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soulnb42 · 11 months ago

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Times Like These (part 7)

AO3

Beatrice was startled out of her slumber by Ava’s agitation. She stood up and made her way to the bed. Within two minutes she was in bed, holding Ava to her.

Their talk at the lake had helped Ava to get over the roadblock that was impairing during training. Now, she was able to tap into the Halo. It had helped opening the channel of communication as well. That being said, it hadn’t made a dent into Ava’s night time struggles.

Ava had yet to have a quiet night of sleep. Every single night since they had arrived in Switzerland, she had been tossing and turning, fighting off bad dreams. There had been three very bad nights when Halo had surged in the midst of it all. Most nights though, Ava was only crying in her sleep.

Beatrice was a light sleeper, so she’d always wake up as soon as Ava was becoming agitated. She’d hold Ava in a tight embrace and whispered soothing words. Sometimes Ava calmed down immediately, sometimes she’d wake up in alarm. Beatrice would simply rock her back to sleep, all the while assuring Ava that she was safe and everything was okay.

The light jolt and sharp intake of breath indicated to Beatrice that Ava had escaped the grip of whatever bad dream had plagued her.

Ava put her hands on the arm Beatrice had around her chest and squoze, as if to assure her that she was awake and Beatrice was really there. The gesture was familiar by now, in fact Ava did the same every time she woke up.

Beatrice felt the slight tremor of Ava’s body, she listened as Ava tried to get her breath slowly back in control. She didn’t prompt Ava to talk. She had on other occasions but Ava never wanted to, so she never pushed, not wanting to add to Ava’s distress.

Ava leant against Beatrice, resting her cheek on Beatrice’s forearm. The nightmare hadn’t seemed too intense, but whatever it was, it had rattled Ava because suddenly she was crying, her body shaken with silent sobs.

Beatrice tightened her embrace. She was at a complete loss. She couldn’t think of anything to say either. She had never been good at comfort. It wasn’t that she didn’t know when people needed comfort, because she did, she was very much an empath. It was just that she never knew what to say or do, to alleviate one’s pain.

This was Camilla’s area of expertise. Camilla always knew what to do or say to keep the morale up, to make things okay, give hope, reassure and comfort.

Well, that was it… what would Camilla do?

“The sun has gone and forgotten me…” Beatrice started to sing with a soft but unsteady voice.

Beatrice didn’t remember why or how the topic had come to be discussed, but she had once mentioned one of the very few good family-related memory she had to Camilla. One of the only good things she had preserved really: a song. One day long after having shared that memory with her, Camilla had sung it back to Beatrice when she was down and it had immediately lifted her spirits up, as if Camilla had known she had only needed a little reminder.

She didn’t know if the song would have the same soothing effect on Ava, but right now, it was all she had so, she committed to it in all her awkward glory.

“…somebody told me, I don’t know who, whenever you are sad and blue…”

She rocked them gently along the song, she was singing it slower, turning it into a lullaby.

“…Hang on things will be alright, even when it’s dark and not a bit of sparkling, sing-song sunshine from above spreading rays of sunny love, just hang on…”

Ava was emotionally exhausted. Just breathing was near impossible, emotions, like an anvil were weighing onto her chest. She couldn’t even put words to describe her bad dreams, but the feeling of dread, the cold sweat, the fear, the anxiety, the terror, all of it was real and tenfold.

She was surprised at the sound of Beatrice’s voice, but she gave it her full attention. If she was a boat caught up in a storm of terror, Beatrice was that hopeful lighthouse in the distance, guiding her back to safe shores.

“…and so I hold on to this advice, when change is hard and not so nice…”

Beatrice didn’t think she was a good singer, but kept on with her song if only because it seemed to have the intended pacifying effect on Ava.

Ava hung onto Beatrice’s voice and her embrace. She focused on the warmth, the softness; she let the song fill her, guide her mind back in the moment. She was safe.

