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It started when she woke up.
Beatrice was never a deep sleeper, having grown used to functioning on as few as three hours of rest at night. A full seven hours should have more than sufficiently recharged her batteries, allowing her to wake up energetic, alert and motivated.
Despite this, all she wanted was to close her eyes and resume her light slumber.
She noticed a vague, grey patch in the periphery of her vision and attempted to rub it away, only for it to expand. Gradually, it dawned on her that she was about to experience the most painful migraine she had known since her schooling days.
The most logical way forward was inconceivably obvious — she should tell someone, get painkillers from the infirmary, and go back to bed. But she had other concerns: a holy war was coming, as Lilith had put it, and time was a scarce commodity that she preferred to spend wisely. Resting, and the inaction it entailed, was out of the question for her.
(That’s what she told herself. Truthfully, she would rather fight Adriel alone than let it be known to a single soul that she was in pain.
She couldn’t afford to be a burden; not now, not ever.)
Silently expressing her gratitude to Mother Superion for banning Ava and her from sleeping in each other’s rooms, she stood up from her bed. Immediately, her muscles ached in protest, and every instinct begged for her to crawl back to bed. At least the damn grey patch is gone now. Fighting the dull throb building at her temples, she changed and left her room.
If one were to describe Beatrice, one would surely use the word “strategic”. She never failed to have a plan, as well as multiple backup plans should any aspect of the original go haywire. So, naturally, she began thinking through her schedule for the day. She knew she could hide her migraine well enough to fool nearly everyone, the only exception being Ava.
So, naturally, all she had to do was avoid Ava for the entire day.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t nearly as easy as it sounded — and that says a lot, given that it didn’t sound easy at all. Their group, comprising her, Camila and Ava, was extremely tight-knit, and they were almost always together. It would be nearly impossible to speak to Camila without Ava being somewhere nearby.
Thankfully, she ran into Camila just as the latter began making her way to the dining hall. “Camila! Would you mind training the new recruits after breakfast?”
“Of course!” Camila responded immediately and enthusiastically, but elaborated once she noticed the strange look Beatrice was giving her. “I meant, of course I don’t mind.”
Camila thought she saw a brief expression of… relief? flash across Beatrice’s features, before it was replaced with a tight smile. Camila dismissed it as a figment of her imagination, having awoken less than 15 minutes prior. “Thank you. I was planning on visiting the library to continue our research.”
“No problem! Thank you for translating the texts.”
Beatrice nodded stiffly in acknowledgement, before moving to set off towards the library.
“Wait, aren’t you going to get breakfast?”
Beatrice’s heart skipped a beat, but she managed to muster a calm response. “I’m not hungry.”
Camila frowned, but accepted it nonetheless. She knew Beatrice was one to throw herself into her work, and she wasn’t about to try dissuading her. “Okay. See you at lunch!”
Beatrice smiled softly at her and continued on her way.
“Where’s Bea?” Ava asked, mouth full of Froot Loops, as Camila sat down across from her.
(As the Warrior Nun, she had taken the liberty to request that Mother Superion add Froot Loops to the weekly grocery list. “They’re rainbow! Don’t you support the queer members of the OCS?” Mother Superion’s hesitant approval could be attributed in much larger part to her burgeoning soft spot for Ava, rather than her description of the cereal as a show of allyship.)
“She went to the library to do research.”
Ava’s brow furrowed as she paused her audible chewing. “Bea never skips breakfast.”
“Well, we’ve never faced a holy war before.”
Ava continued to frown as she continued eating, not in the least bit reassured by what Camila had said.
“Don’t worry, Ava. I’m sure she’s fine. And Beatrice has become so much better at opening up to us! She would tell you if anything’s wrong.”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Camila.”
(She still fully intended to check on her girlfriend.
After finishing her Froot Loops, that is.)
Beatrice prided herself on her stellar perseverance, but with each passing minute, her resolve was crumbling. Upon arriving at the library, she had picked out various texts in Latin, French, Finnish and even Mandarin Chinese, in the hopes that translation would serve as an ample justification should anyone notice her being stuck on the same page for who knows how long. There was a throb behind her brow, and it felt like no amount of massaging would be able to alleviate the pressure. Not that she’d tried, of course. It took every ounce of her self-restraint to school her features into a face bare of emotion, and to keep her hands gently thumbing the pages of the book she had open in front of her, instead of pressing them to her eye.
Soon, the pain had expanded its territory, and on top of the nauseating ache situated somewhere unreachable behind her eyes, her right temple pounded. The words had begun swimming in her vision, and she had long since given up on regaining her focus. As the pulsating pain clawed at her skull, she was convinced that ramming her head repeatedly against the wall would have hurt less.
