Same disclaimers as before

Chapter 9: Petunias and Lilies

Evey stared at him, her body trembling. "You," she whispered, "It was you."

V nodded. "Yes."

Evey pointed behind her, her eyes never leaving V's mask. "That wasn't real." She paused for a solid minute, trying to find the right words. "Is Ted-"

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Tonks is dead," said V with a sad sigh, "I thought they'd arrest him, but when they found some of the Weasley Twins' prodigious artwork in his home, they were forced to kill him."

"Oh, God," whispered Evey.

"Fortunately, I got to you before they did," said V

Evey stared at him incredulously. "You got to me?" V turned his head to the side, almost sheepishly. "You did this to me?" Evey demanded, "You cut my hair? You tortured me? You-you broke my wand?"

V walked around the piano, his gloved hand playing over the wood. "Magic is a tool of the weak, Evey. It denies humanity its satisfaction while making it lazy and conformist."

There were too many emotions swirling in Evey's stomach to understand what he said. "You tortured me?" she repeated, "Why?"

"You needed to live without fear, Evey," said V, "I wish there had been an easier way, but there wasn't."

Evey began to hyperventilate. This wasn't fear anymore, this was…she didn't know what. "My God," she murmured.

"I know you may never forgive me," continued V, "But you don't understand how hard it was for me to hurt you. Every time I saw myself, I saw myself as you see me now. Each day I wanted to end it, but you refused to give in. I knew I couldn't either."

Evey stared at him, trying to kill him with her eyes. "You're sick!" she hissed, "You're evil!"

V approached her slowly and she circled around him, trying to keep her distance. "You could have ended it Evey," he pointed out, "You could have given in, but you didn't. Why?"

"Leave me alone!" Evey shouted, wrapping her arms around her head, "I hate you!"

"That's it!" exclaimed V suddenly, making Evey jump back with a start. "See, at first I thought it was hatred too. Hate was all I knew! It was my world! It imprisoned me, taught me how to eat, how to drink, how to breathe! I thought I'd die with all the hatred inside of me."

"I wish you did!"

"But then something happened to me," V said, ignoring Evey's comment, "Just as it happened to you."

"Shut up!" screamed Evey, "I don't want to hear your lies!"

"Your own father said that artists use lies to tell the truth," V pointed out, "Yes, I created a lie. But because you believed it, you found the truth."

"No!"

"What was true in that cell is still true here. What you felt in there is nothing to do with me."

"I-I can't feel anything anymore!"

"Don't run from it, Evey," said V quietly, "You've been running all your life." Evey has having trouble breathing. Her lungs refused to take in air. She was shaking harder than she ever had before and her bones felt like gravel.

"I-I can't b-breathe!" she hissed as she fell to her knees.

V knelt before her and gripped her shoulders. "Listen to me, Evey," he said, "This could be the most important moment of your life. Commit to it." Evey sucked in air desperately. "They took your parents." She exhaled hard. "They took your brother." She cried out, hoping tears would relive her of this pain. "They put you in a cell and took everything they could possibly take from you." V took her chin in his hand, "Except your life. And you believed that was all there was, didn't you?" Evey's breathing, erratic as it was, began to pattern itself. Breath entered her through shaky inhales and left through rushed and crying exhales, but at least she was breathing. "The only thing you had left was your life. But it wasn't all you had left, was it?"

"Please!" sobbed Evey, "Just…please!"

"You found something else," said V, his voice burrowing into her ears despite her determination not to listen to him, "You found something more than yourself. Because when they tried to kill you for what they wanted, you told them you'd rather die. You faced your death, Evey. Be calm, be still. Feel now what you felt then."

Evey's breathing slowed as she flung herself onto V. Her faced buried itself in his shoulder as she wrapped all he had said in her mind. He was right, of course. He had been right about everything. She hated him for what he had done to her, but she realized why he did it. She did find something; a power greater than any magic she had ever known. She felt her pounding heart begin to still itself. "Oh God," she murmured, "I felt…"

"Yes?" said V, trying not to push her too far, but trying to force the emotions within her to the surface.

"I'm dizzy," said Evey softly, pulling back from V, "I need air. Please, I need to be outside."

V caressed her cheek, a soothing and rough sensation. His leather glove was as warm as skin, but felt like sandpaper. "There's a lift," he said softly, "It'll take us too the roof."

Evey didn't even know there was a roof to the Shadow Gallery, but seconds later she was looking out across the expanse of London, blanketed by pouring rain the size of golf balls. Lightning flashed and thunder growled in the sky as she stepped out of the lift. V started to wrap his cloak around her shoulders, but she walked forwards, entranced by the rain. She closed her eyes and stepped into the cloud burst.

For a moment, Evey recalled a face, round and beautiful. A smiling mother looking at her only daughter at her child's birthday party. The sound of rain splattered violently against the windows and the mother smoothed back her daughter's hair. "God is in the rain, Evey," said the woman, "God is in the rain."

