Title: Liberation of the Heart

Disclaimer: I don't own them…making no money…blah blah blah, you know the drill.

Summary: Deep within her prison cell, tortured and abused, Evey is left without a hope in the world…except the memories of her time spent with V and the thought that he may yet come for her.

Author's Note: This story is based off a plot-bunny that struck me one night – what would have happened if Evey really had been captured at Gordon's home?

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Chapter 1

Evey trembled as a pair of calloused, unkind hands gripped her by the shoulder and heaved her frail body down into a chair that was situated before a table. Her brown, teary eyes darted about fearfully, taking in the sight of several strange instruments that were lay out upon the smooth surface before her, each one glinting back at her in a sadistic manner. She gave a sob, not at all sure what was going to happen to her as she eyed a pair of sharp blades that looked like they'd been crusted with dried blood…or perhaps that was just rust. She couldn't even begin to think straight as she trembled and looked all about her.

The guard that had brought her in (Rossiter, she'd heard him called) stalked around behind her and she heard the sound of latex gloves being snapped into place on his hands.

"Well now, Evey," he murmured in a rich, almost soothing voice as she heard him shuffling through some papers on the counter. She wanted to turn around and look back at him but she was paralyzed with the sense of fear that was coursing through her, only able to eye the items upon the table with rising panic and nausea. "Looks like you're my new project now, hm? I must say, it's been awhile since I've had so lovely a creature to work with."

The way he said 'project'…'creature'…it made her think of how the government now referred to all those they'd kept locked away in their confinements. Victims that had been stripped of their humanity and degraded down to be thought of as nothing more than a common lab rat. It was a psychological tactic used to keep others from feeling remorse over their actions. After all, who could really feel bad about inflicting pain and terror upon a "project" or a "creature"?

The man came around to stand alongside of Evey and grabbed her face between his large fingers so that her head was forced to whip around in his direction. His fingertips dug into her cheeks, certainly applying enough pressure to leave a bruise there as her jaw was forced open under the pain. He was a tall man with a scowl firmly affixed to his thin lips as he inspected her, turning her head roughly from one side to the other as though to memorize her features. His hair was dark brown, cut short in a militaristic fashion and his skin was pale from hours spent within his torture chambers, refusing himself the light of day.

However, it was his eyes that were the most fearsome and striking feature about him. They were a smoky gray color and held not the slightest trace of human warmth or gentleness. No, instead they were as hard as stone and spoke of a million horrors and torments he'd seen...an inflicted. So many that they'd long since ceased to phase or move him and no longer struck a cord of sympathy upon his cold heart.

The man clucked his tongue in an almost sad way as he dropped his hand just enough to allow one latex-gloved finger to trail across the trembling girl's aching jaw.

"Such a pity," he murmured thoughtfully with a tilt of his head as that finger found the contours of her full lips. "To have to defile a thing so beautiful."

Evey simply looked at him, tears streaming down her cheeks as her body shook uncontrollably, swearing that at any moment she was likely to be sick from sheer panic alone. What did he have in mind to do with her?

"It doesn't have to be this way, you know," the man continued in that gentle tone that quite contradicted with the position that he held. "You can stop all of this right now if you want to. All you have to do is tell me who the man known as 'V' is…and I will let you go free. It's as simple as that." Fingertips moved now to lightly brush a lock of hair away from her eyes in an almost fatherly manner. "Just a name, Evey, that's all we need…and you can go back to your quiet life and look back on this as nothing more than a nightmare."

"Please," Evey whispered, barely able to speak as her voice shook like a child unable to control her tears and sobs. "Please…don't do this. I'm scared."

"As well you should be," the man grated out, that smile beginning to leave his face as he lowered himself down to be eye-level with her. Those eyes…cold, calculating and merciless…bore into her own as though he might just reach deep down within her very soul and pry all her secrets out from within her. "You will tell me, Evey. That I promise you. One way or another…you will tell me. Now, you can do this one of two ways. You can either tell me now and save both you and myself a lot of time and energy…or you can tell me later…and I will do my very best to show you a new definition of pain that you never would have thought possible. It's just that simple. Your choice."

