Like Light and Cloud Shadow
A "V for Vendetta" short story by Tina Price.

Preview: V's life was forever changed the night he brought an unconscious Evey Hammond down to his home. Little had he realized that they would ultimately change each other's life... for the better.

Disclaimer: V for Vendetta and all characters therein are the property of Warner Brothers Entertainment Company and DC Comics.

Authors notes: This story is rated R. Criticism and advice are always appreciated!

This story, reconstructed in its entirety (but as yet incomplete) is now posted on my homepage. The most recent chapters are also posted separately for those who do not wish to start at the top.

There is an NC-17 rated version of it also available on my homepage to those of you who are of age and not offended by graphic content.


Chapter Five: Memories

He stalked swiftly, silently through the dark streets, hoping to catch some fingermen abusing their authority, for he had a powerful need to lose himself in the heat of battle, to find some respite from the pain in his heart...

V took time to pause in the shadow of a doorway. His body was weary and, his hands raw from hours of mindless hard labor. No matter. He would drive himself until he was literally falling down from fatigue, and given his physical makeup that could take at least another day.

He had showered in the remains of the detainment center and changed into a clean outfit, then immediately departed the gallery.

Back in the Shadow Gallery, Evey awaited him. She had no idea what a powerful magnet she was to him... he was always drawn back to her. When she had run off to Gordan Deitrich's house, he had spent days scouring London for her, checking on every possible acquaintance she might have sought out. Once he had finally located her, he had made it a point to checked on her several times a day.

At the time he thought he was watching out for her, but now...

He sighed softly, gripped by both the need to be in her presence and the fear that, upon his return, he would find that she still despised him.

From somewhere down the street there came a yell followed by mean-spirited laughter..

He was instantly in motion.

These days, at this time of night, where there was a disturbance, there were fingermen.

Under his mask he grinned unpleasantly.


Evey spent the rest of the night out in the Shadow Gallery hoping that V would make an appearance. If only he would, she knew that she could put him at ease and that they would once again be on the best of terms. In fact, she felt that they would be on better terms, having finally shared so much of themselves. Or was that the problem?

Did V regret having let her know about his incarceration? It wasn't as though she knew more than the most obvious. She didn't know how he got his burns, or why he wore the mask... Were those related to the torture he suffered?

She blanched as she remembered his words: "If I had truly treated you as government prisoners were treated, you would have been burned with blow torches, cut, raped, mutilated..."

Had they disfigured him, burnt him?

She shuddered to think of surviving such brutality.

And if that was the case, she wouldn't be surprised if he never wanted to discuss it with her.

Her stomach reminded her that it was growing late, so she spent the next hour cooking. It was strange, really; she wasn't a great cook, she rarely even bothered preparing anything that didn't come directly out of a package, but in these past weeks with V she had developed a desire to learn.

No matter how busy he was, he always set aside plenty of time to cook.

She would watch him and even help by cutting and slicing as he asked her to. Then one evening, when he had decided to prepare a Peking duck of all things, she had asked him why he spent so much time and effort cooking.

"My Dear," he had replied, "Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all. Harriet Van Home."

She had found herself laughing. "Is that your motivation, then?"

He had laughed. "Not buying it? Well, then, would you believe that over the years, I've had plenty of time to kill and that I find cooking to be a form of art? And now that I have your fine company, it gives me great delight to be able to impress you with what I have learned."

She had snorted. "And impress me you have, but I think I did like your first explanation better."

Evey smiled as she remembered the way he had paused when she said that, as though trying to understand exactly what she meant by it.

It was a fond memory and since that night, she had helped him to prepare each evening meal. It had quickly become a wonderful habit and they had shared many pleasant hours interacting while they cooked.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of her intentions, so she began rummaging through the kitchen as she tried to decide what to prepare. It saddened her to think that yet again she would be cooking alone.

It made her miss him all the more.

It was only after she had cleaned up after dinner, that Evey's curiosity got the better of her. What exactly had V been doing in the detainment center that had made so much noise? With a mental shrug she decided to find out, after all, the worse that could happen was that the door was still locked.

She found it to be unbarred.

Pushing the heavy wood, she swung it open and stepped forward, then froze in amazement.

The place she had always called the detainment center was gone! It was completely obliterated!

Around her were the soaring familiar arches of yet more of the Shadow Gallery and scattered everywhere were the remains of the false prison. Plaster lay in chunks over mangled sections of wood framed walls. Stone veneer and tile shards were scattered everywhere while electrical cables, steel sheets and even water pipes were neatly laid on the outskirts of the ruin. Overhead, steal supports spanned the width of the area. They must have supported the utilities and were the only thing not yet removed.

