Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews, I appreciate them all- I'm going to go through the film with this story but I do not know if I will make this an AU with a twist at the end, so as for what to expect, don't look at me! I hardly know myself, but I've answered a few of your questions at the very end.

Evey

I woke up, terrified with what I might find. I recognized his voice easily enough- the same voice that has been echoing in my dreams for the past several nights. I heard him fighting, but laughing as well. I got out of bed and steeled myself for the sight of bloodshed and gore- if Fingermen had found this place, I had no doubt in my mind that it would not be just one man killed in the Shadow Gallery.

The thought of V's death seemed impossible- I'd seen him fight before, no one can touch him; but at the time, my fear had overridden my logic. I peered around the corner, my heart pounding with fear and sorrow for what I might find. I had expected to see V fighting a dozen or more Fingermen from all the noise he was making- what I found instead was a strange sight, to say the least.

V was laughing and taunting his enemy, an old suit of armor. He lunged at it with a thin rapier sword, fencing and slashing. I couldn't believe my eyes, but V was playing! He taunted the armored helmet and the more I watched him, the more it seemed that V really was insane. V lifted the suit's hand to his throat and his voice struggled, as if he were being choked- he thrust himself backward onto the chaise lounge he'd pushed to the side, kicked at the air and then leapt back to the armor. V twisted, swung the sword and the helmet went flying.

It clanged when it impacted the floor, and rolled to my feet. V saw me and his hands instantly went to readjust his mask. He lowered his head and both his words and body language spoke volumes of his embarrassment. "Oh, dear, I'm sorry, I hope I didn't wake you."

He must've known that it was all the noise he was making that had woken me, but it is his home and I wasn't about to be an ungrateful houseguest by complaining about his behavior. Even if everything he does is of the completely lunatic...

"No, I just thought you were fighting, I mean for real…" I clarified.

V straightened his posture then, his confidence seemed to return in an instant. I had noticed the television, but I hadn't been paying any attention to the program. He pointed to the black and white images with his sword. "It's my favorite film, the Count of Monte Cristo, with Robert Donat as Edmond Dantes. It gets me every time."

I couldn't understand how a man as unique and bewildering as V could become so caught up in a film- it was usually children thatgot so caught up with Storm Saxon, and every once in a great while I would see them play-acting outside during the day. V was a grown man, and something of a genius besides. Couldan oldfilm really be so moving?

"I've never seen it."

The smiling mask tilted to the side, and V was back to his charming self once more. "Really? Would you like to?"

I tilted my head at him as he so often did at me. "Does it have a happy ending?"

The smile of his mask seemed real, somehow. "As only celluloid can deliver," he said, and made a sweeping gesture with his arm, indicating the loveseat before the television.

"Okay, but put the sword away," I said. If he became caught up in the film so easily, I didn't want any weapon close at hand- I didn't want him to get carried away again. My feelings toward V were still undecided. The man constantly wore a mask, and lived deep underground, surrounded by treasures of the past. He was dangerous; I'd witnessed it firsthand.

I wasn't sure if I could trust his words- would he truly set me free after the fifth of next November? Nothing was certain, and after what he's done, I had no idea what the next months will bring- either V's dream will be realized, or we'll both be found out and black-bagged…I was terrified by either outcome.

I followed V to the sofa and sat down while he reset the DVD. It had been so long since I'd had a friend to sit with and enjoy a movie- I tried hard to forget who he was, and just let the film engage my mind for a couple of hours.

"Find your own tree,"

"Find your own tree,"

V had chimed in throughout the film, matching the lines word for word and laughing to himself throughas the end credits began to roll. It was endearing to know that beneath the mask there was a soul, a playful, intelligent soul, who loved music, and Shakespeare and beauty…

It had been a wonderful time, and I admit that during the film I had let myfear of himslip away- V was no longer V the terrorist, V the rhyming lunatic, V the brutal fighter…he was just V, a comforting friend, offering things that I hadn't experienced since my childhood had been cut short: warmth…a feeling of safety when I slept…an interest in what I had to say…

And then, like all things, it ended. Not with a wrong word or an awkward touch, but by a news report from BTN, of all sources. Lewis Prothero had died- or at least, that was the story Jane was reporting. Something about a heart attack at the office- Jane always blinked too much when she was forced to vomit up lies like those; I'd always wondered if she did it on purpose, as a way to indicate anyone watching that she was lying through her teeth.

If I had noticed, surely someone else would, wouldn't they?

Poor Jane- she had resigned herself to being little more than a mouthpiece for Sutler and Creedy several years ago…but who was I to judge? I was just another sheep in the flock at the time, led astray from the chopping block by a mysterious masked Shepard…

And then, even as I told V how I knew the story must have been far from the truth, things began to come together. I'd been arranging things in my room the day before- thekhakis that I'd arrived in had had my wallet in the back pocket. I hadn't had any real reason to go through it, what was the point of a credit card, my few leftover food coupons or my I.D. when I was to be kept underground for the next year?

