Hi everyone, Rettroix here, and this is my first fanfiction! I'm certainly not the best writer and will probably make a lot of grammatical errors, so if you notice anything feel free to tell me. Same goes for anything that doesn't quite fit within the world, I want this to be as true to the original as possible!

Anyway, I decided to write this fanfiction because I simply want more 1984. Nobody else has written a proper sequel yet, so here you go. Just don't expect a masterpiece please :P

~Thanks~

Chapter 1 - Victory Coffee

He gazed up at the enormous face. Forty years it had taken him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark mustache. O cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.

-oOoOo-

Sitting in the corner of the cafe, a tall shadowy figure watched Winston with interest. Everything about this man was seemingly ordinary. He wore the parties blue clothing and reacted just as any party member should upon hearing the good news of the state's achievements. However describing him as ordinary was an injustice to the ordinary. In fact, he was less than ordinary. He was so unremarkable that one would never notice his presence.

He's the sort of person you'd quickly gloss over while scanning a room, a person that doesn't stand out. At all. Despite that, the man really did have an unusual look for someone belonging to the party. If you tried to give so much as a little acknowledgment to his presence, you'd realise that firstly he was bald. This is quite common of course, but should at least allow him to attract a little more attention. It didn't. Secondly one would think you'd notice his well-groomed mustache, combed so gracefully to two shapely points. You wouldn't.

This man had mastered being half way between remarkable and unremarkable. Somewhere right in the middle, so exact, so precise that one could only describe him as nothing. Furthermore, his actions were calculated and quiet, always in the right place to be unnoticed, a mere shadow.

He sat with his arms leaning on the table, his hands entwined and two fingers resting on his lips. The man's eye's narrowed as he noticed Winston crying for joy, gazing blissfully into Big Brother's giant portrait. Indeed he had found Winston, this was the man he was looking for. However he was late, Winston had undergone metamorphosis right in front of his eyes. The change that was unavoidable, Winston was one hundred percent loyal to the party. But still, this is exactly what the man wanted. He just didn't expect to witness the change in person.

-oOoOo-

Winston awoke to the chiming of the telescreen, a woman spoke "A glorious victory! On this day, the 2nd of September 1985, we proudly announce the triumphant destruction of countless military base's on the outskirts of Siberia. This operation was unequivocally thanks to the divine army of Oceania under the guise of our honorable chairman, Big Brother. In celebration, we have increased our available chocolate rations seven-fold. Please stand for your fellow comrades and pay tribute to our magnificent leader. All hail Big Brother!"

The telescreen's picture changed to a scene of the Ingsoc flag flying atop a snowy Siberian mountain, flowing gracefully as it watched over the ruins of the now destroyed Eurasian bases. "A glorious victory indeed" Winston smiled meekly as he thrust his arms towards the ceiling. The sound of the Ingsoc anthem filled every crevice of his small apartment, vibrating each particle in the air with vigorous patriotism. It vibrated Winston the same way, for he loved the party, he loved big brother.

Following the great news, Winston knew this moment caused for a small break in his morning routine. Usually, a piece of plain bread and half a cup of coffee would be adequate, but today that just wouldn't do. From his rickety old cabinet, Winston pulled out a small bottle of victory gin and a tiny bag, just one-quarter full of grounded coffee. He shook the bag a little over a tin container (which vaguely resembled a cup), lining the bottom with the grains. Following this, he boiled and poured water into the container. The next part, however, was a habit he picked up only when celebrations were in order. He unscrewed the cap of his Victory gin and poured a small amount, just enough so that he could smell its poignant odor in the coinciding steam which emanated from the container.

Though the concoction tasted unusual, Winston found it oddly comforting. He had named his unusual blend Victory Coffee. It had crossed Winston's mind that perhaps his invention was, in fact, thought crime since it had been independently created by him. However, he came to the conclusion that it must be alright since he dedicated his recipe only to the party and only on victories.

Ever since returning to society Winston was given a less important, albeit higher paid job at the ministry of truth. Due to this the telescreen no longer woke Winston and never even bothered him with the usual morning exercises. Truthfully and completely unbeknownst to him (due to his new unquestioning outlooks on life) all rehabilitated personnel guilty of thought crime were given a rather different experience to the ordinary party member.

You could equate it to something along the lines of an outer-party-lite. It's just like the outer-party just with a lot of the hardships taken out. It would be nice to say that the reason this less stressful version of the outer-party existed was that Big Brother had a soft spot and felt sorry for the thought criminals, which he delightfully tortured, but that simply wasn't true. On the contrary. The whole of outer-party-lite was meticulously calculated to further push along those ex-thought-criminals into absolute devotion to the party, to the point there would be no chance of relapse.

Truthfully their time at the ministry of love was not exactly finished, they were never truly back into society, they just had to feel like they were. Everyone who Winston would talk to would either be fellow ex-thought criminals or quite simply actors to mold his brain into the way the party needed.

-oOoOo-

Winston stood under the looming watch of the ministry of truth. It was truly the biggest building within the vicinity of Winston's apartment. No matter where he was he could rely on the fact he would be able to see the majestic tower soaring over everything. The fact he could see the tower miles apart gave Winston great piece of mind, for he loved the parties watchful eye. It reminded him in every location of the parties unconditional protection. They will always be there, protecting all from the demons outside and within.

Winston was headed to one of his bi-weekly meetings in his dusty little office lying within the ministry of truth. Today he felt invigorated, a far cry from his usual demeanor. It could also usually be counted that all four of his fellow colleagues would be invigorated, for they all seemed to share similar emotions at the same time. It was an odd coincidence which was likely not a coincidence at all. How invigorated they were usually depended on a few small set of factors that all four of them shared. Today it happened to be the parties victory in Siberia.

As Winston made his way along the meandering pathway, he noticed someone from the corner of his eye. It was Julia.