Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eve knew it would happen before it happened, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t scream.

The shipping container slid from the ship into the water. 

“Shut up!” screamed Villanelle, even louder. “My head hurts.”

No shit. Eve’s did too. Being hit in the head would do that. An iron bar? A brick? A golf club? She didn’t know. The details were hazy. She’d traveled to Scotland. She’d rented a car. She’d seen Villanelle, staggering in the middle of the road that bordered a golf course. 

“Eve! No!” 

Eve had run from the car to help. She wasn’t sure what happened next. She’d regained consciousness in the dark, tied up on a metal floor, back-to-back with Villanelle. They sat in a puddle of water that could’ve been piss but wasn’t piss, soaking through the seam of Eve’s jeans.

“Shipping container,” Villanelle had said, twisting her chin towards a crack in the metal roof that let in light.

“How do you… No!” 

A motor had started. The grinding of gears. They’d lurched forward. 

Eve screamed.

The shipping container tilted sidewards. For a moment, it hung, suspended. Then it slid, and tipped, and sank. 

All light disappeared.

Chapter Text

They hit the bottom, Eve on top. The shipping container was on its side. Their bodies had slid and tumbled and crumpled into a corner. Underwater. An ocean? A lake? Fully submerged.  

A tsunami of panic. 

“I didn’t tell Jamie, I didn’t tell Audrey, nobody knows, oh god, oh my god.”

“Eve!” yelled Villanelle, then much quieter: “As much as it pains me to tell you this, you need to get off me.”

Eve couldn’t breathe. She was going to die like Bill had died and Kenny had died and Frank had died and…

“Eve!” Villanelle pinched Eve’s wrist. “Move. Now!”

Eve couldn’t move. Her hands were tied behind her back that pressed down against Villanelle’s back, who must be face down against the metal where she would die, she was going to die, they were going to die. 

“Eve! Move!” 

Villanelle heaved. Eve rolled. Her shoulder slammed into the floor. Villanelle followed. 

Side-by-side, back-to-back, a moment of triumph. 

But only a moment. A gush of water hit them together. 

“It’s leaking,” Eve screamed. 

“Up. Up!”

The women elbowed their way to sitting. Eve was about to pass out. The water was already over their feet, up to their shins.

“Stand.”

“I can’t.”

Villanelle slammed the back of her head into Eve’s head.

“Hey!”

Villanelle did it again, then dug her nails into Eve’s palms.

Eve howled then pushed her body backwards in anger. Villanelle used the leverage to jump into a low deep squat.

“Bet you love me.”

“Fuck you.”

Villanelle draped her body backwards. A provocation. A calculation.

“You want me so bad. You want my tits. You want…”

“I hate you.”

The muscles in Eve’s thighs burned as she braced then thrust then pushed to stand, as Villanelle goaded her, Villanelle lifted her. A shared spine. 

“Poor Eve, in love with a killer.”

“Oh god oh my god.”

They rose together, bound together, knee deep in deadly water.

Eve barked a loud laugh, then gasped, then sobbed, losing her mind.

“Not bad,” Villanelle teased over her shoulder. She nudged a knuckle against Eve’s hand. 

Eve grabbed the finger tightly. 

The water continued to rise.

Chapter Text

The rising water slapped at Eve’s thighs, cold and violent. Soon it would swallow the hem of her coat - then the sleeves, the zip, the fasteners near her throat, the fur-lined hood.

“Food truck or restaurant?” 

Villanelle’s voice was tinny and hollow. An underground echo. They’d drown here in this metal box. Eve started to shake. 

“Villanelle. Don’t.”

“But we will be hungry.”

Eve didn’t have time for these childish games. “Seriously, I…”

“Okay, fine. I will be hungry. You will drink on an empty stomach. And you will watch me, drooling a bit at my eyes and mouth and how I eat and what I …”

“Stop it!” 

Eve rammed her bound fists into the small of Villanelle’s back. 

“Oooh! Kinky!”

“Why can’t you be serious?”

“Eating is serious!”

