here also is the final chapter! I hope you like!

Chapter 4

He hadn't spoken a word since he had led her out of that accursed room, had fought to keep his cool as he listened to her weakened murmur about french and eggs, while he quietly wondered what it was her broken mind made her see. He constantly had the picture in his mind's eye, when he had entered the room, just as Evey had dealt the last blow against her attackers. She had seemed invincible, almost godlike then; a vision of rage, vengeance and death combined in one woman. And though it pained him to see what it had taken to break the shackles of her existance he couldn't help but marvel at the terrible beauty she had portrayed to him. How she had stood, her hand closed firmly around the handle of the metal baton, breathing heavily, staring at nothing at all, as if she hadn't known what was transpiring. The blood that had dripped from her achingly pretty features had built a vibrant contrast to her normally pale skin. Sometimes he imagined her being a living porcelain doll, something to guard and keep safe, lest it crack and break, shattered beyond repair.

But this moment, as she had stood barefooted in the sea of the lively liquid of her enemies, her dirty orange rag hanging limply from her bony shoulders, she had seemed ... powerful. Admirable. Worthy of worshipping.

Yet it pained him to recall her disbelief at his appearance, had she truly believed he would leave her behind? Had she believed he would forsake her?

Never, not in a million ages of life...

And now, as her dainty figure rested in his arms, one of her hands snaked delicately around his neck and her quiet, even breaths (though laboured as they were) assured him that she was only unconscious, merely resting from so many hours of torture, he allowed himself a moment of pause and study her drawn features.

Her cheeks were sunken and hollow, countless bruises covered her skin, some wounds being open and slowly oozing driplets of blood that seeped into the fabric of his black tunic and cloak, deep darkened shadows lingered underneath her eyes and she was over all a pitiful sight to him. The amount of pain she must have suffered on the hands of Creedy's men made his blood very nearly boil.

Yes, he had imagined a lot of possibilites as to what she might look like when he found her, but in all honesty he had expected to find her either huddled in a corner, shivering in nameless fear or lying limply and cold on a darkened floor, her eyes staring sightlessly to the world around. He hadn't expected to find her in this glorious display of pure anger and hate, dealing death and bashing the heads of the Fingermen in. It almost made him proud of her and he felt his chest swell as he recounted the insignia she had drawn on the wall, doubtless in her own blood. She had displayed her loyalty in a last act of defiance and judging by the looks of her, she had fully well been prepared to die tonight.

Death might still take her...

V dreaded the very thought of it. His concern grew with every hastened step he took towards the safety of the Gallery, where she could recuperate and her wounds could be tended. Quickly he weaved his way through the tunnels, constantly listening for any other sounds besides his steady footfalls, yet all was silent except for the occasional skidding of rats claws on the concrete. So at least they weren't following him as he took Evey ever further towards London and his home.

After agonizingly long minutes, he reached one of the many doors leading into his sanctuary. Quickly he slipped through the doorway, allowing it to swing closed and lock behind him, made his way over to his former bedroom, the one he had given to Evey as he had brought her here the very first time.

Gently he placed her still form onto the sheets and left to gather all the supplies he needed to tend the worst of her wounds. On the way he hurriedly discarded the hat and his coat, sliding off his knife-belt and made his way into the bigger bathroom, where he kept all the medical supplies and instruments he had stolen over the course of twenty long years.

Cotton swabs, surgical gauze and tape, disinfectant and antiseptic creams, bandages and various other things. He knew fully well that his mind ran on Autopilot, forcing him to do the most urgent things first and after it had been done and he could allow himself to rest a little, the thoughts would return.

Upon returning, he saw that Evey hadn't moved a single inch from the position he had left her in, it almost looked as if she was a murdered angel, coming to rest into eternity on these sheets. Placing the supplies on the nightstand, V left once more to get clean water and a soft towel to wash the blood away that praised her victory.

Gently he worked on the parts of flesh he could see, keeping the rag on her, allowing her as much dignity as he could while still ensuring that he washed the main part of the blood away. Very carefully he cleaned her beautiful face, taking the crusted blood away on her features and her skull, daring a first look onto her wounds. Some rather large bruises and lacerations manifested themselves on her skull, and briefly he mourned the loss of her silken locks, he had so liked to see. Sometimes he had allowed himself to wonder what these glorious strands of hair might feel like, should he ever have to opportunity to touch them with his bare had. But he had always restrained himself from following that desire. And now Creedy and his henchmen had taken her beautiful hair and shaved her head, yet she didn't look particularly ugly to him. If anything, it made her all the more beautiful. Powerful and strong, displaying a hard edge to the world itself.

