Second Chances
A "V for Vendetta" story by Tina Price.

Preview: Life goes on, though all around may change. But how does a man go on when he has completely lost... himself? What shall be his purpose and can love truly conquer all?

Disclaimer: V for Vendetta and all characters therein are the property of Warner Brothers Entertainment Company and DC Comics.

Author's notes: This story is rated R, for some adult content. The unedited NC-17 version may be found on my homepage. As always, constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!

Chapter 2:Upheaval

V finally finished up at the bank just before twelve and was walking towards Piccadilly Circus, when he passed a news shop and the front page leaped out at him.

He was stunned and stopped in his tracks so suddenly that the lady walking behind him barreled into him.

"Oh, hey there!" she protested.

"I'm terribly sorry," he apologized. "Are you hurt?"

Upon seeing his face, she smiled. "Yes, I'm fine. Thanks," she replied.

With a nod, he entered the shop, noting that only then did she move off.

Looking around he was amazed at how many different local papers had run mention of him on the front page. And worse yet, the overhead television was covering the incident as well.

"Oh bloody hell," he exclaimed under his breath as some of the information about the man he had killed was revealed.

He just hadn't counted on this, not yet anyway.

Last night he had gone out in the hopes that he would run across a few thugs, thieves or assorted other miscreants and to that end he had brought along his new knife belt and knives. He had been, as they said, cruising for a fight, hoping to do some good and feel like he had accomplished something. It would have been the perfect way to burn off the excess energy that had been driving him. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he would stumble into a kidnapping, attempted rape and murder or that the criminal would be a political candidate!

Most of the time, when moving around London as his alter ego, he used the abandoned tube system as his highway. Though Sutler's government had blocked the tracks, the garbage they had filled it with was meant to stop the trains, not a man on foot, and so it allowed him to cover large distances without ever being seen.

As he'd walked he'd thought about his purpose and his responsibility to the new London he had helped to birth. Was it right to bring forth life and then abandon it?

Perhaps he should make a more direct contribution, yet in order to do so, he would need inside help. That had been part of his plan; to slowly make himself known to Eric Finch, to have the man find him, for if he did, it meant that he was interested and probably would work with him. If not... then he would have to find a better way. He planned on leaving Evey out of that part of it unless Finch brought her in. He didn't want her to feel responsible for his actions and if Finch weren't interested, well then she would be none the wiser.

He'd emerged at the Green Park tube station and after checking that all was clear, moved through the shadows, intent upon heading down the street towards Piccadilly Circus.

Almost every surveillance camera from Sutler's regime had been destroyed by the populous or removed by popular demand, so there was no one watching the tube entrances. And why would they? The place was locked down and abandoned. That's what made it a perfect thoroughfare for V. He had made his own master key and, in addition, changed all the locks to those stations and the entrance ways that surrounded his beloved Shadow Gallery

It was just after he had crossed the street, that a small car had driven up onto the sidewalk and into Green Park to stop behind the very row of bushes that he was using for cover. The bushes were tall and screened the park from the street beyond.

He'd melted deeper into the shadows and watched as a middle-aged man with a beer gut had emerged, looked about before moving to the rear of the vehicle and opening the boot.

It was with a great deal of surprise that he'd seen the man pull out a child, a boy from the looks of it. He was wearing pajamas and was blindfolded, gagged and hogtied.

An intense anger was lit within him at the sight and the knowledge of what the man's motives most likely were. The hatred that inflamed him was startling, for he was usually calm and collected no matter how much he might despise his foe.

He'd begun to work his way forward towards the car when he caught a glimpse of a second child struggling in the trunk. That had complicated matters somewhat. He needed to take out the villain while protected both children from the gruesomeness of his actions and NOT drawing attention from any wandering policemen...

So he had waited and watched as the man threw the boy over his shoulder, closed the boot and carefully moved across the deserted street towards the tube station.

Edging as close to the street as he dared, he'd watched the man disappear down the stairs to the tube and was alarmed to hear a faint click and the sound of the heavy gate that barred the entrance being opened.

This man had a key! Was he in government?

With a curse, he'd decided his course of action and followed the man down, keeping to the shadows and moving as silently and swiftly as only he could.

The man had dropped the boy at the far end of the train platform and roughly snatched off his blindfold.

From his new position on the tracks and moving swiftly towards his prey, he had seen that the child was plainly terrified; though the gag muffled his cries, his eyes were huge with fear.

"Well now, looks like you've seen my face," the man had sneered. "Recognize me, don't you? Well do you know what? Your dear old dad has killed me politically, so in return I'm gong to kill you and your sister. What do you think about that, huh?"

The boy had begun to writhe, clearly fighting his bonds and sobbing.

"One more thing, boy-o..." the man had said, then kicked the boy in the stomach. "Before you die, you're going to suffer and so is your sister, especially your sister..."

Gagging and trying to catch his breath, the boy's eyes had widened as he caught sight of his savior, for V had leaped up onto the platform directly behind the man.

Knowing that he must have appeared to the boy as little more than a fast moving blur of black, he'd spun the man to his other side and landed a tremendous kick to his midsection. A frighteningly loud thud had echoed throughout the station and in the next instant the man who had been attacking the boy had simply vanished.

"OK, tell me again what you saw?" Chief Inspector Finch asked the boy.

"There was a loud thud and then that bad man was gone," Timothy Burroughs tried to explain. "Suddenly a different man was standing there!"

"Describe it to me."

Timothy remembered it as though it had just happened; a tremendous thud had echoed through the station and in the next instant the man who had been attacking him had simply vanished. In his place stood a tall man in a Guy Fawkes mask. Complete with wig, hat and cloak he looked exactly like the man who had appeared on television the year before.

"Show me a villain that hath done a rape, and I am sent to be revenged on him," the masked man had recited as he looked toward the tracks below. He threw back his cloak, revealing six large daggers in a belt about his waist.

The mask had then looked down at him. "You're safe now, you and your sister both. Look away, for your attacker is about to meet his end. He will never again come after you, do you understand?"

Timothy had nodded, turned his head and squeezed his eyes shut as the man he recognized as the true V jumped off the platform.

"It was his voice!" he again told the inspector. "It was him! He moved really fast, too: just like Superman. He was a blur!"

"I believe you," Finch replied. "I know this is very difficult, but tell me what happened next."

Jumping off the platform, he'd approached the groaning man on the tracks below, then waited, giving the man a chance to defend himself.

As usual, he hadn't been disappointed when the fellow struggled to his feet, a knife in one hand, the other cradling his belly. Only then had he gotten a good look at V.

"Naw, you aren't him," he'd said, trying to convince himself it was true.

