their night has been. Staying in, watching movies (Mean Girls still slaps) and vodka and vanilla coke all night.

“You…I’m sorry, the hot nun you brought over?” Ava nods, seeing Chanel’s cheshire grin double in size. “Was that why you brought her over? Were you gonna fuck her?”

Ava scoffs. “No! She’s a nun! She doesn’t…no…not her.”

“But you want to?”

She does, of course she does - but it’s more than that. Beatrice is more than that. “It doesn’t matter. She’s technically married.”

The snort Chanel lets out is too loud, they're both teetering on drunk. “Yeah, to God.”

“Well it’s true! She has a fucking ring and everything.” Ava pouts. “Nicer than any ring I could get her.”

Chanel tips up her cup. “Cheers to that, you’re broke as fuck right now.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault they're cutting my hours at the bar.”

Ava watches Chanel stand up, moving around the couch and tripping over the one barstool at her counter that is half broken, and sees her pouring herself another drink. “We need to get you a new job - I know you love Hans but that place is a shithole and nobody goes there anymore.”

It’s true, it’s been faltering for a few months now. There’s just not enough uniqueness to it. The spot is older, a bit tucked away and new bars are opening up in the city constantly.

That’s why they’ve cut her hours, they just can't afford to pay her full time.

Which means Ava can't really afford anything at the moment.

She’s been lost in that thought for a while now. Hasn’t told anyone the whole truth of it - that she’s two weeks late on rent, three weeks late on her phone bill and last night she ate canned tuna and broken up taco shells for dinner.

Everything is slipping through her fingers. This life she worked so hard for didn’t just bloom into something magical because she wished for it.

It turns out, stepping out into the world with no real clue how to live in it leads to making some pretty bad fucking decisions.

In a few days she’s going to run out of money.

A few weeks after that she’ll get kicked out of her apartment.

Then her job will let her go when the bar shuts down or changes to a cafe or a restaurant or a fucking arcade.

She doesn’t want to think about it, doesn't want to confront that she’s probably going to have to go back to Bea’s shelter one day for a hot meal and a roof over her head.

No, no no no.

She needs to turn this off. She needs…

“Hey?” Ava stands up a bit too fast, her head spinning - but a few deep breaths settles her. This is a really stupid idea, but she just wants to feel something. “You know who isn’t a nun?”

Chanel glances up at her with a brow raised. “Lindsay Lohan?”

Ava laughs, too loudly - it’s not that funny but people like it when you laugh at their jokes. “No, dumbass - you! You’re not a nun.”

“Well no shit, I think we might have to cut you mmf-”

It’s not easy since Chanel is six feet fucking tall, but Ava grabs her by the collar of her shirt and drags her down for a frantic, hard kiss.

She can hear Chanel’s hands smack the table, trying not to topple over and send them both to the ground.

For a split second, Ava turns her brain off and does her best to give Chanel a great kiss - but there’s not enough time before Chanel is pushing her away. “Whoa!” Chanel is wide eyed and Ava thinks this is the first time she’s seen her panicked. “What the fuck was that?”

Ava shrugs. “Why not, right? We’re both here, we’re both hot, we get along.”

“I don’t understand, you want to fuck?”

“Sure! We’ve watched our movies, had a few drinks and I’m all tingly, why not have a little fun?” Ava steps forward and hops up to sit on the counter, putting her high enough now to see Chanel face to face. “It wouldn't be the most out of left field thing - Beatrice thought we were dating.”

She sees the way Chanel purses her lips and suddenly wishes she’d kept her mouth shut. “Hmm,”

“Don’t do that, don’t overthink it.” Ava grabs the bottom of her shirt. “Here, this will help.” She peels it off over her head, knowing she’s got on a nice bra and that this always does the trick.

Chanel looks, Ava’s not surprised by that, she’s half a second away from reaching down and putting Chanel’s hand on her chest when that same hand suddenly touches her shoulder.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Ava frowns. “Why not?”

“Because it kind of feels like you’re just trying to distract yourself from your nun crush.”

Of course she is. She’s trying to distract herself from a lot of things. “Does that matter?”

Chanel shrugs. “Not to me, if you really want me to take you to your bed and fuck you until you can't think straight I’ll do it - but you need to be sure it’s what you want. Not something you’ll do now and then tomorrow you won’t be able to look at me because you feel too fucking guilty.” Ava looks at her for an extended moment, too long - so long it breaks the mood. That’s when Chanel’s other hand comes up and cups her face. “You need to figure out what you want, Ava.” Chanel picks up Ava’s shirt off the counter and hands it to her. “I should go.”

Not again, not again, not again. “No, wait I’m sorry.” Ava grabs at her hands, holding Chanel in place. “Please don’t…I fucked this up didn’t I? I ruined this.”

“You didn’t,” Chanel says with a soft smile, before leaning down and kissing Ava’s temple. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay? You just need some real sleep - in fact…” Chanel pulls away then, Ava letting her go as her hands clutch onto her shirt like a lifeline. “I’m gonna take your cheap vodka and you’re gonna take a few of these and you’re going to sleep, okay?”

As Chanel scoops up the bottle, she digs through her purse and pulls out a bottle of pills. She digs through them, Ava can see all the various colors and sizes inside, then drops two tiny blue ones next to her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, like a reflex. Because it’s all she has.

“You’re okay,” Chanel smiles at her, but she’s still leaving - it doesn’t feel okay. “Talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

Ava nods, trying her best to smile back before Chanel leaves.

She sits on the counter for a while after Chanel is gone, listening to the sound of traffic passing by her window as the lights from the city pour into her kitchen window.

They're going to kick her out of here soon. There’s no way she can make enough money in the next week to pay her rent. Ava has no idea where she’s going to go - if she’d gotten Chanel to sleep with her maybe she could have used that to convince her to let her move in.

Then their friendship would be no different than when she was with JC - just her latching onto someone better. Someone who can keep her head above water.

Standing up, Ava doesn't put her shirt back on and instead carries it down the hall (along with the pills) and throws it into the laundry basket in her room.

She takes everything else off and clutches the wall, trying to stop the room from spinning all around her.

Setting the pills on the sink, she starts up the shower and looks at herself in the mirror.

Her hair is a mess, it’s getting long. It hasn’t been this long since she was bedridden at St. Michaels.

Nobody cares how you look

You’re fooling yourself if you think anyone will put up with you

There’s not enough kindness in the world to make someone see past how much trouble you would be to love

Sister Frances was a very special kind of demonic. She hated Ava from day one and Ava never really understood why.

She thinks it probably wasn't exclusive to her - which somehow makes it worse because she carries all this anger towards her in her heart and for Frances she was just another kid.

Just another orphan who carries around scars of all kinds.

Not special, not even to the woman who tormented her.

It’s all Ava wants, she just wants one person to give a shit about her. Just one.

Please, please just give her someone. Give her something. Someone who won’t give up on her, even if she doesn't deserve it.

Ava grips the edges of the sink as her tears start to fall. It hurts, it’s such a deep and all consuming ache that never goes away.

She can cover it in spurts. With drinking and pain medication and sex and the rush of someone touching her and using her - but it’s always there and it always comes back.

Taking a breath, she pushes it down - she can't let it win. She’s just tired. She’s just lonely. She’s had a bad day, week, month.

Stepping into the shower, Ava exhales loudly as the scalding water sprays against her skin.

The feeling of the water rolling down her back is where Ava draws her strength to keep going. Because seven years ago she didn’t have this. She was dragged into a bathtub and had buckets of water poured over her head as old nuns scrubbed her and she felt nothing.

All the sensations she’s experienced, good and bad, they didn’t exist seven years ago.

She fought for them. She survived for them.

How can she think about giving up now when she didn’t back then?

She can't, the little girl who cried herself to sleep because she celebrated her sixteenth birthday alone didn’t go through all of that just for her to quit now.

But she’s so tired.

Ava cries, she cries loudly and without reservation because her heart is broken.

It’s been broken for so long.

Nothing fits. Nothing works. Everything she does is wrong and the people she loves give up on her because she doesn’t know how to be who they need her to be.

She’s scared.

That’s the heart of it all. She’s scared to death of what’s coming. The life she wants - the happiness she fought so hard for in physical therapy didn’t magically come to her when she got her ability to move back.

Maybe it’s not meant for her. Maybe she’s not supposed to be happy.

Maybe…maybe she was the one who was supposed to die in that crash and this is her punishment for surviving when her mom didn’t.

Ten minutes pass before Ava can properly move. She washes her hair and scrubs herself down as best she can before shutting off the water.

Her body is exhausted as she steps out. Ava towels off just a little before grabbing her robe and sinking down to sit with her back to the tub. Her hair is still wet and her feet are squishy on the rug but this is as far as she can go right now.

Reaching up, Ava grasps blindly at the edge of the sink before finding the sleeping pills.

She pops them both into her mouth and swallows them dry - they stick in her throat but she gets them down.

Leaning back, she lays her head on the edge of the tub and closes her eyes.

A moment later, her phone buzzes on the toilet, she doesn’t even remember carrying it in here.

Ava considers ignoring it, it’s probably Chanel texting to tell her they need space or time apart or just telling her to fuck off.

She’d deserve it.

Sitting up, Ava grabs her phone and feels her heart stutter at the message.

Sister Bea: img.png

She opens her phone with three fast swipes of her finger and that’s when she sees it.

It’s a photo of Cosmo looking up at the camera with a ball in his mouth and his tail blurry in the background because he’s wagging it.

Another message comes through a second later.

Sister Bea: Cosmo says hello

Ava’s bottom lip starts to tremble as she closes her eyes and pulls her knees to her chest. She looks at the cute dog on her screen and the simple words from Beatrice and it feels like someone is throwing her a life preserver.

She wipes at her cheeks and blinks to clear her blurry vision before typing back.

Ava: he’s adorable

Ava: please give him kisses for me

Moving to the side, Ava pulls her towel over and balls it up, pressing it against the wall. From there, she reaches up and shuts off the light of her bathroom - leaving her blanketed in the soft glow of the nightlight she has in case she has to pee in the night.

This is as far as she’s going to get tonight, so she curls up on the floor and stares at the picture of Cosmo and the message from Bea for a few minutes before her eyes start to feel heavy.

She holds on to the idea that Beatrice was thinking of her with everything she has, hoping it will get her through the night.

--------------------------------

When Ava makes it to the shelter the next morning, she’s sore and her back hurts - but she did sleep for a good six hours and feels a little better. The light of day has always done wonders for her.

When she was at St. Michaels, she used to dread the night. Sleep was always such a pain in her ass and the darkness wasn't her friend. It was too quiet, too empty, too much opportunity to think and wonder and dream.

The sun coming up was like a beacon to her, the light shining through the windows, even if she couldn't see out from where her bed was, Ava would watch it paint the walls around her.

So even now, mornings bring with it a bit of rebirth for her, at least for the first few hours.

Including now, as she steps through the kitchen doors where she knows Beatrice is waiting for her.

On cue, Bea is there and busily chopping carrots with piles of other vegetables next to her.

The music is playing overhead, but Ava notices something else - Bea has headphones in with a cord leading down into the pocket of her habit.

Something warm blooms in her chest.

“Bea?” She calls, her voice a little elevated just so she’ll hear her.

When she does, Beatrice takes out the headphone and smiles - Ava notes the bags under her eyes. “Good morning, Ava.” She says with a tilt of her head.

“Are you listening to the playlist?”

She nods. “I am, I’ve really enjoyed it.”

Ava can't stop the grin that splits across her cheeks. “If you want, I can make you another one!” She’s speaking with so much energy she almost misses the hook to hang her coat on.

Beatrice pulls her phone out of her pocket and presses a few buttons. “I’d appreciate it,” she sets it on the counter with the headphones as well. “First though, can you go to the freezers and bring out ten chicken breasts?”

“You got it,” Ava salutes as she passes by - her mood suddenly lifted as she slips into the freezer and digs through all the crunchy, frozen bags of food that are piling up in here.

Finding what she’s looking for, Ava gathers up the massive breasts.

There’s a joke there but she doesn't have anyone to share it with. Bea probably wouldn't like it much.

Chanel would, but Ava’s scared shitless to try and contact her and she hasn’t called her yet.

No, no…she won’t think about that right now.

She wants to hang onto this semi-good mood for as long as she can.

Stepping back out into the kitchen, she stops at the door and watches Beatrice.

The knife sits on the counter next to her, and she’s got her face in her hand, pressing her thumb and index fingers into her eyes to rub them. She’s bent over a bit too. “Are you okay?” Ava asks, moving in and dropping all the chicken onto the counter with a chorus of thumps.

Beatrice nods, then looks at her with a tired smile. “I apologize, I had a very long night.”

“Convent rager?” Ava says in a playful tone.

Thankfully, Beatrice laughs. “Hardly, we had a Scattergories tournament.”

“Okay but that sounds amazing, don’t underestimate a good board game night. No wonder you’re tired.” Beatrice scoops her knife up, but keeps her eyes on Ava. “Did you win?”

She shrugs, “I did alright.”

“You totally won, didn’t you?” Beatrice starts chopping again, oh she’s got a little bit of badass in her. “You won. You’re so smart, Bea.”

That’s when Beatrice does that thing again, where she gets a little shy and her ears go red.

God, she’s so so pretty, it’s kind of devastating.

Ava fights her instincts, she wants to flirt and tease and push her, but she resists and puts her hands behind her back. “What do you need me to do?”

“Can you boil some water to start thawing those - ow!” There’s a sudden clatter and Beatrice jumps back. The knife falls on the counter edge, but the handle is too heavy and it falls to the ground.

Ava tracks its fall, then as it hits the floor harmlessly, she sees spots of blood trickling down.

She looks up and Beatrice is clutching her left hand with the other, and there’s a lot more blood. “Bea?” Ava steps forward, then stops, blood has always been hard for her - ever since she was seven and saw it spilling out of her mom’s mouth. “Shit,” Ava feels a bit of nausea wash over her, but Beatrice is clutching her hand and wincing in pain. “Okay…” Ava turns away to find a cloth. “Are you okay?” She asks dumbly, almost tripping over her own two feet as she grabs a dry dishrag.

“I - I think so, it’s deep but I’m okay.”

It takes three deep breaths before Ava’s head stops spinning, then she turns and forces herself to get a fucking handle on it. “Here,” she takes the rag and grabs Bea’s wrist, pulling her hand away to look at it. “Fuck,” she says without meaning to, but the cut is deep and there is blood pouring down her hand and across her wrist - staining her sleeves. “Hold this,” Ava says, more of an order than she intends, but she has to - for her own sanity. “I’m going to go tell Beth and Valerie that you need stitches.”

“Ava, I don’t-”

“You do, we can't treat that here just…hold that.” She presses the rag into Bea’s other hand and holds it on the injury - then leaves before Beatrice can argue.

The steps to the back kitchen area where Beth and Valerie do their thing is just enough time for Ava to sort her shit out.

Beatrice is hurt and there’s blood on her and fuck it’s a deep cut.

Seeing it makes Ava’s stomach turn, it makes her feel sick - Beatrice is too good to be hurt. She’s too kind and too good. It’s not fair.

It’s not that bad

Ava hears herself think and knows she needs to calm down. Beatrice is hurt, but Ava’s here and she can help her. She will help her.

“Hey,” Ava calls out to the two chefs and gets both their stares to turn from their card game. “Bea cut her hand pretty deep, like stitches deep - I’m gonna take her to the ER to get her fixed up.”

To her surprise, Beth stands up immediately. “Here,” she moves to where her bag is hanging and digs through it - the thing is gigantic but she finds what she’s looking for immediately. A set of keys. “It’s the blue Sedan in the back, you can get right onto the street from back there, Rush is close.”

Ava nods, she knows that hospital - jesus christ she doesn't want to go to the hospital.

She avoids them like the goddamn plague, but there’s no other choice. “You can drive right?” Valerie asks from her seat.

“Yeah, I mean I have my license…I don’t really use it much. In fact, last time I did I drove my ex’s car off a bridge but…”

Beth waves her off and sits back down. “It’s a hunk of shit, I don’t care if you drive it off a bridge, just make sure you get out first.”

Ava smiles. “Will do,” she turns and races back to get Beatrice.

When she finds her, Beatrice is sitting on a stool still clutching her wounded hand. The once white dishrag now seeped in red, just like the sleeve of Beatrice’s habit.

“Beth gave us her car, come on.” Ava moves close and puts a hand on Bea’s back to help her to her feet. She probably doesn’t need it, but Ava does.

“Are you sure we can't just bandage it here?” It’s really not so bad.”

Ava frowns. “Bea, you’re bleeding too much. We have to get this checked out.” There’s a flash, only a moment, but Ava sees the fear in her eyes. “Hey, I’ll be with you the whole time okay. It’s just a cut.”

“I know I-” She looks like she’s wrestling with herself, Ava has no idea why but she does sympathize with hating the destination. “Alright, let’s go.”

On the way out, Ava grabs another clean rag to use for later.

---------------------------------

The ride to the hospital is fairly quiet, both because Ava is extremely focused on the road and remembers about halfway there that she’s kind of terrified of driving and also because Beatrice is entirely in her head.

Ava can tell because she’s been staring out the window the whole way and keeps hissing when she forgets to cradle her hand and it slips.

Thankfully, it’s not too far and Ava just kind of parks in something that looks like a parking spot near the front and dares someone to tow the car away before she’s climbing out and racing around to help Beatrice out.

It’s just an injured hand, Ava is fully aware of that - but the entire way in she keeps Beatrice cradled close to her.

Once they cross the threshold of the front doors, Ava is hit with a very welcome warmth and carefully guides Beatrice to the check in. “Hi,” she says to the woman who is on the phone and sticks up a finger at her to give her a minute.

Ava gives her twenty seconds.

“Hey! This is an emergency room and my friend has a really deep cut on her hand.”

The woman’s eyes flick over to her and, without putting the phone down, she grabs a clipboard and holds it out.

“Fill this out and bring it back.”

“What the fuck? I thought this was an emergency room?”

“Ava,” Beatrice tugs at her sleeve. “It’s not life threatening and this is standard - it’s okay.”

She looks at Beatrice for a long moment, seeing that she really doesn’t want any sort of scene - and it melts her frustrations.

So she snatches the clipboard and together they move into the lobby to sit.

Ava, forever aware of when people are watching her, notices a few of the others waiting there keep staring at Beatrice.

A nun in an emergency room is probably a rare sight, but still, it’s not like Beatrice is an alien or something.

“Alright uh…” Ava goes to hand her the clipboard before remembering why they fuck they're here. “Right,” she settles into her own chair and crosses a leg to rest the clipboard on. “I uh…I actually don’t know how to do this for you.” She says with a laugh. “Do I just write Sister Beatrice as your name?” When she looks over at the girl next to her, Beatrice is tense and anxious. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yes, I am, I'm…I’m sorry - I have…” she sighs and shakes her head. “I have bad memories of hospitals, is all. My name is Beatrice Dalton-Lee.”

“Ooh, fancy,” Ava teases, just wanting to see her smile.

It works, if only a little. “Very…very little of this will matter for me. I am on state funded healthcare as I make below minimum wage - the convent will sort through all of this.”

Ava grins. “So you’re telling me to just bullshit my way through the rest of it?” She gestures to the chart and Beatrice hums.

“I would never say it quite like that.” Beatrice volleys back with the hint of a smile.

Fuck, she’s in so much trouble.

One filled out chart that would never hold up in court and another fifteen minutes later, they're being led through the emergency room to a little curtain all their own.

The nurse who came to get them told Ava she could stay behind if she wanted. There was a slight hesitation, not wanting to assume - then Bea said ‘please’ and Ava had never moved so fast in her life.

Ava feels off, but not in a bad way, just…heavy. Her stomach is fluttering and her chest is tight as she sits here and watches Beatrice clutch her hand and occasionally wince in pain.

She’s in pain and it bothers Ava so much. She doesn’t like the thought of it, doesn't like seeing it. Beatrice is too sweet for this, too kind and soft and good.

If she could, right now, Ava would take the pain from her and put it on herself. She can handle it, Beatrice would be okay and Ava would be here.

It’s not something she can do, so instead she reaches out and puts a hand on Beatrice’s back. “We’ll be in and out, a few stitches and maybe some painkillers and you’ll be fine.”

“Right,” Beatrice nods a bit to herself and Ava offers her a smile.

When the curtain is finally pulled back, a doctor steps through with a nurse in tow. He’s not as old as Ava expected, maybe late twenties. He’s got a stubbly beard and stylish glasses - he also looks a little put out.

“Good afternoon, Sister.” He says with a curt nod. “Hand laceration?”

Beatrice nods and holds out her hand, removing the cloth covering it.

Ava has to look away at the sight of it, her stomach lurching.

“Hmm,” the doctor examines her, turning her hand to look at the whole wound - it’s fairly deep and curves around from her palm to the side of her hand. “Couldn’t pray it away, huh?”

There’s such an uncomfortable amount of malice in his voice that Ava is taken aback.

Her head turns to look at this fucking guy and sees him jotting something down on his chart and not looking at Bea - Bea, who is staring down at her skirts, with spots of blood on them.

“Alright, we’ll clean the wound, numb the area and then get you stitched up. I’m pretty busy so it might be a little while - but I’m sure you’ll find a way to survive with God’s strength.” He gives her an arrogant smirk, like it’s some kind of fucking joke they're both in on and Ava can feel herself getting angry.

“Thank you,” Beatrice offers her hand to the nurse who has a small collection of things on a tiny tray next to her to clean the wound.

She watches the doctor leave and the nurse starts to clean Beatrice’s wound and before she can even think, Ava stands up.

As she takes a step away from the bed, Beatrice grabs her hand.

Ava softens. “I’ll be back,” she says, in her most reassuring voice. To put a promise on it, Ava leans down and kisses the side of her head. “Two minutes.” She waits, she won’t go if Bea asks her to stay.

Instead, Beatrice exhales and nods, letting her sleeve go.

She storms out of the curtain with a single intent.

Her feet carry her through the emergency room and when she spots Bea’s doctor, he’s just fucking talking to someone and sipping on a cup of coffee.

“Hey!” Ava rushes over to him, her steps heavy as they smack against the tile floor.

The doctor looks at her, his face scrunched in confusion. “Is everything alright, ma’am?” He asks, his voice so much softer now - almost flirtatious.

Ava wants to punch him in the fucking throat.

“No, everything is not alright. Why did you talk to her like that?”

His soft expression shifts, and he sighs. “What does it matter? She’s a nun, she’ll just pray it away.”

“She…” Ava keeps waiting for someone to bring out a camera and show her she’s just on a TV show or something. This can't be real. “She’s a person, and she’s in pain and she’s scared and you’re making her feel unwelcome.”

“It’s about time a nun knows what it feels like to be unwanted. They did it enough to me when I was younger.”

Oh…

Okay, doctor boy has trauma.

“And you think the best way to get back at the nuns who treated you like shit is to shit on any nun you see?”

He looks away. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I apologize. It’s just hard to be around them, they're not as kind and gentle as they seem.”

“I don’t give a shit. Beatrice is a good person and she deserves the fucking world and I’m not asking you, I’m telling you, if you come in there with that attitude and talk to her like that again, I’m going to shove that stethoscope so far up your ass you’ll be able to hear your own heartbeat!”

She doesn’t give him the chance to say anything before turning around and heading back to Bea.

It’s a short walk back, but Ava’s mind races with the notion that she’s out here openly standing up for a nun - telling someone not to judge them as a group when she’s done it her whole life.

Ava gets it, truly, she fully understands the weight of what kind of trauma a nun can put on someone.

But that’s not Beatrice, she’s not like them.

She’s…Ava doesn’t know how to describe it.

She doesn’t, until she opens the curtain and Beatrice looks up at her, and smiles when she sees her.

It all becomes so crystal clear in that moment. The way Beatrice looks at her, the way she softens when Ava comes back like she promised.

The way it makes Ava feel to know she’s the one Beatrice needs right now - to know she can support her and take care of her.

This isn’t a crush.

She’s falling for her.

Ava feels like her whole world shifts at that moment. All the anger and frustration about the doctor and his words are altered - changed.

She’s not mad, she’s protective.

When she realizes she’s been standing there for too long, long enough that Bea’s smile has dropped into something concerning, she tucks it away and forces herself to move.

“How’s it going in here?” She asks, moving to take her seat next to Bea again.

This time though, she’s more careful, keeps her hands close but not touching - the last thing she wants to do is make Beatrice more uncomfortable.

“The area should be pretty numb now,” the nurse starts. “It’s almost clean and we’ll get her stitched up and on her way shortly.”

The nurse’s smile is genuine, polite and Ava gives her one back.

It’s funny, Ava thinks, this nurse is very cute. With blonde hair and pretty green eyes. In any other situation, Ava might take a chance and ask her out - if anything, see if she could take her home for a night.

Now though, there’s something off about it. She’s pretty, of course, but she doesn’t have freckles. Her eyes aren’t brown and her laugh isn’t hidden away like a treasure. Her accent isn’t right, her posture isn’t straight enough.

She’s not Beatrice. Fuck, when did this happen? When did she fall for a nun?

A nun, that’s what Beatrice is. Someone who’s life is devoted to God.

It’s too much, it’s all too fucking much.

So Ava buries it, to deal with when she gets home.

For now, she stays focused on Bea, she holds her hand when the doctor comes back (with a much nicer disposition) and starts to stitch her up.

She tells dumb jokes about how the stitches might slow Bea’s dominant self-crossing hand down.

“That’s not a thing, Ava.”

“Come on, you’re telling me you don’t cross yourself with the same hand every time?”

“I…” Beatrice starts, then her mouth clamps shut and her brows furrowed together in thought. It’s adorable and deadly and distracts her from the doctor stitching her up. “I think you might be right?”

Despite the endless flood of conflicting emotions inside of her, Ava only feels joy at the admission and bursts out laughing.

When she’s all finished up and they discharge her, Ava is glad to see that Beth’s car is still where she left it.

She holds the door open for Bea, who sits down and is very careful with her newly bandaged hand.

Ava shuts her door and takes her time walking around to the driver’s side. She has to because this sudden realization of her feelings for Beatrice is kind of the worst fucking thing ever.

This is not a thing that can happen - she knows that. Beatrice is a goddamn nun, a very very good one, and it’s just…

Fuck

As soon as she enters the car, she looks over and finds Beatrice looking at her. “All good?” She asks, staring so deeply into Beatrice’s eyes, lit up by the bright, cloudy sky outside.

Beatrice gives a few timid nods. “I am.”

“Good, do you…want to go back to the shelter or do you want me to take you to your…home?”

“The shelter is fine, I still have time to make the second bus and I’d like to make sure Beth and Valerie aren’t overwhelmed.”

Ava starts the car and makes her way out of the parking lot.

She doesn’t drive much and that is the reason she tells herself as to why she’s so fucking focused on the road. She’s just making sure she’s safe - it has nothing to do with not wanting to look over at Beatrice.

Nope, not at all. She can handle a little crush. She can even handle some unexpected big feelings.

What she can't handle is the little smiles Beatrice has been giving her, the lingering looks and the realness of it all.

Ever since they stepped into that hospital, Beatrice clung to her and needed her and Ava has been on the verge of losing her shit the whole time.

They make it back to the shelter at around four, which means they spent an absurd amount of time in that hospital just waiting. It’s funny, Ava thinks, that time just sitting there and watching people together - it’s something she’s done before.

Yet, the idea of doing it with Bea, just sitting with her, makes it feel like something else.

She didn’t think they were there that long because she was so content.

Bad, this is so so fucking bad.

Ava gets out and before she can make it around to help Bea out, she’s already done it on her own and Ava remembers Beatrice isn’t that hurt. She doesn’t need Ava’s shoulder to lean on or for Ava to hold her hand.

“So am I gonna have to make up a day for this? Since I was only here for like an hour?” Ava just needs to talk. She needs something to feel normal.

Beatrice hums as she steps into the shelter with Ava in tow. “I think we can count this as work. You did help and then circumstances took you away but it had nothing to do with you or your effort.”

“Okay sweet, thanks Bea.” Ava gives her a smile when Beatrice looks back at her over her shoulder.

They make their way through the main floor - which has tapered off a bit after lunch. Ava’s never actually been in the shelter this late and it’s kind of nice. The bulk of the windows in this place are on the side where the sun sets and it lit the whole building up with a nice, orange glow.

Beatrice, in particular, takes to the afternoon colors of the room incredibly well.

Stepping through the back doors, Beth and Valerie are both working to prepare what Ava assumes is dinner that’s coming soon. There are five or six huge bowls of things ranging from lettuce to cabbage and shaved carrots - like a big fucking salad is coming.

“We’re back,” Ava says with a brightness in her voice that gets both of their attention.

“Oh good, car in the water?” Beth asks with a grin.

Ava holds up the keys. “Nah sorry, still in one piece.”

“And you?” Valerie looks to Beatrice who offers a smile.

“I’m in one piece as well, thanks to Ava.” She says it with such tenderness that Ava almost walks into the edge of the counter going around to give Beth her keys.

“I’m glad to hear it, we’re keeping you off of dishwashing duty until that thing is healed up so be prepared to haul shit in and out of the freezer for a few weeks, Sister.”

To Ava’s surprise, Beatrice laughs. “Understood.”

The work continues on after a short rundown of their trip to the hospital, a new shift of volunteers has arrived, no one Ava knows, and she and Beatrice slip out to give them room to work.

The bus for Bea won’t be here for another thirty minutes and it’s too cold to wait outside.

Ava could go home but something is holding her here, something she really doesn’t want to define.

It just…doesn’t feel right to leave Beatrice alone today.

So they stand in the back kitchen area, Ava on her phone typing out a message to Hans asking if there are any extra shifts available.

Which, of fucking course, there aren’t.

It’s just a matter of time now, really.

A part of her wants to unload all of this on Beatrice. To ask for advice or help or just…someone to listen. She knows Bea would listen and help as best she could - but she’s dealt with enough today.

“Not a fan of hospitals, huh?” Ava asks to break up the quiet.

That pull keeping her here is also desperate to learn more about Bea.

“I suppose not. I - I haven’t been to one in some time.”

Ava leans back against the wall and crosses her arms. “I’ve always been afraid of them. Spent way too much time there growing up.”

Beatrice frowns, shifting her eyes up from the spot on the floor she was staring at to look at her. “You did?”

Might as well trauma dump a little.

“Yeah, I uh…had a pretty bad car accident when I was seven. Kinda fucked me up for a while.”

It still fucks her up.

“Oh, I’m sorry Ava.”

Ava waves her off. “It’s…it was a long time ago.”

Beatrice moves then, shifting forward towards her, holding her injured hand with the other as she steps closer. “Trust me when I tell you, old pain is still pain and it can still hurt us.”

Heat burns at the back of Ava’s eyes then because the words cut her deep - not in a malicious way, but in understanding.

Because that pain and that day haunts her every single morning she opens her eyes. “It does.”

“And yet, when I needed you…when I was afraid and hurt…you stayed with me. Despite your history.”

That’s too much, it makes her chest hurt. She looks down, arms circling around her middle - she wishes she could phase through the wall and escape. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Nothing happens for a while after that. Neither of them move, the world itself feels like it falls away.

Then Beatrice reaches out and uses her uninjured hand to brush against Ava’s knuckles to draw her attention.

When Ava meets her eyes, Beatrice has something deep in her expression - something that says more than her words could.

“Can I hug you?” She asks, her voice shaking as she does.

Ava nods and moves off the wall. “Of course.”

As they wrap their arms around each other, both of Ava’s go upward and around Bea’s neck. She leans forward, meaning to rest her head on Beatrice’s shoulder, but instead their foreheads touch and Beatrice lets out a long exhale at the contact.

Every single part of Ava’s soul is telling her to hold herself back. To keep her eyes shut and take a step back. She has to be strong and end this moment.

However, she makes the devastating mistake of opening her eyes and seeing Beatrice’s face so close she can make out the details of the freckles on her nose.

Worse than that, Beatrice is looking back at her.

Bea’s hands move off Ava’s hips then and she thinks it’s over, she thinks Beatrice’s restrictions have won out.

Instead, Bea’s hands move up and grab Ava by the wrists. Her bandage makes no difference as she guides Ava’s hands up and against her wimple. “Take it off,” she whispers, as if saying it too loud will wake them both up from a dream.

She does as asked, slowly pulling Beatrice’s wimple off and holding it with both hands behind Beatrice’s head. Her hair is dark brown, almost black and tied up in a bun so neatly it looks almost perfect.

Until one piece slips free and falls gently across her cheek.

Ava takes a shaky breath at the sight of it. Beatrice is so…so beautiful.

When Beatrice takes in a sharp, sudden breath, Ava realizes she said that out loud.

“Sorry,” Ava says, not entirely sure why.

Beatrice shakes her head, still touching Ava’s with her own. “Please forgive me,” Beatrice breathes. Then, almost in slow motion, Ava watches Bea pitch forward and lean into her.

The moment their lips touch, Ava drops the wimple on the ground and pulls Beatrice in.

Chapter Text

Ava tastes like the chocolate mint candies she pulled out of her pocket while they sat, waiting for Beatrice to be discharged.

Her lips feel like a sunrise, bright and full of possibility.

Beatrice loses herself in it, she hears the faint sound of something hitting the ground at her feet but her brain doesn’t fully process it.

For the first time in as long as she can remember, her mind isn’t racing.

In fact, she’s completely and utterly focused on Ava.

The way Ava’s hand is pressing into the space between her shoulder blades. How, despite her layered clothing, she swears she can feel the heat from Ava’s palm on her own skin.

She feels Ava shift a bit against her, head turning and mouth opening, the softest noises coming from her as she holds Beatrice steady.

When Ava’s tongue slips free and brushes against Beatrice’s bottom lip, asking for permission. To her own surprise, Beatrice’s mouth falls open and welcomes it.

Ava’s tongue dances across her own, presses up into the roof of her mouth. It’s devastating and tantalizing - she sinks into the feeling.

Ava’s hands on her back cling to the fabric of her robes, pulling at them and then pressing her palm into Beatrice’s back.

They roam and dance, sliding down to her lower back before climbing back up to her shoulders.

When Beatrice leans in, their chests press together and it’s an undeniable feeling - their bodies feel so good together - Ava feels so good.

She’s blinded, but somehow seeing clearly. Like the sea has parted and she can see the other side.

Then she feels it, a rush of warmth in her lower belly and the tension between her legs.

She’s…oh this is real. This is happening. She’s wet and ruined.

That feeling is all it takes to pull her from the moment completely.

Her stomach drops as she takes in everything around her. She’s pressed into Ava, who is trapped against the wall and Beatrice has both of her hands on Ava’s waist, kissing her - her first kiss since she was fifteen years old.

This vile behavior will not be tolerated! Do you understand me!

She feels the burn of a backhand on her cheek like a memory, the tightness in her chest at how afraid she was.

Beatrice breaks the kiss and takes three long steps backwards. She presses a hand to her mouth, feeling how moist they are. Her hands are trembling.

She’s slipped. She’s fallen. She’s weak, just like her mother always told her she was. Too frail. Too deviant. Too vile and disgusting and wrong.

Then she opens her eyes and sees Ava still against the wall, chest rising slowly and watching her. Ava’s expression is riddled with worry and concern.

How is this wrong? How is this beautiful girl looking at her like this possibly wrong?

“Bea,” Ava speaks softly, pushing off the wall but not moving towards her. “Hey, it’s okay.” She says, her neck craned a bit, trying to meet Beatrice’s wandering gaze.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Ava. I’m so sorry I shouldn't have…I’m…”

A monster

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

It’s like Ava can read her thoughts - she almost wants to laugh if she wasn't terrified she might start crying. “I have to…the bus,” Beatrice takes a few more steps back, towards the door. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Bea, wait!” Ava rushes towards her in two huge steps. “Just…please don’t run away from me.”

Beatrice looks away, she can't look at Ava. She’s too pretty. It’s too hard. She has to go, she has to be away from her. “I can’t, Ava. I…this was a mistake.”

“Beatrice,” Ava tries again, a crack in her voice as she speaks.

That’s the last straw, if she doesn’t get away from her now, everything will collapse. “No, Ava.” Beatrice wishes her voice was harsher - she wishes she could be cruel to her. She can't. “If you care about me at all, you’ll let me go.”

A few seconds of silence pass and Beatrice finally hazards a glance upwards to Ava and there are tears in her eyes.

Yet, through it all, Ava puts her hands behind her back and nods, head cast down. “Okay, go…you can…you can go.”

She should say something, give Ava something, but her whole life is crumbling with each second she stays near her.

Beatrice looks at Ava again, one last look, because she knows she’ll have to stay away from her forever after this.

What she sees is Ava staring down at the floor, face pulled tight as if she’s on the brink of collapsing.

Once again, Beatrice’s weakness only hurts people.

Without another word, Beatrice grabs her wimple off the floor and races out of the shelter.

-------------------------------

When she makes it back to Cat’s Cradle, Beatrice doesn’t stop for anyone. Even when people greet her or try to speak to her, she just moves past them and seeks out the solitude of her room.

Once inside of it, she shuts the door and leans her forehead against it. Her heart is hammering in her chest, in a way that scares her - like it might be about to explode.

One moment, that’s all it took to destroy everything she’s spent years trying to mend.

This curse she was born with has ruined her whole life. It made her family hate her. It’s taken her from her home. It’s forced her to live a life alone because she can't love properly - she can't just be normal.

God was supposed to forgive her at some point. She suffered through so much, dealt with so much alone for so long and at some point she truly believed he would set her free. He would rid her of the guilt and the pain and the temptation.

She just wants to live, that’s all she’s ever wanted - to live her life happily and content. She wants to feel safe in her own body. She wants so much.

Too much, that’s the problem.

She wants, she’s too tempted with want.

Beatrice shuffles over to her bed and sits on its edge. Her body feels heavy and tired, she bumps her hand on her knee and hisses, having almost forgotten that she spent her day in the hospital with Ava.

Ava, oh it hurts to even think about her.

Ava was so good to her today. So careful and sweet - so steady.

It’s something Beatrice has never even imagined for herself, that someone would take care of her like that.

The feeling of it consumed her, blinded her - it lowered the veil just long enough for her to mess up.

Beatrice stands up, pacing slowly through her room with very little space.

She needs to detach, to have something - anything in her head besides the internal noise shouting at her.

Taking off her coat, Beatrice pulls out her phone, the headphones still wrapped around it by the wire.

She uncoils them and sticks the buds in her ears, turning on the playlist and hitting random.

The music hits softly, melancholy and slow - it makes the hair on her arms stand up. Every emotion in her body feels heightened, as if they’ve just been turned on for the first time.

Her heart feels ready to crack open and bleed out. She’s lost and found at the same time, as confused and focused as she’s ever been.

Then a voice speaks through the music, directly to her. The Tower - she recognizes the song immediately.

Soft tears spill down Beatrice’s cheeks as she listens, but she welcomes them. The salt she tastes when they touch her lips is familiar, inviting - like being alive.

This emotion is so sharp, so intense that she almost can't contain it. She wants to scream and laugh and sob and shout. She wants to capture this sense of living.

Was all this from Ava?

All Beatrice has tried to do for the last ten years was suppress her feelings. Suppress the fact that she…

That she…

Her fists clench on the blankets, trying to tear them in half as the admission aches to burst free.

Who she is, who she has always been, is only known to her as a point of shame.

Is it shameful? Is she wrong? Evil?

Is Ava?

No…no…how could she be?

Ava called her beautiful. Ava saw her, knows her - not entirely, but enough.

Ava looked at her and watched. She spoke to her and listened. Ava has never been anything but honest to her - even at her weak points - even when it might benefit her not to.

So Ava calling her beautiful can't be anything but the truth. Why would she lie?

Beatrice kissed her.

Beatrice kissed her first, forced herself on her. She pushed and broke and gave in to the darkness.

