Work Text:
This is obviously a very, very bad idea.
Eve hides a lot of things from herself, but one of the truths she can't deny is that she's an impulsive person. So, when the opportunity presents itself to follow her gut instinct, she goes for it, even though this has put her in harm's way more than enough times.
That's how Eve finds herself now, following an assassin whose job is to literally train other assassins, through the streets of Barcelona.
The thing is, she's also good at reading other people. And when she guessed that Dasha would be both too prideful and too cocky to even consider someone could be following her, Eve had been right. Of course, she was keeping her distance, almost losing her target in the crowd more than once, but Dasha walked on with all the confidence of someone who sees herself as untouchable, not looking over her shoulder even once.
Eventually, she seemed to have reached her destination, an opulent, enormous house looming over the now empty street. Eve studied her surroundings carefully as Dasha entered the building before approaching it herself.
The house didn't really seem to be Dasha's style but, Eve thinks with a thrill, it's definitely Villanelle's.
Of course, she had to remind herself that she was there after a lead, not to see Villanelle, and that she should focus. But, as Eve's brain treacherously made her admit, it wouldn't be so bad if the two ended up meeting.
She lurks around the outside and quickly finds not one, but multiple open windows, and can faintly hear voices coming from inside.
Now, this is probably how she'll get herself killed, but Eve rationalizes that she's come this far so she can't quit now, as she struggles to climb through a window in a very ungraceful manner.
But then she's inside, and no one's come to kill her yet, so hey, small victories. Eve takes off her shoes so they don't make noise, then slowly makes her way in the direction of the voices (while also admiring the interior of this place, because wow).
It doesn't take long for her to find them, keeping a safe distance away from a door that's slightly open, light spilling from the inside. Eve can make out what they're saying now, so she leans against a wall to listen in.
She first recognizes Dasha's voice, who seems to be berating someone. Then the other person speaks.
"I'm done with it. I'm leaving."
Eve tries to remember how to breathe properly. She'd know the voice anywhere, couldn't forget it even if she tried, but something's wrong. Because Villanelle could never sound this broken.
"Oh, I've got to get out of here." It's a shaky sort of whimper now, and that sends her brain into overdrive. Dasha is saying something harshly again, and Eve has to make a conscious effort to stop herself from going in there and dragging the damn hag out by her hair. Which makes no sense, because Villanelle can take care of herself, and this is none of her business.
She keeps on listening, trying to override the stupid sentimental part of her brain that seems to be going crazy with worry, and isn't that fucked up? A woman shoots you in the back and now you're standing here having to rationalize how to stop seething with rage because someone is being mean to her.
"I don't want to do this anymore."
Eve is transported back to that night in her kitchen, so long ago, of crocodile tears and manipulation. This must be an act. It has to be, right? But, that makes no sense, because Dasha's clearly not moved by tears (in fact, it only seems to be making her angrier). And also because the way Villanelle sounds now couldn't be more different than back then. This time, she sounds raw and honest and so sad. This time, Eve believes her.
"Stop that, you are too old to be making such a fuss." It's Dasha's voice again, clearly annoyed. "Clean yourself up, I check on you in the morning."
Eve startles, realizing she needs to hide. She has just enough time to duck into an empty room next to the one they're in before she hears Dasha's footsteps echo through the house, and then the front door closing. She slumps in relief, then walks back into the hallway.
She thinks it's all quiet at first, but as Eve inches closer to the door she can hear the telltale sounds of someone who's trying their best to stop crying, or at least muffle it, a few sniffles and whines escaping despite the effort.
And Eve has a passing thought that she's there for Dasha and should be following her out, but any and all rational logic seems to have vanished at the inconceivable notion of Villanelle crying. She knows she's not going anywhere.
She pushes the door open slowly, and only has time to note that it's a bathroom before she's zeroing in on Villanelle's face. The blonde is sitting on the floor, head leaning back against the tub as she cries, and oh, Eve never thought this vibrant, larger-than-life and incredibly dangerous woman could look so helpless. She had thought about Villanelle suffering, after Rome, had hoped for it even, but now, the sight only makes her insides twist unpleasantly.
There's a lot of things Eve won't admit to herself, but she can admit that there's no way she's leaving Villanelle here alone after seeing her like this, so she decides there's no point in stalling.
She enters the bathroom cautiously, eyes not leaving Villanelle's face for a second. The blonde doesn't seem to notice her at all, eyes screwed shut as her throat bobs with the effort to not let out another sob.
"Villanelle?"
Her eyes are open now, red and shinning with unshed tears, and Eve doesn't know what kind of reaction to expect at this point, but Villanelle simply groans out something in what Eve parses as french, before closing her eyes again. "The blood loss must be worse than I thought if I'm having hallucinations."
It's embarrassing, really, that only at the mention of blood loss does Eve think to look anywhere other than at Villanelle's tear-striken face to realize there's dark red smears on the floor, and what looks like a very painful gash on her arm. All caution thrown out the window (and really, nothing about this situation had been cautious in the first place) Eve rushes over to kneel beside her, trying to get a better look at the wound. She was no doctor, but the stitching looked awful and would most likely leave a bad scar. That also didn't make her happy as it once would've.
Eve reached out to touch her, then remembered that could very well end with her dead on a bathroom floor because Villanelle, injured and crying as she might be, was still a trained assassin and that line of work certainly came with instincts, or muscle memory, or something.