A fine gray dusting of plaster coated everything, making it obvious why V had been so filthy the last time she saw him.

Gingerly, feeling somewhat dazed, she stepped forward and navigated her way over the rubble. She picked her way through it while taking it all in. It was unbelievable that he had destroyed the entire thing in just hours!

She found a very large sledge near the drain in the false floor of what had been the shower room. The handle was smeared with his blood.

His gloves had been torn...

V had toiled non-stop at this until it was finished, tearing up his hands in the process. What he had accomplished, several men could not do in twice the time.

Was he exhausted? Was he sore?

Somehow she didn't think so.

It all just brought it home to her again: V was no mere human.

He was much more, and in many ways much less.

Obviously, he could not bear this place any longer. She guessed that, to him, it now only represented what he had done to her and so he had destroyed it.

She returned to the gallery proper, prepared to wait up for him.

Evey awoke from a restless sleep and squinted at her bedside clock, which showed the time as two in the morning. With a groan, she swung her legs out of the bed and padded out to the gallery.

A quick search caused her heart to sink. He still had not returned.

She had waited up for him until nearly midnight and then given in to her body's need for sleep. Yet she hadn't slept well, her dreams filled with nightmares in which he met some murky, grisly end on the streets of London and lay, a John Doe, somewhere she would never find him or know his fate.

The sadness from those half-remembered dreams and the events of the last few days put her in a depressed state. She looked around her and imagined this place without him.

All the joy of it would be gone, the treasures it contained would never come close to replacing the energy and quirky charm of the man who had rescued them. He was the biggest treasure in this place, in all of London. For wasn't he the only man brave enough, strong enough and genius enough to rouse the sedate populous and set them against this vile dictatorship?

'Evey, you're a fool,' she thought to herself. He is the most important person in London because you love him.

She couldn't stay here any longer. The thought took hold of her. Every moment with him would just make the inevitable that much unbearable. She should leave now.

Yes, she should leave now, before he returned, before they could reconnect in a way which was even stronger. She felt it inside her, the sudden conviction that all but the last barriers between them had fallen, that they had been bound together by their last confrontation, not divided by it.

All it would take to seal that bond forever would be one more meeting, and then...

In something close to a panic, she went to gather her things.


Placing both hands on the small of his back, V stretched and indulged in a groan. Not a bad night, if he said so himself: six fingermen lay in the streets this night either disabled or dead and no less than three citizens had been spared their cruel machinations.

In the distance he heard Big Ben chime. It was growing late, well past two in the morning. By now Evey would be fast asleep. He could return, clean up, eat and get some rest before he had to face her.

It took him a good thirty minutes to work his way back to the entrance to his lair. It wasn't that he took any special precautions to avoid the fingermen; heavens no, he welcomed them to try to stop him! It was only that he needed to be careful lest he unwittingly reveal his home's entranceway to some onlooker or camera. And so he paused a block away and waited in the shadows, his keen eyes scanning for any possible complications.

His cloak whipped about him as the wind picked up. Heavy clouds had been rolling in and the breeze was a good indication that it shortly would begin to rain. His mind made a sudden association and he was again watching a naked woman walk into the rain.

She was a woman reborn. She was hope. She was both his light and cloud shadow...

She was his equal:

Evey, reborn and baptized by God, who was in the rain.

The first drops thumped upon his hat and shoulders, breaking him away from his thoughts. The coast was clear, it was time to move.

In a swirl of black, he kept to the shadows and entered the passageway that would take him home.

It was sometime later, after a delightful shower and change of clothes, that he found the note.

It sat upon the kitchen table and was scrawled in a neat, but bold script:

V,

I've prepared your dinner.

It's in the fridge.

Enjoy!

-E

PS- I hope that you are well.

Walking to the fridge, he opened it and withdrew the carefully wrapped plate.

On it sat the best looking shepherd's pie he had ever seen. The meal was is favorite, yet one they had never prepared together.

She had asked him once what his favorite meal was and he had answered. When she had asked the inevitable question as to why he never prepared it, he had honestly told her that it was the one meal he couldn't seem to get quite right. Something had always gone wrong when he attempted it.

Oh, how she had laughed when he had related the long list of misfortunes; a stove fire, botched crust, the time the old oven had died half way through cooking it, bad potatoes, of all things...