Ava kissed her back. Ava kissed her back and pulled her in and made those delicate little sounds when she did.

What does it matter though?

What could she possibly give to Ava?

To anyone?

She’s been sheltered and isolated for so long.

She has no value. No worth. She’s never been loved, was never taught how to love. Even her devotion to God feels fabricated at times.

Ava is a light, a beacon and she shines so bright - but there’s more there. Something deeper and pained in her, Beatrice sees it and God help her she is not strong enough to carry them both.

She can't put herself on Ava like that. She can't put all of this trauma on anyone.

No, no, she needs to stay. She needs to clamp down even more, bury it. Be what the world needs her to be.

No one.

It’s the safe decision. It has to be. She’s not strong enough for the alternative.

She puts the song on repeat, letting all of these emotions flow through her - remembering the feeling of Ava’s lips on hers.

--------------------------------

The next twenty-four hours are a blur.

Unsurprising, Beatrice is easily able to slip back into her patterns of the church. She’s up early for her morning prayer, the words falling from her lips as perfectly as ever.

She makes a cup of tea, chats with a few of the older sisters and makes it to the chapel before anyone else.

It’s all so rhythmic, so simple and deliberate and precise. It is her life - it’s not exciting, but it is hers.

The biggest reason Beatrice chose the church after boarding school instead of going back home was the quiet.

For as frigid and uninviting as the nuns were in London, none of them ever yelled at her for simply existing at the wrong moment. She didn’t walk on eggshells around them. She wasn't afraid of them.

Then, when she came here, she actually saw people smile and talk to her and want to know her.

There were people who played games and told jokes and seemed so genuinely happy.

It was infectious and made her feel at home.

She does feel comfortable here. She likes it here - truly.

She has friends here.

For so long, it felt like enough. She felt content and ready to spend the rest of her life in the church.

Everything was so simple.

Now, all of it has this fog over it. As if she’s here, but her vision is blurred. There’s a haze in her brain that won’t let her connect to the joys she found before.

Instead, she catches herself lost in the what ifs.

What if she woke up every morning to a different song on her phone?

What if she woke up and dug through a closet full of clothes that were light and free - that had color even?

What if she went somewhere other than the shelter or the training grounds for aikido?

What if she woke up one morning with no plan?

What if she woke up with someone in bed next to her?

That’s where it catches. That’s where these dreams stumble because as tempting as the thoughts are, she cannot only leave because of Ava.

There’s no reason to believe that Ava will magically fix everything broken inside of her - or that she should have to.

Beyond that, Beatrice has so very little to offer to anyone.

Which is where she again finds herself feeling a shift. Because she could build something, she’s built something here - why not out there?

Could she leave the church and suddenly be happy? No - she doubts that.

Yet, she’s been under His guidance and speaking His word for ten years now and Beatrice has never truly been happy.

She knows this now because kissing Ava yesterday, for as much as it pains her, is the most alive she’s ever felt.

For someone who has spent years praying to God for a sign - that one feels like a beacon.

It’s early in the afternoon when Beatrice makes her way out to the training grounds for her scheduled session with Lilith.

When she finds her, Lilith is bent down on one knee, lacing up a shoe with a bo staff resting next to her.

“Sister Lilith?” Beatrice calls out, drawing her sparring partner’s attention.

When Lilith sees her, she frowns. “What happened to your hand?”

Beatrice frowns. “I cut it at the shelter yesterday. I had to go to the emergency room and everything.”

“Oh? That’s unfortunate,” she sounds as genuinely sympathetic as Lilith can. Mostly, she just sounds disappointed they can't spar properly.

“Yes, it was all quite dramatic,” Beatrice teases, not entirely sure why - that isn’t the type of relationship her and Lilith have.

If the sudden change confuses her, Lilith doesn’t show it. “Well I’ll be eager for you to heal properly, in the meantime I suppose I can ask Sister Dora to spar, though she’ll want to grapple and I’m not about to let her toss me around like a rag doll for an hour.”

She smiles at that, Lilith is a lot like her - set in her routines and patterns. She doesn’t care for change or adapt particularly well.

The difference being that while Beatrice wilts and concedes, Lilith bows up and refuses.

There is nothing Lilith does if she doesn’t wish to.

Which makes her a good person to go to for help. “I was hoping you might have an ear for me, Sister.”

Lilith stands up to her full height, head tilted down and curious. “A confession?”

Beatrice shakes her head. “A conversation between friends.”

They’ve never explicitly called each other friends. They're sisters first and that carries so much weight - but still, Beatrice likes to think they’d be friends in any other circumstance.

Lilith nods and gestures to a bench in the back of the courtyard that works as a makeshift training area.

She takes a seat and Beatrice tucks herself in on the same bench, pressing against the arm of the bench and turns a bit to look away from Lilith.

It’s easier this way. “Are you…do you enjoy it here?” It’s such a broad, vague question.

The only way she knows how to start this conversation.

Fortunately, Lilith’s answer is quick and precise. “I find ways to, yes.”

Beatrice glances at her. “But not always?”

“No,” Lilith says matter-of-factually. “Is anyone?”

She shrugs. “Camila?”

Lilith smirks. “Trust me, she is not always happy. Just two nights ago the kitchen served bratwurst and I thought she was going to banish it to hell.”

They share a laugh, simple and easy.

It only hits Beatrice now that for as much as she devalues herself - considers herself unlovable - she does have real friends here.

People who know her, spent time with her, and still value her.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what brought you to the church?” She feels strange prying so much, but nothing about the last twenty-four hours has been normal. She’s simply leaning into it.

As expected, the question brings with it a lingering look, like she’s suddenly grown a second head. “What an entirely normal question.”

“You don’t have to answer.”

Lilith sighs. “It’s fine, just…unexpected. You’ve never asked before.”

Beatrice frowns, “you never seemed inclined to share.”

“Neither of us do.”

She can't argue with that. “The reason I ask is that you seem rather…detached from it all.”

The soft hum that Lilith offers her tells Beatrice that she’s not wrong. “I have very little in common with anyone here - outside of prayer and purpose, I don’t look at the women here, beyond perhaps you and Camila as people I would like to spend any of my free time with.”

“Is that not the purpose of being here? The community?”

Lilith shrugs. “For some, I imagine it is. For me, this is not my home, Beatrice.”

That’s the truth of it all, the reason Beatrice wanted to ask the question in the first place. Lilith moves around Cat’s Cradle like a guest, despite having been here for years.

“So you’re going to spend the rest of your life in a place you’re not comfortable in?”

She watches Lilith sit up a bit straighter, leaning back as if to stretch before she shakes her head. “You wish to know why I joined the church?” She asks and Beatrice nods. “Because from the moment I turned ten years old, every decision in my life was made for me. My family has money, a lot of money - which you know all about do you not?”

Beatrice grimaces. “I do.”

“Exactly, and with that comes expectation. For me, that meant at a certain point my childhood - my life - no longer belonged to me. Instead, I was being groomed to take over and run my father’s company. Every aspect of my life was in someone else’s hands. They chose what schools I attended, what activities I was registered for. I could not pick my own friends, my own clothes, not even all of my words were my own. I had scripts, Beatrice - dialogue handed to me to study and learn so I could speak it to my teachers and come across brighter than I was.”

It’s all so unsettling and yet so devastatingly familiar. “That is a lot.”

Lilith offers her the smallest smile. “An understatement. Needless to say, around my second year at university - I cracked. I broke down and had no self-identity and I just…quit. I wanted out, I needed out, and I took about a week to figure out my escape and I found it.”

“What was it?” Beatrice asks almost desperately, as if Lilith is about to crack the code on happiness or aloofness or some other means to just…survive.

“God,” she says simply enough and it’s devastatingly disappointing for reasons Beatrice can't begin to explain.

“Oh,” she doesn’t mean to say it, she doesn’t mean to say anything.

Except she does, and Lilith hears it, and gives her a look. “He was the perfect cover.”

“What?”

“The church runs deep in my family. Catholicism carries tremendous weight in my lineage and, when I told my parents that I believed God needed me to take vows and commit my life to Him and His message, they had no choice but to accept it. My grandmother would have disowned them both if they hadn't.”

She says it so casually, so simply, as if the idea of using the church as a decoy and admitting it in this holy place isn’t blasphemous.

Then again, if God knows all and has known this in Lilith’s heart for some time now, why has he not struck her down? Because what's in her heart is what matters, she thinks. To be here and find peace is the purpose - that's always felt like the mission.

“So you…you would rather be here than with your family?”

Lilith squares her shoulders and nods. “Just like you.” The raw emotion Beatrice feels must color her expression. “My parents visit me once a year, every year, on my birthday. They will come in the summer as they always do for two days and spend time with me - pretend they cared all along about me. After this visit, I will be twenty-seven and that was the age I told myself I would move on and I still intend to.”

“Move on?”

She nods. “Leave, I told you - this was an escape, it is not and has never been my home.”

Beatrice struggles to wrap her head around it. “So you’ll go back home? Won’t they just shove you back into the company?”

“I do not have a home, not here and not with them either. I’m choosing the leave the day after they visit because it will grant me one full year of them not knowing. I don’t know if they’ll come looking for me, demand I return home or if they’ll be relieved they no longer have to pretend, as I have for some time, that there is any real connection between us.”

It’s all so…precise - a plan. This is Lilith’s plan and has been, seemingly, since the day she arrived.

“So are you saying that none of this is real to you?”

“It’s all real, Beatrice - but everyone is here for their own reasons. You, me, Camila, Dora, even Mother Superion made a choice, with a reason to be here at one point. You asked me my story, I’ve told you.”

There’s a strange depth of sadness in the thought that one day Lilith will leave here and not return. Yet, with it, she imagines something else. She sees Lilith on a balcony somewhere, overlooking the city as she’s conquered something important - celebrating with a glass of wine and perhaps a friend or…more.

Then the vision shifts, and it’s her on a balcony, watching the sunset and thinking that the next day she might go out for breakfast, simply because she’s craving pancakes.

She doesn’t picture Lilith burning in the fires of hell for stepping away - for using the church as it’s supposed to be - a sanctuary.

“I think you’re very brave for making a decision like that. For choosing yourself.”

Lilith smiles then, as genuine as Beatrice has ever seen. “I certainly took the long route to get there, but thank you. It…I could have left after the first year or the second, but I needed the time to grow and be ready. When you’re ready, you know.”

Beatrice feels herself being drawn in. “When did you know?”

“When the thought of it didn’t terrify me. When I started to think that there was nothing wrong with being selfish, if only a little. That, perhaps, I deserved it.” Lilith looks at her then, a deep, burning gaze that holds steady as she speaks. “When the idea of already being at my destination felt wrong - there is far too much journey left to experience.”

The words settle over, long after Lilith has left to go find Camila and help her with setting the cafeteria for dinner.

Beatrice continues through her routine, distracted and unfocused - she thinks about it again and again.

Is this her destination? Is this where she’ll be forever?

How can she guarantee that if it isn’t, the place she ends up is better?

Beyond Cat’s Cradle, no other place she’s called home has made her feel safe.

Why risk losing that?

----------------------------

Friday’s at the shelter are always a bit chaotic - the weekend brings in more people to the city, even those who don’t have jobs.

Beatrice doesn't mind them much though because Dora works with her on Fridays and they have always had a good system together.

They're both on the quieter side, both enjoy tasks and focused work - and Dora can be a lot of fun.

Today however, they're slammed and Beatrice is neck deep in flour and dough as she’s been rolling out noodles for the last hour.

Things only escalate from there when a small fire breaks out on the main floor and the fire department has to come.

This is usually where Michael would step in and tend to things, but he isn’t here.

“He’s got his date I think…with Ava.” Beth says it like a doctor delivering bad news, which Beatrice finds odd considering she’s the one who helped set it up in a way.

Still, it’s a mostly distracting thought that causes Beatrice to task herself on mopping the floors of the kitchen and its adjoining rooms just to give herself something to do.

Another hour passes as the food finishes and they hand out bowls with chicken, noodles and dinner rolls to everyone and Beatrice even takes a few minutes to eat a bowl of her own.

When there is finally a lull, she decides she wants to listen to some music and decompress from the busy day - only to find a collection of notifications on her phone.

Fourteen to be accurate.

Eleven text messages.

Two missed calls.

One voicemail.

She frowns, suddenly worried something has happened at the convent. Her mind immediately goes to Cosmo, which rips fear through her heart and has her opening her phone as fast as her fingers will allow.

Then her mood changes, she isn’t sure if it gets better or worse when she sees that every message is from the same person.

Ava: going out with michael for lunch today

Ava: i don’t own any nice clothes, at least not lunch date nice

Ava: wow the restaurant he picked is fancy, i’m waiting for them to fingertip test my skirt length and tell me to change

Ava: texting you under the table, he’s sweet - but he keeps talking about things i don’t know

Ava: loosening up a bit, i got drinks

Ava: do you think you’d get a drink if we went out together? where would we go?

Ava: i wish you were here

Ava: you gotta forgive me beertrice i’m not as good as you but i could be

Ava: this is stupid it’s so stupid ur not even answering me of course ur not you dont feel the same as me you cant ur a nun

Ava: sorry i’m sorry michael called me a cab and left i messed up im sorry i drank too much bea i didn’t mean tto im sorry im so much all the time too much i know

Ava: why kiss me if you cant love me back? it's not fair nobody ever loves me back. what’s wrong with me?

Beatrice’s hands are shaking as she reads each message, her mind lost - it’s…a slow descent of Ava drinking and slipping and telling her things Beatrice doesn’t need to hear. Things she isn't strong enough to hear.

She’s already struggling so much with everything - with her own heart. This? This is torture because there is no path where they end up together that she can see.

No matter how much Beatrice’s body and soul are calling out to Ava all of the time, she’s not strong enough to be what Ava needs.

Ava, who Beatrice is starting to realize is perhaps more lost and broken than she is.

There are still missed calls and a voicemail.

Beatrice shuffles into the bathroom and locks the door behind her, sitting on the closed toilet seat as she stares at the notification of an unread message.

She thinks about her options and the easy way would be to erase it and move on. To block Ava’s number and ask for reassignment.

The easy way would be to recommit, to become a full fledged nun who stays cloistered to the convent and never leaves.

She could find peace, return to what she was before - when she’d managed to block out all the pain and angst and temptation.

When her emotions were muted and colorless - when she felt more guided but less alive.

It’s what she should do.

Instead, she taps on the voicemail and puts the phone to her ear.

You have one new message…new message sent today at 2:42PM

There’s a pregnant pause, then an exhale. “You ruined my date,” Ava sounds tired, drunk. “Not you…I ruined it. Because of you, because I keep fucking think about you. Why couldn't you be like Frances? Why couldn't you just call me worthless and tell me I’m going to hell and hate me like everyone else in my life? Why…why did you have to be so…you?” Ava mumbles something Beatrice can't hear, like she’s talking to someone else. “M’sorry I’m no good. Sorry I’m here. I’m sorry I like you so much. I’m…fuck…”

Then the message ends with a click and Beatrice lowers her phone into her lap - only seeing how tightly she’s gripping it when she can see her knuckles turning white.

She feels wrong, she messed up - she’s hurt Ava and herself and she’s done it without thinking.

Beatrice knows at this moment that she cannot be two different people. She can't have the church and have Ava - because it is only drowning them both.

An even worse pill to swallow is the fact that Beatrice knows now, listening to her and reading her messages, that Ava is not okay.

She is in pain and dealing with things far beyond the scope of what Beatrice could handle.

So there is no happily ever after to run out of the church and into Ava’s arms - it doesn’t exist.

They're not there, even beyond Beatrice’s commitment to God, Ava is hurting.

Not to mention, leaving simply for the sake of Ava isn’t right, she could never put so much on Ava like that - her whole future. It wouldn't be right - it would be too much pressure and she knows far too well how devastating pressure can be.

No, no, she can't do that. She won’t leave her place in the church for Ava.

When Ava comes to the shelter on Monday, Beatrice will talk to her, make sure she’s okay and help her as much as she can.

But any choice about her future will not include Ava in it.

There is no future for them, not as they are right now.

-----------------------------

It all happens so fast that Beatrice barely has time to truly register it.

They're in the middle of their evening prayer, right before everyone will be free to spend their evening relaxing before bed. All of them gathered in the chapel to pray with Father Vincent when the doors of the chapel burst open like an explosion.

All eyes turn to the evening sun that pours in, along with it the chill of the winter air as someone stands illuminated in the entryway.

Beatrice stands up, but can't quite see who it is.

“What is the meaning of this?” Someone shouts as gasps and voices clatter all around.

“Bea!” A voice calls, slurred and distant - but devastatingly familiar. “Beatrice! Are you here! This is Cat’s Cradle! I found it!”

Oh no.

She moves then, as does everyone else unfortunately, a collection of sisters stand between them and through the shoulders and heads in front of her, Beatrice can see Ava coming deeper into the chapel.

“Beatrice! You have to be here! Please, I need to tell you something!”

“Alright,” That’s Father Vincent, his voice booming loudly over the group. “Everyone settle and please relax!”

“Yeah! Chill the fuck out, Sisters! I’m only here to see one of you!”

Beatrice winces, oh Ava is beyond drunk.

She stays standing as the others move back to the pews, and through the path between them, Ava sees her. “Bea!” She cries out, then trips over her own feet and stumbles into a pew before catching herself and using them as a crutch to take a few steps “Hey, hi! I found you!” She has the brightest, most hopeful smile on her face - as if she’s discovered lost treasure.

Beatrice would enjoy it if she wasn't shaking so much. Everyone is here, all of her sisters and Father Vincent and Mother Superion and…everyone. They're all watching this. “Ava what…what are you doing here?”

“You are not allowed here!” Mother Superion is moving towards them, Beatrice can hear her cane clipping on the wooden floor.

She turns then, hands up. “Mother Superion I apologize, I - I can take care of this.”

“She is not supposed to be here!”

“I know I-”

“Hey! Don’t yell at her!” Ava steps up behind Beatrice and points a dangerous finger in Mother Superion’s direction.

Beatrice reaches up and grabs Ava’s hand. “You need to stop.” She says, meaning it despite tremor in her voice.

Ava frowns. “She’s yelling at you for no reason!”

“She’s not yelling at me, and she’s not wrong, you aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Pfft, it wasn't hard, climbed a wall and tore the ass out of my pants on a fence, but I made it.”

When she smiles, Beatrice realizes that Ava truly has no idea how wrong all of this is.

She’s not okay in the slightest. “Ava, you have to go.”

Like a toddler, Ava shakes her head - hair whipping side to side as she does. “Not without you! You…we could be great, Bea. You and me, we could start over and be together. I - I keep thinking about you and about us and I want…” Ava grabs her hands and Beatrice has to close her eyes, she’s about to break. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Ava,” she feels her heart break, because there’s only one way out of this. “Don’t do this.”

When she meets Ava’s eyes, they are filled with unshed tears. “Bea, come on - you…I can be…what do I need to do?”

Beatrice shakes her head, just like Ava earlier. “I’m a nun, Ava and you’re….you are not in love with me, you barely know me.” Ava looks stricken, but says nothing. Beatrice is so very aware that everyone is watching them - this moment will etch into her mind for the rest of her life. “This is not okay, what you’re doing, the state you’re in…I can't…Ava I’m not strong enough for this.”

A whimper pulls itself from Ava’s throat, her eyes so desperate it cracks Beatrice’s soul. “I can be better.”

She takes Ava’s hands and squeezes them. “I know you can, I believe in you, but I cannot be what you need me to be. I’m sorry.”

Beatrice watches all the fight leave Ava’s body. “Right,” she whispers, a few of those tears springing free. “I ruined this too, didn’t I? I…I fucked up.”

“Alright that is enough!” Superion has let this go on far longer than Beatrice thought she would. “I want her escorted off the premises at once, Sister Beatrice, you will go to my office and wait for me there.”

Ava doesn’t wait to be escorted off, she lowers her head and takes a few long steps back. “I’m sorry,” she mouths, not speaking fully.

Beatrice smiles at her as best she can, feeling like this is the last time she’ll ever see Ava again. “You’ll be okay,” she says, like a prayer. “There is so much good in you Ava Silva, trust that, okay? Trust me when I tell you that.”

Mother Superion and a few of the sisters lead Ava out of the chapel and through the door. She sees Ava jerk out of someone’s grasp and curl up into herself as she walks.

It hurts to see her go, more than anything has hurt in her life in so long.

Father Vincent gives her permission to leave, Superion will be expecting her.

On the walk there, Beatrice prays to God to let Ava get home safe.

--------------------------------

Beatrice sits in Superion’s office, a place she has a lot of memories in, including her first day here.

She can still remember what she felt that day - having just come for the convent in London and immediately seeing Superion.

She assumed the worst. She assumed that it would be more of the same. Cranky older nuns who had very little compassion and would grind her down more and more.

Mother Superion was far from gentle, but she did not talk down to Beatrice and wasn't cold. She was distant, but there was a difference.

Now, she only ever really comes in here for direction or guidance - to ask for a new task or seek out assistance with a troubling one.

In fact, the last time she was here was when Superion assigned her to watch Ava’s community service.

If only Mother Superion knew what turmoil that decision would bring.

The door opens and shuts rather dramatically as Mother Superion enters.

Beatrice, always on point, stands up to greet her.

“Mother, I’m truly sorry for what happened this evening.” She bows her head, she does feel terrible - this is a safe space for her sisters and Ava, though harmless, violated that.

Superion waits until she is around her desk to speak. “Yes well, it wasn't your fault and you handled it well. I must say, Beatrice - I found all of it quite alarming.”

“I know, I…I didn’t know she would do that.”

There’s a long silence, long enough that Beatrice looks up at her. “Did you give her a reason to do that?”

She feels her heart start to hammer in her chest. She’s already sinned so much in the last few days, lying to Mother Superion might be too much. “I…I kissed her.”

The surprise on Mother Superion’s face does not go unnoticed. She learns back in her chair, hands clasped together and tucked under her chin. “You kissed her?”

“I - I did, it was…” wrong? A moment of weakness?

None of those things seem to fit. It doesn’t feel wrong and in that moment it didn’t feel like a weakness. She felt strong, in control, for the first time in her whole life she made a choice for herself and yes, things are a mess and yes, she is not sure where her head or her heart are at right now - but the idea of calling that moment with Ava a mistake doesn’t feel right.

“Sister Beatrice, these things happen, moments of weakness and fractures in our commitments, it is not unprecedented or unforgivable. However, what happened today cannot happen again. Ms. Silva will be banned from being near this convent, by law and I will be informing those who assigned her to your shelter of this transgression.”

“No,” Beatrice speaks up, surprising herself. “Please, don’t punish her - Ava’s having a really hard time.”

“She trespassed on our home, Sister.”

“I know, but…just…” it’s all coming to the front now, this thing with Ava and how she makes her feel. It’s not about romance or physical intimacy - it’s about knowing Ava is a good person. “I’m asking you, as a personal favor to me, to please let this go.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, because she is a Sister and she is a subordinate and they do not ask for favors. “Beatrice, you are not acting like yourself right now. You are blinded by this girl, by your feelings for her.”

Those words break the veil, she’s not blinded - for the first time. She sees it now and it’s not about Ava, it’s about choice. She made a choice to kiss Ava and it felt…good. The music she listens to feels good. Texting and crushing and the feelings in her body are all these new things Ava has given her that make her feel alive.

She wants more, she wants to see the world beyond this pain and guilt and hurt that have consumed her for so long.

It’s terrifying, she’s not at all ready and she has no idea how to do it, but she thinks of Lilith and how brave she is - how sure she was that this was not her home and Beatrice realizes now it isn’t hers either.

Content does not equal happiness and Beatrice has never been truly happy, not once in her whole life.

“Mother Superion I…I don’t think I can stay here anymore.”

A deep furrow settles between Mother Superion’s eyes. “What are you saying?”

She touches the bandage on her hand, remembering how safe she felt in the hospital, safe enough to take a risk. “I wish to leave…I want to revoke my vows.”

Chapter Text

Opening one eye, Mary sees the light of her phone to match the buzzing that rattles on the nightstand.

It’s still dark out as she lifts her head up off the mattress and checks to make sure Shannon is still next to her.

She is tucked away under the covers and facing the wall opposite of her.

When another buzz sounds, Mary reaches over and picks her phone up.

It’s just a number, nobody in her contacts and she doesn’t recognize it.

Ava

Her mind goes there immediately - the worst of places

This is the call she’s been terrified of for weeks now. Someone, some hospital in the city found her number on Ava’s old contact sheet and is calling her to tell her that Ava is hurt or in serious trouble or…

Fuck, what if she’s dead?

A deep, gut wrenching fear grips her as she answers the call.

“Hello?” Her voice in the quiet room causes Shannon to shift in bed next to her.

“Is this Mary?”

No, come on, Ava. Don’t do this.

“It is.”

The person on the other end sighs. “Thank christ, okay…so Ava gave me your number - this is JC.”

Mary’s face scrunches up in dismay. “JC? Ava’s with you?”

“She is, she’s…” He pauses for a moment - long enough for Shannon to sit up beside her. Mary meets her worried gaze. “Look she showed up here drunk and…I think she’s on something and she’s been screaming and crying and I can't get her to leave. I - I don’t want to call the police but I need her out of here.”

It’s not my problem

Mary has been telling herself that for weeks - trying to convince herself that if something like this came up again with Ava, that she would walk away.

They’ve put so much effort and energy into Ava Silva and then she walked out on them. She ignored their calls and texts and let them worry

She treated them like garbage and threw them aside when she found something that suited her better. After they took her in and took care of her and helped her.

They fell in love with her. Mary is not too big to admit it, she would have bled and suffered and taken a goddamn bullet for Ava. She would have died for her.

Yet, all it took was one pretty boy to make all they built together obsolete.

She’s young, and the world is still so new to her

Shannon’s voice is there next, as if Ava didn’t break Shannon’s heart too.

As if Shannon didn’t try again and again to draw Ava back - to set up things for them to do together, only to be blown off time after time.

She should hang up, she should let this go and cut Ava out.

She should…

Fuck.

“What’s your address?”

JC relays it to her and Mary doesn’t make it through his ‘hurry up’ before she hangs up and runs her hands through her hair.

“Is she okay?” Shannon asks, a soft hand on Mary’s back.

She shakes her head. “No, she popped up at JC’s place drunk and high and…I guess she’s pretty out of it and keeps freaking out. I…I have to go get her.”

“Okay, we’ll go.”

“Shan-”

“She’s our responsibility.”

“No she isn’t.” Mary argues, not entirely sure why. Then Shannon gives her a look and there’s no argument to be made. “We’ll go get her.”

So they do, they dress fast and climb in Shannon’s Prius and make the drive to the city.

The ride is quiet, they don’t even turn on the radio - just let the sounds of the freeway underneath the tires fill the empty space.

Mary tries to think about what she’s going to do or say when she sees Ava. She should berate her. She should tell her to get her fucking shit together and stop destroying the life she worked so fucking hard to fix.

It’s the most frustrating thing Mary can possibly think about.

Because Ava is a good person. She has the biggest heart of anyone Mary knows. She’s fun and sweet and charming - she has such a bright light inside of her.

The only person who has never been able to see it, is Ava.

Because when she was seven, her mother bled out in front of her and then a bunch of disgusting fucking nuns took her in and verbally and emotionally abused her for years.

All while was stuck in a bed and couldn't even get away from them.

She was bullied for simply existing.

Ava never stood a chance.

Yet, she found ways to shine regardless - and she fought so hard to pull herself out of that hospital bed and into the world.

A world she loved with her whole heart.

A world that refused to love her back.

By the time they make it to JC’s it’s almost two in the morning. They take the elevator up to the fourth floor and Mary finds his apartment easily enough.

When she knocks, footsteps quickly move to the door and a strange woman opens it. “Are you Mary?” She asks, impatiently.

“Yeah,” she says. “This is Shannon.” She gestures to her wife behind her, but the girl inside doesn't look her way.

“Get her out of our apartment, now.”

Mary nods, not wanting to fight someone who doesn't look a centimeter over 5’1”

She steps inside and feels all of her anger and frustration fall away when she sees her.

Ava is sitting on the couch, slumped over like she can't even hold herself up. Her eyes are open, but unfocused and distant.

She’s dying. Not all at once, but that girl with so much fight in her when Mary met her is dying.

The weight of the world is killing her.

It all fades away, the anger and the frustration vanishes - Ava needs her and Mary’s always been weak to that.

“Alright,” Mary steps over and kneels down in front of Ava on the couch. “Hey baby girl,” she grabs Ava’s head and lifts it, watching her blink a few times and seek her out. Her eyes are rimmed red and her breathing is sharp - like each one takes effort.

“Oh Ava…” Shannon whispers behind her, a hand steady on Mary’s shoulder.

“Take her out of here!” the girl yells again.

“Maria, chill.” JC says, clearly concerned - clearly still caring about Ava.

Not that he deserves it for cheating on her. Mary won’t blame him entirely for Ava’s spiral, but it certainly didn't fucking help.

“No, fuck that! This cunt comes in here and -”

“Enough!” Shannon doesn’t raise her voice often, but when she does you do not fuck around with it. “We’re taking her, shut your mouth or I will shut it for you. “

Maria doesn’t say another goddamn word.

Together, she and Shannon drag Ava to her feet and hook one of her arms over each of their shoulders.

“Come on, girl, you gotta step with us.”

Ava’s head hangs forward, breathing still erratic as they take her out of the apartment and Maria slams the door behind them. Mary can hear shouting on the other side of it, but they move away from it with each step and she couldn't care less.

When they reach the elevator, Mary presses the bottom floor button and together they move Ava back to the wall to let her lean against it.

She falls back into it, her head smacking against the wall harshly.

“Oh, god, come here.” Shannon pulls her forward and presses Ava’s head into her shoulder. She looks at Mary like she’s stricken - like she can't believe it’s gotten this bad.

Mary knew this was coming, she felt it a mile away.

Seeing it though, seeing it is fucking brutal.

For now, she has to hold it together because she has to get them home - she has to get Ava back home.

“Should we take her to the emergency room or something?”

Mary moves then, stepping close and lifting Ava’s head up off Shannon’s shoulder.

When she does, Ava’s eyes open slowly, they look darker and distant, but they still see her. Even if they don’t fully process it.

“I think we’re okay, if you think we should then we can, but I think she just took something really fucking strong.”

Shannon nods, taking Mary’s word for it - she knows the signs of an overdose and Ava is still there - just high as fuck.

When they make it to the lobby, they return to the positions of dragging Ava along and into the car. It’s finally a good thing it’s so late because there’s no one around to see them dragging a semi-conscious girl into their car.

Far too soft-hearted for her own good, Shannon doesn’t even bother with the backseat.

Instead, she pulls Ava into the passenger seat with her and lets Ava sit on her lap - head still tucked into Shannon’s shoulder.

Ava has never been a big girl - strong as hell, but still tiny.

In Shannon’s arms right now, she looks so vulnerable and small.

It’s enough to bring a burn to Mary’s throat - what else could she have done?

Hold it together. Hold it together.

She does, the ride out of the city is about as uneventful as the one into it. A few times she turns too fast and Shannon warns her to be careful as Ava slides around a bit in her arms.

The whole way there, Shannon is whispering soft things in Ava’s ear. Telling her she missed her, telling her she’ll be okay and that they have her.

Telling her she isn’t alone.

Telling her they love her.

Mary swears at one point she sees Ava’s fingers ball up Shannon’s coat, like she’s trying to hold her back.

Unfortunately, as soon as they make it home and try to get Ava out of the car, she throws up all over Shannon.

“Oh honey,” Shannon holds her as she bends over, Mary holding Ava’s hair back as a steady pool of bile splashes on the pavement. She’ll have to come out tomorrow morning and spray it down with a hose.

For now, they just keep Ava upright and let her get it all out. Her back bends and bows with each wretch that comes.

After a few minutes, they pull her back up and get her the rest of the way inside.

Mary takes her weight as Shannon scrambles forward and opens the door and then together they carry her through the front door and Shannon again moves away to the kitchen.

The water of the sink turns on as Mary takes in Ava again. She has puke on her chin and around her lips, her eyes are watery and running mascara all down her cheeks.

Tears spill down Mary’s cheeks. “I got you, baby girl. I do. I’m here, I got you.”

When Shannon comes back, she has a wet rag and a few paper towels as well.

They move Ava to the couch and set her down, with the weight off of her, Mary throws off her jacket and grabs Shannon’s hand. “Go change, I’ll clean her up.”

“Are you sure?” Shannon asks, then reaches out and brushes a hand over the tear streak on her cheek.

Mary nods. “I am, I - I’ve got her.”

That seems to be enough as Shannon gets up and moves to the bedroom.

Taking a breath, Mary moves about as gently as she ever has as she cleans Ava’s face. She’s a mess in so many ways, but this one at least, she can fix.

The more she dabs away at the makeup and the puke and all of the masks Ava’s wearing - the more she sees that girl who used to go to the gym with her four times a week with a thousand questions who wanted to do every exercise known to man.

Once Ava is all cleaned up, Shannon comes back with a fresh change of clothes for her and Mary nods before they start to undress her.

Even Ava’s outfit doesn’t fit her, not the girl Mary knew. The short skirt that is so tight it takes both of them to peel it off of her. She has glitter on her neck and shoulders and heels on her feet.

Ava hates heels, she said they hurt her ankles - ankles that were barely used for twelve years

Just like the makeup, the more they change on her, the more she looks like the Ava they knew.

In fluffy pajamas and when Shannon takes her hair out of the bun it’s in, she’s more herself again.

The entire time, Ava lays there unconscious - her eyes closed and her breathing shallow.

Mary sits down on the floor once they position her properly on her side to sleep. She has her head close to Ava’s, ready for anything should she be needed.

“She looks so young,” Shannon says as she strokes Ava’s hair.

“That’s because she is. Too young for everything she’s had to go through.”

She can feel Shannon’s eyes on her. She knows what’s coming. “What are we going to do?” Shannon kneels down and touches Mary’s cheek to get her attention. “What do you want to do?”

A painful laugh escapes her. “Shake her until she realizes how special she is.” Mary is struck with a terrible memory. “Go back to when I met her and listen to her pain instead of telling her that she wasn't special for having trauma - I thought tough love was the way but…I think Ava just needed someone to understand her.” Mary starts to cry again. “She needed someone to hear her cries for help.”

Shannon sits down next to her, they don’t say it, but they’ll be here for the rest of the night. “We can't really help her if she doesn’t let us.”

Mary looks back at her wife, this woman who she has built her whole life with - and knows in her heart it was the right choice because this decision has already been made between them.

“I want to try again, with her. After tonight I think…I think I can convince her to stay.”

“Of course, if you can convince her to stay then of course she can.”

She takes a shaky breath. “I’m scared, Shan. I’m so fucking scared for her.”

Strong arms wrap around Mary and she settles into them, taking Ava’s hand and pulling it over her shoulder to hold. “I know, hon. I know. We’ve got her now, we just have to convince her to let us hold onto her.”

Mary nods, she’s going to fight like hell for Ava.

Chapter Text

It’s still dark out when she finally gives up trying to fall back asleep.

Ava rolls onto her back and reaches blindly for her phone on the nightstand.

She grabs it, tapping the screen and letting it blind her momentarily before squinting through the bright light just enough to see what time it is.

2:47AM

“Fuck,” she whispers into the emptiness of her bedroom. At least if she makes it to 3:30 she can pretend she got a decent night of sleep.

It’s not going to happen now though, her brain is humming too much, too full of thoughts she can't control - if she lays here it will only get worse.

So she sits up and rubs the sleep out of her eyes, staring at a few spots of light from the streetlights outside that are coming in through her partially open blinds.

April is almost over, it’s still cold, but not as unbearable as it has been.

Ava drags herself out of bed and grabs her comforter to wrap around herself. She’s only in a tank top and sleep shorts and really doesn’t want to have to put any pants on.

Besides, the comforter is still warm as it hugs her, dragging along behind her as she moves to the window.

As carefully as she can, Ava cracks it open and steps out into the cold morning air.

She holds the comforter tight on her shoulders before stepping out onto the side paneling and carefully pulling herself up onto the roof.

This isn’t the first time she’s done this since she’s been here

A part of her still can't believe she’s actually here. Can't believe she has a roof to sit on or a place to sleep. She didn’t for about a week, not one of her own.

About two days after hopping the fence of the convent, Ava lost her job at the bar in some budget cutback bullshit. Three days after that, she was evicted. She stayed on Chanel’s couch and slept through the daylight most of the time.

It was…bad, very very bad. Crashing on Chanel’s couch at 4am every morning with her head so full of alcohol and drugs that she couldn't really function.

Using her last bit of cognitive thought to remember to pass out on her stomach, so when she inevitably started throwing up it wouldn't choke her to death.

That’s where her life had gone. She’d lost her job, lost her apartment and destroyed every relationship in her life that had ever mattered to her.

Waking up after falling off the couch in a pool of your own vomit is a special kind of hell.

The wounds of it all are still so fresh, a key player in her early mornings where she can't turn her brain off long enough to fall back asleep.

Honestly, it’s all she thinks about most days - it’s a constant struggle to free herself from it.

She doesn’t know when all of her control slipped away. That day when she caught JC sent her spiraling and she never could regain her balance enough to stop a free fall.

Her life tumbled further and further down, until one evening she stumbled into a chapel and poured her heart out to a nun.

Ava hasn’t seen Beatrice since that day. When she went back to the shelter the following Monday, Bea was gone and in her place was a woman named Lilith.

Lilith was more like what she expected Beatrice to be. Short tempered and cranky, thinking very little of her and her approach to people.

It probably didn’t help that Ava was just as upset about it.

Not having Beatrice there made the shelter miserable, not to mention she went on one date with the guy who runs it and spent the whole meal talking about someone else.

So yeah, Ava’s final month of community service was more like the true punishment it had been intended to be.

Rock bottom came shortly after that, a night when she lost Chanel in a crowd at the bar, took something handed to her by a stranger, then jumped in a taxi she couldn't afford and drove it all the way out to JC’s apartment.

She burst into his place trying to decide if she should blame him for everything or beg him to take her back and give her a quick fix to all her problems.

Except he wasn't there alone, he was with the girl Ava caught him cheating with.

She made a scene, then she threw up on his carpet and while his girlfriend threatened to call the police, JC called Mary instead to come pick Ava up.

She still remembers laughing as he did. “She’ll never show up, she fucking hates me!”

Except Mary did show up, so did Shannon and they dragged her out of there as her body started to shut down.

The next day Ava woke up feeling like death - embarrassed and scared because she really and truly hated herself.

The conversation that followed with Mary will stay with Ava for the rest of her life.

“You’re dying on me, kid. When JC called me I thought that’s what it was. I thought it was the hospital or a cop or some shit calling to tell me something happened to you.”

Her heart shattered as she heard it, because that had felt like an inevitability for days. “I don’t know what to do, Mary. I…I’m…I’m in so much pain, every day…all the time.”

Mary, like the fucking beacon of hope and support she had been since the day Ava met her, grabbed her by the shoulders and held her. “The first thing you have to do is admit it, baby girl. Just say it, tell me what you need.”

At that moment, Ava knew if she asked for it, Mary would give it to her.

So she did. “I need help, Mary. I’m not okay and I really need help.“

That was twenty-four days ago.

Now she’s here, living in Mary and Shannon’s house in a suburb just outside the city. She works a part time job at a farmer’s market and hasn’t had a drink since she moved.

Is she suddenly all better? Fuck no. Not even close. She struggles to sleep, struggles to eat. Her body wants to lay around and wilt away everyday. It’s so hard to find energy to do even the smallest of things sometimes.

Her brain never shuts off. She has to fight constantly to block out the string of negativity and self-hate that courses through her seemingly all day long.

Mary makes her stay active, even today they're going to go for a run and some days Mary kicks her ass in her home gym in the garage.

