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locallysourcedshuggy · 1 year ago

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On the day she turned six, Beatrice finally understood why most adults never really celebrated their birthdays.

She knew her parents were trying to accomplish titles in the government. To be honest, she didn't know what those words truly meant at 6, but she had the general idea.

That morning, her parents told her they were leaving for a business trip. Almira, their maid, would look after her for that week. Normally, Beatrice wouldn't bat an eye to the news. Today, however, was different.

Her parents never wished her a happy birthday.

Once they had closed the door behind them, and their driver disappeared down the road towards the airport, Almira let out a sigh. Beatrice couldn't tell what kind of sigh it was. She was able to categorize her parents' sighs now, yet this one was different.

She turned away from the window, noticing Almira was wearing a heavy expression.

“I told them it was your birthday when they woke up,” She admitted.

Almira wanted to say more. So, So much more. It was heartbreaking, to see a child so young lose their magical imagination on their birthday.

Beatrice didn't say anything, and Almira figured so. Beatrice was always a quiet child, and Almira was reminded how different she was from her own children. They were probably up by now, bothering their boulder of a father for some more pancakes.

Cake, right.

“Come, Beatrice,” She beckoned the child, starting her way to the kitchen. “Now that your parents are gone, they can't chastise you for eating cake for breakfast.”

Beatrice, ever the obedient daughter she was, gasped at the concept.

Almira let out a laugh that stemmed from her belly.

“Oh, please, little one. It's your 6th birthday. Surely we have time for cake,” She grabbed it from the fridge, watching as Beatrice looked at the intricate design.

Almira felt something akin to amazement when Beatrice gazed with so much wonder and surprise. She noticed that the girl still hadn't moved from her place on the chair.

“I spent hours last night making this for you, it would be agonizing if you did not take the first bite,” Almira reasoned, grabbing a fork from the utensil drawer.

Beatrice finally understood. Almira had time to bake Beatrice a cake, though she didn't have to. Her parents had known it was her birthday, and were even reminded, yet time was of the essence for them to get to the airport.

People didn't celebrate their birthdays due to the fact that they had no time. Staring at the fork in Almira's hand, she decided to relent. She would make time for her own birthday today, but only for a little while.

12.

It was her 12th birthday. By now, Beatrice was dreadfully aware of the fact that birthdays were no longer fun. It was no one's fault, really (unless you count her parent forgetting at age 6, then making her birthday a PR stunt for their own benefit). She had been going to these galas since her 8th birthday, and she always dreaded it.

Of course, Beatrice would stuff her own anxiety down. She had the conversation once before with her parents. How their family needed to be presentable. This was the first year since they gained their diplomacy, and Beatrice was not going to be the reason they looked unprofessional.

The sad fact was- this birthday gala couldn't even be considered for Beatrice. No one her age came anyway, and so she was left to sit at the table while the adults talked politics.

"Oh well, we can just ban them from adopting," Her father spoke to one of his superiors.

Though this was considered a work gala, the two men appeared to be friendly while talking.

His superior (John or James, Beatrice could never remember), nodded along. "Our opponents are saying that some of those lesbians are able to concieve their own child through so called science. I think it's a load of bullshit if you ask me," Beatrice flinched at lesbians. John-James said it like it was poison in his tongue that he needed to spit out.

"A child concieved through science is not a real human child if you ask me," Her father snorted, and his boss laughed along.

Beatrice tuned out their conversation, directing her gaze to the hallway. She could portentially sneak out and go to her room. Her parents were so engrossed with whatever hatred they were spitting, they wouldn't notice her.

That's exactly what she did. Beatrice was able to slip through the crowd, and enter the long hallway that would lead to her room.

A woman came out of the guest bathroom, nearly running into the birthday girl.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" She exclaimed, leaning down to Beatrice's eye level. "I didn't know they let children in here as well. I could've brought my wife's little sister," She thought.

Beatrice halted her movements. Wife? She decided she would come back to that later.

"Oh, I live here." Beatrice deadpanned, and the stranger widened her gaze.

"Oh. You must be Bernard and Lucille's daughter."

Beatrice nodded.

"What are doing out here then, shouldn't you be with them, weaseling your way into fascist politics?” The woman asked, a hint of malice dripping into her tone at the last words.

Beatrice didn't know what fascism meant. In the commercials, her parents often called themselves 'the right choice'. The girl cradled that word close to her, almost like the woman was trusting her with it.

“I got bored,” Beatrice answered truthfully, looking towards her room once again.

