Reflections of a Ghost Image, 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: Recall Adrian from "Her Safety". This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth; Over one shoulder doth she hang her head. -- Shakespeare, Venus and Adonis Thou speak'st like him's untutor'd to repeat: Who makes the fairest show means most deceit. -- Shakespeare, Pericles In British, dustbin trashcan, lift elevator.

This story has accompanying artwork. To view them, visit my aol homepage and click on, "Reflections of a Ghost Image".

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Reflections of a Ghost Image

"Bloody hell!" Evey murmured under her breath when her flat bell rang that Friday evening. "What now?!"

She'd been hurrying about, grabbing clothing, toiletries, cosmetics, etc., for a full weekend away. Well, a weekend below, actually. Down in the Shadow Gallery. She'd managed only a few such extended visits over the last months, each time spinning a story to her friends that she would be out of London and probably out of communication for a few days. This time, a visit to an old acquaintance from her years in the rehabilitation center was her easily believed cover. So now she wanted to maximize the opportunity.

Visitors, at this precise moment, were not entirely welcome.

Admittedly, she probably pulled the door open with a bit more impatience than needed, but she halted quickly when she realized who it was. ... ... "Adrian?"

For months, she'd seen him only briefly, and only in passing within the various governmental buildings. His career had progressed quite far, and he had become quite a star in the Department of Counter Intelligence. It kept their paths from crossing too often.

Three conversations it had required initially, to convince him that there was really nothing more to be had between the two of them. Even then, the glances he'd continued to cast her remained tinged with regret for quite some time; their brief words of communication always poorly veiling the hope he'd clung to.

Yes, it played on her sympathies. Even her anger over his suggestion of negotiating amnesty with the rebels had begun to fall against such sympathies. V would have done whatever was necessary to achieve her rescue. How could she then claim it purely offensive for Adrian to have followed the same rationale?

She hadn't really led him on, had she? That first year after the revolution? She'd known all along that he could never be a replacement, no matter how desperately that small, whimsical part of her wished for a miracle. Sure, there were moments where she'd enjoyed being immersed in his expressions of admiration. The biggest problem, of course, is that receiving flattery does not automatically lead to offering love. And Adrian's many flatteries did nothing to end the love she had still sent to her masked man ... even when she hadn't known he was actually alive to receive it. In that sense, she and Adrian had been at crossed purposes from the very beginning.

Every time he'd pushed for more ... or even attempted to coax or corner her into more ... she'd gracefully side-stepped him. That hadn't been so wrong, had it? Even if she felt sympathy for his inability to understand in the end.

"Hi Evey," he greeted, then added nervously, "Surprised to see me?"

Evey glanced around with a matching awkwardness, then stepped back to bid him entrance. "A little. Come in. Please."

The man strolled in casually, glancing about the room, noting the changes since he'd been there last.

"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something," he remarked, scanning her up and down briefly. "You're probably on your way out."

She glanced down at the burgundy dress she wore. ... "Just ... getting ready for a bit of a trip. I'm off on a short holiday this weekend."

Adrian nodded, accepting the answer easily. "Well, it's always good to get away from the government rush. Lord knows I could use a few more holidays myself."

Evey just smiled briefly, avoiding any further conversation on the topic just in case he was fishing for an invitation to accompany her. "I'm really kind of pressed for time, actually. Is this a social visit, or ...?"

The man's head bowed knowingly. "Look, Evey, I wish you didn't have to feel so awkward around me. I'm not still 'stewing' or anything." He pronounced the word with humorous exaggeration, just to emphasize how pointless he found such activities to be. "I know you've moved on, and I have no quarrel with that. In fact, in a way, I find myself suddenly pleased, in a round-about sort of way."

She cast him a surprised look. ... ... My, that was a turnaround.

"I do appreciate that you're busy," he continued, "so I'll cut right to the chase. I'd like your help in something. Something of rather significant importance, involving a case I'm working on."

"A case?" she questioned. "You mean, like, for the intelligence wing?" He nodded silently, to which she shook her head. "Oh Adrian, you know how long I've tried to stay away from involvements like that. I really don't think ..."