Willing his thoughts away from her beauty, he started to gently clean the wounds and apply disinfectant to them. From the looks of it, they would hurt and she would be quite shaken for a few days, harbouring a terrible headache possibly, but they weren't life threatening. The bloodloss seemed more concerning. V had seen the amount of blood in that room and most of it on the walls and the floor had been dried and crusted, so it meant that she had suffered a substantial amount of pain in that room. Perhaps they had simply left it uncleaned to increase the dread on her by showing her how much of the life lending liquid she had already poured onto the white tiles.

His hands moved on their own accord, working ceaselessly on her wounds, washing away dried blood and when he at last was finished with his task and allowed himself to draw a deep breath, he finally succumbed to his desire to touch her. Very lightly his gloved finger caressed her pale and sunken cheek and he silently wished those eyes to open and direct their gaze at him.

"Oh, my dear Evey, what have they done to you?" he whispered quietly revelling in a brief moment of mindless despair over the mere sight of her battered body.

But it only lasted a moment until he had reigned control back into his hands. Very gently he tucked her frail shape under the blanket and settled himself down on a chair nearby, grabbing the first book that crossed his path and prepared himself for a sleepless night to wait when she would awaken.

To wait until this angel opened his eyes once more.

Morning came and passed and still Evey slept blissfully, her even breathing echoing through his very soul. V hadn't moved much since he had chosen to keep vigil at Evey's bedside, caught between dread and hope. Hope that she would awake soon, yet dreading the moment it would happen. For this one moment within the interrogation cell, he had caught the mad gleam of true lunacy in her eyes and he hoped that it wouldn't catch hold on her. Hoped that despite what had been done to her, she would maintain a grip on sanity and allow her mind to accept the freedom she had taken.

But she should wake up soon, V had seen the signs of starvation that lingered on her white skin and knew she needed to eat something soon, or her body would simply give up and wither to death.

He had disposed of the dirty and bloodsoaked towels and supplies, had provided her with a fresh glass of water, that now stood waiting atop her nightstand, next to a box of painkillers. She had stirred sometimes in her slumber, sometimes mumbling words that sounded contend and almost happy, had breathed deeply in and fell back into the cocoon of nothingness, always the ghost of a smile playing around her lips. And every time it had happened, V wondered what it was she dreamt about, what thoughts her mind conjured to keep her in blissful ignorance of the pain around her.

Did she dream about him too?

And if so, what was it about that kept her contended? What was it that kept her smiling so faintly to the shadows of her dreams?

Each time she stirred, V placed a comforting hand to her shoulder, assuring her that she was safe, that he was here and there was no need to give into fear. Silently he told her that he would keep her safe as long as it was needed, but he couldn't utter the words, couldn't tell her about the dread and the admiration he felt as he watched her sleeping features now.

If she continued to sleep throughout the day, she would be too weakened. Come evening and she would still be asleep, he'd have to give her an I.V drip of nutrients and saline, providing her body at least with bare essentials for survivial. Each moment that passed and fluttered into infinity, was both cherished and hated by V. He longed for her to wake up, to look up at him and hear his name from her lips.

And just as he had allowed himself to accept his longing and dwell among his own memories, he saw the Lady stirring once more, only now it seemed that she finally was on her way to consciousness.

Relieved V breathed out, it appeared to be unneccessary to plunge a needle into her arm after all. Silently he crept out of the room to prepare a light meal for her, her stomach wouldn't be able to keep anything solid in yet, but she needed nutrients. Smiling the first true smile in 10 days, full of relief and unveiled happiness, he busied himself at the stove to cook for her, as he had done countless times before.

The first thing Evey registered was the smell. It didn't smell like her cell, nor the interrogation room and briefly she wondered if this was a new depth of her madness, if her mind now provided her with a fake memory of scent to entertain her. And then came the pain, rolling in agonizing waves from the top of her head down to her toes. Weakly she lifted her arm to grab her sore head, feeling a thin fabric covering her skull.

What's this? Keeping me alive to torture me further?

With great effort she opened her eyes, took a moment to adjust to the soft layer of warm light glowing near her and when her vision cleared she found herself both confused and marvelling at the sight that met her. She was in her room, the familiar scent of old books and stone walls surrounding her, mixed with a strange smell of antiseptic and disinfectant.

Am I hallucinating this? Or dreaming this?

She was in the Shadow Gallery, the sheets covering her body feeling as real as the pain that coursed through her tired and sore limbs. Tiredly she let her gaze wander around the room, finally settling on the nightstand beside her bed, a glass of water and a medicinal bottle filled with plain white pills standing atop it. And with this sight came a distant memory, almost as if she had awoken from a dreadful nightmare only to find herself at a safe haven, a calm surrounding.

