Disclaimer:I don't own "V for Vendetta" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1:My take on what happened after the credits rolled at the end of the movie.

Warnings: post movie, romantic tension, sexual tension, drama, romance, angst, post traumatic stress disorder, hurt and comfort, first time, emotional baggage, emotionally constipation.

Entheos

Chapter Two

He was mildly surprised when Dominic led him into a covered parkade after only a block on foot. Clicking the lock until the lights flashed and they chucked themselves in. Wholly aware of the cameras that watched them every step of the way. Diligently recording even if there was no one watching at headquarters. He couldn't imagine anyone had stayed at this point, even the true believers.

He rested his head on his arm. Refusing to make his exhaustion obvious by leaning too much into the window. But needing the support all the same.

Because this wasn't a good idea.

He knew it wasn't.

"I have my reasons."

He supposed he'd been in love with Dominic for years. So, when Dominic said things like that, it made everything- even the most innocuous offer of a meal in the middle of a revolution, ineffably dangerous.

He said nothing when Dominic pulled up in front of one of the posher apartment buildings in London. They'd never discussed it, but Dominic was from old money. He didn't flaunt it, but his clothes were usually nicer than a regular copper could afford, and his address hadn't changed in all the years they'd worked together.

The guard at the front desk greeted them both by name. Getting to his feet to summon the elevator despite his crackling radio and a nervous left eye that seemed locked in a perpetual twitch. He stared at the man blankly until Dominic nudged him towards the elevator.

How in the bloody-

"You are the Chief of New Scotland Yard, sir," Dominic explained, like he'd picked up mind reading through osmosis. "Besides, I put you on the list of approved visitors years ago."

The elevator dinged closed cheerfully. Leaving them with nothing to look at but the warped blur of their reflection across the gleaming, hand-polished metal.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Damn him. Damn him.

Still, he wasn't that far gone. He'd never let himself think his feelings could be returned. Nor did he believe the one-sided infatuation was particularly sexual. Not completely, anyway. He had his wants, his needs, but he supposed at his heart, he was simply boring. Because what he thought about the most, when he allowed the thoughts at all, was about Dominic just being there. It was about a familiar weight on the empty side of the bed. It was about the loose clasp of hands just because they could. It was about having someone to come home too.

The elevator lurched up and up. Passing the twelfth floor until the exterior wall turned into glass. Giving them a view of the city and the smoldering ruins of Parliament. He turned to take it in, feeling Dominic shift with him.

He'd never been particularly imaginative. He'd only ever wanted simple things. The bare minimum that was somehow still too much to ask. But inside the posh smallness of the elevator, a part of him he figured long dead did it's best to stir.

The elevator stopped on the twenty-third floor. Feeling the hitch of gravity clutch at the back of his knees as Dominic sighed in relief.

He shook his head, following him into the hall. Watching the softening line of Dominic's back as they made soot imprints in the navy carpet. They passed dozens of uniform doors. Leading him to wonder how many were still out celebrating. Or were they all held up inside? Frightened of change. Of retribution?

"Here we are, sir," Dominic murmured. Breaking him out of his head as the words echoed like a shout in the silent hall. Threatening to rouse more than old ghosts.

He nodded, finally meeting his eyes. Dominic smiled encouragingly, fishing out his keys. They both stiffened, but said nothing, when the rasp of metal against metal issued from the apartment cross the hall. He clocked the spyhole right away. Deciding it was ironic considering the camera nestled dead-centre over the threshold.

"She's harmless," Dominic whispered as the lock clicked. Shoulder thumping into the door as it whooshed open. Tarting the air with the scent of drier sheets, stale coffee and something that was uniquely him. "Just lonely."

But Dominic made a point of securing both locks anyway.

Paranoia was a familiar friend.


He wanted as much or as little as Dominic was willing to give. This would be enough if the alternative was nothing at all. That was why being here, watching him putter about with rolled up sleeves - getting out flour and sugar and what looked suspiciously like real butter - was the most dangerous thing he'd ever done.

And considering he'd spent the night in an abandoned subway tunnel, looking for a terrorist, that was saying something.


Dominic had taken his coat, so he didn't have layers to hide under. Instead, he did an awkward circle around the den, making sure Dominic could see him from the kitchen. Not wanting to be obtrusive. Especially when their jobs involved getting into everyone's business.

But he was curious. He'd never been here. He'd made a point not to, in fact. He'd never been as far as the building's front door. It was a boundary he'd stuck to over the years. An easy way to keep distance between them. But now that he was here, he supposed he might as well allow himself the indulgence.

And right away, he was captured.

Dominic's space was nothing like his.