"It's important, Evey," he assured, his hand gently tapping one of hers to help convey the seriousness of his plea. "We're talking about one of Norsefire's 'men behind scenes'. One Wilford Grimson ... or at least that's one alias. We're pretty sure he's infiltrated one of our communication rings. Possibly as a double-agent. Or informer, as it were."

"An informer?" she asked with concern. She had to admit, she wouldn't be surprised given the determination of some Norsefire supporters. "But that's your area. What does that have to do with me?"

"Well it's not so much anything to do with you ... per se. Although I have the feeling that, were you to talk to him, you could probably charm him into a confession. Or at least a surrender."

Evey smiled awkwardly at the sudden compliment, prompting Adrian to quickly disarm the statement. ...

"Sorry, Evey. But I'm not entirely joking. I do have a meeting nearly arranged with the man, and your assistance would certainly help maintain my innocent veneer."

"He doesn't know you're onto him?"

"Not yet. And I'm certain he would be intrigued to meet such an important member of the revolution as yourself."

Evey shook her head reluctantly. "I don't do things like that anymore. I've tried to take myself back out of the danger zone, you know that."

"Yes, I know. But it wouldn't be terribly dangerous. ... ... And that's not really the primary help I come in search of. ... ... ... I was hoping that ... perhaps one of your friends might be willing to assist. If we can take Mr. Grimson down at our proposed meeting, or at least obtain the final, damning proof against him, it would probably be the best thing we could do ... for the protection of more agents than you realize."

Evey, however, was stuck on the mention of her 'friends' ... especially given the implicative lilt Adrian's voice had added to the word. "My friends?" she repeated. "What do you mean by that?"

It was then that Adrian's head hung with guilt. Apparently, there was quite an admission coming. "I'm not proud to say it, Evey, but after we parted, I ... ... well ... ... I 'maintained an interest in your life' for a bit of time."

And her next repetition of his phrasing included a good helping of accusation. -- -- "'Maintained an interest in my life?' Please tell me that you haven't been watching me? You and your intelligence cronies?"

"No, not my cronies," he quickly but shamefully defended. "It was purely a one-man endeavor, I promise. I just ... ... I just couldn't help it. ... ... ... And I hate to admit that I know about him."

Evey could feel her stomach lurch and the blood drain from her extremities. ... ... "Him?" she asked with a healthy dose of trepidation.

"The revolutionary," Adrian replied cautiously, purposefully avoiding that infamous one-letter name, lest he panic Evey too greatly. "I know you've spent some time in his company. And I know you're probably in contact with him now." ... ... He glanced down at her dress again, silently implying that he also considered it within the realm of possibility for her to be seeing the masked man this very evening.

With every ounce of steadiness and calm she could muster, she denied it. "I don't know what you're talking about, Adrian."

"It's ok," the man nodded, chuckling as if he had fully expected her pretense. "Really, it's ok. If anything, it explained a lot. I get it now. In a weird sort of way, it actually made things a bit better. Didn't stand much of a chance to begin with, did I? Against him. ... ... At least it removed the burden of thinking that I'd done something wrong."

Evey was tempted to agree, but avoided any answers at all for the time being.

"You see," Adrian continued, "that's what I meant when I said that I find myself suddenly pleased, in a round-about sort of way. I'm very close to sealing Mr. Grimson's case. I know where he manages his business from, I know a handful of his connections within our own government, and I know a good bit about his dealings with the Norsefire and its rebels. But as I said, I suspect he's a double-agent, and quite a good one at that. His connections in the people's government are of high influence, and I can't be certain who can be trusted and who can't. One of my own superiors may be in league with him. I don't know. And if word leaks back to him that someone has sniffed him out, he'll go so far underground that we'll never get him."

A solid fifteen seconds passed while Evey stared at her old friend. ... ... Trying to decide just how much he really did know about V. Trying to decide if he likewise knew what he was getting into with this 'Mr. Grimson'. And trying to decide if she even wanted to be involved with this at all. "What would you want 'my friend' to do?" she finally asked with considerable caution.