Ava lets her, Mary and Shannon gave her a roof and another fucking chance when she deserved nothing - she owes it to them to put in every effort.

That’s the thing, she desperately wants to be better. She wants to be happy and feel the joy she had when she first came to the city.

The girl she used to be loved everything. She loved the way the sun rose over the skyscrapers in the city, she loved the smell of deep dish pizza and the way her feet crunched on the icy parts of the sidewalks in a snowstorm.

Somewhere inside of her, that girl is still there, she’s just been trapped underneath an endless wave of bad decisions and identity issues and trauma.

Trauma she can't heal because she has no money. She won’t let Mary and Shannon pay for her therapy, and even if they did, the waitlists to get in are months long.

She needs it, but the system isn’t built for everyone and it’s never been good to her.

So she struggles and fights.

She climbs on the roof at three in the morning all cuddled up in her comforter and lets herself cry.

Everyday is one day closer to being out of this pit. It has to be.

----------------------------

About six hours into her day already, Ava finds herself sitting at the kitchen counter in Mary and Shannon’s house, eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes and watching as Mary goes through the freezer calling out the various meats and leftovers they have stored away while Shannon makes a list of their dinners for the week.

“We have chicken.” Mary says, pulling out three vacuum sealed chicken breasts.

Shannon sighs. “Okay, we’ll do chicken once, but we need some variety - how about fish?”

“Put it on the list,” so she does. “I could get some hamburgers and bust out the grill.”

“Oh yes!” Ava says, not really meaning to. She kind of hates drawing attention to herself these days. She has no right to ask for anything.

Yet, when she says it, Mary looks from her and then to Shannon. “See? Ava missed my grilling.”

Shannon rolls her eyes. “Fine, but get good buns, don’t go cheap on the buns this time.”

“Nice buns, okay let me take a pic so I know what to look for.” Ava watches with delight as Mary pulls out her phone and snaps a quick photo of Shannon’s butt. “Got it.”

“Delete that, oh my god! I’m in the most unflattering pantsuit I have, Mary!”

This only makes Mary laugh. “What you call unflattering, I call hot fire, mmm.”

Ava smiles when Shannon flushes red and turns back to her list. “I’m putting salad stuff on here, we need some greens.”

This goes on for a bit as Ava eats her breakfast. She doesn’t work until eleven today but there’s not much time to rest because Mary is going to make her run soon.

She’s dressed for it, in an old nike t-shirt of Shannon’s she was gifted and a pair of jogging pants to match. She doesn’t mind the runs really, she’ll like them better when it warms up - but the burn in her legs and the constant movement has made her back feel better.

It helps her mood too, at least a little.

Just as she’s about to take her last bite, she hears her name. “Do you need anything, Ava?” Shannon asks and looks at her.

There’s no disdain in her eyes, no frustration or annoyance- Shannon has never really yelled at her for what happened when she stopped talking to them. Even when she came back, Shannon made the couch up for her because the guest room wasn't ready and hugged her.

Ava feels very self-conscious around her - careful. She’s so afraid of fucking up again that she just wants to take up as little space as possible. “No, no I’m okay. Whatever you guys decide is fine.”

“Are you sure? You used to really love those pork dumplings I make - we could get stuff for that? Oh and the ramen bowls you liked - Mary we haven’t had that in forever, right?”

She feels the guilt tearing at her with each word Shannon speaks. She’s so nice, so kind and giving and sweet and fuck Ava doesn’t deserve any of it. The last time she did she spat on it.

Her eyes find Mary lingering at the fridge, looking at her - Ava wonders if Mary thinks the same thing. That Ava doesn't deserve this.

“We haven’t, I think it’s long overdue. I can get some pork for the dumplings too just…make sure you look up the recipe for the sauce this time. Don’t wing it.”

Shannon turns around and points her pen in Mary’s direction. “It was so close to perfect!”

“It was salty and you spat it out.”

“Still close! I know it, but fine…I’ll Google it.” Shannon jots it down and then her phone makes a sound and she sighs. “Alright, I better get to work, don’t run Ava into the ground and Ava, when you get home tonight can you fold the laundry?”

“Yeah of course,” she says too quickly. “Anything else you need done?”

Shannon shakes her head and picks up her bag on the stool next to where Ava is sitting. “That should be all for now, how’s your pillow on your bed? We kinda dug it out of the closet. We can pick you up a new one if you need it.”

The pillow sucks ass. It’s flat and has no support, but she won’t tell them that. “It’s perfect, thank you though.”

“Of course,” Shannon squeezes her shoulder and Ava’s heart clenches. “Alright you two, I’ll see you tonight. Love you, Mary.”

“Love you too, Shan.”

When the door closes behind Shannon, Ava lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

-----------------------------

South Wind Farmer’s Market is a far far cry from the bars and dives that Ava had grown very accustomed to working at when she lived in the city.

Now, instead of loading bottles of vodka and pouring shots. She hauls boxes of corn and stacks up tomatoes on display.

It’s grunt work, plain and simple but it keeps her busy and she gets to be outside more now that the weather is slowly starting to warm up.

This job, much like everything in Ava’s life right now, was a gift handed to her by people who didn’t owe her anything.

So often Ava feels like she’s just clinging onto people better than she is - so she works her ass off to make up for it.

It’s all she can do. Ava shows up early, doesn’t say no and whatever Duretti needs her to do, Ava does it.

Take today for example, her hands are cramping and there’s a blister between her thumb and index finger forming from holding the knife, but she’s sliced a huge stack of pineapples and has them all sorted out in a box with their little heads in the trash.

This place is always busy, vendors from all over the city come here to sell their stuff - Ava only got in with Duretti because he owed Shannon a favor for a case she worked with him a few months back.

Again, something else Ava feels like she doesn’t really deserve. Shannon and Mary could have had free fruit for life or something cool out of the favor he owed - instead they wasted it on her.

Once Ava finishes the last of the pineapples, she positions them all neatly in the box so none of them fall out before she adjusts her hat to keep it on her head before hoisting the box up with a little help from her right knee.

She carries it over to the display - not entirely sure if there’s enough room for it, but she’ll make it work.

They're doing good business today - Duretti has been selling his ass off and they're running low on tomatoes and cucumbers. She takes a mental stock to go and bring more out if they need it - she’s not really sure how all of this works yet but one time a customer came looking for potatoes and Ava knew there were some in the back, but Duretti hadn't told her to bring them out yet so she told him they were out.

The customer left and Ava explained what happened and he kind of yelled at her.

It was funny really, he yelled at her and then looked like he half expected her to break down crying. She didn’t, she’s been yelled at and belittled by far scarier than Duretti and in a strange way, he almost grew to respect her because of it.

Now, she knows that anything and everything is on sale. Duretti would sell the shirt off his back if he could turn a profit.

As Ava moves around to the front of the display to fix up the pineapples and make them look extra tasty, she hears footsteps crunching on the pavement coming up to her.

“Hi!” She greets, starting to turn and meet them. “If you’re looking for something to go with a nice fruit salad or a good topper for your burger, we’ve got…” Ava’s chest constricts like a heart attack - her breath catches in her throat. “Bea?”

It’s Beatrice. It’s Sister Fucking Beatrice out in the middle of her fucking farmer’s market.

Except, it’s not Beatrice, not like Ava remembers her.

She’s not wearing a habit anymore. There’s no wimple on top of her head. Instead, it’s a white button down shirt with long sleeves that puff out a bit, neatly tucked into a pair of khaki slacks.

Her hair is uncovered, still tied up neatly behind her head, but different - the bun is looser and Ava can see pieces of it slipping free.

She looks fucking amazing.

What’s worse, Beatrice looks just as surprised to see her. “Ava you…you’re here?”

“I uh…” Ava’s brain is short circuiting - this was not what she expected at all. In fact, Ava was convinced she would never ever see Beatrice again after what happened. “You’re not wearing your nun stuff?”

She hates her broken brain to mouth filter so fucking much.

There were dozens of ways she could have approached this, the least of which would be to simply tell Beatrice she looks good.

Because holy fucking shit does she look good. Ava’s heart feels like it’s trying to climb up her throat.

Then she smiles and looks away, almost shy. “I’m not…I don’t belong to the church anymore. I - I left Cat’s Cradle a month or so ago.”

Oh god…oh fuck oh no what if…what if that’s why Bea is here? What if Ava got her kicked out of the church?

“I’m sure it’s a bit of a surprise,” Beatrice offers, that same soft and patient smile on her face that Ava grew so used to at the shelter.

She tucks the guilt away, the worry that she got Bea expelled from heaven or some shit and decides not to put more of her trauma on this poor girl.

Even if she feels like her lungs are collapsing. “It’s definitely a shock, Bea. You…wow, look at you.”

To her surprise, Beatrice blushes. “To be honest, I’m still in the process of adjusting. The back of my head gets colder now.”

“Huh,” Ava hadn't really considered that with a wimple, but it makes sense and…oh.

Beatrice has a playful little smile on her face, it cracks open Ava’s heart and she swears she feels it bleeding into the pit of her stomach.

“Did uhm…did you want something from our stand?”

Some part of Ava wants to go back a few months - to the shelter and the way it was so easy between them. Even when Beatrice was a nun and Ava was falling apart, their interactions were easy.

Now Ava is too aware of everything she destroyed and all the pain she caused - even seeing Beatrice hurts because she knows that her existence in Bea’s life helped take her away from her home.

That deep ache in her chest that she spent months trying to drink and drug away is pounding on her brain trying to get free.

“These pineapples look good. I’m planning to try pizza tonight and I’ve heard this is a favorite topping of some.”

Ava smiles, despite herself. “I love it,” she says. “Be careful though, some people get very defensive about their pineapple on pizza.”

“I see,” Beatrice hums, picking up a few slices. “I continue to learn new things about the world outside of the church every day.” Beatrice picks up a pineapple and eyes it, then looks back at Ava. “If you say it’s good, then I’ll take my chances.”

They fall into the role of customer and service provider for a bit as Ava works her way through the cash register and rings Beatrice up.

She pays with bills, a crisp twenty dollar bill that looks like it was ironed or something and it’s two dollars over the charge of her pineapple and the onions she buys to go along with it.

When Ava hands her the change, their hands touch and though there aren’t sparks or anything so dramatic - Ava feels her throat close just a little.

“It was really good to see you again, Ava.”

She nods, desperate to say something - anything. She knows she needs to. “I’m sorry about what happened the last time,” the words don’t carry as well as she wants them to - but if she talks any louder she’s going to cry. “I was in a really bad place.”

This time when Beatrice smiles at her, it’s toothy and wide - breathtaking. “You seem to be doing better.”

“I’m…” Ava takes a shaky breath. “I’m doing my best.”

“That’s all we can do, I think.” They stare at each other for another few seconds, Ava’s knees feel like they're about to give out from underneath her. “I’ll let you know what I think of the pizza.” She says and Ava really doesn’t know how to respond to that because she cannot for the life of her understand why Beatrice is giving her the time of day right now.

So she nods and smiles as best as she can. “Okay, take care, Beatrice.”

There’s just the tiniest bit of disappointment in Bea’s face before she leaves that sends Ava over the edge.

As soon as Bea is out of sight and there’s no one around her booth, Ava slips into one of the back bathroom stalls and closes the door.

She locks it then presses her hands on like maybe if she pushes hard enough it will seal shut and nobody will ever find her.

Beatrice isn’t a nun anymore. Beatrice, who was the only thing at one point that kept Ava’s head above water, had to give up her whole way of life because Ava tainted it.

Because Ava was greedy and selfish and desperate.

Because Ava was falling in love with her - and anything Ava loves is always met with destruction.

No, no no that’s not true - Mary would yell at her for even thinking about it.

She sits on the closed toilet seat and buries her face in her hands. She really really doesn’t want to cry again today. She’s so tired of crying.

There are other options than crying and she knows it. There’s a liquor store about a half block from here and a few bills missing from the register wouldn't make a huge difference. Duretti isn’t back from his break yet and wouldn't even know about the twenty Bea left.

Ava could take it, get a bottle or two and just…shut down.

Reaching into her back pocket, Ava pulls her phone out and opens it, scrolling through her contacts, she finds what she’s looking for.

Ava: i’m sorry to bother you but i need help

She leans forward, elbows on her knees and takes in a few deep breaths, trying to remove the blurry edges of her vision.

When her phone buzzes only a few seconds later, Ava’s tension lifts just a bit.

Mary: okay, i’ll be there in fifteen minutes

Ava takes a few more minutes to collect herself in the bathroom, fighting off the urge to run away and bury her pain. She can’t do that again. She can’t.

She won’t.

She wouldn't even have anywhere to go.

Eventually, she goes back out to the market and finds Duretti working again - he’s got a line of customers and when Ava tells him she’s not feeling well he doesn't seem all that bothered.

He even thanks her for her work on the pineapples and tells her to go.

So she steps out onto the street, now in her jacket, and waits.

When Mary’s car rolls up about eighteen minutes later, Ava almost feels scared to get in it.

She’s not even sure why, it just feels…pathetic, weak.

“Come on, babygirl.” Mary says over the top of the car as she stands up with her door open.

Ava nods and gets in, despite all the embarrassment and frustration inside of her.

The car ride is quiet, mostly because Ava doesn’t really want to talk and Mary is content to just listen to music and let them sit together.

It’s still hard to accept sometimes that Mary let her back in. She doesn’t feel like she deserves it but when she told Mary that once before, Mary told her that it wasn't her decision to make.

Now she’s here and she’s trying and it sucks because Mary has a job and she had to leave it to come and pick Ava up like a little kid who got sick at school.

This situation makes her feel so small sometimes.

Yet, she knows deep down that it’s better than where she was. She wakes up with a mostly clear head and hasn’t thrown up in a few weeks.

She isn’t alone at night, even if she sometimes has to slip away and hide out in her room because it’s all a bit too overwhelming sometimes - she’s comforted by the fact that Mary and Shannon are close.

Which is the biggest factor of them all, she has Mary and Shannon back in her life. She can't lose that again, she won’t hurt them again.

It takes about ten minutes for Ava to realize they're not headed back home.

Instead, they're turning to a more distant part of the city, closer to where Mary actually works and pulling into a parking lot Ava’s never seen.

“Where are we?”

Mary looks over at her with a smirk. “Gym near my office has a few tricks up its sleeve. I think they’ll be good for you.”

Ava pouts, “you’re going to make me workout?”

“It’ll do you good.”

“I should have called Shannon,” she grumbles. “She would have taken me home and baked me cookies!”

Mary laughs and turns off the engine. “You’re not wrong, but trust me, you’ll be glad we did this, and if you put in the effort, we’ll swing by Weber’s and get you some of those blondies you like.”

Oh fuck. “Okay, shit, yeah okay.”

This time Mary snorts at her as they both climb out of the car. “You’re so fucking easy.”

“Shut up!” Ava calls back, laughing herself as she follows Mary inside

The gym itself feels like it fell out of a Rocky movie. The walls are brick and have big banners and flags on them, ranging from motivational to sponsorship to pride flags. There aren’t a lot of people here, but enough to bring out a little noise.

The layout is mostly big equipment and dumbbells all in a circle around the edges of the interior.

Then, at the center, is a boxing ring.

“This is way different than our old gym,” Ava says as she continues to follow Mary around.

Mary looks back at her over her shoulder as they step into a locker room. “Yep, this is a fighters gym - a lot of people that come here are training for fights or recovering from them.”

The locker room is a lot like the gym itself, full of character. It looks worn, but not in a mistreated or dirty way - just well used. Like the kind of place a person comes to when they're committed to something like this every single day.

“Do you box?” Ava asks, taking note of how comfortable Mary is here.

When she pops open a locker without a fucking key, Ava’s question is answered. “I used to, but now I just come here to work out for the atmosphere. Plus the manager, Antonio, lets me come in for free.”

Ava steps back a bit when Mary drags a bag out of the locker and sets it on a wooden bench next to her legs. “Why does he let you come in for free?”

“I introduced his daughter to her partner.”

Huh…well shit.

There’s no time for a full story or even a quick joke because the next thing Ava knows, Mary is shoving clothes into her hands. “Go change, these are older and should fit you alright. If the pants are too long just tie them at the ankle.”

“What…”

Mary reaches up then and cradles Ava’s face with both hands. “Trust me with this one, okay?”

She does, it feels like a contract they signed when Ava moved back in

Right now, she is not fully capable of making her own choices - like a privilege she abused and lost.

So when Mary is offering to help, Ava will do whatever is asked of her. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

The clothes Mary gives her are a bit too big, but she ties the ADIDAS shirt off at the bottom and rolls up the legs of the sweats over her ankles. There’s a hair tie in there too so Ava tucks her hair back and puts it in a ponytail.

When she steps out with her old clothes in her hands, Mary is in her workout stuff too - just a black tank top with pants to match - sitting on a bench with an expectant look on her face and some tape in her hands. “Put all that up and come sit,” she gestures to the bench in front of her.

Ava does as directed and takes her seat, her knees sitting in between Mary’s legs as they sit face to face.

“Give me your left hand.”

She does and Mary takes it, flipping it upside down before she starts to pull some tape off the roll and wraps it around Ava’s palm. “What are we doing?”

Mary looks up at her, still taping her hands up. “You’re going to hit some shit.”

“You?”

This makes Mary laugh. “Not today, Shannon wouldn't forgive me if I gave you a black eye.”

Ava frowns. “Hey I’m fast and I’m pretty strong!”

It’s supposed to be a tease really, something to break the strange tension in the air

Instead, Mary just kind of looks at her, like she’s looking inside of her. “You were, when we did this gym work regularly - you were in really good shape.”

Her smile falls. “You mean before I left.”

“Yep,” Mary pulls the tape roll around again, it’s tight. “It doesn't do us any good to pretend shit didn’t happen. You can't move past anything if you ignore it.”

“Sure is easier to ignore it though,” Ava admits, feeling like if they're being honest, she can be fucking honest.

Mary nods and lifts Ava’s hand up just enough that she can bite the tape and cut it off. “But you don’t do that anymore, or at least, you haven’t in a few weeks now.” Ava looks away, shame rippling through her like a tidal wave. “I’m proud of you, kid.” Her eyes snap up to Mary a second later, shocked. “You asked for help today, something was bad and you didn’t slip - you came to me.”

Ava wants to hug her. “You were busy, I probably ruined your schedule.”

“Doesn’t matter, don’t care. You called, I came and I will continue to do that so long as you let me.”

It hurts, god it fucking hurts so much to think that she ever pushed Mary away. Mary saved her life and now she’s done it again.

There’s pain, but Mary is still here and Ava has another chance. “Thank you.” She says. She’ll say it every day for the rest of her life if she has to.

“Give me your other hand.” Ava does, without hesitation. A few seconds pass as Mary starts her work, but then the silence is broken again. “You want to talk about what happened? Why you texted me?”

She does, fuck she’s wanted to talk about Beatrice for so long - to anyone.

The problem is that she has no idea where to even start.

Fuck it.

“I think I was falling in love.”

Mary looks up at her. “Please tell me this isn’t about JC.”

Ava shakes her head. “No, no no - he’s…no, it’s not him.”

“Good.”

She takes a breath, her hand trembling a little in Mary’s grip. If she notices, she doesn’t say anything. “Her name is Beatrice and…I met her at the shelter.”

“Mmm, so this was recent then?”

Ava nods. “Yeah, a few months ago.” She swallows the lump in her throat, this next part hangs heavy on her tongue. “She was a nun.”

The look Mary gives her is so fucking annoying. “Jesus Christ, Ava. Do you have to make everything as difficult as possible?”

“Shut up, you…you haven’t seen her.”

“No, I haven’t been to many nun hangouts lately.”

Mary bites the tape again and finishes wrapping her other fist. “You don’t understand, Mary. She’s…she was different. She was younger than most nuns, like around my age and just…god.”

“Yes, God. She was married to God - wait.” Mary holds both of Ava’s now taped up hands, her eyes narrowed. “Ava…please tell me you didn’t fuck a nun.”

“No!” Ava jerks her hands away and stands up, her face feeling hot. “Of course not! She’s…Bea’s not like that!”

“Bea?”

Ava points a finger at her, skin stretching painfully with the tape. “Hush, I’m trying to unload some trauma here.”

Mary puts her hands up in surrender before moving across the locker room to a small box filled with what look like boxing gloves. “Alright, so you want to fuck her.”

“No I…” Ava stops herself, it’s stupid to lie about this. “Fine, of course I did - but it’s not just that. She was so good, Mary. She was…I got so into her.”

“You keep saying ‘was’, she’s not dead is she?”

Again Mary takes her hands and again Ava lets her, this time it’s because Mary is pulling the gloves over them. “No, she’s not dead…I say ‘was’ because I hadn't seen her since…since she kissed me.”

That gets Mary’s attention. “So she wanted to fuck you?”

“Stop talking about my sex life please. It’s weird when you do it.”

“Why?”

Ava shivers a little. “I don’t know, you’re like my big sister or something! Plus, this thing with Beatrice wasn't a sex thing.” Mary gives her a look. “Fine, it wasn't just about sex.”

“So what? You think she left the church because she was in love with you too?”

There’s a thought. Ava may have a lot of pain and anguish tied to those few months with Beatrice and the way they ended.

But that kiss Beatrice gave her lives rent free in her mind. The kiss Beatrice, a nun at the time, initiated and sank into long enough to make it a moment.

Was Beatrice falling for her the same way Ava was? Probably not, but there was something there.

Ava was just too damaged to seize it.

“We had good chemistry, but I…I did my thing and I fucked it up. I got drunk and was like…” Ava looks around, thankful that no one else is near them. “I went to her convent and tried to get her to run away with me.”

“Ava, what the fuck?” Mary is partway between scolding her and laughing at her.

She deserves both. “I know, I’m actually banned for life from the Cat’s Cradle Catholic Convent.”

“Good lord, Ava.” Mary tightens the gloves on her hands. “You really don’t half-ass anything do you? Crush on a nun, get banned from a convent.”

Ava really wishes she could do things in small measures but she’s never been able to do it. “It’s…it might be worse.”

Mary levels her with a hard stare. “How?”

“I uh…” Ava sighs. “She showed up at the market today…not in her habit or her wimple or…anything like that. She left the convent - I think she might have been kicked out because of me.”

There’s a long silence as Mary finishes wrapping her gloves on and testing to make sure they won’t fall off.

Then, when Ava is fully locked into them, Mary reaches up and flicks her between the eyes.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“That’s not how churches work, Ava. Unless she snuck you in and ate you out in the middle of morning prayer -”

“Mary oh my god!” Ava covers her ears with the big ass boxing gloves.

Then Mary grabbed her hands and pulled them away. “You walking in and professing your love for her did not get her kicked out - that’s not how Catholic guilt works. If they suddenly had something to hold over her and keep her down, then they’d use it.”

Ava shakes her head. “But she was all about the church, Mary. She called it her home - why would she leave?”

“I don’t know that, neither do you - and it doesn’t do you a damn bit of good to blame yourself. If that girl left, I’m sure she had her own reasons.” Mary grabs her by the shoulders, shaking her a little to get her attention. “Listen to me okay? I’m not saying this to be mean, I’m just saying it so you’ll understand. Not everything is about you.” Ava hates that, she hates being called selfish because she knows she has been but she’s been trying so hard. “Hey, no, look at me.” She does, just barely, but she does. “Good and bad, sometimes things just happen and that shit isn’t your fault. You are not a bad person, Ava. You’re not a curse or a burden or a problem - you’re just figuring shit out and running a little behind schedule because the first nineteen years of your life you didn’t get a chance to and that’s okay.”

She feels a sob in the back of her throat, it burns trying to get out. “Mary…” she breathes and feels the tears run down her cheeks.

Nobody has ever spelled it out for her like that. No one has ever vocalized how hard she’s been trying to catch up to everything she missed out on.

“I want you to say it to me - say it back to me.”

“I’m not a burden.”

Mary nods. “No you are not, and?”

Ava takes a breath, “it’s okay that I’m not okay.”

“You’re damn right it is,” Mary reaches out and wipes the tears off of Ava’s cheeks. “Now there’s no crying when you box because you have these big ass gloves on and if you try to wipe away your tears with them you just punch yourself in the face.”

She can't help but laugh, her heart blooming in her chest - the ache fading just a bit. “Of course, so are we gonna hit shit now?”

“Hell yeah, come on, there’s a heavy bag with your name on it.”

Ava frowns. “Shouldn’t it have your name on it? So I have more incentive to hit it?”

Mary pushes her forward. “Watch yourself, nunfucker.”

“Mary stop, oh my god!”

------------------------------------

By the time they made it back home, Ava was buzzing. Her arms were sore, her back was sore and her body had this sheen of sweat on every part of her.

It felt good, really good - she hadn't really had that much physicality outside of the bedroom in years.

She missed it, she missed being with Mary in that space. Just the two of them making jokes and giving each other shit. It’s fun and Mary is so good at making Ava feel comfortable.

The rest of her night goes well too, mostly. She gets home and showers, then they eat homemade dumplings and Ava thanks Shannon too many times and gets gently told to stop.

That’s one of the things she’s struggling with the most is just…feeling like she deserves any of this.

Guilt is like a second skin to her now, guilt and shame are prevalent throughout the day and she does her best to ignore them.

Sometimes though, it’s too much and after making Mary leave work and having Shannon cook something just for her, Ava feels like she’s way too much for the both of them and when they start a movie night together, she excuses herself to her room to leave them alone.

She doesn’t want them to get sick of her or to be too much of a weight on them.

So she goes to her room and fusses over the plants she’s been slowly collecting for her window.

These little guys have become her roommates of sorts - they're getting kind of out of control and have overwhelmed the small desk in front of her window.

She remembers when she wanted to get her first plant and Mary caught her just…staring at it in the store and when she asked about it, Ava put it down and said she didn't need it.

This was not her home to bring anything into.

Then Mary bought it for her and gave it to her when they made it back here and, you guessed it, Ava sobbed like a fucking baby.

“You’re allowed to be happy, Ava. I didn’t bring you here to treat you like shit.”

Ava needs professional help, she knows she does. Her sleep is still too filled with nightmares, ranging from watching her mother bleed to death to waking up unable to move and so many other things she’s never processed.

There are too many harsh and hateful thoughts in her head that she spends most of her free time trying to ignore.

Unfortunately, she can't actually get that help so instead she has plants, and boxing with Mary and late night cookies and milk with Shannon when she’s working late on a case.

It’s better here, Ava’s never really alone here.

There are things she misses - she hasn’t spoken to Chanel in over a month. That was one of Mary’s unspoken conditions.

Chanel is one of Ava’s favorite people in the world, but she just didn’t understand what that life they were living was doing to her.

She misses her, but when Ava told her that she needed some time to get herself sorted out and to fix a lot of shit she broke, Chanel understood and told her to reach out when she was ready.

It was nice, but Ava knows their relationship was never quite the same after she tried to sleep with her.

There’s not one relationship in Ava's life that she hasn’t damaged in some way. Not a single one.

“You’re not that person anymore,” Ava tells herself as she climbs into bed. She’s not that person anymore, or she’s trying really really hard not to be.

She curls up in bed with her phone out, ready to let TikTok lull her to sleep when suddenly there is a message alert at the top of her screen.

Unknown Number: 7/10. Though the pineapples themselves were incredible.

Ava frowns as she reads it, trying to remember for a split second before it hits her.

Bea, it’s Beatrice. She…she changed her phone but she kept Ava’s number. She texted her, reached out to her to tell her what she thinks of the pizza.

The little smile that dances across her face is unbound in the moment. She missed her, Ava never stopped missing her or thinking about her or wishing things were different.

It feels so delicate, like something she has to be extra careful with not to break.

She’s not even sure if she should respond but she can't just leave Bea hanging.

Ava: the type of pie you put it on matters a lot too

Ava: I know really good deep dish place near where I work that i think you would enjoy

It’s too much, it has to be - she doesn’t want to come across like she’s flirting or asking her on a date or pushing anything.

She just wants to see her again. She just wants to know her.

When the response comes, Ava is almost shaking.

Bea: I’d like that. I’d like to see you. I feel like there are things we should talk about.

The implications of that are fucking terrifying. There’s a good chance Bea just wants to sit down with her so she can recount all the ways Ava ruined her life.

Then again, maybe she really does just miss Ava as much as Ava has missed her.

Maybe she thinks about Ava at night before she goes to sleep or sometimes first thing in the morning when she wakes up.

Maybe…maybe.

Whatever the case is, Ava owes Beatrice the chance to say what she needs to say.

Ava: are you free friday for lunch?

God, fucking goddamit that sounds like a date invite.

It’s not a date, it’s not.

She’s not ready for that and Ava can only assume former nun Beatrice isn’t either.

Bea: I am, how about I meet you at the market at noon before my shift and we can go from there?

Ava responds with an “okay!!” and spends way too much time trying to decide how many exclamation points to use.

She’s going to see Beatrice again. They're going to sit down and talk and eat together and…

When she closes her eyes that night, Ava prays to a god she doesn’t believe in.

Please, please don’t let me fuck this up

Chapter Text

During the entirety of her time in the convent, Beatrice never slept long enough for her alarm to go off.

It’s one of her less exciting qualities, the ability to wake up early.

Back then, it was something she appreciated - the chance to wake up and start her morning early. Before the hustle and flow of her sisters overtook the empty silence of morning.

Now, Beatrice doesn’t have to wake up early for anything. In fact, given her shifts at the warehouse, it would be better if she didn’t.

So she sets no alarms, she has no pressing morning schedule before nine.

Yet, she still can't sleep past five on most mornings.

Today is no different, rolling over onto her back and staring up at the ceiling - her morning again started before the sun.

The difference now is that there is nowhere to be - nothing to do.

She doesn’t have to get up and say her morning prayers, though she still does sometimes out of habit.

Her prayers are different now, not recited verses and pleas for forgiveness. Now she just asks for guidance, for the strength to make the right choice. For good health to those she cares about and a calm mind.

No longer does she sink to her knees or bow her head - prayers happen like this. Staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the small handful of people in her life.

Past or present.

This morning, unsurprisingly, it’s Ava.

Ava, who she is going to be meeting today before her shift.

Ava, who she never expected to find at a farmer’s market selling tomatoes and pineapples and looking so…small.

That’s what stood out the most to her. There was no doubt in her mind that it was Ava, she knew it before they even faced each other.

What she didn’t expect was how diluted Ava felt - like she’d been rung out a few times and left to dry on the edge of the sink.

Her smiles were quieter, her eyes were heavier and yet, that pull was as fierce as ever.

While Beatrice didn’t leave Cat’s Cradle because of Ava, she certainly never stopped thinking about the possibility of her.

Obviously it’s not something she can pursue, not now. She’s not ready, but seeing her yesterday brought with it a sense of relief that Beatrice didn’t even know the depth of until she felt it.

Because she felt so bad for abandoning her like she did - for sending her away that day and never seeking her out.

The fact of the matter was that she was not strong enough back then to be that person for her. One attempt to reach out would have drawn her in completely and if Beatrice had tried to be an anchor for Ava then, it would have drowned them both.

So she prayed. She hated every second of it because Beatrice has never believed in the power of prayer on its own. Prayer is simply words, empty words if there is no action taken.

Still, it was the best she could give Ava at the time and Beatrice has worried about her ever since.

It would be nice to lay about and stay lost in her mind for a little bit longer - but when she feels something press down into the mattress and hears the accompanying huff, she sits up.

Cosmo has his head on the mattress, eyes focused on her and she can hear his tail smacking against the carpet.

“You do realize that my getting up early won’t get you your breakfast any sooner?”

His tail speeds up in response.

When she left, she was convinced she’d have to say goodbye to her first friend. However, her sisters all decided that Cosmo would be much happier with her and Mother Superion told her point blank that they didn’t want her to be alone either.

So once she had her apartment sorted with a little help from Father Vincent, and a job lined up thanks to Valerie at the shelter - Beatrice made her first stop at a Pet Smart and bought a bag of dog food and a leash.

Now it’s just the two of them, and Beatrice is so grateful he’s here.

“Up,” she pats the mattress and Cosmo doesn’t waste a second before bouncing up and flopping down on top of her.

Beatrice pets him with vigor, running her fingers up and down his coat and feeling him wiggle and press into her.

Once the sun finally starts to rise, Beatrice pushes herself out of bed, Cosmo right behind her as she makes her way through the apartment.

To call it modest would be a massive understatement. It is literally three rooms. A living space that seconds as a kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom. She does her laundry across the street and gets her internet from the dispensary below her.

Beatrice still has no idea how Father Vincent knew about a cheap apartment set up over the top of a marijuana dispensary - she thinks it may be better to not know.

Still, the rent is manageable and for someone who has lived the last decade of her life living as frugally as anyone in the world, saving money hasn't been very difficult.

Once her morning tea is made (not as good as the church, a bag in a microwave is no match for a kettle) and Cosmo has his leash on, Beatrice makes her way downstairs to take him on his walk.

Adjusting to her life outside of the church is still quite difficult.

The world outside the walls of Cat’s Cradle is often too loud, too crowded and too busy. She struggles with people’s motivations and finds that her perfectly planned schedules are often thrown into disarray by things as simple as an excess in foot traffic on her way home.

Then there are moments like this, mornings when the sun is just starting to crawl between the buildings of the city around her and the streets aren’t as crowded.

Where she takes Cosmo along the sidewalk to a nearby dog park - these are the beautiful things that Beatrice finds her peace in now.

It’s too early to tell if she will ever be fully comfortable in this life - she thinks so. Right now she isn’t, but every day is a little easier.

She’s a long way away from her first few nights in her apartment, crying herself to sleep because the traffic outside never stopped and the lights were too bright and she was lonely.

By the time the sun is well and truly hung in the sky and shining down on her, Beatrice takes in a deep breath of the early morning air and leads Cosmo back home to get him some breakfast and prepare herself for the day.

Of course, by the time she makes it back, the dispensary is open and Lucia - the owner - is behind the counter waiting for her.

“Right on schedule,” she says, her accent a richer one than Beatrice’s, her voice as smooth as ever.

She smiles. “I am a creature of habit, I’m afraid.”

Lucia moves around the counter and kneels down to greet Cosmo. “Nothing wrong with that, is there, buddy.” She scratches behind his ears, preening to every scrap of her well trimmed nails.

The selling point of living over a dispensary was hard right up until the moment she met Lucia - who was told of Beatrice’s situation ahead of time and went out of her way to make Beatrice feel welcome.

Perhaps too much, Lucia has a bit of a problem with personal space - it reminds her a lot of Ava and in the same way, she allows it to a point.

Lucia is kind and has been good to her, makes her feel welcome every morning.

“Hmm,” Lucia stands up, closer to Beatrice now and studying her face. “Your freckles shine in the morning, do you know that?”

Beatrice shrugs, not at all accustomed yet to Lucia’s compliments. They are daily and consistent.

“I haven’t considered it,” she admits. “Perhaps it’s the moisturizer you loaned me.”

She sees Lucia’s face light up. “You’re using it then?”

“I am, at least I am when I remember,” she shrugs. “A nightly routine that doesn’t involve kneeling at the foot of my bed and praying is all very new to me.”

This gets her a very soft smile. “Well even just a few times a week will make a difference.” That’s when Lucia invades her personal space again, brushing a thumb against the bridge of her nose. “It already is.”

Beatrice takes a step back, not really meaning to, but not enjoying being touched.

“Sorry,” Lucia says, sounding genuine. “I’m a touchy person, I forget you’re not.”

She isn’t, or she isn’t usually.

One person was able to touch her freely.

Which brings her back to this afternoon and seeing Ava and how suddenly Ava is filling up the empty space in her mind again.

Beatrice feels Lucia staring at her, waiting for her to say something. “It’s alright, I’m just not used to it is all.” She feels it isn’t a lie - she truly is not used to physical contact.

She can count the number of hugs she’s received in her life on one hand.

A sudden whine from Cosmo breaks the quiet and they both laugh. “Uh oh, someone’s getting impatient.”

“He’s hungry, I’m certain.” Beatrice says, reaching down to pet the top of his head. “I hope you have a profitable day, Lucia.” She says with a smile that is returned easily.

“Thank you, don’t work too hard today. I saw you limping upstairs a few days ago.”

Beatrice flushes, looking away. “My leg seizes up sometimes, nothing to worry about. I’m in decent enough shape for work.”

“Oh I have no doubt, why do you think I ask for your help carrying in the heavy shipments.” Lucia grins at her and winks at her and puts her hands behind her back like she’s fighting against herself not to touch Beatrice again.

It’s all too much, she has too much going on in her head. “I’ll take your word for it,” she isn’t even sure what that means, but she smiles all the same and then lets Cosmo lead her upstairs as the door jingles with a pending customer who saves Beatrice from any more awkwardness.

--------------------------------------

Ava’s quieter.

Beatrice isn’t entirely sure how to feel about it yet, but walking with Ava through the city on the way to the pizza place, it’s the main thing she’s noticed.

It’s interesting to see Ava in a new time of year - with winter having mostly passed and spring rolling in - Ava’s no longer wearing her big Bears jacket (still has the hat) and has instead traded it in for a gray, unzipped hoodie and a loose purple t-shirt underneath it.

She walks like she’s missing something, Beatrice just isn’t sure what. “How did you end up working at the market?” Beatrice asks, just…needing to push past this awkwardness.

Thankfully, Ava gives her a little smile. “Shannon, Mary’s wife - she…the guy who runs it owed her a favor and they asked him to give me a job.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Ava shrugs. “It’s fine, it…honestly it kind of reminds me a lot of the shelter. Lots of chopping and moving boxes of shit around. I just have to do it for Duretti instead of Beth and Valerie.” They come up to a building Beatrice assumes is the pizza place, given the posters of various pizzas and wings on the sign.

She takes a few long steps forward, just enough to get in front of Ava and hold the door open for her.

Their eyes meet and Ava slows her step - Beatrice thinks for a second that she’s done something wrong, then Ava flashes her the tiniest of smiles and ducks her head as she steps inside.

It’s a pretty nice place - busy and Beatrice finds herself getting lost in the smells. She’s still not entirely used to being able to just…do these things. To come here before work and not have to worry about eating too much or carrying herself a certain way.

There’s a lot of noise, a lot of laughter and conversation all around her. She tries not to focus on any of it too much, wanting to say in the moment with Ava.

She has no idea where they're headed, what direction their relationship might go - but she knows she wants one with her.

Beatrice wants Ava in her life. She wants to be her friend if nothing else.

They make their orders and Ava leads them to the seating area to wait for their number to be called.

Their booth is tucked neatly away in a corner between a wall on one edge and a window on the other. The early morning light spills in across Ava’s arms as she rests them on the off white table.

“Did you know Lilith?” Ava asks suddenly, that name out of her mouth surprising her.

“Sister Lilith?” Ava nods. “I - I do…how did you?”

Ava gives her the saddest little smile. “She’s the one who replaced you at the shelter after…” She watches Ava pull her hands off the table and tuck them into her lap - like she’s trying to make herself smaller. “I’m sorry if I caused you any pain, Beatrice. I’m sorry if I messed things up for you at the church. I…” Ava’s bottom lip is trembling and her eyes are watering.

It’s too much. “You didn’t, Ava. What happened with me and the church was not because of you…not…not directly.” Ava looks up at her, confusion in her glossy eyes. “The incident when you came to Cat’s Cradle did not cause me any punishment. It…if anything I should apologize to you.”

“Why?” Ava sounds almost offended.

Beatrice takes a breath. “Because you reached out to me and I pushed you aside. I could tell you were in pain, but I was so lost and torn in so many different directions I thought if I tried to help you, it would only make things worse.”

The bitter laugh Ava lets out is heartbreaking. “I’m not sure it could have been much worse. I was…it was bad.”

“I’m glad you seem to be doing better.”

