Votary to Fond Desire

Chapter 2

By SparkleStar

Author's Note: I forgot last time to say that I do not own any of the V for Vendetta characters, although, believe me, I wish I did. I sincerely hope that reading this chapter gives you as much enjoyment as I got from writing it. To everyone who reviewed the last chapter, a HUGE thank you to each and every person! I wasn't going to update this for a week or so, but the huge response got me motivated. And now—ENJOY!

Summery: Valentine's Day in the Shadow Gallery, need I say more?

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Pancakes.

V admitted that despite his hatred and vengeance at the world up above, life got better—albeit only slightly—when pancakes were involved. There was nothing else on earth like the smell of butter mixed with sticky syrup--the crackle of the batter as it hit the pan—the steam rolling off of the fluffy stacks of the finished product.

He inhaled the aroma from behind his mask.

Ah. Priceless.

Pancakes in the Shadow Gallery were somewhat of a Sunday morning tradition for V and Evey. For V cooking was a release—it was a mindless activity that demanded little of the cognitive processes. For as long as he could remember, after Larkhill of course, cooking had been V's form of self indulgence. He enjoyed scouring cookbooks for foreign recipes from distant lands and recreating them right within the confines of his small kitchen. A delicate aroma wafting through the air, an exquisite blend of spices and herbs, subtle of layers of flavor—food was a way for him to express emotions that the mask would sometimes not allow.

That was one of the reasons that V enjoyed cooking for Evey so much.

That was one of the reasons why V enjoyed cooking, period.

However, today was a little bit different.

V stood in the kitchen of the Shadow Gallery, busily working away over the silver counter. Dressed in his traditional chef's outfit of a flowered apron over his black coat, pants and boots, V would be the first to admit that the picture he painted was most likely bizarre beyond even the wildest impressionist's dreams. The flower print apron hadn't been his first choice, of course—it was simply because it was the only one that he owned and necessity demanded an apron for cooking. V hadn't even been self conscious about it until Evey had come to live with him in the Gallery. That first morning…the look on her face upon seeing him in the apron…

Priceless.

He grinned at the thought, a moment's escape from the problem that had plagued his mind for the last week.

Seven days.

V cracked an egg against the side of the mixing bowl a little harder than he normally did.

Seven. Days.

Seven days until Valentine's Day and he still had no idea what to do for Evey.

V pulled opened one of the cabinet doors with a little more force than needed and began to rummage through the myriad of various utensils in hopes of finding a spatula.

It hadn't been for lack of trying that he still had no idea what to do. Quite the contrary, V had spent the entire last week more entrenched in the sappiness of romance and love than he cared to admit. It was the first time ever that he had felt like he had failed at something, even if he still wasn't quite sure what he had failed at.

Throughout the past week he had tried pretty much every trick he could think of in hopes of figuring out what to do for Evey.

First, V had attempted to channel the Valentine's Day spirit and hopefully garner an idea by decorating for the holiday in his own way. Not with paper hearts and paper doilies, of course—no—he would never go that far. Over the course of the week, one by one, new objects began appearing around the Shadow Gallery--a romantic looking book here, an extra vase of flowers there, things that he believed would help give him ideas as to what to do for Evey. V thought that perhaps by setting a subtly more romantic atmosphere it would generate inspiration, if only on a subconscious level:

As a result, Evey had gotten slightly suspicious at the new decor:

"V, what is that?" Evey had pointed to a dried bouquet of flowers wrapped intricately together with a long piece of leather earlier in the week. The bouquet had been placed, in what V had thought was an inconspicuous area, as he had nestled them on top of a picture frame in the chess room of the Gallery.

V had stopped his swordplay from the center of the chamber and glanced toward where she had been pointing.

Oh.

That.

He had sheathed his sword and began to walk towards her.

"That is a Lupercalian fertility symbol, Evey. It represents the sacrifices that the Romans used to make to Cupid, the god of love and passion. "

Evey had looked at the bouquet from out of the corner of her eye suspiciously. The dubious expression upon her face had threatened at any moment to break into a smile.

"And why is it here?' She had finally asked.

V had faltered for a moment before regaining his verbosity. Lying, especially to Evey, was never one of his strong points. He had paused, one hand still on his sword, and looked down at the tips of his boots.

"Simply for a…change in scenery, my dear."

Damn it.

She was onto him.