In her afflicted state, she was hardly aware of Ava’s approach, until the girl settled her hands on her shoulders. “Hey, you.”
Turning around at a measured pace to avoid moving her head too suddenly, she caught Ava’s expression, and couldn’t help but return the smile.
(How could she resist, when Ava looked at her like she’d hung the stars in the sky and painted the Northern Lights? The gentle upward quirk of the corners of her lips, her tender and loving gaze — Ava’s beauty never failed to take Beatrice’s breath away, and make Beatrice fall more and more in love with her every day.)
“Hey.”
“You missed breakfast.”
Of course Ava noticed, and of course she worried. “I wasn’t hungry.”
“Okay,” Ava drew out the second syllable of the word in incredulity, gingerly pulling the stack of weathered pages from Beatrice’s grasp. “But don’t overwork yourself. It’s like, ass o’clock in the morning and you’re already reading… what’s this? French?”
“Language,” Beatrice shot back reflexively, with no bite given that she was far too exhausted to sound strict. “And it’s half past ten.”
“Yes, but how long have you been here?” Ava asked softly, but her tone was lined with concern as she moved closer, reaching out to intertwine their fingers.
It occurred to Beatrice that she didn’t know the answer to this question — an alarming realisation, since she was always conscious of the amount of time ticking away, and how much she could accomplish with that time. Ava noted the hesitation, and leaned down to wrap her arms around Beatrice’s shoulders. “Who are you, and what have you done to my Bea? She never loses text of time,” Ava proclaimed, beaming with pride over her pun.
“My love, ‘track’ and ‘text’ do not sound remotely similar,” Beatrice responds monotonously, leaning into the contact. Suddenly, the lights were far too bright, and her temples were met with sharp stabs of pain. She barely managed to stop herself from grimacing, instead closing her eyes in an attempt to take the edge off the thumping going on beneath her skull.
“Okay, now I’m worried,” Ava started, brows pinching in unease. “You’re never this malleable. What’s wrong? Are you tired? Did you not sleep well last night?”
Stubbornly, Beatrice shook her head and held back a groan when it aggravated her headache. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Ava insisted, bringing her left hand up to caress Beatrice’s cheek. Her point was proven as Beatrice involuntarily sighed at the gentle touch. “Talk to me, Bea. What’s wrong?”
She considered lying, but there was no doubt that Ava had caught on to the fact that something was bothering her. And she knew that Ava would pry it out of her eventually, no matter what. So she gave in, albeit reluctantly. She sighed once more, this time in resignation. “Migraine,” she croaked, barely audibly. With the revelation came an agonising squeeze across her brow, and she winced, instinctively turning further towards Ava for comfort.
Ava’s expression softened again. “Oh, Bea,” she breathed, leaning even closer to pull Beatrice into an embrace. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Don’t want to be a burden,” she explained, voice muffled by Ava’s hoodie.
“You’re not. Never,” Ava reassured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t come get you earlier.”
“‘S fine.”
“Come on, I’ll bring you back to your room.”
Beatrice nodded, standing sluggishly. Ava’s anxiety spiked as she realised Beatrice had to be in a great deal of pain to agree without any protest. She slung Beatrice’s left arm around her shoulders, snaked her right arm around Beatrice’s waist for support and guided them out of the library. The whole time, Beatrice kept her eyes squinted, the fluorescent lights making the pain even more unbearable than it already was.
Slowly, they made their way to Beatrice’s quarters. Ava nudged the door shut with her heel, and carefully settled Beatrice onto the bed. She instantly curled in on herself, facing away from the window, and scrunched her eyes shut. Ava quickly drew the blinds, plunging them in near darkness. Then, she returned to Beatrice’s side and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, gently skimming her fingers over the skin. “Are you comfy?”
Beatrice hummed. Ava took her slight nod as affirmative and stood up from the bed. As the mattress shifted, Beatrice cracked an eye open and grabbed Ava’s hand. “Where are you going?” she asked weakly, almost whining.
“I’m going to get painkillers. I’ll be quick,” Ava promised, bending down to kiss Beatrice’s forehead. “Just close your eyes and rest.”
Satisfied with her response, Beatrice let go of Ava’s hand, tilting her head deeper into the pillow. With that, Ava left for the infirmary.
Beatrice tried to fall asleep. She thought it would be fairly easy — her room was dark, she was curled up under her blanket, and her room was blissfully quiet. But the incessant pounding at her temples seemed to heighten now that she had nothing else to focus on. It felt like holes were being drilled into the sides of her head, and the instinctual shifting around in a grapple for relief only intensified the pain.
