It wasn't 47's first time visiting Paris in late spring, but it was the first time he wasn't alone.
After they'd finished securing the honeymoon suite together, Diana opened the tall windows, and then she sat there, on the far side of their bed—their bed!—to unpack her suitcase. She'd carefully collected all the fresh rose petals from the covers and placed them on her night stand, so she wouldn't squish them and rub the pigment into the impeccable white linen.
He would've simply thrown them away.
"I hope you don't have plans to leave me so soon after our wedding," Diana said with a hint of amusement in her voice.
47 raised his eyebrows, but when Diana pointed at his suitcase, he laughed and began to unpack as well. There was only one wardrobe, albeit a large one. Hanging his suits right next to her dresses was weirdly comforting.
While he was busy, she ordered a light dinner to their suite; earlier than guests would usually order dinner, but there was intention behind it. It would both keep up the appearance of being a newly-wed couple that wanted to put the queen-size bed to good use, and allow Diana to work without any interruptions later. Once she'd spread out her folders and arranged their planning board on the wall above their bed, any staff member entering the suite would increase the risk of anyone figuring out what they actually were.
The 'do not disturb' sign on their door would take care of their work's privacy after dinner; no-one would question a newly-wed couple's desire to spend a day or two without interruption.
They sat on their bed right next to each other, to enjoy their complimentary champagne before dinner. Their usual hard rule, no alcohol during work hours, could be ignored for one late afternoon in late spring Paris.
With a genuine smile, Diana raised her champagne flute and let it clink against his ever so lightly. "To our happy marriage."
It sounded wrong in his ears. Because it sounded right.
Luckily, there was still enough work to do for 47 to distract himself from the unusual tugging in his stomach.
They abandoned their plates and whatever was left of their dinner in the sitting area and returned to their bed, where Diana began to spread out all she got on their target to prepare for his briefing. They spend the whole night working side by side, until the early morning hours; going over floor plans together as Diana pinned them to the wall, discussing the most promising opportunities one last time, working out emergency exfiltration plans in case things went wrong.
It's a more relaxed atmosphere than usual. Not that working with Diana had ever been unenjoyable for him, but it was different in this honeymoon suite, with their two empty champagne flutes still standing next to each other on her night stand, the scent of fresh rose petals just as distracting as the alcohol in his veins, and with Diana's elbow touching his ever so lightly whenever she reached for the next manilla folder on their improvised desk.
"Join me for a drink before bed?" Diana asked after everything was done, but it wasn't a question. She had already taken two clean whiskey tumblers out of the cabinet and was pouring both of them a generous amount, before she led the way onto the balcony. A clear message that work time was over; not only with the strong alcohol, but also with potential ear witnesses to their conversation.
Not that they were talking much. It would've been awkward to role-play being in love shortly before climbing into bed together.
47 almost dropped his tumbler as the realisation that there really was only one bed truly sank in. During the months of planning and preparation leading up to their assignment, when they were working on their shared cover story and fabricating evidence of a life together, they had never even touched the subject of actually sharing the bed while they were on 'honeymoon' together.
Even just thinking about it felt like overstepping. He could try and curl up on one of the sofas in their suite's sitting room. If the house staff missed the 'do not disturb' sign at the door and walked in on him, it'd provide more realism for their early departure after the mission was complete.
They watched in silence as the sun rose over the rooftops of the city, engulfing everything round them in its rose-coloured rays of light. The view was breathtakingly beautiful, with the Eiffel Tower looming in the distance and the sunlight reflecting off the gentle waves on the River Seine a couple of feet below their balcony. This moment would've been almost romantic, under different circumstances, in a different life.
"We should try and get some sleep before tonight." Diana collected their empty glasses and made her way back inside, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
47 didn't want to sleep on the sofa, not only because he needed his back and muscles in top shape for the next day. No, it was the temptation of actually sharing his bed with someone. And not just with anyone, but Diana. His confidant, his only friend. The one person who knew him and the only one he didn't mind sharing his thoughts with. Having actual friends was out of question for someone with his lifestyle, for someone like him. Not that it bothered him too much. It was better to stay alone, to not let anyone close.
He'd never cared for physical intimacy either. Whenever his body demanded that kind of attention, he took care of it himself, quickly and efficiently. There was no need and no place for some else in his life.
Unless...
Diana had closed the blinds and turned on the lights on their night stands before she'd climbed under the cover on her side. It was meant to be subtle, but the message was clear nonetheless. He was invited to share the bed with her, if he so chose.
He hesitated. This didn't have to change anything. They were still two co-workers, toeing the line between acquaintances and friends.
In the end, his curiosity and the strange longing he'd felt whenever their elbows had touched won. The mattress was firm, just the way he liked it, and Diana's body heat under their shared cover more exciting than anything he'd ever experienced.
It was early afternoon when he woke up. Diana's side of the bed was empty and cold, and both the champagne flutes and the rose petals on her night stand were gone.
She'd kept the blinds closed to allow him privacy and safety while he slept, but from the thin line of light underneath the door to their sitting room, he could tell that sunlight was flooding the other parts of their suite.
The honeymoon was over. Time for work.
47's target was having a late lunch in the small restaurant Diana had expected him to be in, but to both of their surprise, he was in the company of three more businessmen.
Perhaps it would be better to keep his distance and just observe. Three more pairs of eyes were too risky to avoid, unless 47 could facilitate some kind of distraction that kept not only the target and his company distracted, but also gave 47 an actual opportunity to strike without being compromised.
