Chapter Text
PART ONE
It begins on a Thursday. It's happened before. It will happen again. So perhaps this is when it ends. Maybe they're standing still. Going nowhere. Nowhen.
They'll never get an answer.
It's a morning just like any other. Exactly the same as the one before. And the one before that. And the one before that.
Because that has been Eve Polastri's life for a while. She'd say she's fine with it if ever asked because most people live the same way. Life is a rut. A derivative of itself. Everyone is always fine. No one ever responds with anything else.
She's not fine with it.
It's a morning just like any other. Exactly the same as the one before. And the one before that. And the one before that. Except on this one she feels water rushing up from her lungs, burning her throat and nose; choking her until she throws up in the sink.
The tongue scrubber on the back of her new tooth brush is too strong.
Obviously.
Eve pays it little mind once Niko's knock on the bathroom door rushes her along.
"I'm not late," she tells him quickly as she brushes by him into the hall.
She's a little late.
Niko is prepared for this. He has a travel cup of coffee and a to-go breakfast waiting for her in the kitchen. He's great at that. Always has been. Niko fills small gaps that Eve could not care less about. When they first started dating–or more specifically, when Eve first relented and admitted to herself that she had wound up in a serious, committed relationship–Niko used to joke that she was occasionally so scatterbrained because she never let herself stop thinking long enough not to be. Her dad used to say the same when she was growing up. It was a comfort when she looked at it through that lens.
Her mother, of course, never said anything of the sort. If anything, she always found the people Eve surrounded herself with to be the cause of any such distraction. Which, of course, is one of the many on an ongoing list of reasons Eve doesn't feel bad about not having called her mom to check in yet this month.
It's fine and perfectly normal.
Currently, Eve makes sure to smile in thanks and gives Niko an easy, if not rushed, kiss as she grabs the food and prepares to leave for the day. "You're the best, thank you."
It's not a lie. Niko's wonderful, truly, and anyone else would appreciate his efforts of simply being caring, so Eve is sure to as well.
He chuckles. "Always glad to hear I'm appreciated."
Anyone else, Eve might take it to be passive-aggressive. She shakes it off and avoids the trail of chicken hospitality off of the back hallway. Niko's project. The bird has only been with them about a month. A very long month. Apparently a student could no longer keep it as a pet, and it was going to be led to slaughter. Despite the amount of poultry they consume regularly, Niko took an exception. His parents have something of a farm back in Poland, so it's well within his territory and thus absolutely none of Eve's business.
"Remember," he calls after her in her exit, "it's Bill's birthday in two weeks. I put a memo in your calendar."
It gives Eve pause. He's only being helpful. She knows this. Reminds herself again, in the space of this morning alone, that it's who Niko is. Has always been. Will always be. Devoid of change. Usually, it's another comfort if she tries hard enough.
But Bill is her friend. She can make memos for herself. And fine, yes, she's prone to forgetting significant dates off hand. So what. She would have been reminded at some point. By Elena's teasing or Bill's grouching. Frank's jealousy.
"Thanks," Eve repeats, with the same smile in place.
It wouldn't lead to an argument if she said otherwise. They never argue about anything, really. There wouldn't even be the risk of one. And somehow that's what makes her less likely to bother. It's always so unimportant. Nothing that happens in their lives, separate but maddeningly joint, ever seems significant.
Eve goes to work.
She stops at a cheap coffee shop near the office and buys herself a better coffee and some chocolate. What Niko doesn't know, can't hurt him. It's a good morning sugar rush, though Eve can't help but groan at the inspirational quote printed on the inside of the candy wrapper.
When life isn't going right, go left.
Who the hell is paid to come up with these things?
In the end, Eve's only late by about ten minutes, and when she arrives Elena's already set for the day at her desk. Eve's barely sat down and thrown her coat off before Elena spins around in her chair.
"What are you getting Bill for his birthday?"
See, Eve totally would have been reminded on her own.
"I don't know," she says. "I'll figure something out. I'll probably just get him a gift card."
"A gift card?" Elena looks on in disbelief.
"Yeah. What's wrong with that? I know what he likes." Bill, like Niko, isn't prone to too many changes in his daily life and has been going to the same stores and restaurants for nearly the entire ten plus years she's worked with him. It's decisively less annoying when it comes to Bill. There's almost a grouchy charm to it.
Niko cannot pull off grouchy.
"No, it's…very you," Elena grins.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I'll have an easy time beating your gift and come out of this looking much better."
Eve only laughs. Work has gotten so much more enjoyable on a day-to-day basis in the three years Elena has worked alongside her. "You're diabolical."
"Don't you forget it." Whatever Elena's about to add to that is cut off once she turns back around and freezes. "I want this one."
Eve frowns. "What one?"
"Frank. Eating marmite on toast. Straight ahead through the door."
That's enough to get Eve out of her chair just in time with Elena. "Why do you get marmite on toast?"