When Ava returned with pills and a glass of water, Beatrice hadn’t even noticed until the mattress dipped beside her. “Hey, I’m back,” Ava whispered as she helped Beatrice sit up to take the medicine, but her brow furrowed once she noticed Beatrice’s clenched jaw and tightly shut eyes. “Is it worse now?”
Beatrice nodded, whimpering as she reached for Ava, desperate for the warmth and comfort of contact. Ava obliged, taking one of Beatrice’s hands in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Here, take the painkillers,” she soothed.
Once Beatrice had swallowed the pills and drunk a satisfactory amount of water, she laid down while Ava clambered onto the bed beside her. She wrapped her arm around Beatrice, gently pulling her closer. Beatrice tucked her face into the crook of Ava’s neck and subconsciously clutched a portion of Ava’s hoodie in her fist. She was glad that neither of them had to adhere to the dress code of the OCS, since they weren’t actually nuns. (She renounced her vows right after the love of her life had disappeared to another realm — go figure.) Her soft, baggy sweater was significantly more comfortable than any standard OCS attire.
The ibuprofen would take some time to work through her system, and for now, the stabbing ache stretching across her brow hadn’t relented, and the back of her head was starting to smart with pain as well. Her jaw and eyes ached from the tension. She felt Ava’s thumb stroke her cheek, brushing away tears she wasn’t aware had fallen. “Try and get some sleep,” Ava encouraged, gingerly carding her fingers through Beatrice’s hair.
“I can’t. It hurts,” Beatrice muttered, eyelids fluttering shut.
“I know.” Ava sighed. She hated seeing her love in pain, and again, the Halo couldn’t help. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Stay here.”
(The underlying desperation and fear, Ava knows, is from the time she nearly died in Beatrice’s arms and left her in order to heal in another dimension. It’s been so long for Ava since that happened, but she knows it’s still a fresh wound for Beatrice — her thin and strained voice, suffused with pain, practically begging for Ava not to leave her side again, like she once did out of necessity. And who was she to decline such a request?)
“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured, pressing herself closer and resuming her light combing of Beatrice’s hair.
Ava could practically feel a bit of the tension slipping away from Beatrice’s forehead, partially hidden in her neck. She heard Beatrice’s breaths even out, becoming slower and deeper instead of coming out in shaky, pained puffs. She didn’t know if Beatrice was actually asleep or if inhaling her scent was enough to calm her down and take the edge off her agony. Either way, she continued threading her fingers through Beatrice’s hair, gently gliding them over her scalp.
Being held by Ava was a great comfort. Although the throbbing never ceased, Beatrice found herself breathing a lot easier. Any motion set her temples alight with pain, so she let herself fall limp in Ava’s embrace, simply focussing on the faint smell of Ava’s soap mingled with the scent of fresh laundry from her hoodie.
After a while, she felt the effect of the painkillers kicking in — the pounding had dulled slightly, the resultant relief numbing her senses. It was enough for her exhaustion to take over, lulling her to sleep.
Beatrice slept peacefully for three hours straight. As promised, Ava never left, and she was still holding Beatrice when her eyes blinked open. “Good morning,” Ava greeted, smiling softly.
“Ava.”
“Hm?”
“We have training at four.”
“No, we don’t.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. I told Mother Superion while I was getting your water. She excused us from training.” Ava countered. “And you can’t seriously be thinking about training today. You should be resting.”
“Okay,” Beatrice conceded and nuzzled up against Ava, too tired to argue further.
“How are you feeling now? Any better?” Ava asked, her tone soft with concern.
The pain-induced haze in Beatrice’s mind had mostly lifted, but a dull ache spread across her head, and any sudden movement made her temples twinge slightly. “I’m fine. Just tired,” she lied.
“Okay. Do you want lunch? You should eat lunch. You haven’t eaten anything today.”
Beatrice shook her head, wincing when her temples squeezed. “No. I’m not hungry. You should go ahead, though.” Of course, Ava, ever perceptive, noticed the slight shift in her facial expression.
“Nope. I’m staying here with you. But I will shove dinner down your throat,” Ava threatened, but her voice was much too loving for Beatrice to feel intimidated. “I know it still hurts. Go back to sleep,” Ava coaxed.
“You’ll stay here?”
“Yes. Now go to sleep.”
Beatrice didn’t need another reminder. Obligingly, she let sleep wash over her again, snug in Ava’s arms.