I don't own V or the book or the movie.
Finch was just about to leave his office and go home not but an hour ago when he had gotten a call that his suspect, the known terrorist, in some circles, freedom fighter Gwen Stockman was escaping Finger Men through the condemned subway tunnels in the Whitehall area. Needless to say he left the office immediately and went after her. She had been caught trying to break into a government building, now she was just trying to get away with her life. Finch knew he had to get to her before Creedy did. If she was caught by anyone else she'd be dead before the day was out, leaving only another loose end to his case. Oddly Gwen's case weaved in and out of code name V's. If he could get her alive and ask her a few questions he might be able to figure out how to get to V before the fifth of November came around.
Finch felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched the injured terrorist leader. One of the Finger Men must have gotten a shot off and hit her, he thought noticing the blood. She looked to have a slight limp as she made her way down the condemned tracks. Obviously fatigued, the woman looked like she could barely go any further. Dark blood stained her pant leg; she had one hand pressed against the dirty concrete wall to steady herself as she limped along the gravel floor.
Seeing the dark silhouette pointing a gun at her, Gwen slowly came to a halt. Her whole body ached from the bullet wound and she was dizzy from the blood loss. The terrorist slowly approached the figure; still unsure of who he was.
It was six months ago when her face showed up on Mr. Creedy's most wanted list. Since then he's had plenty of run-ins with her. This one however was perhaps the closest he has ever come to actually catching the rebel. He wouldn't blow it this time, he told himself. She was always so smug around him, condescending even. However, out of all the other members of the council, she showed strange sort of fondness towards him. She viewed his chasing her like a game; as if he would never catch her. This had frustrated him to no end until he fell into the routine of it all. She treated him like a friendly acquaintance rather than an adversary. It was all quite surreal to him. Regardless, Inspector Finch was sick of the girl's smart remarks and their constant run-arounds. The fact was; Mr. Finch was tired of this whole ridiculous routine. It wasn't just her, it was everything else including her. Especially codename V.
Finch stepped out of the shadows, gun drawn, and approached her. The woman's eyes focused on the man.
"Oh it's you," Gwen breathed out exhausted. She seemed almost relieved.
"Put your hands above your head," Finch ordered.
"That might be a little hard for me at the moment. I'm afraid one of Creedy's men clipped me in the tunnel back there."
Finch looked down at the bullet wound in Gwen's leg. It was definitely more than a mere graze. Whoever shot her hit her did a lot of damage. He only hoped that she wasn't hit in the artery.
"If you come with me I'll make sure you get medical attention," he said quietly. Gwen let out a halfhearted laugh.
"Thanks for the offer Inspector but I'm afraid I can't do that." She then started to limp away from him. Her determination was strong. Finch had to admit, there was something undeniably sad about watching her defeat. She barely had anything left in her yet she continued on.
"Don't try Miss Stockman, it's useless." He told her as he walked closer. Gwen only ignored him.
"How can you still have the gall to point that gun at me?" She asked suddenly. Her voice was quiet and sharp, as if she was taking offense at his actions.
It took a moment for Finch to speak. He felt a tinge of guilt as he realized he was aiming a loaded gun at a wounded, seemingly helpless woman. All he could manage to say was,
"Miss, it's my job."
"…Your job Finch!" She yelled, his answer really setting her off. "What about your conscience?... and it's Gwen Stockman; don't try and pretend you don't know my name. It's been six months now, I think you could learn it for Christ's sake."
"Miss Stockman, I'm sorry but I can't let you go. I promise there will be no black bags, no torture; you'll go straight to Scotland Yard."
"I'm not stupid Finch. Why don't you just tell me the truth?"
Silence.
"Is it because you think I'd prefer a lie?" She asked; regarding him with her large blue eyes that were filling with tears. "Well I don't. I've been lied to all my life. I don't want to be deceived or given hope, I don't want you to comfort me, and I don't want you making me promises you can't keep. I want the truth. People want the truth Eric Finch- even if it is horrible because at least if they know the stakes they can keep fighting … they can fight to the end." Her voice quivered only the slightest bit. He knew she was trying to control her passion, her tears. Within those words he felt a sea of welled up emotion. The tears that began to gather in her eyes were about to spill over; her nose and cheeks were now tinged with red. Mr. Finch could only stare at her. He could only take in the sadness and anger that radiated off of her.
"The thing about now is that I know the truth;" she said in a half whisper. "I know what will happen to me if I give in to you now and I'm not going to do it. I'm going to keep fighting. I have to Mr. Finch."
"I can't just let you go." He sighed, not being able to help but feel everything he was doing was wrong.
"I know," Gwen nodded. "I didn't ask you to."
Mr. Finch was shocked at her stubbornness; her bravery. He admired it, yet somehow he couldn't quite understand her.
"If you let me take you into custody I may be able to strike a deal with Creedy."
Gwen knew it was over. There was a long moment of silence.
"'It is the very last inch of us.'" She whispered so quietly that Finch couldn't hear her.
"No." She finally said. Her large eyes bore into his. "I don't think you quite understand how literal my statement was when I said I was going to fight to the end. I'm not going to let them take me Mr. Finch and I'm not going to let you take me either. So as I see it this can end two ways: you can let me go or you can kill me."
