I sat there.
There, in the dark, yet oh so loving Shadow Gallery. This place, this confined and secretive and sophisticated and cultured and dark and mysterious and beautiful and hopeful place, it became my home.
The flat above ground meant nothing. Yes, it was kept, but it had no meaning. This place, this home means everything. Currently it holds everything.
Again, my stomach churned, my veins were burning, eyes flooding, heart pounding, soul empty. Unbearable. That's the only word to describe this.
Behind me, the jukebox flowed, our song played. One tear slipped, then another, it was a soundless, emotionless flooding. There were no thunders, only the pouring rain droplets of tears and the clouds of my aching heart.
What else could I possibly do? Such a two sided question. What else could I do to hurt him, to save him, to keep him, or to rid myself of him? Was this selfish? Yes, selfish. I was so selfish. So damningly selfish. I had no right, but I did.
I was so damn selfish.
. . .
He left. Off to fight Creedy, to kill Creedy. I knew he wouldn't come back to me, but I wanted him to. Though it took a year exact to realize, because this very night we dance, the evening a year ago I met him, today, November 4, I knew I loved him. I loved the man. The idea seemed useless to me without the man.
My fists clutched, supporting my head. I was trying so hard not to let it all out. Then when it started to seep through, I heard it, his cape. V!
V lived! My eyes shot to the corner, and there he was, half dead but still alive like any other person. Hopping up, I sprinted. It seemed as if I couldn't get to him fast enough, no matter the literal seconds it took. I clutched onto him, his weight gave out, and I went down with him. Still if I were ever to fall, I would gladly and willingly do with him, this man I love.
Looking down, it was all over him, now on me. "We have to stop your bleeding!" My voice gave way, emotions flooding. I had to save him.
Much to my relief, but not for long, he spoke, "Oh please don't. I'm finished." Ten thousands tons loaded on my heart. He simply added, his voice airy and pain laced, "I'm glad of it."
I pleaded with him and Christ, "Don't say that."
"It's truth." Tears rolled down even more. In a funny way, I wanted to hit him. Hit him so damned hard!
Still, despite his pain, despite my agonizing heartache he continued, only adding more heartache, "I've thought of only this day, nothing else existed, until I saw you. And everything changed." His pause filled the air, I could tell he wasn't finished and I wanted him to. He must have heard my silent plea. "I fell in love with you Evey; when I had no longer believed I could."
I broke. There was nothing to pin back my tears, my emotions, my despair, and my ironical and most disdained joy.
"But I don't want you to die!" Again I pleaded.
"It's the most beautiful of things you could've ever given me." No. No, no, no! Please, V, don't do this to me! I love you! His body became heavy. This couldn't be happening.
"V? – V!" My heart was again ripped from my chest. I couldn't believe he asked that of me! Damn him! No, I took that back, damn me.
Though it wasn't even a second, my mind raced with thoughts. Self pity set in. I had nothing left. My parents, my brother, Gordon, all the reclamation kids, everyone was gone. Then this man took me, saved me, showed me, helped me, and cured me of fear. He was so selfish. This was his revolution, yes, but it was fueled, not by the people who needed it, but by him, he who wanted revenge. I did not blame him. I would have done the same.
I gulped … he was so selfish, again. This time he took away that last inch, he took away himself. He took away the last thing I had to hold onto. He had his revolution, he had me, but I only and solely had him. That was where I made the decision. Selfish things, humans, looking only for themselves and no one else. Fairness never existed, it could not. It would not exist now either.
It was far from fair for him to take my love, for him to die in it and for me to live without it. Not this time. All my life things were taken so easily! Not today. "I'm so sorry V. Please," my voice cracked, "Please, forgive me."
To work I went. I found a light pulse, it was a starter. As much as I knew I would regret this, not for me, but for him, I removed to armor plate, exposing his leotard. Pursing my lips I ripped out one of his knifes from the holster. I ripped the material from his chest. It was matted thick with blood. The smell wafted to my nose and I gagged. Stop Evey! He's dying!
That was my motivation. I kept working. I had to make sure the wounds were secured and wrapped properly. It took for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, I finished. V's breathing picked up, but he was still out like a light.
I had done no physical work, but I was just as sore and tired. Resting against the stone wall, I would get everything I wanted and I would make sure that damn train ran at midnight. That would be for him, a gift. This may not be his world anymore, but he was her world. No questions asked.
With heavy breaths I heard the chimes. Now, today, on this very day, November 5th, the revolution would take its part. This day will live in remembrance. The world will remember V. I would make sure of it. I pushed myself up. One-step, two steps, three, four, five, stumble, repeat. Still I made it to the leaver. I stared at the domino. With one hand I grabbed it, then I pulled the leaver.
