Rating: NC-17

Summary: Direct sequel to 'Voracious.' Different versions of events can be bad.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine. Do not sue. Or I will cry.

'That's evidently his version of the affairs - the version he would have given if you had been drowned and inquiries were ever made; the version he would have sworn his crew to if they discovered the truth.'

- Erskine Childers

In the days following what Evey privately called, 'The Mask Incident,' V avoided her. Completely. In fact, it was beyond mere avoidance; V had taken the word to the next level. He might as well not have been in the Gallery at all.

Evey continued to find food laid out in the kitchen - V's twisted insistence in being a host had not changed at all. But she no longer heard him in his workshop, no longer glimpsed him entering or exiting the Shadow Gallery on what he would humorously call, 'errands.' She couldn't even tell whether he was even in the Gallery most of the time. As far as she could tell, the door to his bedroom had not been opened since she had slammed it shut behind her. Evey didn't try to open it. She couldn't tell which would be more heartbreaking: finding the door locked, or finding it unlocked.

That night - that insane, desperate, crystal-clear night - had changed everything. It kept hitting Evey at odd moments. V had apparently hidden every mask in the Gallery at some point while she slept - a statement in itself, she supposed. Since V could not solve the problem she posed, it seemed he would simply erase all signs of the incident. He was trying to pretend it had never happened. It hurt her.

Sometimes Evey would be walking through the Gallery, freeze mid-step, and say to herself, 'I had sex with V.' It seemed like a lie. It seemed like a dream. It seemed like the film had been distorted and warped at some point, and now only the negatives were of any use.

Could it have really been him? Had she really had him inside her? Had he ever been human enough for such a union to occur? V was so controlled, so unflappable. He had tortured her without a second thought. Was that really him who had shuddered at her touch and cried out in the darkness? Who had that been? If she focused on the past, Evey managed to hide the present pain, at least for a moment.

V was very busy. He had been very busy for several days. He intended on being busy for many more. He had to keep busy. There was no other option. If he stopped his manic work, if he lost the breakneck velocity that drove him, his mind would boomerang back to that night with Evey. And once that started, he could spend literally hours staring at nothing, trying to reassemble that night into something he could understand. And every time, the pieces invariably failed to fit.

He spent most of his time in the tunnels, working on the train. This was a good activity. It was necessary, of course. If he didn't stay completely focused, he could ruin everything. Not to mention blow himself out of what was left of London, but that wasn't nearly as disconcerting a thought as the failure of his goal. He was sure this would keep him mind occupied. But the thoughts kept creeping back.

He had allowed himself to think of that night once. He had called what happened need. Ideas needed. They needed people to believe in them. They needed to be heard. Need was understandable. Need could not be avoided. It was an unsavory admission, but perfectly logical. He could not call it want.

People wanted. Want led to weakness, and now was not the time to succumb. Twenty years of planning and suffering thrown away for mad grapplings in the darkness. Throwing away what he and Valerie and the people of London had gone through, just to lose himself in Evey.

It was unthinkable. Equally unfathomable was the idea of the event reoccurring. Never again could so many factors fall into place. Having it happen at all had managed to permanently damage his previously unshakeable world-view. He didn't think he could survive her again. So he worked on his train, and he prepared for the Fifth. And he didn't think about Evey.

Evey found herself spending hours in the training room. Touching V had broken the shell of numbness surrounding her body. She was now shockingly aware of her own physical presence. Her mind was too frayed to focus on books or films; they were all shadows of V. So more often than not, her wanderings led her to the training room.

After weeks of stagnation and inertia, Evey pushed herself as far as possible. She could spend hours assaulting a punching bag, until her arms were too weak to even hold up a book. It was a form of torture, but torture was a familiar concept to Evey. If Evey worked hard enough, for long enough, she would be so exhausted that she could fall asleep without dreaming of V.

It had been this way for days. The Gallery seemed to be closing in around Evey; there wasn't enough room. Even when V wasn't there, he was. The whole situation was exacerbated by the fact that Evey couldn't tell when V was in the Gallery, or when she was simply imagining him. He was drowning her and killing her, damaging her far more than he ever had in that cell. She needed to leave.

