Chapter 12

“She’s a mother.” Ava stood in the precinct’s meeting room, her arms crossed over her chest, cape hanging from her shoulders, mask perfectly set over her eyes. She felt more herself than she had in days. “That’s why she attacked me. Norman’s a Mantipodis larva. That’s why we couldn’t find anything on him. He’s still a baby.”

“I’m not following.” Captain Fernandez frowned. “Why attack you specifically?”

“The first time was in the cave. That was the afternoon after Norman threw up all over me.”

“She smelled her kid on you,” Captain Fernandez inferred, and Ava nodded.

“Exactly. That’s why she was so confused at first. And then she attacked. Then again, tonight at Gwen…Gwendolyn Knight’s place. She must have somehow caught the scent in the antidote. In my blood.”

“Wait,” another officer—one Ava called “Officer Mustache” in her head because she could never remember his name—spoke up. “Why were you at Gwendolyn Knight’s place again?”

“We were…discussing her foundation,” Ava said quickly and changed the subject. “I’d never heard of the Mantapodii attacking people or each other.”

“Tell that to Officer Barre,” Captain Fernandez replied.

“And to everyone this Mantamama has come into contact with.” Officer Mustache piped up.

“If she can sense the worm, why hasn’t she come looking for it here?” Another, younger officer asked.

“I think she’s been trying. I think she’s been calling for it. And it’s been trying to call back. They’re doing it psychically. I’ve been…” She paused, trying to articulate what she’d felt in her dreams. “I’ve been dreaming about them. Sensing their emotions.”

“They’re trying to find each other,” Captain Fernandez murmured in sudden realization. “But our cells are heavily insulated and soundproof.”

“She must know she can’t get close,” Officer Mustache deduced.

“We’re keeping them apart,” Ava finished solemnly. “We’re keeping a mother from her child.”

They were quiet for a moment, guilt settling around them.

“We still have to bring her in,” Captain Fernandez finally stated. “We’ll put them together and decide from there.”

Ava began to protest, and Captain Fernandez held her hands up in defense. “We can’t let the little one out. It’s too dangerous.”

“So, we’ll imprison them both?” It came out more sharply than Ava intended.

“For now,” Captain Fernandez answered, her voice firm and commanding. “Unless you have an alternative, Swiftwing.”

Ava glanced around the room. The officers looked sympathetic, but resolved.

“Just don’t hurt her.”

“This is a capture and contain mission only.” Captain Fernandez motioned to the room. “No weapons are to be drawn unless absolutely necessary. Is that clear?”

There was a general hum of consent, and Captain Fernandez raised an eyebrow at Ava, questioning.

Ava nodded, satisfied, and crossed her arms over her chest.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Go home,” Captain Fernandez replied, and Ava looked at her with confusion.

“But—”

“You were right. We wouldn’t have figured this out without you. But you’ve done enough, and you need to rest. You’re exhausted.”

“I can help.”

“We’ll call you if we need you. This is our job.”

“My phone got totaled. I won’t have a new one until Monday.”

“Fine. Email then.”

Ava sighed. She was tired. Her powers may have been back, but her body still hurt. “You promise you won’t hurt her?”

“I promise we’ll try not to,” Captain Fernandez replied, before leaving Ava alone in the meeting room.

It was almost midnight when Ava trudged up the steps to her apartment.

She had changed out of the suit to buy four candy bars at the little corner store. It seemed her appetite was back, along with her abilities. Ava wracked her brain, trying to remember if she still had half a pastrami and rye sandwich in the refrigerator, or if Nic had eaten it. Her housemate had texted her earlier after seeing the attack on the news. When Ava confirmed that she was okay, Nic let her know that she was spending the night at the lab. Ava suspected she needed some space after their fight that morning.

She imagined she wouldn’t be getting much sleep, between worrying about the Mantipodis mother and worrying about Gwen. The first thing she’d done after leaving the station was fly to Gwen’s house, but a quick sweep had told her that she was nowhere near. Ava assumed, based on the glass still scattered across the balcony, that Gwen had relocated to the Beverly Hills Peninsula for the night.

She considered calling every second minute and kept deciding against it. She must have found at least twenty different excuses, and the lack of phone made it easier to convince herself that she should give Gwen space—the night, at least.

She opened her door, annoyed at Nic for forgetting to lock it again.

In the dark apartment, she leaned against the door, lamenting that Captain Fernandez was right. She was emotionally exhausted; it had been a strange couple of days.

