one
Villanelle’s eyes flutter open slowly, the bright lights above making her squint. The unmistakable scent of antiseptic — and whatever people use to clean floors — fills the room.
“Where… where am I?" she rasps. Her voice is hoarse and weak. She tries to move, but every inch of her body feels like it’s encased in concrete. Panic surges through her as she realizes she’s in a hospital.
Well, this is inconvenient.
Trying to sit up is a mistake. The pain in her back is excruciating, radiating through her torso. Memories flood in jagged flashes: gunshots, the icy Thames closing over her, a familiar voice shouting her name, fleeting images of a woman with soft brown eyes, a smile that makes her heart race and hair she could easily spot in any crowd.
Eve.
She looks around, trying to piece things together, but the effort sends a wave of nausea rolling through her.
Great!
She senses there's someone else in the room.
"Stay still, you're safe," she hears the calm voice from somewhere behind her. A nurse steps into her line of sight and says, "You've had quite the adventure. Just relax."
Villanelle wants to argue — she’s very good at arguing — but exhaustion pulls her back under. Her eyelids feel like they weigh a ton. Still, lots of questions buzz in her head.
Was Eve here? Or is my mind playing cruel tricks on me?
She recalls the way her name sounded on Eve’s lips, like it actually meant something. The faint pressure of a hand on hers, grounding her in a storm, feels so real it aches. But when she tries to hold onto it, the memory slips away, a phantom she can't catch. It had to be real. It felt real.
But now? Now, she's not so sure.
Her chest tightens, not just from her injuries, but from the sharp, gnawing thought: Where is Eve?
She fights to stay awake but sleep drags her back into the void.
When she wakes up again, the room is still and quiet, except for the soft hum of machinery. The sheets are cool against her skin, and for a blissfull moment, she allows herself to imagine that everything was just a bad dream. But the bandages and the dull ache in her back quickly shatter the illusion.
"Hello?" she calls out, her voice a little stronger this time.
No one answers.
She looks around the room, her eyes lingering on the doorway, as though it might magically produce someone. Anyone. But it remains empty. A single tear slides down her cheek as the loneliness settles in and she quickly wipes it away.
The door creaks open then and her heart leaps. She turns her head a little too fast towards the sound, her heart pounding in her chest and her muscles screaming in protest at the sudden movement. It’s just the nurse from before, her expression neutral as she steps in and starts fiddling with the monitors.
Villanelle opens her mouth to speak, ready to ask the one question burning in her mind, but no words come out.
"How are you feeling?" the nurse asks. Her tone is polite but detached, like this is just one more thing on her to-do list.
"Tired," Villanelle mutters. "And confused. Where's my girlfriend? I remember... I remember her being here."
The nurse freezes mid-motion, her hand pausing as she adjusts the IV and her brow furrowing. For a moment, she looks as though she’s trying to piece together a puzzle.
“Your girlfriend?” she echoes, her voice tinged with hesitation. Her eyebrows lift and she glances at the clipboard in her hand, like it might have all the answer, then back at Villanelle.
Villanelle nods, her voice firm now. “Yes. She was here.”
“I… I don’t believe anyone has visited you since you were admitted,” the nurse says carefully.
Villanelle’s chest tightens, a sharp pang that feels deeper than her injuries, and she shakes her head weakly. “No, that's not true. She was here. I... I remember her voice. She held my hand.” The tears come faster now, and this time she can’t stop them.
The nurse’s expression softens, but she still looks confused. “You’ve been through a lot,” she says gently and Villanelle thinks the look in her eyes might be pitty. “Sometimes our minds can play tricks on us when we’re recovering. We can talk more after your doctor comes by. For now, try to rest.”
Rest.
The word feels hollow as Villanelle watches the nurse leave the room. She feels like someone punched her in the gut. Hard. The words replay on an endless loop.
Was Eve really here? Am I losing my mind?
Villanelle closes her eyes again.
The next time Villanelle wakes up, it’s to the faint creak of the door opening. Her heart sttuters, an entirely unfair reaction her weakened body isn’t ready for. But when she sees a nurse stepping in, she sighs, assuming it’s the same person from earlier.
