.:Condemned:.
From the very beginning, Evey had known that V had picked the wrong person. Sure it could have worked in the end. That is, if Evey had been willing to exchange her very sanity for the visions of a madman. In hindsight, after all the dust had settled, she couldn't help but feeling guilt well up inside of her at the very thought of what had nearly come to pass.
Despite what they had told her about her feelings for V, (whispers of Stockholm syndrome and the like) she couldn't help the sense that she had wholly let him (and something much greater) down. Of course with V there had always been uncertainties as well as an undercurrent of manipulation present. It simply couldn't be helped at this point.
V had shown her the world for what it truly was, and it had frightened her, in the end proving too much to handle. She put a stop to it before it could drive her mad. There was no way that a normal (sane) person could deal with all that had transpired between her and V within the last year. It was simply not possible. And yet V had, all those years ago. Then again, that just proved how insane he was.
She comforted herself in the end by blaming it all on him. Anyone else would have, right? There was no conspiracy. There was no totalitarian strangle hold inflicted by the government. They had, of course, encouraged these reasonings. Her initial thoughts were that they were trying to cover they're asses before she had a chance to back out. At this point, though, she was in too far. It was no small wonder that she wasn't dead. Not yet anyway, they still needed her.
They had asked one thing of Evey; to "prove her loyalty to her nation". What bullshit. They wanted her to do this for V's sake, not hers. For all the things going on in that head of his, she was sure he wasn't beyond such sociological tortures like finding his end at the hands of his pet 'partner in crime'.
V wasn't above murder. Hell, he had admitted it to her while sitting on a plush sofa watching the eleven o'clock news with her. It had felt so surreal at the time, now that she reflected back on it. She decided that she too could kill. There was no God anyway, no divine being could hate his children this much to allow such twisted, mutilated destruction. And if there was a God, well, fate had damned her long ago.
"Miss Hammond." A burly guard stepped forward holding the door open for her to proceed through. "It's time. If you would, please step this way."
Rising gingerly from her seat, Evey felt numb as she followed the guard. It felt as if she wasn't even there and that all of this was just some kind of sick joke. Pushing back a wave of nausea, she proceeded down several winding hallways. The vision of bald prisoners in orange jumpsuits rose like ghosts to the forefront of her mind, making her shutter.
When they finally made it to the cell the guard turned to her, addressing her with steely eyes. He swiftly unlocked the door before them and handed her a small hand gun. "Don't take too long." He warned in a gruff voice.
Everything in her screamed to run, and deny that this was really happening. In a voice that, no doubt, surprised even the guard with its calm conviction Evey said "I won't" and promptly took the gun from his hand. She hurriedly moved through the doorway to escape his glare. That is, until she realized how much worst it was to be inside this cell.
The lone occupant of the room looked up as Evey entered. Her own eyes fluttered to the floor out of shame and partly to respect the man's privacy. Sure almost everyone in the compound had seen V's face at this point, but she wouldn't. She had no right to.
"Evey." His voice trailed softly, not out of wonder or confusion, as one would expect, but with an air of grim acceptance. It was almost as if this was a rerun of some bad television soap opera and V was only reciting the lines out of boredom.
"V." She greeted, staring down at her feet. She hated that her voice sounded so small as it echoed though the room.
"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. I had hoped that you were different." V's voice was as cryptic and flippant as ever. Evey like to think that it was the voice of someone who asks a question only because he wanted to hear your take on the answer. She hated to admit it, but, she would miss that voice.
"Don't spew that rubbish at me." She bit back through clenched teeth, focusing on the dirty floor still.
"You don't think its rubbish, do you?"
"Everything you've ever said to me was a lie!"
"Is that what you truly believe or is that what they've been force feeding you?" V's voice held barely concealed scorn.
"Don't give me that! You used me V! You made me do horrible things." He voice was wavering now. It was pointless to try and hide it.
"You asked to help me. Volunteered yourse-."
"Can't you hear yourself? Do you know how horrible that sounds? Christ V, I was only sixteen!" Evey cried out in desperation. For a millisecond her eyes had flashed upwards to the dark figure in the room before she remembered her self-appointed place.
"You're scared." Evey was confused by the thinly veiled surprise in V's voice. "You're scared, Evey. And this time you must realize, I can't save you from your mistakes."
A pounding on the door interrupted them before Evey could supply a retort. "Hurry up Miss. Don't make us come in there." The gruff voice of the guard sounded through the heavy door.
"I'm sorry it had to end like this V." She sighed; her vision became blurry as she rapidly blinked back tears.
"I'm sorry to, Evey. I've not only failed you, I've failed this nation and all hopes of revolution." He paused before slowly continuing. "I can only hope that in the end you will come to your senses and do what's right."
At this point she didn't bother to deny what he said. "I'm so sorry." She choked out. Her eyes finally wandering to his face, her vision too obscured by tears at this point to be able to distinguish any features.
Pounding at the door. "Hurry it up in there!"
The hand gun was raised by shaking hands. The barrel aimed at the blurry face.
"So sorry." A whisper.
"Don't justify your reasoning to me Evey. If this is what you feel must be done…"
The shot rang for minutes after the trigger had been pulled.
Outside, on the streets on London that night, it began to rain.