Chapter 2

The night of the fifth, after all was done, her farewell to Finch and the fires of Parliament burned low, Evey had returned to the slight chill of the Shadow Gallery, truly full of shadows and all of them empty, curled up on the couch, listening to the horrible silence. She didn't want to admit it, but for all the strength that she had gained she still couldn't stop herself from breaking down and mourning for V, her shoulders shuddering painfully from the loss, face and eyes quickly stung red with tears. She fell asleep curled up on the soft couch.

Evey didn't know how long she had slept but she was startled out of her sleep. She didn't know why she had woken up… then she heard it in the stillness of the underground. A faint scraping. Her heart hammered in her chest and ears as she wondered who it could be. Who would know of this place? She had been careful not to reveal this place even to Finch. She stilled herself and waited to make sure she had actually heard anything, not allowing herself to even dare to breathe, to hope… There it was again!

She ran to the door, then slowed down, it could be Fingermen, but it could also be-

Evey grabbed a heavy, but small, bronze bust of some philosopher she couldn't name and crept to the shadowed door. She unlocked it slowly and quickly opened the door by its cool metal knob with the bust raised high over her head ready to strike. She then looked down at the black figure on the cold ground and gasped, quickly dropping to her knees, tears squeezing out as she tried to force them back.

"My god!" she was able to push out as she quickly, gently, put her arms under V's shoulders.

She heard a faint, wet chuckle, "I don't believe my dear Evey that is, I doubt a god would feel even a prick of pain, but thank you for the compliment," he quipped between gasps, tilting his head slightly up to try and look at her.

She was alarmed by the sound of gurgling liquid in his voice, looked at the trail of smeared blood he had left behind; he must have dragged himself all the way to the entrance of the Shadow Gallery. She would need to destroy the evidence later so no one stumble upon their home after she took care of V, she had a horrible suspicion that he had a hole in his lung as well as other inaccessible wounds and bullets within his body that she was nowhere prepared enough to take care of.

"We need to get you inside, I thought you were dead! I'm so sorry I put you on that godforsaken-" she blathered, trying to keep her senses about her, tears welling up in her raw eyes again.

"I prob'ly was, but don't you fret about that now. I had asked for a Viking death after all. I mean not to stress you, but if I could ask you to bring me in…" V started gently.

"Yes! Yes of course, I'm so sorry V."

Evey reigned herself in and tried to delicately turn V over onto his back and pulled him back by under holding under his shoulders. He was quite heavy and he didn't motion to stand, telling her how much pain he must be in, she was sure he wouldn't allow her to drag him in as he was so used to being self-sufficient in similar circumstances were it not for his extensive injuries.

She finally had him at the couch, she couldn't drag him any further and she wasn't sure how much it had harmed him to drag him all that way either. He tried to pull himself up, but the young woman did most of the work and got him up onto the couch. She started stripping him of his bloodied clothing, including his boots, and as she reached to start unbuttoning his shirt his unexpectedly strong hand grabbed her, the bullet-nicked mask looking at her in… worry? Anxiety?

"Evey-" V started, but was silenced by Evey.

"I don't care V, I never did. It doesn't matter, especially now, I need to get this off and see what I can do about any bullets that might still be in there, or at the least clean you off until we can figure something out. Your scars are of the least to worry about now, I love you."

He stared at her, without words, not purposefully, for one of the few times in their existence together and loosened his hand from around Evey's, allowing her to continue unbuttoning his shirt. Before she pulled it off she suddenly remembered first aid.

"I'm sorry V, I forgot, I need to go get some cloth and water. Do you have gauze or anything first aid?"

"You will find what you need below the sink," V responded in a tired voice.

"Hang on, I'll be right back, don't," she didn't finish her thought verbally and just said, "Just don't, okay?"

V understood her unvoiced plea.

Evey came rushing back to his side, arms full of all she could think of that V would need. She filled a large bowl full of water and set everything beside her as she slowly pulled partially crusted shirt off of V's chest. Re-opened wounds, most likely from V dragging himself, greeted her eyes as well as horrible dirt and his angry flesh of healed burn scars. She placed towels along his sides, not wanting the couch to get anymore dirtied and wet from what she was about to do next.

