So, you have to take so much of the medical stuff in this chapter on faith. Suspend your disbelief. I apologize if this scenario seems completely unfeasible, but it was the most feasible possibility in my brain.

Oh, and seeing as how I pull directly from the movie in this chapter, obligatory statement: Not mine, don't own it, and make no money.

Chapter 8

"There's no tree waiting for me. All I want, all I deserve is at the end of that tunnel."

"That's not true."

And she pressed her lips to his. He felt her through the mask, her breath heating him. His hands gripped her waist, and V felt the curve of her, and it stopped his heart. He wished he could do it, run away. But V the symbol knew that what had begun could not be stopped. That he owed it to this world to follow through on what he had promised.

He looked in to her large, beautiful, open eyes and felt his love for her in every nerve of his body. She was worth it, this death waiting for him, if only to give her a chance at true freedom. So his eyes caressed her behind his mask, and he knew it was time.

"I can't." escaped his mouth, and he turned away. He moved quickly, to make sure he didn't waver. His feet kept him moving forward, so he could see the last of his plot through to the very end.

Evey felt her breath escape her, and only then realized she had stopped breathing. He was gone. She stumbled back, feeling a mixture of numbness and agony, the pain of goodbye ripping through her. He was gone, and she didn't know if he would come back at all, let alone if he would survive. She closed her eyes, feeling the coolness of her lips where she had kissed him. That mask, that barrier to him, that smile ever present as she asked him to stay. I can't. And he couldn't, but she couldn't stop her self from wanting it anyway. She leaned in the doorway to the Shadow Gallery, looking into the tunnel, and seeing only his face.

A clock chimed, and she leaned into the room just inside, looking for the time. She found what she guessed was his "Mud Room." Tools and shovels lay in racks against the far wall. In front of her lay hooks with hats, masks, and his customary cloaks hanging. His boots lay below, lined neatly against the wall. On the other side showed TV screens, lit green with night vision, showing parts of the tunnel. Pots of roses were everywhere, giving the room a romance, red contrasting with the green lights of the monitors. In the corner stood a grandfather clock, showing it to be 11pm. An hour to go. An hour until she must make a choice whether of not to pull that lever.

Evey knew there was no choice. She knew what she would do. She would not have his work and his sacrifice be in vain. She would do it without hesitation.

Still just in the doorway, she chose to go further down the hall, to a door she had seen at the bottom of the steps that lead to the main floor of the Gallery. She knew that door. She had opened it once and ascended the steps, not knowing where she was going, only following the light. She saw a light switch on the wall, and flipped it. She opened the door, and found herself in a cold, concrete hallway. This was the prison, her place of torture, and she took a moment to feel a stab of hatred. She didn't direct it at V anymore, she just felt it. She knew it all was an accurate impression of what Gordon must have gone through. She smiled at the memory of his face, and knew she would think of him when she set that train in motion. She would do it for him, for her family, for V and Valerie, and she would do it gladly. He truly had given her a gift.

To her left stood the dummy, Victor, dressed as a guard and hooked to the wall. She touched him lightly, and left the room. It was time to wait.

"V! Oh we have to stop your bleeding."

"Oh please don't, I'm finished, and glad of it."

"Don't say that."

"I told you only truth. For twenty years I sought only this day, nothing else existed. Until I saw you, and everything changed. I fell in love with you, Evey. Like I had no longer believed I could."

"I don't want you to die."

"That's the most beautiful thing you could have given me."

"V!" she felt his name pour out of her, released like her tears, desperate. "V!" And she buried her head in his chest and sobbed for the man she loved.

As she cried her tears out, she felt his torso hitch, a shallow breath sucked in, another pushed out, labored and slow. But he did not respond to her cries. She looked around, at a loss for what to do. Wiping her tears from her eyes, irritated at their distortion of her vision. She looked back at him, and made up her mind. Fuck his noble death. She had work to do.

Her feet had never carried her faster. She didn't feel the stone beneath her soles, of register the doors she passed, or the Gallery as she flew through it. In to his training room, and through that lay the essential, beautiful, wonderful door leading to his infirmary. She didn't know a whole lot, she was at best a barely trained nurses aid, but she had a little experience, and it was all they had.