"Villanelle? I'm-" Real? Not a hallucination? "I'm here." Eve very slowly placed a hand on the other woman's leg, barely letting it rest there, just to show that she indeed was.
Villanelle's eyes opened again, seemingly with some struggle, and oh yeah, this was definitely something new. Eve could clearly see the emotions swirling in there, going from confusion to bafflement to something cautiously, almost painfully hopeful.
"Eve?"
She nodded gingerly, her other hand raised in a small wave, and Eve realized she must look incredibly awkward. They stare at a each other.
"You're in my house." It wasn't a question, more of a statement of general acceptance.
"Yeah, I...yes." Eve knew she was way out of her dept here, but it was also too late to turn around now, and frankly, she didn't want to. This side of Villanelle was one she hasn't seen before, and would maybe, probably, never see again.
"Why are you here, Eve?"
She would've expected a teasing tone, maybe even flirtatious, if this had been like any of their previous encounters, but Villanelle just sounds so tired.
"I'm-" Eve's breath hitches. I'm here because someone tried to kill my husband. I'm here because I was following Dasha. I'm here because I wanted to see you. "I'm here for you." She smiles sheepishly, despite herself, and secretly revels in the way Villanelle's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
"We need to talk. Do you..." Eve gestured around where they both still sat. "Can you stand?" She'd rather not keep talking while sitting on the bathroom floor, and Villanelle herself didn't look any more comfortable slumped on cold tile surrounded by her own blood.
Without really waiting for an answer, Eve stood up, wincing slightly at the ache in her shoulder, and offered a hand to the other woman.
Villanelle looked up at her, eyes a little glassy, but clearly sizing Eve up as if trying to gauge her intentions. Instead of taking the hand offered, she pushed herself off the floor, only to immediately sway over as if the room was spinning. Eve quickly held out her arms for support before Villanelle landed face first on the floor, and the sudden motion made her shoulder flare up again.
"Blood loss is shit." Villanelle groaned miserably, and Eve noticed her accent was thicker than usual. They took a few unsteady steps out into the hall, and the blonde seemed to shake off her earlier dizziness, shooing Eve's grip away, though not unkindly.
Uncertain of what she should do, Eve just followed her around the house and into a large bedroom. The silence was a bit disconcerting. Villanelle was nothing if not a vibrant presence, seeking out attention wherever she went. But now she was quiet, no clever quips or inappropriate jokes, as she approached a large wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room and started to rummage through it.
And then it happened. Eve watched, completely enraptured, as Villanelle stood with a set of silken sleepwear in her hands, biting her lower lip, eyes switching in the direction of the bathroom where they'd come from, then the bed as a heavy sigh escaped her, and Eve immediately understood because it was something she'd done herself a million times before. The simple question of wether you have the energy to take a shower after a shit day, or if you should just go straight to bed. It's something so mundane, but so intrinsically human that it makes Eve's heart skip a few beats.
While this epiphany was happening, Villanelle seemingly made up her mind and gave up on the shower, because she turned around and started to strip. Eve adverted her eyes sharply, ready to snap at her about modesty, but the words died in her throat, because this too was strange. Given everything she knew about Villanelle, she'd never give up the opportunity to tease Eve about this, to make a show out of it, but she was still completely silent while she changed. It was like she wasn't even really there, just going through the motions. Once again Eve's chest felt heavy with an unsettling feeling, about what could've shaken Villanelle up so badly that she would act like this, like a shell of herself.
She heard rustling behind her, and turned to see the blonde climbing into bed slowly, favoring her uninjured side. Villanelle seemed to settle, hand brushing over her face in a tired motion, and she looked over at Eve quizzically, like she hadn't even noticed her standing there until now.
"You're still here." It was, again, not a question, but this time there was something softer there too, almost vulnerable.
Eve looked fully at her then, curled up on the bed, her face pale and eyes still puffy from crying, and Villanelle has never looked so small. She was surprised to discover the sight broke her heart a little.
"So." Villanelle gestured at her vaguely, eyes drooping slightly, but she manages to look at Eve curiously. "You said you wanted to talk."
Eve shifted in place, unsure of what the best course of action was here. She had said that, but she wasn't prepared for the state Villanelle seemed to be in, and really, was there any point in talking about what happened to Niko? It all seemed so unreal to her now, and she also didn't want to seem insensitive by talking about her own issues while the other woman was clearly going through something.
But, if she didn't talk about Niko, she would end up having to talk about something much worse, like her feelings, or Villanelle's feelings. Or the bus. So she decides that being all-business was safer for now.
"Someone tried to kill my husband."
"Oh." Villanelle looked surprised enough, but not particularly upset by the news, which is what Eve had expected her reaction would be like.
"Pitchfork through the neck. It's a miracle he's still alive." She thought her voice might shake, waited for the emotions to bubble up to the surface, but Eve was calm, almost coldly so. "I came here looking for a lead."
Villanelle nodded, then seemed to fully process what she'd said, and Eve was startled by the way she suddenly propped herself up on the bed, something akin to panic on her face. "Eve, it wasn't me. I didn't-"
"I know. I know it wasn't you." She spoke quickly, but full of conviction, her hands raised in a reassuring gesture. "You'd never do that to me." It again came out softer than she intended, but Eve found she didn't mind.
