Chapter 23

At four o’clock Evey made contact with Finch.  She read portions of her speech and figured out where to stand and the best way to light herself.  She let Monroe confirm the security of the connection and allowed him to take credit for creating it.  It made her smile listening to him toot his own horn over the invisibility of the link. 

When the meeting ended it was after six, but Evey felt better.  Everything was under control and proceeding as planned.  She was ready to do her part and eager to get on with it. 

Unable to contain her excitement she went looking for V and found him as she stepped out from behind the Caravaggio.  His posture read guilty, like she had caught him in the act of something.

“What are you up to?”  She asked, letting her eyes travel over him.  He was wearing the bunny slippers.

“Nothing.”  His said as she giggled and pointed at his feet so he would know what was funny.  He smirked and straightened up.  “Are you finished?”

She stopped the giggles, but could not get rid of her smile.  “Yep.  All done for today.  More tomorrow.  You know how it goes.”

V nodded. “Indeed.  Then shall we get on with Christmas?”

He held out a hand.

“That’s right.  There is a purple box with my name on it somewhere.”  She remembered as she clasped his hand.

“Of course.  Would you follow me please?”

“You fixed the lift.”  Evey said realizing where they were going.

He gave nothing away shrugging, “No.”

Then I don’t…get it.” Turning the corner she saw a gold wrapped package sitting on the bench next to the lift. 

V dropped her hand and reached for the package saying, “For you.”

The gift was heavy.  When Evey had torn the paper off and opened the box she was greeted by a ream of vellum paper and an ornate fountain pen.  She knew instantly it was a gift like the train.  “I don’t understand.”

“Your father was a writer.  I thought it might run in the family.”

“No. I mean this is not small and it is not purple.”  She said putting the lid back on the box while wishing she could give it back.  This gift had strings attached.

V shook his head looking pleased with himself.  “The violet one is for later.”

“Oh, right because it’s not after dinner yet.”

He held out his arm like a gallant.  “Shall we eat then, my dear?”

“You’re…” torturing me, she almost said, taking his arm with one hand and juggling her present with the other.  “This is a lot of paper, V.”

He looked down at her, unreadable as always.  “It’s a long story, is it not?”

“What?” She let go of his arm.

He folded himself onto the bench by the lift, body language professing patience.  “Some stories must be told.”

“You have got to be joking.”  Evey muttered, feeling blindsided. 

He sighed and leaned back in his seat.  “Wouldn’t that be lovely, but no.  I’m not.  Far from it.”

“Then what was the point of all this?”  She gestured back toward the Shadow Gallery.  “Why do you keep secr…did you wait to tell me about Larkhill until…I don’t understand.”

“Fate often puts all the material for happiness and prosperity into a man's hands just to see how miserable he can make himself with them.” (29)

He was quoting again.  “Pardon me?”

“You were right.  What is lacking is not faith in you, that I have in abundance, instead I have no faith in me.”

“I know.”  She had recently said this.

He spread his hands in a gesture of hopelessness.  “Thus I am faced with a conundrum.  To have what I want I must do what I fear.  I must pull from the shadows that which I wish to hide.”

She sat behind him, needing him to know she supported him.  “You already did, V.  It was very brave of you.”

V’s head shook and there was an edge to his voice when he said, “There is no bravery in leaping over self imposed hurdles and you miss the point.  The people deserve to know what has happened to them.  I owe them that.”

“But you want me to do it.”  Evey was dangerously close to whining.

“As I cannot write it myself, for reasons we no longer discuss, I have no choice but leave it to you.”  V took her hand, absently rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.

Evey did not want to write a book about V or anything else…definitely not about V.  She could not voice why she felt so opposed, but every fiber of her being resisted.  “And if I refuse?”

V slumped forward resting his forearms on his thighs.  His head was down.  “Then I do not see how we have a future.”

Opposition ignited into incredulity.  “What?!  Is that an ultimatum?  What the hell…”

His hands came up in classic it-wasn’t-me denial as he said, “No, no, no.  I am speaking logistically, living arrangements, money.  How do you propose to orchestrate this?”

“What does a book about you have to do with any of this?”  She was trying to puzzle her way through what V wanted, but it was proving difficult.  He was easily the most private person she had ever met.  The absolute last thing she would have expected from him was this.

“You want the flat upstairs do you not?”  She nodded and he continued, “It would let for ₤2500 or more.  How would it be paid for?”