Ava’s throat bobs as she nods. “I’m trying, it’s…been hard.”

“It is,” Beatrice says with a knowing smile that Ava seems to gravitate toward. “Most of the time I feel like I’m moving with no direction at all. There’s so much…free time I have now, even with work and responsibilities and-”

“Cosmo!” Ava blurts out. “Did…did you bring him?”

Instead of answering right away, Beatrice pulls out her phone and shows Ava her background, a shot of Cosmo sitting on the recliner that came with her apartment, a squishy basketball in his mouth. “He’s adjusting far better than I am.”

“I love him,” Ava coos and Beatrice feels that pull at her heart again, the same one that tore through years of repression and trauma and lit her soul on fire.

They may not be in a place now to be explore that feeling and there are so many mistakes between the both of them that have to be addressed at some point, but in this moment Beatrice would be lying if she didn’t admit that Ava Silva is still the most beautiful person she’s ever known.

Before they can continue on, their number is called and Ava gets up to collect their pizza.

Beatrice catches herself a second too late before she realizes she was staring at Ava’s backside as she walks away.

She scolds herself. It’s wrong and unbecoming and…

…and not the end of the world.

Yes, she looked and no she shouldn't have. Ava is beyond attractive, but she deserves better than to be objectified.

However, her desire to look is not wrong, it is human nature and she has acknowledged that it is wrong. That is enough, there is no more penance or scolding necessary.

These are the things she’s been working on for the last few months.

When Ava returns, pizza in hand, she sets it down between them and plops down across from her. “This will change your life,” she says just before she grabs a slice and pulls it away - cheese stringing along in its wake.

Beatrice goes for one as well and can't help but laugh as Ava groans when she finishes her bite and a huge clump of saucy cheese threatens to fall in her lap.

She grabs a handful of napkins to catch it and saves her shirt but it clumps on the table anyway.

“It isn’t going to grow legs and run away, Ava.” Beatrice teases, then feels her heart flutter when Ava blushes and cleans up the mess she made.

By the time Beatrice takes her own bite, Ava has finished her big one. “Sorry, I - I’m hungry today which is kind of nice. My appetite has been hit or miss lately.”

“Exercise helps,” Beatrice chimes in without really thinking. “Also smaller meals throughout the day - instead of trying to gear yourself up for a big lunch or dinner, just eat in smaller doses.” Ava tilts her head a bit, a question unspoken in her eyes. “There was a lot of stress that came with leaving the convent.”

Ava nods, setting her half eaten slice down on the tray and dabbing at her sauce red lips with a napkin. “Do…do you mind if I ask why you left?”

Don’t be ashamed of your choices

She can hear Lilith’s voice in her head. “I wasn't happy. I was content and it was safe - I had many good memories and relationships, but I was there for the wrong reasons.”

“Is it because you’re gay?” Ava asks it so bluntly that Beatrice thinks she’s misheard it. Except she knows she didn’t because as soon as she hesitates for only a moment, Ava starts to wilt. “Sorry, I shouldn't have just said that…I shouldn't assume.”

“Ava, I kissed you,” Beatrice reassures her. “I think we’re past assuming.”

Things are quiet between them after that for a long while, long enough for Beatrice to finish an entire slice of pizza and for Ava to start on her second.

Despite a bit of awkwardness, it is nice to simply exist with Ava in this space. Neither of them are tied down by the church or a court order and there’s no reason for any guilt - at least Beatrice doesn’t think there should be.

She just wishes she could find a way to correct this tension.

“Lilith was mean,” Ava says suddenly and with a bit of a glower on her face.

Beatrice can't help but laugh. “What?”

“She was cranky and mean - she didn’t laugh at any of my jokes.”

Picking up a napkin, Beatrice cleans her hands. “Yes well, her sense of humor has always been a bit dry.”

“Like the Sahara,” Ava pouts. “She wouldn't tell me anything about you either so like…I just assumed the worst.”

“Ava, I held no resentment for you. The process of leaving the church was a lot of work and I had to start building a landing spot for myself before it was logical for me to leave. I walked away from the shelter because of that, not…” that’s a lie, it’s not entirely a lie, but it is partly because she could have made it work. She could have balanced the shelter and everything else if she needed. “I…I was afraid.”

Ava won’t look at her. “Of me?”

“No, Ava - you…no one in my life has ever done what you did for me. Without even trying you showed me the world outside of the walls I’d built. You treated me like a person worthy of attention. Everyone before that always needed me for something. Wanted me to be something I wasn’t - everyone but you. I will forever be grateful for the way you made me feel - but at the time, even if that feeling scared me to death.”

It’s a lot, far too heavy a conversation for a tiny nook pizza place in the middle of the city - but perhaps that makes it better. They're anonymous here. Nobody knows Beatrice was a nun or that Ava met her because she was arrested.

Right now, they're just two people trying. “What did you feel?”

Beatrice smiles. “Alive, Ava. Well and truly alive and present in the world. I had this perfectly compact life in the convent and then you brightened my world and suddenly all of it felt dull. For someone who had been told their whole life that those colors were wrong, to see that they weren’t was terrifying.”

“You deserve color,” Ava says, the softest smile on her face that plants itself between Beatrice’s ribs and grows roots. “I know…I know we can't…” Ava sighs. “I wish I would have met you in a better place.”

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” Beatrice recites, one of her favorites. “Perhaps the bible isn’t the best for advice, but I do think the sentiment of everything happens for a reason holds true regardless. We made it here, now, and I think that counts for something.”

Ava doesn’t say anything to that, but she doesn’t drift away either. Instead, she takes another slice and Beatrice does too and they just…exist. It’s nice to be here with her like this.

Their past is still heavy and hangs in the air, but Beatrice thinks it’s not so terrible that it consumes them.

They're both using it as a platform to try and reach better things.

“I have plants,” Ava says. “Like too many.”

Beatrice laughs. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I needed something to keep me busy for the first few weeks at Mary and Shannon’s before I started work and that turned out to be plants.” Ava genuinely beams as she talks about her plants. “They’re doing well, too well maybe - they're kind of eating my window.”

Her smile is infectious, it always has been. “I read somewhere that plants flourish when you speak to them, and correct me if I’m wrong, but you seem the type to talk to your plants.”

When Ava lets out a hearty chuckle, head thrown back and beautiful, Beatrice relaxes. Teasing is still new to her, but Ava makes it easy. “You’re not wrong, I’m a chatterbox and lately they’ve been my primary audience.”

The conversation is steady after that, and the only thing simpler is how fast they devour their pizza.

It’s nice, comfortable and when Beatrice’s phone goes off she’s surprised at how she’d forgotten she had a time limit.

“Oh I have to go to work,” she says with a frown, looking up to see Ava smiling at her. “What?”

“It’s still kind of weird, Sister Beatrice has a nine to five or…well…a two to ten?”

Beatrice nods. “Two to ten, yes and to be honest, the work schedule has been the easiest part of all this.”

They both stand up and Ava carries their tray to the front with Beatrice in tow, Beatrice digs through her wallet to find some money to help pay, but then Ava stops her. “Hey, I’ve got this, okay?”

“Ava, I can-”

“Just…let me, okay? For what happened, I know a pizza won’t cover it all but -”

“I told you, you don’t owe me anything.”

Ava smiles. “Then for my own peace of mind.”

She has the tiniest plea in her voice, and Beatrice knows she needs this. “Alright,” she wants to say she’ll pay next time, but they’ve said nothing about next time. They’ve not made any plans beyond this and Beatrice isn’t sure how to even approach it.

As they walk back out into the street, Ava sticks her hands in the pocket of her hoodie and kicks the ground a bit. “This was nice,” she says, suddenly shy again as they're out in the world.

“It was,” Beatrice waits, watching as Ava finally looks up at her. “I really am glad you’re okay, Ava. I hope you’re starting to see how special you are.”

A delightful blush dances across Ava’s cheeks, somehow making her prettier. “You too, Bea. I hope the world knows how lucky it is to have you in it again.”

They stand there for a few seconds, until Beatrice can't wait any longer. “I should be going,” she says, doing her best to keep the disappointment out of her voice. When she realizes Ava isn’t going to make the move, Beatrice decides to try. “Can I hug you?”

When Ava looks up at her with a glow in her eyes, Beatrice knows she wanted it too. Ava nods and pulls out her arms before Beatrice steps into them.

The last time they hugged was when Beatrice kissed her. When the world was collapsing beneath her feet and she felt unsteady to the point of nausea.

Now, when she sinks into Ava’s arms, Beatrice feels sturdier - she holds Ava with more conviction, a promise that they are okay.

An ‘I missed you’ without words.

Ava breathes into her hair, then pulls back, her smile soft. “Have a good shift,” Ava says, her voice barely carrying between them.

“Tell your plants hello for me.”

“Sure! Do the same with Cosmo, please!”

Beatrice laughs as she starts to back away. “I will, I promise.”

As they part ways, Beatrice doesn’t look back. This isn’t a goodbye - she just doesn’t know when the next hello will be.

--------------------------

Beatrice is bone tired by the time her shift ends, but she’s not upset about it.

She actually quite likes her job. It’s simple and consistent, she gets to work her body and move - the people are nice too.

The last load was massive boxes of canned goods and after a full shift, her arms ache and her back is sore and she really wants to go home and take a thirty minute shower.

She would run a bath if her apartment had one.

As she works out of her uniform, Beatrice hears the door open and for a second starts to cover herself.

She’s not naked, but it’s not smart to wear too much under the full body uniform so she’s in a sports bra and matching boxers.

Beatrice grabs her clothes as she hears footsteps nearby and tries not to overthink it. She’s not naked, she’s not indecent, she is changing after a hard shift.

This is normal, her body isn’t wrong or sinful - this is okay.

“Beatrice?” She winces at the call of her name, her pants halfway up.

After she finishes pulling them up, Beatrice grabs her shirt and holds it over her chest before turning around to see her manager, Yasmine, waiting for her. “Hello, Yasmine, did you need something?”

Yasmine is very sweet, and has been incredibly patient with Beatrice in learning all things social interaction.

The first few days here, Beatrice hardly spoke out of turn and never spoke up for herself. Working multiple shifts with a sprained wrist and then nearly having a breakdown when she dropped a TV she was loading and it broke.

After her fifth apology and promise to pay for what had been damaged, Yasmine pulled her aside and explained to her that it was okay. That these things happened and it wasn't the end of the world.

Then Yasmine found out Beatrice had been injured and almost started yelling at her for not speaking up sooner.

Instead, she made Beatrice promise to speak up for herself and that she wouldn't be judged.

She told Beatrice she was doing good work, and the praise struck a deep cord in her that hadn't been touched in years.

“It’s late so I don’t want to keep you, I just wanted to invite you to a cookout I’m having next week!”

Oh

That…that is not what Beatrice was expecting. “A cookout?”

Yasmine smiles, that bright, almost expectant smile of hers. “I just had a grill installed at my place, and a pizza stove outside - so I wanted to have some friends and people from the warehouse over to hang out and eat some good food. I’d love it if you came.”

This feels like one of those moments where Beatrice has to decide exactly how committed she is to this new life of hers.

Because outside of work (and her lunch with Ava today) she has not done much of anything in this new life.

So much of it has been adjusting and relearning and accepting this new freedom.

A freedom that she will openly admit; intimidates the heck out of her. There’s no structure in her life, no narrow paths and forced directions.

Everything outside of maintaining her hours at the warehouse is fair game and because of that, Beatrice has done almost nothing.

Does she want to go to a cookout with a bunch of strangers she hardly knows? No. Not at all.

Yet, she wants to enjoy this new life of hers. She chose it for a reason - those things she wanted, the things she talked with Lilith about the days before she left - she wants those things.

So as she stands in the locker room, a shirt covering her upper body and feeling more exposed in so many ways than she ever has been before - Beatrice nods. “Alright, I - I’ll come. Thank you.”

Yasmine claps her hands in delight. “Yes! Excellent, I cannot wait for you to meet my friends outside of this place. I think you’ll really love them.”

“I look forward to it.” She doesn’t, but she wants to.

“Okay, excellent. I’ll let you get changed and get home to sleep - good work today as always and I’ll fill you in on the details of the cookout tomorrow night, okay?”

Beatrice nods again as Yasmine starts to back out of the room. “Goodnight, Yasmine.”

“Sleep well, Beatrice!” Yasmine calls back as the door closes behind her.

She stands there for a moment, shirt in hand and mind racing. She has plans now.

She’s going out for something that isn’t work or volunteering (or Ava) and there’s a strange, bubbling feeling of anxiety and…excitement?

She’s not sure, but it’s on her mind the entire way home.

Beatrice takes the bus back to her apartment and has to go in through the side entrance because the dispensary is closed.

As soon as she’s a few steps away from her door, she can hear the whines and excitement of Cosmo on the other side of the door.

It makes her smile, the joy of knowing someone is happy she’s home - of having someone to come home to.

When she opens the door, Cosmo is all over her - tail wagging a thousand miles an hour.

“Hello boy, hello hello.” She scratches his ears and he wiggles in her grip before he turns and sprints to the kitchen and then back, bouncing with joy.

Beatrice laughs as she sheds her coat and kicks off her shoes - body aching and exhausted.

Despite not being a fan of television, Beatrice turns it on because it’s familiar. The TV was always showing something when she and her sisters would gather after supper for recreational time.

Now, it’s good background noise even if she has no interest in what’s on it. Reruns of shows from decades earlier that she vaguely catches the storylines of as she feeds Cosmo and throws together a quick meal of box macaroni and leftover chicken tenders.

She undresses for her shower like shedding a skin - stripping off her bra and underwear with a relieved sigh before laying them in the laundry basket.

The mirror in her bathroom is large above her low sink and she can see most of herself.

Her body is strong, years of physical training to block out the anxiety and well worn thoughts of disgust at herself have mixed well with the physical labor of her new job.

She is, what many would say, desirable - but Beatrice has always had a love/hate relationship with her body. Not the visual side of it, but how it felt - how she would get warm if a pretty girl looked at her and how in the early morning it would tingle as she woke up.

Do you not know your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit who lives within you, whom you have received as a gift from God?

She was taught from a very young age that her body was to be hidden, to be preserved and kept to herself.

Her parents were prude and reserved - they forced her to wear layers and cover herself, even before the church gave her her habit.

Still, she was always so curious about her body.

The things she would feel when she tested it - in the shower or late at night in her bed. Fingers dancing below the sheets and slipping beneath the waistband of her nightclothes.

Bodies, she thought, were temples - and temples were made to be explored.

It was easy enough to keep her own desires secret, worse so when she started to admire other people’s bodies.

That’s what got her in trouble. That’s where the sin started. That’s when she felt wrong and broken and twisted.

Because she couldn't control it, she was seduced and lost herself and found someone at the age of fifteen who did not have such reservations.

Then one day in her bedroom, when she became so lost in her desires that she didn’t hear the footsteps coming closer or hear the door as it twisted open.

That was when the punishment for her sins began.

Except she knows now that it wasn't as evil as her parents said, as they tried to burn it into her like a brand.

She was not troubled, as they had labeled her at boarding school - so much so that other girls wouldn't go near her.

She was not a deviant, as some of the nuns had called her when they heard her story during her early years in the convent in London.

No, she was simply a girl, a person - a living and breathing temple that desired to be explored.

When her phone buzzes as her fingertips slide down her stomach, Beatrice isn’t sure whether to be upset or relieved.

Either way, she stops what she’s doing, shame ripping through her, and finds her phone on the nightstand by her bed.

It’s a text message.

From Ava.

Ava: my first stand up comedy show? you’ll never beleaf this but they're not laughing much

Beatrice smiles at the pun, but it doesn’t last when the next message comes.

It’s a picture of Ava - Ava, holding what looks to be a hairbrush in her hand and talking to her plants in the window as if she’s giving a performance.

She looks so beautiful Beatrice can barely stand it. Her hair is down, she’s in a purple t-shirt and has a bright, wide smile on her face.

Ava’s smile, she thinks, is where the beauty of the world takes shape in human form.

That this exists is something to be cherished and chased - she loves Ava’s smile.

It’s not even an admission that scares her, it’s merely a fact.

Taking a breath, Beatrice ignores the fact that she’s naked and texting Ava, and types out a message.

Beatrice: They will come around to your puns, Ava. Keep trying. I’m rooting for you.

Still desperately wanting a shower, Beatrice heads back to the bathroom and takes her phone with her. Cosmo is hot on her heels, moving with her step for step and stopping just outside the bathroom door where he knows he’s not allowed.

She pets him a few times on the top of the head before he lays down and she shuts the door. He’ll wait out there for her until she’s done so they can go to bed.

Just as she pulls the shower curtain back, her phone buzzes again.

Ava: amazing! outstanding! a+!

Ava: i knew you were punny, this is an excellent development

Beatrice smiles, feeling a lightness in herself she hasn’t in a while. She has always had a knack for coming up with puns but has never felt comfortable sharing them with anyone. It’s silly humor and she’s never been funny or even smiled all that much in her twenty-six years.

She thinks of Ava’s smile and how much she adores it, then wonders what Ava might think of hers.

Not the tight, well timed smiles she gives everyone else - but her true smile. When Cosmo flops over in the grass and rolls onto his back or when Camila would get so excited about something and squeal so loud it made Lilith jump in her seat and drop what she was working on.

There haven’t been enough reasons in her life to smile like that - she wants more.

Beatrice: Your plants look wonderful, Ava. Very happy and healthy.

It doesn’t feel like enough though, she wants to play along - she wants to reciprocate.

She wants to keep talking to Ava like this.

Ignoring the indecent voice in her head telling her to take a photo of herself and send it to Ava, Beatrice instead opens the bathroom door just enough for Cosmo to lift his head up, ears perked and eyes wide.

She holds out her phone and snaps a photo of him. “Good boy,” she gives him a pet before attaching the photo to the message.

Beatrice: It’s not stand up comedy, but my audience is furry pleased with my performance.

As she steps into the shower, she sends it - not giving herself time to wait and see if Ava responds. If she does that she’ll never actually get clean and it’s already well past midnight and she’s exhausted.

Her shower goes fast and warm, readying her for the chillier nights that are still coming around this late in April. Her body is still humming with something curious - something untapped, but her muscles ache too much to focus on it.

After toweling off her hair, Beatrice picks up her phone and smiles when she sees a message waiting for her.

Ava: jfkslajflsa;fjska;lfj COSMO!!!

She frowns, reading the text over and over, trying to make sense of it.

It’s on her mind the entire time she gets dressed and even as she climbs into bed, giving Cosmo one more good rubdown before he spins and spins on his dog bed before finally laying down.

Then, before turning off the light, Beatrice starts typing to match it letter for letter.

Beatrice: Ava, forgive me for being naive but what does ‘jfkslajflsa;fjska;lfj’ mean?

She really hopes she hasn’t shown off just how remarkably out of touch she is. Living her life in a convent didn’t exactly keep her in tune with the modern age.

Ava should know this after building that playlist full of songs Beatrice didn’t know.

A playlist Beatrice still listens to almost every day.

When the next message comes, Beatrice almost throws her phone because she picks it up so fast.

Ava: omg no it doesn't mean anything! It’s called a keysmash! lol basically you’re so excited about something you can't form words so you just smash the keys

Beatrice stares at her phone, with it’s digital buttons, and frowns.

Then her phone buzzes again.

Ava: also ‘lol’ means ‘laugh out loud’, basically something you say to let someone know you think they're funny

Ava: or to make sure they know you’re kidding and dont take what you say too seriously

Beatrice: I see, I never knew there were so many rules to texting etiquette. Am I doing it wrong with proper punctuation and capitalization? I notice you do not.

Ava: hahaha no ur fine im just a lazy texter

Ava: and if you dont feel like using all the acronyms you can just use emojis😀

The little smiley face makes her think of Ava’s smile again. So much so that Beatrice scrolls up and opens the photo again to look at it.

She doesn’t know what to do with Ava - doesn’t know where to put her. Are they friends? She thinks they should be, could be - there’s no one else that she feels quite as comfortable with. It’s something she can't even really explain, why Ava brings so much out of her. There’s an energy to her that relaxes Beatrice - takes her out of her own head and puts her in the moment.

It’s a clarity she longs to have in every aspect of her life.

A notification pops up at the top of her screen.

Ava: i should probably get some sleep. mary is going to make me run in the morning 😕

Beatrice smiles, she can't help but picture each emotional face as Ava’s.

Beatrice: Exercise is important and a great way to start your morning

The response comes almost immediately.

Ava: ew you and mary would get along GREAT

This, of course, sets off Beatrice’s mind to the possibility of meeting Ava’s people one day. Of having people of her own for Ava to meet one day.

The problem is that she and Ava are still not…anything to each other.

Ava: g’night bea

Something about the words, presented that way, are gentle enough to bring a little warmth to the space between her ribs.

She turns off the light and lays down, typing out one last message.

Beatrice: Sleep well, Ava

That night, she dreams of a tending to a vegetable garden in a home and a life she doesn’t recognize, but one that feels like hers.

Chapter Text

Flat on her back, Ava stares up at the morning sky as she floats around Mary and Shannon’s heated pool.

In the time that Ava was away from them, Mary and Shannon managed to better their lives even more. This house is new and it’s so nice - it fits them perfectly.

They both deserve it and so much more.

Ava still struggles at times to feel like she really belongs here, but it’s something she’s working on.

They go out of their way to include her in just about everything and have been using Ava’s inability to say no to make her spend time with them. They all went grocery shopping last night and then went out for burgers. It was genuinely fun.

It’s easy to forget sometimes that Mary and Shannon are a lot of fun and that that is what initially drew Ava to want to be around them.

Lately, it’s felt more like she is a troubled daughter to them than a friend, which perhaps she is in some way - but Ava is tired of every moment feeling heavy.

Things have been better, mostly. This morning is the first hard morning she’s had in a few days and that was mostly because of a bad dream.

Nightmares have become pretty regular and though most of them are easily forgotten once she snaps awake at three in the morning, this one managed to stick.

Dreams about her mom aren’t new, in fact they were a key part of her time at St. Michaels.

Except most of those dreams were accident related - more like memories in high definition than anything else.

Last night, however, she dreamt of her mom in an entirely different way.

She saw her, not in a car or being told by Sister Frances that her mother had died - no this time her mom was alive and real and Ava was in her arms.

Then her mom asked Ava what she had been up to, what her life was like, and as Ava started listing off the things she’d done, the look on her mom’s face grew more and more disappointed.

She woke up crying, couldn't remember the things her mother said to her in the dream but they were devastating and she spent about an hour trying to calm herself down about it.

Now she’s here, at eight in the morning, floating in the pool because she needs to feel weightless for a bit.

Ava hears her phone ding and glances over to the edge of the pool where she left it. It’s Saturday so she doesn’t work, Duretti has taken to texting her before shifts to let her know what he’ll need from her that day. She appreciates it. It’s a good heads up so she doesn’t wear white on a big tomato day or anything like that.

Picking up her phone, Ava feels the cool breeze push through her wet hair and shivers - the heated pool is great but it’s still barely May and mornings are chilly.

She taps the screen and feels her chest bloom at what she sees.

Bea: I hope this doesn’t wake you, but someone wanted to say hello

Attached to the text is a picture that knocks the breath out of Ava’s lungs. It’s Beatrice and Cosmo, with Cosmo tucked against Bea’s side and her arm around him. Cosmo has his tongue hanging out and a big grin on his face - while Beatrice wears the softest smile as she stares at the camera. She looks warm, a little sweaty and her hair is all tied back.

Ava still loves her, she can't deny it and their lunch together only affirmed that feeling even more. That love, that pull she has for Beatrice, scares her to death.

Because love has never worked out for Ava. Not once.

There are so many factors working against them that Ava can't even begin to explain the path she would need to take to make anything actually happen.

Beyond that, Ava just feel so fucking lucky that she is even allowed to be a part of Beatrice’s life again after everything that happened.

She doesn’t want to mess it up, so for now she’s going to bury these feelings she has, the way this picture makes her heart hammer in her chest, and focus on being Beatrice’s friend.

That’s something they both need right now, Ava thinks.

Ava: ahh! you both look so cute!!

Ava: give him a big kiss for me

Ava: also why is your face so red??

Instead of immediately going back to her floating, Ava waits at the edge by her phone. She may be consciously trying to just be a good friend to Bea, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t subconsciously still desperate for any and all of her attention.

When her phone buzzes again, Ava doesn't pick it up right away - wanting to act casual and not so clingy.

For who? She has no idea.

About twenty seconds pass before Ava can't take it anymore.

Bea: Cosmo appreciates the kisses, and to answer your question; we went for a run this morning.

Proper punctuation on a text should not be as endearing as it is, but holy fuck is it endearing.

Deciding to play along, Ava holds out her phone and settles back against the pool. She has the sun at her back as she makes sure Bea can tell she’s in the water before snapping a pic with a huge smile.

Ava: ohh we’re workout buddies this morning!

She plays it safe and doesn’t put too much of her cleavage in the shot. Hating how much brain power she’s using to decide how much cleavage to put in the shot.

Normally, that would be her go to. Big smile, tits on display and as flirty as fucking possible.

But that’s all surface level stuff - meant for one night stands and fleeting moments.

Beatrice is different, in so many ways. Ava wants Bea in her life, so she’ll give Beatrice the real pieces of who she is - even if Ava is still trying to relearn all of those things herself.

Deciding she doesn't want to look pathetic to the…no one out here watching her, Ava swims a couple laps before coming back and checking her phone again.

She smiles involuntarily at the alert of a new message. Feels a warmth in her bones at the idea that Beatrice reached out first.

Bea: I am quite jealous. I haven’t swam in over a decade.

Ava frowns, suddenly remembering all the little things Beatrice hasn’t done and it hits a spot close to home because Ava has been there.

She remembers what it’s like to suddenly have the ability to do something that most people take for granted. How it feels so special and you cannot believe how many people take it for granted.

With all the pain Ava’s been through lately, she often forgets how much pain she endured as a child - then when she recalls it, it feels fresh. Like an open wound.

How unfair the world has treated her since she was seven years old.

She often wonders what she did to deserve it.

All she’s ever wanted is love - but after a lifetime of having it torn away from her, Ava started to believe she wasn't worth it.

It’s a part of herself that she’s trying to fix. A broken down part of her heart that a car accident and Sister Frances spent years destroying.

Ava doesn’t realize she’s crying until she tastes the salt on her lips. She wipes at her eyes and shakes her head.

Crying has become a regular part of her day, but she’s not as sad today. These tears are just…tremors, she thinks. Emotions and feelings that are deeply buried within her that may never fully go away.

Ava has no idea if she’ll ever climb out of the hole she’s in right now, but she’s trying and the girl she is falling in love with is messaging her and things are…okay.

The sliding glass door opens and Ava turns away, wiping at her eyes as she puts her phone down.

“Hey, you’re out here…Ava?” The concern laces Shannon’s voice as she moves closer to where Ava is. Taking a few deep breaths, Ava wills her tears away and looks up just in time to see Shannon, dressed up to go somewhere, crouching down close to her. “Everything okay?”

Ava smiles, not even forcing it, because there is genuine care in Shannon’s voice and it feels so good. “Yeah, just…been weirdly emotional lately. Like I’m permanently on my period or something.”

Shannon laughs, her eyes bright. “Healing has a lot of emotion. It’s good to feel though. The alternative is a lot darker.”

It’s something she knows well, that last week at Chanel’s, with all the drinking and partying and emptiness, she felt hollow.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I am, I need to shop for a few new outfits for work and I was going to swing by the salon. I thought you might like to come with me?” She asks hopefully, like the whole trip was kind of planned as a reason to take Ava out. “I’ve noticed your hair is pretty long and you were fussing with it the other day.”

Ava’s hair has been a bit of a nightmare, she hasn’t cut it in so long and it’s almost past her shoulder blades. “It is getting a little out of hand.” Ava moves to steps out of the pool. “I’d love to go. Though I did have plans to sit in my room and watch my plants grow, I’ll have to reschedule that I guess.”

Shannon laughs. “Awesome, we’ll go in about an hour after Mary goes to work.”

“Okay,” Ava pulls herself out of the pool and grabs the towel she left for herself on one of the deckchairs and wraps herself up in it before heading inside.

An hour or so later, Ava has her sneakers on and pulls her Bears hat down over her head as she follows Shannon out the door.

They end up going to the salon first, wanting to beat any sort of afternoon rush.

Ava settles for a cut just above her shoulders, already feeling lighter as she climbs back in the car. “You look very cute,” Shannon says with a smile.

“Thanks, I owe you for that.”

Shannon waves her off. “It’s fine, Ava. I can cover a haircut.”

“No I know but…I want to pay you back. I will.”

There’s a beat of silence after Shannon starts the car. “Okay, no rush though.”

Ava nods before they pull out of the parking spot and make their way deeper into the city.

As they reach a traffic light, Ava’s phone buzzes again.

Bea: I never thought I’d find something more uncomfortable than my habit, but these warehouse uniforms are somehow heavier and warmer.

Pursing her lips to hide her smile, Ava starts tapping on her phone in response.

Ava: omg i have to see

About a minute later, the message comes in and Ava can't stop herself from smiling.

It’s Beatrice, or at least Beatrice from the neck down - wearing a full body green uniform that fits her much better than the habit, but still looks entirely unappealing in both color and design.

Ava has spent far more time than she’d care to admit imagining what Beatrice’s arms and muscles look like as she’s loading boxes around that warehouse.

“How have the gym trips been with Mary?” Shannon asks and Ava can't help but wince.

“Rough,” she says with an exasperated sigh. “I think Mary sees me as Rocky or something but all I see is sore arms and bruises on my knuckles.”

Shannon chuckles as she pulls into a spot. “It doesn’t surprise me, Mary loved working with you before too - she says you’re a very moldable piece of clay.”

“Huh, well that kind of sounds like she’s calling me floppy and boring.”

This makes Shannon laugh even harder. “How did you get that from what I said?”

“You know Mary! She’s always got double meanings and shit.”

“I think you’re just bad at taking compliments.”

Ava resists the urge to say she’s bad at them because she’s never gotten any of them.

At least ones outside of her looks or her body or her performance in the bedroom.

Which, okay not the worst thing, but the other parts of her? Nobody’s ever found those worth much at all.

She doesn’t say anything else about it as they make their way inside.

Mostly, Ava just follows Shannon around and tells her what she thinks of the various outfits Shannon tries on. It’s fun though, because Shannon listens to her and takes her opinion seriously. It’s one of Ava’s favorite things about her.

Shannon has always treated Ava like she’s smarter than she actually is. Asking her for advice and coming to her with problems. Even when Ava really had no idea on the subject, Shannon would ask Ava to be sounding board for ideas.

She was the first person to make Ava feel useful.

At one point, Ava makes a mistake as she’s waiting for Shannon to try something on - she finds a sundress on the rack that she thinks would look really great on her. In fact, she becomes just a little bit smitten with it as she plucks it off the rack and finds a mirror to hold it over herself.

The problem is that it’s too expensive - Shannon makes good money and this place is way out of Ava’s price range.

Except, she waits too long to put it back and when Shannon steps out to show off her next outfit, Ava gets caught. “Ohh that’s pretty, you would look amazing in that.”

Ava nods, but lowers it and moves to put it back. “Yeah, but too rich for me and my watermelon pedaling paycheck.”

“I could -”

“Shannon, no I…” Ava sighs. “I love you, really - but I just don’t think my pride could take it.”

That’s when it happens, Shannon puts her bag down and the outfits she’s picked and she pats a spot on the little waiting bench next to where she sits down.

Ava dutifully goes to sit down next to her, both slightly annoyed and a bit overwhelmed at the fact that Shannon cares so much.

When she sits, Ava tucks into herself a little bit, feeling weirdly vulnerable because she knows a serious talk is probably coming about money and debt and letting people help her.

It’s all stuff she’s working on, but Ava won’t let Mary and Shannon do everything for her.

She wants to be her own person again.

“I saw you smiling in the car.”

Oh. Fuck.

“I uh…was I?”

Shannon smirks. “Ava.”

“It’s nothing, Shan,” she deflects like a reflex - because Ava has been dealing with her own problems all her life. She’s never had people in her corner.

Except when she does it this time and sees Shannon visibly deflate at being shut down, it digs into that spot in her heart where she and Mary have built a home.

They just want to help because they care about her.

Let them

“It’s…someone…I like.” Ava’s voice barely carries between them and she has no idea what to focus on or do with her hands. She cannot look at Shannon, period. No fucking way - she’ll probably start to cry again or some shit if she does that.

“Beatrice?”

Ava gapes at her. “Mary told you!”

Shannon, unsurprisingly, laughs at her outburst. “We are married, Ava.”

That fucking married card, they both play it constantly. “Fine, that’s…okay so you know.”

“I know what she told me, which wasn't much.”

“Did she call me a nunfucker?” The snort Shannon lets out answers the question. “First of all, we didn’t…I’m not…that’s not a thing.”

“I figured.”

Ava frowns. “How?”

“Because if she was just someone you slept with then she probably wouldn't be in your head this much.”

It’s strange how talking about her sex life with Shannon isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as talking about it with Mary. There’s just something about Mary, she’s too…big sister.

Shannon is more like a wise aunt.

“She is in my head, like…all the fucking time.”

She hears Shannon hum next to her. “Do you think you love her?”

Ava sighs without thinking, one of those deep, long sighs that stretches out until her lungs hurt. “I think…” She inhales and closes her eyes. “I think I’m in no position to love anyone the way they deserve. Especially not her.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Shannon presses her - she’s good at that. With her gentle tones and soft expressions, she can get you over the hump of your problem without you even realizing it.

“I know I love her, but I also know I don’t really know her - she doesn’t really know herself yet.”

Ava knows that goes for her as well. She’s spent the last month or so trying to remember who she is and what defines her. Her whole life got wrapped up in her job and her nights out with Chanel and before that it was being on JC’s arm and making sure he was happy.

There was no true definition to her life - no context in her own book. So much of Ava’s life had been empty - growing up in a group home and being trapped in a bed, Ava wasn't allowed to want things.

She only took what was given to her and learned fast that if she didn't appreciate it then Sister Frances would take things away from her.

Slowly but surely, Ava is learning about herself. She likes her plants, she enjoys taking care of them. She likes waking up early in the morning before the rest of the world is awake - letting those precious hours feel like they belong only to her.

She likes being outside and working with her body. Despite a few early reservations, the second trip to Mary’s boxing gym was a lot of fun.

It’s these things, these tiny little things that Ava feels like she’s stacking up and slowly but surely they're filling out all the empty spaces in her life.

“What do you want from her?” Shannon asks, not in an accusatory or probing way - just curious. Almost as if she’s trying to get the answer for Ava more than herself.

Of course, the weight of it all feels almost suffocating. “I want her in my life. I’m not…we’re not at that place and maybe we never will be, but I know that I need her to be a part of my life.”

The way Shannon smiles at her reminds Ava of her mother, in the way a memory can form based on a feeling or an energy. Ava doesn’t really remember much about her mom anymore outside of the night she died - but there’s a pride in Shannon’s face that hits deep in her soul. “It seems like you’re already there. You look happy when you text her.”

Ava is suddenly hit with a wave of emotion, tears welling up as the back of her throat tightens. “I’m trying to be.”

“I’m so proud of you, Ava.” Shannon pulls her in for a hug. “You’re so much stronger than you realize.” There may never be a point where Ava doesn't feel some sort of guilt or shame about the way she acted - it’s there even now. But it’s not strong enough to force her decisions. The urge to pull away is there, but she’s able to push it down and sink into Shannon’s arms. “Now, when we took you clothes shopping after you moved in you never looked at anything quite like you did that dress. So why don’t you let me get it for you as an early birthday present.”

Sniffling a bit, Ava shakes her head. “Shan, my birthday isn’t for two months.”

“That’s why I said early.” Ava looks at the dress again, she really likes it and lately finding clothes she really likes has been hard. The urge to buy to look sexy or hot or to fit a certain mold people have for her has been hard to shake - but this dress feels like something she needs. “You deserve nice things, Ava. You deserve kindness.”

She has to bite her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. “You won’t buy me anything on my actual birthday?”

Shannon shakes her head. “I won’t even bake you a cake.”

Not a burden. They love you. They care about you. They want to make you happy.

Ava’s crying again, she thinks that’s just a part of healing. “Okay.”

When Shannon kisses her temple, Ava hugs her again.

-------------------------------

“I thought that I heard you laughing. I thought that I heard you sing. I think I thought I saw you try.” Ava feels herself moving to the music that plays overhead at the market.

She’s caught up in the work, the movement of her body and the weightless feeling of a genuinely good morning. Mary was up early and found Ava wandering around trying to sneak into the kitchen for a bottle of water and dragged her off to a morning session at the gym.

It was nice, even if they didn’t get to box, they lifted weights and did some pretty intense cardio and it was just…nice.

The gym was almost entirely empty and Mary picked the music and Ava has been singing along to every song she’s heard since.

Her mood has been good today and Ava is doing everything she can to cling onto it.

Even if her fingers are raw from shucking corn and she’s filled up three trash bags with husks - she’s still having a good day.

The market is packed this afternoon and Duretti is playing his charming businessman game to a tee and Ava is busy as hell.

When she brings out her next batch of shucked corn and starts to put it on the display, Duretti slips off to go to the back for a special order and Ava slides a little closer to the register so people know they're still open.

She’s comfortable working with customers and lately she’s been earning Duretti’s trust with it more. She did serve drinks for almost three years and sure, you’re not really selling drinks at a bar as much as distributing them, but people are people.

They're here because they want something, Ava’s job is to make sure they get what they want and a little more if she can convince them.

Just as Ava adjusts the hat on her head (not her Bears hat, but with the logo of Duretti’s stand instead, Ava sees someone coming up to the booth and feels her heart leap into her throat.

“Bea,” she breathes, somehow surprised and calmed at the sight of her.

Beatrice smiles at her, hair tied up neatly in a bun and…oh…she’s wearing a long sleeved shirt. However, unlike her usual button down, this one is snug and hugs her body and it has a high neck and…

Beatrice is sturdy. That’s the only word Ava can think of in the moment that won’t fill her head with images she cannot and should not have.

Sturdy.

She’s…sturdy.

Christ stop saying sturdy, fuck

“Good afternoon, Ava. I was hoping I’d catch you here.” She has a few bags in her hand already and Ava recognizes some of the logos of other booths here. Beatrice must catch Ava staring at them so she lifts the bags up. “Mostly frozen fruits I’m afraid, I’ve purchased a blender and intend to make shakes.”

There’s so much genuine delight in her voice, like the idea of buying a blender has made her whole week.

It’s adorable. “You should definitely get some oats to go with it to help make them smoother, and yogurt is a good base.”

“Oats? That’s very interesting, I did buy some yogurt, a few flavors I hope will go well. I’m still in the experimental phase.”

Ava laughs. “Trial and error is the story of my life with anything in the kitchen. Which, honestly, is minimal at best. But Mary makes shakes for us when we go to the gym and she’s been trying to help me get healthy again.”

“You were unhealthy?”

“I mean…I put a lot of crap in my body.”

Beatrice hums, then Ava thinks she must be losing her mind because she swears Beatrice checks her out. “Fair, but you’ve never looked…unhealthy.” Beatrice frowns as she finishes, like maybe that wasn't what she wanted to say.

“Oh…” Ava does not and cannot think of what Beatrice might have wanted to say. Not when she’s already working so fucking hard not to notice the way her arms fill out those sleeves. “Thanks,” Ava says lamely.

Friends, friends. That’s the plan.

“Did you need anything from us?” The way Beatrice shakes her head, a little smile still holding strong, speaks volumes.

Beatrice just wanted to see her.

“Ava?” She nearly jumps out of her goddamn skin when Duretti sneaks up behind her. “Hello miss,” he says with a smile to Beatrice. “Did Ms. Silva tell you about our new stock of corn? Fresh from the fields in Pennsylvania.”