She saw the way Villanelle visibly relaxed, her eyes widening a little at the words. Eve could swear she saw her eyes getting shiny again.
"But whoever did it wanted me to think it was you. They left a note." She rambled on, not wanting to get swept up in the moment. Eve dug through her purse briefly, taking out the photo she'd taken of the note and showing it to Villanelle.
The other woman analysed the picture intently for a few moments, before sighing, something she seemed to be doing a lot.
"...it was probably Dasha. She wasn't happy that I-" Villanelle stopped herself, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. "She knew that I went to see you, in London."
If Eve didn't know any better, she would've thought Villanelle looked almost guilty, or maybe remorseful. But she once again decided not to dwell on it, just relieved at the confirmation.
"I thought that might be the case. I confronted her earlier, then followed her here."
"You followed her here?" Villanelle repeated the words, something like concern flashing through her eyes for a second, before she started to laugh. "Wow, she's really lost her edge. And she says I'm the one going soft."
Eve was glad that Villanelle seemed a bit more like herself now, the color returning to her cheeks, but she was stunned into silence again, because the other woman wasn't laughing anymore. She was staring at Eve with so much feeling behind it, so openly, that she couldn't breathe.
"Why are you here, Eve?"
It was different than the way she'd asked earlier, her gaze soft and vulnerable and with that sliver of hope in it again. Villanelle wasn't stupid, she knew that Eve wasn't in her house in the middle of the night just looking for a lead, just to talk about her husband. And in that moment Eve thought of a million things she could say, but found that, this time, all she could say was the truth.
"Because I wanted to see you."
It was said simply, with finality, but Eve didn't miss the way her own voice shook a little.
Villanelle just stared, several different emotions that Eve could spend her whole life deciphering flashing through her eyes a mile a second.
She uttered a quiet 'oh', and looked like she was about to start crying again, and Eve panicked a little. Had that been the wrong thing to say? Was it unfair to either of them for her to admit it now? Maybe it was still too soon, the wounds still too fresh, for her to start spewing crazy shit like confess that truly, deep down, she'd come all the way to Barcelona just to see this woman.
"...will you stay? Just for tonight." It was said so quietly that she almost couldn't hear it over her own thoughts. Villanelle was looking away from her again, something in her eyes that Eve hadn't seen before, and couldn't quite parse the meaning of. But she understood the vulnerability behind the request.
Eve thought about that apartment in Paris so long ago, about a similar question being uttered, and how this was quite similar but at the same time so completely different, and the words were out of her mouth before she could second-guess herself.
"Yes. Yeah, I can stay." It sounded too honest, almost eager, and Eve tried to backtrack with some levity, shrugging, trying to make it seem casual. "I didn't exactly book a hotel, so."
The corners of Villanelle's mouth turned upwards at that, and Eve mentally pat herself in the back for making her smile. She looked around the room, wondering what she was supposed to do now. Eve took off her coat and draped it across a chair in the corner, then proceeded to kind of just stand there awkwardly, looking over at the other woman for a clue on what the next step was.
They stared at each other for a while. Villanelle eyed her up and down, not in a lustful kind of way, seemingly just confused.
"You're gonna sleep in those?" She pointed at Eve's clothes, brows furrowed. "Just borrow something of mine, if you'd like."
Eve eyed the wardrobe, then turned back to Villanelle. "I wouldn't be opposed, but I doubt any of your clothes will fit me."
Villanelle adverted her eyes, chewing on her bottom lip, and Eve could see she was deciding on wether to say something. This was yet another new, strange thing. Villanelle never seemed the type to think through what she was going to say, always speaking with an air of pure confidence. Eve saw that same hint of something in her eyes again, and could finally see it for what it was.
She's afraid of rejection. Well of course, Eve's brain snarked, why shouldn't she be. Her own words back at the ruins came to her, and they tasted bitterly in her mouth.
Villanelle opened and closed her mouth a few times, before exhaling slowly. "In the bedroom across from this one. They're all your size." She spoke quietly, eyes meeting hers again with that incredibly vulnerable look, sinking into the mattress like she fully expected Eve to yell at her, berate her about how that was crazy or obsessive, something unnatural.
"...oh, alright. Thank you" Eve was proud of how composed and polite she sounded, turning around and walking confidently in the direction pointed, as if this was completely normal. And honestly, at this point, wasn't it? Of course Villanelle had a wardrobe full of clothes that were Eve's size. That makes perfect sense to her.
She rationalizes that she should probably feel creeped out by it, specially after everything, after Rome, but Eve is, as always, like a fish out of water regarding her own feelings for Villanelle. There's always a clear discrepancy in how she should feel, and what she was actually feeling, and it's so commonplace at this point that Eve doesn't bother to dwell on it.
She finds what she's looking for in the bedroom across the hall, opening a similarity large wooden wardrobe to find it filled with clothing. Eve can't help but examine them, running her fingers through the fabric and taking out a few pieces so she could have a better look. They're all beautiful, and look like they fit her perfectly, but Eve is surprised to see all the clothes are also in her general style. Fancier than she'd usually wear, sure, but in mostly muted tones and modest enough.
Villanelle did many things, but she'd never once tried to change her, Eve realized. Looking at the clothes, she finds herself oddly touched, before realizing she's probably taking too long and digging into a few drawers for a set of pyjamas. Despite her previous observations, she still expects to find something akin to a revealing silk camisole, and is once again surprised by regular sleep t-shirts and shorts. Eve has no doubt it's worth more than any clothing she owns, but still. Oddly touching.