The woman noticed her movement. “Honestly, I can't blame you. I'm not even a friend of your father's,” She shrugged. “Just a receptionist who works for his rivals.”

She started to walk back into the crowd, but turned on her heel. “Happy birthday, Beatrice, was it?”

Beatrice simply nodded. The woman disappeared into the throng of older candidates and... fascists. To Beatrice, the woman reminded her of Almira. She still didn't know why her parents fired the woman, she was so nice.

On her 18th birthday, Beatrice forgot about it. She forgot about her birthday, until she returned to her dorm to find it decorated by her roommate. A banner hung from the ceiling, spelling out 'Happy Birthday!' in rainbow colors.

“I apologize for the lack of decoration, you would think it would be easy to find a Swiss Dollar-Tree, but apparently not,” Tracy smiled brightly.

Beatrice was still standing in the doorway.

“Oh, I must've forgotten,” Beatrice said after a few minutes, walking in fully and setting her textbooks on her desk.

Tracy dropped her jaw, her eyes widening in shock. “Oh please tell me you did not forget your own birthday?!”

Beatrice shrugged in response, then decided to defend herself, for whatever reason, “Well, I do leave Friday for the convent, so,”

“Yeah, but your birthday is your birthday! We need to celebrate! You, me, Ginny, even Sandy!”

As Tracy went on and on, Beatrice thought back to her meeting with Mother Superion from the convent in Madrid. She had never met a woman so... bouldering.. before. It's like the older woman could see past Beatrice's wall that she spent 17- no, 18- years building up. This time, though, it wasn't haunting. It was comforting.

“-and then Emma could try to sneak the speaker from Sister Chartine, but we all know that old crow has the nose of a bloodhound-” Beatrice tuned into part of Tracy's explanation, and felt a long exhale of dread escape her.

Friday could not come sooner.

She wasn't a rookie anymore. It was her first OCS mission where she could actually participate, and not watch from the sidelines with a med kit on her lap.

“Bea, duck!” Shannon called, already releasing the knife she was throwing.

Beatrice ducked without hesitation. The knife pierced the enemy behind her, his throat now similar to a paint can with a puncture hole. The blood leaked from his jugular like water, and Beatrice couldn't look away. It was hypnotic, watching the life disappear so fast in a person's eyes.

“Beatrice!” Someone yells at her, but she can't tear her eyes away from the body. Sound is muffled now, and it takes her a second too late to register the voice. From the roughness around the of her name, and the thickness in the tone, it sounds like Mary.

Beatrice turns too late, her abdomen now a holder for a dagger. The thrower in question has just now crumpled at her feet. She stares at his head- or, where his head is supposed to be. Beatrice isn't sure now, the brain matter has messed up her perception of human anatomy. Is it supposed to be splattered on the ground like that?

“Beatrice!” Another yell, this one sounding far to similar to her father. She looks up, and his eyes are glinting at her from across the room.

He stands in the open doorway, speechless as the girl under her turns her head.

The man swallows, calls his wife to the room. Beatrice doesn't move. Only when her lab partner wiggles out from her spot below does her mother lock eyes with her daughter.

Beatrice's mouth is dry. Her stomach hurts. She wants to say something. She's going to, but her mother stops her.

Her mother starts praying. Beatrice's vision blurs, and her mother morphs into Camila.

Camila, who is gripping one hand and applying pressure to her stomach with the other.

It was Camila who was praying, not her mother.

Camila notices the wounded soldier shift, and she whips her head down to look at her.

“Beatrice! We lost you for a second. I was so worried,” Almost as if she senses Beatrice's confusion, Camila continues, “We're in the van. Shannon's driving, don't worry, Mary started going insane with her wretched gun.”

Beatrice winces. Oh, that's why her stomach hurts. Not because her parents walked in on her with a girl, but because there is a hole six inches deep where the blade had pierced her.

Camila continues to go on and on about Mary and her godforsaken gun, but Beatrice doesn't care. Camila doesn't understand, she wasn't on the mission. She's the newbie, like Beatrice once was- forced to sit in the van with the medkit. When Camila starts ranting about which suture is best, Beatrice lets herself pass out, if only for the sake of her own sanity.

——————

When Beatrice comes to once more, she is unsure where she is. He head is aching, and her stomach feels tight. Her consciousness is barely there, and when her eyes open she swears her mother is waiting at her bedside. Panic surges through her, the heart monitor speeding up.

