Disclaimer: I don't own V for Vendetta or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside. See original chapter for a complete set of disclaimers and other story related information.

Warnings:. This story is a few chapters away from completion, thus this chapter will contain a noticeable shift in content. (ie: more slash) So, if you have somehow managed to make it this far without realizing that this is a slash story, and such content offends you, you might wanna swan off or risk being converted by the hawtness! Hee!

Authors Note #1: Please read and review. I am excited to see what you all think. I am open to comments, advice, and constructive criticism. This is my first V for Vendetta story so I am looking for constructive feedback.

Words will Always Retain their Power

Chapter 6 – "Audaces fortuna iuvat - -"

For a while it appeared as though he was being pointedly ignored. The man refused to meet his eyes, focusing solely on the task in front of him with a level of dogged determination that would have probably made him proud, save for the fact that this time it was being used on him. And inappropriate thoughts or not, he knew that he would trade more then he would ever willingly admit, simply to coax a smile back onto the man face again.

But at the same time, he knew the man well enough by now to know that there was little ill will behind it. Dominic was merely frustrated. Indeed in of itself, the tic flexing along the dip that marked left side of the man's jaw stood out like a giant neon sign to his partners agitated state of mind.

And the truth was, he wasn't faring much better..

He took the hint however and remained silent, putting a lid on his questions and letting the man collect his scattered thoughts. Instead he watched Dominic work, distantly taking in the man's fluid movements as he ran his fingers along his skin, seemingly caressing the edges of the battered cuts as he cleaned. And as he sat back, mindless of way the edges of his seat were beginning to dig into the flesh of his upper thighs, he was inanely fascinated by the tumultuous nature of his own thoughts.

He was a right mess and he knew it.

Trepidation, frustration, discomfort, irritation, confusion, and even a small twang of hope all strummed together in his tired breast. But as the silence stretched on, the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise as possibility after possibility cycled through his tired brain, confused and unwelcome.

Was what Dominic had come to say that terrible? Or- Oh Christ…Did he know? He hadn't even considered that till now. Bloody fucking hell! What if he did know? What if he was leaving because of it? What if he-

He was rescued from the depths of his growingly fatalistic thoughts just then however, when Dominic wiped a swab of antiseptic clear across the span of the open wound. Shit. It hurt more then it probably should have, more then he had expected at any rate. And he couldn't help but curse beneath his breath as the painful sting pierced through his muddled thoughts. Nose twitching violently as the sharp, acidic tang of the medicinal brew offended his senses. He might have even reared back, the sudden pain made unexpected and jarring with his distraction, save for the fact that Dominic still had the span of his ruined fist gathered firmly in his gentle, but insistent grip.

"Sorry, sorry.." Dominic murmured. His partner's fingers noticeably tensing around the offending cotton swab as his uninjured fist clenched, scrabbling against the table top as he fought to control the pained grunt that threatened to fly from his lips. The lines of the man's mouth dipped downwards as he readjusted his stance, still hunched over the table between them, straining awkwardly to reach him as he began daubing at the area again. Only this time the motion was feather light and timid, coming across more like a gesture of good will, despite the continued absence of words, then anything else.

He couldn't help but inhale as the man leaned in. Dominic smelled like starched collars and the rain, with the weak, almost untraceable scent of day old aftershave and faded sweat still lingering around the base of his neck, flirting with his nape in an enticing mixture. It was Dominic, pure and simple. Familiar yet explosively erotic in it's own daft little way..

Though he had to admit, grudging school boy infatuation aside, they were smells that now mingled strangely with the tart, barely discernable tang of cordite and charred metal that had buried deep into the mans clothes, indication in itself of just where his partner had spent the waning hours of the fifth. It was a scent that he remained decidedly uncertain about. It was unfamiliar and new despite its connotations. And he wondered vaguely if he'd ever get used to it.

It could not be denied however that the man smelt alive….All but thrumming with a calibre of sensation that he swore would be the end of him. He was getting too damned old for this type of adolescent tomfoolery!

The awkward silence returned as Dominic began finishing up. Bandaging the wound with an over indulgent amount of fuss that he tolerated for a few needless moments before he raised a pointed eyebrow and slowly pulled away. He needed a level head for this. Control.

