CHAPTER 5

BRATS AND FITS

There were very few things in the whole world as fascinating to watch as V pacing like that, with slow, even, and calculated strides. One could well measure them to find one being exactly as long as the next. The legs were elegant and obviously strong, very straight and used to action, which is what they were busy with, even if they were simply going back and forth between rows of priceless art pieces V had picked from hidden places where they were supposed to be forgotten about.

His breathing was just as measured, deep and slow, a pair of gloved hands laced behind his back to allow the lungs to fill completely. V was impeccable as usual, despite the late hour. It would be easy to believe that even trying he could not look any different. Even the wig cooperated to create his aura of perfection, every hair moving in harmony with its peers. Nothing seemed to have the power to disturb that perfect image, black and imposing.

The mind was obviously at work and it had been for a while. Thinking was V's key trait; his brilliant mind was used to weaving complex patterns in ways no average individual could understand. Sometimes he couldn't follow the exact process himself. And yet it worked. Very seldom he'd make a mistake simply because his genius was not in laying out a rigid step-by-step plan –pretty on paper but harmless in Fate's hands- but in playing with the options instead. He could see the flaws in the design and was skilled in finding order within chaos. Variation amused him.

The image was perfect, even mesmerizing, unless you paid close attention. The mathematically calculated motions told the real story; the mind contained in that pacing body wasn't thinking on doing anything… profitable. It wasn't even in a good mood to begin with. Most of all it was the stiffness on his back that betrayed the mind's thoughts.

V was throwing a fit.

He really wanted to break something just to release his frustration, he wanted to kick the furniture, he wanted to take something in his hands and tear it into small shreds, he was so enraged that he felt like taking his knives to chop the whole world into bite-size portions and then eat it raw with just a bit of salt, he wanted to grab the nearest object and smash it against the wall but… he couldn't.

Apparently –everything- within his reach was a sacred piece of art or human wisdom and he avoided even looking at them thinking his venomous gaze would be enough to crack them. Instead, he paced. V paced and thought.

Maybe it was still dark enough to go out and do something, anything. No, it was ridiculous; he should know how to handle all sorts of situations, he'd made it through everything and that wasn't about to change. He'd stay right where he belonged and he'd do things his way.

He'd boiled for long enough already so his first task would be to find order within his mind. It took some effort to listen specifically to what was bothering him and then go through each item, one by one. Yes, some things had to be done by the book, like bombs.

The little brat had gone too far. She'd been at his home for only a handful of weeks and he was already regretting the arrangement. Perhaps he should consider getting rid of her… Poison, yes. Something subtle and elegant, appropriate for a lady…of sorts. He could not tell exactly why he was so mad in the first place but there were many little things he hated about Evey.

V hated her persistence on using his soap even when he'd brought her lots of pretty perfumed ones, or her terrible table manners, or those bloody bunches that made her look like a little girl, or the way she opened every box of cookies in the pantry to get the ones she liked, which by the way just happened to be the same cookies –he- liked, not to mention she'd never put discs back in the boxes they belonged to. And… she really didn't have to play "Baby got back" on the jukebox over and over and over…

And earlier that day she'd called him… she called him… God, she'd called him Bee. Bee! She did it on purpose, she knew he could tell the difference just by ear and still chose to do it right in his face when he was looking at her so he could see how differently she'd given form to the sounds with her lips. Then she giggled and went straight back to her room, scampering and blowing a huge gum bubble. Oh yes, the same flavor of gum he'd found -with his knee- a couple days earlier under the kitchen table.

Oh, not mention that pink… thing he'd accidentally brought back from her old flat. Oh, he didn't think he could still feel embarrassment at that point of his life. And didn't she know he could hear her? She should have already guessed that even through wooden doors and stone walls, he could hear the buzzing –and- her moans. Did he have batteries? Ha! Of course he had batteries, rechargeable even. What kind did she want? Sure, sure, take them from the office desk. Top drawer, please do not disturb the unpaid bills and the stationery. Idiot!

And didn't she know that he could also… smell her? The little bitch would come out of her room after "playing" with that thing, while he pretended being part of the furniture in the dark of the makeup room; shocked at what seemed a newfound masochistic compulsion to stay right there, letting her manipulate him in such a cheap way. Then she'd go back to her chores as if nothing and yes, he had to admire the skill she used to move around and yet keep her distance.

