Disclaimer: I own nothing...except Dara. She's all mine.

Chapter Twenty-Six

It was just past three in the morning when Will woke to an insistent tapping on the French doors that led out to the balcony. Glancing over at Liz, he was unsurprised to find her still sound asleep—she had learned to sleep through just about anything as she'd gotten older, where once even the softest of whispers would have jolted her from a dead sleep. Rising carefully, and moving across the room as silently as possible, he drew back the curtain just enough to see who was outside.

When his eyes fell upon the masked man standing on the other side of the glass, his blood froze in his veins. Throwing the lock, he tore the door open and stepped outside.

"What's happened?" Will demanded. "Is she all right?"

One black gloved hand lifted in a clear gesture of reassurance. "She is quite well, I assure you."

"Then what're you doing here? You got any bloody idea what time it is?"

The chin of the mask dipped in what could have been apology, though Will doubted it. "I am here because I need to speak with you. Or rather, I need to ask something of you."

Will's eyes narrowed, wary and suspicious of the man before him. "And what might that be?"

"The Fifth is approaching," V said without preamble, "and I can no longer offer her the protection that she needs. But while I am no longer willing to house her, neither am I willing to turn her out without thought or care—thus my coming here, to you."

One dark brow rose. A remarkably well rehearsed little speech, but he somehow doubted that he'd been told the whole truth. Knowing instinctively that this was not the sort of man one could directly address such observations to with any hope of answer, he decided to play along...draw the truth out of him another way. "So let me get this straight—you've had enough of her, so you're kicking her out." He shook his head. "Not very chivalrous, mate—'specially since you're the one what got her into this mess to begin with."

V winced beneath the mask, but gave no outward sign that the barb had struck home. "I am well aware of my culpability in the matter," he said quietly, "but be that as it may, the fact remains that she must find sanctuary elsewhere."

"Why?"

A beat.

"I beg your pardon?"

Will cocked his head to the side, arms crossing over his chest. "Why you kicking her out? What's she done to piss you off?"

V shook his head. "She has done nothing to..." he stopped, looking away. "It is not..." another pause, "she is..."

"...a bossy little bitch, I know," Will finished for him. "You can admit it, mate—remember, I know the bint. Love her to death rightly enough, but she don't know when to shut her mouth and she's always gotta be right—only so much a man can take of that, yeah?"

V stiffened and Will could feel the intensity of his gaze even through the mask. "You claim to care for her, and yet you can speak of her so?"

Will snorted. "Yeah, well...caring for her don't mean I can't see the bad right along with the good. Now stop changing the subject, Fawkesy... you want me to do anything, you're gonna need be straight with me. Why you sending her packing?"

A long, heavy silence. And then...

"She is a distraction," V bit out at last. "And one that I can ill afford with so much at stake."

Well, well, well...got your number now, mate, Will congratulated himself. Smirking, he dropped his hands to his waist, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his sleep pants. "I see," he said slowly, knowingly. "Hard to keep your eye on the target with a pretty piece like her larking about, eh?"

"I have not the time for this," V snapped, his patience waning. "Will you or will you not help?"

Leaning casually against the doorframe, Will studied the masked man closely, the smirk still firmly on his face. "She get a say in this deal? Or does she even know you're here?"

V drew back slightly, clearly caught off guard by the question. "She is asleep," he said after a moment.

"I'll take that as a no to both questions then." Will sighed, shaking his head. "I don't like this," he said after a moment, all pretense falling away. "Mostly because I'm pretty sure my girl's gonna be hurting when all's said and done. And there's nothing I hate more in this world than seeing one of my girls hurt. But if you've made up your mind about this, then believe me, I'm not gonna argue with you—she'd have been better off with us in the first place as far as I'm concerned. So you just tell me where and when—I'll be there."

"There is an old tube station entrance near Covent Garden. She will be there by ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

An eyebrow lifted again. "That's quick, innit? She must be one hell of a distraction."

That comment was ignored completely. "Will you be there?"

A shrug. "Said I would, didn't I?

"Thank you." V turned away. "My apologies for disturbing you at so late an hour." He was nearly to the edge of the balcony when he stopped.

Will didn't move, studying the masked man intently. He appeared to be fighting one hell of an internal battle—his entire body was tensed, hands curled into tightly clenched fists at his sides.

"If she is caught," V said slowly, his voice rough, "they will kill her." He half-turned back toward Will, the moonlight rendering him in stark chiaroscuro. "Swear to me that you will keep her safe."

If Will had entertained any doubts about how the man before him truly felt about the situation, they would have been silenced. A man who didn't care would hardly need a solemn vow to assuage his anxieties. Under the circumstances though, he didn't feel inclined to be the least bit reassuring. "What do you care if she is or isn't?"

Silence, then V's head dipped and a long, slow sigh escaped from behind the mask. "I care," he murmured, so low that Will barely heard him.

Hand twisting the knob behind him, Will pushed the door open. "Got a real funny way of showing it, mate." He shut the door a little harder than intended, and stayed at it until he saw V's dark shadow disappear from the edge of the balcony. Once his visitor was gone, he sighed, running a hand through his hair wearily. "Oh bloody hell..."

