Valediction

Evey Hammond stood watching the blazing inferno consume the Houses of Parliament. She watched till was merely a smouldering ruin and the masked crowds finally relented and let the emergency services through.

She stood till her feet were numb and dawn's grey light was beginning to creep over the city, and the fire crews left the scene in the care of the police. She stood immobile on the pavement, unaware of the people jostling her and the curious looks some gave her shorn head and rumpled clothes, streaked with blood and dirt and gunpowder. She simply stood, trying to force her numb brain to accept what had happened. What they had done.

He's gone. It's over. V's gone. I blew up the houses of Parliament. Oh God…he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone…

She touched her lips, imagining she could still feel the cold lips of his mask…. And started as someone shoved violently into her from behind. She staggered forwards several steps and fell to her knees on the kerb. She sat there for several minutes, gazing stupidly up at the lightening sky and letting the misty rain trickle down her face.

God is in the rain…

She spun around with a strangled gasp, but there was no-one there. The milling crowds hurried past, oblivious. With a ragged cry, she lurched up from the ground and ran pell-mell down the pavement.

She came back to herself sometime later, standing alone in a dreary rain washed street some distance away. Looking up, she realised with some trepidation where her mad dash had taken her. The dilapidated, non-descript entrance to the Shadow Gallery. She froze, the rational part of her mind taking over to weigh up her options. She could turn around and go back to her own apartment… but doubtless it would be under surveillance, even after all these months. And Dietrich's place was out of the question. She'd just helped a masked terrorist murder the High Chancellor and blown up the Houses of Parliament, among other things; no doubt there would be several people who wanted a little chat with her. With a slightly hysterical giggle, she slipped inside.

Everything was dark and still, just as they had left it. A book lay open on the arm of the sofa, where he'd abandoned it the night before and one of his swords was leaning against his beloved jukebox, but apart from that the place was immaculately tidy. She choked back a sob. He'd known….

Moving to the sofa she picked up the book and choked back a sob. The Phantom of the Opera. No doubt liberated from somewhere he shouldn't have been.. She smiled slightly, the memory of V's nonchalance over the stolen butter coming to mind. She would've bet anything she had that he was grinning behind that mask.

The tears won out and she sank back on the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably.

She was curled up on the sofa, head against his chest, watching "The Count of Monte Cristo" for the hundredth time. One arm was draped across her shoulders, and the fingers of the other were fiddling with her curls. He seemed completely relaxed for once, his heartbeat slow and steady in her ear, and……Her curls

Evey frowned and sat up, raising a hand to her head and finding only short, bristly smooth stubble. Then she remembered and sank back down, fresh tears coursing down her face. What should she do now? Lifting the remote, she turned on the tv with shaking fingers. Just in time to catch the news. With a start, she noticed the date- she'd been out of it for almost three days. Central London was complete anarchy, widespread rioting and looting. Of course, the Party's lie machine was going at full capacity, but even allowing for that things looked pretty crazy. She felt a surge of anger. This was not what he wanted! If this continued, things would just go back to what they were before. Everything V had done, everything they had gone through, would be wasted..

She got up with sudden energy and made for the kitchen but was caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped dead. Her face and eyes were red from crying, and there was dried blood on her forehead from a small cut. Her tears had washed pale tracks in through the dirt and smeared makeup. Her clothes were wrinkled and dirty, with smears of blood from where she'd dragged him onto the train. Her arms and legs were covered in small scratches. She looked like a refugee from a prison camp. Her lips twisted in a bitter smile as she washed her face and changed her clothes. His sacrifice would not be in vain. It was time for action.

She silently praised V's meticulousness for the thousandth time as she slipped out of television studios. She would never have managed to get out un-noticed without his blueprints. It had taken her almost fifteen minutes to steel herself and venture into his empty, immaculately tidy bedroom. Her heart had almost broken when she looked around the unfamiliar room and saw no bed, only a sofa. It seemed that she had unwittingly been depriving him of his room for over a year, and he never mentioned it. Always the gentleman….

But it had been worth the pang. In less than an hour, instead of the nightly dose of Party propaganda and lies, the nation would be treated to a videotaped message. Read by one Evey Hammond with the mysterious "V" standing in the shadows. Hopefully the vox populi would be inspired by him once more and take the establishment of a new order into their own hands. She sighed. It was a good thing that the news of V's death had not leaked out to the public, but she was puzzled as to why the Inspector had kept his silence.

"Miss Hammond."

She froze. Well, speak of the Devil… She thought, turning to face him

"Good Evening, Inspector."

"A bit late to be wandering the streets alone, is it not?" he asked pointedly.

She smirked coldly. "Curfew seems to be temporarily suspended, Inspector. And what makes you think that I am alone?"

"Oh?" he asked sceptically. Evey just shrugged.

"Behind that mask is an Idea. And while even one person believes in it, that Idea cannot die."

"Bloody hell, you're even starting to sound like him…." He sighed, running a tired hand through his hair. She said nothing.

"Just out of curiosity, Miss, what do you intend to do next?" he lowered his voice, looking around quickly. "A smart girl like you is bound to have realised that this madness is playing straight into their hands."

She smiled cryptically. "You'll see."

He opened his mouth to reply, but the noise of shattering glass and muffled yelling several streets away made him jump and whirl around, gun raised. When he turned back, she was gone.