Author's Notes: Oh wow! The review response to chapter sixth was awesome! 10 reviews for one chapter! o.0 You guys are simply incredible and all your positive words have been a great encouragement and inspiration for me to continue with this!

Author's Notes: (6/17/07) This chapter, has had three pages added to the end. Originally, I was going to make these pages Chapter Eight, however, they are a direct continuation from the point at which we left off, and I couldn't make the transition at the end of the three pages to the next thing I wanted to do without creating a very short chapter eight. Therefore, you are receiving an update...of sorts, and the actual chapter eight is coming very soon!

I'm keeping my fingers crossed for reviews on this chapter, (again) since there is a lot of new content to be read. :D Hope you enjoy, and I'm sorry about the delay I had in getting this out.

Instead of the usual two anchors on the BTN daily news, a well-groomed Gregory Dascomb sat at the desk, staring right into the screen, brown eyes solemn. "What is truth?" he was saying, "Is it fact or belief? Or are the facts and the ideologies of life two things interwoven together, completely inseparable? It was the BTN's job to report the news, and for the past two decades, we have done our best to do so…but the only news we can report is the news we receive, with of course, permission from the censorship advisory committee."

Resting in the comforts of his luxurious home a lone man sat in a darkened living room, one brow arched at the implications of these words. V didn't have much faith in Britain's solitary television network, and even less in the man who invaded his den at that very moment.

On the screen Dascomb paused for a moment, his face set in a grim and sincere look. "And for 20 years our government concealed anything from us that could excite the imagination of the people, they oppressed any means in which the BTN could help to propel anti-Norsefire sentiment." His voice was full of expression; he did not speak with a reporter's well cultivated tone, but rather reflected the feelings of all who were watching with his inflections.

It was difficult for him not to roll his eyes at that. The BTN had long been the leading supporter of the conservative party's regime in the country, eagerly spouting out all of their lies and propaganda to the unassuming public. He was not sure if this support was willingly bestowed or coerced by Norsefire officials, but he was well aware of the affiliations of the man before his eyes.

In his study a few feet across the room, there was a light green filing cabinet jam-packed with manila folders and minimally classified. There were four unmarked drawers, tacitly categorized in descending order as spare, manipulate, kill/manipulate, and kill. Each folder within these drawers had a tab that was labeled in pencil with a name, first then last, using these names they were then organized alphabetically.

Dascomb, Gregory was a file that was seemingly almost constantly being switched from one drawer to another. He had never met the man in person, but the name and face were ones that he knew all too well. He ran over the Dascomb's stats in his head, ticking off every minuet detail he could recall as he watched the man carry on about the evils of the government that codename V had liberated the country from.

Age: 37

"We can not allow chaos to best us! As a country we can not stand for it! I refuse to condone it, and I urge you to scorn the madness that is sweeping through the country. Only with unnerving serenity of November the Fifth can we endure and overcome…"

Birth date: June 19th, 1988

"Ever since the Conservative Party came into power in 2009, we have had nothing but lies and corruption to believe in, to follow…"

Weight: Approximately 185 lbs

"One man in a mask refused to be coerced; one man led a revolution against a powerful tyrant…"

Height: Approximately 6 ft.

"Where is High Chancellor Sutler, and Party Leader Creedy? It's a question on everyone's mind…"

Hair: Brown/Grey

"It is cowardice, I believe, that keeps them at bay…in all their time in power there has never been such an uprising…"

Eyes: Brown

"Nothing this monumental has occurred since the devastating Riot in Leeds, after Chancellor Sutler had been elected…"

Party Affiliations: Labor 2003-2008

Conservative 2008/9-current

Abruptly, V was interrupted from his reverie.

"You should be resting." Evey said her voice cutting through the air and filling the entire room, over powering the ranting man on the television.

V turned his head in acknowledgement, glancing at the slightly cross woman standing in the doorway to the kitchen, light flooding in from behind her. He drank her in with his eyes, and couldn't help but notice how well righteous indignation suited her; cheeks flushed lightly and her posture proving she was ready to do battle.

"Nonsense," he replied, keeping the tone light, "I've slept off almost an entire day, and though dreaming may be one's pleasantest escape from the harshness of reality, I feel that I have been vacationing from my duties long enough."