It took a second longer than it should have for her to realize that she wasn’t alone in the apartment. She narrowed her eyes to make out the dark silhouette on the couch.

“Gwen?”

Gwen sat with her legs crossed, back straight, and expression bored. “I thought you’d be in the suit. Or at the very least come flying in through the window. How disappointing.”

She stood as Ava came forward with a confused, “What are you doing here? In my apartment. In the dark. How did you get in?”

“Your landlady’s a fan of my work.” The half moon was casting just enough light into Ava’s living room for her to see the frown on Gwen’s face. “You didn’t answer my calls.”

“I…” Ava took another step toward her, hesitant and nervous. “I lost my phone in the fight.”

“You didn’t come back up.” Gwen made it sound like an accusation.

Ava was confused for a moment, until she realized what Gwen meant. She’d seen Ava dive in after the Mantipodis, but had no way of knowing that Ava had resurfaced two blocks away after following the tunnel.

“I waited…” Gwen continued, in a voice still laced with anger that reached out and twisted at Ava’s heart. “And then you didn’t answer. You just…stayed gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Ava said. And the apology she’d been dreading came as easily as breathing. “If you’d just let me explain—”

“What is there to explain? That it took a giant insect smashing through my window for you to finally let me in on your little secret? Ava.” Gwen clucked her tongue, disappointed, and something inside of Ava withered.

“It’s not that simple. I couldn’t. I didn’t—”

“Trust me.”

Ava felt the hot prickle of tears behind her eyes. She didn’t want this. She wanted anything but this. And it wasn’t the anger that got to her, but the betrayal etched into Gwen’s face.

“I was scared,” she answered honestly.

“Well, join the club.” Gwen rolled her eyes and huffed, her empathy turned down to its lowest volume to accommodate her own hurt. “Do you have any idea what I thought when you failed to resurface? Can you imagine what I…?” She turned and exhaled a mirthless laugh, as if to herself. “No, of course you can’t. You’re the hero. You don’t think before you go charging in after a homicidal bug. You don’t consider checking in with the one person who…” She trailed off, still scowling.

Gwen pursed her lips and wrapped her arms around herself. She suddenly looked so small. Small and out of place in the middle of Ava’s dark apartment. She had changed into a casual dress and washed the glass out of her hair, but even in the dark, Ava could see the small cut on the bridge of her nose. She still wanted to kiss it better.

She knew that if she pushed too far, Gwen would walk out and that would be that. But this was really the first time that Ava had gotten to stand in front of Gwen without any pretense between them, and she felt that stupid surge of misplaced courage.

“I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Yes, you do.” Ava said it tentatively, but she said it all the same.

Gwen seemed surprised, and she wavered for a moment, as if caught somewhere between staying and leaving.

“I wanted to call,” Ava admitted. “I went back to your house after the…after the fight. I was worried.”

“I’m fine, as you can see.”

Ava motioned to the cut on Gwen’s nose, the thumb-sized bruise on her shoulder from where Ava had held her after the window shattered.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’ll live.” Gwen watched Ava for a moment and then asked, “Should I be concerned about it coming back?”

Ava shook her head. “She was there for me. Well, because of me.”

Gwen’s silence unnerved her; she would rather have had yelling. She knew how to deal with a yelling Gwen, with a Gwen whose eyes blazed and whose hands cut through the air with dramatic gestures. But the quiet, heavy disappointment and hurt that emanated from the woman in front of her was unfamiliar and jarring.

“Would you like to—”

“It’s late,” Gwen said, cutting off Ava’s desperate attempt at conversation.

She brushed past, and Ava panicked when her hand closed over the door handle.

“Gwen, please.” Please what? Ava wasn’t really sure what she was asking for. Understanding? Forgiveness? Any sign that everything was not completely ruined forever? “Can we just talk about this?”

“What is there left to say?” But she hovered at the door, not making any further move, and Ava took a step forward, forgetting rules and lines and boundaries, coming up behind Gwen, so close that she could see the strain in her neck, the tightness of her shoulders, as if Gwen was trying to hold herself together with sheer will.

“Stay.” Ava’s fingertips ghosted against the small of Gwen’s back, barely touching, unable to stop herself from making a tentative connection. “Stay here with me,” she implored softly.

Gwen’s shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh before she turned, an inch away from Ava. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

Gwen replied by leaning up and kissing her. It was an angry kiss, a bloody-lipped “don’t you ever leave me” kiss. Gwen kissed Ava like she’d been thinking about it for a long time. Like she had watched Ava disappear into the ground and never come up.