“…if you listen to your heart the whole night through, your sunny someday will come one day soon to you.”

The song came to an end, but Beatrice kept on with her soft rocking motion. In a silent thank you, Ava delivered a lingering kiss on the forearm across her shoulders.

After a few seconds, Beatrice rearranged her position as the big spoon and Ava put her hand over the one Beatrice had on her stomach, entwining their fingers.

Ava eventually fell asleep again, Beatrice watched over her for almost forty minutes before giving in to her own exhaustion.

xxxOxxx

When Ava woke up, the first rays of dawn were piercing through the window. She wasn’t surprised at the fact that Beatrice was no longer in bed. It didn’t matter how many times Beatrice lull her back to sleep after a nightmare, she was never there in the morning. Ava wondered if she went back to sleep on the couch once she, herself, was asleep again.

With a sigh, she sat up and rubbed her face. She listened for movement but there was none, so she deduced that Beatrice was out for a morning walk or run. She got out of bed and started her own morning routine.

By the time Beatrice came back to the apartment, Ava had showered, dressed and made the bed.

“Morning,” Beatrice said when she spotted Ava eating cereals at the kitchen table.

“Morning.”

Ava took note of the light sheen of sweat and tilted her head when a thought occurred to her. “Don’t you think it’s weird that you go for a run before our training session?” she asked.

“Why is it weird?”

“Well, you always start our training session with a run… so if you go for a run before that run… it’s like… rehearsing a rehearsal,” Ava shrugged.

“I’m just… warming up,” Beatrice replied. “Besides, I need all the stamina I can get to keep up with you, because I don’t have an ancient artifact powering me up.”

It wasn’t a lie, Beatrice had to train herself on top of their regular training to keep up her shape. But if she was honest her pre-training morning run was just a way for her to clear her head.

She always felt unnerved in the morning after spending the night watching over Ava and holding her through the night. She knew things would have been different had she been in exile with Camilla, or Lilith or Mary. There was something about Ava. Their connexion had been different from the beginning, but it had truly changed when they had been training at Arctech to prepare their Vatican mission.

It was easy to ignore whatever that thing she felt was on a normal day, but their confinement, her worry about Ava and the constant proximity changed everything. Things long buried were trying to surface and Beatrice couldn’t allow that.

So, she ran. She pushed herself physically to keep her mind off it. By the time she was back, she generally felt centred again, in control.

“I do see your point, I still think it’s kind of weird,” Ava stated with a smirk.

“Whatever,” Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Let me shower and change, then we’ll go train.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

xxxOxxx

After their training they had come back to the apartment, stayed long enough to freshen up and have lunch, then they had gone to the bar for their shift.

After a long day, they were eating dinner, at least Beatrice was, Ava was pushing her food around. Beatrice had noticed how during the day Ava’s mood had improved when they had been training or working, but now it had shifted back to something darker.

Ava had a luminous personality. She was always upbeat as a general rule, seemingly finding something to smile about at every turn. Beatrice was no fool, she knew some of Ava’s joking and ‘can’t-take-anything-seriously’ nonchalant attitude was a defence mechanism, but there was also a genuine sense of constant wonder at the world around her.

Beatrice assumed that Ava was just catching up. After all, she had been confined in one room, prisoner of a bed and unable to feel anything for a very long time.

Ava was full of life so as a result, when her mood was down, it was unsettling and impossible to ignore.

“Not to your taste?” Beatrice broke the silence effectively pulling Ava back from her thoughts.

Ava looked up in a daze, then she seemed to realize what she had been doing. “No, it’s good,” she shook her head.

A memory of being force-fed a mixture so horrid it could barely qualify as food, and then being severely berated for avoiding it popped into her head.

“I’m sorry, I know I should stop being an ungrateful brat and eat, there are people starving…” she mumbled bitterly.

