Author's Note: Firstly, sorry for the delay in updating. I had an ear infection and after I recovered, turns out there's a good chance I have mono. So, needless to say it's been hard keeping up with school work AND writing the new chapter. But, no matter I have done it!
Marie Phantom: No, do not fear, that was only a joke. Though, keep this in mind. V was sent to Larkhill for SOME reason, was he not…and gays WERE sent there…hmmm…interesting, huh?
Starlette Fallon: Thanks for that! I am trying to write with a bit of humor. Usually I am into the darker stuff, so I figured, a little light laughter couldn't hurt much. Feel free to be one of the people giving constructive criticism. I love it!
Jinexh: That line happens to be a favorite among many of my friends who read this. Glad you're liking it, despite the AU twist.
Everyone else: Thanks for reviewing and reading!
Finch absolutely detested these little 'get-togethers' headed by Chancellor Sutler. The Party leader never personally attended these meetings, but he was always present on a giant projection screen, his wrinkled and withered face magnified for all to see. He looked ancient, and yet he possessed a certain amount of strength—perhaps because a mere blink of his eye could end a man's life if he willed it. Adam Sutler was the most powerful man in England, perhaps the world, and he was as unmerciful and relentless as any tyrant could be. He was one man Finch would be content never to meet face to face.
"I will not tolerate any more of this!" Wishing he had brought his aspirin with him, Finch wondered why every word out of the Chancellor's mouth had to be shouted. He spoke as though every phrase was a dire emergency, nothing could ever be conveyed in a normal voice. No, all that the Chancellor said was full of urgency, whether it was justified or not.
"Mr. Finch!" Barked the irate Party leader, "I want answers and I want them now!"
Finch shifted in his chair, trying not to appear too uncomfortable. He noticed Creedy smirking from his position and Dascomb fiddling with a pen. So long as they weren't being interrogated, they could breathe a sigh of relief and watch their peer squirm under the harsh and pitiless gaze of Adam Sutler.
While Dascomb did not bother him—in fact Finch thought he was a rather clever man with a mild sense of humor—he loathed Creedy. In Finch's mind, Creedy was the epitome of what was wrong with the Party. He was much like Sutler, only not quite as dim-witted. And that worried Finch—because Sutler sometimes had no real idea the damage and harm he was doing, while Creedy was acutely aware of all that was happening, and he enjoyed every second of it. To him, upholding the most unjust of laws and arresting practically innocent people gave him inexplicable joy. Exercising power and controlling the masses by way of fear excited him.
"Well, no strong leads yet, Chancellor, but we're working on things as best we can." Trying not to appear completely useless he cleared his throat and shuffled a few papers in front of him. "To reiterate what Mr. Dascomb said, the mask makes retinal scans impossible…" He trailed off then, allowing Sutler to regain control of the conversation.
"Mr. Finch, your findings are absolutely pathetic. I will not stand for this! I expect arrests to be made, and I expect them to happen soon." The Chancellor's eyes narrowed to two black slits and his lips curled back into a snarl. He no longer looked human. Adam Sutler had become a mindless beast, intent on pursuing his prey. Nothing would stop him from this endeavor.
"Gentlemen, we cannot allow this sort of thing to happen. We cannot allow common criminals to rule England. We must stop this problem before it gets out of hand. We must contain this madman before he does something drastic." At this point Finch tuned out. Another one of Sutler's speeches; where he emphasized unity and the strength that came of it. A chorus of 'we', 'us', and 'together' all shoved into a mindless miasma and meant to motivate.
"…and as always, England Prevails!"
Finch tried not to yawn as he echoed the tired statement along with the other men.
That's funny… Evey scratched her head and frowned. V had given her spare clothes to borrow (where he had acquired a collection of ladies clothing, she had not asked), and she had wanted to remove her wallet out of her old pair of pants. A cursory inspection had assured her that her meager amount of money remained intact, yet she had noticed that the access card to the register was missing. It was a card issued to all the employees at the store; and it allowed them at any time to open the cash register and hidden safe without having to enter any code or without punching in a purchase.
She had been almost positive that it had been in her wallet the night she had taken off with V, and yet she could not find it, though she had been searching for awhile.
