This next chapter is dedicated to Zofos for the best damn review ive ever gotten. Don't worry Meow, half of "Three Little Words" was for you anyway. Happy to inspire and to be inspired! Thankyou all the other fans who have reviewed thus far J
The masked man stayed at her side until sunup. He barely moving a muscle, light growing and fading behind him. Evey was transfixed. Even as she hazed in and out of reality he stayed in her sight. Leaning over her the way a guardian angel would.
It took her a while to come to grips with what was happening. Her most recent memories were blurred… or not so much blurry as incomplete as if she were looking at an entire image through a tiny hole and as she tried to recollect pieces fell in and out of place. Her brain was far too weak to retain anything definitely. And yet a vague picture was forming. It was dark and unsettling. There was no emotion, it was cold. Even as she tried to remember the feeling put her off. The feeling that maybe this was something that she wouldn't want to remember.
Evey finally set the task aside and found herself looking up into his mask. A smile forever gracing his lips, for the first time since she had seen it, it made her smile in return. Something about looking at him made her feel good. Great as a matter of fact. Warm. Comforted… that was it, she felt comfortable. Even in her cast, clammy and hot, his presence settled her. Her eyes drifted closed again, his white face imprinted on her retina, and drifted into sleep.
Evey felt arms curl softly around and hold her, a head against her chest. She was at home in the gallery on the couch reading. His body against hers as they lay. He watched the telly while she flicked though 'The Scarlet Pimpernel'. It was warm, clammy warm, but she refused to push him away. He held her the way a lover would, the way she wished he would… but this wasn't like V? It wasn't at all. The air in the gallery grew strange. Sour. He looked up at her.
"You're dreaming," he said. That was a V thing to say. Clear and void of emotion. His voice rung in her ear. Terribly familiar yet without a face to match, like an old song whose singer had been forgotten. How she missed that voice, deep and soulful. She almost started to cry. Suddenly he was close to her. Very close. Her heart thumped in her chest. How had she not seen his advance? Their noses nearly touched. Evey felt very warm in the face. His breath on her lips. She grew weak all over, as if all the mass had been removed from her body. With him this close she felt weightless. She leaned forward. Her lips brushed the cold metal but moved no further. The whiteness of his mask loomed in her vision. Whiter than paint, whiter than sunlight, Evey was blinded. Her eyes snapped open.
The first thing she noticed was that he wasn't there.
The second was that it was morning…
…the third was a man by the side of the bed. His head was bowed, Evey almost thought he was sleeping until the edge of a piece of paper caught her eye. His face was long and sad, perhaps quite tired and his hair was dark brown and curly. He wore a long jacket, the one visible pocket crammed with bits of paper and a cell phone. He looked familiar. Unable to move she blinked repeatedly in an attempt to grab his attention. He did nothing. She waited, neither noticed when she slipped back out of the hospital room and into the gallery.
Warmth at her side, a hand. Gloved, soft, comforting. She reached out and held it. It slowly wrapped round her plam stroking her knuckles. She thought of her parents. Love. Love was something she hadn't though about in a long time. Too long in fact. Since she was held at the Re education centre she had been convinced that such things didn't exist anymore. Romance was dead, happiness had been exploited into oblivion, chivalry had disappeared. That state of mind had been her centre point of the best part of 23 years. Until the day she met V. The hand curved around hers gently, happy to touch her even though she was hot and sweaty. Why was she so hot and sweaty… and itchy… Evey squirmed. She woke up again.
"Well now?" A tired voice proclaimed at her side, "I can guess who this is." He said almost as if he had just come into the room. Inspector Finch rubbed his nose and looked up from Evey's medical chart, meeting her eyes. "They haven't been so sure about you staying here, there're plenty of people still out to get you Miss Hammond. I'm surprised it took them so long to figure out it was you in here." He automatically felt uncomfortable at his words, wishing he could take them back. She wouldn't be recognisable as Evey Hammond every again. Not in the eyes of a public who had grown so used to that face on the telly. He wondered whether she was aware of her current appearance. Her body was in full cast, how could she have seen a mirror? Could she even hear him?
Ah well, couldn't make things that much worse. "I just came in to check if it was you myself." He heaved himself up out of the bedside chair with a groan and straightened his jacket. "You being involved in all this explains quite a few things." With that he disappeared behind the curtain and out the door.
Music tumbled from the jukebox and out into the branching hallways like water through a pipe system. A black clad finger rolled the volume up full blast until the noise blocked out the sounds of the street above to his keen ears. Mozart's twenty second piano concerto rolled its lapping waves of violin over one another occasionally clashing over the twinkling yet glorious song of the piano. The sounds melted and curdled in the air like smoke and all the masked man could think to do was sit down and listen. He had flipped through the records endlessly for something without words because everything that had words had to do with love or devotion or some romantic kind of misery. That was just what he didn't need right now.
It really hit him around eleven that very morning just what had happened. It was over, ended, dismissed, diseased, finished. His entire life's work had come to an end. His life as he knew it was over. OVER.
The thought was so huge V couldn't even pretend that he could wrap his head around it.
And yet after all of all that there was and had ever been of him was fully and completely accomplished he was rewarded with nothing. Not even inner peace. It was as if his body was still living but his soul had died along with parliament. He was in a state of total misery. The horrible thing was that the only tiny idea that brought him happiness was Evey. Just the thought of her. But since the night before every glimpse of her in his mind was accompanied with raving guilt.
He could do nothing to convince himself to look on the better side, there was no better side! Norsfire had fallen and all he could think of that had come from that so far was death and destruction. Mad Ex-fingerman were on the loose terrorising the city and whenever he put one of them down two more took their place. The idea of burning buildings had spread through Londoner's heads like wildfire and half the city was alight.
This was what you wanted. Chaos.
It was wonderful that it had been accomplished surely. He should be happy? WHY COULDN'T HE BE HAPPY? …because it's not log before they take down the hospital too.
He felt sick and weak and useless. V wished he had died. Truly he did.
The song crashed down into a dark oblivion out of which grew the rich in life grape vines of a rejoicing violin. Vines built up into a mass as more and more music blossomed. Surely if the sounds had been smoke the masked man would have suffocated. Instead he simply sat, his back against the jukebox, tearing himself up inside. The violins crashed over the peak of the music like gigantic waves over a ship, crushing down the twang coming form the piano as the song reached a final apex.
Why am I even here? What the hell is the point of living anymore? The sounds surged and then rolled key to key downwards. It's over! What is there worth living for? Mozart's fiery music became choppier and louder, stronger and harder before finally exploding in a heart melting orgasm of sound that shook the gallery walls, the paintings, the sculptures. Yet V was unmoved. The sounds dwindled, the music faded. He couldn't find the strength to sit up.
Dong
Dong
Dong
Dong
Dong
Dong
Dong
Dong
Dong…
A cool peace descended across the terrorist's body. He gave a sigh. Such thoughts could wait till later. He pulled himself up off the sandstone and went to fetch his hat and cloak.