Chapter Text
Every second that ticks by in Helene’s private elevator feels like an eternity to Villanelle. She counts the floors as they descend far too slowly and feels each individual muscle of her arms unraveling with the passing of time. Still, she holds on to Eve, refusing to let her fingers budge even a millimeter for fear that if she does, Eve will slip away completely.
Pain radiates through her entire left side, back, and shoulders, but it is nothing compared to the terrible ache burning in her chest. In an attempt to ease that ache, Villanelle talks to Eve. She whispers sweet nothings, promises of mornings she’s not sure if they will ever get to share and dreams of the future they might have had together. The talking also serves to help keep Villanelle awake, as the blood loss is beginning to make her head spin and vision fuzzy. But by the time the elevator finally reaches the bottom floor there are no words left, only sobbing.
They are the kind of cries that rips a person open from the inside out, tapping into a well so deep that you’re not sure that it’ll ever run dry. Villanelle knows that her well travels right to her very core. She feels as if it is made of a dark, murky substance that is more like sludge than water. Villanelle thinks she might choke on it, and that that wouldn’t be an unwelcome result in her opinion at all.
She lasted as long as she could, but blood loss and fatigue finally take total control, making everything that happens next a blur for Villanelle. Red and blue flashing lights, loud sirens, and louder screams consume her senses until she feels like there is nothing of her left at all except for agony. That all encompassing pain is the only thing signifying to her that she is still, in fact, alive. So Villanelle does the only thing she can, she clings to the pain, leans into it even, just like she continues to cling to Eve.
Strong arms and rough hands try to pull Eve away from her, but Villanelle drapes herself across Eve’s impossibly still body, sobbing and praying all while thrashing wildly in an attempt to shield Eve from whatever monsters are refusing to leave them alone. The forms of these monsters she doesn’t know, and she wonders why they haven’t killed her yet. She almost wishes they would.
Villanelle can’t see anything other than her lover’s closed eyelids and pale cheeks. It’s like her entire world has shrunk to be only the size of Eve’s face. Everything else just doesn’t exist for her anymore.
It’s not until a familiar, stern voice slams itself into the back of her skull that Villanelle’s world expands again. The second it does, and all the harsh lights mixed with the inky blackness of a night sky come into view, Villanelle wishes with all her heart that it was her eyes closed instead of Eve’s. But then the voice speaks again and Villanelle thinks she hears it from underwater, all distant and distorted by the sludge of her tears. With each word Villanelle feels herself being forcibly pulled up from the depths of the ocean by this disgusting trick of the mind called hope.
“You have to let them do their job, Villanelle. You have to let them try to save her. Eve is strong. She can survive this, after all she survived you, but you have to let go.”
It’s gentle hands that reach out this time, tugging softly at the back of Villanelle’s blood stained blouse. Some of the voices and faces of who she perceived to be monsters clears as the fog she’s in lifts ever so slightly. “Carolyn? It’s not too late?”
“That’s right. Come on then, let them help Eve.”
Eve. Villanelle looks down at the face of her lover, who is somehow now lying on a stretcher. Even in such stillness Villanelle knows that Eve is the most beautiful person on the planet. With trembling hands, Villanelle cups Eve’s cheeks and ever so gently brushes her lips over each of Eve’s closed eyelids.
“If it had to be one of us, it should have been me.” Villanelle trails her fingers through tangled, dark locks. “Please, stay with me.”
Villanelle finally steps away on shaking legs and the paramedics jump into action. They assess Eve’s vitals and rush to get her into the back of the ambulance. Unable to bear the thought of being separated, Villanelle moves to get in the back of the bus as well, but before she can, her head starts to spin violently. Her vision becomes a mess of blurred reds, blues, and blacks once more and she feels bile rise to her throat. The last thing she sees before her head hits the concrete is Carolyn’s face. Not exactly the last thing she wanted to see, but if this means she can trade places with Eve, then it’ll have to do.
xxx
Everything is too bright and too dull all at the same time. Objects shift in and out of focus without her eyes’ consent, and her stomach rolls due to the motion of it. Her head pounds like a drum, making it impossible to pick out any particular sound, and even if she could she’s not sure she would be able to process any of it. Things that she assumes must be words sound like the auditory equivalent of a jigsaw puzzle, except all of the pieces come from different sets so nothing matches.