"Because I spotted it first."
A sound argument and Eve gestures quickly. "Go before he sees you."
Elena manages to get a pic on her phone before Frank is none the wiser, and they're both firmly in their seats again just as he joins them in the office.
"Good morning," he greets.
"Morning," they both echo together, and with one shared glance, Eve knows that Elena has seen it too.
There, in Frank's beard, a smear of marmite he's completely unaware of. Someone should probably tell him. It would be the mature thing to do.
Eve and Elena stay silent.
"Eve, you were late," Frank says. Scolds, really. As is his way. Frank enjoys talking down to people. Eve, in particular, she's always suspected. "Does the work we do here at MI5 not strike you as important?"
It strikes her as boring; something Eve is sure must be felt by all of them. Frank mentioning MI5 by title is only his way of pretending he matters more than he does in their profession. He's such a prick.
Eve keeps these thoughts to herself. "Sorry, Frank. It won't happen again."
She'll make sure it happens tomorrow.
"See that it doesn't." He nods once, chin high. It's Frank's look when attempting to come off as a distinguished professional, but currently it only makes the marmite more noticeable.
"How long do you think before he realizes?" Elena whispers once he's made his departure.
"Oh, not until lunch, easy."
Eve finishes her morning work with familiar ease over the next hour. It's repetitive, and she's been doing it for too long. If it was more exciting, she'd call herself an expert. Instead, Eve pushes it all aside and does what she has begun to do every day. Her own personal research. There are no new entries in their databases today. Just as there were no new entries yesterday or the day before that. The active and deceased female assassins on record are the same ones that have been there for months.
Still, Eve has other avenues to pursue. Ten days ago a relatively smalltime philanthropist-slash-socialite was killed in the locker room of a women's tennis club in Madrid while on vacation. A racket had been modified to hide a blade in its handle. It was too flashy, and given how exclusive the club is, only a woman could have killed such a target. Eve had immediately added it to her catalogue of assassinations. The job had to have been hers.
Whoever she is, this new one. The one Eve has been tracking. The one who has style and arrogance and what is possibly the world's most terrible sense of humor. Her work speaks for itself, and in all of her casual delving into assassins, Eve's never seen one like this before. It's fun. Terrible, yes, but fun. Unpredictable. Eve can never guess how the next victim she finds has been killed. There's something unthinkably exciting about the anticipation. It's a much preferred reason to come to work each day.
It's a much preferred hobby after dinner than watching the news with her husband.
But whoever this woman is has been quiet for ten days. There has not been a kill since, and there's nothing to be found today either. Eve can feel her mood draining by the second. It doesn't pick up again until after lunch when Bill joins them. First time seeing him this late in the day, he must have had a busy morning. Elena is quick to show him their latest addition to the Frank-eating file.
"Elena," he sighs in good nature, "we've talked about this. At least give off the appearance of professionalism."
"Bill. He had marmite in his beard."
"Well now I have to see it." Bill looks at the picture in awe, and it's enough to brighten Eve's mood for a moment. "Definitely one for the record book." He looks to Eve. "You, come with me."
"You? What's with you all of a sudden?"
"My apologies. Eve, come with me, Eve. Into my office, Eve. Thank you, Eve."
Eve laughs as she shoves past him. "Oh, piss off."
Bill doesn't waste time once they're seated in his small office. He passes over a thin folder. "Here. Orders handed down from MI6."
"MI6? Really?" Eve leafs through the paperwork, but there's not much to be read.
"Yes. All very exciting, I know," he teases dryly. "Apparently, a Russian diplomat stationed here quit his position rather vocally and is currently under our protection."
"So it's serious?"
"Calm yourself. You're only going to be making a few phone calls to check in on security."
"Oh." Eve shifts, anxious. It's an unexpected letdown she isn't about to accept with dignity. "Then why can't you do it? If it's so unimportant."
"Because you are my very favorite underling, and I want you to have the experience."
"What's the real reason?"
"Keiko asked me to call her back–rather demanded. She wants to go over our future options for private schooling. If you don't get in early, you don't get in." He sighs again. "Never have children."
"Hadn't planned to."
Eve grins before making the most of the opportunity in her lap. It's just as Bill said. A diplomat at the Russian embassy in London quit on Monday after eleven years in service. But not before contacting several newspapers and other sources to give reasons and voice his concerns with certain foreign policy. The listed 24/7 protection of two teams reads as being excessive compared to their normal operations.
"Why did this land on MI6's desk?" Eve asks.
Bill shrugs. "They have a large desk."
"No, I'm serious. You don't think this is strange?"
"A diplomat quitting abruptly? If I start listing the amount of Russian diplomats stationed around the world, I won't finish before I enter a retirement home. How out of the ordinary is it, really?"
"I meant the security offered to him. It looks like MI6 is actually worried about his safety. As if there's an actual threat."
Bill groans. "Don't start. It's already been a long day."