V had pulled one of his own daggers and twirled it with a flourish, which could not have left any doubt in the man's mind as to who it was he faced.

"If you say so," he had responded. "Now come and face a full grown adult and let us see how you fare." As the man tried to back away, he had advanced and added, "Come now, are you planning on running? Your only hope of surviving this encounter is in fighting me, for I plan on ending your pedophilic ways forever."

And the man had lunged, planning on slashing him and then running, but he had been ready, his natural abilities had kicked in so that the man seemed to move in slow motion.

In seconds it had been over, the man disarmed and caught in his strong embrace. He had pinned him with his back to his own chest, an arm locked about the man's neck, his other still holding his dagger and twisting the deviant's other arm up behind him.

Before the fellow had even comprehended what had occurred, V had leaned his mask in close to his ear and hissed, "A very special hell awaits you, I'm quite certain."

And the villain had screamed, even before V bent him and delivered a dagger thrust to his ample posterior. When he had, the scream had abruptly stopped, the force of the blow and the shock of it driving all breath from the rapist. And when he had finally managed to draw in a huge gulp of air, V removed the protruding dagger, whirled him about and sliced his throat with a second dagger drawn instantly from his belt.

His foe had fallen without anything more than a gurgle.

Turning, he had quickly returned to the boy, who thankfully had taken his advice to heart and remained facing away from the tracks. With a few quick slashes, he'd cut the boy's bonds, noting that one of his blades had been fouled. Breathing an oath of disgust, he'd flung it full force at an upward angle causing it to imbed in the dark overhead area where the law would no doubt miss it. He'd certainly no longer wanted it.

In fact, he'd felt ill at having lost his temper, at having actually tortured the man before finishing him.

"What's your name," he had asked, helping to remove the gag from the boy's mouth.

"Timothy," came the answer. "Is he really dead?"

"Yes. And now let's go rescue your sister." Offering the boy a helping hand, he'd asked, "Are you injured?"

"No. My legs are sore is all."

"What did he do then, Timmy?" Finch asked.

"He took me back up to the car, then we got Terri out of the boot." The boy fidgeted. "Can I go home now?"

Eric smiled. "Soon, son. I want you to know what a good job you're doing with this. Your help will make things much easier for me and the rest of the police."

"V really helped you, didn't he? He saved me and my sister and took care of that awful man!"

"Yes, he did," Finch reassured him. "Now I need for you to be really smart like he is and tell me the rest of what happened."

"He untied Terri and hugged her until she stopped crying," Timothy continued. "She was really scared! I told her that he was a good man and that the he had killed the bad man and she stopped crying after that."

"Then V had us sit in the front of the car and he looked around and told us to be brave and to duck down in the front until he got back."

"It was really scary waiting for him, but then I peeked over the door and saw him coming with the bad man on his shoulder. He put him in the boot and then drove us to a different place."

"Then what?" Finch prompted.

"He took the man away down a different tube station, then he came back and told us to stay in the car, that he would call the police to come take us home, but that he would be watching us to keep us safe the whole time."

"Just a few more questions and then we're done, all right?"

"OK."

"Do you know which tube station the bad man took you to? The place where V saved you?" Finch asked.

"No, but it was across from a big park."

"Did you recognize any of the buildings nearby?"

Timothy shook his head no.

"When V said he would watch you until we arrived, did you see where he was watching from?"

"No."

"Thank-you, Tommy, you've been a very big help to us," Finch praised him and held out a hand to shake his.

"My pleasure, Inspector," the boy replied solemnly, taking his hand. "I'm just glad we were saved!"

Back in the here and now, V bought a newspaper, then moved back out to the street. People in the shop had been talking about the incident. Who would have thought that the scum he had dispatched was political? Then again…

He sighed. What was the old adage; no good deed goes unpunished?

Ah well. He had gone out last night in an effort to do some good, and he had. The fact that all of London was gossiping about his continued existence could be seen as a sign that they approved of his reemergence and vigilantism.

Everything was falling into place, though much faster than he had wanted. Even now his stomach twisted into a knot at the knowledge that Evey had to know.

He hoped that she didn't see this as betrayal of trust; a failure to confide in her.

It had been part of his plan to discuss it with her; just not over breakfast... it just wouldn't have been appropriate. Still, he had thought he would have at least until this evening to sit down with her and talk about his desire to get back on the streets and set some things right.

How best to smooth things over with her? By now she must be frantic, so waiting until she left work would not be an option. Perhaps he might meet her at lunch? Or did that have the potential for upsetting her the rest of the day? Would it help matters or harm them? He had been looking forward to some nice quality time at her old flat this evening... was there a way to salvage the situation, keep her trust and her interest?

Perhaps a phone call would work best.

Evey had felt ill and distracted the entire morning, the same questions constantly running through her mind: When had he obtained new knives? Why had he gone out with them while she slept? Had he accidentally run into a situation or had he gone looking for one? Why hadn't he mentioned all this to her this morning?

Did it all tie in with his increasingly erratic behavior; mood swings, mania, staring at his reflection... Or did it come down to the simple fact that he had lived?

And finally, how was she to handle this? Should she confront him or wait for him to bring it up?

By now he had to know that she knew.

She was a bundle of nerves and didn't know if she could make it until quitting time. Martha had asked her several times if she were alright and had prompted her to go home if she were ill, despite her assurances that she wasn't. And she couldn't really explain what was really eating her up inside, now could she? How can you bring up the topic of your lover being the infamous "V"?

"Twelve O'clock," Martha chirped. "Come on, Evey, I'll buy you a good meal and then you'll feel better. You don't even have to talk about it if you don't want to."

She gave her friend a grateful look and patted her hand. "You're a good friend, Martha," she said. "But I think I'd rather just spend the time alone, if you don't mind."

"Are you going to be alright?"

Again she forced a smile. "I'll be fine. Really, just give me a day or two."

With a sympathetic nod, Martha patted Evey's hand and then collected her coat before heading out.

After she'd gone, Evey looked around at the empty cataloging room and tried to decide what to do with her lunch hour.

Perhaps if she took a nice walk around the block she would feel a bit better?

The phone rang, startling her. Very rarely did anyone ever call back here and most of the time it was her supervisor.

Moving across the room, she picked it up, "Catalog room."

And there was V's voice on the other end, instantly soothing her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Not really. V… what in the world?" she asked, all the pent up worry evident in her voice.

"I would rather have had the chance to explain face to face," he replied. "But given the circumstances I just couldn't leave you hanging all day..."

"I'm so glad you called. I was going mad trying to understand what was going on with you."

"I just happened upon the crime, love... although I do admit to have been looking for a wrong to right. And I had meant to tell you about it later."

