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‘Let me ask you a question, Eve,’ Hélène voices calmly, her eyes cool like water but hard like steel as she pierces Eve to her seat. ‘How far are you willing to go?’
The question is obscure, unexpected even, and Eve feels her brow furrow in confusion. A moment ago they had been exchanging information regarding the Twelve like foes in a friendly chess competition, but now Hélène’s aura feels barbed and threatening in a way that makes Eve’s spine prickle disconcertingly.
‘I told you before,’ Eve retorts firmly, trying to hold her ground. ‘I want to take the Twelve down; eliminate them all. Nothing’s changed.’
Hélène smiles in response. ‘So you say. But here’s the thing, Eve. I told you I don’t like weak women.’
‘I’m not weak,’ Eve fires back, her shoulders squaring. ‘I’ve gotten everything you’ve asked for so far.’
‘You have,’ Hélène agrees with a dismissive nod. ‘But I’m worried about your dedication; about your Achilles heel.’
Eve holds Hélène’s gaze resolutely, refusing to be overpowered by this poor attempt at manipulation. Hélène may be dangerous but Eve has grown accustomed to playing games with high stakes. Where before it used to terrify her, now Eve only sees a challenge worth accepting and standing up to, it’s the only way to survive in this world of darkness and constant power plays.
‘My heel is just fine,’ Eve assures determinedly, holding Hélène’s gaze, refusing to be the first to blink or acknowledge the real meaning behind her thinly veiled threat.
‘You’re sure?’ Hélène challenges, eyebrow raised pointedly.
Eve exhales frustratedly, she thought they’d moved past this. She thought with that kiss she’d proven exactly what it is she’s invested in, and exactly how purposeful and unrelenting her desire for revenge is.
‘Yes,’ Eve replies unwaveringly.
Hélène’s smile grows slowly then, stretching out across her face and curling her lips to reveal her teeth menacingly.
‘Let’s put your resolve to the final test, shall we?’ Hélène says, waving her hand over to a stretch of shops and encouraging Eve’s gaze to follow in the direction she’s pointing. ‘Driver stop here, I want Eve to have a nice clear view.’
Eve inhales sharply, curls her fingernails into the palm of her hand, letting them bite into her skin and using the pain to keep herself grounded and steady. Within seconds though, Eve feels anything but, her world suddenly shifting and leaving her wildly off kilter at the sight of Villanelle emerging from one of the shops blissfully unaware of their presence.
She whips her head towards Hélène once more, trying to ignore the way her suddenly hammering heart is echoing noisily in her ears. Eve knows Hélène had released Villanelle from jail, she’d told her as much with the intent to rock Eve, and yet despite Eve’s previous strength, the sight of Villanelle so free and so near leaves Eve almost completely breathless.
‘Why is she here?’ Eve asks, trying to keep her voice from trembling.
Hélène merely glances past Eve to look directly at Villanelle in boredom. ‘I sent Villanelle to complete a job for me,’ Hélène explains, carefully dragging her gaze back to meet Eve’s. ‘Not only did she fail, she purposely defied my order and tried to help the target.’
‘Who was the target?’ Eve inquires, unable to stop herself.
‘Ah,’ Hélène tuts with mirth, her eyes narrowing in delight. ‘There’s that passion again, that desire to suffer at her hands.’
Eve recoils at the accusation even though she knows her curiosity has allowed Hélène to glimpse another crack in her barrier against Villanelle.
‘I put her in jail,’ Eve tries to reason. ‘She wants out of the Twelve, and I want to end them.’
Hélène stares back at Eve heatedly, her eyes searching Eve’s own for a flicker of fragility. ‘So, she means nothing to you?’
Eve swallows thickly, and shakes her head, hoping her answer will be as convincing as she needs it to be. ‘We’re no longer connected.’
It’s an absolute lie, one that tastes bitter on her tongue as it leaves her mouth, and Eve watches her answer illuminate Hélène’s face gleefully in response, her eyes twinkling wickedly as an undercurrent of danger thickly pollutes the air of the car.