Nothing at all matches for Villanelle. Not the pain in her arms, the wet, sticky feeling on her back, or the overwhelming sensation that she is still sinking, sinking, sinking, like a heavy stone to the bottom of a black lake. It’s only when she is able to remember Eve that Villanelle recalls why she is drowning in the first palace. Eve is the only thing that gives her the strength and desire to swim at all.
The memories come in flashes, short bursts of brilliance that make her feel safe and terrified all at the same time. At first they are hazy shadows in the distance, outlines only, but eventually Villanelle’s visions take on shape and color until they form beautiful mosaics. She remembers thick curly hair, curious eyes, and soft pink lips. She sees a tiny yellow room filled with nautical themed objects, a shed on a Scottish golf course, and the Welsh countryside under a sky full of stars.
Eventually the mosaic shifts, rearranging itself into a much darker picture. The memory hits Villanelle like a speeding train. Green satin stained red, the sound of gunshots and bones breaking, the feeling of life and love slipping from between her fingertips. Eve!
Villanelle bolts upright, eyes suddenly focused and lungs clear of water “Eve!” Her voice comes out in a hoarse, desperate whisper meant to be a scream. “Where is Eve?”
“Villanelle? It’s okay, Eve is still in surgery. Try to calm down, okay?”
Frantically, Villanelle tries to get up but is stopped by tight pressure. She looks down in shock and finds herself strapped to a hospital bed. Laying over white sheets are thick, padded leather straps buckling her right wrist and both feet to the railing. Her left arm is in some sort of metal contraption that sticks out from the bruised skin of her upper arm, connecting with more metal over her elbow. She tries, but Villanelle can’t move her limbs at all.
“I’m going to be sick.”
Villanelle lolls her head to the side as the room seems to spin. A waste bin is quickly shoved under her chin, just in time too.
Once she is empty, the world slowly rearranges itself for Villanelle. Her anesthesia and trauma induced dreams state slips away to be replaced by the even harsher glare of reality. It’s like putting on glasses and being surprised by all the fine details you’ve been missing. Villanelle takes several deep breaths to steady herself as she adjusts to consciousness before addressing the woman who just held her hair back while she vomited.
“I know you from somewhere. You’re not a nurse.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me or not.” The young, black woman says with a little chuckle and a cheeky smile. “You’ve probably shot at a lot of people so I didn’t think you’d recognize me. I’m not special or anything.”
Shot at? Villanelle doesn’t shoot at people who live to tell the tale, well except for two very special people. Then it clicks and Villanelle can’t help but smile back. “You were in the car with Eve!”
“Bingo! I begged her to keep driving but that asshole just had to see you up close. She couldn’t keep it in her pants and now look where we are!”
Villanelle is about to snap at the woman for insulting her lover, but then she sees the genuine fondness in chocolate eyes so she laughs a little instead. The noise sounds foreign and rusty, making her wonder just how long it’s been since she last used it.
“I’m Elena by the way. I work for Carolyn Martens. I was part of the original team with Eve, Bill, and Kenny that found you, but after everything in Russia and Paris Carolyn had me assigned to a new team.”
“I thought Eve said you quit?”
“That’s what Carolyn made me tell them. It broke my heart but crown and country, right? She put me on a team who looks at The Twelve as a whole. Big picture stuff. Eve was too focused on you and only you to see anything else.”
The comment makes Villanelle’s heart ache and swell in equal measure. “How is Eve? Please tell me that she’s alright!” Her voice sounds more desperate than intended. “And why am I in these restraints, and what’s this weird metal thing?”
“Besides the obvious reason of you being a homicidal psychopath who has killed agents in a hospital before…”
Villanelle puts on what she thinks is an innocent smile and grins, but she ends up looking more like the wolf than little red riding hood. “Oops?”
Elena glares disapprovingly. “Oops is right. But you also keep trying to rip your IV out and the nurses and doctors are all annoyed with you over it, among other things. You only have so many usable veins and apparently you’re a difficult stick.”
“I’ve been told I’m difficult in every aspect of my life, but I don’t remember that.” Villanelle says with a pout. Her heart begins to race, making the little monitor beep at an alarming pace.
“What do you remember?”