V standing in the room filled with blood, the scent tickling her nose, his voice drifting through the veils of crimson and reaching her dimmed sanity inside. The feel of his arms as he carried her and his strong heartbeat that lulled her to blissful sleep.

Quietly groaning she levered herself upward, forcing herself to sit, ignoring the pain emanating from her body. If this was a dream then it sure as hell was painful, that much was for certain. Weakly she grabbed the glass and poured the cool liquid down her throat, forced to use both hands to lift the glass to her lips and grateful for the soothing it provided to her sore mouth.

When she placed it back, it was drowned, drunken in slow considering sips as to not overwhelm her body with the liquid.

Evey dropped her gaze and found that she was still clothed in her prison garb, but the blood was gone, washed away by careful and gentle hands. Well, at least the parts exposed by this dirty excuse for clothing. Her heart soared as she realized that V had cleaned her without taking her clothing away, providing her with a sense of honoured dignity, refusing to expose her entire body to his sight.

V, always the gentleman...

With the thought of V a sound reached her ears. A sound she had often imagined, but hadn't heard in her waking mind while being imprisoned. It was V humming and moving around in the kitchen. The clatter of plates was quiet, but discernable.

Still believing she was dreaming or caught in a harmounious hallucination, Evey reached a weak arm towards some clothes still lying on a chair nearby. Ignoring the cry her muscles uttered, she relieved herself of the orange rag and covered her body in the warm calmness of the cotton sweatpants and a wollen sweater. She breathed deeply the scent of roses that still lingered on the clothing, remembering the smell and revelling in it. It gave her the strength she needed to stagger to her feet, holding onto the wall for support. The floor was cold underneath her feet, a sensation no longer frightening to her.

With every breath she took Evey began to believe more and more that this was real. V had come for her, had rescued her out of the prison of the Finger and brought her back to his home. Had tended her wounds and had provided her with warmth and care.

And Evey wished for it to be real, wished for it so desperately, that every other thought paled in comparison. On weak and shaky feet Evey made her way slowly out of the room, keeping to the wall to hold her upright, aware but ignorant of the pain roaring through her. An eternity seemed to pass until she was in the hall leading to the kitchen.

And then she saw him. V, standing in his kitchen, with that lovable silly apron bound around himself, humming while stirring in a small pot. She had imagined this so often, had dreamed of instances similar, had reminded herself constantly what he looked like, sounded like, moved like. Tears welled up in her eyes as she took in the scene in front of her. Her intake of breath did not go unnoticed by the image in front of her and the mask turned in silent surprise.

It only lasted a moment, then he was moving towards her, had reached her in an instant and gently placed his hands on her arms to hold her up, support her while she couldn't look anywhere else other than him.

"As relieved I am to see you awake, dear Evey, I believe you shouldn't be walking about just yet." he breathed towards her, and she could feel his emotion wafting through her. Could sense his breath as he spoke to her.

This is real! her mind cried out in utter bliss and happiness and her eyes reacted by tearing up even more.

The first salty drop splashed unto her cheeks and she finally allowed herself to take what she had craved for so many hours now. Smiling faintly, she leaned forward, let her frame collapse into his hold, while the first sob escaped her lips.

V tensed as her head made contact with his chest, but his arms seemed to move on their own accord as he closed his grip around her and held her crying form to his chest. She needed this, needed to let the emotion out and he in turn needed to assure himself she was there, was alive, would be healthy again.

They stood like that for a small eternity, her frame shaking with sobs and the tears staining his tunic. He rubbed small circles on her back, a motion he had seen in many movies when people comforted each other. He couldn't remember if he had done it before, he couldn't remember anything from before Larkhill, but the motion felt natural, practised, as if he had been doing things like this before indeed.

"Evey?" he whipered gently, drinking in the feeling of her shaven head tucked underneath his chin, while he felt the choking sobs subsiding and this vision of perfection holding onto him. Slowly she leaned back, still maintaining her hold on him and looked with teary eyes up to his mask. Gently he rubbed his index finger against her cheek, brushing the tears away and recognized his heart skip a beat or two as she leaned into his touch.

"I'm sorry, I just... all this... I kept thinking of it... and it kept me there..." she whispered barely audible, her eyes never leaving his, as if she was able to peer behind the mask and look through his eyes directly into his soul.

"What, dear?" he asked equally quiet, unconsciously unwilling to speak louder, in fear she could quake and dissappear again.