‘This test will be easy for you then,’ Hélène says nonchalantly. Eve watches as she pulls her phone from her pocket and fires off a quick text message before fixing Eve with an impenetrable stare. ‘Let’s see how far you really are willing to go on this quest for revenge, shall we, Eve?’
Eve hears the roar of an engine, the screeching of tyres and feels her eyes being drawn back to Villanelle. She watches helplessly as a car hurtles around the corner, its course heading in a straight line towards where Villanelle is standing.
Her world seems to shift to slow motion then, her hand going for the door handle and tugging, only to find it locked while her eyes remain glued to Villanelle’s oblivious posture as she texts on her phone. It must be karma, Eve thinks distantly, a result of her facade of indifference, of her stubborn refusal to accept her feelings about Villanelle, because suddenly she’s trapped and powerless to do anything but bang her fists feebly against the car window and cry out Villanelle’s name despairingly. Villanelle doesn’t hear her of course, couldn’t possibly hear her given the distance, but Eve tries anyway, can’t stop herself from willing Villanelle to move out of the damn way.
There’s nothing she can do though, and the car careens into Villanelle with such impact that Eve can only scream out again in disbelief, her heart stuttering to a stop and plummeting out of her chest as she watches Villanelle’s body bounce off the bumper like a ragdoll, limp and lifeless as she flies through the air before dropping to the ground in a heavy heap of tangled limbs.
A flash of hot, white anger boils up inside of Eve’s chest, trickling through every inch of her body and leaving her blazing with an uncontrollable rage as she turns toward Hélène like a flash of lightning, her hand curling around Hélène’s throat as she squeezes the air from her lungs forcibly.
Hélène stares up at her in shock, her eyes wide and dark as Eve increases her pressure, revelling in the choked gasps spluttering past Hélène’s quickly discolouring lips. Hélène has been the puppet master all along, pulling the strings and controlling them all, and Eve has been so clouded by her own self interest to see her motives for what they really are. She doesn’t want or need Eve’s help really, she’s simply just another pawn in Hélène’s game to be used and discarded, and oh how Eve’s fallen right into Hélène’s trap, and now she’s paying the price; her Achilles heel exposed and exploited just as Hélène has predicted.
Eve grits her teeth, baring them wildly as she digs her fingers deeper, the sight of Hélène growing pale and lifeless beneath her hands the only thing that’s keeping her from completely falling apart.
Suddenly, the door clicks open and strong arms are wrapping around her body and dragging her off Hélène. Eve hits the tarmac hard, a yelp escaping past her lips as she winces at the unexpected impact. Her vision clears and focuses just in time to see the barrel of a gun pointed at her head.
‘Marcel, stop,’ a hoarse voice instructs and Eve exhales thankfully even as Hélène appears, sitting up and rubbing over her bruised neck, her eyes glaring down at Eve knowingly. ‘The shadow of the Twelve is vast, Eve,’ Hélène croaks ominously. ‘While you have my regards for furthering my accession to the top,’ Hélène adds revealingly, ‘as expected you and your defiant little bitch are nothing but nuisances. So, we’re done, and so is your quest for revenge, understand? You cannot defeat us, Eve, and if you try again, I will have you killed before you can even begin to comprehend what’s happening.’
Hélène nods her head at Marcel then, and before Eve can prepare herself, his foot is colliding pointedly with her stomach. Eve feels her lungs constrict as all of the oxygen in her body rushes out of her mouth in a wheeze, leaving her gasping for breath as Hélène’s car disappears from her view.
It takes all the strength Eve can muster to crawl to her knees, her legs shaky and unstable as she finds her feet and rushes over to Villanelle’s unconscious form.
‘Villanelle?’ Eve murmurs urgently, her tone pleading as she sinks to her knees once more and gathers Villanelle’s body into her arms.
