Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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To Evey's surprise, the rest of the afternoon went fairly well. After a little prodding and excessive reassurance that she wasn't bothered, V and Evey sat down together to finish what they had started, V's gloves forgotten on the kitchen counter.

In little more than an hour's time they had completed two long streamers of popcorn and had moved on to other projects. Evey had suggested making a chain of paper, but V didn't have adequate supplies. Although the suggestion that a masked revolutionary would have a mass supply of colored construction paper seemed a silly notion, V never failed to surprise her.

With that in mind, Evey tried not to put too much consideration into how odd was his next bizarre suggestion. V admitted and revealed that he had an obscenely large amount of fabric scraps with which, he reasoned, they could construct a sort of quilted garland. Evey couldn't imagine why V would need green fabric with orange polka dots, but she didn't ask as she watched him stitch each piece together with unbelievable speed and accuracy.

By five in the evening, the naked fir was dressed in long streams of popcorn and bright, haphazard garlands that gave the evergreen its own sense of enchantment.

"I must bid you good night," V told her as they began to gather the wasted materials.

"But it's not even that late, V."

"Yes, but I have a few important matters at hand that I must devote some time to. If you wish for me to spend the holiday with you, then I need this time, my dear," he told her gently as he stepped into the kitchen, tossing the leftover scraps into the trash bin.

Evey followed, placing the empty popcorn bowls in the sink. "What are you doing?"

He turned to face her, a casual semblance present in the way he leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. "It's a surprise."

Evey pouted as she drew closer to him, her lower lip trembling playfully. "Come on, tell me."

The grin on the inside matched that on the outside. "Would you be so kind as to hand me the gloves on the counter behind you, Eve?"

She turned and snatched them quickly from the counter, hiding them behind her back. "Tell me!"

He held his hand out expectantly. "I apologize, but I am not at liberty to disclose such information."

She brought the gloves around front and placed them in his hand. However, as he closed his fingers around them, he quickly found himself in a battle of tug-o'-war.

"The longer you deter my motive, the less time I have to work on your gift."

Those chestnut eyes widened, as did that smile he loved so much. "My gift?"

V yanked the gloves from her hands and took a step back. "Good night, Sweet Eve," he began, bowing as he made his departure. "And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

Evey grinned sheepishly as she watched him go, "Night, V."

Evey spent much of the rest of the evening lounging about. She sat down to watch another film, munching on the leftover popcorn, though her thoughts were elsewhere. He's making me something. I should make him something too... But what?

She glanced around the gallery from where she sat, hoping for inspiration, though she found nothing. What could he possibly want or need that he doesn't already have?

Evey gazed at the leather bound novel on the table. V loved his books, but he had surely read all of the books in the gallery by now, as unimaginable as that might have seemed.

She turned her head and glanced to the kitchen. I could try to cook something for him, she thought, but she knew her culinary skill wasn't anything worth mentioning, especially compared to the feasts that he cooked.

And there was the Wurlitzer, the 'dukebox,' as she had once called it. 'Music is the wine that fills the cup of silence,' he had once quoted to her. She couldn't imagine this place without music. Without the continuous melodies that filled the darkness of the Gallery, both its residents would surely go mad. V had music. She didn't need to give it to him.

'Your company is all I require,' he had said. She could understand that notion, especially if he had never had a Christmas with someone else before, but he always had her company, now more than ever. Perhaps that really is sufficient? She shook her head at the thought, abandoning her post at the sofa, the movie forgotten. She'd have to find something.

Evey wandered from room to room for hours, brainstorming as she went. Falling short of her mission, she sat in defeat before her most favored painting. "What do you give to a man who has everything?" she asked, gazing into the most woeful eyes ever to grace canvas.

"If only I could go above," she sighed, looking down at the floor. "Perhaps I could find him something there." She smirked, tracing a crack in the stone with the pad of her finger. "He's probably right though, isn't he?" She asked the maiden, "It's too dangerous for me up there."

She looked up again and gave a crooked smile. "My London is your Camelot isn't it, Lady? We are trapped here by our own choosing.

"Was it worth it? To face your fate so that your love would look upon you and say that you are fair?"

The Lady of Shalott didn't respond, but Evey knew the pain within those somber eyes, knew it to be her answer.

"I will keep weaving then," she whispered with a smile. She then stood up from the floor, walking slowly to her bedroom.

Deep within the shadows of the Gallery a deep, rich voice sounded, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace."

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'Good night, sweet prince (Eve). And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.' William Shakespeare

'Music is the wine that fills the cup of silence.' Robert Fripp

The Lady of Shalott (Painting) by John William Waterhouse - Disclaimer applies

'She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace.' Alfred Tennyson's 'Lady of Shalott'