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, overall 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 4a: Retribution: Life

V paused in his pacing to lean heavily upon the waiting room wall. The waiting was excruciating and served to drive home the point that this was no bad dream; it was a hellish nightmare; four hours of of fear and hope balanced on a sword's edge.

On the mad, high-speed drive to the hospital, he'd borrowed Dominic's cell phone and dialed Michael with the news. The doctor had been horrified, but at the same time had already gone running out the door while still talking, intent upon meeting them at Hospital.

Evey had spent less than fifteen minutes in the emergency department before being sent on to neurosurgery. By then Martha and Audrey had joined both him and Dominic. Michael Cahill burst in only moments afterward and had become a constant go-between, keeping them all informed of every new piece of information.

The last bit of news had been delivered by him over two hours ago. It had been pretty good news indeed: the bullet had hit Evey high above her ear, skirted the inside of her skull and quickly exited the top of her head. Apparently her position when she had pushed Martha away, had caused her head to tip with that side up just as the bullet hit her, hence the miraculous short pathway that had spared nearly all of her brain.

The bad news was that the surgeons were still fighting to stop her bleeding, which was the immediate life-threatening issue. In exiting the top of her skull, the bullet had torn through her sagittal sinus, a huge, blood collection area in the brain that had thin walls, was difficult to repair and usually led to the patient undergoing massive blood transfusion.

Evey had been very close to death due to blood loss even before being rushed to surgery. The fact that two hours had since elapsed without any report of her death could only be a very good thing indeed; the surgeons must be winning the battle for her life.

How ironic that she had held up the blood bank of this very hospital such a very short while ago so that he himself would not bleed to death!

All in all, it had been, as Michael had said, a miracle that she had made it this far and without evidence of significant damage to the brain itself.

Michael had informed them that once the bleeding was contained and the sinus repaired, the surgeons would be better able to assess the damage to her brain and decide on their next course of action.

And so V had been tearing up the waiting room, constantly in motion; pacing everywhere and stopping only now and then to help Dominic comfort the two women.

The truth of the matter was that his mask and the face beneath it tended to lie as far as revealing his inner turmoil went: they were relatively inexpressive, making him appear calm, serene even. In point of fact he was perilously close to losing control.

He was a man used to taking action, but under these circumstances he felt more than at any other time as though he were back in his prison cell at Larkhill and he had nothing to do but wait for the next terrible thing to be revealed.

The waiting room door suddenly opened and Michael made an appearance, now dressed in surgical scrubs.

"She's alive," he said immediately so that the question didn't have to be asked.

They all crowded around him, but it was V he addressed directly, "The sinus is repaired and they've removed several large blood clots. The damage to her brain is minimal as far as they can tell; most done by bone fragments and the shock wave rather than the bullet itself."

"Then she'll live?" V asked.

"No one can say that for sure; a head injury is always life threatening. There could be sudden bleeding, or massive clots, swelling of the brain..." Michael put a hand on V's shoulder. "But right now it looks as good as it can be. I'm betting that she'll live."

Behind him the girls sobbed and hugged each other, apparently overcome at the good news.

"And her functionality?"he asked.

Michael shrugged. "It's both her right parietal and right temporal lobes that are affected. Some strange things can happen when those areas are damaged. We'll just have to wait and see."

"When can I see her?" he asked, his desperation becoming quite evident in his voice.

"She's gone up to N.I.C.U., where they're currently getting her situated. I can take you up in just a short while."

As relief flooded him, he seemed to lose all strength and collapsed into the nearest chair. It was Dominic who clutched his shoulder and kneaded it in a show of support.

"Thank-you, doctor, for everything," Dominic said, apparently taking it on himself to speak for him.

And for the first time, Michaels' face lost it's detached physician blankness, almost crumbling. "Please don't," he said softly. "I feel as though this is my fault. You see, Evey was staying with me at the time and I should have tried harder to talk her out of going to work. I should have stayed home or perhaps taken her somewhere for the day..."

"No Michael," V spoke up. "I don't think you've ever fully appreciated Evey's strength of resolve. Once she decided she was going to work, there was nothing you could have done to prevent her... short of locking her up, which as Dominic here would tell you, is against the law. You're not to blame."

A short while later Michael was leading him out of the lift on the fifth floor and down the corridor towards the N.I.C.U.

"There are a few things you need to know," he said as they approached the unit. "First, she's in a drug-induced coma to help keep swelling and pressure in her brain to a minimum. She had a pressure gage inserted in her skull and that's why you'll see wires coming out from under the bandages. I doubt that they'' wean her off those drugs until the pressure shows signs of staying low and stable. Also, I don't think that I need to warn you that her face is very swollen right now and you probably won't recognize her."