“Bea,” Someone calls. It sounds like her father. She doesn't want to see him, she is too ashamed.

“Bea, you need to breathe!” A voice breaks through her haze. This time, it's Shannon. She is touching her shoulder. When did she get out of her battle uniform? Beatrice looks down to her own body. Why does she not have her battle gear on? How long has she been out?

“It's alright,” Shannon says to calm her.

A door opens, Beatrice whips her head around to face the newcomer.

“Just me,” Mary says, holding a glass of water.

Shannon stands, leaving the room. When she passes by Mary, she rests her arm on Mary's shoulder. Mary grips Shannon's hand, and offers her a warm smile. Beatrice watches the interaction, her chest constricting on itself. She looks away, feeling like she intruded on their own silent conversation.

“Beatrice,” Mary calls to her, and Bea reluctantly turns her head back. “You scared the hell out of us.”

She doesn't know what to say. She settles for an apology. “I'm sorry.”

Mary stares at her for a long time, her eyes scanning her face. Beatrice hates that. Mary is trying to dissect her, and its working. Beatrice looks away, Mary is too good at what she does.

The older woman sighs, sits down where Shannon was, and places the glass of water on the bedside table.

Beatrice stares at the IV in her arm. She wants it out. She hates feeling useless.

“One hell of a birthday mission, huh?” Mary tries again, and this time Beatrice looks back up in confusion.

“How did you-” Beatrice is cut off mid sentence.

“Mother Superion shared some of your file with Shannon. Which she shared with me.” Mary answers, her eyes softening.

Beatrice is frozen in fear. How much did Mary know? How much did Shannon know? Do they both know she is a deviant who was thrown out from her only home. Does Mother Superion know?

The thoughts make her panic, the heart rate monitor speeding up.

“Bea, hey,” Mary raises her hands to Beatrice's left arm, trying to calm her.

“I will tell you what I know, okay?” Mary doesn't break eye contact, and Beatrice hates how much Mary knows her already.

Once the monitor goes back to normal after a few rounds of Beatrice's box breathing, Mary settles back into her chair.

Mary sighs again, this time she's the first one to look away.

“I know you were sought out,” Mary starts.

“Because of the boarding school in Switzerland. Shannon told me how you were a model student,” Mary smiles, giving Beatrice some mercy.

“I also know,” Mary leans forward, clasping her hands together and finally looking at Beatrice, “that you were kicked out. Shannon told me.”

Beatrice started to panic, but Mary was quick to continue.

“She didn't tell me why,” Mary continued to stare at her, and Beatrice was starting to feel the familiar effects of suffocation. Like when she came back home that day to find a suitcase already packed on her bed, with a note that stated the date she would be starting at her new school.

“But, Beatrice, you have to know that no one told me. I figured it out shortly after,” Mary rubbed her eyes. “What your parents did. Why they did it.”

Beatrice shook her head. She needed to save herself. Tell Mary it wasn't true. Tell her that she is not like that.

“I know, kiddo. And I need you to understand that it doesn't change how worried me and Shannon were for you on that mission.”

Beatrice held her breath.

“When you went down, and Shannon screamed, it felt like I was going down with you. In the van, Shannon kept trembling and I couldn't do anything because I was terrified shitless too- don't tell Shannon I said that,” They both let out a watery chuckle, Beatrice's more like a sigh from not breathing.

Mary continued. “Shannon and I are... close,” She reached out to touch Beatrice's arm. “Like what your parents threw you out for.”

Beatrice let out a small noise, a mix between a gasp and a sob. Mary tightened her grip.

“Mother Superion doesn't know. Only Shannon and I. And kiddo, we both love you so much, don't ever think any differently, okay?” Mary drew closer, and Beatrice surged forward to hug her.

Mary attempted to wrap her arms around the young girl, but Beatrice stiffened due to the still sensitive stitches.

Mary pulled back, her watery eyes matching Beatrice's.

“Okay,” Mary cleared her throat. “I told Shannon to get us each a slice of cake from the market down the road. She'll come back and we'll celebrate in a calm and stress free way with you not pulling any stitches, huh?” Mary suggested.

Beatrice nodded, finally having the strength to talk. “Yes. I... I would like that.”

Mary smiled in response, grabbing her phone from her pocket. As she was about to text Shannon, Beatrice spoke once more.

“Can we invite Camila, too? It's only right, after I almost gave her a heart attack in the van.”

Mary laughed and nodded, adding into the text to Shannon for her to bring Camila.