It was even worse when he was trying to sleep; then everything his drowsy mind could sense was used to weave dreams, all in extraordinary detail. Then he would not be in the makeup room any longer, listening and trying to imagine what was going on being that closed door. In his dreams he was an active participant, a guest to Evey's room where she'd whisper in his ear her wishes and she'd show him exactly how to please her with the pink toy. After he'd begged prettily enough, that is.

But no, morning would come and real life Evey wouldn't do any of that; she'd only let him sense her aura of satisfaction after what she'd done in her room, utterly pleased with having found such stupidly obvious weak spot in his character. Then she'd smile at him knowing far too well that her teasing had an effect on him even if he tried to pretend it didn't.

In one moment of clarity he realized she didn't even have to create new variations to torment him with; he was perfectly capable of doing it himself with the raw materials she'd provided him with and now even his dreams conspired against him, with images that would haunt him and work as fuel to keep him burning for hours and days.

Evey's timing was impeccable and as soon as he seemed to focus on his work once more, she'd deliver another little pill of malice to correct it. At such times all he wanted to do was get it over with, and throw her over the kitchen table to fuck her until she screamed, if only to make her leave him alone.

That lead to another dilemma, he wasn't sure he'd ever done anything of that sort with a partner, which only added to his confusion.

He'd gotten very few positive things from Larkhill; one of them was the extraordinary sensitivity of his skin, regardless of its current state. It was not only for vanity or dramatic purposes that he chose to isolate it so completely with fine fabrics and leather. No, he also did it to contain things, to keep feelings from distracting him.

That had worked perfectly well until a new factor was added to the equation; that of a girl determined to turn his -until then- controlled sexuality against him. He just wasn't ready to be reminded he wasn't equipped to deal with a second adolescence since he'd forgotten his first.

He still retained enough self-imposed discipline to control his impulses when Evey was around and he would wait for the best moment to discreetly disappear behind paintings that concealed doors that lead to narrow passages that ended at his room. His blessed room, he hoped the walls were thick enough and that Evey's ears were not as sensitive as his.

And he was running out of oil.

To his credit, he had never exploded in front of her, not once, which he almost suspected was somehow her intent but what he hated the most, the object where he'd placed all his frustration, what he really wanted to put a bomb in and send to his next victim with a card and a red bow on top wasn't that vibrator with all that sexual charge. No, the focus of all his rage, the symbol of his shame was the stupid teddy bear. Oh yes, how about using that nice coffee-based explosive he had not made in a while…

Then he heard it; little footsteps in the hall coming his way, obviously from Evey's room. He was by then very familiar with the sound. He took one last deep breath and turned around to concentrate on wringing her neck as soon as she was close enough. Poison could take too long. She stopped in the middle of the hall, squinting and quite out of reach. Damn her.

A little hand beckoned him to get closer and the harmlessness of the gesture took him aback. To his surprise, he actually obeyed the gentle command and walked all the way back to where Evey was standing. Apparently she wasn't having a restful night and V silently scorned himself for disturbing her sleep with his pacing. He had noticed since the beginning that she tended to have nightmares and although she'd improved since her arrival, sometimes she'd wake up in the middle of the night scared and confused, not even knowing where she was.

"Is there something wrong, Evey?"

She rubbed her eyes with a small fist and looked up at the mask, with an uncomfortable and tired expression, close to tears judging from her pouting. No, this did not look like one of her childish –then-I'm-not-eating-so-there tantrums, designed to punish him through food when she did not get away with something. She was carrying by one leg the hated bear. She'd found it in a chest at the storage room soon after she'd first arrived. On that day they had looked for things that would make her room more comfortable and upon finding it, she proclaimed it hers.

V supposed it reminded her of another bear, perhaps from her childhood, rather than point at some abnormal behavior. He had felt so guilty for making her stay for a whole year that he would have let her keep a real living bear if she'd found one and he had eccentricities of his own he'd like her to respect as well so Evey kept the bear and no eyebrows were lifted.

Since that day the bear had enjoyed a place of privilege in her bed, resting comfortably on the pillows. Sometimes she'd even pull the covers over it to keep it from chilling, as if a toy needed covers. More than once they'd watched a film with the bear sitting on the leather couch between them. At other times she'd keep it pressed to her chest for hours. He didn't want to think of her hugging it in her sleep. He absolutely loathed the sight of her touching that thing when she could perfectly spend at least a fraction of that time touching… him instead.