She changes, and wonders briefly if she should just sleep in here instead, but the thought vanishes almost instantly. They were way past that. Eve makes her way back to Villanelle's room, finding the other woman staring at the ceiling with a vacant look, eyes glassy again. She wonders for the first time if the blonde's unusual quietness and aloof demeanor could mean she was actually disassociating or something similar, and slaps herself mentally for not thinking of the possibility sooner. Eve approaches the bed cautiously, suddenly self-conscious when Villanelle turns her head slightly to look at her, the previously blank stare immediately replaced by something softer.
"These are nice." Eve isn't sure why she says it, but she feels the acute need, not for the first time tonight, to make Villanelle feel better. She even manages to smile gratefully.
The other woman immediately beams at the words, eyes lighting up before she clears her throat and looks elsewhere, trying to appear nonchalant. "I'm glad you like them."
It's the first time Eve's seen her really smile since she got there, and she breathes out a sigh of relief, happy that she was able to improve Villanelle's mood slightly.
Seemingly pleased enough with that interaction, the other woman closes her eyes like she was making an effort to keep them open before, and she looks so still that it makes Eve panic a little, making her way over to Villanelle's side of the bed to check on her.
"Is it okay for you to sleep? It looked like you lost a lot of blood, don't you need like, medicine or something?" She couldn't help but fuss over Villanelle, just because of how frail she looked, and specially because 'frail' was not a word that should be applicable to Villanelle in any situation.
Villanelle was looking at her funny, one eyebrow raised in question. When Eve didn't say anything else, she chuckled, repeating the words slowly.
"Medicine...for blood loss?" Her eyes glinted with amusement, and Eve couldn't help but groan exasperatedly.
"Don't be an asshole, you know what I mean." Eve meant to sound annoyed, but the words come out unbelievably fond.
Villanelle's eyes softened again, seeming to take pity on her. "It's fine, really. I won't bleed out or anything, I just need to rest."
Eve nods at that, placated, and Villanelle turns over to dim the lights in the room, a poorly concealed wince when she leans on her injured arm to do so.
She knows this is her cue to get over herself and just get on the damn bed, and she does so with surprising ease. Because, if she really thinks about it, sharing a bed is probably one of the most normal, inoffensive things they'd done together since they met. And, it's not like this is the first time.
Villanelle seems to be thinking about it too, because when Eve stops fidgeting and finds a comfortable position (which isn't at all hard in this criminally soft mattress), she opens one eye to peer at her. "Should I be worried?"
Eve is so glad to hear the familiar teasing tone from her again that she almost forgets to answer, raising her hands in mock surrender. "I come in peace this time."
They both chuckle a little at the incredulity of the situation, but Eve apparently just can't keep her mouth shut, because the next words out of her mouth are "What happened to you?"
Villanelle stills, before shifting to her side so they're both mirroring their positions from back in Paris. She shrugs, and this time her face doesn't betray a hint of emotion.
"Botched a job. I got him anyway, but not before he came at me with scissors." Villanelle says blankly, but then her voice is small again. "It was sloppy, really." She lets out a small laugh that is devoid of any real humor.
They both know that wasn't what Eve was asking about.
Eve finds yet another piece of her heart breaking at that, because Villanelle's little self-deprecating laugh is so un-Villanelle, who always seems to have nothing but complete confidence in her own abilities. She thinks about pressing her, but knows it would be a futile effort. They lay together in silence, and through the dim lighting she can see Villanelle's breathing slowing as she falls asleep almost immediately. Eve, who always takes at least one or two hours to fall asleep herself, envies the notion.
She can feel herself finally dozing off, in that in-between state of reality and dream, when Eve feels the bed shift, accompanied by a quiet, almost inaudible whine. It's surprising, how the noise immediately makes her alert, and her eyes are on Villanelle in an instant.
At first, Eve assumes she's in pain because of her wound, but the other woman looks like she's still asleep, just restless, as she tosses and turns while a few more pained sounds escape her. A nightmare, then. The realization is a little shocking, and she feels that intense pull of curiosity again as she wonders what someone like Villanelle had nightmares about.
Eve reaches out to her slowly, almost like you would an injured animal. She speaks softly, but firmly. "Villanelle? I think you're having a bad dream. Can you hear me?"
The gentle touch on her arm only seems to makes things worse, because Villanelle starts shaking, mumbling words that Eve can't make out at first, before she realizes it's russian, recognizing the language from her brief trip there. She's full-on worried now, still trying to coax the blonde out of it while trying to keep her own voice free of panic. "Villanelle, it's Eve. We're at your house, it's okay, you're just dreaming."
Villanelle's eyes snap open, her heavy breathing now the only sound in the room, and she looks unfocused, almost confused, like she can't see Eve there at all. Slowly, recognition fills her gaze.
"Eve?" It's said so quietly, almost fearfully, but with that now unmistakably hopeful tone.
And Eve's pretty sure she's stopped breathing again, because Villanelle honest-to-god whimpers, a hand flying up to cover her own mouth harshly.
Before her brain can even catch up with what her body is doing, Eve's sprung to the other side of the bed to gather Villanelle into her arms, one arm thrown around her waist while the other sneaks through the underside of her head, fingers threading gently over blonde locks in a soothing motion.