"But why, V? And why did you feel the need to sneak out while I slept?"

There was a long pause. "It's difficult to explain," he sighed. "I feel like a ghost, Evey. I have no real purpose and I don't even know who I'm supposed to be. Thinking of myself as nothing more than a symbol was easy. I was merely a living incarnation of justice... but now that I am not that symbol anymore, what am I? A man? No, I'm nothing more than a mystery... a blank page, a shade."

"V... you are a man, you know that!" she protested.

"Evey, you anchor me and keep me from blowing away, but I need a purpose. If I cannot find myself, then I must have a reason to exist and I believe that reason may be to use my abilities to nurture this frail new world we have made. I've found it's no great chore for me to prowl about, protecting the innocent and dispatching the guilty. It's a small way in which I can protect the interests of the people while this new government struggles to be born."

"I understand your reasoning," she soothed. "But you're not an executioner. Can't you find a way to leave the criminals to the justice system?"

"We'll talk about it later and maybe then you'll agree that justice will only be served when criminals are caught in the act and immediately... dealt with."

"Well, we'll talk about it at least," she answered.

He sighed. "I had so hoped to have a pleasant, relaxing Friday evening with you. I'm sorry to have ruined it."

"There's nothing to apologize for," she replied. "You saved the lives of two children; saved them from unimaginable horror. And as for this evening... I'm going to try not to let all get in the way of some good quality time spent with you."

He let his breath out as he relaxed. "I do so love you."

"Is that so?" she teased.

"Evey, I plan on removing all doubt from your mind later tonight." It was little more than a deep purr.

Her body instantly reacted. "Uh... We better wrap this up or I won't be worth anything until then," she husked.

"Then I bid you adieu until our date," he answered in the same velvet tone. "I'll meet you in the Great Court at five."

I can't wait." She hung up quickly. No man should have a voice like that, she thought, completely overcome with longing for him.

Chief Inspector Eric Finch of Scotland Yard arrived at work at two in the afternoon. The office he shared with his partner, Dominic Stone, was empty. Usually Dom managed to get there before he did, but his partner had stayed until late this morning investigating yesterday's case, so he wouldn't be back until at least three.

Eric found that he was relishing the chance to check into some things without his partner looking over his shoulder. First things first: He checked his messages but there weren't any replies from Evey. Her lack of a response set off what he liked to refer to as his "moment of truth" meter; he was virtually certain now that she had known all along that codename V was alive, which meant that she had been protecting him.

He sighed heavily, somewhat depressed that she had misled him for so long when he had begun to feel a very real connection to her. Of course he was old enough to be her da, but he had actually let his guard down with her and felt he could trust her, which made this particular moment of truth a bitter one.

He wondered about her motive for keeping this from him. Was there some distrust due to his profession? It wouldn't be the first time his job had damaged a relationship.

It was the reason that he was divorced. Miriam just hadn't been able to deal with his ever-switching hours, the days away from home while investigating important cases and his constant assertion that it wasn't yet time for them to start a family. One day he had arrive home to find her and most of the furnishings gone. She'd left a note on his desk amid his paperwork which read, "Once you're done with all your paperwork, perhaps you'll get around to reading this, but by the time you get done with your career, I will be only a memory."

Shaking his head, he went back to thinking about Evey Hammond's motives.

Even though she had been covering up for codename V, he would forgive her. He was certain that he could understand her reasons. Besides, he wasn't after the man regardless of what the papers might imply.

Truth was that V had saved those kids and solved a very serious problem for law enforcement; that being the removal of a very dangerous, very evil and very privileged man, one who could possibly have risen to power in the new government despite his crimes. Not to mention that he would have gotten away with raping and murdering two children.

He shuddered to think what today would be like if V had not intervened the night before.

Trying for the moment to put it out of mind, he pulled up the transcripts from the questioning of the children and began to reread them. When he was done he would try calling Evey again. If need be he'd stop by the Museum and she knew that, so he had little doubt that his call would go unanswered this time.

Just then his phone rang. He answered it, "Chief Inspector Finch."

It turned out to be the crime unit's chief criminologist with more information.

It seemed that they now believed that the suspect was killed down in the tube system, although not where he was found. Certain graphite and diesel residues found on him pretty much nailed it as certain.

Another interesting thing: the deceased had died from a knife wound to the neck, but beforehand he had been stabbed up the bum. 'Ooouch!' Finch thought, 'that had to have hurt!' Sounded like their vigilante had taken a pound of flesh from the man in exchange for his evil intentions, the punishment fitting the intended crime.

Not only that, but his wounds matched up with one of the daggers which had been recovered from Victoria station the night of Creedy's demise, confirming that it was indeed codename V, and no impostor who had meted out that judgment.

He glanced at his watch. It was only just two thirty in the afternoon. He picked up the phone and dialed Evey.

Evey's cell phone rang while she was out at the displays, arranging a new piece behind the thick glass. Her stomach twisted when she saw it was Eric phoning.

There was no use in putting this off, besides she had been thinking about it all day and it would be a relief to get it over with.

"Hello, Eric," she greeted him.

"Evey. I suppose you know why I'm phoning?"

"I've got a good idea, yeah," she admitted.

"Come on, love, don't make me play the inspector with you," he chided. "Why don't you just tell me? If you prefer, I'll come on down there now and get you out of work for a bit. We can go for tea."

"I'd like that, but I was late this morning, so I'd better not risk it," she explained. "Eric, I just don't know where to begin. I never wanted to mislead you, it just seemed prudent to let you go on thinking V was dead. Why don't you ask me what you want to know?"

There was a brief pause on the line. Eric did that quite often, never saying anything or giving anything away without first thinking it through.

"Alright. Tell me what happened exactly that led to the original deception."

She told him, explaining how she and her friend had somehow saved V, despite his apparent certainty that he would die fulfilling his purpose and how she had dressed one of his mannequins in effigy of him and sent it off to witness Parliament's end.

"And why did you go to such lengths to save this man, love?" he asked softly, sympathy evident in his voice. "Why, when he shanghaied you, kept you prisoner and used you to kill the Bishop?"

"You already know why, Eric," she sighed. "I did it because I love him and because he deserves better than to spend twenty years in solitary only to die after setting all the rest of us free."

"I see…"

"Can you forgive me?" she asked.

"You did it to save someone you love. How can I hold that against you?" he said. "There's nothing to forgive. It's water under the bridge."

"Thank-you, Eric. You're a good friend."

"Don't thank me just yet," he warned. "I'd like a chance to talk to him."

Evey nearly dropped the phone.

"I'll ask him," she finally answered. "Any particular time you'd like to see him?"

"Tomorrow would be best. He can pick the time."