Beatrice frowned, surprised by the vitriolic words. She knew that tone though, enough to deduce those words weren’t Ava’s but had been drilled into her repeatedly enough to leave a mark. Beatrice had plenty of those toxic gems in the recess of her own mind, luckily, she knew how to deal with that kind of things.

“Actually, you don’t have to eat if you don’t want to,” Beatrice pointed out. She made sure to be gentle with her tone so Ava knew everything was fine. “There’s this thing called a food container and this even more amazing device called a fridge. The combined use of the two allows us to save food from being wasted.”

Ava hiccupped with amusement. “You don’t say.”

“Mind-blowing, I know,” Beatrice kept on with her teasing.

Ava stared at her for a long moment, her expression brightened a little but to Beatrice, the lightness seemed a bit forced. “I was talking to Hanz today,” Ava said non sequitur. “About what it was like to be a bartender. One of the things struck me as funny. He said something about people confiding in him and how there was this unwritten rule in the bartending world that as a bartender he was like a priest, bonded to secrecy.”

Beatrice listened attentively, waiting to see the point Ava was trying to make. “So…”Ava dragged the word out. “Technically, you’re a priest now. Well, a priestess.”

Beatrice felt her eyebrows trying to reach her hairline and couldn’t hold the surprised snort of amusement that passed her lips. She didn’t think Ava’s mind would ever cease to amaze her, with its unpredictability. “Right,” she nodded with a playful frown. “Anything you want to confess then, child?” she asked with a mock serious tone.

She had meant her question as a joke, so the abrupt mood shift confused her. The grin on Ava’s lips was sad and permeated with something Beatrice couldn’t quite identify.

Ava turned her attention back to her plate and started pushing food again. She did have a confession to make. The thought of it alone was like a thick dark fog coiling around her, slowly constricting her chest, cutting her air supply, squeezing fear and anxiety back to the surface.

On pure survival instinct her mind latched onto the first thing it could to fight her way back to a safe mental space. That thing turned out to be the echoes of Beatrice’s voice singing to her the previous night.

“The song…” Ava frowned. “What was it about?” she looked back up at Beatrice.

That second non sequitur threw Beatrice for a loop. By now Beatrice was used to Ava’s mind going in unexpected direction, but it was always a steady stream. Right now, it all seemed off, somehow.

Beatrice couldn’t explain the sense of unease that was nagging at her, she didn’t like it either. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but her instinct told her it was best to blindly hop onto Ava’s train of thoughts without questioning its origin or destination.

“It’s…hum…” she stammered a little before mentally shaking herself. “It’s about a sad little tomato.”

Ava nodded absentmindedly, the corners of her mouth barely lifting up in a failed attempt to grin. “I liked it…”

Before Ava could slip away in her thoughts again, Beatrice added. “My older sister used to sing it,” she paused and then shrugged. “She’d sing almost all the time and this one was one of her favourites. She’d sing it to me when I was upset, or to cheer me up or lull me to sleep.”

Ava’s attention was back on her food, she seemed mesmerized by the slow movements of her fork

“My mother used to sing all the time too. I don’t remember a lot but I remember that.”

Ava felt the familiar ache in her chest at the thought of her mother.

She had been seven when the car accident that claimed her mother’s life had happened. She had been old enough to have a florilegium of memories, but too young for those to be solid and fully timeproof.

If it hadn’t been for Sister Emelyne’s kindness, Sister Frances’ cruelty would have corroded all of Ava’s memories, reducing her mother to nothing but a fleeting, nebulous souvenir.

“Things weren’t…great at the orphanage…” Ava murmured.

Beatrice could count on one hand the instances Ava had mentioned her time at the orphanage. The one constant in those moments was the forlorn expression on Ava’s face.

Maybe it was because she had spent more time with Ava than the others but Beatrice had picked up on the unsaid and subtle cues; it was in some jokes Ava made with depreciating or acidic undertones, in the minute flinches at times as if Ava was expecting a bad touch. Many little details that could easily be missed had led Beatrice to conclude that Ava had been hurt emotionally and physically at some point.