“You are charging me rent?”  Evey asked, angry.  She did not understand what V was driving at and she was incensed by what she thought she understood.

V proceeded in a reasonable tone, “You are a public figure, soon to be the most famous woman in the UK.  How will you explain your finances to the press?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I would like nothing more than to give you the flat, but if I pay for it, or if you pay for it with my money, it will be a problem.  Every penny I have is stolen.  I covered my tracks well, but an industrious reporter…who knows?”

The light was beginning to dawn, but she still resisted.  “So I write a book and all our problems are solved?”

His voice was soft as he admitted, “I highly doubt it, but at least the logistical ones would be.”

“I don’t think I can, V.”

“I’ll help.”  He offered.

“No, that’s not what I mean.”  It wasn’t that she could not write about him.  It was much more than that.    “I read Joseph Campbell’s Hero with a Thousand Faces and it was all about the archetype of a hero.  It doesn’t work without a lot of unknowns.  People remember legends and fables, they forget facts.  What you did can’t be forgotten.”

V chuckled and Evey knew from his tone he approved of her objection.  She also knew he would refute it.  “If there are questions about me even I cannot answer, I believe the one thing we are not lacking is mystery, my dear.”

“Yeah, but…”

Suddenly he was all seriousness.  “I have given this a great deal of thought.  It is what I want.”

“Then you do it.”  She could still not express why she could not do it and hoped he would understand and let the matter drop for a while.

“Thus my proposal is sound, you question only the execution of it.”

“V, I have to think about it, okay?”

“Of course.”  He nodded.

In an effort to end the discomfort Evey tried to refocus V on something she was very curious about.  “I’ve not forgotten the after dinner gift.”

“Ah yes.  This is for you.”  He produced the purple Christmas present as if by magic and handed it to her as if he had forgotten they had not eaten yet.

VEV

“You didn’t!” she squealed as she ripped away the paper and opened the box.  Inside was a key. 

“I did.  Come.” He stood and offered his hand.  She took it tugging him impatiently into the lift.

The ride up felt like it took an eternity.  When the door opened she was facing a wall.  V pointed up and she saw a small monitor split in sections.  “A precaution only.”

“Okay.” The images on the monitor were too small to see the details of flat clearly.  Excited she asked, “How do you get out of here?”

“Push here and the door will open.”  He showed her and she stepped into a closet.  He reached over her shoulder and pushed open the closet door.  The view greeting her was one of V’s paintings.

“It’s beautiful, V.”  She said recognizing it as the old couple he had sketched in St. James’s Park. 

“There is more to see.”  He stepped out of the closet behind her and guided her toward the entryway.  It was large, circular and painted in a calm slate blue.

“If you do not like the color I will repaint, but I simply could not oblige magnolia.”

“No, it’s beautiful.  This place is beautiful.  I cannot believe you did this.”  She turned and faced a large library already loaded with books.

“I hope you don’t mind.”  He said nodding at the loaded shelves.

“They needed a home.  I bet you still have millions of them on the floor down there anyway.”  She smiled, inhaling the scent of old books and new paint.

“”The kitchen is this way.”  He guided her down the hall into a kitchen opening into a living room.  She had walked through it many times on her way to the roof but it had always been an ugly, outdated, dirty space.  Now it was gorgeous and smelled like Italian food. 

On the counter sat a bottle of wine and two glasses.  He had made her dinner in her new home.  “How in the world did you find the time to do all of this?”

“You know I love to cook.”

“And you know that is not what I meant.”

“I had time on my hands.”  He shrugged, “When you were gone I needed something to do.”

“All this in a week?  I don’t believe it.”

“It looks in better shape than it is.  The kitchen needs a lot of work, so do the floors.  I need to sound proof the elevator shaft and…there is a lot to do still.”

“I think it’s perfect.”  Evey said, beaming as she looked around.   “Where’s our bedroom?”

“In a minute, our meal will be cold if we don’t eat now.”

VEV

Evey’s meal disappeared with eager, overlarge mouthfuls and she finished in record time.  He did not try to keep up with her, instead taking his time and having a second glass of wine while she fidgeted in her chair.

“You are doing this deliberately.”  She finally accused.

“Am I?”  He asked amused by her simple joy.

“You’re killing me, V.”

“Shall we continue our tour?”  He rose from his chair.

She did not have to be asked twice, bolting from her chair and nearly sprinting down the hallway yelling at him to hurry as she went.

She went in and out of rooms, smiling and laughing as she opened and closed doors.  He caught up to her at the end of the hallway in front of the last door.

