She ran down the stairs almost losing her balance and made her escape. It wouldn't be long before Finch came back, so she opened the ground level door and looked both ways before running in the opposite direction Finch went in. She hid in doorframes and alleyways to make sure no one was following. The round-a-bout way to the Gallery would take longer, but it would allow her to remain unnoticed. She ran for a little while and fast-walked the rest of the way, cursing as the forgotten items and necessities came to mind.
It started raining hard; she quickened her pace once more to avoid the torrent, until she reached the protective barrier of Victoria Station. Once inside and down the entrance steps a surprising sense of relief washed over her. Yes, this is where I belong maybe just until things cool down and I can think of what to do and where to go.
She used the keypad for the entrance to the Gallery again and went inside. It felt warm and safe and more like home than she had ever experienced since the death of her parents. She dried the water from her face with her sleeve and walked further.
The only thing that ever made her want to leave was the idea of being a prisoner. She hated that feeling for reasons she didn't quite understand now that it was all over. V tried to protect them both in the only way he knew. He saved her life more than once and yet she felt trapped and helpless. She did not like to feel controlled or restrained no matter how dangerous things became. In her heart, she was a free spirit living a lie out of fear and submission. Now inside the Gallery, she faced the burden of her existence in the abhorrent world above and the isolation and memories below.
Evey stopped in the middle of the Gallery and fell to her knees. She clutched her abdomen and strained against despair. Tears blurred her vision. She tried to repress them to no avail. Her weeping became inconsolable and ruthless. She was tired of grieving and so irate now that V purposefully left her to deal with this world on her own left her with the residual sting of his revenge, and wailed anew with the understanding. Then stopped and sat motionless staring into the air.
The distant clock ticked in the silence, and joined with the gentle hum from the light fixture on the wall.
Wiping her face dry with her palm, she picked herself up from the stone floor and sat on the piano bench. Her attention went immediately to fumbling with the piano keys and playing scales as best she could. The one piano key in the scale of G, previously out of tune, now rang perfectly. She hit it again. It was definitely the one out before. Evey abandoned the perplexity, turned her attention to the hallway. She rose from her seat.
With more time to look around, she remembered to look for a flashlight before going in. After rummaging, she found a small pen light in a kitchen drawer. It was a small amount of light, but it would do. She headed straight for the rose room, but turned on the flashlight beforehand to examine the carved wood doors and frame. It was a story carved into wood.
There was the London skyline in flames and faces of those in awe of what they were visualizing, engulfed by those flames. She touched the image of a woman's face that carried a fearful expression, her hair long with curls that melded into roses, each one larger than the last. The rose vines wrapped intricately around the door in the frame and resembled delicate art instead of a functional entryway. She understood the woman. A representation of herself and the things she witnessed. She snapped off the flashlight.
Closing her eyes, Evey pushed the doors by the knobs. The sound of the lighting and the smell of roses enchanted her once more, this time with a feeling of comfort like an old friend. Oh the fragrance. Intoxicating. Tempting.
Crimson colored velvet curtains guarded something beyond. And pulling one side of the curtains, she let herself in then let the curtain fall behind. Complete darkness. She switched the flashlight beam directly in front.
She was startled to see herself, looking back at herself. The room smelled of turpentine and she slanted her head beholding an oil painting of herself in various transitions. In what looked like a child to womanhood in the facial expression. The likenesses were unbelievably real and so different from one another. The top of the painting showed visions of her with hair, to what she looked like today; shaven, mature, aware. Beautiful.
The flashlight beamed to some of the other paintings in the room, all done by the same artist. All done by V. His signature, his circular letter V, graced the corner of each painting in its unmistakable pattern. There were paintings of London. People he must have witnessed in various stages of poverty and despair. He painted with vibrant beauty as if he could see the infinite possibilities of each life portrayed. Their eyes reflected hope and upon seeing them, Evey suddenly understood the idea of retribution. And what it meant to her champion.
The more she searched for him and the more she found, the more she understood. The more she loved. It was as if he purposefully left this beautiful legacy for her senses to find and behold, and yet it left her evermore void. It was too much to bear. She backed out of the curtained room and turned towards the exit. The small hidden door captured her attention and she headed for it at once. Reaching into her pocket and fishing for the keys, it worked, on the first try.
Fertilizer and other chemical containers lined the room on both sides. There were large rolls of wire neatly stacked in one corner. Knives, swords, crossbows, battleaxes. All different shapes and sizes hung on the walls in size order. Evey felt uncomfortable and didn't wish to look anymore. She shut the door and locked it behind her.
Love for violence left her alone and made her childhood agonizing, had almost raped her, was responsible for the deaths of friends and loved ones; it tainted her innocence forever. She hated violence and everything it represented. She would never condone it, not for anyone. Evey had had enough, wanting nothing more than a hot bath and something to eat.
She grabbed the suitcase, went to her room, and opened it on the bed. Finch's card fell to the floor. She picked it up to read as she undressed. The card read "Chief Inspector" under the name and had the official insignia of England with the slogan "Strength through Unity, Unity through Faith" written across the top. How long had Finch kept his feelings to himself about Norsefire? How long had he lived a lie?
She walked naked to the bathroom with her clothing in hand. Evey wrapped herself in a towel she found under the sink, and turned on the bath water. Baths calmed her when she was feeling any kind of stress. The hot water and steam helped her relax.
The water ran into the tub and the events of the day and of the fifth came to mind. It didn't make sense that someone so vivacious and full of life would condemn himself to death. He was comfortable in the skin he created.
She stood and went into the tub, testing the water first for the right amount of heat. Somehow, no matter how the water felt, it was too hot when she first sat. Wincing, she let the steam and heat take over lowering herself into the water. She took a deep breath and shut the water off.
That was when she heard the music.
Her face flushed with heat. Her mouth dropped. She sprinted out of the water and put her tank and sweats on without drying. Fear crawled up her spine like the haunting touch of a specter that wanted something from her. What, she had no idea. She opened the door and staggered through the hall to the Wurlitzer, the rhythmic sound of a heart pounded so loud, it drowned out the music. Evey clutched the stone wall and braced herself.
"Cry Me a River" played softly. Hands reached out to touch the glass. Those same hands felt for the vibrations, the music, and the authenticity; anything that her own perception could seek to keep her in reality. Then a small black and red object stood erect atop of the jukebox. She recognized it at once. The Domino. It couldn't be! Grabbing it between her thumb and forefinger, she examined it.
"How beauteous mankind is! Oh brave new world that has such people in it," she murmured, not turning around.
The sound of footsteps from leather boots behind her slowed and halted.
"Hello, Evey."