forever daydreaming

Minerva knew something had changed the moment she saw the dark circles under her eyes. She had not bothered to style her hair today, no makeup. She looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in the week since she last saw her. Deflated and defeated. Nothing at all like the bright, sharp, wicked woman she had come to know over the month and a half.

She feared she would break if pushed too hard. She had to be gentle, no more vague snark. This wasn’t deliberate hiding; it was a broken heart. You learned to spot the difference in this line of work. “Amelie,” Minerva said, making sure her own voice did not crack. “Tell me what happened.”

And so she did. Like a monotone, she revisited the event of the week with little emotion to show. That she had won an award, had invited her mother to see her accept it. That Unit Bravo had shown, and that her mother did not.

That it was just par for the course, so she didn’t know why she expected anything different.

Time to nip that train of thought in the bud before it grew into a decades old tree that refused to be cut down.

“No. It is not something you just have to accept from her. Unit Bravo showed you otherwise.”

Amelie looked blankly to the floor. “That just makes it worse.”

Minerva nodded, taking a deep breath. “I can see why you’d feel that way. But it does prove beyond doubt, that there are people who will be with you, and love you, and care about you, doesn’t it?”

“Morgan was really sweet, afterwards,” Amelie smiled, but it was worryingly empty. “She did make me feel better. They all did. But, it wasn’t-”

Who you wanted to be praised by?

Minerva turned, to stare at the paperwork on her desk. So much pain in those documents, from so many people. Sometimes, the load was too much and she wanted nothing more than to curl up on her couch and drown in wine. The things you learn in this job can be so harrowing, and this was no exception. This was a lifetime of neglect coming to fruition in a young adult who deserved far better than what she got.

What she despised, most of all, was the fast nature of therapy. Sessions were only an hour, fifty minutes, if she was being honest, so you can finish the proper paperwork and prepare for the next client, but that time limit was often not enough. Look at how far Amelie had come, telling the full events and now they had maybe ten minutes to talk about it? She needed more. She’d get it proper next week, but what about until then? A week more of fighting this emptiness, this reality.

And then what? The point of therapy was not to do it forever. They had one more session after the next, and then it was up to her to come back, with no obligation job wise to do so. Minerva just had to hope she would come back, and continue the work that she desperately needed. Most didn’t.

Running out of time, Minerva had to decide what best technique, rather the perfect words to get her through this week. She was committing the number one sin in therapy-- the idea that the therapist had all the answers and had to be perfect, when in reality none were, and no one did. The desire to help this person outplayed that knowledge.

But what was the best advice, what was the perfect way to keep her going?

Of course, when she came up with nothing, a terrible fear shook her. She needed to have something, anything, and with all the training and experience and hope that she could do something she should have it!

Suddenly, Minerva threw her clipboard across the room, frustrated at what it represented: a barrier between the theoretical and the human. She was tired of hiding behind it. She could come up with the most complex, deep, and scientific answer to Amelie’s problem-- and it would mean nothing. It would mean nothing, if not given the time to explore it. So, instinct told her to instead, stick with the most basic human connection known to history.

“I feel for you, Amelie. It is sadly very relatable to me,” Minerva said carefully. Calmly. “I would like to comfort you, with your consent. Perhaps a hug, if that is alright with you?”

A very grey point of discussion in therapy, how much you can and should physically touch a client. It’s mostly looked down upon, but can be done in the right circumstances. Considering the history of their sessions, it may yet prove to be a bad idea.

Humour glinted in Amelie’s dead eyes. Minerva was relieved to see it. “Isn’t that illegal?”

Minerva chuckled, shaking her head. “No, it’s not illegal. So long as it is professional.”

Snickering, Amelie paused to think. After a few moments, she nodded. “Okay.”

They stood at the same time. Minerva wrapped gentle arms around her, the universal back pat of comfort well practised at this point in her career. It was a silent moment, no tears shed. That’s what made it special. Two women with terrible mothers sharing a moment of respite with the other. Sometimes words were not needed. There was more work to be done of course, but it was the little things that kept people going.

Amelie felt very small in her arms. Almost like a child.

When the hug ended, Minerva smiled. “It’s going to be okay. You have a lot of people who are with you. Myself included.”

Amelie managed a smile. There was a flicker more of light in her eyes, colour in her cheeks. “I’ll see you next week, doc.”