"Don't start what? This is suspic-"
"No, it's not. You would like it to be suspicious, but it's not. There's a difference."
Eve takes a deep breath. "Fine."
"Good. Do your actual job. Call the little number right there on top. You're great at that. I have all the faith in the world that you can do this."
She snorts as she leaves back to her desk. "Thanks."
It is suspicious, and Eve spends the next hour looking into the diplomat's prior work and any strained connections. There's really nothing of note, and her frustration only grows. She can't shake this feeling. As though something is going to happen. He's the exact type of target she's become accustomed to in her private research, and ten days is a notable time between kills for this particular assassin. Eve pretends not to be disappointed when her first check in with security goes off without a hitch.
Her second call around five in the afternoon doesn't go as smoothly. There's no answer on the first line nor is there one when she tries getting through on the second. It's possibly nothing, but protocol would dictate that she report to Bill or Frank. They would handle it from there, getting in direct contact with MI6. That's exactly what Eve should do.
"Uh, can you tell Bill I headed out if he asks?"
Elena smirks. "Coming in late, leaving early. Eve, you're an idol. But sure thing."
"Relax, it's for work. I'm just doing my job. But I'll probably just head home after."
"Of course. I'll cover. See you tomorrow."
"Thanks. You're my favorite. Bye."
MI6 have the diplomat secured in a hotel near Trafalgar Square. It won't take Eve long to get there. She shouldn't go, she knows. She should just catch a bus home. It's too curious, though. MI6 even hiding him there in the first place. Hotels in the area will be swarming with tourists. It's open. In plain sight. That will be what they are counting on.
Eve doesn't go home.
She feels awake for the first time all day. She has no plan. No real skills or experience in field work. But she knows her. If Eve's suspicions are justified, then she might be able spot her. To see her coming. To finally see her. Meet her. Know for sure that she exists.
That she's real.
More importantly, that Eve's right.
She makes it to the hotel in record time. It's just across the street now. Eve can't pick out a face in the crowd and sees no one who could possibly be a top flight assassin. She doesn't spot any of their undercover security either. Eve thinks nothing of it, too focused. Too keen. Too hungry.
She doesn't see the car coming. It hits her head on, but it doesn't hurt. She doesn't feel it. It happens too fast, and there's too much immediate damage. She's more aware of a person screaming before she's on the pavement, but then that awareness ends too. Everything ends. Everything stops on a day just like any other. It ends and begins on a Thursday.
That's how Eve Polastri dies. That's how Eve is killed.
The first time.
As far as she's aware.
It's a morning just like any other. Exactly the same as the one before. And the one before that. And the one before that. Except on this one Eve feels like she's slept on the wrong side of a wooden bed complete with a late night hangover. She knows this isn't the case but is more focused on washing up for the day. She's already running late and needs to get going, but Eve freezes when she deposits her toothbrush in its holder to take what should be a brief final glance in the mirror.
Looking at herself she feels…nothing. Just a pure emptiness. Sudden and going nowhere. As if Eve has been hollowed out. As if there is nothing inside of her. It's such a distinct sense of loss, except she has no idea what it is that's missing. Eve's crying in front of her sink before she realizes it's happening.
Niko's knock on the bathroom door rushing her along disrupts whatever this feeling is. Eve wipes her eyes and checks to make sure there is no evidence of any distress. She puts on the smile she always does when she's set on keeping whatever she's feeling to herself. Eve has gotten exceptional at that the longer they've been married. It's both something she prides herself on and grows resentful of depending on her mood.
"I'm not late," she tells Niko quickly as she brushes by him into the hall, hoping he'll notice nothing is wrong if she's fast enough.
She's a little late. Probably more so now.
Niko is prepared for this. He has a travel cup of coffee and a to-go breakfast waiting for her in the kitchen. She doesn't want them. She just had them yesterday and–
No. Yesterday, Eve had eggs for breakfast right here at home. She doesn't even like Niko's eggs. At least they came out of a pack instead of Niko's chicken's ass.
"Darling, are you alright?" Niko rubs over her shoulder, and Eve does her best to subtly turn away.
No, she's not alright.
"I just had the strangest sense of déjà vu." She shakes it off. "I really should go. But thanks for this." Eve picks up the coffee and gives him a quick kiss. "See you tonight."
"Remember," Niko calls after her in her exit, "it's Bill's birthday in two weeks. I put a memo in your calendar."
It gives Eve pause. He's only being helpful. Like always. She knows this.
"Yeah, Niko, I know that. He's my best friend. I'm not about to forget his birthday." She doesn't mean to snap at him, really, but he just always does this.
Niko seems as surprised as she is and holds up his hands with a slight chuckle. "Alright. I'll forgo future memos. Have a good day."
Eve goes to work.
She stops at cheap coffee shop near the office and buys herself a better coffee and some chocolate. What Niko doesn't know, can't hurt him. It's a good morning sugar rush, though Eve can't help but groan at the inspirational quote printed on the inside of the candy wrapper.
