Hey everyone! I'm SO sorry that this has taken so long to upload, but I've had a lot of bouts of non-motivation plus school, but anyway here you are, hope you're still with me (and Vanessa)!

VII

Inside the Shadow Gallery, days turned into weeks. And weeks turned into months. There had been no communication whatsoever from Evey, and it seemed as if V had finally accepted that she wasn't coming back.

The first time I read Valerie's letter, I nearly cried. V had shown it to me after he had told me about what had happened to him at Larkhill. I read those words over and over again until I knew the letter off by heart. V showed me her portrait, a movie poster for The Salt Flats, adorned with lit candles, and a heap of red roses. Violet Carsons.

"That's why you leave them next to the bodies of your victims. For Valerie." It was not a question, but a statement.

"The very same reason." V answered.

"Did you love her?"

V was quiet for a moment. Then, he said, "I didn't know her. But at the same time, I did love her. With all my heart."

I thought about what Valerie had said, about how we all have one inch of ourselves that is the only thing in the world worth having. I thought about it again and again, and knew that she was right.

On the days that stretched into endlessness, I drew pictures. I read. I watched some of V's DVD's with him, the two of us having good–humoured arguments about the movie in question.

But I found myself watching V more often that usual. I noticed that whenever he thought I wasn't looking, he would seem agitated. He would pace the floor, back and forth, so that it made me nervous just watching him. He seemed to be waiting for something to happen. Something that I didn't know about, but at the same time, I had a certain feeling that it was big. And dangerous, too. Well, hell.

One evening, V and I were sitting in the main room, in comfortable silence. V was reading (or maybe just pretending to read) one of his many books, and I was drawing. For some reason, the pencil now seemed to draw things for me, instead of the other way around. On paper, I had captured the Shadow Gallery, Patrick and Evey. But tonight….

"What are you thinking about, Vanessa?"

I glanced over at V. "Why do you want to know? I'm not thinking about anything in particular."

A sigh emitted from the depths of his mask. "You always have a look of deep concentration on your face when you draw. Tonight, perhaps, more than usual."

I glanced down at my picture, and it was then when I realized what was bothering me.

"V," I hesitated. "Why do you always wear a mask?"

Several seconds of extremely tense silence passed before V spoke again.

"Are you sure that you really want to know?"

I sighed. "V, I'm sixteen. Not six."

He chucked quietly. "I thought you might say that. I know you too well." He certainly did.

"You never allow anyone else to see what's behind your mask." I said, directing him back to the question. "I can see you looking at me, sometimes. And Evey. When you think we're busy doing something else."

"But who said that you need eyes to see with?" He turned to glance at me, the dark eye holes in his mask blank. "For all you know, I may have none."

I gazed steadily back at him, knowing that I may have believed him if it weren't for the fact that sometimes, I could see something behind his mask glimmer at me, right were his eyes were supposed to be. "You're lying."

"Vanessa, listen to me." His voice was full of a quiet sort of desperation. "There is indeed a face beneath this mask, but it isn't mine. It never has been mine since that fateful night at Larkhill."

I understood what he was saying to me, but at the same time, something still didn't make sense.

"You say your face isn't yours. But how much of your identity is the mask, and how much is the real you?" I paused for a few seconds, thinking. "You said that you couldn't remember anything about your previous life at Larkhill, but you cover that up by changing your whole character so that your character completely matches your mask. You've worn your mask for so long that you've forgotten practically everything about yourself."

I knew that he knew that I had got him there. He said nothing for a moment, as though he was quietly mulling over what I had said. As I looked at him, I saw no terrorist, not the man from Room Five, not the dangerous villain who could kill with a single slash of his sword. The only person I saw was V, as himself.

I stood up and crossed the room towards him, my now-finished drawing in my hand. "I know who's really leading the rebellion. And they're not a terrorist. They're this guy here." I handed the sheet of paper over to him.

I could still see V staring at the picture that I had drawn of him as I shut the living room door behind me. Standing tall in his cloak and mask, with the outline of the 'V' symbol behind him.

The television blared into life as, two days later, I sat on the sofa, a glass of water in my hand. Gordon Dietrich's new talk show was about to be on, and according to the latest reviews, it would be the 'talk of the century'.

I would have thought that there would have been better things to talk about, I thought wryly, as Gordon's smiling face filled the screen. Like a so-called 'terrorist' at large, for instance.

"May I join you, Vanessa?"

I glanced up to see V standing beside the sofa, the face behind his mask seeming to smile down at me. After what I had said to him the other night, he didn't seem to be any different, but he appeared to have thought about it a lot. "This may surprise you, but I actually do enjoy watching television."

I laughed. "Sure. This is supposed to be a pretty good show."

"We've got an extraordinary show for you tonight." Gordon said, welcoming his viewers as V sat down beside me. "You're not going to believe it, in fact, I don't think I do. Will you please give a very warm welcome to our very own Chancellor, Adam Sutler!"

My eyes widened in shock as a man, who was obviously portraying the Chancellor, stepped onto the stage. A jolt ran through me as the audience applauded, the screen shifting to half a dozen men pointing guns at them. Bloody hell.

"Chancellor, I understand you've been under tremendous strain with all this terrorist business lately," Gordon Detritch continued, as a group of show girls brought a tray over to him. "Warm milk. I understand you have a glass every night?"