The young woman gave another sob, tearing her eyes away from his own as a new wave of tears spilled forth and she attempted to cover her reddening face with her hands. Rossiter was unmoved by her emotions though and reached up, grabbing her hands and jerking them down away from her face with such force that she cracked one wrist loudly against the metal arm of the chair.

"I have been trained in the art of inflicting inordinate amounts of pain, Evey," he seemed to snarl, leaning in so that he was directly in her face without giving her any chance to escape either him or the words that he spoke. "I know just how much a person can handle before reaching the point of either death or collapsing. Trust me when I say that you shall have no such relief. I will break you, Evey. I will watch you writhe before me and your screams and pleas for mercy will be my music. In time, you will tell me everything that you know about this man…now or later."

She was taken aback with fear, unable to speak. Her eyes were locked within the intent gaze of his own as his hands held firmly about hers as though threatening to snap them in half should she refuse.

"I…" her voice cracked, little more than a breathy whisper as she shook her head, physically shaking. "I…don't know anything."

His response was as quick as a snake that had been coiled to strike. One hand that had been upon hers was now entangled in her long tresses of beautiful hair. She cried out in pain as he pulled against it with angered strength, forcing her head to snap back and hit the back of the chair with a loud whack.

"Foolish girl," he hissed vehemently in her ear, all façade of patience and calm now gone as he stood to loom over her, glaring down at her with those gray eyes as she clutched at her hair in pain, trying to ease the tension. He twisted his fingers harder into the mass and pulled on it more, causing her back to arch off of the chair as her neck reached its limit. "You stupid, foolish girl! Very well, then…have it your way."

With his free hand, the monstrous being reached over towards the table of tools that had been set out before them. Evey whimpered and squirmed, pleading with him not to do this as she heard a loud, sharp buzzing noise as whatever instrument it was he selected came to life.

"The name, Evey," he shouted over her pleas and cries as he looked down on her wide, terrified eyes that watered with a flood of tears. "Tell me the name of the man known as 'V'…and I will let you go. Refuse to tell me and it will be a very, very long time before I give you the option of freedom again."

"I don't know!" she screamed as she was now bent over almost backwards on the chair as he pulled even harder on her hair. "I don't know anything!"

The man's face turned very grave…but she was sure there was a glimmer of something akin to sadistic pleasure within those eyes that would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

"Wrong answer."

Her head was suddenly forced back up again, causing her stomach to roll with a dizzying sensation of vertigo. In the next moment, the shears that he held came crashing down hard against her skull, digging in painfully as though with the hope of scalping her all the way down to the brain. She cried out and tried to move away, but his hand that was still deep within her hair controlled her movements like the reigns upon a horse.

"Hold still," he snapped harshly, causing her to give another small, startled jerk. "Unless you fancy being cut."

Evey closed her eyes and drew in a ragged breath, trying to keep from whimpering as she felt a thick lock of hair fall away and tickle its way down her bare arm. Teeth bit into her lower lip, as she brought her hands down into her lap, wringing them painfully together. Though she was sure that she'd cried more than her fair share of tears by now, they continued to course their way down from her painfully red eyes.

Never before had she been more afraid of anything in all her life.

"I wish I could be brave," she'd confided in V one night. "I wish I could take up my parent's fight and follow in their steps…but I can't."

Is this what her parents had gone through when they'd been taken away from her? Had they been shorn of their hair…stripped of their dignity…threatened with unimaginable torment and pain. Did they break? Were they frightened and trembling…or did they meet their end with a brave, calm mask?

Mommy, I'm scared!

She remembered back to when she was little. Whenever she was afraid of something…whenever the monsters threatened to come out of the closet…whenever the images on television became too much for her young mind to handle…her mother and father were always the ones that she turned to.

"How come you and Daddy aren't ever scared?" she'd asked one night when she was about six years old as her mother tucked her away into bed.

Her mother smiled gently, sitting down on the edge of the bed as she looked down upon her little girl with all the affection and love in the world. "Well, we do get scared sometimes, sweetheart. Everyone gets scared at some point of time or another."

