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It wasn't supposed to happen this way.
Knives and guns had tried and failed. Wound for wound, scar for scar, tit for tat. Over and over. If either were to die it was to be by the hand of the other. Messy and twisted and personal as can be. Romantic in their own sick way.
Not like this.
Locked in a car, panicking and desperate, forced to watch an arrow pierce her from afar.
(passion is to suffer)
Tightening a hand around a throat. Running on legs that couldn't move fast enough.
(oh god oh no)
Kneeling on cold pavement, clutching her warm body (still warm, still alive, still here, please, please) close. Stroking her face; far too pale, far too beautiful. Feeling every wall come crashing down and everything behind come pouring out. A mask shattered and dropped, a love no longer deniable. Finally free, but at what cost?
It wasn't supposed to happen this way.
It wasn't Eve's hand. But it was Eve's fault.
----------
Getting Villanelle up to Konstantin's room is a blur. They manage between the two of them, after he appears and checks for a pulse. Eventually get her unconscious body sat backwards on a chair, slumped forward against the back of it so the arrow remains undisturbed.
"We have to remove it."
Eve feels sick. She nods gravely and sheds her jacket to the floor. Rolls the sleeves of her hoodie up. Tries not to think about last time, gushing blood and a shriek of don't pull it out, as Konstantin goes to retrieve a first aid kit from the bathroom. There's no other choice.
"I will do it, you just-"
"Yeah."
She carefully slips her hands between Villanelle's front and the back of the chair to pull the buttons of her shirt undone (it wasn't supposed to happen this way, either). Takes even more care in removing her right arm from its sleeve. Picks up a wad of gauze from the open kit on the end of the bed then finally crouches down to hold both shoulders steady and in place.
Konstantin reaches for the arrow and she nods, jaw set. He takes hold and gives one swift yank. The sound of metal roughly leaving squelching flesh churns Eve's stomach further but it's done and she reacts instantly, pulling Villanelle's shirt out the way so it hangs from her left elbow then pressing the gauze over the bleeding wound.
"Okay, good. Pressure then wrap it up. She's probably just unconscious because of the pain."
"Are you sure?"
He shrugs. "It was not in deep. Some muscle damage, I would guess, but it looked pretty clean. Definitely only aimed to hurt. The pain of the hit then the pain of the removal..."
"She'll wake up soon?"
"Yes."
Eve drops into a kneel, still applying pressure. "We need meds."
"There are a couple of paracetamol. One dose."
"Go get more. Stronger. Antibiotics too. I'll stay here."
"Eve-"
"I'm staying."
She doesn't bother looking at him. Focuses instead on Villanelle's face, inches from her own and still far too pale. Eyes closed and lips just parted, chairback pressing into her cheek. It can't be comfortable. She'll fix it soon. Fix it all after fixing her.
The open first aid kit is placed on the floor beside her and the sound of the door opening and closing comes seconds later, as she blindly reaches down for more gauze to press on top of the now completely bled through wad she holds. Never remove it, it'll stop the clotting. She can't place where she knows this from.
Red continues to seep through white.
Eve continues to press, to hold, to wait.
She'll wake up soon.
----------
The third layer of gauze doesn't end up soaked and Eve takes it as a good sign. There's medical tape to secure it in place and a roll of bandage that she wraps around Villanelle's shoulder as best she can after getting her bra off and out the way. It might be funny under different circumstances - needing an arrow wound to finally get her tits out. Might be something they shared a laugh over, if that were a thing they did.
The room is too silent, too still and cold. Villanelle must feel colder. There are half dried trails of blood down her bare back. Eve doesn't want to keep seeing. She removes herself from the floor long enough to light the fireplace, to grab a wet flannel and a glass of water from the bathroom and to snatch a pillow from the bed. It's placed beneath Villanelle's head. A break for the deep red indent left from wood against her cheek.
"I didn't want to walk away from you."
The words are uttered quietly as she wipes blood from skin, all too loud and all too real in the deadness that surrounds her. A confession for her ears only.
"I tried so hard to leave you behind, to end this but you're..."
She trails off and swallows. Finishes cleaning up every trace of red and drops the stained flannel on the ground by empty gauze packets and a discarded roll of tape. Reaches up to Villanelle's face, strokes down from temple to chin with the back of her index finger.
"It'll never stop. It's you. I know that now."
----------
There's another five minutes of silence before Villanelle finally stirs. It starts with a low groan, a grimace taking over her previously calm face as she opens her eyes and blinks slowly.
"Villanelle!"
Eve's hand is halfway towards the small of her back before she stops herself; diverts instead towards the painkillers and her half drunk glass of water.
"I sent Konstantin for stronger ones-"
Villanelle raises her head, pillow falling to the floor and grimace persisting as her back straightens from its slump into a sitting position. She goes to move her left arm to accept the pills, can't hide the immediate whimper of pain the action produces.
So Eve hurries round to her right side and drops the pills in her waiting hand. Watches them get tossed into her mouth then hands her the water. All gone.
"Was it you that shot me?" Villanelle asks, tone groggy before she clears her throat.
"What? No!"
"Just asking."
Eve takes a seat on the end of the bed. "It was Hélène. Her orders, at least."
"She can't already know I'm after her. There's no way."
"You're after her?"
