It had taken her over ten minutes just to start telling him her story and then another thirty to complete it. He didn't interrupt even when it took her over ten minutes to describe what had happened to the real Georgia Jones and he had felt the bile rise when she finally did described the woman's fate. He had to satisfy his need for vengeance with reminding himself that Jones was already dead and if V has anything to say about, soon the others that did this to her would be joining him. Preferably very soon.
Her story told and her energy nearly spent, she leans against him for support and he gives it, a bit clumsily at first since he doesn't remember ever having done this before, but he gives it none the less. Though he can't see her face he knows that she's not asleep. He can hear her sniff every once and a while and a shudder occasionally runs through her body.
He's not exactly sure what to do with her now. For nearly two decades he has been by himself and never had to deal with anyone else's problems but his own. How do you fix someone who's given up that last inch? How can he possibly help her get it back?
"V?" her soft voice startles him out of his reverie.
"Yes, Audrey," he replies, glad to finally have a name to call her.
"Would you…stay here with me? Until I fall asleep?" she quietly asks, he can feel her starting to tense. "You wouldn't have to do anythin', just sit here with me."
"Of course," he answers and he hears a sigh of relief escape her.
She slowly pulls away from him and then lies back down. He stands for a moment so that the covers can be pulled back over her. He pauses for a moment and then he sits back down on the edge near the top of the bed. She wiggles around until her forehead is resting against his hip, nearly shocking him right off of the bed. With a contented sigh, she visibly relaxes and within a couple of minutes, she's sound asleep.
He watches for a little while longer before leaving her room and shutting the door behind him. He returns to his own room, strips himself of his mask and wig and then changes out of his tear dampened clothing. Once he's properly attired, he returns to his bed, turns off the light and stares into the darkness as sleep eludes him.
Dominic stares at his computer screen completely stumped. After going through Jones's bank accounts he's totally blown away. Who in their right mind pays nearly a quarter of a million pounds for an animal? Even if it's an investment, that's way too much money, in his opinion. Of course, living on a coppers salary, he can't even afford a goldfish not that he'd have time for it anyways.
"Morning, Dominic," Finch greets as he walks into the office.
"Oh, good morning, Inspector," Dominic replies
"Find anything interesting?" Finch asks as he hangs his coat on the coat rack.
"Only that Major Jones had way too much money for his own good," Dominic answers as he swivels his computer screen for the older man to see.
"Bloody hell," Finch whispers when he reads the figures. "All that for a horse?"
"I know," Dominic states as he leans back in his chair. "That must be some horse he bought."
"You don't pay that much for a horse and then never do anything with it," Finch grumbles as he plops down into his own seat. "So what happed to that horse?"
"I don't know, I was hoping that Shire Stables could help us on that one," Dominic responds.
"What did you say?" Finch demands, his body suddenly tense.
"I said, 'I don't know, I was hoping that Shire Stables…,'" Dominic starts to repeat.
"He bought that horse from Shire Stables?" Finch asks, looking for all the world like Christmas had just come early.
"Yeah, why?" Dominic replies, completely confused.
"Give me the ownership papers for the horse," Finch orders.
Dominic quickly complies, still not sure what's going on. Finch carefully scans the papers, reading every single line. Just when Dominic is sure he's going to burst with curiosity, a big grin stretches across Finch's face.
"I've got 'em," Finch nearly crows as he shoots straight out of his chair, shaking the papers in triumph above his head. "After more than ten bloody years, I God damn well have 'em by their big, fat, hairy balls!"
"Got who, sir?" Dominic inquires, surprised to say the least by his superior's behavior.
"Shire Stables," Finch laughs, waving the papers right under Dominic's nose. "The biggest, bloody slave traders in all of England, and I've got 'em."
By the time she drags herself out of bed it's well after noon and he's happily preparing her lunch when she does wander into the kitchen. It takes her sleep fogged brain a good minute of staring to notice what's different about him. He's dressed in his usual attire, though the fact that he's not wearing his gloves doesn't bother her, she's already seen his back and it looks pretty much the same. No, what's got her brain befuddled is the fact that here is a man that can kill without an ounce of remorse cooking and wearing a red, flowery, frilly, familiar looking apron.