“We’re going to die!”

Villanelle blew a loud raspberry. “You are too funny.” Eve attempted to hit her again, but Villanelle intercepted Eve’s hands and held them still, not too tightly, not too loosely. A strange sensation. Caught and covered. Almost comfort. Then a whisper: “Relax, okay? I’ve got this.”

Eve’s breath caught in her throat. There was no way out of this death trap. Villanelle was out of her mind. But her voice was deep and certain. Her hands were strong. What would it matter to let in the daydream of them, surviving? To let in hope?

Eve exhaled. She gently leaned against Villanelle’s back. Her shoulders softened. Her fists unfurled. She felt the tension leave her jaw. The water lapped at the crotch of her jeans. Eve closed her eyes and transported herself into the future: a brightly lit, decadent, penthouse suite. She stood there naked. She padded across a luxurious rug to enter a bathroom, scented and sweet with warmth and fragrance. She’d soak for hours. She’d sleep for days. Maybe before they went out to dinner. Maybe together in Villanelle’s bed.

“You’re not wearing it.”

What? Oh.

Villanelle dragged Eve back to the present, prodding at the cold wet flesh beneath Eve’s knuckle where her wedding ring used to be. Eve sighed. How to explain the death of a marriage? “He couldn’t… I wouldn’t…” Eve shook her head, laughing softly at the stupidity. “He said I’m a lot.”

Villanelle nodded, solemnly. “Smart man.”

“Hey!”

Villanelle laughed then too, warm and open, and maybe dying like this would be fine. The rising water puffed up the bottom of Villanelle’s coat. It circled her like a lily pad. Monster-green.  

“Take mine.”

Villanelle’s finger stretched in Eve’s palm. A metal ring. An embedded stone. Oh my god. The woman was shameless. 

“That,” Eve laughed, “is a terrible proposal. I know that you aren’t used to the normal rules of normal romance but…”

“Awk-ward,” Villanelle trilled. It echoed around the cold metal box. “And so presumptuous.” She wiggled her finger. “Freedom. Not love.” 

Eve didn’t know why she felt disappointed. The water climbed higher. Eve grabbed the ring, contorting her thumb. 

“Besides,” said Villanelle, having fun, the little shit, “I’m already taken.”

“Who?” snapped Eve. She yanked the ring, a little too hard. She hated this feeling. Jealousy, rising. 

Villanelle giggled. “I’ll tell you at dinner. Now, hold it steady.” 

Eve did, as Villanelle twisted and pulled at the ring, between their backs, acting blind. 

“What are you…”

“Shh.”

The moment stretched. Villanelle hummed. The water touched then swallowed their hands. 

“Boom!” 

Eve jumped. 

“Don’t jump! It’s harder when wet. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Seriously? The woman had shot her and left her for dead! Still, Eve froze. She felt a rhythmic tug at her wrists. A sawing motion. The binding loosened. Her hands were free.

Eve moved slowly. The water was heavy. She pushed against it. She circled to stand at Villanelle’s back, whose hands were still tied.  

“Do me, Eve!”

Eyes adjusting, Eve fished the ring from Villanelle’s fingers, a small blade where the stone used to be. 

Eve thought she would shake but she didn’t shake. She used the blade to free Villanelle. 

Villanelle turned. They faced each other. A first, since Rome.

“Now what?” Eve asked. The water had risen up to her ribcage. It lifted her slightly. She lost her footing. Villanelle caught her. Eve gripped her arm. “Stay,” Eve murmured. Villanelle nodded.

They swayed together. Eve wanted to rest against Villanelle’s shoulder. Eve wanted to save her. Eve wanted to live…. but would not and could not… A gasp of panic.

Villanelle pulled Eve close with one arm. With the other, she pointed up. Water poured through a crack in the roof, four feet above them. A hinge? A handle? 

“Soon, we’ll punch in that shit door.”  

“First?” Eve asked. The water - unstoppable - covered her breasts and splashed her neck. Her chin would be next. Then her mouth, her nose, her eyes. 