"You... breakfast... eggy in a basket... the apron..." she choked on another sob, new tears forming in her eyes and now V could understand the murmurs he had heard during her sleep. She had dreamed about him, about this, him making breakfast for her.

The knowledge of this made his heart almost give out. Her memory of him had maintained her hold on this world. Forcing himself to push that thought a little further back in his mind and reminding him to think of more pressing concerns, he slid an arm around her shoulders, being oddly pleased when she leaned into him again.

"You need to rest again, Evey. You shouldn't walk around yet. Come, my dear, sit down. You need something to strengthen you again." with that he carefully helped her over to a chair by the table and let her sit down. Numbly she nodded and lifted her arm to brush away the tears, wincing when her hand hit a bruise on her cheekbone. Her eyes followed his every movement, while she sat silently and tried to control her breathing. She seemed as if she couldn't decide yet if this was real or just a dream.

Her gaze cleared for a moment as V placed a glass of water in front of her and turned to the stove again, filling a bowl with steaming soup. The smell alone made Evey's mouth water. After the stuff she had been fed by the Finger, a plain chickensoup seemed like utter bliss to her.

V accompanied her at the table, watching silently as she took spoonful after spoonful, each bite serving as a bringer of energy to her malnourished body. And when she at last set the spoon down, she had eaten almost the whole bowl, a bit of colour had risen to her pale features again and she had drunken the full glass of water. Yet she kept her gaze fixed to the surface of the wooden table underneath her hands, not looking up and furrowing her brow in a display of uneasy concern, but not fear. She said no word as V cleared the table and sat down opposite her again. Neither seemed to find the right words, so they both stayed quiet, V studying her features with a new sense of attraction, recalling the moment his eyes had met hers in the interrogation cell. It had been fearless, enraged, even mad, but not beyond saving. She had momentarily lost her mind, had turned on her captors and had ferosciously killed them without a sense for mercy or regret. He wondered what had given her the last push, what had been the ultimate drop of water that had broken the proverbial dam.

Even now, as she sat here, she seemed enshrouded by a cloud of pure strength, of godlike might, it made even him shiver in delight.

When she spoke, his mind cleared and he saw only her.

"I didn't believe you would really come for me." she whispered, her gaze still glued to the spot beneath her hands. Her quiet admittance froze V to the seat for a split second, but then he again found that his body moved on its own will, as he suddenly found himself crouching in front of her stool, taking her dainty hands into his own.

"Why would you believe that, dear Evey?" he asked back, briefly dreading the answer, but knowing she needed to speak to him now, needed to tell him this.

"I thought you would hate me, V." For the first time since she had sat down to eat a bit, she looked up and unconsciously met his eyes behind the mask. And what he saw nearly hade his heart stop entirely. She actually believed he could hate her. He wanted so badly to make her see the depth of emotion she had stirred inside him, but for now, he only needed to ensure her.

"Never could I do that, Evey. I could never hate you, just as much as I could never hurt you." he answered her silent question gently, while at the same time stroking her bony cheek with a caressing thumb. Again she leaned into his touch, as if it was all she craved for now. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of leather clouding her, allowed herself to settle again and be at peace. When she opened her eyes once more, her gaze was concerned but still without fear. V thought for a moment he would simply lose himself in those glistening pools of her eyes, but managed to concentrate on her and her words.

"Can you ever forgive me what I did?" she asked, her voice dropping with each letter a little more, as if she thought he would forsake her now at last and leave her behind in a world that meant to kill her. V could see in her eyes that she was not so much concerned about death, she was worried he would be able to throw her away, out of his life.

As if that would be possible. My heart would stop beating without her...

"Evey." he breathed and inched a tiny bit closer to her, tilting the mask to the side a bit, showing her that he was sincere.

"I already forgave you."

Her soft sigh was utter bliss and relief all poured into one exhale of oxygen and she leaned forward again, resting her forehead against the mask.

Long they sat like that, her grateful gaze boring into his own, neither moving.

At last, V brought her back to her bed, and watched as she slept again. A sleep so wholly and blissfully, while a silent smile graced her face, he felt himself settle again as well. She was glorious in her freedom, achingly beautiful even in her sleep, disturbingly powerful while at rest, emanating a silent might that was hard to comprehend by words.

A sigh long held back forced his way free and V felt his muscles relaxing, felt the dread leave him and be replaced by a calm, soothing emotion he hadn't felt so far. But no matter what it meant, this sense of peace and harmony as he watched her sleep, the only thing that held any worth to him was Evey right as she was now.

The angel was back inside his life, more beautiful than he could have ever imagined her to be.

The End

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