Author's Note: A word to the wise: do not jump to conclusions about this story. Chances are, you'll be wrong.

III.

"I must be cruel only to be kind;
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind."

-Hamlet

Evey watched, frozen in shock, as the figure pulled a gun. A gun? Yes, that was strange, she thought, but perhaps it could yet be explained away. She'd long ago given up trying to predict his strategies…unless…But her thoughts were cut off by the sound of the gun firing, and her ears rang painfully.

The figure—she hadn't dared give it a name yet in her head—fired twice into the crowd of security guards, and two of them fell to the ground, their hands suddenly covered with blood. Evey's hands flew to her head protectively, but the mask and wig blocked her and the gesture did no good. She watched helplessly as the remaining guards scattered, and the figure ran toward her. He—for there was no longer any question in her mind that it was a man beneath the mast—grabbed at her hand and propelled her forward.

"Evey?"

She stood in shock for a moment later, reeling at the sound of her name. Who else could possibly know? Who else might have guessed? She could be anyone now, and yet…She nodded a little, unable to deny herself the motion.

"Go!" The man gave a slight push to the small of her back, propelling her forward and breaking her out of her shock-induced paralysis.

She lurched forward unevenly, narrowly avoiding getting her foot caught in the hem of the black cape, and took off at a run down the darkened street. They were only a few blocks away from the Shadow Gallery, but she had a sudden misgiving as to which direction to go. She could lead him back there, pray that she was right…but that could prove fatal. Instead, she turned in the opposite direction and made for the relative safety of yet another back alley. The shouts of the guards faded behind her as she ran, and she was left with only the footfalls of her mysterious savior echoing in her still-aching ears.

"You," she gasped, coming to a stop with her back against the wall. The man stopped opposite her, breathing hard as she was. Evey sighed beneath the mask, cringing at the strange feel of her own breath fogging the inside of it, and suddenly realizing how strange this confrontation would look to any unknowing bystander. Moreover, how strange it must look to him seeing her like this. She hesitated for a moment, then recklessly pulled the mask over her head, knocking the wig askew. After all, he had already guessed her identity, hadn't he?

"Evey, please…"

She held up a hand for silence as fresh waves of déjà vu crashed over her, threatening to overwhelm her fragile composure. Evey stared into the blank sockets of the mask, gauged height, weight, movement…but it was all so hard to judge in the shadows. Like before. She wanted so very much to believe, and yet…

"How do I know it's you?" she asked at last.

"Ah, you assume you know already…" There was something strange about the voice, she thought, but she couldn't put her finger on what.

"I know what you have led me to believe," she answered uncertainly, looking for some explanation, any explanation other than her own wishful thinking.

"Then you'll have to decide for yourself," he said softly, "whether you trust what your eyes and your mind tell you."

"But I don't even know—"

He held up a hand to silence her, then wordlessly pulled something from beneath his cape. He held out one gloved hand to her, something small and rectangular cradled in the black-leathered palm. Evey leaned forward in the dark, straining to bring the object into focus.

"Oh god," she whispered, when her mind finally managed to wrap itself around the sight before her.

It was a small block of wood, painted red on three sides and black on the back and tips. A domino. One of his dominoes. The only one she'd ever seen like it had been on the train…

"How…" She felt as if the breath had been forcibly knocked out of her; she barely had the strength for that single word.

"This is not the time or place," said V, for her mind had already betrayed her, and she no longer had the strength to believe it was anyone else. "We must get you safely home."

"Me?" Evey closed her hand over his, the domino digging into her skin. "Aren't you coming with me?" A slight inclination of the head, the mask dipping toward her now-exposed face, was the only answer she got.

"All your questions will be answered in time. Please, Evey, it isn't safe."

She'd never known V to be fearful, but then perhaps near-death experiences changed things like that. She imagined it would change an awful lot. Nodding quickly in response, she took off in the direction of the Shadow Gallery's entrance, keenly aware of his footfalls on the pavement behind her.

With every echo, every step, every doorway that they passed, Evey felt the shock begin to thaw. He was here, he was right behind her, he had proven his identity to her. Even if he were to take the mask off, she had no way of knowing what he looked like underneath. She had an idea, yes, but he'd proven to her more than once before the dangers of making assumptions. She was sure he'd been dead, had seen it with her own eyes, and yet now…here he was, very much alive and saving her once more.

But why?

He was here now, and apparently unwounded, so why had he let her think he was dying? Why had he let her put his body on the train? And most importantly, if he'd been around all along, why had he waited until now to contact her?