“I remember the casino.” Villanelle replies through gritted teeth. A wave of anger washes over her from head to toe, filling her with a fresh desire to rip The Twelve to pieces. “Things were going well but then Helene shot Eve, I beat the shit out of her for it and then managed to get us all down to the first floor. Carolyn was waiting with help but everything is foggy after that.”
“That’s all?” Villanelle looks up with confusion and concern, making Elena sigh softly. “Villanelle, that was five days ago.”
“What?” Villanelle croaks out in disbelief. Had she really been dream drowning for five whole days?
“Mhm. You passed out at the scene from blood loss and I guess just like maximum physical exertion? You pushed yourself really hard and were in bad shape. You needed a blood transfusion.”
Villanelle cringes at the thought of someone else’s blood running through her veins. It makes her skin crawl and itch. She guesses she has always been somewhat of a Frankenstein's monster, but this really seems like a bit much, especially with ugly metal now sticking out of her arm too.
“They did surgery on your arm once you were stable enough to fix your broken elbow and remove the bullet. I guess some of the bone was shattered so they put in a plate and then this contraption to help it heal. You’ve been in and out of consciousness since, waking up long enough to be a dick, eat some jello, and fall back out of it. The anesthesia really took a toll on you but this is the most alert you’ve been, as I understand. I can go get the doctor to tell you the details if you want?”
Elena gestures towards the door but Villanelle quickly reaches out to grab her, forgetting momentarily about the restraints before she is forced back to the bed. “No! Please Elena, you have to tell me what’s going on with Eve first. She’s the only thing that matters to me.”
Elena looks frightened for an instant but then softens before her expression changes to sadness. Her eyes wander to the empty bed beside Villanelle, the only other one in this small and otherwise empty hospital room.
“It doesn’t look good to be honest. When she first got here they rushed her into surgery right away. She coded on the table but they were able to bring her back and finish the surgery. The bullet punctured her intestines and spleen. It took them a long time to repair everything and she needed a blood transfusion too but she seemed to do well enough. She was like you, in and out of it until this morning when she wouldn’t wake up at all. Her bloodwork was really bad. I’m not a doctor, but the way they explained it was that some more of her intestines died and got necrotic? So they went back in about three hours ago to try and fix it. She’s septic and only has a 50/50 chance of pulling through.”
Elena sniffles as she finishes, and wipes her eyes with a tissue. Tears sting at Villanelle’s hazel eyes too. She desperately wants to wipe them away but the damn restraints are preventing her from moving. Suddenly everything feels like too much, like the entire world is pressing down on her shoulders, crushing her beneath its massive weight.
Villanelle begins to gasp for air and strain violently against her restraints. “Take them off! Get them off me right now!”
Elena doesn’t know what to do. There’s no way in hell she’s going to take off the restraints after what happened to Bill, but she finds her heart aching for the former assassin nonetheless. Nurses rush into the room, called by the ringing of Villanelle’s vital monitor. They try in vain to calm Villanelle down, only agitating her further.
“What on earth is going on here?”
Carolyn, as calm and composed as ever, walks into the room with a disapproving frown. She hands Elena a stack of folders and quickly makes her way to Villanelle’s bedside.
“Villanelle dear, this is rather unbecoming for a woman of your accomplishments.”
Carolyn ushers the nurses out of the room, who have clearly already learned to listen to her without question, and then returns to Villanelle and unbuckles the restraints.
“These were simply a precaution, for your own safety of course. You really must try not to move, that external fixator for your elbow is rather costly, plus the bandages on your back will slip.”
Finally free, Villanelle tucks her legs underneath herself so that she is sitting crisscross and flexes her uninjured arm. The tears have come to a stop but her cheeks are still burning bright red.
“Fuck the bandages, I need to see Eve!”
“Eve is in surgery again, Villanelle. See that bed next to you? If she doesn’t need to be in the ICU they will bring Eve in here to recover once she wakes up. Okay?”
“No, not okay. What if she’s dying right now and I’m not with her?”
“So what? Eve is surrounded by some of the best surgeons in the country. She is in better company than you right now, and you need to let them work.”
Villanelle instinctively moves to fold her arms to demonstrate how cross she is, forgetting about the metal contraption literally bolted into her bones. She hisses in pain from even the smallest movement and bites her lip hard as a distraction.
Elena can’t help but chuckle under her breath “We told you not to move.”
Villanelle’s glare instantly makes Elena fall silent. “What happened to Helene? Did we get the job done?”