The faintest hint of a smile spread across Evey's lips. "I made some tomato soup…" she said hesitantly, changing the subject, "I would have made chicken, but I could only find that terrible government issued fake chicken stock junk…and you didn't have any vegetables in the fridge…"

"Ah," V responded repentantly, "My apologies mademoiselle. The last occasion I took to acquire some groceries I had deemed it a foolish notion to procure any perishable goods."

"Not even frozen or canned?" Evey asked, crossing the threshold and walking towards him, "Why would you think vegetables are a foolish notion?"

V made no response, but realization suddenly dawned on her without any of his assistance. Her step faltered, and her bemused smile shaped itself into a surprised frown. "Oh…" she said simply, "Oh I see…"

"Evey…" V began pleadingly, immediately sensing her shift of mood, "Evey, you must understand…"

"Oh no," she interrupted, the octave of her voice rising slightly, "oh no, I understand perfectly. How about I pour you a bowl of that soup? I don't know if you're stomach will be able to handle it but..."

"I assure you, it will be fine." He turned back to the program, suddenly resigned. He could recognize defeat when he saw it, and he knew that Evey would refuse to take the implications of his words lightly.

His attention averted back to the television set as Evey fussed around in the kitchen some more, he was surprised to find that Dascomb was now interviewing Chief Inspector Finch, a man whom V actually had some small modicum of respect for.

"Good evening Inspector Finch, and thank you for agreeing to this interview. I trust your department must be very busy right now."

Finch was dressed and groomed immaculately, but his eyes betrayed all of his exhaustion. "Yes," he responded, almost sadly. "The telephone's been ringing all day with reports of lootings, robberies, murder, and all other kinds of things. It seems since parliament fell that the world has gone a bit mad."

V smiled in satisfaction underneath the spoiled mask that gingerly lay on his bandaged face. It seemed that his meticulous planning was paying off to some degree, and at any rate it was at least a hopeful beginning for a new England.

"Without the stability that Norsefire provided, it seems that anarchy is ruling our nation." Dascomb added his normally shifty gaze steadfast. Turning to Finch he lightened his tone somewhat and continued, "However, we can not blame people for being over indulgent in enjoying their sense of new found freedom, can we Chief Inspector?"

Finch smiled at that, although his eyes held none of the merriment that his lips professed. He spoke on about how any person so long repressed from enjoying the simple pleasures of being alive were bound to go a little crazy in their hedonism, and as he observed the man, V perked up significantly. Mr. Finch seemed to have aged remarkably for one night, and coldly V attempted to calculate just what weighed so heavily on his mind.

Evey walked into the living room carrying a tray with her soup and some crackers just as Dascomb began to speak once more. As she listened to his words, any anger or disappoint she felt towards the masked man were momentarily forgotten.

"I understand that tomorrow crews will begin to clear up some of the Parliament wreckage, is that correct sir?" he asked.

"Yes." Finch answered, and then directing his speech towards the audience said, "As you all must know, Parliament was one of the few places left in England still containing original art work that has yet to be banned, most likely do to the fact that there hasn't been any public access to the building in eleven years. We suspect that much of this art and other artifacts were completely obliterated during the explosion, however anything found while clearing the area will be sold at auction, as well as various parts of the building itself."

Evey's eyes widened as she approached the sofa where V sat propped up with pillows, her ears picking up the Chief Inspector's news with surprise. "Here," she said idly, not taking her eyes off the telly as she placed the tray in his lap.

"Thank you." V answered automatically, but said nothing else, as he was just as engrossed by the idea as she was.

Finch continued to talk. "It is of course necessary to clear up the debris and prevent any fire continuance immediately. After meeting with General Whit, head of Fire Control and Prevention, we both realized the need to act swiftly. There has already been a great power shortage in the blocks surrounding the Parliament building, and as we speak emergency service workers are working rapidly to restore the area, aided by police escorts."

"And what of the funds gained from the Parliament auction?" questioned Dascomb, "What does the police force plan to do with the money they acquire?"

"Right now," Finch began noncommittally, "there are several suggestions as to what to do with the profit earned. The most popular idea right now is to donate the money to Codename V, but since we can not determine his actual identity, another proposition has been put forth to instead give the funds to his supposed accomplice, Evey Hammond."

V immediately turned towards Evey, who had sat down on the sofa in a daze when she heard the words. He lifted the remote control, and looking at her said quietly, "I believe that is enough television for one afternoon's respite."

There was a long, tense silence before Evey finally spoke, and when she did it was barely above a whisper. "Why me?" she murmured, almost unable to feel.