Villanelle lightly kissed her head.

“We float. We rise. We breathe.”

Chapter Text

Float, rise, breathe? Please. Eve snorted, drowning be damned. “When did you become a philosopher?”

Villanelle shrugged, doe-eyed and dimpled, the picture of innocence.

“I saw it on an inspirational poster at a spa in Sweden. I killed someone with a sauna stone.”

Eve didn’t know if she was telling the truth. It didn’t matter. It made Eve laugh. Which made her focus. The water had risen up to her shoulders. She needed to lose the weight of her coat. The zip had stuck. Her fingers were useless.

“My job,” said Villanelle, hands at work - at home - on Eve’s body. 

Eve didn’t know if she meant killing people, or undressing Eve. She didn’t care. Villanelle deftly unzipped the zip, freeing Eve’s body. Goosebumps erupted. The air was ice. But Eve felt lighter. She felt alight.

“My turn,” chimed Villanelle, wriggling her arms out of her jacket, skipping its intricate straps and snaps. It hung around her neck like a cloak. 

“Bet you’ll miss me.” 

Villanelle dunked under the water. Her head disappeared. The jacket emerged, empty and free. Eve waited for Villanelle to resurface. She waited. And waited. 

“Villanelle?” Eve was on her tip toes now. “Villanelle? This isn’t funny.” She groped wildly, under the water. “Villanelle!”

“Boo!” 

Villanelle popped up behind Eve’s shoulder. Eve drove an elbow into her gut. Sharp. Relief. The water kept rising.  

Eve’s feet left the ground. She knew how to swim but her legs turned to concrete, her arms turned to lead, she was swallowing water…  

Villanelle grabbed her. Taller and stronger, she jammed her hands into Eve’s armpits and spun her around like a drowning child. 

“Legs.” 

No. Eve couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t. She did. She wrapped her legs around Villanelle’s waist. Both of them gasped, at the sensation. 

“Eve.” 

Fuck. 

Wet on the outside, wet on the inside. Eve could deny it, but what was the point?

“What do you want?” Eve said, struggling to speak, struggling to breathe, nothing to do with imminent drowning. “Really, this time.”

Eve wanted to hate her. Eve wanted to kiss her. Eve wanted a reason to make it all stop, or make it all matter, or make it make sense.

Villanelle’s hands were under Eve’s ass, hoisting her higher. She looked up at Eve. Her face was bright, her shoulders were bare.

“Have you been to Barcelona? It’s a beautiful city. The sunsets, the women…”

“Villanelle…”

“There is a pharmacy on Paseo de Gracia. It’s always crowded. I want to go there and stand in a very long line to pick up a prescription for you. You’ll have thrush, or maybe a migraine, or UTI. It doesn’t matter. I’ll give them your name - Eve Polastri - because I’m allowed to. I’ll bring it to you. I’ll leave it on the kitchen table. You’ll find it later. You’ll know it’s from me. It’s always me.” 

Villanelle scrunched up her face, searching for words. “I want to be in everything, Eve.”

The water lifted Villanelle too. She let go of Eve. 

The shock. The panic. It was too intimate. It was too much. Too much like tenderness. 

Nearby, the arms of their jackets entangled. 

Eve wanted it too. 

“Soon,” said Villanelle, treading water as if were nothing and pointing to the metal above. She had been right. There was a door with a twistable handle. “When the water pressure is even.”

Eve had seen that on TV. People escaping from sunken cars. Was it real? She took a deep breath and dipped her face into the water. She wanted to know how it would feel.

“Did you see it?” Villanelle asked.

Eve hadn’t seen shit. She’d closed her eyes. What kind of psycho…

“There’s a rung at the bottom. Maybe a lock rod. I’ll wedge in my feet to hold me down. You’ll stand on my shoulders. You’ll need the resistance.” Villanelle gently moved Eve’s hand to the handle above them. “Turn. Push. Go.”

“No!”

Eve couldn’t do that. She wasn’t that strong. She wasn’t that selfish. She wasn’t yet finished with Villanelle.