"Is that my apron?" she asks without so much as a 'hello.'
"Ah, good afternoon, Audrey," V merrily greets as he flips some type of sandwich over in the pan. "I trust you slept well. And as for the apron, yes, it is yours. I hope you don't mind."
"I slept like a rock," she answers as she steps closer. "I don't mind you usin' the apron, but how did it get here?"
"I used it to tie the compress to your…ah…injury," he explains as he slides her sandwich onto a plate. "I've made you lunch if you're hungry."
"Yes, thank you," she replies.
She comes fully into the kitchen and he waves her to a chair as he puts the plate down. It's only then that he notices that his gloves are off and he hastily puts them on as she pulls out her seat. She sits and starts to eat her lunch, pretending not to notice for which he's grateful. After taking the apron off and hanging it up, he leaves to allow her to eat in peace. When he returns, he finds that she's finished most of her food and is now picking at the remains.
"What happens now?" she asks quietly upon his return. "Are you goin' to give me to Scotland Yard?"
"No, I will not be giving you over to anyone," he replies calmly, though internally he rages at her for making such a suggestion. "For now, you will remain here until I have gathered all of the information I need and then I will decide what is best for you."
"What information do you need?" she inquires barely able to look in his direction.
"I want to know more about Shire Stables," he answers as he sits across from her at the table.
"I don't know anythin'," she replies hastily and he can see her hands starting to tremble.
"Then it is a good thing I have other ways of gathering information," he states as he places one gloved hand over hers which causes her to look up at him, startled. "In all honesty, I am not sure what to do with you. But rest assured, I will let no harm come to you. Is that acceptable to you?"
"Not like I have a lot of choice do I?" she responds as she slouches in her chair, back to staring at nothing.
"No, I'm afraid you don't," he agrees as he gives her hand a pat before withdrawing his own.
They sit in silence for some time with him watching her and her chewing on her lip as she continues to pick at her food. He waits patiently and eventually he is rewarded with her giving him a quick glance and shifting uncomfortably in her seat. He doesn't move, knowing that it's only a matter of time.
"V?" she says softly.
"Yes?" he replies.
"Can I ask you a question?" she asks.
"Of course," he answers, not bothering to point out that she just did ask one.
"Why did you kill him?" she questions, her voice barely above a whisper.
"The multiplying villainies of nature did swarm upon him," he replies. "Which would one you like to hear?"
"You mentioned somethin' about a lark hill," she says. "What's that?"
"Larkhill was a place that was…for lack of better words…hell on Earth," V vaguely replies.
"It was one of those relocation centers that they took people, wasn't it?" she inquires, quickly putting things together in her head.
"Yes," he replies darkly as the mask dips downward. "But Larkhill was special. It was the first."
"I'm guessin' you weren't one of the guards, were you?" she asks quietly.
"No, I wasn't," he hisses, his anger leaking into his voice.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," she hastily says, fear evident in not just her voice but in her body language as well.
"My apologies," he quickly says, swiftly reining his ire in. "I did not mean to frighten you. You are correct that I was one of the…detainees."
"And Michael was one of the guards," she states sadly.
"One of many, but one that isn't easily forgotten," he responds, continuing to force himself to relax. "None of them were."
"He did have a way of makin' an…impression on people," she replies.
"In more ways then one," V growls as a shiver runs up her spine and it's at least another minute before she gets the courage to speak again.
"He used to tell me what he did to prisoners when he worked in the camps," she whispers. "He never mentioned which ones he worked at and I wasn't about to ask. I'm sorry."
"There is nothing for you to be sorry for, Audrey," he tells her in an assuring tone. "What he did to his prisoners is nothing for you to be ashamed of."
"I can understand why you'd want to kill him after what he did to you, but I still don't understand why him?" she questions. "I know the other guards were just bad, if not worse in some cases than Michael. So why kill him?"
"Would it upset you to know that he was not the first and he will not be the last?" he counter asks.
