A/N- Just a little thing I thought up that wouldn't leave me alone. It's set during one of the days of Evey's captivity, movieverse. It's just a oneshot unless any more random instances pop into my brain regarding our favorite characters. Please review and tell me what you think!

Just As Real

The Shadow Gallery was eerily silent. There was no sound of music from the jukebox, no V humming happily in the kitchen wearing a flowery apron, and no crashing noises that occur when one battles with a suit of armor. Evey Hammond was rather confused as well as disoriented. She had woken up surrounded by books in the comfortable little room for (was it a week? Two weeks? Evey couldn't remember for the life of her.) Well, there usually was something happening. She woke up rather late on average, and V was usually back from whatever revenge he planned in the early morning.

Evey really didn't want to know what he did, especially since the night he had told her, with perfect equanimity, that he planned to kill more people. It was a question, upon further consideration, that she should not have asked in the first place. She agreed with him on the fact that their government was bloody evil and someone needed to do something. Frankly though, she didn't think that destroying a building would give the people any reprieve from Creedy's under-handed tactics.

Still, she depended on her strange, well-read captor for nearly everything. Evey certainly couldn't cook for herself. And not hearing any movement at all in his underground home was making her more than a little uneasy.

Placing her feet carefully on the floor, she stood up and ventured into the small kitchen. It was cold, and she hugged her arms to her diminutive frame. No masked vigilante there. Frowning slightly, she made her way to the drafty main room. The telly sat silently, and a blanket was neatly folded over the couch from where she had watched another old movie in her boredom. Evey supposed she should be more worried about her risky plan, but even that couldn't occupy her for an entire day.

"V? Hello?" she called, with no answer. Growing more concerned, she walked softly into another hallway, bare feet padding against the carpet. Most of the doors she tried were locked, and she rolled her eyes.

"Such an infuriating…" Evey trailed off as she heard the faint sound of humming. Her eyebrows raised and she smiled. "Found him."

Now she felt slightly like a prat for worrying over a terrorist. V could take care of himself. She turned to go back to her room, but hesitated. Curiosity overwhelmed her. What was he doing?

She bit her lip, trying to resist the temptation. Unable to let it go, she continued on, telling herself firmly that she was not snooping. Only…being interested about England's so-called savior. There was no harm in that, was there? Evey got closer and closer to the door at the end of the corridor and the humming grew louder and more distinctive. The door was slightly open and she flattened herself against the stone wall, willing her breathing to calm.

She took a deep breath and peeked around the door, eyes wide. The sight she saw stunned her and she stepped back quickly. Her heel scraped harshly against the cold stone and she gasped in pain, balancing on one foot.

"Shit," she muttered, examining her left foot. A couple layers of skin had been scraped off, and blood welled up in startling contrast to the paleness of her ankle. To her frantic gaze, it looked nasty. The humming abruptly stopped and she heard soft footsteps. Oh hell, she thought. He won't like this. Evey tried to step back, forgetting that she was balancing on one foot. She landed hard on her bottom just as a Guy Fawkes mask appeared in the doorway.

"Evey?" Confusion was apparent in his unique voice, and Evey closed her eyes in embarrassment.

"Yes, V?" her eyes stayed closed.

"May I ask what you were doing?" His head tilted a little to the right, gloved hands clasped behind his back.

"If you must," she replied, sighing heavily. There was a small silence.

"What were you doing, exactly?"

"I wasn't….erm…spying on you or anything. Of course not. I was just…I didn't hear anything, so I got worried. And then I heard humming, and…" Evey bitterly wished, as she had many times before, that she had the power to disappear.

"And you decided to check up on me, just in case something had happened. Quite understandable, Evey. Now, would you like a hand off that floor? I daresay it isn't very comfortable." He held a black-gloved hand out, and she took it gratefully.

"I'm really very sorry. Thank you. I'll just go back now." She turned, anxious to flee, but he stopped her with a word.

"Wait a moment. Are you bleeding?" He stepped forward in concern, and she gave a shaky laugh.

"It's nothing. I just…scraped my foot. I won't bleed on anything, I swear." The girl smiled half-heartedly, but he continued to stare at her. She felt it would be crossing the line to turn her back and leave after he caught her snooping. Consequently, she stood there with her left foot held off the floor gingerly, trying to keep her balance.

V finally noticed her discomfort and brought his head up. "Ah. I'm terribly sorry, come inside. I have…appropriated some medical supplies, over the years. We wouldn't want that to get infected."

"But that is your room, and I don't want to intrude." Her heel had begun to hurt more than she thought it would, and she wobbled a bit. She didn't want to put her foot down and stain his carpet.

V hushed her. "Don't be absurd. It is no problem."

Evey blew the air out of her cheeks, smiling for real. "I guess this is nothing compared to what you have to deal with. I feel a bit stupid, actually."

"My dear lady, you are insulting my sense of hospitality. Come now."