"Alright. I'll call you," she promised. "I have to go now, my boss is shooting me dirty looks because I'm talking to you while standing in a display."

He laughed. "Later then."

She put her phone away, smiled at her supervisor and went back to work. She'd call V in just a few minutes, from the ladies' room.

Chief inspector Eric Finch used the government issued key to unlock the gates to Victoria station and then slowly descended the stairs into the main area. A second set of stairs, much grander than the ones that led from street level, would bring him down to the tracks. He reached into his pocket and removed the high intensity torch he would need for the second descent. The electricity to the station was cut off and it was black as pitch.

The place gave him the creeps, especially in light of what he had found here last time he had investigated it...

Adam Sutler with his brains blown over a large patch of the floor, Creedy lying with his head on nearly backwards and nine fingermen, all butchered. There hadn't seemed to be an inch of the filthy floor that wasn't covered in blood.

And amid the offal, he had found the discarded knife belt and two of the knives of codename V. The other four knives had been recovered from four of the bodies. Some of the blood, a great deal of it actually, had also belonged to V as they had later found when they were unable to match it to any of the victims. They had suspected as much after just one look at his discarded Kevlar vest and armor chest plate.

…And then there was the blood trail he had followed back to Evey Hammond and the train full of explosives...

Now he stood in the same dark, dank and disturbing place and found he didn't have to try hard to see those horrors again in his mind. He still had nightmares many nights about it.

Blood.

V bleeding out all over the station and the tunnels...

Evey had told him all that he really needed to know. V was indeed alive. At least she was now being honest with him.

The question now was; why did he feel so strongly about warning a man who he was obligated by his oath to arrest on sight? He supposed that it was due to an inner sense of justice that not even Sutler's party had been able to extinguish. He wouldn't bring V in because he really couldn't think of a single good reason to do so. Yes, he had killed many people, yet each one of them had killed hundreds or even thousands of people in turn. The rest had threatened V's life first, which made it self-defense.

He was sworn to uphold the law, but he felt he was also obligated to "Protect and Serve" just as the motto of the American police reminded. In sparing V, he believed that he was helping to protect the public, that he was serving their best interests.

Plus, he had to admit to a certain infatuation with the man; sent to a hellhole, tortured, turned into an experiment, burned... Yet, despite all that, he had freed himself and somehow survived, biding his time for twenty plus years until he could confront both the government and the individuals who had stolen his life away, so many peoples' lives away.

If that wasn't a testament to the strength of willpower and the spirit of an individual being able to raise them up above adversity, he didn't know what was.

"Looking for me, inspector?"

Finch jumped and dropped the torch, then cursed himself.

"I mean you no harm," came the cultured voice again. "Please feel free to pick it up."

The place was so dark that he couldn't see the man, despite that the voice seemed to be very close to him. It was like something out of one of his nightmares, so it was little wonder that he did just as he was bid; he scooped up the torch as quickly as he could.

Stepping back a pace, he shown the light in front of him and saw... a bone white mask seemingly floating in the air.

V stepped forward, fully revealing himself and then gestured around them. "Not the nicest of places for a first meeting," he observed. "But I am honored to make your acquaintance none-the-less."

Finch finally found his voice. "You don't seem surprised to see me here," he answered.

"I can't say that I am. You see, it's where I would have looked had I been in your shoes." He moved closer, so that Finch could see him better.

"Well, I have to say that I still feel the uncontrollable desire to kick the shit out of you for that whole Rookwood fiasco," he admitted. "But from everything I know about you, I'd have to be a foolish man to even try."

"Indeed." The mask nodded. "But perhaps I can make it up to you. What is it you want of me?"

Eric suppressed a grimace as he had been wondering that very thing himself. "Actually, I wanted to warn you," he answered after a long pause. "You've really stepped in it this time. I know you've seen the news and know a little about the man you killed."

"Yes, and regardless of what I've heard and read about him, the fact remains that he

was nothing more than excrement."

"Oh, I agree with you there and don't think I'm not glad at how things turned out, but…" He paused, then took a step towards V and lowered his voice. "He was only a small fish in what is shaping up to be a huge conspiracy."

V took several steps forward so that the two of them were now face-to-face. His mask tipped to the left. "How huge?"

"My partner and I have been very carefully, very surreptitiously working towards figuring that out," he answered. "What if I told you that we believe that those behind this were also in control of Sutler's regime? What if I told you that we think this organization is in fact a group of 'puppet masters' who, unfazed and mostly unaffected by the overthrow, are merely biding their time and carefully infiltrating those key positions involved with restoring our government?"

"If what you believe is true, then we are, as they say, screwed," V said, far too calmly. "Our only hope is in discovering their identities and removing them."

"Yes, well, that's something we continue to work on," he admitted. "Finding the proof we need in order to expose them will be difficult."

"My dear fellow," V protested. "You don't need to expose them right off the start, nor would that be feasible. All you need do is to identify them."

"And then what?" he asked, puzzled.

"Then I shall cruelly cut their strings, entangling them in their own machinations. In the end these so-called puppet masters will be nothing more than broken toys for you to put out with the rest of the rubbish," he vowed.

He stared at the man incredulously. "And how are you planning to do that? Creedy and his fingermen were nothing compared to these blokes."

V clasped his gloved hands before him and planted his feet squarely, instantly reminding Finch of the man's martial arts abilities. He was perfectly at ease, yet perfectly balanced to move in any direction.

"You worry about identifying them and leave that to me," he finally replied. By the way, are the children coping well?"

He nodded. "The boy has a serious case of hero-worship, but otherwise they're both doing quite well."

V nodded

Finch cleared his throat. "I've one more question to ask you with regards to the situation you've gotten yourself involved in."

"The puppet masters? By all means, ask away."

"What about Evey? How will you protect her?"

The mask shifted quickly as though the man wearing it had performed a double take. "You believe her to be in danger?" he asked, incredulously.

It was his turn to give the man a disappointed look. "She's with you, isn't she? And you just involved yourself in P.M., puppet-master business. What makes you think they won't go after her?"

"You think that what you know, they know... which means that you think that they have infiltrated Scotland Yard, is that right?" V asked, his voice suddenly very tight.

"I've taken great care in contacting her and in researching you," he answered. "But that doesn't mean that they haven't somehow eavesdropped." He sighed. "Before you even rescued those children, I was working with Evey to redistribute the items in the Shadow Gallery. That alone may have gotten their interest. They may already have investigated her. They may already be watching her, in which case they know about your presence and are no doubt close to discovering who you are, if they don't already know."

"Well... if they discover that, perhaps they'll be kind enough to share their knowledge with me."

