A shriek and a thud-that was all that it took to send V, who had formerly been perusing an article in Norsefires daily news post, flying down the hallway in the direction of the facilities. He had heard her enter the shower earlier, always finding it odd to experience the everyday noises that naturally came with having a guest within his home. The sounds had often startled him during the first few weeks of her stay, at one point he had even risen from his bed, dagger drawn during some ungodly hour of the morning only to discover that, instead of a Norsefire spy, his midnight marauder had been Evey retrieving glass of milk. Since then he had learned to control such reactions, instead of reaching for the nearest dagger V would smile lightly at the occasional occurrence of soft footsteps in the middle of the night, or would chuckle secretly at a wayward yawn or sniffle.

It took only seconds for V to reach the doorway and he strode up to it with all haste, "Evey?" he inquired, lightly rapping a gloved hand upon on the wooden door. She released a loud groan in response and then V heard the slick shuffling of skin upon a wet tile floor. It was a sound that he was well acquainted with, and one that made him want to cringe.

"Evey! Has something happened? Do you need assistance?" He tried to be cordial, his voice steady, a bright contrast to the sense of panic that he was currently feeling within. Carefully, he listened for her reply, however faint it might possibly have been, but heard nothing save for the muffled echo of increasingly quick and shallow breaths.

"I do apologize if you are not properly dressed but I am afraid I must open the door"

Inside, Evey shook her head, trying to say no, trying to assure him that she would be alright, but instead a high pitched trine filled the air, the attempted sound escaping through her nostrils rather than her mouth. Words were unattainable through the cloud of overwhelming pain that she was experiencing. While exiting the shower she had misjudged her sense of balance and had toppled over onto the ground, her ribcage taking a hard hit upon the edge of what served as the walls for the optional bathtub. The pain had delayed itself long enough for her to rise and obtain a towel and, for a moment, she had believed herself blissfully unharmed but such assumptions were soon proven false once the initial shock had worn off and the pain set it. From there she had fallen to the floor, each breath she took causing an increasingly intense bolt of pain to shoot through her chest cavity as she writhed upon the cold tile floor. Her eyes were blinded by the lights above and everything felt damp and musty with steam still floating about the room.

The sound of V at the door had only made things worse, she hastily tried to cover her exposed body with the towel, surprised she could even move her arms through the shock and pain. She managed to cover up everything necessary to preserve her sense of modesty before her head crashed back down to the floor and V announced his desire to enter the room. She bit her lip in pain as she tried to tell him not too, but managed only the nasally squeal before he the door burst open and a flash of black rushed into the room.

"Evey!" V exclaimed, quickly analyzing her prone form before rushing to her side. She was laying flat on her back, her legs squirming in discomfort, a sight that would have driven his brain to far more amorous realm if not for his prevailing worry.

"Uhn" she moaned, god this was painful, and more than a little humiliating "V…privacy…please." she muttered through gasping breaths.

"Good Heavens, have you fallen? Where are you in pain?" He bent low, crouching over her extending a gloved hand to still one of her legs.

"V!" She moaned, "…please," her face contorted in pain and uncontrollable tears began to roll down her already dampened face. She tried to rise and wiggle away from him but ended up clutching at her left side with another yelp "sh**…god"

"Be still, Evey," he ignored her plea that he leave, if only for her own benefit, "you shall only make the pain worse. Tell me, is it your side that is causing the pain?"

Worse? How could it get any worse? God, she felt as if someone was trying to dissect her. And there he was, looming over her as she lay upon the floor in barely more than her birthday suit! Even through the pain she could feel her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"My ribs," she manages to whimper out, her hand clutching further into her side, "I fell."

She felt a pressure at her hips as he crossed another towel over them, and then felt the glove brush against her midriff as he began to pull the first towel upward, urging her hand away while he cleverly exposed her lower ribcage without grossly offending her privacy.

"I am sorry my dear but I'm afraid I must investigate" Another towel was placed behind her head as he attempted to ease her situation, "try to relax Evey, it will help."

"God that hurt," she spoke, her demeanor indeed relaxing a little as she resigned herself to the moment. At least he was being a gentleman about the entire situation, not revealing any more than necessary.

"Is the pain lessening at all?" He asked as he swiped the glove very, very gently across an area of skin that was beginning to blacken with bruising.

For the first time since he arrived her eyes looked up to the mask, her expression filled with several different layers of emotion; shock, humiliation discomfort, gratitude…"a little, it," she paused, collecting her breath, "it doesn't hurt as much to breathe."

"Hmm, I believe it is merely cracked…one rib" he gently intoned while his fingers pressed softly into the areas surrounding the bruise "perhaps even a simple case bad bruising, however I will retrieve some supplies to treat it. In any case a light wrap and a healthy dose of pain medication should help. I assure you Evey, I will assure you the uttermost care.. I have injured many a rib in my day."