Ava has no fucking idea why Duretti leads with the Pennsylvania line every time he’s pedaling corn, but Beatrice smiles at him anyway. “She did, however I’m afraid I’m only here for frozen goods today.” It’s a very polite way to tell Duretti she’s not here for his fruit.

However, Ava knows he won’t really like her lingering around and not buying anything so she steps in. “Do you mind if I take my break now?” She asks him and he nods.

“Sure, twenty minutes, then you’ll need to come and spray the greens.”

“Consider it done, Mr. D.”

He hates it when she calls him that.

Still, he says nothing and Ava shucks off her apron before making her way around the counter to where Beatrice is standing. “Do you…have time to hang out? I could take you to a place that sells the oats Mary gets for her shakes.”

“I’d love to, but the bus will be here soon and I probably shouldn't wait for the next one with the frozen items in my bag, it’s insulated but probably not that well.”

Too much, too much, chill the fuck out, Ava

“Oh right, sure, that’s okay.” She speaks too fast, smiles too much, she’s trying too fucking hard because it’s Beatrice and goddamit it’s hard.

It’s hard because of how easy it is to be around her.

“You could walk me to the bus stop…if you want?” Beatrice throws her a lifeline and Ava falls even more.

Her smile splits her cheeks without warning. “Of course,” She says before they start making their way through the market side by side. “How’s Cosmo?”

“He’s doing well, adjusting I think to being cooped up in the apartment all afternoon while I’m at work. I do make sure to take him to the park as often as possible.”

Ava’s mind is suddenly filled with images of Beatrice walking Cosmo in the morning sun. Sitting on a park bench as she throws a ball for him.

It’s a place she wants to be. “I hope I get to meet him properly someday.” Ava says, meaning it. Because she remembers what she talked to Shannon about. She wants to be a part of Beatrice’s life. No motives or expectations - yes she has her feelings, but loving Beatrice means a lot of things.

“I think he’d adore you.” Beatrice says with so much genuine truth in her voice that Ava almost misses a step.

They reach the street and the bus stop isn’t far off from that, so Ava slows her pace. “You really look nice, Bea.” Ava wants her to know.

“Yeah?” Beatrice looks up at her with bright, hopeful eyes. “I’m…everything I do now feels like an experiment - including my clothes. I have things I find comfortable, but this was…I worried it was too much.”

“It isn’t,” Ava will put that worry to bed as fast as she fucking can. “Sorry if this is too forward, but…you’re pretty hot, Bea.”

Maybe she crosses a line with that, but when Beatrice flushes so red she has to look away and her shoulders tense a bit, Ava feels like she’s done something right. “Thank you,” When Bea looks at her again, it’s a bit shy, but grateful. “I’m still in the early stages of accepting my…physicality, but I want to.” Her voice carries just enough to make it between them. It’s clearly something she’s working through being comfortable with. “It hasn’t been easy.”

“Brave though,” Ava nudges her with a shoulder bump. “I think you’re super fucking brave to start over like you have.”

They reach the bench to wait for the bus and Ava sits down next too Beatrice, close enough that their knees bump together a few times before Bea sets her bag of fruit between her feet. “It’s strange, the things I’m doing are so small in theory - new clothes, new food, not waking up to pray at five in the morning.” Ava laughs, curious as to where Bea stands with religion in general these days. “Yet, for me, all of them are struggles. The only thing I know for certain is that when I check another one off the list I feel…more whole.” She frowns then, unexpected and frustrated. “I feel silly for having wasted so much time.”

For the first time since they met, Ava sees herself reflected in Beatrice’s eyes. “It’s easier than you think to get lost in the easy way out.” Ava always felt too comfortable opening up to her. “For a long time I just…let the partying handle it. Drinking and drugs and…sex,” as soon as she says it, she waits for Beatrice to flinch. She doesn't. “I know your situation is way different but…admitting that you’re unhappy is really fucking hard to do.” Their eyes meet, a connection in between their gazes that feels so familiar to sitting on the floor side by side at the shelter and opening up for the first time. “I know you’re doing well with it on your own, but if you ever need a friend to talk to or…help you through something. I can’t promise I’ll have the answers, but I’m here.”

The gratitude on Bea’s face makes Ava feel capable of running through a wall. Then Beatrice reaches over and grabs Ava’s hand, squeezing it. “Thank you, just know that goes both ways.”

There’s no time left to say anything before the bus pulls in and the door flies open.

They sit still for another two seconds before Bea finally pushes to her feet and grabs her bag of fruit off the ground. Ava watches her make it up to the second step before Beatrice looks back. “Your hair looks very pretty,” she says and Ava feels like she might melt into the fucking floor.

She reaches up and touches it like a teenager who just got asked to prom. “Thanks,” she grins, her heart fluttering and fuck it’s too much.

It’s too fucking much.

She’s addicted to it.

As the bus pulls away, Ava sees Beatrice take a seat near the back.

Friends, that’s what she needs. Beatrice is her friend and that’s enough.

It’s enough.

It is.

Even if her friend Beatrice looked drop dead fucking sexy today.

Even if the sweater Beatrice wore today hugged around every curve and divot of her body.

They're just friends. That’s all.

Ava sits white knuckled on the bench for the rest of her break trying to remind herself of this.

----------------------------

Fingertips dance across Ava’s skin, tracing long lines down her sides and teasing the waistband of her panties before coming back up to cup her breasts.

Ava gasps, pressing upward into the calloused hands kneading her flesh.

She wants and craves and…fuck, she needs it. She reaches out and grabs a handful of hair, pulling the person on top of her down into a kiss. When their face comes into view, she gasps - Bea.

It’s Beatrice on her, touching her, finding the weak spots on her body and exploiting them. “Please,” Ava moans as their lips meet. It’s deep and passionate, Beatrice’s mouth open and inviting and Ava slips her tongue in and tastes her.

Ava grabs her by the hair, pulling on it just enough to lean Bea’s head to the side. She breaks the kiss and shifts to press her mouth into Beatrice’s neck.

When she feels Beatrice starting to bend to her, Ava takes control and flips them over so she’s on top.

Beatrice gasps, bouncing a bit on the mattress as her hair splays out across Ava’s pillow.

She looks so fucking good - on her back, naked and on Ava’s bed. An all consuming feeling of desire and passion and love blossoms in her chest.

Then she feels Beatrice’s palm press into her stomach and start to slide down, fingers slipping beneath her panties and as soon as they find her, soaking wet and waiting, Ava’s hips rock downward to press into her.

“Ava,” Beatrice says again, mouth open and eyes dark.

She’s breathtaking, she’s beautiful and…

Her eyes shoot open into nothing but darkness.

Ava inhales like she’s just been pulled out of the ocean and saved from drowning. Her chest is tight and her heart is hammering. Every limb on her body is tingling and all she can think of and feel is Beatrice.

That sensation of being with her, of touching her and feeling her, it’s everywhere.

It was a dream.

Fuck, she was having a sex dream about Bea.

It twists in her guts like acid, this bubbling rot of guilt that is only outweighed by the ache between her legs. She presses her knees together, whining as she tries to push it away.

She can't, every time she closes her eyes she sees her, feels her, remembers how good it was to be pressed against her. It wasn't even fucking real and she can't get over it

Ava’s weaknesses consume her in the darkness of her bedroom.

Lifting her hips, she pulls off her panties and leaves them at her knees before cupping a hand over her cunt and feeling how wet she is.

Her fingers run fast, desperate circles over her clit as the spikes of pleasure climb up her spine and make her back arch.

It’s never been like this, she’s masturbated countless times since regaining control of her body but it’s never felt so intense.

She’s too warm, like she’s on fire. Ava pushes her shirt up over her breasts and grabs one with a hand, squeezing it, tugging at it and feeling her pebbled nipple beneath her palm.

When Ava dips two fingers into herself, she can't retrain the moan that comes out of her. It’s not loud enough to carry out of her room, but it does make this moment all the more real.

Because she’s thinking about Beatrice and she’ll feel guilty for it later, but in her fog hazed ecstasy, all she can see is Beatrice grinding on top of her. Mouth open and eyes dark, hips rolling desperately to chase after every orgasm that Ava wants to give her.

That’s what Ava wants. Not just a friend, she wants everything from Beatrice. She wants to hold her and touch her and kiss her and fuck her.

She wants to see the look in Beatrice’s eyes when her body gives out because Ava’s pulled every drop of pleasure out of her that she can.

Beatrice might be the ex-nun, but Ava is the one who wants to drop to her knees and worship. She wants to devour her.

Ava twists her body enough to press her face into her pillow when she comes, feeling the mess she makes of her sheets in the process. Her hips rock long after the orgasm takes her, tremors maintaining their grip on her as the images fade and the guilt settles back in.

She’s going to fuck this up. She just knows it.

Because Ava can't do half measures and restrain herself. She’s always been weak and easily tempted and Beatrice is more intoxicating than any drug or drink she’s ever had.

How is she supposed to be her friend when she lays in her bed at night and fucks herself at the thought of Beatrice on top of her?

She feels gross and dirty and wrong and Ava hates it.

She gets up and pulls off her panties, strips out of her shirt and then rips the sheets off her bed.

It’s not even four in the morning and she’s grateful to have the only bedroom downstairs as she drags her messy sheets out of the room and to the laundry.

Ava’s naked and riddled with guilt as she washes her sheets before slipping into the shower.

She stands under the spray of cool water for about five minutes before it’s too much and she turns the warm water up.

Her legs won’t stop jumping and her heart aches because sex has never felt wrong before - but it does here because it’s what’s going to push Bea away.

After her shower, Ava changes into her workout clothes and goes to the garage where Mary’s makeshift little gym is.

She bypasses all the weights and machines and settles on the treadmill - she just needs to move and turn her brain off.

This is where she would normally grab a bottle and take a pill, but she doesn't do that anymore and this is different. Loving Beatrice isn’t wrong - she just has to figure out how to do it right. To be what Beatrice deserves and right now she deserves better than Ava’s hormones and dirty deeds.

Which one of us is the repressed nun here? Fucking christ…

Ava runs, she lets herself get lost in the movement and she runs until the sun comes up.

By the time she’s done, her legs are like jelly but her body is humming in a much better way. The morning sun, as it always does, makes the world feel a little less scary.

Ava makes her way back upstairs and steps into the kitchen to see Shannon and Mary both up, still in their pajamas, with Mary at the stove making breakfast. “Morning,” Shannon greets her and Ava smiles.

“Morning, I hope my running didn't wake you guys.”

Shannon shakes her head. “No, you’re fine - you’re at it this early?”

Opening the fridge, Ava grabs a bottle of water and presses it to her neck to cool down. “Yeah, weird morning and I just…I needed to do something.”

“Treadmills are good for that,” Mary says as something sizzles on the stove as she pokes at it. “How do you want your eggs?” She asks and Ava has to fight not to turn them down.

She can eat their food, she can sit with them and enjoy a meal. They want her here. “Sunny side up.”

Mary nods as Ava cracks open the water and takes a few big gulps.

Setting the lid back on the bottle, Ava lets herself take in the morning, the smell of food and not being alone.

“All good?” Shannon asks and Ava smiles.

“Yeah, just head stuff, I…I’m working through it.”

Shannon nods, her hand falling on top of Ava’s. “Okay, let me know if you need anything.”

It’s more than an offer, it’s a promise. Ava’s slowly understanding that Mary and Shannon are in her corner no matter what and she’s never had that before. “Thanks, I will.”

“You know, if you need a distraction, Shannon and I are going to a party this afternoon.”

“I don’t know if I’d call hot dogs and hamburgers at Yasmine’s a party.”

Mary snorts as she brings over the plates and dishes them out. “Then what would you call it?”

Shannon shrugs. “More of a gathering, you’ve met Yas, she’s going to have us playing UNO and Twister.”

“Sounds like a party to me.” Mary winks at her.

“Not naked Twister,” Shannon swats Mary’s arm. “You’re never going to let that go are you?”

There’s a very devilish little grin on Mary’s face. “Not a chance. You wanted right foot red so bad, just so you could stick your face in my -”

“Guys please,” Ava has to speak up, she can't think about two people she considers family…like that. “I’m eating boob shaped eggs, I can't do this.”

That makes them both laugh and oh it feels so good to make them laugh. To bring joy to their lives - Ava’s surprised at how much her joke landing makes her feel good.

“She’s right though, Ava, you should come with us. It’s gonna be low-key.”

“Oh, and you can wear your new dress!”

Ava thinks about how her day could go. She could stay here and use her day off to sit around and try not to think about Beatrice.

Or, she could go out with Mary and Shannon, wear her pretty new dress and maybe let herself have a little fun playing UNO and eating good food.

“Okay, if…if you’re sure?”

Shannon beams. “Yes! You’re going to love Yasmine and her place is so nice. It’s in the city with a beautiful view.”

Their energy rubs off on her, and she eats her eggs with a touch of ease in her shoulders.

At least she’ll be able to spend one day not thinking about Beatrice.

Chapter Text

Standing in her bathroom, Beatrice ties her hair back in a much looser ponytail than she used to.

Her button down is still unbuttoned, bra exposed as she stares at herself in the mirror - it’s something she forces herself to do in the mornings when she’s getting ready - just…stare at herself.

She wants to look at her body and be okay with it, the parts of that she spent so long thinking were wrong.

They're not wrong, they're her, who she is. She takes great care of her body, even now that she has to go to a local gym and doesn’t have her proper aikido equipment.

Today is another experiment in clothing, though one she’s pretty sure she’ll feel comfortable in. A button down flannel shirt and a comfortable pair of slacks isn’t exactly taking a risk - but she needs low stakes for such a big day.

Under the guise of the church, Beatrice was fairly good at being around people. They saw her and her habit and felt like they knew what to expect from her. She would speak softly and be kind - but nuns made most people hesitant and gave Beatrice room to be comfortable.

Today though, she is going to be in a room full of strangers with no cover story. She isn’t a nun anymore, just a warehouse worker with a dog and a very small apartment and a life all her own.

It’s still strange to think about at times - when she really lets herself think about it. That she has a life she never ever imagined for herself. It isn’t flashy or fancy and certainly not easy, but it’s hers.

Once her hair is tied up, Beatrice takes a deep breath and continues to look at herself. She takes a finger and traces it from her throat and down between her breasts - then gently across her stomach before she reaches the button of her slacks.

She’s been thinking a lot about her experiments lately. Two days ago she ordered an uber to take her home from work on a rainy day and just yesterday she tried to make tacos from scratch.

Those are easy enough, little things she keeps stacking bit by bit.

Then there are the bigger things. The kinds of things Beatrice knows exist but make her blush - make her feel unsteady at the mere thought of it.

They're why she does this routine every morning. It’s why she’s trying to get comfortable in her own skin.

Because lately her body has been speaking to her, asking her for things during her morning shower when she plucks the showerhead off the wall to wash certain places.

When she lays awake at eleven at night trying to sleep and feeling a heat in her lower belly.

Beatrice hasn’t masturbated in over fourteen years. Not since she was barely starting to explore her body at fourteen.

Then she was caught kissing another girl and was forced to years and years of people telling her how vile and wrong she was.

It made her hate who she was. It made her hate her body and it’s urges.

She hated the pain they caused her so when those feelings would strike up back at the convent, Beatrice would pray them away. More than that, she would punish herself for them. Harder training , less food, more work and hours spent on her knees in prayer.

Now she’s stripped all of those punishments away.

The problem lies in accepting her body. She is so used to resisting those parts of herself that when they come, her reaction is frustration.

Even now, touching her lower belly just above the hem of her slacks is making her hand tremble.

Beatrice wants to give in, she’s wanted to for weeks now - she is still trying to figure out how.

It won’t happen today, she has places to be, but step by step she’s working up to it.

Her thoughts, as they always do in these situations, trail to Ava.

Ava, who it feels like brought her back to life, has been the takeoff point for so much of Beatrice’s new life.

Talking to Ava now has become a touchstone - a grounding point. It’s a firm reminder of what she wants and the person she’s trying to become. Beatrice knows they are not in any place to be anything other than friends, but she can't stop her own spiral.

Because Ava Silva is in her head, she’s embedded in the very fabric of who Beatrice is. The biggest changes in her life came because she met this girl and realized what she was missing - what she wanted.

It’s easy enough to keep all that to herself, and perhaps one day Beatrice will be able to properly tell Ava how much she did for her. Right now, though, all Beatrice can do is cling to the small pieces of Ava she gets.

Their text messages and occasionally stopping by her work to see her.

It’s enough for now, it’s more than she ever dreamed of having.

A few hours later, Beatrice is fully dressed and coming back after taking Cosmo on a long walk. She feeds him and goes about ordering an Uber to take her to the location Yasmine gave her.

There are still moments where she feels out of place when going anywhere. Like she needs to find Mother Superion and ask for permission or the urge to cover herself more.

The weather is getting warmer and today is hot enough she won’t even need a jacket. Her shirt is only ¾ sleeved and she’s left the top button undone.

It’s so little in the grand scheme, not when she considers some of the outfits Ava wore - for Beatrice though, she feels vulnerable.

As she makes her way downstairs and into the dispensary, there are already a few customers wandering around. Beatrice knows this place does pretty well, every day when she goes to work there are always customers.

There are so many things here she’s curious about but has no idea how to broach the subject or what they might feel like. She’s not naive by any means, but the chance of trying these things was never an option before.

As she makes her way to the front, she spots Lucia sending a customer on their way. Their eyes meet and Lucia smiles. “Wow, look who’s letting the forearms out to play.”

Beatrice instinctively pulls her arms to her stomach. “It’s not much,” she says, feeling shy.

“It’s a great look on you though - where are you headed?”

“A cookout with someone I work with.”

“Ooh shit, nice! It’s about to be that season again, isn’t it? Hey, if you’re into that sort of thing, you have to let me take you to a tailgate at a Cubs game sometime.”

Beatrice frowns. “A…tailgate?”

“Yeah! You get a bunch of friends and a grill, you pull your truck up into the stadium parking lot and cook some food while you wait for the doors to open. It’s more of a football thing but some people do it for baseball too, fits better with the weather here in Chicago.”

Sometimes Beatrice thinks she needs to carry around a notebook to make lists of all these things. “I see, well that could be fun. I’ve always wanted to attend a baseball game.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “I remember my convent getting rather invested in the Cubs championship run back in 2016. It was fun.”

“Oh god, yeah, my dad actually cried when that happened. The man didn’t even cry when his own mother died but when Rizzo caught that grounder to short, he was weeping.”

Beatrice laughs, remembering the cheers that erupted in the convent that day - some of the older sisters who’d been born and raised here were such big fans. “Anywhere we can find emotions like that is worth keeping, I think.”

Lucia hums in agreement, then leans forward on the counter. “If you’re up for it, I could talk to some of my friends and get us some tickets. There’s a series against the Cardinals coming up and those are always fun.”

“Oh? That…I wouldn't wish to impose.”

“No, not at all, they owe me anyway and getting the chance to take you out to a game and show you a good time would be worth it.” Lucia has a soft smile, looking directly at Beatrice like it really is something she wants to do.

Perhaps it wouldn't be the worst thing to take in a game and some good food - she really does want to start branching out. “I wouldn't be opposed to attending a game, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

That soft smile on Lucia’s face doubles. “Not at all! I’ll sort out the details and let you know.”

The conversation ends there when a customer steps up to check out, Beatrice gives Lucia a wave before making her way outside to wait for her car.

It comes a few minutes later, the driver is polite but not chatty, which is Beatrice’s preference she’s decided - after being stuck with a very chatty blonde a few days ago who wanted to share life stories.

Today, Beatrice is granted the gift of silence and the vibrations of the road beneath her to sort out her thoughts.

There is a lot of mental preparation she has to do for today - to be around strangers and find ways to reach out and engage with them.

She really isn’t sure if she can do it - she has no idea how to approach people she doesn’t know.

People she will have nothing in common with.

Before Ava, talking to anyone outside of Cat’s Cradle was always borderline professional. She was a nun and had services to offer people, that was her role and she was comfortable there.

Ava was a different entity all her own. She saw Beatrice and decided for the both of the that they would be something to each other. She never let Beatrice wilt away and draw back.

Then, at a certain point, Beatrice was the one who couldn't stop pushing them closer.

She thinks of their kiss a lot, even if it’s something they don’t really talk about. In fact, it often feels like a thing between them that Ava actively tries to ignore.

Beatrice knows now, more than she did then, how fragile Ava was. It haunts her, the fact that she ran - that she pushed Ava aside and decided to rebuild her life in silence.

Was there a proper way to include Ava in that decision at the time? No, she knows that.

Yet, it doesn’t take away the fact that Beatrice understands how hurt Ava was then.

A hurt she’s still recovering from.

She knows for certain now though, that despite her own trials and growth, she will be there for Ava in whatever way she can.

By the time she makes it to Yasmine’s building, Beatrice feels like she’s mentally prepared herself enough to at least make an effort. It’s not different than showing up with her sisters at a hostel or a charity event - ready and willing to do what they can to help.

Except this isn’t a mission, it’s a cookout and she isn’t going to be asked to pray but instead to start conversations.

This is infinitely more daunting.

Once she reaches the floor Yasmine told her, she simply follows the sound of the music as she makes her way down the hall.

She didn't bring anything, Yasmine told her it wasn't necessary and if she’s being honest, Beatrice would have no idea what to bring.

When she reaches the door where the noise is coming from, she takes a few deep breaths before knocking loud enough to carry over the stereo.

She wait then, counting in her head up to forty before she plans to knock again. The count only makes it to twenty-one before the door clicks open and, thankfully, Yasmine’s smiling face finds her.

“Beatrice! You made it! I’m so…whoa,” Yasmine’s eyes go wide as she looks Beatrice up and down. “Wow, look at you…I knew there was a hottie under that uniform but goodness.” Yasmine whistles as Beatrice casts her head down to hide a blush before stepping inside.

“Thank you, I may have researched proper cookout attire.”

Yasmine lets out a warm laugh. “I am not surprised, but you clearly figured it out, come on - can I get you a drink?”

This was another part of the event Beatrice was unsure of. She’s never drank before, only communion wine and even then it was very tiny sips.

“Do you…is sparkling water an option?”

She’s so afraid of sounding dull, out of place - she feels so very out of place.

However, the only response Yasmine gives her is a smile. “Yeah! I’m a bit of a sparkling water addict so we’ve got choices, follow me - I can introduce you to some people along the way.”

So she follows her.

The party is spread out all over the apartment and spilling out onto the accompanying balcony. According to Yasmine, her neighbor is also a part of the festivities and they're holding it across both places. Beatrice sees this when she looks out the window and sees people chatting and laughing across both balconies - the city skyline in the background.

It’s picturesque in its own way, a vision of a life she was always curious about. To live so freely and openly - to be herself without apology. That’s what she’s trying for now, even if she has no idea what kind of person she is.

Yasmine introduces her to a few people. Old friends, acquaintances from the building and even a few people from their work at the warehouse.

Everyone is kind and offers her a smile. The ones she recognizes from work share Yasmine’s sentiment in joy that she’s here and one of the women who Yasmine apparently went to college with gives Beatrice’s collarbone a very long look before returning to her previous conversation.

All of this happens just on the way to the kitchen and Beatrice genuinely wonders how people interact with each other like this all day every day because it feels exhausting already.

Once they make it to the fridge, the crowd has mostly dispersed or anyone around them is in their own conversation. Yasmine opens the fridge and Beatrice takes in the rather absurd assortment of drinks inside - settling on a pink grapefruit flavored water.

“Oh, let me introduce you to someone I think you’ll love, her name is Shannon and I would not have survived university without her.”

So Beatrice again follows, this time with a very mute flavored drink in her hand and a little less interruption because people have met her.

They do pass the collarbone girl again and once again she stares at Beatrice a little longer than the others. It’s oddly comforting, not a leer or anything distasteful - it feels rather nice.

“Shannon?” Yasmine calls out and Beatrice sees an older woman, perhaps mid-thirties, turn with a drink in hand and a bright smile. “I wanted to introduce you to Beatrice, she’s the new girl at the warehouse - smartest employee I’ve ever had and picks everything up the day I teach it to her.”

Once again Beatrice is blushing. “You’re too kind,” she says, feeling shy again.

“Oh I don’t know, Yasmine doesn’t hand out compliments lightly,” Shannon says before extending her hand “It’s nice to meet you, Beatrice. Oh here…Mary?” Shannon calls out and then another woman comes up to them, two drinks in her hand. “Meet Beatrice, Yasmine’s new star pupil.”

Mary takes two steps over to them before she stops mid-introduction. “Beatrice?” Mary tilts her head to the side. “That’s an interesting name.”

Unsteady all of the sudden, Beatrice feels her left foot move backwards just a bit. “I - I suppose it is.”

“Mary?” Shannon frowns, elbowing her. “What are you doing?”

Then, Mary laughs. “Sorry, I’m sorry…it is great to meet you, Beatrice, I just…I need to try something.” Mary looks back over her shoulder. “Ava? Come here!”

That’s when it all clicks. Mary and Shannon - Beatrice remembers Ava telling her about Mary and Shannon and how they took her in and how they were like her family and…oh… oh.

Ava is here, she steps over to Mary with a glass in her hand and a laugh lingering in her throat from the previous conversation.

She has on a dress, a gorgeous sundress that stops just above below her knees and dips low enough to show off the tops of her breasts. Not to mention it’s sleeveless and her shoulders are prominently displayed.

Were they always that big? Was Beatrice’s heart always beating this fast?

Whatever joy was in her eyes quickly shifts to surprise when their eyes meet. “Bea?”

“Oh,” Shannon says suddenly and Beatrice realizes she forgot anyone else was around them.

There’s such a strange pull between shock and delight that Ava is here. Yes, it’s unexpected, but now there’s someone here she knows. Someone who makes her comfortable. “Ava, you…hello.” She says, feeling silly.

“Hi,” Ava sends back and Beatrice catches Mary smirking as she watches the exchange. “You’re here?”

Beatrice nods. “I work with Yasmine, she invited me.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Ava puts both hands on the glass she’s holding. “Soda,” she says, as if she feels the need to tell Beatrice what it is.

“Sparkling water,” Beatrice holds up her can and Ava smiles.

When she looks at Mary and Shannon, Beatrice sees that both of them are gone.

Turning back to Ava, she is still tense. “Do you uh…how are you?”

“I’m alright, a bit out of place but…I’m trying.”

Ava laughs. “Me too.”

“Really?” Beatrice isn’t sure why she says it - even less sure why she presses the issue. “I assumed you knew you way around a party.”

The little shrug Ava gives her makes Beatrice feel bad, she truly didn’t mean it in an accusatory way. “They weren’t really like this. More like strangers moving to loud music and lights so low you didn’t bother to look at who was touching you.” There’s a hint of shame in her voice that brings out some kind of protective energy in Beatrice.

“Nothing wrong with that,” she says despite having never experienced anything like that, and knowing she never would.

Still, there is nothing wrong with it - she truly believes that.

The flicker of a smile tests the corner of Ava’s mouth. Her mouth, Beatrice notices, is shimmering with gloss and looks so mesmerizing. “How’s your first party going?”

“I’ve learned about sixteen new names, I could remember four if pressed.”

Ava laughs and the tension fades around them. Her joy is healing like that. “Yeah to be honest I feel a little out of place with all these actual adults. I was eating cheese doodles for dinner last night.”

Beatrice frowns. “Ava, that’s hardly healthy.”

“Hey, they were on the side of my bologna sandwich!” She can't help but roll her eyes. “Alright Master Chef Beatrice, what did you eat for dinner last night?”

Ava’s being playful, it reminds her of their time together at the shelter in the best way.

This is the point where Beatrice would have tucked herself away. Where she would have tried to maintain some distance because she had so much of her repression and self-hatred to protect.

Now, that’s the thing she’s trying the hardest to overcome.

No time like the present. “I had a layered beef and cheese noodle casserole with a tomato sauce.”

For a half second Ava looks impressed, then her eyes narrow as she catches on. “You had lasagna.” She deadpans and Beatrice covers up her own giggle. A sound she isn’t used to making, but one that makes Ava soft smile come back out. “Did you make it from scratch or was it frozen?”

“Both,” Beatrice huffs, sipping her drink.

“What?”

She laughs again. “It was homemade by Beth from the shelter and has been in my freezer for a few weeks.”

Ava’s whole expression softens, but in a very sweet way. “Beth? How…are her and Valerie doing okay?”

It strikes Beatrice then that Ava really did grow attached to that shelter - which only brings with it a trace of guilt that she abandoned her there. “I- yes, they're well. The shelter continues to hold it’s place in the city well.”

“Good, I’m glad I…like I know it was a shit way for me to find it but I did have some fun there.”

Beatrice decides in that moment to try and help Ava, that’s what she wants more than anything. “It was very lucky to have you.” She says, “we all were.”

Then she sees it, the flicker of pain that crosses Ava’s expression. How she lowers her head and sinks into herself. She recognizes the motions like looking in a mirror.

Shame.

“I’m not sure anyone’s ever claimed to be that lucky to meet me.”

It’s said with such disdain that it throws Beatrice. Because people melt around Ava. She was witness to it first hand, not only herself, but people who would come into the shelter. They’d be angry and lost, scared and tired, and Ava would find ways to make them smile.

She won over Beth and Valerie in a day and made each day she worked there brighter.

To hear someone insult her like that upsets Beatrice. To hear it come from Ava herself breaks her heart. “You are incredible, Ava. The shelter was a better place for having you in it.”

Ava peeks up at her, hesitation in her eyes as she does - but Beatrice holds her firm gaze.

“Thanks,” Ava says finally, still not standing as tall as she was before .

Beatrice looks around and sees a spot near the window, blanketed in sun. “Would you like to sit? I don’t know about you, but I don’t really feel like mingling.”

Ava follows her gaze, then nods. “Sure.”

They make their way over to the little blue couch, tucked neatly in the corner and a bit isolated. Beatrice thinks this would be an amazing place to spend an afternoon with a good book.

Though when they sit together, the couch is much smaller than she realized and their knees are forced to touch.

It’s far from scandalous, but Ava’s wearing a dress and her bare leg is touching Beatrice’s pants and it’s a lot.

“You look beautiful,” she says, unable to hold it in.

Ava smiles. “You too, I love seeing your hair,” Ava’s hand twitches, and Beatrice thinks that maybe she was considering touching it. “It’s so much softer than I pictured.”

“I have been blessed with good hair, one of the few redeeming qualities of my mother.”

“You mean you don’t credit it to God?” Ava says with a teasing lilt as she bumps their shoulders together. Beatrice hears that word, His name, and she locks up on instinct. “Oh…shit, I’m sorry. I - I don’t really know where we stand on church jokes.”

Taking a breath, Beatrice sets her drink down on a table beside them. “It’s fine. I - I wouldn't necessarly say I had any sort of crisis of faith.”

“So you still believe?”

She nods. “I believe in the message and the intent. Do I believe I was put on this Earth to serve Him and dedicate my life to that? Not so much - more so considering I would have to hide parts of myself in order to do it.”

There’s a bit of silence between them, long enough for Beatrice to seek out Ava’s eyes and make sure she hadn't said something wrong.

Then Ava reaches out and grabs her hand. “That’s fucking brave, Bea.” She sounds so genuine that Beatrice’s breath catches in her throat. Ava’s hands are so…strong. “Speaking on behalf of the rest of the world, we’re so glad to have you back in it.”

It’s words like that, the weight and truth behind them that Beatrice knows now is what helped guide her out of the prison she’d put herself in. Ava’s reassurance and ability to treat her like an individual rather than someone who needed to be placed in a proper role is really what gave her courage.

Ava, she thinks, is perhaps her favorite person in the world. “So that was Mary and Shannon then?” She asks, wanting to know more - to know everything.

“Yeah, they thought me coming out would be a good idea and I’m starting to think Mary knew you would be here.”

“How would she know that? I’ve never met her before.”

Ava shrugs. “I don’t know, Mary’s the type to just…know shit. She’s weirdly connected all around the city.”

“I don’t think she knew,” Beatrice chuckles. “I have literally told no one outside of Lucia.”

There’s a sudden change in Ava’s expression. “Lucia?”

“She runs the dispensary that I live above.”

There’s a beat. “Oh, that’s cool. Is she…are you two friends?”

Beatrice leans back as the sun starts to shift just enough to be in her eyes. “As much as I am with anyone I suppose. We only talk when we cross paths. Though she did invite me to something called a tailgate at a Cubs game next month.”

“That’s…that should be fun.” Ava grabs her drink again and takes a much larger swallow. “Football tailgates are better.”

“There’s a difference?”

Ava nods. “Oh yeah, baseball has 162 game seasons, that’s like…every day. Football is once a week - they're more like events and a lot more popular too, so like…they’re massive parties each week before a game.”

“You’ve been to some?” Beatrice asks, quietly hoping she might have some tips on what to expect.

“A few, though with the football ones they're in winter so it’s cold as balls and Bears games kick off around one so you start drinking early and then by the time the game starts you’re half…actually,” Ava must see Beatrice’s frowns because she grimaces a little. “Make sure you tell Lucia you’re not into the partying scene.”

Beatrice sighs, “I wouldn't even know if I was. I’ve never really had a drink before.”

“Well, unfortunately I can't -”

“Ava?” A voice calls out to them and they both turn to see Mary standing near where the balconies are. “We’re playing cornhole and need two more.”

She feels Ava start to stand up. “Oh, okay I uh…you want to play?” It takes Beatrice a second to realize Ava is talking to her.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how.”

Ava grins. “It’s easy!” Ava has this way about her, this presence that makes Beatrice feel brave. It’s existed since before Beatrice could even put a name to it.

So when Ava looks down at her, so hopeful and charming, Beatrice has no choice. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot.”

“Yes! Mary we’re coming!”

Mary raises the drink in her hand before heading back out onto the balcony.

Beatrice follows Ava outside, all while listening to Ava explain the rules about bean bags and holes, she gathers most of it and by the time they make it outside, Ava is so animatedly explaining it that Beatrice knows she’s smiling.

“If you knock one of the opponents bags into the hole then they still get points, so you have to be careful!” They stop when they reach Mary. “Okay sweet, what are the teams?”

Mary gestures to the other side of the balcony, where Shannon is. There are people still everywhere, but they’ve cleared out some space for the slanted little goals to sit opposite of one another. “You and Shannon are gonna be over there, I’ll try my luck with this one.” Beatrice finds herself under a bit of a scrutinizing gaze. “You look like you’re in pretty good shape.”

“I do what I can,” Beatrice says. Despite Mary’s clearly intense and straightforward personality, Beatrice can see the kindness in her. “I do carry boxes all day long.”

“Good point,” Mary shoves Ava by the shoulder. “Go join your teammate.”

Ava glares at her before looking in Bea’s direction again - hesitating.

Oh, she’s making sure Beatrice is okay.

“Don’t go easy on me.” Beatrice says with a teasing smile.

When Ava blushes, it sets off a part of her that she did not know existed - she isn’t even sure what it is, but making Ava turn red feels amazing.

Once Ava is far enough away, Beatrice turns to Mary and sees that she’s watching her. “It’s great to meet you,” Beatrice says. “Ava speaks very highly of you.”

“She better,” Mary laughs. “Same goes to you, you know?” Mary sets her drink on the railing. “She speaks very highly of you.”

“Oh,” Beatrice is not expecting that. “I…she’s an amazing person.”

Mary keeps her eyes focused on Beatrice, her arms crossed and her lips pursed. “Don’t take that for granted, alright? She’s worth the effort.”

This is…a protector conversation. Beatrice has seen things similar in her limited experience with movies (she’s been trying to watch more since leaving). Mary is looking out for Ava.

If only Mary knew that Beatrice would rather hurl herself off a bridge than remove a smile from Ava’s face. “I agree, I feel very lucky to know her.”

“You are,” Mary says and then just like that she picks up a handful of bean bags and hands Beatrice three of them. “You start,” she turns to where Ava and Shannon are waiting. “Bea here is going first!”

Ava throws her hands in the air and makes a ‘woo’, which is so delightful that Beatrice giggles.

The game takes a little bit of time to get going. Mary is pretty good, but Shannon is tremendous. She hits the hole in her first three tries and at one point Mary even tries to distract her with a form of dirty talk that makes Beatrice have to stare at her feet and not dare to see Ava’s reaction.

Speaking of Ava, she takes a few tries to find her rhythm, but once she does her accuracy is decent. More of than not she throws too hard and overshoots the target.

On the third time in five attempts she does it, Beatrice decides to try something. “Your arms may look nice, but they're not helping your accuracy!”

As soon as she says it, Ava drops the bean bag in her hand and Shannon covers her mouth to suppress a smile.

Beatrice, suddenly shocked at her own outburst, turns to the sound of Mary cackling. “Amazing! Keep it up, compliment her ass next!”

“Mary!” Ava shouts, sounding both shy and frustrated at the same time as she kneels down and picks up her bean bags. “Just let me throw in peace, oh my god!”

For a brief moment across the balcony, their eyes meet and Beatrice realizes that she…she enjoys this. She enjoys spending time with Ava like this. Open and free and with the chance to try and make her blush and bring out that rise in her voice.

Ava’s next throws are perfect, they all go into the hole and the last two don’t even touch the edge.

When Beatrice seeks her out, she expects to find Ava smirking - confident and proud. Instead, she hardly has the chance to see Ava’s face before she turns around and essentially hides herself behind Shannon.

Suddenly, Beatrice worries that maybe she overstepped. It would seem odd that she did, considering how open and proud of her body that Ava seemed to be.

The thought plagues her for the rest of the game, so much so that her focus ends up costing them the victory when Shannon does what she had done the whole game and sinks a handful of bean bags in a row to end it.

Mary lets out the most exaggerated sigh that Beatrice has ever heard, so much so that any tension about losing the game vanishes with a chuckle. “Good throws, Sister,” Mary says and Beatrice locks up just a little underneath the pat on her back. “Listen, I’m basically Ava’s therapist, she tells me shit - you’re good.”

“It’s…” Beatrice has no shame over her time in the church. “If this had been four square, we would have won easily.”

This makes Mary snort. “That’s your game of choice?”

“Yes, Sister Roberta and her broken nose can attest.”

It’s not as tough as Beatrice makes it sound. She was very young and new to the convent in London. One ball bounced far too hard made Sister Roberta flail and fall to the ground - she did break her nose.

She was awful and Beatrice refused to pray for her.

“Alright, Beatrice - we should do this again. Maybe you can talk Ava into letting you come by for dinner sometime. Shannon and I know our way around the kitchen.”

It’s an invite with a caveat, Mary isn’t inviting her - but letting her know that if Ava does then she would be welcome.

A warmth spreads through her, this…idea of being with Ava’s people makes her feel something new. Alive.

Hopeful. “Thank you, Mary. I hope to have the chance to try it.”

The afternoon continues and before Beatrice can set out to find Ava again, she’s wrangled away by Yasmine and plopped right in the middle of a conversation about work.

Beatrice has no real input, she only listnes and nods along, taking in what she can as they go around in circles about shifts and breaks and lift loads. It doesn’t really make much of a difference to her.

Her job is whatever she is told to do - that is how it has always been for her even before she went to the church. Her parents gave her a directive and Beatrice followed it to the letter.

When she is able to slip away from that conversation, Beatrice makes her way to the nearest bathroom.

Beyond needing to relieve herself, the quiet she finds in there is welcome. She knows that she could leave whenever she wants, but she has no idea if that would be considered rude or unbecoming. She doesn’t know these etiquettes.

She takes a good five minutes longer than necessary to wash her hands before taking a few deep breaths and stepping out into the hall.

As soon as she does, she nearly collides with Ava. “Oh…hi,” Ava says, her face beat red, to the point Beatrice wonders if it’s faded at all since they were outside.