“Am I going to like what I find in here?”

“I hope so.”  V replied as butterflies took flight in his belly.  He was at once terrified and excited.

She pushed open the door.

V had thought long and hard about how to go about decorating the room and knew she would find it beautiful.  He hoped the room would be able to say what he had not yet found the words for.  He hoped it would speak his desire, that it would be the opening move, perfectly understood and accepted.

Evey lingered in the doorway long enough for V to start worrying before she turned to look at him.  There were tears in her eyes.  “I cannot imagine anything more beautiful.  Come share this with me.”

“I’ve made you cry again.”  He said reminding himself women often cried when they were happy.  Tears did not necessarily mean she was unhappy.

She smiled and stretched a hand to him.  “This is joy, silly man.  Come here.”

Elated, V went and received the kiss he had hoped for. 

“I love you,” she whispered when she came up for air.  “I truly, deeply, love you, V.”

Another damn broke on the inside, but there were no tears.  Instead there was a fuzzy feeling tickling from within that finally forced out a laugh.

She pulled back confused.  “What’s so funny?”

He sang,” Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; ‘tis grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.” (30)

“What?”

“T’was grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved; how precious did that grace appear, the hour I first believed. (31)

She looked concerned and he attempted to clarify, “I am quite certain I do not mean it the way Mr. Newton intended.”

“I don’t understand, V.”

“Nor I, but what does it matter?”  He kissed her and it felt right, he felt right, whole for the first time he could remember.  He could not explain, there were no words for this greatest gift he never dared wish for. 

He broke the kiss, aware he could kiss her again whenever he wished and wondering why it had taken him so long to figure it out.  She was looking at him strangely and the only explanation he could offer was, “I love you.”

She smiled uncertainly, but he didn’t care.  He was reveling in the most joyful freedom.  It felt light, giddy, like dancing.  They should dance.

He swept her into his arms and began to waltz.  She followed along with him, looking up, joy and doubt at war on her brow.

He wanted to tell her everything was okay.  He had not lost his mind though a huge weight had been taken off of it.  But the music in his head had a very solid grip and all he could do was dance.  It was not a long piece and as it climaxed he dipped her low feeling her weight against his hand, her total trust in his strength.  He would not drop her, never drop her, never hurt her.  He held the pose too long, the moment suspended in time, and when he finally lifted her back to her feet she was clearly worried. 

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I love you.” he replied. 

“Yes, I know.  I love you, too.  Are you okay?”

“Make love to me, Evey.”  He said, the words rolling off his tongue with such ease he surprised himself.

VEV

Evey was stunned and waited for him to slap a hand over his mouth and take it back, but he didn’t.  He stood in front of her, loose and completely at ease.  If anything he looked a little eager.

It seemed impossible, too good to be true and too scary not to be real.  He had finally cracked.  Completely nutters.  “Could you repeat that?”

“Make love to me.”  His voice was calm as if this were the most natural demand he could make.

Evey did not catch up as fast as she would have liked and before she could stop herself she was doubting aloud.  “Really?  You’re sure.”

He faltered, “I don’t mean to push, I…”

“I’d love to.” She cut him off not wanting the moment to be lost.  This was what she had wished for.

V’s posture straightened back into confidence and he closed the gap between them, putting his lips to hers again.  Her arms went around his neck and she wanted to pull off the black mask and touch him.  She did not.  If he wanted it off, he could remove it.

“May I?” He asked as his fingers tickled at the hem of her T shirt.

She tugged it up and over her head.  His hand glided down her back and she realized he was still wearing gloves.  Not wanting to shatter his confidence, but also resenting the barrier of gloves, she debated asking him to take them off. 

His touch moved to the small of her back and then over her buttocks to the top of her thigh and she decided he was far enough along that asking him would not ruin the mood. 

“Would you take off your gloves for me?”

“I would do anything for you.”  He replied, his touch disappearing.

What in the world is going on here?  Did he snap?  Is this a different personality?  Could that be possible?  Multiple personalities, this one created to make me happy?  To back me off his pain?  Not good, not good.  His hands returned to their place on hips and his lips were a hairs breadth from hers when she said, “V, wait.”

He pulled back, head cocked, waiting as she asked.

“Are you sure you’re alright because you’re acting kind of strange.”

He took a deep breath and then sighed.  “I think you were right before.”

“About what?”

“Happiness.  You were right.  I didn’t know, but I think I do now.  I am fairly certain this is…joy.  Odd is it not?”

