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Ava had tasted defeat before. It used to be that every day she woke up, tried to move her legs, felt nothing, and then felt that bitter burn on her tongue. Every day she woke up fighting a battle that was already lost, had been lost years ago when metal warped bone and nerves into this. A body that couldn’t move, couldn’t live, not really.
And then death had come for her, and Ava hadn’t really been surprised. She hadn’t been much of anything at the time, but upon waking up, and realising that she’d died, her first thought had been that it was about time. Death had waited by her bed for so many years, letting her live in the cruellest way, as if it was a punishment for escaping. So, of course it would come for her so quickly.
Upon realising that she was alive though, Ava hadn’t known what to do. Suddenly the battle was won, she could move, she could feel, she could live. She should’ve known that it was a trick, that really, death had just decided that it wanted to play a different game with her. One where defeat was something she now had to run from, something she had to fight.
Since she’d received the Halo, she’d learnt the true meaning of defeat. She’d looked into the eyes of a devil, and had realised through the pain, that she’d chosen to fight the wrong battle. She’d heard the screams of her friend fade into nothing as she moved through space without control, and realised that they’d lost. Defeat meant death, it meant losing her friends, and it meant losing the world she’d only just started to learn.
After that came the running. Running and hiding and training, hoping that one day, they’d win. In that space, Ava had started to dream of what winning looked like. To her, it was a world where defeat didn’t mean losing the people she loved. A world where death scowled at her, and then walked away, promising to meet many years in the future. It was a life where she could go swimming, and dancing, where she could laugh, and drink, and feel everything.
It was a life with her family. With the people she loved. With Beatrice.
Beatrice was everything that Ava had never thought she’d find. A person who listened when she spoke, never seeming to tire of her rambling. A person who stayed by her side, experiencing things with her for the first time. A person who cared about her enough to fight for her. A person who loved her, who Ava loved back.
Not that they’d spoken about that. Ava knew that Beatrice struggled with her heart, still remembered that conversation in Arc Tech at the beginning of their friendship. So, she hadn’t brought it up once she’d realised what Beatrice felt for her. And she hadn’t brought it up when she’d realised that she felt the same. Because the mission had followed quickly, and Ava had been pulled out of her dream back into the fight.
And now everything was going wrong. Ava had tasted defeat a little too much in these past few days. She’d been taken by Vincent. She’d fallen thirteen stories down, and felt death’s hand on her head, reminding her that it was still in charge of this. Reminding her that her time was not endless, that it still wanted her back.
Which reminded her of Michael, of the bomb under his skin, of him telling her that she was the fuse. She’d barely been able to hold herself back from screaming when he’d told her that. Death had stood in the room with them, laughing, because she’d really thought that she’d get to escape. She’d really thought that there was a version of this story where they won and she lived. Instead of acknowledging that presence in the room, she’d fought. Because she needed to believe that there was another way. She needed to believe that she could outlive this fight.
Then she’d failed to put the Crown on Adriel’s head. That defeat had swung back hard, taking Camila and Yasmine from her, nearly taking Mother Superion as well. Ava had failed, but she’d lived. She’d lived because Beatrice saved her.
Beatrice, who Ava hadn’t even realised was watching her. Beatrice, who had tackled her back to life when her fingers were reaching out for death.
Beatrice, who had just stormed out of the room, wondering if there was a God listening to their prayers. Ava had long since decided that there wasn’t, but maybe she’d been wrong. She’d prayed to have a second chance, to find a family, to find love. And wasn’t all of that right here, right now?
Ava had followed Beatrice, because of course she did. What else was there to do but to follow her?
The two of them stood outside, shadowed from Adriel’s burning light by the walls of Jillian’s compound. Beatrice faced away from her, posture tense. Ava hadn’t talked to her properly since they’d lost. She had no idea what was going on in her head. It was so unusual for them, after months together, to suddenly be in the dark like this.
“Beatrice. Talk to me.”
Beatrice stopped walking by one of the pillars, and she turned to face out to the garden. By her side, her hand was balled into a fist. Beatrice was always ready for a fight, but this was different. It was like someone had already struck the first blow, but she was powerless to fight back.
Ava stood and watched, waited. It didn’t take long for Beatrice to speak.
“I lost the Crown.” Beatrice’s eyes found Ava, wide and intense. “It was right there and…I let my emotions blind me to the mission.” She said the words like they were a disappointment, like she hated herself for what she’d done.