V nodded. "I'd recognize her anywhere, no matter what," he breathed.

And then they were passing the nursing station, where many digital monitors chimed and binged while showing each patient's life readings. Two more steps and Michael motioned him to enter a doorway on the left.

In the center of the room was a hospital bed and in the center of that was a very slight form covered in blankets, bandages, tubes and wires. She was nearly surrounded by monitors and IV pumps as well as a respirator.

Rather than being cowed and approaching slowly as the usual visitor might, V glided quickly across the room and was instantly at her side, leaning over her and planting a quick kiss on her cheek. He hunted for her hand beneath the covers and then took it in his own while his other hand stroked the cheek he had kissed.

Her face was indeed hideously swollen and discolored, but he still knew her just as he'd known he would. She was the love of his life and he finally had a true appreciation for her own assertions that she saw him as he truly was, not as misfortune had remade him.

To him she was still the most beautiful woman in the world and always would be.

Behind him, he was aware of Michael leaving so that he could have some privacy.

He spoke to her, even though he had little hope that she could hear him, drugged as she was. "Evey, my little one," he said near her ear. "I'm here. I love you. You're going to live and you're going to be alright. Just sleep now. Rest and heal."

Planting another quick kiss on her cheek, he straightened up and left the room. There was little he could do here; she was very deeply asleep and would not miss his presence.

There was much he needed to do elsewhere before she awoke.

Just outside the door he was stopped by Evey's current nurse, who was standing behind the nursing station.

"Mr. Hammond?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"I've got your wife's things here." She held up a plastic bag. "I need for you to sign for them, if you don't mind."

He did just that and tucked the bag beneath his arm as he made his way down the hallway towards the elevators.

Eric Finch spent hours gathering evidence and statements, while staying in touch with Dominic, who kept him informed of Evey's status. He'd wrapped up for the night only moments before hearing that she had made it through surgery and was going to the intensive care ward. After that he was in his car and on the way.

Now, finally at hospital, he exited the elevators on the fifth floor and had barely taken three steps when he saw V turn away from the nursing station and head in his direction.

He stopped where he was and waited, speaking only as V stopped next to him.

"How is she?"

V sighed. "Alive, stable for now and very deeply asleep. They'll keep her that way for a while. What news? Any leads? Anything of interest?"

"The filthy bloke who pulled this didn't just tell Audrey he was me, the video surveillance shows a man, who from a distance could be me." He pounded hid fist on the wall. "This is just too much," he growled in a barely controlled voice. "We have to find these bastards soon, somehow..."

V sighed. "Oh, I agree whole heartedly, Inspector," he said. "But let me add that I fear it isn't safe for any of us on our own right now, especially you and Evey. They'll be wanting to finish her off to send me a clear message and as for you..."

"Oh you don't have to tell me," he finished. "They sure as hell don't want someone on the inside using his resources to ferret them out. As for Evey, I've already asked Dominic to arrange a round the clock guard for her."

"Thank-you," V replied, then leaned closer and whispered, " May I ask; does Detective Stone have a family?"

"No, he's single. His wife took off on him, same as mine. Do you think he's also in danger?"

V's head tilted. "I think it would be best if both of you stayed with me for a time. Besides, I've got the best security in place."

"Yes, I think you've got a good idea there," he said after a moment's thought. "Give me a moment to talk to Dom, then I'll give you a ride home."

V nodded. "I'll be downstairs in the waiting room talking to Martha and Audrey."

"And I'll arrange for officers to escort them home," he added, then watched the other man walk past the elevators and enter the stairwell instead.

"Why are we stopping here?" V asked when Finch pulled to the curb on New Oxford Street.

"Got anything in your fridge?" he asked.

"Actually, now that you mention it, not much," the man answered.

"I thought we could pick up something to eat as none of us has had a bite all night."

"You're my guests, please allow me to pay," V insisted.

Finch exited the car. "All right, but only if you're willing to go for Chinese." He thought he saw the other man shudder, but V agreed readily enough.

Together they headed for the restaurant door.

An hour later they were all eating out of the take-out boxes while gathered around V's computers in the downstairs lab/workout room of the flat.

"This is unbelievable," Finch breathed as V showed them yet another way to hack into Scotland Yard's computer network. "I've been told that we have some of the tightest network security in the world. However did you accomplish this? Do you have someone on the inside?"

"Only you two," V laughed. "Seriously, though; security of the network is only as good as the security of the building that houses it. And I have ways around most building security systems."

"Obviously!" Dominic exclaimed dryly.

"Let me leave you two to it then while I take care of a few things," V said, coming to his feet. "I won't be but a few minutes."

