He had no idea of the passage of time. Periods of prolonged sleep, broken only by brief moments of being awake gave him little true awareness of the passing hours. His clock was of little use to him without any form of date or am/pm system. And he couldn't ask Evey. He's soon realised the extent to which he had upset her when she chose not to be present whenever he was awake. He'd not seen her since she stormed out and he was sorely missing her presence.

She did visit him, took care of him, the meals and fluids she left for him were testament to that fact. She mainly left him soups, unsure if he could manage any more. And, without her help, he had quickly learned to ignore the pain that came when moving. He had to feed himself, drink and go to the bathroom. But just a small trip to the bathroom could exhaust him.

It wasn't just the food she left. Her chair was still by his bed and it had a book sitting in the centre of it. It was the same book but the bookmark had steadily been moving through the pages as she came in and read whilst he tried to recover his strength. And her scent constantly lingered in the air. His meals were always hot and she was never lost in her book when he awoke. She must have developed his ability to read the sleeping form, only she had one up on him. She could do it without seeing his face.

He had no real concept of the time, but, judging by how many meals she had brought to him; it had been nearly a week since he awoke. Moving was steadily becoming less painful and he was pretty sure that he was sleeping less. He hated being stuck in that bed. After his long stay in captivity, being put through hell, V highly valued his freedom and ability to move around. Granted, all his movements were stealthy and well hidden, but he could move around the city as he liked. These factors combined led him to push his body the very limit of its abilities in his current state and leave his bed to seek fresh air.

The walk to the lift had never felt so long, but once he was within he could finally relax against the cold metal wall. Pained pants escaped the grinning mouth of his battered mask. He knew that he should be resting but he'd had enough of being a caged animal. He was desperate for fresh air, even if it killed him. A win-win situation, really. The lift came to a shuddering halt and he had to bite back an exclamation of agony. He was in quite a lot of pain and the sharp halt had done nothing to help.

His usual grace was distinctly lacking as he made the short trip from the lift to the little balcony. He was stiff, his movements very tense and slow in an attempt to avoid unnecessary jostling. All the pain was worth it when that first gust of wind washed over him, lifting the strands of his messy wig and cooling his bare hands.

It was a cold November night, quite a strong chill in the air that he paid no attention to. He may only be dressed in his dark shirt but the cold was welcomed. The wind was something different, something wild, something he could feel. If he was to be alive, he wanted to be able to feel something. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, at least, as deep as his injuries would allow. Although London air wasn't exactly crystal clear, he hadn't had air this good in his lungs since the day of the fourth. It was good to breathe in the outdoors again.

At a glance, the city beneath him was just as it had always been, as if his revolution had done nothing. But when one looked closer there were small signs. No longer did the Ear work in the city. No vans with dishes atop drove around the streets, eavesdropping on the citizens. The speakers seemed to be missing also, no doubt torn down as soon as the people realised they were free. In the distance stood a sight to behold. Big Ben and the houses of Parliament were no more. Evey had pulled the lever. For quite some time he had been unsure if she would pull it or not, and had even considered going back on his decision to leave it up to her. But he'd quickly pushed those thoughts away. It was her choice and she had not let him down. He didn't know whether to be proud of her or concerned for her.

Yes, he was happy that he had taken down Creedy and Sutler, and that Evey had blown up Parlliament as he had promised a year ago. But it was what had possessed her to go through with that concerned him. He had done a lot to this young woman in the year that they had known each other. And, although the outcome might have been good, the end didn't really justify the means. He'd held her captive, tortured her, and changed her life forever. But, at the same time, he'd taken away her fear, protected her and even loved her. And he'd told her so.

His love for her was what destroyed him. He had been alone for so long, he didn't think that he could love. He'd had no recollection of loving any living thing before she came along. His feelings for her were all consuming, she lurked behind his every though. When a man was so in love, he shouldn't hurt the one he loved, surely. No matter how much good he intended with his actions.

A heavy sigh left his lips and he managed the few steps it took to reach the wall that bordered the rooftop area. He rested his bare hands on the cool, damp surface and bowed his head. Yes, he was a fool. He loved a young girl whose life he had completely turned upside down. All he could think of now was the pain, the hurt he had caused her over the last year.. His whole body shuddered in disgust at the memories that flickered through his mind and he could feel the bile rising, his stomach threatening to relieve itself of his earlier meal.

"I figured I would find you up here.."

Her voice caused him such surprise that he jumped, immediately regretting doing so as his aching body punished him for the sharp movement. He hissed in pain as his shoulders relaxed back down. Was he really so rusty that he hadn't heard the noisy lift? He still had his back to her.

"I came to check on you but you were gone. I thought that if I had been bedridden for days on end, I would have gone for some fresh air. So I came up here to find you. You should really be in bed.."

He smiled slightly behind his mask and lowered his head slightly. "I am tired of being in bed."

His voice was barely more than a hoarse rasp and he frowned slightly at the sound in his own ears. It was nothing like his usual voice at all, a little reminder of how long he had been out of action. He rested his hands on the cold, damp wall before him and sighed softly.

"I know.. But you aren't fully healed." She argued gently behind him.

"I am nearly there." He pushed off the wall and straightened, turning to look at her. "But I shall return indoors if it is what you wish."

"I am just trying to look out for you, V."

He took a few slow steps towards her, careful not to hurt himself too much. But the strain he had been putting his body under was starting to catch up with him. Every step was even harder than the last and he stopped after just five steps. He tried not to shot just how much he was in pain but knew that it was pointless.

"Come on; let me help you back to bed." Her hands reached out to catch him but he wasn't sure he wanted the help. He hated needing help. But he really did need hers.

He allowed her to wrap an arm around his back and try to offer him some support to the lift. His own arm rested over her shoulders but he was determined not to lean too much weight on her. He was considerably larger and heavier than she was, if he were to collapse.. He didn't wish to hurt her if he fell. Once inside he quickly grabbed onto the small metal railing which lined each side of the inside walls. He leant rather heavily against the wall as they shuddered and jerked they way down to the Shadow Gallery once more. Evey didn't let him go for a moment.

The doors opened and he was slow to move, the ever patient Evey by his side as he was escorted back to his room and his bed. He was grateful when he could finally lie back down, severely regretting ever trying to move from this wonderful, soft heaven. For now, he would rest and gather his strength once again. Perhaps next time he would be more cautious about getting up and moving around. But he was not yet asleep.

"Evey.." She had let go of him when he lay down and he could tell she was about to leave again, no doubt ready to resume their little act of keeping apart. But he was tired of it. "I am sorry that I upset you."

He couldn't see her, or hear her say a word, but he was sure that she had accepted the apology. His suspicions were only confirmed when he heard her settle into her usual chair, and he felt the dip in the bed as she placed her book upon the edge.

"Sleep well, V.."

Muahaha, I am back in time for the fifth ;) And I have not forgotten this story, I promise you all dearies, it will continue!