When life isn't going right, go left.
She swears she always gets this same one.
In the end, Eve's only late by about ten minutes, and when she arrives, Elena's already set for the day at her desk. She's barely sat down and thrown her coat off before Elena spins around in her chair.
"What are you getting Bill for his birthday?"
"I told you, a gift card," Eve says.
"Eve. A gift card?" Elena looks on in disbelief.
Eve rolls her eyes in good humor. "Yeah, I know. Your gift will beat mine. You will come out on top. Everybody wins."
"Well just so we're all in agreement." Whatever Elena's about to add to that is cut off once she turns back around and freezes. "I want this one."
"Frank eating marmite on toast? Go for it." Eve's not sure how she knows that, but there he is through the door scarfing it down sure enough.
"Seriously you're not going to fight me for it?"
"No, go before he sees you."
Elena manages to get a pic on her phone before Frank is none the wiser, and she's firmly in her seat again just as he joins them in the office.
"Good morning," he greets.
"Morning," they both echo together, and with one shared glance, Eve knows that Elena has seen it too.
There, in Frank's beard, a smear of marmite he's completely unaware of. Someone should probably tell him. It would be the mature thing to do.
Eve and Elena stay silent.
"Eve, you were late," Frank says. Scolds, really. As is his way. Frank enjoys talking down to people. Eve, in particular, she's always suspected. "Does the work we do here at MI5 not strike you as important?"
It strikes her as boring; something Eve is sure must be felt by all of them. Frank mentioning MI5 by title is only his way of pretending he matters more than he does in their profession. He's such a prick.
"If our important work here falls apart because I happened to be ten minutes late, then MI5 has a far bigger problem on their hands."
No one says anything for a long, tense moment. She probably shouldn't have said that, but Eve's not sorry and doesn't look away from Frank once. He's uncomfortable, she can tell. It's small and petty, but it feels good.
"Your tone is inappropriate. Consider this a warning, Eve. Be here early tomorrow or else there will be consequences." He nods once, chin high. It's Frank's look when attempting to come off as a distinguished professional, but currently it only makes the marmite more noticeable.
"How long do you think before he realizes?" Elena whispers once he's made his departure.
"Oh, not until lunch, easy."
Work is harder today than it typically is. Her job is often going through the motions, but she's good at it. Today…today she can't. She can't do her work. She can barely respond to Elena when interrupted. She doesn't want to be here. Or maybe she shouldn't be here.
She shouldn't be here.
Eve ignores her job in favor of her own personal research. It calms her down. Distracts her from everything else but then that isn't new. Eve has been letting her focus drift solely to an unknown assassin for weeks. She wonders if this stranger ever craves such distractions. If this woman ever feels the same emptiness in her life. Eve doubts it. Her work is too impressive. This assassin is too proficient. She enjoys it. She likes killing and shows off doing so.
There are no new kills Eve can find evidence of anyway, and for once her research doesn't improve her mood. It only picks up again slightly after lunch when Bill joins them. First time seeing him this late in the day, he must have had a busy morning. Elena is quick to show him their latest addition to the Frank-eating file.
"Elena," he sighs in good nature, "we've talked about this. At least give off the appearance of professionalism."
"Bill. He had marmite in his beard."
"Well now I have to see it." Bill looks at the picture in awe, and it's almost enough to brighten Eve's mood for a moment. "Definitely one for the record book." He looks to Eve. "You, come with me."
She frowns. "You?"
"My apologies. Eve, come with me, Eve. Into my office, Eve. Thank you, Eve."
She doesn't laugh at his joke, but he takes it in stride.
Bill doesn't waste time once they're seated in his small office. He passes over a thin folder. "Here. Orders handed down from MI6."
"MI6? Really?"
Eve leafs through the paperwork, but there's not much to be read. It's only minor details of a Russian diplomat who recently quit his position. MI6 is worried that he might be targeted because of the vocal manner in which he left his duties. They have him under heavier than usual security at a hotel near Trafalgar Square. Eve recognizes it immediately. She's never been a guest, but she was just there yesterday.
She was there. She remembers it clearly. Her suspicions. Racing there. Looking out for her. Finding nothing until crossing the street and–
Eve stands up abruptly, cutting Bill off from informing her of the riveting task of phone calls.
"You have somewhere you need to be?" he asks, looking mildly putout. Vaguely concerned. It might be warranted.
"It's fine," Eve says. "You have to call Keiko anyway."
"I–yes. But how do you know that? Oh please don't tell me she's starting to call the rest of the office to get to me. The baby's not even walking yet. What can a school possibly teach her at this age?"
"That's nice, Bill. I have to go. Give this to Elena." She passes the folder back over.
"What? Go where?"
"Home. Something's wrong. Stomach bug." Eve can see him getting ready with follow up questions, and she's heading out the door before he can stop her. "See you tomorrow."
