Chapter 15
Watching Evey walk out the door was worse than V had imagined. It was a scenario he envisioned regularly, one which plagued nearly every interaction they had and one which ultimately proved to be self fulfilling. His fear of her leaving had driven her away.
And you thought you were smart, didn’t you, he sneered at himself. Think you can work this one out now, genius?
Wednesday was five days away. Five days to discover how far he could go for love.
She was asking too much. Her demands of trust were beyond his capacity to give. But to live without her…
It always came down to trust and in every case he was unfailingly disappointed. Even Evey, the one time he trusted her, had betrayed him for a pedophile priest and the vain hope of pardon.
He did not hold it against her viewing it as much his fault as hers. When faced with options, human nature always chose the path of least resistance. He had known that simple truth, had learned it the hard way, but when it counted he had forgotten. Worse. He had hoped.
Was he to once again prostrate himself at the temple of hope? What if he gave her what she wanted and was again betrayed?
VEV
It was Saturday morning when Evey stopped for a cup of tea and a scone in the bakery beneath the small flat she let the day before.
She found a seat at a table by the window and as she drank her tea she watched the people in the street. Into Evey’s idle wonderings about the places people were bustling off to and how much their lives were about to change walked a tall, thin, disheveled man in khaki green.
He would not have caught her eye under normal circumstances but he had something she was very interested in. He had facial burns. Not much was visible behind mirrored sunglasses and a mop of bark brown hair, but she was immediately intrigued. She had seen lots of burns in books and videos but only once in real life.
His gate had a very slight limp and there was a marked stiffness in his back as he bent to buy a newspaper. Evey could not tear her eyes away even as he ducked into the same bakery she sat in. She felt the sharp sting of her cruel observations when he nodded to her as he took his seat two tables away. To hide the guilty flush burning up her throat Evey pulled her scarf tighter round her neck as she cast her eyes to the floor.
Curiosity rapidly overtook guilt however and with her head down Evey watched him from under the veil of her lashes noting his hands as he reached for sugar for his tea. His scarred fingers did not bend correctly as he fumbled for a packet.
Evey’s gaze moved up to his face again. From the look of it he had had a lot of work done over the years. His ears and nose appeared reconstructed against the third degree burns of his cheeks.
He took a sip of his tea and Evey’s thoughts drifted away from him to V. Were his burns better or worse than this man’s? He certainly won the battle for dexterity with not a single indication his mobility was abnormal. She wondered what kind of access to medical care V had had.
V was the bravest person she had ever met but he lacked the courage to face the world without a mask. This man probably couldn’t topple a government or fight his way through a firing squad, but he could move about in public. What made them so different? They were both burn victims. They both had scars. The man at the table was not handsome, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something beautiful about him anyway.
Evey wished he would take off the sunglasses wanting to see the fire in his eyes. She had seen enough photographs to know what she would find in them, but seeing them alive and staring down the pity of onlookers was something she needed to witness.
It occurred to her she was staring again herself.
Just as the realization dawned, he looked up from his tea and cocked his head toward her. I am not staring at you because you’re ugly, I’m admiring you, she thought as she tried to rearrange her expression to make her intention more clear. In spite of her best efforts Evey could not stop the blush blooming red and guilty on her cheeks.
He chuckled.
Embarrassed, Evey slurped back the rest of her tea and picked up her bag to leave. As she passed his table, it seemed wrong to walk by him without saying something. Feeling awkward and aware of how easily she could put her foot in her mouth she said, “I’m sorry for staring at you. I’m sure it happens quite a lot but I wanted to tell you…”
He was looking up at her and she could see her own red face mirrored back in his glasses. “…I just wanted to tell you, you’re beautiful. Fires might destroy, but bravery is always easy on the eyes.”
“You flatter me.” He said, through a smile revealing perfectly straight white teeth.
“No, I don’t. I just…my…boyfriend is a burn survivor too. It’s hard for him. He hasn’t come to terms with it yet.” The moment she said it she realized how stupid it sounded. V would laugh outright at being called a boyfriend. She needed a better word to describe him.