Next, instead of turning to ancient rituals and décor for subtle inspiration, V had turned to what he considered to be the greatest resource ever: literature. After days of scouring his expansive collection of books, V had spent the entire week re-reading what he considered to be some of his favorite pieces of romantic classics late at night:

"What traitors books can be! You think they're backing you up, and they turn on you. Others can use them, too, and there you are, lost in the middle of the moor, in a great welter of nouns and verbs and adjectives—"

V had slapped Fahrenheit 451 shut.

Oh the irony.

Maybe a novel about the romance between a man and the idea of freedom in a dystopian totalitarian society wasn't exactly the best place to be searching for ideas on Valentine's Day.

Finally, V had even relented in one area that he swore to himself he'd never explore. While he had always prided himself on being a connoisseur of classic films, there was always one genre that V, like most men, avoided like the plague:

Romantic comedies.

It wasn't that he didn't like them, per say, it was more that they all had identical plots and V usually had better things to do with his time. However, V had often heard Evey mention that one of her favorite movies was Pride and Prejudice. Having read the novel (and found Austen's work commendable, albeit a touch too saccharine for his liking), V finally relented. After watching all four versions of the movie ever made throughout the course of the week, he had agreed with Evey and apparently the rest of the female population that Colin Firth definitely made the best Mr. Darcy.

….

What was he saying?

Having found a spatula, V began stirring the pancake batter with a touch of ferocity.

Mr. Darcy.

Why were all men required to live up to the Mr. Darcy standard anyway? The man wasn't even real—he was fictional--simply the product of a repressed Victorian mind-he was just an idea--

An idea, much like V himself….

However, while Mr. Darcy had looks, money and societal status to offer Elizabeth, V had nothing of that nature to offer Evey. How could he ever think that she would even—

No.

Again, he wouldn't let himself say it.

V turned his attention back to the pancakes, and with one fluid motion tipped the mixing bowl and attempted to make an even sized circle of batter in the now heated pan upon the stove. However, perhaps because of his distraction, or maybe just fate, the batter instead of forming a normal pancake shape took on a figure of it's own—

Oh for Christ's sake.

V leaned his face toward the sizzling pan and regarded the pancake's chosen form. Gone was his self loathing, replaced by a burst of sheer abhorrence. The world was mocking him. Valentine's Day was mocking him. Everything seemed to be mocking him lately--

"Morning, V."

Evey.

V turned on his heel to see Evey sleepily pad into the kitchen with bare feet and sweats on. She slid into her usual chair at the kitchen table and looked groggily up at the masked man in the flowered apron. Even with no make up on and her hair pulled back into a messy bun, she still looked, to V, gorgeous.

"Good morning, Evey." V attempted to cover up his frustration, acknowledging her presence with a nod "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you." She smiled

"Excellent." V couldn't help but notice how his voice dropped softer whenever he was talking to her. He shook his head slightly and turned his attention back to the breakfast he was making. Part of him wanted to simply dispose of the pancake that was already cooking and start anew. However, Evey was now present and most likely hungry and he didn't want to leave her waiting simply because of one minor detail such as shape.

Even if the shape inexplicably represented the current the antithesis of his existence at the moment.

V reached for the spatula on the counter and flipped pancake over with a little too much force.

Why must Valentine's Day take over everything his life?

Evey frowned at the sight of V's apparent distress.

"V—are you okay? You look a little…worried…" She said after a few moments of watching him stare almost angrily at the stove.

"I'm just fine, Evey, thank you." V said, reaching across the counter for the plate he had set out.

It was red. How Freudian.

He scowled deeply behind his mask as he slid the now cooked pancake out of the pan and onto the plate. Turning toward Evey, he presented her breakfast to her forcing a smile into his voice.

"Sunday morning special, mademoiselle."

V watched a shocked look at on her visage develop as he placed the plate in front of her. Evey's eyes grew large and the side of her face begin to turn upward in the beginnings of a smile. She looked up at V and after several seconds, finally unable to hold it in any longer, burst out laughing.

V frowned slightly as he leaned against the counter, watching her.

It wasn't funny. Really. Valentine's Day had taken him hostage in his own life.

"V—" She said between waves of laugher "You didn't--!"

"Yes, mademoiselle?"

"V--it's--it's--!" She practically had her face on the table in laugher.

He waited patiently, hands folded in front of his body.

"The pancake…!"--gasp—".it's in the shape of" –gasp "…..of a heart!"

V paused before he spoke. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't intentional—that he had simply made it by accident—that it was simply a symbol of his uneasiness about the whole holiday—that it was the manifestation of one of his greatest fears, but instead he simply said:

"Yes. So it is."

