Authors Note: Yay, another chapter. Yes, I realize the chapter titles are opposite from the title. I don't care, cause each title goes better with the chapter. Anyway. So it's not the best fic… but I'm trying, okay? Gawd… I'm not even sure if I'll finish this one. I like it, but I don't know where to go with it and it is COMPLETELY different from my original plans. Not that I don't like it, but… well. Okay. So, maybe it is that I don't like it. But you don't have to know that, eh?Hee hee, I included hardwood floors without even realizing! Woot. And it might read a little differently, seeing as I spent the entire day reading C.S. Lewis: Chronicles of Narnia (the end of the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; all of the Magicians Nephew; and the beginning of A Horse and His Boy). That's a lot of Mr. C.S., isn't it? Obviously reading that much, his writing style's rubbed off on me a bit.Anyway... on with the story.

Disclaimer: Don't own V or any related characters. Man could I ever be rich if I did, though, eh? –day dreams- Could buy my own damn Hugo.

In This Sweet Madness, This Glorious Sadness
by xDante

Chapter Two

-

Evey let out a soft, muffled groan. Oh god, my head, she thought, scrunching her face with pain. What happened…?

She bolted up right as she remembered. There had been a man, and he had said that he was… But she knew that couldn't be true. He had followed her as she attempted to flee, and she had turned around and… well, and fainted. Why…? She asked herself, for the fall had knocked her a little silly. The mask… The genuine mask… The one scarred with bullet marks and dirt and possibly even a little bit of blood. The one V had worn when he died.

For the first time, Evey looked around. She knew these surroundings impossibly well, but did not know how V could know them. How did V know where her new apartment was? Had he been watching her, all those cold nights she walked alone through the dark streets, feeling eyes on her back? Had he actually been there in those shadows she convinced herself she was imagining? Evey felt chills on her neck, and she shuddered slightly as she slipped her legs over the side of the couch. If he had been, why hadn't he just revealed himself?

She stood, slowly and gently. Evey was alone in the room. She felt the chilled wood floor underfoot, and realized that her probably-ruined velvet stilettos had been removed. How unusual, she thought, taking a few slow steps away from the couch. She looked around once more. Where had he gone?

Evey could not hear her soft footsteps on the hardwood floor. She walked very gingerly, very silently, although she was not positive why. She slipped down the hall and cautiously peered around the corner into the kitchen. V was not there, either.

Puzzled, she turned to the small staircase leading to her bedroom. She decided that it would be very awkward, indeed, to find V in her bedroom. She climbed the stairs anyway. Quietly, she looked through the doorway. That room was empty, as well.

Have I just had a very peculiar dream? Evey asked herself, for a dingy yellow sun was now shining through the east-facing windows. She felt safer and calmer now that she was sure there was no one in her house. Down the stairs she went, rubbing the back of her head where a small bump had developed. She caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror. What a sight she was!

"Ugh, I'm a wreck! What has happened to me," exclaimed Evey out of shock of her terrible appearance.

Her short, wavy blonde hair was slightly matted, very messy, and particularly stringy. Her mascara had run—probably from the rain, for she did not remember crying—and now left faded black circles around her eyes as well as a pale black stream down one cheek. She could not see an inch of herself that was not streaked with dirt, dust, or dried rain water. She instantly went off to take a shower.

-

Evey spent most of that day sitting at her tall kitchen table with a hot water bottle on for her splitting headache and a book. She had several cups of tea and one 'small' glass of scotch in the afternoon, because her nerves were bouncing off of her insides so hard she thought they might pierce her skin and go shooting off to mars. She could hardly concentrate on the book she was reading, and she had become very tense. If that man had been the real V, and he was not, in fact, dead, then he would certainly return. At least, if she knew him the way she thought she did. He was not the type to leave her and not check up to see how she was. Which she had, of course, learned from previous experiences.

And she most certainly turned out to be correct in this matter.

The sun had set not long ago and the sky was still tainted with its scummy, frail light. Evey now sat with another glass of scotch in one hand, and the hot water bottle pressed against her head with the other. Her eyes were closed, the book splayed open on the table to keep her place.