“You know Villanelle, all is fair in love and war, and you have proven yourself to be remarkably good at both.” Carolyn pauses to let a small, genuine smile slip. “You beat her within an inch of her life but Helene is currently alive. She’s already given up the names of several other top ranking Twelve members and Elena has verified the intel.”
Carolyn holds out her hand, prompting Elena to give her the stack of folders she had passed off earlier.
“It’s all here, death certificates, fake surgical reports, new passports, IDs, and cash. The official documents say that Eve was pronounced dead at the scene while you died on the table. This is watertight work, no one in The Twelve will know that you’re alive. Plus, they’re about to have bigger problems on their hands now that we have some solid leads to go off of. You’re free to run along and do whatever it is that retired assassins do these days. Bird watching was it?”
“Yeah.” Villanelle replies with a sharp exhale of air. “Bird watching.”
This was supposed to feel like a victory, the crowning achievement of her career. Instead, Villanelle just feels sick to her stomach all over again, and not because of the anesthesia. She is supposed to be enjoying this information with Eve. All of this, every drop of blood, sweat, and tears that went into this job, was so that she and Eve can be together in peace. But now it feels like this was all for nothing. It feels like she failed Eve.
“Why are you doing this, Carolyn? This has to go beyond your job description. I know you have to have worked with The Twelve before, so why did things change? If Eve dies, why did we do this?”
Carolyn has gathered her belongings and is now standing by the door with Elena beside her. The older woman looks down at the thin gold chain dangling from her neck. She picks up the small oval dangling at the end of it, running a fingertip over the smooth surface almost lovingly before opening it.
After a mournful, yet adoring smile, she turns the locket so that it is facing Villanelle. Inside, there’s a black and white photograph of the smiling face of a handsome young man. He looks happy and content, beaming at whatever is behind the camera.
“Your son.”
Carolyn offers a small, sad nod in confirmation. “They took Kenny from me so now I’m going to take everything they’ve ever cared about from them. I am going to burn The Twelve to the ground until there is nothing left but ashes.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Villanelle notices Elena reach up to grasp her own matching lockets. A look of what Villanelle can only guess is regret crosses over her features before being replaced by determination. “We’re going to get every last one of them.”
“Good!” Satisfaction settles in the pit of her stomach in knowing that karma is coming to those who deserve it most. “If Eve dies today I will be with you to strike the next match, but if she lives, I look forward to never seeing your face again, Carolyn.”
A rare laugh leaves Carolyn’s lips as she snaps the locket shut. “Deal.” Before closing the door, the senior agent smiles over her shoulder. “Give Eve my best when she wakes up, won’t you?”
“Of course. When she wakes up.”
The door closes and Villanelle finds herself alone. She collapses back against the bed and covers her eyes with her one movable arm. Her breath comes in shaky, shallow gasps as she tries, and fails, to maintain some semblance of composure.
Over and over again Villanelle reminds herself that Eve is still alive. Surely she would feel it in her heart if Eve had died, right? And no news is good news, right? They are probably stitching her up right this very moment and in no time at all Eve will be beside her recovering.
Villanelle refuses to let her mind wander to darker places again. She instead fills her brain with ideas of what they can do once they’re both healed. She imagines all of the countries that they will travel to, all of the delicious food they will eat, and all of the fantastic sex they’ll have all over the world. She thinks that it’ll be nice to kiss all of Eve’s scars, trace their outlines with her tongue. Her own physical scars will surely be bad too, but Villanelle knows it is her deep, inner scars that Eve loves to kiss most.
Tears threaten to surge out at that point so she switches to imagining the house that they’ll eventually design together. Light will stream in from large windows and skylights in every room, novel after novel stacked precariously on the shelves will span from floor to ceiling, and there will always be expensive, luxurious coffee fully stocked in the sprawling kitchen.
Most importantly, their house will always be filled with love. Villanelle hates how that cliché thought makes her insides flutter, but it does nonetheless. Their house will be warm and inviting and beautiful. Pictures will hang from every wall like an open scrapbook of their adventures together. Of course there will be yelling and fighting too. Probably plates smashed to pieces and holes punched through drywall, but it’ll all be worth it. Every single second with Eve, whether they are fighting or making love, is a gift.