Adrian released a short breath, apparently quite relieved that his admissions hadn't frightened her too much. "As I said, I have a meeting nearly arranged. Next week. I have only limited resources within the Intelligence Department, until I determine exactly how far Mr. Grimson's communication web has infiltrated. I do have some rather good agents, though, that will be accompanying me. I would like to have your friend ... well ... 'in reserve', as it were. I know how efficiently he dispatched those bastards who took you last year. And I really would like to apprehend this particular rogue if my suspicions pan out. It would be good for the people, good for our cause, and, although I hate to even suggest it, good for my career as well." ... He smiled as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. ... "I know that thought will occur to you at some point, so I'll be honest about it right up-front. This is a threat we're talking about though. To our field agents; to the government we're building; and to the people themselves, as long as so many rebels are out there creating havoc."

Silently, Evey considered the implications that spread out in every direction. In all honesty, she still hadn't gotten past the fact that Adrian had been following her. Spying on her, in the way that was supposed to be reserved for enemies of the state. "He's not going to want to help you," she bargained, "nor will I, if he thinks you're in a position to reveal his presence. He's not big on publicity anymore, if you haven't noticed."

Adrian nodded. "Yes, I've gathered that. And no, if he's willing to lend a hand, I would never think of revealing him."

... Interesting. ... Evey's head cocked and she inquired, "Is that implied blackmail?"

"No," Adrian laughed lightly. "No, I do promise you. I'm just in great need of your assistance. The both of you."

Time passed silently as Evey considered Adrian's proposal. But it was obviously not a decision she would make on her own. ... ... "I'll talk to him," she agreed at last. "That's all I can promise."

"And that's all I can ask for," Adrian replied gratefully. "Thank you." Then he reached for her hand, offering a polite shake.

She accepted it, noting the firmness with which he gripped, as well as the linger that lasted. But that was ok. He knew the truth now. The 'why' of the past. And in a way, there was an element of relief for her as well.

With that, and one more rueful glance around the flat, the man took his exit. Evey watched him go, her study of him almost as intense as that which V often took of her ... ... then anxiously returned to her packing.

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"I wouldn't call that sleeping," Evey stated, many hours later, as she walked into one of V's sitting rooms. It was in the wee hours of the night that the light tinkle of piano keys had drawn her attention.

She'd actually gone to his room first, hoping to curl up with him on his chaise lounge. He hadn't been there though, so she'd begun wandering the rooms in her search. Approaching one of the main halls, she'd heard the binging of musical notes in a tune she certainly didn't recognize.

"I wouldn't either," he replied, matter-of-factly deflecting her subtle insinuation that he shouldn't be doing this at such a late hour. Well ... no ... he probably shouldn't be. But sleep eluded him even more than usual.

Evey pinched her mouth in sarcastic silence, then slid in beside him on the bench.

The sheet music, as it turned out, wasn't actually sheet music at all. -- At least not that of a pre-printed classic. Hand-written notes were scattered all over the staffs, the page no more than a third filled-in.

"Are you trying to compose?" she asked with a bit of surprise. She had no idea. ... 'Renaissance man' indeed.

"I had hoped the word 'trying' might not be required," he replied. "But yes. Or rather, this is indeed a project I've been working on recently."

Evey smiled playfully and leaned a little closer as if to share a secret. "Are you going to teach me to play it once you're done?"

V's mask almost seemed to relay his more genuine smirk. "First you would have to master chopsticks, my dear." ... ... It earned him her elbow in his ribs.

"I'm not that bad," she countered. "Not long ago you said I was really improving."

V nodded slowly, idly continuing the distractive small talk. "'Tis true -- I did. And you are." ... ... He pressed one of the keys with his gloved pointer finger, enjoying the simple, tonal sound, now that he didn't have to worry about it waking her.

She followed suit, fitting her hand along the edge of his and pressing the ivory key's neighbor. "You can't sleep because you're obsessing over what to do," she deduced. "Aren't you."