Leaving the room, he took the stairs up to the living area and tossed his empty food container in the trash. The steamed dumplings hadn't been bad; Finch's food recommendation had suited him well.

Moving down the hall to the bedroom, he threw the bag with Evey's things on the bed and emptied his pockets onto the dresser. He turned around to pick up the bag and froze as Evey's Guy Fawkes pendant stared up at him, twinkling in the dim light, having apparently been jostled from the bag onto the bed when he'd tossed it. He picked it up and stared wistfully at it, then collapsed into a seated position on the bed as the full magnitude of that day finally hit him.

The pendant dangled from his fingers as he dropped his head into his hands and began to sob. She had to live; had to recover... If she didn't, then he would see to it that those responsible suffered greatly before dying... just before he followed them down into the darkness.

It took him a good ten minutes to regain any control.

"Anything new?"

Finch turned away from the computer at the sound of V's voice and nearly jumped when he saw him again dressed as the masked vigilante who'd haunted him for over a year.

"Jeez!" Dominic exclaimed for both of them, choking on his food when he caught sight of him.

"Going out are we?" Finch asked, a smirk on his face.

"Oh yes." He approached the monitor and peered at the screen. "Well? Anything?"

"Actually the Inspector stumbled upon something of great interest," Dominic sputtered, still trying to clear his airway.

The Inspector pushed his chair back and looked up at him. "You remember our good friend, Roger Dascombe?"

Under his mask he frowned. "Sutler's head of information; how could I possibly forget him?"

Finch steepled his fingers on one of his legs. When he spoke, his voice was low, his words chosen carefully. "There was always something about his demeanor that struck me as very wrong."

"Now, understand that only two people had a constant direct line to Sutler, and they were Creedy and Dascombe. I daresay that you got to know Creedy even better than I did near the end, and we both know the kind of man he was; fearless, ambitious and completely amoral. Yet, even he spoke to and treated Sutler with a constant respect, even appearing cowed on those occasions when Sutler took him to task."

"But Dascombe never showed any real fear of Sutler, even going so far as to get cheeky with him, more than once in front of others. You remember one such incident, don't you, Dominic?"

Dominic looked up at him. "It was the day you broke into the BTN. Sutler was on the phone with him and apparently trying to blame your country-wide broadcast's high ratings on Dascombe. Roger immediately yelled at him, telling him that it had been his insistence on having all the televisions wired in that had caused the problem. I almost fell over when I heard that!"

Finch nodded. "And that's not all. Sutler never gave Roger orders. He'd request things here and there, phrasing it as 'I'd like this" and "I'd like that'. He never demanded and in fact, Dascombe was pretty much left to his own devices."

"I'd say that you've stumbled upon something of great significance," he said, when Finch stopped speaking and stared at him. "Yet, I've the feeling that you've more to share with me with regards to Dascombe."

The Inspector nodded his head. "When poor Gordon Dietrich decided to throw out his script and air his now infamous 'Sutler episode', it was Roger who phoned Creedy directly, not Sutler. I've heard that by the time Sutler contacted Dascombe, his reply was that the problem had already been taken care of."

"So then, Dascombe ordered Dietrich's arrest? Dascombe issued the order and Creedy followed it?" V asked, somehow keeping his voice even despite his growing anger.

"Worst than that;" Finch replied. "He's the one who told Creedy about the secret room and the Koran. He pretty much issued Dietrich's death warrant himself."

V stared at him, unable to even speak.

Dominic nodded sympathetically. "And what we've always wondered was; how did Roger know about Gordon Dietrich's secret room?"

"You know now, don't you?" V asked Finch.

The Inspector nodded, then stood up and began to pace around them. "I was investigating your background for you, beginning with a computer search of anyone in government whose first name is Giselle." He stopped pacing and stared at him. "I found her. She's remarried and her name is now Giselle Dascombe."

"Dear lord..." V breathed, feeling suddenly dizzy as so very many pieces of the puzzle began to come together. The man he had seen with Giselle on the street had to have been Dascombe, whom he'd never seen in person. "Giselle would, of course, know about her brother's secret room," he surmised.

Dominic stood up then. "Tell him the rest, Inspector."

Finch collapsed into his chair. "Dascombe, as the head of the BTN, was never thought of as part of Sutler's regime. Therefore he was never indicted on any charges nor driven out of the political circles he traveled in. Though he's no longer head of BTN, he and Giselle are both listed as members of different Government Departments."

"Get this; Giselle Dascombe is a member of the newly reformed DCA!" Dominic relayed with relish.

V was stunned. "The Department for Constitutional Affairs?"

"The very same; one of the Ministerial Departments," Finch replied. "And Roger Dascombe is a member of the DCMS."

