Title: Material Culture

Author: Nemo the Everbeing

Rating: PG

Summary: Every object has significance. The goal of study is to determine what it is. (Finch/Dominic)

Disclaimer: 'V for Vendetta' belongs to Alan Moore and David Lloyd. The theatrical version of the story belongs to Warner Brothers, the Wachowski brothers, and possibly a few other brothers. I don't own any of it, am not a brother, and write this solely for my own pleasure.

oOo oOo Footnote the Fourth oOo oOo

"Goodness, but it has been a while. Dare I hope that you've brought me whiskey?" Delia asks as he walks into the morgue. Her smile is light and teasing. He's missed light and teasing.

"Sorry, Delia. Don't suppose you'd take a body instead?"

She crosses her arms and leans back against the counter. "It doesn't even have the benefit of originality. I thought you might try something a bit better than that."

"Something in line with a single malt?"

"We can start there, yes."

He jabs a finger in her direction and forces the smirk from his face. "You're a corrupting influence, Delia Stanton. I blame the state of my liver on you."

"But it's so very easy," she says, "and so much fun." She sways forward, pushing away from the counter. "It's good to see you smile again, Eric. I was starting to worry about you."

"No need," he says, and it's an automatic response.

She sees through it without a second's thought. "Twaddle. I for one am glad that you're mending bridges with Dominic. You don't have nearly enough friends to go about alienating the few you have."

"Is that an order, Doctor?"

"It's common sense, Inspector. I'm sure you're acquainted with the concept."

"I'm certain I've heard it mentioned in passing."

Finch hears the squeak of the gurney wheels approaching and says, "Sounds like he's here."

The body comes in seconds later, and Delia unzips the bag with the easy finesse of the well acquainted. Then the zip stops halfway down and she stares. He wondered if she would react, and now that he sees her he feels that he should have warned her first.

"Good lord," she whispers. "It's Prothero."

"Yeah," he says.

Her breathing evens out and she shakes her head. "Well, this is a surprise. I can honestly say that I never expected to see this man on my table."

"What? Did the Party convince you he'd never die?"

For a moment it looked like Delia wanted to say something very important, but then she smiled a little and said, "You're terrible, Eric. You really are." Finch hands her the file from the scene and she looks over it. Again there is that odd flicker of something in her expression, and he can't help but wonder if perhaps Delia knew Prothero. He certainly can't account for her behavior otherwise.

"Poison," she says. "I'll take samples. Come back in a few hours, Eric, and I should have more definitive answers for you."

"If only the whole world worked like you do."

She gives him a smile, but it's tight and lost in thought.