The man wasn’t paying attention, instead watching a small child who was staring open mouthed at him. The girl’s mother noticed and chastised her loudly. As others turned to see what the disturbance was about the man sighed, “Sometimes I wonder if anyone ever does.”
“You did.” Evey said as she glared down the few people who had not already looked away.
He shrugged. “If you say so. I just wanted tea more than I didn’t want to be stared at.”
“Anyway, I wanted to tell you you’ve given me hope. Have a lovely day.” Evey put a hand on his shoulder and felt her hope surge again when he did not flinch away. If this man could do it, V certainly could. Feeling better than she had in days, Evey left the bakery and went to meet Finch.
VEV
V had promised not to follow her, but he missed her. Resisting the urge was very difficult, but made a little easier with surveillance. He’d had access to the Norsefire mainframe for years and through it to all the cameras and listening devices of the Eye and the Ear. He had also placed a fair number of his own cameras around the city.
At first V was afraid for her, but after a while realized though they might be looking for her they were not looking in any of the right places. Nor were many resources dedicated to finding her. There were threats to Norsefire control coming from so many directions now they were stretched thin trying to find them all. If she kept her head down, the odds were definitely in Evey’s favor.
Though pleased to discover she was relatively safe, he found another reason for concern.
Evey had always spoken fondly of Eric Finch. During the past month she had recounted many conversations, meetings and meals she had shared with the Chief Inspector. She considered him a friend and trusted advisor. V had thought little of it at the time. Witnessing it was something altogether different.
The cruelest blow of all was the irony. He had pushed them together. V had used Finch, taken him on a guided tour of the underbelly of Norsefire’s government. He had led the cop straight to Evey’s door hoping when he was dead Eric would be her ally. V should have been pleased his posthumous planning was working, but instead wished he could strangle Evey’s new friend.
Where once he had forced Evey to face her fears and conquer them, she was now returning the favor. He wondered if Evey was cunning enough to use Finch to illustrate her point and turn a request into a threat.
In a history filled with threats, abuses and cruelty, V had never submitted. Not once had he bowed his head and acquiesced, but now, whether she intended it or not, the threat came from the woman he loved. All’s fair in love and war…
Perhaps she really did have feelings for Finch. He was thoughtful, intelligent, kind and completely normal. He was exactly what he appeared to be. After living with a masked man for so long Evey probably loved Finch’s easy openness.
What Finch gave without thought was agony for V.
VEV
It was late when Evey returned to her flat. How much time could be spent arguing the same issues, the same problems and always reaching the same impasse? It was such a waste of time and it galled her to know they would have the exact same argument tomorrow.
When she pushed open the door Evey sighed. She had wanted V to see what his life would be like without her, but she had not anticipated facing the stark reality of living without him too.
Her new “home” was a small, bland, lifeless space resembling every other cupboard sized flat she’d ever lived in. She glared around the small room realizing home was not a place. It was the people occupying it. Her parent’s flat had been home, the first and only home she had known until the Shadow Gallery. V’s home felt like her home now and she missed it acutely as her eyes took in the lonely magnolia of her new flat.
She hated it and everything it represented. There was no life in it, nothing welcoming or friendly. It felt like what it was; the desolate, desperate hiding place of a soul scraping by. It’s only saving grace was its proximity to the tunnel entrance leading to her heart’s true home.
Flopping on the small, squeaky bed Evey missed the huge bed in V’s room. She even missed the smaller one in her own room. She glanced at the clock and knew V would not be asleep yet. He hardly ever slept. It was as if he felt he had stolen his life and had to use as much of it as he could before someone discovered it was missing.
What is he doing right now, she wondered. Probably cooking.
Evey got up and wandered into the tiny kitchen. She had bought some groceries but when she opened the icebox nothing looked appetizing. What was V making? Knowing him, it was some sort of culinary delight the thought of which made her mouth water.
She pulled out a frozen dinner and popped it in the microwave giggling at how appalled V would be if he knew what she was eating.