Eve grabs her coat and bag with a hasty goodbye to Elena before rushing down the stairwell in need of fresh air. She makes it to her typical bus stop before catching her breath. She watches as the traffic passes in front of her, and she remembers. Eve remembers all of it. The car, the impact, the scream, the pavement. She's already lived this day. It already happened. It already ended. Eve died.
It can't be a nightmare. It feels too real. It hurts too much. She died, and that same feeling of loss that's been with her all day is climbing back up her throat. Eve can't breathe. She's racked with dry sobs. They don't stop until a man joins her at the stop. He's old. Walks with a cane. It must take him a full minute before he crosses in front of her and takes a seat on her left. It's such an absurd image in the middle of a crisis because what wouldn't be right now, and Eve has to say something to someone.
"I think I died."
He merely grunts. "Who hasn't?"
Eve takes the bus home like every other day and makes it there in one piece. She's alone. Niko won't be home for hours. Eve lets her hair down and goes to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. She leaves the bottle out.
This isn't possible. She must be going crazy. She's never been religious. She doesn't believe in some higher power pulling strings, dictating fate. For what? Punishment? A second chance? There's no explanation for anything that's happening to her.
She should call Niko. That should have been her first thought. Eve doesn't want to be alone. Sometimes that's what she wants most. To be alone just to find space. To have a break. Now, it's the last thing she wants, but she doesn't make the call either. What would she even say to him?
No. She's not going to acknowledge this any more than she's going to acknowledge the actual chicken resting two feet away from her. Eve's going to drink her wine, take a hot bath, and go to sleep. And when she wakes up tomorrow, it will actually be tomorrow and all of this will be behind her.
Eve goes to sit on the floor in the back hall off the kitchen right next to Niko's chicken. Eve never thinks of the bird much herself, but right now it's something living and breathing, alive, in her house.
Eve's not sure she's still alive.
She's breathing. She has a pulse. She can hear cars passing by on the street outside. She can feel the chicken's feathers as she reaches out. Eve coaxes the bird closer. It has a name. She doesn't know it. It smells. She doesn't like it. If it died, she wouldn't miss it. But it's amidst these thoughts that she loses such feeling. She looks back down, and the chicken has disappeared from right underneath her arms.
It's the same day. She knows this now. Once again, Eve is in front of her sink, looking into the mirror. This time she doesn't spit up any water. Odd. This time she died because she was enjoying her bath and managing to relax until she slipped getting out of the tub.
She hit her head.
Eve drowned. It was only moments ago, and now she's back in front of her mirror as though it never occurred. She stares back at the tub in some amount of trepidation. What the hell is happening to her?
Today she doesn't answer Niko's ever helpful knock. Eve doesn't respond at all, and after a few more polite attempts, Niko announces he's coming in. He's worried, and for once Eve doesn't try to soothe and smile her way out of it.
"Eve, what is it? What's wrong?" He holds her gently by her upper arms. Always gentle. "Talk to me."
He always wants to talk. It's disgusting.
"I think I'm going crazy," she says anyway.
It eases him. She's not sure why it eases him.
"What happened?" he asks.
Good fucking question. The truth spills out of her, and he doesn't believe her. Eve can see that. She can't be annoyed by it. Eve doubts she'd believe him either if their roles were reversed, and she'd probably be much more of a dick about it. Niko at least keeps up a brave face, placating. Always looking to comfort.
It's smothering, and Eve regrets telling him anything.
"You're reliving the same day," Niko says slowly. "Is it maybe possible that you woke up to a dream of doing such?"
"No, I'm not dreaming," Eve snaps. "This really happened. More than once now."
"Okay. If you've already lived this day, then what's going to happen next?" He's indulging her, probably using the voice he does with his more troublesome students.
Eve nearly retreats and takes it all back, but screw it. Now she wants to prove him wrong.
"You have breakfast and coffee waiting for me downstairs, and before I leave you're going to tell me you put a memo in my calendar for Bill's birthday. Which you really didn't need to do, by the way." Niko looks stumped at that. "I arrive to work ten minutes late. Elena asks me what I'm getting Bill for his birthday before she spots Frank eating marmite on toast. He chews me out for being late. After lunch Bill gives me an assignment to check in on the security assigned to a Russian diplomat being protected by MI6 and-"
And there's nothing unique about today. There's no way for Eve to prove that's she's reliving it because there's nothing out of the ordinary to predict. Jesus, she didn't even realize she was reliving the same day until hours later. Is this really her life?
Eve deflates. "Maybe it was a dream."
He believes that at least.
"Why don't we call in and take the day just for ourselves? You've been so overstressed with too much work lately."
She hasn't. Eve's work is never stressful. But he may have a point. "No. It's fine. I'll stay. I'm probably just going to take a long nap anyway."
Niko sighs. "Are you sure? I'd rather not leave you alone."