The uniform is dull and unremarkable, blending into the monotony of the hospital. But then, something familiar catches Villanelle's sharp eyes. A dark curl escaping from a neatly tied bun. The determined set of the woman’s mouth. Recognition hits her like a jolt of adrenaline.
"Eve," Villanelle whispers. Her voice is still fragile but now it carries a world of relief. She blinks away the tears that blur her vision as she takes in the familiar figure.
Eve's lips curve into a small, cautious smile as she steps inside the room and shuts the door firmly behind her. "Shh," Eve murmurs, her voice low but brimming with emotion. "It’s me. Just keep it down, okay?" Eve reaches out, her fingers brushing Villanelle’s hand gently.
“Come here, come here,” Villanelle says, her voice urgent despite her exhaustion. She grabs Eve’s hand weakly but manages to tugs her closer.
Eve hesitates for half a second before leaning down and wrapping her arms around Villanelle in a careful embrace. Villanelle winces and lets out a sharp whimper. “Aww!”
“Oh God, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” Eve pulls back quickly, panic flashing in her eyes.
“No, I’m okay,” Villanelle reassures her, even as her voice wavers slightly. Her eyes meet Eve’s, and despite the pain, she smiles faintly. Eve gently cups Villanelle’s cheek, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.
“You’re really here,” Villanelle breathes when they part. She looks at Eve as though she can’t quite believe Eve is actually there.
“I’m really here.”
“You've been here before, haven’t you?” Villanelle stares, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Of course. I've been coming here all the time.”
"I knew it!” Villanelle's lips twitch into a small grin. “And in a nurse outfit?” Her grin turns into a smirk. “Kinky!”
Eve rolls her eyes. “Asshole,” she shakes her head and a fond smile softens her expression. "What, did you expect me to show up in a trench coat and a blonde wig? I’m trying to keep MI6 off your trail." She moves closer, leaning in so her face is mere inches from Villanelle's. “It's so good to see you awake.”
Villanelle studies Eve's face, her eyes clouded with pain and confusion. She shifts slightly, wincing as the movement sends fire through her back. “How long was I unconscious?”
“Almost three weeks.”
“Three weeks?' Villanelle’s voice cracks with disbelief. “I thought it was like… a day or two. What the hell happened? How did I end up here?”
“Do you remember the boat? The Dixie Queen?”
Villanelle's brows knit. She nods slowly. "Yeah. But the last thing I remember… we were in the water. I thought—" Her words falter, the memories too fragmented to form a coherent thought. “How?” It’s all she manages to ask.
Eve hesitates, pulling a chair closer to the bedside and sitting down. Her hands rest lightly on her lap, her posture uncharacteristically tense. "Pam pulled us out," she begins softly, her gaze dropping to her hands.
Villanelle blinks. “Pam, really?”
“Yeah,” Eve nods. “Pam said Carolyn offered her the job to kill us, but she turned it down.”
“Carolyn?” Villanelle interrupts her. “That motherfucker!”
“I know,” Eve sighs. “Anyway… Pam suspected Carolyn was gonna find someone else to do the job, so she followed us. When we hit the water, she was already there with her boyfriend. Somehow, they had a boat. It's like she knew we’d need her. They got us to shore and called for help. You were barely breathing, Villanelle.”
Villanelle frowns. "What about you?”
"I’m fine," Eve says quickly, brushing the concern away. “One of the shots went through your body and hit me but it was just a superficial wound." Her voice wavers slightely before she regains her composure. "You though... you were shot twice, and your lungs—" She falters, her throat tightening. After a beat, she takes a deep breath and continues. "The only reason you made it was because the freezing water slowed the blood loss. But the Thames is filthy, and you developed a nasty infection." She takes another breath. Her gaze drops to Villanelle's hand and she clasps it gently. "The doctors had to put you in an induced coma. They said your body needed time to fight off the infection and heal from the surgeries. Your lungs were so badly damaged they weren’t sure you’d pull through." Her voice breaks slightly, but she presses on. "It was bad, Villanelle. Every day, I thought I’d lose you.”
Villanelle stares at her, letting the weight of Eve's words sink in for a moment before glancing around the room again. "Okay, but… What's the plan? Carolyn's never going to let me recover in peace."
"I know. That's why you’re here under a fake name," Eve explains. "I had a friend help with that.”