Where his home had been thoroughly scrubbed of personality, Dominic displayed his in spades. Nothing outlandish, of course. But enough to give the wrong person all the right points to put pressure on if everything went bad. Because along with the sleek metal sculptures displayed on pedestals and the occasional floating shelf, there was a long line of framed photos on the windowsill.

"Make yourself at home. I think there's a decent brandy in the cupboard above the fireplace," Dominic called, "I'll find the glasses. Been a while since I've had company."

His gaze stuttered, then came back. Because alongside the cherubic cheeks of nieces and nephews, grandparents, family, friends, there he was.

Oh.

There was a tremor in his hand when he reached down and picked up the photo. It was the two of them. It must have been taken years ago. Dominic was smiling. He almost was. But he looked happy all the same. The contrast between then and now was obvious.

He didn't remember the when or the why, but he liked everything about it. Because they were in civilian clothes, two large pints sweating between them. Sharing a small table at some shoddy pub. One of the small, narrow ones where you brushed knees trying to hear each other speak.

Something tickled, a shade of a memory.

A retirement party, perhaps?

He'd buried so much over the years.

He'd been careful.

He'd pushed everything down save for-

"Did you find it?"

He set the photo down so fast it clattered against the sill and gave him away. Leaving him standing there like a guilty child. Caught. Eyes too large for his face as Dominic - with a puff of flour on his sleeve - looked at him with careful eyes.

"Are you alright, sir?"

He jerked through a nod.

"Yes. Fine," he replied. Knowing he had to explain it somehow. "Just trying to remember where that was taken."

Dominic's head cocked. Seeming to absorb his explanation before crossing to the cabinet and bringing out a bottle of expensive looking brandy.

"It was at Evelyn's retirement party, five years back," the man replied. Turning around to shake the bottle in silent question. "One of the boys was mucking around with a camera."

He nodded. Giving him leave to go back to the kitchen for glasses. Using the reprieve to try and figure out what his expression should be.

The photograph glinted in the low light. There was an obvious question there. Why did he have it? Why was he included in the line of significant people Dominic clearly cherished? Connections and bonds proudly displayed for all to see.

He wanted to ask. But he didn't want to know. Like all things that barely made sense, it threatened to give him a headache.

Still, there was a peace to this place. It felt like more of a home than his small two story had ever been. There was no guile to it. No facade. Whatever lies there were - because there were always lies - they were likely honest ones.

Dominic still had flour on his sleeve when he reappeared with the glasses of warmed up brandy. He took his gratefully. Cupping his fingers around the flare of heat like he needed the warmth.

"So, you said you let her do it...does that mean he's dead then?"

He nodded. Every time he blinked he could see the terrorist laid out on the subway car, surrounded by a bed of scarlet carsons. It was strange, for it to be over.

"Who was he?"

He took a small, measured sip from the glass. Feeling it hit his empty belly hard anyway.

"I asked her the same question," he admitted. Nursing his glass as they stood together. Already just a bit too close.

"What did she say?"

His eyebrow arched, about to tell him the truth. That he didn't know. She didn't know. They might never know. Before he realized she'd already given him the answer.

"He was you," he rasped. Enjoying the way his partner's expression changed. "And me. Her. All of us."

Dominic thought about it for a long moment, before taking a sip from his glass.

"Then what happened?"

He watched Dominic watch him as he took another measured sip. Then another. Wondering when he'd become so transparent. Because something had happened. Something he was still processing. Something that would have probably lived in the small moments for the rest of his life if Dominic hadn't-

It reminded him of how he'd realized what Dominic meant to him. It had been a gradual thing. Quiet. Unassuming. Dependable. Right. Fitting so neatly in his ordered life that he hadn't realized Dominic had become a fixture until he'd found him collapsed in that hallway. That was the moment he realized how good his ability to lie to himself had become. And as he held him - before the rest of the force streamed around them - counting the breathes, the lax mouth, the goose-egg to the side of the head, he realized he hadn't managed to cull all his old hopes after all.

His own mask, he supposed, was not as inscrutable as V's.

"Eric?"

It was the rare use of his given name that flash-fired his blood. Forcing him to meet his eyes as something in his hind-brain took note. He stared at him, cautious and dumb. Dominic had never called him by his name before.

But Dominic didn't back down.

And he didn't say anything to force him to.

"She asked for a dance," he said hoarsely.

Dominic hitched a laugh.

"She what?"

His fingers tapered around the warm glass.

It sounded like the start of a bad joke.

But the truth was, it might have been one of the most important moments of his life.

"Do you like music, Mr. Finch?"


A/N: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! – There is more to come.