Chapter Text
“What now?” Eve yelled as a truck roared past them.
Villanelle scrunched her face up and yelled back across the Tower Bridge, “What?”
“I said,” Eve yelled louder. “What. Now?” A car horn blared over Eve’s voice. She jumped slightly at the sound. Eve saw Villanelle let out a snort.
Eve let out a frustrated huff and started walking towards Villanelle, who helped in closing the distance between them. Her attraction to Villanelle —both physical and mental—worked much like gravity: the closer she got, the stronger the force. When they were finally standing face to face, it was almost impossible to resist the pull. It was like standing toe to toe with a black hole. Eve was about to pass the event horizon, the point of no return. It was impossible to escape Villanelle, and quite frankly, Eve didn’t want to.
“I said: What do we do now?”
Villanelle reached out for Eve’s hands, taking them in her own and letting them hang in the space between them. “Well, now we’ve had our little Orpheus and Eurydice moment—”
Villanelle’s hands were soft and warm and perfectly wrapped around her own.
Eve sighed, “Please don’t compare us to Orpheus and Eurydice. She ended up dead... and trapped in hell.”
“I hate to break it to you Eve, but I can’t see us being alive,” Villanelle bobbed her head back and forth and looked to the sky, “by the end of the week. And should there be a life after this, I can’t see us taking the stairs upwards.”
“Why?” Eve furrowed her brow.
“Well the whole killing people thing probably won’t be overlooked.”
Eve shot the younger woman a sarcastic smile, “I got that part thank you. I meant the dying part. We’ve both been in this line of work for years. What’s changed?
“I…” Villanelle let go of Eve’s hands and looked out over the Thames, unable to meet Eve’s eyes as she continued, “My boss hasn’t been very happy with me lately… and I pushed a colleague in front of the tube... and the Twelve don’t do retirement packages very well. I, at least, have to lay low. I understand if you want to… I mean, I understand if you don’t want to stay with me.”
“I chose to turn around,” she regained Villanelle’s attention. “Besides, I don’t think I’m in the 12’s good book either.”
Eve had no idea what she was doing - she could feel her heart beating out of her chest.
“Would you butt me again if I tried to kiss you?”
“I can’t make any promises, you're kind of an asshole.”
Villanelle shuffled closer to Eve, the corner of her mouth curling into a smile as she lowered her head slightly to connect their lips.
Every time Eve thought of them kissing—especially after she stabbed Villanelle and after Villanelle shot her—she imagined it as rough and animalistic. But Villanelle’s lips were so warm, soft and full. There was no prickly moustache or chapped lips. Her hands were smooth, warm and gently cupping her face, on her neck, sliding down the front of her body, wrapping around her waist and pulling their bodies together.
With her hands in Villanelle’s hair, Eve pulled her impossibly closer just as they were rudely interrupted by two piercing honks of a car horn and drunken jeering.
Eve pulled away from Villanelle to find it was a rowdy group of young men in a dingy old car with their windows down that heckled them.
“For fucks sake,” Eve grunted at the third interruption of the night. “Can we go somewhere else?”
Villanelle nodded.
“My apartment?”
Villanelle nodded again but said, “Your instant noodle filled apartment isn’t very appealing.”
Eve rolled her eyes. “You can sleep outside if you want.”
Eve started walking, and Villanelle caught up to her quickly. Eve could feel her heart beating out of her chest and she couldn’t pinpoint why - it was like all her senses had been heightened.
“How are we getting there? Tell me now if your newly found athleticism is going to make us walk all the way because I will just jump now,” Villanelle gestured across Eve with her thumb pointing to the river below.
Eve covered Villanelle’s hand with her own, pushing it down. “We’ll catch a bus from the Boss Street stop and get off at Waterloo Station. Then get a train from there to New Malden—we’ll be at my apartment in three quarters of an hour. There will be about 10 minutes of walking, if you can handle that.”
“What are we going to do once we get there?” Villanelle dropped her voice and leant into Eve’s ear as they walked.
Eve swallowed and felt goosebumps form on her neck. How did ten words from Villanelle turn her on more than sex with Niko ever did?
Eve turned her head to look at Villanelle and gave her a stern glare.
“What happened to your ‘I don’t want to do this anymore’ attitude?.” Eve asked, doing her best Russian-accented impression. It worked out just as well as her Italian accent to the man who’d asked her on a date in Rome.
Villanelle’s eyes widened, and her head turned away from Eve slightly so she was side-eying the older woman, “Please do not do that again.”
“Who’s Hélène again?” Unfazed by Villanelle’s mockery, Eve continued. “You mentioned she was your boss earlier.”
“She’s French, very sexy, my boss, her name definitely isn’t Hélène. I thought she worked for the Twelve, but who really knows. The whole ‘The Twelve,” Villanelle said in a deep mocking voice, “thing is starting to get quite confusing. You ask a lot of questions.”
“You still haven’t answered my first question. And what about the Twelve?” Eve inquired instinctually when Villanelle stopped talking. Villanelle blinked slowly at her, making Eve realise that, yes, she had just asked another question. Eve glared back at her.
“We aren’t going to be able to take them down tonight. We can talk about it later. We do have to sleep at some point. Going to your apartment for one night won’t be the end of us. Touch wood.”
Villanelle gently patted Eve on the head upon her last sentiment.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re insufferable?”
“I didn’t want to jinx it, Eve. You’ll thank me when you wake up alive tomorrow.”
Eve huffed and rolled her eyes as they continued their walk to the bus stop in comfortable silence.