*******

The week almost up, Minerva was tapping her pen against a blank sheet of paper, wondering if any of her previous notes were truly of any help. She had hopes that these last two sessions were not going to be the last after all, but it still behooved her to be as well prepared as possible. Her papers were spread out on her coffee table like there had been a hurricane in her living room. It helped to see the chaos, sometimes. Then, there was a knock at her door, and she got up from her very fancy and very comfortable couch, setting down her glass of wine.

It was Sydney. She had a game in her hands, one of her cozy farming simulators that she liked to play with others. “It’s been a long week,” she said, her eyes tired. “Let’s finish it off with some relaxation!”

Minerva stepped out of her way so she could come in. “I’ll get more wine.”

Certainly not a lunch shared, but just as good. As Sydney set up her game, Minerva poured a nice glass of red, for both of them—topping hers off carefully. It would be good to give her brain a break, a true one.

Sydney hadn’t offered too much advice after talking about ‘Foxface’ to her. Not as if she was expecting any, but it had been nice to voice this past month and a half out loud. It had untangled her thoughts.

She then packed up her notes, making sure they were not in the same vicinity of the wine and could not be read by a glance. Because she was focused on that, what happened next almost had a delayed reaction.

The sky turned red.

Minerva dropped her papers, staring at the window. An eerie jolt of electricity ran up her spine. They both trembled as they stood at the window, taking in the clearly unnatural state of the sky. How she knew this, Minerva did not know, but she knew Amelie was a part of it. She was in danger.

Sydney wrapped an arm around her, and Minerva did the same.

Ava felt restless. It was far from new, and she always had to keep herself busy so unwanted thoughts wouldn’t bother her. But this task became increasingly hard ever since Eden temporarily moved into the warehouse. 

Ava knew what feelings this event should’ve caused – she should’ve been happy for Nat, glad that it would be easier to keep an eye on Detective, nothing more. Instead, there was a flood of emotions she shouldn’t have felt, didn’t want to feel. She lost count of how many times she would walk into a room just to instantly feel a flare of pain at the sight of Eden and Nat together. There was another feeling behind that hurt, the one that left an acidic taste behind, but Ava preferred not to think about it. She already allowed herself to feel too much for Detective, she couldn’t let any other emotions get into the mix. 

Eden and Nat were together, in every possible way, in ways Ava would’ve loved not to know of, but it was unavoidable. They were great together. Perfect together. She could never imagine competing with that, not that it was ever a part of Ava’s plan. All she wanted was to see both people she cared about happy, and if she had to get hurt by her own unrequited feelings to make it happen, she was happy to withstand any pain. But part of her, some small part, still longed for Eden. 

Ava couldn’t blame Eden. Everything that was stirring inside her heart was not of Detective’s doing. She had given Ava no hope that there could ever be anything more between them than friendship. Then why would Ava’s chest fill with warmth whenever Eden would pick her? In the past weeks, there were many instances when Eden would pick Ava’s side in an argument, when she would choose to walk with her, spend time with her, just the two of them. As much as Ava tried, she couldn’t stop feeling hopeful when those instances would occur. Even if, surely, Eden didn’t mean anything by that. 

At the time when it happened, Eden was healing after an attack, locked in the warehouse for a few weeks, and growing increasingly bored. The rest of the unit was on patrol, and Ava made a point not to stay inside. That was the only way for her to avoid Eden’s company, stop herself from seeking it. She tried to keep herself busy by washing her car, but it seemed that the meeting was unavoidable. If Ava wasn’t pulled to Eden, Eden was pulled to her. As pleasant as this thought was, it was also dangerous, but in moments like these, Ava couldn’t force herself to care about it. 

“The weather is nice today,” Eden’s voice was as soft and melodic as usual, when she caught Ava off guard. She stood at the door of the warehouse, looking as beautiful as ever. The outfit was new – usually, Eden would attempt to cover as much of her skin as possible, but on that day she decided to wear a short-sleeved cream colored blouse and short brown skirt, leaving most of the scars on her right side open to the view. Ava tried her best not to let her eyes linger on thick white lines crossing Eden’s skin. Nat surely saw all of them, unwanted thought crossed her mind. 

“It is,” Ava agreed, noticing a camera hanging on a strap pulled over Eden’s shoulder. “You do remember that you can’t leave the warehouse?” 

Eden frowned. “I’m going to go mad if I stay inside for any longer. I’m all alone there most of the time. Is it that bad that I want to get away from here, from all of this, even if just for a short time?”

