Book 1: Valued Vestige
Brown eyes snapped open and dread instantly threatened to choke her as she quickly realized where she was, where she had returned to. Dingy concrete walls surrounded Evey, the smell of sweat and pungent air was overwhelming and a chilling cold settled into the marrow of her bones. Far off cries rented the air. Evey slowly picked herself up from the cold cell floor. 'It's ok,' she thought sporadically, naively. 'He's going to rescue me as before. V's going to come for me like out of a story - before they hurt me.'
A piercing shriek froze the blood in her veins as silent tears slid down her grimy cheeks. She waited, shaking and trembling. The quiet sounds of the Chancellor's speech drifted in to fill the sudden, silent void. Evey forced herself to crawl into the right far-off corner, clutching her knees to her with talon-like fingers and buried her sheared head in her curled up limbs. Evey tried to stop the involuntary shaking as her muscles twitched violently while a sob threatened to push itself out of her throat. She swallowed it down - a vain attempt to cease trembling and the knowledge that, all too soon, she too would be ripped from this dismal cell.
The door was wrenched open with a harsh slam of metal, the booming sound turning her insides into liquid. The fear was so great that she began choking on her own breath. She mentally searched for an escape, though knowing that there was none. Hands seized her, rough and hard, and smelling of leather. Too fatigued to put up any kind of true resistance anymore, she grew limp in the wonderfully cruel hands as they yanked her from her quarters. Fear drained any strength she might have had left. With her legs dragging behind her down the long hall, the shadows moved and she begged the darkness to swallow her, to force itself into her body and crush her lungs, allowing sweet relief from this hell. Death would bring her closer to him – her only love, but she would be denied it; the blackness only a bystander - curious to her suffering.
Evey was brought into that familiar room of her water torturing. Her skin crawled at such recollection. Without warning, the orange garb was ripped from her body, turning into a black cloak the moment it hit the floor and her arms instinctively covered her chest. Her legs refused to hold her and Evey crumbled to her knees in front of her captor, words lost on her lips as she cried. It wasn't for mercy. The word no longer existed. It was an involuntary sound that was the prelude to an unending nightmare. Her defeated gaze soon traveled up the length of her captor and stared into the face she knew so well, into the blackness that was his eyes. The frozen white grin appeared to leer in mockery. "I didn't put you in a prison, Evey. I merely showed you the bars. You've been in a prison all your life."
A malicious cold swept through the room. She shivered uncontrollably again as the unfeeling prison melted away to the warmth of the Shadow Gallery. He continued to stand before her, unmoved by the sudden change in scenery. "You must know whose face lies behind this mask but you must never know my face."
She stood on shaky legs, staring in confusion into the black pitch of his eyes. The grin infuriated her, as if he secretly took pleasure in her pain - him and his stupid tricks and teachings. Finding a burst of strength, she leapt towards the mask, having all intentions of ripping it off. This wasn't him - her V. It was some imposter. V wouldn't do this to her, not again. Her fingers wrapped around the edges and tore the solid veneer away. There was nothing - nothing but air as the clothes folded upon each other in a bundle upon the floor. Frustrated, she threw the mask on the hard stone with a cry where it shattered in several fragments.
For a wild thought, she wanted to be imprisoned again, anything to rid her of this painful solitude, and she could live in the illusion that he was there - torturing her, yes, but he would physically be there. There was hardly any difference between then and now. How she hurt. Physical pain was nothing like this … She fell on her knees, hunched over, and gripped the cloak around her chilled, naked body, eviscerated by her personal hell, blinded by tears. After a long while, she calmed significantly and slowly focused her attention on the heap of garments still lying there, patiently waiting.
She reached out, fingers gripping over the familiar leather gloves atop the pile. Bringing them close, Evey inhaled deeply. She got lost in the scent and felt as if she hadn't learned how to breathe until that moment. She loved him so much, missed him - was that so selfish? She continued to breathe in the sweet smell, breath it into her soul until she could barely stand it, her tears wetting the material. Without thinking, as if it were someone else doing it for her, she slid his gloves over her hands. The interior was warm, familiar, comforting. It felt like his hands were enfolded over hers. At that realization, she burst into tears as memories and the truth returned to harrow her chest cavity out again in racking sobs. She had to get control of herself! It was more someone else's wish than her own. Evey scrubbed her face with her newly leathered palms, gradually piecing herself back together before she slowly crawled on her hands and knees towards the garments. Numbly, she slipped the grey shirt over her bare torso. She slowly got to her shaking legs and put on the black trousers and lastly, tied the cloak around her shoulders. Evey turned, an invisible force at her back pushing her in the desired direction – pushing her to her destiny.
The dressing room desk came into view, her reflection slowly filling the mirror as she walked mechanically into the room. She didn't recognize herself anymore. Somber eyes scanned over the desk - clean, neat, and orderly, just as he was. The lights surrounding the mirror brought needless detail to her gaunt, haggard and pale features. She looked sick, starved … dead. Evey's gaze continued to pass over the desk - over his black wig that sat on a mannequin head, over the hat that rested upon the flat, mahogany wood surface, the wide brim hovering precariously beyond the edge, and lastly rested her gaze on a Guy Fawkes mask that hung from a nearby stand. Lucidly, she drew near and took the mask down, staring into its eternal grin for a long while, stroking a thumb over the smooth porcelain cheek. Before she knew what she was doing, she found herself turning the mask over, staring into its hollow recess. Again, she hesitated.
What immense threshold she stood at, whatever would come, there was no going back. For the first time since her torture, the scared little girl threatened to take over her mind. Her heart pounded in her chest. She could see what would happen and the reverberating outcome that would occur because of it. It felt so wrong …
A warmth wrapped around her, causing her breath to catch in her throat. There was no mistaking it now. She could feel him. V was there, guiding her in this last final test.
Slowly, the mask was brought over her face and buckled behind her head. It felt frightfully claustrophobic at first - an unfeeling cage enclosed around her face. The fear in her heart became replaced with a suffocating desire. His spirit surrounded her and she had no qualms about drowning in it - to meet with him in the world within worlds.
There's no time for fear or doubt. There is much still left to do.
The wig was placed over her head, the hat following soon after, and she finally looked at herself in the mirror. It wasn't Evey Hammond, it was V that stared back from the reflection's surface. What stopped her from breaking through the mirror to get to him on the other side, she'll never know.
The more she stared, the more she felt herself dying, every human flaw burning, being purged in the wake of something else - something that wasn't her but at the same time was - something familiar in the unfamiliar, perfection in the imperfection. This was the epitome of V, the symbol, the idea, the very essence of what he was and it, now drove itself - impaled itself into her being. And oh, how she let it.