"This is no joke," he scolded. "I'm not exaggerating the facts. If they've connected the dots and figured that her companion disappears at the same time you appear, it'll be enough for them to act on it!"

V turned away from him. "I wasn't being flippant, Inspector. I often use humor to mask a difficulty. I assure you that I'm taking your belief of her danger to heart. Unfortunately Evey and I are in the midst of a move, which will make things even more dangerous. Our new home is far more exposed and not as easily guarded as the gallery."

Finch calmed instantly. "What will you do then?"

"I'm not certain. I'll have to think on this for a day or two," he replied over his shoulder.

"I do have one suggestion," he said, hesitantly. "You're both welcome to stay with me for a bit. I've a large two bedroom flat. At least that way there would always be one of us there to keep an eye on her."

"Ah, but my good Inspector, you are assuming that she will stay in the flat, hiding," V rebuffed him. "My Evey is no little bird to be caged, not anymore. She'll continue to go to work and neither of us can very well guard her there. Still, I will bring it up and see if perhaps she will humor us."

"I suppose no one can ask more than that."

Turning back around, V offered his hand. "Good day Inspector."

Finch shook it and found the man had a grip like a steel vise.

"Be careful," he replied.

"I always am."

With that the man literally vanished into the darkness.

After several long moments, he left as well.

V moved down the tracks back towards the Shadow Gallery at top speed, arriving there five minutes later. Removing the Fawkes mask to reveal that he still wore the realistic visage beneath, he quickly undressed, covered his head with one of Evey's shower caps and jumped in the shower.

He was anxious to make himself presentable for his lover.

As the refreshing spray washed over him, he scrubbed and reflected on the stresses of the day, intentionally trying to put Finch's disturbing news out of mind for a short while.

He had spent the better part of the morning at the bank arranging his accounts and setting a date for the signing over of the bookshop and flat. Having finally finished his business, he had been looking forward to a nice walk and some lunch when he had seen the first newspaper.

It had been unexpected to have made the front-page news. He found it both disturbing and gratifying to know that the general population so hoped that he had survived, that he was still "watching out" for them. So he supposed that his decision to do just that had been the right one. There are no real coincidences: he had set his course and already been assured that it was the right one.

Ever since surviving his injuries at the hands of Creedy and his fingermen, he had planned on eventually contacting the Chief Inspector with the idea of lending his resources to solving supposedly unsolvable crimes. Again, he hadn't planned on meeting him this soon, on having his plans stepped up.

He had decided to try and surprise Finch by meeting him today, rather than at some pre-planned time and place. After all, it made sense not to hand himself over on a silver platter. Still, he had to congratulate himself on having correctly guessed that the inspector would show up at Victoria station. Yet, he never would have thought that the man might want to meet him in order to warn him of a new and very serious danger, therefore it was indeed fortunate that his meeting with the man had been pushed forward.

Again, fate had stepped in and decided things for him.

His thoughts turned to Evey…

He sighed and turned the water off, then sluiced the excess off his body with his hands before removing the shower cap.

Evey had been more than patient with him on the phone earlier and he hoped that when they talked again that everything would work out. If there was one thing he didn't think he could stand, it was disappointing her. Oh he was open to arguing his point and they both had done that with regard to several different topics at this point, but to actually disappoint her with one of his decisions… That would prove difficult for him to take.

He worried about her reaction to his meeting with the inspector, for he planned, at least for a time, to keep Finch's warning from her. Would she pick up on the fact that he was withholding yet something else form her? As it was, she probably wouldn't be happy to know that he had let Finch in on the fact that she was not just his willing accomplice, but his lover as well.

As for her letting either man protect her; she would not take kindly to any suggestion that she remain out of sight and under guard. He'd not yet decided the best course of action there and it could certainly keep until tomorrow morning. He so wanted a nice, uncomplicated evening with her. The last week had been hectic for both of them and they badly needed some down time together. Speaking of time together, could he perhaps lure her away with the suggestion of a vacation? It was an intriguing possibility that he would look into. After all, he had always wanted to see Morocco…

Reaching for a towel, he finished drying off, carefully patting the mask so it would not tear. Then he finished his toiletries and moved off to his dressing area.

What to wear tonight?

After a few minutes thought, he chose another pair of black jeans, this time with one of his black silk poet shirts. Just for fun, he added a pair of brilliant red socks, to match the scarf he would be wearing and a pair of new black leather shoes.

In another moment he had his coat and scarf on and was headed for the door, stopping only long enough to grab a large shopping bag out of the fridge.

As he began the long walk to the Museum, his thoughts continued to dwell upon Evey and his chances of building a life with her.

He was, despite all that had befallen him, not a pessimist, nor was he the overoptimistic fool. He instead considered himself to be a realist with optimistic tendencies. Any goal had a good chance of being achieved with enough hard work and commitment. But one also had to foresee pitfalls along the way, be ready for them rather than pretend they couldn't happen, and somehow sidestep them.

And that was what he saw in the future between himself and Evey; pitfalls, some of which might be small and easily navigable and others which could swallow one or both of them whole if they weren't careful.

Pitfalls.

What could he live without?

He was already coming off twenty years of living without everything that made a life worthwhile. But now, living without Evey… was something that he could not do, not when he had finally had a taste of what had been missing for so many years. And he somehow knew that his need of her went beyond filling the void left when his sole purpose had been fulfilled; she was more than just his sole comfort in this world. She was a part of him and since there was so little of him to begin with, he could not go on living if that part of him was severed.

He had spent twenty years alone, unloved and unnoticed, with nobody to care if he lived or died. Finally having someone who loved him, who wanted him, who was his equal and counterpart… it was like living your life in black and white for year after dreary year and then suddenly having it blossom in full color and digital clarity.

And, God help him, the sex was merely icing on the cake. Even now, after knowing what he had been missing, he would go without if only she would stay with him and love him. To be so fortunate as to also have her as his lover was a mind shattering, soul shaking experience. And this, after he had convinced himself so many years ago that he would never, could never be blessed with such a joy.

Aside from her, he needed only one thing; a purpose and he finally thought that he had that well in hand.

What then of Evey? What could she live without?

Here lay the potential pitfalls!

He had spent a good deal of his free time thinking about this; trying to anticipate them and find a way to avoid them. To that end he had created this new mask; so that he could attend social functions with her and be there when she needed him. He had purchased a new home for them, where she could have light and plants, entertain friends and feel a part of this world. He had found a job for himself; running a bookshop, so that he wouldn't always be underfoot, so he would have his own interests and allow her more time to herself.

But what about children?

How this topic had been dominating his thoughts and tormenting him! She was still quite young, but eventually her thoughts would turn to this. It seemed inevitable.