"And if I chose to not listen and take you in anyway?" He asked expectantly. "I can't let you go. You know that. And I'm not going to kill you." Conversations like this were getting old. He had grown weary of telling people that he could not help them.
"Then I'll run at the firing squad down the tunnel."
"So, regardless of what happens you're determined to have your blood on my hands?"
"Don't pretend I'm cornering you Inspector. You have the privilege to make the choice whether things end up that way or not. Look at me. I'm the one who's helpless here; the one who's being hunted down like an animal through the sewers. Has the enemy ever wanted what's best for you?"
"Depends on the views of the enemy," He mumbled.
"You don't believe that Inspector. Others would have killed you if they had the chance. I was at least five feet away from you with a gun that night in the Old Bialy; did I kill you? No. I'm not your enemy Mr. Finch."
Finch recalled the night in the Old Baily where Gwen had spared his life. She had every opportunity to kill him, yet she didn't.
"Why did you do that?" He asked.
"What else was I going to do?"
She was a woman of few words, none of what she said made sense to him yet he lowered his gun anyway. She wasn't an expert at chaos like V; she was a citizen taking charge more than anything. She was a hero of flesh and blood; not an idea. She was a martyr, and even though he knew her title would hold true he didn't want to see a woman die tonight.
"Go on then." He sighed tiredly, pocketing his weapon.
"Thank you Mr. Finch." She said breathlessly, not believing that he actually let her go. "Come on we have to get out of here before they see us."
"What?" He asked confused.
"Yes, you heard me right; we Mr. Finch. There's only one way to go on the Circle Line and they know I haven't doubled back. If they see you down here and you tell them you haven't seen anything they're going to know you helped me. Besides we're only going to travel together as far as above ground and then we'll split up."
The night air was stinging upon entering his lungs. He could feel the tops of his cheeks and nose turning red from the cold. The woman he was supposed to have arrested was standing beside him wrapping her arms tightly around herself to try and maintain some warmth and letting out a warm breath that turned into white fog upon hitting the air. The tip of her nose was also tinged with red, whether it be from her previous tears or the frost he didn't know. He took small glances over in her direction and remembered staring at her photo in his office. She was really quite pretty he thought to himself. He often found himself looking at the 8x10 of her that Mr. Creedy had given him a few months ago wondering how or why such a nice-looking girl would get mixed up in all of this. Creedy had tossed it to him with so much disgust he was surprised to find himself staring at a pretty young woman. Perhaps that's why Creedy was so annoyed, he thought to himself. The first thing that struck him about the supposed terrorist was her large blue eyes. They were rather quite sad looking. He was sure that at one time, many years ago, they were once happy but he could only guess at that.
They stood there in silence until their eyes finally met. Gwen wished she didn't have to say anything that she could just leave. But she found herself feeling the need to at least do something rather than just go. The man did after all save her life. She opened her mouth to say something but she noticed he did as well. They both then stopped to let the other speak. Finally after a moment Mr. Finch spoke.
"You better wrap that properly or it'll get infected." He said softly, motioning to her injured hand.
Gwen was taken by surprise a bit and looked at her palm that was slowly dripping blood.
"Yes, thank you." She said hesitantly trying to put the injury out of sight. They were avoiding each other again, not sure whether to leave or not. Mr. Finch then tentatively spoke again,
"Here…" he said inching towards her as if she might run away. Looking from the wound to her face he reached out and gently took her arm in his hands. He noted that her fingers were trembling; from the cold or nerves he did not know.
"Hmm," he commented, still examining it. "This looks like it's going to need a couple stitches."
Looking at him she decided that he was the most normal man she had ever come across. Yet there was something endearingly odd about him that prevented him from being boring. Gwen had decided that his utter normalcy was what made him odd which in turn made him intriguing. No one was like that; not even the people who worked at her local mini mart were as stoic as he was. The weirdest cut was that his position in the government didn't fit him at all. It could be said that her curiosity of him was as equal to his about her.
As she stared at him as he examined her hand. He was surprisingly gentle. She could see where he'd be a caring man. She was sure he was a lonely man. This thought made her brow furrow sadly, thinking of her own lonely existence. He was too busy in his examination to notice her staring at him.
After all the run-arounds and the stand-offs between them she realized that she still didn't know anything about the man who had been chasing her for the past six months. However she learned plenty in the past five minutes by just watching him. What she saw surprised her. She felt her heart warm a little. She was shaken out of her thought when he gently let go of her hand. Their eyes met,
"Well, nothing's broken," he told her. "It's just a flesh wound."
"Thank you." She said through the stillness.
"Goodbye then," he said quietly nodding at her. Stepping back from her he turned around and started to walk away.
"See you later then." She called back.
Finch couldn't help but grin slightly and he walked in the direction of Parliament. Gwen remained stationary under the lamplight, watching as he disappeared back into harshness of reality.
AN- Hey all, thanks for reading. If you liked it you'd send me a little review... please... please... please ... even if you thought it was marginal could you send me a review????