Chapter Text
In the short time they had known each other, Ava had never once seen Beatrice angry.
Frustrated, antagonized, exasperated – yes. But truly, full on, unadulterated angry? There had been that time, not so long but still a lifetime ago, when Beatrice had read to her the story of Sister Melanie, and for a sickly, sinking, terrifying moment, Ava had thought she was mad at her. But even then, with her brows furrowed in quiet resentment, she had still looked at her with a modicum of kindness and understanding.
“It’s not you,” she had said, “It was everyone but you.”
Perhaps Ava had been naive enough to believe that Beatrice was incapable of such emotion, or foolish enough to think she would be exempt should the occasion ever arise. But as she slinks shamefully into the back of the waiting van, hands coated in blood that was not her own, she’s met with the full force of Beatrice’s fury. She barely has time to shut the door before the sister warrior rounds on her, the epitome of livid as she glowers at the younger woman with what could only be described as disdain.
“What were you thinking?” she demands, voice raised. “No, don’t answer that!” she snaps, lifting a hand to silence Ava’s attempt at explanation. “I already know what you’re going to say.”
Beatrice stares, cold and impassive as Ava shrinks beneath her callous gaze, teeth clenched as she works her jaw to bite back a more scathing remark. “We had a plan!” she insists, “We were going to take Adriel on together – the five of us! And what did you do? As soon as things got too much... as soon as we were overwhelmed, you did what you always do. You broke formation and ran.”
“Yes, because he was getting away!” Ava shouts, defensively. “It’s been three months since the Vatican and this was the first chance we’ve had at capturing him since! I couldn’t let him out of my sight!”
“Then you follow him and wait for back up before engaging!” she reprimands, “Halo bearer or not, you’re not strong or experienced enough to take him on alone! None of us are! And if you had just waited for the rest of us to catch up, this whole thing could have ended completely differently.”
“Instead, Adriel is gone – again! And Camila…” she wavers, the fire momentarily gone as her eyes glaze over with grief, “... Camila doesn’t deserve what he did to her…”
Ava’s eyes well at the thought of sweet Camila and her ever present smile, silently praying to a God she still isn’t sure she believes in that this isn’t the last time she’ll ever see it. Her hands tingle, bathed in the blood of the innocent as she recalls the exact moment it had all gone wrong, reliving the scene like a broken record on repeat…
Reports of multiple possessions in Barcelona had been swirling around for days, and once it began catching the attention of mainstream media, the OCS knew they had no choice but to intervene. The halo bearer and her elite team of sister warriors were dispatched to contain the issue, and with the sheer number of possessed bordering on the dozens, they knew they were likely headed into the heart of Adriel’s territory. A second and third team had been sent as backup, but the angel-demon was left solely to them, and they had labored over a plan of attack all the way up until it was time to confront him.
The plan was simple enough; stick together, fight together, win together. But Adriel had goaded Ava into abandoning her sisters, tormenting her with mental images of all the terrible things he would do to them and their world once he had won. As soon as he began to retreat, Ava followed, ignoring the shouts of the others as they yelled for her to come back.
It didn’t take long for her to lose them in the fray, and despite her best efforts, Adriel easily bested her in battle once they were alone. Ava was on her knees, wounded and the halo drained, too weak to even lift her head and meet her second death face to face. She can still hear the metal scrape against the pavement as Adriel lifted her fallen weapon, a taunting glint to the sharpened blade as he held it to the light in victory. Ava remembers closing her eyes, simply waiting for it to end, and then…
Nothing.
Nothing but the warm splatter of blood washing across her skin, her eyes opening in confusion and then widening in shock at the sight of Camila standing before her, that damn smile still on her face even as the Cruciform sword sits impaled through her side.
"No…" she pleads, flashes of Lilith and the Tarask surging to the forefront of her mind, "Not again… please not again!"
Ava doesn’t remember much of what happens next, only knows that she catches Camila’s lifeless body just as an anguished roar is ripped from her lips, and the world is bathed in holy light…
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, returning to the present as Beatrice begins furiously polishing her knives, no doubt needing to keep her hands busy during the long drive out of the city and back to the small church they had claimed as their base of operations. “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen… for her to get hurt. For anyone to get hurt…”
“Look, I get it,” Ava tries again, when Beatrice refuses to acknowledge her words, “I know I screwed up! I wasn’t thinking, and–”
“And that’s exactly the problem!” she shoots back, slamming her hands into her lap. “You don’t think! You just do! You are selfish, and self-centered, and you are no better than the coward you were when this all began!”
Mary, who up until that point had watched silently from the rearview mirror, tears her eyes from the road just long enough to shoot Beatrice a warning look. “Hey,” she admonishes, “Watch it.”
“No,” Beatrice replies, shaking her head. “No. Don’t defend her. God forgive me,” she laughs, humorlessly, “but I may have finally lost my patience for this one. You didn’t ask for this, Ava, that much is understood. We don’t expect perfection, but is it too much to ask for even some semblance of competency?"
Ava's heart stutters at the outburst, playing a rickety staccato as it thrums painfully beneath her chest. She was no stranger to feelings of failure, had grown accustomed to them in the years she spent under Sister Frances's care; she was used to people looking down on her, looking at her like she was nothing more than a burden. But it hits differently when it comes from Beatrice; Beatrice who had been her greatest friend and advocate from the start, now looking at Ava as though she was her greatest cross to bear.