Maybe I left it at the counter?
Evey nodded her head, reassuring herself. That had to be the explanation. Slightly more at ease, she left the tiny room that she had come to call her own, and wandered about the "Shadow Gallery"—as V had dubbed his home. She had grown fond of her new, unorthodox living conditions. The various pieces of artwork fascinated her, and the sculptures that were practically in every corner of the room amused her. But her most favorite item of all was by far the juke box.
Every time she passed by it, she was overcome with a longing to press its buttons, and hear its music. Since V had played that one song for her, the little box had sat silent and neglected in the shadows. The room felt dead and hollow without a melody floating throughout it, and Evey tried to avoid staying within it too long. She was afraid to touch anything that V owned; for fear of breaking it or angering him. V had nearly slapped her hand when she had reached out to touch a portrait of a stern looking woman. When she explained that she had only wanted to trace her face, and she hadn't meant to defile the picture V had sharply scolded her.
"These are not mere trinkets meant to be poked and prodded, these are works of art that are designed to be admired and respected."
Evey was surprised at how deeply V had been offended by her actions. The fact that he had the capacity to care about something shocked the young woman. She had always assumed him to be a callous sort of person. But the passion in his voice when he commanded her to never touch the paintings, the way his hand has reached out to stop her had proven her beliefs false. V cared about culture and the past. In fact, Evey was convinced his life of crime served more purpose than just as a way to make enough money to sustain himself. His lifestyle proved that he truly did not need money in order to survive. Evey believed that this was his own small way of rebelling against the government.
The petty acts of theft had transformed into something much more as of late. V was all over the news as more and more crimes had been linked to him. Every day as she watched the TV—V often sitting beside her, always reading some sort of book—there were mentions of the masked criminal. V never even looked up from the page but she could see his body tense up, see his hands grip the spine of the book a bit more tightly.
This is what he wanted, that much Evey could tell. But what bothered her most was that V was content to only stir things up a little. She knew if he wanted to, he had the skill and the cunning to probably cause a lot more trouble. V was brilliant, if not slightly eccentric, and very well spoken. He could finagle his way into and out of any situation he wanted to if he just didn't wear that mask and dressed in normal clothing. Not that Evey had often entertained thoughts of rebellion against her government before—but all the free time she had within the Shadow Gallery, and V's taciturn personality tended to allow her much free time. And in that span of time her mind came up with various plans and ideas. Evey enjoyed daydreaming, and being in this new home certainly facilitated that hobby.
Her train of thought came to an abrupt halt when she realized that V was nowhere to be found. Evey had wandered through all of the rooms, and had yet to bump into him. Usually he could be found in one of two places; perched on his couch, reading, or he was at his grand piano, making up songs or playing from sheet music.
"V? Where are you?" The words bounced off of the stone walls and eventually melted into the silence. Increasingly uncomfortable with the knowledge that she might be alone, Evey called out his name again. There was no response.
"V…if you're in here this isn't funny!" She reprimanded as she wandered into the kitchen. It was then that she noticed a piece of paper attached to the fridge. Lifting off the magnet that held it in place, Evey scanned the handwritten note. The message V had written was vague, saying that he would be absent for most of the night, and telling her not to wait up for him.
Shrugging, Evey replaced the note back onto the refrigerator and sauntered out of the kitchen.
Maybe there's something worth reading here…
There was a gasp, followed by a deep moan. It penetrated into Evey's half-materialized dream and awoke her instantly. She was curled up on her bed with the book "Pride and Prejudice" still clasped in her right hand. While the book had been fascinating, she had eventually succumbed to the haze of drowsiness surrounding her. But now she was alert and awake. Sitting up, she strained to hear more sounds. When she heard a scream, she panicked. She leapt off of the bed and flew down the hallway, her feet barely touching the ground as she sprinted towards the sounds.
Is V hurt? Is there something wrong?
Evey heard the noises growing in volume and realized that they were coming from the room containing V's couch and the television. Without any concern for her own safety she darted around the corner and burst into the room.
When she saw what the source of all the noises were, she put her hand to her mouth and gasped. V immediately turned, and cleared his throat in an embarrassed manner when he saw Evey.