God, I miss him, she thought. Does he miss me?
She shook her head. That wasn’t really the question. She knew he did. The real concern was whether he missed her enough.
In hindsight, it was easy to second guess her decision to push the trust issue. The reality was, he trusted her more than anyone else. She knew it. Every day they were together he trusted her a little more, but he trusted himself a little less. Twenty years alone, now faced with everything he thought he would never have and she expected him to be overjoyed rather than unsettled.
Making it worse, what she had said could be interpreted as a threat. For all his creativity, V always took her words literally. You lived for me but that’s not enough. Strip yourself naked and prostrate before me or live the rest of your life alone with your regrets. God, I’m evil.
No. It wasn’t really a threat, she told herself as she sat down on the couch with her meal, it was more like a request with foreseeable consequences.
She had made it sound like he had to have it all sorted by the time she came home. It was unrealistic and cruel to expect of him. She wished he had a phone so she could tell him, but tell him what exactly? Never take me seriously because I will always back down if I think you might say no? I’m afraid you won’t do as I asked and I am too weak to stick to my guns? She sighed disgusted at the corner she had backed herself into.
He would try. She knew he would. Why do I keep hurting him?
Her thoughts drifted back to the man in the bakery. He was where she wished V could be. Not because she wanted to change him, she loved him as he was, but because she wanted him to finally be free.
The way she saw it, V had traded one cage for another, barred in by fear of rejection. She would not reject him. She doubted anyone would after speaking with him.
The first time she meet him he had quoted Shakespeare, beaten the stuffing out of three Fingermen, graced her with a tongue twisting alliteration and then asked her out. She had thought him absolutely mad, but something compelled her to go with him anyway. Maybe it had been the audacity of it all or perhaps fate had guided her to do the most insane thing she had ever done. Going with him that night was the bravest, craziest, most pivotal moment of her life.
Unable to finish her food, she dropped it in the bin and prepared for bed. As she brushed her teeth she thought about Finch.
Finch had told her once he was disappointed to have never really met V. By the end, well aware of the viciousness of V’s vendetta, he was hunting him not to jail him, but because he had many questions only V could answer.
Evey thought the pair would be fast friends if given the chance. They were very alike in many ways. Both were thoughtful, insightful and tenacious. Neither was afraid to ask the tough questions and enjoyed the debates which resulted. Both had an appreciation for music and a love of good food. But where Finch was exactly the earnest hound dog he appeared to be, V was shadow and mystery. V was creative and passionate. Finch was careful and a little plodding. V filled every room he entered. Finch was the unseen wallflower. The similarities and contrasts seemed ideal to Evey and she was positive if V ever decided to widen his circle of acquaintance, Finch was a logical first choice.
As much as she loved the idea, she would not push it. It was enough to ask him to let her in. Anything else had to be at his discretion.
Climbing into bed her thoughts went back to the man from the bakery. Somehow he was comfortable in his skin. How did he do it? What finally pushed him back out into the world? Did he have a lover or wife? Were they together before or after the fire? Evey wished she could meet his significant other and ask. She had so many questions.
VEV
V had thought he was going to die from his jealousy.
He had installed bugs and cameras throughout Finch’s home nearly two years before and they had been useful in the past but never like they were now.
He watched them in the kitchen as they cooked together, sipping wine and chatting idly about to-do lists and future plans.
Over the years V had watched other couples, people the Eye was interested in, as they went about their daily routine. Evey and Eric had the same easy familiarity. If V didn’t know better he would think they did this regularly.
Finch slid a pan into the oven and then leaned against the counter near Evey. “I’m not thrilled with the flat, Evey. You have to know that.”
She reached for the wine bottle and refilled their glasses before turning around to lean her back on the counter causing her spine to arch and her breasts to be pushed forward. She is flirting with him!
Finch gave her an appreciative once over which made V want to rip his eyes from his head and feed them to him.