Rising from his chair, he pointedly ignored the obscene sucking noise that came when the warm flesh of his inner thigh stuck to the surface of the plastic covered chair, ignoring his discomfort as he flexed his fist under the snug bandage. Testing it's give until he was completely satisfied that it wouldn't hinder his mobility any more then was needed; he shifted in place, looking the man straight in the eye before speaking.

"What is all this about then Dominic?"

The man didn't answer right away. Instead he straightened slowly, pushing the basin and kit to one side before threading his hands in his braces and leaning back in his chair. His expression decidedly closed off, visibly mulling over his words before speaking them aloud.

"..Look…" He began, the word coming out choppy and tentative. It was so unlike Dominic that the word in itself was enough to give him pause, tension building in the base of his shoulders at the awkward absence of words. This wasn't like Dominic. Not for a man to whom words had always flowed easily and uninhibited. The mere thought sent his discomfort soaring. This just wasn't right..

"..A while back, before all of this.." The man continued. An expressive arm flung wide, gesturing across the room as if to encompass everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours in his point.

"You once asked me to listen, you said you didn't care if I answered or not, but that you needed to say it…You needed to get it out. To make it real I suppose. I want to ask that of you now. No strings, no obligations or expectations. I just need to you to listen." Dominic finished, peering out at him from behind long lashes, his normally expressive hazel eyes going worrisomely shuttered.

He swallowed hard, sensing the importance that lingered just underneath the surface of the man's words. Part of him wanted to shout at the man to just be out with it already, the suspense all but killing him. Another wanted to send the man out the door without another word, frightened of the consequences if he let the man have his say. While another part, far more dominant then the rest stood frozen. Not having the first clue as to what to do. And in the end, that option seemed to win out, because after a long, jagged beat he fixed the man with a piercing look before he finally nodded, stomach roiling uncomfortably.

"..Of course Dominic." He finally replied. Refusing to acknowledge the sudden chill that pervaded the thin nature of his bed clothes, winding up from his bare feet to prickle up along his calves, not to subtly reminding him that boxer shorts were not exactly appropriate attire outside of the comforts of ones bed.

"Look." The man began again, his tone almost apologetic as he ran a hand through his hair in visible frustration. "With all that had happened I just need to get this out." Dominic continued, blowing out a long breath as he angled his head back towards him. Almost missing the last part entirely when the man's low, barely discernable voice added, "And damn the consequences."

He forced himself to hold still, absorbing the heady chill from the kitchen floor. Pathetically grateful for the small distraction the sensation provided. Because despite the severity of the moment, he couldn't help but hearken back to the contents of Valerie's letter, and how ridiculously similar they both sounded with the utterance of that small, rather unassuming little phrase.

A sudden flash of color fitted across his minds eye as a half formed scene convalesced in the backdrop, all tempered darkness and smooth corners. And for a long moment, he wondered what Ruth might have looked like..

"When I graduated from the Academy I had my choice of positions. You know I was even offered a position in the Finger.. Not that I would have ever taken it mind you." He added hurriedly, nose wrinkling perceptively as he spoke, as if he had smelt something particularly offensive. The Finger generally provoked that kind of reaction in everyone. As if there was something invariably filthy about the word itself..

"But despite that… Bleedin' hell Inspector, I mean you had to wonder why I stayed? Why year after year with no chance of promotion.. Out of all the other positions I was offered, that I insisted on staying here. With you?" The man said, face imploring.

…Ah..

When he didn't immediately respond, the man continued, his words gaining momentum until it was akin to witnessing a train wreck. Awkward and suspenseful, and your half convinced you should look away, if only for proprieties sake, but you never quite manage it.

"At first I didn't know what to make of you. You were so full of contradiction. A party member for twenty seven years, but you weren't like them, even with all the party meetings and tosh, you didn't play their games. You didn't..well let's face it Inspector, you never seemed to buy into it.." The man remarked frankly, pausing for moment to collect his thoughts before pressing on, apparently oblivious to the emotional carnage his words were wrecking.

"You always seemed to care about the truth. About justice and morality no matter how screwed up things were. You weren't like them." He repeated, turning to stare at him, his gaze piercing, yet not unkind.

But he flinched unbidden as the truth of the statement hit him like a head on collision. He had never considered how his actions might have looked in the eyes of another, having been far to preoccupied at the time with maintaining the delicate balance between the law and the party order. Brooding over all the things he could no longer do, all the injustices and crimes being committed under the false names of freedom and national security. Haunted all the while by the pleading cries and silent, accusing faces of all the people that he couldn't save.