Maybe it was her urge to flee. Maybe she was too distracted. Perhaps she had finally pushed her muscles too far. Whatever the cause, while lifting weights, Evey wrenched her back. She bit back a scream, waiting for the pain to pass. It didn't. Cursing herself wildly, she carefully tilted her head and arm in an attempt to alleviate the pain. Only by holding her left arm away from her body and tilting her head to the right until her cheek nearly touched her shoulder could she move without fear of blacking out.

Hobbling down the hallway of the Gallery like some sort of demented clown, Evey tried to sit down on her bed. Pain shot through her shoulder and spine, and she struggled back to her feet. She couldn't keep wandering; her back needed to settle. After awkwardly pondering her options, she finally settled down on the couch in front of the telly. The good news was that the discomfort in her back lessened considerably. The bad news was, she was now unable to get up. Cursing once more, Evey lifted up the remote with her good arm and waited for the pain to pass.

Three hours later, V decided it was time to make a brief return to the Gallery. He could prepare a meal for Evey and fetch some food for himself, to eat down in the tunnels. He also needed to pick up more supplies from his workshop, and the lab. At that time of day, Evey was invariably in the training room.

No thoughts or emotions followed that logic. It was a simple statement of fact. If she was in the gym, he would not have to see her. If he did not have to see her, they could not talk. They could continue passing each other like ships in the night until the Fifth. It would certainly make things easier for him.

So sure of his own reasoning, V was badly startled when he found Evey on the couch. It had been so quiet in the Gallery that he had wondered if perhaps Evey had fallen asleep from working so hard. So seeing her nestled on the couch with her head and arm held out at comical angles required nearly half a minute to process. A glance at the television explained why that hadn't warned him with its noise: she had muted the volume.

Evey had been watching cartoons for nearly three hours. She kept wondering how many brain cells she had lost in the process. When V appeared in front of her, she nearly wrenched her back all over again. As it was, she merely jerked enough to cause a brief bout of violent pain.

'Don't laugh,' she warned him testily. V continued to stare. After a moment, he titled his head in imitation of Evey's position, lifting his arm as well.

'Is there some advantage to watching television at such an angle?' he asked politely. V couldn't believe this. He had slept with this person. He had been devastatingly vulnerable with her. He loved her. And now, in their first post-coital conversation, they were discussing methods for watching the telly. Evey, for her part, remained remarkably composed.

'I pulled something in the training room. This is the only way I don't feel like puking from the pain. Plus I don't think I can get off the couch anyway,' she explained. V nodded as if this made perfect sense. He moved a few steps closer, lowering his head slightly.

'You are in pain,' he pointed out quietly. 'May I be of assistance?' Truth be told, V wanted to turn and run back to the tunnels. Even being this close to her was painful. But he could read the suffering on her face. And if he could do anything to ease her pain, he would ignore his own discomfort.

'If you have any ideas, sure.' Evey snorted, then winced. 'I'd love to be able to move my arm again. I miss it.' V smiled behind the mask.

'I can imagine,' he replied. V cautiously sat beside her, attentive to the slightest hint that she was repulsed. Of course, if she did display any disgust, V was fairly certain the last human piece of him would kill itself. She made no move. V examined her tensed position.

'If you could move forward slightly, please.' Evey grunted at the request, but obediently made the attempt. By twisting her hips slowly and holding her shoulders erect, she managed to inch forward enough for V to see her back. Even through her baggy T-shirt, V noted how tense the muscles were in her back. He had a sudden mad urge to press his mask between her shoulder blades.

Evey was relieved when V moved behind her. The mask was gone from her field of vision. Having gone several days without seeing it had allowed for her own form of denial. But now it was there. It was real. She had worn a mask. She had slept with him. Everything was static.

'May I... inspect your injury?' V's hesitant question brought Evey back to the present. For V, the situation was becoming increasingly surreal. After - there was now only before and after, when it came to them - after, he needed permission to touch her. Evey found the question sad.

'Yes,' she said shortly. After a moment, she felt leather-clad fingers pressing carefully against the area in question. Evey bit her lower lip. But V apparently felt the added tension, because he eased off. Evey tried desperately not to enjoy the feel of his hands on her back, even through two layers of clothing. Far too soon, V sat back.

'I am pleased to say that nothing is seriously damaged. You simply managed to pull several major muscles at once.' V was focusing on his breathing. It was vital that he focus on something other than her.