Evey did not maintain the pose long. After a sip of wine she put down her glass and then pushed herself up onto the counter. Rounding her back and letting her elbows sit on her thighs she admitted, “I do, Eric. Frankly I don’t like it much either but I don’t want to risk the Shadow Gallery with all my comings and goings.”
Finch smiled. “So that’s what it’s called. I wish I’d gotten a better look at it, but I was a little shell shocked during my first visit.”
Nosey bastard, thought V as Evey corrected, “Your only visit.”
“I assumed as much. You have to admit it is a lot safer than your current home.” Finch continued.
Staring into her wine glass Evey shook her head. “No, home is where the heart is and mine will always be in the Shadow Gallery.”
What? But I thought…but you just did the back arch meant for breast appreciation…and you left. Confused but suddenly hopeful, V leaned forward in his chair as if getting closer to the monitor would somehow make a difference.
Finch sighed, staring into the red depths of his wine. “I understand. Mine is buried in Ireland. I never did, but some get their hearts back you know. You’re young yet. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to love again.”
Evey swallowed the rest of her wine and set the glass down hard enough for the tinkle of glass to be picked up by V’s microphone. Looking straight at Finch she said firmly, “No. V was it for me. I’ll love him until the day I die. Sounds dramatic doesn’t it? I don’t know how else to say it really. You cannot replace someone like him.”
V’s heart beat wildly in his chest as if it were dancing for joy. He switched off the monitor and leaned back in his chair. Guilt began to seep into his happiness as he realized how little faith he had in her. She was right, you bleeding sod. If you refuse to trust her you will never love her as she deserves.
Why did he have to see her tell someone else before he would believe? Was her word alone not enough? Apparently not. I am a fool.
In that moment V came to a decision. He would give Evey what she asked for. It would not be pleasant. The consequences might be disastrous, but he owed it to her.
Stop focusing on the negative. Consider the possibilities.
What would it be to bask in the glow of her love? To touch her? To make love to her? No longer a dream, but a warm, embracing reality? The feel of her would be the most sublime pleasure of his life. His imagination drifted away, and for a long time he floated in a cloud of perfumed lust.
The physical distance he had maintained was unnecessary. He could touch her and she would not recoil. Without his gloves if he wanted. She could touch him…find something else to think about!
He looked at the clock. It was nearly a new day. In less than an hour it would only be three days until she came home.
Such a long time to wait.
V wandered around the Gallery looking for something to do. He was not the least bit tired. He was not hungry. He was no longer interested in spying, feeling guilty for having done so in the first place. He thought about the piano. It had been a while since he played. Not since he had beaten his burl wood beauty nearly to death.
Instantly his happy thoughts were replaced with doubts. He made an attempt to fight them off, but failed.
It was not merely access to his body Evey wanted. She wanted access to his past as well. When is your birthday?
Damn, damn, damn.
She thought there were happy memories to share. She wanted to laugh at childhood tales. He had nothing but flames, pain and disease to share with her.
V wondered how much she already knew. She and Finch were close and Finch knew more about his past than anyone alive. Surely he had told her. But Evey would never have been able to resist mentioning what she knew. In the heat of an argument it would be a killer blow.
The more he thought on it, the more convinced V became Finch had not told Evey about the diary or the Rookewood conversation. Perhaps he had not wanted to hurt her with the truth. Perhaps he would not dig up past tragedies he could not prove. V had promised him evidence, but had never delivered it. Shortly before the fifth V had gone a step further and stolen back the diary.
He’d had a good reason. Ideas might be bulletproof but men were not. It was a truth reaffirmed for him through Evey. She knew very little about him, but V was no longer a symbol or an ideal to her. He was simply a man. One who was fallible and selfish.
Witnessing his diminishment in Evey’s eyes he had known what he had to do. Finch was not the type to put forth what he could not prove. Without the diary he could do nothing. V, the man, would remain a mystery while the idea lived on aloof of pity, anger or love. Most importantly, free of personal motive.
He had sought revenge. He had a right to seek it and to glory in the ruination of his enemies. But his purpose had been so much more than personal. Much had been done to him, but it was what had been done through him which had to be undone.
