The Shooting Range

Villanelle doesn't know how long she's been unconscious when the light of Helene's immaculately decorated mansion comes back into focus.

Was it five seconds or five minutes? Five hours? Five days even.

All that mattered was the only thing that ever mattered. Even as her life drained from her,  carried adrift on the river of warm, sticky, oozing red liquid. Even as she sputtered for breath to form the name on her lips on a strangled cry, Eve was all that mattered.

Was she safe?

Villanelle's mind wouldn't allow her body any respite from the torment of her injuries until she knew. So she clung on, screaming for Eve; reaching out through the thick forest of ever encroaching slumber.

Helene had fucked off already. For all she knew, her old boss was already dead, but she had made certain that she couldn't, or at the very least wouldn't, hurt Eve anymore. That was all that mattered. Her mind drifted back to a conversation they had shared some six months ago in this very room. She couldn't help the painful laugh that spilled from deep within her only to end on a gargled, hacking cough as coppery blood expelled itself from her lungs.

Helene had told her with such certainty that she could kill Villanelle before Villanelle got the chance to do the same. A victorious smile split her bloody lips at the thought that she had thoroughly proven her old boss wrong.

A warm pair of arms wrapping around her shoulders pulled Villanelle from the haze of her injuries

Eve?

When did she get here? Ah! Yes! She is the reason Villanelle is lying in the floor bleeding out in the first place. Helene was going to kill Eve. The only thing Villanelle remembers clearly after that is a blind fury unlike anything she's ever felt before. And then, after it was all spent, she came to on the floor of Helene's conference room.

"E..Eve." She mutters weakly as she feels Eve pull her into her lap. Eve is frantic and Villanelle doesn't quite have the energy to understand why. Everything feels so peaceful. Everything is okay.

"Shh...dont talk. Just stay awake!" She feels fingertips stroking gently at her face, and hears the warbled conversation Eve is having on the phone, but it all feels so distant. The only thing she can cling onto is Eve's face. Such a worried expression she has. It makes Villanelle frown to think that Eve is fretting for.

Everything is peaceful. Why isn't Eve peaceful?

If she lets herself, she thinks it might be nice to just slip away into darkness, but something about Eve keeps her holding on. Eve needs her to hold on.

"Stay with me." Eve pleads over and over again, trying to stop the bleeding with so much futility. And just where the fuck is that medic she called for? The minutes tick by like hours and she grows more anxious with each passing second.

She can't watch Villanelle die. She can't!

She would've rather been tortured and killed by Helene.

Eve holds on tighter to Villanelle as if that will make her stay just a little bit longer; as if she's playing tug of war with the grim reaper for Villanelle's very soul.

She cries, letting out a frustrated angry sob and beating a fist into the ground with rage. Villanelle looks curiously up at her through foggy, mostly vacant eyes as if to say "why are you upset? You should be at peace."

That's the last thing she can be when her only family is fading away under her fingertips and she's helpless to stop it.

Then, Villanelle reaches a shaky hand up to stroke Eve's hair, caressing down the side of her face. There's a smile on her lips and and unspoken apology in her eyes. Eve knows she can't stay awake any longer.

"Beautiful..." She breaths out, and her hand slips down Eve's chest to fall limp at her side.