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“Aarrggghhh!” Eve shifted, pain blooming.
She took a sharp breath, spitting stray hair from her mouth.
“Owwwwww, I can’t.” It was an intense, burning sort of pain. Blackness with swirls of red taunted her vision behind her firmly closed eyelids.
“Eve, Eve!” Someone called her name, a familiar voice filtering through her brain. She frowned, letting out another loud cry as she attempted to move.
Her body refused to respond.
“Darling what is it?” She shook her head dumbly as if to clear it, sending a new flare of pain pulsing through her arms.
That voice.
“Oh my God darling, wake up. It’s ok.” Other sounds began to trickle through. The rustling of bedsheets was followed with urgent hands shaking her. Damn, it hurt.
“It’s ok! Baby!” Pulled over onto her back, the warm hands brushed her dark curls from her face. She groaned.
“It’s ok. Wake up.” The burning was slightly easing but the stream of anxious words, which she supposed ought to sound comforting hadn’t let up. They were spoken from close by yet felt like they came through an echo chamber. The dissociation was unsettling.
Eve focused on the strong prickling sensation as feeling returned gradually to her arms. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting in the early morning light. What the?
“What the fuck?” All pain instantly forgotten, Eve scrambled backwards, fingers grasping at the sheets and heels sliding uselessly against the mattress.
“Eve?” Niko hovered over her. “What was it? Was it.. was it?” He trailed off uncertainly.
Heart galloping, she released the corner of the sheet she was clutching to roughly rub a hand across her face, then looked again.
Niko.
His hair was ruffled from sleep, heavy shadows under his eyes suggested a late night and he was wearing a well known faded grey t shirt. The one they’d picked out together soon after the millennium. Newly into a relationship when the world, and her path through it had appeared so straightforward and obvious.
Eve flexed her knuckles, abruptly hoping for a reappearance of that all encompassing, burning. Her pins and needles were persisting but it wasn’t nearly painful enough. Deliberately digging her nails hard into the palm of her hand didn’t work either. She screwed her eyes tightly shut, searching behind her eyelids for some sense of reality.
I’m done with you.Pointed words echoed through her mind, the slam of the door following them emphasising their finality. She took a deep breath, was there a hint of perfume in the air?
“Eve? You’re starting to worry me.”
Niko’s voice was intrusive and the morning light penetrating. She held up a hand, blindly. “Just give me a minute will you?”
“But.”
“Niko!” Eve opened her eyes to glare at him, watching as he exhaled and sank back into the pillows on his side of the bed, his features filled with care and confusion. She swallowed. “I’m sorry. It’s just my head is killing me and….” Where to start. How did she even begin to explain what was going on inside her head right now. She was totally bewildered.
Niko smiled, relaxing. “Well that’ll happen after last night.”
“Last night?”
“A Whole New World. You and Bill - ring any bells?”
“Oh.” A shiver ran down her spine. That was last night?
She took a couple of shaky breaths then firmed her jaw. “You know what? I think a hot bath will be just the thing.” Throwing back the covers, she kicked her legs out of the twisted sheets and swung them over the side of the bed.
“Want me to join you? I could soap your back for you.”
Eve could hear the suggestive note in his voice and bit down hard on her lip to stop a stinging rejection flying from her tongue. “Can I take a rain check, my head really is throbbing?” was the closest she could get to softening the no.
*****
I just want to have dinner. With you. Eve pressed a hand deep into her abdomen, trying to remember the pressure of a slim knee as she sat in the warm water. She’d been cold and wet, and terrified and fascinated that day. The memory loomed large as she glanced around her old bathroom, one she hadn’t seen in well over a year. What the hell was going on? Was this an elaborate, particularly vivid dream?
She could hear Niko pottering about downstairs, cupboards opening and closing as he no doubt gathered ingredients for breakfast. The sounds were recognisable but foreign, their old familiarity jarring.
It made no sense.
Pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them, Eve rested a chin on her knees, conscious of the pounding in her head and the nauseous feeling in her gut. She really should cut down the drinking…..drinking? An impression surfaced of vodka burning the back of her throat; brightly painted graffiti reflecting off the glass bottle as she slugged it directly.
