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Ca va sans Dire	By : FreeSpiritedOne Category: S through Z > V for Vendetta Views: 4138 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own V for Vendetta. I do not own V, Evey, Finch or any other character. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 10

Evey had initially busied herself with tea she knew V would
never drink, but when the futility of the task finally overwhelmed the escape
of doing it she went to the roof and checked her messages.�

Good news.� The
posters were printed and would start going up tomorrow.� She would be needed in the evening to give
her radio address.� She called Finch and
made the necessary arrangements.�

Pumped up and brimming with new confidence, Evey returned to
the Shadow Gallery to find V had not come out of his room yet.�

She tried to be patient and wait in the kitchen, but
eventually her curiosity got the better of her.�
Telling herself she was only going to pick up the nest she�d made herself,
Evey walked down the hallway to toward the room V had locked himself in.

She picked up the blanket and book and paused.� What was in there?

Cracking the door open Evey peaked inside.� It was dark, but she could see there was
padding on the walls and floor and a battered punching bag hanging by only one
of three chains.� She pushed the door
open further.� The black padded floor had
dull spots scent told her was blood and it was littered with carefully placed
stacks of paper.� Some of it was shredded
into little pieces and made into tiny mountains.� Some of it was folded into shapes like
origami.� Some was drawn on, the same
sketch she had seen him produce over and over.�
Still more gruesome, some of the pages had been smudged with blood.

�Oh God, V,� she muttered, the high of success replaced by
sadness.� She wanted to run to him and
take care of his wounds.� She wanted to
somehow quell whatever it was inside him that caused this, but she knew V would
not allow her to touch him.� He would
probably not discuss this either.� He
would probably try to act as if it never happened.

It was hard to know what to do.� Was he mad?�
He�d sounded like himself at the end when she�d opened the door.� But he had done this.� Forcing herself to take in the full scope of
what he�d done, Evey carefully stepped into the room trying to reach the
center.� From there the method in the
madness was visible.� It was the same as
the paintings, and it occurred to her the terrible beating of the piano was
also a form of this half hidden design.�
What the hell was the thing?

The pattern made no more sense from here than it had in its
other forms.

�What can I do?�

She turned several circles around the room trying to divine
something from the mess surrounding her but the pattern refused to be
understood.� She did discover something
interesting however.� The untouched
places on the walls and surfaces were covered in a thick coating of dust.� There were cobwebs in the corners.�

The fact that the room had gone unused long enough to
collect so much dust should have made her feel better
about its existence but she found herself trapped in ambivalence.�

Clearly it had been a long time since he needed to come in
here, but he had a room designed for this express purpose.� What did that mean?� Why should he carry the key to the door
around on him if he had not needed the room in so long?� How could he lose it so badly, but still be
aware of himself enough to give her the key?

It was a question of danger and in the spirit of honesty, she had to admit to herself she was more frightened
of V now than she had been up on the roof watching the Old Bailey come down
while he laughed hysterically.

�Evey, I wish you would come away from there.�

She jumped at the sound of his voice, and tried hard to
compose herself before turning toward him.

He stood in the doorway looking like he always looked,
perfectly groomed and beautifully poised.�
To look at him it seemed as though nothing had happened. �It was the same surreal confusion she had felt
upon stepping out of her prison and into the Shadow Gallery.�� She almost asked him, like she had then,
that wasn�t real, was it?

Her breath began to catch in her chest, that same horrible
inability to make air flow and it took him moving forward to catch her before
she fell that broke the spell.� This was
real.� He had done this.�
With a step back and away from him, she finally found her
voice.� �I just�I had to see for myself.�

He cringed back from her and it angered her that he could
stand there looking so calm and at ease when she her emotions were
roiling.�

His voice betrayed his calm, however, hesitant and
guilty.� �I understand.�

A light went on in Evey�s thoughts.� V�s fa�ade of omniscience had cracked.� He was man like any other who bled, suffered,
and tried but didn�t always succeed. He had been through far more than she
knew, and had broken under the strain.�
She wondered if Valerie had given him the letter not to save his last
inch, but because it was already gone.�
Maybe she had wanted him to fight for it.� Maybe she had no cared who got her letter.� Perhaps it had been nothing more than
Valerie�s autobiography on toilet paper.�

Not sure to whom she was directing the question she asked,
�What happened?�

�I don�t know how to explain, Evey.� I am a verbose man whose voice shame has
absconded with.�

Thoughts of Valerie ceased as Evey began puzzling about V�s
capacity for shame.� Was it
possible?� There was a part of her that
thought he might be a sociopath and incapable of real emotion.� More of her knew this was not true and
suspected things would be much easier for him if he were emotionally
stunted.� Manic depressive seemed more likely.� If that were true then this was just part of
the cycle � not that this idea helped in any way.� Or maybe it did.� There were drugs for this and therapy�..and
there was no way she would ever get him to see a psychiatrist.� No, if there was to be therapy, she was going
to have to be the person sitting in the chair while he lay on the couch.�

Which would not work.�

It seemed like there was always something more lurking
around the corner, some new and fearsome revelation to test her.� Could she live with this?� Would there ever come a time when she was not
asking herself this question?

