Work Text:
Ava had never had a cell phone before. She’d never needed one. At least that’s what she assumed Sister Frances would have said if she’d ever thought to bring it up.
It’s been months since Ava had been at the orphanage, but she could still hear the cruel voice that would have countered any argument Ava could have made for a phone. Reminding her that she didn’t know anybody outside the walls of St. Michael’s, that she was alone in this world, a burden who had never learned to be grateful for what she had. How could she even think to ask for such lavish items . . .
Ava shakes away the imagined conversation, disturbed at how clearly Frances' voice still resides within the recesses of her mind. She turns the phone over in her hand, focusing on the feeling of the cool surface. This isn’t any phone. It’s her phone.
She’s not at the orphanage anymore, and even though this is mostly a practical purchase, it’s not lost on her the feeling thrumming in her heart as she begins to add a few numbers to her contacts. The family she’s found since her time at the orphanage. People who know her and care about her.
“... and remember this is only for emergencies. Calls can be traced, tapped, a-”
“Only for emergencies, I got it Bea!” Ava calls out skipping ahead a few steps before turning around brows furrowed slightly with a question. “Hey, what should I make my lock screen?”
“Ava.”
“What? Nobody’s going to find us because of a lock screen.”
“Fine,” Beatrice shrugs reluctantly, “but at least look up when you’re crossing the street!”
***
Beatrice shifts on the sofa, trying to fix whatever discomfort is keeping her from truly being able to immerse herself into the book on her lap. She’s able to read two more sentences before she is compelled to look up, scouring the room for the source of her poor focus.
The lamp was providing enough light, the mug of tea was still hot, and the drumming of rain on the window was perfect for reading and yet … Ava.
She couldn’t focus on reading because of Ava. Or rather, the lack of Ava.
Beatrice was missing the sounds of Ava pacing across the small apartment trying to find a way to occupy her time while Beatrice retreated into the world of her books. Almost always resorting to joining Beatrice in the living room to watch television on the lowest volume setting. Until some scene would cause her to cover her mouth to contain the laughter that always seemed to be just under the surface for Ava. Softly spoken thoughts to herself would accompany the television and whenever an exclamation would escape her, she’d follow up with a “sorry” thrown in Beatrice’s direction.
Beatrice had grown used to these sounds that had become the background noise to her reading.
“Ava?”
“Hmm?” Ava’s hum comes from the bedroom and then the sounds of her movement as she makes her way to her usual spot on the sofa beside Beatrice. “You done reading?”
“I couldn’t focus,” Beatrice admits, returning the book to the coffee table. She hesitates only briefly before adding, “You’ve been quiet.”
“Do you know how many emojis there are?!” Ava exclaims in answer, eyes wide and bright; Beatrice chuckles softly, finally finding the calm that had evaded her all evening. “There are so many, Bea! Doesn’t this one make you think of Lilith?”
Ava leans closer, angling her phone for Beatrice to examine, their laughter mingling together.
***
“Ava,” Beatrice reaches out to smooth the paper Ava is bent over in their tight kitchen. “That’s my work schedule.”
“I know,” Ava saves the last entry before pushing her phone closer to Beatrice, allowing her to better see the Calendar she had been working on. “I put in mine and yours, but you’re green so I don’t get confused.”
‘Why’ is on her lips, but it dies promptly when Ava reaches out to take the mug from Beatrice’s hands, their fingers grazing ever so briefly. Ava’s eyes fluttering shut when she takes a long sip, followed by a deep exhale of contentment.
“How are you so perfect? It’s just tea, but I swear you make it better than I ever do.”
Beatrice feels the soft blush at her cheeks and answers with the only words she can find.
“We’re out of milk.”
“Oh, let’s make a grocery list!” Ava trades the mug for her phone, seemingly unaware of the effect she’s had on Beatrice. “And you said I’d never need to use my phone.”
***
Beatrice had to admit that Ava was right. She had assumed that Ava’s interest in her phone would diminish within 24 hours of their careful review of all that she wasn’t permitted to do with it, but Ava never ceases to surprise her.
Ava was happy to explore every app on her phone that wasn’t deemed off limits and had quickly found her favorite.
The camera.
At first taking photos of the ever changing books that took up residence on their coffee table or the food she was learning to make each day. Then venturing into more artistic shots, taking advantage of the natural lighting that accompanied her when walking to or from work.
“Ava, while I appreciate your enthusiasm for photography, wouldn’t you like to actually drink your coffee before all the ice melts?”
“Just one more ...”
Beatrice notices the slight tilt of the camera.
“Am I in that one?”
“Maybe,” Ava pockets her phone before Beatrice can see anything.
“Ava.” Her voice a small warning.
“What?”
Beatrice looks down at her plate and away from the teasing look on Ava’s face that shows no signs of understanding Beatrice’s resistance. How does she explain to Ava what she doesn’t even know how to fully explain to herself? That she can’t remember the last time she’d had her picture taken. Can’t remember ever seeing a photo of herself and not hating what was reflected back at her.
“You should eat,” Beatrice says instead. “We have a lot of training to do today.”
***
The sound of the front door pulls Beatrice from her reverie. Ava has returned from work and has already launched into the details of the last hour at the bar. Beatrice doesn’t need to see her to know that she’s slipping off her shoes to place them haphazardly next to Beatrice’s perfectly aligned ones. And then depositing her keys on the hook before she will make her way into the bedroom to find a change of clothes.
“I went out for a jog yesterday and I think I found a new place we can train. Big but not a lot of people. Hiking trails and a lake -.”