Her respiration calmed visibly at his spoken works. She had known very well that he would not be sending her to a hospital, not with the risks involved. "Why," she gave a slight, albeit pain-ridden smile, "…why am I not surprised?"

V chuckled lightly at the jest, "I've no clue to what you could possibly be alluding to. Now, we'll need to get you somewhere more comfortable, if you wouldn't mind I'd like to carry you."

"The towels…"

"I shall adjust them."

"Right."

Both remained silent and left to their own thoughts as he worked to prepare her for the short journey ahead. His touches were restrained and careful, none of them unnecessary when he lifted her in strategic areas to adjust her temporary coverings.

Gentle, she thought, he was so gentle with her, far different from the man she had first encountered in the alleyway, a man capable of throwing enemies twice his size across the room. How could he be so different now? He blew up buildings and murdered people, and yet he treated her as he would a delicate butterfly, afraid to lay a hand on her lest he brush the powder off of her wings and render her useless in flight. It was difficult at best to wrap her mind against the two conflicting personalities, and she suspected that she would never fully understand him. Which spoke more of the truth, the way he treated her here or the way she had seen him treat others elsewhere? Cordiality or brutality? Who was the real V?

Why did she even care? She would only be down here for the rest of the year and then, if he kept his word, and if his plan worked, she would be free to return to the world at large. What world? She pondered, would there be a world to return too? If he blew up parliament and nothing changed then what would become of her? Would she have to flee England, would he be with her when it happened?

There were so many questions that needed answering but she was too afraid to ask them for fear of angering him.

"Ready?" V asked above her, interrupting her contemplations.

She nodded at the warning and then looked down bashfully as he wrapped his arms around her, the sensation heightened by the fact that so much of her skin was still bared. Seconds later, she felt herself ascending towards the ceiling and she caught the side of his neck in an attempt to steady herself. The movement cause yet another bolt of pain to course through her and she gasped in surprise.

"I've got you," his voice dropped in tone, unused to such motions being made against his body, "no need to hold on for dear life. Try to remain still now."

His boots rapped steadily against the floor as they made their way to the central part of the gallery, Evey closed her eyes at the sound, distantly recalling the way her father would carry her to her bedroom as a child. It was oddly comforting, and she lingered on the sensation for quite some time, wishing her parents were alive again and that they hadn't set more importance on their political activities than they had on her. How desperately she could have used her parents advice right now, or their approval. What would they think of her now, trapped in a subterranean hideaway with a dangerous terrorist, a wanted felon by default. What would they think of V himself, would they have approved of his methods? Possibly, although she herself did not even know if she approved.

A tear slid down her face, and she opened her soft honey colored eyes to gaze up upon the mask as it stared ahead at its task. He was not her father, but he projected a certain air of patriarchal protection that reminded her of him. Yes, her father would have liked V, he would have liked V very much.

V gave a chirrupy hum as he entered the room and set her down upon the chaise lounge "There, now I belie…" He stopped mid sentence and hastily averted his gaze when he realized that the top towel had come lose, exposing quite a bit more of her bared bosom than he assumed she cared to reveal.

"Eve-uhmn," he cleared his throat, suddenly finding it very difficult to speak, "I believe…the cloth."

"What?" her brows furrowed.

"I apologize…your towel"

"Oh!" her eyes widened as realization dawned upon her and she gazed down towards her chest. One soft breast lay exposed and her hands quickly advanced to cover it up "Sorry," she blurted out, a hand moving to frame her forehead as she closed her eyes in embarrassment. That could not have just happened. If it were possible for her cheeks to become any more flushed the she may just light the room on fire.

"No need to apologize." Did that sound right? Heavens above, this was becoming quite a bit more difficult than he had imagined, "I believe that I…should retrieve the necessary supplies. Yes, I shall be back in a moment." V nodded and then left without a moments hesitation, leaving Evey alone and more than a bit flustered. ``

"God…" she muttered, "now he'll never come back"

Half an hour later, V had returned after all, Evey found herself sitting up and properly bandaged, and clothed, the pain had lessened substantially and she was now able to consider food, water, and perhaps a bit of rest. V stood above her, arms crossed as he watched her eat a bowl of soup, waiting for the medication that he had provided her to take effect.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked when she finally set the bowl down on a nearby table, listening to the audible clink of the spoon hitting its ceramic surface.

"Yes, loads," she looked up to him, "thank you."

The mask bobbed up and down in a nod, "I'm glad."

She said nothing after this, her lips curving into a smile of gentle affection, the embarrassment from earlier had faded somewhat, but she remained bashful over quite a few occurrences.