"I'm not sure," she replies after a couple moments of silence. "There used to be a time that the mere thought of someone takin' someone else's life was very upsetting. I know the judicial system in this country is a joke and if you were a detainee, then takin' your case to the authorities wouldn't really matter would it? There's no sympathy for those who are different, is there? People like us."
"No, there is no justice for people like us with the current judicial system," he answers quietly. "And that is why I must bring people like Jones to justice."
"How many have there been?"
"Does it really matter?"
"No, I suppose it doesn't."
"Does that bother you?"
"No, I suppose it doesn't. But what do you hope to accomplish with all this death?"
"Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't," he quotes and she looks at him funny for a moment before quickly looking away.
"I suppose it really isn't any of my business anyways," she sighs and he nods in agreement.
"Might I inquire what caused you to scream last night," he requests.
"It was a nightmare," she replies, a noticeable shiver running through her body. "I haven't had it in years. I guess when you mentioned Shire Stables it brought it back."
"Remembering what they did to you," he states.
"What was done to her," she clarifies as she takes in a ragged breath and her eyes glisten with unshed tears. "They didn't do me any harm really, other than to scare the tar out of me. But what they did to her…"
He gets up from the table and leaves the room only to return a minute later with the box of facial tissues. She gives a sad chuckle as she takes the offered item and wipes away her tears.
"I must seem like a leaky faucet to you," she sighs again as she looks at the wadded up tissue in her hand. "I don't think I've shed a tear in years and here I am just constantly blubberin' all the time now. You must think me such a coward."
"O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!" he quotes at her and she almost looks offended. "In order to defeat your fears you must face them."
"What's the point?" she asks sadly as she rises, she looks at him, but not at his face. "If I ever leave here, I'm nothin' more than a slave again. This place is my sanctuary and my prison all rolled into one, but it's the safest I've felt in years. Strange that. I'm livin' with a man who has murdered who knows how many people and I'm perfectly fine with that."
"You lived with a man who killed his wife for eight years," he points out as she slips past him and leaves the kitchen.
"I wasn't livin' with him," she corrects over her shoulder, startling the vigilante. "We just shared the same cage, that's all."
He watches in silence as she slowly walks across the gallery, amazed that she was able to throw a quote back at him, even if she did alter it a bit.
"What do you intend to do now?" he asks just before she reaches the door that will eventually lead to her room, stopping her in her tracks.
"Would it be all right if I took a bath?" she finally inquires about a minute later, never quite turning around to look at him.
"Of course," he agrees with a nod. "Take as long as you like."
"Thank you," she replies softly just before disappearing through the door.
"You're welcome," he tells the empty air.
Once he's sure she's busy getting ready for her bath, he heads for his dressing room. He starts to assemble a new disguise for a little trip to a pub that he plans to take in the evening. As he's assembling his attire, he notices a blinking light next to the makeup table.
He pauses for a moment to look at it with a slight tilt to his head and then he hurries down the hall towards the monitor room. Upon entering, V quickly turns up the volume to the monitor that shows Audrey's old home. He settles down into his seat to watch Finch and Dominic as they idly stand around as if they're waiting for something.
A few minutes later, a woman who looks startlingly like Georgia Jones and the twins walk into view of the camera. The woman sends the boys upstairs to retrieve their belongings before she greets the detectives standing there waiting. V is about to leave when the woman pulls a piece a paper out of her pocket and hands it to the detective.
"Here, Detective, I think you'll find this interesting," she states quietly as he opens the piece of lined binder paper and starts to read. "It was written by the woman you're looking for. The woman pretending to be my sister."
"You're right," Finch replies as his eyes grow wide. "I find this very interesting."
Suddenly, V's backside seems to glue itself to the chair.
Author's notes: Sorry, life has been insane lately and I was a bit stuck in trying to figure out where this chapter was going. I hope everyone enjoyed it. Hey, what do you know? I actually managed to stick some quotes in here besides that one from Macbeth.
"The multiplying villainies of nature do (did) swarm upon him," – Macbeth
"Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't," – Hamlet
"O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!" – King Richard III
and the one Audrey altered
"I'm not living with you! We occupy the same cage, that's all." – Cat on a Hot Tin Roof