Author's notes:

The timeline will jump back and forth throughout the story. At temporal transitions, be patient and read along and you'll soon find your bearings.

This fic is movieverse, as I have not yet acquired a copy of the graphic novel. However, my birthday is coming quickly, and it is on my list... :-)

I truly hope that you enjoy,

Regards,

Jade


Chapter 2.

Evey Hammond stood quietly next to Duncan Fraser, lost in thought. "What?" she questioned, his soft brogue breaking through.

He placed his arm around her shoulders and squeezed slightly. "Are you ready for this? I know it tough, considerin' your connection with him."

"Yes, Duncan. I'm ok." She smiled at him. "Really," she followed up when his skeptical look indicated he didn't believe her.

"Ok, then. It's time, lass." Duncan stepped to the podium to a rousing round of applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen of London. Thank you all for attending this memorial occasion in remembrance of the events of Guy Fawkes Day one year ago. It has been a momentous year for London, for all of Britain. The revolution, the breaking of our bonds from Norsefire, the rebirth of our own country, a country government by and for the people. I a honored to introduce Miss Evey Hammond, our Minister of Information and Society."

Applause arose from the audience and smiles from the crowd. An unseen frown also appeared, unseen by all, hidden behind one of many V masks. This expression of unhappiness elicited by the hug, held just a little too long, that Duncan bestowed upon Evey. His Evey.

It was to be expected that she would find love after he was gone. He had known it would come. So many dashing young men involved in the revolution. So many handsome faces to draw her smile and her kiss. But mere expectation did not assuage the sadness fulfillment of his prophecy bore. The sound of her voice pulled him from his melancholic musings.

"We gather today to remember the man who made this all possible, a terrorist who released us from the very oppression supposedly protecting us from terror. We gather here today to remember the man who returned us to our senses, woke us from our passive slumber, a man whose name we do not even know, but whom we know as 'Codename V.'"

Evey paused, breathed, reminded herself again that she could do this. "I am humbled that the people of Britain chose me many months ago, at the end of the blessedly short, albeit still bloody, revolution, to lead the Ministry of Information and Society. I have tried to set the direction of the department as I believe V would have desired, I have tried to honour his efforts, his sacrifice through my work."

A slight shiver ran down her spine, her emotions struggling to be released.

"In these many months, the department has restored the right of the people to express themselves, to access information, to visit museums, libraries, and places of edification. The people of Britain had long suffered from a famine of ideas, of the truth, of words."

"When Norsefire took away the citizens' ability to learn about the government, to participate in it, to learn about the world, to express their opinions, they had stagnated our society, silenced our words."

"Words have always been precious to me; I was enchanted by their ability to inspire, to preserve history, to express opinions, to teach. This love of," she closed her eyes and breathed. "This love of words was intensified, almost sanctified, the day I met V. By now, you all have heard the story of the masked man who came to my rescue in a dark alley, who saved my life, then set me free, free from the power of fear held over me by Noresefire."

"I soon became known as V's partner in crime, so to speak," a collective chuckle arose from the audience. "After the violence of the initial stages of revolution waned, you chose me to carry on his quest to return those freedoms, that precious ability to read, write, and access information."

She smiled, then, knowing that V would be proud of her. "In this past year, the Ministry has reestablished long-closed research centers, libraries, museums, university programs that challenged the world as it stood, promoted learning and investigation, supported the free flow of ideas and transparency in the political process."

"But the Ministry of Information and Society has not been the only entity carrying on V's legacy. I am proud to say that so many others had also carried on his work, that his dream is being fulfilled each and every day. I've watched as a new government has formed, exiled political leaders returning to our country, now free to promote a system of participatory government once again. We've drafted and ratified a new Constitution of the United Kingdom, based upon the Classical ideals of democracy. Our newest government will work for the people of England, and it will fear them. For, as a great man had said, people should not be afraid of their governments; governments should be afraid of their people."

Applause erupted upon that sentiment, and Evey smiled again. Even though V had been lost, his legacy was not, nor his memory. She knew he would continue to live on in the hearts of Britain.

"And it is great pride and great honour that I unveil his statue today. V is now immortalized next Bouddica on the banks of the Thames. How very fitting it is to find him next to another warrior who had sacrificed their life to fight oppression and control."

"Everyone must remember, while V had a grand vision for the future of England, he was not merely an ideal. He was a man, a man that breathed the same air you do, walked down the same city streets. I have no doubt you will never forget his legacy, his ideals. I also beg of you, don't forget he was also a man, a man like anyone here, and while he would be proud to be remembered for his support of an idea, it should also be remembered that he once lived, once laughed, once loved."

Holding back tears, Evey turned to the statue, still under its black cover, and nodded to the Prime Minister to unveil it. Duncan looked back at Evey, smiled, and pulled the cord.

The black tarp whipped back to reveal the bronze likeness of V, mimicking the snap of his cloak when he had pulled it back to reach for his knives. The snap of camera shutters and applause was soon all Evey could hear as she looked out upon the crowd, so many of them dressed as her V.

Evey saw Duncan approaching her and shook her head at him. While he did not know the extent of the truth, her friend knew that V had meant more to her than a mentor. And she knew he wanted more than friendship with her, but she had nothing to give to him, she had already been given.

VEV--VEV--VEV--VEV

Unbeknownst to Evey, she had just looked upon her fallen hero, the inspiration that had led her to greatness this past year. A V stood in the back of the crowd, one of many, but this one frozen in place, unable to move, unable to even take in the revelry around him.

What a beautiful speech, he thought. He felt a tear travel down his cheek, beneath his mask. What a gift that I have just received from my dearest Evey.

He soon regained his composure, his strength, and moved away from the crowd, back towards the heart of the city, traveling towards his heart.