Her immediate counter to his assertion that he likely could never give her children had been to say that he didn't know that; not without genetic counseling and that quick defense of the possibility told him this would eventually prove to be a serious issue, that she would insist on being a parent.

And when that happened, if it were even possible, would he make any sort of a decent parent? Without even a memory of his own childhood, he was clueless when it came to infants and children. What kind of role model would he be for them?

That one had him laughing silently at the mental image of him telling them to be good for mum while he was out dispatching villains.

Yet he digressed. The point was even more simple than all this. If Evey insisted on a child, then what would he do? What should be his response? He wasn't either for or against the child itself, it was what the 'trying' to have one would do to Evey, to them, that worried him.

He didn't think he could stand to see her get her hopes up at each apparent success only to continually miscarry. Even if genetic counseling showed it were a possibility, what would be the odds? Surely they wouldn't be good and call him selfish, but he didn't think he could stand to have her carry another man's child. It would be just one more reminder that he didn't quite measure up to other men.

Perhaps the best choice would be to agree to at least investigate the probability of it.

Yes, that was a good way to start, he decided, feeling much better for having thought it through.

By then, he was only a block away from the British Museum.

'Besides,' he thought, belatedly, 'we both have to survive this new puppet-master threat first.'

Evey was just entering the Great Court, otherwise known as the museum lobby, when V made an appearance, entering through the doors on Great Russell Street.

Her heart recognized him instantly; skipping several beats at the sight of him, at the same time he noticed her and moved quickly to greet her. Taking the large bag out of her hands, he planted a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Now how am I supposed to remain miffed at you when you show up looking this handsome?" she teased.

"I must warn you that I am a man unaccustomed to such praise and therefore flattery won't afford you any advantage," he teased.

She laughed as he led her back towards the street. "What's in the bag?"

"What's in yours?" he countered with a small smile.

"I asked you first," she insisted.

He held the door for her and then followed her out. "Very well. I've brought our dinner, along with a bottle of fine wine." He gave her a sly look. "What's in your bag?"

"More bags. Plastic bags. Anything we can use to pack up the few measly possessions that I accumulated in the flat."

He nodded. "Well, thank goodness you're not a packrat like I am. It looks about to storm." He stepped to the curb and hailed a taxi.

"Oh, good idea," she commented. The weather was indeed turning; it had become quite cold and very windy and she wouldn't be at all surprised if it snowed before the night was out. Walking in this was something she didn't relish. Besides she'd much rather spend the extra time with him.

Twenty minutes later she unlocked the door to her flat and stepped back so that he could enter first.

She hadn't exaggerated her description of the place; it was very small, shabby and situated in a rundown area to boot, but as she had said, she'd been desperate for a place to live and the price had been right.

There was barely enough room for the small bed, sofa and tiny table with two chairs. An equally small closet was in the wall to the right, the bathroom door to the left. The kitchen was little more than a sink and one small cabinet with a microwave oven and a hot plate atop it.

"I warned you..." Evey laughed halfheartedly.

He walked back to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Please don't be embarrassed, love. You wouldn't believe some of the places I lived before establishing my gallery."

She gave him a quick hug. "Well, as you can see, we won't have much trouble packing up. Should we get it done before we eat and talk?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea."

Walking back to the beat up old coat rack, she began to remove her coat as he stepped up and helping her off with it, hung it up for her. Then he removed his own and placed it on the rack, which threatened to collapse under its weight at any minute. It was with some trepidation that he also hung his scarf on it. Seeing her kick off her shoes, he did the same and enjoyed her reaction to the sight of his blood red socks.

"Good lord, V," she laughed. "Talk about a splash of color!"

"Yes, well, they match my scarf," he explained and had a good chuckle of his own over the look on her face.

She handed him a few plastic bags. "Why don't you start in here while I get my things out of the bathroom?"

He nodded, excited by the prospect of exploring her possessions.

As she left the room, he scanned it with his eyes, trying to decide upon what might be the juiciest starting place. The bed, he thought; definitely under the bed.

Taking a few steps to the bed, he squatted down and lifted the bed skirt with one hand while feeling underneath with the other. After moving closer and getting down on his knees he finally snagged something and pulled out a large plastic storage box.

Now here was a dilemma; this container could travel as it was. How could he justify opening it, let alone going through its contents? Acknowledging defeat, he lifted it and carried it to the kitchen table, with every intention of leaving it untouched.

That intention vaporized the instant he saw a small, hard covered notebook through the clear plastic of the box. The book was nestled between what seemed to be sweaters and assorted other shirts.

He quickly shot a look towards the bathroom, where, from the sound of it, Evey was still busy cleaning out the medicine cabinet.

Quickly, he lifted the lid and snatched the book, then collapsed onto the kitchen chair in ecstasy as he realized that he was indeed holding her journal in his hands. He knew he shouldn't read it; the gentleman in him was recoiling in horror at the very thought, but to finally know, beyond a shadow of a doubt how she felt about him...

With shaking fingers, he opened it and flipped through the pages quickly until he came to a page that instantly commanded his attention, where she seemed to be describing her attraction to him:

I don't know when or how it happened precisely, but one day I suddenly realized that I was in love with my captor. Whenever I think on it, I remember the moment so clearly that it is as though I'm back there, reliving it as it happened.

I had been coming out of the kitchen and V was standing in his art gallery, admiring the pictures. I remember stopping in my tracks and just watching him; the way he stood so solidly, his legs shoulder length apart, his hands clasped before him.

He took his time and looked over each painting in turn as though it was the first time he had ever seen them.

And I was suddenly filled with an appreciation not just for the keen intellect and intelligence I had come to know resided in that form, but for the form itself; for all of him, body and mind.

Every little move he made, from the graceful step he took forward to the way in which he tilted his head while regarding the artwork, struck me like a hammer blow.

Just as surely as I knew he was horribly burned and disfigured beneath all those layers of clothing and the mask, I also knew to the bottom of my soul that it did not matter to me; that he was beautiful and that I both wanted him and loved him.

How can one describe the moment they recognize their counterpart; the one person they are meant for? Perhaps the moment is different for each person who lives it.

For me it was a moment of perfect beauty, of utter clarity of thought and mind, which left me breathless and suddenly more alive than I had ever been before.

With shaking hands, he closed the journal and clutched it to his chest, barely aware of the tears that ran down his face. He was overcome with relief and joy at the moment she had described, knowing finally in his heart that she did not pity him, but rather and quite to the contrary found him as irresistible and desirable as he found her.

Her words had truly set him free, putting all his doubts to rest. For once, he felt whole.

