Disclaimer: Do not own, please don't sue.

Betad by the wonderful Tarilenea

She always sleeps in the corner.

Her frail body, emaciated from hunger, presses up against the rat holes. They scratch and bite at her, but Evey doesn't care. Her sleep is always fitful and disrupted by nightmares. She often screams and cries out at night as her mind replays old pain.

It's always at night when insomnia plagues him that her screams disturb him the most. V is good at forgetting what he does to Evey during the day. He shoves his conscience, his better judgement, his thoughts and his feelings for her somewhere untouchable and he keeps only one thing in mind:

He is doing this because Evey wants to live without fear, because he can deny Evey nothing.

Presently he is attaching a latex mask to his scarred face. His infamous Guy Fawkes mask hangs on a mannequin smiling at him, mocking him. Slowly his face is transformed from one monster to another, from the face that comforts Evey into the face that shouts insults at her and his hands change to those hands which beat her.

The clock strikes twelve; it is time. V stands, regarding himself in the mirror and banishes his guilt and anger.

He is doing this to Evey because he loves her. Because he is a monster who loves.

Tonight is an important night. It is a turning point for Evey. She has been beaten, burned, near-drowned and a thousand other terrible things for almost six weeks now. Every night she screams, and every night V wants more and more just to stop, take her into his arms and reassure her that everything is alright.

Tonight V will pay special attention to her. He must assess whether or not she is ready to face death... to become free. Still, V worries for her sanity. There is a very fine line between freeing her and breaking her. V rises from his vanity and treads solemnly towards the fake detention center.

He unlocks her cell door and regards her sadly for a moment, but pushes down his compassion. She is whimpering in her sleep and thrashing restlessly. She is so defeated... so humiliated. If she is human, that is humanity. She is an inch away from being so far gone he could never retrieve her mind.

Just an inch; Valerie's inch. That inch which had sustained him at Larkhill was now sustaining her here. Still, V fears even Valerie's inch won't be enough.

Evey is still beautiful, still his angel, lying on a stone floor, open wounds still bleeding. He buries his feelings away. This must be done. She would thank him one day, wouldn't she?

"Get up!" he roars.

And so it begins.

Her eyes snap open suddenly and she moans warily, pressing herself back into the stone walls. She maintains the fetal position she sleeps in and clutches her knees harder to her chest. There are no sensible thoughts in her brain, only cold, unintelligible fear. V pulls her none too gently to her feet and drags her dead weight her out of the cell. She doesn't resist, not anymore. Has he gone too far...? No. He blindfolds her and pulls her into the interrogation room, throwing her onto a chair.

"I would tell you what I tell you every night, Evey Hammond, in hopes that you will tell me something different from what you tell me every night in return."

She removes the blindfold, as she is trained to do and nods listlessly. "Yes."

"But since you have heard it so many times, perhaps you could save me the trouble and recite it yourself." He cocks his head, running his gloved hands threateningly over his truncheon.

She looks up, her eyes boring into him in tired, quiet sort of defiance. "No," she says, barely louder than a whisper.

"I think you will." he returns threateningly.

"Or what?" she asks, sounding more confident than she feels.

V gets out of his chair so abruptly it falls over and rushes to the other side of the table. Evey winces, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

"You will, Ms. Hammond, or I will shackle you to the wall and break every single one of your ribs." He runs his gloved hand down her torso and she shudders, face pale.

Every fiber of instinct and self preservation in Evey tells her to comply with his demands, and yet, she finds herself wanting to resist him.

V watches her inner struggle with some interest. She is just so tired, but he admires her will to retain some dignity.

"Fuck you," she says, mouth too dry to spit at him. Her voice is iced with hatred that no person should ever have the capacity to feel.

V falters for a moment, taken aback, but is quick to retaliate. "That's it," he growls, pulling her to her feet and shoving her against the wall. She cries out and tries but fails to blink away her tears.

She begins sobbing in earnest as he pulls up her wrists and chains them with rusty shackles, her feet dangling.

"Now, tell me what I would say to you," he drags his truncheon along her rib cage threateningly. It bounces slightly at each of her bony ribs which by now stick out unnaturally.

She looks at him with disgust, but starts. "You would say to me, that in one days time, if I do not comply with your demands, you will take me out behind the chemical sheds and shoot me." she says, trying to control her own ragged breathing.

"But if you do...?" V says, prodding her on.

"If I do..." she shivers, "you will release me. I'll get a hot shower, and a meal, and I'll be free to go. I might even get a new job."

"That's right," he breathes, "it sounds nice doesn't it?" He steps back and readies himself. Evey knows the beating will start soon. "So, Ms. Hammond, has your answer changed?"

"No," she says fiercly, summoning her strength and rattling the chains "I don't care about those things."

He is impressed. Evey is almost ready... only a little bit more.

V growls. "You are ungrateful, Evey Hammond. When you finally do die, you will burn in the fires of hell for an eternity and your suffering will be infinitely greater than anything you have experienced here."

Evey looks up coldly. "I cannot go to hell, sir, because I am already there."