Before the train had a second to move, more footsteps were made. With undefined, boundless hope I turned, almost falling with my velocity. I met only disappointment and even more worry.
I rushed to V's side, like some dog protecting its keeper.
Mr. Finch stared, wide eyed, gun in hand. "So this is him? V … Is he?" His concern was shocking, but reassuring, for now at least. With a gulp I answered him, "I-I … I don't know. Not at the moment, but that's far from ever being beneficial."
My hand went over my mouth and my eyes went to V. Please …
Mr. Finch put down his gun; it went to the floor with a muffled clank. I stared at him, wonderment passing through. What was he doing? The man pulled off his jacket, lying it over my love's chest. "We have to move him, I can treat him." I blinked, mortified yet grateful. I just nodded.
"Of-of course!" I helped Mr. Finch pick up my beloved. V was so heavy. Mr. Finch grunted, but paid no mind to the weight.
While we moved, I asked him, "Can I trust you?"
His strangled face looked at me, but nodded all the same. "You can Ms. Hammond. He was right. I have no reason to turn my back on you, I would be most honored to help in this new w-world." I nodded. For now, I had no choice but to trust him, I needed him to treat V.
We made it to the Shadow Gallery. Finch laid him on the couch and we started panicking for any medical supplies. Apparently, V was stocked full with them. As soon as everything was gathered, he went to work. I pleaded with him to avoid V's skin and the image of it. He will be so mad at me, I know he will, I want him to be, as long as it meant he would be alive, he could hate me.
For a while, I watched Mr. Finch, Eric as he instructed me to call him, was pulling out the bullets. It was all I could do to sob, but I refused to tear my eyes away. He worked diligently. I shook my head, knowing the only thing I could do was wait.
I went to make tea.
. . .
Right now, I was watching V. He had been out for three days. Eric would come by at least twice a day to check on him, but I was always so scarred for him. I needed V.
V was on his chaise lounge. It had been only half an hour since Eric left; I sent my plans for the revolution with him as well. He was working for me now, temporarily at least. Lord blessed me with such a good friend.
My eyes fell on V. His wound were bandaged, but only under his normal tunic and trousers. I refused to let Eric see his burns other then when he pulled out the bullets. I insisted on all the dressing changes, he only distributed the medicine and checked V's vital signs. The report he had given me this morning brought so much hope and yet so much nervousness and hard anxiety. He told me that everything was close to normal, almost perfect, but I figured as much. He also said that surely, my love would awake today. That brought a pitfall to my stomach.
Furious, V would be furious, but like his own vow, I would be truthful. I would save him of his embarrassment of burns from Eric, but I had seen them. V had been wrong, I was not horrified, I was not disgusted, and I was not judgmental. How could I be? I could never judge such a great man. In fact, I admired them. They told his story, how he fell and conquered all. I loved him even more. There was just one thing, I never revealed. To this very day, he wore the tattered mask with indents and black streaks all across it. I never would reveal his face unless he wanted me to. As much as I know I will plead with him one day to let me see his face, as much as I know, he will refuse and I will beg and he will give in and it will be the moment that can make and break our lives together, but it will surely only bring us closer and deeper in love.
I sighed.
Such a thought of love. Love indeed. It reminded me of Edgar Allen Poe's work. A love like no other. Indeed, that was what we shall always have.
Thinking of my future life with this man put me at ease. My worries subsided, I became anxious for him to wake up, but my weariness was catching up. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep against his bedroom wall where I had sat for the past few days. Obviously, it was not comfortable, but still I had to keep close watch, just incase. There was also a cup of tea and a pile of books that had been keeping me fine company.
"Hmmm," it came from my lips, a slight farewell to V and the Shadow Gallery until I wake again. Closing my eyes, I slumped against the pile of pillows and blankets I had arranged in the room.
Guy Fawkes twitched to the left, then to the right. A pair of eyes could see again.
V looked up, not sure of where he was, he felt groggy, his eyes laced with a slight film of goo. Was he in Heaven? On the other hand, was this Hell? He had yet to make the decision of where he had been sent. However, he admitted to himself that he felt much, much better since he could last feel.
A slight groan, so weak, it didn't even sound through the room. With a little more effort, his vision cleared, his extraordinary and advanced physique working to great advantage. Scooting back only a little, V was proper up on the large pillows he now noticed behind him.