It had been quite a remarkable list and as he had explained, there came a time when even he knew to take the high road and abandon a lost cause.

And now, here it was; she had produced one for him and he not even there to help.

...although, given his track record with this meal, that was most likely for the best.

She had baked it in a ceramic pie plate, and so he was able to pop it in the microwave. Although a heating in the oven would have done it the greatest justice, he didn't think he could wait that long before tasting it.

He found himself pacing impatiently until finally, with a "ding" the meal was ready. He placed it upon the counter, and turning his back to the gallery, lest she suddenly appear, he moved his mask aside and lifted a forkful to his mouth.

It was perfect.

She had succeeded spectacularly where her culinary instructor always failed. There seemed to be some sort of lesson in there somewhere...

No matter, he was deeply touched that she had done this for him.

Forcing himself to relinquish his fork, he moved off to her bedroom door, intent on checking up on her. He wanted to see her, even if she were sleeping. Somehow this meal demanded some immediate acknowledgment from him.

As quietly as possible, he pushed the door open, but the dim light from the gallery was enough to make it painfully clear that she wasn't there.

A sudden fear gripped him and he entered the room and turned on the lamp. A quick scan revealed the worst: all her things were missing along with her knapsack.

She had left him.

For a moment he stood rooted in place, shock at such an unexpected event robbing him of the ability to think.

And then only one thought occurred to him: he had to find her. Whether she returned or not, he had to set things right between them. It would be enough or it wouldn't, but the point was that it was something he HAD to do.

Turning, he headed for the exit as his mind flew through possible routes she might have taken, but as he was about to pass the lift, he stopped suddenly.

She was on the balcony. He didn't know how he knew for certain, only that he felt a deep seated conviction that he was right – she was up there in the rain.

The ride up seemed to take far longer than he remembered and he found himself fidgeting with a nervous energy while he waited for the door to open.

Finally, it arrived and he exited the lift, made a the short trip down the corridor and then came to a sudden halt as he noticed that the doors to the balcony were open. Relief blossomed within him. Who else could it be but she? Trying to damp down his anticipation lest he be proved wrong, he moved closer to the doors...

...and sighed with relief at the sight of her knapsack lying in the shelter of the doorway.

She was here. Of course she was. He had known it. He was as unsurprised in the end as he had been the day he learned her name. Still, an unfamiliar mix of emotions washed over him as he stepped outside.

It was raining, as he had known it would be.

She stood, looking up to the heavens as the heavy rain soaked her and so entranced was she, that she never noticed as he moved to stand behind her.

"Evey?"

She turned to look at him, and he knew that she was no more surprised to see him than he had been to see her a moment ago. She nodded at him by way of greeting, "V."

They stared at each other for a long silent moment as the rain pelting them, curtaining them, it seemed, from all the rest of the world.

Unexpectedly, she reached out to him and without thinking he took her hand, squeezing it gently.

And suddenly he had a moment of such utter clarity that it seemed as though the past, present and future had suddenly caught up with him. It felt like a dizzying whirlwind in his head and she, Evey, stood at the center of it.

Everything that had happened to him had guaranteed that he would find her. She had become his conscience, his compassion... more than that, she kept him human.

With a shock it occurred to him that in that moment they touched, she was already his, and he hers. It was a basic truth, whether or not either of them ever admitted to it. Even if she left him, he knew that some part of her would always be with him.

It shook him to his core.

Tearing his gaze away from her face, he moved past her to the railing, and leaning on it, looked out upon the city. He willed his hands not to shake, and himself to become the cool, disconnected and distant man he had been just a few short months ago.

And realized that was impossible, he wasn't that person anymore. His connection to her had brought him back into the world he had hoped to shape and then leave.

"Are you alright, V?" she asked tentatively as she watched him.

Was that concern in her voice or confusion over the events of the last two days?

He nodded, but didn't turn around. "Evey, please don't leave, not like this, not now that we have both been so honest with each other. If I've avoided you this last day, it was not because I was angry at you. If anything, it was because of the anger I feel towards myself."

"I know that," she said softly.

"I wasn't certain that you could ever forgive me," he continued. "And I just didn't know what I would do if I returned to find that you despised me."

"V, I forgave you the moment I finished confronting you. Once everything was out in the open, my anger and resentment were gone. All that remains now are some unpleasant memories and I can choose not to revisit them."

Stepping closer, she pressed herself against his back and wrapped her arms around his waist.

His breath caught at the contact. He felt humbled by her acceptance of him after everything that had happened.