"V? Can you feel if there are any bullets lodged in you? I'm going to try and clean out everything first though anyway."

His grinning mask had been facing her this whole time, silent through her preparations.

"Do not worry about the bullets for now, you can remove them later. My body shouldn't be in too much jeopardy, or is in far too much. My vital organs should be mending soon enough, or enough for it to be left alone until I've recovered some blood," V whispered, his rich voice faded and not convincing Evey. But she really couldn't argue, they didn't have any blood packs to hook him up to that she knew of. Feeling helpless, but doing what she could, Evey began rinsing his wounds with water, his weakened body tensing slightly every now and again. The towels at his sides became a dark pink as the contaminated water trickled down.

V felt the burning of the pain, but minimized as much as he could his reaction for Evey's sake. She had pulled out the rubbing alcohol and stared at it, he knew what she must have been thinking, the look on her face said it all, 'I have to, but, shit!'

She looked over at him grimly, silent, seeming to weigh the options, but V did it for her.

"Use it, there is no other way to prevent infection," he said, bracing himself.

She hesitated, but answered, "I'll do it as quick as possible."

V grunted with the painful contact of the fiery liquid touching his various wounds and of Evey dabbing it up with cotton balls. He's felt unimaginable pain, pain from his baptism of fire that nothing else could match, but the alcohol still pained him nonetheless. He released his pent up breath when Evey finally finished the unpleasant business and wrapped him up with gauze to the best of her ability.

"I still need to check your legs, I'll need to remove your trousers," Evey stated nervously.

"Is this your way of romancing me Mademoiselle?" he joked, "You must allow me some of my dignity."

Evey blushed while keeping her face serious, but her worry and duty to seeing him to his health outweighed any embarrassment this may cause both of them.

"I trust you wear pants underneath?" she asked, trying to keep the blood rushing to her face to a minimum, trying to stay professional.

His head tilted, as if considering his answer, but he nodded in the affirmative deciding that she would get her way in his weakened state anyways. She removed his black socks first, not wanting anything to hinder her removal of V's trousers but quickly came to the realization that his thighs at least had swollen up to such an extent that there would be no easy removal.

"I'm going to have to cut your trousers off."

"I was afraid of that, there is no avoiding it. I have many sets of clothing so there are no worries about depriving me one pair," the reclined masked man replied.

Evey glanced up at the unchanging face of her declared loved, although a sorry sight it was currently and she also realized how heavy his current mask must be, it must be made of some sort of metal to have deflected those bullets that had left grazes in his visage. She got up and left to retrieve a pair of shears and returned with them and a light, plastic version of V's borrowed face. She handed him the Guy Fawkes mask and turned around, her request silent, but understood by the surprised man. Yes, he was touched by her thoughtfulness and was not yet ready to show her what was beneath the mask, he already felt too revealed and vulnerable as it was.

She turned around after she heard something heavily thunk against the stone floor and the slide of plastic against flesh as the new mask was put in place. Evey knelt down beside him again and proceeded to cut up a sticky pant leg, being careful not to hurt him with the shears. She completed her task and followed the same procedure of cleaning as she had with V's torso and arms.

Finished bandaging his legs, which thankfully seemed to have only a couple of holes, bullets evidently shot clean through, she cleaned up all the blood soaked towels and gauze wrappers. She returned to his side with a thick blanket, wondering if he had fallen asleep. She spread the blanket over his black boxer briefs clad body. She felt the corners of her lips twitch up as she thought, 'It figures.' She had almost allowed herself to imagine him wearing boxers with red heart patterns, or yellow smiley faces, something ridiculous like his flowery apron.

Evey sat down on the chill rug-covered floor leaning against the couch V lay upon, her hand holding his against his side, fingers interlaced, resting her head against his uninjured shoulder, which she kissed before doing so, and watched him as he slept. She soon followed him into a deep, exhausted sleep as the day's events caught up with her.