Author's Note: Next chapter will have plenty of V/Evey interaction that wasn't in the book or movie- to be honest, I'm getting fed up with writing what was in the movie. It's time for something new! Once this story is finished, I'll come up with another V story. Until then, there's only two chapters left after this one, so enjoy!

Evey

I betrayed V.

The Bishop had stared right at V, and made it perfectly clear that I had been trying to warn him. V stopped advancing when the Bishop's words registered, and the mask snapped around to look right at me. The face was the same, betraying nothing as usual- but V tilted his head softly to the side, his body language screamed disappointment.

Disappointment, but no shock.

V might have had suspicions of my loyalty, and the Bishop had wasted no time in confirming them. I'm a liar, and because of me V would be captured, tortured and killed. As he stared at me in the Bishop's room, silently demanding that I explain myself, an image of V being attacked and his ever-smiling mask forced into a black bag swam into my vision.

What could I say to him? "I'm sorry" was never going to be enough. I couldn't stay there; I knew what V was going to do, it was his only reason for bringing me to the Abbey. He was there to kill the Bishop and nothing would stop him. I couldn't take his staring any longer- I could feel his eyes burning at me from behind the black holes of the mask. He knew what I had done, and was demanding that I explain myself.

I'm so sorry V…

I ran from the room, barely noticing when V called my name. As I ran down the hallway I could hear a few gunshots ring out, quickly followed by a man screaming in pain. What have I done? Oh, God, had the Bishop killed V already? Was he lying there on the floor, bleeding to death from the gunshots?

I'm a killer, I'm a killer, I'm a killer…

Run, run, run…

I panicked, and ran away from the Abbey as fast as I could in the silk slippers V had given me. I hid in alley shadows as I ran an incomprehensible path away from the Abbey. I didn't want V to find me- I couldn't face him; I could never face him after what I'd just done! His shoulders would sag with disappointment, his voice would hold a lingering regret as he spoke, and I knew that he would never smile at me again behind the mask again. My stomach heaved at the thought of seeing him again, knowing what he would think of me.

V, you idiot! How could you have involved me in this? How could you have trusted me?

Maybe because you begged him to let you help? Because you lied right to his face?

I glanced up at a street sign and realized that I was only five blocks from Gordon's flat. Would he help me? Would he even remember me? It was a damned terrifying risk, but what choice did I have?

I ran, trying my best to stick in the shadows, but what was the point when my blouse was white and my skirt was bright pink? To this day I'm amazed that no one caught me while I was running to a place that I could only hope would be safe.

I pounded on Gordon's door, praying to God that he would be in, and alone. Thankfully, he was. How could I explain my getup? Or where I've been the last few months, or anything else that's happened?

I tried, but my throat was dry and my eyes were wet. Gordon only hugged me, gave me some clothes (his sister's, he'd explained) and brought out a bottle. The alcohol didn't help me to relax at all, I kicked myself right after gulping down the drink.

What if he's drugged it, and the Fingermen are on their way right now? What if he's just waiting for them to break down the front door and drag you off to wherever they've taken V? What if Gordon's just trying to get you drunk?

My mind raced, but when Gordon drank his own, I calmed down a bit, but not much. I refused his offer of another glass. The whiskey was prime, but I couldn't take any chances- I'd taken a big enough risk just by coming here. The thought occurred to me that Gordon, being so much taller and stronger than me, could've just hit me or tied me up somewhere and called the police- so why was he helping me?

"You've trusted me, it'd be terrible manners for me not to trust you,"

My poor Gordon…even the powerful must answer to the command of tyranny…

He'd been beaten by Creedy himself, after he told me to hide. My poor, self-sacrificing Gordon, I'll always love you for what you did…

They'd taken Gordon, and I was terrified. The usual instinct of "fight or flight" took over, and I've never fought for anything- not my family, not my friends, not even for myself. I'd begged and pleaded to the Bishop, declaring my complete and total innocence, all the while trying to ignore his hot, withered hand as it crept up my thigh…

Oh, God, V…what must you think of me? I'm pathetic…

I'd thought I'd made it out, I'd thought I could escape- stay with another friend, maybe ring that cousin of mine in Surrey…I was almost free, just outside he garden, when-

"Gotcha!"

The light was extinguished, and I felt myself being carried and moved around. I was spun several times, dizzying me, forcing me to lose my sense of direction. I was lost, but not alone. Someone's hands were clamped around my arms like a vice, dragging me through a hallway.

My eyes exploded in pain when the bag was removed, and I looked across the table to see Mr. Creedy. I couldn't see his face, but his profiled silhouette is just as recognizable. He accused me of every last one of V's crimes.

My God, they're going to kill me!

Terror seized me speechless. I was forced into a cold, clinical room. They shaved my head, nicking my scalp and ears but they ignored my tears. I was blindfolded, stripped naked, my wrists were shackled together and someone lifted me by the waist to hang me from a hook on the low ceiling- whoever it was they made no effort to hide a groping of my chest.

The water was hot, almost blistering my skin and the pressure was bruising. I screamed, my cries swallowed by the steam. I was let down off the hook and stuffed into a ratty orange shift, my blindfold replaced by the famous black bag…escorted into a cold, stone cell.

I'd never been so sick or so afraid. It kills me to explain the details of my daily "examinations", the beatings, the cigarette burns. My captors were creative in their tortures and humiliations. I would be deprived of oxygen, shocked, starved, my bones painfully twisted, injected with something that would keep me ill for hours…I feared rape, but it never happened.

All the while, the constant questioning never stopped. The wanted to know everything about V- where he lived, what his plans were, who he really was…if I had known, and I'm ashamed to say it, I would have told them.

