Lucky Buster, 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: Something my husband has been begging me to write. I'll say more at the end.

This story has accompanying artwork. To view them, visit my aol homepage and click on, "Lucky Buster".

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Lucky Buster

Well that certainly wasn't right. -- -- A thought that V mumbled aloud as he sat back in his chair.

Somewhere in England's fearless government -- whether it be the former, tyrannical Norsefire, or the people's government now fully seated -- someone had goofed. Red-tape and the errors it created, were apparently not regime dependent.

The list of computer systems he had been able to tap into was growing week by week; month by month. And within every new network, he found himself doing searches on the issues and people of importance to him. -- -- A cautious vigilance well-learned during years of distrust and oppression.

'Mistakes', were a phenomena he usually viewed with suspicion, always suspecting they were better defined as 'cover-ups'. Especially when the department involved was in the business of intelligence or law enforcement. Corruption knew no party lines.

The mistake he found on this day, however, did seem relatively innocent. More of a goof than a cover-up. But given the subject ... the importance of the subject ... it was not one he could ignore easily. He had no choice but to investigate.

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The guard on duty that night never had liked his job. Not really. It was disconcerting to spend dark, haunting nights surrounded by the memories and remnants of other people. Other lives. ... ... It felt like violating their privacy, even if he wasn't actually peeking at the items in question.

Not that he expected some white-cloaked ghost to hop out and scare him to death, mind you. He wasn't terribly superstitious. Unfortunately, nor was he expecting the black-cloaked, flesh-and-blood stranger that suddenly emerged from the shadows behind him.

The gloved hand came swiftly out of the darkness, wrapping around the guard's throat just as the poor man was setting off on a routine check of the second floor.

"My sincerest apologies, old man," V spoke with genuine remorse. "I do promise your safety ... I simply require some time alone on the premises."

And it didn't really hurt ... not that much at least ... when V adjusted his fingers to press just the right artery, and pinch just the right nerve in the man's neck. The guard slumped to the floor, merely unconscious, but destined to be in that state long enough for V to find the treasure he sought.

A slip of paper was pulled from his cloak. A string of numbers whispered under his breath, and he entered the doorway through which the guard was just about to pass. Before the masked avenger stretched a room with aisles and aisles of lockers.

This might take longer than he thought.

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V had his prize at the ready though, that next evening when Evey came down to the Gallery. The nondescript box sat patiently on the table, waiting to reveal its contents.

She didn't notice it at first. -- -- Ironic, considering what it was. He'd almost expected her to somehow sense it. ... For the box to call to her in some way. But it was by his own hand that he finally led her to the table on which it sat.

"I hope you don't find this too intrusive of me," he warned carefully, his gloved fingers landing demonstratively on the box lid. "It was brought to my attention by CID's record database. I found my way into it yesterday."

... ... It was a minor fib ... it hadn't been so much 'brought to his attention', as 'popped up when he'd done a search on Evey Hammond'. Merely a check -- nothing more -- to ensure that there were no hidden threats still lingering. He couldn't help it. After twenty years of guarding his tracks, he couldn't resist guarding hers now as well.

"CID?" she asked, wondering why anything to do with her would still be floating around the intelligence departments.

"It harkens no bad news, I assure you," he quickly consoled. "But it's something from your past that ... might come as a bit of a shock. As it happens, it appears that due to a clerical error, some of your earlier possessions have survived unscathed. There were nine boxes collected from your flat, years ago, while only eight were then destroyed. The ninth became misplaced among the possessions of another woman whose property had also been raided that day."

Evey just stood there. Dumbfounded.

Years ago? She'd put those times out of her mind. Behind her. Days of working at the old BTN as a naive young waif. Days when she hid from the world and the fear it held, by burying herself in the mundane activities of fetching Gordon Deitrich his tea. It was a lifetime away. A lifetime she'd put to rest long ago.

But she had to look. She couldn't not look.

Shakily, her hands reached for the box's lid, just as V's fingers vacated it. He would not demand, but he would most certainly encourage the step. ... ... He knew how important memories of a carefree life could be, simply because he possessed no such memories of his own.

Another glance toward her beau for courage, and Evey opened the door to her memories.

Two photo albums. A picture of her and her brother, playing at an amusement park in the days before the St. Mary's epidemic. A small metal box of decorative hairclips. And a dark blue dress.

An assortment of items from her old flat, long, long ago, that had been jumbled together haphazardly. How many Fingermen had touched them, since the day the police had swept her residence in search of V? How many cold-hearted men and women had gawked over these precious, few possessions? It almost made her blood run cold.

Old memories sullied by evil and plotting eyes. How fitting, then, that it was V's eyes who would see them next. V ... her best new memory.

Carefully, she picked up one of the photo albums, running her hand across the velvet cover. "Do you want to look at it with me?" she asked quietly, nearly on the verge of tears.

V let out a slow breath of relief. He could help her with this, he was certain. And maybe, in the process, some of the joy of those old memories could also be adopted as his own. "Yes, Evey. I would enjoy that very much."

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They spent the next few hours propped against each other on the sofa, the box on the floor beside her. It was the photo albums that meant the most -- obviously -- and she went through each picture, alternately weeping and laughing, revealing parts of her past that were both typical and atypical.