"Can you forgive me?" she asked. "I judged you, condemned your actions without giving you a chance to explain yourself." She sighed. "Did your past give you the right to use such methods in pursuit of my 'freedom'? ... I don't know anymore. Some things have become so confusing, while others are crystal clear."

"What's crystal clear?" he asked sharply, looking back at her over his shoulder.

"I was wrong to have intentionally drawn your blood, despite my anger," she continued. "But now, for the first time I can accept everything you've done. I really have made my peace with it, V."

"Then there is nothing left for either of us to forgive,"he replied.

She squeezed him in agreement.

"When I saw that you had cooked me my favorite meal, I had hoped that was so," he confessed. "I don't think you can imagine how much that simple gesture meant to me."

"Cooking is like love," she began.

"It should be entered into with abandon or not at all," he finished, profoundly moved by what the quote now meant, what she meant by giving it back to him now.

"Everything has become crystal clear to me as well," he breathed.

"Pardon?"

He finally turned to face her and enfolded her in his arms. "I want you to stay. Please say you will?"

"I'll stay tonight," She replied as she searched the face of his mask for a moment. "But in return there is something I need for you to do for me.

"Anything that is in my power to grant you, I shall," he promised, fervently wishing to please her.

She smiled, then tugged on his hand. "Let's go back to the Shadow Gallery."

Without a moment's hesitation, he offered her his arm and together they headed back towards the lift.


Evey was amazed that the utter calm which had descended upon her the moment he had appeared upon the roof. She had suddenly had a deep-seated conviction that his appearance had been inevitable, that there was no escape from what she was about to do...

Fate kept steering her back to him.

The comfort she suddenly felt around him came in part from a new-found familiarity. Had it been just a few days since that she had decided she would uncover the man hidden behind the symbol?

Her comfort with him also stemmed from the complete conviction that this was the way it was meant to turn out. Since the fateful night she had strayed outside after curfew, they had been moving towards this evening and this last understanding and acceptance of each other.

It was also the last thing required to banish their shared traumas for good.

And if she had any nervousness to speak of, as she walked with him, her arm looped through his, it was over the one unknown at this point: Would he or wouldn't he?

Either way, she knew, just as she had on the balcony, that whatever happened between them next was meant to be and would be accepted as such by both of them.

So, as they entered the gallery, she led him to her room, then pulled him inside.

He made no protest, nor did he hesitate at the door.

Turning, she reached up, removed his hat and placed it on her dresser. Then, stepping closer yet, she undid the clasp of his cloak and removed the wet garment, allowing it to drop to the floor.

It was then that he gently captured her arms and held her still, the mask dipping close to regard her.

"Evey?" he asked, his voice husky.

She nearly melted on the spot, but did not reply.

Instead, she gently freed herself from his grip, grasped the glove covering his right hand and very slowly began to slide it off him, all the while locking her eyes upon the eye slits of his mask. Again she had expected some protest and again she was surprised when he remained passive, allowing her to remove first one glove, then the other. She dropped the gloves on the floor and took his hands in her own, running her fingers over them, memorizing the scars and their texture.

All the while, he remained silent and still, his mask still fixed upon her face. Only when she placed one of his hands on her cheek and kissed the palm, did he let out a long, shuddering breath.

"It is a pity to see it" she quoted. "and a pity to see your eyes – and the scar of fire on your forehead: and the worst of it is, one is in danger of loving you too well for all this and making too much of you."

"Jane Eyre," he breathed.

She nodded. "And now I may die happy, having finally met a man who read it."

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, then moved it lower to the side of her neck, all the while stroking her skin. When he spoke, his voice was none too steady, "What is it you wish of me, Evey?"

"You," she replied, honestly. "I want you." Then she embraced him, burying her face in the wet fabric over his chest and breathing in the scent of him.

In response, his arms came up and enfolded her, holding her tightly.

She took a deep breath then and risked it all: "What I want is for you to prove something to me, V." Reaching down, she again grasped one of his hands and brought it to her face so that she could kiss his palm. "I want you to destroy the memories I have of these hands torturing me. I've seen that they can heal as well as hurt, now I want you to show me that they can bring pleasure as well as pain... that they can love as well as kill."

"I want... no... I need you to be the man rather than the symbol, this one night." Here she tilted her face up and looked straight at him. "Stay here with me, be with me..."

Despite her previous conviction that this was meant to be, she began to shake with nervous tension.

"Evey..." he began, her name little more than a sigh escaping him. "You don't realize what you are asking of me, what this could do to us..."