“Every morning, for the couple of minutes when I was still caught in a sleepy daze, I’d think I had a crazy nightmare where I was paralyzed and alone because my mother was gone…” Ava’s chuckle was bitter. “Then I’d open my eyes only to realize that it was all real.”

The despair Ava had felt then was starting to bubble back up to the surface. She had cried so much during those first days, calling out for her mother every time she’d wake up.

Ava cleared her throat when tears started to prickle her eyes. “One day, Sister Emelyne, she was the kind one,” the fact that Ava had to specify the character of one of her caretaker only confirmed Beatrice’s suspicions of abuse. “She tried to reassure me by saying that my mom would never be really gone as long as I thought about her, remembered her…that only made me cry harder because I had already started to forget…”

Between the accident, being paralyzed, being told every day by Sister Frances how much of a burden she was, how no one cared enough to look for her, the souvenirs of her mother had been fading fast.

“The day after, she came back with a small box, no bigger than a shoe box. She had gone through the belongings that had been brought with me at the orphanage, what had survived the car crash. She had put things from my mother in the box, things that would help me remember.”

It hadn’t been much: a bottle of perfume, a silver necklace, bracelets, two journals – one full and one freshly started, a small sketchbook, a wallet and a book. Small precious treasures, the last traces her mother had left behind.

To Ava, the most prized items had been the journals, pieces of her mother’s mind, thoughts, hope, dreams and her struggles. They had found a dozen of photographs stuck in the pages; pictures of Ava as a toddler, pictures of her mother with people, of landscapes, picture of the both of them. Ava’s favourite picture though, had been used as a bookmark in the book her mother had been reading. It had been taken at her seventh birthday, the both of them beaming at the camera.

All of Ava’s memories had flooded back to the forefront of her mind upon seeing the objects. That day she had felt a tad bit better thanks to Sister Emelyne.

To this day, Ava doubted Sister Emelyne really knew how cruel Sister Frances was, but it was no secret that Sister Frances was feared and not well liked, so Sister Emelyne had made sure the box was well hidden and only took it out whenever she was the one attending to Ava’s care.

Now that box, Ava’s only possessions, was still hidden in the wall of her room at the orphanage, behind two broken tiles. One day, hopefully, she’d get it back.

“You know over the years, there were days I couldn’t remember my mother’s face or the colour of her eyes, but the one thing I’ve always remembered clearly was her voice. The sound of it when she spoke, when she laughed or sung.”

Ava looked up and smiled sadly. “She sung all the time. One of her favourite songs was ‘feeling good’.”

It had taken quite a while for Ava to find the name of the song. She sung it to herself a lot, she had forgotten the lyrics but the melody was clear. Sister Emelyne had surprised her one day with a tape with Nina Simone’s version on it, as well other songs Ava had been able to remember. That day, Ava had cried tears of joy.

“Birds flying high… you know how I feel,” Ava sung the first verse then stopped.

“Oh yeah, that is a good song,” Beatrice agreed.

Ava nodded. “It got me through the bad days.”

That song and the others had helped her mute Sister Frances’ cruel words. Ava had developed other ways to escape over the years, but during the darkest time, her mother’s songs had been the ultimate shield, maternal protection at its finest.

Once again Beatrice picked up on the unsaid. That last statement let her know that Ava’s bad days at the orphanage far outnumbered the good ones.

“I didn’t kill myself.”

If Beatrice hadn’t already known that information, that third non sequitur would have virtually knocked her out. As it was, even though she hadn’t expected them to go down that road, she was able to contain her surprise and keep up with Ava.

“You’ve told me once. I believed you.”

Ava’s jaw worked for a few seconds but no sound came. “I was murdered.”

Beatrice was so stunned by Ava’s statement, her mind went blank for several seconds.