Beatrice smiles. She thought she had a family. Then, she was forced out for simply loving.

Now though, Beatrice thinks she earned a different family here. A permanent one.

25.

The bar was closed, yet two people remained inside. Despite the 'Geschlossen' sign on the door, a bottle of whisky remained open.

Hans was behind the bar, his hands working on wiping down his counter. His eyes have been watching Beatrice for the past minute. She was on the other side of the bar, sitting on one of the more rickety stools, and staring at the full glass in front of her. She hadn't taken a drink since Hans poured it for her- that was fifteen minutes ago.

Hans wondered in that moment what really happened with Ava. He had seen something on the news, but he had only caught a glimpse of it during an insanely busy happy hour rush. Later in his shift, he had heard a customer talking about the Pope's death. Hans wasn't a religious man by any means, so he had simply ignored it.

Now though, he watched as Beatrice was cracking at the seams. Ever since she came back a year ago, he watched as she slowly broke. Of course, her boss title was stripped from her when she left the first time, so she was reduced to simply bartending. Hans was sure she would rise up the rinks to boss again- their sales weren't exactly booming right now. They could use a better manager once more, Beatrice always knew which drinks to upsell, and how many sales they needed each week.

Beatrice was good like that. She was good because she had Ava. Now, Beatrice hardly talks to the customer, only doing so when asking which drink they want.

Hans frowned as the woman in question kept staring at the glass. He doesn't think she's even had a drop of alcohol since that night Ava convinced her to try lemon drops.

Instead of letting it sit and simmer, Hans slides over to face Beatrice.

He looks at the glass, then grabs the bottle of whisky and the cap to close it. Before he gets the cap on, though, a hand reaches to grab at his forearm.

“Don't.” Beatrice says simply.

“You haven't even taken a sip,” Hans reasons, yet he sets the opened bottle back down.

“I'm working up the courage,” Beatrice shrugs.

A silence falls between them. Hans wants to ask, but frankly he is quite intimidated by Beatrice. He would've asked her if Ava was in the next stool over. Yet, she isn't.

“I'm 25 today.” Beatrice states, and her voice cuts through Hans' thoughts of Ava like a newly sharpened knife.

“Oh? Happy Birthday! Have you celebrated?” Hans smiles, hoping to make small talk.

Beatrice shakes her head. Her gaze has never left the brown tint of the whisky.

Hans decides he needs to just go for it in order to get answers. “Ava would definitely have something planned. She would probably rope me into it too, if she were here.”

Something inexplicable happens then. Beatrice's face twists, and Hans worries that she might be having a stroke.

Then, the girl starts to cry. Tears soon follow her quiet sobs, and Hans is rendered speechless.

“I'm sorry, I really didn't think I would make you-” He he cut off by a whimpering Beatrice.

“You're right! She would've planned something, would've decorated the flat even. She probably would've bought me a cake too!” Hans remains silent as Beatrice continues, thinking it is for the best if she gets it out. “And I haven't had a birthday cake in so long! She would've asked for my favourite flavor, and maybe my favourite colour- she knows that already actually,” Beatrice pauses.

“Knew. She knew my favourite colour.” Beatrice grabs the glass, but she doesn't lift it. “She would probably crash my shift at the bar,” She lets out a watery laugh, and Hans chuckles with her. “She would've made the whole bar get roped into singing happy birthday to me.”

Beatrice lets out a wet sigh, a tear falling when she blinks. “And yet she wont. Because she's not here. But she would be. She would be here, if the world wasn't so set on making her fight for everything.”

Hans starts to feel his own eyes water.

“She would be here, but she can't. And I let her go,” Beatrice grips the glass harder, and finally lifts it to her mouth.

Hans watches in shock as she downs the glass without a flinch. Beatrice reaches for the bottle, and pours herself another.

“And Mary. Mary would sing with Ava. Yasmine would join in purely because she likes the song. Lilith would glare at all three of them, but she would probably end up getting pulled in by Ava. Camila would bring the cake in, and Shannon would cut everyone a slice before getting one herself,” Beatrice gasps.

Hans has no idea who those people are, but they have to be important to her and Ava, wherever she is now.

Beatrice continues, Hans reaches for her hand. Beatrice lets him.