"Even Mommies and Daddies?" Evey asked, wide-eyed at the thought that her brave, strong parents could ever be afraid of anything.

Her mother laughed that melodic laughter of hers and nodded. "Yes, even Mommies and Daddies."

"Well…what do you do when you get scared?"

"I think of something happy," the woman admitted with gentle, honest candor. "I think about you…or your father…or just some nice memory that I have. When I let myself think about something happy then my fear goes away."

"Does it always work?" young Evey questioned, clinging to her Teddy with a doubtful pout upon her lips.

Again her mother laughed as she rose from her seat upon the edge of the small bed. "Well, why don't you just give it a try and see for yourself, hm? Now, it's time that you and Teddy to be going to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow." She'd kissed her goodnight then and moved to exit the room…making sure the closet door was firmly closed before she left.

Even at the age of six, Evey had thought that her mother's words were silly. Surely a happy memory wasn't enough to be able to take away all the fear she had. She'd tried it. She would sit up in bed late at night and stare at her closet door, waiting for a monster to rear its angry head…and she would try to conjure the happiest thought she could. It never worked. She was always far too afraid to even begin to think about anything good.

But now, as the shears buzzed loudly alongside of her ear, causing a sharp pain to race through her skull as it nicked a section of that soft skin, Evey knew she was more in need of a happy memory now than ever before. Something strong enough to combat with the horrors of the situation she was in. Something that would free her from this hell and lift her away to a better time and place.

Another section of hair fell down upon the hands that she had clasped in her lap and she opened her eyes, grabbing it up before it fluttered down to the floor. She looked down, though remaining careful not to move her head lest she should be rewarded with another biting cut. In her palm lay several thick, soft curls that had once been the very pride of her appearance.

…………………………………………………………

"Do all women spend as much time on their hair as you do, Evey Hammond?" V's deep, teasing voice came from the doorway of the bathroom one morning soon after she'd first come to stay with him.

Evey had turned away from the mirror that she had been leaning in to, fussing with her hair that simply refused to work with her, and saw his tall, lithe stature propped against the doorframe. That smiling mask of his seemed almost to laugh at her and her state as he regarded her with the smallest cant of his head. She blushed sheepishly, embarrassed to have been caught worrying over her appearance, before turning back to the mirror and continuing to twirl her damp hair section by section around her fingers in the form of a curl.

"No, they don't," she spoke in a lightly offended tone, feeling as though she now had to defend all stereotypes of womankind everywhere. "And it doesn't usually take this long for me either…but it's not like I exactly have access to a curling iron here so I'm having to make do with what I can get. Unfortunately, my hair isn't cooperating today more so than usual and I'm about to resign and call it quits. Every woman has to have an 'ugly day' every now and again I guess."

V chuckled at this and shook his head, turning away and exiting the room. Evey glanced into the mirror to where he'd just been standing and ducked her head a bit to hide a small, secretive smile. How wonderfully charming and gentle his laughter could be. She often found herself trying to come up with some kind of a witty comment for him just so she could hear it. It warmed the very depths of her with a kind of familiarity that she'd never known with anyone else. It was like a strange kind of music that she'd never heard before.

Turning back to her tedious task, Evey continued to wind the rich locks…subconsciously wondering at why it was that it was so important to her to put on a good appearance when V was the only person that would be seeing her any time soon.

She refused to consider the thought and let it slide away. For some reason she was quite sure she wouldn't like the answer.

A few minutes passed as she continued her work of fixing up her appearance, humming some snatch of a tune V had been playing earlier on his jukebox to herself. She'd become so lost within her own thoughts that the familiar presence as it appeared behind her again almost startled her. Before she could look up to the reflection, she was surprised to find a curling iron being offered to her from over her shoulder. Evey blinked, shocked by the almost magical appearance of the item she desired, and turned to face V where he now stood just a few feet from her, the iron proffered as politely as possible in his hand.

