Such a Fortunate Gentleman, a v for vendetta fanfic

Disclaimer: As always, they're not mine and never will be. These characters and places belong to Alan Moore, DC Comics, Wachowski brothers, and Warner Bros.

Author's Note: This is one story of many (over 100) that are written in a timeline format. Not all of these stories have been posted on this site yet (some of them -- rated for adults only -- will never be posted to this site), but all of my stories -- including those not posted here yet -- have been posted on my aol website. Just click on my username for more information on how to get to my homepage, or do a search on PEAhopeless V for Vendetta Fan Fiction on the internet.

Special notes: This was originally titled "Wedgwood", then it changed to "That Same Mindfulness", then it changed again to "Such a Fortunate Gentleman". You'll find all phrases in here. You can see how fluid my titles sometimes are.

Reference to bombing of CPD in "Mirror of Resurrection."

Thanks to shadowcat for fixing the hat.

This story has accompanying artwork. To view them, visit my aol homepage and click on, "Such a Fortunate Gentleman".

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Such a Fortunate Gentleman

A surprise?

That was what Evey had said, and V paced the Gallery for a fifth time, trying to remember exactly the inflection with which she'd spoken those words. It must be a 'good' surprise, given the smile she'd left him with two days earlier -- when she'd first teased him with the riddle. But other than that, he could discern no obvious clue.

And she was late.

Or was he just worrying too much?

She hadn't forgotten, had she?

He was just rounding the hallway that led to the kitchen, when he finally heard his lady's approach in the distance. So he grabbed a book from a table and strode casually into the main sitting room. -- -- Mustn't appear too anxious.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologized, the very minute she walked through the door. "The meeting ran late, then I got held up in traffic, and," ... she shook her head ... "it's just been a mess of a day. But, I got it!" She carried a cardboard carton in her arms and lifted it up in triumph. "Wait until you see what this is!"

V smiled privately over his earlier behavior. -- -- Fortunately the mask was there to hide any embarrassment that lingered on his face. "I look forward to it," he proclaimed in anticipation, then followed her to the piano.

There, she put the box down with great care. "Want to open it for me?" she requested. "I mean," ... one corner of her lips rose mischievously, ... "if you happen to have a knife lying around."

He said nothing, letting Fawkes's grin speak on his behalf. Yes, in fact he did have one handy, and readily retrieved a blade from its hiding place on a bookshelf. It sliced through the wrapping tape as if it were melted butter -- quickly and cleanly -- then was promptly stored away again in the interest of safety.

Evey tossed him an amused glance, not terribly surprised that her guess had been accurate, then opened the flaps and reached inside. And out came ... ... something just shy of a foot tall, wrapped, double-wrapped, and triple-wrapped, in tissue paper.

How gingerly she unwrapped the small parcel, V noted with interest. How gently she held it in her hands. And it was all the more touching -- not to mention surreal -- when the item revealed itself to be, in fact, him. ... ... A small statue, barely eight inches tall. V, complete with cloak, hat, mask, and boots. Even a few finely painted knives, peeking out from the ceramic edge of the black 'fabric'.

"It's a Wedgwood," Evey explained, cradling this small version of her beau carefully in her palms. "You know ... the old English porcelain company? Norsefire closed them down for over a decade, but they're returning to business now, and they wanted their first creation to be an homage to the spirit of revolution. So they chose you." ... She looked up, her voice softening with admiration. ... "The legend."

His hand reached out, taking the figurine. It was heavy for its size. Very solid. Very strong. Yet Evey remained so wary, her fingers trailing along until she was sure he had it firmly within his own grasp.

... ... Solid. Strong. But breakable nonetheless. ... ... And for just a moment, V fancied he caught the same signal in his lady's eyes as well. That same mindfulness over the man, as was afforded to the porcelain.

"They first approached me with the idea back in April," she explained. "Things were ... different then. ... ... ... I just couldn't do it."

V nodded, silently acknowledging the sadness in her voice. Yes, that would have been two months before the bombing of the CPD. Two months before their reunion.

"But then the representative called me again a few weeks ago, saying they still wanted to go ahead with it, and would I reconsider." ... Her pointer finger ran lightly along the figurine's little Jacobean hat, then down along the porcelain, jet-black hair. ... "I sat with the sculptor for about twelve hours total. He was amazingly good at taking instruction. They're in a rush now. Want to have it out for next year's Eve of the Fifth. They messengered this over this morning, for my approval." ... ... This time it was the flesh and blood man who received her touch, her hands slipping around his elbow as she leaned her head to his shoulder. ... ... "So, do we approve?"

V's head shook modestly at first. "Evey, I ... I don't know what to say. ... ... It is a truly humbling gesture."

... ... Well if he was humbled, she would humble him further. ... "I think it's a wonderful likeness," she commented, then shyly rubbed her cheek to his arm. ... "He's quite a handsome fellow, 'mini-V'. Isn't he?"