Processing what she's just done, Eve expects the other woman to flinch at the touch like she had before. Instead, Villanelle all but melts into the embrace, hands grasping at the fabric of Eve's shirt like it's the only thing keeping her afloat. She's crying in earnest now, shoulders shaking, but she barely makes any noise at all apart from a few broken gasps and those tiny whimpers that pierce right through Eve's heart.
It should be eerie, how silently Villanelle cries, but Eve just finds it incredibly sad. She wonders when was the last time the other woman was allowed to just cry openly, to fall apart like this without fear of admonishment. She keeps brushing Villanelle's hair slowly with one hand, the other drawing slow circles on her back.
"It's alright, just let it all out. It's okay." Eve keeps repeating gentle reassurances in a low tone. She doesn't know how much time goes by, but it feels like hours before Villanelle's breath starts slowing again, her sobs quieting into deep breaths.
She's almost convinced the blonde fell back asleep, when she hears a quiet sigh.
"I went to see my family. In Russia." Comes the even quieter admission.
Eve's hand on her hair stills for a second, the gears turning in her brain. "Your family? I thought..." She bites her tongue, realizing this probably isn't the right time.
Villanelle seems unbotherd by it, simply nodding into Eve's chest before she keeps going. "I thought they were dead too. Konstantin found them for me."
She goes quiet again for a moment, and Eve softly brushes a strand of hair into place before quietly asking. "What are they like?" Her tone is surprisingly lacking the clinical curiosity she's always had about the other woman's life, and the words come out gently, encouragingly.
"My father died a long time ago. He was a good man, strong." Eve can see Villanelle relaxing further into the embrace, her voice adopting a faraway quality to it as if she's deep in thought. "My brother Pyotr was the same. Softhearted. He always cried a lot." She chuckled lightly. "I have a new brother too, Bor’ka. He is still little. Funny kid. Obsessed with Elton John." Eve is enthralled by the clear fondness in Villanelle's tone when she talks about her brothers, the sheer affection of it. There's love there.
"You don't understand what that means."
Her own words hit her with such force, such venom, that she unconsciously tightens her grip on Villanelle, who's gone quiet once again. Eve wonders if she'll talk about it at all, the one person still absent from this family portrait.
"I thought she was different, at first."
Her voice is low as she speaks now, lacking any of the affection it held before, replaced instead by a frighteningly blank tone. It's not angry or sad, either, simply devoid of any emotion, and as a shiver goes up Eve's spine, she knows with certainty that Villanelle is talking about her mother.
"She cried when she first saw me. Hugged me. I thought, maybe she's changed." Another small, fake laugh, but this one is filled with bitterness. "I thought maybe I'd just made up all those memories, maybe she had never been like that at all..."
"But she was the same." The emotion is back suddenly, and Villanelle speaks with such hatred that Eve can't help but flinch. She recovers quickly, making a noncommittal hum to show that she's listening, stroking the blonde's hair all the while.
"She came to me one night, in the kitchen. Said I had to leave, because she didn't want me there anymore. that they weren't my family. That I didn't belong there."
Villanelle is crying again, Eve realizes with a startle, her words coming out more frantic. "She said I- that I was bad from the beginning, that I didn't cry as a baby-" She lets out a ragged breath.
"I was just a baby. Of course I cried." It lacks the anger from before, and without that all Eve can hear is a kind of heartbreaking sadness that makes her own eyes fill with tears.
"...she told me I had a darkness. And maybe I do have it now, but only because she put it there." She sounds calmer now, only for a moment, before she's shaking again, and Eve feels like if she doesn't hold her tight enough, Villanelle will just fall apart.
"She was always the darkness."
Villanelle shifts suddenly, pulling back so she can look into Eve's eyes. "And she was still doing it. She was spreading the darkness to Bor’ka-" Her tone is pleading now, and Villanelle's looking at her as if begging her to understand. "And he's still so little, Eve. He wasn't like me yet, like her." She lowers her head, squeezing her eyes shut.
"I thought doing it would make me feel better. That maybe it could...fix me, somehow."
And Eve didn't need to hear anything else after that. She understood immediately what it meant. And Villanelle knew that, too, because she kept backing away from Eve like she fully expected her to leave. To run the other way after having seen a glimpse of the darkness.
Leave her, like everyone else always does, Eve realizes.
So she takes a deep breath, braces herself, and raises her own hands, stretching them across the bed to cup Villanelle's face, fingers delicately brushing away at fresh tears.
At that, Villanelle goes completely still, as they both lay there, staring into each other's eyes. Eve's not sure either of them are breathing.
"Did it? Help, I mean." Eve speaks gently, without a hint of judgement, and she knows her eyes are full of nothing but compassion. She hopes she doesn't have to say it, that just the gesture is enough for now. I see the darkness, and I choose to stay anyway.
Villanelle makes a sort of strangled noise, leans into her touch, and Eve knows they've reached some sort of understanding.
"A little- at first. But then...it just made everything worse." She shivers, and Eve's first instinct is to pull her closer again, so she does, tucking Villanelle's face into her chest. Villanelle herself seems perfectly fine with it, too, because she carries on.
"Now, whenever I'm about to kill someone, all I can see is her face. I can't escape from her." The tears have subsided, and now Villanelle just sounds impossibly tired again, like she'll break at the mere thought of having to feel another human emotion.
