Doing Your Favours, a v for vendetta fanfic

Disclaimer: As always, they're not mine and never will be. These characters and places belong to Alan Moore, DC Comics, Wachowski brothers, and Warner Bros.

Author's Note: This is one story of many (over 100) that are written in a timeline format. Not all of these stories have been posted on this site yet (some of them -- rated for adults only -- will never be posted to this site), but all of my stories -- including those not posted here yet -- have been posted on my aol website. Just click on my username for more information on how to get to my homepage, or do a search on PEAhopeless V for Vendetta Fan Fiction on the internet.

Special notes: The "Don't Panic!" reference is from "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", as is another reference below.

This story has accompanying artwork. To view them, visit my aol homepage and click on, "Doing Your Favours".

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Doing Your Favours

7:13am, and Evey was standing in her bedroom, trying to complete the daily chore of deciding what to wear. It was, probably, the one down side to her government position. -- -- She missed the days of denim and simple cotton.

Wrapped in a robe and so freshly showered that her hair was still damp, she sighed to herself, narrowing her choices down to two suits. Black, or auburn? Which would be more appropriate for a meeting with the Korean ambassador?

Black, she decided with a sly smile. She liked black.

Digging into the wardrobe, she was just lifting the hanger when an odd sound came from somewhere behind her. ... ...

'Tap tap tap' ... 'tap'.

Her brow lowering, she turned, glancing around the room. Nothing was out of place though, and for a moment, she wrote it off to an expansion of the heating pipes. Autumn was in full swing, and the mornings had become chilly.

Returning to her task, she did manage to get the suit entirely free this time, before the sound repeated. ... ...

'Tap tap tap' ... 'tap'.

... ... Again she turned, dropping the garment on her bed, this time taking a much more thorough survey of the room. Far too regular to be the pipes, the sound actually sounded more like glass. -- -- Like metal on glass.

In truth, it actually sounded like it came from the window.

It was, of course, with obvious trepidation that she moved toward the glass pane. Maybe a bird? But why twice? There was a fire escape out there, and that was a little more worrisome. That was exactly why she'd always kept that window properly locked. Fate did seem to be on her side lately, but there was no point in tempting it.

Cautiously, she moved closer ... step by step ... ... until she finally saw something black.

Solid black.

The top of a hat she recognized.

Undoing the locks, she opened the window to find a Fawkesian mask tilting up to greet her.

"Is this a new form of hide and seek?" she quipped, leaning on the ledge as she smiled at her crouching beau.

"Good morning, Evey," he replied politely. "I apologize for such a dubious appearance, but I only wanted to observe a certain level of social propriety. Your light was on, and ... ... I thought it best if I remained out of sight, on the chance that you were not properly dressed yet."

Evey pulled the lapels of her robe a little tighter -- -- just as much against the cool air, as against V's presence. "Don't worry, I'm decent. Just surprised that you came all this way to find out."

V suppressed his chuckle and shook his head. "I only come bearing a message. If you should drop by the Gallery tonight," ... ... he paused ... that didn't sound too overtly hopeful, did it? ... ... "I may be absent until a bit later in the evening. I have an errand or two that require my attention. So you're not to worry if you would find the residence unoccupied."

... ... Obviously, Evey's first temptation was to ask exactly what errands he had in mind. On second thought however, maybe she didn't want to know. -- -- She was trying to reduce her worries, not add to them. Besides, there was something much more interesting to address here.

"So you came all the way here, just in case I would go all the way there?" she concluded, trying not to sound too facetious -- -- and trying very hard not to laugh. "All this way for that. You know, a simple note might have worked."

"The written word lacks a certain personal flair," he announced, trying to save the moment and failing miserably. -- -- The lady was already nodding in implication. His was an interesting excuse, coming from Shakespeare's greatest fan.

"Well you'd better come in," she coaxed playfully, taking his hand to solidify her invitation.

"Are you certain?" he asked with a bit of surprise. "You appear to be dressing for the day."

"How long do you think it'll take someone to notice a man in a cloak hanging around my fire escape?" she laughed, tugging on him again. "Come on. Climb in."

V did as she asked, while still continuing his well rationalized explanation. ... "We've only two days until All Hallow's Eve, and a mere week until the Fifth. You know as well as I, others like me already walk the streets."

"V," she smiled, once he was standing in her bedroom. "I don't think there's anyone else like you out there."

Her beau laughed lightly, then closed the window before too much cool air could follow him inside. "I mean in this apparel, of course. I shall have mirror images in abundance for the next few days."

... ... Evey's hand caught his arm and she leaned closer to assure, "I'll still be able to pick you out though. Just watch me."

And she was positive ... utterly positive ... that the grin behind the mask matched the grin atop, when his fingers curved around hers and he replied, "It would surprise me not one bit. And I must shamefully admit, you need never urge me to 'watch you'."

Evey laughed. "Well you can watch me to your heart's content in a little while. Just let me get dressed first. You know the way to the sitting room, right?"

V's head bowed slightly. Yes, he did indeed know the route, although his previous visits had all been in the darkness of her absence.

