Author: quite.bizzare PM
V reflects on Evey's torture and it's consequences for him. One-shot maybe .Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst - Words: 677 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 2 - Published: 10-04-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7437492
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: this is my first V for Vendetta fanfic but I've watched the movie about 7349540 times and I've got the graphic novel coming soon in the mail, so I beg you to be patient with this fanfic. Happy reading!
Summary: V reflects on Evey's torture and it's consequences for him.
November 3, 2038
I'll love you baby,
But I know you don't understand,
When the good lord made me,
He made me sad
The best I've felt in my whole life,
Was when I was in your arms,
But you deserve much better than what I have to give.
V sat in the Shadow Gallery, utterly alone. He was perfectly content with solitude, however, for he had been receiving it very much so for the past few months, and before that, the past nineteen years. He supposed he should not feel as he felt just then. He supposed, as he clasped his leather—clad hands in his lap, that he shouldn't have felt abandoned, since it was he himself who had caused his "abandonment".
If only he hadn't—to use her own words—tortured her. If only he hadn't tried to teach her to live without fear, to give her what she wanted. Yes, he told himself, he had done her a world of good, he had.
He knew trying to convince himself of this was a futile; knew it was a lie.
Lies. That was one thing he solemnly vowed to himself as he stood, his polished black boots soft pounding on the Portuguese tiles as he walked to the jukebox in the centre of the room, pushed back against the wall, that he would never lie to her again. Everything from here on out would be the complete truth and nothing but the truth.
Maybe then she'd trust him again. Maybe, just maybe, she'd love him again.
He sighed through the Fawkes mask as he pushed the plastic PLAY button on the music machine. A soft, piano tune drifted out from the perfectly dusted speakers and through the ear holes of the harlequin mask, from behind which he smiled sadly as a wave of nostalgia hit him. This was the song that he had been listening to the first day Evey was there, when he had made her breakfast without looking at his bare pink-and-white scarred hands, how she had so graciously asked about what had happened... V pushed the thought away, instead focusing on the music, the notes of the piano, the amount of petal the pianist used. After analyzing the piece for a few moments, he deemed it okay, but not really exceptional.
Evey was exceptional, he thought to himself. Evey was and had always been different than the other women he had known, more so different now that she was out of that cell. She was no longer the sniveling, almost childish girl he had grown to know over the past year, but now a strong, independent woman with a burning fire in those warm chocolate-coloured eyes.
The fire and rage that he had put there.
He figured she would not show up tonight, on the eve of his revolution. He supposed her couldn't blame her. He would probably still be brooding, too, had the one person he thought he could trust wholeheartedly had had him kidnapped, tortured, and starved.
But, nonetheless, he eluded sleep that night, waiting for her.
And, to his surprise and utter rejoicing, there was a faint knock on the wooden door of the Shadow Gallery, her knock he had grown to know so well.
Smiling as wide as the mask obscuring his face, he walked to the door.
A/N: So, what did you guys think? Good or bad? Give me criticism, please, if you felt it was too short or had too little details. Or if you would like to see more from this story, which, for now, is a one—shot.