'That's comforting. So I just have to wait this out? I can't even get off the couch!' V paused after her outburst. His next suggestion was incredibly carefully worded.

"Massaging the area thoroughly would drastically increase your mobility and reduce the discomfort,' he said, trying to assume a detached, clinical air. Evey, however, misunderstood his advice.

'Well, I can't exactly reach it V. Unless I pull my other arm all out of sorts.' Now it was her turn to hesitate. 'I know you've been busy, but would you mind? It really hurts.' There was a long pause between her question and his answer.

'No. I don't mind.' V decided that there were more words to be said, but none he was willing to express. Part of him was analyzing whether or not her allusion to how busy he had been was sarcastic or not. The rest of him was trying not to lose control. He reached out his hands, then stopped. With great reluctance, he spoke again. 'I'll need to have you remove your shirt.'

If Evey could have moved, she would have twisted around to glare at him. As it was, she couldn't even see him. Perhaps that was why he had chosen that particular angle.

'V, you do remember that I can't move, right?' The words sounded sharper than she had meant them. Behind her, she felt V shift uncomfortably on the couch. Hoping to make amends, she quickly added, 'You can just cut it off.' Now it was V who wished he could see her face. Mainly he was glad she couldn't see his jaw drop.

'Are you certain?' Evey smiled thinly.

'I have more than one.' The couch shifted as V rose to fetch a knife. Evey waited, wondering when her heart had started racing. When he finally sat down behind her, she jumped, then winced.

'I'm sorry. I did not mean to startle you.' V carefully raised the knife, and cut smoothly through the side of Evey's shirt. It was worn enough that the knife slid through it easily. V felt a wave of relief rush over him as a bra strap was revealed. The idea of Evey naked before him was too much to handle.

With a few deft twists of the blade, Evey was shirtless. She shivered briefly. V quickly set the ruined pieces aside. Taking a deep breath, he carefully pulled her to her feet. Then he picked up a large pillow and placed it on the ground.

'Can you lie down?' Evey clumsily knelt, with V watching her in case she should lose her balance. Using her good arm, she finally lowered herself to the ground, her face pressed into the pillow.

'Good. I'm going to put my hands on the back of your neck now.' Crossing his legs, V gracefully sank to the floor beside her, making sure she was facing the other direction. Evey felt long, strong fingers begin to rub and prod the tender muscles along the back of her neck, and nearly groaned in response.

V couldn't help but feel pleased at the way she relaxed under his touch. He probed the tense muscles, careful not to cause undue pain.

'I'm going to work your shoulders a bit.' His hands slid down and he placed slightly more pressure upon them coaxing the knots out of her back. When Evey spoke, it was muffled by the pillow.

'You don't need to tell me every single thing you're doing.' She'd meant it as a joke. It didn't sound like one. V's hands paused for a moment, then continued working.

'Yes, I'm rather afraid I do.' He didn't elaborate. Evey felt her protesting muscles begin to respond. She knew him. She knew his hands. If nothing else, Evey Hammond knew V's hands.

'Your gloves,' she murmured, cautiously turning her neck so as to breathe more easily. She was delighted to find that she could.

'Pardon me?' V asked. He was lost in the simple joy of touching her, while at the same time mentally berating himself for feeling anything at all.

'Your gloves. Why are your gloves on?' V brushed the hair of the wig from his eyes.

'I'm... I'm going to straddle your back now, Evey, so as to have a better reach.' It certainly sounded plausible. And on one level, he was telling the truth. She made no movement or comment until he had carefully settled on the small of her back, mindful not to crush her. Evey waited until his hands had started up again.

'Why are your gloves on?' she repeated. V's answer was short and succinct.

'The texture is less abrasive.' He didn't elaborate. He didn't have to. And Evey wanted... well, she wanted a lot of things. But despite her own discomfort, and the kindness he was now doing her, Evey was beginning to get annoyed.

'I know what your hands feel like, V,' she stated flatly, obviously in her own opinion. She felt V's hands trace along her spine, and shivered from something other than the cold.

'I am aware,' he responded mildly. Evey snorted, loudly enough to make him look up at the back of her shaved head.