She looked down at the silver item and then back up at those blank eyes with a smirk on her lips. "What? You like to add a bit of curl to that wig of yours every now and then?"

V chuckled again, a low rumble in his throat that made Evey smile all the more. "No, no...I'm afraid not. However, as an actor I am often called upon to play many different roles. As such, I must be prepared for whatever appearance it is that said role may require of me."

Every appearance but your own, Evey thought almost sadly though she refused to put voice to her thoughts. Instead, she smiled up at him with a nod and reached out to take the iron from his hand…however, he held on to it a moment longer and she glanced up at him quizzically.

"I can give you anything that you need, Evey…all you have to do is ask and I will try to obtain it for you if I do not already have it. I give you this only because you have requested it. However, in my opinion, there is not the slightest possibility of you ever having a so-called 'ugly day'. You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, Evey…with or without a curling iron."

She'd stared up at him then, jaw slightly hanging open and wonder filling her eyes at the unexpected comment. A blush crept its way along her cheeks as she ducked her head down, hiding behind a cascade of those very curls she'd been working so tediously on. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of such a high compliment. Oh, yes, she'd been told she was beautiful by a few different people in her life…her parents told her she was beautiful, her friends told her she was beautiful, some of the guys she'd dated had told her she was beautiful…but coming from V, with that certain genuine tone in his voice, the compliment seemed almost intimate.

"Thank you," she'd muttered a bit awkwardly as he released the iron and allowed her to take it. He simply nodded his head, bending his body forward just a bit in a polite bow, before taking his leave and allowing her to complete whatever morning rituals it was that these women adhered to.

………………………………………………

"Hold your head still," Rossiter snapped again, pulling her back from her pleasant reverie as he grabbed at what few locks remained of her hair.

Not the slightest possibility of ever having an 'ugly day'? Surely V would not be so quick to say that to her now. Now it was not a matter of not having nice, tightly coiled curls…it was a matter of not having any hair at all. It wasn't a matter of not having any mascara on to enhances her dark lashes now…it was a matter of her eyes being puffy and red from the tears that she cried. It wasn't a matter of worrying about a small bit of acne that had appeared on her face…it was a matter of the painful, ugly bruises that now dug into her cheeks.

Not very beautiful at all…not even very pretty. No, she had become something ugly…something little more than the lowest form of filth and degradation.

But then, this is exactly what she deserved…for she had betrayed him. Had purposefully manipulated him into thinking that she was willing to assist in his passionate drive towards sparking a revolution…and betrayed him. She'd willingly given information over to a lecherous, evil priest with the knowledge that it would more than likely damn her gentle, protective captor. All she wanted was to be free from the fear and uncertainty that V's wild, passion-driven ideas sparked in her.

Even still she could hear the shock and hurt in his voice when he'd realized what she'd done.

"Evey?" he'd breathed and she could feel his eyes meeting with her own even through the darkness of the mask that covered them.

Oh, V, what have I done…?

She'd run. Fled from the one person alone that had shown her any kind of loving comfort and safety since her parents had been taken from her. Sealed her betrayal and the knife in his back by abandoning him. Even as he called out after her, she'd refused to turn back. She just kept running…fear the main thing that drove her on.

And now look where her actions had brought her. Captured by the very men that V fought so desperately to keep her safe from. And why…? Because she had allowed herself to become afraid. Because she couldn't allow herself to simply trust in V and his promises to keep her safely kept away.

The sound of the buzzing shears was cut off and the instrument clattered noisily to the table. Evey couldn't resist the urge to reach up and touch her head, feeling the small prickles of where her long, silken locks had once been. She bit down on her lip, trying to keep from crying as she winced at the feeling of a small gash he'd left in his wake. She brought her fingers down and looked at them, noting the dark red droplets of blood that smeared their way across them.

Suddenly her vision was cut off as a dark, black bag was forced down over her head with a sharp pull. Panic welled up within Evey's chest as it constricted, feeling completely unable to breathe as the cords were tied around her neck to hold the bag in place. Rossiter moved quickly, grabbing her by the top of the orange garment she'd been issued just before being taken into this room, and heaving her bodily out of the chair. She stumbled forward, unable to see anything or have any idea where she was going as he pushed her forward, causing her to crack her leg painfully against the edge of the table just before she went down onto her knees.