The young woman took another swallow of the drink. It was bitter, and she didn't much fancy the taste of it, but it felt good on her throat and calmed her anxiety with credible effect. There came a small knock at the door as she was taking a small sip. Her back went rigid, and she appeared very much like a scared cat in the sense that if she had a tail, it would be standing straight up in the air with the fur all on end. Evey was about to stand up to answer when the door opened, seemingly on its own accord, because the man on the other side of the doorway was not touching the handle at all.

She stared in amazement as the man in the black cloak, wide-rimmed hat, and white mask entered and turned to close the door. She was so unaware of herself that she nearly dropped her glass, but caught herself just in time and set it on the table along with the hot pack.

Evey stood up, walked swiftly but silently around the couch until she stood directly in front of him five feet away. She stopped there, and looked him up and down. He seemed in perfect health, as though he had never been shot to death (well, alright then, nearly to death, as it now seemed) by ten government gunmen. Evey's face grew rather stony. She took a few steps forward, hesitantly and very much full of disbelief that the man should be standing here in front of her.

"Evey—"

"Shut up," Evey replied quickly, harshly, and quietly.

There was such power in her voice, that V did just that with no protest. Evey was unsure why, but thought it must have something to do with him understanding her fury and being quite, quite sorry. But of course, not being inside his head, she did not know any of this.

Evey took another step towards him, a bit more determined this time. She was now close enough to touch him, which she would do in a moment, and she could feel his eyes burning through the cloth eye slits of the mask and studying her nearly as much as she studied him. Slowly, as if unprepared, Evey reached out her quivering hand. She heard no sharp intake of breath from behind the mask; in fact, his breath rate seemed to stay quite as steady as her permanently racing heart, though much slower and far calmer.

Her fingers just touched the warm metal of the mask and a shock passed over her body. Over a year had passed since she had felt that satin-like, feather-weight mask. As her palm closed over the cheek of the mask, a small tear appeared in the corner of her eye.

"Why…?" She needn't finish the question; she knew he understood.

"I knew if you thought I was dead, that the world would—" V began in his deep voice.

"You lied to me, then."

V nodded his head slightly and she felt his gaze move off her face.

"And how many times you told me you were an honest man," Evey said, dropping her hand and turning away, her face once again cold.

"It was for your safety. I had no choice."

V took a step towards her, but she turned to face him, fury burning in every line of her entire body, rage pulsing through her, shock and sadness and viciousness crowding her face all at once. She knew that she was over reacting, perhaps a little, but she thought she had the right.

"Get out."

Her voice was soft, quiet, and treacherous; perhaps more terrifying then if she had a rocket launcher in her hands.

"But Evey, you've got to understand," V began, reaching towards her.

"LEAVE!" Her scream echoed through the ground level apartment. "Get out of my sight."

V hesitated a moment, then turned on his heel and swiftly walked out, the door slamming as quietly as a door can and still slam. Tears flowed down Evey's face. She sat back down on the couch and leaned forward, sobbing desperately into her hands. It was a moment before she felt a pain in her heart rather larger then that of betrayal. She contemplated this while her tears slowly stopped coming. Upon realizing what the feeling was, she leapt to her feet and rushed to the door. She pulled it open and called loudly and deeply.

"V!"

He did not come. She walked a few paces farther out into the cold night.

"V!" She called again, with no answer.

She stood a moment, waiting. Her heart seemed to be breaking for a fourth time, and a second that day. She had realized that the pain in her heart that was greater then that of betrayal was the feeling of loneliness. The feeling that she got no matter who she was with unless it was V. It was a lonesome, lovely feeling that she hated, but it made it all the better when she was with him.

She had stood for several long minutes, waiting, wanting, missing. V did not come. She called again, shakily and tearfully. Still he was nowhere to be seen. Evey turned to go back inside, head down, eyes glittering and foggy and quite hard to see out of. She walked a few steps forward and felt herself taken into unseen arms.

"V…" she whispered, not able to hold back anymore tears. They all came gushing out of her eyes and she flung her arms around his neck and quietly muttered; "I don't care, I don't care… I'm sorry… I missed you. V… I love you."

-

Authors Note: Bwahaha… To be continued… -evil grin-