“Hello,” Beatrice offers. “Are you-”

“I wanted to-”

They speak over each other, stop at the same time, then after a beat of silence they both smile.

“You first,” Beatrice offers, keeping her voice soft.

Ava sighs. “I wanted to apologize for…not reacting so great to your words outside. You…you caught me off guard.”

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Ava shakes her head quickly. “No, no of course not. I just…” she sighs, glancing down at her feet that are kicking softly at the carpet “I’m trying really hard to not…feel things for you and seeing you today, this side of you, it’s not making it very easy.”

It’s so unexpected, perhaps it shouldn't be given everything Ava told her when she stumbled into Cat’s Cradle drunk and hurting - but now she’s sober and alert and has gone through a lot.

Yet…

“I think I understand.”

Those deep brown eyes of Ava meet her own and Beatrice’s breath catches in her throat. Ava is stunning, the kind of beautiful that makes a person feel grateful to have been allowed the chance to exist in the same timeline as them - let alone the chance to be this close to her. “You do?” Ava asks, almost awestruck.

“The things that happened between us back then, Ava, you must have known that they weren’t unrequited.” Ava doesn’t say anything to that, just swallows, loud enough Beatrice can hear it, then nods. Beatrice presses on. “I’m not ready for that, and I assume you aren’t either?”

“No,” Ava answers simply, but there’s something deeper in her expression - sorrow. “Not yet. I’m still trying to be okay. I still…have shit to sort you, you know?”

Beatrice smiles. “I know. I…have shit too.”

A beaming smile breaks free on Ava’s face. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Ava says, words that Beatrice is fairly certain she’s never had spoken to her before.

Some part of her, some lost and broken piece of her heart that her mother and father tore down years ago is finally mended. “I am here,” Beatrice says. “I know we’re not…there yet, but texting you has become a highlight of my day.”

“Me too, I’m…I want…” Ava sighs, “fuck.” She shakes her head, frustrated, but Beatrice reaches out without thinking and presses her palm to Ava’s cheek. “Every good thing that has ever happened to me, I have found a way to screw it up. I - I’m so scared of doing that with you. I thought I had already and now you’re here and you’re…I’m scared, Bea. I don’t want to hurt you.”

There is a sadness in Ava so deeply rooted that Beatrice truly thinks Ava believes she is cursed. She felt it even before really knowing her - this side of Ava that came out when she thought no one was looking.

This girl who has been through so much and still wants, desperately, to be loved.

Beatrice thinks, knows, that she loves her - even if it feels naive at times. Out of order. They’ve never had a real chance to build anything together.

“We’ll take it slow, alright? I’m in the same boat, I’m terrified. I know nothing about…everything I feel for you. So let’s be patient. Let’s stay close and just…learn, together.”

A tear slips past Ava’s defenses and rolls down her cheek, dripping onto the back of Beatrice’s thumb before she brushes it away. “I’d like that,” Ava says. “I…would you want to do something together? Something simple…anything…anything not so sisterly that you’re curious about but scared to do on your own?”

“Well, Yasmine told me that I, quote, have not lived until I’ve watched something called Mean Girls. Would you be interested in joining me?”

Ava’s eyes light up, her smile so wide it shows off all of her teeth - Beatrice’s heart flutters in her chest. “I’d love to! Oh god I love Mean Girls so much. Yes, please. Do you…I…where?”

“My place? If you don’t mind passing through a dispensary to get there?”

“Not at all!”

Beatrice really needs her heart to calm down. “Wonderful, I can text you the address and we’ll coordinate a day then?”

“Yes, absolutely, I…I love that.”

“Me too,” Beatrice says, not really sure why but she doesn’t want this moment to end just yet.

Apparently, neither does Ava. “Can I hug you?”

There’s just the slightest bit of hesitation in Ava’s voice, enough to make Beatrice set a new rule. “Yes, and…for future reference, you don’t have to ask.”

She doesn’t, this one person in the whole world does not have to ask permission to enter Beatrice’s personal space.

She doesn’t tell Ava that specifically, but it’s the truth.

Ava presses into her then, arms wrapping around Beatrice and holding her. Beatrice gathers Ava up all the same, cradling the back of her head - this time getting a much better look at the tattoo on her back.

It’s cute, and the way the dark ink clashes with her skin is hard not to stare at

There are…thoughts, temptations - she resists the urge to run from them.

“I should go wash up,” Ava mumbles in her hair before pulling back. “I told Mary I’d be quick.”

Beatrice laughs. “She doesn’t strike me as the type to enjoy waiting.”

Ava lets out a cute snort of laughter. “Not at all. What about you?”

“I’ll probably be going soon, Cosmo needs fed and my social limitation are still a work in progress.”

“Fair enough, give Cosmo a kiss for me?”

There’s an urge inside of her, bubbling at the surface - to make a statement of some kind. To let Ava know it goes both ways, all of it.

“I will, first though,” Beatrice leans in and presses a very soft kiss to Ava’s cheek. “That one is from both of us.” Ava blushes again, this time all the way down her neck and chest - the most beautiful little smile on her face. “I’ll text you tonight?”

Ava nods, “I’d like that. Be safe, Bea.”

“Always.” Beatrice returns and then they finally part ways.

When she makes her way out of the apartment complex and onto the street, Beatrice lets herself enjoy this good feeling the whole way home.

Chapter Text

“Okay…” Ava grimaces as she looks around her room - clothes strung out everywhere and her makeup bag open and scattered across her bed. “Why the fuck is dressing for a friendly meetup so much harder than trying to get laid at a club?”

The main goal Ava has going into her afternoon with Beatrice is simple - zero expectations. She just wants to connect with her. Show up, watch a movie, make something to eat and just…be a friend.

That’s all this is, just two friends trying to further establish their friendship in the way friends do.

So what if Ava’s dreamed about fucking her new friend three of the last five nights? So what if she’s spent more time under a cold shower this week than she has in her whole life?

She can do this, she can be friendly - she’s very friendly. Too friendly sometimes if you ask people who know her well.

Yeah, maybe her whole existence has kind of collapsed on top of itself and she nearly needed rehab to fix her shit - none of that matters right now because her number one crisis is right in front of her.

What the fuck is she going to wear?

While Ava has tried recently to rebuild her wardrobe to fit what she likes more - there are still parts of it that she hasn’t fully figured out yet. Specifically, what to wear to impress people.

The easy option would be sexy. A crop top or something with a low dip in the front - go with what works.

Except she can't do that here, because what that works for is not what she wants from Beatrice.

Okay that’s a lie, it is what she wants, but it’s not what she needs - what they need. No, they need to take this slow and build something - both of them. So Ava can't go sexy and do her usual thing.

Tonight she needs substance and truth, she needs to wear something that represents who she is now.

She has no fucking idea what that means.

She needs help.

The easy answer is to take the two outfits she’s narrowed it down to and bring them to Mary and Shannon. Except, as much as she loves them, they're basically an old married couple at this point. Nights out for them are bowling and bingo - a few weeks ago they went to Medieval Times.

Which is all fine and good, Ava loves their love - but it isn’t hers and she has no idea what hers is and this isn’t even about that.

No, this is a friendly get together with Bea.

Bea, who she maybe…kind of…wants to earn a few lingering gazes from.

So Ava lays out her two options, a blue shirt that fits loose, hangs off a shoulder and is very soft. Then a red t-shirt with a lower cut that shows just a bit of cleavage and hugs her body really well.

She snaps pictures of both of them and then loads them into the message.

That’s where she’s at right now, staring at her screen, hair still wet from her shower, in her underwear and staring at her phone trying to convince herself to send the message.

She hasn’t spoken to Chanel since she picked up a handful of things from her apartment before moving in with Mary and Shannon.

It’s not as if Ava is mad at Chanel or blames her for anything - Chanel never forced her to do drugs or go out each night. She offered and Ava had nothing so she accepted.

Still, she is terrified to reach out to her again - because things are going well. So while Ava has no intention of dipping back into that life, Chanel represents a period of time Ava is trying to move past.

The problem is that running has never gotten Ava anywhere. In fact, it only ever tore her down and broke her apart. To run and hide and hold in all of the things that hurt her every single day - nothing good ever came of it.

Chanel is a friend, a good person and Ava wants to be able to keep her in her life without having to lose everything.

So she hits send.

Ava: important plans tonight, which outfit says ‘i dressed up for you’ but without seeming slutty or desperate?

Tossing her phone on the bed, Ava escapes to the bathroom and starts doing her makeup. She takes her time, nothing crazy - a bit annoyed at how much harder it is to do subtle looks as opposed to her over the top eyeliners and blushes for clubs.

When she’s finished, she goes back to her room, still half dressed and picks up her phone.

There are two messages waiting for her.

Chanel: that depends…are you slutty and desperate?

Ava laughs, Chanel was always good at giving her that.

Ava: desperate for sure, but not slutty.

Ava: not with her

Chanel: so it’s serious then?

It’s a fair question, but one that feels entirely inadequate to describe this thing between her and Beatrice.

Because on the surface, they're two people who worked together for a few months, kissed once, and then completely fell apart.

Except it’s so much more than that. It’s a connection and an energy and a comfort Ava’s never had in her life before. It’s an all consuming rush of joy that hits her every time Beatrice’s name pops up on her phone.

It’s waking up in the morning and thinking about her. Knowing that whenever anything even remotely exciting happens in her life, she wants to tell Beatrice all about it.

Having it go both ways. Having Beatrice show up where she works just to say hi and sending her random photos of Cosmo as conversation starters when they haven’t talked for a few hours.

It’s the soft hugs and the open communication.

Ava’s in love with a girl she’s only kissed once and it doesn’t feel like a crush. It feels real and terrifying and worth it.

Ava: very

The response comes quickly.

Chanel: go with the red tank top, but wear something over it. if the mood swings you can show yourself off a little, if not you still look good but you’ve still got some range to work with

Chanel: if you’ve still got that cardigan, wear it

She does still have the cardigan and it will go well with this top. It was the choice she wanted to make all along but needed someone to tell her it was the right idea.

Ava’s still working up to feeling comfortable with her own decisions. After a few years of making nothing but bad decisions she’s become a bit gun shy.

So she puts on her outfit, a pair of good fitting jeans and her red tank, then pulls on her cardigan before grabbing a single, dangly cross earring.

Ava: thanks

Ava: sorry i haven’t reached out in a while i’m still kind of working on myself

Her finger hesitates over the send button again for a moment before she hits it, because it would be so easy to just end it here. To let go and stay focused - but she feels stronger now, or at least more settled. She can reach out.

When her phone buzzes in her hand, she takes a breath.

Chanel: no need to apologize for that

Chanel: i’m still here if you need me

Chanel: keep me posted on this girl ;)

A smile breaks out across Ava’s face as she finally feels her shoulders sag in relief.

Ava: wish me luck!

Stuffing her phone in her pocket, Ava makes her way downstairs two steps at a time, suddenly energized and finds Mary and Shannon sitting at the kitchen table hovering over Shannon’s laptop.

“No, you gotta wait for a sucker!”

Shannon rolls her eyes with a very charmed smile. “They’re called lollipop hammers, babe.”

“Well that’s a stupid fucking name, they look like suckers and you need one before you should be messing with this section.” Shannon turns to look at her, a long, playfully suffering expression. “You know I’m right, I’m on level 7500 for a reason.”

“I’m not sure if that’s something to brag about.’ Ava chimes in, stepping through the doorway feeling so full of affection for them.

Mary looks up at her, eyes widening a bit as she sees her. “Hey I can't help it if my job is eighty percent downtime. Shit, Ava are you going to a job interview or something?”

Ava frowns, suddenly worrying she’s overdressed. “No I…I’m going to Bea’s.”

“Ohh, right, okay well you’ll certainly make an impression.”

“Is it too much?” Ava looks down at herself, seeing the tops of her breasts sticking out just a little from the dip of her top. “Chanel helped me pick it out.”

When she looks up, both of them are staring at her. “Chanel?” Shannon asks, trying and failing to keep her tone soft.

“Yeah I…I asked her for some help. I’m not good at dressing up for things that aren’t club related or…fancy golf parties with businessmen.”

Sometimes Ava thinks about her time with JC and it really makes her stomach ache. Because she was not a person in that time of her life - she was an object. An object of desire and something for gross old men to stare at while they talked about their wealth.

JC knew that too, he bought her clothes all the time, convinced her to go out in sizes that were too small and hang off his arm like a prize.

He was never cruel to her, but thinking back on their relationship only furthers the truth that he never really wanted a girlfriend, he wanted a toy to fit in with those people.

Before she even realizes it, Mary is in front of her and holding her by the shoulders. “Deep breath, baby girl. You’re good, we’re just curious is all.”

Ava nods, trying to slow her heart down. “I’m not…I’m still keeping my distance from her I promise. I wouldn't do that to you, I won’t slip…I just…she’s a friend and I-”

“Hey no, we’re not going to control your life, Ava. That’s not the purpose of this. We’re just looking out for you but you’re an adult and you’ve done a hell of a job these last few months so if you think you’re ready to reach out to her again then we support that - but we love you and we’re gonna make sure you’re okay.”

They love her.

It’s not as if she didn’t know it, hasn’t felt it - but hearing it so blatantly breaks the dam open.

She starts to cry, knees wobbly and body careening forward into Mary’s arms, she sobs and clings to her.

Ava has no idea why she’s suddenly so overwhelmed, but it feels a lot like something she’s been holding in for months.

Because Mary and Shannon saved her life, when she gave them absolutely no reason to. They came for her at her lowest and gave her a place to live. They fed her and housed her and let her take her time to heal. They look out for her and support her.

They make her feel safe.

When Shannon steps up to check on them, Ava reaches out with a hand and grabs for her.

It doesn’t take long for her to put her arms around both of them and Ava sobs more.

They hold her and cradle her and Ava’s mind wanders to thoughts of her mother. It’s like she’s in the room, or the feeling Ava can barely remember from when she was little seeps into this moment.

This is her family now, these are her people and nothing will ever take her away from them again.

Ava has no idea how much time passes but when she finally starts to calm down, she’s sitting in a chair with Mary still kneeling down and holding her.

Shannon comes to the table with a glass of water and a box of tissues.

Ava wipes at her eyes, sniffles deeply and pouts. “I fucked up my makeup.” She whines and Mary grins.

“You really did.” A soft thumb pads under her eye. “Shannon can sort you out though, big date right?”

Oh, that word is heavy. “It’s not a date. Not…I don’t think it’s a date.”

She hears the scratch of a chair on the hardwood floor as Shannon sits down with a makeup bag in hand while Ava dabs at her face with tissues. “Let’s see; her place, movies to watch…is she cooking for you?”

“She…she said she was going to try.” Ava smiles at the memory of Beatrice listing off all the potential food she found on a website for ‘what to make when important guests come over’. “I don’t think culinary was a part of her daily Jesus work.”

Mary snorts a laugh as Shannon grabs Ava under the chin and tips her head up. She closes her eyes as Shannon cleans off her face and touches her up. Fighting with everything she has to hold off the emotion again. It’s just…so much.

“I love you both,” she says, feeling more courageous with her eyes shut. “I’m so grateful to have you in my life. I’m so…” she sighs. “I love you.”

A pair of hands grab the back of her head and hold it steady, then she feels lips being pressed down against her skull. “We love you too, alright? You’re our girl and we will always have your back so long as you allow us to have it.”

She’s their girl.

“Open,” Shannon says and Ava’s eyes open to see her holding a mascara brush. “We do love you, Ava. We love you and we support you and we are going to make sure you look so damn good for your date tonight.”

“It’s not…”

“Oh honey, it is, it’s a date. You’re going on a date with a nun.”

God…she really wants it to be a date. “We’re just trying out friendly stuff.”

“Mmhmm, while both of you have already acknowledged that you’re into each other.”

Butterflies dance in her stomach at the memory. Bea’s into her, she said as much and oh…Ava has already decided she’s hugging her as soon as she steps through the door.

So yeah, calling it a friendly hang out feels a little bit cheap - because Ava is as nervous as she would be if it were a date. She’s anxious because she knows her old tricks for dating aren’t what she wants to bring to the table tonight. She can't drink to ease the tension because she doesn’t drink anymore.

It’s all so new and scary and exciting and…

“It’s a fucking date.” She breathes, as if it’s finally sinking in. “I’m going on a date?” She asks both of them and neither of them - she just…asks the universe to make fucking sense.

Then Mary laughs and Shannon flashes her a playfully admonishing look and holy fuck she’s going on a date with Beatrice. “You’ll be fine, you’ve already charmed her - now you just have to resist the urge to tell her about your weird plant obsession.”

Ava frowns. “She already knows. I send her pictures all the time.” Ava sticks a finger up and points at Mary, “and it’s not weird!”

“Alright,” Shannon brushes her thumbs under Ava eyes and puts her brush down. “Done. It’s subtle, but cute and makes your eyes stand out.”

Shannon picks up her little compact mirror and holds it so Ava can see and thankfully it does look better. No traces of the fact that she was sobbing five minutes ago other than some red in her eyes.

“Thanks, both of you.” Ava gives them soft smiles and resists the urge to hug them again because honestly it might make her cry. “Alright,” she pushes to her feet. “I guess…I guess I’m going on a date.”

“Hell yeah,” Mary pats her on the back. “Use protection.”

“Mary!” Both she and Shannon scold her, much to Mary’s delight. “Stop, please. It’s…she’s Beatrice.”

Mary hums. “She spent most of that party staring at your arms, Ava.”

Heat pricks up the side of Ava’s neck, because she knows. She noticed it the whole time they were anywhere near each other. She felt it when they hugged, when Beatrice made sure to squeeze her biceps and run a hand down her forearms.

Growing up the way she did, stuck in a hospital bed and her nervous system a mess - Ava made sure to experiment and explore everything when she finally had the chance.

She is far from a virgin, and she isn’t ashamed of any of it.

Still, nothing, not one body she’s been on top of or underneath, has ever excited her like the feeling of Beatrice’s touch.

“Ava?” Mary says and Ava’s eyes flick over to her, ready for some kind of sage advice or boost in morale, something. “Get the fuck out of here so Shannon and I can finish our game.”

“Right,” Ava takes a step towards the door and grabs her shoes. “Right, I uh…I’ll be back, and I’l put some gas in your car.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Ava shakes her head. “No I will, I’ll top it off. I…I’m sure I won’t be late.” She nearly falls trying to get her second shoe on before opening the door as a burst of cool air hits her face. “Okay bye!” She forces herself out the door.

-----------------------------

The trip to Bea’s goes a lot faster than Ava had anticipated. She had been almost looking forward to the drive as a nice chance to sort out her head and figure out her opening line.

In fact, when she noticed how close she was on the GPS, Ava almost caused a wreck pulling into a PetSmart she just happened to spot to buy a little gift for Cosmo.

All she found was a little rope toy, the kind for tug of war that Ava thought might be fun - but also heavy enough to throw for him so he could chase it.

Now though, she’s here, she’s parked on the other side of the street, looking across at a pot dispensary where her no-longer-a-nun-but-still-kind-of-off-limits friend.

It feels like a fork in the road. The kind of moment that could define a lot of things for her.

Because of that, Ava finds herself scared to death.

Her mind goes back to a very dark place, a memory.

Fourteen years old and watching Diego being stretchered out of their shared room because he became so sick he couldn't breathe. Ava lost her voice screaming at the nuns to show up and come fucking help him.

She remembers after he left, when Ava asked if he would be okay, Sister Frances looked at her and told her he’d be better not to be near her.

“You’re a disease,” Frances spat at her. “Anyone who has the misfortune of knowing you is worse because of it.”

Ava was never right after that - never complete. A piece of her died inside when she was told, point blank, that every miserable thing that happened in her life was her fault.

Worst of all, she spent the next twelve years proving Frances right.

Except, that isn’t true with Beatrice. Beatrice, who has specifically told Ava that she was lucky to know her. That Ava gave her something special and helped her see where she needed to be.

Beatrice wants to see her, wants to be near her and spend time with her.

Beatrice is on the other side of the street waiting for her.

All her life, Ava has been running from the haunting words a cruel old nun told her.

Now, another nun, former, is her second chance to stand up for herself.

To prove to the world, to Frances, to that little girl in foster care who thought she didn’t deserve love - that she won’t give up on her.

Ava makes her way across the street and steps into the front door of the dispensary. Immediately, she’s hit with the smell of weed - it’s subtle, but still there and clearly they are trying to cover it up a little.

Of all the vices Ava’s had, weed never quite did it for her. She actually kind of skipped that step and went right to pills and codeine.

There are a few people in here, not surprising for a Saturday afternoon, but Ava follows Bea’s directions to the door in the back that leads to the stairs.

“Excuse me?” A voice calls out and Ava freezes, hand lingering over the door handle.

She turns and finds a gorgeous woman coming towards her, a bright smile on her flawless face. “Hello?”

“Hi,” she stops just a step or two in front of Ava. “Are you here to see Beatrice?”

“I am, I’m Ava. How do you know Bea?”

The woman grins. “This is my building, she’s renting the room above me. I’m Lucia.” She holds out her hand and Ava is immediately tense.

Jealous, she thinks. This fucking supermodel is the one who asked Beatrice to go tailgating - who was clearly trying to make a move.

Fuck.

Ava takes her hand, she can play the game with the best of them. She had a front row seat to it for years at the bar. “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Ava, Bea’s friend.”

“Yes, Ava, she told me about you. Said you were coming and I’ll let you in on a little secret; I haven’t seen her that excited since she moved in.”

Oh well…that’s a whole new flock of butterflies in her stomach.

Are a group of butterflies a flock? Probably not.

“I can't wait to see her too, in fact I’m running a bit late already.”

“Right of course! Don’t let me keep you. I just wanted to make sure you were who I thought you were. Can't be too careful.”

Ava feels a strange sense of gratitude wash over her. Jealous or not, Lucia was actively looking out for Bea and Ava appreciates it. “I get you, but I’m just me.”

“You’re cute,” Lucia looks back to her counter where a customer is standing. “Ok, duty calls. Have fun!” She turns and leaves and Ava takes a few deep breaths.

She has no idea how she expected that to go but she’s going to say it went better than she expected.

The steps up to Bea’s place are steep and narrow. There aren’t many of them, but doing it more than once a day seems daunting.

Once she reaches the top, she sees Beatrice’s apartment (it’s not hard to miss) a massive block door that looks almost double the size of a normal door, with a single little handle on one side.

Ava walks up, with her silly little dog toy in her hand and knocks three times.

Then suddenly, there’s a dog barking and Ava’s heart starts to race.

This is Bea’s home, with Cosmo - her new life and Ava’s about to spend the afternoon with her.

It’s something she’s dreamed about even before Bea left the church. Back when they were just ships crossing in a homeless shelter, Ava’s imagined what it might be like to see Beatrice in a normal setting.

Now she’s here and she feels so very inadequate.

If this really is a date like Mary seems so convinced of, then Ava should be great. She’s done this before. She’s so good with people, it’s one of the few positive things her manager at the bar ever told her.

Except Beatrice isn’t just people, she’s Beatrice. She’s this overwhelming force of kindness and sweetness, wrapped up in this complex, beautiful and unexpectedly sexy package.

She’s also new to the world and a bit vulnerable, but also not weak and dainty - she’s a powerhouse of a woman, she just hasn’t figured it all out yet.

Meanwhile, Ava is a recovering…something, who still struggles to sleep sometimes and can't drink alcohol anymore because she gets too compulsive about it and almost an hour ago she broke down crying and can't even explain why.

She’s a goddamn disaster and has no business -

The door opens and Bea is there, her hair down and her eyes bright when she sees Ava. One of her hands is wrapped around Cosmo’s collar as he tries to burst free from the door - his tail wagging a mile a minute. “Ava, hello.” Beatrice greets her, so…glad to see her.

All the anxiety dissolves. “Hey Bea,” she gasps and kneels down. “Look at you!” Ava greets Cosmo who is wagging his tail so hard now his whole body is moving. “Oh! I have something for you, buddy!” Ava holds up the little rope toy and peaks up at Beatrice. “I hope this is okay?”

“Yes I…” Beatrice is staring at the toy with wide, surprised eyes. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”

Ava shrugs. “I wanted to, I’ve been wanting to meet Cosmo since the day you told me about him.”

“Right of course,” Cosmo is tugging hard on Bea, but she holds him steady. “Can you throw that inside so he’ll chase it? Then I can properly let you in.”

“You got it,” Ava stands up and then hurls the toy into the apartment and Cosmo nearly takes out the door frame turning around to go after it.

When Beatrice steps out of the doorway, she ushers Ava in quickly, a laugh escaping her when Ava bounces through the door with a skip.

Once inside, Beatrice closes the door and when she turns, Ava is there watching her.

Common sense tells her to smile and greet and be pleasant - which she will be.

First though, Ava has to take a moment to be absolutely starstruck because holy shit, Beatrice looks incredible.

It’s nothing crazy, but her hair is down and cascading across her shoulders - shoulders that are holding up a short sleeved shirt with the short sleeves rolled up almost to her shoulders and Ava can see her arms, her skin and just…so much of her.

She feels greedy, wrong, but she lets herself look - eyes roaming up Bea’s body before meeting her eyes. “Hi,” she says again and Beatrice blushes.

“It’s good to see you.”

Ava smiles. “You too, Bea. I’m sorry I’m a little late.”

Beatrice waves her off. “It’s alright, I’ve just been cleaning up a bit and preparing some food.”

“Ohh, so you really are cooking?”

“I’m…attempting. Nothing extreme, a simple macaroni and cheese recipe Yasmine gave me.”

There are so many questions Ava wants to ask.

Did Yasmine just give her this recipe or did Bea specifically ask for it? For her? Has Bea cooked for anyone else? Has Lucia been up here and gotten Beatrice cooked foods?

The questions die in her throat when Beatrice takes tentative steps towards her. “You look good as well, really good. I’m…it’s nice to see you in my apartment.”

“It’s nice to be here.” Ava has the question ready, but then remembers Beatrice gave her the opening to just dive in so that’s exactly what she’s going to do.

It takes a single step to move into Bea’s bubble and wrap her up in a hug.

Then it’s only a few seconds and a bit of a startled inhale of breath before Bea’s arms are wrapping around her.

Beatrice smells like butter and cheese and something else Ava can't quite describe. With so few layers on now, Ava can feel more of her too. She can feel every ridge and plane of her body - the way her neck muscles are firm down to her shoulders. How wide her back is.

She could spend hours exploring every inch of Beatrice’s body.

Ava has to be the one to pull away, she can't get ahead of herself. “So this is your place?” She asks, looking around and taking it in.

There’s not a lot to it, but unsurprisingly, Beatrice has made the most of her space.

A single couch sits in the middle of what appears to be the living room, with a modest TV sat atop a very empty entertainment center. There are a few paintings on the walls, bookshelves filled to the brim, some decorations ranging from a collection of fairy lights around the window to a very cute rack of teacups hanging on the wall above her tiny little kitchen counter.

“It’s modest, but far more space than I’ve had in years.”

That’s when a thought occurs to Ava. “You know, I’m only now realizing that I don’t really know much about you…or at least, who you were before all the…you know, nun stuff.”

A small smile tugs at the side of Bea’s mouth as she leads them to the kitchen. As Ava is walking however, something presses into her leg and she looks down to see Cosmo with his new toy in his mouth, ready to play.

“I knew you’d like it,” Ava grabs the end hanging out of his mouth and pulls on it.

Cosmo, of course, pulls right back and so she drags him along carefully to keep up with Bea.

“I’m afraid my life before the church wasn't very exciting,” Beatrice moves to where a pot is boiling and lifts it up. Ava sees a huge plum of steam rise up out of it. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure, water please.” Ava sits down at the counter, still having a battle of wills with Cosmo. “And I don’t know, the accent makes me picture you as like…an equestrian or something.”

Beatrice hands her a bottle of water with a frown. “That’s your first thought for a British accent? Equestrian?”

“Am I wrong?” This earns her an eye roll, it’s entirely too charming. “I’m not, am I?”

“I was not an equestrian, but I did enjoy horses.”

Ava can't stop her triumphant grin. “I knew it.”

“What about you? I assume you had things you enjoyed as a child before bartending and selling fruit.”

She can't stop herself. “You mean before or after the accident?”

Usually, when Ava brings up the accident there’s this flash of anxiety or panic that comes over the other person's face, like they’ve stepped on a landmine and don’t know what to do.

What usually follows is a slew of apologies and backtracking and pity - it’s what she expects now.

It isn’t what she gets.

“Both?”

The follow up question is so unexpected that Ava gets distracted and loses the tug of war with Cosmo who sprints into the living room with triumph to gnaw on his prize.

When she meets Beatrice’s eyes, she’s holding a little wooden fork thing, with a warm look on her face. A look that says ‘tell me if you want, but I won’t be mad if you don’t’.

Ava really has no choice. “I don’t have a ton of memories from before. I loved Transformers growing up, that’s the random thing that stuck with me. I…I would ride with my mom all over the city and every cool car I saw I’d say I wanted to be able to transform into.”

“That sounds adorable. When did the dinosaurs come into play? “

“Oh Beast Wars?” Beatrice hums as if she knows what Ava is talking about. “That was after the accident. It would come on super early in the morning and I’d hide the remote under my pillow so I could turn it on with the volume really low. It’s…” Ava feels the strangest wave of aching nostalgia hit her. They aren’t good memories, nothing from her foster home is a good memory - but at the time those mornings were everything to her. “I first learned how to speak English watching those shows.”

As expected, that gets Bea’s attention. “You aren’t from here?”

“No uh…my mom and I were visiting from Portugal when the accident happened. Since I was a minor and didn’t have any family come to claim me, the state basically…accepted me or whatever. I don’t know, but I’ve been here ever since.”

It’s funny because this part of the story doesn't hurt like it used to. It’s fucked up really, how she’s been alone since she was seven. Ava’s been here for so long that talking about her time in Portugal feels like it belongs to someone else - like it’s a memory from a past life.

She’s just a girl from Chicago now, that’s how she feels anyway.

“Well, despite the circumstances, I’m glad you’re here. If it wasn't for you I’m quite certain I’d be on my knees right now.”

Ava chokes on her water as she drinks it. “Wh - what?” She coughs then, setting the bottle down and covering her mouth.

All while Beatrice grins cheekily at her. “In prayer, Ava. I was a nun.”

“Oh my god, Bea!” Ava can't stop the laugh that escapes her, despite the burn in her throat from the water logged in her esophagus. “You’re out of the church for a few months and suddenly you’re making dirty jokes?”

Beatrice scoffs. “It’s not dirty, your mind simply took you there. I was only making an observation.”

“Uh huh, you delivered that observation with a certain level of innuendo.”

As Bea takes the pot off the stove, she hums. “Well there’s only one influence in my life that could have led me to such a thing.”

“Oh so it’s my fault then?”

Beatrice, with her biceps fucking bulging as she carries the pot over, dumps out the water into the sink. “I said nothing,” she teases and Ava feels this strange weightlessness that never follows actively opening up about her childhood.

It’s as if Beatrice took all of her trauma and just…pushed it aside. Not in a dismissive way, but in a way of saying that she’s learned more about Ava now, but it’s changed nothing.

Nobody has ever done that before. “So what did little Beatrice enjoy besides horses?”

“Not much else, I’m afraid.” She admits with a hint of sadness in her voice. “I was…my family was very strict and my schedule was rigid. I wasn't really born into a situation that allowed for me to…discover things about myself.”

If she’s being honest, Ava isn’t the least bit surprised. The Beatrice that she met in the shelter months ago felt like the kind of person who got mad at herself when she was too happy. It explained so much about why she refused kindnesses and gestures. Why she had an existential crisis over Ava bringing her a croissant and how hugs were something Beatrice seemed desperate for.

It’s trauma, Ava recognizes it like looking in a mirror.

“So now that you have the freedom to do what you want, what are you loving?”

As she watches Beatrice cut up a stick of butter and dump it into the pot, Ava can see her brain working. “Not cooking,” she says with a little smile that makes Ava laugh. “I’ve started rock climbing at a place nearby and I’m quite enjoying that.”

“Ooh, I love rock climbing, well okay I did it once because the instructor was hot, but it was fun and we had fun later and…” Ava realizes what she’s saying and who she’s saying it too a little too late. “Sorry.”

Beatrice shakes her head. “It’s fine, Ava. You’ve had different experiences than I have. My instructor is probably considered attractive by those who enjoy his…type.” She frowns as she says it but Ava picks up every bit of that message.

“I see…so you would have liked my instructor then?”

A deep pink flush paints Beatrice’s cheeks as she stirs a little harder. “I don’t know them.”

“Her,” Ava corrects and it’s enough to get Bea’s attention. “Her name was Gabrielle and she was very good at her job.”

Bea looks at her, stirring hand frozen in the pot and Ava can feel the doubt lingering thick in the air. Ava worries she’s pushed too far, but this can't be an unknown - not after everything they’ve done and the conversations they’ve had. “Perhaps I’m better off without the distraction.” She says and Ava finds herself laughing.

It’s enough to ease the tension in Beatrice’s shoulders and get her stirring again.

From there, the conversation drifts to random things, but all of them are pleasant. Ava tells Beatrice all about the workouts she does with Mary, from boxing to weights and how she’s really taken to yoga and is trying to get Mary to try it.

Beatrice lights up at the mention. “I’d be happy to take in a few sessions with you, I’ve a mat here and have been discovering it at my own pace. The balance and body control are not dissimilar to aikido.”

Ava grins at the prospect of Bea in yoga pants being all bendy and hot. “Okay but you have to show me some fighting moves too, like…a fair trade exchange.”

Eventually, the food is ready, a big scoop of homemade mac and cheese is plopped into a couple of bowls and it smells divine.

Ava makes a whole show of washing her hands as Bea pours them big glasses of milk because, as Ava told her, milk goes best with mac and cheese.

However, as soon as Ava sits down and peeks into her bowl, it all comes crashing down.

Because there is no cheese sauce - it’s all clumps. Just huge clumps of cheese and undercooked noodles, sitting in a pool of melted butter.

“It doesn’t look right, does it?” Beatrice asks almost in horror, like she’s been thinking it the whole time but only needed Ava’s expression to confirm it.

Hearing the genuine distress in Bea’s voice, Ava tries. “No, I’m sure it’s fine! A little bit thick but I bet it still tastes good.” To prove her point, Ava scoops up a healthy amount of noodles and clumpy cheese, dripping with the butter it’s swimming in and sticks the whole thing in her mouth.

When she bites down on it, there is a very distinctive crunch.

“I heard that!” Beatrice gasps and Ava winces, the textures all mixing in her mouth terribly.

“S’good,” she says, swallowing as fast as she can.

“Ava, the noodles are basically raw.”

She shakes her head, feeling the gross textures dance around in her mouth. “That’s how I like them.”

Beatrice rolls her eyes and stands up, grabbing the plates and carrying them away. “I cannot believe…I followed the instructions to the letter. I don’t…is my stove wrong? Did I not add enough water…why isn’t the cheese…”

“Hey,” Ava is up then, moving into Bea’s personal space as she hovers over the sink and the discarded plates, rattling off her failures. Ava grabs her by the hands and waits for Bea to look at her. “Do you want to order Chinese? “

She watches Beatrice glance to the sink and then back to her, an adorable pout on her lips that Ava is desperate to kiss. “I wanted to make you lunch.”

The squeeze on Ava’s heart doubles, triples and she finds herself thinking about butterflies again. “You have no idea how much I appreciate the attempt.”

Beatrice sighs, because what Ava’s learned is that Beatrice is a perfectionist and things like this bother her to no end.

So it is her job to drag Bea out of it. “Fine, but I’m paying.”

Ava grins. “Okay! You can take this one!”

“I cannot believe you swallowed that.” Beatrice glares at the sink and Ava giggles.

“It wasn't terrible.” That glare turns to Ava. “Alright, it was pretty gross, but cheese and butter are never bad things!”

---------------------------

After Mean Girls, which was so much fun because Beatrice just kept asking questions, they moved onto Ava’s second favorite Lindsay Lohan movie and watched Freaky Friday.

This one set Ava off on a massive nostalgia kick because when she was twelve years old and this DVD made it’s way to her group home, she was obsessed.

“I wanted to be her so bad, I wanted blonde streaks in my hair. I wanted to play guitar and sing in my own band. I just…god I wanted it so much.”

She can't help herself, she’s bouncy and light - having a great time. And when she looks over at Beatrice on the couch next to her, she’s smiling too. “Could you sing?”

“Oh hell no,” Ava shakes her head vehemently. “No, and Sister Frances hated it so I would go all out. I sang and sang, the dirtiest songs too like…the most unholy shit.”

Beatrice seems surprisingly pleased by all of this, though Ava has figured out that mentioning Sister Frances seems to break that well taught nun code that Beatrice still has in her - where the holy spirit itself can't protect Ava’s former caretaker.

“I remember hearing about the closure of St. Michael’s. They said it was bankruptcy.”

Ava shrugs. “Probably, that place was shit. They had so little of anything. The DVD player was hit or miss, the toy selection was archaic, like doctor’s office stuff for toddlers. Mostly Diego and I passed the time contrabanding magazines from the lobby of the dentists office across the street.”

“Diego?”

Ava doesn’t even realize she’s said his name until Beatrice mentions it back to him. It’s funny, she thinks about him almost every day, yet never has the chance to talk about him. Nobody in her life now knows who he is. A story all her own.

Yet, there’s no voice in her head telling her to keep it from Bea. “He was my roommate for a few years. Such a good kid, about five years younger than me but when you're thirteen and friendless, an eight year old works just fine.”

“You two were trouble?”

“I was trouble, Diego was just young enough to think I was cool. Which is crazy considering I had help going to the bathroom and talked his ear off every night because I had so much unspent energy and nobody would take me outside.”

There’s a touch of sadness in Bea’s eyes, it’s familiar whenever Ava tells anyone her story. She hates it mostly, because sadness and sympathy won’t fix what happened to her. It won’t make it go away.

But when Bea’s hand falls on her knee, Ava finds herself feeling a strange sense of relief. “You deserved better.”

“I got better, eventually. Both physically and with people. I mean…I didn’t know how to appreciate those people at the time and, well, you know that story - but getting my legs back was something to be proud of.”

“You should be, I can't imagine the struggle.”

Ava can, she remembers it vividly. “The actual work wasn't that bad, it hurt and could be discouraging, but the hardest part was convincing anyone to let me do it. I think most everyone at the church had written me off. Stay there until I turned eighteen, then send me out into the world with nothing and I’d end up in a ditch or something, I don’t know. But this one doctor, he would come and check on my spine every six months or so and I just told him one day that I wanted to try. I wanted to do physical therapy and to my and Sister Frances’ surprise, he took me words to heart and started the process.”

The credits of Freaky Friday are still rolling as Beatrice turns on the couch to face Ava, engrossed in the story. “What did you do?”

“Started from the ground up. I’ll never forget my first exercise was foot raises. No weights, flat on my back, bend your foot upwards as far as you can. I could barely do shit,” Ava still remembers the physical therapist with her hand in the air, telling Ava to touch her palm with her toes. She didn’t come close for weeks. “It was a lot of time. From fourteen to seventeen I just…worked. I told them I wanted every day I could get, especially after Diego left I didn’t want to be in that home at all so any chance I had, I took it.”

“Where did Diego go? Was he adopted?”

She can feel the turn coming, she doesn't want it to happen. This was not where she wanted this story to go. “I uh…I’m not sure. He wasn't adopted, he…he was really sick and they had to take him to the hospital one night. One of the nuns told me he didn’t die but he never came back either.”

Beatrice slowly shifts closer to her, until their knees are touching. “Did you ever look for him?”