"Yes I do. I'm asking you to complete the path that we began the day you saved me."

He remained silent, but shifted restlessly, apparently wrestling with a decision.

She waited for him, her cheek cupped in his palm, her eyes half closed.

He captured her chin then, raising it so that she would look at him. Again she knew he was searching her eyes with his own. "I can't be a part of your future... " he warned.

"At least you've given me a future," she answered. "Now give me memories with which to fill it."

V straightened to his full height as his large, strong hands moved to her shoulders and squeezed them gently. "If this is my punishment for my past cruelty to you, then I fear that I shall not, in the end be the least bit sorry." It was an attempt at humor, but a bittersweet for all that.

She had a hard time remaining composed when she realized that he was saying yes. Instead she settled on a smirk and warned, "I wouldn't be so sure of that. It may take you all night to do your penance."

His masked face nodded almost solemnly. "You can rest assured that in that case I shall take this very seriously." His voice had dropped down into a lower register, making her again breakout in goosebumps. "When I'm done, you'll have no doubts as to the sincerity of my contrition."

Evey trembled harder, as she was hit with a sudden rush of desire. Had she really just brazenly propositioned this man, this enigma whose very presence in a room left her feeling like a giddy virgin? And had he truly, just now made so erotic a promise? What must he be thinking of her right now?

But then, as he reached out to again brush her cheek, she saw that his hand was shaking.

It was then that she knew that despite his bravado, that he was just as nervous, just as unsure of what they were about to do as she was. And why wouldn't he be? If it was true that he had no memories of his life before Larkhill, then he likely could not remember a time when he might have loved.

The unexpected thought made her unreasonably sad despite the circumstances.

Then warm hands pulled her closer against him. "My dear, what is it?" he asked, concern evident in his tone. "If you're having second thoughts..."

"Never," she denied, shaking her head. "I was merely reflecting on just how much has been taken from you; even your memories of love... It is too cruel!"

The mask looked down as a deep sigh escaped him. "Don't concern yourself with it Evey. I don't anymore. I am merely who I am, which is the sum total of those memories I do have. Up until I met you they were, for the most part, unpleasant, but here you are... daring to care about me despite it all. My memories of you are the ones that warm me, that keep me human, that make me question myself and my actions. Dearest one, I am in constant amazement over it, for whatever can I have done to deserve such care from you?"

A tear rolled down her cheek at the honor he paid her, at his gratitude to her and she found herself replying with nothing but the truth, "You saved me, V, in so many ways... and I've come to realize that I only ever feel whole when you're with me, because..."

"Evey?" he breathed, taking her hands and holding them tightly.

She tried to finish it, but in the end she couldn't. For now, she had to hold something back. What would be the use in making a pledge of love to a man who would be dead in less than a year, a man who didn't want you interfering with his destiny?

Finally picking up on her refusal to continue, he hugging her carefully. "Evey, you ARE Mercedes to my Count," he sighed. "And tonight, at least, we will be together in our tree."

She was amazed that he had so accurately summed up her sudden silence and tilted her head up to see that he was watching her. The mask nodded slightly, assuring her that he meant what he had said.

It was enough to fuel her with a sudden boldness. Reaching up, she began to unzip his jacket, slowly at first, but then more quickly as he gave no protest. Stepping back she pushed it over his shoulders, pulled it off and then lay the sodden garment atop his cloak and gloves.

The shirt revealed beneath was of gray silk and she blushed slightly as it brought to mind the silk boxers she had discovered just a few days ago. Before her flaming face could betray her, she was back in his arms, gently rubbing her cheek like a cat against that soft fabric. It was heavenly to feel it against her skin and to also feel the hard smoothness of his chest through the thin material.

"I take it that you like my shirt?" His voice was none too steady, despite his attempt at humor.

"I like what it covers," she purred.

"I'm afraid that the flesh beneath is not so pleasing," he warned, suddenly tense.

She looked up at him and began to unbutton the garment in question. "I'll be the judge of that. You should know by now that it isn't the shirt that I so adore."

Still he watched her while his body remained stiff. Only when she had reached the forth button and the shirt began to part, did he move.

His lightening fast reflexes still amazed her, for before she could even comprehend what he was doing, both her hands were trapped between his own.

"Wait, Evey..." he gasped, finally releasing the breath he had been holding.

She remained passive and silent, patiently waiting him out.

"Let's move away from the lamp," He continued, leading her to the bed and sitting down with her by his side. "It is far too tempting for me to have it within reach."

