Title: Sweet Sacrafice
Author: Dearly Beloved
Fandom: V for Vendetta
Pairing: V/Evey
Rating: PG at most
Status: Complete
Disclaimer: Not mine (though I wish it was). Don't sue.
Note: This is basically the in-between-the-lines of the movie. Where there were scenes missing, I used a figment of my own imagination. Some AU, but ... not too much. They're mostly the thoughts of both characters and also ... I added a cute, fluff moment. So please read and comment. 3 Also, title came from Evanescene's new CD. I was listening to it when I got inspired to write this story.
Evey sat in her torture chamber; this was what she was afraid of? She almost chuckled as she realized she was being ridiculous. Fear. Fear had always been with her. She had to see her brother give life in the ICU when she was only nine. At twelve, her parents were detained. She never forgot any of them; they were always encrypted in her mind.
But this fear was different. All this time, she hadn't realized the fear was within herself. How odd that she should realize this now, in this cell, after reading Valerie's sweet letter.
Every inch of me shall perish, the voice echoed in Evey's mind, every inch by one.
Her internal battle was at an end. And that's what Valerie meant, didn't she? That one day she would be free of herself and that was the ultimate freedom; freedom was not limited to physical walls of a cell.
There was one thing, however, that she hated so much. V. She hated him. Why hadn't he come for her? He had saved her once, why not twice? Everything about him was an equation. It tortured her mentally, leaving scars that would not heal themselves up over time. Every day she would bury her shaved scalp in her arms and imagine the death that awaited her; the death she was ready for and would accept … and V … he wouldn't care, would he? No, no. He was too busy with preparing for his revolution. What was one person to him? She just happened to be there, a mere coincidence. And he had saved her in the name of justice. And this was the price she was paying.
"Why protect someone who doesn't give a shit about you?" the guard said one day after dragging her half-conscious body back to the cell. Her eyes narrowed resentfully as the guard slammed the door on his way out.
The question had in fact crossed her mind as well, though she was afraid to address it directly. She was afraid of the answer.
He saw her as he tortured her, reminding him of himself back in Larkhill. He hoped she wouldn't see the black gloves covering his hands as he shook violently, doing the same things he resented to someone else—someone he loved more than anything in the world. Someone who had showed him everything he was made of was a lie, was full of hate, was full of revenge … something not human at all.
He hoped that she hated him for neglecting her, as she saw it. But … she was not full of hate at all. Her eyes, glistening in the dim light of her cell every time he looked at her from the shadows, showed him that she had not only locked all her hate away, but she had also brought out the most of her kindness in her features. She brought out the kindness in him with her persistence. She had undoubtedly read Valerie's letter, and shed some tears to it. Because he could see strength forming in her eyes, distant, yet still there. He knew it would be time soon to end all of this, all his lies. He wanted to stop torturing the dearest thing he held to his heart—had he had one.
All his life, he had shunned all feelings and emotions somewhere deep and dark with the rest of his memories. All he felt was rage and hate, running through his veins like venom, intoxicating every cell, every muscle of his body; indeed, he lived for revenge and revenge only. That used be all he sought. But now this girl, just a girl, gad brought him all the joy in the world. He didn't understand it. How was love possible in the midst of chaos and turmoil? Had it always been there?
No matter how much he thought about love, he would see that he could not, in any manner, comprehend it. Although love itself was a concept, an idea, it was too intuitive to be depicted by mere words. Languages, at least those we know of, have the capability to damage delicate feelings such as love and vulnerability into stereotypes we often hate. No, V knew better than to stick with the clichéd characterization of such an imperative sentiment.
V still was cynical how one was taught such emotional responses. He recalled naught of his childhood, but he suspected that society played a vital part in leading the young generation towards deciphering complicated and innate feelings such as love. These words, these concepts were never spoken of, yet the children understood the implied meanings perfectly—more than adults, even. It was from then on that the young generation realized there was something they should follow, a code—or guideline—of unwritten laws and rules one should follow.
But what perplexed V even now was fact that he never really remembered his childhood. He had forgotten his past yet he was able to love, though he never remembered being taught how to love. Did that prove the point that love was innate for all humans? Or was it Every that had taught him how to love?
He realized that none of it mattered. V knew that however the hell he had started to love, it didn't matter at all. What mattered was the person he was in love with; she mattered. Often V would daydream as he paced around the Shadow Gallery that after destroying the House of Parliaments, he would ask her to marry him, to live with him forever more. Then he would chuckle to himself and mutter, "Have gone soft, haven't you?"
And then the day came. "Look, all you have to do is give them a piece of information. Give them something—anything," he said, being careful not to expose his face.
"Thank you," she said as she looked up at his face, her voice firm. For one moment, he thought that she could see through him. But when she spoke again, he relaxed his body the slightest bit. She was, as he suspected, clutching on to Valerie's letter. "But I'd rather die behind the chemical sheds."
"Then you are free," he said, and for the first time he meant every word he said. "You have nothing to fear anymore."
Evey stood in the rain, her hands raised up high. He could hear her whisper, "God is in the rain!" And V smiled his first true smile. She was free, just as he had been set free. But there was a minor difference. Minor, but crucial.
She stood in the rain, though he had stood in the fire when he was freed. Just as the fire had become a part of him, rain was becoming a part of Evey. He was set free with hatred, but she was free with the strength and the love she had. His freedom had sought revenge for twenty years; but Evey had realized something true about herself by the freedom she had created for herself, something more meaningful than revenge.
"Evey," he whispered, letting the wind and the rain carry on his voice to her ears. He knew she had heard him, but she continued her ritual with the rain. She then knelt to the ground letting the rain soak through every inch of her.
Every inch of me shall perish. Every inch but one, the voice still echoed in her head. I hope that whoever you are, you escape this place. And she had. She had escaped her ego, her fears, the worst of her. She was far from perfect, but she knew that without her fears, she would not be limited to anything. Thus she was free.
She felt strong arms around her. "V?" she stuttered as she turned around. She could hear his heavy breathing as he rested his head on her shoulders. She embraced him closer and let her own tears fall down as they both soaked in the rain. She wanted to thank him for all he had done for her, but the scars of her internal wounds told her otherwise. She wanted to tell him that he was the most important thing that ever happened to her, but she just couldn't. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but words were erased from her memory. She wanted to stay with him forever, but she knew that was impracticable.
So instead, they sat knelt in the rain together, neither saying a word, yet a lot being communicated through their pulses, their hearts.
Evey silently took V's gloved hands and stripped them of their clothing. She heard V's sharp intake as the water droplets descended on his bare hands, but she didn't care. She brought both hands to her wet, cold lips and planted a soft, tender kiss on each hand. They were the most beautiful things to her.