“I miss them so much. Shannon didn't stand a chance, and I was so sad for Mary when it happened. I was even sadder when she went. Sometimes I wished they were my real biological parents because they actually accepted me for my sexuality,” Hans blinks, a tear falls. “And Lilith. She and I were the most alike, and then she went to Hell and came back as someone different. And although she became our enemy and even tried to hurt Ava, she is still my sister. She is still my sister, just like Camila is. Oh, Camila. I miss her so much, and I left her like Ava left me. And Shannon once told me before she went to look after Camila because she was the youngest. And I said I would. I meant it too, I really did. But then she grew up and I thought it was fine so I left but now I know that it's not Camila that needs me, it's me who needs her because Ava left and I don't even know if she is alive at this point.”

Hans chokes back a sob. So it's that kind of leaving. And here he thought he would shout and yell at Ava for leaving someone like Beatrice if she returned to the bar.

Beatrice lets her tears flow freely now, raising her glass and taking her second gulp.

“I miss all of them so much. And I miss Ava. I miss her so much that it takes up all the feeling in my body, and I can't move. And then I understand what Ava felt like when she was paralyzed. And then my heart hurts more for her because the world treated her like shit,” Hans feels it would be best not to mention the swear right now, “And yet she trusted me. The world didn't give her any reason to trust me. Hell, I even drugged her the first time I saw her! And yet she looked at me so intensely and unraveled my secrets. I came out to her and she handled me with so much care that I started to like myself again because of it. She handled me with so much love that when I finally knew what I wanted to do, it was too late. It was too late and she got hurt and she had to leave,”

Beatrice pushes the bottle away, signaling to Hans that she was done. Hans didn't want to let go of her hand, so he ignored it for now.

“And then I went back into that dark room of disappointment and disgust from my parents. I went back there and I couldn't get out so I left Camila there. I went back there and I'm still there because Ava is gone and she can't use her light to give me a beacon anymore.”

Once Beatrice was done speaking, Hans tightened his hold on her. It took a few minutes of silence from them both, only breaking it to sniffle. Hans had took these minutes to gather his own words, and he opened his mouth to speak.

“I don't want to overstep your boundaries,” He started, and Beatrice looked up at him with so much feeling in her eyes that Hans had to take a breath before continuing.

“What I can say, though, is that Ava loves you,” Beatrice let out a small whimper, another tear falling at his words. “And even if I don't know where she is or what happened, I do know that her love for you will help her find her way back here.”

(In a couple years from now, Ava will spill her gratitude for Hans for his care of Beatrice. He will shrug and say it was no big deal, but Ava will know because of how hard the first few weeks back with Beatrice were. She will still make him a cake, with the help of Camila, and give it to him during one of his shifts. She will still hug him and express her gratitude in the form of 'I'm glad Beatrice had someone as giving as you. I'm glad she had someone to tell her it wasn't her fault, because it never was.' And what Ava really meant was that she was glad someone was there to pick up Beatrice's pieces. Beatrice will rush in, grabbing Ava's hand and apologizing to Hans for the disruption. Hans will shrug and say it was no big deal, then Beatrice would smile and Ava would smile at Beatrice's smile. And then the two of them would make their way to the bar's exit, Beatrice talking about how they will be late to meeting Camila's boyfriend. Ava will nod and wrap her arm around Beatrice's middle, and Beatrice would raise her own arm to wrap around her partner. And Hans would smile at the two of them, and then tell the newbie to get back to work and stop oogling the two, while he goes over inventory at Halo, his bar that has been non stop bustling since his grand opening last week.)

Beatrice looks at Hans then. She sighs, sitting back and out of Hans' reach to wipe her eyes.

“You,” She starts, looking back at him with red eyes. “Are a good bartender. You should open your own bar someday.”

Hans shrugs, a smile forming on both of their faces.

“Only if you are my manager and Ava the bartender.”

Beatrice's smile grows.

“Say, lets have a little birthday party tomorrow.”

Beatrice shakes her head and opens her mouth to argue, but Hans beats her to it.

“It'll be just us. And though I can't bake, I will gladly buy you a cake and we can share.” He reasons, yet Beatrice still looks unsure.

Hans decides to push her more, “C'mon, you know Ava would want you to celebrate. We can even cut a slice for her.”

That is what gets Beatrice to give a tiny nod, and for Hans to smile victoriously and grab the bottle to get fill his own glass.

#warrior nun #ava silva #sister beatrice #avatrice #lgbtq #sister camila #save warrior nun #mother superion #sister lilith #sister shannon #shotgun mary #sister yasmine #hurt!bea agenda #birthdays suck yanno #this kinda called me out but im ignoring it lolz #i wish mary and shannon would adopt me fr

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