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The air is full of beeping sounds. It’s really annoying. What kind of afterlife is this? Can somebody at least bring in a harp or something?
Villanelle opens one eye. Then another. She settles back into physically existing.
“Ow,” she says.
“Oh—oh my God, you’re awake. Oh. Hi! You’re awake!” Eve is all over her, all at once. She smells like hospital and exhaustion.
“Your tears are getting in my mouth,” Villanelle complains.
“Suffer,” Eve says joyfully, and kisses her hard.
“My breath must be really bad.”
“It’s horrible. I don’t care.”
“At least go get me some gum or something.”
“No.”
“This is really embarrassing for me, Eve; I try to smell nice for you–”
“Shut up.” Eve puts her hands on Villanelle’s face. “I love you. I realized I didn’t say that before. Isn’t that stupid? I love you. Oh, I love you. You’re awake!” She hugs Villanelle. It hurts. In a nice way.
“I love you too, weirdo,” Villanelle says. Eve pulls back enough to look at Villanelle. Her eyes are shining. Her face is wet. Villanelle boops her nose. “Obviously. What happened?”
“You don’t remember? Good. Don’t think about it.”
“No, wait.” The memory of crashing into the water comes back; trying to stay close to Eve, to protect her, to keep her light glowing, and then nothing. Villanelle groans. “Now I remember.”
“Damn it,” Eve mutters.
“Who was that, shooting?”
“Carolyn’s sniper.”
“Carolyn’s … ?” Villanelle thinks of air guitar solos. “No way. She wouldn’t.”
“I took care of it.”
Villanelle looks around, taking in the details of the hospital room for the first time. “How am I allowed to be here? Why didn’t they come after us?”
“I took care of that, too.” Eve looks so serene when she vaguely alludes to committing atrocities.
“You are getting scary, you know,” Villanelle tells her.
Eve smiles slightly. “I know.”
“It’s pretty hot.”
“I know.”
“Forget those guys,” Villanelle declares, meaning it maybe more than she’s ever meant anything. “We’ve wasted enough time on them.”
Eve snort-laughs. “Yeah, no kidding.”
“Let’s talk about the important stuff. How am I? Probably not looking my best.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You’re making that whole hospital gown, barely-survived-the-blood-loss thing look very sexy.”
“Good. How’s the hair?”
Eve tilts her head in consideration. “Bedhead chic.”
“Excellent.” Villanelle does a little hair toss. It hurts like hell. “Yours looks good too."
Eve mimics her hair toss. "A-week-in-a-hospital-chair chic."
"A week? Oof. You must be so sore."
"Look who's talking."
"Do I still have all my limbs and everything?”
“You do.”
Villanelle hesitates. “Can I walk?”
“We’ll figure that out later.” Eve squeezes her hand, then gives her a quick peck. “You can kiss, that’s what’s important.”
“Oh my God, you are so cheesy now that we’re official.”
“You love it.”
“I guessssss.” Villanelle heaves a dramatic sigh that makes Eve laugh. It’s funny. For a long time, she couldn’t really figure out just what she was for, and now it is so clear. Making Eve laugh. Easy.
Eve laughs a little more, and then suddenly she is not laughing. Her eyes are bright with love.
“You’re awake,” she says, in the voice Villanelle always hoped she’d hear in her own ears when she would try praying.
“Yeah.” Villanelle lifts her hand to touch Eve’s face. A little pain never stopped her before, and this is important. “You too. I’m so glad you didn’t drown. I was really worried about you.”
Everything dances across Eve’s face, all the things she wants to say. Villanelle watches her realize that she will have time to say them later, finally. So Eve settles on, “You old softie.”
“That’s me,” Villanelle agrees, twisting her fingers gently into Eve’s beautiful curls.