But then, I couldn't find my I.D. I had always kept it on me; with the random building sweeps of BTN, led by the Finger, it was always smart to have your I.D. with you to avoid any problems. I'd always kept it in the same place, just behind the credit card…the wallet was new, it couldn't have just fallen out…

I'd set my wallet on the little end table beside my bed, completely puzzled as to where it could have gone, but at the same time not terribly concerned. After all, it wasn't as if I had a position at BTN to worry about anymore. And then, miraculously, the I.D. card returned to it's original slot in my wallet. At the time, I'd been simply puzzled.

But then, a terrible coldness washed over me as I turned to V. He was sitting on the sofa, his body very still. The laughter was gone now, the silence of his home crept in on the two of us as he clicked off the remote. The mask told me nothing, but he had tilted his head just so, in a small piece of his body language that I had come to understand meant that he was curious about my reaction to what I'd just learned.

He often gave just the slightest tilt to his head when he told mesome interesting, yet totally random and useless fact aboutany number of a great manydead artists that he loved. He wanted to know what I thought, and in that moment I thought that I'd been staying alone too long with a monster.

"Would you prefer the truth or a lie?"

Lie to me V, please lie and tell me you did not just murder Lewis Prothero!

V denied nothing, only stating that there were "no courts in London" for men like Lewis Prothero. My God, V, what have you done? What crime could have merited a man's death? V was not forthcoming with any information about why he had murdered, instead he tried to change the subject to justify himself.

"I might've killed the three Fingermen that attacked you, but I didn't hear any objection then,"

Oh, V, it's not the same! What did Lewis Prothero ever do to you, or to anyone else? He just has a television program, why have you killed him?

I couldn't help but allow the question to slip out, "Are you going to kill me, too?"

What would he tell me? Another tricky lie, or would he issue forth another simple "yes" as a response?

V rose to his feet in one swift movement and took a step forward, his arms reaching out to me. "Of course not, Evey,"

I took a step back from him, and V stilled his movement, dropping his hands. Fear, horror and a terrible, sick feeling were rising in my chest. I am living with a murderer!

I quickly turned away from him and bolted for my room. V could have stopped me if he wanted to, with one of his knives, or he could have just grabbed me- but he didn't. He simply watched me as I left him standing there before the blank screen of his television, where we had bonded in so simple a way, even if only for a few hours.

"He cares more about revenge than he does about her,"

That's what I'd said about the film character, Edmond Dantes, and the same is true for V. He cared enough to bring me back to his home, but was he motivated by a true caring, or did he just want to make sure I wouldn't be around to give Creedy any hints on how to find him? He's intent on bringing down the government, consumed with a determination that I've never seen in anyone before- he reminded me of my parents, desperate as they were for the people around us to open their eyes to the government's lies; the only difference is that V will not wait, he will force the High Chancellor out of power.

Is this how he sees things? People standing in his way are to be killed? Cut down like an overly long blade of grass? How could I trust someone so heartless, so cold and methodical? V was a killer, something he'd never boasted about, yet never denied…

I couldn't stay with him much longer, I couldn't stand by and allow him to go out each night while I was sleeping and use my identity to kill more people. The eccentric friend I'd come to know, so charming that I'd almost forgotten his violence, had left me. In his place stood the indifferent man I'd left standing in the alcove with a television that had once played his favorite film.

I had to make him stop- I had to make the killing stop…I racked my brain for over an hour, trying to figure out how to stop him without getting myself caught in the process. It then came to me, sneaking and slithering, as allterrible ideas do, in the form of a deception.

I would have to lie to V by telling him the truth- my truth.

I would have to convinceV that I wished to help, while in fact I would try to help myself. The terrible feeling welled up once more, and I felt bile rise in the back of my throat- V wouldn't forgive a betrayal, especially after I'd convinced him how much I believed in what he was doing. He'd leave me only two options: he would kill me himself, or he would leave me to the black bag…

As the idea formed in my mind, I felt that for either staying silent while he killed, or for betraying his trust, I would deserve either fate.

Devil Red- I think the Doctor said that V had no eyes, probably because she couldn't see them (neither could the audience, come to think about it), but I was thinking about this the other day and if we are to assume that V has a way to heal himself after all the chemicals he'd been injected with at Larkhill, then maybe his eyes grew back? It doesn't seem likely, so I'll just assume that the Doctor was terrified and could sort of "feel" his eyes on her.

Girl with the Cauldron Spir- No, V's dirty thoughts weren't in the book or film, but I wrote that in to illustrate that V is still a man, and though his thoughts were fleeting, he sees more in Evey than just his houseguest...more on that later ;-)