VEV--VEV--VEV--VEV

Evey, numb, made her way down into the Shadow Gallery, emotions still carefully in check, as they had been since she had dragged his body onto the train and surrounded him with roses, since she had pressed the lever that sent the explosives-laden train towards Parliament and her love to his funeral. She had been strong, fighting the loss his death had inflicted using the very strength he had imparted upon her.

Walking back into his home, however, returning today to the place they had shared for the briefest of time, she could feel the cracks forming and the sadness piercing through the armour she had donned.

Evey locked the door behind her and blindly make her way to her bedroom to grab his cloak. She had kept it close to her at night since his death a year ago, a reminder of the man she loved. It had grown threadbare in places, where she had rubbed it against her cheek, wishing it was the warmth of his hand she felt instead.

She made it to the couch before she collapsed, all strength sapped from her body. Seeing the statue tribute to him unveiled today had been too much. His ever-smiling face looking down at her, haunting her with thought of what might have been, what should have been.

Evey curled up in the corner of the couch, trying to hide from the pain, and pulled the cloak over her. She grasped the material to her face, as she had done a thousand time, breathing in what was left of his scent. It was strangely strong tonight, as if his essence had returned to her on the anniversary of his death.

When she could hold out no longer, Evey began to cry. Softly at first, as the first tears rolled down her cheeks, then harder, sobs wracking her thin frame.

VEV--VEV--VEV--VEV

Pain radiated through his body. The bullet wounds, albeit barely breaking the skin in most places, burned intensely in his shoulders, where the armour hadn't added a level of protection. Even the weakened-metal bullets caused major damage to exposed flesh.

V stumbled into the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He would live, he knew, but he was close to passing out and knew he had to make it back to Evey before he gave into the need to rest. He needed to tell her of his love, as much for his own release as to leave her with a pleasant memory of him.

While his life would continue, he would be dead to her, he would never again see her smile at him when he cooked dinner for her or finished a book he had recommended. He was reminded of the lyrics to one of the songs in his beloved jukebox. No one knows she's slipping through my hands...I can't be her angel now…no, its not my place to hold her down." He couldn't hold her down, hold her back any longer. Once he was gone, she would fly.

It is probably cruel, this trick. But it is necessary. V thought back at the past few days. He had broken into the Norsefire headquarters and carefully swapped out the military and police-issue bullets with some aluminum bullets acquired years ago, when citizens were still allowed low-powered firearms for personal protection, before all weapons were banned.

VEV--VEV--VEV--VEV

As soon as she turned away from him and entered the subway car, he opened his eyes. He knew he had to work quickly, before she finished her exploration of the massive bomb he had created. He struggled to his feet, fighting the desire to cry out in pain, and limped to the darkened corner where his inanimate doppelganger awaited. Using the last bit of his strength, he dragged the masked mannequin to where he had laid, head in Evey's hand, and quietly made his way back to the Shadow Gallery.

He felt a rumble, undoubtedly from Parliament exploding, fireworks shooting off to the tune of the 1812 Overture and smiled. His work was done, but Evey's was just beginning. It was time for her to build her life and time for her help rebuild Britain.

She was his protégé, he had made her strong, given her a vision and a passion, and he knew she would rise up, take over where he had left off.

He did not linger in his home, quickly grabbing his first aid kit, a bag that he had packed full of food and a few changes of clothe. Before closing the door, he turned to look one last time at the Gallery. Evey will come back here. This is her home now. He left a single rose on the piano, a parting gift for his love.

The physical pain paled in comparison to the breaking of his heart, the wrenching of his soul caused by the knowledge he had to let her go. He was not meant for anyone so beautiful, so good. I hope she will find happiness here.

VEV--VEV--VEV--VEV

V slipped into the Gallery quietly and unnoticed. He hoped to catch just a glimpse of her. An internal war was waging, whether he would simply indulge his desire to see her while remaining in the shadows to spare her the shock of discovering a dead man in her house, or if he could bring himself to finally step from the shadows and face her after all this time.

He did not plan to stay, to burden her with his presence. She had been so brilliant the past year without him to hold her back. She had truly fulfilled her potential, she had such vision, such passion, she had accomplished so much. He just had to see her. Be close to her again, if only for a moment.

He was not prepared for the sight he found. He expected for her to be preparing dinner or listening to the jukebox, relaxing after her triumphal day, reveling in the impact she had made on the new Britain in the past year. Instead, she was expressing great sorrow.

What could she be grieving for, he wondered? Was this her release of a year's worth of stress and pressure of helping to create a new system of government, away from censors and curfews, back to freedom of though and expression and action?

Ah, but she was a beauty to behold, even wit her eyes swollen and red from her tears. She had let her hair grow out, it was longer than it had been on Guy Fawkes Day a year ago when she had still wore the haircut he had given her.

She was curled beneath a dark blanket, her body shaking. No, he realized. It was not a blanket – could it be? He wondered, had she really hung on to his memory so? She was clutching one of his cloaks to her face. Could it really be that she had missed him so greatly?

'Oh, V. Why did you have to die? I'm so sorry I failed you. If only I could have saved you, if only my love had been enough to give you a reason to live.'

V couldn't breath, he struggled to fill his lungs. Her words had landed a hammer blow. Her love? Had his Evey truly fallen in love with him as well? His decision was suddenly made; he had to go to her, had to reveal himself. His heart was breaking watching his best friend, his love, his life mourn for him.

V closed his eyes, steadied himself with a deep breath, and stepped from the shadows. He could hide from her no longer. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocked and, moving silently, slowly approached her, filled with apprehension. Even if she had fallen in love with the man in the mask, could she possibly live with the scarred visage with which he was cursed? While he feared she could not, perhaps he could at least one more time, feel her in his arms, have one more dance to remember when he was gone again.