Her first swimming lesson ... a drenched four-year-old screaming at the top of her lungs. Her kitten ... lost when her family was ripped apart and she found herself sent to the 'rehabilitation center'. An entire family that, V mused silently to himself, might have been most interesting to meet, had it not been for both their unfortunate demise, and his own sullying abnormalities.

"Thank you," she smiled, sometime later after every item had been studied -- its story told. Even the blue dress ... the one she'd almost worn that morning when V had taken over Jordan Tower. ... ... "I hate to ask what you had to do to find these things, but thank you."

V nodded politely, taking the dress delicately from her hands. Funny how some of the tiniest details can go on to change the world, while others utterly pale in the face of time's natural, unstoppable flow. She had almost been wearing this? The type of dress one might wear with heels? Would she have had a more difficult time sneaking up on the copper? Or would she have done it just the same. Somehow, with a certainty unexpected, he knew it would have been the latter. Nothing would have changed, and time would have continued to move exactly as it was supposed to. Exactly as it still did.

"No one was injured," he promised. "Although I did have to ... 'distract' ... the guard for a short time."

Evey nodded in understanding, relatively certain she didn't want to hear anymore of the truth, lest it make her an accomplice in some bizarre way. Then she lay the photo album gently back in the box, and crept a little closer toward her beau. Curling her legs beneath her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders in familiarity, she allowed him to tilt her against his side.

"I guess I thought I'd forgotten most of those things," she sighed. "I suppose they were just buried in the background." Then she smiled and let her head drop lazily to his shoulder. "I'll bet you didn't expect I'd had such a lively youth, did you?"

"Lively or docile, I would have appreciated it all the same," he assured. "It shaped you. ... ... Into the woman who now holds much of my life."

She glanced toward him. "You did some shaping too, you know ... and I mean that in an entirely good way." -- -- She would head things off at the pass before he could take her comment badly.

Her sincerity was understood, and he nodded in agreeable acceptance. "Will you stay below tonight?" he asked with cautious hope. Such visits were becoming a habit, and he enjoyed every single one. To know she slept so close ... just right down the hall ... it both made his sleep more difficult to come by, and yet filled it with absolute delight.

"Yeah," she yawned, and glanced toward the wall-clock. 11:00pm ... and she had to be in the office the next day. "I should probably turn in. Head back to my flat in the morning."

He nodded in agreement, dropping his arm away so she could begin to rise. She stopped halfway though, leaning to press a light kiss to his neck.

"Thank you," she said again. "For whatever it took. ... Thank you."

... ... "I could have done nothing less," he replied. "You know that."

Her smile rose. Yes, indeed she did. Even if the 'how' remained a mystery, the 'why' of his actions she knew quite well.

"Goodnight," she murmured, giving his hand a squeeze as she carefully climbed away.

And then she was gone ... drifting smoothly across the Gallery ... V thoughtfully listening to her departure.

... ... It would not last long, however. ... ...

Once she was gone, he rose from the sofa and began strolling casually along her same path. Not too fast, mind you, because he was already counting down her return.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

... He heard her bedroom door squeak open in the distance.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

... Her footfalls were coming back toward him, much hastier in their arrival than they'd been in their retreat.

Two.

One.

And she re-entered the main room, a light tan teddy bear cradled in one arm.

It had once sat on her bed, years ago in her old flat. Now she found it sitting on the spare-bed denoted for her use. More precisely, she'd found it atop the pillow ... as if having taken 'the higher ground' for its position on-guard. A personal twist from the man who had put it there.

"You found Buster," she wept, her old stuffed friend becoming the final chink to break the dam. "I can't believe you found Buster."

V's grin matched that of the mask, and he welcomed her into his embrace. Initially, he'd feared she might take offense at his removal of such a private item from the box. Their evening had lessened that concern though, with every good memory she had recalled from the past. And now, he wanted to supply her with some new ones.

"Shhhhh," he hushed across her hair. Her arms had looped around his neck, pulling him down while the bear hung from her hand to rest against his back.

"I love you," she insisted quite adamantly.

"And I love you," he replied. "I told you ... I could have done nothing less."

At his shoulder, Evey squeezed her eyes closed ... then squeezed him just as hard. And the last kiss was pressed to his mask, rather than his neck.

When she finally released him, or perhaps when he finally released her -- it wasn't at all easy to discern -- she replaced his embrace with the bear's, clutching it to her chest in V's stead.

"Goodnight," she whispered again, earning his silent nod. Then she turned ... heading to her room for a night in the Gallery.

V watched her go, his eyes following while he stood in silent stillness. It wasn't until he heard the distant sound of her door, that he finally moved. His breath released in a puff, and he even voiced his next thought aloud. -- --

"Lucky, lucky Buster."

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Footnote: I have been told that in the graphic novel, Evey does have a teddy bear. I've never read the graphic novel, so any similarity is completely accidental. I wrote this at my husband's request. In the movie, when Finch breaks into Evey's apartment on the day that V takes over BTN's Jordan Tower, the camera's pan across the room shows a teddy bear on her bed. I never noticed it, but hubby did. He's been asking me to have V 'get it back for her'.

This story has accompanying artwork. To view them, visit my aol homepage and click on, "Lucky Buster".