They had discussed her visit from Mr. Viedt earlier in the evening, V collecting as many relevant details as Evey could recall. And he'd also added his own as well, including the fact that, yes indeed, he'd heard such a name as 'Grimson' before, during surveillance of various rebel factions.

Then he'd gone quiet on the subject. ... Thinking. ... Maybe that's why the idea of him composing music in the middle of the night didn't surprise her. -- -- He was just eccentric enough to gravitate toward unusual tasks while lost in thought.

"Do you trust him?" V inquired with genuine curiosity ... doubling as acknowledgement that she was correct regarding the cause of his wakefulness.

"I'm not sure," she replied honestly. "I might be able to ask around on Monday. Dangle some questions to see what other opinions the Intelligence Department has toward Mr. Grimson. I don't want to do anything to tip the wrong people off though. I just can't believe someone got their fingers into the government so quickly."

"All governments are corruptible," V replied matter-of-factly. A truth of humanity he'd always known and acknowledged.

His finger moved to the next key, pressing it with just enough force to make the note long and resonant. Again, she did the same ... her hand following his, pressing the same key he'd just abandoned.

"And Mr. Viedt's ambiguous mention of my existence," V continued. "His request that you bring the issue to me. ... Do you think he believes you to have an advantage when pleading his case?"

Evey tilted her head for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what he was asking. "Well, I'd like to think that he had no way of getting to you himself ... no matter how good he may be at his intelligence games."

V nodded, accepting the answer. And again he moved to the next key ... to a still lower note. This time, however, Evey did not merely follow along. Her hand jumped over his, lying across the leather to press the key on the other side ... effectively ending his progress and reining him back in.

"Come on, V. Ask me what you really want to."

Behind the mask, he almost laughed sarcastically. Apparently she was becoming a better pianist than he had given her credit for. She'd stopped him, had she not?

"Do you feel sorrow for him?" V finally inquired, his voice actually relaxing a bit now that the question was gaining freedom.

"For Adrian?" Evey studied V's face -- -- the mask telling her nothing; his stare at the keys telling her everything. "I don't enjoy hurting people. Even if the person's expectations are unwarranted, I still don't enjoy hurting them. So yes, I suppose you could say I can find some sympathy over the situation."

"This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth; Over one shoulder doth she hang her head."

"Don't you dare start quoting Shakespeare at me now," Evey chastised firmly. Her hand collected his from the piano keys, holding it on his leg instead. "I said 'sympathy over the situation'. He didn't understand, and maybe I never forced him to understand the way I should have. But I don't feel sorrow for him in the way I fear you mean."

V's head rose, meeting her gaze. Studying her as he tried yet again to remove the image of Adrian Viedt standing in the flat of his beloved. Why? Because it was a scene ... an idea ... that fit the world overhead with disturbing normality. ... ... "You harbor no regrets over the personal and professional realms you might have shared?"

She inched herself closer, leaning toward him in emphasis. "No. I would much rather have been in this realm -- down here -- all along." ... ... A squeeze of his hand, moving their entwined fingers to her own leg as she propped her chin to the edge of his shoulder. ... ... "I never would have left, if given the option."

V nodded, silently apologizing for denying her that choice. A year later, his confidence in those earlier decisions was nearly eroded away. Adrian, in his view, was no longer the singular chosen one who could have offered her 'the better life' ... ... now he was the insidious one who had wanted to take her from V's life altogether -- knowingly or not. The trick now, surprisingly enough, was forgiving the man for such an innocent yet horrible offense.

"If we do this," Evey began, "then we do it to take down one of the rebel leaders. Not for Adrian. ... Not as a personal favor; not because he wants to look like a hero; and not because I feel 'sorrow' for him -- or feel anything at all for that matter. If we do it, we do it for the people. For the new world. For the continued success of your revolution."

