Disclaimer: The authoress does not own V for Vendetta, V, Evey, Dune, or anything else in the story that is the property of someone else, nor is she profiting monetarily from the creation of this story. All quotes are taken from the V for Vendetta IMDB website. The authoress promises to play very gently with Evey and V and put them back on the shelf when she is done.

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

~ Bene Gesserit litany against fear, Frank Herbert's Dune

It was both a blessing and a curse that Evey did not hear the crash! of the mirror shattering as her firm, confident footsteps took her out of his gallery.

It was both a blessing and a curse that she did not hear his sobs – sobs of remorse, shame, self-loathing.

And it was both a blessing and a curse that she did not come running back.

Striding down the sidewalk, Evey felt more fearless than she could ever remember. In her mind, she acknowledged that what V had done was twisted, cruel…and for her own good. She'd give him that one – somewhat resentfully, but she'd give it to him just the same. He had been right and she knew it.

That rightness, and the result of it, was reflected in the way she now carried herself. Before her (his?) little faux-prisoner stint, she had walked the way she suddenly noticed everyone else did – head down, eyes on the pavement, quick hurried steps. Nearly running. Running from the police, running from the spies, running from the tragedy of their everyday lives. But most of all, running from the fear – the fear of capture, of torture, of disappearing. No, not disappearing. Ceasing to exist. Yes, that was it. Every record, every trace of you gone, except in the minds of your loved ones. Perhaps they should find a way to erase those traces, too, thought Evey, as she remembered her long-dead family with a prickle of sadness.

No, she would not be sad. She would not be afraid either. She had been both for far too long. The person she had been before entering the Gallery was obliterated and could never be resurrected. Why would she ever want it to? For protection? No, she needed no protection, not from anyone. What should she fear? This government? Hardly. She saw now how weak and pathetic it was, how utterly devoid of any power to do anything to her that had not already been done. Or anything she could not withstand. In either case, the strength to make it through would be courtesy of V.

Pausing to rest on a stone bench, V's words rang in her head once more:

"You said you wanted to live without fear. I wish there'd been an easier way but there wasn't.…they put you in a cell and took everything they could take except your life, and you believed that was all there was, didn't you? The only thing you had left was your life but it wasn't, was it? You found something else. In that cell you found something that mattered more to you than life. It was when they threatened to kill you unless you gave them what they wanted. You told them you'd rather die. You faced your death, Evey. You were calm. You were still. Try to feel now what you felt then."

Evey felt it. Then. Now. Hopefully always. A life without fear. What a wonderful concept! She had no doubt that V's revolution would succeed, and she hoped this life-without-fear would follow in its tumultuous wake. She wanted – needed – the rest of the world to feel the lightness, the exhilaration, the courage, that she felt now. Then again, she supposed a little caution is always necessary, but there is a radical difference between cautious and paralyzed with fear, as the populace now was. And there was a difference between cautious and reckless. There was no need for recklessness, especially not now. If caution makes you disappear in days like this, recklessness would get you slaughtered.

Picking up her bag, Evey again began moving down the sidewalk. She had noticed that her previous manner of walking had attracted attention – it was odd to see someone walking tall – but she made no effort to change. I will not fear, she thought, brimming with determination and guile. She had learned a thing or two from V's many disguises and mysterious powers of acquisition; now it was her turn. Before her departure and while V wasn't looking (which was rare), she had managed to borrow some of his technology to devise a whole new identity for herself. She was most pleased with her name – Mercedes Viola Dantes. She felt the name appropriate – "Viola" in a nod to her own past in Twelfth Night, "Mercedes" and "Dantes" in a nod to V and his obsession with The Count of Monte Cristo. Why not tip her hat a little to the man who gave her a new life?

V. She felt a slight pang of guilt. Had she been too harsh with him? She didn't know. But she absolutely refused to go crawling back to the Gallery; it would do her no good. It was time to establish herself as an independent person. She would keep her promise to dance with him, though. She had grown to enjoy dancing to one of the many songs in the Gallery's jukebox, sometimes alone and sometimes with V as her dance partner.

Arriving at her destination, a hotel to rest for the night, she could not help but feel a wave of apprehension wash through her body. It was only natural, given that she was the second most wanted person in England at the moment. But if she had made it this far without being recognized, she could make it even further.

With a deep breath, she opened the door to the hotel and walked in.