Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Bringing an unconscious girl back to the Shadow Gallery was more difficult than V had imagined… Or rather, not imagined but anticipated. After all, he had never considered bringing anything but stolen goods home with him. Compared to the wares that he pilfered from the government supply trains, Evey was as light as a feather. But the Devil had had his turn and was now recognizable by every television-watching bloke (not to mention every copper) in London, it was much harder to travel unnoticed, in broad daylight, with a lifeless girl flopping about on his shoulder.

It took V almost twice as long to get back to the Shadow Gallery as it would typically were he alone. Every time he leapt from one roof to the next, every time he felt Evey's limp form fall against his back, he was reminded of the blow to her head. Once they were safe inside the enveloping darkness of the Underground, he stopped to check her. She had a lovely gash on her forehead. Beautiful, he thought, in its design and cause. From where he was crouched beside her, it looked like a red, fiery V. The fair skin around it was swollen and inflamed. It was deep and would leave a scar, he could tell. A noble act for his cause. For him. Absolutely beautiful and absolutely not coincidental.

There was not more than a smear, the other remnants of blood undoubtedly soaked up by his doublet. He touched her wound gently and lifted the mask a bit to bring his finger to his mouth. He did not taste blood. Good. She was no longer bleeding. He gently lifted her eyelids to check her pupils, which he could easily see despite the blackness of the tunnels. They were not uneven, and her respiration and pulse were normal. She was fine for now. He picked her back up and carried her slowly through the darkness into the shadows of his home.

To his own room, V brought her and laid her down upon his bed. It was awfully alluring to be able to lay such a beautiful young woman in his bed, a dream he had infrequently granted himself, but which was ruined now by completely different intentions and bashful self-justifications. The lighting is good here, he told himself as he stood over her. He needed to tend to her wound and she would need sleep in due time, especially if she had concussed. He knew of no better, nor a more comfortable place to rest and recover than in his own bed. And in that very instant, he realized that it would never be his bed again, all hope squandered as the harsh kick of reality struck him. He would never again have casual admittance to that room after tonight. He sighed and turn to the door, heading for the infirmary. He would to tend her and then move his personal effects elsewhere before she awoke.

V returned to his… Evey's room a few minutes later to find her turned over onto her stomach. He felt himself smile weakly as he set what few supplies he had brought with him aside and sat next to her. "Miss Hammond?" he asked as he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, then quickly removed it.

"The lights are so bright," returned the feeble, pained voice.

"I know but I must keep them on for now. Can you turn over so that I can have a look at you, please?" He spoke slowly and clearly, hoping she would hear his words through the headache he knew must be plaguing her. "I need to see your eyes."

She turned over slowly, her eyes closed tight against the light, a hand on her forehead. "Can you not talk so damn loud?" she pleaded, her words slurring together and ending in a pitiful groan as she did what he requested.

V chuckled and replied with but a whisper, "Since you asked politely."

Evey smiled softly and tried her best to sit up, though she promptly laid herself back down again. "Oof… Dizzy." She covered her eyes with her forearm and sighed.

"I need to see them, Miss Hammond," he said, forgetting to lower his volume again. "Please," he then added quietly after another complaint. He moved up the bed a little bit and, as she opened her eyes, he shined a penlight into them. Her pupils dilated normally, and were very even in their dilation. "Good, good," he muttered softly, then turned to the bedside table and took from it a few cleaning swabs.

"You may close your eyes now, Miss Hammond. I--"

"It's Evey." She protested, staring into the dark slits of the mask with an intensity that startled him. This was not the same frightened girl that he had met the night before. No, this was the fearless woman who had faced and assaulted a detective only a few hours earlier. He felt strangely proud… though worried.

"Alright, then, Evey. You may close your eyes. I'm going to clean your forehead."

"Alright. Ouch! Bloody hell, that hurts!"

"My apologies. I should have warned you first." She was irritable, which was both a good and a bad sign. She was not in shock, that was certain. She could feel pain. However, it was her choice of words that concerned him. It seemed uncharacteristic for this shy, soft-spoken girl to utter swears even as light as these, but then again he barely knew her. He would have to check her more carefully. She had already proven that she knew her own name… "Tell me, Evey. Do you know what day it is?"

"Is it any different than the last time you asked me?"

V paused, dabbing the wound for a moment while she hissed in pain. Clever girl. "No, I suppose it is not. What day was that, though?" He had to be sure.

"November… Wasn't the fourth. The fifth, isn't it? Remember, remember--"

"The fifth of November," they finished in unison.

"Very good. I believe it is safe to say that you are not suffering from a head trauma," he told her, "merely a headache and a cut forehead. Although, I shouldn't be surprised if you forget this conversation, or the day altogether."

Evey shushed him, apparently still ailed by the volume of his voice. She was fine cognitively; her attitude only seemed a bit displaced. Then again, she was in a fair amount of pain, and he had yet to give her any thing to relieve it.

"One more thing before I let you back to sleep… Would you like a pain killer to take the edge off?"

Her eyes opened up again, then shut immediately with a groan. "Cor… Please. Knock me out or something."

V obliged and gave her as much acetaminophen as he thought suitable, perhaps under dosing a bit, as he had never had to administer non-lethal drugs to anyone except himself. "I will return to check on you in a few hours. Sleep well, Eve." He smiled behind the mask. "If you need anything, call for me." He then stood to leave.

"Wait… Could-- Would you stay until I fall asleep?"

V gazed down at her, clenching his fists nervously while he considered his answer. "Certainly. Excuse me for a moment, and I will return." With a book in one hand and a chair in the other, he sat down beside the bad a few minutes later, turned on the bedside lamp and began to read to her. "The Faraway Tree, by Enid Blyton."

Later, V went about quietly removing his things from her new room. Evey slept soundly, waking up every now and again to have a bit of idle, confused chit chat.

"Where am I?"

"You are in the Shadow Gallery."

"Huh?"

Then later…

"Daddy?"

V didn't reply at first. "Evey? I am here."

"Would you read that story again? I really liked it."

And later again…

"Where am I?"

The next day Evey awoke to the sound of music; the gentle tinkling of a piano…

It came back to her, albeit slowly. "Cor, what have I done? I maced that detective. Why'd I do that?" The gentle murmurs of the man before her made her head throb even worse.

"I think I should go."

"You said they were looking for you…"

I did? When? What in the world is going on? Ahh… Christ, my forehead! "Why didn't you just leave me alone?!"

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The Faraway Tree by Enid Blyton