... ... "Yes," V finally agreed, taking some private comfort -- and a little humbly accepted pride -- in the fact that she had so easily turned it back to him. "And if Mr. Grimson is as duplicitous as Mr. Viedt believes, then the situation deserves consideration at the very least. Once you've spoken to Mr. Viedt again, I believe I shall indulge in some investigations of my own."

"And we'll decide from there?" she finished for him.

"Yes," he agreed. "We'll decide from there."

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When Evey was again back in the bustling, work-a-day world, it was Adrian that sought her out, rather than the reverse. A brief lunch meeting in the park ... covert, Adrian insisted, in case he was being watched.

"Yeah, and it's not like you'd ever be guilty of doing the same thing," Evey quipped, sitting at a picnic table and trying to appear as if in innocent conversation. Adrian had switched on an electronic signal blocker to prevent the eavesdropping of listening devices. But still, appearances may be everything.

"Touch?" Adrian replied. "But I did it primarily for your safety. Whatever you think of me, Evey, I've never wanted to see you harmed. And from what I know of ... 'your friend' ... he's not exactly the most docile gentleman on the planet."

"He changed this world," she stated with dead seriousness. "And he changed me. Long before you ever knew me. So I suggest you stop worrying about things like that, and start worrying about this meeting you're planning."

"Oh I'm worrying about it, I assure you. I received word this morning ... we're set for Wednesday afternoon. 3:00. A bit earlier than I'd hoped, as I'd prefer to have a few more ducks in order before the main event. But it's a rare feat to have earned a hearing in the first place. I'll have my own armed men with me, naturally. Those I can trust. ... ... Have you ... discussed it with V? Would you be willing to assist me yourself, perhaps?"

Evey fiddled with her sandwich, carefully remaining non-committal. "He's considering it. He wants more information."

Adrian reached into his own lunch sack, retrieving a candy bar and handing it across to her with an innocent laugh ... just for the benefit of any onlookers. "The address is beneath the wrapper."

She thanked him politely, then placed it atop her own sack.

Adrian studied it, a moment of wistfulness crossing his face. "Would it be wrong to admit that part of me hopes that isn't the last candy I ever gift to you?"

Evey met his eyes, her expression resolved and unflinching. "Yes. It would be very wrong." ... ... Packing her lunch back into its sack, she added, "I'll talk to him. Send you word by tomorrow."

And then she was gone, smiling as happily as she could muster -- for appearance's sake more than anything else -- and made her way back across the park. And by the time she'd returned to her office, the candy wrapper had been tucked into her purse ... the candy itself disposed of in a dustbin.

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V's surveillance of the given address, later that evening, proved quite useful. Yes, it was a rebel enclave. Relatively small, but of note. Some voices were even familiar, the masked man having heard them among other enemy groups. Security was strong but not extreme ... the criminals confident in both their secrecy, and lack of too much damning evidence that could be used against them.

The name Grimson arose at one point, but little was discussed. Not surprising, if the man kept as low a public profile as the role of informer or double-agent would require.

It was adequate information though, and the threat was proven legitimate enough for V to make his decision. Before dawn the next morning, he had returned to the Shadow Gallery, delivering his conclusions to the girl who waited nervously in his sitting room.

"I will offer Mr. Viedt my assistance," he stated solemnly. "But I won't reveal myself unless necessary. And quite frankly, I would prefer that you stay well clear of the situation. We both know how many rebel factions would love to claim you as their victim."

Evey shook her head, exactly the way he feared she would. "Nope. If you're going in, then so am I."

"Evey," he sighed. "I would prefer not."

"Yes." she insisted before V even had the last word out.

His breath of frustration almost echoed behind the mask. They'd had this type of debate before, and he was distressed to discover that he didn't always win.

"Sometimes," he lamented, "I believe that I've instilled too much fearlessness into you."

"I'm just selective about what scares me," she replied in a low voice. "And you, in the middle of some pack of Norsefire gunmen ... that scares me."

... ... V could only stare, the mask a sudden detriment as it failed to convey the full sternness of his expression.

"Besides," ... she embarked on another approach. "If I can help -- even with whatever information Adrian is trying to unearth -- then I want to do it. For all of us."

