V sat over his desk, running over the scenario again and again: entrance, scan walls and floors, set gas bombs, pretend to scan further, v entrance, something?, bombs triggered, gas released, explosion. It had to go something like that. He hadn't set the bombs… but why hadn't Creedy's men been prepared for them if they were to ones who released them.

The men in the tunnels could have been a distraction set for V while further fingermen closed off the passages and set off the gas to kill everyone in the station? Would Creedy have died just to see V go down? He wasn't that humble. Also there weren't any men outside the room, not that he had seen. Perhapse they had fled?

They could have been old bombs from the reclamation, set up to kill off any disease ridden people who might escape and spread. Then any sudden movements after all that time (say the footfalls or gunfire from a band of Creedy's men) could have set them off. But bombs would have expired after all that time, surely.

Or it could have been possible that a third party of Norsfire supporters could have bombed them to kill V… or V supporters to kill Creedy? V could hardly have been seen after all. But how did the know about the meeting at all?

As much as he tried to assemble the facts, they didn't add up to anything.

He got in the elevator and shuttled up onto the roof in an attempt to clear his head. The sounds of cheering people rang out below him. He didn't dare lean over the balcony knowing surely in such a huge crowd someone was likely too see him. But then, who'd know? He was dressed just like anyone else. He took a chance and looked over the edge and into the sea of Jacobean hats. People hugging, drinking, rejoicing. It was so warm and wonderful, V's heart could hardly take it. It could almost have brought a tear to his eye.

Air wasn't helping.

The masked man sat down on the couch and, after a moments consideration, put up his feet. The television flickered on.

"Help me, Storm! Oh help me!" "Oh Laser-Lass! Release her you brute!" A smile creased V's face at the thought that on a huge news day like today they would still find room for rubbish like Storm Saxon. But some part of him didn't want to change the channel, V'd had enough politics for today. He felt right now that he'd had enough politics to last him the rest of his life.

And so he watched in silence has the blonde heroin kicked and screamed (in her tiny, inaccurately torn, liquorice-red dress) with her arms tied above her and "Evil-Ackhmed" (the horrible middle-eastern terrorist) laughed manically and roughly kissed her neck in an extremely unseductive way. V squirmed. In burst the hero, blond and dashing in his chrome, sudo metal, bullet proof spandex, in his hand, a laser sword of some kind, that glowed gold with fake justice.

Behind him lightning crashed and in its wake was "The Storm Speeder" in all its cubic, spray painted, sticker covered glory. In that instant the maniacle evil genius that was the terrorist tunred into a blithering coward backing up against the opposite wall.

"Unhand her you un-English scum!"

"Storm Saxon! How did you find me here? What are you going to do?"

"Oh it isn't me that's going to punish you for you crime! I'll leave that to my friends from the state!"

In burst row after row for busty, brawny fingermen all in black and red who grabbed the babbling forigner by the arms and lugged him out.

"Oh Storm! You saved me!" the lady called down from her hanging place. Storm, stood majestically in the door way, the sunlight catching his hairspray so that it glowed. V allowed himself a chuckle and decided it would be time to check up on things.

"…the fire that was the fleet street riot has cooled…"

"…y opinion that, after the events of the last ten years, the least we could do is build a memorial." "And what do you think of that premeir?" "Well we don't even…"

"…ent a train underneath the building to trigger the explosion even though the athorities believed the atta…"

"…we havent seen him yet, he hasn't spoken to us! You ask me if I think he's alive? I think he's a lie, that's what I thin…"

"…toria Station this morning. Ten bodies were found, two identified as the late Mr. Peter Creedy and Chanseller Adam Sutler. The remaining names have either not been identified or have been requested to be kept private. Only one survived and is now in care at the London Hospital. As the others were, this person was subject to extreme burns and is cannot be identified by authoities although it has been confirmed that…" V had his cloak and hat in hand before the television had fully switched off.

It was nearly eleven at night and still the celebrations raged on in the city streets. The allies, neighborhoods, roads, roaundabouts, squares and courts were a maze of dancing and talking and loving and living and breathing people. Free people.* V travelled by rooftop, avoiding the occasional roof party. That was until he came to the hospital which was a beehive of laughing talking partiers. He climbed down several roofs before to save himself from sight, although with as much as the roof dwelling people had drunk, a V hopping around on the rooftops was sure not to bother them at all.

The street he came down onto was practically empty to his amazement. The cement was warm, even through his boots. To his right were the smoldering ashes of old parliament. V couldn't help but stare. The ground below him still retained so much heat since the night before. It was soothing.

From around a pile of crafting wire and rock stumbed a drunk pair, both dressed as himself, clutching to each other and building's remains to keep balance. One stumbled over the other and they both landed on the ground, spurting drunk giggles and small moans of pain. One clutched the other to their chest and snorted laughter into the empty air. Both voices were deep and male. They sat up so that they were sitting nose to nose.

One kissed the other.

V felt a small amount of pain in his heart. Evey. It would have been so nice to see Evey right now. Just to talk to her. It was likely she had escaped London after she left, into the counrty somewhere. Found a new name, a new home… met someone new. The two continued to kiss and snuggle in the ash. V turned away and disappeared into an allyway that lead towards the hospital. This wasn't what he needed right now…

The Hospital wall was easily scaled and its window was quietly opened. In he slipped. It didn't take long to find who he was looking for, remaining staff were surrounding the bed, staring. If people ever saw him, they probably would have stared like that. He made his way silently in a circle and waited on the window ledge for the cowd to clear, eventually it did. The masked man slipped in.

Inbetween the thick bandaging two eyes opened and found him above, his white mask looming, his cape hanging around his shoulders. He looked like an angel of death.

"Evening." V spoke. His head tilted. "Shame to see me again is it?" The bandaged burn victim moaned a little as it to speak. V hushed the voice down. The room was filled with the hush. He lowered his voice another knotch and sat down beside the bed.

He was gone…

A nurse tiptoed in and leaned around the curtain, peaking over the bed at its occupant. A smile of pity crossed her face. She sighed. She left.

…He was back again.

"I know you're sorry. I know you were just doing what you were told. I promise this wont take long." The figure stood up and walked casually around the bed. He picked up the chart and examined it. "I need to know if you set off the mustard gas?" He came around the other side and leaned in close. "One blink for No. Two blinks for Yes."

Blink

There was something about the way the window light caught the two eyes.

Blink

Very familiar.

V's heart nearly stopped, he leaned in closer. They were caramel brown.

"Evey?" His voice was tiny, but she barely heard it.

Blink

Blink

*Also there were a lot of flaming wheely-rubbish bins.

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