When Gwen finally pulled back, flushed, she left just enough space between them for Ava to go cross-eyed trying to assess her expression. “Are you—”

“Don’t talk.” Gwen’s breath fanned against Ava’s cheeks. “You’ll ruin it.”

“Okay,” Ava replied. And that was all it took for her to tilt her head and kiss Gwen fully, without hesitation, without question, eagerly taking everything Gwen was willing to give.

She pushed forward and Gwen’s back met the door. The little jolt had Gwen pulling away, and her head hit with a soft thud. Ava took advantage of the break to trail a path of kisses down the side of Gwen’s neck. She wanted to keep it slow and gentle, wanted to show some modicum of finesse, but the low moan of appreciation Gwen made when Ava sucked on her pulse point had Ava trembling and desperate.

She was suddenly as lightheaded as she’d been that morning, but this was a different kind of poison, and she was completely at the mercy of her want. They moved to the couch, and suddenly Gwen was on top of her, Gwen’s heart drumming almost in time with her own. It was a reckless and terrifying rhythm, and Ava pulled back, overwhelmed by the rush of blood and heat through her body.

“Wait, wait.” She rested her forehead against Gwen’s, panting. They stared at each other for an infinite moment, the earlier anger in Gwen’s eyes replaced with something more complicated and impossible to read, but just as intense.

“I need a moment to—” Ava closed her eyes, trying to find something to keep her grounded. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, so many things to say that were tangled up in her throat and evaporated by the time she exhaled.

“Are you all right?” Gwen was watching her with wide, lust-hazy eyes. She was just as flushed and breathless as Ava.

“I-I think so. It’s just…a lot.” Ava tried for a smile.

Gwen swallowed and exhaled shakily. Ava wanted to kiss her until she was steady and strong again. But it was Gwen who leaned back in just a little to kiss Ava softly against the little scar on her brow from when she was nine and chasing her brother through the metal corridors of the Andromeda, and then on her cheek, and then right against the corner of her mouth, as if she couldn’t quite decide, couldn’t quite commit.

There was a tenderness here, a softness that Ava had only ever caught glimpses of underneath all of that perfectly coutured armor.

Ava suddenly found that she couldn’t continue, knowing that in a few weeks she’d never have Gwen’s hands on her again, knowing that she’d have to go back to merely arranging meetings and fetching lattes. Despite the rush of heat, despite the very physical evidence of Gwen’s desire, Ava was terrified. To have Gwen peel away her shirt and see her naked—not Ava or Swiftwing, but that fragile understanding of the two… No one, especially not any of her previous sexual fumbles, had seen her so utterly exposed. To have Gwen look at her and know…the thought made her panic, made her close her hand over Gwen’s with a whispered, “Maybe we should stop.”

Concern slowly morphed into understanding, and then that frown line appeared, and Gwen tilted her head, assessing.

“Ah.”

When she rolled her shoulders and lifted herself off of Ava’s lap, the loss was tangible.

“You don’t have to go.”

“No, I do,” Gwen said. She didn’t look at Ava. She looked anywhere but at Ava as she pulled down the hem of her dress and adjusted her bra strap. “This was obviously not what I—” She huffed in frustration. “Sex doesn’t have to mean anything, Ava, and you’re under no obligation here.”

“But it does,” Ava objected, standing up on wobbly legs. “It’s just—”

“No, no,” Gwen held up her hand, pursing her lips in a particularly Miss Knight way. “I don’t require an explanation. In fact, it’s best this evening is cut short. My living room floor looks like the scene of a bad action movie, and I need to get it cleaned up before Luke comes home. Besides, I left Garbo locked in my bedroom. She’s probably ripped my curtains to ribbons.”

“It’s 1 a.m.,” Ava pointed out, provoking another scowl.

“I’ll get an Uber.”

“You hate being exposed to Uber drivers.”

“Are you offering to fly me home?” Gwen’s voice was glass-sharp, and Ava flinched.

I would if you’d stop pretending. I would if I could touch you and not dread the moment it ends because I can’t trust that it won’t be the last time. I would if this could be something real.

But she said nothing, and Gwen nodded slowly, knowingly. “Mmm. Didn’t think so.”

Ava didn’t stop her from walking away. She didn’t call her name or ask her to stay. She watched Gwen close the door, listened to the ding of the elevator as it reached the first floor, waited to hear the halt of car tires. And only when she was sure that Gwen was safe and on her way home did Ava sit back down and allow herself to cry.