The pause continued, until he finally raised one finger -- denoting how serious he was. "You must stay with Adrian then." ... ... An instruction whose irony did not escape V. ... ... "With him and his guard. And you will not try to find me. I will need every element of surprise that circumstances can allow."

A smile tried to twitch at the corners of her mouth, but she fought it down. "Alright," she agreed soberly. "It's a deal."

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Wednesday, 2:56 pm.

Three white cars pulled up in front of a rather tall, rather nondescript office building on the Northern edge of London. It was not, however offices that waited inside.

"Is your friend here?" Adrian asked Evey as they emerged from one car.

The young man glanced around nervously, despite the four secretly-armed men he'd brought with them as his 'delegation'. Evey only hoped these guys could draw their guns as fast as V could draw his knives. They just might need them, if Grimson figured out that they knew his true persona.

"Yes, he's here," she replied with complete certainty, even though she could not easily locate her beau either. He might be behind them. He might be in front of them. But he had come ... she had no doubt.

The building's double-doors opened, two men with equally concealed weapons bidding the party entrance. "Please come this way," invited the one. "Mr. Grimson isn't quite ready yet, but you might as well go up. Fourth floor. ... ... And Ms. Hammond, may I say how delightful it is to meet such a beautiful war hero."

Evey nodded politely, while Adrian thanked the men and began guiding the group in the direction their hosts had designated. His own guards fell into step behind, all weapons still carefully concealed.

The lift was quite some distance into the building's lobby, and Adrian took a deep breath, visibly trying to retain his calm as he pressed the button.

Now, Evey didn't really know what to expect when the lift arrived. It was a relatively unpopulated building, as V had already reported from his surveillance. 'Offices' were merely a cover. Who knew what might really go on in here.

But when the doors opened and a man stood there pointing a gun at her head, that was quite a surprise -- bested only by what rode in the lift with him.

... ... Explosives.

... ... Lots and lots of explosives.

Her eyes recognized them instantly, not even requiring her brain for the identification process. They were composed of the same items V kept in his own store of such weapons. A remarkable reproduction, actually ... and disturbingly so.

"Look familiar?" a voice growled behind her, an arm wrapping around her neck in a vice grip. She didn't even recognize him at first ... neither voice nor touch ... so dramatic was Adrian's transformation.

She let out a muffled yelp, followed quickly by the strangled question of the young man's name. And then she was being drug backward, the man in the elevator approaching, gun still aimed menacingly at her forehead.

"Oh my God," she whispered next, the sickest shock clenching her stomach.

It was the Adrian -- -- the true Adrian -- -- that she had caught only hints of in the past. Reflections of a ghost image ... always hazy ... always questionable ... but on those particular occasions, always enough to make her wonder. And now the reflection was becoming reality. Second by second, this was morphing into some horribly long, drawn-out, slow-motion horror film.

Adrian's 'guards' did nothing. Why would they? The orchestrator of the event was in charge, the girl clearly under his control. And the two rebels who had granted them entrance to the building merely moved up alongside, joining their comrades.

"Let her go," came a low menacing voice from the shadows of a nearby hallway. Concealed weapons were drawn in response ... a total of six rebel guns all aimed toward the masked man they knew was there. He was, after all, their ultimate prey.

Adrian tossed his head back in laughter. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" he sang. "It's not like we don't know who you are. It appears I have something here that you want, eh old man?"

One particularly dark shadow moved, billowing as the cadence of calm, composed footfalls began. Then the voice returned, dripping with controlled anger ... "Thou speak'st like him's untutor'd to repeat: Who makes the fairest show means most deceit."

"Deceit?" Adrian challenged. "I'll wager you know quite a bit about that yourself. Perhaps that's why my friends here were so eager to get their hands on you. Quite a nice deal, don't you think? They get you. I get Evey." ... ... His grin turned positively psychotic. ... ... "We all win."

By then, V had emerged into view, still some distance down the hallway. In one raised hand, two knives were being fingered and rotated, no way of knowing which direction they might eventually go. "I believe I have a better deal to offer, Mr. Viedt. One that I doubt you shall find easy to refuse."