"The Department for Culture, Media and Sport," V hissed. "That would give him inside information on what was going on at the British Museum."

"Yeah. I'm afraid so," Finch sighed.

"So then it's a fair bet that's how he first picked up on the connection between Evey, yourself and me," he sighed.

Finch nodded. "Yeah."

"It seems a certainty that they're both members of the elusive Puppet Masters," he stated.

"I'd put money on it," Dominic said.

The terrible anger that had been raging within him since Evey had been shot began to burn up to a white hot fury. Although he tried to remain outwardly calm, the more he thought about Giselle's betrayal of himself and her brother, as well as the Dascombes' part in the whole thing, the more he began to shake. And his furious tremors did not go unnoticed by the other two men.

"We're all murderously angry," Finch suddenly warned. "But we have to bury our anger long enough to do this right: we don't want any of the guilty warned by one of your vendettas. We can't afford to have any of them slip away and start this whole business over again!"

"He's right," Dominic stated. "We have to find out who all the members of the P.M. are and take them all out."

"You mean arrest them," V sneered.

"No, I mean take them OUT," Lieutenant Stone clarified. "There aren't any courts around right now that we can trust to see justice done!"

V was stunned, remembering a time not that long ago when he had said almost the same thing to Evey. He addressed the Inspector, "And do you feel the same?"

Finch sighed. "There is no other way. In this case we must decide who we can trust to the judicial system and who will have to be... dealt with before that even becomes an option."

Turning back to the computer, V nodded, his respect for the two of them growing. "Show me everything else you have and bring up a map to the Dascombes' residence. I'll be out watching them the rest of the night."

Three hours later the skies over London opened up sending down a deluge of mixed rain and sleet. V huddled closer to the building he hid against, but the wind up on the ledge was violent, blowing the cold wet precipitation upwards as well as sideways.

He was drenched through and through and rapidly losing body heat, but he was damned if he would give up his post a minute sooner than he had to.

Pulling his cloak more tightly around himself, he curled up as compactly as he could and gritted his teeth to help stop their chattering. His muscles were capable of generating more heat than the average human's but if something didn't shake loose soon...

He'd already placed bugs on both the cars in the garage; bugs he himself had engineered and which would elude all but the most sophisticated detection devices. Back at his flat both Finch and Stone would be monitoring their locations.

V also had a two way radio device handy should they need to contact each other for any reason.

The wind whipped up furiously again and for once he was grateful for his mask and the protection it afforded from the sleet. "Damn!"he breathed as the gust caused him to shiver more violently.

His thoughts turned to Evey and to memories of a wonderful night spent at her old flat, but those memories couldn't keep him warm as they were quickly overshadowed by visions of her in her hospital bed. There was no way he would be leaving his post, even if he had to break into the building he perched upon to continue his surveillance from inside.

Fifteen minutes later, his agony was rewarded when he saw the Dascombes' driver emerge from the side door of the residence and move into the garage. In moments he had pulled the expensive black Rolls Royce up in front of the home.

V immediately came to his feet and contacted Finch. "Inspector?"

"What have you got?"

"Looks like someone is about to take a trip. Guide me to them, will you?"

"Will do. Are you walking or taking that clunky BFC van of yours?"

"Given the weather, let's assume they're traveling a goodly distance; I'll take the van," he replied as he began to shiver more violently.

"I've got the tracker up on the screen. You can get back to the van whenever," Finch informed him.

V watched as the front door opened and the man he now knew was Roger Dascombe led Giselle out while holding an umbrella over them both. In seconds they were in the car and pulling away.

He made a dash for the van, which was on a side street a block up.

It took him fifteen minutes with Finch guiding him to arrive at the current location of the car. He had to admit some surprise at finding himself in a posh Hyde Park subdivision, driving past a very expensive looking townhome. That surprise had nothing to do with the people involved being wealthy; oh no, he pretty much expected that. It had to do with them choosing to meet here and not in some back street nondescript building.

After driving the van around the block a time or two, he found a safe place to park it where he could remain hidden in the back and still keep an eye on the building in question.

Perhaps tonight's vigil had led him to nothing more than a social visit...

He had to revise that thought when no less than eight other individuals arrived in the course of the next ten minutes. As each arrived, he snapped their digital photo using a state-of-the-art government issue camera he had liberated from a Fingerman not all that long ago, then transmitted it to Finch.

He could make out nothing that was occurring within the residence as all the curtains had been pulled and some strong scrambling device was being used to prevent eavesdropping.

Whatever was afoot within continued until the wee hours of the morning, when the guests finally exited and went their separate ways. As Finch hadn't yet identified any of the men he'd seen, he had no idea who best to follow at that point and so he remained outside the residence in case anything else of interest transpired.