Ava knew what her answer should’ve been. She had to remind Detective that this was done for her safety, that she had already gone through too much and had to stay away from danger. That was the thing Ava needed to do. But it was just the two of them, she could be alone with Eden, and even a chance at that made her act irrationally. 

“Would you care for a ride?” Ava offered, not sure why it felt so good to see Eden’s grin at her offer. 

“I would love it,” Eden nodded, before Ava could change her mind and take back the reckless offer. They weren’t doing anything wrong. Ava tried to squish the guilt she was already starting to feel. She was just trying to keep Eden safe, exactly the way she was supposed to. 

Before Eden sat in the car, she looked at it with a critical eye. 

“I’m just trying to figure out how high safety standards were back when it was made,” she answered Ava’s silent question when she noticed her looking. It was understandable, after everything Eden went through. During one of their late-night talks, one which should’ve never happened, Eden told Ava a story of what actually unraveled the night of the accident, told everything about the guilt she still carried. When Eden cried in her arms, Ava wanted to give her comfort, but she also couldn’t help but feel smug. It was a horrible word for a horrible feeling, but it was the one Ava felt in that moment as she realized that she was the one Eden confined in, not Nat. She often wondered if Eden told her girlfriend the truth since that moment or if Ava was still the only one who knew about the accident and about the guilt Eden carried with her everywhere she went. 

“I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” Ava hoped that Eden understood her words exactly the way she intended them. No matter when, no matter what the situation, Ava would always be there for her. Even if Eden would never be with her. 

Eden let out a sigh at that, but sat in the car. Her body was still tense, and it only got worse once they hit the road. At some point, Eden’s anxiety, which she couldn’t hide, became so apparent that she put her hand on Ava’s forearm and squeezed tightly. This touch almost made Ava lose concentration, but she didn’t want to cause Eden even more stress. 

“I’m sorry,” Eden said, her body slightly shaking. “I get nervous when I’m not the one driving.”

It was more than understandable after the experience she had, the one that left so many scars on her body and even more on her heart. Eden was about to pull her hand away, but it was the last thing Ava wanted. Feeling Eden’s touch, her warmth, was all that she wished for, even if she shouldn’t have.

“You don’t have to pull away if it brings you comfort,” Ava said, trying not to sound overly excited. “I don’t mind.”

She hoped she didn’t sound overly eager, and Eden’s soft smile was calming enough not to allow Ava to overthink it. Eden kept her hand on Ava’s arm for the rest of their drive, and she was trying to remember every moment of it, commit this purely friendly gesture to memory. 

Eden was the one to pick a place for their stop. It was calm, peaceful, secluded. The lake was shining in the light right below the cliff they stopped at, and Eden looked calm for the first time in a while. She leaned against the tree and bent her knees. Her eyes closed for a moment, and all Ava could do was stare at her, unable to look away from the way sunlight kissed Eden’s skin. 

“You should sit with me,” Eden said with a laugh, before she opened her eyes, but when she did, Ava felt like she was caught in the middle of committing a crime. Eden patted a patch of the grass on her right side, and Ava took the offer. 

Eden always turned her right side to Ava, so whenever she would look at her, she’d see the scars crossing Eden’s face, the bite mark on her neck. They didn’t make her any less beautiful in Ava’s eyes, but she often wondered if that was Eden’s intention when choosing what side to show Ava – to make sure she could see all the unpleasant parts, parts Eden clearly found unattractive or even ugly. At times, when Ava’s thoughts would slip away from under her control, her mind would get filled with a fantasy about kissing those scars, running her lips against the rough skin, proving to Eden over and over that she always wanted to see, to have all of her. But those were dangerous thoughts, and Ava would never indulge in them. 

“You look more at ease,” Ava said, trying to fill the silence between them. They sat too close to each other, but she wasn’t about to move and ruin the moment. “I’m glad to see it.”

Eden was playing with the camera in her hands, but in that moment, she stopped, giving Ava a quick glance. 

“I can say the same about you. I guess we both act differently when we’re away from the others,” Eden’s tone was light, but there was quiet heaviness behind her words. Was it her intention to remind Ava that Nat was waiting for Eden at home? Or was it something else? 