Before Eve, Villanelle never really pictured her future. It had always been some intangible shadow of an idea at the fringes of her mind, a theory that she never considered eventually practicing. Now it’s all she has to hold onto.
Villanelle keeps holding on as the seconds tick by. The analog clock across from her bed narrates the event, bringing anxiety with every slight movement of its hands. Just when Villanelle thinks she is going to go mad from the ticking, dreaming, and waiting, there is a knock at her door.
An older man in a long white coat enters the room. Dr. Marsh- his name tag reads in bold, black letters. Villanelle’s gaze moves past him to the painfully empty hallway beyond, and she stops breathing. Eve is not there...
“Ma’am, Miss Martens said to make you aware of any developments with your partner’s case, so I wanted to let you know that they are bringing her to recovery right now.”
“Recovery? She’s okay?” Villanelle’s voice is barely a whisper. Tentative relief and hope flood her system and seem to choke her, preventing any other sound from coming out.
“She’s far from out of the woods, but she made it through surgery. We will be monitoring her closely in the ICU. She needs aggressive antibiotic treatment, fluids, and pain control. It’s a long road to recovery, but we’re hopeful.”
No matter how long and treacherous the road ahead, it can’t be nearly as bad as the trail of blood and ash that lies behind them.
“Eve is strong. She will make it.” Villanelle says with a firm nod of her head. Happy tears sting at her eyes and Villanelle is surprised that she has any left to cry at all. This last month brought more crying than the entirety of the rest of her life combined. “Is she awake yet?”
“No, and she probably won’t be for a while. I-”
“Take me to her room then.” Villanelle swings her legs over the side of the bed and very carefully inches into a standing position. Her legs feel like cooked pasta and her head spins momentarily, but she grits her teeth, thinks of Eve, and takes her first step forward. “I need to be with her.”
Dr. Marsh visibly pales. He takes several steps back until he is pressed against the eggshell colored wall, hand reaching out to open the door further. “Who… who let you out of your restraints?”
“Carolyn did.” a wolfish grin covers Villanelle’s features. “And I have no problem making her regret that decision unless you take me to Eve.”
Holding his hands up in surrender, the doctor sighs and begins to very cautiously approach the former assassin. “Okay, let’s not do anything rash. Please let me unhook you properly. You quite literally have no usable veins left for IVs.”
Villanelle obliges, partially because she is still too weak to really do anything about it and partially because she is amused by his response. Once she is successfully disconnected from all the monitoring and her IV is capped off, Villanelle grabs the folders from Carolyn and starts the arduous process of walking down the hallway. It’s not far at all, just one ward over, but every step feels like a mile. Dr. Marsh offers no assistance, clearly still a bit on edge, but finally they make it to room number 256.
There are no doors in an ICU, only curtains that mostly remain open. Numerous nurses and doctors are rushing about the ward in every direction, and the phones seem to never stop ringing. Being in this environment brings up the increasingly familiar feeling of anxiety in Villanelle’s chest, making her shift her weight from foot to foot as she bounces her knee.
“Have them bring my bed in here. I’m not leaving her side.”
Villanelle doesn’t wait for a response before walking forward on shaking legs and pulling the curtain aside. Her eyes follow dozens of wires and tubes until they land on the small figure at the center of the bed. A mop of messy dark hair is splayed across the pillow, tugging at Villanelle’s heart strings with the sight of it. She would know that hair anywhere!
“Eve!” Relief unlike any she has ever felt before washes over Villanelle. She surges forward and collapses into the chair beside her lover’s bed. She reaches under the blanket and finds Eve’s cold hand, clasping it desperately in her own and bringing it to her lips to kiss fervently.
“I’m so sorry baby.” A fresh wave of tears pool in Villanelle’s hazel eyes, rolling down her cheeks until they reach Eve’s golden skin. “We did it though; we won! It’s game over and we won.” Still, Villanelle feels like this isn’t really a victory until Eve opens her eyes. “Please baby, please wake up soon. I’ll be right here waiting. I’ll wait forever if I have to but we both know how impatient I can be, so please hurry up and wake up for me, my love.”
But the hours tick by without Eve waking. The nurses bring in another bed as requested and set Villanelle up again with her IV drip hanging from a pole that she can wheel around as needed, but Villanelle doesn’t move at all. She stays exactly where she first landed, sitting right beside Eve, as close as possible and holding Eve’s hand in a death grip.