Eve simply nods, giving into the impulse to press a quick, feather-light kiss on Villanelle's forehead before she asks "Do you regret it?"
Villanelle immediately shakes her head no. "At least my brothers are free of her now, too." Her tone grows softer again, the hint of a smile against Eve's skin. "I left money for Bor’ka to go see Elton John. I hope they both leave that place forever."
And it happens again, Eve struggling to catch her breath, because she's been proven wrong, not for the first time tonight. Because how can someone who's theoretically not able to feel anything or care about anyone turn around and do something like that?
But then again, that's not right either, is it? Eve has seen about a dozen different emotions in Villanelle just during the last few hours, and they're all so clearly, painfully real.
This woman in her arms obviously has feelings, so many of them, and it makes Eve's heart settle somewhere down in her gut like a lump of coal. How had she missed this, all this time?
"...that was nice of you." Eve's almost forgotten she should speak, her thoughts threatening to go into overdrive.
"And- I'm so sorry." As she says it, Eve wonders what she's really apologizing for. I'm sorry for what happened when you were a kid. I'm sorry you killed your mother, and I'm sorry you felt like you had do.
I'm sorry I said you didn't know what love meant when you so clearly do.
Eve can only hope that one day she'll have the courage to apologize for it, really apologize. But for now, Villanelle seems content enough with the words, because she just snuggles into the embrace with a mumbled 'thank you' as she slips into unconsciousness, clearly exhausted from all the crying and emotional distress.
And, Eve thinks as she allows herself to fall asleep, maybe this can be enough for now.
Eve blinks awake slowly, the last remnants of whatever dream she was having slipping through her fingers as her brain begins to slowly process what's around her. The sun's still not up, and the early hours of dawn fill the room with a light blue glow.
And Villanelle's face is only inches away from her own. Her pale skin looks almost ethereal in this lighting, and Eve immediately curses her brain for pointing it out like that.
They seemed to have shifted during the night, Villanelle's head moving up to share the same pillow as Eve. A pale arm had been thrown around her midsection while the other rests between them as it had previously, the blonde's hand still maintaining a feeble grip on the fabric of Eve's shirt. Their legs had become entangled with each other.
If she moves even slightly forward, their noses would be touching. Villanelle looks so peaceful while she sleeps, Eve notices, her face free of all the effort it takes to keep up appearances constantly, to always wear a mask of someone else's face.
Eve feels the irrational urge to push a lock of blonde hair behind Villanelle's ear, and her still-not-fully-awake brain complies, keeping her hand on the other woman's face even after she does so.
And honestly, Eve thinks, it would've been easier if they'd just had sex instead, because this, this casual intimacy that makes her insides feel warm with an almost giddy kind of feeling, this is so much more complicated.
She feels Villanelle stir, realizes she still has a hand cupping the blonde's cheek and something that probably looks like unbridled affection on her face, and does the first thing she can think of to hide, which is to quickly retract said hand and then burry her face in the crook of Villanelle's neck, forcing herself to breathe in a slow, consistent pattern.
Villanelle shifts around some more, the arm around her waist pulling her closer. She hears a content sigh before Villanelle nuzzles her face into Eve's hair, and then seems to promptly fall back asleep.
Meanwhile, Eve is having a silent argument with her stupid, touch-starved brain, who convinces her that she's already in too deep and might as well stop trying to deny how nice this is. So she gives in, shifts slightly so she's in a more comfortable position, and lets Villanelle's soft breathing lull her back to sleep.
When Eve comes to again, sunlight pours through the windows, and the other side of the bed is empty. She shakes off the sleepiness and stretches, wondering if Villanelle decided to make an exit before she woke up, to avoid, well, everything that happened last night.
Then she notices there's music coming from the living area, not loud enough to wake her, but still audible. She quickly changes back into the clothes she arrived in and makes her way towards the sound, now close enough for her to distinguish the lyrics.
You hit me once, I hit you back
You gave a kick, I have a slap
You smashed a plate over my head
Then I set fire to our bed
And, well. That's fitting, at least. Or, it was fitting for them before, Eve ponders as she enters the kitchen to find Villanelle slicing up an assortment of fruits and throwing them into a blender, singing along to the song (which is coming from a small bluetooth player in the counter) as she does so.
Oh-oh-woah, my black eye casts no shadow
Your red eye sees no blame
Your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit
So we remain the same
Eve's trying her absolute best to contain her laughter now, muffling it with her hand. Because, really, this whole scenario is hilarious. She's standing in the kitchen watching an international assassin (who she has a shared history of violence with) making a smoothie while singing along merrily...to a song about violence (and maybe love, too? She's not exactly stopping to analyze the lyrics at this moment)
"It's rude to stare." Villanelle doesn't turn around, but Eve can hear the distinct tone of amusement in her voice. Of course she would know when she's being watched.
Eve lets herself laugh now, pointing at the speaker even though the blonde can't see it. "Well- don't you think that's a little on the nose? The song?"
Villanelle turns to her now, shit-eating grin on her face as she shrugs exaggeratedly. "I'm not a fan of metaphors. I just say stuff how it is."
And of course, Eve knows this already, yet she can't help but laugh some more. Villanelle seems pleased with the reaction, and turns her attention back to the counter so she can turn the blender on.