Yes- I am Evey Hammond, pathetic to the bitter end…

I would have told them anything that they wanted to know, but the thought occurred to me that they wouldn't be asking me if V had already been captured- what would be the point of such an elaborate mind-game? I held on to the hope that V would break into the interrogation room, or my personal cell and save me, wrap me up in his velvet cloak and bring me back to my room in the Shadow Gallery. I would stay in that tiny bedroom forever, I didn't care, so long as I could be safe from the constant pain and questions.

There was a rat in my cell- a curiously healthy animal, despite he never sullied himself with the swill that was meant for me. The first few days, I could only cry- wishing and remembering a life so much better than this constant string of intermixed torture and humiliation. I remembered my parents and brother, my few friends…

As a citizen, I'd lived in paranoid fear, as a prisoner I lived in nothing but pain and the certainty that I would die within the gloomy cold walls of my cell. I'd been shivering- they'd thrown a bucket of ice water on me before leaving me in the drafty cell- on the floor, curled into a fetal ball in a pathetic attempt to stay warm. I knew that I would die- there was no question, it was all just a matter of how long it would take me to starve, or freeze, or just give in from my guilt and grief.

Oh, if V could see me now!

I'd heard the crinkling of some paper in the rat's hole, and thought that maybe it was just the rodent helping himself to something better than the plain cold oatmeal delivered to me every other day. Stupid rat, he'd bitten my toes while I slept almost every night since I'd first been shoved in that hellhole.

I reached in, and felt around on the dusty floor- my fingers brushed something, a narrow tube of thin, flimsy paper. I took it out and unrolled it. There were pencil markings, smudged with time and a shaky hand. My body was aching, spasms from hunger were tearing through me. I could feel myself dying, and knowing that the end was near, I just accepted it.

The message was short, the story of Valerie's beautiful life- her loves, her fears and her accomplishments…she spoke of integrity, of keeping your soul within the last inch of yourself, to fight, that even if you die, that inch of your soul will live on in some small way, even if only in the angry memories of those you'd defied to your death.

I kissed her letter once I'd finished reading, and when the time came, when they were finally finished with me, I held onto her letter for the courage to face my end. I could not betray V again. I wondered if he would be proud to see me, proud to see me strong of soul, even if frail in body.

The last guard almost pleaded with me to tell them more about V, the masked terrorist.

I had nothing to say. I could have told them all I'd seen in the Shadow Gallery, that it was an underground treasure trove of arts long banned from the public eye- I could've described every last detail of all the wonders V had protected so fiercely. But I said nothing- not because I didn't know where V was, and not because I didn't want to betray him again…I said nothing, because to give them even a word would break me.

I would not betray V again. I'd rather die behind the chemical sheds, and told the guard the exact same thing.

"Then you have no fear left. You're completely free."

The guard stepped away, his footsteps hastily fading down the hallway. He left the door open. It took me five minutes to absorb his words, to weigh the consequences of this being yet another trick. Well, if it was a trick, then what did it matter? I was ready for death, and wasn't about to get my hopes up.

I stepped out into the hallway, only to find a painted mannequin guarding the exit.

Where am I? What's happening?

Questions spun in my mind, but there were no answers…I pushed the door open and felt my stomach clench. I recognized the color of the stonewalls, the smell of his home.

My mind wasn't accepting the sight before me. The Shadow Gallery, the one safe haven that I'd pictured myself in for weeks as I was being held captive…being held captive by the guards, by Creedy…Creedy, whose face I never saw, whose hands always wore black leather, who…

Oh, God, no!

I wanted to believe that it was another trick, just a guard in a Guy Fawkes mask…oh, God, V, what have you done to me?

No guard held himself the way V did, no guard could express himself with such body language…no guard…V was a theatrical personality, he could act, his voice…

"Hello Evey."

The bastard actually had the gall to say hello after everything he'd put me through! My mind was still struggling with the disbelief of what he'd done to me, while anger was beginning to erupt under the surface. He went on and on about how he'd hated what he'd done, but how he couldn't stop, how he'd done it all for me.

For me!

The emotions that had been festering toward him in the cell spewed to the surface. In that moment as we faced each other, I hated V with all of my soul- everything I had, everything I was, poured into the simple truth of pure hatred. I would've attacked if I'd had the energy…

V dismissed my insults and accusations, forcing me to see that I was alive- the emotions were too much, I collapsed in his arms, laboring for breath, my vision blurred with tears of hate and something else, some strange emotion I couldn't name was blossoming in my chest for this man who'd given me the greatest gift I'd ever received.

I was alive as I stood naked in the freezing rain, welcoming death, loving life, loving the stars and the sky, the rain and the pain, loving V more than I thought it possible to love another human being, loving myself for not giving in, loving "Valerie" even if she had just been one of V's creations, loving London, and most of all, knowing that I had a purpose now- the citizens had to be free, they had to know the truth, they had to live.

I never felt my knees buckle, I never felt V carry me back inside the Gallery, bathe me, clothe me or put me to bed. I slept, exhausted, and woke only once to find myself in V's room, in V's bed, with his arm around me.

I touched the hand that rested gently on my waist- he had removed his gloves, but not the mask. I turned to find Guy Fawkes grinning at me, his breath coming deep and even.

I was exhausted and horribly malnourished, poisoned and sick. But I was alive, and I'd never felt happier or more at peace. A sudden daring, bold strength had swept into my soul. I was truly alive, because V tortured me endlessly.

I hated him, I loved him.

I leaned over and kissed the cold, pink cheek of his mask.