"Niko, I'm fine, really. Go remind everyone what the area of a circle is." Something no one ever needs to know.
He ignores the joke as he always does when she ribs his job. "I'll check in as often as I can. Call if you need anything."
"Of course."
"Would you like me to draw you a bath before I go?"
"No!" she shouts and then plays it cool. "I am so clean right now."
It takes a few more assurances before she convinces Niko to go to work. Eve pours herself a morning drink because at some point today she's going to die again and none of this actually counts. It does nothing to calm her down, and Eve resolves herself to desperate research instead. She spends the day scanning over websites looking for any explanation. Any theory. Anything.
She finds nothing on time loops but works of fiction, theoretical physics that are far beyond her understanding, and a few conspiracy groups on Facebook which disturb her far more than the prospect of dying for a third time.
By the late afternoon she gives up entirely and decides to go to bed early. Mostly because she'd rather not talk to Niko about this again, and she knows he'll ask. Eve only feels the slightest bit guilty but ignores that by convincing herself that it's because she's less likely to die of any accidents while asleep.
This time Eve's day doesn't start in front of a mirror in the bathroom but in her bed, half under the covers. She's made it. She didn't die. This isn't fate. She can beat this.
All she has to do is make sure to avoid things that can kill her. How hard can that be?
She's so relieved, she considers waking Niko up for morning sex. Instead, Eve gets up early and makes herself breakfast for once. She even cleans up. She does the dishes right after instead of letting them sit in the sink all day. She empties their bowl of suddenly rotten bananas and takes out the trash. It's a new day, and she's going to treat it as such.
Niko wakes up to his daily alarm and seems surprised to find her up and ready before him once he joins her. "You seem in better spirits," he says, setting the coffee pot.
"I had a good night."
"No more dreams?"
"I hope not."
Dreams, her ass.
She gets to work early today and is welcomed back after the day off. Elena emails her the marmite photo. Bill catches her up on his and Keiko's school hunt. Frank is nearly tolerable and mostly absent from their office. Eve does morning research into what happened to the diplomat, but he's been made perfectly secure by MI6 and is alive and well. So maybe her suspicions didn't have any foundation after all. Eve's hardly about to admit that, but it's a good day. Nothing has gone wrong, and it gets even better when Bill tells her to go home early.
Or it would've gotten better on a normal day. Eve has been safe today in this office. She'd rather not take the risk yet.
"I'm fine," she tells him, but Bill's not having it.
"It's Friday. There's no more work here. Enjoy the weekend. Get yourself fit."
"Bill, it was just a stomach bug. Let Elena go home early."
"Yes," Elena agrees, "let Elena go."
"You're never sick," Bill says before looking back to Eve and tossing her coat around her shoulders. "I'm not always this nice. Take advantage."
God, he's such a monkey dick. Eve needs worse friends. Ones who don't give a shit about her. That's the way to go through life.
Eve gets home without any problems, but she remains on edge. This–whatever this is–doesn't feel over. She opts for tea over wine today. She actually bothers to do it the right way and heats up a pot of water on the stove. Eve usually just microwaves a mug because it's the same fucking thing and doing so granted the bonus of driving her mother insane with it when she was growing up.
She should've done that now. Because currently, as Eve adjusts the burner a rapid gust of flames rise and that's the last things she sees before–
She's in front of her mirror again. She's died again. The house exploded, and she's back on the same original Thursday morning. There is a fly crawling through her sink's light fixture and Eve swats at it, though it's no use.
"Fuck. Fuck you."
Today, Eve yanks to door open before Niko gets a chance to knock.
"We have a gas leak," she tells him.
He frowns. "A gas leak? Are you sure?"
"Yes. Why would I make that up?"
Eve stomps down the stairs to the kitchen as a perplexed Niko promises to make a call to the gas company behind her. She leaves the coffee and breakfast on the counter and instead picks up a newly ripe banana. She tosses it back into its bowl with a scoff. Great, so even if she manages to live through this day, she'll wind right back up here if she dies regardless of when.
"Are you okay?" Niko asks her.
"What would you do if you knew you were going to die today?"
He's thrown by the question. "Spend it with you."
Eve sighs. He always makes things so easy. He avoids conflict like he was born to do nothing else. Eve hates easy. She's terrible at it. "I'm serious. What would you do?"
He chuckles, lost. "I don't know. What would you do?"
Eve has no idea. How are you supposed to spend your last day alive? There's too much she hasn't done. Hasn't tried. It used to bother her when she was younger. It should still bother her now. But somewhere along the way, Eve stopped caring. Accepted this life as it is.
She shouldn't have stopped caring.
Eve drops the conversation and goes to work today. She skips the coffee shop but still arrives late.
"I'm getting Bill a gift card," she tells Elena before the question gets past her lips.
Elena frowns. "How did you know I was going to ask that?"
"The universe is conspiring against me."
"Lucky you."