“Really?”  She wanted to kick herself for sounding skeptical.

“You gave me this gift, Evey.  Were it not for you I would have gone to my grave without knowing this glorious freedom.  There is nothing you could have done for me greater than this.”  The back of his hand, heavily scarred, smooth and rough, drifted down her cheek as if he had always touched her this way.  “I thought I freed you, but all along it was I who needed freeing.  Thank you for this, for loving me in spite of myself.”

“’Wow.”  Evey exclaimed wishing she could see his eyes.  Somehow she knew they were not scary anymore.  Her own eyes wept moisture and she was quick to clarify, “These aren’t sad tears.”

“I know.”

The moment stretched as she looked up at him, searching for blue hidden behind black gauze.  The smile slowly bled off his lips and she could see the tidal wave of change being pulled back into his sea of despair, but then he reached behind his head and pulled up the zipper on the mask.  “I cannot love you and hide from you.”

There was a lot of light in the room from the hundreds of candles scattered throughout it and she wondered if he was serious, but the mask pulled forward and then free of his face.

He was absolutely still, not looking at her, letting her look at him and Evey decided it really wasn’t as bad as he thought it was.  He had a strong jaw and the surgeon who remade his nose had given him a perfectly straight one that fit his face.  He had no eyebrows and was bald, but he did have a few scattered lashes.  He had ears, again nicely reconstructed ones.

His eyes were not as scary as she remembered them, instead they were the color of north sea ice, mysterious and haunted.  She wanted to tell him they were beautiful but knew it would not be taken the way it was meant. 

She reached out and touched his bare cheek and she saw the flinch in his eyes but his body was rock steady.  The texture of his skin was abnormal but not terrible, sort of like extremely bad acne scars.  “I love this face.”

His gaze turned to her, icy and penetrating, studying her, looking for the lie.  There wasn’t one to find and before long a smile broke out on his face.  “Thank God for you, Evey.”

“Weren’t you going to make love to me?  I seem to remember you saying something like that.”

He responded by walking her back to the bed.  The moment it touched the back of her legs she collapsed down on it, holding onto him and happy when he fell on top of her.

For a split second she thought he would pull away when he shifted his weight and asked, “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she whispered, able to see the concern on his face and in his eyes for the first time.  She tightened her grip around his back.  He let himself be pulled against her and their kiss resumed.

It was not enough.  She shifted under him, pulling her trapped leg free so he was between them.  He did not miss the invitation, moving his knees outward spreading her legs apart further, but he remained frustratingly polite asking, “Is this alright?”

She ran her hand down his back and over the rise and fall of his ass.  Pulling him hard against her she whispered in his ear, “I want more.”

He tugged at the hem of her pants.  “These are in the way.”

“We can fix that.”  She said, wanting to tell him his were in the way too, but didn’t.  He had given her his face.  It was enough. 

He scooted away from her on the bed giving her room to strip which she did.  He watched and she watched him watch finding it amazing to be loved so much. 

When she was nude he blushed, an uneven patchwork of color on his cheeks, saying, “Ah, yes. I suppose I should…”

She cut him off, “What you should do is get back over here.  It’s cold now I’m naked.”

He obliged wrapping her in his arms from behind pulling her tight against his body, “Warmer now?”

“You have no idea.”  His lips found her throat. 

Reaching behind her she let the back of her hand glide over his abdomen moving lower.  “I have had enough foreplay, V.”

He let her go and she immediately rolled onto her back, hands at his waist looking for a way into his clothes. 

“This is truly ridiculous.”  He muttered, squirming out of his shirt while Evey admired the view.  Only the texture of his skin was wrong, the muscles beneath it were very nice.  He stopped, hands in his lap, and when she looked up to his face he glanced away, “Please don’t stare, Evey.  I…I know it looks strange and feels even stranger but…”

“If you must know, I was admiring your muscles.  When God put you together he did a good job.”

“Oh,” he muttered, blushing red, which made his skin a kaleidoscope of red and white.  “Then the devil had his turn.”

“He did his damnedest, but he did not undo God’s work, V.”  She replied feeling confident in her answer.  Unconventional to be sure, but not ugly.  If V could read her thoughts he would probably quote something about the blindness of love, but that didn’t matter.  What mattered was this moment and this man.  “I’m cold.”

“Ah, yes, where were we?”

VEV

It was nothing like the last time, not frantic, not stolen.  Not fast, for which V was truly grateful.  It was with sublime pleasure that he rolled onto his back and pulled Evey atop himself.