Berlin.
She could remember staggering along the street feeling like her world was caving in on her, sitting in a park until her body protested at the cold unforgiving surface. Had she hit her head or passed out from the alcohol?
Could this be her unconscious brain working things out, making connections and weirdly reminding her along the way of the mess her life had become over the last two years. Meanwhile was anyone going to stumble over her prone body and call for help? Eve swept her hands over her limbs, tracing the curves and palpating the bony prominences. Nothing felt unusual or out of the ordinary.
Other than the pain in her head. And the fact she was sitting in a bath in a house she no longer owned, with a husband downstairs that was no longer hers.
Oh god.
*****
Niko popped his head around the door of the bedroom to find her seated in front of the dressing table, hair roughly tied back with a band and droplets of partially dried bathwater scattered across her naked shoulders. She yanked the lowered bath towel back up to hug it around her body and summoned up a smile for him through the reflection in the large mirror.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Erm. Nothing.” She made a concerted effort to drop her shoulders. “Thought I could feel a scratch or a spot at the back of my neck.”
“Want me to take a look?”
“No, no. There’s nothing to see.”
Niko frowned but didn’t push. She watched him pull a hand through his hair. “You’re being especially weird this morning.”
Eve barked out a laugh. He didn’t know the half of it.
“Anyway, eggs are congealing downstairs. If you want some, I’d come soon.”
“Yeah. I’ll be down.” She watched him pull the door to behind her, before dropping the towel and twisting around on the stool to let the light hit her spine. Damn her lack of flexibility. She couldn’t quite reach, her fingertips searching blindly. And tilting herself around to try and see it wasn’t working either.
Was it there? Shouldn’t she know; be able to get a sense of the puckering around the edges of the healed tissue as she rotated her shoulder? The intrusive thought that were she to find a hand mirror and position it just so, that she might only uncover a canvas of smooth, unblemished skin was firmly squashed, her heart thudding unevenly. You’re mine.
“Eve!” Nikos voice yelled back up the stairs, reminding her of his presence. She sighed, reaching for an old T-shirt and jogging bottoms.
*****
The eggs were cold by the time she got to them, and sat heavily on her stomach. Niko bit into a slice of toast, chewing noisily. It made her want to snap at him to leave her alone, give her some peace so that she could think.
Conversation continued intermittently, Eve registered bits; comments about Elena’s song choices for the night, and how nice it had been that he had been able to come to Bill’s birthday night with her work friends. She made noncommittal noises and tried not to visualise her best friend bleeding out in a Berlin nightclub before she could get to him.
“Coffee?” Eve nodded and watched him pick up two large mugs from the draining board, pouring dark liquid into each one.
We don’t have champagne glasses.
No this is perfect.
Settling back down at the table, Niko handed the drink to her. Eve wrapped her hands around it, steadying herself with the rich coffee aroma and feeling of warmth leaking through the ceramic.
“So, we have the whole day to recover, it’s a nice day and I have no marking to do. What do you say we go out and get some fresh air?” He took a large draught of coffee and swallowed it down, the motion of his Adam’s apple drawing her attention sharply.
God.
Niko could speak. And besides the hint of a hangover shadowing his eyes, carried no haunted expression - no background recrimination in his words or gaze. She’d now been awake in this surreal reality for nearly two hours and it had only just occurred to her to take notice of him. Her husband of ten years.
Eve let go of the mug and shoved her chair back, moving past the feeling of guilt to crouch down in front of him and stroke gentle fingers across his throat.
“What on earth are you doing now?” Eve could feel the soft vibrations through his skin as she focused on the movement of the cartilage. “Eve?”
“Your throat. You can talk.”
“For well over forty years, yes.” He replied, arching an eyebrow.
“It’s just.” Eve hesitated, sitting back on her haunches. “Never mind.”
“You freak.”
“Thanks.”
“So - today?”
Eve lifted her gaze to his face, softly lined and clearly hoping for a day of leisure with his wife.