Eve laughs. Yeah. Lucky her. A few moments and some marmite photos later, and Frank joins them right on time.
"Good morning," he greets. "Eve, you were late," Frank scolds yet again. "Does the work we do here at MI5 not strike you as important?"
And Eve loathes this man. He's not even the worst boss she's had, but there's something so exceptionally pathetic about him. Eve wants to tell him so for once. Eve wants to speak her mind and voice all the awful thoughts that run through it each day. She wants to do something different. She wants to do something unexpected.
Eve wants. And wants and wants. She always wants. She wants something she's never been able to put a voice to. She wants all the things that are all too easy to put a voice to. And so Eve never bothers chasing after anything.
"You're a knob."
Elena turns back to her computer, staying out of it, while Franks simply sputters. "Excuse me?"
"You're shit at your job no matter how good you are at sucking up to the right people," Eve continues and why stop there? "Everyone here hates you. You eat like a toddler who's just learned what food is. And I don't even like kids but I feel bad for yours now that your wife's dead."
A little harsh. Elena will even say as much if Eve sticks around.
"Well–I," Franks starts, "That was–completely inappropriate. I have never been so insulted."
"Really?" Eve asks. "Never?" No way.
He lifts his chin. "Eve, collect your things. Go home. I'm suspending you until further notice."
Elena can't pretend she's not watching now, and Eve can only challenge Frank's will further. "Just suspending?"
"You're fired," he says simply, and Elena finally jumps in.
"Whoa, Frank, isn't that a little harsh?"
"Or not harsh enough," Eve says, gaining Elena's focus.
"Eve."
"You may take your coat and purse," Frank continues, "your desk will be cleared out and your personal items will be mailed to you."
"Okay," Elena jumps in again, "this is escalating. I'm getting Bill."
Eve shrugs once she's out of the room. "Worth it." She grabs her coat and bag and shoves past Frank on the way out. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"You most certainly will not."
"Of course I will. And the day after that too. All the days, Frank. You're stuck with me."
Eve doesn't stick around for his next response. She feels lighter than she should. There will be no actual consequences for this. At some point today or possibly tomorrow she will die, and nothing that just occurred will count or be remembered. She can do anything now. There's power in the thought.
It's immediately cut short when she trips on the stairs out of the building and breaks her neck.
Eve spins away from the mirror in frustration.
"Oh come on. You could've let me savor that one."
She doesn't go to work on this day because she seems to survive a lot longer when staying home, but with no research she's bored out of her mind and mostly spends the day contemplating whether or not she could kill the chicken. It's fine. It would just come back with the next reset anyway.
Eve leaves her home at around the three hour mark, and she chooses not to play it safe. What does it matter? She's going to die so she might as well make the most of it. She eats at a restaurant she would never normally be able to afford. She wanders around city sights she's never found the time to visit as if she's a tourist and not someone who's lived here half her life.
It's nothing special, but it's a good day. In the end it's a falling air con unit that does it. Crushed to death right there on an average London sidewalk.
Eve stares hard into her bathroom mirror for a moment.
That's not something she'll want to think about again.
Today, she manages to kill the fly, and she goes through her routine with what's becoming ease. Coaxes Niko to work. Thinks about maybe threatening the chicken but can't seem to find it anywhere. She goes to work late and spills her coffee on Frank's lap. She leaves and wanders around. Waits for it to come.
Stairs. Again. This time at the Tube.
Eve smacks her hands down onto the porcelain of the sink and takes a few deep breaths. It's not fair. It's not. Why does this have to be happening to her? She's not that important. She's nobody. She doesn't need to be the universe's experiment on mortality.
Eve waits right at the door until Niko's knock comes. With a deep breath, she opens it. "I know I'm late. You have breakfast waiting downstairs, thank you. You put a reminder for Bill's birthday into my phone. Stop doing that. I love you. I'll see you tonight."
She leaves before he can get in a word. It's been a week of this, and nothing has changed. Eve knows she needs to try something new. She needs to do what she's been putting off. She needs to relive her steps of that first day. Whatever triggered this happened then, and so whatever is going to stop it has to be related.
She goes to the coffee shop and purchases her same order, gets the same inspirational nonsense. There are no changes at work, and she tries her best to do everything exactly that same as she had the very first time. She leaves early again and goes to the hotel near Trafalgar Square. Eve zeroes in on where she crossed the street the first time. She sees the car drive past that would've hit her. Eve doesn't let herself be distracted this time. Eve goes to the hotel.
There's nothing out of the ordinary inside, and Eve skips going up to the front desk. She knows which floor MI6 are stationed on. The room upstairs is easy to find. There's a 'do not disturb' sign hanging off the door and an obvious agent sitting in a chair at the end of the hall. Everyone seems to be fine. Eve approaches the agent with her work ID in hand.
"Hello. I'm Eve Polastri. I've been assigned to check in on your operation."