The villain merely smirked, then leaned his head alongside Evey's. "So this is him, is it? The freak you find so fascinating? Eh, love?"

And V answered for her, taking a hissed inhalation of air ... "Oooh. I do wish you wouldn't refer to her in that way."

"Or what?" Adrian taunted back. "Or you'll slice me?"

"Your jugular, perhaps," V agreed matter-of-factly. "Or your aorta would be another option."

"Oh I doubt it," the villain replied facetiously. And then, with the utmost confidence, he proudly called, "Boys?!"

In perfect synchrony, four of the guns originally trained on V were shifted, aimed instead at Evey's head. Only two remained on V. Why not? Adrian was no fool ... he knew how to stop his nemesis. And it worked, V halting in mid-step.

"Now tell me, V, old man. Do you really think your knives are that fast?"

Unfortunately, the bastard did have a point. V couldn't deny it.

Fast enough to save himself? Probably. Fast enough to save Evey? From all those bullets aimed directly at her temple? The uncertainty made him silently nauseous.

"Sooo," Adrian continued, "I have a far, far better idea. You see that lift? It's primed, ready, and very anxious to carry you to a most ... 'spectacular' end. You'll have the opportunity to address all of London, just as you did so long ago You need only reach the top floor, and," ... ... his eyes widened, bordering on mania ... ... "boom. And they'll hear you. By golly, they'll hear you."

Beneath Adrian's arm, Evey flinched at the idea. "Like that, do ya?" he asked her sarcastically. "So let's give your boyfriend the farewell he deserves. Shall we? ... ... I believe she's waiting, V. As am I."

V's knives had finally stopped rotating while he considered his options. Then his foot rose as if to take a step toward the lift. A diversion. A stall for time while he arranged his plan.

Evey, however, had her own plan.

Her foot shifted as well, in time with her beau's, catching his observant attention. It was a movement he recognized ... one he himself had taught her, only weeks earlier during an impromptu self-defense lesson.

And what she lacked in technique, she made up for with surprise. She twisted. She crouched. She flung her leg back. And Adrian Viedt found himself thrown off balance, arching over her as if nearly flipped, but lingering instead atop her.

Of course, that was the point. ... Suddenly, her attacker was her protection, unwillingly shielding her like an umbrella against any impending bullets. And it gave V just the distraction he needed.

The rebels let their guns waver in an instant of confusion, not particularly anxious to shoot Mr. Viedt. He was far more valuable alive than dead ... an immensely useful turncoat within the new people's government. But before they could train their weapons back on their original quarry, V was already moving.

Those first two knives ... the ones that had been virtually begging their owner to grant them flight ... finally got their wish. They crossed in mid-air, each landing deep into the chest of a gunman.

Then the bullets began, flying erratically ... but not before the next rebel was felled with a swift, clean, cut to the jugular. And on the floor, Evey wrestled with Adrian, the oh-so-proper government official not nearly as good with his fists as he was with his cunning brain.

Her own blows weren't enough to knock him out, but they did keep him relatively neutralized, and she gradually advanced them both toward that damned lift ... that horrid little box that was supposed to kill her beloved. She had other plans for that little trick too.

V glanced over for a brief check of her condition, before backhanding another knife into the air, its point rushing forth to split the skull of the next rebel. Number five was not as fortunate -- his impending death far slower, once V had stabbed the man's abdomen and sliced through his gut.

And at the lift, Adrian was finally shoved across the threshold of the open doors. He had struggled to his feet -- -- or maybe Evey had simply allowed him to struggle to his feet, just so she could give him her best kick to the crotch, sending him helplessly backward onto his pile of ill-begotten explosives. ... ... His shriek of pain timed perfectly to the grunt of another rebel as V skewered the next man's chest.

