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(here i am)
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I waited for a good night's sleep. It took as long as expected, since my mistrust for all drugs in general made sleeping pills out of the question. One day, I woke and realized I'd actually made it till dawn. Counted the hours mentally, and decided six hours of solid oblivion was as good a rest as any. I got the Chardonnay out, spread open the thin curtains to herald a new day. I stood on the balcony and watched the sunrise unseeingly. Dominic would be up right about now. My cell was off.
I waited till the champagne pink had bleached out of the sky, and a clear light had filled my apartment. Apprehension made my fingers restless; the wine-glasses clinked delicately as I held them. The illusion of free will, in my hands. All coincidence, God and dice, oh god…
Here I was: sober and level-headed and as alert as I'd ever be. Evey Hammond, Word of London. Evey Hammond, prodigal daughter.
Here I was: pouring a dead man's wine in glasses that weren't mine either. Here I was: Persephone sipping rich promises with shaking fingers, ordinary and inelegant. They call me the Terrorist's Whore when they don't like what I write, did you know that V, did you know…
Here I was: just Evey. Here I am. Come get me.
I tipped the glass back; I drank it all. The glass sang a light note as I put it back on the table. Nothing had changed. The room was silent save for the distant streets, and my heart. I waited: one minute, five. Ten.
Oh… Nothing.
And I felt— I felt relieved, that's all; it was just – just cutting relief…
"When I said one glass, I didn't mean you couldn't take the time to enjoy its bouquet."
My heart leapt high, I whipped around, but I already knew.
V, leaning behind the couch backing, as if he'd every right to be there. More than just a shadow – the morning light didn't allow for that –, his doublet was ordinary dark fabric, no longer night incarnate. It rose and fell with his breathing, with terrible banality.
"Confusion now hath made his masterpiece," V remarked. I snapped my mouth shut.
"You—" I was scrambling up to stand on the couch, all angry knees and elbows, "you—"
"You dare—" I wasn't blinded by my fury; I wanted to believe my eyes too much. Terror, and wild hope - both rising like the panicked flight of birds, but anger above all, because, because—
I launched myself off the couch. I attacked him. He staggered as he caught me but I didn't care – my fists fell on him like a child's against a closed door, demanding entrance, fingers groping and twisting the fabric of his doublet, insistent; he tried to catch my wrist and I lashed out at him, saying something, something, I couldn't hear, you're here, V! I didn't care if I was hurting him, I didn't care, I didn't care; he couldn't defend himself unless he let me fall, and my hands went for his neck, but he must have misread my intent.
"NO! Evey!" The mask jerked back, and his hands tightened fiercely around my waist; I stopped in pained surprise, panting. I realized he thought I was going to rip off his mask, and maybe I should, damn him…
The echo of his name hung like a gasping prayer in the air. Violence smelled like tears.
"How dare you," I said softly. Joy was dangerous. Joy was confirmation. Joy was— "V. This is another of your sick tests, isn't it? You've been here all along. You play dead for over a year just to see what I'll do, and then come back and—"
V was shaking his head. "I would not—"
My stomach twisted. "Wouldn't you?" I said sharply. "I'm not the sadist here, have I ever known how you think?"
He fell silent. I was shaking, or maybe he was. Either way, nothing felt steady. V was here, he had hurt me, I had hurt him, hooray, all's right with the world, and now curtains part to reveal… please…
V set me down carefully. The floorboards felt cool and smooth under my bare feet – they felt real. A thread from his sleeve caught at a fingernail when I refused to let go of his arm; it felt real, too. I could not stand it any longer.
"V, tell me you're here." My voice cracked; I didn't care. I was shaven-head and cut open again, by the tracks, asking a man in mask to stay. "Tell me this is real."
"Evey." He took my hand. It sounded like an apology. He placed my hand on his chest, his own gloved one trapping it palm-down. At first, there was only his heartbeat, only the miracle of life, and joy took me by the throat and despite it all, I started to smile—
Then I felt it. I hissed in a breath. Instinct made me flinch away, but V would not let me. A stench of copper started to pervade, sickly heavy, in the air. And in the unforgiving light of day, something darker was spreading in pools on V's doublet like a disease eating him inside out.
The cloth under my palm felt wet, and sticky.
"Don't fight it," V grated. I looked at him with eyes blank with horror; he did not seem to mind that he was dying again, before my eyes. The mask jerked sharply from side to side in negative, wig splaying – had he always been wearing a cloak? – and my god, I could smell the gunpowder with the blood, the clotted mud, like in my nightmares. And it was impossible, he was here, he was standing— "Evey," he said, and he sounded tired, he was trying to show me somethi – that is the most beautiful thing you could have given me, no, no!— "Stop it," V repeated, and he was trembling under my palm, he was trembling like I'd only felt him do once before, the room was trembling, and I could not – I could not –
It was too fast to be a surprise. One moment, V was shaking with – with what? Pain? Effort? – and the mask looming over me, calling me to look, look, white death in a frozen grin; the next, his hand had pressed against my eyes roughly for a breath of an instant, and I blinked: he was gone.
He was gone.
The air smelled of nothing. Here I was: a room hollow with morning light, one arm stretched into the emptiness. Here I was: fingerprint pebbling around my wrist, pale skin bruising so easily. Here I was: breathless with despair, again; I'd failed him somehow, again. Here I am. You got me.
I had been the one to let go.
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece – Shakespeare
That is the most beautiful thing you could have given me – V4V, movie
Damn loghorrea. It seems length will have to vary for this series. :( Thanks so much for all feedback; much appreciated!