V continued to wait coolly as she finished laughing. He felt simultaneously bitter toward the world and yet delighted that in some way he had managed to inadvertently give Evey a moment of happiness at his misery.

"I'm sorry—" Evey said, once she finally regained control of her voice "it's just…..I mean….when you get down to it, V, the entire government considers you this horrible terrorist—you're probably one of the biggest threats they've ever encountered--and here you are, making heart shapes pancakes. It's just too much."

Her statement made V break into a grin.

Okay. Looking at it from that way was slightly humorous.

Slightly.

"Ah yes, but being multidimensional is the key to forming a good character, Evey. " He said with a small nod of his head.

"Yeah." Evey looked back down at the pancake. " You've been very into this whole idea of Valentine's Day lately, haven't you? I mean, the whole flower thing…and the books…and now the pancakes."

Hah.

If only she knew.

"And why not, my dear?"

Evey reached for the syrup that V had placed on the table and began to drown her pancake in it. "Well, most guys who I've been around wanted to forget the holiday all together."

"And most women don't….?" V wasn't quite sure if his statement was a question or not. He silently cursed the note of uncertainty in his voice.

"Well—no—but most guys never know what to do about Valentine's Day in the first place. They procrastinate, angry at society and women for holding them to such high expectations, but don't actually do anything about it. Then they freak out at the last minute because they have nothing planned. I mean, if men were smart, they would just ask women what they wanted."

Hm.

Perhaps he still retained more humanity than he cared to admit. However, V noticed a slight hitch in her explanation-

"But wouldn't that ruin the whole surprise?" He asked slowly, crossing his arms as he watched stab her breakfast with her fork.

Evey took a bite of the pancake and chewed thoughtfully before answering his question.

"Well, women like to be surprised, but not know they're being surprised. Like, they want to know that a guy is planning something, but not know what it is."

…..

V shook his head, trying to get his thoughts wrapped around her statement. Despite his most intricate understandings of the deepest and darkest government secrets, he would never—ever—even begin to understand the twists and turns of a woman's mind. However, the gauntlet had been laid down before him.

V took a deep breath.

He'd faced torture, he'd faced death and disease, he'd faced bullets, guns, explosives—everything that most people would be terrified of. He could certainly face asking question.

"That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman….."

Just a simple question, nothing more. He wouldn't lose any credibility, it wouldn't be detrimental to his character in any way.

Oh God.

Here we go.

"Well, theoretically…of course…." V began "If…..someone were actually in need of some help for ideas?"

Evey set her fork down and began to shake her head.

"V—seriously—you don't have to do anything—" Despite her protestations, the grin covering her face told him the truth.

"I never said I was, Evey. " V said quickly held up a hand in protest. "But if I happened to choose the same day of the year as Valentine's Day for some sort of celebration….theoretically, of course…"

Did she have any idea how hard this was for him? He had never, ever asked for help before in any situation in his entire life for as long as he could remember. He silently cursed St. Valentine's day of birth—the saint's mother—the Hallmark corporation--all the candy companies in the world for contributing to the commercialization of the holiday and with it the unnecessary expectations and societal hoops for men to jump through.

The girl took a moment to ponder his statement.

"If you were to, you know, do something on Valentine's Day…theoretically." She finally said, the grin on her face growing with every word.

"If I were…" V repeated patiently.

"Then….I'd want…."

V watched as the expression on Evey's face changed rapidly from one of jest to a one of a serious nature. She looked down for a moment, collecting her thoughts before she opened her mouth to speak.

"I'd want…."

Evey was obviously struggling with something as she suddenly stopped and shook her head.

For a brief second, V felt something deep within him pull hard--a recognition that they were struggling with the same feelings in tandem. Could it be possible? Could he even dare to think that maybe she--?

"I'd want you to figure out a way to make me breakfast every morning. " Evey said interrupting his train of thought. She laughed strangely laugh as she picked up her fork again "And a way for you to make it for me every afternoon too. And night. Your recipes are amazing, even if you won't tell me what they are."

V forced a smile into his voice at her answer and for once was thankful that the mask wouldn't let her see the expression on his face.

"Everyone has to have a few secrets, Evey." He said gently.

"But you have so many-" Evey quickly cut in.

Was that….anger in her voice? Frustration?

A tense silence filled the kitchen and V turned back toward the stove, picked up the batter and poured another pancake into the pan, this time the correct shape.

Of course he had his secrets.