Therein lay the problem.
Evey’s life had been very hard and in many ways V felt responsible for her troubles. He could not assign the ultimate blame to himself, but the fact remained without him they could not have done what they did. Evey’s brother would not have died. Her parents would not have been politicized, they would not have been black bagged and killed. She would not have grown up in the Juvenile Reclamation Project. Her life would have been different, happy, normal.
Evey would not want the truth once she had it, but how do you explain to someone they do not need to know why? It is the most fundamental human question. Why? It is the first query a child learns and the one they take with them all the way to the grave. Even when the answer would be terrible the question must be asked.
V wished Evey could be satisfied with the present, with what she had rather then question its origin. What had happened was terrible. Why it happened was worse.
Why hadn’t Finch told her? He might not have evidence, but he did have the confirmation of Dominic Stone. It would not be enough for the court of public opinion, but it would suffice for Evey Hammond. Perhaps he shared V’s opinion that in this case ignorance was bliss.
Evey was tenacious though. She would not understand he was trying to protect her rather than avoiding an ugly memory.
He could not love her if he did not trust her, she said, but perhaps V wasn’t the only one with trust issues.
VEV
It had been a long day of meetings, but Evey was pleased with the outcome.
They finally had agreed to a plan. Those seeking immediate revenge had finally been overwhelmed by reason. It had taken weeks of argument, but Evey had won assurances prisoners would face jury trials rather than immediate death. The win had to be credited to a former Lord Justice of Appeal and several barristers who had come to her aid. Restoring justice had to be a top priority.
There were so many top priorities. Security, justice, the economy, the list was endless. It was overwhelming to think about.
The new year would be rung in with a new government. They were less than a month away from finally breaking the back of Norsefire. There was a meeting planned for the 28th at Jordan Tower where party leaders would gather to finalize plans to regain their iron grip of control. Evey’s group planned to move against the building and arrest everyone in attendance.
At the same time, another team would blow up Finger headquarters. They planned to do it during shift change to maximize the casualties. Evey had tried to find a less violent solution, but they were undermanned and even the Lord Justice agreed with the plan. Survivors would be arrested and tried. Given the hatred the people had for Fingermen, the ones who died in the explosion would be the lucky ones.
Evey felt out of control. Things had grown too large for one person to oversee. She was not a queen or dictator. She had to lean on other people, but it frightened her to share the reins of V’s revolution. A few weeks from now there would no longer be a revolution. There would be a nearly a year of transitional authority and then a new government would emerge putting power firmly back in the hands of the people.
It was staggering to think of and she wanted to talk it over with V. He was so good at drawing out her concerns and helping her work thought them. He resisted offering outright advice, but Evey knew he planted seeds. She felt lost without him.
It was only Monday.
As she walked back toward her flat she wondered if she could go home early. If V was half as lonely as she felt, he would be happy to have her back sooner.
Again she faced the trouble of holding firm. V sought boundaries and then ways to break through them. If her resolve proved only as strong as a wet paper bag he would walk all over her. He would never intend to turn her into a resentful doormat, but it would happen if she were not careful.
Besides, Evey still had plenty she needed to do before returning. Tuesday would be eaten alive by more meetings, but Christmas was evident in the bright candy colored lights and lively window displays. She planned to shop Wednesday before returning to the Gallery.
One Christmas had already been spent with V. His prisoner for nearly two months, knowing he had murdered Louis Prothero but not knowing why, Evey had been afraid of him. There had been nowhere to escape him either. The Shadow Gallery was, is, V through and through. There was not an inch of the space which did not breathe with the life he had given it.
Making it worse, time seemed to stop so deep underground. The only way to mark its passing was via the telly. Christmas trudged forward to near complete domination of the programming, but went unmentioned in the Gallery.
On Christmas Eve the isolation had been crushing. Evey had sought him out because she could not stand spending another Christmas alone. After a few moments conversation she forgot he was a killer in a mask and knew only the warmth of his voice and thoughtfulness of his conversation. During a lull when V had gone to search out a book to illustrate a point he was making Evey turned on the telly and found a Christmas concert. Book forgotten V had sat down to watch it with her. When it was over she’d asked him why he did not celebrate the holiday.
