Chapter Text
Chapter 1 - Supermoon
Eve wakes with a start. It takes her a few seconds to orientate herself and recall her surroundings; she's on a train to Oxenholme, a place she'd never even heard of until earlier tonight, and her heavy head is practically welded to Villanelle's shoulder. It feels nice. She hopes she hasn't been drooling.
"Go back to sleep," Villanelle whispers. "I'll wake you when we get there."
The world outside their train window is utterly black. Eve searches through hooded eyes for a glimpse of the full moon that had been suspended above them on London Bridge mere hours ago. She liked that moon. And she likes the idea that it played some sort of part in them both turning around. Maybe it helped strengthen some sort of gravitational pull, or something.
Villanelle sniffs wetly, and Eve wonders for a moment if she's crying. A quick glance up at her confirms that she isn't.
"Do you believe in supermoons?" Eve asks, reluctantly lifting her head from the sanctity of Villanelle's shoulder.
"Really, Eve? It's 3 o'clock in the morning."
"I know. But do you?"
Eve didn't actually know what time it was, and knowing it now doesn't seem to make any difference. They're both awake and stuck on this train, catapulting towards their brand new life in Oxenholme. Well, their temporary, brand new life in Oxenholme. Eve assumes they'll soon be on the move again, once Carolyn sets them up with new identities and passports.
"What are you talking about?” Villanelle shifts in her seat, stretching and rolling her shoulders out now that they’re done hosting a sleeping Eve.
“I think it’s when a full moon gets really close to Earth and, and well, I don’t know exactly what it does. But some people think it makes things happen. You know, things that might not normally happen. Like us, tonight.”
“You think we’re sitting on this train together because of a moon?”
“A supermoon,” Eve corrects before considering her answer. “And no. Well, maybe. Yes. What do you think?”
Villanelle sniffs again.
“I think it’s one of the craziest things I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot of crazy stuff. But,” Villanelle gives a little shrug. “I kind of love that you think it. If that counts.”
“It counts,” Eve nods with a happy smile, daring to lean back into Villanelle’s side. It feels natural and starkly new all at the same time. It makes her heart flutter. “How long until we get there?”
“Hours. You should sleep.”
Eve wonders when Villanelle will sleep tonight, and if she’ll even sleep at all. She looks too alert, her cat-like eyes darting around the almost empty train carriage.
“What about you?” Eve asks tiredly, threading her arm through Villanelle’s for a little extra security. She closes her eyes, lulled by the predictable motion of the train.
“Later.”
Villanelle sniffs again, this time reaching into the deep pocket of her egg yolk yellow coat to pull out a handkerchief. She dabs at her nose, sniffling a little deeper behind the crisp white fabric. Eve cracks open one eye.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s the stupid air con,” Villanelle gestures with annoyance at the little hole above them, which puffs out a stream of cold air.
Eve untangles herself from Villanelle just enough, so that she can reach up and shut the offending contraption off.
“There,” Eve sighs contentedly, resuming her previous position. “Tell me about Oxenholme.”
Villanelle grabs her phone from the little fold out train table and does a quick Google.
“Scenic. Lots of hills. Tiny town. Hmm,” Villanelle doesn’t sound pleased and Eve immediately knows why. Tiny town means everyone knows everyone, and they’re sure to notice two new faces. Eve says as much out loud, and Villanelle grins. “Especially a beautiful face like mine. Right, Eve?”
“Mm. Smart ass. Carry on.”
“Boring, boring, boring, really low crime rates...” Villanelle mumbles as she scrolls through her phone. “Oooh! They’ve had a fugitive before. In 1965, a John Middleton. He hid at the train station and shot two policemen.”
“We’re not fugitives.”
“We’re close enough,” Villanelle argues, sounding a bit disappointed. “I’m not exactly a law abiding citizen, Eve. And neither are you. Especially lately..."
Eve makes a small, agreeable sound as she buries her face into Villanelle’s coat. It smells like expensive perfume and London and, of course, Villanelle. She has a heady, saccharine smell and Eve can’t get enough of it.
“Just wake me when we get there,” Eve murmurs sleepily, before adding: “And don’t shoot anyone without me.”
“Promise.”