All Ava could think of was the way Beatrice had thrown her to the side, so reckless, so unbalanced. Not at all the Beatrice that she was used to, but still her Beatrice. Her protector.
“You saved my life,” Ava said. Beatrice had saved her, pulled her away from death and its blackened teeth. And yet here she stood, angry with herself because of it.
Ava understood it, to a certain extent. Beatrice was trained to complete the mission, to do everything she could to protect the world from demons. In saving Ava, she’d stopped them from defeating Adriel. She’d saved Ava, not for the mission, but because she cared.
Beatrice cared more deeply than most people could grasp. Ava knew it though. She knew Beatrice cared because of the way she’d cut her hair for her, so gently, making sure that it was what Ava wanted the whole time. She knew, because Beatrice had reached out to hold her when she slept, and then apologised for it in the morning. She knew, because Beatrice had sobbed over her dead body, begging her not to leave.
Beatrice cared about Ava. The problem was that Beatrice didn’t want to. And that hurt Ava exactly as much as she’d expected.
“But if I’d grabbed the Crown, we could’ve beaten Adriel, and none of this would’ve happened. Camila, Yasmine, they might be here with us.” Beatrice spoke frantically, with the eyes of someone who’d gone over the past day in her head a million times. How many times had Beatrice imagined a different outcome? Did she truly wish for that?
Ava had never felt so cold in Beatrice’s presence. Had never imagined that Beatrice’s duty and their feelings would ever collide in such a way.
“So, you’re saying if…if I had died, the others might have lived.” The words tasted like oil on Ava’s tongue. She’d thought the same thing herself, had replayed the same scenario. Of course, she had. Ava had lived with death for most of her life, and she knew well enough by now that she didn’t want any of her friends to be taken by it.
But this was Beatrice saying it. This was Beatrice, her protector, her best friend, who could never watch her die, saying that she should have just stood by and seen it happen.
“I’m saying that maybe we’re just…delaying the inevitable.” Beatrice didn’t look at Ava as she said it. Perhaps that was to protect the both of them.
Inevitable. Ava had always considered death and defeat to be that. But the past few months she’d been fighting so hard to move past it. Beatrice had fought with her, had told her that it was her job, and her pleasure, to see her through this. So, how could she stand here and say these things?
Ava shook her head, not able to accept it. Not able to accept that Beatrice, who had sworn to always stay by her side, would accept this ending.
“No. The Beatrice I know never stops fighting. Never loses hope.”
Beatrice looked at her for a moment with tired eyes. They dropped down as she said with an empty voice.
“No. She never did. Before.”
She sounded so hopeless, so different to the Beatrice that had held Ava when she came back from the dead. That Beatrice had nodded, had told her that she knew they couldn’t be defeated together. She’d believed in Ava, had trusted Ava.
“You said we would stop him our way. Together. That there’s always something else we can do.”
Beatrice’s eyes were back on her, that wild desperation in them again.
“There is nothing else you can do. Run. Hide.” Every word cut straight through Ava. She thought of all the times she’d told Beatrice that she hated staying out of the fight, that she needed to do something.
Running had just brought them back to where they stood now. This wasn’t a fight Ava could run from. And hiding? Hiding just wasn’t possible. Not when Beatrice said it like it was something Ava would have to do alone.
“Are you kidding me? I was hiding.” She’d hidden with Beatrice. It had been fun, and a dream, and Ava had loved it. But she couldn’t do that again. Couldn’t run and hide while her sisters died. Not when they still had options at hand.
Beatrice didn’t even seem to hear her. It was like she’d been shoved into a glass box, completely blocked off from Ava. There was so much that she wasn’t saying, so much that she was stopping herself from feeling.
Ava wanted to reach through whatever walls hid Beatrice from her, just to hold her tight. Just to tell her that they’d be alright, that they just needed each other, that this fight wasn’t over.
“Our only priority now is to keep the Halo out of Adriel’s hands. At all costs,” Beatrice said calmly. Far too calm for what this situation entailed.
Ava wanted to cry. The sentence hit her ears hard, and it wriggled inside of her chest, stabbing at her heart. Sometimes, she really hated just how well she knew Beatrice. Because it meant that not a single part of what she said was lost on Ava.
Beatrice was always very careful with her wording. She never said anything that she didn’t mean to say. Every word was picked out carefully so that her meaning was not lost. Ava suspected that it had something to do with Beatrice feeling the need to hide her true self for so long. Feeling the need to craft her words as another shield, so that no one slipped past.