Finch informed him that the Dascombes had apparently gone straight home and by an hour later he'd had enough. He checked in with Finch and then headed back home.

Finch was kind enough to deactivate the alarm and let him in the back door, sparing him the need to do so himself. Good thing, too; his fingers were completely numb from the cold.

"Good God man, you'd better go get dried up before you freeze to death," the Inspector exclaimed, seeming truly concerned.

V looked around. "Where's your Lieutenant?"

"Dominic's sleeping in your study upstairs," the man answered. "Go on, I'll lock up and get your fireplace going for you. Then you can tell me what you've learned."

"We can talk as I dry off," he replied. "I'd be very grateful for that fire, but first things first; What's the news on Evey?

"They say that the pressure in her skull is dropping steadily and she's no longer showing any evidence of bleeding. If it continues, they'll start cutting back on her drugs tomorrow morning."

He nodded, feeling some of his stress dissipate at the good news.

Finch reactivated the alarm system as V quickly walked through the downstairs and took the stairs up to his living area.

Distracted by thoughts of Evey, he didn't bother closing doors behind him, but moved into the bathroom, stripped and threw his soaked garments in the tub. Then he carried his knife belt into the bedroom and switched to a dry mask and wig. He was rummaging for clean clothes when the Inspector turned up.

Finch stopped in the doorway when he noted that he was naked, but he didn't seem either embarrassed or shocked by the sight that met his eyes. Too many years sharing showers and lockers at police headquarters, V surmised.

"Jeezus," the Inspector finally breathed, as V pulled on a pair of hunter green pajama bottoms. "However did you survive that?"

V knew he was referring to the burn scars which covered so much of his body. "I survived because I had no choice," he replied. "It would have been a blessing to have just given in to it; to have died, but then there would have been no one left to see justice done."

"I read Delia's diary," Finch admitted.

"As I had meant you to," he reminded, pulling on his heavy, black bathrobe.

"I didn't sleep well for days afterwards. She seemed like such a nice woman... I almost couldn't believe the things she did, that she allowed to happen..." Finch said softly, sadly.

"What you read in her diary dealt only with the evil deeds Delia knew about," he answered. "The things hat happened there, which she knew nothing of... were truly the stuff of horror stories. These outward scars are nothing compared to the inner damage I suffered while I was incarcerated there."

"Lilliman and Prothero?" the Inspector asked.

"Oh yes, they were bad, but those little men and women who served them were far worse. Having no true power in the outside world, they relished the opportunity to show the prisoners who was in charge." Disgusted, nauseated by the memories it stirred within him, he forced himself to take a deep breath and change the subject. "Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked, heading for the kitchen.

Finch nodded. "I would appreciate it."

Once in the kitchen, V put the kettle on and pulled two cups out of the cupboard. He proceeded to set the table complete with placemats, linen napkins and almost anything a person might like with their tea, including biscuits, scones, jam and Devenshire cream.

As he went about making his guest feel appreciated, Finch sat silently in one of the chairs and watched him with some amusement. Only when the table setting was completed did he finally speak up.

"There really was no need to go to so much trouble," he protested half-heartedly.

"Nonsense, Inspector," V protested. "We've both put in a very difficult day, we're exhausted and I daresay we deserve this. And then again, we could probably do with a little chat over our tea as well, don't you think?"

"Eric," the inspector corrected. "Please call me Eric and yes, I do agree that we deserve a bit of a pampering." He sighed. "Usually I go home and just drink a solo glass of whiskey. This is much nicer."

V nodded and retrieving the kettle, which had just begun to whistle, poured the boiling water into the teapot on the table. "Please help yourself while the tea steeps," he said. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Finch laughed. "I think you've covered just about anything I might want."

"Excuse me a moment," he breathed, then left he kitchen and headed back to the bedroom. He had only just realized that he couldn't eat without removing his mask. The time he'd spent with Evey had certainly changed him tremendously if he was able to forget such a thing even for a shot while. In the bedroom, he removed his mask and donned a black scarf, which he tied loosely enough to enable him to eat with it on. Then he returned to the kitchen.

Finch nodded as though he weren't in the least bit surprised by the scarf and then poured the tea himself.

They spent the next twenty minutes talking over the details of V's evening observations. It seemed that they had confirmed at least ten members of the P.M. Group plus the owner of the residence where the meeting had taken place. It was late and tomorrow Finch would begin identifying all those involved. Together they would continue to gather as much evidence on each as possible. It was important that every member be identified and eliminated one way or another.

One of the biggest questions was who the leaders of the group were.