"Your point Dominic?" He replied gruffly, pushing the feelings down severely as he struggled to absorb the sheer depth of what the man was saying. This wasn't what he had expected. And even then, what had he ever done to deserve such unswerving faith and loyalty? He had only ever done his job. And after Norsefire, more often then not, he couldn't even do that properly. Not with the likes of Sulter and Creedy in charge at any rate.

Though it was all empty thoughts and observations in the end, because as undeserved as such convictions were, the fact that Dominic believed them was cause enough for a surge of warmth to flood through him. Like that first cup of coffee on a particularly loathsome morning..

But the man only stared at him incredulously, like he had entirely missed the point he had been trying to get across, making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat when he let the silence speak in his stead.

The man broke away from his seat in favour of pacing, not even seeming to notice when the towel still slung over his shoulder slipped to the floor. Pooling in gentle cotton waves across the light blue kitchen tiles until it was kicked away by his carelessly pacing feet.

"Things just got so bollucked up." The man muttered, turning away abruptly as a clenched fist came up to rest against the side of the refrigerator, his breathing audible despite the widening distance between them, coming out harsh and far too loud in the close space. And while he didn't know exactly what the man had meant by the words, he could certainly guess.

"It is just with everything that has happened I refuse to believe that I cannot have this. I refuse to believe in that lie anymore! That love is subjective. That it has limits, that it can be wrong. Because it bloody well isn't. It's can't be." The man stated, whirling back around to face him, his hands going wild and expressive as they gestured through the air once again.

"And you know what Inspector? I refuse to let myself miss this chance. For better or for worse..I have wasted far too much time waiting already." The man all but spat, an expression of determination suddenly shifting across his features, as if he had only just came to some sort of decision inside himself.

He couldn't help but gape at him; half convinced that one of them had gone entirely around the bend, just not entirely sure which of them it was. It was rather hard to tell given the circumstances..

He swallowed thickly, taking an aborted step forward, angling towards the man before his limbed seized again, forced into a sort of agitated stillness as his mind went traitorously blank. What could he say? What did the man mean by-…

The moment had dragged on for far too long already. He could feel it like a pressure building in his chest, squeezing down like a vice until it hindered his very breath. It felt as though it had been stretching on, breathless and full, not for minutes or hours, but for decades.

It couldn't go on. It had to stop. Only he didn't know how.

The laws of physics claim that any object, if placed under due force and duress for an allotted period of time must eventually give, buckling under the pressure of the superior force as the laws of gravity and force so proclaim. Ironically psychologists say something remarkably similar about the constructs of the human mind. Much the same way as lovers do when faced with the limitations and inherent failings of the human heart.

In the end it was always the same. Something had to give.

In his youth, back when such forward thinking things were still being actively published, he had read an article, the title and author long since forgotten, that had detailed how a person will generally have one moment of absolute, defining clarity in their lifetime. This is a moment that goes beyond a simple epiphany and instead explodes out of the realm of ones conscious and unconscious thoughts, laying to waste all foundations, and self made barriers built to stand in it stead. Growing until it is a force that can either consume everything you are, everything that you define yourself as. Or it can be captured, taken inside, moulded and used, to the benefit of its recipient.

He knew instinctively that this was that one defining moment. The only one he would ever have. Because as defining as the juncture had been, it hadn't been that moment in his office, confronted by the damning evidence of the governments crimes, anymore then it had been the moment where he had lowered his gun, muzzle angling down towards the worn concrete, the faded color standing out remarkably stark against the violent wash of color streaming out from the subway car, knowingly letting the world change.

Because that moment was now. He could feel it.

.. Dominic.

The answer was right there, within his reach. So close, closer then it had ever been before and yet for some reason he was still frozen. Useless. Unable to bring himself to move past that first insurmountable step.

But perhaps in the end that step wasn't really his to take. Not alone at least. Because it appeared as though unlike himself, Dominic had no such qualms, least not anymore.

In retrospect he realized sometime later that he had actually seen it happen, the moment where the decision had been made, where caution and doubt were thrown to the wind in favour of the gift they had all been given in the dying hours of the fifth. Hope.

A second chance..

The man had just completed a blistering, harried circuit around the kitchenette, feet stomping audibly against the tiles like a nervous race horse pressing against the starting gate. It wasn't until the man was halfway between the oven and the pantry door that he caught his gaze, face twisting, desperate and hopeful all at once before the floodgates finally tore open.