'You're acting like you're not aware.' V shrugged. Then, realizing she couldn't see such a gesture, he put more pressure into the massage.

'Awareness is entirely subjective.' Evey's sigh moved her whole body. V felt the slight shift, and fiercely ordered his own body not to respond.

'I hate it when you do that, you know. Don't change the subject.' Evey was by this point enjoying the massage too much to sound particularly irritated. Despite his earlier determination to explain his every move, V's hands were now roaming freely from her neck down to the small of her back, finding knots and pressure points and stroking the pain out of them.

'I'd prefer not to take off my gloves,' he conceded.

'Why not?' Evey demanded. The question made him stop, searching for an answer that would satisfy her without implicating him.

'It would be awkward.' He was quite surprised when Evey began to laugh. Her mirth was short-lived, due to the pain it caused her. V quickly began a more intense massage on her shoulder, slowly pulling the arm into a relaxed state.

'You mean things could get any more awkward?' V was by now fully excited by all the contact with Evey, and praying to any higher power that might exist out there in oblivion that she not notice. So far, he had been lucky.

'So it would seem,' he murmured, his hands moving against her skin much more intimately than he would have preferred. Evey shifted under his hands; her arm reached back and lightly touched his knee. V tensed, but her fingers didn't move.

'You don't get to make the rules anymore,' she whispered. She kept remembering that night, that night, and the weight of his body and his scent were beginning to distract her from her anger.

'I know.'

'You say you know, but you're still trying to be the conductor. I won't play the notes if I don't want to.' V smiled faintly, touched by her choice of words.

'Perhaps that is what I intended,' he suggested lightly. When had his hands slid to her sides, his thumbs brushing lightly against the top of her sweatpants? He bent forward, the tip of his nose touching the base of her skull. Evey's nails dug into his knee.

'What do you want, V?' she asked softly. That snapped him out of his reverie. He pulled back quickly, and continued his work.

'Nothing,' he said shortly. Evey could almost hear the door being slammed as V closed himself off from her. What did she want? She wanted him, again. She hated him, hated that she wanted him. That only made her want stronger.

'I could argue that.' Her hand finally slid up a few inches to his thigh. He regarded it suspiciously.

'Yes, you could.' The silence descended between them. V took the base of Evey's skull between his hands. As carefully and precisely as possible, he cracked her neck, relieving much of the tension. Well, that tension.

'We're not going to talk about the other night, are we?' Evey suddenly blurted out. V's fingers slid down to hold her neck, caressing the skin. His voice was nearly inaudible.

'I'd prefer not to.' V's tendency for understatement had gotten a little out of hand. Evey thought a moment, as the leather of V's gloves moved over her shoulders and down her spine.

'Take off the gloves, and I'll drop it,' she bargained. Surprisingly, V chuckled.

'I highly doubt you'll be dropping anything.'

'Fair deal?' she insisted. V resisted the urge to sigh, knowing she would be able to feel it.

'The texture will be rougher,' he warned uselessly. Evey smirked, but said nothing. Reluctantly, V removed his gloves, carefully placing them on the ground beside them. Then, trying to convince himself of the inconsequentiality of such a gesture, he began kneading Evey's tender shoulder.

Evey wondered if the tension draining out of her was going directly into V. But as uncomfortable as he was, he had not stopped yet.

'Thank you. That's much better.' To show her approval, she arched slightly under his touch. She didn't find his hands rough at all; ridged and strong and gentle. But he wouldn't believe her, so she didn't bother. Behind her, V's hands began to drift again.

'I cannot understand why,' he murmured, watching as his hands traced circles along her smooth skin. His hands were the worst, save his face. The skin had healed strangely, most likely from St. Mary's. While the rest of his body resembled that of a regular burn victim, in V's mind his hands resembled a carcass.

'I don't believe you,' Evey said sharply. She could now twist her neck enough to glance up at him.

'No more lies, Evey.' She snorted at his words. V didn't mind; his hands were now caressing her sides in long, powerful strokes.

'Easier said than done.' Her words trailed off as V slid her sweatpants down, massaging the exposed skin. 'Is this a standard massage?' The joke came out flat.

'Hardly,' V answered. He pulled her pants down to her ankles. Evey moaned faintly at the loss of his body against hers. He settled down beside her, his hands now examining every bare inch of her legs. Evey cursed her decision to wear underwear.