“I won’t let you do it. I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me.”

Villanelle laughed, as if Eve had told a really good joke. Or was the joke. Eve wasn’t sure. “That is so stupid. Why would I do that?”

“So I can live?”

Villanelle stared, in awe and confusion. “But I wouldn’t be there to see it.”

Eve didn’t know where to start. It didn’t matter. The end was here. 

They twisted their necks to breathe the last of the sunken air. The plan was shit. They’d probably die. Eve thought about final words. Yes. More. You. Us.  

“Showtime,” Villanelle interrupted. 

Eve inhaled. The stuff of life.

And then that stuff was gone.

Chapter Text

Fear can make you do crazy things. It made Eve angry. Hungry too, for time, and life, and Villanelle. She kicked hard to keep herself upright. Her foot made contact. Boot on bone. Villanelle’s jaw? Her cheek? Her nose? 

Strong hands grabbed Eve’s ankles and tugged her legs a little apart. To plant her feet on stable shoulders.

Eve wanted more of that.

She bore down against Villanelle’s body to gain enough traction to open the hatch.  It didn’t budge. She tried again. Then Villanelle’s hands were under her feet, lifting her like a stack of weights. 

A tower of bodies about to topple. 

Eve’s muscles screamed. A howl of protest against the silence of the sea. She pushed. She had to. Inside-outside, pressure was even. She locked her elbows. 

The hatch opened, ever so slightly. Eve forced her fingers through. Bones could fracture. Skin? Split. Trivial things. Eve shoved her hand into the gap, her wrist, her forearm, and wriggled until she was elbow deep. Her other arm followed. Pressing upward, she made an opening. She tried to squeeze her head through. 

Was this what it felt like to be born? 

It didn’t work. 

Eve angled her torso and pushed again. The opening widened. This time, Eve’s head broke through, and then her shoulder, dislocating. Then her tits, her arms, her belly. Only her legs dangled below, the hatch door cutting her body in half. Eve rocked and twisted to open it fully, then moved it through a semi-circle to snap against the container’s wall.

Villanelle would join Eve now. They’d rise together, fucked up twins. 

Survive together.

Any second now. 

Moments ago, Villanelle had let go of Eve’s feet. 

Moments and moments. 

Villanelle? 

Eve’s lungs were about to explode. 

Villanelle!

Where the fuck was she? Eve couldn’t hold herself down for much longer. She needed to breathe. She needed to surface. Villanelle wouldn’t wait for her.  

A light above was bright and inviting.

I want to be in everything, Eve.

No no no no. 

Eve dove back down into the dark. 

Villanelle was curled in a ball on the container floor. Eve didn’t know why. She didn’t care. She clumsily clawed at Villanelle’s chest to hoist her upwards.

Eve needed this woman like she needed oxygen. Both. Now! 

Eve gasped for air. She didn’t mean to. Water invaded her mouth and throat. 

Villanelle?

Eve choked. She thrashed. She splintered. 

Villanelle pushed Eve away.

Now was not the time for a fist-fight. 

Eve gasped again. Water on water flooded her lungs. Vision collapsing, she tried to focus.

Villanelle was bent over her boot, caught in the rung on the metal floor. 

Eve needed to think. Vice-like pressure crushing her rib-cage, the roar of panic, her blood stampeding.  

She wanted to help. She needed to help. 

A final involuntarily gasp for air. 

Eve opened her mouth.

Villanelle, she wanted to say. I got you, I got you, but it was too late.  

Out of breath. Out of time.

Eve's world exploded in violets and whites. Kaleidoscope colors. Then everything darkened. Everything slowed. 

A time of surrender. 

Let yourself go.

Eve? Surrender?

A final action: Villanelle’s ring. Eve groped in her pocket. She bobbed as she fumbled for Villanelle’s hand. She felt for a future, measured in seconds.

With this ring…

The thought truncated. Everything faded.

Villanelle? 

###

Villanelle took over the story. Obviously.