"Okay, enough!" Mary growls, hands tensing on the wheel, "I know you're upset, Bea, and I know you look at Camila like she's your baby sis, but you don't get to take that out on Ava. And you , Ava… you messed up. You should have stuck to the plan like we told you to! But we were up against a horde of possessed and the literal devil himself. Anything could have happened, okay?"
"We all know the risks of going into battle. Camila does too. So don't belittle her bravery by pinning it all on one person. Lilith is with her on the way to the hospital, and she'll let us know how things go. But when Camila comes back to us, I expect you two to have sorted this shit out.”
Ava glances briefly towards Beatrice before quickly averting her gaze, stomach churning at the anger that's still clearly evident in her features. Sighing, she scoots into the furthest corner of the van and settles in for the long ride back. She doesn't think they'll be sorting anything out soon, and she knows she has a long way to go at earning forgiveness.
Both from Beatrice and herself.
"Ava, may I have a word?"
It's less a request than it is a carefully worded demand, Ava's shoulders squaring as she pauses mid-step. She had loitered in the foyer of the church since the moment they returned, still dressed in her battle garb as she paced anxiously for word on Camila's condition. While everyone else had settled down to decompress from their mission, she had lingered for what must have been hours now, skipping dinner and later ignoring Mary's call for her to "chill the fuck out" and come to bed. In all that time, she had seen neither hide nor hair of Beatrice, who had swept out of the van upon their return and had blatantly ignored her since. At least, that is, until now.
"Oh, um," she stutters, subconsciously searching for any avenue of escape. "Yeah, yeah… of course."
"Walk with me?" she asks, head inclined towards the door.
'Oh God, she's going to take me into the back alley and murder me…'
Ava nods, lips taut in a strained smile, "Sure."
She allows Beatrice to lead, keeping a measured half-step behind as they make their way out of the building and into the street. They had sought refuge in a small, inconspicuous church, in a quiet neighborhood off the edge of the city. It had been close enough to the epicenter of possessions that they could mobilize quickly, but far enough away that they were relatively safe from being followed and ambushed. Night had fallen in the time since they had made their way back, their path illuminated only by the moon and the occasional flickering street lamp.
Ava’s eyes sit, trained on Beatrice as they walk the block in silence. She can see the gears turning in the other woman’s head, can practically feel the way she trembles with self-restraint; still clearly furious with Ava for her earlier disobedience, but tempered now and carefully controlled. Nausea swells in her gut, ebbing and flowing like a violent tide, and she knows the only way to get over this is to go right through it.
“You can yell at me, y’know… I know you want to,” she says, turning to look down at her feet. She can handle hearing the words, but Ava doesn’t think she’ll ever be strong enough to actually see Beatrice say them. “I know there’s more you wanted to say… back in the van…”
“I don’t… I don’t want to be mad at you,” Beatrice admits, voice tight. “I do understand that this is difficult for you, that everything is still so new, and confusing, and overwhelming. I know you’re trying your best, but you lack the experience and foresight to know when to make the right decision…”
“You… you are a child!” she continues, slowly growing more impassioned the longer she goes on. “You possess the most sacred and most powerful weapon we have against Adriel, and yet you treat the halo as though it were your play thing – act like this whole thing is a game of superhero! But your actions have consequences, Ava! Life lasting… life ending … consequences, and yet you are still so obtuse… so ignorant to the role you play in this war!”
“You said you wanted to end this, didn’t you?” she demands, stepping in front of Ava as a way of forcing her to look at her. “You said that you would be the last warrior nun, that you wanted to end the cycle of death! And yet, how many more bodies must be thrown in your way before you realize the depth of your own ineptitude? Lilith has already died for you! Camila came close! Who next? Will it be Mary? Will it be me?”
Ava doesn’t realize she’s crying until the first droplet hits her tongue, lips quivering as she tries to hold back the flood. Her chest aches with the hollowness of her heart, every word a blow to its already fragile frame. She can feel the halo pulse against her skin, its usual warmth a stark contrast to the cold look Beatrice gives her; she tries to force her emotions under control, knowing the danger she could draw if she lets too much energy loose.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m sorry that I’m such a screw up, that I can’t get anything right! I know that I still have a lot to work on, and I’m sorry that I’m not the halo bearer you all deserve. I’m trying my best! I am! And I don’t want you to die for me, for any of you to die. I don’t want that… you have to know that I don’t!”
“Then do better!” Beatrice shouts, hands clenched into fists. “Be better!” Stepping back, she moves to walk away, the conversation done. “You might not be the halo bearer we need, but you’re the only one we’ve got. So start acting like it.”
With Beatrice’s final words hanging in the air, Ava is left on the street corner, biting a fist to stop the hot, shameful tears from flowing. She fails, as is with everything she does, the tears burning a trail along her cheeks to pool and drip from her quivering chin. She closes her eyes, begging for the pain to end, but all it does is cause her more grief. She chokes on a sob and then another, dissolving into a weeping mess as she crumples to her knees.
She’s alone again.
.
.
.
.
.
Further down, Beatrice stumbles as she leaves the sidewalk and crosses the threshold from public property onto the church’s. She looks around, mildly perplexed to find herself outside alone, having sworn she’d left her room in search of Ava. She chalks it up to the exhaustion of the day, both physical and emotional, and decides she’ll get a fresh start tomorrow on making her apology.
Without the halo’s sight, she never once notices the red wisp trailing slowly behind her.