There, he had to face the truth. He was glad the mask hid from Evey the fact that he was jealous of a stuffed animal. Stupid bear, he was so very jealous of it.

"Nightmare." She sighed, exhausted but too scared to go back to bed. Evey pressed her forehead to his chest, trying to ease her nerves and at the same time asking for his permission to invade his personal space. Well, that was new. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her half expecting she might still object but she didn't. Evey slid her arms around V's waist and leaned against him with a second sigh, allowing him to comfort her. It was curious to see the other side of that little monster.

"Can I get you anything?" Perhaps she'd want to watch a film or talk. He had deadly drugs he could easily dilute to such minimum concentrations that would make her sleep again without causing habit or harm but she simply hushed him, apparently looking for a more comfortable spot. She pressed her cheek to his chest and moved around a little, obviously not quite satisfied.

At last she found what she was looking for and rubbed her face against him like a kitten marking her territory before settling on the spot she'd picked at last. V didn't know what she was up to but it seemed to be working so he let her do what she thought was best. She felt so small and fragile in his arms, cold. He thought it would be easy to crush her ribs if he squeezed too hard and couldn't repress the thought that if they ever engaged in certain physical activities, he would have to be just as careful. Her tension began to fade little by little and soon she seemed to be stealing from him some of the warmth she lacked. The temperature of his body was always a few degrees higher than the norm and perhaps she just wanted to benefit from the heat he radiated.

It was still a novelty for Evey that his body was so warm, and at first she kept asking him if he was sick. It took some time to convince her that no, he was neither ill nor fevered; his body was just that way and he rather not disturb what seemed to be normal for him, which was mostly the truth, at least after Larkhill, something he wasn't really in the mood to discuss.

Back then it had been amusing to see her frown and then reach out to touch him at different times of day or night, as if she expected the rotation of the planet would make him feel any different. Soon after she'd stopped frowning, once convinced that he'd always feel warm. She still found excuses to keep on touching him after that, when the bloody bear allowed, of course.

She seemed to melt in his arms and after a few minutes a long yawn announced she'd be ready for bed soon. It occurred to V that it was perfectly possibly that she could fall asleep right where she stood and since she had already ordered him to shut up, he decided to do just that and wait.

It was curious that she would let herself go like that, knowing at least to some degree what he was capable of. V wasn't used to such behavior. She was still awake but it wouldn't last much longer, judging by her increasing inability to support her own weight. He squeezed her a bit tighter, telling himself that it was just to keep her from falling and as soon as her knees began to give, he decided the experiment was over and carried her in his arms back to her room.

There, he'd proven his point; it was perfectly feasible to make Evey Hammond fall asleep on her feet. Only… he didn't know exactly how he'd done it.

Too light, he thought. She was still too thin, mostly because of the way she'd been raised, that if you could call "raising" what those bastards of the Reclamation Juvenile Project, did to kids whose parents were dead or missing, with black bags somewhere in the equation most likely.

V didn't need lights to find Evey's bed and as gently as he could, released his precious sleeping cargo over the mattress. He tucked her in and grinned as one vengeful thought crossed his mind; yes, this was the perfect time and she wouldn't be able to stop him, nobody would… He took the bear from her loose grip and silently strangled it before tossing it on the floor, sneering at it.

Not daring to inflict real physical damage to the toy –Evey would notice right away- he checked once more on his guest who now seemed to be sleeping peacefully and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

V was tired, exhausted even. Somehow the little vampire had drained him even of the anger that had kept him going for hours even before he started pacing in the hall or maybe he had been so distracted being mad at her that he had failed to notice his own need for rest and only felt it once the storm was over.

He was still very annoyed and embarrassed for lusting after what now looked like a lost girl he was keeping against her will but it was too late –or early- to try to fix any of that and he didn't want to think either on how close he was to reaching emotional numbness and indifference. He'd think about it in the morning once that throbbing in his temples stopped. The path to his room seemed not to end and the silence around him wanted to tell him a secret. He wanted to hear but he was so tired…

"Pay attention, lad!" The secret found a way to gain his attention and whispered in his ear before he could stop it; then he realized why she'd acted so strangely, why she'd told him to be quiet, and why she'd relaxed so quickly after what had seemed a terrible nightmare. Of course she didn't want to talk, of course she wouldn't ask for drugs; it wasn't even his warmth she'd been after this time. At the end all she wanted, all she needed to feel safe enough to fall asleep in his arms was to listen to his heartbeat.