“It’s not the absence of others that makes me feel this way. It’s your presence that does.” Ava knew that she should’ve kept her lips sealed, that saying those words was dangerous, but it was as if Eden had some strange power over her. Ava wanted to admit everything to her, bare her soul in front of Detective because she knew Eden would never treat her with anything but gentleness and care. If only…

As her thoughts kept going, Ava barely noticed how she gave all of her attention to the thick scar on Eden’s thigh, how she moved her hand to touch it with the back of her palm. It was barely a touch, a brush of skin against skin, but as it was happening, Ava heard the sound of a camera, which almost startled her. 

“Sorry,” Eden cleared her throat, pink appearing on her pale cheeks. “I was taking a photo of the lake. It looks beautiful.”

At least she wasn’t caught in the middle of an unwanted touch, Ava calmed herself.

When Eden turned to Ava again, with too little space between their faces for Ava’s comfort, she could see heaviness in the way Detective looked at her. 

“Sometimes I wonder if I would’ve been a different person, if I made different choices, if it wasn’t for…” Eden absently touched the scar on her face, as if it was a sign of her moral failure and not a memory of a tragedy that happened to her. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Eden. The choices you make shouldn’t be motivated by guilt you shouldn’t feel,” Ava was surprised to hear how passionate her tone sounded. Eden let out a soft chuckle. 

“I remember being the one saying those words to you. And yet, something tells me you didn’t listen,” Eden smiled, reminding Ava about a conversation they had days and days ago, when Ava opened up to Eden about what happened to her family. “Sometimes I feel that if I won’t have this guilt pushing me forward, I’ll have nothing, I’ll simply fall apart. And I won’t be able to handle that.”

Ava wanted to put her hands on Eden’s face, she wanted to tell her that she would be there for her, that she would be at her side no matter what. She couldn’t. Nat should’ve been the one telling Eden that, she was the one Eden chose. All Ava could do was let it happen, let them be happy. They both deserved it. 

“You can’t keep making choices out of fear,” Ava knew that it was hypocritical of her to say those words when every day, every time she was with Eden, she was making choices that hurt her, but kept her new family together. 

“I have to,” there was desperation in Eden’s tone as she said it. Ava didn’t notice when they leaned even closer, but she felt Eden so close that it was almost impossible to fight the temptation to cross the line. “The last time I forgot about fear and chose with my heart, Sanja died.”

For a moment, the meaning of Eden’s words didn’t register in Ava’s mind, but then it did, and it hit her like a blow. Eden chose with her heart when she chose to save Ava. She didn’t know what to do with this revelation, with this confession, because it left Ava completely off balance. She didn’t have to think about her answer for too long because Eden continued. 

“I wish I could forget about fear, I wish I could be a different person, who makes different choices, but I can’t. I can’t hurt even more people by picking selfishly,” as Eden spoke those words, her eyes kept moving over Ava’s face, constantly dropping to her lips. How was she supposed to keep a cool head when Eden so clearly wanted the same thing Ava did? When she craved to feel a single moment of closeness with Eden so badly her whole body ached with need? “You understand it, don’t you? You know what will happen if we act selfishly.” 

Ava knew. Of course, she did. The last thing she wanted was to see everything fall apart for the unit, for Nat. But it was impossible for her to focus on the consequences of her actions when Eden was so close, when all she wanted was to be even closer. 

“I know,” she exhaled. “I only wish it would stop me from wanting it.”

When their eyes met again, there was a silent acknowledgment of what was happening, of what was about to happen. Neither one of them stopped it, even if both knew they should have. 

When later Ava returned to that moment in her thoughts, she wished for many things to go differently, but when it happened, when they kissed, there were no thoughts, only pure need. 

Even when their lips met, Ava tried her best to hold back, to not overwhelm Eden, but how could she stop herself from asking for more and more, when it was all she thought of for weeks? And Eden’s lips felt exactly the way she imagined they would, parting so eagerly to allow Ava’s tongue to slip into her mouth. Their hands were grasping at something, anything, in an attempt to get a feel of each other’s bodies. At some point, Eden moved to straddle Ava’s hips while their lips were still locked, and Ava almost lost it at the sensation of Eden’s weight on top of her. 

If only they had more time, if they didn’t have to return back home… far away from it all, the two of them could pretend that the guilt, the coming pain didn’t exist, that they could keep kissing, touching, caressing forever. If it were a choice, Ava would’ve taken it. The way Eden sounded, the way she felt and tasted was beyond what any of her fantasies could offer, and she knew that the moment their kiss would end, she would miss it for the rest of her life. 