A sudden rush of understanding nearly overwhelmed her as she realized that he had won a battle with himself, that despite his deeply rooted fear that she would be repulsed by what she saw, he was refusing, at least for now, the cover darkness provided. True, he did make certain that the lamp was to his back, so that his chest would have some cover from direct light...

"V..." she murmured, "If you had any clue just how much I admire and want the man who lives within this flesh, all thought of hiding from me would vanish from your mind."

"Ah, but if you knew how many times I've had people scream at the sight of me, you would realize how very difficult I find this," he ground out, tension still evident in every part of him.

Her sudden anger that anyone would treat him so gave her courage. Instantly she stood and shoving him back onto the bed, straddled him.

"Your wrapping paper may not be as fancy as some others" she husked. "but the gift you keep inside is everything that I could ever want. I don't care how it is wrapped."

"Evey..." His hands came up to grasp her own. "I do not doubt that you believe that, but you have to realize that sometimes reality is far more than we at first imagine we can handle."

"Then you're going to have to trust me enough to see what I can and cannot handle."

"It is an easy thing for one whose foot is on the outside of calamity to give advice and to rebuke the sufferer," he quoted.

"In misery it is great comfort to have a companion," she quoted back. Then seeing that she had got the last work, she gently placed his hands on her hips. Slowly, in a teasing manner, she undid five buttons of her own shirt and parted the material slightly by thrusting back her shoulders. "A button for a button, a view for a view, a feel for a feel?" she bargained.

The Guy Fawkes mask nodded and the man wearing it groaned, "Now that is taking unfair advantage of a man, Evey." Without further adieu he undid two more of his own buttons.

She followed suit.

Then he surprised her by reaching out and unbuttoning the rest of her shirt.

With great anticipation she returned the favor, but before she could part the material, he heaved beneath her. There was a sudden dizzying sense of motion which tore a squeal from her. When she realized what was going on, she found herself wrapped around him as he approached the door.

Once again she felt herself aching for that raw power and grace to take possession of her, and then idly wondered what was he doing.

V closed the door, leaving it only slightly ajar, then backtracked to the lamp, which he put out. "Now then," he breathed near her ear, "let's see what you can and cannot handle."

In the next instant she was on the bed with him straddling her, their positions effective reversed. In the darkness of the room she could see very little.

As though reading her thoughts, he spoke, "As your eyes adjust to the dark, you will gradually see a bit more of me. It seems to be the best solution to the situation."

She could only nod, her ability to speak coherently already failing her at the feel of him atop her.

Apparently his night vision was better than hers, for he seemed to see her nod. He surprised her then by pulling his shirttails from his britches, shrugging off his shirt and tossing it to the floor behind him.

In the dim light from the doorway, she could see this and yet very little detail. His skin was as yet hidden from her. Oh to touch him!

As she reached up to do so, he grasped her sleeves and stripped her of her shirt, tossing it down beside his own.

Then her heart nearly stopped, as without any preamble, he reached up and removed his mask whilst leaving the wig in place. There was a soft clunk as he gently dropped it to the floor. "I trust you'll allow me, for now, a modicum of vanity?" he asked.

Again, she could only nod. Desperate to make out his features, she searched the darkness where his face was hidden, yet all she could make out was his outline in the light of the doorway.

And then the chance was lost, as he straightened his legs and came down beside her, his face nuzzling her neck, his left arm draped over her while his hand caressed her face.

"Oh my dearest," he whispered as he leaned against her and kissed her neck beneath her ear. "...my Evey." Without the mask to muffle it, his voice, it was even richer.

She moaned at the feel of his bare skin sliding against her own, his lips upon her at last and threw her arms up around him, embracing him, welcoming him. At last she was able to run her hands over him, over his neck, his shoulders, his back... and what she found was a patchwork of sorts.

There were areas of his body that were as scarred as his hands, the skin too thin, too tough to be anything other than burn scars. But there were also areas that seemed to be undamaged. The flesh on the sides of his torso, beneath his arms and at the small of his back were covered in smooth and resilient healthy skin.

He stilled and then groaned as she explored those areas. "If I dream I have you, I have you, for all our joys are but fantastical." he husked, then finally captured her lips with his own in a kiss that took her breath away.

It was electrifying, earth shattering, enlightening...

The passion and feeling in that one kiss destroyed all memories she carried of any other man. From that moment, she knew it would be him, always.

When he came up for air, all they could do was stare at each other in amazement. Or at least, she tried to stare at him, for his face was still hidden in shadow, for he still had his back towards the door.

