So, I just saw "V for Vendetta". I still have yet to read the graphic novel (don't hit me, I work at a bookstore, so I will read it. Eventually). I am aware of the differences, so I suppose this is a mix of movie and book verse; V is slightly more crazy. Takes place after the 'torture'.
Sort of inspired by "The Past Is Another Land" from the musical "Aida". It goes through the past (another land), the present (an empty space), and the future (a barren world). It's pretty, but depressing. I figure V is fairly dark as it is, so a moment between Evey and V deserves to be kind of happy, if confused. I wondered what Evey was thinking in the few days she must have stayed, trying to get her bearings before leaving. Movie didn't really address that.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I just enjoy exploring the characters a little more, and I hope that other folks like what I think.
Kind of a forbidden word in the Shadow Gallery. What came before? For Evey Hammond, it was working for the television station. Even before that was the Juvenile Reclamation project. And before that, her parents. And her brother. And a lot of other things. She'd told him all of this, of course. For some reason, she felt it was alright to tell him. Who would he confide her secrets in anyway? The worst he could do was to know them, and then mock her with them, and he certainly hadn't done that.
Hell, she still didn't know why she was down there. Again. She supposed he was training her for something. Or perhaps he just needed company. She didn't know how long he had waited for his chance to lash back at the government, and he wouldn't tell her.
Come to think of it, she knew almost nothing about him. Not a name, not a face, no history, not terribly many interests. He read. He read a lot. He also liked films; films from ages and ages back. He could cook. He wanted his country to be free.
Was it that, or did he just want anarchy? Would any order come from anarachy? It would have to; after all, anarchy as a political stance? A clean purge of the corruption-ridden prior regime, yes, but a way to run a country? Didn't seem to work. Perhaps V was just hoping that the folks of England would be smart enough to keep themselves from facism. Again.
But for V, what came before? He admitted to have no name; was he that bad before? What did he look like before?
He could have been handsome. Evey wondered what he looked like--again, since she often did. She supposed he didn't have that horrible haircut (or was that a wig?) She supposed the calm voice belied an attractive face.
Or he could have been ugly as sin. Or the fire that burned his hands could have ravaged the rest of him as well. It didn't matter, Evey supposed, because she'd never see his face. She'd resigned herself to that. It didn't bother her anymore. Beneath the charismatic anarchist's mask, he was still human. Albeit, he was a lot smarter than other folks. But for someone so reviled by the general population (or so the government said), he was an incredible gentleman to her. At first she was a sort-of prisioner; kept against her will, but not uncomfortable. Now? Well, if she could get over what he had done to her--
Exuse Evey. She means for her. What he did for her.
If she could cope with that; and it oddly felt like she was; she could still see the gentleman in him.
She had zoned out; her eggy-in-a-basket had crumbled from her fingers. She sighed and popped what remained in her fingers into her mouth.
"I'm fine," she replied through a mouth full of food. She heard a chuckle from beneath the mask. Restrained, as if he was worried she was still angry. Evey shook her head, swallowing.
"No, really. Just...just thinking."
Silence again. Akward for both parties, really.
"Really, V. I..don't think I'm mad...I'm certainly not happy, but I'm not mad. I sort of understand. Hard to know anymore."
"Keen powers of observation, I see."
Evey narrowed her eyes.
"I am merely commenting on...,"
"...something I said, I know," Evey responded, and took another bite of her breakfast, mumbling under breath, "Smartass."
Evey swallowed, and slowly, as if realizing it, gave a small smirk.
Beneath his mask, she could have sworn she felt the barest hint of a smile. Or not. Sometimes he was a gentleman, and sometimes a madman, and God help her, she barely could tell which was which.
After. After this, she would say goodbye. After this, she would thank him. After this, she would, quite out of the blue, move towards him and he would appear to realize something. Afterwards, she would leave, and once again, he would be alone. Afterwards, she would begin to see his face everywhere. Afterwards, she would wonder if he really was insane; he had, after all, conversed with the statue, and called it a whore. He'd praised "Lady Anarchy" (though that she could see wasn't insanity. It was theatricality). He had warned her against happiness:
"Happiness is a prison, Evey. Happiness is the most insidious prison of all."
But he was happy with her. Wasn't he? Or did he just give himself carte blanche to be a hypocrite? Evey didn't try to understand. After, she would take up his mantle, and stand before the crowd. She, eventually, would become V. She would eventually move past the nagging feeling that she'd redeemed him, because it would always make her feel like she could have saved him. Afterwards.
But now was now, and they were quietly eating breakfast. (Well, she was eating. He was cleaning up, and doing little things so he didn't have to look at her.) And it was calm. For once.