He remained hunched over in the kitchen chair as raw emotions and thoughts swept over him, riding out the storm without even once trying to fight it or struggle for control. He let it have its way until with a final indrawn breath and a shudder it had passed.

There were millions of people living in this city and tonight he was finally one of them; a complete person and a worthy one at that. He no longer felt that his missing memory and face set him apart or made him less than human.

He was on equal footing with everyone else.

Standing, he reverently placed the journal back in the plastic box, just as he had found it. He would read no more of it, not without Evey's express permission.

Moving silently to the bathroom doorway, he leaned on the door jam and watched her as she finished removing the last items from beneath the sink.

She had just straightened up from collecting the last of her things from beneath the sink, when she saw him reflected in the mirror and jumped.

And then he was there, taking the bags from her and carefully setting them on the floor before sweeping her into his embrace. She found herself wrapped in strong arms, against a warm chest and then soundly kissed.

When he came up for air, she opened her eyes to find his only inches away, searching her own.

"Evey... I think the packing is going to have to wait," he whispered.

Before she could answer, he straightened and pressed her against him so that she was left with no doubt about his urgency.

In the next instant she found herself backed against the bathroom wall as he pressed against her her, tearing a moan from her. Again he kissed her, this time holding her face with his hands while his body molded itself to her own, so that his hardness pressed and rubbed in areas that had her gasping and her knees threatening to buckle.

He was forceful and passionate, ensnaring her in a whirlwind of sensation so strong that all she could do was clutch at him and try to stay upright on shaky legs.

Somehow he got her dress off and lifted her up, again bracing her against the wall as her legs automatically wrapped around him.

"Evey..." Again her name was whispered near her ear. "However did I live without you all these years?"

He thrust against her as he nibbled her ear, making her shiver with delight.

"Tell me you want me."he coaxed.

"I do so want you!" she gasped as he went back to nibbling her ear and then began to work his way down her neck, nibbling and sucking as he went.

The wall disappeared as he pulled her from it and carried her out of the bathroom. Thank heavens he was finally taking her to bed so that they could end this sweet torture!

But to her surprise, he put her down on her feet a good six feet away from the bed.

Suddenly removing his hands and mouth from her, he stepped away and slowly began unbuttoning his shirt while continuing to back up towards the bed.

Uncertain what he was doing, she stood stock-still, unable to completely stifle her cry of protest at his withdrawal.

Shirt unbuttoned completely, he pulled it free of his pants and launched himself gracefully backwards onto the bed. Clasped his hands behind his head and spread his legs just slightly, he shifted his hips suggestively.

Again she was seeing him at his most seductive and she began to tremble as a fierce need to have him swept through her. Good lord; he knew exactly what this was doing to her, what he was doing to her!

There was a big difference between sexuality and sensuality and she reflected that twenty plus years without sex seemed to have turned him into the most sensual human being on the planet. It must have been all that longing and all that reading of sensual literature. Whatever it was, in her opinion, he was at his most dangerous when he turned up that side of himself!

He pinned her with a smoldering stare and then spoke, his voice deep and velvety, "Evey, love... if you want me, then come to me. Convince me. Make me lose control... if you think you can."

The pitiful, frightened girl she had been before meeting him would have been too embarrassed and frightened by his honest sexuality to have ever responded.

She wasn't that person anymore.

And she knew that this was another test of his; another gage of her worthiness as his equal, even if he didn't realize he was testing her.

It was a challenge she welcomed. If he was daring her to push him to his limits, if he was trying to gage her own limits, he was about to be surprised!

Reaching behind her, she unhooked her bra, then slowly pulled each strap, one by one down and slid her arms free, without removing the straps to her slip. In just a moment the bra was discarded at her feet.

Turning her back to him, she reached up under the slip in front of her and grasped the top of her pantyhose, then slowly began pulling them down, bending over and wiggling her hips as she worked them lower. She knew that by the time she had them to her ankles, the slip was barely covering his view of her derrière. Dropping the hose on the floor, she straightened and turned to face him.

His smoldering stare had been replaced with one of pure want and it was very obvious, even from where she stood, that his erection was straining at his pants..

"What's the matter, love?" she asked in a sultry voice. "Ready to give up already?"

"You know me better than that," he said, his voice none too steady. "Have no doubt that I shall resist your charms."

"We'll see about that," She purred, rubbing her breasts through the silk of her slip. The catch of his breath was her reward.

Slowly she approached the bed, admiring his form the entire time, unconcerned for once that he saw her eyes roaming over him. He was all litheness, wide shoulders and lean muscle and even when at rest, his form seemed to scream, "Danger! Imminent sudden acceleration!"

Standing next to the bed, she reached out one hand and barely touching her fingers to his right shoulder, she ran them slowly down his chest, over his right hip and down his thigh, carefully avoiding the one area he was, no doubt, hoping she would contact.

She held his gaze the entire time and delighted at the slight shifts in his expression. He was already working hard at acting unaffected.

"V?"

"Evey?"

"You've made a demand of me and now I have one to make of you," she said.

He merely stared at her and nodded.

"Reach above you and grasp that headboard." she demanded, then after he complied, "So long as you keep your hands there, I will continue my efforts to win your challenge, but if at any time you remove them, it will mean that I've won. Do you agree to it?

"And what if I do not?"

"You have no choice if you wish me to take up your challenge."

"A fair enough counter," he husked. "Very well, I agree."

Climbing on the bed, she knelt next to him and leaned forward to nestle her face in the crook of his neck, where she sniffed. She breathed in his scent while letting her warm breath puff over him. It was their only point of contact and she could feel the tension in him build even as a sigh escaped him.

While he was thus distracted, she sneaked her left hand back and laid her palm firmly in the inside of his right thigh. He immediately tensed, his hands gripping the metal of the headboard hard enough to make it creak.

"Are you alright?" she husked into his ear.

He shivered. "Quite. Please do carry on."

She began massaging his thigh amoving her hand upwards as, for good measure, she remained bent over him, her breasts nearly exposed to his sight, as she ran just the point of her tongue down his neck to the hollow between his collarbones.

He remained perfectly still, but seemed to be holding his breath.

That's when she removed her hand, sat back on her haunches and gave him a measuring look. "Do you know what I think?" she finally asked.

"Mmm?" Obviously he didn't trust his own voice.

"I think you really, really… need to be touched," she said in breathy imitation of Marilyn Monroe.

"Oh God, yes," he groaned.

She rubbed her chin. "There's an awful lot of you to cover," she observed. "I don't know if I'll be able to pay every part of you the attention it needs..."

"Please try," he urged.