The following morning V awoke to the sound of the teakettle whistling. He was sprawled out face down on the mattress, his arms flung wide in his usual sleep position these days.

It had taken years to recover from the tendency to stay huddled in a tight ball; the only position that retained warmth when one had to sleep on cold, damp cell floors. Yet, once he had gotten over that habit it was as though he reveled in sprawling.

Then again, his muscles were always restless and Evey'd told him on several occasions that when he wasn't deeply asleep, he moved around quite a bit. Lifting his head, he looked at the clock, which showed the time to be nearly eleven.

With a groan, he climbed from the bed. He was still tired. Far too much had happened in the last few days to allow him to enjoy any truly restful sleep.

Rubbing his hands briskly over the scars on his head, he leaned backward, stretching his back, reveling in the feeling. Then he straightened, scratched his chest, which was somewhat itchy and pulled on his robe, wig and a scarf.

Slipping on his house shoes so that his melted and merged toes wouldn't be visible to his guests, he made a quick stop at the bathroom before greeting Finch and Stone, who were seated at the table having tea with their toast and fried eggs.

Finch immediately stood up and moved to the stove. "I'm cooking this morning," he said, shaking the spatula at him and making it clear that he would brook no argument. "How do you want your eggs?"

After Dominic had left for the day and V returned to the kitchen after resetting the alarm system, Eric Finch placed his empty teacup back on it's saucer and sat back in his chair. Fixing the man in front of him with a sympathetic look he asked, "So then; do you want me to tell you what I know about your past now or would you rather wait?"

V took a seat and poured himself a last cup of tea as he considered the question.

"If you knew this information, then why didn't you offer it up last night?"

Finch shrugged. "I wanted you to get some sleep."

He couldn't help but chuckle at the look the Inspector gave him as he said it. "Indeed," he finally agreed. "Yes, I think I'd like to know now, but only the barest outline, if you don't mind."

Eric nodded. "Miss Giselle Dietrich married her first husband, a literary junior professor and columnist when she was twenty five years of age. The marriage lasted two years, ending with his death in an auto accident. Alcohol was later found to be a factor."

Finch paused and scooted his chair close to V's, then placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "What I've just told you is the sum total of your existence," he sighed. "I found it in a nebulous old publication which contained an interview with her. There are no other surviving records of you; no marriage records, birth records, death certificates... nothing."

He took a deep breath. "You've been completely erased, so unless there is someone out there who still remembers you..."

"I don't exist," V breathed.

"And unfortunately, I've seen this happen before; in Ireland after the reclamation," Finch said, his voice threatening to break. "And when they felt the need to make someone vanish without any trace, they made certain their entire family and all their friends dropped off the face of the earth as well."

"I daresay that there's at least one person left alive who can tell me the full story," he growled.

"Yes," Finch replied. "Giselle Dascombe."

Impeccably groomed and dressed, his false face in place, V stopped at the nursing station just outside Evey's room before entering. The clock on the wall showed it to be slightly after one in the afternoon.

Her current nurse; Jennifer Douglas, updated him on Evey's condition. She was stable, slowly coming out of her drug induced coma and even beginning to fight the respirator; taking spontaneous breaths on her own.

"Any idea when she might awaken?" he asked.

The nurse shrugged. "It could be hours, days... or perhaps never," she said sympathetically. "I don't want to give you false expectations. You have to understand that no two people's brains are mapped the same way. There's no way to tell what Evey will do until she does it."

He thanked her then approached the door to his beloved's room. The guard on duty recognized him, nodded and moved down the hall a way to give him some privacy.

Approaching the bed, he looked her over carefully and found her much improved. Quite a bit of the swelling in her face had gone, although the bruising had become a darker, ghastly greenish-black color.

He found her hand under the covers and brought it out, kissing it gently then holding it in his own. It appeared so delicate, so pale and small in his own large, gloved hand.

Then he leaned over her and kissed her cheek, whispering sweet things against her ear. He poured his heart out to her, begged her to be well and come back to him.

"I miss you so, my love," he breathed. "Don't leave me. Please don't..."

Just then her chest heaved and the respirator beeped loudly, startling him. Looking at the readouts above her head he understood that she had just taken a breath on her own, a deep one that overrode the machine.

"Had she heard him?"

Pulling a chair over, he sat right next to the bed and leaned over her. Resting his head on her shoulder, he continued to hold her hand and whisper to her.

"Inspector?"

"What do you have, Dominic?" Finch asked, putting down his sandwich and heading for the door.

They were using V's two-way communication devices, which he claimed could not be intercepted by any government surveillance devices. Dominic had donned street clothes and was watching the Hyde Park residence that V had covered last night. He himself had gone in to work, but was now at a nearby restaurant on break.