Eve quiets down then, lost in her own thoughts. Villanelle seems a lot more like herself this morning, but when the blonde had looked at her just now her face was still open and honest, where Eve had expected her to be closed off again, putting her walls back up.
It can't have been easy for her to be so vulnerable around another person, but Villanelle seems completely at ease with her presence now, and it makes Eve feel all weird and warm inside. Trust was not something she thought was possible to happen between the two of them, yet here she was. It was almost exhilarating, it was like-
"Eve? Eve!" Her train of thought was abruptly interrupted by Villanelle, who was leaning on the counter, smoothie in hand and looking at her with eyebrows raised expectantly.
"Hm? Sorry, what was that?"
"I just asked what you wanted for breakfast." Villanelle chuckled, gesturing to a few random items on the counter. Eve tries to shake herself from her stupor, eyes quickly cataloging bread and some eggs, along with cheeses and ham.
"Oh! Uh, just some toast is fine." She winces in embarrassment at how distracted she sounded, but Villanelle doesn't seem to mind, simply nodding as she puts two slices of bread in the toaster and cracks a few eggs into a pan, though not before skipping a few songs on the speaker until she looked satisfied.
Eve was already sitting down at the small table near the kitchen area when Villanelle spoke again, back turned as she scrambled the eggs, head bobbing along to the song playing.
"You live in your head too much, Eve. You should try to enjoy the present more." It was said lightly, and Eve thought that Villanelle sounded almost endeared.
Eve's brain wastes no time before doing it again, despite the comment. But really, can you blame her? Last night she had witnessed a whole new side of Villanelle, something real, and it obviously changed things between them. And Eve realized she accepted that change, wanted it, because she was so tired of running from this, from her feelings for Villanelle, and all that entailed.
They both seemed to be done with hurting each other, so it could only improve from there, right? Well, probably not. She knew moving forward wouldn't be easy, but she wanted to try. Villanelle had taken the first step in opening up, so it was Eve's turn to be truthful not only with her but with herself for once.
And now, watching her sing along to the radio, swaying about lightly as she cooks breakfast with a carefree smile on her face, Eve can see clearly what it would be like to fall in love with Villanelle.
This feeling, the thought of it, isn't new to her, but for the first time she doesn't feel the need to shut it down, banish it to the darkest corner of the mind, to forget about it. Eve just...lets it sit there, nestled warmly inside her chest. Leaning against the table, in this sunlit, gorgeous (but frankly ridiculous) house, she lets herself just feel for once, and finds that she quite enjoys it.
"You're thinking really loud again, you know." Eve blinks to find Villanelle closer than before, standing in front of her with two plates of toast and scrambled eggs that she places on the table. She has that look on her face again, of just pure contentment, now paired with an amused glint in her eyes as she sits down next to the other woman.
And this time, Eve can't help but burst into laughter.
She tries to keep herself from devolving into hysterics, while Villanelle pouts in outrage. "Why are you laughing? I'll have you know I'm a very good cook."
"It's just...this-" Eve makes a broad gesture around them. "-is just, insane isn't it?"
Villanelle's eyebrows furrow as if in confusion, but she has a coy smile on her face. "So, trying to kill each other is okay, but breakfast is too much for you?"
And Eve thinks the reminder should be painful, that it should still make things difficult between them, but the feeling doesn't come, replaced instead by an innocent, almost playful shrug, while she tries to wipe the smile off her own face. "I guess so."
They eat mostly in silence after that, save for a quip or two from Villanelle, who's in a much chipper mood. Eve discovers it's not hard at all for them to fall into pleasant conversation.
And hey, the food's not bad either, even though you can't easily mess up eggs and toast. She points this out to Villanelle.
The blonde preens at the first part of the compliment, before gasping loudly, hand to her chest in an overtly display of hurt. "Eve! I put a lot of effort into cooking. Just because you asked for toast doesn't mean I can't make more complicated stuff."
She raises an eyebrow sceptically at that. "You can cook?"
"I don't spend all my time working Eve, I have hobbies." At the mention of 'work', Villanelle's shoulders raise a little, but she seems otherwise unaffected as she continues. "I can't bake for shit though."
She seems to remember something then, laughing. "Oh my god, you should've seen the cake I tried to make for your birthday!" Villanelle doesn't notice how Eve stops mid-bite at that, still snickering. "I thought maybe it just looked bad but still tasted good, but the taste turned out just as awful."
"You baked a cake for my birthday?" Eve repeats slowly, voice infinitely soft, as she absorbs another thing Villanelle has tried to do for her, these small acts that, when put together, show she seems to be always thinking about Eve as much as Eve is thinking about her. And Villanelle says it so casually too, like it's something anyone would do, like it's the least she could do.
Villanelle quickly notices how touched by the gesture Eve sounds, quiet now as she adverts her gaze, looking almost flustered. "Oh, it was nothing. And the bakery did a much better job anyway, so it all worked out." She turns to Eve again, now more excitedly. "How was it, the cake? Did it taste good? I was very specific about the order."
And Eve really doesn't want to hurt her feelings, but she's already decided to be more honest with Villanelle from now on, so she braces herself. "Actually, about that..."