“A friend? What friend?” Villanelle narrows her eyes. “Can we trust this person?”
“Yes. Yusuf. He’s a former colleague. I trust him completely.”
Villanelle rolls her eyes. "Oh, your boyfriend," she tries to sound nonchalant, but something in her tone makes Eve wonder if she’s a little jealous.
Eve raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You got shot twice and almost died, and this is what you focus on?”
“Yep.” Villanelle says, shrugging.
Eve chuckles. "Relax, he’s not my boyfriend. Yusuf’s been a lifesaver. Literally. And he's got connections. So now you’re officially Natalie Green, a tourist who got caught in a mugging gone wrong. No one outside this hospital knows you’re alive, except Pam, her boyfriend Darren, and Yusuf.” Her tone shifts, growing firmer. “Carolyn has to believe we both drowned in the Thames. Yusuf says there's no indication that she's looking for us, and we need to keep it that way.”
Villanelle's gaze sharpens. “And what about you? How are you sneaking around unnoticed in that cute nurse outfit?” She asks, gesturing at Eve's attire.
“It's working so far, isn't it?” Eve smirks.”No one looks twice at a nurse, especially if it's a middle-aged Asian woman. Besides, it lets me stay close. Someone has to keep an eye on you. Who better to do that than me?” she says, with a small smile. And then she adds, “For the record, I go by Claire Adams now.”
Villanelle considers this, her eyes narrowing slightly. "So you’ve been coming here this whole time?"
Eve doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she reaches out, brushing her fingers over Villanelle’s face in a gesture so gentle it makes Villanelle’s chest ache. "I wasn’t going to leave you," she says simply.
Villanelle's lips curve into a faint smile. “So, what do we do now?”
“Now, you should sleep,” Eve replies, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You need to focus on recovering. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
“Wow! You're so bossy, Nurse Adams,” Villanelle mock-pouts before grinning at her.
Eve rolls her eyes but can’t help the warmth in her smile. As she stands up to leave, Villanelle's voice stops her. “Eve?”
“Yeah?”
Villanelle hesitates, “Would you—” She swallows hard, unsure of how to ask for what she wants.
Eve steps closer. “What is it, baby?” She asks softly.
Villanelle's eyes shine at the endearment. Her voice is barely audible when she says, “Would you lie down with me?”
“What?” Eve blinks, caught off guard.
“I want you to lie down with me,” she repeats, her tone hesitant. “I feel… safe… when you're close,” she adds.
Eve pauses beside the bed, looking at the narrow space Villanelle has cleared. Her hesitation makes Villanelle think she doesn't want to do it. “It's okay if you don't want—”
“No, no, it's not that," Eve quickly clarifies, moving closer. “What if someone comes in? If they see me like this—"
"Can't you just lock the door?" Villanelle interrupts, her eyes pleading now. "Please, Eve. Just for a little while.”
Eve hesitates, her resolve teetering. She shoots another glance at the door before looking back at Villanelle. The blonde looks almost shy. With a soft sigh, she steps over and quietly locks the door. “Fine,” she says, making her way back to the bed. “But if anyone knocks—"
“If anyone knocks,” Villanelle cuts in, grinning while shifting over with care to make space, “I will kick you off the bed myself.”
“You're impossible.”
Villanelle chuckles. “I know. That's why you like me so much.”
Eve sighs, planting her hands on the bed for balance. “I just don't want to hurt you. You’re still recovering,” she says as she climbs onto the bed carefully.
"You won’t hurt me, Eve," Villanelle replies, her hazel eyes locking onto Eve’s. "I trust you.”
The words make Eve’s stomach twist in a way she wasn’t ready for, but she doesn’t argue. Slowly, she swings one leg up onto the bed, testing the space before carefully lowering herself beside Villanelle.
Villanelle grimaces as Eve’s weight shifts the mattress, her breath hitching in discomfort. Eve freezes. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," Villanelle says quickly, though the tightness in her voice suggests otherwise. "Just… move carefully.”
Eve nods, shifting gingerly until she is lying on her side, facing Villanelle. The bed is narrow, forcing them close enough that their breaths mingle in the small space between them.
Villanelle tilts her head slightly, her gaze softening. "Your brain is so loud," she murmurs, her tone teasing but gentle.