"Because you, my dear." V replied, taking his hand and turning her chin gently to face him, "you have become a symbol to the people, like Parliament, and like me. Finch and Dascomb are much smarter men than I had believed them to be, if they understand that the people wish to honor that."

"It's all so soon." She said, sinking back into the comfort's of the couch cushions.

"I confess that in all my summations on what could happen after the fifth, I never imagined that Chief Inspector Finch would act with such alacrity. Dascomb's readiness in dealing with the situation is infinitely less shocking, although the manner in which he has conducted it is perplexing." V replied, attempting to give her some small comfort.

She sighed, looking at him with a small wistful smile. "You know V," Evey began, her tone vying to be light and playful, "this is not what I signed up for when I maced that detective at the BTN."

"What was it then that you were willing to comply with, my dear?" V asked, matching her mood.

"I was hoping to spend several months as a damsel in distress with a mysterious masked avenger as my only companion, of course." She grinned, stifling a yawn.

"I'm afraid that life often times serves you a much larger platter than you are quite ready to stomach, but I feel certain in that you will manage to do so with equanimity." V responded.

For a brief interlude they sat, and somehow Evey's hand slowly found his and intertwined their fingers together. V's breath caught short in his chest as he felt the warmth of her small hand nestled in his, and he slowly surmised that though her moments of compulsory affection would never cease to startle him, there was no just reason why he should view such a surprise as unwelcome.

Eventually V disentangled himself from her and suggested that she should perhaps get some rest in her own bed, rather than have another catnap on the crowded sofa. Agreeing with him she stood up to leave, all the thoughts whirling through her head from the afternoon having been slightly subdued from his calming presence.

Before she entered her bedroom, V called out to her and said, "You should go tomorrow, to help clean the debris of Parliament." When she turned her head and stared at him and shock he said, "After all, Evey...it was you who ultimately pulled the lever."

Her heart almost stopping, Evey's voice rose in protest, "V…" she began, but he swiftly cut her off.

"I know that you may be hesitant in leaving the comforts of the Shadow Galley, so soon, however, I told you that this no longer my world to shape. But different people's' yours Evey."

Never before in her life has Evey been so tempted to lie and tell V everything he believed about her was correct. However, she knew that any falsehood she made would be completely transparent, and she doubted she would be able to endure all the guilt she would feel at not confessing the whole truth to him.

"Before you go on V," Evey said quietly, hovering by the entrance to her bedroom. "You should know something." She paused and swallowed, trying to compose her thoughts. "Last night, I didn't pull the lever. I abandoned the train at the platform. Instead…instead I chose to try and save you."

His silence was deafening.

Braced by the frame of her bedroom doorway, Evey stood proud and determined, waiting for V to speak. Millions of thoughts and feelings rushed through her head as she anticipated V's verdict, but she would not regret the decisions she made. Oh, she had felt guilty…she couldn't think of time she had done anything to feel guiltier, but when he had given her that responsibility, he had given her a choice, and she had chosen to save him. Even as his silence dragged out to what felt like an eternity slipping by, she could still hear his words from the previous evening, as they stood together on the platform.

"…If you want it to be."

She had wanted to pull that lever, that she could not deny…but she had wanted to save him more than anything else. He had left it up to her, and she had chosen. Let him dare try and criticize her for it; she was more than ready to defend her actions.

"I am afraid that I have not quite discerned your meaning." V said silkily, the hushed lilt of his voice conveying the pent up rage he held behind a calm exterior. "Are you implying that you chose to arrange a hospital stay for me rather than carry on with the task I had entrusted you with?"

"Yeah." Evey snapped, her head cocking in challenge at the anger in his tenor instead of cowering in fear. "That's exactly what I'm implying V."

The sharp tilt of the mask and the clenched fists were enough indication to show Evey just how furious her new information had made him; but, seeing his indignation only caused her ire to rise. Righteous passion and fury fueled her steps and quickly she had crossed over the space that divided and loomed over her adversary, an angry tirade spilling out from between her lips.

"You've no right to judge me, V! I'm a grown woman, perfectly capable of forming my own judgments and making my own decisions! You were hurt…" she paused for a short moment, floundering slightly for words and continued, "You were wounded…probably fatally wounded, and I had to make a quick decision."

V sat erect on the sofa, incapable of any more menacing pose as full of stitches and dull with the last lingering holds of drugs as he was. Had he not been wearing his gloves, Evey could have seen how his knuckles turned even whiter than the scars that marked his hands as he balled them into tight fists.