He put a large hand on her back to steady her as she entered the room first, trying not to have a look at anything. She threw a glance over at the neatly made four-poster bed, with a black cape folded at the head. A small sewing kit sat on the night-table. Evey still couldn't believe what she had seen earlier. Was he actually…

She looked behind her to see where V was. He gestured towards the bathroom, and then offered her his arm. Charmed by his manners, she took it, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow. Increasingly, she had to remind herself that the man was a killer. No matter what the cause or how much the people had deserved it, it was still a frightening thought. He had told her that violence could be used for good. Evey had tried to push it out of her mind, wanting no part in the killings. She only had to pretend she did in order to escape. There was no way that even the great anarchist could ever bring her family back.

His smooth voice brought her out of her musings. "Sit down, please."

Surprised, she did as she was told, perching on the edge of the bath. V had his head in the medicine cabinet, obviously hunting for something. "Aha! There it is." He brought out some gauze and peroxide, intent on cleaning the scrape. The mask grinned at her with rosy cheeks, as always. She was better at reading his emotions beneath the mask, although it was still hard when he didn't speak.

She took the peroxide and the gauze as he leaned against the sink, pouring some liquid out onto the pad. Evey carefully patted her heel with the gauze, wiping the blood off. She winced at the sting, and then smiled sadly. She looked up at V.

"D'you know, my mum used to do this. I remember I fell and scraped my knee once, and she fussed over me and cleaned off the blood. I started crying because it hurt, and she kissed my forehead and called me a silly girl, and wouldn't dad laugh if he saw me?"

Laughing to herself, she dabbed more peroxide on the wound, the gauze quickly turning red. "Isn't it funny what people remember?" She grabbed more gauze and held it to her heel, applying pressure. V made a soft noise, and Evey glanced up again.

"The human mind is a remarkable thing," he said softly.

"Don't you have any memories like that?" she asked curiously.

He shook his head slowly, looking down at his hands as though he couldn't believe it. "I'm afraid to say I do not."

She watched the stillness of his body, the downward cast of his head. "You wouldn't tell me if I asked, would you?"

He gave an abrupt laugh. "That is a story better left untold, Evey. Another lifetime, it seems."

Sudden understanding dawned in her eyes. "Did it have anything to do with…with the fire. Your hands? Was that Norsefire who did that to you?"

He shrugged, seeming to grow more distant. "Perhaps. But that is neither here nor there. How is your foot?"

Evey shook her head. "It's fine. Do you have a bandage?"

"I believe so." V went back to looking in the cabinet, silently this time. Evey sat on the edge of the bath and looked around at the beautiful bathroom, holding a piece of gauze to the scrape. He found a small piece of plaster and turned to face her. She reached for it, hand out. He met her inquiring gaze and chuckled.

"May I do the honors?"

She stared at him as if he had just asked her to chop his head off. "You want to put a bandage on my foot?"

"I dare do all that-"

"Yes, yes," she waved away impatiently, "but I hardly think that applies now."

"It does apply, Ms. Hammond. Memories are funny things, you know." With that, he dropped down elegantly on one knee and took her small foot. Infinitely gentle, he placed the plaster against her cut while she watched, stupefied at the strange things that he did. V looked up at her and rose to his feet. Evey looked from her foot towards the black-clad man, then shrugged and hopped up. Somehow, the pain already felt less.

Her golden-brown mane bounced on her shoulders, and V stopped himself from reaching out and tucking a curl behind her ear. She blushed under his intense scrutiny, and felt extremely underdressed compared to his usual ensemble.

"Thank you," she whispered, not exactly sure why she was whispering. He nodded and she followed him out of the small room. Evey stopped in the middle of his bedroom, and he glanced at her curiously. She couldn't just not ask. After his kindness, she decided he wouldn't mind her question.

"V. Before I intruded, were you…sewing?" An awkward silence ensued immediately after her question, and then…

He laughed, a sonorous sound that filled the chamber with its noise. She had never heard him laugh like that before. It was a full-bodied laugh, and she had the impression that he would be wiping away tears if the mask was not in the way.

"Is that what you saw that surprised you so?" V looked at her, mirth evident in his voice. She stood there with her hands clasped, feeling a little put out.

"Well…yes. I hadn't expected the feared revolutionary, the elusive man who destroyed the Big Ben, to be…er…sewing his cape up like any other bloke in England." Evey spoke the plain truth. Her eyes cut to the black cape, and he walked over to it and held it up.

"Sorry to disappoint, Evey, but even grand ideas can get rips in their clothing. I had to learn how to do all of this on my own, you see. I have been alone here for a long while." He walked back over to her with the cloak, showing her the small area where it had torn. She began to laugh at herself.

"It was silly, wasn't it? You're just as real as I am."

V placed the cape back on the bed and returned to where she was standing. She smiled up at him and placed a white hand on his arm. He looked at her fondly; more fondly than he should, given the circumstances. What could he do?

"Shall we go to breakfast?"

Her stomach rumbled. "Sooner rather than later, please."

At peace for the moment, they made their way through the Gallery.