Eve ignores the comment and focus on adjusting her arm. After a moment of hesitation, she slides it carefully around Villanelle’s waist, keeping her hold loose enough not to press against the bandages but firm enough to offer comfort. Her other hand rests lightly on the bed between them.
"Is this okay?" Eve asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It's perfect.”
Eve kisses Villanelle on the forehead, and Villanelle closes her eyes. Everything falls quiet, and for a moment, Eve thinks Villanelle has drifted off to sleep.
She closes her own eyes, letting the stillness wrap around them. Exhaustion presses down on her. She’s been so worried about Villanelle that for the first time in weeks, she thinks she might finally rest.
But the second her eyes close, the memories come crashing in: Villanelle, shot and bleeding, their desperate plunge into the Thames, blood staining the freezing water as she struggled to reach Villanelle underwater. Pam and Darren pulling them out, Villanelle’s lifeless body on the shore, not breathing. The paralyzing fear that this time, Eve might lose her for good.
It isn't until she feels a warm trail trickle her cheek that Eve realizes she's crying. She touches her face and her fingers come away wet with her own tears.
Guilt tightens in her chest, sharp and unforgiving.
This is my fault.
Eve shifts slightly, and the movement seems to wake Villanelle. She blinks groggily and notices Eve’s tear-streaked face.
“Eve?” Villanelle asks, her voice filled with concern. “You’re crying. What is it?”
Eve quickly wipes at her cheeks, but the tears keep coming. “I hate seeing you like this,” she admits, her voice trembling. “This is all my fault.”
Villanelle’s brow furrows. “What? No, it’s not.”
“Yeah, but it is,” Eve insists. “You almost died because of me. Again. And every time, I…” Her voice breaks, the words catching in her throat. “First, the stabbing, then Gunn shoots you with that stupid arrow. And now, the boat.”
Villanelle smiles faintly, eyes softening as she tries to lighten the mood. “Alright, I’ll give you the stabbing. That one was on you. Obviously. But Hélène sent Gunn after me. How is that your fault?”
“Hélène sent Gunn after you because I had… ‘kinda’ kidnapped her daughter.”
Villanelle raises an eyebrow, a small chuckle escaping her. “You did?” She sounds genuinely impressed.
“Yes. Long story.” Eve’s lips twitch in a humorless smile before her expression darkens. “So she went after the one person she knew I cared about.” Eve pauses, sniffling quietly. “She made me watch, did you know that? I saw you getting shot and there was nothing I could do.”
Villanelle listens carefully. She didn’t know any of this. She vaguely remembers Eve mentioning Hélène did that to get back at her, but they never really talked about it.
"I should’ve known Hélène would do something. I was so caught up in everything, her, you, The Twelve… I didn’t even stop to think I could be putting you in danger.” Her voice trembles but she continues. “And now this. You almost died again. Because of me. That's three times now.”
“Wow, three times!” Villanelle gasps, feigning shock. “You’re really terrible at keeping me alive, aren’t you?”
Eve lets out a shaky laugh despite herself, but her eyes glisten with unshed tears. "Not funny," she mutters, looking away.
Villanelle lifts her hand and touches Eve’s cheekbone. "It is a little funny," she teases gently before her expression grows serious again. She guides Eve's gaze back to hers. “Eve, listen to me. That is all in the past. You can’t carry that guilt forever. You don’t have to. I’m here, you’re here. That's all that matters.”
Eve swallows hard and nods. She leans into Villanelle’s touch, letting her forehead rest lightly against Villanelle's. "I just… I can’t lose you, Vill,” she whispers.
"You won’t," Villanelle reassures. "I’m too stubborn to go anywhere,” she winks, trying to lighten the mood.
Eve reaches a hand and touches Villanelle’s face. “When did you become so mature?”
“I know, right? I’m wise beyond my years,” she smiles. “Must be all the time I’ve spent around older people—”
“Don’t say it, don't say it,” Eve cuts in quickly.
“—like you,” Villanelle finishes at the same time, smirking.
Eve huffs a laugh, the tension easing slightly as she closes her eyes and allows herself to feel the warmth between them. “Go back to sleep,” she murmurs. “I won’t be here when you wake up, but I’ll be back.”
“Promise?” Villanelle asks.
“I promise.”