"Get up," Rossiter snarled and he grabbed her by the neckline again and forced her to her feet. Pushing her in the direction of the doorway, Evey stretched out her hands, afraid of running full force into something and doing her best to keep her footing and balance as the interrogator harshly guided her along.

He led them out into a corridor from there. She could tell by the sudden chill and echoing sound of Rossiter's booted footsteps as they resounded all around them. Somewhere off in the distance she could hear a wild, painful shrieking that caused her to tremble as it rose and fell away again with each blood-curdling pitch.

As though sensing her discomfort over the noise, Rossiter leaned in so his mouth was near her ear beneath the bag. "That's what you'll be doing before long, Evey. Crying…screaming…begging me for mercy that will not come. It will be your shrieks that fill this place and lull your fellow prisoners to sleep."

Evey would have cried again except that she was far too exhausted now to manage anymore tears. All she could do was numbly be led along by the neck of her shirt, pushed about the corners of the hallways that they turned their way through, all the while wondering what horrible fate it was that awaited her.

"Ah, here we are," Rossiter muttered after a moment, a sadistic chuckle welling up that sent a chill down her spine. "Home sweet home."

The sound of a heavy lock sliding out of its place and then the noise of a door swinging back on its hinges met her ear. With a rough shove, Evey was forced into the frigidly cold cell that would now serve as her containment until the time came that she either told them everything she knew about V…or finally went mad from the pain they would inflict upon her.

Catching herself against the far wall, Evey blinked her large eyes when the bag was pulled sharply off her head. She darted a glance about, trying to reorient herself as she turned around in the cramped room that had nothing but stone floors and a small chamber pot off to one side. There was only one small window at the very top of the cell that a thin stream of moonlight shone through.

Rossiter smirked at her fearful expression, enjoying the vision of this butterfly caught within a spider's web.

"Do try and get some rest, my dear. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow. Until we meet again, Mi'lady," he sneered mockingly with a swept bow that reminded her of a sickening parody of V's. There was promise in that wolfish gaze that he gave her as he turned to leave…promise that she was going to wish she'd never refused his initial offer.

The door slammed shut behind him with a loud, metallic clank and she listened as a key was slid into the hole and the bolt was locked away into place.

Frightened and trembling, Evey collapsed against the wall. All energy was drained. She was numb…could barely speak… Her eyes danced about the cell, almost as though she were afraid something would jump out at her from the very walls that surrounded her. Her stomach churned with incomprehensible fear as she brought her hands to her face and slid downward to the floor, unable to hold herself up any longer.

"V," she whispered the name like a prayer as she curled up into the fetal position, trembling from the cold of the room that bit through her thin layer of clothing. "Oh, V…what have I done?"

I'm scared, Mommy.

Shh…Evey, sweetheart…don't be afraid. Remember what I told you? Just think of something happy. Any happy memory. It will fight the monsters away.

I don't have a memory happy enough to fight off these monsters!

Oh, my dear…of course you do!

Evey drew in another staggered breath as she closed her eyes, arms moving to wrap around her body in hopes of some kind of warmth. She rubbed at the few remaining tears that trickled down her cheeks and fought hard to think of something. Some kind of memory that could make her forget where she was. A memory that would be powerful enough to draw her in to its warmth and happiness and drive out the fear that now held her paralyzed.

……………………………………………

"Evey?" V had sounded somewhat startled to find her sitting up on the couch, staring blankly at the muted television in the middle of the night. "Whatever are you doing up?"

She'd whipped around, his appearance surprising her as much as her own must have surprised him. "Oh!...V…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. I was hoping if I turned the volume off you wouldn't be bothered but I guess I didn't think about--."

The masked gentleman quickly shook his head, his gloved hands making a calming gesture as he softly shushed her. "No…no, my dear Evey. You didn't wake me. I was still in the library reading. I just happened to notice that the television seemed to still be on so I decided to investigate. Are you alright? You look a bit pale."