They only separated for short moments, so Eden could catch a breath, before their lips would meet again, and Ava thought it would never end, she hoped it wouldn’t until Eden pulled away for one final time, and the heat between them suddenly stopped existing. 

Eden looked as beautiful as ever – unfocused, her black hair slightly disheveled, with her lips bright pink after their kiss. Ava couldn’t stop herself, she put a hand on Eden’s chin and brushed her thumb against the swollen lower lip. Before the moment could end, Ava leaned closer to Eden to leave a trail of kisses over the scar on her cheek. The way she always wanted to do it, the way she needed to do it. Her lips moved down to Eden’s neck, kissing the bite mark, trying to erase a bad memory. Ava only stopped and pulled away when she heard Eden’s unsteady voice. 

“This should make it easier, right?” Eden asked, not sounding nearly as sure as she should’ve. She knew it was a lie. Ava felt it was, because she wanted the moment to continue, not become the only one they had together. “We know what it feels like now, so we should stop wanting it.”

Even if their kiss was confirmation enough, Ava still enjoyed hearing that Eden wanted it just as badly as she did. 

“We should,” Ava agreed, clearing her throat. 

When Eden awkwardly stood up, Ava instantly grieved the loss of her warmth. She still felt drunk on their kiss, and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself when she couldn’t touch Eden anymore, when they couldn’t kiss again. 

The walk back to the car was tense, the ride was too. The closer they were to the warehouse, the more guilt was taking over every other emotion. Nat was back home, waiting for Eden, not knowing what they had done, having no clue about the betrayal. Ava should’ve never let it happen, no matter how she felt in that moment. 

When Eden got out of the car, she looked lost, conflicted, in pain. Those weren’t the emotions Ava ever wanted her to experience. 

“It was my fault,” she said, hoping that taking the blame would make Eden feel better. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

The kiss was her fault, Eden didn’t need more guilt weighing her down. 

“Thank you for saying that, but it’s not true,” Eden smiled at her with a hint of sadness to the expression. “I wanted it as much as you did. Maybe, more.”

They looked at each other. A mistake, as their behavior at the cliff proven them, because tense silence settled between them one more. There were so many possibilities, so many paths, but they both had to pick the right one. And live on as if the moment between them never happened. 

“I have to go,” Eden looked away. “Nat is probably waiting for me.”

The mention of her friend’s name didn’t sober up Ava in a way she hoped it would. 

“You should,” Ava agreed, too afraid to say anything else. 

She kept looking at Eden’s back, trying not to remember every second of what they shared, but it was impossible not to. And if that single kiss was all they could have, all there could ever be for the sake of everyone’s happiness, she was willing to take it and be content with it. 

"That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard," she says, clicking her pen against the desk, barely able to hide her grin, as Ava bristles at her words.

"It is the only way," Ava says, crossing her massive arms that Vesper can't stop ogling at.

"It's really not," Vesper replie. She is slowly growing genuinely irritated by their argument that has continued for fifteen minutes now. "We should –"

"No," Ava says, square jaw clenched. "It will put you in most danger and Unit Bravo's mission is to protect you."

"I'm not an infant to be coddled," Vesper snaps and Ava pinches the bridge of her nose.

"You certainly act like it."

Vesper chooses to ignore the words. "If I was the bait, we could –"

"I will not allow it," Ava says, banging the table with her fists. Something inside the wood creaks. "Your safety is paramount. Your safety is the only thing that matters. I am your commanding agent and I am ordering you to –"

Vesper gapes at the words. "Wow. You really want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid."

Ava stares at her. In fact everyone in the room stares at her. No one says anything.

Then Farah bursts into a delighted cackle. "Nice one!"

She tries to high-five Mason who looks bored out his mind and ignores her entirely. She shrugs and offers her hand to Nate next, who looks at Ava apologetically before he slaps his own very gently against Farah's upturned palm.

Ava takes a long calming breath before she turns on her heels and marches out of the room without even opening her mouth.

"She didn't even break anything," Vesper says, thorougly disappointed.

Nate chuckles unexpectedly before he coughs and sobers. "You shouldn't antagonize her, Vesper," he says.

"But it's so incredibly fun," she answers, smirking at him.

"Yeah!" Farah giggles, delighted. "So worth it every time."

Mason just grunts behind a thick cloud of smoke.

Nate sighs, but there is a small smile on his face.

"For the record," Farah whispers so loudly one can probably hear it to the other rooms, "what you said was totally true. She does want to fuck you so bad it makes her look like stupid."