"There's nothing wrong with that," she added softly, noting the tinge of apology in his demeanor. ... ... "I like it."

And this time, the bow of his head spoke much more of polite acceptance. "Then I shall wait in your sitting room, my dear," he replied, giving her fingers one last squeeze.

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Evey's flat was soon to become quite a popular locale, if that morning was any indication. A scant few minutes later the doorbell rang, surprising V and frustrating Evey.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, grabbing for her robe again. And soon she was hustling through the sitting room, straight past V. He had removed his hat and cloak, and was already making a get-away to her kitchen.

One glance over her shoulder to ensure that he was safely out of view -- only his hat and cloak lying innocently on a chair -- and she opened the door.

"Oh, good morning Malcolm," she greeted politely.

In the hallway stood a young man -- just on the cusp of his early twenties -- beaming in a way that seemed far too happy for so early in the morning. In one hand, he carried a portable disc player, and in the other, a duffel bag. Dressed in jeans and an open leather jacket, he also sported a t-shirt that insisted, in quite bold letters, 'Don't Panic!'.

"Hey Ms. Hammond. I got it working," he announced proudly, holding up the electronic player. "Told ya I could."

"Really? Great!" she replied, taking it from his hands.

"Yeah, it wasn't that bad, actually. Only took a few minutes. I just wanted to drop it by because I didn't know if I'd catch you later tonight."

In the kitchen, a mask tilted at that sentence. 'Catch her later'? In the hours of night?

"Well, thank you," was Evey's sincere reply. "I appreciate it."

"Hey, no problem at all." ... The young man laughed modestly. ... "It's always handy to have a few tools under your belt and some tricks up your sleeve."

Then he paused, as if wondering if that sounded too brazen. "I mean, nothing's built the way it used to be. And I've always loved fiddling with this sort of thing."

This time, V shifted on his feet. Not so much at the visitor's possibly unfortunate choice of words. In fact, it was helping him to glean what might actually be going on. No, it was the sound of that laughter that brought the most discomfort. Why? Because, as embarrassing as it was to admit -- even to himself -- he'd heard the same titter from his own throat over the last few months. It was the laughter of the smitten.

"You have my number?" Malcolm asked. "I'll be happy to take a look at anything else you want. Nothing's too big or too small."

Evey nodded politely, trying to restrain her amusement over how similar this boy sounded to a rather desperate salesman. "Yep. I think it's still on the fridge."

"Great. Well I guess I better be going then, or I'll be late for ..." ... ... his voice trailed off and he peered over Evey's shoulder.

She turned to find V, just coming to a standstill in the kitchen doorway. What she needed to learn, above all else, was how silently and slyly that man could move.

"Hey there," Malcolm greeted, caught a bit off-guard. As if his carefully coordinated dialogue had suddenly been thrown off balance.

V said nothing, just bowed his head formally. At least his suspicions regarding the situation's true circumstances were now confirmed -- and with admitted relief -- when he saw the player that his lady cradled in her arms.

And Evey ... ... it was all she could do not to laugh.

"Oh, this is my cousin," she tried to explain, her finger motioning briefly toward the man in black. "He dropped by to try on his costume for Eve of the Fifth." ... ... Then she stopped, resisting the urge to ask V if it fit. The goal was to hide his identity, obviously. But Malcolm wasn't too much of a threat.

"Brilliant," their visitor replied, the relief evident in his demeanor -- presumably at the word 'cousin' -- -- which in turn only irritated V further. Then the young man tried for a most silly imitation. -- -- "Good evening, London!"

"Quite," V finally replied, in a voice so different from his traditional low resonance that it earned a surprised glance from Evey. "I gather thanks are in order for repairing my cousin's disc player?"

"Wasn't much," Malcolm replied modestly. "Just had to fix a broken solder joint."

"Did you inspect the solder connections for all of the appropriate circuit elements?" V asked. "Particularly around the signal processor, decoder input, bias stabilizer, and PNP transistors?"

"Oh ... ... uh ... ... no," the young man replied. Then he looked at Evey to add, "But I'll be glad to help if it happens again."

And V's answer was immediate. ... "I'm sure you will," ... a strange mix of sarcasm and knowing implication.

"Yeah, well," Malcolm recovered, "I don't want to be late." He gave Evey a smile that wasn't quite as beaming as the one he'd arrived with, but was hopeful nonetheless. "Just let me know, Ms. Hammond, if you need anything else."

"Thank you again, Malcolm," she replied -- wanting to leave the young man with at least her own sincere words of gratitude -- then waved one hand in farewell and closed the door behind him.

"You're jealous," she announced with the utmost amusement. The disc player was deposited on a nearby table ... she couldn't even be bothered to try it out at the moment.

V had fully expected the accusation, and his answer was at the ready. ... ... "Over what, pray tell, might your cousin possibly be jealous?"

Well, it earned her laughter if nothing else. "Look, if you want to keep your presence hidden," she countered, "then I can hardly be seen hosting someone wearing a V costume, in my flat, at all hours of the day and night. You'll recall I had quite a reputation with you before the revolution. Afterward too. I'm only trying to keep people off your trail."