Because before he could even internalize the movement, Dominic was already snapping forward, the action sharp and almost faster then the eye could follow, like the moment a tautly pulled elastic band is released.

"Oh bugger it!" The man exclaimed, lurching forward. Knocking a chair askew as he arrowed towards him, a streak of charcoal black suit tails and ruddy skin set against the soft, but growing light of the morning. And if he had had the presence of mind to analyze it, he might have realized that he knew that tone. It was the tone of voice that rang out just before the man was about to do something inexplicable stupid, dangerous, or possibility even both at the same time.

Unsure of what was coming he didn't even have a chance to put his hands up. Because before he could react the man was all over him, breaching the last few inches left between them. Fingers scrabbling across his skin, inadvertently raking across his chest as the man's hand sought purchase against the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The action pulling a strangled grunt of pleasure through his clenched teeth, his nerve endings singing from the feel of blunt nails scoring across his skin, unable to help himself when the coarse, base sound echoed in the thickening air.

And then, almost like an after thought, gunpowder and napalm sizzled across his lips.

…Oh.

The man kissed like a last chance. He didn't know any other way of describing it then that. But it was all moot point in the end anyway. Because all he knew was…Yes. God yes.

He felt like he had just run twenty miles. Either that or he was slowly having a stroke. It was hard to tell.

And for one heart stopping moment it didn't even matter that the man had entirely missed his lips. Instead delivering a sloppy, chaste little kiss somewhere slightly off center of his lips, flirting around the very edge of his jawbone before the man pulled away, his lips slowly sliding along his skin, sparking down the length of his stubble strewn cheek as he fell away.

The man had retreated only minutely by the time his brain had a chance to catch up. Standing sheepish, flushed with embarrassment, and perhaps even pleasure a few steps away. With the sudden absence of his presence, as frenetic and short lived as it had been, somehow felt akin to a loss.

The man's lower lip was pinned brutally between his teeth, worrying the reddened flesh in a way that had to be painful. His hazel eyes made dark with a level of tension that he could practically feel, vaporous and heady in the air between them.

And yet, in spite of it all, the man's chin was up, defiant and strong, as if daring him to say something. Anything. Daring him to say that this hadn't been what he had wanted all along. And he felt remarkably as though if he hadn't been taken with the man already, that that sight alone could have been enough to do it all over again. God. Dominic..

Concentrating on remembering how to breathe had never seemed more difficult.

His tongue darted out to chase the sweat beginning to bead along the edges of his lips, the silence stretching again, infinite, yet false in its perceived longevity. Because regardless of the outcome, this ended now.

"Dominic..I-" He broke off, words trailing off half formed and mangled when he realized that he had no idea how to express his thoughts. He didn't know how he could say that he didn't know if he could do this. That he didn't know if he should.

"I know…trust me. I know." The man murmured. And somewhere in between the words and the action he must have missed when the man moved, because suddenly there were fingers trailing down his shoulder blade, the movement gentled with a soft flurry of touch. Fabric hushing against fabric, too soft to be label as even a tentative grind..at least not yet, even as the intimate press of fingers pebbled across the collar of his shirt, just skimming the barrier of where cloth met skin.

..And weirdly enough, he believed that Dominic did.

There was a line etched across the lower part of Dominic's chin. It was a creased pressure line that unlike the others that had littered his face when he arrived, nervous and jittery on his front porch, being deeper and far more prominent had yet to fade. He knew without asking that it was the outlining edge of the same Fauxian mask that every single member of the police detachment had been ordered to hand over as evidence mere hours after they were first delivered. And he couldn't help but wonder, the thought seeming rather absurd and inappropriate considering the circumstances, if Dominic had already stashed his in the backseat of the car as he drove him to the Underground, or if he had doubled back to the office to grab it afterwards, driving part of the way to Parliament in order to catch up with the marching hordes.

And with more deliberation then he could ever remember rendering on such a simple thing, he let his hand rise from where it had been hanging loose and indecisive by his side. The effort of the motion was unimaginable as he let the fingers of his gauze bound palm trace carefully along that edge, following the line as it curved up the man's chin and cheeks, until it reached the height of his eyes and disappeared into the thickness of his hairline altogether.