Evey brought a hand up to her flushed cheeks as though she could will some kind of color or life back into them. A small grimace pursed her lips as she glanced down and away from the man that regarded her with earnest concern. "No, V, I…that is, I was just…" She rolled her eyes at herself and muttered. "I just had a bit of a nightmare…and I couldn't go back to sleep."

"Ah, I see," V breathed understandingly, nodding his head. She could tell by the more relaxed body language and stance that he took that this relieved his worries of anything being truly amiss. She sighed, hating herself for being so frightened all the time. If only she could be more brave and sure of herself…more like V.

"Would you…like to tell me about it?" V offered kindly, spreading his arms open a bit in question as he took a few steps closer to the couch.

She kept her eyes down for a moment, mulling that thought over. Could she tell him? Tell him about the fears that still haunted her dreams? Tell him of the night the men came to her home with their black bags and weapons? Tell him of how they'd broken down her bedroom door and she'd been forced to hide as they carried her mother away? Tell him of the horror that still welled up within her as she thought of that night?

After remaining silent for a moment, Evey gave a small, hesitant shake of her head. "No…no, not right now. I'd…kind of rather forget about it…"

"Very well then," V graciously accepted, not at all seeming stung by her desire not to confide in him. He took another step forward, his tone soothing and ever so comforting. "However…if you ever do find the wish to talk about it…"

Evey looked up at him with a small smile and nodded her head, accepting his offer of a listening ear.

"Well," she spoke after a slightly awkward pause as she reached towards the remote and turned the television off. "I guess I'll be heading back to bed."

Unfortunately, bed was the very last place she wanted to be right now…and V seemed to somehow know this.

"If you would pardon me…I'm actually not quite prepared to retire myself yet. Would you perhaps be interested in keeping me company a time longer? I fear I'm something of an insomniac at times and would quite enjoy it were you to wait up with me a bit more." He swept a hand elegantly towards the direction of her room with a slight bow. "Of course, that is, unless you are ready to return to your slumber and in that case, by all means, do."

Evey could not help but look upon the man with a warm, grateful look within her eyes as she offered him another little smile. She could almost feel him smiling back as well from behind his mask as she gave a teasing sigh and roll of her eyes. "Well, I really am quite tired…but I suppose I can stay up a little but longer."

"My lady is far too kind," V responded as he moved forward to take up his place alongside of her on the couch where she scooted over to make room for him. She'd reached out and grabbed the remote again, bringing the television back to life and giving it a bit of volume. The movie was some old black & white western film with accents frightfully overdrawn and costumes of many a gaudy variety.

Shifting about some so that he could recline a bit on the long arm of the couch, V's hand moved towards where Evey sat upright beside him. He brought his grip down onto her opposite shoulder and the light pull he gave bid her to rest alongside of him. His touch was gentle, not forceful in the least bit as he brought her to settle in, pillowed against his chest.

"V?" she questioned a bit nervously, glancing up at him with uncertainty. "What are--?"

"Shh," V responded quietly, his voice little more than a soothing rumble of a whisper as a gloved hand tenderly ran back through her curly hair. "Rest now, Evey. It's alright…I'll watch over you."

Evey blinked, staring up at him for several moments even as he immediately turned his full attention back to the screen. Somehow he knew exactly what it was that she needed…a guardian angel…someone to soothe her and keep her safe from all the nightmares that might come to haunt her slumber. There, within his embrace and by the light of the flickering television, she could find a kind of rest and safety that had been denied to her since her parents were taken.

She smiled a bit to herself, surprisingly warmed by his action, and found herself settling in a bit closer. He adjusted his position to best accommodate her and when she'd finally stilled they fell into a content silence -V playing the vigilant angel standing guard over his ward…while Evey closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off into a pleasurable slumber.

………………………………………………..

Now, as Evey lay huddled in a small ball in her prison cell, she finally managed to slip away into a fitful sleep…lulled by the thought of that night spent securely kept within V's embrace.