Evey lunged for the elevator doors, shoving at them with all her might while Adrian tried to hobble forward. -- -- A race against time that Evey just barely won, slamming the sheets of metal closed with one last burst of energy. Then she whirled around, watching the flash of another knife as it spun through the air ... this time landing in the wrist of the rebel who had suddenly trained his gun back onto her. He was the only one still standing, and V grabbed him, bodily yanking the man around like a rag doll.

Then the banging began ... Adrian slamming his hand to the small window in the lift-car's doors. His attempts to escape-proof the small metal box had worked quite well, much to his own detriment. "Evey!" he screamed in anger, even though it came through the doors as only a faint echo.

It gave V a moment ... just a moment ... to issue a warning. This last rebel would be the luckiest of all, because this one would escape with his life.

"The proposition I offer is fair," V growled ominously to the injured man. "And I suggest you deliver it to the rest of your cronies. I know of their lingering fascination with Ms. Hammond, and I grow weary of it. If you wish your own wives, families, and chums to live, then I suggest you see to it that she continues to live as well. ... Do not presume to know what I am capable of, should she be harmed."

And with that, he gave the rebel a hardy shove. As expected, the man struggled, stumbled, then ran for his very life.

By then, Evey had found what she thought was the trigger mechanism. Pressing the 'up' button might only open the doors and release the beast again. Two dangling wires however -- one hanging from the lift's control panel, the other from the floor indicator overhead -- held some possibility. They looked like something her beau might leave behind after some impromptu electrical wiring ... ... and were just the type of thing she now believed Adrian might have enjoyed taunting V with.

On a hunch, she grasped one wire in each hand, letting the expression on Adrian's face unwittingly assure her that she was correct. And then she simply stared at him, her face blank and devoid of emotion. With no more sympathy over the situation ... with no regrets whatsoever ... she held the two exposed tips together. A crack of a spark was heard, then the chugging of an engine. A shudder from the lift car, and up it slowly began to rise, with Adrian pounding even harder on the inside.

Part of her would have loved to have stayed right there and watched. V already had her hand though, and was insisting on their exit. "Let's go," he demanded, to which she relented.

It was a good thing too. -- -- They managed to get a full block away before Adrian greeted London, his former coworkers, his old Norsefire family, and the rebel groups he'd been foolish enough to ally himself with ... in an ear-shattering, heart-thumping bang.

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"Well at least they're not blaming you for this one," Evey remarked later that evening. She had curled in against his side, both of them anxiously watching the late night news reports. It had been London's first 'unplanned' explosion since the end of the revolution, and confused citizens alternately celebrated and dreaded whatever elusive significance it might hold.

"Mmmmmm," was his brief response, his hand rubbing her shoulder with a notable absence of thought. ... ... He was elsewhere.

"What is it?" she asked. "What are you thinking?"

... ... A pause, while he yet again fast-forwarded through the events in his mind, wondering where his decisions might have been better.

"I'm thinking that I wish you had not been put in such a position, Evey. To choose to kill. Perhaps part of me hoped that your days of wielding death were over."

"I did what I had to do," she replied evenly and with no hesitation. "Just like you always have. He tried to kill you. After that ... " ... ... Her cheek turned further into his shoulder as she tried to free herself from the thought of watching this man die yet again. ... ... "It wasn't a 'choice to kill'. It wasn't even a choice at all."

Silently, V's head dipped toward hers, his fingers wrapping more purposefully around her arm in silent acknowledgement.

"I just can't believe I didn't see it coming," she continued. "I should have seen it coming. Years ago already. I must be blind." There was an undercurrent of bitterness at the base of her voice. Anger at herself.

"He was certainly practiced at masquerade," V replied, defending her against her own self-judgment. And if it weren't for Adrian's malevolence, V might have even smiled at his next observation. ... "It appears to be a theme among those men who are drawn to you."

Evey pressed against him in reply. "Yeah, but you're not succeeding anymore. I can see through yours better than you think."

Well that did make him grin a little, almost as much as the mask implied. "I believe you can, Evey. To my surprise and wonder, I believe you can."

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This story has accompanying artwork. To view them, visit my aol homepage and click on, "Reflections of a Ghost Image".