“No, I wouldn't even know where to start. I never knew his last name. He was just…Diego.” She tried when she first came to the city - spending an hour looking up Diego and trying to tie it to the foster home, the foster system and every hospital in the area. Nothing ever matched. “I think I’m happier not knowing. Like I hope he’s happy wherever he is, healthy too. That’s all I want for him. He was so important to me at the time. Like…I think sometimes I didn’t give up just because I knew he’d be there the next morning ready to listen to whatever nonsense I came up with.”

She feels it again, the ache deep in her chest whenever she truly thinks about her childhood - because it was so hard. So unforgiving and for absolutely no fucking reason.

Before the thoughts can consume her too much, a warm hand falls across her wrist and grabs hold of it. She looks down at where Beatrice is touching her, a thumb brushing over her pulse gently.

When their eyes meet, Beatrice is looking at her in a way no one else ever has. “I’m sorry for your pain.”

That’s when the dam breaks, when friends and caution start to crumble at her feet because Beatrice is here and she’s holding her hand and looking at her with so much compassion that Ava has never felt so seen in all her life.

“Bea I…” Ava is ready to lean in when suddenly Beatrice’s hand is climbing up her arm, over her bicep and lands on her shoulder.

“Can I kiss you?” Beatrice asks then, but her grip on Ava’s arm tenses. “Is that…I know you’re opening up to me and I don’t…am I taking advantage? I don’t wish to…”

“You’re not, you won’t be…I…” Ava shifts so her knees tuck under her more, giving her room to move and close the distance between them. “Kiss me, please.”

She does, without hesitation, Beatrice leans into her and their lips press together. It’s not that different from their first kiss, except the weight of the world doesn’t feel like it’s on their shoulders.

It’s soft and careful, experimental as Beatrice’s mouth moves and adjusts and searches.

Ava knows what to do, but she holds back, she lets Bea take control and when their lips slot together just right, she whimpers.

That’s when the hand on her shoulder slides up around her neck and cradles her head in place.

That’s when Beatrice starts to push Ava backwards onto the couch.

She lets her, she’ll bend and fold in whatever way Bea needs so long as they keep kissing.

Because it’s incredible, Beatrice is incredible and she’s somehow both soft and firm, her lips are a bit chapped, but sweet and perfect.

The small tickle of butterflies that have been in Ava’s stomach all day turn into the equivalent of bats flying out of a cave.

Her arms move of their own volition, wrapping around Beatrice’s waist as she climbs on top of Ava. Her hands slide up Bea’s back, feeling the strap of her bra beneath her fingertips as she does.

It’s too far, she won’t even test it, but it’s there and she felt it and she’ll be thinking about it all night.

They stay like this for a few more minutes. Just soft kisses and light touches and the sweetest little sounds passed between them.

When they finally pull apart, Ava is breathless and Beatrice’s lips are red. “Ava,” she whispers, as if it’s the only word she can remember.

“Was that okay?” Ava keeps her hands on her, almost afraid to let go.

Beatrice looks down at where her own hands are splayed across Ava’s stomach, then she nods. “It was…it is. I promise it was not my intention.”

Ava smiles. “I don’t think this has ever been our intention but…”

“It felt inevitable, didn't it?”

“It did,” Ava leans up and kisses her on the cheek. “It does.” She doesn’t want to, but it feels right to end it here. “I should head home. “

Beatrice seems to understand. “I need to take Cosmo for a walk.”

Slowly, they untangle themselves from the couch and Ava spots a spot in Bea’s top that has ridden up, exposing part of her skin that she’s never seen before.

It does something to her, sets fire to some part of her brain that still held Beatrice on some virtuous pedestal.

She’s not porcelain. She’s human, she’s flesh and bone and temptation and desire and she’s here, with Ava.

They're…something.

It’s terrifying, because it makes all of this real. If Beatrice really is something to her, then she’s something Ava could potentially ruin.

She’s done it so many times before.

Except, nothing has ever been quite like this, with someone like this, where she can openly admit it.

“You scare the shit out of me, Bea.”

Beatrice, with her shirt still untucked and ruffled, smiles. “I know the feeling, but…I’m willing to keep trying if you are?”

Ava nods, it’s the easy fucking decision of her life. “Would you be interested in going to an actual movie with me? A theater with popcorn and maybe…dinner after?”

“I’d like that.” She says. “A lot. “

This must be what it feels like to truly be alive. “Okay, I’ll…I’ll text you with suggestions.”

Before she knows what’s happening, Beatrice steps forward and pulls her in for a hug. This, Ava can do without even thinking anymore.

She gathers Bea up in her arms and holds her. “Will you also text me when you get home?”

Ava nods. “Of course,” she pulls back and pushes a bit of stray hair behind Bea’s ears. Such a small gesture, but it sets her whole body on fire. “Goodnight, Bea.”

The five steps it takes to reach the door and the forty seconds it takes to put her shoes on feel far too short before she’s making her way out.

Beatrice walks to the door to see her in the hall - to follow her as she makes her way down the steps.

Ava doesn’t look back, she doesn't have to - they're just getting started.

Chapter Text

It happens almost as soon as she wakes up in the morning that Beatrice thinks she’s maybe packed a bit too much into her previous day.

Her arms are sore from her workout, where she was given a bit of unprompted, but helpful advice from an over enthusiastic employee at the gym who showed her how to properly do dips.

She liked the workout, she did not so much like the way the trainer kept looking at certain parts of her body. Still, he eventually got the message and moved on around the third time Beatrice dismissed his help for ‘positioning pointers’.

Of course, doing this workout before going to her actual job of loading around huge boxes and items into trucks was not her best strategy.

Now she finds herself up early and struggling to do dishes because her triceps are tight and sore.

Of course, it doesn’t help that she’s also a bit tired because Ava never lets Bea’s texts go unanswered, so when she came home late and sent a casual check-in text with Ava at midnight, Ava answered her almost immediately.

And thus they stayed up for the next three hours texting as Beatrice fought to stay awake.

All of this is so new and exciting and slightly overwhelming. She’s consumed with Ava. She thinks about her all the time, at the most random of times.

Picking up a box with a large television and wondering if it’s a brand Ava would like - if she would think it worthy of watching Pacific Rim, a film Ava wants her to see but says they can only do with a ‘fancy TV’.

It’s a project Ava claims to be working on, she calls it her mission, mostly to make Beatrice smile.

Which works, every single time.

Eventually, Ava fell asleep - giving Beatrice an ample warning that if the messages stopped suddenly that she had probably drifted it.

The last one Beatrice received from Ava had multiple typos and didn’t really make sense - which only added to the charm of it all.

Which is really where the heart of all of this lies; Ava Silva has successfully and consistently charmed her.

So much so that Beatrice feels almost giddy when Ava texts her first.

They're going out tonight and Beatrice has spent an absurd amount of time all week deciding on what she’s going to wear and how she’s going to fix up her hair.

Things that Beatrice never imagined herself worrying about - so much of her life now is new and different from where she saw herself even a year ago.

Yet, she’s past the point of looking at it through a lens of awe. Now, she sees her life as this growing space for her to truly find herself.

Which is what she’s been doing for a few months now and it finally feels like she’s starting to figure a few things out.

She loves to exercise. Which isn’t entirely new, but Beatrice has discovered a true love of trying new things with her body. She likes to see how she can push herself and what works and what doesn’t.

Rock climbing, marathon training, weight lifting, Pilates and kickboxing. Ava’s raving about how much yoga has helped her and now it’s on their growing list of things to do together.

Other parts of her life that Beatrice is figuring out is her style. She prefers comfort over fashion, but has found that she can have both with a good pair of slacks and shirts that give her a little breathing room.

Though there are times when she opts for something unique like a tank top or a pair of jeans. Two days ago she went out for breakfast across the street in a button down shirt and a baseball cap and was hit on twice.

She’s fitting into the world, the good and bad of it, but all of it has become a part of her day to day.

She goes grocery shopping and finds herself complaining about construction on her bus rides to work. She pounded on her wall three days ago when her neighbors were being too loud and it actually made them stop and let her go to sleep and Beatrice felt far too good about such a frustrating interaction.

Because it’s living. It’s being alive, the mundane and the routine - mixed in with the big moments such as getting her own apartment and kissing the prettiest girl in the world.

The simple truth of being alive, Beatrice has learned, moves her. It puts oxygen in her lungs and a smile on her face and is why she listens to the playlist Ava makes her, with sore arms from her workout, and catches herself dancing to Anti-Hero.

She’s happy, she isn’t sure how truly stable it is, but in this moment in her kitchen while tired and sore from a life being lived, Beatrice feels good.

Then, of course, there is a knock on her front door when she least expects it.

It tenses every muscle in her body (even the sore ones) because nobody comes to her apartment.

Well, Ava does, but never uninvited.

She’s had delivery people come, but a random visitor on a Saturday morning? Never.

So Beatrice turns down her music and puts a plate in the soap filled sink before drying off her hands and stepping over to her door.

Some part of her, one that may never fully go away, expects to see her parents on the other side of the door. Them, with stern looks and her father yelling at her and dragging her back to the church.

She has nightmares about it, even though she knows they gave up on her years ago - she will probably forever be afraid of her father.

With a deep breath, Beatrice opens her door ready for just about anything and yet still finds herself surprised at what waits for her.

“Lilith?”

Sister Lilith is there, but not at all what she remembers. No, Lilith stands tall and proud, her hair down and uncovered. She’s wearing a long sleeved black t-shirt that wraps around her body and shows off her strong shoulders. It tucks into a pair of white jeans and shoes that look like the expensive ones in the store Beatrice passes on her way to the bus stop.

“Beatrice,” Lilith says, getting her attention again. “It’s good to see you.”

The smile Lilith has is very contagious and spreads to Beatrice. “You too I…I can't believe it.”

“It shouldn't be that surprising, considering I told you of my plan to leave months ago.”

“I know, it’s just…you said - oh,” she remembers then. “Your birthday?”

Lilith nods. “Fourteen days ago.”

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Lilith looks around behind her and then back to Beatrice. “May I come in?”

Right, manners. “Of course, yes…come on.” Beatrice steps out of the way, it’s really starting to warm up outside. “Can I get you something to drink or-”

“I wouldn't say no to a glass of water.”

Beatrice lets her in and takes a moment to look at her again, wondering if this was what it was like for Ava to see her out of the habit - if she looked this different.

Because Lilith looks so different, she somehow looks taller.

She busies herself with pouring a glass of water, feeling Lilith moving around her space - taking everything in. That’s one thing about Lilith that Beatrice always noticed - her desire to know her surroundings.

Some small voice in the back of her head is screaming at her that Lilith is judging her. Looking for flaws and faults in her life, because that’s what she’s so used to with people from her past.

Except, Lilith isn’t like that - she knows that. Lilith is more like her than either one of them really understood for so long.

“Here,” she hands over the offered water. “I am glad to see you. How did you find me?”

Lilith takes a small sip as Beatrice guides them to sit at her counter. “Father Vincent, it took some convincing that you would welcome my visit, but he gave me your address.”

“So you are out, officially?”

She nods. “As of last Monday.”

Beatrice hums, it really was so easy to leave - so much more so than her overtaxed mind had ever allowed her to believe it could be. “How did Sister Camila take the news?”

“What?” Lilith falters just enough, glass unsteady in her hands as she sets it down.

“Oh come now, I know you were interested in her. No one spends that much time learning about The Dark Ages unless they're sweet on the one explaining it.”

It feels like such an innocuous teasing - something she has done more and more of with Ava in their daily texts.

Yet, after she finishes with her jest and a grin so wide she wishes Ava could see it, Lilith looks almost floored and Beatrice feels a bit of doubt creeping in.

Then Lilith’s eyes narrow. “You have changed.” For a split second, Beatrice thinks this is an accusation, then Lilith rolls her eyes with delight.

Beatrice relaxes again. “Is my observation incorrect?”

“I suppose not, Camila was…is very kind.” Lilith takes a breath then, spinning the glass in her hand. “However, she is very committed to the church and they're allowing her to teach without much reservation, which was what she wanted.”

While she doesn’t know the whole story behind Camila’s journey to Cat’s Cradle - she’s heard enough to know it has a lot to do with her safety and someone who treated her very unkindly. “She’s comfortable there.”

“She is,” Lilith nods. “She needs the church more than I do. It is…unfortunate, but I am grateful to know her and we’ve promised to stay in touch.”

Taking a page from Ava, Beatrice reaches out and puts her hand on Lilith’s own. “Trust me when I tell you, it helps.”

Again, Lilith eyes her like she’s a stranger, but not with malice. “So what was it for you?” She asks. “You were so nestled into the walls of Cat’s Cradle and the message of God - when you left, it sent a shockwave throughout the convent.”

It really shouldn't surprise Beatrice as much as it does. She was there through at least a dozen or so cases of people leaving for various reasons and each time it gave them all something to gossip about for weeks.

Still, she finds it hard to believe anyone was truly that invested in her. She mostly kept to herself, she was always quiet and off the radar - simply existing and waiting for absolutely nothing.

The more she thinks about her time there, the more she realizes how empty it was. “I’m gay,” she says - hearing Ava’s voice in her head cheering her on. “That’s…both why I was there and why I left.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Lilith says with a smirk.

Now it is Beatrice’s turn to falter. “You…what?”

Lilith snorts. “You had a girl come into the church and beg you to run away with her, and while I know she was an extreme case - that you left me to deal with at the shelter after you were gone, by the way - she was also not the first.”

“She…what?” Beatrice suddenly feels like she’s back in the convent, overwhelmed by everything.

“Do you not remember Dalia? The coordinator at the food drive who would constantly follow you around and try to engage you in conversation.”

Beatrice does remember her - she was kind if perhaps a bit pressing, but sweet and she made those long days at the food bank fun. “She…Dalia?”

“Oh yes, apparently she approached Sister Dora and asked her if it was inappropriate to see if you were interested in her.” Beatrice cannot believe it, the urge to grab her phone and immediately text Ava is very strong. “She also looked at your backside every time you bent down to pick up a box.”

“Lilith!” Beatrice blushes deeply. “She did not!”

Lilith is basically cackling at her now. “I’m sorry, but she did - she was into you and for a while we thought the feeling was mutual. You did gravitate towards her a lot.”

She did, as she thinks back on it. Dalia made her comfortable at a time when very few people or situations ever did.

Perhaps that was why, even if she didn’t fully understand it now. She felt she could be herself, just like with Ava - though not nearly as strongly. “I didn’t have a clue.” She admits then, letting it wash over her.

“Mmm, well it’s true, and now that your head is no longer buried in the sand, have you made any moves on that front?”

This is where the rubber meets the road, as Ava has told her. Where she wants to be able to put everything out there.

She’s working every day not to be ashamed of who she is anymore…or what she wants. “I’m with someone, yes.”

Despite asking, Lilith still seems surprised by the answer. “Oh?”

“You’ve met her, actually.” That sets a deep frown of confusion on Lilith’s face. So Beatrice picks up her phone off the counter and taps it awake, then shows her the new wallpaper she has set.

Lilith’s eyes go wide at the sight of her and Ava cuddled up on the couch after Mean Girls, a picture Ava requested for posterity. “Her?” Lilith’s voice betrays her, a bit of a squeak slips free.

Beatrice can only laugh. “Yes, she’s…Lilith I cannot begin to describe it.”

“She’s insufferable!” Lilith stands up in a flurry. “Her jokes are…she wears so little…she lost not one, but two earrings in a beef stew that Valerie made!”

“She’s a bit clumsy, but I find her jokes to be charming.”

It’s amusing, watching Lilith sputter a bit - she’s always so composed. Only Ava could bring this out of her without even being in the room. “She broke into a convent and confessed her love for you. A Catholic convent.”

“Not her best moment, admittedly.”

“Not her best…” Lilith takes these words in, and Beatrice suddenly feels that hint of worry creeping in that maybe this isn’t all fun and games. That, maybe, Lilith is genuinely ashamed of her choice.

It strikes Beatrice at how she feels about this. Not shame or guilt - not the usual doubt and fear.

No, if Lilith is going to come here and talk down about Ava with any sort of genuine malice, then Beatrice will ask her to leave.

Ava doesn’t deserve that, they don’t.

“I think I’m falling in love with her,” Beatrice says. Putting a bit of weight behind her words. Because she’s never actually said it out loud before - not even to herself in the bathroom mirror.

These are the words that make Lilith’s bluster go away. They soften her features and stop her sharp movements.

She stares at Beatrice now, curious. “You love her?”

Beatrice nods. “I do, I…I really do. It’s all very new still and we’re learning - I’m learning, but it’s significant and real.”

“So she feels the same way?”

Of that, she has no doubt - which is a wonderful feeling. “Yes.”

The sound of her barstool screeching as it’s pulled along the hardwood floor fills the room as Lilith sits down next to her again. “Alright, tell me about her.”

“You’ve met her.”

Lilith shakes her head. “No, I’ve met the depressing, trying too hard to pretend she’s not and showing up at the shelter looking like she was dragged in by a feral cat version of Ava Silva. I want to know the one that puts that smile on your face that I don’t think you even realize is there.”

She did not realize it was there. Yet, somehow, the knowledge of it only makes her smile more.

As it turns out, when pressed, she can talk about Ava so much Lilith has to actually stop her.

-----------------------------

It was unexpectedly emotional when Lilith took her leave. She has a life to get to, after all.

Beatrice never imagined that the two of them would be so attached that her leaving would make them cry, but they did. Even Lilith, who tried her best to remain stoic.

“You have my number, the tears are unnecessary.” She said, and Beatrice sniffled and nodded - overwhelmed.

One thing about her new life is the emotion that has started to consume her more freely. You cannot exist around someone like Ava and not start to adapt to the way she feels everything.

She and Lilith hugged and Lilith made a promise to call her as soon as she was settled.

“New York City will be lucky to have you.”

Lilith smiled at that, “I know,” she said. “If you need me to come back and knock Ava down a peg or two, please let me know.”

They shared a laugh and another hug and Lilith left. No longer her sister, now…just a friend - which somehow felt even more significant.

However, much like her life now compared to the slow pace of the church, Beatrice is forced to move on and prepare for an entirely new adventure.

A date with Ava.

Not just any date, a public date with dinner and a movie.

Lilith tried her best to help Beatrice pick out something to wear. She went shopping a few days ago but without any real guidance, she had no idea what to buy. She didn’t want to ask Ava because she was quite looking forward to surprising her.

After three different stores and a handful of dresses that just didn't fit right, Beatrice took a risk and called Yasmine.

Which was apparently the best thing ever because Yasmine squealed into her ear over the phone and met her at a specified location.

Through about an hour of trial and error, Yasmine decided that the dresses all looked good on her, but she didn’t look comfortable.

Which was when they switched gears and Yasmine brought out a much more relaxed set of going out attire including pants and dress shirts.

Eventually, she decided on a black button down long sleeve and a pair of khaki pants to go with it. She liked the feel, she liked the confidence she felt wearing them and when she tried them on back home with her hair down, Beatrice felt…attractive.

She felt good.

Ready for whatever Ava was going to throw at her tonight.

So as she stands in her kitchen, watching Cosmo chew on the rope toy Ava gave him and keeps her distance because his fur loves her new shirt, Beatrice thinks about what she is expecting out of tonight.

The truth is, ever since their last kiss on her couch started to escalate, she finds it hard to think about anything but the way Ava felt pressed against her.

She can still remember the heat of Ava’s fingers on her sides and how her lips moved against Beatrice’s own. She remembers how soft Ava was pressing down on her - the way it felt when her breasts moved against her.

Thinking back on it, Beatrice has regret - but not because of what happened…because she didn’t do more.

That’s where things have changed now, she can't bring herself to feel anything other than need for Ava. The thoughts are scary and unfamiliar, but consuming.

She wants the chance to try again. She wants the chance to have Ava kissing her again so she can wrap her arms around her. So she can slide her fingers under Ava’s top and feel her skin.

They are thoughts that have kept her up well past her usual bedtime. Thoughts that have woken her up before sunrise because she dreams about it.

Her showers have grown longer, her runs have been more intense each morning.

She wants, heaven help her for the first time in her life she wants something so desperately it’s consuming her life and she welcomes it.

Because she knows when Ava sees her as Beatrice opens the door, that Ava wants her too.

“Bea,” Ava says her name like a multi-tool now, it has so many purposes.

This one is awe.

“Hello,” she sends back, taking in the sight of the girl at her door.

Ava is the most beautiful woman Beatrice has ever seen. Yet, each time she sees her it feels like the finality of that statement is overruled. Because every single time she sees Ava, she loses her breath all over again.

“Bea you look…you’re…wow.”

Taking in the compliment, letting it wash over her, Beatrice allows herself the chance to soak in Ava as well. She’s wearing a denim skirt that stops well above her knees, Converse to go with it and a black top with red and white stripes that cuts off just above her navel and shows off the defined muscles of her stomach.

It’s not lost on Beatrice that Ava’s growing love of exercise has no doubt sculpted her body wonderfully - but seeing it is an entirely new form of decadence.

“You as well,” she manages to say, so lost for words it borders on embarrassing. When she meets Ava’s eyes, they're shining with a smile. “You’re stunning, Ava.”

She blushes, it’s beautiful. “Thanks, would you believe me if I told you I spent like three days deciding what to wear?”

Beatrice laughs. “Yes, but only because I did the same. I went to five different clothing stores before Yasmine finally took pity on me and lended me a hand.”

“Oh shit, well remind me to write her a thank you card or something.” Beatrice rolls her eyes playfully, grabbing her wallet off the table and sticking it in her back pocket.

They make their way outside and to Mary’s car that Ava has borrowed to drive them in. “So I have to warn you, I have no idea what movie we’re going to.”

“You don’t?”

Ava, much to Beatrice’s surprise, opens the door for her. It makes her stomach flip in an entirely unexpected and pleasant way. “I don’t,” Ava smiles as Beatrice steps by her to climb into the car. “Chanel said she would handle it - gave me an address. She told me we’d both thank her for it though.”

As Beatrice sits down, Ava closes the door and races around the front, looking adorable with her little run before she climbs in as well. “So Chanel?”

“Yeah, we’re…” Ava frowns a little fussing with the keys. “I’m still kind of on self-probation with her, we don’t get to spend time together yet, but we’ve been talking on the phone and stuff. Trying to figure it out.”

Beatrice knows how hard it’s been for Ava to get back into her life - to accept that the mistakes she made don’t define her. It’s hard as well for Beatrice to be as supportive as she wants, given her own tendency to never let things go.

Still, what delights her about all of it is how honest Ava is with her - how open. It’s made it so much easier because Beatrice doesn’t have to guess or wonder, and in turn it makes her feel more comfortable opening up as well.

Right now is not the time to dig into anything deep, Ava just needs to know that Beatrice isn’t judging her. “Did she give you any hints?”

“No,” Ava pouts, starting the car. “She has this thing she does where she talks like she knows something is for your own good, even if she won’t outwardly admit it - this felt like that.”

“Well, I’ve only met her the one time but she seems the type to be successful in romance.”

Ava laughs as they pull out of the parking space. “She was cooking chicken and thought you were a stripper.”

“Fair, but in a charming way.”

It feels like another lifetime ago - in a way it was. That person who walked into Ava’s apartment that day was not at all the one she’s trying to be now. She’s still there, tucked away in the back of Beatrice’s mind, along for the ride and growing quieter each day.

The ride isn’t very long and they fill it up with simple conversation. Ava has a story for every block they pass - a life well lived and at times, too well lived. She tells them with smiles and laughter, glossing over some of the less desirable parts for sure, but Beatrice can see the way she smiles at mentions of Chanel or when Shannon and Mary pop up in them.

She wonders how long it might take to fill up her own chapter of stories in Ava’s book.

They get out together when they arrive and Ava steps around to a waiting Beatrice and holds out her hand. “If…if this okay?” She looks a little hesitant, wiping her hand on her skirt before extending her hand again. “I know PDA might be a bit much and I won’t be upset if…oh,” Beatrice grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“I won’t be ashamed of you, Ava.”

That appears to be the right thing to say because Ava turns a deep shade of pink and looks down at her feet.

She’s adorable and charming and also too flustered now to move so Beatrice ends up pulling her towards the entrance.

Once inside, Ava goes to the ticket window and mentions Chanel’s name and the guy behind the counter gets a very large and quite nerve-wracking grin on his face before he clips the tickets and hands them over.

Ava’s eyes go wide as she sees them. “Oh my god,” she throws her head back in distress.

“What is it?” Beatrice steps closer, hesitating for just a moment before letting her hand land on Ava’s back.

Which immediately makes Ava jump. Beatrice goes to move her hand away, but then Ava leans into it, looks at her and somehow manages to convey that it’s okay with a single expression.

Then she holds up the tickets. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Bound?” Beatrice reads the name aloud. “1996?”

Ava groans. “Yes it’s…an older movie. It’s good but it has…a theme,” she grinds out the last part and then they start moving to get treats to eat. “She thinks she’s so funny,” Ava mumbles to herself as Beatrice can't help but pull out her phone and do a quick search.

The search results are alarming from the start, the poster shows two women, one pressed against the other in a very telling way. Then she reads the synopsis. “Tough ex-con Corky and her lover Violet concoct a scheme to steal millions of stashed mob money and pin the blame on Violet's crooked boyfriend Caesar.” She looks up at Ava, who is standing in line in front of her stealing sheepish glances at Beatrice.

“We can get tickets to something else if you want.”

“It’s…gay?”

Ava nods, “very.” She squeezes Beatrice’s hand. “I barely remember it but yeah…it’s pretty gay and, like I said, it’s good - but…if it’s not your thing-”

“Ava,” Beatrice lifts her hand up and presses a kiss to her knuckle - an action that surprises even her. There’s just something about reassuring Ava that takes precedent over her doubts and fears. It’s a need, like breathing, to make sure Ava knows she’s doing good. “I believe the entirety of this evening proves that the theme of this movie is very much…my thing.”

After a few staggered blinks, Ava gives her a wide smile - nobody smiles like her. “Gay?”

“Yes,” she says, for the second time today. “Gay.”

The smile that lights up on Ava’s face makes Beatrice swoon, because it’s the first time in her life she’s openly spoken of her sexuality and had it met with a reaction like that.

She’s gay, they both are here together and Ava knows who she really is and she’s not shaming her, she’s embracing her.

“Well if you’re up for it, then let’s go be gay.”

Beatrice chuckles. “Popcorn first?”

“And Buncha Crunch!” Ava cheers

Like so many things with Ava, Beatrice has no idea what that is, but she’s excited to learn.

-------------------------

It was a mistake.

It was a massive, monumental and entirely stupid mistake to agree to see this movie with Ava.

The movie was good, well outside of Beatrice’s usual tastes, but as Corky and Violet drove off, happy and together with all the money they needed. It was a feel good and unexpected.

Except, the entirety of the movie pulsed with sexual tension and there was, in fact, a very intense sex scene in it that Beatrice cannot erase from her mind.

No, it’s all she can see - it’s what she thinks of when Ava touches her hand as they're making their way out.

Worse, Ava is tense too, they're in her car on the way to the restaurant and haven’t said more than two words. Ava is gripping the steering wheel at ten and two and her knuckles are turning a bit white.

Beatrice wonders, for a moment, if she’s done something wrong.

“I enjoyed it,” she says, worry taking control and a desperate need for normalcy slipping through.

Ava glances at her for a beat then back to the road. “I’m glad,” she says with a genuine smile. “It’s…I’m sure it was…different from what you’re used to.”

“It was,” she says. “Perhaps it shouldn't be.”

“Not the kind of movie you’d expect from 1996.”

Beatrice hums. “Definitely not, I imagine it was quite impactful for some at the time.”

“Yep,” Ava pulls the car to a stop at a red light. “Pretty impactful for people now too, I think.”

The light lingers and Beatrice takes a moment to truly study her. She looks at Ava, this beautiful, charming and kind girl she’s been falling for since the moment she saw Ava talking to some children about their toys.

So much of Beatrice’s life has been spent in the dark. Alone and afraid - trapped in the confines of the church and a belief that what she was and who she loved was wrong.

Harassed and abused in her own home, she survived that. Taunted and belittled in a convent in London, she survived that. Self-destructive and isolated by her own broken spirit, she survived that.

All of it, all the lonely nights and prayers given to everyone but herself, they all led Beatrice here - to this moment with this girl and she’s tired of just surviving.

She wants to live.

“Did the sex scene make you uncomfortable?” She asks, watching Ava’s body tense as her gaze turns slowly to Beatrice.

“I uh…I mean…I forgot it was in there. It was unexpected, I worried it might…what did you think of it?”

Beatrice clenches her fist a few times, forcing it to stay steady before she reaches across the gap between them and touches Ava’s thigh. Her pinky and ring finger finding purchase on skin as the rest settles on her skirt. “I think the intimacy of it was beautiful and…intriguing.”

Ava looks down at Beatrice’s hand, then back up at her. She stares deeply into those dark eyes of hers, so much written in Ava’s expression, as always.

The reflection of the light changing shines on Ava’s face - she doesn't notice.

“It’s green,” Beatrice says.

Ava’s eyes go wide. “It is?”

Beatrice grins and gestures to the road. “The light is green.”

“Oh, fuck,” Ava refocuses and the car starts to drive again. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Beatrice has no idea where this is coming from. Where all of these…feelings are coming from. She just feels so warm and welcome and safe right now. She feels happy.

She feels…desired.

Not wanting to distract as Ava drives, Beatrice keeps quiet as they make their way to the restaurant.

As Ava pulls into a parking spot and stops the car, neither of them move when the engine shuts off. “This place is really good. Mary and Shannon come here on dates.” There’s a hesitance in Ava now that Beatrice has rarely seen. She seems unsteady, as if her thoughts are consuming her.

“What’s on your mind, Ava?”

Ava sighs, a long, drawn out action that lets the tension in her shoulders ease and the furrow in her brow soften.

Then her hand falls down onto where Beatrice’s rests on the center console. “I just…I promise I didn’t tell Chanel to pick that movie. I wasn't trying to…shift the tone of tonight. I have zero expectations of anything…ever.”

She speaks with so much vulnerability and honesty that Beatrice feels herself falling in love with her all over again. Because Ava is so careful with her, even when everything in their lives was chaotic, Ava was always so gentle.

Nobody else has ever treated her the way Ava does - no one has come close.

It makes every new feeling and thought she has seem justified, warranted and right. “There are no expectations, Ava,” Beatrice flips her hand over so their palms touch, then coils their fingers together. “There are, perhaps, hopes?”

Once again, Ava looks at her like she’s the most dangerous person in the world. Because for Ava, she is, Beatrice understands that now. Ava is in love with her, with that comes a great deal of responsibility and trust.

“There are?”

Ava is giving her control. She’s never had that before. “I’m not sure what I’m comfortable with yet, but perhaps after we eat, you might wish to come back to my apartment and…we can run some trials?”

“Trials?” Ava purses her lips like she’s trying not to laugh. “That’s a funny way of saying you want to fool around, Bea.” Just when Beatrice thinks she should feel embarrassed or ashamed again, Ava lifts their joined hands up and presses a kiss to her knuckles. “I’d love to.”

That’s when all the doubts disappear, at least when it comes to Ava. She’ll never be judged or dismissed. Her feelings will never be invalidated or used against her in this space, with this girl.

It means everything. “I suppose we’d better eat fast then.”

Ava opens her door and races around to let Beatrice out, the pair of them laughing as they make their way inside.

--------------------------

Confidence, in theory, was easy when they were heading to the restaurant and the prospect of being alone with Ava was on the other side of that.

Now, after a delightful meal and a lot of simple, fun conversation, Beatrice is making her way up the stairs to her apartment with Ava in tow and is quietly freaking out.

Because everything about their night has been fun and charged with an energy she can't really comprehend.

Even dinner was packed with a kinetic vibration that made her heart pound. Any time their eyes would linger after a shared laugh or Ava would shift her legs under the table and brush against Beatrice’s foot - it all came charging to the forefront.

She wants…she knows what she wants, she just doesn’t know what she’s going to do if she gets it.

Ava is staring a hole through the back of her head, in fact, Ava has been staring at her ever since she helped Beatrice out of the car and they made their way inside.

As soon as her keys hit the lock, Cosmo starts to bark excitedly and Ava giggles at the sound.

It breaks the tension a bit, even more so when she opens the door and has to block it before Cosmo can charge outside to greet them.

Once they make their way in, Ava immediately kneels down to gather up all of Cosmo’s attention.

He is happy to give it.

“Hey pretty boy, did you miss me?” Ava pets his ears as Cosmo makes soft rumbly noises from the back of his throat - tail wagging a mile a minute.

Beatrice stands as still as she can, just watching Ava interact with Cosmo. Seeing her giggle when Cosmo leans in and tries to kiss her before Ava pets his ears again.

It’s such a clash of her worlds, because she can remember her first few days with Cosmo at Cat’s Cradle and remember how having him made her feel needed for the first time in her life.

She woke up those first few weeks and all but sprinted to see him after her morning prayers. He was a lifeline, a beacon of hope in an existence that had been discouraged for so long.

Now he was here, with her, in her home and being adored by a girl Beatrice was fast falling in love with.

“You okay?” Ava is suddenly on her feet. Beatrice must have sunk deeper into her mind than she thought.

Still, that pretty smile is flashed at her and helps pull her into the moment again. “I am, I…tonight has been wonderful, Ava. I just…I don’t say it enough but I really really enjoy spending time with you. “

Ava melts, her eyes softening and her head tilting to the side. Then she’s stepping forward and gathering Beatrice into her arms.

Strong arms hold her close as their bodies press together. Beatrice can feel every inch of Ava that’s touching her, the firmness of her shoulders, the flush of their hips, the press of Ava’s breasts against her own. She’s entirely on edge and her body is trembling just enough to be noticeable.

Yet, Ava seems to understand that Beatrice isn’t scared, she’s nervous - she’s tense. She needs something she doesn’t have the words or the courage to express.

That’s when she feels a kiss pressed against the hollow of her throat and her breathing hitches. Ava hesitates, leaning back just a bit see her.

Beatrice still can't speak, but her knees are pressing together and she leans her head back to give Ava more room.

This, this is what she needs.

So Ava dives in, pressing a hot, open mouth kiss against her neck and Beatrice exhales at the feeling. A tingle of pleasure shoots down her whole body, making the hair on her arms stand up as Ava’s tongue rolls along her pulse.

Hands that were once hesitant to even touch Ava a few months ago are suddenly grasping at the back of her top and tugging at it. She has no idea what she’s doing, where she wants this to go, all she knows is that Ava’s warm skin is underneath of this shirt and she needs to feel it.

The kisses on her neck start to shift, climbing up her jaw and then her cheeks, one presses into her top lip before Beatrice grabs the back of Ava’s head and kisses her mouth.

Ava makes a noise in the back of her throat that sends a rush of something warm down the pit of Beatrice’s stomach, she starts to move them then, trying to remember the layout of her own apartment to guide Ava somewhere soft.

They end up pressed against a wall and then, to her surprise, Ava turns them and uses Beatrice’s back to open her bedroom door.

Then she stops. “Bea,” Ava breathes, leaning back but still keeping a firm hold on Beatrice’s waist. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately. “Ava I…I want you, please.”

“Okay,” Ava kisses her gently. “Okay, you tell me what you want. You set the pace, okay?”

The look in Ava’s eyes is so careful, so warm and supportive. Beatrice knows she could tell Ava right now that she can't go through with anything tonight, and Ava would be supportive.

It’s a kind of comfort, a kind of knowing security that is so unfamiliar to the way everyone else in her life has treated her. At least, anyone who has been granted this much access to her heart.

She’s never felt this safe before. “Will you take off my shirt?” She asks, knowing her trembling fingers won’t be able to handle the intricacies of buttons at this point.

“Yeah,” Ava’s voice takes on a deeper husk than usual, her subtle accent coming out as she speaks. “I can do that,” she lifts her hands up and starts at the top. When the first button comes undone, Beatrice feels like it’s easier to breathe, then after the second and third, she’s struggling again.

Once enough skin is exposed, Ava leans in as she works on more buttons and kisses Beatrice’s clavicle.

“Ah,” Beatrice cries out, her fingers fisting into Ava’s hair. At first she thought she was going to try and pull Ava back, that it was too sensitive - instead she held her steady. She needs more.

With each button that comes undone, Ava dips lower. She kisses down her collarbone and between her breasts, teeth tugging at her bra along the way.

Then down her stomach and over her navel - the lower she gets, the more Beatrice is convinced she’s going to lose her footing.

Once the last button is undone, Ava stands back up and takes her in, looking at her up and down.

Beatrice has been doing this in the mirror every morning, trying to see her own body for what it is and be proud of it. To look at the things that she once thought were dirty and understand that they’re not - they’re her and they’re something to be proud of.

Then Ava looks at her and Beatrice can see the way she is struggling to breathe at the sight and it lights some kind of fire up inside of her she didn't even know existed.

She feels…attractive. Sexy, for the first time in her life she feels powerful in her body and her wants.

She wants.

“May I?” She asks as she reaches out and grabs the bottom of Ava’s shirt.

Ava nods so fast it makes her smile and she can't stop herself from leaning in to kiss her nose.

Then she takes off Ava’s shirt in a much less seductive manor than Ava did her’s, but that doesn't make the impact any less.

Because Ava is marvelous. Her body is unlike anything Beatrice has ever even imagined. She is equal parts firm and trim, yet curvy and strong. She has a petite waist that Beatrice can't stop imagining wrapping her hands around and lifting her up. Yet she is solid and sturdy. She is a vision.

Beatrice narrows her focus to Ava’s breasts then, spilling out over the white lace bra she has on that can barely keep them contained.

“Go for it,” Ava says, puffing her chest out just a bit in invitation.

So she does, because the shackles that held her down for so long have not only been unlocked, they’ve been shattered.

None of this feels wrong. None of this feels like a sin.

No, this is being alive. This is what it means to be truly alive and in the world.

There is not a single thing promised to her in heaven that could ever match the feeling of Ava’s breasts against her cheeks.

She breathes in the scent of her, then lets her tongue taste the flesh of another woman and it doesn’t burn, it ignites.

Suddenly, her hands are pulling down the cups of Ava’s bra and her light pink nipples are on display and Beatrice meets her eyes again for a silent permission.

Ava nods and Beatrice feels a lump in her throat she has to swallow down. She is doing this, she wants this.

So she takes it.

Her mouth seals around one of Ava’s nipples and it causes Ava’s hips to buck and press forward - hands suddenly on Beatrice’s back as nails lightly dig into her skin.

She has no idea what she’s doing, but she lets her tongue roll around the hardening bud. That seems to do the trick as Ava tries to press her in closer and closer.

Beatrice stays here for probably too long, but she can't imagine how anyone would be strong enough to walk away without satisfying themselves as much as they can. Everything about Ava’s body is worth a slow and steady pace. It deserves worship, more than any god she’s ever known.

When she does manage to drag herself away from Ava’s chest, she is met with a searing kiss. Ava’s tongue swipes against her bottom lip for permission to enter and she lets it. She is not a practiced kisser and knows she opens her mouth to wide - too needy, but she is.

She wants to devour Ava, in a way that terrifies her. She wants to taste her and feel her - every inch of her. She wants Ava to know how good this is. How glad she is to be here.

“I want to taste you,” this time, it’s Ava who speaks and suddenly her nerves spike again.

Because being the one acting feels entirely different than laying out for someone else to take.

It isn’t that she doesn’t want it, she does so much, but she’s afraid for no real logical reason.

Again though, Ava is there and has her hands on Beatrice’s waist and it looking at her - waiting before acting.

“Go slow?” She asks, “I’m not so certain my heart won’t explode.”

Ava smiles again, wide enough to outshine the sun. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

That’s how Beatrice finds herself on her back, legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

The last thing she sees before the sensations are too much that she has to close her eyes, is Ava taking off her own skirt and tossing it aside. She’s only in her underwear now, bra pushes down so her breasts hang out over the top of it and a pair of barely there white panties.