V's lips curved into a smile as well, although she would never see it, and then he gathered the bowl and made to leave the room, "You need rest, I will…be in my quarters if you should need me."

"Alright"

V strode quickly into his room, shutting and locking the door before coming to sit on his bed. His hands trembled as he braced them against the firm mattress, multitude of previously restrained emotions threatening to overwhelm his senses with wants and desires never before experienced within his known life.

He was loath to admit such a thing to himself but, lord, how beautiful she had been. How utterly, utterly beautiful. Even when in a state of pain how could he not have been expected to notice her loveliness? A vision from heaven, an angel fallen down with a broken wing, fluttering softly upon the ground, calling for him to fulfill his duties as her guardian and protector.

"Good…god," he muttered through a slowly released breath as a series of images from the moments prior flooded though his mind. Images that he suspected would haunt him relentlessly for months to come. He reclined to lie back upon the bed, overwhelmed with the rush of hot acid that such thoughts sent coursing into his veins. His body responded accordingly and in a way he had not considered possible in decades. A wall of air hit the inside of his mask as he fought to catch his breath in strong exhalations. It had taken an act of God to silence his desires and to will his body into submission when he had been aiding her but now the urgency and alarm had receded, and he was left with only himself to fight against the whims of his body.

The things she did to him, he thought, however unconsciously she did them, the things she did to him. She was beautiful, energetic, and full of life; an apt representation of the humanity that he had long himself abandoned and an embodiment of the culture that he was both surrounded by and ostracized from. He had never thought himself as a part of that which he so desperately fought to preserve, and yet she tempted him to return to such realms, to give into the desire and wants of any normal man.

Such notions were dangerous, a distraction from his plans, something he should cast aside, and yet he couldn't. He was far too caring and far too sensitive towards such newness in his life. A part of him needed her as much as it needed his vendetta, and he knew it. She was so afraid, however, so naive and so…young.

And he? What was he? "An old fraud," he whispered in reply to his internal inquiry, "at least in matters of the heart." Did he honestly think that he could even consider the possibility of having her affections or even attractions returned to him? The idea was outlandish at best. If she knew the extent of who he really was, what he really did, and how he really looked beneath all of that charm and elegant apparel, she would never even speak to him.

…would she?

"Steady man, steady," he rasped, placing a hand to his masked forehead, the cadence of his husky breaths decreasing in tempo, "you must stay away from her." Vowing to keep his distance he rolled to the side, taking a moment to reach behind the mask and unfasten the ties before reaching for a pillow and adjusting it beneath his head. He lifted the hard veneer away from his face and placed it an arms length away, his vision focusing upon the two empty eye holes, the mask's grin mocking his predicament.

"Well then, aren't we in a dapper mood today," he commented with sarcasm, "I suspect that you've been up to something dreadful but I dare not ask what."

The mask remained silent, staring back at him indignantly, no it was not giving away any of it's secrets.

"I do wonder what she thinks of me…" he offered, confiding in the mask despite its smugness, knowing that it knew of whom he spoke.

"Ah, but I shouldn't want to know, should I?" It was likely that she thought him a madman, as did the rest of England's population. He was an honorable madman, though, or at least he tried to be.

He shifted to lie back upon his back with a puff of stale air, stretching his arms out and clinking his books together as he thought through his frustrations. "No I shouldn't," he concluded with a soft frown, "she is beautiful, but even beauty has it's thorns, and I must keep my distance. Sutler would find me easy prey indeed if he found me in such a state. There are enemies to fell and a purpose to fulfill, I've no time for such harebrained contemplation."

A few more minutes still and then he rose and returned the mask back to its proper place atop his head. The episode, whatever it had been, was now over. He would leave the room and check on her, and from there he would find tasks to complete, charts to study, and explosives to pack and prepare, anything to distract his mind from his current predicament with Evey, and the feelings that she was beginning to raise within him…feeling of love, and desire, and the need to have another near. Feelings that he knew, deep down, would stretch their tendrils to suffocate his very being if they were allowed to roam free. He needed consistency, structure, and control in his life, not this chaos that she inspired within him. She was the anarchist to his soul, and fought to bring down the walls of his troubled psyche just as fervently as he fought to destroy the foundations of the current government.

So she is a terrorist after all, he thought as he placed a gloved hand upon the handle of the door, a freedom fighter of the most extraordinary kind. "Well then Evey," he whispered under his breath you make a formidable foe. Let us show no mercy towards each other and fight to the very death for in this game there is no compromise." He opened the door and stepped into the corridor ahead, boots resuming their cadence once more as he returned to the woman who he so tenderly cared for.

Then barely audible, had added one more line to the silent walls about him, "I hope you win"