“Ava, was it really safe to go off on your own somewhere new? What if something …” Beatrice doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t want to put those words out into the universe, her constant worry for Ava having grown in the past week alongside the rise of Adriel’s followers.
She doesn’t need to say it for Ava to know.
“I didn’t mean to, I just,” Ava pauses her rummaging through the dresser and shrugs before looking at Beatrice earnestly. “I was paying attention, I swear.”
Beatrice nods in acquiescence and it's enough for Ava to continue.
“I took photos.”
Ava hands the phone over to Beatrice before continuing on with her evening routine. The sweater she’d stolen from Beatrice their first week in Switzerland tucked into her arms along with a pair of leggings. The sweater that Beatrice pretends not to notice is missing.
She considers the photo before swiping to the next.
“There does seem to be a lot of space. It wasn’t crowded with people?”
“No,” Ava calls from the restroom, her voice echoing, the levity having returned, “a few people on the easier trails, but I definitely think we could find some privacy.”
Lots of open space. Some high points. Beatrice swipes again and the tension she was holding earlier is completely erased by the next three photos of what appears to be a duck startled when it became the subject of Ava’s attention.
Then it’s back to the photos of the lake. Now that Ava’s learned to swim, it would probably be a good idea to train near water. They needed to be prepared for whatever was coming their way.
Another swipe and her hand stills. It’s no longer mountains and water, but her own face staring back at her.
She hadn’t even realized Ava had taken this photo. Doesn’t understand why Ava would even bother capturing such an uninteresting moment. If she recalls correctly, she just happened to be in the kitchen looking for her favorite pen.
And yet, Ava decided to capture this moment.
It’s clear she’s reached the end of the photos Ava had set out to share with her. She should return the phone, but curiosity has taken hold and her finger glides along the screen once again.
A picture of a spider web catching the sunlight.
Then a cinnamon roll, dripped in icing.
Beatrice lets out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The photo of her was nothing. Just one of the many random moments Ava had decided to take out her phone. And although there may be no significance, Beatrice is finding that she enjoys the insight into what Ava deems worth photographing.
She makes it through another few photos before she’s met with herself again. This time, it’s Beatrice at a cafe, sipping her tea, waiting for Ava to join her. For someone who prided herself at being aware of her surroundings at all times, Beatrice is ashamed to be confronted with the fact that Ava was able to take these photos without her realizing.
She’d been lost in her thoughts that morning, recalling the way she had awoken to the sight of Ava so close to her that she could count the lashes on her eyes. The way Ava’s warm hand was resting softly atop Beatrice’s arm. The soft hum she made as her thumb stroked along Beatrice’s pulse point, just starting to wake up with the sun filtering into their room.
That small movement hurtled Beatrice out of the bed to find her running clothes, urging her to leave the apartment and not fall back into the bed when Ava sat up, hair tousled and shirt riding up, asking her where she was going.
Beatrice’s heart beats a little louder remembering how all the work from her jog had been undone when Ava arrived and took the seat beside her, knees pressing against Beatrice’s leg. Ava invading her space and all of her senses.
Beatrice swipes away, trying to run from that feeling growing inside of her, seeking the safety of another nature picture that tells her that her pictures don’t mean anything. But she isn’t granted such a reprieve. Instead she’s thrust further into the feelings she tries to keep buried deep within her.
It’s a selfie from a night at the bar. A rare moment in which Beatrice indulged Ava’s pleas to get a drink, which turned into shots, and then dancing until the bars closed and they had no choice but to walk back to the apartment arm in arm, steadying each other.
She had forgotten taking this picture. She would have asked Ava to delete it otherwise. Because there’s no way that Ava doesn’t see what’s written so plainly on Beatrice’s face. What Beatrice spends each day trying to tuck away safely into the recesses of her mind.
Her fingers loose and splayed at the base of Ava's neck, holding onto her as she remembers swaying on her drunk feet. Beatrice remembers the feel of Ava’s fingers digging into her side, keeping her upright, face lit up with that smile of hers.
Beatrice’s eyes travel to Ava’s face and there’s no sight of discomfort there. She traces her features, until she settles on Ava’s eyes. No discomfort visible at all. And for a small moment, Beatrice thinks she sees a twinkle in Ava’s eyes that reflects her own.
“You’ve been quiet, is it not good?” Ava asks, emerging from the bathroom, hair pulled up into the little ponytail her short hair allows, Beatrice’s too large sweater enveloping Ava.
“Oh, um” Beatrice startles from the edge of the bed, feeling as though she’d been caught.
“Ooh!” Ava takes a seat beside Beatrice, shoulders pressed against each other. “I love this photo. You should wear your hair down more often.”
Ava reaches out and flicks through a few pictures from the city before there’s another of Beatrice.
This time she’s sitting on the sofa, the poetry book Ava had bought her is in her hands. But Ava had captured the moment when she’d said something particularly funny and the tight reservation that typically adorned Beatrice's face is lost. She’s smiling wider than she usually allows herself to, fully enjoying the moment of that night in the home they had created together.
“I, um, I didn’t realize you’d taken so many photos of me.”
It was the first picture she’d ever seen of herself that she actually wanted to keep.
“You’re beautiful Bea, what can I say?” Ava answers immediately.
There’s no uncertainty or guilt with her words. Only honesty.
Ava presses a quick kiss to Beatrice’s cheek before getting up to the living room, ready to proceed with the rest of what’s become their nightly routine.
And for the first time, Beatrice thinks that maybe Ava is right.