Three days later, they enter a tiny town just outside Cornwall in England.
While they were in Greece, Beatrice spent an entire morning at an internet café, doing research, making bookings, and applying for visas. It's one thing to stay in Europe, travel easy enough, but they have plans to go international, and Ava's only recently got her hands on a passport.
Beatrice has had to keep her own under lock and key, because Ava's a little too interested in learning her real name, even though she doesn't push.
"I don't actually know if it's real," Ava admits when she shows Beatrice. "Jillian got it for me. I don't even know if I exist, seeing as I actually died and all." She pauses. "The first time."
"There will be a day when that joke gets old."
"I'm a cat, baby," Ava declares, grinning. "Nine lives. Can't kill me."
"How many do you have left, hmm?"
"Not nearly enough."
Beatrice had smiled in the moment, but the fear exists for her, lingering in a way that tells her she's irreparably affected by the number of times she's held an injured Ava in her arms, tortured by the thought of losing her for forever.
"It's very green here," Ava says now, looking around as they step off the train's outdoor platform. "Like, very green. I'm not sure how I feel about it."
"You knew I come from the country, though," Beatrice points out.
"Do you, really?" Ava asks. "You sound too posh."
"Do you even know what that means?"
"TV, Bea," she reminds her. "I know everything."
Beatrice just reaches for her hand, pulling her in the direction of the closest bus stop. "My family spent the summers here," she explains. "During the school year, I would be at school and my parents would be in London." Ava doesn't respond, giving Beatrice the space to continue. "We were never close. I think my presence was mostly part of keeping up appearances of a happy family to our social circles. For a small time there, my father wanted to be a politician."
Ava raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"
"As a barrister, it seemed like a natural progression."
"But he didn't?"
"No, he didn't," she says, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "There was - there was a girl. When I was younger. We were close. I felt things." Her jaw clenches, remembering. "I wrote her a letter. She showed her parents. Her parents showed mine, and I was sent to the boarding school in Switzerland where I found the OCS, and I haven't been back since."
Ava squeezes her hand. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm sorry that happened to you, and I'm sorry I've forced you to come back here."
"I wouldn't have come if there wasn't a part of me that wanted to," Beatrice admits. "It might be good for me."
"The same way it might be good for me to return to the orphanage?"
Beatrice glances at her, coming to a halt under the awning of the bus stop. "Do you think it would help?"
"It didn't help the last time I was there."
"You're different now."
"How so?"
There are many things Beatrice could say, and they would all be true. "I think you're more sure of whom you are than you ever were before," she says, voice gentle. "They took advantage of you at a time you were vulnerable and powerless, but now you're miles from that person. You're strong and sure and powerful, and maybe you never have to go back. Do you feel it could help?"