“Oh…” she gasps when the first button of her fly is unsnapped and she swears the sound of her zipper coming down is so loud the neighbors across the street can hear it.

She knows that isn’t true, but everything is heightened.

To her own surprise, she lifts her hips up as Ava pulls off her pants and doesn’t say a word about where they go when she hears them hit the floor.

Now, she’s as exposed as she has ever been, more than she’s ever imagined. In nothing but her underwear, which is fairly modest compared to Ava, yet feels so very on display.

“Beatrice,” Ava whispers and then she feels a kiss press into her stomach. “I knew I was right the first time I saw you,” she kisses down her stomach and over her pubic bone, finger sliding through the hem of her boxer briefs. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

She feels the heat burning in the back of her eyes. The way her throat clenches as it does when she’s about to cry.

She won’t, because she doesn’t want to ruin this moment, but she could. Because the way Ava says it leaves no room for doubt.

Beautiful, she feels beautiful and the way Ava keeps kissing her skin and touching her body, she feels wanted.

It’s a sensation that causes her hips to press upward off the bed without meaning too.

Something that makes Ava chuckle. “I’ve got you, Bea.” She feels her underwear starting to slide down her legs and sits up on her elbows to watch.

As her underwear are discarded, Beatrice feels a bit of self-consciousness again. She’s still working on shaving her legs - she hasn’t mastered it yet, but it’s something she likes and wants to be able to do.

The space between her legs is mostly unshaven and she worries, wondering if it’s unappealing. She has no point of reference other than a few misguided trips to websites she probably shouldn't be going to for sexual advice - but there is no roadmap for being thrust into the world at twenty-six

Where she thinks Ava might say something or look displeased, her expression only grows more needy. Her jaw slacks open and her eyes darken and she sinks to her knees between Beatrice’s legs.

It’s all so real now, this is happening and she wants it and her body wants it - but some deeply rooted part of her is still terrified and her legs are shaking.

Ava feels it, of course she does, and she scoots forward to rest her chin on Beatrice’s stomach. “Are you okay?” She asks, all of the passion and lust held back. This is Ava opening the door so Beatrice can escape this moment without shame if she wants to.

“It’s a lot,” she admits, her voice trembling. “You’ve been so good to me, I want this. I do.”

“But you’re scared?”

Beatrice nods. “I want this,” she says. It feels like she needs Ava to know that. “I promise you I want this.”

That’s when Ava smiles again, this one more gentle and kind - then she kisses Beatrice’s sternum. “You can want it and still not be ready,” she sits up more on her knees, looking down at Beatrice with warmth. “We’re only at the beginning of this, we don’t have to rush into anything.”

Now, the tears that Beatrice has been holding in for a while slip free and roll down her cheeks. She sniffles and tries to wipe them away. “I’m sorry,”

“No, Bea, you have nothing to apologize for.” Ava runs her hands up and down Beatrice’s sides, trying to soothe her.

Beatrice takes a shuddering breath. “You…are you going to leave?”

“Only if you want me to.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t, I want you to stay.”

Ava smiles. “Then I’ll stay, do you want me to put my clothes back on?”

“No, no I want…” she feels selfish to ask, to offer up so much and then take it away - yet still expect intimacy.

“What do you want, baby?” The pet name sticks in her brain like sap from a tree - it will never go away entirely. Even if she rinses it a dozen times over.

Ava isn’t judging her, she isn’t pushing her or upset by her panicked reaction.

She’s here and she’s willing to give Beatrice whatever she needs. “Will you cuddle with me and kiss me some more?”

“With pleasure,” Ava stands up just so she can crawl into the mattress as Beatrice pushes herself up onto it all the way. “Do you mind if I take this bra off though? It’s digging into my tits.”

Beatrice laughs a lot louder than she intends, it’s quite a jumbled sound through her tears but it’s a much needed levity.

That’s who Ava is, who she has become. She is a light at the end of a very long tunnel - one that Beatrice is still following to find her way out.

So she follows the light and takes a chance and reaches behind Ava to finger the clasp of her bra and snap it open. When it does, Ava kisses her cheek before pulling it away and dropping it on the floor. “I promise to pick all this up in the morning.” Ava says, then hesitates. “If…if you want me here that long.”

Forever, she thinks suddenly. I want you here forever.

“There’s a really good breakfast place down the street I could take you to, if you want.”

Ava settles in next to her, their bodies warm and sticky, pressed together. “I’d like that.”

“Unless you want me to try cooking again. I know how fond you were of my under-cooked noodles.”

They share a laugh and Ava grabs Beatrice by the cheeks and kisses her.

Chapter Text

Ava is running late. Not that it’s a huge deal, her plans with Beatrice were casual and very last minute, but when Beatrice asks her to come over Ava takes every opportunity she can to be with her.

She had every intention of leaving the gym right away after her workout, but when one of the trainers told her they liked the way she helped someone with their technique, it turned into a whole conversation about Ava’s potential as a personal trainer.

Which was not at all on her bingo card for the future but they ended up talking for almost thirty minutes and Ava left the conversation thinking about how much fun it might be.

She’s grown to love the gym, so much so that she’s the one dragging Mary to it now. It’s become her safe haven, it gives her a place to burn off her energy and maintain her focus. From yoga to weights and cardio training, Ava goes five times a week.

With every intention of asking Bea if she wants to start working out with her.

Tonight though, Ava is sprinting up the steps of the dispensary towards Bea’s apartment, cheap protein shake in hand and carrying her gym bag with a change of clothes.

When she reaches the door, Ava lifts one arm and smells herself, frowning as the stench of her workout fills her senses. Beatrice knows where she was and she knows Ava’s a sweater - still it’s not ideal.

But she’s here and she wants to see her girlfriend so she knocks and tucks her arms tightly at her side.

As the door opens, Ava hears the sounds of Fleetwood Mac coming from Beatrice’s little portable speaker.

Cosmo is lying on the floor in his dog bed that’s about a size too small. His head lifts up and his tail wags a little, but he’s clearly half asleep and doesn’t get up.

The Ava novelty has worn off a little for him.

That’s when she takes in the sight of Bea, with her hair tied back in a loose ponytail and wearing a loose fitting button down with the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone. She has a broom in her hand and a smile on her face.

“Hi,” Ava breathes, suddenly losing her voice a little.

The way Beatrice looks at her erases all her worries about decorum. “Ava,” she calls, opening the door more. “How was your workout?”

Without thinking, Ava takes a step in and reaches up with a hand to carefully touch Beatrice’s cheek. Her skin is warm, she’s probably been cleaning for a while - working up a sweat of her own. “It was good, I would have been here sooner but I got caught up talking to Joshua about a few things. He uh…he thinks I might make a pretty good personal trainer.”

The way Beatrice lights up makes Ava swoon a little. “He’s right, I’ve never met anyone in my life who is better at making people feel comfortable than you do.”

“Most people,” Ava smirks as she puts her bag down and follows Beatrice inside. “I’m pretty sure I made all the nuns at your old convent super uncomfortable.”

Joking about that is still fairly new, but they’ve moved so far past it now that it’s more of a bad memory she can laugh at than something that keeps her up at night.

Rock bottom isn’t a destination anymore, it’s the bottom rung of a ladder she’s climbed up so far on now she can't even see it anymore.

“To be fair, I’ve seen a lot of fairly tame comedy films that make that lot uncomfortable.”

Ava laughs. “Oh Bea, if your sisters could see you now.”

Beatrice stops and turns to face her again, face red from her work and eyes bright. Ava sees them flick down to her lips for just a second before moving upwards again. “If they could see me now I’m certain they’d complain about the cleanliness of my apartment, but Cosmo has been shedding a lot lately and it’s an everyday effort to keep up with it.”

“Maybe we should get one of those fur brushes? To like…try and stay ahead of it.” Just before the sentence ends, she realizes how she phrased it - ‘we’. “Or…you can, for your dog.” Ava corrects and then suddenly feels even worse because she wants it to be ‘we’. It feels very much like a ‘we’ situation because she’s over here so much.

She watches Beatrice tilt her head to the side curiously. “I think Cosmo would like that,” Bea says. “We’d have to do it when you’re here though, he’s always calmer when you’re around.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Definitely, he’s grown quite attached to your belly rubs.”

“Well that’s his fault for being so soft.” Beatrice laughs, it’s a gorgeous sound. Ava wants to kiss her so fucking much. “I want to kiss you,” she says, there’s no sense in pretending otherwise.

Beatrice exhales, like she was waiting for it. “You can,” she says.

Ava frowns. “I know but…I smell really bad.” She pouts and looks down at herself, tank top stained with sweat and workout shorts clinging to her legs.

“You can shower here if you want.” Beatrice gestures towards the hall where her bathroom is. “I assume you have clothes in your bag?”

“I do. I fully intended to race home and clean up first.”

Beatrice shrugs, leaning the mop against a stool. “Wash up here…I want you to.” Beatrice seems conflicted then, like she’s in her head.

“You do?” Ava pushes her just a bit, there’s clearly something she wants to say.

“I do, I want…I like that you’re comfortable here. I like…I like that you fit here.”

Yeah, Ava is fucked. “I do feel comfortable here. I’m…to be honest, I love Mary and Shan but this is my favorite place to be.”

Beatrice stares at her for a moment, lashes fluttering as she blinks - as if shocked by the admission that Ava feels like is written all over her fucking face all the time.

“It’s Cosmo, I assume? He’s the reason you enjoy it here so much?” Bea has a cheeky little grin on her face, she’s come so far and carries herself with so much lightness now - Ava falls harder every goddamn day.

“He’s part of it for sure, but there’s this girl, you see? She’s kind of adorable and sexy and…”

“Ava,” Beatrice looks like she wants to reach out to her, but stops herself. “Can you…can we…” she sighs.

“What’s up, Bea?” It’s something they’re working on, getting to a place where Beatrice is comfortable asking for what she wants. Honestly, they’re both working on it.

There was a very long and exhausting conversation one night where Ava was turned on beyond return and tried to run out of the apartment to go home because she felt so fucking scared she was pushing Beatrice into something she wasn't ready for.

Except Beatrice wouldn’t let her leave, and told her they had to stay open, that she needed them to be open and honest and Ava knew that was right.

So she told her plain and simple, she wanted her. She wanted her in every way possible.

That’s when Beatrice told Ava that was okay, that she wasn't wrong for it and that Beatrice was glad to hear it - because she felt the same way.

They hadn't reached that point yet, but they’d done their fair share of exploring in the meantime.

Still, it was inevitable - like a rollercoaster inching its way up the track moment by moment. The fall on the other side was coming at any moment.

“Do you think I could join you in the shower?”

Oh…fuck.

Ava did not see that coming. “Y - yeah, that…hell yeah.” She reigns herself in. “If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure, I…Ava I think about you all the time,” Beatrice blushes as she speaks, but there’s not even a hint of doubt in her expression. “You look so very good right now, I don’t want to wait a second longer.”

Just like that, the rollercoaster reached the peak and down it went.

Reaching out, Ava offers up her hand and watches Beatrice exhale before taking it.

She leads them down the hall to where Bea’s bathroom is and then stop just outside. “I do really stink though so…let me at least run some water over myself before we…”

“Ava,” Beatrice has a giggle in the back of her throat. “I was a nun, I can show a little restraint.”

“I don’t know, Bea. I’ve been told my tits look really good when they’re wet.”

Beatrice smirks, actually fucking smirks. “I have no doubt.”

She sets her bag down in the corner of the little bathroom and watches Bea close the door behind them.

Suddenly, they are encased in this tiny little space, with bright vanity mirror lights and a sink that sticks out way too far and Ava lets her hand go. “I’m gonna undress now.” She says, her voice barely carrying.

Beatrice nods. “A good first step to taking a shower.”

Again, the tension lifts.

Ava gathers up the bottom of her top with both hands and peels it up and over her head. It’s moist with sweat and kind of sticky, she groans as it comes off and the cool air hits her skin. She tosses it on the floor and then looks up to meet Beatrice’s eyes.

Except her eyes are about five inches or so south. “Like what you see?” Ava asks and Beatrice’s eyes slowly crawl back up to look at her.

“You know I do,” she says.

Ava grins. “If we’re doing this then…you should probably take that first step too.”

That seems to snap Beatrice back to the moment and she nods once. “Right,” unlike Ava, Beatrice takes her top off from the neck. Grabbing the back of it with both hands and pulling it up over her head.

When she does, she somehow manages to take her ponytail out as well and her hair tumbles across her shoulders and hangs deliciously in her face - a beautiful mess.

Seeing Beatrice’s body is not something Ava thinks she’ll ever get used to. Her skin is so soft, with curves and divots that are impossible not to stare at. She feels her hands twitch at her sides at the mere thought of touching every inch of her.

She’s going to, she decides, as soon as they’re under the water, Ava’s going to explore every part of Beatrice she can.

The rest of their clothes come off in silence, Ava nearly falling over as she peels off her shorts and then losing her goddamn breath when Beatrice steps out of her underwear and turns around neatly folding them.

She was right all along, she could bounce a quarter off of that ass.

Ava can't help herself then, she reaches out and gives Bea a little pinch.

“Ah!” Beatrice jumps and turns around, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Hi,” Ava smirks at her, melting as she sees Beatrice’s shock fade into a playful glare. “Sorry, it’s too pinchable to resist.”

“I see,” Beatrice looks Ava over again, then reaches out and ghosts her thumb gently over an already hardening nipple. Ava shudders at the contact. “I think I understand.” She finishes the sentence by cupping Ava’s breast in her palm and squeezing it.

A strained noise escapes from the back of Ava’s throat. “We need to get under the fucking water now,” Ava moves past her to start the spray and Beatrice laughs so freely that Ava does too.

When the water is warm enough, Ava steps under the spray and feels it trickle down her back, Beatrice is there, watching her - staring at her with so much heat and passion in her eyes that Ava’s heart starts to race.

She knows now, this is when it’s going to happen.

The air grows a little thicker, the water burns a little hotter - everything feels real.

There’s no dramatic speech, no roses spread out over the bed and candles burning around them. It’s not a grand gesture, just a shift - silent enough that both of them hardly noticed.

As she moves back to let Bea in, Ava feels the water run through her hair and over the front of her. She blinks away the droplets out of her eyes, desperate to see Beatrice make her way under the spray.

It’s still hard to fully grasp the fact that she is simply allowed to see Beatrice naked like this. That she, out of all the people in the world, is lucky enough to be given this chance.

Because Beatrice is gorgeous and so unexpectedly sexy. She has a sway in her walk, a beautiful frame of solid muscle beneath a layer of softness that makes Ava’s mouth water.

When the water starts to hit her, Beatrice reaches up with a bit of a shake in her hands and pushes her hair out of her face. Ava takes this chance to grab a washcloth and hold it under the water.

“Wash me?” She asks, her voice just loud enough to carry over the spray.

Beatrice nods and takes the washcloth, then reaches around her to grab a bottle of body wash and put it on a little shelf near the turner.

Ava closes her eyes when Beatrice touches her, even with her hand behind the cloth - it’s a jolt of energy that shoots through her whole body.

Slowly, Beatrice runs the washcloth up between her breasts and over the spot where her neck and shoulders connect. Then she moves it over one shoulder, down Ava’s arm and cradles her hand to scrub her fingers.

It’s so slow and intimate.

She uses her free hand to lift Ava’s arm and wash every part of her, stopping to squeeze her bicep and trace a finger across her tricep.

Beatrice lets out a very slow exhale when Ava flexes a little - proud of the way her body is responding to all the extra work she’s been putting in.

Thrilled that it seems to please Beatrice so much. “You like it?”

Their eyes meet and Beatrice nods, no tension or worry in her expression - just lust. “Very much,”

Ava decides at that moment that she’s clean enough.

She reaches out and places her hand on Bea’s hip to pull her in close.

Their bodies press together and Ava kisses her. It’s soft at first, asking permission that is easily granted when Beatrice turns her head to the side and lets her lips part.

She slips her tongue into Bea’s mouth and tastes her, like peanut butter and something sweet - strawberry jam.

Using the hands on her body, Ava turns them so Beatrice is pressed against the wall, making her gasp into Ava’s mouth at the suddenness of it.

Beatrice’s hands very carefully find their way onto Ava’s back, her pinky and ring finger touching on a long imprinted scar on Ava’s back - from another life.

It doesn't shake her like it has before, because Bea has seen her scars, not only the marks on her skin, but what they did to Ava - how they shaped her.

The thing about falling in love with someone at your lowest point is that you have no time to hide your darkness from them.

They see it, they wade through it if you’re lucky enough, they catch sight of that tiny bit of light left in you that yourself and the rest of the world have long forgotten - and they seek it out.

That’s what Beatrice did for her, that’s why having her scars touched doesn’t scare her.

Of course, the gentle sentiment is a bit ruined when those hands drift lower and both cup her ass and squeeze.

“Oh,” Ava cries out unexpectedly, pulling back from their kiss. “Well hello there.”

Beatrice grins against her lips. “Hello,” she whispers, kissing Ava’s top lip. “Is this alright?”

Ava nods. “It is, but…” she loses her breath again when Beatrice starts kissing down her neck. “Bea I’m…I’m still kind of gross.”

“I know,” Beatrice reaches out again, grabbing the body wash and picking a loofa off the nozzle before dumping a bit of blue liquid on it and then gently rubbing it on Ava’s shoulder.

For the next minute or so, Beatrice just washes her, using the loofa to cover her in suds before using her hand to guide the water to wash it away.

All Ava can do is watch her, having never in her life been so delicately taken care of. It’s such a different experience from being little and having nuns do this for her with such disdain and impatience. How little they cared for her comfort. She couldn't feel anything, she was a burden - she didn’t matter.

Not to them.

Here though, to this girl, she feels like the most important thing in the whole world.

She knew it was coming, she could feel Beatrice tense a bit as her hands drifted lower and lower.

At first, the loofa brushed over Ava’s hip and then around to the back, but when she finally scrubbed over the small patch of hair just above Ava’s pussy, their eyes met.

“If you’re ready,” Ava whispers, her own voice shaky as her body is so wound up she’s afraid to move too much. “I…I’m ready. “

Beatrice looks down where her hand is hovering just above where Ava needs it. Then there’s a light splash of the loofa hitting the ground between Ava’s feet and suddenly Beatrice closes the distance between them and kisses her again.

Ava inhales deeply at the contact but her throat clamps shut when she feels Beatrice’s fingers brush over her clit.

The kiss breaks and Ava’s body rattles as the sensation vibrates through her body.

Beatrice’s fingers are clumsy and untrained, but firm. “What do you like?” She asks, and Ava buries her face in Bea’s neck. “Tell me how to make you feel good…please.”

It takes a few seconds for Ava to find her voice. “Circles, do you…can you feel my clit? The stiff little-”

Beatrice nods into her hair. “I know what it is,” she laughs softly.

“Right,” Ava hums. “Just…slow circles over it to get started…then when I ask can you put two fingers inside of me?”

The next thing Ava knows, Beatrice is rolling perfect circles over her clit, like she’s been doing it her whole life and Ava’s knees think about buckling. She cries out, not loudly but enough to echo off the walls of the shower.

Her hands clamp onto Beatrice’s shoulders to keep herself steady as her legs spread open even more.

“Is this good?” Beatrice asks, her voice almost teasing, like she knows.

How can she not with the way Ava’s hips are rolling as they chase her fingers. “It’s so good, Bea. You’re…fuck…you’re making me feel so good.”

“Good,” Beatrice kisses her ear and then her temple. “You feel so incredible, Ava. So warm and wet…you’re amazing.”

“Bea,” Ava feels the praise and the soft words deep in her bones. They settle in her ribs like a warm fire on a cold day - she loses herself in how good it all feels.

“Fingers,” she mumbles, her throat tight. “Two, go fast.”

She feels Beatrice shift a bit, tensing ever-so-slightly. Then Before Ava has to offer her anymore words of encouragement, Beatrice sinks two fingers inside of her.

They’re long, her fingers, and they reach deep enough inside of Ava to make her gasp and throw her head back. “Fuck,” she says and with her neck exposed, Beatrice clamps her lips onto her pulse.

Suddenly, the sound of Beatrice fucking her is all Ava can hear - it’s loud and dirty and Beatrice is thriving.

Ava knows she’s unlocked something when Bea curls her fingers without prompting and hits a spot just right.

Something in Ava snaps then and she moans without inhibition. “Fuck! Bea, fuck me, ffff…uck… “

She comes hard, so much so that her legs give out enough that Beatrice has to put an arm around her waist to hold her upright.

“Ava,” Bea breathes, but then her fingers stop and Ava is still tilting on the edge.

“No, no…keep going, Bea please.”

Thankfully, that’s all it takes for Beatrice to start pumping her fingers inside of Ava again and the aftershock of her orgasm shifts into something else - now she’s chasing again and her heart is hammering in her chest.

She feels the muscles in her legs tense, her toes curl on the little rubber mats on the bottom of the tub.

“Are you coming again, darling?” Bea asks it like a question she already knows.

It’s overwhelming. “Yes, yes there…don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t…”

Ava comes even harder, this time stumbling forward with enough force that it pushes Beatrice back against the wall to hold them both upright.

The fingers inside of her are still moving, slowly, but it’s uncomfortable now. “Okay,” Ava manages to say and then carefully pushes Bea’s wrist.

The feeling of Bea slipping out of her makes her groan, but her whole body is tingly and almost numb - her brain keeps firing off like her nerve endings are going haywire.

That’s when Beatrice’s arms wrap around her and hold her. Followed by soft kisses on her cheeks and her closed eyes - then the tip of her nose.

Ava holds her back. “Where did you learn to do that, Bea?” Ava says, a laugh stuck in her throat.

“I was just following the sounds you made, the way you held onto me.”

It’s enough to bring the laugh out fully. “Well you’re observant as fuck.” She feels Beatrice smile into her hair. “Can I…when I recover can it be your turn?” She looks up at Beatrice, wondering if her eyes are as hopeful as her heart feels.

When she sees the way Bea’s pupils are still dilated a bit, she knows that Bea is turned on. “I really should wash my hair first…since we’re here.”

“Of course, can I do it?”

Beatrice nods. “I’d like that.”

If Ava was Beatrice’s first in pretty much every sexual situation, then Beatrice was Ava’s first in a lot of intimate ones. Because no one had ever told her that the act of washing someone’s hair could be so fucking personal.

It is though, the way she focuses so intensely on ever scrape of her fingers along Bea’s scalp and how every breath Beatrice takes feels like some kind of guide.

She gathers up Bea’s hair behind her and runs her fingers through it, letting the coconut shampoo sink in. Then Bea steps forward under the spray to rinse off and Ava can't help herself.

Her fingers curl over Beatrice’s waist and she steps forward, pressing her front against Bea’s ass.

It’s not impactful or anything, but the contact makes Bea’s hands shoot out to press against the wall.

“Ava I…” Beatrice stutters and looks back over her shoulder, hair clinging to her neck and across her face - Ava wonders if Bea knows how unbelievably sexy she really is.

“What do you need, Bea?”

There’s a small hint of fear in Beatrice’s eyes and in that moment, Ava is ready to push it all down - the desire and the need and the ache in her body to touch every inch of her. She can hold it in for as long as Beatrice needs.

Then she sees Beatrice close her eyes and feels a hand drape over her own. That’s when Beatrice grinds back against her and Ava loses her breath. “Will you make me feel good?”

“Of course,” Ava leans in and kisses her between the shoulderblades. “Not here though,” she reaches around her and turns off the water. “Let me take you to bed.”

Beatrice nods then, almost frantically.

They stumble out of the shower in a mess of limbs and chaos - need fueling every action they both take. Beatrice towels off as Ava watches, dripping on the floor and making a mess. She’ll clean it up later - she’ll buy her new bathmats. She doesn't care.

When Bea grabs another towel from under the sink and gives it to her, Ava dries off about as quickly as humanly possible - her hair still wet and stringy atop her head, cool droplets still running down her back.

It doesn’t matter, what matters is that when Bea hangs her towel back up, Ava tosses the one she had on the floor and pulls Beatrice in for a kiss.

It’s white hot and searing. So full of every good emotion imaginable.

Suddenly, Ava feels Beatrice shifting, but taking her along as well and before she knows it, they’re back in the hallway and Beatrice is pushing Ava’s back against her barely closed bedroom door.

The door pops open and hits a doorstop, Ava opens her eyes just enough to see that Beatrice is guiding them to her bed.

That won’t work though, Ava’s already had her fun - now it’s Bea’s turn.

So she plants her feet on the carpet and hooks Bea’s thighs with both hands, lifting her up.

“Av-ah!” Bea cries out when Ava turns them and drops Beatrice on the bed. She bounces so adorably, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open - lips red from their kisses.

Ava finally has the chance to see her, to really see her in the light of the sun from the half open blinds. Beatrice is the most beautiful thing in the world - Ava’s convinced that nothing will ever compare.

She chances a look down her body, over her breasts and across her stomach, hands itching to touch. Then to the patch of freshly trimmed hair between her legs - Ava smiles at the sight, Bea’s been fighting a lot of battles with her body the last few months, but she’s gotten so comfortable with it.

“Are you ready?” She asks, kneeling down between Bea’s legs, but not too close - not enough to pressure her. “It’s okay if you aren’t.”

Beatrice looks down at her, neck craned upward to keep eye contact. She has her bottom lip between her teeth and that haze in her eyes is still there. “I’m ready, I…I am.”

“You’re sure?”

Beatrice nods. “I am,” she reaches down and touches Ava’s cheek with the back of her hand. “I trust you.”

Those three little words wash away a decade of self-loathing. If someone like Bea trusts her, then how could she possibly be unworthy of love?

So Ava goes to work. It starts with gentle kisses along her inner thighs and across her stomach - essentially all around the one place Bea is waiting for.

It might be mean to tease her, but when she looks at Bea’s cunt and sees how dripping wet it is, Ava knows she’s working her up just fine.

With her left hand, she runs her fingers through the delicate flesh, opening her up a bit before seeking out Bea’s clit with her middle finger.

She strokes over it a few times, adding a little pressure each pass over and on the third one Beatrice’s legs tense and her hips try to lift up off the bed a little.

It’s not going to take much.

Which means Ava won’t tease her anymore. Instead, she strokes over her clit a few more times before leaning in and taking the bud between her lips. She sucks on it carefully, letting her tongue replicate the motion of her finger from before.

This time, Beatrice’s throat breaks free and she moans so loudly it vibrates the bed. Ava smiles against her, shifting down to let her tongue collect the wetness that spills over.

“Ava,” Bea’s hands fist into her hair, her hips press down into Ava’s mouth. “Please, my…please I need it.”

She does, Ava realizes. They’ll have plenty of time to explore and tease and test their limits - forever if Ava has her way.

Right now though, Beatrice needs to come. Ava needs to be the one that gets her there.

Doubling her efforts, Ava laps at Bea’s clit with the flat of her tongue, then runs circles over it before latching her mouth onto it once more and letting the obscene noises of her efforts fill the room.

Beatrice comes in a matter of a few minutes, her hips rising up off the bed and twisting to the side. Ava hangs on as best she can, trying not to break out into giggles when Beatrice practically headscissors her.

Her tongue guides Bea through the rest of it and when she pulls back, Ava wipes at her chin a little before leaning back to take in the vision of her hard work.

Beatrice is on her back, chest rising and falling rapidly - Ava knows Bea’s heart is probably hammering just like her own.

As she stands up, she sees Bea with a hand over her eyes and the brightest, toothiest smile on her face. Adorable.

“You still in there?” Ava asks, running her hands along Bea’s sides as she crawls on top of her.

There are no words to describe how good it feels when Beatrice’s laugh rumbles between them. “That is…no sin,” she says, her voice still shaky.

“Not one bit,” Ava says before kissing her mouth and humming with delight as Beatrice desperately chases after her. “Sorry I got your floors all wet,” Ava whispers into her neck as she moves her lips in that direction.

Beatrice’s hand finds it’s way into her hair again. “There’s a dirty joke in there I’m not sure I’m qualified to make yet.”

“Hmm, I’m corrupting you.”

That’s when both of Bea’s hands find her face and pull her so their eyes meet, she sees it then, in the way Bea looks at her.

Love, they’ve fallen in love with each other. “Good,” Bea says, a firmness in her voice, like she’s proud of this.

Ava kisses her again.

----------------------------

“Did I tell you that I spoke to Yasmine and she said she’d come by Friday and help with the new table?”

Ava only hears a little bit of what Bea says, partly because Bea has told her this already and partly because Ava is clutching into her seat as they reach another traffic light and Ava prays it stays green.

Beatrice is driving, or she’s learning how to drive. It’s only been about two weeks, and while Beatrice knows the rules of the road like the back of her hand - she’s still struggling a bit with the feeling of being behind the wheel.

Meaning that when a light turns yellow, she presses way too hard on the brake and she follows cars too close and triple and quadruple checks her blindspot before merging and it’s…a learning process.

Still, Ava knows it’s important to her, and while Bea doesn’t have her own car yet, Mary is really not attached to this one and Beatrice is working towards getting one.

“Ava?” Beatrice calls out to her again and Ava realizes she hasn’t answered.

“Right, yeah…you mentioned it. I think Chanel was going to come by too and take the other one - she wants to put it in her workshop and like…who knew Chanel had a workshop?”

Beatrice chuckles. “I’ve only met the woman twice now, but I can tell she enjoys using her hands.”

Ava frowns. “You can?”

“Yes, she helped me prepare the food when she visited and hand crafted all the hamburger patties and kept talking about how she makes her own bread and wanting to chop the vegetables.” Beatrice grins then as she jerks the car to a stop at a light.

Ava nearly falls off her seat. “Really?”

“I did manage to impress her with my knife skills.”

“They’re very impressive.”

Ava speak for ‘they’re fucking hot’.

“She wants to take us to an event of some kind at her work. She mentioned it.”

The groan Ava lets out is deep and annoyed. “Yeah, she’s been driving me nuts about it for weeks. It’s a professional wrestling show.”

The light changes and Beatrice presses down on the gas, shoving Ava back into her seat. “Oh,” Beatrice slows to take the turn the GPS tells her to. “Why would she think I’d be interested in such a thing?”

“Because the women are hot and buff and wearing tight spandex.”

It’s very cute to watch Beatrice try to withhold the fact that this does, in fact, intrigue her. “That seems a bit over the top.”

Ava shrugs. “I mean it’s mindless nonsense, but Rhea Ripley is worth paying attention to.”

“Her name is Rhea Ripley? Is she based on a comic book character?”

Ava snorts out a laugh. “No, but she looks like one.” She then takes out her phone and does a quick google search for later. She’s not about to flash her phone in Bea’s face while she’s driving (god help her), but she wants to see Bea’s reaction.

Five minutes and very little conversation later, they’re pulling up to Mary and Shannon’s place for dinner.

Technically, Ava still lives here - but she’s at Bea’s more often than not and at some point (not tonight), she’s going to finally tell them that she wants to move in with Beatrice specifically.

She wonders if they’re rushing too fast, it’s only been about six months since Bea left the convent and about three since they started officially dating. Yet, things in their relationship have always felt a little bit stronger - a little heavier.

It’s never felt rushed though, not once. For Ava, her relationship with Beatrice has always felt like it was going at just the right pace - once they made it past all the hardships.

When it was just them and their sorted out feelings, the chase to figuring out each other and their personal brand of intimacy - everything was simple.

Ava loves her, no other truth in her life has ever been so effortless.

Three nights ago Ava woke up from a nightmare she couldn't even remember. She couldn't explain what it was that scared her - she couldn't figure out what image had her shaking, but whatever it was dragged that emptiness back into her soul.

The same feeling she had when she was curled up on the bathroom floor of her old apartment sobbing.

It was the first time in months that Ava had to fight the urge to drink. Not a passing thought where she considered having a beer or a glass of wine.

No, this was her feeling that pull to go to a bar and drink until she couldn't feel her face.

She’s only realized since she’s been really and truly sober, that she had a drinking problem.

Her time after losing Mary, after embarrassing herself in front of Beatrice and having her job and her apartment taken from her, Ava was probably a day or two away from drinking herself to death.

It’s been a harsh reality to come to terms with - that back then, it’s exactly what she wanted.

That, she thinks, was most likely the nightmare that shook her three nights ago.

The same nightmare that had her waking Beatrice up and asking her for help. She didn't even know what she needed, what she wanted - but Bea sat with her and listened to her and took care of her.

Ava didn't drink, she still hasn’t - and that night she curled up in Bea’s arms and cried herself to sleep.

Then the next morning she thanked her and promised she would do the same if necessary.

So yeah, every part of their relationship is moving pretty fast, but they are also growing into it together. They each bring a set of skills to the table that helps keep things balanced.

Beatrice is great with patience and effort - she loves trial and error and sitting down to plan out the next step if something doesn’t go quite right.

Meanwhile, Ava is there to push the boundaries. She has a way of getting Beatrice to try out something new or open up about something she’s long kept hidden away.

There’s no real method to the system they have, but it works and the truth is that they’ve reached a point where their time spent together is a lot less about sorting through issues and a lot more about just having fun.

As they pull into Mary and Shannon’s, Ava lets out a breath a bit too loudly and draws Bea’s attention. “It was not that bad.” She glares just a bit, turning off the engine.

“You have a heavy foot, Bea.”

“I do not!” Beatrice frowns a bit, then her eyes narrow and she looks away. “Alright, I’ll admit that last light before the donut place you like was a bit precarious, but other than that I thought this ride went smoothly.”

Ava can't help but grin. “It was better, and you’re fine I’m just…you know, very used to the way I drive.”

“Oh, you mean with one hand on the bottom of the wheel, another sipping your coffee as you bob your head to your music and make up stories about pedestrians?”

She can't help the overdramatic gasp of shock that comes out of her. “Hey! Those two construction workers were so into each other, I bet you they left work today, hopped on a plane to Vegas and got hitched!”

When a tiny little giggle bubbles out of Bea, Ava feels like she’s won the goddamn lottery or something. “Come on,” she opens the car door. “Your casserole dish is going to get cold.”

Ava leans into the backseat and grabs the baked macaroni and cheese concoction they threw together to bring with them - like a real couple, all covered in foil in a warm glass container. “Is macaroni and cheese a casserole?”

“In the traditional sense? No, but in the way you’ve cooked this? I think so. A casserole is any kind of stew or side dish cooked in an oven.” The entire time she’s speaking, Beatrice is fixing her jacket and pulling her hair out from under it.

She’s so pretty, and Ava might be the only one who really notices that she’s become so much more comfortable in her own skin the last few weeks. The way she walks, the way she talks - the mornings where she wakes up now and lets herself roam around her apartment in her underwear for a few hours before starting her day.

Those morning yoga sessions Ava’s been guiding them through in Bea’s living room have become a major highlight of her day.

It’s just…easy. Ava’s always assumed that love would be so much work - so much effort and struggle and sacrifice.

For a long time it was, for a long time, the idea of love meant that Ava had to give up parts of herself to make someone else love her back.

With Beatrice, love is everywhere. It’s in the way they move together at night in bed and how Ava always kisses her shoulders when she catches Bea wearing tank tops at home.

It’s in the way Beatrice always reaches for Ava’s feet on the couch and puts them in her lap. The way that Ava catches Bea singing her favorite songs in the shower and doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.

It’s standing outside of Mary and Shannon’s apartment knowing that this is something she’s going to be doing all the time for big holidays and special occasions - or just random weeknights when the mood strikes them.

That they’re a package deal now. Ava and Beatrice - they found each other.

Just as Ava goes to open the door (if they knock Mary will yell at them), Bea grabs her hand. “Do you think I should ask Shannon about taking college courses tonight? Or should I wait?”

“You should totally ask her tonight, you’re ready, right?”

“I am, it’s just…we’re celebrating her big promotion, I don’t want to make it about me.”

Ava smiles. “That’s not what it is, Bea. She loves to help, I’m pretty sure after the two of you spent the last time we were here discussing ancient Egypt for three hours, she is a little bit in love with you.”

“It’s a fascinating subject!”

She can't help herself, she leans in and kisses Bea’s forehead. “You’re fine, babe. Ask her, you’ve been itching to start taking classes for weeks”

Beatrice nods. “I have,” and Ava knows she’s going to love it and want to do more and more and learn as much as she can. Beatrice is on the cusp of changing the fucking world and Ava can't wait to see it.

Again Ava reaches for the door, because the casserole dish is hot and heavy and she knows Mary’s ribs are probably almost finished and the house smells fucking amazing.

But then she feels Bea’s knuckle brush against her cheek and her hand freezes. She looks over at her, seeing the softness in her eyes, the smile on her face - it makes her smile without effort. “I love you,” Beatrice says then, her voice emphatic and warm.

They haven’t said that to each other yet, again it’s something Ava thinks is supposed to be a big deal, a monumental moment with candles and mood music.

Instead it’s here, right before a night with her family and good food and a future she thought was impossible. “I love you too,” Ava says back, kissing Bea’s thumb when it brushes past her lip.

Before she can say anything else, the door flings open and Ava turns, the pad of Bea’s thumb still on her lips, and there stands Mary. “Are you two actually going to come in or just stand out here and foreplay?”

Beatrice, still adjusting to Mary and her bluntness, turns a bright shade of pink and drops her hand to her side. “We’re…I…it was -”

“Here,” Ava shoves the casserole dish to Mary who fumbles with it a bit before taking it. “If you don’t want to see us being cute, don’t interrupt us when we’re being cute!”

Mary rolls her eyes. “Yeah yeah, well maybe I just wanted to eat some fucking mac and cheese, you ever think about that?”

“Nope! I think you just missed me.”

“Fat chance, Shan and I only use you now to get to Bea, speaking of, Shannon’s got some books on some pyramids or something, she said you’d be excited.”

Ava watches Beatrice light up. “Oh! She found them?”

“I guess so,”

Beatrice leans into Ava, kissing her on the cheek once, before taking off to where Ava can see movement in the kitchen.

“She’s a nerd,” Ava says and Mary quirks a brow at her. “What?”

“So are you, just not with actual nerdy shit.”

Ava scoffs, “I am not.”

“You are, if I have to hear one more time about you ‘nailing the crane pose’ then I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“Hey! It’s the hardest pose there is!”

Mary uses her free hand to push Ava into the house. “Get in here and tell me all about it then while I ignore you and stuff my face with food.”

“God, it smells so good in here.”

“Damn right it does,” Mary says as she leads Ava to the kitchen. It’s funny, she still technically lives here, most of her stuff is here - but she feels like a guest now.

Except when she stops just outside the kitchen, finding Shannon and Beatrice hunched over a book and pointing things out like kids who just found their first popup book - it’s adorable and makes her heart swell.

She just stands there for a moment, taking it in. Watching the way Mary cuts into the mac and cheese before the ribs are even finished and how Beatrice doesn’t refuse when Mary offers her a plate.

She thinks about where she is and where she’s going - what the future looks like.

It’s this, she thinks. It will always lead back to this.

When Beatrice looks up at her over the book she and Shannon are reading and smiles at her, Ava realizes they’re going to get married someday.

It’s not something she’ll say right now, not anything she has to express or over think - she just knows it then.

Nothing in Ava’s life has ever come easy or really felt all that fair - but she knows the same is true for Bea.

They’re warriors, in their own way. They’ve fought battles that almost consumed the both of them and by some kind of dumbass luck they managed to find each other.

Ava’s not naive, she knows there will be more obstacles thrown at them, that’s life.

She also knows that they’re a damn good team, and it isn’t just them - they’re building a foundation with the people around them.

“Hey, are you going to come help me sauce these ribs or just sit there and stare at your girlfriend all night?”

Mary cuts through her thoughts with a basting brush pointed at her.

She flicks her gaze over to Bea again, her ears a shade of pink as she nods at Ava to go help.

So what if Ava takes the long way around the counter just so she can drop a kiss on Bea’s cheek - the inevitable teasing from Mary is absolutely worth it.