She reached up and took his face in her hands, merely cupping his cheeks and jawline and pulling him back to her. It was enough for her to feel the burn scars beneath her hands while still leaving him some anonymity.

He kissed her again and this time the kiss was gentle, more drawn out, teasing even, as he took his time in exploring her lips.

"Evey..." another sigh as he moved his mouth down her neck and over her collarbones. Then he was reaching beneath her to undo her bra.

She shivered as cool air hit her hot flesh, then gasped as his mouth took in one nipple, then the other. The feel of his hot, wet mouth on her cool flesh was exquisite, stoking the fire in her so that she clutched at him, trying almost without being aware of it, to bring him closer.

His large hands, with their long, dexterous fingers moved restlessly over her body, as he seemed to commit her to memory.

She did the same, running her left hand slowly down his neck and over his chest, her left arm snaking around his waist. The scarring covered patches on his neck and most of his chest, but as her hand moved lower still...

V froze and groaned, his abdominals tightening at her touch.

His obvious pleasure excited her further and she began to tease him by running her fingers slowly down towards the waistband of his pants and then withdrawing. She repeated the motion several times, and each time she moved her fingers slightly lower... until, on the last pass, her fingers were wiggling just inside his waistband.

He was breathing hard now, but as she grasped his waist and prepared to pull him closer, he outmaneuvered her by grasping her hands and pinning them over her head. In the next moment her rewarded her teasing by kissing her and bringing his body down upon her.

It was her turn to groan as he pressed his hips against her, leaving her in no doubt as to his need for her. For good measure he ground himself against her once or twice, coaxing a few gasps out of her. Then he released her hands and rolling over, sat on the edge of the mattress while depositing her onto her feet on the floor before him.

With deft fingers, he undid her pants and stripped both them and her undies from her, tossing them aside and pulling her into his lap.

Evey found herself straddling him, panting as her body begged release, but her need to draw this out, to take time to discover him enabled her to retain some of her thought processes.

"Kiss me," she begged him.

He complied while kneading her flesh with his left hand and slowly worked his way down her hip and over her thigh. The thumb of his hand drew dangerously closer...as she moaned in frustration and rocked her hips.

And then he was there, rubbing the most sensitive part of her as his teeth nibbled her neck. So primed was she that, within less than a minute, she came, calling his name.

Every bit of strength seemed to go out of her then and she sagged against him as he held her close and waited for her to catch her breath.

They continued to kiss and ran their hands over each other until she recovered sufficiently enough to continue.

Again the fire was building within her as she began to lead by example... tempting him with her own kisses so that he took charge, becoming more demanding and kissing her ever more passionately. Then she teased his lips with her tongue, prodding ever so slightly and withdrawing, then repeating it until she gained access to his mouth.

She was rewarded with a deep moan and the feel of him surging ever harder beneath her.

He likewise took charge of that kiss, invading and exploring her mouth. His control was slipping, she could feel it in him, as his hands gripped her tightly, beginning to demand a surrender on her part; bruising her as he strove to pull her more firmly against his erection.

She disengaged herself from the kiss, pulled his hands from her hips and unsteadily regained her feet. Then it was her turn to undo his britches and pull them off him as he eagerly lifted his hips to assist her.

Sinking to her knees, she placed her hands on his ankles and slowly slid them upward over his calves, which proved to be badly scarred. Yet when she reached the level of his thighs, she encountered smooth, unmarred flesh. She slid her hands higher still... and they both groaned as she found him in the darkened room.

"...what I can and cannot handle, indeed..."she breathed, pleased with everything about him. She wasted no time, but began to tease him gently with her hand.

"Evey..." her name on his lips was a plea.

Then she bent forward...

His legs tensed as he began to shake with reaction.

"...Evey... Evey..." he chanted.

Somewhere in the back of her head she knew she should probably stop, but his reaction to her thrilled and excited her beyond reason.

Having reached his breaking point, V pulled away, stood and scooped her up against him. Turning swiftly, he threw her on the bed and followed her down.

This was it.

She knew it even before she felt his knee prodding her legs apart, demanding her surrender.

And then he was lowering himself onto her; his chest to hers, his arms hooking beneath hers so he could support himself on his elbows while cradling her head with his hands, and finally the heat and harness of him pressing against her belly.

...And the woman in her let go, nature taking over and judging this male as worthy. It was a surrender as old as time and one that every woman feels the instant that her true mate is recognized.

