#i have a rly angsty prompt fill coming up like tomorrow or sunday but to tide us over this is v tender

[possibilistfanfiction]

post top surgery bea was so !!!. so many feelings, just like when you first wrote about it a few months back. would love to read more if you’re ever feeling inspired. maybe ava observing her feel even more at home in her body?

[idk how many ppl love this headcanon but it's rly lovely? to me at least lol. so a little gentle mama s & bea pov for u]

//

you've gotten better at caring for your children in different ways as the years have gone on — fostering passions, listening carefully, allowing them to expand into who they were meant to be, within and beyond the order. you've fought a holy war with so many of them — some you have lost forever; some have come back, in one way or another. love, god's love, the highest form of grace, is full of grief and sorrow, and you know that better than most.

but — 'you're sure you've got it?'

you fight back the urge to sigh because ava's eyes are big and earnest and you're reminded of when they were nineteen, and terrified, and so so brave. 'yes, ava. we'll be fine in the brief amount of time you're gone.'

ava nods, more to reassure herself than you;.she's just going to get groceries — a task you had bullied her into, mostly to get her out of the house for a brief moment — and beatrice has mostly slept on and off this past week. it's a joyful time, so deeply, but you know also that seeing beatrice in pain, even for the best reason, is hard for ava. perhaps, you admit, hard for all of you.

but beatrice smiles when ava kisses her forehead, pausing the season of some reality tv show she and lilith appear to be quite invested in that, reluctantly, you have watched enough of at this point to follow along with something slightly more than disinterest. she smiles still when you sit down next to her on their big couch in their sundrenched living room, and you feel peace settle in your soul the way you really only do when you see your children happy.

'okay,' ava says from the door leading to the garage, 'text me if anything happens.'

beatrice rolls her eyes, the soft smile still on her face. 'just make sure to get the proper chocolate.'

'that was one time.'

beatrice laughs. 'bye, ava.'

'love you.'

'i love you too,' beatrice says, then turns to you when ava closes the door softly.

'you are feeling okay, right? i've known you for too long for you to lie to me.'

beatrice touches your wrist gently, in some kind of thanks. 'i'm feeling good. sore, but they took my drains out yesterday so i finally got to shower.'

'well i came at the perfect time, then.'

beatrice huffs a laugh. she shifts a little, sitting up more, and there are freckles all along her shoulders, muscles toned and visible without a shirt on, a blanket over her legs. 'i — uh, i have to let my skin breathe for a few minutes, is it —' her brow furrows — 'is it okay?'

you have known her for so long, seen and still do see so much of yourself in her, and so you understand. 'of course it's okay, beatrice.'

she nods, just once, and then reaches to undo the tight surgical binder. you had read all about top surgery diligently after she had told you — with a nervousness in her voice that had made you ache — that she had a date scheduled for her procedure, even asked one of jillian's surgeon friends to explain the details. you know the expect the bandages over her regrafted nipples, the stretch of the new scars across her chest. there's old scars along her abdomen, but these are different: these are imbued with joy, and care, and a becoming that is so quietly holy you feel blessed to witness it. the deep breath she takes in, the way her shoulders relax and she smiles when she looks down at her chest — it is all you have ever wanted for any of your children.

she looks over at you, a little shaky, a little unsure, and so you offer her what you know she needs, after so many years. 'these were the results you were hoping for, yes?'

she swallows, but it's still impossible for her smile to fully slip. 'beyond what i had hoped for, honestly. it's hard — it was hard to imagine, just how much better i would feel.'

'i'm quite happy for you.'

her smile grows — less shy, more certain — but then her brow furrows in a way you recognize by now that means she's been sitting on something for a while. 'are you — are you ever disappointed?' she pauses, then clarifies quietly, 'in me?'

when beatrice was recruited to the order years and years ago, you recognized quickly that she would be more than fit to run it in your stead. she always had been: brilliant, organized, kinder than you could ever hope for. generous. forgiving. devout. she hasn't changed at all, only grown brighter in her faithfulness.

'i am so proud of you, beatrice. profoundly.'

beatrice sniffles, and you turn toward her fully.

'you have been a beacon for god's love the entire time you have known you, through a great deal of pain. i'm proud of you for finally starting to give that love to yourself.'

as you expected, she does start to cry; it's not uncommon even though she still tries to pretend it's a rare occurrence.

'i'm deeply sorry if i have ever made you to feel that way, especially after you renounced your vows.' you worked with her to bring ava back; you won a war; you walked her down the aisle. 'i am in awe of who you have become, beyond what i ever could have hoped for you.' you look pointedly to her chest, flat and tender and, in the ways you have learned matter most, beautiful.

she wipes tears and then huffs a laugh. 'you haven't,' she says, 'made me feel like that. not since i was brand new at the order and couldn't properly shoot a pistol, at least.'

you laugh fondly, remembering how horrible a shot she had first been, too tightly wound to breathe through the kick properly.

'i've just been in my head, a little. it happens when i'm high.'

you raise a brow, just for fun, and she seems to realize what she's said, blanching.

'not that i've ever been high, ever, other than, you know, pain medicine after surgery or injuries. not once, not one single time.'

'it's still a sin to lie. you know that, right?'

beatrice eventually laughs, happily. 'ava's not particularly subtle, is he?'

'neither is the smell of weed.'

she laughs even harder.

'i wasn't always a nun.'

she calms, quiets. 'thank you, for being a really wonderful mother.'

it fills your chest unlike anything else — ava and their halo; mary and lilith finding their way back home; your new girls getting to train in peace — and you squeeze her hand. 'thank you for being a really wonderful daughter.'

she nods, another layer of peace settling against her skin. when it comes time, a few minutes later, for her to have to put her surgical binder back on, you help with gentle hands.