What she actually wanted to do was lock herself in her study, alone for the day to figure out what the hell was going on. Still discombobulated from her abrupt awakening, she hadn’t thought to peer inside the room on her way down to breakfast. Would her books all be there? Her research? All those small clues she had found, pointing towards a much larger picture that had yet to be pieced together.
She puffed out a breath through inflated cheeks. She was going to have to disappoint him. He’d never understand but……
The noise of the telephone cut through her thoughts, its loud bell granting her her get out of jail card as she remembered the course of this day.
Elena.
If this was a dream, then surely she would wake before leaving the house. That would be the trigger. Or perhaps seeing Bill once more; having his teasing smile and comforting warmth beside her in the meeting room.
Seeing her unmoved, lost in her own thoughts on the floor in front of him, Niko rose to answer the phone, shuffling around her to avoid treading on her hands.
*****
Shit.
Elena was chattering on beside her. After the initial well of emotion on seeing her, propped against the bland corridor inside the MI5 building and picking at her croissant, Eve felt she’d done quite well at letting the conversation flow without drawing undue attention to herself. Given that she was supposed to be - and was indeed feeling extremely thickheaded, dragging her feet along the corridor and up the stairs to the meeting room hadn’t been too much of a stretch.
But now, peering through the small window pane at the side profile of her best friend, with Carolyn Martens sat at the other side of the large table, the cauldron of affection, and grief and rage was threatening to overwhelm her.
On wobbly legs she shoved the sensation firmly down, tugged at the hem of her mac to straighten it and adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder. She took a deep breath then resolutely pushed the door open.
*****
It occurred to Eve, half way through the meeting with a mouthful of croissant and everyone staring at her, that maybe she was dead.
It wasn’t a dream. She wasn’t a time traveller. This was her penance.
To sit in a room with people who had died on her watch, with a cracking headache, and under the interested gaze of a woman who had most likely orchestrated the bulk of what had happened over the last two years. Carolyn had played with them all as though they were pawns on a chessboard. She groaned, bringing a hand to her mouth to stifle the noise.
So what next? Was this how death worked? Was she going to have to examine every choice she’d made along the way, be forced to replay them with the painful knowledge of each outcome?
Bill slid Victor Kedrins photo across to her. The close up of the fatal wound drawing her attention. Her heart missed a beat. You know what? I’m just…. I’m just a fan.
Or was it going to be a “Back to Start, Do not Pass Go” sort of deal where she had free choice but perhaps with a better view of the overall picture; no longer feeling her way in the dark.
Would there be a way to save Bill or Kenny? Could Eve actually have some control over this shit show? So you trash my apartment because you like me so much.
*****
Uggghhh. By the middle of the afternoon Eve was already fed up.
Leaning against the work surface in the small kitchen, she stroked her chin absently, back and forth searching for stray chin hair before the ding of the microwave interrupted her train of thought.
She’d mostly forgotten about the days following the initial briefing. All the tiny details she’d been so obsessed with gathering; her two year old file on an unknown female assassin and the uncovering of the mystery of who Kasia Molkovska had seen at the time of the murder, they weren’t quite so fascinating when you knew the facts already.
Ale decha - yeah right!
Especially when what she really wanted to do was to skip forward to a certain hospital bathroom.
Whether this was death or dreaming, it was frustrating to be stuck in real time with no jumps. She really needed to get on with preventing the utter carnage of the four murders whilst she sat on a small toilet along the corridor chatting on the phone. And it had nothing to do with the memory of cat like eyes staring at her openly.
Villanelle did have beautiful eyes. But that was merely fact.
She was, however, struggling with how to change the events and whether she even could. Kasia was at Hammersmith station, Bill was encouraging her to write her reports and draft in Police for security. Frank was lying his arse off about the CCTV and she really didn’t want Dom anywhere near the hospital this time if she could help it.
She didn’t even have any information that might help. How could she protect Kasia without moving her to a different location, an action that was impossible without alerting Frank. And if he found out, then knowing Villanelle, there was a high chance of an even more chaotic situation occurring than that which they currently faced.
Not that anyone else but her knew that.