"You're not going to believe who just went inside," Dom breathed, then added, "Miller and Campbell!"

"What? Are you certain?" Finch was shocked. He had expected there to be several P.M. members at the Yard, but he never would have guessed that they were two of his men, let alone those two.

"Yes, unfortunately I am certain, Lieutenant Stone answered. "They're supposed to be on duty, aren't they?"

He thought for a moment. "Yes. They were out looking into the Barker case," he replied. "Look, when they come out, tail them. Let's see if they visit anyone else of interest, shall we?"

"Oh, I most certainly will stick to them like glue," Dominic answered. "Later then."

"Be careful," was his final comment before storing the device in his jacket and heading back inside.

V left Hospital a little after three and stopped at a nearby market for groceries.

He was feeling a bit better after seeing Evey and assuring himself that she was indeed improving. It was the waiting to see if she'd suffered significant damage that was now the major stress on him. As for her attackers; he was certain that they would be identified and then he'd deal with them.

After finishing his shopping, he hailed a cab and was nearly back to the flat when Finch contacted him on his communicator device.

"What have you discovered?" he answered.

"A thing or two of interest," Finch answered, but I can't talk right now. Can you come round to my flat tonight for dinner? I think it would be prudent to switch locations."

V looked down at his bags of groceries. "I understand your concern, Eric, but it really would be safest to continue on at my flat. We don't want people in the apartments adjacent to yours accidentally taking stray bullets and I cannot place any real security around us there."

"Don't you think there's a greater danger of drawing their attention to ourselves if we keep coming around to your place?"

V paid the cabbie, retrieved his bags and exited the taxi. "My good man, they've already been watching us. In fact, I passed right by one of their spies on my way in last night. I could easily have killed him, but I wanted them to think us unaware of the surveillance, so I dropped a bug on him instead and then looped around and came in from another direction."

"So I take it that you have some plan involving this surveillance?" Finch asked.

"Oh yes. I'll tell you all about it over dinner," he said merrily. "By the way, please bring an extra set of clothing and have Dominic do the same."

"I take it we'll get an explanation for that as well?"

"Indeed, Eric, you most certainly will."

Dr. Michael Cahill was sitting next to Evey's bed when her eyes began to flutter and open. He instantly pushed the call button and asked for her nurse to come in, then took Evey's hand and called her name.

"She's waking," he told the nurse as she appeared at the bedside.

RN Jennifer Douglas then mashed the call button herself. "Debra," she said to the secretary who answered. "Page Dr. Weiburg and tell him that Miss Hammond is coming out of it."

By the time V let Dominic and Finch into the flat, the table was set and he'd already nearly completed cooking their dinner. The time was shortly after six thirty.

Upon arriving home, he'd thoroughly checked the place out and made a few adjustments to his security devices. All the shades and curtains were pulled and the lights were down low.

Dominic sniffed the air. "Smells great!" he exclaimed. "What is it?"

"Roast beef with Yorkshire Pudding and winter vegetables," he answered.

"Didn't know you could cook," Finch said, then added in a teasing manner, "I guess that makes one reason why Evey's so stuck on you."

V sniffed as though insulted, which made the two policemen laugh and then led them up the stairs.

Michael Cahill and Nurse Douglas leaned over the bed and watched as Evey's eyes opened for longer and longer periods of time. All the while Michael kept talking to her, telling her that all was well and encouraging her to look at him.

And there was a moment where her eyes actually focused, her body tensed up, and those eyes shifted from his face to the RN's and then to the doorway beyond.

Somehow he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was searching for someone who wasn't there and he knew who it had to be.

That was all right with him, because it meant that Evey would probably be just fine, that the damage she had taken wasn't severe.

Her neurologist, Peter Weiburg, suddenly appeared next to them.

"Evey, my name is Dr. Peter Weiburg," he explained. "I'm a neurologist at Hospital. "You're in the intensive care ward, where we've kept you for a day. You can't talk right now because we have a tube down your throat, but we're going to take that out right now, OK?"

Amazingly, Evey nodded.

Weiburg turned towards nurse Douglas, who was already removing sterile gauze and supplies from a drawer she had unlocked. "Let's do this."

The nurse carefully peeled the tape away from Evey's face and made certain that the intubation tubing was no longer attached to her in any way. As the doctor grasped the tuning, she leaned in close and spoke loudly to her patient, "Evey, I want you to take a deep breath for me and then on the count of three I want you to exhale very strongly, all right?"

Again Evey nodded, he eyes never leaving the nurse, who began the count.

On three, Dr. Weiburg quickly and smoothly pulled the tubing from Evey's throat.