He didn't believe in luck, and he most certainly didn't rely on it, but it was a very welcome coincidence that just as 47 decided to take a seat in the back of the restaurant and spend the afternoon following the target to learn his patterns, a group of drunk football fans was passing by, cheering and chanting and throwing firecrackers onto the pavement.
The waiter who had been on the way to serve drinks to the target's table placed his tray on 47's table and rushed outside to shoo the fans off before they'd cause damage to the empty tables on the sidewalk.
No-one was paying attention to 47 or to the abandoned tray on his table. The target was the only one of his group who'd ordered beer instead of wine for lunch, a slightly inappropriate choice that played right into 47's cards. He emptied the small vial of lethal poison into the drink while everyone was still distracted by the firecrackers and the arguing right in front of the restaurant's window, and made his way out before the waiter returned to pick up the tray.
He couldn't take the direct route to their hotel; it would've been too risky even on a normal mission, but with Diana waiting for his return in their shared suite, he wouldn't take any shortcuts she might have to pay for.
There was no communication with her during his lonely walk, he was all alone with his thoughts again as he was meandering through the streets of the city. The idea was to seem as if he had a goal to any unsuspecting onlooker, while also passing through bottlenecks and crowded areas, and to change his direction in the most unexpected ways to shake off anyone who might be following him. It was unlikely enough that someone was following him, but he'd rather spend another hour weaving through the commuting masses in Gare du Nord than to lead anyone straight to Diana.
Diana, who was probably already packing their suitcases for an early departure. They shouldn't stay any longer than necessary, and now that the target was officially down, it was time to leave Paris again.
47 almost regretted getting close enough to the target on the first opportunity. He would've had all week, and there would've been another chance. All he'd accomplished was to end his honeymoon early.
Lost in his thoughts and not paying attention to the road ahead, he'd almost walked briskly into a couple. He apologised and continued on, but after a few steps, he slowed down and turned around, risking a glance at them. They were standing close to each other, he had his arm around her shoulders, as they were excitedly choosing from a selection of postcards on display. Probably a real couple, perhaps even real newly-weds on a real honeymoon.
There was no point in lingering to try and listen to their conversation. It was meaningless to him, now that he wouldn't have to play his role any longer. Once he reached the hotel, it would be time for him to say goodbye to this glimpse of normality he's enjoyed for less than one full day.
Of course he knew that none of this had been real. Diana had only pretended to enjoy spending time with him because it was part of their cover. She would've neither shared the drink on the balcony nor the bed with him otherwise. They weren't friends. They weren't even toeing the line between acquaintances and friends. She was his handler, and he was her agent, and that would never change.
It was almost dark outside when he entered the hotel through a side entrance, to avoid drawing any staff member's attention to the fact that he'd spent the afternoon away from his wife and their bed.
47 gently knocked against the door, a pattern she'd recognise as his, before he swiped his key card to gain entry to their suite.
She was already waiting for him. The door to the bedroom was open, and underneath an empty wall, their packed suitcases were neatly placed on the bed. Diana was ready for this to end.
One last dinner together, in the hotel's restaurant, where they would have enough witnesses when she'd break up with him just as they'd previously discussed. It was the perfect excuse for them to leave immediately and on separate flights. No-one would suspect anything. People would feel sorry for them, some more for him and some more for her; they would speculate what happened to the happy newly-weds who'd just checked in one day earlier, but nobody would make the connection between their empty bed and the sudden death of a high-ranking businessman.
The evening air was still warm enough to choose a table outside, on the riverside promenade. Once again, he regretted going for the kill so soon. They could've spent an actually enjoyable dinner there, had he bought them more time together. It wouldn't have been fair to Diana, though. He shouldn't be selfish.
That he was in love with her didn't mean that those feelings were mutual.
Maybe, if they'd had more time, she would've fallen in love with him. Paris did that to people, they said.
Their dinner was delicious and the champagne cold, but knowing what lay ahead of him, he couldn't even enjoy it.
She didn't raise her voice when she started her spiel. Her words were sharp enough to get people's attention without having to yell them.
Conversations around them went quiet, and two waiters inched closer to their table in an attempt to eavesdrop without being too obvious about it. It didn't matter to 47. All he could focus on was the hurt in Diana's voice and the anger on her face. She was a good actor, he'd always known it. He hadn't expected it to feel this real to be on the receiving end of one of her performances.
She only raised her voice a small amount, at the very end, for the very last words she'd ever say to him. "It's over."
Their audience gasped, but 47 kept his stoic face, trying to hide how much it hurt.
Gracefully despite her anger, Diana got up from her seat and threw the fake wedding band onto the table. It bounced off the impeccable white linen once before landing right in 47's champagne flute.
He flinched, both from the violent symbolism of Diana's gesture and from the champagne splashing at his face.
She was leaving. She was leaving without him.
No. He couldn't let that happen. Without thinking, he dashed from the table, tipping over the ruined champagne in the process. It didn't matter.
Diana was fast, but he was faster.
"Wait!"
To his surprise, she did. It took him less than a heartbeat to cross the distance between them, and even shorter to turn her around and gently tilt her chin upwards.
Crossing the distance between their lips took seemingly forever, and he almost thought his heart might stop beating when she leaned into him and deepened their kiss. He didn't know what any of this meant, but he didn't care. All that mattered was her warmth in his arms and the familiar scent of her perfume around him.
"I don't have any plans to leave you so soon after our wedding," 47 said with a hint of amusement in his voice, "but my suitcase has to wait until later."
Diana laughed and helped him clear the bed. There would be more than just elbows touching this night.
Thank you for reading!
I've written many more Hitman fics, and you can find them all on AO3! Same username as here, Diana47