The truncheon comes down and Evey screams, feeling her ribs crack.

---------------

A quarter of an hour later she is unconscious, broken and bleeding. Her injuries are painful, but not severe. V takes care not to harm her more than can be healed. Tonight, a cracked rib or two and many, many bruises.

He is sitting back in his chair at the interrogation table, looking at her. She is like an angel, illuminated by the dim kerosene lamplight. Shadows flicker over her broken body, hanging on the wall like some perverse image of crucifixion.

V watches as a single, last tear completes its path down her muddy cheek and splatters desolately on the ground.

His Evey, his angel, broken at his hands.

Guilt and self loathing wrack his body. Again, he has proven to himself that he is a monster. He is despicable. It is he who should be shot by firing squad.

He feels his mask shift on his face, the glue now sticky where his sweat and tears have mixed with it. He gives Evey one last look and leaves the interrogation room and treads slowly back to his Shadow Gallery. He must hurry; Evey will wake up soon.

Slowly he peels the latex mask off his face and replaces it with his own. V lets out a sigh of relief. It is his mask. The comforting metallic smell and familiar, smiling face looking back at him in the mirror. He has learned one thing from beating Evey tonight; she is almost ready.

Still, V has to be sure. He must make sure that he instills in her something extra, something to make sure she survives this ordeal.

Tonight he is her captor, her torturer, her worst enemy, her best friend.

How perverse he is. He knows the moment she sees him with his Fawkesian mask she'll cry out and fall into his arms.

Her savior.

He straightens out his cape and makes for the detention facility again. She is sobbing; he can hear her. He pushes open the door. "Evey..."

Her body seems to seize up and her sobs quiet. "V?" She whispers hoarsely.

"It's alright now Evey. I'm here."

"Please get me down," she says hoarsely. "Before someone is sees you."

"No one will see us tonight, Evey." He crosses the room in several long strides and pulls out his knives. Evey shrinks back into the wall. "Listen to me, you must hold very, very still. Do you understand?" The chains and cuffs she is bound by are old and very rusty.

Evey nods and winces. She has heard that last phrase so many times before...

"Good." In one sharp motion, V swings with his knives at either of her wrists, cutting through the chains that are cutting off Evey's circulation. The knives miss the insides of her wrists by a hairsbreadth. She screams. It's understandable- another centimeter and he would have dealt her a fatal injury.

She gives a great sob and falls into his arms, clutching desperately at his shoulders. Her body wracks with huge, silent, breath-stealing sobs as he cradles her in his arms, his own tears falling silently as well. "Shh. It's alright now Evey. Tonight, you are safe." He murmurs, wishing that tomorrow would never come. He carries her with ease; she is so light, so frail.

"Sleep now, Evey." She feels a slight prick in her arm and feels all of her pain wash away and the comforting darkness that is V surrounds her.

--------------

Evey is asleep now in a proper bed where she belongs. The drugs have settled her uneasy mind and soothed her body. She breathes deeply and peacefully.

V's mind is not as peaceful as hers. What exactly is he accomplishing in bringing her here? Will being with her tonight instill that extra inch that he must ensure she has? Will she even remember it tomorrow?

And God... If V has done nothing but cause her pain, he hopes he can banish her fear.

V grapples with himself. Should he lie to her, and pretend to be her savior, or should he tell her the truth? He'll have to tell her again anyways; she'll have no memory of this meeting when she faces death tomorrow.

No. V has always stood for truth. It is what he fights for. Only the truth will do.

--------------

Evey awakes very slowly. She conscious of only a handful of things; she is hungry, but she is very comfortable and warm, and the pain in her body has dulled to a barely noticeable throbbing. She is also conscious of V watching her.

V, in turn, senses her come to . He has been re-reading his collection of Nabokov books. When one leads a life as busy as he, this is as good a reading time as any. He shifts in his seat, waiting for her to speak.

"V?" She whispers.

"Yes, Evey?"

"What time is it?" She groans and tries to sit up.

V gets up and helps prop her up in an upright position. "Day, night, does it really matter?" He waves his gloved hand theatrically.

"No," she says, rubbing her eyes. "I suppose not."

He sits at the edge of the bed and looks at her pensively.

She reaches out and touches his mask. V is startled, but he only flinches a little. They mask is so much a part of him now that her touch almost translates into a sensory experience for him. He knows her fingers are still cold, shaky and incapable of fine motor movements.

"Is this a dream?" She whispers, barely audibly.

He doesn't answer straight away, but gathers her up in his arms and walks her out of the bedroom, leaving her comfortably on the couch with a blanket.

"Would you like something to eat, Evey?"

Evey considers. She is hungry, but doesn't think she can stomach much. "Yes, please."

He goes over to his kitchen area and starts rummaging. He is out of eggs, but it seems to him that she doesn't care much. He puts some bread in the toaster and some water into the kettle for tea, and goes on busily preparing the food silently, still considering how to answer the question that hangs in the air.

V takes a deep breath and delivers her food. "Your victuals, Evey, so you may revive your vanished vitality." His attempt at alliteration is poor by his usual standards, but she doesn't seem to mind. She smiles for the first time in months.