When he responded, V's tone was one of calculating serenity, and his voice came out as an icy hiss. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."(i) He subtly snarled. "Your concern in my well-being it would seem, is nothing more than a facade to mask your fear of change, Evey."

With those words Evey's face went ashen, and she took a step backward, recoiling from him as if he had dealt her a heavy blow. Momentarily shaken, having not expected that particular argument, V continued on; but, as Evey regained her footing she interrupted him with an angry bark.

"Don't you dare try and accuse anything I do of being a facade, V!" She seethed, fury racing through her veins. "You've no right to say that my concern for you is nothing but a mask, a mask! Yeah, I was afraid that night, afraid to watch you die, no...Afraid to let you die. You honestly try to tell me that I don't care for you, because I tried to save you? You're going to treat my love for you like it's a joke; or worse, nothing more than a lie to justify my fears?"

"What do you want from me, Evey?" V demanded, his collected veneer breaking apart with the words, resolve shattering like thin glass and smashing into a million fragile pieces, "Would you like me to reassure you in my happiness that you value my humble life higher than the call of freedom? My life is freedom, Evey!"

It was the closest thing to a sob she had ever heard from him, and Evey couldn't stand the weight of it.

"No it's not!" Evey cried, collapsing down to her knees on the cold, stone floor of the Shadow Galley, and reaching out towards him. "You're a man V, a human being! You came from somewhere...a mother who gave birth to you. You aren't just some manifestation of revolution. You're so much more than idea, and you refuse to believe it! You can't touch an idea, kiss it, or hold it... ideas don't bleed and feel pain, they don't love, or laugh..."(ii) She paused, holding back a heavy sob that threatened to fall and continued, "V you have a name, you have some sort of family, dead or alive, you have a past...so don't try to accuse my feelings for you of being facade, don't try and tell me that I use a mask, even a metaphorical one, when a mask is all that you'll allow yourself to be!"

There was a long tense silence between them, as neither dared to breathe, and Evey did not bother to wipe away the scalding tears that spilled out from between dark lashes and raced down her cheeks in rapid succession. She was kneeling there next to him, naked and unafraid of judgment, perfectly ready to be condemned. It wasn't the first time she had so wholly revealed herself to him, and malice began to grow in the pit of her stomach, gaining memento as she thought of the first time he had been seen her without pretenses.

"I can't feel anything anymore!"

As Evey knelt there beside him, old feelings of hate toward him rose up from the depths of her subconscious, pleading wildly to be let free. With so much grief, frustration and fury all happening so swiftly, her mind had become a tumultuous inundation of memories and feelings; bitterly she couldn't help but think just how wrong she'd been when she'd said she no longer felt. She felt more now, more vivid, sharper, brighter, keener, than she had ever felt in her entire life, and she despised it.

Shaking, Evey stood, and walked back to her bedroom, closing the door behind her and leaning against as soon as she knew she was out of V's sight. Feeling physically tired and emotionally drained she threw herself onto her bed, swiftly falling asleep. On the other side of thick, stone walls, V let hot tears fall until he too, was spent.

He felt that he turned more and more into a man with each second passed in her presence, the good and the bad, and he wasn't sure whether or not he should laud it or fear it.

Author's Notes: I'm sincerely hoping that all you have that have previously read this chapter, and (hopefully!) left a review, will be kind enough to do so again. Don't worry, the school year is about to end, and my updating should pick up speed once more. I've been awfully busy with finals and all that nonsense.

(i) "The lady doth protest too much, methinks." (Hamlet, III, ii, 239)

(ii) "You can't touch an idea, kiss it, or hold it... ideas don't bleed and feel pain, they don't love, or laugh..." (Paraphrased from Evey Hammond's introduction in the beginning of the 2005 V for Vendetta film.)

"I've witnessed first hand the power of ideas, I've seen people kill in the name of them, and die defending them... but you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it, or hold it... ideas do not bleed, they do not feel pain, they do not love..."

Also:

You may have noticed that in this chapter I mentioned height and weight in pounds and feet. I wasn't sure what the British measurement system would be, and so I did a bit of research online to see how I should mark it. The two websites below (take out the spaces!) were my sources, so correct me if that is wrong, please.

http://www. unc. edu/ rowlett/ units/

http://www. opsi. gov. uk/si/si 1995/Uksi 19951804 en 2.htm