If she went to Carolyn, it would be no better. Carolyn had always known more than she let on, had known something of Villanelle and definitely who she worked for. She’d probably also been aware of a possible inside leak. But had she understood when and how they were going to get to Kasia? Unlikely.
Besides, given her recent discovery of Carolyns past, she couldn’t be fully certain that Carolyn wouldn’t give the word to dispense of one or both of them there and then. Liabilities who couldn’t be controlled.
Unacceptable.
How involved was Carolyn - how high up in the twelve? Stuck here in her time-loop, Eve was beginning to despair she’d ever find out.
It really was no wonder her headache hadn’t dispersed.
You’re brilliant. Just don’t tell them everything, you’ll sound like a nutter.
Eve chuckled mirthlessly to herself, remembering the warmth of Bills hand clasped around her shaky bloody ones.
******
Another day of persistent, obsessive thought loops had exhausted her. She’d found her only moment of respite to be revisiting her memories of a small dancehall in central London. She’d even searched for the music, adding it to a new private playlist on her phone so that she could shut herself inside her study, close her eyes and allow the images to wash over her. That small moment of quiet amidst the recent turbulence. They seem happy, carefree. I want to feel like that.
She hadn’t slept properly yet either. Waking frequently fighting for breath, peculiar perceptions of dark swirling water which bore no place in her past nor her present. She bloody hated this dreamworld she appeared to be trapped in.
She’d failed miserably to persuade Bill into moving Kasia beneath the radar. He simply didn’t understand, or wholly believe her intuition when it came down to this case and wasn’t prepared to stick his neck out that far. Bowing to the inevitable, she had finally accepted that any alteration she made to events surrounding Kasia’s murder were going to happen inside the hospital bathroom. How she effected that change had yet to be determined but she was obstinately remaining positive.
And maybe then she could wake up.
*****
The nurse on the front desk was as interested in Eve’s badge as she’d remembered from the last time, barely glancing upward as she directed her down the corridor.
Fuck - was it any wonder a stranger could wander in, commit 4 murders and waltz back out of the ward without anyone noticing.
Eve walked slowly, peering right and left into each doorway as she attempted to calm her heart rate. Would she spot her even before she entered the bathroom? She assumed that the nurses outfit she’d met her in all that time ago had been the same one later hanging in the old wardrobe in Paris. Had she arrived at the hospital wearing it? How long had she sat inside the small toilet waiting for her opportunity.
Would Eve ever get the answers she craved to the never ending list of questions she had for Villanelle?
She was glad she’d not dragged Dom with her. There was simply no need to put the young man in danger given she knew exactly who the perpetrator was. That at least was something she’d been able to alter.
Approaching Nurse Watkins, she smiled at the genial lady whilst hastily scanning the room. “Is Kasia awake?”
“She’s not fit for interview I’m afraid.”
“Oh, no, I know. I just wanted to say hi quickly. Check everything was ok.” Eve held her breath.
The nurse relaxed her protective stance. “Oh, ok, lovely. Just take a seat and I’ll see if she’s ready for a visit.”
“Great. Thank you.” She paused, wondering if the nurse could hear the buzzing in her ears. “You know what - I’m just going to pop to the loo.”
****
Eve strode down the corridor purposefully, pace quickening as she neared the room, and unable to fully dampen her smile or feel shame.
Eve just go! She shivered. No! She wouldn’t make the same mistakes again.
Letting the door to the ladies swing shut behind her, she focused on controlling her breathing, aware of every shaky exhalation in the oppressively silent room.
Stepping forwards, Eve took note of the large out of order sign on the first blue door, the second showing its ominous red engaged door catch. Had it been this quiet the last time she’d lived through this moment? She tilted her head to listen - faint echoes of trolleys being pushed down corridors, a phone ringing, the ding of the lifts opening somewhere further away but nothing from within.
She stepped up to the mirror, one eye directed over her shoulder at the toilet door and ripped the tie out of her hair, allowing it to tumble across her shoulders wildly. Wear it down
Her heart was thumping in anticipation. Head suddenly clear, she felt wide awake.
The door creaked open as she stared unblinkingly through the mirror.
It was all about choices.
*****
FIN