As he always did with questions which might humanize the idea, V had blown it off. However, by morning he had had a change of heart. When Evey woke there had been a small tree and several gifts for her. He gave her back her memories and she had cried at the thoughtfulness of it.
When Evey lamenting having nothing to give him, he had claimed to be very difficult to gift. This year she faced that problem directly. What do you get the man who has everything but the things no amount of money can buy?
VEV
V had finally found a diversion for his overactive mind. Standing in the midst of a veritable ocean of holiday decorations he wondered how far was too far. He did not want to overstep the bounds of taste but V wanted to do something voluptuous.
He had made a very poor showing last year. He could not remember ever having celebrated the holiday though he must have in times Before. Unless he were Jewish or Muslim. No matter. He would do better this year.
Decorating fed V’s inner artist and proved to be something he enjoyed. Several years back he had liberated a shipment bound for the Chancellors palace which was little more than holiday decorations and booze. At the time he had been disappointed. Now V was a little overwhelmed.
He had gone to the surface for a tree and greenery. Having made an error estimating ceiling heights, he had been forced to cut the tree down a bit. Then there had been a problem of circumference. It was huge and consumed every room he put it in until he switched out the piano for it. He felt a little guilty since his piano had seen nothing but abuse and neglect in recent weeks, but it had to be done.
Having positioned the tree V began garlanding the walls with the holly and juniper bows he had purchased. Then as he began stringing lights he let his mind turn to gifts.
What to get her? Last year he had brought her things from her old flat. He’d given her back as much of her life as he could. Pictures, clothes, the blanket from the foot of her bed, things which had been part of her life before he had disrupted it.
In return she had made him breakfast. She was not a culinary prodigy.
This year would be different. He wanted to overflow the space beneath the tree with packages. So what would she want? Jewelry? She didn’t wear any. Clothes? Maybe. Music? Definitely. What did she listen to when she wasn’t with him?
The one gift he was certain of would not fit under the tree. He had all the supplies he needed. It would be a stretch to finish it by Christmas, especially with Evey at home and no good excuse for disappearing for hours at a time.
Was it wrong to want to shower her with gifts? Was it really a pathetic attempt to buy back the love he feared the truth would cost him?
Don’t think like that, he admonished himself.
VEV
Evey was bogged down with bags. She had shopped as if she would never see another store for the rest of her life.
She wanted to make Christmas special for V. There was no way to make up for twenty lost years, but she wanted him to never forget the first real holiday they shared.
Shopping for V proved impossible at first. She wanted to get him something he would appreciate but given his taste and her budget she could not find anything. It wasn’t until she wandered into a kitchen shop and saw an absolutely hideous apron it occurred to her to appeal to his sense of humor instead.
She bought the ugly apron. In a men’s store she bought the gaudiest boxers in the history of ugly undergarments. As she went along she found more and more items she knew he would be amused by. By the time she realized she could carry no more, she had bought a host of items, several of which she doubted she would have the courage to give him.
Rounding out her purchases with wrapping paper and ribbon Evey returned to her flat.
She had promised to be home by seven which gave her just enough time to do the wrapping and get cleaned up before going home.
Her excitement grew with each package as she considered V’s reaction. Christmas would be fun again. The holiday had lost much of its childish allure as she had gotten older and realized that kind of joy was meant for other people. The last real Christmas she remembered had been when her brother was still alive. After he died, everything changed and frivolity was replaced with sadness.
It would not be sad this year.
Her shower was long and leisurely. There was no hair to fuss with and very little makeup needed. She chose her clothes carefully, deciding to wear a dress as if she were going to a party rather than returning home from a trip.
She wore red because it was his favorite color. The dress lost some of its appeal under the heavy black coat the weather required, but she knew he would like it.
Evey packed up everything she planned to take and left her flat nearly skipping with joy.