Evey awoke in a half lit room, a blanket draped over her clothed body, her feet hanging off of one side of a bed. It was her bedroom, her old bedroom. She could remember distant days of lying in here for our just to avoid that mysterious man who had captured her, staying away from even the most curious artefacts out of fear. Fear that had no grounds.

It did now however. It was almost in this exact spot that he had lay while she bandaged him. When she had taken care of him. And told him she loved him…she could remember it quite distinctly. It was here that she had awoken after standing in the rain after her false incarceration. So many memories in this bed.

She had been able to stand those last few days in hospital. She should have known that he would come to take her, why was she so naive. Over the couple of days she really hadn't felt any hate for him anymore, no longer wishing that she had left him on the platform, not wishing that she had never met him, never losing herself in her own fits of remorse or disgust. She had even regretted thinking those thoughts. Thinking at all.

But now… now she was angry again and she really didn't know why. She was suddenly overcome with the yearning to face him, to scream into his infuriating monochromatic, emotionless face, now she was so boiling with rage she felt like hitting him, hurting him. She sent an infuriated fist into her pillow instinctively. Why was he so horrible to drag her back here, to torture her further? She punched the soft fabric again, trying to work he anger out of her body, trying to force herself into a calm. Eventually she got exhausted.

She lifted her leg experimentally for a moment to see if she could stand on it. It seemed to have some strength. Evey hadn't stood for at least a week and a half. Her ankles shook as she tried to balance her weight on them and Evey fell back onto the bed. For a moment she considered going back to sleep. What if this was all a dream? She truly wish that this was so. Him. She was back here with him. A small part of her leaped at the thought, but she hushed it down and it was trampled by other thoughts: Why? Why would he bring her back here? Was he going to apologise? The sound of his voice played in her head like an old record and she felt a small pain in her chest. It was stupid doing what she had done, she touched the tender area with her fingers experimentally and found a scar where a piece of windshield had been not long ago, it was not sore. This was a different kind of pain.

Months ago she had thought this kind of pain was no longer possible in her life. After imprisonment, most emotions had drained away. A strange thought arose: maybe he's doing this to remind me I'm human or something? How the hell would he know what being human felt like? The thought stung, but part of her sang clear in its favour. Anger consumed her.

V set down his book and pulled himself uneasily out of his chair. It had been a long sleepless night, worrying, regretting, even sobbing. He knew she must have awoken by now. Now there was no turning back, there was no returning her to the hospital, no backward glances*, now was that dreaded time between ridiculous action and inevitable ridicule. The masked man's mind stewed. She would yell at him and then become frustrated, as always, with his lack of reaction. He had planned almost his entire life up until the revolution, not knowing what was going to happen, out here in open air where life might hit him, was both invigorating and miserable.

He just wanted to look at her. If only for a moment. To see those almond eyes on him even with her burning with contempt. Her, a portrait of beauty, framed in the hospital window, draped in white like a Madonna. The image of a naked Evey passed oh so quickly through his thoughts for fear of being rejected. Even before he could extinguish it, it was gone.

What could he say? There was no explanation for his behaviour other than explaining his feelings for her. Worse, he had made everything so much worse. Their relationship before had been unlikely, now it was simply impossible. If he had never rejected her in the first place, things might have, in the most precise circumstances, played out well. He regretted every decision he had made since his life had been spared. THIS was way he had ALWAYS planned things!

Evey got up off the bed and, as her nimble feet touched the floor, a shiver of cold travelled up her body. This little feeling that she had taken for granted was now an unexpected wake up call to her senses. The girl could remember a time when a cold stone floor had been her only comfort. Now it disturbed her, she was about to do something she definitely didn't want to do… and she wasn't sure what it was going to be. As Evey pulled herself off the bed, she swayed a little.

The light enveloped her as she opened the door and Evey suddenly had a mild headache. Weird déjà vu. Herself, suddenly entering the gallery. Clad in a scrap of clothing**, weak, feeble, confused, angry. Seeing him, it was like a dream. Now facing the other way, but she knew the end to this story. She had lived it and relived it before. She had had nightmares about it. Seeing him suddenly in the gallery lights. Coming it of the wooden door. But he didn't greet her as he had done on that night. He had his back turned, did he notice her? Surely he would have changed his stance or said something if he had. He was changing the ending to this story…

She had always wanted to change the ending to this story. If she could change it now…he probably would kill him. For doing what he had done to her. Then and now. It was the same as before, almost exactly. But she was going to end this. She was so overcome with bitterness that it drove her towards him without her say so. She wanted to beat him with her fists, to KILL him. This beast, this creature, this monster! But he would defend himself. He would hold her by her wrists if she raised a hand to him. He was so much stronger than her.

God what did he bring her back here?

Evey looked around for something, something that didn't make noise when you wielded it, something blunt!

Why did I do something so stupid?

He could just kill himself right now he was so angry.

I hate you!

The cold surface was smooth on her fingers. It was surprisingly light. It wouldn't kill him, she knew. She just hoped he wouldn't come after her again once she left. A small part of her, the part that knew him, the part that loved him, the part that knew this was just some big misunderstanding, it knew he wouldn't. She knew him better than she ever would have thought. But most of her was too consumed by anger to listen to what that part said. Evey lifted the vase in her hands and held it over her head. What if this actually kills him?

What if I could? What if I killed myself?

The silence was broken by a small noise, a whisper, a breath. His shoulders changed positions. V's body slumped a little. He dropped the book in his hand and leaned forward, holding himself up against the gallery wall with one outstretched hand. He covered his mouth with the other as he let out a sob. Evey watched as the terrorist, the man that had always stood tall, the man that could take on a government single handed, the man which up until now had been an unopened box, started to cry.

As quickly as it had come the anger drained out of her and she was overwhelmed with pity. Her fingers slipped

The sound of the vase hitting the ground was enough to break the masked man away from his thoughts, if only for a moment. He turned to her.

*yet i threw in a PTO quote :D

** her hospital gown, as in/ referring to, her prison gown :P