She gurgled, then sputtered and coughed strongly.

"Take some deep breaths," the nurse instructed. "Cough if you can. Here's a tray if you need to spit."

After a few minutes of clearing her airway, Evey finally seemed to be breathing easier and subsided weakly against the pillows while the doctor checked her eyes and put her through a series of tests.

He asked her to move her hands, her feet, to squeeze his fingers and finally began asking her questions, beginning with her name.

"Evey Hammond," she managed to croak.

"Where do you live, Evey?"

"The Shadow Gallery," she answered weakly, drawing puzzled looks from the medical staff.

"I can vouch that her answer is correct," Michael spoke up.

"And who is this man?" Weiburg asked her next, indicating Michael.

"My friend," she answered.

"What's his name?"

Evey looked puzzled, then alarmed.

"It's all right," Dr. Weiburg calmed her. "You've been hurt and some things; names, memories, may take a while to return. Don't fret over it. You're very lucky to be with us and it's a small miracle that you seem to be none the worse for your ordeal."

"What happened to me?" she croaked.

Michael stepped up. "Do you remember where you work?" he asked.

"The Museum."

"Do you remember packing a crate with Martha?"

She shook her head no and looked upset again as more memories eluded her.

Michael took her hand and soothed her. "It's OK," he said. "I'll explain anything you want to know after you've rested for a bit. But the answer to you question is that you were shot, Evey. That's why you've got bandages on your head."

She digested that for a while, then lifted her hand towards her head. "I was shot?" she asked.

Michael nodded.

"In the head?"

Again he nodded.

"Where's V?" she asked as her face crumbled.

And then Evey began to cry inconsolably, despite Michael's assurances that they were calling V to tell him she was awake.

"Sedate her," the doctor ordered, then told nurse Douglas what to give and how much.

After eating, Finch and Dominic filled V in on the information they had gathered that day.

Finch watched as the man cleaned off the table and brought over a tray of fruit and cheese as well as a bottle of Port. After pouring up three small glasses, he sat down with them.

"We now have a list of ten people who we strongly believe are involved with the PM," he said, sipping his wine. "While I checked up on a few of them via the computer, mostly I stayed at the Yard to help keep suspicions down. Everyone was told that Dom had the day off, but in fact he was staking out the Hyde Park residence you were led to last night."

"And it payed off all right," Dominic said. "We'd been afraid of moles in the department, but we were both shocked when two of them turned out to be men in our own division."

"Men who work for me," Finch added. "Bastards were selling out the lot of us behind our backs, whilst attending family get-togethers and acting like our friends..."

"And what specifically do they do for you?" V asked.

"They're part of our bomb squad."

There was silence around the table then which lasted until V put his glass down with an audible thump.

"Christ!" Finch swore. "I hadn't even thought of... You don't think...?"

"Yes, I do," V growled, coming to his feet.

Just then the phone rang and the three of them looked at it for a second as though it were a snake, then V sprang forward in a blur as he realized it might be about Evey.

Finch stared at Dominic, still sick over the idea that he had overlooked the obvious. "Come on," he said. "Let's go downstairs to the computer."

They had just risen when they heard V exclaim, "She's awake? Already?" They stopped and waited.

"They say she seems to be fine!" he told them, happily before turning back to the phone. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he said to the person on the other end. "But I have something of a big problem here and it may be a few hours... Oh, you've sedated her? If she awakens before I arrive tell her I'm on my way. Thank-you."

V clicked the phone off and put it down, then leaned heavily on the counter top as relief flooded him. After a moment he straightened up. "Did you bring the spare clothing I asked you to?"

They each nodded. "Good. Lets get going."

"What exactly are we doing?" Dominic asked.

"We were going to go check the computer inventory of our seized items," Finch added.

"No," V replied, leading the way back to the bedroom. "That will take too much precious time and the records will be of little value; you've no way of knowing if they were accurate to begin with."

He paused outside the bedroom door, which was closed. "I think I can speak with a fair amount of certainty when I say that your moles have probably been busy slowly moving explosives from your lockup to another place in the building; say the basement. I take it that your main offices are housed in that very same building?"

Finch grimaced. "I'm afraid so."

"Then there really is no time to lose. I'll be going in and you two will have to guide me." V opened the door and gestured to three mannequins that were laying on the bed. "In the meantime, each of you please grab one of these and bring it back into the dining area."

Finch exchanged looks with Dominic.

"He's completely daft!" his lieutenant breathed.

Next time: Chapter 4b: Retribution: Death

APPENDIX:

N.I.C.U. : Neurological Intensive Care Unit

RN : Registered Nurse.

PM : Puppet Masters (a name made up by Finch, referring to a covert organization)