Author's Notes: After watching V for Vendetta in US History, I fell in love with it, and went out and bought myself a copy. This story is movie based, and from what I've read about the comic version, I don't think I'll like it as much since it lacks Evey/V romance.

This is my take on the way things could have gone in VFV if V had lived through the night.

Warnings: Adult themes and language will be used in this story, as well as mentions of Evey's torture.


In the year 2025, there was not a man, woman, or child who had not experienced the devastating loss of a loved one; living in a world filled with war, disease, and black- bagging made it all the more inevitable. Like the rest of her countrymen, Evey Hammond had too experienced the touch of death in her life, but never before had it hurt with such intensity. As Evey cradled the bleeding V in her arms that night, she knew she was losing him with every shaky, shallow breath he inhaled.

"I fell in love with you, Evey."

V's words reverberated in her mind over and over again, so that a second felt like a lifetime, but in that moment she simply could not comprehend their meaning. Her subconscious was trying to scream at her to listen, to hear, to understand what V had said and to tell him everything that lived within the darkest reaches of her heart, but fear stultified any bedside confessions she might make.

In those terrible minutes she had been holding him and pleading with him, a fear had gripped her heart, the likes of which she had never known. Evey had believed that V's pseudo-prison had forced the fear out of her, but this was so different that she could hardly find a comparison. Her fears had always been for herself, and now it was all for him. Her own safety was obsolete.

A determination was mingled with all that fear; it raced through her blood and grew with every second. "He. Must. Not. Die." Was fast becoming her inner-mantra, insisting that V had to live, at any cost. It was overwhelming sensation for Evey and for the first time in her life she felt like she had a purpose with true meaning. The desire to save him filled a void in her she never knew existed; it became the essence of her very soul. She had lost her brother to the St. Mary's virus; been orphaned due to England's political climate, but losing V would be the greatest catastrophe she had ever known.

"I don't want you to die." Evey managed to whisper in a pain-filled choke.

Inwardly, she cringed as she said it, knowing that it was a childish sentiment, and the manner in which it had been said sounded juvenile to her ears. She wanted to give him hope, to make him see that there could be a life for him past November 5th. Instead, she had consecrated his dire situation with her worries and self-indulgent cries.

The subtle shift in V's breathing lets Evey know that he had opened his mouth to speak. It was strange, she reflected, how the cold porcelain and steel façade, never changed it's unnerving grinning face was just as much of a face to her now as any amount of flesh ever could be. She had learnt to sense his changing moods rather than see them, and she could feel the bittersweet smile that adorned his face when she spoke.

"That is the most beautiful thi…" V began in a trembling mockery of his usual eloquence. Evey interrupted him with a harsh cry.

"Don't say it!" Her voice was laced with panic and dread, "I'm not going to give up on you V. Not when there is still some small chance to save you."

V couldn't understand her devotion, as much as he felt the better man for being the recipient of it. "I promised you truth, Evey." He rasped out, "And so help me God, but I will not break my word. I ask…I am begging for you to let me die. The world no longer needs V."

His words were frank, flat and dull compared to his usual flowery prose. His voice was earnest in a way she had never heard before, and she tried to not let it shake her resolve. He saw himself as a monster, a self-made weapon with limited life expectancy, and Evey saw potential for millions of beautiful things.

"You're right," she murmured softly, her voice still rich with tears, "V was an idea, and now that idea is alive in the hearts and minds of the entire nation. V can die. But you are more than V, more than idea, more than the revolution you've so meticulously crafted. You are a man that I have come to call my friend, a man I've come to love. I can't just let that man die."

V didn't speak, but there was no need to. The passion in her voice, the gleam in her eyes, and the truth of her words that he had so long tried to forget or ignore were persuasive inducements. The tilt of his head, the grinning Guy Fawkes mask looming up at her, the raven wig in disarray, all seemed to be calling to her, "Save me from death Evey, and save me from myself."

He emitted a low and feral groan, something so alien to his lips that Evey started. With it, he slipped from consciousness due to the pain of his wounds, despite her best efforts to keep him awake. "Please V," Evey muttered, as her fear grew paramount once more, "please stay with me."

She glanced between the revolutionary who asked for nothing but to die in peace, to the train where his revolution was patiently waiting to happen. She could have pulled the lever while V had left her alone, she could have pulled it in all that time she had had since he returned, but she hadn't, and now it was too late. Every second spent debating was now a precious second of V's life fading, and Evey had to choose between the idea and the man.

She chose the man.


Author's Notes: Please Review :D