"There are 872 songs on this machine. I've heard them all… But I've never danced to one."

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes." V turned to face Evey, praying that she would catch his hint. Something tugged on his heartstrings whenever he looked at her. Even now, her head only having a thin layer of fuzz, her clothes loose, she was beautiful. There was a fire in her eyes that he was glad to see had only gotten stronger since her ordeal. The ordeal he put her through. Yet she was stronger for it, he could see that. "I don't blame you for leaving. In your position I can hardly say I would want to stay around me, either."

"You taught me a good deal, V. I shan't forget it," Evey said quietly. "Yet nor can I forget what you put me through to teach me."

He turned away, faced the juke box. "I understand. You need not say anymore. I shall miss you, Evey."

There was the rustle of material and he thought she left. When he once again turned around, however, she was right next to him, her hand almost touching his gloved one.

"Evey . . .?"

"You said you never danced to any of these songs."

"Yes, that's true."

"Would you like to?"

The surprise V felt was almost evident on his mask, or so he thought. "Yes. Very much. . . . thank you."

Evey took his right hand in her own, and V placed his other hand gently on her waist. Behind the mask, perhaps not with the burned scar tissue which was once his lips, but inwardly, he smiled as he held this wonderful, strong creature in his arms, even if only for the length of a song.


"I don't know anything about you. Who you are, where your parents came from, where you lived. I don't even know what you look like . . ." Evey's words trailed off as she carefully reached for V's mask.

"No, please," V said, gripping her hands carefully in his, trying to hide the panic he felt. His face had been destroyed; his mask more a real face than what was left of his skin. Evey couldn't see him. Not her. Especially not her. She could not accept. She had been strong enough to survive his regime; had proven herself loyal to him. But no one could handle this sham of a face.

He loved her, therefore he had to protect her. And first and foremost, his face was to be protected against.