The mask angled toward her, and it did not escape V's attention how she purposefully averted her eyes. She was giving him the privacy to accept such a statement ... one he might someday learn to expect naturally from the woman who loved him. And he smiled to himself. -- -- That same mindfulness indeed.

"I fear the blades of the knives are not in correct proportion to the pummels," he observed thoughtfully ... his tone of voice communicating that he did indeed appreciate her compliment, even if he could not master the words to do so verbally.

"Well I didn't have the opportunity to measure the genuine articles. I didn't want to raise too many questions ... ... and I know you don't like me handling the knives either."

V nodded. His knives were of high value to him. He would trust their care to only one other person in the world ... Evey Hammond. Yet at the same time, it was the knives he did not trust with her. They would not be forgiven if they cut her. An interesting dichotomy, and one he was actually pleased to have introduced to his life. Perhaps the tiny, painted knives should remain as they were, if only as a private reminder.

"I think it is of excellent quality," he finally concluded, turning it over again in his hands. "I fear it is missing one accruement, however. Something I should think he would not want to lose."

Evey chuckled, swaying against him so lightly -- -- yet a touch and movement that almost threw him right off balance. "Alright," she sighed. "What did I miss? I guess there had to be something."

"The 'E' perhaps?" he queried hopefully. "A 'V' should not go about without his 'E-V'."

... ... ... ... Her expression filled with pleasant surprise, and her next words came with more difficulty than she expected. "He wants his Evey?" ... One hand left V's arm to point at the figurine's belt, although her eyes returned quickly to her beau. ... "He has her," she assured quite sincerely. "He never lost her. ... ... See it? Right there?"

Were those comments meant for the figurine? Or for the man himself? V secretly suspected the answer was 'both' ... and it took him an extra moment to shift his attention to where Evey's finger pointed. There, he found a small, bright red rectangle. Extremely small though ... ... so small, it looked like a ... a ... "A domino?"

In all honesty, it almost made him cringe. If it was meant to represent the domino he'd left for his love upon believing her dead ... ... well ... ... even if the real domino still sat on her bureau now, the memory of the day he had delivered it there was not something he wished to relive.

"Nope," Evey proclaimed. "Mace."

... ... "Mace?!" V questioned in disbelief. Since when did he carry mace? ... ... "It is not a utility belt, my dear. Nor do I believe mere mace would be of much use against the rebels we must now fight."

Evey's voice dropped as a memory flashed through her mind. "It worked once."

Yes, indeed it had, and the same memory returned to V as well. ... ... Their second meeting. ... Evey turning her mace on a policeman in order to save a man she barely knew -- yet with whom her life would soon become inexorably linked. Indeed, he understood. -- -- "And thereby, you offer me your protection."

Evey's laughter was both short and shy. ... "Such as it is."

V nodded. "Twixt me and death, for that it saved me, keep it; in like necessity. ... ... Yes, I do believe this chap should retain his Evey's mace. I do believe he should."

"So you like it?" she smiled hopefully.

"Very much so." ... He turned the figurine over, admiring anew the strength she had managed to capture in this small, porcelain tribute, then ran his gloved finger lightly over that little red mace. More than a weapon ... more than mere protection ... it was a symbol of another strength the hero could now claim -- -- that of the woman who loved him. ... "If you're inquiring as to my approval, Evey, I humbly offer it."

"Good," she nodded, obviously quite pleased with his reaction. "I'll tell them to go ahead then, and in a little over a year there'll be little guys like this guarding houses all over England."

V's head tilted briefly as he tried to imagine such a thing ... ... soon finding himself torn between emotions of pride and utter flattery, and concerns over what some people might actually try to do with such an item. Well, no matter. This particular prototype would be kept in Evey's most loving care. ... ... Such a fortunate gentleman, the miniature man was.

Picking up a piece of tissue paper, V shook it open and began the process of rewrapping. Evey stripped it gently from his grip though, before the tiny porcelain mask could be covered and hidden.

"No," she stopped him. "You keep this one, V. It's in your honour. You should have the first one."

And for a moment ... just the briefest moment ... it did cause him a twinge. That she might not wish to display the item in her flat. That she might be averse to having that little mask staring out over her daily activities. That she ... ...

"When I talk to their representative tomorrow," she continued -- -- quite 'coincidentally', before his brain could run any further into foolish territories -- -- "I'll have them messenger me another one. And in the meantime, ... ..."

She coaxed V's hand to put the figurine down ... atop the piano, from where it would spend the next number of days monitoring the Gallery's activities. Then her arms slipped around her beau, drawing him into a proper embrace.

... ... "In the meantime," she concluded, "I've got the original."

Such a fortunate gentleman, the masked man was.

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This story has accompanying artwork. To view them, visit my aol homepage and click on, "Such a Fortunate Gentleman".

"Keep it, my Pericles; it hath been a shield
Twixt me and death;"--and pointed to this brace;--
"For that it saved me, keep it; in like necessity--
The which the gods protect thee from!--may
defend thee."
-- Shakespeare, Pericles