'What are you doing, V?' Her voice was decidedly unsteady as his fingers crawled along the back of her thigh. Even behind the mask, she could sense his intense concentration.

'I'm no longer certain. Powers of judgment fluctuate drastically in certain situations.' Evey shifted closer to him. He didn't comment.

'Touching me is an uncertain situation?' V sighed, and his fingers picked delicately at the elastic of her underwear.

'Do not ask questions to which you already know the answers.' In one move, V yanked her underwear down. Evey carefully rolled to her side to face him. She was now only wearing a bra. V's head was tilted like he was ashamed.

'V-' Before Evey could say anything - but really, what could she say? - V had pulled her body tightly against his, careful of her injured shoulder. He was shaking slightly.

'Tell me to stop. I cannot refuse you now.' He was dangerously close to begging. Evey nuzzled along his neck, her hands gripping his arms.

'I don't want to stop. You don't want to stop.' V's hands rested just above her ass, stilling. He had not seen enough of her in the dark. He had not seen her face at all.

'I don't want anything,' he whispered, the words barely escaping the mask. He unhooked her bra. Evey's knee purposefully brushed his erection, and he gasped.

'I have hard evidence that says otherwise,' she grinned. As angry as she still was with him, she wanted him right then. At that point, Evey was willing to do anything to keep him with her.

'Your powers of perception never cease to amaze me,' V quipped.

'Then why are we still talking?' Evey reached between his legs. V easily caught her hand with his, and placed it on her hip. Then his hands moved away from her entirely, the mask moving up and down as he took in her body. They were close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off of his body, but not touching at all.

'I am bound by circumstances, Evey. There are debts that must be repaid. There is no one here, Evey. Why can you not accept this?' Evey heard the cracks in his voice. She placed her hand on his hip. This time, he didn't stop her.

'Because I need someone to blame. Because I think you're wrong.' V shook his head fiercely.

'You have taken a soulless mask and imposed your own ideas upon it.'

'Isn't that what you did?' she shot back, pressing her breasts firmly against his chest. V made a sharp hissing noise.

'I do recall I once had self control,' he said lightly. Evey was confused; except for her breasts and hand, their bodies were not touching at all.

'What does that have to do with-' Evey's last words ended in a shriek as V pushed two fingers deeply inside her. For a few moments, all she could do was buck against his hand, trying to accept what was happening. V growled, feeling how slick she was, and pushed the heel of his hand up into her. Evey now clung to him, struggling to get some kind of control over her own body.

'Evey,' V growled. She went for his pants, fumbling with his buckles. Gently, with his free hand, he stopped her. Evey let out a little cry of frustration. 'Evey,' he whispered again.

'Please, V,' Evey found herself begging, didn't care she was begging. She wanted to feel it again, feel him, like that night they had both tried to ignore. Even as his fingers moved further into her, she wanted more.

'I can't,' he rasped against her ear, his hot breath causing her to moan again, as his fingers massaged and teased deep inside her. 'Not again.'

'But-'

'Trust me Evey. If never again, trust me now.' She stopped her arguments. His free hand gripped her hips, as her body opened up to his touch. Her breath was coming in sharp, shallow pants, and a thin sheen of sweat covered her skin. She kept her eyes on the mask, refusing to lose sight of him. She was getting so close. But Evey began shaking her head fiercely and moaning.

'Not like this...' V added a third finger, causing an especially violent thrust from her now shaking hips.

'Yes,' he hissed, using his own hips to push his hand deeper.

'I need you inside me,' she insisted, even as her face contorted with pleasure.

'I am inside you,' V countered, shaking as he felt her body draw closer to the edge.

'Once more,' she stated with more coherence than he would have thought possible. She managed to undo his pants this time before he stopped her. Pressing the mask against her neck, her sweat causing the white face to shine he inhaled her scent.

'Shhh, Evey. Let me.' He couldn't, he needed to see her fall without losing himself. He had lost himself once before. His hand was grinding against her roughly, his hips moving in time with his hand. Evey was sobbing with frustration, her hands shaking as they dipped into his pants and found him, hard and hot against her sweaty palms.

V let out a noise that defied description. The sound was what did Evey in; a shot of arousal washed over her, and still gripping him, she shrieked as she came.