He cleared his throat and Evey looked up at him.� His head was down and he looked like he
wanted to sink into the floor.� This
helped.� Before her
stood the martyred liberator of Britton, looking every bit as broken as she
suspected he was, and Evey�s heart swelled.

Yes, she could find a way to live with this.� Decision made, she felt stronger.� Taking a step toward him she said, �I don�t
understand why.� What are you ashamed of?�

He put up a hand as if to ward off her progress and, when
she stopped, gestured to the room around them, �With memory set smarting like a reopened wound, a man's
past is not simply a dead history, an outworn preparation of the present: it is
not a repented error shaken loose from the life: it is a still quivering part
of himself, bringing shudders and bitter flavors and the tinglings
of a merited shame.� (9)

�That
is not a loss for words.� She teased,
trying to cover a growing irritation about the wealth of appropriate prose he
had to draw from when he couldn�t conjure words of his own.�

�I wish
you hadn�t seen this.� V said as he held out a hand to her.

She
took it and squeezed in hopes the gesture reassured.� He pulled her gently from the room and
dropped her hand as if he didn�t have the right to touch her.�

�Because
you think I�m judging you for it?� Evey asked, very aware she had been, but
feeling beyond such things now.� She just
had to convince him.

He took
a step back from her and leaned against the wall as his head dropped even
farther.�

�Because you would be a fool not to.� He replied in a near whisper.

It hurt
to hear, but what was worse was she knew he was now using his breakdown to
manipulate her. He might not even be aware he was doing it, but he was slowly chipping
away at the fearlessness he had created and she would be damned if she let him
take back something so hard won.� She
decided to nip this attempt in the bud. �Right.� Because this is the last straw?� You�ve seen me at my worst, haven�t you?� In fact, you�ve seen every inch of me.� If that wasn�t enough to make me hate you, V,
do you honestly think this is?�

The
mask would not look at her.� It was
pointed down, the quintessential picture of self loathing.�
�Misfortunes
one can endure--they come from outside, they are accidents. But to suffer for
one's own faults--ah!--there is the sting of life.� (10) He sighed.� �What I did to you, Evey, is my greatest
regret.�

She had
forgiven him and said so once, but clearly he had not accepted it.� He had not forgiven himself and all Evey
wanted to do was hold him and repeat as often as necessary that it might have
been terrible what he did, but she would not be the woman she was today if he
had not.� She was the stronger for it and
she forgave him.� While he would agree
with the former he would never believe the latter.�

She
brought a hand up to the cheek of the mask and cupped it, trying to let touch
be her voice, but he jerked at the contact, but did not pull away.�

She
pulled his chin down so she could look directly into the eye holes of the
mask.� �V, would you like to know what I
think?�

He
nodded as her hand slipped away.
�
Evey
tried to be direct.� �I�m so sorry you�ve
suffered like you have and if this is how you deal with it, okay.� It�s okay.�
If this happens again, so be it.�
At least now I know what to expect and we�ll read the next Pratchett, if you want.�
It will be alright.�

His head
rose slowly as if the mask�s weight was more than he could easily lift.� Tilted to the side, it was up to her to
decide if his body language spoke of disbelief or surprise.�

�Thought
I was leaving?�

�A
sensible person would.� Are you not a
sensible person?�� His voice had dropped
to a whisper.

�You made me fearless, now you get to
live with the consequences.�� She
shrugged and put her hands on his chest hoping he wouldn�t pull away and
feeling the muscles tense.� His heart was
beating very fast.� It was the only
expression of fear he would give her.

He gave
the slightest shake of his head. �Evey, this is no place��

�Do you
want me to leave?�� It hurt to ask.

�I�no,
but you are free to go when you wish.�

�Well,
in that case, unless you want to put me out, you�re stuck with me.�

His
head cocked again and she knew he was thinking about calling her bluff and it
hurt him to do it.�

She
wasn�t bluffing.� The time had finally come
to pull out the big guns.� �V, I�what I�m
trying to say is��

She
realized her palms were sweating and at almost the same time realized it didn�t
matter.� There were several layers of
material between her hand and his skin.�
He would never know.

She had
come close before, telling him how she felt but leaving out the one life
altering sentence that would solidify the future into a new form.� She exhaled and closed her eyes.� When she opened them she felt a little more
in control.� �I love you.� You are a very, very odd man and I admit sometimes you scare me, but no matter how
hard I�ve tried not to, I love you.�

~~~~~

(9) George
Elliot � Middlemarch
(10) Oscar Wilde - Lady
Windermere's Fan

~~~~~
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