It was intimately shocking what he could discern from touch alone. He could feel every arch, every angle, dip, and subtle imperfection as his fingers skimmed the outline of the man's face. He could feel the tingling rasp of stubble as it scorched across the lightly calloused pads of his fingers. Hell, even the thin, long healed nicks of a few decades worth of razor cuts that pebbled across the mans chin and upper neck were made tangible, making the course of his exploration jarring as his fingers mapped the sudden switch between harsh stubble and smooth, paper thin scars. He could even feel the tension vibrating up through the muscles in his partners face, tendons and sinews flexing in response to his touch.

And his fingers only grew bolder. Greedy...Learning as they went.

But perhaps what was more telling was when the line stopped, melding into the relative obscurity of the man's thick brown hair, and his fingers had no where left to go, his hand did not leave the mans face. Instead they continued, his fingers skidding through a patch of sweat gathering at the man's temples, fingers suddenly slick against the man's skin.

He wasn't sure which of them made that small, barely perceptible noise in response, the sensation as heated as it had been unexpected. Maybe both of them.

But he shushed the man regardless. Pressing a thick, crooked finger against the man's dry, wind chapped lips. Fearing that if either one of them made a sound now, the moment would be broken and they would fall back into the same absurd, painfully awkward holding pattern they had been stuck in before. One with a distinct lack of any actual 'holding' if he was being honest..

His fingers paused as they alighted across the span of the man's lips. As if considering. And he actually felt the moment where Dominic stopped breathing, expelling his last lungful of air sharply through his nose as his eyes locked on his face. And this time he met them, refusing to look away. His fingers felt light, yet somehow steady against the yielding surface of the mans lips, Dominic's tongue peeking out the slightest of millimetres, as if not quite daring to dart out, and lave against the calloused pads of his finger tips. He shivered violently as the man's tongue made another bold, yet, aborted move, skirting around the very edge of his lips, so close that he could feel the eddies of disturbed air as they unfurled against his skin.

..He wondered suddenly if the man would taste like charred gunpowder and flash burned fuses. The taste of change…Or would he simply taste as he properly should, of the man he had know for over six years. Dominic...

They stayed the way for some time. The space between them filled only with the sound of their harsh, trepidation tempered breathing as it echoed out far too loud admist the half lit darkness of his small kitchenette.

That was when it happened..

That was the moment when he realized he was tired of waiting. Tired of being too much of a coward to try for what he bloody well wanted. Tired of the nameless bodies washing up along the moors or found half buried miles past the quarantine zone, tired of the government, all the petty hatred, bigotry and fear. But most of all, he was tired of the mockery of a life he had forced himself into living. He was tired of the compromise he had made.

An abstemious compromise that went against everything he was, everything he believed, simply for the small comfort of holding down a steady job and keeping the shell he had the gall to call a life!

..Well, he had finally had enough. And the recognition of that determination was as burning as taking a clip of mace in the face. Perhaps it was time to succumb.. To peel away that last barrier of fear and insecurity, to take that chance and for once leave everything bare. To leave himself accessable..vunerable for the sake of that chance. That hope..

The thought in itself felt far more like relief then he was comfortable with, but he decided that he meant it all the same. It was the feeling that mattered. The decision.

And after a long moment, feeling far more exposed..far more defenceless then he could ever remember feeling in his entire bloody life, he took a step forward.. And then another. And another until he had the man crowded against the wall. Until he was so close to Dominic's face that all he could see out of the corner of his eye was the shell-shocked whites of the man's eyes going round and full, mouth moving silently, words failing them both.

In the end he still didn't know where the courage had come from. Because even as he felt something fundamental and expansive within himself shatter, he cast everything else side. All of his doubts, all of his fears, every needless inch of himself until he was all that was left. Stripped bare of everything save for the very core of him. Until he was blind to all else but the sight of Dominic standing, edgy and defiant a mere few feet away from him

And he'd be damned if he didn't yard the man right back into his arms. Kissing him soundly as he finally dug his fingers into the man's meticulously parted hair just like he had always wanted too, the scent of singed dynamite and charred ozone blasting through the air between them. Thick and intoxicatingly heavy in much the same way as when the air holds still, anticipatory and charged in the final seconds before the first lightening strike of spring.

Ferocious, yet unexpectedly welcome.

Glossary: Chapter Title is Latin for: "Fortune favours the bold.."

A/N: Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! If you took time to read it, please let me know your thoughts. This is how I go about improving my writing.