Arms full, heart pounding, it felt like magic how fast she found herself at his side. She showed no hesitation when she took the scissors to his tunic, the blade zipping through the fabric. Looking at his torso, yes she saw the burns, his flesh red and rippling in texture. But it barely registered, she knew this was how it would be, she had seen his hands. She looked quickly for wounds to his chest and stomach, and found two shots to his side, one in his upper chest, and one in a shoulder. She prayed no organs had been hit. He had spoken to her, so his lungs must be intact.

More cutting revealed his arms, which were much worse. That surprised her, and told her he must have been wearing something that protected his chest. A stab of fear hit her, worried he may have been shot in the groin, or an artery pierced in his leg. She quickly cut him free, and found only one shot in his thigh, but it was through the side, and had exited.

Finally, she looked at his head. This was the only moment she pulled back. She could not remove that mask. She couldn't. Not only did she know he didn't want her to, (a small voice told her he probably felt the same about the rest of him, so what did it matter?) but it felt so WRONG. If ever she was to see beneath it, it had to be his hands that removed it, not hers. But she could not ignore that his wig could be obscuring a shot to the head. She felt the mask, metal. She, safe to say he had no serious wounds beneath it, but not about the rest of what was hidden. Feeling panic, she acted. His wig came off revealing more of the same mottled skin, but no wounds were found.

Sighing, she started. Checking for exit wounds, starting the I.V. to give him blood, cleaning wounds, and cauterizing everything that didn't have a bullet lodged in it. She didn't have the time to stitch him up, and a mere bandage wasn't good enough because all she needed was to keep his blood IN him. One of the wounds in his side had exited, as had the one in his shoulder. As fast as she could, she dug out the bullet from his other side wound and from his upper chest, praying her clumsy help didn't hurt anything vital.

She checked his breathing, and it was the same, grating out of him slowly, but still happening. She checked his pulse and found his heart slow but steady. An alarm sounded, and it broke her concentration. Hesitating, but needing to know, she found its source in the mud room, where she was able to shut it off by the TV screens. Looking at movement in one, her heart stopped. It was one of the detectives, moving through the tunnels.

On auto pilot, the first this she thought was to hide V. She felt every muscle in her tiny frame strained against his dead weight, but adrenaline gave her strength, and she managed to drag him in to the hallway. Looking at the clock, she realized she had about 10 minutes before it was midnight. She hoped that the detective was a few minutes away, but had no way to gauge.

What was important? V's safety and getting the train off were the only things that mattered. She couldn't care for V if she had London descending down on them, because some detective thought he was still alive, and knew where they were. He needed to think V was dead. As she thought, she continued to clear the tunnel platform of evidence, and as she did, she looked up in to the train.

And in that moment, she saw it. A way to show his death. She smiled a little. How appropriate, a Viking funeral. She knew she was running on empty, but she kept on running, back to that place of her imprisonment. Having no time to spare, she ripped the dummy off the wall, feeling her shoulders protest. As she ran back, she grabbed his cloak, boots, gloves, wig and mask from where they rested in the mud room. She was surprised at her strength, hauling it all to the train, but she worked as quickly as she could, fearing for V. When her effigy was laid out, she moved back to the screens, wondering how much time she had. She saw V's map of where the cameras were located for the first time, and figured she had only a few minutes before he was upon them.

In the hallway, she quickly and tightly wrapped V arms in gauze, hoping it would tide him over for a few minutes, until she could devote her time back to him. She was extremely thankful she had managed to deal with all the wounds in his torso. Finally, a quick patch to his leg, a check to his blood supply, and a check on his breathing, left her feeling as prepared as she could be under the circumstances. She looked in to the TV screens again to find the detective due any minute. Looking below, she noticed the roses. She smiled and quickly grabbled the heads of roses, and a few with stems, to set the stage.

Evey threw her shoulders back, calmed her breathing, and set out to give a performance, even though she was exhausted and trembling. She hoped V would be proud.

A/N: I hope that was believable. And sorry for any errors, I have no beta, and I find that when I have the inspiration to write, I don't have the patience after to wait and edit the next day. I edit for a little bit, and then impulsively post. ;) Fun times. My goal is to get this done by Christmas, but we still have a ways to go. I'll do my best.