He nodded, at least trying to convey some form of agreement. She was approaching, and the smile on her face clearly proved she'd already claimed some sort of victory.

"You're being silly, V. You do know that, don't you? What he was late for was University. And it all started only because his mother and I were chatting about how fast everything breaks these days. ... He's just a star-struck boy." She'd reached her beau by then, taking his hand for a squeeze. "What can I say? He's enamoured by my famous personae, that's all."

... ... The masked man shook his head slowly, then spoke in frustration. "The boy is not the issue. The issue is that I am not a Bugblatter Beast of Trall."

"A what?" Evey laughed out loud. "Are you using that fake voice again?"

"Tis a cultural reference, Evey. The boy's shirt. My point is that just because others cannot see me, does not mean that I cannot see them. I am aware of the heads you have turned since the events of two years ago."

... ... His voice dropped with helpless affection, his other hand capturing hers as well. ... "I do know how you draw the eye, Evey. I know that from the most personal experience. And while I cannot blame others for seeing the same, it is not something I enjoy. Adrian was but one example. This young lad, another."

"V," she sighed remorsefully. She'd been kidding. Or at least she thought she had. ... ... "I've told you about Adrian. The only reason I let him circle me was to keep away the even worse ones. And if you really were watching, like you keep saying, then you know I'm not one to go around granting encouragement. Including Malcolm there. He was doing me a favour. Nothing more. And all he received was a polite thank you."

... ... "That, and the satisfaction of helping you," V replied. ... ... "I am not star-struck, love. I was enamoured before you had a personae. ... Perhaps it is I who should be doing your favours."

Evey's eyes scanned back forth across a mask that revealed so little. The real entreaty was to be found in his voice ... in the modest dip of his head toward hers ... in the squeeze of his fingers.

It was one of those surreal moments. In a matter of only days, it would be three years since this man had first entered her life -- -- as a dark, avenging angel, down in the dangerous shadows of London's alleyways. And two years, since he'd first departed -- -- that heart shattering moment when she had believed him dead.

But now here he stood. In her flat.

In her flat.

Still a mystery in so many ways, but making such a simple, hopeful ... normal request. The real man behind that mask.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, a smile growing on her face. -- -- A smile not nearly as large or plastic as the one she'd given Malcolm, but meaning so very much more as a result.

One hand wiggled out of his and she reached for the lapels of her robe. "I need to get changed, but I do have something you can work on, if you'd like. I know you're good at computers."

V tried to keep his amused snort from sounding too prideful. "I have been known to build a few. As well as break into a few."

"I don't need a hacker," she assured humorously. Yes, she could just imagine the ramifications for her position, if her computer was suddenly seen hacking into every government log out there. "I just need it to link up for longer than ten minutes at a time. It keeps dropping the connection."

... ... His head tilted in accommodation, although his gaze held hers for another moment. And when he finally looked to the side, he noted her computer ... a red "V" within a circle, floated about on the idle screen. How could he not smile, and how could he have not noticed that before?

Taking a seat, he shook the mouse ... a password box popping onto the screen. As tempting as it was to test his skill at cracking it, he waited until his beloved walked up behind him. And it was worth it, when her arms came around each side of his neck, her fingers landing on the keyboard to type the password.

She typed slowly, so that he could memorize it just by watching.

"Six, one, one, 'H', 'A'," he repeated, then fell silent. -- -- Not to unscramble the characters, but to digest them. When he spoke again, it was in a voice he could barely sustain. ... ... "You refer to the date."

Her arms draped down around his shoulders and chest, her face moving in beside the mask. "June eleventh," she confirmed. "The day I found the second Shadow Gallery."

"And the 'H', 'A'?" he queried softly.

Evey's answer was accompanied by the press of her nose to Fawkes's cheek, ending in a kiss. "It stands for 'he's alive'. ... ... I remind myself daily."

One gloved hand rose to curve gently around her head, holding her fast as she blessed the mask with yet another kiss. ... ... "I too give thanks for that day, love," he hushed. "For so very much since then. Even for the simple ability to alight on your fire escape, and find you within."

"I'm glad you came this morning, V," she spoke sincerely. "And not for the warning about tonight, or the computer, or any other favours you want to do. ... ... I'm just glad you're here, period."

So hard did she squeeze him on her final words, that he could never misunderstand. Indeed, his hands wrapped around her wrists, pressing on his own embrace through his fingers alone.

"Nevertheless," ... he swallowed, trying to maintain his composure ... "I do intend to repair your computer. But I believe I would prefer to leave the password as is."

"Good," she whispered, then gave the mask one more press of her lips. And to his dismay or not, she finally rose and slowly stepped away ... her touch drifting off of him like the brush of silk.

It was not to her bedroom that she went though, catching her beau's attention as a result ... ... or whatever amount of attention he could offer, staring as he was at those five asterisks that represented such a captivating password. "Do you not wish to dress?" he asked.

Evey shook her head in the negative, giving him that little smile again ... the one he knew was his. "In a minute. I want to get that phone number off my fridge first."

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This story has accompanying artwork. To view them, visit my aol homepage and click on, "Doing Your Favours".