Did she not understand that some things were better left unknown and unsaid? That some things were better buried deep in the past and never dug up again? She wouldn't want to know—she wouldn't want the burden of seeing those scars of his, both metaphorically and literally…..

"I'm sorry." V said after a moment.

It wasn't an apology.

Evey picked up her fork and swirled it around in the syrup on the edge of the plate. V could hear the sound of the metal on the ceramic though his mask as he silently chastised himself for ruining yet another moment of potential honesty.

"Have you finished reading Two Gentlemen of Verona, Evey?" V finally asked over his shoulder, hoping to change the direction of the conversation.

"Yes I did." Although he wasn't looking at her, he could hear a sense of relief in her voice.

"And what did you think?" V questioned as he watched the normal pancake cook.

"Well" Evey said still swirling the fork in tempo with her words "I mean, I'd read it before. And the ending—it's just too happy with Valentine and Silvia and Proteus and Julia getting married and the criminals being pardoned by the Duke. I mean, life doesn't really end like that—a tree for everyone."

A tree for everyone.

She was making a reference to their previous conversation several weeks ago. Or had it been longer? It had seemed like only seconds ago he had sat next to her as she had drifted off to sleep, hands entwined and hearts in unison.

No, no, no.

Focus on the present—not the past. It was nothing more than one brief moment of the manifestation of her sympathy and tenderness for him. He had thoroughly convinced himself couldn't have been anything more. And V had more far important things to occupy his attention than indulging in such desires and wishes.

Like his plan.

…..or, like Valentine's Day.

…or, like Evey…..

How could he ever thank her for seeing something in him that he had overlooked for the past 15 years in just one holiday? How could he ever show her that he cared—how to show her that she meant more to him than anyone else in the world did in just one day? How could he thank her for giving him a reason to fight—a reason beyond the nameless faceless masses—a reason to exist—?

How could he thank her with her only request being breakfast?

By quoting Shakespeare to her?

With a tree?

…..

V suddenly dropped the spatula he had been holding and it hit the counter with a light slap.

Perfect.

Perfect.

After a week's worth of mental taxation and torture over the dreaded holiday, he had finally gotten his idea.

V resisted the sudden urge to laugh out loud triumphantly.

Veni, vedi, vici.

The plan was cute and romantic but not too sappy. It was personal and touching and yet not in a way that would be uncomfortable for the either of the pair. It would be special both of them and V hoped that the memory would be something that would bring Evey joy for years to come. She deserved it for all of the joy he had brought her--

"V?"

V shook his head slightly, bringing himself back out of the haze of glory and back into reality. It was only then that he realized that he had been staring into the pan at a now blackened and burnt pancake.

"Ah, yes, mademoiselle?" V hastily picked up the spatula from the counter and grabbed the pan off the stove.

"Sorry---I thought that maybe you weren't listening or something."

"Oh no, no—I heard you perfectly." V said, using the spatula to scour the remains of the burnt pancake off of the pan over the sink. "I agree with your sentiments on the book exactly. However, for the time being, would you care for another pancake?"

Evey looked slightly surprised at his suddenly chipper tone. Mood swings were normally not a character trait that she was used to with him.

"Is it heart shaped?" She asked.

Oh, touché, St. Valentine.

"If you would like them to be." V said slowly. He still couldn't say that he was exactly enthused about the prospect of the holiday, despite his brilliant idea.

"Actually….I'd love it." Evey said with a coy smile and handed her plate back to V who took it from her with a flourish of his black gloved hand.

V turned back to the stove, picked up the bowl from the counter, and began to pour the pancake batter into the pan, this time intentionally in the shape of a heart. However, despite his actions, for the first time in a week, he felt his old confidence and bravado return.

He could do this—he could conquer Valentine's Day. All it would take was a little planning as he would need time to execute it all perfectly. The only problem was how to get Evey out of the Gallery safely for the afternoon….

Hm.

V pursed his lips from behind his mask as he listened to the pancake sizzle on the stove. This was going to be slightly more difficult than he originally imagined. However, being multidimensional was apparently one of his many talents.

V glanced down at the pan and shook his head almost in disbelief.

In contradiction with the norms of the world, he was, after all, a terrorist who made heart shaped pancakes.

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The Shakespearean quote in the middle is from Two Gentlemen of Verona.

A/N: Next up, V goes on an expedition and Evey begins her own preparations. Thanks for reading and remember to please review! I promise that I'll update this story as soon as possible—however with that being said, I do have a midterm, an 8 page paper due, and tech week for a show all coming up next week, so please be patient. Again, thank you SO much for reading!