Then he was kissing her again and sliding... sliding down slowly as he shifted his hips. He was whispering her name and seeking entrance...

She cried out his name as he took her, and he growled then, a deep, feral sound, as he lost control and began to move against her.

Evey threw her arms and legs around him, hanging on for dear life as the power she had so admired in him took control and literally rocked her world. She found herself gasping as the feel of him brought her to new heights.

Then she was arching against him and calling his name.

Her release triggered his own.

V threw his head back, reared in the air over her and bellowed.

And at that exact moment, the meager light that filtered in from the Shadow Gallery caught his face and she saw him.

It had been the briefest of glimpses and it hadn't been the clearest, but it was enough.

She'd seen him.

She knew him.

Everything had changed and yet nothing had.

He was the man she loved but couldn't have, just as he had been and would remain.

The concept behind the word, 'bittersweet' finally became very clear to her, for she had never before felt so happy and so sad at once in all her life.

And then he was kissing her and murmuring a phrase from a love poem as he rolled to his side and pulled her to him. The last thing she remembered she drifted off into a blissful sleep was the sound of him sighing softly.


V lay there and watched her sleep. Now and then she would shift in his arms, press closer against him and then sigh as though relieved to find him still there.

He kissed the top of her head and sighed for the umpteenth time. This feeling which had taken him over; this inner peace and sense of comfort... the feeling that he was right where he belonged and that nothing else mattered... was so alien to him.

What was it? Was it an element of love? Or was it merely the result of an endorphine rush? Or was it, perhaps, the feeling of being accepted unconditionally? Was that not part of love, the love that someone else bore for you?

"My love..." he whispered to her, just to try it out, then kissed her again. It felt right.

And she had been right to lead him to this place, this moment, this feeling. This night he had loved and been loved in return. Even now he smiled in the dark and remembered how shocked and pleased she had been when he had coaxed her out of an exhausted sleep to make love to her a forth time.

It had more to do with his desperate need to feel connected to her than with an insatiable lust. Even now he longed to wake her, to have her full attention, but relented from a fear of hurting her. She had teased that she was too sore last time!

Again he smiled as the memory of the night returned to him.

Ah, but he had been foolish to try to convince himself over the years that he was not a man, merely the embodiment of an idea...

Carefully, so as not to wake her, he eased an arm up and laid his hand upon her head. He loved the bristly feel of her shorn scalp and would miss it when her hair grew back. And to think that only yesterday it had inspired feelings of guilt to see it!

His eyelids grew heavy as he had a final thought: She had him now; though she probably did not realize it, he was wound tightly around her little finger. Already he was considering a slight change to his plans...

and with that, he drifted off into the best sleep he ever remembered having.


V sat in a chair beside the bed and contemplated it as he had every night since that night. The bed had become a memorial of sorts for him. He changed the sheets each week and made it up carefully, but he himself refused to sleep in it.

Not without her. No, not without her.

He himself slept on the sofa these days, but he had paid tribute to the bed every evening.

This was the final evening.

If she failed to show soon, then he would never see her again. It was already after seven in the evening. Time was running out and his heart was breaking all over again.

So he sat and continued paying tribute to the bed and the memories it conjured within him.


Evey's heart began to pound as she approached the entrance to the secret lair known as the Shadow Gallery.

She had stayed away for many months and it had been hellish for her, but what else could she have done? If she had returned sooner than this night, she would have stayed.

Yes, she would have stayed until this night and every night she stayed would have added to the almost unbearable pain she was now feeling.

She felt as though she were going to the execution of the man she loved, and how much worse it was knowing that he was his own executioner!

In just a few minutes she would see him again, her heart would soar and she would feel all the things that lovers felt when a long separation had come to an end. But then the agony of counting down to a final parting would begin.

Shaking her head, she forced herself to stop thinking that far ahead. She couldn't do this if she continued to keep thinking about THAT.

Of course she knew he had he missed her, but would he be angry that she had waited this long to return?

She had reached the door to the Shadow Gallery. It was unlocked.

Both heaven and hell awaited her on the other side.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open and passed through it.

Next: The Spirit is Willing... (but the flesh is weak).

Quotes/Poetry:

If I dream I have you, I have you, For, all our joys are but fantastical.

-JOHN DONNE, The Dream

It is an easy thing for one whose foot is on the outside of calamity to give

advice and to rebuke the sufferer.

-AESCHYLUS, Prometheus Bound

In misery it is great comfort to have a companion.

-JOHN LYLY, Euphues