Work Text:
When Eve Parks was growing up, her parents would dance around the house to ‘60s R&B soul music. From Aretha Franklin to Sam Cooke, her father loved all the greats— singing around the house and pulling Eve to dance with her as they prepared dinner or cleaned up on Saturdays. When he would dip her mother to the smooth, honey voice of Donny Hathaway, her mother’s face would light up and she would look at him as if he hung up the moon and lit the stars.
Her parents moved from Korea to Connecticut, working wherever they could to support themselves before her father went to trade school to become a mechanic. They didn’t have much, but they were happy. They supported Eve and her brother Johnny in whatever they wanted to do (within reason). Before and after every game, their father would find a record to prepare them for victory or cheer them up after a loss. He even had a song to prepare them for his death after he was diagnosed with lung cancer when she was fifteen.
Johnny tried to keep the records playing but their mother would get sad-sometimes angry-and ask one of them to turn it off.
Slowly, the music stopped playing.
Eventually the house grew so quiet that Eve would do anything to stay away. She practiced soccer in the morning and afternoon, and she studied in the public library until closing. Eventually, her impressive grades earned her a scholarship at Ohio State University, and she was encouraged to study abroad in England. After spending two weeks in London and falling in love with criminology there was no turning back.
A few years later, she became Eve Polastri. She and Niko moved into a quaint house, and Eve started working for MI5 shortly afterwards. She didn’t bother to play her father’s favorite music because they were fine with his Polish folk tunes and occasional Pop 50 Hits playing on the radio.
They would dance with his friends at his bridge meetings and she would croon to Disney songs at the karaoke bar. They didn’t have children and Niko didn’t dip her to Donny Hathaway or Etta James (she doubted if he knew who the singers were)—but they were happy. At least she thought she was until she met…her.
Chasing Villanelle made her realize that it wasn’t the playing certain genres of music that made a difference in the relationship: the relationship made a difference in the music.
She realized why her father’s love songs to her mother were not filled with the gentle strums of acoustic folk, but were, instead, filled with the exciting rhythms and groove of funk and soul. The staccatos of the trumpet and the saxophone’s smooth growl was enticing and exhilarating when accompanied by a full drum set during the chase for the perfect song—just like Villanelle with each new kill and her chase for Eve.
But Eve knows better than anybody that fast tempos don’t last forever. Eventually, the band must slow down and come to a rest.
After Paris, the only music she could think about was Nina Simone and the haunting timber of her voice. She was, after all, being haunted by the thought that she made have killed the only person that made her feel alive in over a decade.
But by some miracle, Villanelle was alive again, and suddenly Eve felt like listening to Betty Wright on Saturday mornings. Not that anyone knew, but she was happy that Villanelle was back. To be near her was just enough to keep the music playing.
Then there was Rome…
Villanelle shot her, Niko left her, and she lost her job. There was no reason for her to play her favorite songs anymore. Her father’s music was for love—there was none.
Eve only had herself to blame.
Now, after nearly a decade of rebuilding, she was safe in Portland, Oregon, teaching criminology at a local university. She loved it. Her life was interesting and fun. She made friends and she loved her students. It was almost enough to make her forget the struggle to get there—to forget her.
So, when Villanelle showed up on her doorstep, she could barely breathe. Yet, when Vilallane smiled and waved a gentle hello, Eve melted, just like she did all those years ago.
Eve’s father taught her what it meant it to be loved and feel loved. Alone and yearning, sometimes she thinks she forgets.
Now, standing in front of Villanelle, she remembers.
Suddenly, she feels like dancing.