V watched Evey. Even as he panted and growled, he felt her clenching around him, saw her face as she cried out, watched her body as it shook against his own. Knowing he had done that - knowing he could do that - made some obscure, hidden part of him feel suddenly better. He could ignore his own body's frustration, as long as he could see what he had done to her.

When Evey opened her eyes again, the mask was watching her intently, and she still had his erection in her hands. Before he could say or do anything, Evey began stroking him. He didn't stop her, didn't say anything, didn't make any noise at all. Instead, he pressed the mask into her shoulder. She could feel his silent, shaky breath against her flushed skin.

His hands were holding her with a possessiveness she couldn't quite comprehend. His whole body was shuddering, but he hadn't made a noise. The silence was alarming to Evey. All she could hear was an occasional, sharp hiss of breath across her ear. When he came - even as his body moved against hers in a way that parodied that night - there was no sound. She held him until he finished, until the last few spasms had left his body. Evey needed him to say something.

V was unable to speak. He had, for the moment, lost that particular ability. As far as he was concerned, they could stay lying on the floor for ages. It would require years for him to reconcile this. It had happened again. Despite his earlier convictions, she had once again disproved his theory. She still wanted him. And he still needed her.

He let out a soft sigh as she gave his softening erection one last, light caress. He rolled away slightly, removing her hand so he could fasten his pants again. Evey watched him. She seemed perfectly content to lay naked on the floor. V sat up, and pulled on his gloves.

Evey realized, somewhat belatedly, that V wasn't going to speak. She sat up carefully, shocked that her shoulder no longer hurt. It was still decidedly tender, but the pain was entirely gone. She crossed her arms across her breasts, and regarded him as he finished adjusting his gloves.

'This has to stop, V,' Evey said softly. V nodded, still unable to look at her.

'Yes,' he agreed. He stared at his hands, then began to get up.

'I need to leave.' The words were out before she could stop them. V froze. Evey waited, wanting him to ask her to stay, wanting him to say something. Some proof, that she had not slept with a ghost.

V was stunned by her words. Of course he knew she should leave. He should have sent her on her own days ago. But he hadn't been able to, just yet. He had hoped - but no, ideas didn't hope.

'Yes. Yes, of course you do.' He sounded shocked, like the idea had never occurred to him. And, to be honest, he had always suspected that in the end she would simply disappear, or that he would unceremoniously abandon her somewhere outside the Gallery. But this was not how he had expected events to unfold.

'I want to leave,' Evey insisted. V nodded again. He seemed to be taking this so calmly. Like it didn't matter either way. Evey felt exposed, raw. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe there was no one sitting beside her. 'I want to leave,' she repeated angrily.

'I'm sure you do.' V was ashamed. Hearing how desperately she wanted to be gone brought the past events into sharp relief. Whatever had been happening had been wrong. Sick. He had debased her in a way he couldn't begin to comprehend. She had been confused and weak, and so had he. But he had started this performance, and he would be the one to finish it. The director does not act in his own plays.

Evey could hear the cracks in his voice. Perversely, they made her feel better. Whatever part of him was still human, she had managed to hurt it.

She pulled on her underwear and sweatpants; ignoring the ruined T-Shirt, she delicately slid her bra back on, gingerly closing it. V watched silently.

'I'll tell you when I'm going,' she said, in a colder tone than she thought she could manage. V nodded once.

'Thank you.' The quiet relief in his voice - relief over what? - infuriated her.

'Don't. Don't thank me. Not for this,' she practically spat at him. V looked at her, surprised. Then, he stood up.

'I wasn't,' he murmured helplessly. He couldn't ask her to stay. He hadn't the right; and anyway, it would make things infinitely easier on both of them. But at least she would tell him before she vanished. The idea of returning from his work and finding the Gallery empty twisted his guts. 'I wasn't, Evey. Not for that.'

'Then what?' she asked quietly, looking up at him from the floor. V couldn't begin to tell her. To thank her would be an admission of want and need and weakness and shame. He would have to confess everything. And frankly, there really weren't enough pieces of him left. He could never give her enough to balance out the scale.

'For seeing someone who isn't there.' Evey stared up at him. V turned, and walked back to the tunnels. He sat on the train, staring out into the darkness.