"What the…?" Behind the mask, the face behind the mask looked bewildered. Surely this was not the Hell he deserved, but nor was it the wonders of Heaven.
A gloved hand went to his forehead, not paying attention that the tiny leather garment was looser then his personal preference. Even his hand felt so heavy … The feeling almost became unbearable, such helplessness. Then again, he knew, or at least thought, he was dead. That meant no matter what, he was helpless.
A breath that he didn't know that he had been holding was set free as the hand went back beside him with an effortless thud. V took a few more breaths, relaxing into the bed. He still could not decide whether this was Heaven, Hell, or a form of Purgatory. Looking to his left he noticed books and several other familiar items, then in front, behind and to the right. It didn't take the ingenious V to figure out that this was no mere form of celestial residence, but simply his room in the Gallery.
Nothing was making sense, or maybe this was a deity's form of punishment, confining him to his room for the rest of eternity. Surely a maddening punishment considering his experiences.
V couldn't make sense of any of it. Was this all a trick? Or was it real? He felt the blood in his body, he could feel his muscles, his heartbeat, and he could hear the familiar silence. He felt alive, but he was aware of his last memory. He had been lethal shot, despite the breastplate, he had made it to the train station even and then … Evey.
His breath hitched and he felt the need to place his forehead in his hands and double over. Evey, his poor, poor Evey. V had just left her like that. He had, to his knowledge, died and left her alone in the world. It took every piece of him to not scream or cry out. The ache in his chest all of a sudden was unbearable. It was there, but it would feel better if it were not. The idea of being without her, the idea of her hurt and suffering without him, it was more blowing then Creedy's bullets. Inaudibly he mumbled her name is despair and finally he called out for her. "My poor and dearest Evey, forgive me for leaving you, love."
If only she could forgive him, he thought. All of this finally dawned on V. In the moment of his finale, in creating a new world, he basically committed suicide, in an aspect. Within that suicide, he made a homicide. Not literally, but he knew Evey, and he now knew that he had broken her heart, maybe even beyond repair. Then again, and hopefully, she was such a strong person, that all of these thoughts were just to flatter him. HE currently hoped and prayed that she would move on from him, letting his passing not effect her.
In his mental rant of the now infamous Evey Hammond, he missed the light breaths of another in the room. However, it was noticed upon a hitch in the other's throat and a rustle of cloth. V's eyes shifted behind the mask.
Beside the door was a heap of pillows, blankets and any other soft and comfortable object. There was no face to be seen, only the silhouette in the shady room. Beside the dark figure was what looked to be a large stack of books and a cup on a matching saucer.
V would have never guessed who it was, maybe he was being forced to live on his life in Hell, and every time he turned, a heart-shattering trick would be played on him.
Forgetting his Hell or Heaven and hurting Evey drama, he kicked his legs over the edge of the bed. That was not a bright move. His chest pained him greatly now, as did many other things. Turning his head, the figured still laid where it initially was, only the chest beating up and down. The figure was not one to make out due to all of the materials it wrapped itself in. Heaving a light sigh, V carefully took off one glove. Lifting up his black shirt, which he now noticed was clean, smelled good and felt good, he pressed his bare hand to gauze. He was wrapped in a tourniquet. How had it gotten there?
Slowly, things were piecing together. He was dressed in clean clothes, socks only on his feet, his chest was bandaged as were other places he since he was aware of the medical treatment, he noticed a few other things as well and he was in his room. Sadly, though, he was unsure of how he was here. Evey obviously was his first thought, but she had no medical training and defiantly not the strength to save him from the train station.
Nothing made sense.
Again, a thought came down hard on him. His bare hand shot to the mask on his face. It came as a relief. The mask on his face was beaten, dented, and was far from fair shape. It had not been removed.
Nothing added up, but he knew the person in the floor had something to do with it. Putting his glove back on, V stood with difficulty. While he supported himself against objects, he reached the figure by the cracked door.
V kneeled down, making sure he was in a good position of either flee or attack. With one hand on the floor, the other easily probed the blanket away from the face. No hair, bald. The blanket came from the face more now. Much to his surprise and joy, it was his ever-beloved Evey. Behind the mask his face was like no other on the planet. This was neither Heaven nor Hell, it was better then either. It was Earth, London, the Shadow Gallery, his room and more importantly, the single most important person in his life, Evey.
It pained him, however to see her huddled on the floor. He would have much rather been in the floor then her. He wished he was able to move her, but could not, that would be most painful now. Thus, he lay beside his saving angel, one glove hand putting the covers where they were around her face. He would be here when she awakes. Gladly, he would be here when she awakes.