"Oh…um…I hope I didn't disturb you…" V stared at Evey, but noticed she was busy staring at the TV screen.
"What are you watching?" She asked, confusion and disgust evident in her voice.
"The Cunt of Monte Cristo," he explained, "one of the greatest pornographic films of all time."
Evey grimaced as she watched a young woman, wearing very little clothing, managed to get one of her legs behind her head. "Why would you watch this?"
V one hand to his chin, stroking it as if he were pondering one of life's greatest questions. "I suppose I am merely showing my appreciation and fascination of the human body. Though, I can see that you are not as intriguged as I...perhaps you'd like to see the original film; The Count of Monte Cristo?"
"Does it have any of that," she indicated the girl, now getting the second leg behind her head, and licking her lips in what she guessed was supposed to be a seductive way, "in it?"
V turned back to the movie currently playing. "Ah. No…not in the slightest."
"Alright," Evey responded, hesitantly. She plopped down on the opposite end of the sofa, while V retrieved the proper film.
"You find your own tree!" V enthusiastically repeated the line. Mercedes nestled into the arms of Edmond Dantes, and the movie came to an end.
V turned and noticed that Evey was smiling in a sad sort of way.
"Did you like it?" He asked, tilting his head to fully face her.
"Yeah…but I felt bad for Mercedes."
"Why?" V asked, not in a challenging way, but because he was genuinely curious.
"Because he never cared about her, all he wanted was revenge."
"Ah…" V said nothing more, but Evey could have sworn she sensed that he was disappointed in her. As if he had expected her to understand the plight of Edmond Dantes. He turned off the movie, and was about to turn off the TV as well when Evey noticed a news interview.
"Wait," she commanded. V didn't protest, though he knew what this broadcast was about. Sighing a little, he leaned back, waiting to see what Evey's reaction would be.
"…another robbery occurred tonight, shortly after midnight. The masked criminal stole an entire register's worth as well as all the money kept in a special safe, which could only be accessed by employees…"
Upon hearing this, Evey turned her head slightly, her eyes still on the program.
"V…I couldn't find my access card to the store tonight…you didn't take it, did you?"
"Would you prefer a lie, or the truth?"
At that comment, Evey had to resist the urge to slap the masked man. Instead, she stood up, her fists clenched at her sides, and her face turned toward him.
"V! That was my access card, you had no right to take it," she lectured him.
"Evey, my dear," the sarcasm that dripped from each syllable stung Evey, but she maintained her composure as he continued. "I am a criminal, a thief, a villain, as I once told you. I have no obligation to you, or to anyone else. My loyalties lie only with myself. You should be grateful I even took you in."
The harshness of this reminder caused tears to form at Evey's eyes. Frustration scalded her as it washed over her entire body.
"Grateful! Grateful that you robbed me? That you ruined my entire life? I should be grateful?" She spun away from him, unable to look at him any longer. "You know what you are, do you?"
When V gave no reply—he simply remained seated—Evey turned back around and began to yell even louder.
"You're a coward, V, that's what you are!" She spat the words at him, but when they didn't seem to affect him, she grew more agitated. Regressing to the way a child would behave, she continued to search for words that would irk him, anything to make him react. She wanted to make him mad, or at the very least, perturbed in some way.
"You're smart, and, and, sneaky, and you could actually do something about the way things are if you wanted to. But…but…all you do is steal. And you think that's so great…well…it isn't. Nobody will remember you a year or two from now. You'll be forgotten. Until you die, alone, and without anything to say for it."
Her rant was not quite what she had hoped it to be, but her emotions prevented her from properly articulating her thoughts. But the message within the muddled and stuttered phrases was clear enough to V. He put his hands on his knees and gradually came to a full standing position. Crossing the short distance between himself and Evey, he reached out a hand, to grab her chin and tilt it upwards towards him.
She panicked as the hand came towards her, flinching and moving away from him. V's outstretched hand went slack, and he allowed it to drop to his side. The silence grew thick, choking them both of the words they had planned to say. Finally, Evey simply walked out of the room. V didn't stop her. He stood in the same place until he heard her door quietly close, and heard the click of it locking.
