'Twixt
4: Foreign World

These strangers, in a foreign world,
protection asked of me -
Befriend them, lest yourself in heaven
be found a refugee.

The door shattered, splintering like his nerves. He didn't know, nothing, but he had to; like a rabid animal, snarling his way into the fight to discover if his mate had been unfaithful. He had to know if she had chosen Lilliman, and freedom; no... "freedom." If she had left him for that, he would educate her.

What he found was worse. She was screaming, a raw sound tearing from her throat, so different from the sounds she made for him. Lilliman had his hand between her legs, his shoulders holding her knees apart. She struggled against the bed and delivered a swift kick to the priest's groin; Lilliman, however, was not to be deterred until the sound of the door breaking announced V's presence. Evey's eyes all but glowed with relief. She stood as fast as she could, straightening her skirt. The lacy thong that was part of the ensemble was already across the room, ripped. V's vision went red, a burning heat directed at Lilliman in protection for his Evey.

"She wasn't lying!"

V's head snapped to Evey, staring. There was no apology in her eyes; instead, she stalked forward and pushed herself against V, leaving no room for imagination. All he could feel was the heaving of her chest, the fearful pulse of her heart. She pulled a knife from one of its sheaths and stared the empty eyes of the mask down.

"Next time, don't wait for me to prove I'm staying." The words were a hot whisper, a chastisement of the time it took him to scale the roof, to let his fear and hesitation take over. She knew how thick the night had felt to him.

Evey took the raw blade and stalked behind the quivering Lilliman, her hips moving like a great cat. She was no longer the sniffling girl she was to portray; instead, her beast and V's fed off one another to create a hunter. She knelt behind the bishop, one hand caressing his shoulder as the other held the knife at his throat; she tipped his head back, the blade pushing enough to draw a bit of blood.

"His Grace is waiting, V."

He approached, panther to her leopard, and covered her hand with his, removing the knife from her grasp but keeping Lilliman at point. Swiftly, with nimble yet shaking fingers, she tied the strip of Chinese silk around his wrist. Her eyes shot into his as she stood, touching her hip directly in front of his eyes. She walked beyond him as if she were riding the night, riding his gaze all the way to the splintered door.

"Be quick. I won't wait up."

She was gone.

Filler chapter alert! The next will be far longer; I just wanted to get Lilliman out of the way.

Well, I think its about time I said hello. resists the urge to say "Good evening, London." V lovin' to all who reviewed; much thanks! Author's notes will be few and far between with me; I like leaving the story by itself. That being said, there are a couple bits I'd like to throw out: all of the quotes so far and to come are from Emily Dickenson. I have a large book of her poems I'm quite fond of, and she's got so many you can apply them all over the place. I know its not really realistic that our dynamic duo quote her all the time, but stick with me, please. :) Second, this won't follow the movie. Most of us have seen it at least three times -- I've seen it six -- and I have no desire to write what was so beautifully done. Thusly, this fic is hurtled into the AU category. Lastly, I have doubts I'll reply to specific reviews; I'm pretty lazy. But I do read all of them (multiple times sweatdrop ;;) so feel free to get specific about whatever. Until next time, vagabonds. Ciao.