Villanelle narrows her eyes, immediately suspicious. "Was it bad? Because I will run their business to the ground-"
"No, no! Well, I don't know, because I kind of...threw it from the rooftop...so I didn't get to taste it." Eve flinches, already thinking of ways to console her, but Villanelle just looks stunned for a moment before she's laughing again, shaking her head in an exasperated gesture.
"Ha! Well, I kind of expected you to maybe throw it in the trash or something, but a rooftop seems kind of excessive."
Eve's just relieved Villanelle doesn't seem hurt or offended by it, and lets out a small laugh too. "Well, you were the only one who actually sent me a gift, so thank you. It's the thought that counts." She meant to say it as a joke but knew it sounded too honest as soon as she heard it. Villanelle stopped laughing instantly, regarding her with a sort of pitying expression that Eve didn't think she would ever see on the woman's face, brows furrowed in thought.
She looks like she's about to say something, but Eve cuts her off, trying desperately to go back to lighter topics of conversation. "But anyway! You made breakfast, so it's only fair if I wash the dishes." She quickly picks up their plates and heads to the sink, taking a deep breath to calm herself down now that Villanelle can't see her face. So much for being honest.
Villanelle is quiet for a moment, before she stands up too, tone light. "You don't need to, I have a dishwasher. And besides, you're a guest."
Eve has the distinct impression she's been let off the hook, and throws the blonde a grateful look after placing the dishes on the counter. They regard each other for a moment, both clearly trying to think of something to say or what to do now, and then she has a sudden idea.
"Hey, do you want to watch a movie?" She remembers every detail of that conversation in Paris, and figures now is a good time to bring that particular anecdote up in hopes of not only lightening the mood but also showing Villanelle that she cares.
Villanelle's eyes light up like a christmas tree at first, an expression of pure childlike excitement on her face, but then she suddenly deflates, crestfallen.
"Dasha will come by soon." She says it slowly, almost like she's trying not to hurt Eve's feelings, which would be ridiculous if it wasn't so heartbreaking.
"Oh. I understand." Eve doesn't try to disguise how hopeless it sounds, and now they're both looking anywhere else in the room but at each other.
She opens her mouth to say something on the lines of 'I should go', but stops herself, because there's just so much more she wants to say. And, Eve has already admitted to herself that she's an impulsive person, so what's the harm here?
So she's crossing the small distance between them and pulling Villanelle into a hug, arms around the blonde's neck, hoping to convey at least partially how she's feeling. After a moment of hesitation, Eve feels Villanelle's arms slowly wrap around her waist, shakily at first, then she's gripping onto her like her life depends on it, placing her head on Eve's shoulder.
It's a bit of an awkward position because of their height difference, but neither of them seem to mind. Villanelle's hands start rubbing around her back in a soothing motion, before she abruptly stops. Eve feels every muscle in the other woman's body tensing, and knows she's found the scar from the bullet's entry point.
Villanelle doesn't say anything, just buries her head further into Eve's shoulder as she breathes shakily, somehow hugging her even tighter. And, Eve realizes as a weight is lifted from her, that it's enough for now. That she doesn't need Villanelle to say the words for her to know she means it.
They stay like that for what feels like hours, just breathing in each other's arms, until Villanelle slowly pulls away like it's the hardest thing she's ever had to do. She looks at Eve with wide, tear-filled eyes and tries for a smile, but it comes out more like a grimace.
Villanelle reaches out to hold both of Eve's hands in her own. "I will see you again soon. Don't worry."
And Eve knows her own eyes are suddenly filled with tears too, because Villanelle's voice sounds just like when you know that what you're saying is a lie but you want desperately for it to be true, like she's trying to convince herself as much as Eve. Like she's not sure if she'll live long enough.
She squeezes Villanelle's hands between her own, and makes the most defiant expression she can muster. "You better, because you know I can hunt you down no matter where you go."
It makes Villanelle laugh, but this time it's a small, sad little thing, as she blinks away the tears harshly.
Eve knows that if she doesn't leave now she won't be able to leave Villanelle, maybe not ever, so she lets out a shaky breath and manages an even shakier smile as she unlinks their hands and heads for the door.
Villanelle walks her to the door, and they lock eyes again after she's outside.
"Eve, I-" She snaps her mouth shut, almost furiously, and adverts her eyes before starting again. "Thank you, for staying. Be safe, okay?"
But Eve's seen the look on her face in that split second before the blonde cut herself off, and knows exactly what Villanelle was about to say. She expects some sort of panic, maybe even fear, to surface as she realizes it, but is instead met with an unbelievable amount of guilt, so overwhelming that she might drown in it, and it's accompanied by the blinding certainty that she'll never hear Villanelle say the words again, unless she says it first. That this woman in front of her now has been through so much heartbreak, and that some of it was at Eve's own hands.
The revelation shakes Eve to her core, but she still manages to gently seek out the blonde's gaze until she's finally looking at her again. "Stay safe too. Please." She thinks about Villanelle's words to Dasha the night before, and wishes fiercely that they had more time for Eve to ask her about it, if she had a plan, what she was going to do.
But she knows they've already risked too much by her being there this long, so the only thing she can do is force her legs to turn around and walk, focusing on each step and willing herself not to cry, until she's far away enough to safely call for a cab, distractedly looking up flights back to London on her phone, before she lets herself think about it again.
Eve thinks about what it would be like to fall in love with Villanelle, and knows she won't have to wonder for much longer.
The thought doesn't scare her nearly as much.