Don’t you dare, Villanelle thought as she grabbed the ring from Eve’s hand. She always imagined an audience watching. Wouldn’t you? She was a sensation. Don’t tell me that people like us don’t stand a chance. Don’t tell me that you have swum in the river of history and seen the sea to which it leads. You don’t know me. You don’t know Eve. 

Eve was very shit at this. Even before she became unconscious. Fierce intentions, weak execution. She’d kicked Villanelle square in the face! 

As blood erupted from Villanelle’s nose, she’d thought of sharks. Her and Eve. Perhaps they would die here, eaten alive before they get old. A fun thought. 

But this was better! Villanelle’s foot had got stuck! A tangled lace in a metal rung. An easy fix, but Eve - Eve - had crashed the party, cheeks like a chipmunk, bearing a ring. 

Eve wanted to save her. She hadn’t saved her. It didn’t matter. 

Eve’s want was more than enough.

Villanelle took the ring from Eve’s floppy fingers. She didn’t need it. She had already unknotted the knot. Still, she cleanly sliced through her boot lace. It saved a few seconds. And now they were free! 

Even if Eve might be dead.

Don’t worry so much! 

Villanelle was just having fun. She knew she had a couple of minutes before she lost the beat of Eve’s brain, the heat of her heart.

No rush.  

Still, Villanelle chose to move quickly. She marveled at that. She swam strongly, pulling Eve upwards, through the hatch, towards the light. It wasn’t too far. The shipping container must’ve sunken a few meters only. 

This wasn’t the vast expanse of the ocean. 

She broke the surface and breathed in night air, cold and sharp.

Eve needed to work on her lung capacity! She had to quit smoking. Villanelle would tell her that. 

Eve would hate it!

First thing’s first. 

Villanelle scanned her surroundings. 

Industrial floodlights, the stench of diesel, slick cold waters without a tide, overhead cranes, a concrete quay with stacks of pallets and shipping containers.

Industrial docks.

This was too easy!

Villanelle rotated Eve to float on her back, supporting her head as she towed her backwards. In thirty seconds, she reached the quay. She found an emergency service ladder bolted into the concrete wall. It stretched upwards, five or six meters. Now, Villanelle needed to hurry.  

She’d never saved a life before! 

With Eve’s dead weight across her shoulders, Villanelle began to climb. Slippery rungs. Slippery Eve! Anyone else would have fallen. 

Not Villanelle. She made it to land. She laid Eve down on the service road. There wasn’t enough time to find somewhere private. 

Wow! Were you expecting that? An exhibitionist, wanting her moment with Eve to be private?

Villanelle lowered her head.

Would rescue breathing feel like kissing? 

She pressed her mouth against Eve’s mouth. 

She breathed for Eve.

Into Eve.

Only Eve.

It wasn’t like kissing. Eve didn’t respond.

And then she did! A splutter of water and slime and foam.

Villanelle shrieked. She realized then that she had been crying.

She fell beside Eve.

They lay together. Time against time.

Villanelle carefully touched Eve’s hand. “We did it,” she whispered.

Eve groaned and spat up more foam. “I feel like shit.”

She looked like it too. Drowned and deranged. 

Villanelle loved her. 

They could talk about that tomorrow. A different disaster to work their way through. 

For now, they lay beneath the stars.

After a minute, a vehicle approached, with amber lights and a logo branded on its door. 

“Should I steal the security van?” Villanelle asked.

Eve’s chest rose, and fell, and rose. Villanelle wouldn’t take that for granted. Not anymore. Not in the lifetime that stretched ahead, a road that led them away from the water, its sunken confinement.

Soon, they’d need to take off their clothes. 

Or freeze to death!

The security van stopped nearby.

Eve turned.

Villanelle could drown in her eyes. She held her breath, awaiting Eve’s answer.

Hold your breath. Await Eve’s answer. 

Now let it go. 

Don’t give up. 

Seriously. Don’t give up. 

Endings are not written in stone.

History, either.

Waters rise. Don’t stop breathing. 

Eve answers.

“Yes.”