"What's going on?"

He pushed away from the door, meeting Liz's alert and mildly concerned gaze. "Just had ourselves a visitor, luv."

"Who?"

Walking across the room, he sat down on the edge of the mattress, facing her. "It seems Dara's gotten to be a bit too much for her masked avenger. He just popped by to see if we'd take her in; keep her safe since he can't—or won't—anymore."

Liz frowned, sitting up straighter. "He's kicking her out?"

"Looks like." He sighed, shaking his head. "We're to meet her at the old tube station entrance near Covent Garden later this morning."

"What happened?"

Another sigh. "He says she's a distraction."

Recognizing from his tone that he had his own ideas on the subject, Liz scooted closer to him, dropping a hand on her husbands arm. "What do you say?"

Blue eyes met hazel. "She's a distraction right enough," he confirmed. "A woman always is to the man that loves her."

She frowned again. "So...he loves her, but he's throwing her out anyway, even though it could potentially put her in serious danger." It was her turn to shake her head. "That doesn't make a bit of sense. What kind of selfish bastard does that to someone they care about?"

"Not selfish, luv." Will couldn't believe he was about to defend the blighter, but he just couldn't help himself. "The man's got himself a mission. We of all people ought to understand about putting the mission first, no matter what that might mean for the people you care about—we've done it ourselves more than a time or two, haven't we?"

She couldn't argue with that. Their dedication to their chosen cause had been so strong at one time that either of them would have willingly sacrificed anyone or anything if it meant the success of the mission—even their own lives. So yes, she understood. It didn't mean that she liked it, but she did understand.

She sighed. "So what are we going to do? It would be stupid to bring her here...she's too recognizable now. It would only take one wrong word to the right person to bring Norsefire down on all of us."

Will nodded. "Thought of that already, luv—and I thought we might give Caro a ring and see if she's up to having a bit of company."

Caroline Dorrington-Smythe—Caro for short—had been one of the earliest members of the Group and had fled England when Norsefire began purging so-called undesirables. Making use of the vast network of connections she had built during her years as an SAS operative in the British Army, she had become their go-to person whenever they'd needed to help someone escape the country.

It was the only idea that made sense, and Liz nodded, glancing at the clock. "It's just about 5am her time right now—I'll let her sleep for a few more hours," she said. "But you're right—that's probably the best and by far the safest place for Dara to go right now."

A pause.

"Do you think she knows that he's in love with her? From what you told me, she was quite confident that he wasn't."

Will barked out a sharp laugh. "Based on his reaction, I'd say definitely not. And I don't think he ever intends for her to know either. He's probably thinking that he's doing this just as much for her own good as his."

Liz wrinkled her nose. "God save us from brooding anti-hero's and their noble sacrifices."

Lips twitching in a smile that was half-grimace, half-smirk, he shook his head. "I know what you're thinking, luv, and you're wrong. He's the noble sort, yeah...but he's not another Liam."

Staring at him hard, Liz didn't know whether to be more surprised at his defense of V, or at his actual use of her ex's name. They'd been married for over two decades now, and she couldn't remember ever hearing him say it out loud before. "Yeah? How do you know that? You've only met V twice."

The grimace took over entirely. "Took me a lot less time than that to realize I hated Liam's guts."

Liz arched a brow at that. "You hate V's guts too."

"Apples and oranges, luv," Will said lightly. "I hated Liam because he was a prick who played you like a violin and then tucked tail and ran when things got tough. I hate V because he dragged one of our girls into a world of shit and now he's leaving it to us to help her out of it."

"And how is that different from Liam, exactly?"

Will sighed, hating the conversation. "Despite all the bullshit he fed you to the contrary, Liam was only ever thinking of himself, luv. V, at the very least, does have a higher purpose—I believe that much now."

They both fell silent at that, neither looking forward to the hours to come. Finally, Liz sighed and threw herself back against the pillows. "This is going to be an absolute bleeding nightmare, you know that, right?"

Will blew out a breath of frustration. "Yeah, it really is," he agreed.

"Why couldn't she have fallen in love with the bad boy from the other side of the tracks like any respectable girl? I have quite literally acres of top-notch advice to give on that. I mean, hello? Been there, done that, got the bloody t-shirt and the emotional baggage to prove it. But a Guy Fawkes wannabe with a bomb fetish...I've got nothing for that!"

"Well," Will glanced at the clock, "you've got about six hours to come up with something."

That earned him a glare. "No...we've got about six hours to come up with something. You're going to be there too don't forget."

"As if I could."

A beat.

"You planning on going back to sleep, luv?"

Liz rolled her head back on the pillow, eyes drifting to the ceiling. "No...I don't think I could."

"Me either," Will agreed, rising from the bed. "I'll go put the coffee on."

Throwing the covers back, Liz stepped out of the bed. "I'll put the coffee on," she corrected, elbowing past him toward the door. "You never make it strong enough, and I'm definitely going to need the caffeine."