Straddling him, she pushed his shirt apart with her hands and began running them over his shoulders and chest, thoroughly enjoying the feel of the muscles there. "I don't think you know how much I love your wide shoulders and strong chest," she sighed, alternately kneading his flesh and running her nails carefully over his patchwork skin.

He couldn't quite hide a smile. "I'm glad you so enjoy them."

Leaning forward, she grasped his hips and began to kiss and lick the same flesh she had just covered with her hands, while ever so slowly working her way downwards... and the entire way down, he fidgeted and wiggled.

"I really don't know what's wrong with you," she complained. "It's as though you just can't stay still for a moment... Do you have an attention deficit disorder, or some such?" she mumbled against his belt buckle.

"Oh, not at all," he protested. "In fact, you've got one hundred percent of my attention... although I will admit to a bit of hyperactivity."

She raised her head and looked at him. "I'll take your word on that. By the way, have I ever told you how much I love your slim hips?" She squeezed them as she spoke.

He swallowed. "No."

"And your bum, I just love your bum..." She reached under him and squeezed a buttock with each hand. "I think I'm going to have to ask permission to get a better look at them."

"Actually, I believe that my jeans have shrunk outrageously, so I would be quite grateful if you'd remove them for me." he suggested, his breathing uneven.

"Yes, I can see that you're having trouble breathing with them on," she laughed, as she began to unbuckle his belt. She took her time with it, her eyes locked on his and had to remind him not to let go of the headboard when she saw his grip beginning to loosen.

Once his belt was undone, she slowly opened his zipper, thoroughly enjoying his frustration with her lack of haste.

Finally she grasped his jeans and slowly worked them down his legs, as he shifted and tried to help by lifting his hips off the bed.

As he shifted around, the view of the thin silk boxers alternately clinging to his swollen member and sliding over it almost proved her own undoing as she felt liquid heat between her legs and her body began screaming for her to stop playing and just take him.

By the time she had his jeans off, her chest was flushed and she knew that he could see it, as his eyes were running hungrily over her. In the next moment he proved it by saying, "I see that you've spotted something you like."

"Oh yes," she sighed, lightly running her hand over the area of interest. "Very much!" She straddled him again, this time right over his crotch and began to rub herself against him, the silk boxers sliding easily over him, cutting down on friction. Leaning forward, she rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck as she moved ever so slowly and methodically.

Her sighs soon gave way to a soft, rhythmic moaning as she quickly built up to a climax.

Beneath her, V had begun to thrust in rhythm with her, straining to complete a union she wasn't yet allowing. His groans were interspersed with words of both encouragement and desperation.

... and just like that she was gone, convulsing on him as she cried his name.

"That's it, I give up!" he growled, letting go of the headboard and flipping her over onto her back. In mere seconds he had freed himself from his boxers, wrapped her hands around the headboard rails and come down atop her.

His hands wrapped around hers, keeping them on the headboard, while he kissed her. This time he made it quite clear that he wasn't waiting for her, as he took her quickly, concentrating on his own pleasure, all control gone. Somehow that knowledge was enough to push her back over the edge and when they cried out simultaneously, it was impossible to say who was the more surprised or pleased by the unexpected double pleasure.

Still in the midst of their release, their mouths joined and parted as they kissed and sighed each other's name.

He collapsed atop her briefly before rolling them onto their sides, where he continued to rain kisses over her. "Evey?"

"Mmmm?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Let's finish getting undressed," he said wryly.

She couldn't help but laugh.

Much later, after dinner, after making love yet again, as they lay there wrapped in each other and completely at peace he began brushing a hand up and down her back, giving her the shivers in a delightful way. It was something he seemed to relish; yet another way in which she reacted to his touch. Yet, she also reacted because she knew him well enough by now to know that he was leading up to something, whether it be a languid repeat lovemaking session, a conversation or perhaps a sudden request that they go do something; for instance the packing they had yet to finish.

That was the thing about him; even if you could predict he was going to do something, you couldn't predict what it would be.

"Evey?"

Here it came… "Mmmm?"

"I'd like to ask you something."

She looked up at him. It wasn't usual for him to be so hesitant when questioning her. "Go on," she finally encouraged.

He fidgeted uncomfortably. "Would you at some point in your life, wish to have children?"

She froze for an instant, never once having expected this open question. So far the most that they had managed was a brief conversation about birth control. He had almost immediately volunteered to have a vasectomy and she had immediately and vehemently nixed that and told him that she had already started oral contraceptive.

She lifted her head to look at him and noted that he avoided her gaze by staring up at the ceiling.

In a way she was relieved that he seemed ready to discuss the issue of children, but she also worried about him raising the issue this soon. Had he learned something new, something he wasn't telling her? Was that why he wouldn't look at her?

She decided to keep her answers simple in the hopes that they could ease into the debate.

"Yes, at some point I would like to have children," she finally replied.

"And what if that proves to be impossible?" he asked.

"Do you mean 'impossible for us' or 'impossible for me'?

His hand stopped stroking her back. His voice when he spoke was tight. "I meant for us, as you well know."

"So then you're implying that there are no alternatives?"

Now he was looking at her. "Love, are you intentionally looking for hidden meanings where there are none?"

"Sorry, I guess I can't help but feel defensive about it," she apologized. Then she rolled over and straddling him, planted her hands on his chest so that she could lean her weight forward and meet his gaze. "Let me ask you an important question," she continued. "Do you want children?"

He sighed. "That's a difficult question for me to answer. I've spent so many years considering it an impossibility... I never thought I would ever have someone like you in my life, I never thought I would live and knowing my genetic rearrangement I just have never thought it could happen even if all the other factors were overcome." He held his hands out palm up so that she could lace her fingers with his, then supported her weight as she leaned down to him for a quick kiss. "I think I would be alright with either eventuality," he continued. "but I know it's important to you and I'd like us to reach some sort of understanding about it, especially since I'm not a 'spring chick' anymore."

She had to giggle at that. "You have many more years ahead of you," she protested. "In fact, I'm beginning to think that you have at least as many lives as a cat."

It was his turn to chuckle. "Perhaps."

"Honey, no matter what happens, you have to understand that you're the one I want. I meant it when I told you I'd made my choice." She kissed him again. "I would never leave you just because we couldn't have a child, but if you know how important this is to me, then you'll at least say that you'll give it a try."

"...When the time is right," he added.

She blinked. "Then that's a yes?"

"Yes."

And there it was, just like that; an agreement she had somehow thought she would have to fight for. She smiled and began kissing him passionately, coming up for air only long enough to whisper, "Thank-you."

(NC-17 Vesion available on my homepage)

Next time: Chapter 3: Nightmare!

Show me a villain that hath done a rape,
And I am sent to be revenged on him.-Titus Andronicus: V, ii