There was silence as he listened to their heart rates slow and still he felt the calm, fuzzy sensation.  He did not fight it, preferring to ride along and see where it went.  His old friend Shakespeare entered his thoughts and aloud V sang, “It was a lover and his lass,  with a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, that o'er the green corn-field did pass, in the spring time, the only pretty ring time, when birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: sweet lovers love the spring.” (32)

“As You Like It.”  Evey identified the quote with a sigh.  Her hair was prickly on his bare chest when she stretched against him.  Through a yawn she asked, “Where did you learn to do that?”

His body was putty, but after a second his fingers cooperated and he turned circles on her shoulder.  Knowing she wasn’t asking about the quote he said, “I don’t know.”

“Too bad.  I owe her a huge thank you.”  She said through another yawn.

“Me too.”

“What changed, V?”

“You love me.” He replied.

She lifted her head and looked him in the eye, “I always have.”

She did not flinch away from his gaze the way he did in the mirror.  She held it, steady and loving.  It was more than he had hoped for.  “Yes, but I didn’t understand until now.”

“How did you figure it out?”

“I don’t know.”  He was not able to explain how he came to understand.

She tried again, reframing the question as V had so often done for her to help her sort through her thoughts.  “What did you find out?”

“You aren’t leaving.”  

She went quiet after that, snuggling into his chest, her hair sandpaper against sensitive flesh.  Some other time he would ask her to be more gentle.  He let his hand drift from her shoulder to her waist marveling at the smooth softness of her skin.  He made the inevitable comparison, but for the first time did judge himself a monster.  Instead he decided he was simply different, not hideous.

For a long time he drifted with his thoughts, occasionally marveled at his lack of self loathing, and wondering how he had been so blessed.

VEV

“All this can me mine for the price of a book, huh?”  Evey asked after a long moment spent curled in V’s arms.  She wanted to be angry because this was very much like the train.  He let her have a taste of the future and then demanded sacrifice. 

He sighed and shifted beneath her.  “I want you to have the flat, but you have to be able to legally sustain it.  If I could pay for it I would, but what I have was…not acquired by means you could defend in court.”

Evey’s head came up and she looked at his face.  His eyes were at half mast.  His apparent lassitude upset her.  With more venom than intended she accused, “You stole it.”

Blue eyes opened and focused on her, reminding her of the violence he was capable of.  He blinked and the anger faded.  “Yes, from Viadoxic and a number of other party ventures for which the accounting was shoddy.”

“I wish there was another way.”  Evey said.  She wanted to be with him, she needed to be with him, but he kept showing her how impossible it was, how many hurdles separated them.  Being together was the only thing that mattered.  Whatever it took.  “I want to fade into the woodwork when this is over.  I just want to be with you.”

“And I with you.”

“I can’t profit from what you’ve been through, V.  I think its evil.” 

His head cocked on the pillow and he spoke in his teacher voice.  “So historians by the virtue of their work are evil?”

Feeling like a recalcitrant student she squirmed a little.  “No, but…”

“Was Yoko Ono evil?”

“Who?”

“The wife of John Lennon who most assuredly profited from her husband’s death, was she a terrible person?”  Seeing her lack of comprehension he continued, “He was a Beatle.  You know their music.  I have some in the jukebox.  They were the most famous band of the twentieth century.”

He hummed a few bars and Evey remembered the song.  She had always liked it.  However, she knew when he was manipulating her.  “You’re not dead and this is different.”

“Not really.”  He shook his head.

“But…”

“Films about Patton and McArthur were those exploitative or educational or entertainment?”

“But…”

His hand stroked her cheek and she leaned into the touch watching his eyes as she did.  He was watching his fingers trail over her skin and she could see him noting the difference between them, finding himself ugly.  His hand fell away and his eyes went over her head to some point behind her.  “Whether you write at my prompting, at the clamoring of the public or allow someone else write about you, at some point, your story and subsequently my story will be told.  Someone will profit from it as someone must in a free market.”

“I don’t know what I think.”  Evey said and she didn’t.  She felt like his words were one thing but his actions were another.  She wondered if he had the guile to use his burns as a way of manipulating her.  It bothered her to think he might.

“You don’t have to decide now.”

(29)–Don Marquis

(30) & (31) John Newton – Amazing Grace (It was too perfect and though I know it’s sacrilegious I had to use it)

(32) William Shakespeare – As You Like It

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