Villanelle doesn't answer. Attempts to move her left arm again, whimpers again. Sighs. "Can you find me a shirt?"
"Shit, yeah. Sorry."
Eve heads over to the wardrobe in the corner and flings it open, pulling out the first button up she lays eyes on. It's a grey flannel one. Obviously far too big, being Konstantin's. Not that it matters. She brings it over to where Villanelle is slowly and stubbornly raising her left arm outwards, just enough for a sleeve to be slipped over it. Supporting most of the weight with her right hand.
"Stop moving it!"
"I had to." Villanelle mutters through gritted teeth, abandoning all efforts as soon as her bad arm is safely inside and Eve is holding the other side up for her right.
"I would've done it."
"Like last time I asked you for help?"
It's fair. Deserved, even. Eve says nothing as she does up a few buttons then retreats back to her spot on the end of the bed. What could she say? Sorry? Apologizing for one thing would mean having to apologize for them all. A can of worms. Impulses and regrets and things that are probably best left unaddressed. Unforgiven.
"Why are you here, Eve?"
It's a loaded question with an answer that carries too much weight. But the door opens.
It'll have to wait.
----------
Konstantin's visit is brief and helpful - both novelties. He comes bearing tramadol and antibiotics, which Villanelle pops gratefully, and fashions her a sling to minimize arm movement before helping her to bed. Laughs about the drama of using an arrow, jokes about Villanelle having been through worse. Tells Eve he'll be back later on his way back out.
Villanelle drifts off to sleep not long after, laid on her right side with the pillows from the spare bed shoved up behind her to stop her rolling too far back.
Right where Konstantin left her. Cared for.
Eve draws the curtains and pulls the abandoned chair up to her bedside. Wants to be there instead of on the empty bed behind her. Face to face. It's a lot easier when she's the only one conscious.
The silence is back, broken only by the steady sounds of Villanelle breathing.
Exhaustion is creeping in.
Guilt is a heavy burden to bear.
----------
"There was a time I would have done anything for this."
They're the first words Villanelle speaks when she wakes. It's afternoon now, judging by the slight increase of light filtering through hideous pink fabric. Hard to believe it all kicked off before 9AM. It doesn't even feel like the same day.
Eve looks at her questioningly, waits for her to elaborate.
"You. Here. By my side when I am hurt. As if you care."
I do. Can it be said that easily? Is it that simple after calculating every sentence and every action since the bridge to convey the opposite?
"I abducted Hélène's child."
Villanelle scoffs. "Okay?"
"She did this..." Eve gestures vaguely towards where Villanelle lays, "because of that. Because of me."
"You had me shot?"
"No!" She takes a deep breath as Villanelle looks at her, waiting. "No."
"Then I am what? A pawn in your little power plays?"
"You're the only way to get to me."
It's strange to admit it out loud. To recognize it. A weak spot out in the open, never more raw than today.
"She hurt you to hurt me."
"Oh."
There's no way to read Villanelle's expression. Her brow furrows then smooths, her eyes drop, the fingers of her right hand fiddle with the hem of her left sleeve.
"Did it work?" She asks quietly.
The all too recent memory of panic and desperation flashes to the front of Eve's mind. The feeling of having been gutted as she clutched onto a limp body.
(oh god oh no)
"Yeah."
Seconds pass by and Villanelle glances up at her, looks away again just as quick.
"It would have worked for me, too."
Maybe this is as close as they'll ever get with words. There are three lodged deep in the back of Eve's throat and Villanelle has said them once before, won't say them again. Maybe they're beyond them. Show but don't tell. It's somehow less vulnerable.
"Do you need anything?" Eve asks when the silence becomes too dangerous.
"Are you leaving?"
She thinks of the race to Lars. The revelations found in an old tape and the need to hunt Hélène down again to finish wringing her neck. The mess she completely dived into eight months ago needs to end somehow. The sooner the better.
"If you want me to."
"I don't."
Eve nods, leans back in her chair and toes her boots off.
"Will you lay with me?"
"I won't fit."
Villanelle huffs and pushes herself up with her good arm, sitting in the middle of the bed and wincing at the movement.
"Move these pillows back a bit."
"Fucking-" Eve mutters, rushing around the other side of the bed to do as instructed. "You're supposed to be still!"
"I will be." Villanelle argues, shuffling herself sideways until she's vacated the side closest to where Eve was sat then slowly lowering herself back again.
Rolling her eyes, Eve helps guide her back into a laying position, as she had been before. Pillows propping her up from behind again.
"See, there is room now."
"Can't really refuse after all that."
There's a faint look of contentment on Villanelle's face as Eve comes back around the end of the bed and carefully slides onto the spot next to her. Flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling. They've been here once before. It's all different now.
It's cramped and any movement could either jostle Villanelle's bad arm or send Eve crashing to the floor, but it's okay. Kind of nice. The quiet of the room no longer taunting.
"This is very inconvenient. I have things to do."
"You and me both."
"We could do them together."
Eve turns her head on the pillow, raises an eyebrow. "You're...okay with that?"
Villanelle attempts a shrug, clenches her jaw when pain makes her mistake evident. "I have chosen to be good at what I'm good at."
"Okay then."
Eve turns back to the ceiling, lets the quiet settle in. Listens as Villanelle's breathing gets slower beside her and she eventually dozes off.
She feels at rest.
It's the first time since the bridge.