Each new thought brought an acidic surge of anger into her stomach, and by the time they reached the lift that would take them down into the Shadow Gallery, she wanted to stop and tear the mask off his face, hold it hostage until he gave her the answers she demanded. Instead she just stared at him, trying more desperately than ever to see through the slits of the mask, as he stepped into the lift beside her and they began their descent.

The minute they stepped out, V seemed unnaturally awkward. Evey threw the duffel bag of supplies toward the kitchen, and watched as he stared at everything in the Gallery, as if seeing it for the first time. He made his way over to the leather sofa after a moment and perched on the edge of it. Evey stood in front of him, grateful for the slight height advantage his position gave her. She leaned over until she was nearly pressing her forehead to the mask's steel one.

"Now. I think you owe me an explanation." Now that they were indoors and in somewhat better light, Evey could see how different he looked. Everything about him seemed older somehow, worn out. It added a knot of worry to the anger churning her stomach. It was the only thing that kept her from openly attacking him.

"What can I say, Evey? I thought I was dying…"

"Really?" She wanted to believe that he'd been sincere, that he was now, and yet it didn't seem plausible. Not with everything that she'd seen. "So how are you sitting here now? And where have you been for the past month? Hiding in the shadows somewhere? Watching me cry?"

"I do have allies, Evey," he said gently, surprising her. She'd never seen him speak to another person, at least not one that he wasn't about to kill. "I'm sorry for everything that I've put you through, but it was necessary—"

"Necessary!" The word exploded from her lips like a curse, followed by yet another outpouring of the emotions she'd been drowning in since the fifth. "Christ, V, you promised me no more lies! You promised!" She sounded like a child throwing a temper tantrum and she knew it, but coherence eluded her and all she could manage was a rough sob.

"Evey, please," he repeated, standing to face her. His voice was slow, soothing, like he was talking to a wounded animal. The pity in it made her sick.

"No! Allies? You told me you worked alone!" Before she knew what she was doing, she'd taken a step forward, closing the distance between them, both fists making contact with the flesh of his chest. She dealt him a few more blows to the shoulders before he grabbed hold of both her wrists and twisted her body so that she fell onto the sofa. The fit of violence past, Evey buried her face in the leather cushions, sobbing convulsively.

"I'll leave you now." The words came with a gloved hand on her shoulder, and Evey stiffened, turning and grabbing it with both of her own.

"Wait. I'm sorry. I just…" She shrugged, feeling ashamed of her own outburst. "I don't know who to trust anymore."

"Evey…" It seemed to be the only thing he knew how to say this night, but the sound of it on his lips didn't comfort her like it normally did. Instead the sound of his voice put a hint of unease in her stomach.

"What happened to you?" she asked at last, shyly. "You sound different."

"Bullets leave scars," he said simply.

Evey nodded slowly, then took hold of his sleeve, pulling him down to sit beside her. He obliged, though he seemed decidedly stiff. She wondered again just exactly what had happened to change him so much in the short time that he'd been gone.

"V…I killed a man back there," she said at last, barely daring to speak the words. Hearing them said aloud made them real, and she wasn't sure if she could handle that yet.

"Yes," he said simply.

"I said I wouldn't kill anyone. I promised myself, and now…" She reached back and grabbed her own mask, which had been hanging behind her head by its straps. "There's something about this thing. It makes people into monsters."

She undid the straps and cradled the thing like it was alive. V held out his hand and took the mask from Evey. He sighed heavily. "A mask has no power of its own. It takes its power from what lies beneath."

"What are you saying? That I have to become a murderer if I want to be of any use to this country?"

"I am saying that you will have to make that decision." He got to his feet suddenly. "And now, Evey, I must go."

"Wait, why?" She jumped up, following him unsteadily, feeling drunk with emotion. "This is your home!"

"Not anymore it isn't," he said simply. He pointed to the mask which was now lying on the table. "This is your legacy now."

"V, I don't want you to leave again!"

"Ah, but absence makes the heart grow fonder." He tipped his hat to her. "I will return." And then he was gone, into the lift and away.

Evey fell helplessly back onto the couch, feeling completely drained. She'd gone out to get food and had her world shattered for the second time in a month. Unwilling to think anymore about it, or even move, she stretched out on the couch, pulling the thick fabric of the cape tight around her shoulders. For once she was grateful for its length. Closing her eyes, Evey inhaled, imagining that she could still smell the scent of him on the sofa's leather cushions. She was asleep within minutes.

She dreamed of a mask which spat roses from the eye slits and sang songs of lost and lonely things.