The sunlight that filters in through the small window gradually fades to blues, purples, and finally black. The harsh fluorescent bulbs dim across the ward, with the exception of the central nurses station, and the constant ringing of machinery fades to a dull buzzing. Gentle, occasional snores are the only sounds coming from the other rooms, and Villanelle closes the curtain entirely to diminish them even more.
“I don’t have the words to explain to you how much I love you, Eve.” Villanelle lets Eve’s hand go and brings her fingers up to gently trace the curve of Eve’s face now that they have some more privacy. Her skin is soft and smooth but still too cold. “Not in any language I know.”
She lets her fingertips brush against Eve’s lips and closes her eyes remembering the pure bliss she felt when they kissed for the first time back on that bus. Villanelle had walked away from that experience feeling higher than any drug could ever make her. She knew she was addicted.
“You are the one who taught me the real language of love. I thought it was Anna, but it was you, Eve. You taught me the difference between obsession and love; not that I’m not still obsessed with you because, believe me, I am, but we both know it is different now. We are different in the same way. Together, we are so much more.”
Villanelle smiles softly and takes Eve’s hand again. “I knew we would be more from the minute I saw you in the hospital bathroom. You ruined me and I loved every second of it. I think I ruined you too. But it was so beautiful, wasn’t it? To see no one else but each other? We are beautiful together and I hope we have the rest of our lives to grow and explore that beauty. Unless we consume each other first, like you said we might, but that would be beautiful in itself too.”
Villanelle sniffles and briefly wipes her eyes. She lowers her head so that it is resting on the bed with her cheek touching Eve’s open palm, ignoring the pain the position causes in her left arm.
“Please don’t leave me, Eve. I don’t think I could survive it if you did. You see me, the real me, and you love me anyway. That’s the greatest gift anyone has ever given me and I’m still not sure I deserve it. But I’m greedy, you know that, so I need one more gift. I need you to wake up for me.”
Villanelle watches her face carefully for even the slightest hint, just a tiny flicker of life, but the stillness is unbearable. “That could be my Christmas gift, you waking up. Christmas is only a few days away but I like gifts any time of year.”
Villanelle closes her eyes and takes a few steadying breaths. She leaves her eyes closed while she starts to talk again. It’s difficult to see Eve this way, plus exhaustion is setting in.
“Remember all the gifts I got you, especially in the beginning? I love that you still wear the perfume. And you looked so amazing in that black and white dress. I’m sorry I ruined it by killing that guy in it. He didn’t look half as good wearing it as you.”
A soft chuckle leaves her lips at the memory. “That was the day you held a toilet brush in my face. You looked so adorable using it like a sword. That was the first time you called me Oksana. I didn’t realize it, but that was a gift too. I’d never heard my name said by such a beautiful voice before. Speaking of beautiful voices, I think my song has been the best gift I’ve given you. It’s what brought us here, isn’t it? Music can heal, at least that’s what the bus driver said.”
The melody of what Villanelle now considers their song begins to slip from her lips in a soft vibration. She traces patterns across Eve’s forearm as she hums, letting the soothing rhythm fill the space between them. She hopes that in whatever dream world Eve is stuck in right now she can hear her, or at least feel the healing message.
As the tune comes to a close, Villanelle opens her eyes again and smiles sadly down at her lover. She remembers her family in Russia singing around the table to Elton John, she remembers the terrible train ride home listening to anything just to drown out the screaming in her head, she remembers her headphones, a symbol of betrayal, in Konstantin’s hands, and thinks that music is only healing when it involves Eve.
Then, genius strikes! Villanelle sits up in her chair and smiles widely. “I have another gift for you, Eve! My little brother showed me this song and I think you will like it very much. Consider it an early Christmas gift, okay?”
The hauntingly beautiful keys of a piano begin to play in Villanelle’s head. She squeezes Eve’s hand and lets every emotion she’s ever felt weave it’s way into her words.
“ It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside. I’m not one of those who can easily hide. I don’t have much money, but boy, if I did I’d buy a big house where we both could live. If I was a sculptor, but then again, no. Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show. Oh, I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do. My gift is my song and this one’s for you. ”
Everything is for you.
“ And you can tell everybody, this is your song. It may be quite simple but now that it’s done, I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put it down in words- how wonderful life is when you’re in the world.”
