Disclaimer: V and Evey belong to Alan Moore, David Lloyd, and a host of other people richer than me. I'm just borrowing them.

Author's Note: Beware perspective and time shifts. Also, please take notice of the rating change! Don't read if you're not of age, please. Sorry for the shortness of it all.

Borrowed Material: The quote in the beginning is from the movie The English Patient.


What You Can't Fix
By Calliope

The heart is an organ of fire.


His fingers trailed fire over her skin, igniting the flesh with the lightest of touches. Her chest was heaving, a thin layer of sweat glistening in the pale lamplight. She knew she should be conscious of the noise but at the moment couldn't bring herself to care about anything beyond the pleasure she was feeling. His tongue traced a path between her breasts, following the smooth line the muscles in her abdomen provided him, until he explored somewhere entirely new. She cried out with the discovery and the jolt his ministrations sent through her spine: her head was going to explode if she kept this up.

Whispered words in her ear, a strangled answer from her throat, and she gasped anew: he completely filled her, stretched her in ways that brought both pain and pleasure. It had been a long time since she had last taken a lover to her bed and her body wouldn't let her forget it. Thankfully the unpleasant sensations quickly gave over to the nicer ones, and soon he was pumping in and out of her with excruciating rhythms—sometimes slower in pace then suddenly fast and wild. She couldn't hold on much longer; the tingling pressure was already settling in her lower body. Suddenly hands were on her breasts again, kneading and tweaking and massaging while the rhythm he had so worked to maintain feel to shambles: he was pumping in and out of her as hard and fast as her body would allow. The combined sensations finally sent her over the edge and she whimpered his name as wave after wave of blissful release shook her body.

She lay there silently as the minutes ticked by, attempting to regain her breath and slow her heart rate. Her senses were acutely tuned to the world outside her door—hopefully her fantasy hadn't disturbed V's much needed slumber. Aside from the fact that she would feel rather guilty for waking him, more pressing was the embarrassment that heated her cheeks at the prospect of being discovered. She didn't quite know how she would explain to him what the loud noises were if he should burst in suspecting some sort of attack. However, her fears subsided as another ten minutes went by and no black-clad figure appeared in her doorway.

Some secret part of her thought that was quite disappointing.

Sighing, she busied herself with fixing and readjusting her clothes. For someone as used to contact with other people as Evey Hammond, months of living Underground had finally begun to take their toll. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy and cherish her time with V or that she preferred the world above to the world below: she just missed the constant interactions. Evey was far from vain but knew herself to be no ugly duckling—she missed the double-takes the office interns gave her when she walked by and the occasional flirting conversation with a waiter. There had never been many men in her life, but Evey found herself longing for the physical side of relationships she had experienced and come to enjoy. After all, there was only so much pent-up frustration she could handle at the unaware hands of a very alluring man.

Her inner monologue, still riding the glowing after effects of her actions, began wondering if the object of her desires and affections was enduring a fraction of what she was. He was burned all over, of that Evey was certain, but he functioned quite normally. Just because he was injured didn't mean that he was no longer a man. Her mind recounted all the times he would immediately turn to face the stove when she entered the kitchen in nothing but a tank top and shorts. A smirk found its way to her lips at the thought. Serves him right!

Her eyes wandered the now-familiar settings in her room. The idea that this dank cave had become more of a home to her than her old apartment made her smile. Eventually, her gaze came to rest on the tattered calendar on her nightstand: V had procured it for her after she told him what trouble she was having keeping track of the days with no stars or moon to guide her. According to the heading emblazoned across the cardboard backing, it had originated at the offices of one Dr. James Hochwalt, M.D., Family Physician, but where V had actually managed to secure it was beyond her guess. Her entire conscious sobered at the realization of what day it was, or rather, what day it would be in two days.

Remember, Evey, this is your best chance to get out of here and save a life in the same shot! As hard as she tried she could not completely block out the nausea that came with that knowledge: she would have to betray V. But her convictions wouldn't allow her to deter herself from the chosen path. Whether he wanted it or not, V needed saving, and Evey wasn't about to give up on him.

Suddenly a groaning of pipes and old walls assaulted her inner thoughts. Why on Earth would V be taking a shower at 3:31 in the morning?


Damn that woman and damn these walls and damn this ventilation system!

Cold water washed over skin that had been burning hot not ten minutes ago. He turned the nozzle even more until it felt like he was bathing in a glacier run-off. Nothing less could purge the images that invaded his mind as a result of the noises he had overheard. His aching muscles protested the icy water. This was by far the most difficult part of living with such a beautiful, engaging woman!

At first he thought she was being attacked, unlikely as it was in his Underground home. But nothing was rational where Evey Hammond was concerned. He had flown to her door, ready to bang his fist through the thick wood if need be, and would have if he hadn't taken a moment to collect his instincts. It was then that he heard her cry out in something far from pain or alarm. A quick retreat to his room did nothing to assuage his reactions or thoughts: he had discovered that the old ventilation system, though barely functioning, doubled as an excellent intercom of sorts. It had taken every ounce of control he possessed not to run back to her and replace those undistinguishable moans with cries of his name. This was an entirely new kind of torture, the only one he was thankful the scientists at Larkhill hadn't used.

What seemed like an eternity later, the Shadow Gallery was once again silent. V's heart, and other parts of him, however, was far from calm. Did she have even the slightest inkling of what she did to him on a daily basis? Knowing that sleep would be evasive that night, he got up to do the one thing that would put an end to this hot-bloodedness.

Finally, after standing under the constant spray for ten minutes, V opened his eyes. His hands were planted on the wall in front of him, his entire body leaning on them for support. Inevitably, his eyes were drawn to them. His hands…

Not even the freezing water had put out the flames as quickly as one look at his skin. Quickly, he turned the faucet off. He closed his eyes to the rest of his body: it was never meant to be.


V…I'm so sorry!

"I had to!"


His pained shout follows me out the door, through the hallway, and down the stairs. I don't realize I'm holding my breath until I hit the cool night air and gasp at the change. With one last glance at the open window high above me, I run. I have only a vague idea of where I'm running to, but I know exactly what I'm running from:

The one man who's shown me more, given me more, and made me feel more than I ever thought possible.

I thought I was saving him, thought I was also saving an innocent life. A bishop! What a joke. He was a man more at home in a kiddy porn shop than in front of an altar. And now V…I made a terrible mistake, and I'll never have the chance to fix it. He won't ever let me back into his home, now. That is, if he lives through this mess that I've created.

I have to keep running, though. Almost there. Running is all I have left now. I chose running over him.

I'm such a coward.