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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter 8

The thing V had thrown at her was a brass key. She
turned it over and over and over her hands fingering it so much that it had
begun to tarnish and turn her fingers black.

Evey could hear him through the door but had no real idea
what he was doing in there.

At first there was silence. Then there was crashing,
banging, shouting, violence that lasted for hours and made her painfully aware
of the half healed injuries that had nearly cost him his life.

At some point he would collapse and it was then she would
have to make a decision regarding the key. The options were few and
disagreeable. Evey had no way to restrain him if she had to. She
had no desire to restrain him. She feared he had seen enough restraints
to last several lifetimes. Nor was she comfortable leaving him alone
behind a locked door. V was far from healthy and she knew if he kept this
up he could kill himself.

When he quieted she was washed over with relief.

�V? Are you okay?� She asked quietly.

There was no response.

Just as she began fumbling with the key because she couldn�t
stand the silence she heard scratching. It reminded her of the sound of
chalk on concrete from when she was young and hopscotch was a fun game.
She put the key on the ground in front of her and waited.

Later, much later, she heard him lean against the inside of
the door and she moved to lean on it too, pushing her weight against it
allowing the pressure to silently remind him of her presence. She would
not leave him and he needed to know it.

But V fled the door when it pushed against him and she could
sense the rage boiling up again, knew the moment it would overwhelm him, and
cried hard when the crashing and banging resumed.

Finally, Evey couldn�t listen anymore and left. It
took her a while to gather herself. It was inevitable after all he had
suffered, all he had planned and accomplished that the aftermath would be
harsh. She had expected depression. What she got was a breakdown.

How much pain could a man endure
and be sane, assuming an very broad definition of the term? Would V
bounce back from this? If he did, would it happen again? How long
was this going to last? What was he doing in there anyway? Could
she live with this? She didn�t have any answers. The old Evey
would have run, fear overwhelming hope.

But this version, the one V created, wasn�t afraid of
him. She was afraid for him, scared he was doing irreparable harm
to himself and she would be powerless in the face of it.

But as V had taught her hope must spring eternal. So
Evey waited. He was too strong to fall to pieces and not
reconstruct. Perhaps this was what happened to him in Larkhill.
Perhaps this was how he had found the vision that sustained him for the last twenty
years. She would cling to the hope he was creating a new purpose and pray
it didn�t include explosives.

After briefly considering going to Victoria Station to start
looking for and cleaning the blood trail, Evey returned to her post outside the
door. She could not be away from the door that long. �It would have to wait.�

Ever returned to her vigil by the door fortified by her
faith in him and surrounded by things to make her vigil easier.� She had the blanket from his bed, the one
that smelled like him, and a couple of pillows that
she made a nest out of in front of the door. She also had a bottle of
water and some crisps. Most importantly, she had a book. It was the
one he had requested back on the 5^th. Witches
Abroad. It was such an odd choice, but it was what he had
wanted to hear when he was in pain. There was no doubt he was in pain
now.

She started reading it out loud. Her voice resonated
off the walls and echoed down the hall.

Shortly after she started V quieted and returned to the door
leaning against it pushing her into a more upright position.

She pushed back to acknowledge him but didn�t stop reading.

She made it almost to the end before she finally grasped
what V had seen in it. The first time she read the book she had glossed
over it as a bit of fluff, which it still was, but it also had a deeper
meaning. It was about stories and a government trying to force feed a
story to its population, making the people live in a fairytale because that�s
what the godmother/government thought would make their lives perfect.

�Is this book on the black list?� Evey asked, not expecting
an answer.

�Yes, it is.� His voice sounded scratchy but
normal.

Evey sighed in relief. She had been trying to force
herself to consider her options if he didn�t pull himself back together, but
all she could think of was a movie V had shown her called �Old Yeller�
about a faithful and brave dog who fought a wolf for his family. The wolf
was rabid and Yeller was bitten. The boy who loved him, the one Yeller
gave his life for, had to watch him go mad and in the end, to show him mercy,
had to shoot him. Even though the film ended with a montage of Old
Yeller�s puppies, she hated the movie and had been angry at V for showing it to
her.

He had shrugged and said, "The
quality of mercy is not strain'd, It
droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place
beneath. It is twice blest, It blesseth
him that gives, and him that takes . . ." (6)

She had not understood then and
she didn�t now. Even more, she was grateful she would not be required to
figure it out. Or at least she hoped not.

Evey wanted to make him talk. She had to be sure that
he was no longer in pieces, that her best friend was not rabid. She
asked, �Because it�s seditious?�

�Because it reminds us freewill is more important than
perfect, happy endings.� He replied, sounding very much like the college
professor she secretly suspected he had been once.

�Are you okay now?� It had to be asked.

V sighed and she could feel the weight pushing against her
through the door increase. �Yes.�

�Do you want to come back out now?� She wasn�t sure
she was ready for that. So much time spent in Crazytown
was not washed away in a moment�s lucidity, but she had to ask. He had
spent enough of his life behind locked doors.

He seemed to understand. �Would you finish the story
for me first?�

Evey did as he asked, sending
Granny Weatheraxe, Magrat
and Nanny Ogg back home before readdressing the
question of liberating V from his self imposed prison.

He sounded shamed. �Evey, if you are ready to open the
door I am ready to pass through it.�

She climbed to her feet and unlocked the door. He
pushed it open slightly and she was greeted by a scent that reminded her so
much of her days imprisoned she took an involuntary step back.

�Would you be kind enough to make some tea for me, Evey?�

�Sure.� She replied, understanding tea really wasn�t
what he was asking for and thankful to escape the awkwardness of the
moment. She was embarrassed for him, a little sickened by him and very
afraid of how she would handle the coming conversation.

~~~~~

(6) Shakespeare � Merchant of Venice
- 7
- 8
- 9
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