---
Eve sat down at the empty bus stop while Villanelle looked at the bus timetable. Eve closed her eyes and took a deep breath. What was she doing? Who had she become? She had killed two people (... or one and a half if she was being modest) and stabbed another. Her husband almost died because of her. She endangered everyone at the Bitter Pill by dragging them into her mess. She was addicted to an assassin that killed her best friend and was seemingly the catalyst for her degeneration.
Villanelle interrupted her thoughts, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“The monster inside of me… I’m scared that it’s consuming me. And I’m scared how little it concerns me. No... I’m scared that I like it.” Eve took a deep breath to calm herself, “What about you? You still haven’t told me what happened.”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Villanelle looked away from Eve.
The younger woman breathed out shakily like she did when she was trying to hold back an emotion, and Eve noticed her eyes tear up. It was a new side of Villanelle. Eve had seen it for the first time in the ballroom and for the second on the bridge. It was genuine dejection—nothing like the faux sadness she presented when they ate shepherd's pie.
Villanelle continued, trying to lighten up the mood, “I will tell you though.” Her smile and jovial tone didn’t reach her eyes, “Perhaps embracing your monster isn’t a horrible thing? I personally think it’s quite attractive.”
Eve snorted. The old Eve, the one that wasted countless Saturday mornings withering away in MI5 boardrooms, would have been embarrassed.
Eve replied sarcastically, “I’m glad you find it attractive. My ex-husband doesn’t seem to fancy my monster. Coming to think of it now, no one else in my life does.” She heard a vehicle coming and looked away from Villanelle. “The 381,” she raised her arms before dropping them back down to her knees and standing up. “This is us.”
Villanelle flagged it down.
When it pulled up, Villanelle gestured for Eve to get on first. Eve stepped on the bus, got her Oyster card out of her bag, and swiped it across the scanner. Villanelle followed her and pretended to swipe her own, coughing to cover the lack of sound.
Eve rolled her eyes.
Once they were out of earshot of the driver, she turned back and whispered, “You delinquent. We definitely aren’t going upstairs in the afterlife now.”
Villanelle smiled at her.
Eve unconsciously stopped walking as all her brain power was being used to process Villanelle’s smile. Villanelle kept walking though, as her smile morphed into a smirk. She put her hands on Eve’s hips, moving her forward while standing close behind her. Eve could feel the warmth of Villanelle’s breath on the back of her neck. Eve’s brain was short circuiting.
“Shall we go to the top deck? For old times’ sake?”
Eve didn’t reply but made her way up the stairs, Villanelle still close behind her.
When they got to the top, a woman with long ginger hair stared at them as they walked past, her jaw almost on the floor.
“What’s her problem?” Villanelle creased her eyebrows.
Villanelle was shooting daggers at the woman, her fist clenching. Eve reached for Villanelle’s hand behind her to stop the situation from escalating. Villanelle rolled her eyes but relaxed her fist in favour of holding Eve’s hand.
Eve racked her brain for a few seconds before coming to a realization. She gasped and her other hand shot up to cover her mouth. She burst out in a fit of laughter which sounded more like a witch's cackle.
“Are you alright?” Villanelle said quietly, her brow furrowing gently.
“She…” she said between laughs, “Was on the bus,” Eve continued laughing as she sat down towards the back of the bus. She gestured between herself and Villanelle, “Last time we were on a bus together.”
The ginger got up, holding her bag close, and walked down the stairs, shooting Eve and Villanelle an incredulous look.
Villanelle burst out laughing with Eve, forming the dissonant sound of an orchestra without direction.
---
Could the memory of Villanelle be enough?
Eve realised as she stared, conflicted, at Villanelle’s face which was plastered with a disgusted look saying public transport is below me that she had every detail memorised.
Every detail. From her subtle eyebrow movements - different by only a hair, but indicating vastly different emotions - to the way her soft lips parted to let out self-soothing breaths when something troubled her, to the gentle curve of her nose, Eve had it covered.
Eve’s problem was that looking at Villanelle didn’t give her the indescribable warmth and whole feeling in the pit of her stomach she craved. Eve could imagine the younger woman in vivid and accurate detail at any time, whether alone or in a crowd of thousands. What Eve was addicted to - what she needed - was to share the same space.
The way their legs pressed together, sharing the seat on the bus. The sound of the younger woman’s soft breaths, in and out. How the heat of Villanelle’s gaze made her feel when she turned to Eve every few minutes to look at her.
Eve couldn’t conjure the feeling of being close to Villanelle - the only thing that made her feel alive - in her mind's eye. So no, the mere memory of Villanelle would not suffice.
Was turning around the right decision?
What if the only thing that made Eve interested in Villanelle was the fact that she was atypical, unobtainable, and unrealistic? What if Villanelle was only interested in her because she had yet to conquer her? What if spending time together caused them to lose interest?
All cat and mouse games end when the cat catches the mouse.
But maybe with Eve and Villanelle there was no mouse... Mice certainly don’t chop up men with axes and crush women under their feet. Perhaps they were both cats, both predators. Their relationship wasn’t a cat and mouse game, but a cat and cat game.
The bus came to a stop at a red light and Eve’s gaze shifted to the bus window framing a tree on the sidewalk as green-yellow leaves struggled to remain attached to their stems. She watched as two leaves simultaneously surrendered to the flow of the wind and the pull of gravity. They floated down - together - caught in chaotic loops until they drifted beyond Eve’s sight.
Eve’s attention returned to the woman beside her, her overwhelmed expression relaxing into a longing gaze. Villanelle met her eyes and Eve saw the reciprocated commitment, infatuation, and trust in Villanelle’s eyes. So yes, turning around was unequivocally the right decision.