Evey opened her eyes and stared in glorious wonder at the heavens pouring down on her. "God is in the rain," she repeated, "God is in the rain." She felt it deep in her soul. A swirling wave, a tsunami of pure feelings splashing through her heart and up her lungs. She spread her arms and smiled as she felt the sensation rush through her throat into her mouth. With a loud and happy laugh, she let loose the ocean within her. At that moment, she knew she would never fear again. She would be frightened, she would be surprised, but she would never fear. For she had met Death, and he was not nearly as scary or as mean as she had worried he would be.

V watched Evey as she laughed at the sky. He felt phantom flames lick his skin and he shivered to get them to stop. Just as he had screamed in the fires, Evey was laughing in the rain. Lightning cackled across the sky, almost like it was angry that Evey was free from fear. V paid it no mind, his eyes behind the mask fixed firmly on the young woman before him.

. . .

V leaned over the jukebox. His fingers played over the many buttons before he finally selected a slow, easy listening song. Behind him, he heard the ruffle of cloth and soft footsteps. He didn't need to turn.

"V," said Evey, "I'm leaving." It was very matter-of-fact how she said it. For a moment, V was angry with her arrogance, but it faded before he could feel true rage. She was right; it was time for her to go.

"There are 872 songs in here," he said motioning to the jukebox, "I've listened to them all but I've never danced to a single one."

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes."

"I can't stay here forever."

"I know," V turned and leaned back against his music player, "Well, you won't find anymore locked doors here."

Evey took a small scroll from her pocket and held it out to him. "I thought about keeping this, but it didn't seem right knowing you wrote it."

V hesitantly took Petunia's letter and gripped it tightly in his glove. "I didn't," he said softly, "May I show you something before you go?"

Evey nodded and V led her towards the far corner of the Shadow Gallery. A small alcove was covered by a red curtain. V pulled the curtain aside and Evey's eyes widened. It was a small shrine. Lining the walls were still, unmoving pictures. A tall woman with a long, pencil neck stood smiling with a very round mustachioed man. The same woman and man sitting with a young boy who looked very much like his father. The family sitting on one end of a couch while a small, dark haired boy sat on the other end. A very fat woman posing with the man from the other pictures. The largest photo was of two young girls, giggling in a field together, surrounded by flowers. In the center of the shrine was a series of candles surrounding a nursery where pink and white flowers mixed together with purple and blue flowers.

"Petunias and lilies," murmured Evey.

"Mixed together at last," said V somberly.

Evey stared at the note in V's hand. "She was real," she looked back at the photos on the wall, "She looks so happy. Did you know her?"

V took a moment to answer. His masked face slowly turned from one side of the shrine to the other. "No," he said finally, "She wrote the letter just before she died. I delivered it to you just as it had been delivered to me."

Evey stared at him. "Then it really happened, didn't it?"

"Yes."

"You were in the cell next to her." Sudden realization dawned on Evey, "That's what this is all about. You're getting back at them for what they did to her…and to you."

"What was done to me created me," said V with a wave of his hand, his attention still on the shrine, "A basic principle of the universe really. Each action will create an equal and opposing reaction. Newton's theory, I believe."

"Is that how you see it?" asked Evey, "Like an equation?"

V tore his eyes off the shrine and his mask turned to Evey. "What was done to me was monstrous!" he snapped.

"And it created a monster," Evey replied calmly without missing a beat.

V stopped and looked at the ground. He stood there for several seconds before he lifted his head. "Do you know where you'll go?"

"No," said Evey with a sigh, "That would have scared me before, I suppose it should scare me now seeing as I have no wand and Olivander is missing still."

"Magic is for the weak," V said softly, "A muggle is better than a wizard because he has no magical advantage, yet is just as good and as evil as a wizard. Learn to live without the aid of magic and you'll be better for it."

"I suppose I should thank you."

"Oh," V said; disappointment palpable in his voice. Evey stepped closer, her face and V's mask only inches apart. She could hear his shallow, slow breathing.

"Thank you," she whispered to him, "Goodbye." She turned and started to leave. The lift would take her to the street level.

"Evey," she turned to face V once more, "May I ask you for something?" Evey nodded, an eyebrow raised questioningly. "If I had one wish," said V, "I would wish to see you again, if only once, before the 2nd."

Evey thought for a moment before she nodded. "Alright."

"Thank you." Evey turned and walked into the lift. As the doors closed between her and V, she gave small wave to him.

She found herself in a tight corridor, at the end of which was a door. She walked out into the crowded street. She laughed slightly as she realized where she was. "Liverpool Street," she smirked to herself, "Clever, very clever."

Below her, V retired to his dressing room. Slowly, he removed his mask and stared at it long and hard. With a grunt of rage, he smashed it into the mirror, shattering the glass. It cut his hand, but he ignored it. The wounds would seal themselves in a few minutes anyway. He fell into his chair and stared at himself in the broken mirror, his reflection scattered by the cracks. Slowly, quietly, he began to cry.

. . .

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