What Truths the Light will Show

Disclaimer: As per usual, I must reluctantly admit that I do not own any part of V for Vendetta in any way, shape or form. But V himself will be mine. (A la Wayne's World) He will be mine, oh yes, he will be mine.

Author's Rant: Holy Christ behind the couch! I've just looked at some of my previous chapters on for the first time… I had NO idea how short they really are when they get in that format. I look it the document in Word and think that it's too long and wordy, but when I see it on the site, I realize how short it really is. That in mind, I am so, SO sorry for the shortness of chapter 3.

Chapter Seven

VvV The Present VvV

The last time Evey had set foot in the Shadow Gallery, a mere week ago, she had had to force herself to stay for any length of time. Though she had vowed to herself that she would safeguard his treasures until the world was ready for them, it had been utterly painful walking alone through that place and remembering. She had smiled fondly at the statue, V's sparing partner, and lingered at some of the paintings, remembering how he had described their meanings in a loving voice. And a week ago, she had been disturbed to realize that some of her memories had faded.

Living with V, she had been fearful and, at first, ungrateful. Longing for the life left behind and worry about what the future may hold had kept Evey from truly enjoying many of the wonders the Shadow Gallery had to offer. Consequently, she had been less than attentive at times, and never fully took in some of the days she had passed with V.

In the days following his supposed death, she had cursed herself for not understanding how precious those moments with him had been. In a way, it made her feel worse to know that she had not merely forgotten many fond memories. She had, in fact, never accorded them much importance, had never taken the time or effort to commit them to memory. It had made her feel ashamed. But now…

Evey paced through the main room in the Gallery. "You're back," she said in disbelief. Turning, she looked at the masked man as if seeing him for the first time. "You're back." The initial feeling of elation had finally worn off, and she wasn't sure which emotion should take its place. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Her voice was slightly accusatory.

"We agreed it would be prudent not to discuss the situation until we were in a safe place, lest someone else discover my return," he replied calmly. The brown eyes regarding him narrowed in anger.

"You know that's not what I meant." Perhaps rage would replace elation. "I thought you were dead, V! I watched you go limp in my arms, I placed you on the train, I made a bloody little shrine to you there and sent you off on a farewell that I thought would please you. And then do you know what I did? After I sent your train off, after I stood on the roof and watched Parliament burn to the ground?"

"No." His voice was barely audible.

"I wept, V." She clenched her fists in anger, making crescent-moon marks on her palms. Evey's small frame trembled with emotion. "I cried so hard that I could scarcely breathe, for so long that my throat was raw and my chest and head ached. I had exhausted myself with crying, over you, that I couldn't even go to bed, I just curled up on the floor and finally fell asleep. And then, in the morning, I felt scared and lost. I didn't know what to do next, I had no idea what you would have wanted to happen next. But I forced myself to get up and get out of here, and I made myself continue to fight your fight." Sometime during her tirade, fresh tears had started falling.

"I had hoped that you would," he finally replied. V walked towards her carefully, as one might approach a wild animal. "I knew, deep down inside, that you would have the strength and wisdom to continue on after my plan was complete. I saw it in you the first time I met you, even though you had not yet seen it in yourself." Stopping mere inches away from her, he reached up and gently cupped her face. Soft leather whispered against skin as he brushed her tears away. Smiling, she gave in and leaned against him.

"I had missed you so much," she whispered into his shoulder.

"Missed being trapped down here with an insane terrorist?" Evey realized that even though the question didn't sound serious, V was.

"You're not a terrorist." He slid away from her and walked towards the jukebox. Evey followed him as she continued. "I think there's a fine line between liberation and terrorism, but there is a difference. You gave us hope, forced us to wake up and to stop complacently accepting what was happening."

"Hmmm." V silently studied the song titles for a while longer. "Yes, I knew you would eventually understand. And I had always hoped that everyone else would understand as well." He pressed a few buttons, and then soft music wafted through the Gallery. Evey smiled as he extended his hand in an unspoken request. Stepping forward, she placed her hand in his and slid the other over his shoulder.

"What I don't understand," she pressed, gazing into the mask's eyes, "is why you didn't come back. I've mourned you for over three months. I can't tell you how many times I had thought to myself 'I wish V were still here'." Evey looked down, trying to form her next question. "Why did…?" She sighed in frustration. As they continued dancing, V waited patiently for her to continue.

"Didn't you trust me enough to let me know that you were still alive?" There. It had been said. There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a slow sigh. Evey felt the heated air of V's breath against her cheek. He held her closer, snaking his arm around her back. "Aren't you going to answer?" she asked calmly, after several minutes had passed.

"I'm thinking of how best to put this." Evey suddenly became aware that the music had stopped. V pulled back and regarded her, his head tilted. "Did you recognize that song, Evey?" he asked gently.

"No. I don't recall ever having heard it before."

"It's called 'All I Ask of You'. It was written by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber for the musical The Phantom of the Opera. This was simply an instrumental version, a rather mellow version at that. I have the original somewhere."

"V," Evey begged softly. "Please, I need to know…."

"The answer to your question," he interrupted gently. "Yes. I know." Sighing, V drew away from her completely. "And the truth is, Evey, that it wasn't a question of trusting you. It was more a question of trusting myself. I had once brought you here and kept you with me against your wishes. I could not bring myself to do that again and yet…" he paused, looking at his clasped hands. "If I revealed myself to you, I was afraid you would feel obligated to return, even though you may not have truly wished to."