In that sentence, Beatrice had said that the Halo was the priority. Not Ava. She didn’t mean it, of course. But she had meant to say it. She’d meant to try and say that the mission was more important, she was trying her best to force her feelings away, and to shut Ava out. It was a desperate attempt to protect them both from something, and Ava hated it.
“Yeah,” Ava whispered, needing to look away, before she did something stupid like walking over to Beatrice and grabbing onto her.
She so badly wanted to reach out and to hold Beatrice firmly, to tell her that she needed to stop holding herself back, that life was meant to be lived, that no mission could ever be worth abandoning the joy of what life could be. Maybe they’d all be dead soon, but shouldn’t they enjoy time while they had it?
Or maybe she should tell Beatrice what motivated her. Because Beatrice believed that the mission should come first, that her feelings should come second. But Ava felt differently. The mission only mattered to her because of her feelings. The only reason that Ava was willing to burn her life was because the resulting fire would protect her family.
It wouldn’t matter if she did though. Because while Ava could keep her family alive, and still complete the mission, Beatrice couldn’t both protect Ava and the mission. It shattered something inside Ava to realise that, to understand that maybe opening up Beatrice in the way she had would be what broke her. Because despite her best efforts, Beatrice cared about Ava. And no matter what they did, she would likely lose her.
Ava looked to Beatrice, and she thought of them dancing in a bar, the last night they’d spent carefree in the Alps. The night Ava had known what she felt in her heart to be true. And despite the pressure of the mission hanging over her head, despite death waiting for her by the door, all Ava could think about was that future she’d started to dream of.
It was nothing more than a dream, she knew that now. But she had to ask. All that she wanted in her heart was Beatrice. If she kept holding onto her, onto this dream of them, she didn’t know if she’d ever have the strength to do what was needed.
Ava stepped towards Beatrice. “If I left, would you come with me?”
Beatrice gave her a tortured half smile, like she wished Ava hadn’t brought it up. Like the very mention of such a future made her want to cry. Ava had her answer then, but she kept going, trying to keep that dream alive.
“We could go back to the Alps. To the bar, Hans and the regulars. You could teach me how to dance. I could teach you how to drink.” Ava tried for a smile, but missed, like a pianist hitting the wrong note to end the song.
Beatrice looked at Ava, the longing in her eyes barely concealed. Ava knew that Beatrice liked to believe that she was unreadable, but she wasn’t to Ava. Her eyes told Ava everything that she needed to know.
“No. I can’t.”
Ava could only stand and stare as her dream fell to pieces.
So, that was it then. Beatrice would not come with her if she ran. And if Beatrice didn’t come with her, then Ava couldn’t run. Ava needed to stay, she needed to fight, because she’d never leave Beatrice’s side until she had to.
If Beatrice wouldn’t come with her, then the dream was dead, because Ava knew that everyone had been right. Her final confrontation with Adriel would end with her death. So, Ava needed to let it all go. Even if she hated it with every fibre of her being.
Ava thought that this existence was even crueller than the one she’d had before. Before, she’d only had the dreams of what could be. But now, Ava had reached out to touch them, had come so close, had tasted what life could be like, and now she had to be the one to turn away from it.
In that moment, Ava wished that she’d been foolish earlier. That back in the Alps, she’d let herself realise and feel for Beatrice what she did now. That instead of letting them wait, she’d rushed in, letting her feelings carry her into danger as they always did. Then, maybe they could have had some time together. Maybe Ava wouldn’t be left wondering what that life could have been like.
The two of them stood there, no words left to say. Beatrice knew just as well as Ava how this would end. And as much as she wanted Ava to run, to hide, to protect the Halo, to protect herself, Ava could not.
In the past, Ava had tasted defeat, had looked death in the eyes and sighed. None of that, not their loss at the Vatican, not falling thirteen stories, not even their failure at Adriel’s cathedral, compared to the sting of this defeat. For in this loss, she lost not only her life, but also wounded those who loved her.
Ava knew what she had to do. She had to die in order to defeat Adriel. The only question that remained was how she was to do it. Whatever happened, Ava didn’t want any of her friends to follow her into death. They would be hurt by Ava’s loss, but that would be nothing compared to the emptiness of death. If she died, it would be knowing that they went onto live their lives.
Especially Beatrice. She deserved to have a proper chance at living an unburdened and unbound life. Even if it meant that she’d never get to have that with Ava.
As she walked away, Ava mentally apologised to Beatrice.
I’m sorry that I have to leave you.
I'm sorry that I was never able to love you out loud.
I’m sorry that we never had a chance.