Author's Note: Thank you gentle readers for reading my little story. I'm afraid this is all I can write for this particular story. I didn't want to spend too much time delving into the hows and whys. I probably should have written this all out as a one-shot story. Oh well, I hope you enjoyed this, although I realize it may feel rather unsatisfactory. This would be the last part of this story and as always please Review! Thank you Belmont-Bellamy (great potential? Thank you for thinking so, but as you can see it has come to an end here. I could have poured so much into this and put so much more detail into it than I have, but I kind of sputtered out of fuel for this story and couldn't think to write more on this subject), pinkarella7, Blackwing-Rose, Matsudapie (I've always been bad with run-ons!), theshadowcat, Pumpkinator (sorry, this is the last chapter, but a sequel to Sonnet should be coming out sometime), and neko-chan for leaving a review where so many others have read but not commented.
She had just barely waited a week, she left as soon as she was capable to stand and walk on her own, but she still looked so bloody thin. V sobbed quietly, he had held it in during all that time and never had he felt such heart break until now in front of his shattered mirror. Even though he had extracted a promise from her, his only wish he hoped to be fulfilled before the fifth of November, he did not know if she would visit him. Just once more before he left this earth to the hells below he would want to see her face, but that was very uncertain. She left him as quickly as she was able, so why would she deign to give him another minute of her time so eager she was to go?
Evey breathed in the fresh air of being outdoors, the air was slightly damp, but that was on account of the recent rain seeing as the cobblestones of this particular road was wet. She then realized that she didn't know what the date was, but that mattered little at the moment. She thought back to her last moments with V before she escaped the Shadow Gallery, where time had slid by unannounced and things seemed so unreal. His voice had held a hopeful quaver in his last request. It was the most uncertain he had ever sounded: would she please come and see him one last time before the night he had planned and worked for for so many years? Something about never having danced… And she had called him a monster in those cool tones and that pregnant pause between them.
The moment had become so electric and heavy and almost awkward as she seemed to move in for a kiss, her body had just moved in of its own accord, but no, there were still unresolved issues between them that had physically stopped her. She would have blushed had not the cold wind already reddened her cheeks at that memory.
And now what to do? She was out topside with a bag filled with her few belongings, just a couple changes of clothes really and no where to go. She would have to obtain shelter and work, easier said than done, but whether the government was corrupt or not there would always be ways around the system, she just had to find where.
In the following weeks of Evey's departure V forced himself not to find and follow Evey. Oh he very much would have liked to do none other than that, but she had left him, wanting to be out on her own and he had to respect that. He still had much to do before the grand finale and threw himself into his work, but still unable to forget for too long the gaping hole she had left within him.
The room that had been Evey's bedroom remained so, he could not reclaim it. It was her space in his Shadow Gallery and would remain so even if she were not to return as she had promised for one last visit. He often visited that room, breathing in the precious smell of her that lingered in the air and the bed sheets. Was he obsessed? Perhaps.
He would exhaust himself in hopes of diverting his mind and collapsed into bed when he could no longer work, but could not escape the dreams that were horribly beautiful. Horrible because it could never be. He would dream of Evey on those few nights he'd dreamt, she would smile at him and they would embrace. Sometimes he wasn't dressed as he was normally and he'd look down at hands that had never been ravaged by fire and he and his love would be topside doing mundane things like shopping for groceries. But then he'd wake up and knew it for a dream, glance at leather gloves that covered his ruined hands when he was too tired to bother with removing any article of his clothing the previous night, or day. Or see his bare hands and then busy himself again.
One of V's dreams had felt quite sinful in all the bodily contact that there was between him and Evey, it haunted him throughout the days that the dream reoccurred. He would find himself in a bed he knew was his, in the dream, but also knew that in reality wasn't what his actual bed and room looked like. And she would be lying nude beside him stroking his… chest. And curse his memory for remembering every detail of her body from when he tortured her with those sprays, the dream would leave him half aroused and physically sick.
And he certainly didn't think about how she seemed to move into him the day she left, how she had stared at his ceramic lips and seemed ready to… but she didn't and that's what mattered and what allowed him to keep from chasing after her immediately. There would be no use in that.
Evey had been lucky to find a string of people who didn't ask probing questions, there were actually many people who had such connections to what may be considered part of the underworld of this government, people who made fake IDs, people who had jobs for cheap labor, housing with ill kept records that allowed people to slip into anonymity. Not surprising really considering how many people would want to keep a low profile under a government that didn't take much instigation to black bag its citizens.
With what little credits she was able to scrape together she had purchased a copy of the movie V had so favored: The Count of Monte Cristo. When she saw its plastic case peeking out among various others in a box at a used odds and ends store she knew she had to get it. It was one of her good memories with V that she had come to cherish.
She had been doing pretty well after her initial paranoia at being recognized, but when even a former coworker couldn't recognize her she had finally felt free to move about in public. Of course she still glanced about to make certain her surroundings were fairly safe, turned her head to the side so as not to be looked into a face by those she suspected to be Fingermen and the sort by their swagger and officious gait.
Days and weeks flew by and Evey abruptly realized one day when she saw that girl scamper off, the drying half of a red "V" sprayed over one of the propaganda posters, that the promised day of destruction was quite near and the pangs of heartache she had begun to experience at the thought of V came back a thousandfold. She looked up into the almost white, grey sky of autumn and knew she loved V despite the tortures he had put her through. He had thoroughly ruined her for anyone else, no one could possibly have read as many books as he and quote so many lines from Shakespeare and others in place of his own words to answer her questions. No one could appreciate art and music and fence with a suit of armor like he did. And her heart ached for him and longed to be in his presence, but she feared her return to the Gallery.
Evey was almost positive that V did not intend to survive this November fifth. His hesitant and wistful wish for her to meet him at least once more sounded like that of a condemned man's final request. And she had called him a monster.
It was the morning of the fourth of November. V really didn't get much sleep the previous night, not that he needed much. He had dressed in a fresh outfit, smoothing down invisible wrinkles of his black doublet and trousers, checked the shine of his impeccably polished boots and walked into Evey's room. He sat down in a chair, the same chair he had sat in for weeks now when he had time to spare in hopes that Evey would come for that final visit. He had been disappointed each night and had come to fear that she would not show up after all. The room was no longer permeated by her scent and he felt unsettled by it as he had the previous few times when he realized the room no longer smelled of her, like all of his many memories of previous to Larkhill, so was evidence of her short stay with him: gone.
He sat in that room staring at the neatly made bed, nothing to do since he had completed all that needed doing. Until this night, that is, where he would meet with Creedy and Sutler and finally complete his vendetta.
He stared dolefully at the bed that he had given up to Evey, his heart wasting away for lack of his love's presence. And again recalled her goodbye and how she had almost closed the gap between them, hovering so closely to his mask's lips then pulling away. And then he heard music, his heart beating curiously, hopefully and it wasn't until he saw her standing there, in front of the juke box, telling him how she had missed that song 'Cry Me a River' did he know she was no apparition created by his hopeful and breaking heart. His heart soared, and in his mind echoed, 'She came, she's here.'
The feeling of her against him as they gently swayed to a song was beyond divine and he knew he could die happily enough with this. It would have to be enough.
She reveled in the feeling of him, knowing time would be short and relishing every possible moment with him that she could, she was becoming desperate in hopes that she would be able to stop him from becoming harmed. Her feelings ran deep for him as only their complicated relationship could make it. There had to be some way…
The two continued their slow dance until the time V knew drew too near for them to part. He now knew that she held his heart and that she would now also be part of his revolution. His actions in creating a fresh new future through chaos then anarchy was now all he could give her.