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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
- 8
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Chapter 9

V let the hot water pour over his shoulders, pounding away
the aches and clearing the last of the cobwebs from his mind. �The Aquashield
covers over the bandages had come loose, he realized as he watched his blood
turn the water pink as it circled the drain before passing into oblivion.�

He didn�t care.� If he
could have dribbled down with it into the refuge of ancient sewers, he would
have gladly done so.�

The thing he feared had happened.� His darkness had been set loose and it had
preyed upon Evey�s innocence.� This was
why he should have made her leave.� This
was why she would leave now.�

He stepped out of the shower and began to dry off.� How was he to face her?� What could he possibly say?� . . . My intellect is a little
way upon the wrong side of that narrow boundary-line between sanity and
insanity.� (7)

Pealing off the water guards was easy.� Pulling off the wrecked dressing on his left
flank was not.� He half wished he had not
bothered with these Tegaderm dressings.� Granted, he could see what he was dealing
with and they were less bulky than traditional guaze,
but the adhesive was not coming off without a fight.�

He had been through this countless times and it was always
this moment when his skin would rather stick to the bandage than to him, V
found himself reconsidering.� These
things were designed to protect the fine hair on normal skin.� It was not the same for burns and he had done
far too good a job adhering these bandages to his skin making sure they stuck
to ridge and crevice alike.� Stupid, that
was.� He sighed, shaking his head.�

His skin was a poor metaphor for his mental health, but a
fitting one no matter how he disliked it.�
Sometimes the demands made upon damaged skin were too great and it broke
open, unable to hold together, like now when all he was doing was peeling off a
bandage.� Why could he endure, but never
truly heal?�

Finally free of the dressing, V began to address the
reopened wound at his flank and the new smaller tears surrounding it. So far
there were no signs of infection.� Of
course, getting wet might have changed that.

He wondered how long it had been since the last time.� Years?� A decade at least.�� Long ago when his vendetta was as fragile as
his body, when he was easily derailed by fear, pain and anger there had many
similar episodes.� So many V had built a
room to take the brunt of his rage and hold the mountainous copies of that damn
pattern which had first grabbed hold of him in Larkhill.�

Once the wound was cleaned and glazed in antibiotic
ointment, V considered rewrapping his middle in gauze instead of another film
dressing.� It wasn�t as good for the
wound really, so said the research.� He
sighed and redressed the bullet hole with more Tegaderm,
telling himself he had to find some more of those adhesive remover pads he had
run out of weeks ago.�

V gave himself another glance in the mirror and started
peeling off the bandage on his left shoulder.�

He should have seen it coming.� He was a man with a long fuse, but whenever
he began thinking about the pattern, he knew he was near the end of it.� He should have warned Evey instead of trying
to hide it from her.� He had thought he
could control it this time, but no.� The
rage was too much for him.

Like many other things in V�s life, Evey�s presence cast new
shadows on old habits.� The only reasons
the episodes had mattered to him in the past were the time and materials they
cost his vendetta.� Once he solved that
problem, they had been something of a release, a brain dump that allowed him to
refocus.�

There had been no release this time.� Instead, he was ashamed of his lack of
control and scrambling for a way to explain. �If by some miracle Evey was still in the
Gallery he didn�t know how he would face her.�
What could he say?�

Why did this have to happen now?� Why with Evey only a wooden door away from
the heart of his darkness?�

Why was
such a stupidly easy question to answer. .
. . nothing contributes so
much to tranquillize the mind as a steady purpose�.(8)�

He
could think of nothing he wanted to do now and he wondered if there would ever
be anything to fill the void.

Evey.

God, he
could not face her.�

It was
her fault in a way.� He wondered if she
understood what she cost him.� She
brought him crushing self doubt and an overwhelming sense of impending loss.� She had shown him he did not have to be
alone.� He could hope for more than a
martyr�s death and�.

Did any of this matter?�
She had seen and she would leave.�
He would be alone.

Knowing her, she would wait and make him explain himself
before she disappeared forever.� He had
barely made it through the eight months she had been gone.

There is still a
chance, he scolded himself, you will
simply have to find a way to explain.�
You promised her honesty and you have yet to deliver.� She deserves the truth.� She might even understand�.no, but I owe her
this.��

It was easier to face bullets and V let his attention return
to examining his wounds in the mirror.�
From his collar bones to his groin he was black and blue.� There was not an inch that had not felt the
sting of a bullet even if the breast plate had taken the brunt of the impact.� Why could no bullet sever a major artery or a
significant organ?� He felt cheated by
good marksmanship and the concept of center mass.

Somewhere out there was a vengeful God with a nasty sense of
humor.� And Evey called me a
heartless monster, his thoughts snarled.�

Having finished with his wounds, V began the slow and
painful process fo dressing made
no more comfortable by the fact it was the last opportunity to hide.� He could not stay in the loo
indefinitely.� He would have nothing but
cowardice to blame if he tried to out wait her.�

V tied the mask back into place while reminding himself of
one small bright side.� He would not face Evey�s wrath.� It was his heart that would break, but it was
Guy Fawkes, just as inscrutable and mysterious as
ever, who would nod with �seeming calm as she walked out of his
home and his life forever.�

From the day he met her V had known it would come to
this.� He wished he had been strong
enough to leave her behind at BTN.� Why
had he subjected himself to this?�

Because I love her and
have from the moment I saw her.�

Why, when they took nearly everything else, couldn�t they
have taken his heart as well?� Why leave
him with the one organ that could continue to torture him?�

Cruel irony, that.

Oh God, Evey, how do I
face you?

~~~~~

(7) Mary Elizabeth Braddon � Lady
Audrey�s Secret
(8) Mary
Shelly � Frankenstein

~~~~~

Review Responses:

LittleMissReaper:

Nope, I�m not dead yet. �I had twin
problems.� One was school. �Had tests to study for and I do try to be
diligent in the weeks leading up to them. �The other problem?� I�m reediting/writing this story.� I always wanted to, but had sort of given up
hope of the inspiration. �Now I�ve got it
back and I�m taking advantage of it. �I�m
afraid posts will come slower than I wanted them to. �Sorry

Ero Sennin:�

I love your reviews! �They�re so
thoughtful.� I fear there is a lot more
angst to come since V refuses to believe in Evey or himself. �The preceeding
chapter was based on the understanding that it�s always the quiet, unflappable
ones that snap the hardest. �Long fuses
seem are balanced by rare incendiary blow ups. �I promise it will not all be hell for them. �They get a just ending. Really this little
beast is a story about trust.

Feather Touch:

Thank you!� Here is more for you!� Forgive me if I�m a little slow updating
since I�m basically reworking the story. �
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Ca va sans Dire