“Sister Frances killed me,” Ava specified. “Those were the drugs in my system.”

Beatrice didn’t say anything, she had the gut feeling that there was more to that revelation.

There was fear in Ava’s eyes, but also something else. It took Beatrice a moment to pinpoint it, she frowned when it finally clicked.

Guilt.

Ava was ridden with guilt, but at this moment that didn’t make any sense.

For a second, Beatrice feared Ava would clam up but her silence turned out to be the perfect prompt in the end.

“I had a friend at the orphanage, my roommate, Diego.” Warm affection tinted Ava’s voice. “Sweet boy, we used to laugh a lot,” a smile lit up her face.

There was a long pause, Ava’s expression darkened again. “When I was running away with JC, I put all the pieces together. I finally figured it all out, how I died,” she continued. “And I knew, deep down in my guts I knew Sister Frances was about to do the same to Diego. I don’t know how I knew but I did.”

Ava pushed her plate away and balled her fists to cover the fact that her hands were shaking. “I ran to the orphanage and I made it just in time because… she was about to kill him.”

Bile was burning the back of Ava’s throat. If it hadn’t been for the Halo the outcome of that particular night would have been different, for all of them.

She bit her lips and looked at Beatrice. A part of her was screaming at her not to say any more. If she was honest, Ava dreaded what Beatrice would think of her once she knew what she had done. On the other hand, she couldn’t bear the weight of that secret anymore.

“I confronted her about murdering me, you know? Because it dawned on me that I wasn’t her first…”

A cold frisson ran down Ava spine as she remembered the feeling of horror when she finally saw the big picture.

“She laughed… gloating about having lost count of the years.”

Breathe. Beatrice had to remind herself to breathe. She needed to temper her emotions because she knew, she knew as dark as Ava’s story was, it was about to get darker.

“Years…years, Beatrice. Can you imagine how many…” Ava trailed off. “She went on saying that she was a saviour, giving her life to look after us, freeing our souls, releasing us into the arms of God…”

Ava heard the venom pouring from her voice. Anger was burning through her veins again, just like it did that night.

There was a pause then Ava cleared throat before continuing. “She murdered me again,” Ava let out a bitter laugh. “I’m probably the only person on the planet who can say they’ve been murdered twice.”

Everything came back full force. The burning of her lungs as they had ceased their function, her struggle to breathe, her whole body turning into heavy lead… life slowly and painfully leaving her body.

“I was dying while she laughed… she was literally cackling, enjoying herself…”

Ava shook her head to get rid of the souvenir. “Only this time, the Halo protected me, it brought me back again.”

That night and every day since, Ava has told herself that it was self-defence… that she protected Diego and herself. In spite of all that, she knew that what she had done was wrong. Also, she couldn’t deny that there had been a second maybe two, when her rage had taken over, when she had wanted to hurt Sister Frances. She had just defended herself afterward, but those two seconds had happened.

Ava looked at Beatrice. She knew that with her next words everything would change. She just hoped she wouldn’t lose her friend.

“I grabbed her neck…”

The words came out so low Beatrice had to strain her ears. When she registered them, cement settled in the pit of her stomach.

“I just wanted her to stop laughing… then she attacked me and…” Ava unclenched her fists, and stared at her open palms. Those hands had hurt and they were hers.

“I just wanted her to stop laughing,” she repeated with a hint of despair, she needed Beatrice to believe her. “I didn’t realise my strength…” she looked up at Beatrice again. “Her neck…” her voice failed her. She cleared her throat and plough on. “Her neck snapped… but I didn’t mean to do it… I didn’t mean to do it.”

Ava’s breathing shortened and became heavier as if there was little to no oxygen in the room. “I killed someone… that’s my confession,” she added in a rush with a glance in Beatrice’s direction.

