Chapter 9

Days passed like minutes, and Evey's world narrowed to V's bedside. His breathing had deepened, and it seemed as if he was sleeping, but he didn't stir. She had replaced the metal mask with a lighter one, her eyes squeezed shut while she fumbled at the clasps, but she wanted him to be more comfortable.

She had found his bedroom, a room that had usually been locked to her, and set him up in his bed with and IV. Hours, she lay next to him reading, thinking. Sometimes she would run her fingers over his hand, the only part of him he had willingly shown her, and she would entwine her fingers with his.

Evey learned the worst of V's burns were on the back of his head, arms, torso, and on the front of his calves. He was burned all over, but it was lighter on the front of him, like he had curled in to a ball to protect himself. As she held his hand in hers, feeling the ridges and bumps, the texture of his flesh, she wondered at the agony he must have felt. The pain of the burn.

The mirror to his vanity was broken, just the few bits of it that were wedged in to the frame remained. The surface in front of the mirror was cleaned, so she guessed it wasn't a new break. She thought about the broken shards for awhile, her eyes tracing the edges and points, and wondered. The only conclusion she made was that he must not have replaced it because he didn't expect to need it. Or maybe to remind him of something. It was a mystery that kept her mind busy.

In the rare moments when the waiting go to be too much, she would wander the Shadow Gallery, but it seemed so empty it hurt. V wasn't there, his calm intensity missing, and she found the color had left the rooms. She lingered in the kitchen, cooking little for herself, but restlessly going through the cookbooks, marking recipes she wanted to share with him.

Invariably, she missed even his breathing to remind her that he wasn't gone, and wandered back to him, slipping across the duvet next to him, where she would entwine her hand with his, and wait.

It was like the feeling of being so deeply asleep, that the idea of waking was too much. It wasn't a bad feeling, there was a peace to it, a sluggish reawakening of self, but V felt no rush to wake. He lingered in the empty unconsciousness, knowing that if he moved he would hurt, but being confused how that was possible. He was dead. Why would it hurt? How could he even be aware of his body? Wasn't he done hurting?

When he could no longer linger, when he became aware of lying somewhere, body aching, he realized he had lived. And when he slowly pealed his eyelids apart, the screen of his mask and the sight of his room greeted him. He remained absolutely still, assessing what he could. He was wearing his mask, but not much else, lying in his bed. He felt warmth in his hand, felt a hand wrapped in his fingers, and dared to think her name. Evey. V quietly turned his head, and saw.

She was asleep, her forehead pinched in tension or worry, but snuggled in to his pillow, mouth slightly open, and facing him. Her arm was extended, hand twined in his, one leg out and touching him through the sheet that was draped over his body.

The pain that came with consciousness was creeping up on V, but he ignored it as much as he could. A billion things raced through his pain-sharpened brain, memories and conjectures. Not the least of which was with what he thought was his dying breath, telling this creature he loved her. Next was realizing just how much of his skin she had seen, and a pondering thought about how she could stand to have her hand in his.

Predominately, how was he alive? His chemical altered body could handle more than most, but those were some serious wounds. Left on his own, he wouldn't have made it. But the hand in his was a testament to the fact that he had not been left alone, and that Evey must have tried her best to treat him.

Confusion froze V. Should he try to slip away? Should he wake her and let her continue to help? Or should he try to wake her and take care of himself? What about the mask? He was confused about what do to with this graceful woman in his bed, who knew more of him than any person in existence.

What next? The mask on his face was useless, could never been seen outside again, and he had no purpose. For this first time, a future stretched out before V, and he had no idea where to begin.

His eyes bored in to Evey's face, her deep breathing soothing him, her presence taking the edge out of his worry. Leaving wasn't an option. She was here, and when she chose to leave, he would let her. But he would not be the one to make that choice. He had nothing else.

He couldn't stand the idea of her seeing his face, but he wanted to see her. Without thought, his other hand reached for the eye screens, pressing through, removing them. He hadn't come to any conclusions, his path ahead still confusing, but he wanted to see her eyes.

V squeezed her hand.

When Evey awoke, it was to a pressure in her fingers. Surprise made her eyes flicker open quickly. A familiar false grin greeted her, V's head turned toward her.

Brilliant blue eyes locked with hers and stared back.

Evey's breath caught, and a grin stretched across her face.

A/N: Much more to come. Sorry I'm a slow poke. ;)

Your comments and favs kept this story in my brain these past few months, and I appreciate it. We are in uncharted territory, no more movie to guide, so I find I'm spending a lot of time just choosing what comes next. I have a lot in my head that I've pictured from day one, but some of it still needs fleshing out.

Soon. I promise, soon.