Her arms encircle Villanelle protectively, holding her as close to her chest as possible, and her eyes trail over the delicate features of Villanelle’s face looking for signs of injury. There’s a small gash on her forehead from where she’s collided with the path, and Eve desperately reaches out to trace her fingertips over Villanelle’s cheek before letting them press against her neck.
‘Oh thank god,’ Eve whimpers as she feels the steady thrum of Villanelle’s pulse fluttering against her fingertips.
Eve feels her eyes burning with tears and instead of swallowing them down and trying to suppress her feelings, Eve lets overwhelming enormity of them crash over her as she ducks her head to press her forehead to Villanelle’s own.
‘I’m sorry,’ Eve whispers as she weeps, clutching Villanelle as tightly as she can. ‘This is all my fault. I’m so stupid.’
It’s the first time she’s managed to say it out loud even though her thoughts have often betrayed her in moments of quiet, especially when her eyes had met her own reflection. She’d tried to convince herself that parting with Villanelle had been for the best, that it was necessary, that Villanelle had been nothing but bad for her and would only be a distraction going forward. But the truth is Eve’s heart hasn’t stopped aching since they walked away on tower bridge and her mind hasn’t stopped its niggling thoughts of how empty and incomplete she feels without Villanelle in her orbit. As terrifying as it is, Eve knows now that denial and avoidance aren’t going to cut it anymore. She and Villanelle are forever entwined, they’re tied together by the threads of fate, two halves of a lost soul that can only be at peace when they’re together. It’s time for her to stop pretending otherwise, because as Hélène has made abundantly clear, Eve isn’t fooling anybody but herself at this point.
The sound of a phone ringing breaks through Eve’s thoughts and she realises it’s coming from Villanelle’s device, the ring tone set to an obnoxious chuckle that Eve recognises instantly. Careful not to jostle Villanelle’s unconscious form, Eve reaches out for the phone. The screen is smashed to pieces but Eve somehow manages to accept the call and hold it upto her ear desperately.
‘Konstantin, it’s Eve, they hurt her, please come, I need help,’ Eve rambles off quickly, giving the name of the shop before dropping the phone once more.
She pulls Villanelle closer once more, soothing her shaky fingers through her soft, blond hair. ‘You’re going to be okay,’ Eve hums reassuringly. ‘Konstantin’s coming, and I’ve got you. I’m not leaving you again.’
Eve lets her hand cup Villanelle’s cheek, her skin is warm and solid and real against Eve’s palm, a comforting reminder that she’s alive, and Eve feels a fresh wave of tears spill from her eyes in utter relief.
Villanelle groans softly, her dazed eyes fluttering open slowly and fixating in confusion as she stares back up at Eve. ‘Eve?’ she croaks unsurely.
Seeing Villanelle’s eyes staring up at her only makes a relieved, hiccuped sob skirt from her mouth, a soothing smile following quickly after.
‘I’m here,’ Eve assures, and when Villanelle tries to sit up, fails and winces in pain, Eve hushes her gently, and holds her closer, stroking her hands over Villanelle’s arms. ‘I’ve got you.’
‘Have you?’ Villanelle replies, her eyes searching Eve’s hopelessly.
Eve feels a pang of regret ripple through her and coil unpleasantly in the pit of her stomach. Villanelle’s disbelief is nothing less than she deserves and yet it stings unbearably. When did she become someone so undependable, so cold and unsympathetic. It isn’t who she is at all, she’s always wanted to help Villanelle, always been the only one to believe she is capable of more, and yet recently she’s become just another person to shut Villanelle down when she’s reached out sincerely.
‘I have now, I promise,’ Eve declares softly. ‘I’ve been so…’ Eve sighs as she trails off and shrugs down at Villanelle.
‘Dumb?’ Villanelle suggests with a small, playful smile. ‘Rude, mean?’
Eve huffs out a laugh. ‘All of the above,’ she confirms. ‘Forgive me?’