He doesn't appear to buy it and says what is probably a code word into his earpiece–something Eve totally doesn't think is cool at all–and they're joined almost immediately by another agent. This one high in rank, Eve can tell.
Her ID is taken away as certain calls are made, and Eve's left to stand under guard by the first man. "So…do you like being a spy?" she asks him, aiming to fill the silence. And really, they both work in intelligence and she shouldn't be selling herself short. "Outside of the office, that is," she adds smoothly.
He doesn't answer. Ignores her entirely, in fact. They're left in an awkward silence until the agent in charge returns. Eve's been cleared at least, but she's asked to leave.
"Your supervisors vouched for you," the agent says, and thanks Bill, "but MI5 did not need to send someone out. Please leave immediately. Tell no one of what you saw. Good day."
Eve's escorted back to the elevator by her silent companion, and she reminds herself that nothing that happens today will bear consequences. She can for once share her suspicions, her months' worth of research, if she chooses. She's only told Bill and Elena but never to the full extent. They know she has a thing for assassins and that she looks into them periodically when things at work are slow. But that's it. This is an opportunity, maybe, to see how her theories will be received by someone who matters.
"Are you sure?" Eve tries again. "That there are no outside threats? I mean, what if an assassin comes?" No response. "Okay, I know this is going to sound crazy, but there is this woman and she's new on the scene and your diplomat is the exact type of target she goes after." Nothing. "Seriously? Is this not your job? This is inside information."
"Lift's here," he directs. He's not going to budge, and this isn't why she came here anyway.
Eve scoffs but gets on the elevator. It's crowded with guests, and she squeezes through them to the back. They're loud. Obviously tourists. Obviously American. Obviously have been drinking. And this is already quite literally the longest day ever. She has no desire to deal with that on top of everything else.
Eve yanks down her hair in agitation. She had to have missed something today. She'll just have to come back again–once she fucking dies–and pay closer attention. Maybe next time she'll skip work and come here early. Maybe if she jumps in front of the damn car this time, it will set everything right. Maybe this. Maybe that. Maybe, maybe, mayb–
Eve freezes.
She feels eyes on her. She's being watched.
Eve looks to her left, to the woman resting against the back wall right next to her. She's young. Can't be past her early twenties. Pretty. She doesn't look like another tourist. She looks like a professional. Her hair is tied back in a simple bun, yet nothing about this woman should be reduced to simple. The jumpsuit she's wearing is too nice. Designer. It fits her perfectly, as though it was made for her. The woman looks anxious about something but focused. Undeniably so. She doesn't even flinch when one of the men in front of them lets out a particularly obnoxious belch.
The woman remains staring at Eve as though she's seen a ghost.
It unnerves her.
"Are you alright?" Eve can't help but ask.
She gets no response. It's the day of no responses, it seems. The woman only takes a noticeably shaky breath and looks away to the arrows above the doors in front of them. Why does Eve even bother? Fucking people. Maybe they should all start dying instead. How about that?
"Wear it down."
Eve drops her hands from her hair the moment she hears it and slowly looks back over. It's not a suggestion. It's not spoken like one. Eve's not sure how she'd categorize it, but it's a compliment. It shouldn't flatter her. Eve stopped giving a shit about what strangers thought of her back in the nineties.
Her hands stay by her sides.
There's something...confident about this woman and how she's presenting herself. It's something to luxuriate in. There's no lurking anxiety now. She's not staring anymore so much as she's taking in all of Eve that's available to her.
"Do you work here?" she asks as the lift begins its decent, and she's definitely not American. Or British. It doesn't quite appear like that's exactly what she wanted to ask either, but it doesn't deter her. "In this hotel? I haven't seen you here before."
"Um. No." Eve frowns. "Do you?"
The woman merely hums, glancing away again with a small smile on her lips. It doesn't last. She turns back to Eve fully, comes a step closer. There's no mistaking the interest plain to see on her face now. Eve has no idea why she's entertaining this. She should turn away, message clear. But Eve finds that she wants to know; wants to hear what's said next.
Nothing is said. The woman is cut off as the elevator lurches and warning lights flash and a very unhelpful voice in the speakers urges that this is normal and maintenance will be coming.
"Uh-oh," the woman says, perfectly insincere. "That's probably not good."
Eve just sighs. Well it was bound happen, and this is better than stairs at any rate.
The tourists manage to get even louder as they scream and yell and press frantically on the panel's buttons to no avail. The hotel isn't even that tall, but the elevator begins to increase speed as it plummets to the lobby.
"Don't you want to freak out too?" the woman once again interrupts Eve's thoughts. "Haven't you heard? We're all about to die."
Eve almost laughs. She appreciates the mutual disregard for such a situation. "It's fine. I die all the time."
Any levity that was present drops away immediately. "So do I."
It isn't a joke. She means it the way Eve does. But that's not possible, is it? They study each other for the few, dismal remaining seconds they have, and Eve can feel it surging.
Hope.
Then they hit the ground.