The harder she tried to breathe and the more her lungs burnt from the lack of oxygen. Ava stood up abruptly and turned to the sink. She braced herself against it, certain she would empty her guts and, or, pass out in any minute.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared Beatrice for that bombshell.

Beatrice was overwhelmed by a myriad of emotions. Emotions she felt for Ava, on behalf of Ava and for herself. She took a deep breath, immediately shutting them all out. She’d have time later to analyse and deal with her feelings, now there was more important things to do.

She got onto her feet and silently approached the body slumped over the sink. Ava was heaving, her grip on the counter was so tight her knuckles were white, and despite her tensed, rigid stance, her body was shaking all over.

Although when on a mission, they primarily incapacitated or wounded whoever they fought against, Beatrice knew her hands had killed. More than once. She had come to term with it. She was a sister warrior and as such she had to accept that while Death was no friend, it was no stranger either.

In any circumstances, the strongest moral compass and the best intentions never truly justified taking a life. They did help to cope with it and appease conscience though. Still, a life was a life. Regardless of any other considerations, Beatrice was of the opinion that all lives should be valued equally. Thinking that some lives mattered more than others was a slippery slope toward extremes. Deciding who should live or die was a power that didn’t belong in any person’s hands.

Beatrice could tell Ava that Sister Frances was a monster with a God complex and no regards for life. She could tell her that although her action was not right, she had effectively saved herself, her friend Diego and who knows how many future victims. She could tell all those things.

She didn’t.

She didn’t say any of those things because she knew nothing she could say would alleviate that particular burden off Ava’s shoulders at that very moment. Ava would have to come to term with it on her own. Beatrice would help of course and be there every step, to talk it through and figure the path toward acceptance.

She gingerly put a hand on Ava’s back. Ava startled at the touch. Beatrice didn’t move, patiently waiting. It took a minute but eventually Ava dared to look at her. Amidst the maelstrom of emotions swirling into Ava’s eyes, guilt, fear and apprehension were the most prominent ones.

Beatrice cradled Ava’s face gently with her other hand then pull her closer. Ava didn’t resist and wrapped her arms around Beatrice in a bone crushing embrace.

Ava took a deep breath and the dam of her emotions broke loose.

Beatrice held on, solid as a rock while gut wrenching sobs shook Ava.

“In my dreams…” Ava hiccupped. “I’m paralyzed again… and she kills everyone… Diego… JC… and you and the others…” her breath was short and unsteady. “She’s laughing and… I can’t do anything but watch…”

Fresh tears doubled on Ava’s cheeks as haunting images from her nightmare came to the front of her mind. Every night, Ava was in her own version of Hell as soon as she closed her eyes.

“… and then she comes for me.”

On a good day, that was when Ava would wake up. On bad days, Frances turned into Adriel and if Ava was terrified when Frances was laughing and hurting people, there was no qualifier for when Adriel took her place.

Ava tightened the embrace trying to absorb Beatrice’s strength and warmth, letting it all wash over her and sip in through to chase away the cold of dread that was running into her veins.

Ava’s relief was incommensurable now that her secret was out. She breathed a little better. She knew it would take a long time before her action stopped haunting her (if it ever truly did), but at least now it would stop eating at her from within.

When she was confessing to Beatrice, the sound of bones snapping, how it had all felt in her hands…everything had come back to her so vividly she had felt sick.

She had expected bad things, judgement, words of reprimand, disgust… she had expected Beatrice to walk away from her. Instead, she had nearly jumped out of her skin at Beatrice’s delicate touch. She had been surprised when she had been brave enough to look up, only compassion and understanding had shone in Beatrice’s eyes.

It had taken the smallest nudge for her to melt into Beatrice’s arms, overwhelmed with emotion Ava had finally broken down.

Beatrice held Ava, she made sure she was breathing in and out slowly, subtly forcing Ava to match her, pacifying her. When she felt Ava’s fists unclenched around her shirt, Beatrice loosened her hold just a little bit and Ava pulled away and looked up at her.