"Since I was a boy." the 'Chancellor' replied. "But you're wrong, Mr Detrich. The terrorist was never a serious concern." The camera zoomed in, under the table, as, with a jolt, I realized that I was looking straight at V's mask. "The terrorist has been neutralized." With a bang, the Chancellor's pipe exploded, and Gordon leapt up, in artificial shock. "My God, look! The terrorist!"

I gagged in shock, the water spraying out of my mouth, as 'V' on the screen, began to be chased by the guards with guns and the showgirls, the action sped up, and cartoon music and sound-effects playing so it appeared comical. As 'V' on the screen was unmasked, the mask came away to reveal a second Chancellor Adam Sutler, who launched himself at the first 'Chancellor' to fight him. And as the curtain fell, and as Gordon Dietrich smiled blankly at the camera, the audience laughed.

A sound to my right caught my attention, and it was then that I realized that V was laughing, too. Or rather, chuckling to himself as if he was the only person who understood the joke.

"What's so funny?" I knew my voice sounded shocked, but I was past caring. "Why did he do that?"

V turned his gaze towards me. "Oh, let them laugh, just for once. I do feel sorry for the poor Chancellor, having to watch all that especially when he seems unable to keep the terrorist attacks neutralized." He made quotation marks in the air with his fingers.

"But what if they come after Gordon?" I pressed. Suddenly, a horrifying realization gripped me. "Oh V, what if Evey's till there, and they come after them?"

"I've thought of this long before you have." V answered slowy. "And I can tell you this, Vanessa, that I know it won't be too far away. But I'll certainly be ready when they do."

It was sometime between the middle of the night and early morning when I woke up, suddenly, gasping for breath. I'd had a nightmare. I had dreamed that V had arrived back to the Shadow Gallery from business elsewhere, and that after I'd run towards him, he'd pulled off his mask to reveal the face of Adam Sutler, somehow managing to chain my hands and feet together so that I couldn't go anywhere. In Gordon Dietrich's voice, he'd called out, "May I remind you that terrorism is punishable by death by firing squad?", before zipping a black bag tightly over my head, drowning out my scream of fear.

I knew I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep for a while after that, so instead, I pulled on my clothes, and dragged a brush through my hair. I crept along the hallway and through the main room, trying not to attract V's attention. I fumbled with the latch on the front door, relieved when it swung silently open, and stood at the top of the stairs leading into the tunnel, the night air cool on my face.

It was the first time I had set foot outside the Shadow Gallery since the train escapade. Remembering that day, I thought of Patrick. Ever since then, I had sometimes lain awake at night, wondering where he was, what he was doing now. I hoped that he and his parents had managed to escape capture. Lost in thought as I made my way down the pavement, it was the sound of a van rapidly approaching that made me break out of my reverie. I darted into the shadows of a nearby alleyway, turning to stone, hardly daring to breathe.

The van slowed, fortunately passing my hiding spot, but stopped up the street a little way. I crouched down, crept behind a nearby column, listening to the slamming of doors as the occupants got out. If I listened hard enough, I could just make out what they were saying.

"Any luck finding him, Creedy?" one of the voices asks. I can see the glint of a cigar as he lights up.

"Not so far," the man named Creedy replies, "but hopefully we'll have some leads soon. As far as I know, there's been no new activity, but I guarantee that there'll be more soon enough."

So they're still trying to get V, I thought. Thought they would have given up by now. He's too fast, too smart and too clever for them.

"What's the story again?" The first man took a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke away. "He's one of those political activists, am I right?"

Creedy snorted. "Something like that. If blowing up a building is called being a political activist, then I guess so."

Blowing up a building? V had blown up the Statue Of Justice, it was true, but wasn't that old news?

The first man laughed. "Hard to believe what we're facing in this country, isn't it? What was his name?"

Now, I was thoroughly confused. How could this man not know of V, who was known throughout the police force of London as a terrorist, kidnapper and murderer?

"Oh God, I don't know." Creedy paused. "The name's Peter, or something like that. No, Patrick. Patrick O'Connor. That's the one. Escaped off a train going to Nottingham, believed to now be in London."

My legs were rooted the ground in disbelief. They were talking about Patrick, who was here? In London?

"Best get going." The first man threw his cigar on the ground, and stamped on it with his shoe. "We have that bloody report for Sutler first thing in the morning, and God only knows what he's going to think of it."

I watched as the van drove away, round a corner, and it was only then that I allowed myself to think about all I had heard. Patrick was here, in London. That could only mean that he and his parents had had to make a run for it, or else they had been taken away, and he had escaped. I made my way quickly down the street, keeping to the shadowed areas. I had to find Patrick. And soon. I didn't know where he was, but–

A sudden movement caught my attention and I jumped, my senses now on high alert. I turned round, and saw that it was only a door banging in the wind. It was a green door that led into one of several old houses that had been condemned for demolition for ages.

I was about to turn around and continue walking, this time back to the Shadow Gallery, but then I realized something. There was no wind.

A combination of fear and adrenaline rushed through me. Cautiously, I crept up to the door, getting ready to make a bolt for it if someone tried to grab me. Hardly breathing, I inched the door open slowly, and peered through the crack between the door and the frame, my heart pounding.

"Is the war over yet?" The whisper came from the other side of the door, accompanied by a dry chuckle.

Then, a pair of startlingly familiar blue eyes locked on mine.

"Patrick?"

What did you think? It's a bit of a filler, but the conversation between V and Vanessa was my favourite scene to write. Keep those reviews coming guys, and exams are upon me at the moment but I'll try and upload as soon as possible. I love you all!