Villanelle pours her heart and soul into the words, all while keeping her voice just above a whisper. This performance is for Eve and Eve alone.
“I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss. Well, a few of the verses, well, they've got me quite cross, but the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song. It's for people like you that keep it turned on. So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do, you see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue. Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean is yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen.”
Villanelle pictures Eve’s eyes, deep pools of chocolate that pierce right through her. They really are the sweetest eyes she’s ever seen. There isn’t a single thing she wouldn’t do to see those eyes open right now.
“ And you can tell everybody, this is your song. It may be quite simple but now that it’s done, I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put it down in words- how wonderful life is when you’re in the world. I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind that I put it down in words- how wonderful life is when you’re in the world.”
There really are no tears left to cry at this point. The well has finally run dry and Villanelle feels completely drained. “Life really is wonderful with you in the world, Eve. I can’t imagine it without you.” She kisses Eve’s bruised knuckles and nuzzles her cheek against the soft skin.
Then there is the slightest twitch. Villanelle isn’t sure if she’s imagined it or not, but she’s fairly certain that Eve’s pinky finger just moved! Jerking her head back, Villanelle’s eyes dart between her lover's hands and face, desperate for another hint that Eve is here with her.
“Eve?” It happens again! Another twitch, her whole hand this time, followed by a slight wrinkling of dark eyebrows. “Eve!”
Villanelle’s entire being swells and bursts with immeasurable happiness. It flows out of her, propelling her to her feet with a jump of joy. Her relief masks the pain coursing through her body so that all she can really feel is the perfect delight of Eve’s presence.
“You’re awake!”
Slowly, Eve’s eyes blink open and adjust to the dim light. Chocolate orbs settle on Villanelle, drinking her in like they did the first time they met. “It’s not fair.” Her voice cracks and wobbles but it is still the most beautiful thing that Villanelle has ever heard.
“What?” Villanelle replies with a confused giggle. “You’re delirious but thank god you’re awake!”
“No, I mean it’s not fair that you get to have such a beautiful face and a beautiful voice too. Like come on, pick one.”
Villanelle melts, absolutely dissolves into a puddle of pure bliss. She doesn’t care about the metal holding her arm together or the IV sticking out of her hand, she doesn’t even register the wires strapped to Eve's chest, all that matters is that Eve is here and now she can hug her. Villanelle giggles uncontrollably between winces of pain as she wraps her one good arm around her lover. The embrace is painful and clumsy, but perfect too.
Eve buries her head in the crook of Villanelle’s neck and greedily breathes in as much of her as possible. When she was being held in Villanelle’s arms on the elevator she wasn’t sure if she would ever get to see this perfect face again. Eve really thought that was going to be the end of their story. It would have been a tragic ending, but it turns out that all this was just the beginning!
“I’m never going to leave you, V.”
“Eve, I’m so sorry-”
“Don’t.” Eve cuts her off gently and presses a light kiss to Villanelle’s parted lips. “It’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter anyway. All that matters now is that I’m here with you. I love you and I’m not going anywhere.”
The two women press their foreheads together. Silent declarations of love and adoration pass between them with the fluttering of their eyelashes. Villanelle has never felt so at home. She knows without a shadow of a doubt that every terrible moment of her checkered past was just a stepping stone to bring her to this perfect ending. Despite it all, she wouldn’t change a damn thing.
“I love you Eve, and I’m so happy that you’re here.”
This ending really is only the beginning of their story. Growing old together is hardly the same as tales of knights, princesses, and fire breathing dragons- or, in this case, assassins, secret agents, and international crime syndicates- that’s why no one ever writes about it. Yet, in their own way, the stories that come next are even more enchanting.
Still, no one writes about the kind of happiness that is shared early in the morning over a pot of coffee, when you make it just right for the person you love and watch them smile when the first drop hits their lips. No one writes about I-love-yous whispered in passing at the front door before you leave for a long day of work, or from the backseat of a taxi cab after a wonderful date. No one writes about the joy found in hanging up your lover’s clothes in a closet that you both share, and then later stealing the most comfortable shirt of theirs as pajamas for yourself.
No matter the details of the story that lies ahead for these soulmates, they are just happy to be in it together. Besides, it’s Villanelle and Eve after all, they find a way to make even the most mundane of things an adventure when they’re together. Like growing old, deeply and madly in love.
Fin.