They stared at one another. Neither spoke. Ava’s gratitude was silent but Beatrice heard it loud and clear all the same.

Ava took a step back, completely breaking their embrace. “I’m…tired…I think I’ll go to bed,” she announced with a small nod.

Beatrice acquiesced at her statement and watched her leave the kitchen. She took a deep breath, held it in then exhaled deeply. She’d need a moment to process everything, but not tonight. She chose to focus on cleaning the kitchen to keep her mind of the past few minutes.

She was finishing the dishes when she heard the bathroom door open again. She turned and faced Ava who was standing there awkwardly. With her slightly hunched posture and the way she was swaying from foot to foot, Ava seemed small, younger, to Beatrice.

“You know… you may as well share the bed with me from the beginning. That’s most likely where you’ll end up anyway,” Ava said with an uneasy chuckle.

Ava had a point, Beatrice knew she did, but… well, there was a discomfort she really didn’t want to dwell on. She didn’t want think about that tug she felt when she was holding Ava. It didn’t occur when she was focused on comforting her, no, it’d happen after, during the hour or so she’d keep watching over Ava after she’d fall asleep again.

She would feel the dull tingle of something warm and electric trying to bloom in her chest, in her whole being really. Something that felt good but that she’d instinctively want to repress because she could hear those nagging voices in the back of her mind telling her how wrong it all was among other things. She had spent a lifetime smothering those voices, burying them in the dark recess of her psyche. The very last thing she wanted was for them to be loose again, free, and loud.

Beatrice’s silence was unbearable to Ava. Sure, she had showed understanding and compassion earlier, but now that her confession had had time to truly sink in, Ava was overwhelmed with fear. Maybe Beatrice was disgusted with her after all, maybe she saw her as a monster.

She had just confessed to literal murder, and the thought of losing her friend over it was killing her.

“Do you mind sharing the bed with me?” she asked in one breath. “It’s just that… I feel better… safer when you’re near,” she admitted.

Ava didn’t wait for an answer and turned around to go to bed. She got on her side and forced her eyes closed. Maybe she’d fall asleep rapidly then and wouldn’t have to face an eventual rejection.

Tonight emotional rollercoaster had left her raw. She felt so vulnerable right now she knew she’d probably cry if Beatrice went to the couch. She needed her friend. And something as ridiculous and simple as sharing the bed would let her know that everything was fine, that nothing she had said had changed things between them.

Also, if she was honest, Ava craved Beatrice’s closeness right now. She hadn’t lied when saying that she felt safer with Beatrice by her side.

She heard Beatrice moving around the apartment for her night routine. The sound of the light switch echoed loudly in the silence when Beatrice turned off the light, then there was a long pause. Ava held her breath and sent a silent plea to the universe.

I feel…safer when you’re near

Ava’s words echoed in Beatrice’s mind. Whatever discomfort she felt was ridiculous and irrelevant right now. Ava needed her and that was all that mattered.

After a brief hesitation, she walked to the bed and lied down awkwardly on her back with her arms along her body. She felt tensed, and berated herself for it. She stared at the ceiling and concentrated on her breathing, trying to relax.

Should she hold Ava?

No, probably not, that would be weird. It was one thing to hold her when she was having a nightmare, it was another to initiate that kind of contact out of the blue.

The relief that washed over Ava upon feeling the pressure on the bed, was indescribable. After a couple of minutes, she rolled over to get on her other side so she was facing Beatrice. She cradled Beatrice’s hand in both of her own.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

She made out Beatrice’s little nod in the darkness and felt the small squeeze around her fingers. That was all the assurance she needed. Those gestures, as small as they were, let her know that nothing had changed between them, she still had her friend.

She still had her friend.

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The songs are 'Hang on Little Tomato' by Pink Martini and 'Feeling Good' by Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse (Nina Simone and Michael Buble both have very cool interpretations).

Thanks for reading

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