‘Perhaps,’ Villanelle says softly, and inhales sharply. ‘I think my arm is broken.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Eve grimaces and purses her lips apologetically. ‘Konstantin is coming to help, you have to keep still for awhile longer.’
‘He is going to be real mad at you, he told me about his hand,’ Villanelle hums in amusement.
‘I don’t care,’ Eve replies, ignoring Villanelle’s attempt to lighten the mood, always the one so willing to forgive and forget even when Eve doesn’t deserve it. ‘Hey,’ she murmurs softly, forcing Villanelle to grow calm as her eyes lock intensely with Eve’s once more. ‘I didn’t mean it, what I said at Martin’s. I’ve never wanted to lock you away. I just… I thought it would be easier.’
‘Was it?’ Villanelle questions shakily, and Eve can see the apprehension etching over her face even as she waits patiently for Eve to answer.
‘Not at all,’ Eve replies honestly. It had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Nothing had been more haunting than the look of betrayal and defeat in Villanelle’s eyes as the officers had led her away.
‘Does it hurt?’ Villanelle asks quietly, and when Eve raises her eyebrows in confusion, Villanelle reaches up with her good arm to press her hand over Eve’s heart.
Eve releases a shuddery breath at the touch, understanding Villanelle’s meaning even as Villanelle prompts her with such a knowing, yet slightly wistful look. They’ve both danced around each other and together long enough to know the truth, even if it’s a truth that’s been mostly left unspoken, except for that one disastrous attempt in Rome which Eve wasn’t ready for at all. But now… now she thinks she is even though it leaves her trembling with fear.
There’s no take backs now, not once it’s out there, but perhaps that’s what they need, no more hiding, no more avoidance, just honesty.
‘Yes,’ Eve confesses with a small smile. ‘But not as much as I thought it would.’
‘I’m glad,’ Villanelle replies. ‘It’s made me feel better, freer, but sometimes it’s agony for me too, it hurts worse than anything I’ve ever experienced… this broken arm included.’
Eve laughs through a sniffle and leans down to let her lips brush tenderly over Villanelle’s forehead, over the soft curve of her cheeks, and lets them linger promisingly at the corner of Villanelle’s mouth.
Villanelle stares back at her with something akin to wonder when she pulls back, all wide eyed and blushing as if Eve has done something more than such a simple, innocent gesture. It only makes Eve’s heart swell with even deeper fondness, and suddenly all of the twisted, tangled mess of anger, hurt, frustration, relief and love that has felt so suffocating and all consuming to Eve before now feels like only things that makes sense. There’s the Twelve and their never ending web of connections that Eve can’t see to navigate no matter how hard she tries, and then there is Villanelle, who’s staring up at her like she’s the only person in the world that can truly see Eve for who she actually is.
It’s at this moment that Eve knows that if she is ever granted the luxury of choice again, she knows she’ll pick right this time, because only one of these things truly matters to her, and it isn’t a damn global crime organisation.
Eve leans down to press another chaste kiss to Villanelle’s forehead and lets her eyes flutter closed when Villanelle reaches up to tangle her fingers in her hair, keeping her close.
‘I’ve missed you,’ Villanelle whispers, and it’s almost so quiet that Eve doesn’t hear it, but she does, and it makes her flood with guilt all over again.
Eve feels a lump forming in the back of her throat at the tenderness of Villanelle’s confession, because although she feels the same, it’s not like they’ve ever really had this before, and somehow it doesn’t feel enough and yet this is the exact moment Eve knows without a doubt that she’s head over heels in love.
‘I missed you too,’ Eve murmurs shakily, feeling a shiver tingle throughout her entire body at leaving herself so unguarded.
The expression that materialises across Villanelle’s face as a result is worth it though, she looks so vulnerable and uncontrolled that Eve can't help but lose herself in it. Villanelle has never looked more beautiful or more trusting, and as Villanelle stares back at her reverently, Eve knows she’s exactly where she’s meant to be; they’re in this together now, forever, no matter what happens.