I've been trying hard to find the right words
The words which could show you how much I care
You once asked me, "Why do you love me?"
There are so many reasons I didn't know what to say
So I didn't say anything
ViRGiNiE - A Wonderful Day
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Some nights, Beau and Yasha sneak out together to the bar. This is their secret, these illicit late-night trips out to the fight club. They don't tell the others about this. They don't talk about this to each other either. Maybe they're both slightly embarrassed and a little bit guilty. Maybe even they don't understand why sometimes they need that haze of rage and pain and struggle just to feel worthy.
When they're at the fight club, Beau goes by the name Traci, and she changes her clothes. It's just easier that way, because no one wants to fight an Expositor of the Cobalt Soul. This way, she's incognito, and that's better, because they aren't here to win. The competition here is nothing like Rexxentrum, but some nights they just feel the need to fight and neither of them is picky. And Beau knows that Yasha thinks redemption can be found here, in the ring. Beau knows also, that Yasha is wrong, that absolution is never at the end of a fist or a blade, that this can't be healthy. But every time Yasha asks, Beau keeps coming back.
So they have a pact. They never fight each other, and they never fight on the same night. When Yasha steps into the ring, she is furious and intimidating, reckless and ready to fall. And Beau is the same when she's in one of her moods, it just happens less often. But tonight is Beau's night.
Her opponent is a gnome, older and wiry but strong, long beard and eyebrows. He moves with the same fluidity as Beau, dances across the ring with the same ease and grace, and Yasha knows this fight will be a real challenge. Because sometimes, Beau holds back, gives her opponent a chance. Sometimes, Yasha thinks that Beau is trying to atone for something as well, and the barbarian has some idea as to what that might be.
Tonight though, Beau is being a little too careless. This gnome matches her blow for blow, dodges or deflects every strike. And when he counterattacks, Beau feels the force behind the punches even as she knocks them aside. She is all offense, frantic and intense, rapid-fire punches interspersed with risky high kicks. And Dairon would say she is being sloppy, too aggressive, and letting her form slip, but Dairon isn't here. Besides, it's safer to let loose here, rather than out in the world where there are real enemies with real grudges.
So Beau is fighting with her anger, letting her emotions run free, and not using her brain. This is why they come. She basks in the release of lashing out full force, feeling her wrist connect with solid muscle, even as the gnome breaks her guard by pushing her arm out wide. A straight jab to her ribs knocks the wind out of Beau, a follow up kick to the shin bends her forward, and an uppercut cracking into her chin whips her head back.
She drops to the ground out of instinct, reeling but still aware enough to sweep the legs out from under her opponent as he tries to press his advantage. Then she leaps back to the offensive, pummeling his arms as he tries to shield his upper body. Only one strike slips through, but that's enough for Beau, as she finds a pressure point that stuns him. And that's all it takes to end the fight. Beau seizes the opportunity, crushing him with a relentless assault that sends him to the floor.
The crowd erupts in a cheer as the gnome taps out, and his friends rush out to tend to him.
"And the winner is… Traci!"
Beau rubs her bruised torso and raises one wrapped hand in mock celebration. The spectators roar once more, but the honour is short-lived, as they announce the next fighters and usher Beau out of the ring.
Only Yasha waits for her outside. Everyone else in the bar is focused on the next bout, but Yasha waits. Yasha with the tight smile and healing hands. Yasha who has her own demons to wrestle, who needs Beau to drag her home after every one of her fights because Beau doesn't have any magic.
When the monk steps from the sand pit, she wipes her mouth with her hand and spits blood. Yasha channels her heritage and heals the worst of it. Beau still hurts, but it looks better. Nothing Jester will see in the morning. And Caduceus will be there when they wake as well, always with a spell ready, no questions asked.
They don't talk about why it's important that Jester not know Beau's been fighting. Beau has never mentioned that was her intent. She's just grateful that Yasha knows exactly which wounds to heal first.
They have a few drinks before stumbling from the building together. Yasha props up Beau until they're out the door. The monk limps a little, but waves Yasha away regardless. "It's ok, I can handle it."
"Are you sure? I can carry you."
One eyebrow lifts. "All the way back?"
"I'm very strong."
They compromise. Yasha offers Beau one arm to lean against as they make their way home. The rest of the journey is in silence, Beau focused on breathing and walking, and Yasha respecting her decision for silence.
Inside their house though, Yasha does carry Beau up the stairs, because there's no way Beau will make it to the top on her injured leg without waking everyone. They pause in front Beau and Jester's room, Yasha setting the monk down so they can both catch their breath. But when Beau goes to open the door, a pale hand catches the doorknob first and holds it shut.
"Why don't you tell her?" Yasha asks.
"About the fighting?" Beau plays dumb because it feels safer.
"About your feelings." Yasha sees right through her.
"I'm not as strong as you."
"You're stronger." And Yasha knows that's true, even if Beau doesn't think so. Because Yasha remembers Obann, and betrayals, and Isharnai, and sacrifice and selflessness. "You deserve happiness. You both do."
"Goodnight Yasha."
The barbarian takes the hint. "Goodnight."
Then Beau is alone in the hallway. She trudges into the room and strips out of her grimy fighting clothes. There is gentle breathing in the background, and for a long moment, Beau stands in the spot between their beds and watches the rise and fall of sheets.
She remembers Yasha's words just now, but also the words she had said out loud all that time ago. I'm not going to act on it or anything. But that was back when things still seemed impossible. Nowadays, Jester laughs at all her stupid jokes. Jester smiles to herself when she's making sketches of Beau. Jester looks at her just so, with enough sparkle in her eyes that Beau dares to dream.
Of course Jester deserves to be happy. Jester is everything any of the Mighty Nein could have ever wanted. And Beau doesn't feel special at all. At the fight club, when she risks it all, Beau feels alive, and yet she's afraid of showing herself to Jester.
So when the tiefling rolls over and opens her eyes, Beau panics, sits down but winces at the pain in her ribs.
"Hey," Jester's voice is soft and slurred from sleep, "are you ok?"
"Yeah, I've just got a bruise. Go back to sleep." Maybe Jester won't remember that they weren't in any fights together today. Maybe Jester won't ask where she's been.
"I can heal you if it'll help you sleep."
Beau hesitates, but when Jester pats the mattress beside her, Beau finds herself climbing into bed with the cleric. They lie face to face as Jester invokes the spell half asleep, and the touch of magic soothes Beau almost as much as the tiefling curled up against her. She thinks about going back to her own bed, but Jester is latched on, arm and tail draped over the monk's body, faint snoring already started again.
And if she's honest, this isn't the first time Beau has found herself here, in front of Jester, wishing she were stronger and braver. She pulls the sheets up around them, watches blue lips tremble with breath. Jester shivers in her sleep, and that prompts a shiver from Beau as well, even though it's warm in the bed. And Beau wonders sometimes, if Jester realizes how much she tests Beau's resolve. Because sometimes, Jester is beautiful and innocent and kind, and she says things that can't possibly be true. You're chaotic, and I love you.
So Beau leans forward, brushes her lips across one of Jester's horns, and promises herself she will listen to Yasha. She will tell Jester how she feels, one of these days.
Because they can't keep doing this, whatever it is they're doing. This thing where they are best friends who share a room and risk their lives to save each other. This thing where they pick outfits for each other, and speak words that sound a lot like love. This thing where they lie in bed holding each other in the dark after Beau bleeds just so she can feel worthy.
Beau can't keep doing this.