V watched in silence as Evey walked slowly to the piano bench and sat down. She didn't look at him for a long while, her eyes focused on a distant place as she contemplated his answer. A clock ticked softly in the distance. When she finally spoke, her voice was carefully neutral.

"Would you have forced me to return?"

"Never." She looked up at the mask. "I would let you know that you were welcome here, at any time. I told you once, Evey, there are no locked doors, neither going in nor out."

"But you would have liked me to return sometimes?" He simply nodded. "So I would have the same freedom that I did after…" God, how to put this? Calling it what it was, torture, here and now… it seemed wrong. "After you taught me not to fear. I don't have a problem with that. So why do you?"

"Because my being alive makes things complicated. After what has happened, Evey, can you truly walk away from me and not be plagued by the thought that I am alive, somewhere. When I thought I was dying, there was a peaceful sense of closure, for both of us, I thought. Now everything is uncertain."

Evey stood and walked purposefully towards him. Gently touching the sides of his mask, she tilted his face down, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "I don't plan to walk away, V. I am so glad to have you back. I just wish you would have let me know you were back sooner."

"I am sorry, but I had decided I couldn't do that to you. And tonight, I must admit, I only sought you out in a moment of weakness."

"Well, thank goodness for that." Evey smiled and let out a small chuckle. "We could spend hours discussing this, arguing in circles. I could get mad at you for making me mourn you and stalk out of here… I'm almost tempted to." She wrapped her arms around his slim waist, holding him close. It pleased her immensely to feel him hug her back. "But, truthfully, I'm just too happy to see you again. It's more than I had hoped for."

Closing his eyes behind the mask, V placed its lips against her temple. He could just smell the clean scent of her short hair. "And this is more than I could have hoped for. Thank you, Evey." He could swear he almost felt her smile against his shoulder. He could not say how long they stood together in a comfortable silence before she hummed in contentment and lifted her head.

"That leaves only one question, for now. How did you come back, V? I thought you were dead."

"Did you check my pulse?" he asked. There was an edge to the question, implying that there was more to be said.

"Oh Christ." She felt so incredibly guilty. "I'm sorry, V. There was so much blood… I just assumed… I mean no one could have survived that…" she trailed off, heat rising in her face. Oh, God, what an idiot! She had held him in her arms and planned his send-off, made a memorial and sent him off in a bloody traveling bomb, and she hadn't even checked to make sure he was actually, truly dead. "I'm so sorry… but I couldn't check without removing your gloves or something, and I thought you wouldn't want me to see you."

"Shhh," He hushed her, rubbing her back gently. "You were right about that last point. Besides," he ran a gloved hand over her cheek, "you wouldn't have found anything. Back at Larkhill, I remember that the doctors often had an extremely difficult time finding my pulse when I was at rest. My breathing could be very shallow sometimes too. In fact," he admitted mirthfully, "I sometimes took a perverse pleasure in just lying there in my cell, not responding to the guards or anyone, just to see the look of frustration on Doctor Surridge's face when she thought I had finally died."

"My God, I could have killed you, V," Evey gasped in horror. "I put you in a bloody bomb and just sent you off…" He placed a finger on her lips.

"But you didn't," he reassured her. "I came to, smashed one of the windows, leapt from the train and rolled onto the tracks, only slightly worse for the wear. I couldn't go to you right away for obvious reasons."

"But why stay away for so long? What were you doing, V?" Large brown eyes regarded him seriously. "Tell me the truth, whatever that may be." He sighed and chuckled.

"I dragged myself to one of a few alternate hiding places," he admitted softly. "I have some supplies in each place, just in case the Shadow Gallery was ever discovered by the Finger. I am ashamed to admit that I spent a bit of time sleeping and wallowing in pain. Then I pulled myself together, patched my body up the best I could and spent a great deal of time merely resting and catching up on reading." Evey's eyes widened in shock.

"You tended to your own wounds? Dug out bullets and sewed up your own skin?" she demanded incredulously. V merely nodded curtly. "V… how did you ever manage that?"

"With a great deal of caution, discipline, difficulty and pain," he admitted. "And enormous amounts of scotch, courtesy of the late Chancellor Suttler's supply trains, afterwards to dull said pain." Evey had to chuckle at this last.

"That must have been very anti-climatic, all things considered." She looked at him affectionately. "You must have been bored out of your mind."

"Well, suffice to say it wasn't part of my plan."

"So what is your plan now?" He sighed and hung his head slightly.

"I don't know," he quietly confessed. A moment of uncertain silence passed before Evey pressed her lips gently against the mask's metallic cheek.

"Don't worry," she reassured him. "We'll work on figuring that out together. I promise."

Author's Note: Wow, long chapter about nothing. Sorry to bore you all with this. Next one should be better. Don't quite know when that will be posted. I can't write and listen to music at the same time, and I've had Pachelbel's Cannon sung by the Vienna Boys Choir on repeat for the past 2 days. Mmmmmmmmm… heavenly song.

By the way, chapter 8 is STILL not done. Why can't I write this, dangit? It's the sex, I know it is. I'm such a prude. I'm trying, I honestly am.