Evey eats slowly for a while, still quite in shock.

He speaks suddenly. "For all intents and purposes, tonight is a dream."

Evey blinks a few times, confused. "Does that mean I'll wake up in my cell tomorrow?"

V bows his head. "Yes. But you have to understand me. I am doing this Evey, so that you will no longer be afraid." The truth slips out of his mouth the coward's way. He is ashamed- V has always prided himself on being direct.

"What?" Her hands fall to her lap and the subtle shake in her extremities becomes more apparent. "You?" He can see the rage as it churns inside her. She is confused, but something inside her tells her something is very wrong.

"Evey, I'm sorry. I am only granting your wish to live without fear." His voice cracks. A burst of adrenaline allows her to get up from the couch and scramble away from him.

"What right did you have to interpret my wishes like that?" Her voice is deathly quiet. V doesn't answer. "How can you know what I want when I don't even know?" Angry tears spill from her eyes. "Tell me," she says.

Cold anxiety sweeps through V. For a moment, he fears she is right. Is it up to him to eliminate a natural, instinctual feeling from a separate being? Naturally, V has faced death many times. He does not fear fists or bullets or dying- but he does fear harming Evey. Fear is what warns human beings of danger; what tells them to turn and run in the opposite direction. Is he doing her harm by eliminating those feelings?

Is he so far removed from humanity that he no longer understands it?

"Tell me!" She screams. Still, he does not answer. He simply looks at her, head cocked to the side, his mask ever-smiling. "I'm leaving V!" she calls out challengingly. "You sick, sick bastard."

V has no more time to think- he knows only one thing. Evey must remain. If she leaves now, she leaves a broken woman. They have passed the point of no return. She turns to run, but V is behind her in an instant, his strong, gloved hand a vice around her wrist. She cries out and struggles against him to no avail.

V does nothing; right now she is like the thunderstorm outside. He cannot control it; he can only wait for it to pass. V waits until her sobs subside and she is left whimpering against him. "Listen to me Evey. You may hit me, you may cry, you may destroy my worldly possessions and tear the pages from my books, but you may not leave. However," he says, leading her back to the couch, "I could never keep you here against your will." He is confused by his own contradiction. It is a gamble he cannot afford to lose.

"It is my will to leave!" she yells, confused. Her wrist are still tight in V's grasp.

"I know. But before you make that choice, I must make you understand. Will you hear me out? Please, Evey," he pleads.

She is so torn. There is something in the tone of his voice she can't ignore, something important.

"Yes," she whispers, against her better judgment.

He does not speak for a moment, but loosens his grip on her wrists. "Above all things, human beings fear death. The foremost human instinct is that of self-preservation."

"Some things are worse than death. Sometimes, I long for death," she says softly, rubbing the blood back into her hands.

"Yes. That is true for you, but you are no longer a regular human being. You have experienced things that no one should ever have to experience."

"By your hand," she hisses.

He winces in acknowledgment but continues. "You said you wanted to live without fear, Evey. It is a gift you do not yet understand."

She blinks a few times, not knowing what to say.

"Tomorrow," he begins abruptly. "If you should choose to stay, you will wake inside your cell, with no memory of tonight. I will come to you dressed as a prison guard and tell you that it is your final chance to comply with my demands and give V up. You will stay faithful to V, not only because in truth, you do not know the answers to their questions, but because you long for death. You will not fear it anymore. And when you no longer fear death, Evey, as I no longer do, you fear nothing. You will be free."

"Why do you care so much about why I feel fear? Why did you bring me here tonight?"

V folds his hands in his lap. "Because I had to be sure that I was doing the right thing, Evey. Only you can tell me that." There. V finally admits the real reason.

"I-" Evey starts to speak, but V presses on.

"And as for your first question, because I love you, Evey, and can deny nothing that you ask of me." Another statement that pours from his mouth unexpectedly.

"Oh V..." Evey is shocked at his confession. "I- I don't know what to say." She puts her hand on his shoulder.

"Say nothing. I do not deserve your compassion." He stands, finding her touch unnerving. "I have a gift for you."

He disappears into some part of the Gallery leaving Evey feeling hurt, confusion and awe. It's now silent, save for the dull droning of the rain that pours relentlessly outside. Occasionally, Evey hears dull thunder and, though she cannot see it, knows there is lightening. She has always been afraid of the lightening. It's so much bigger than her and so random. For a moment she wonders what it would be like not to fear the lightening- not to experience the subtle terror it always inspired in her. Perhaps this world without fear wasn't so bad...

Moments later V emerges carrying a plain white box.

"V- I've been thinking-"

"Shh. The night is young." V senses her intentions. "You still have time to reflect on my ultimatum. Open it."

She gives him a questioning look and slowly opens the box. "V..." she breathes. It's an evening dress. It's simple, but exquisite, made of off-white silk that is edged with lace. Cream colored laces crisscross in the back, and the skirt is long and straight.

"Thank you, V." Evey is still in awe... of everything; V's confession, his proclamation of love and now the gown.

"You may thank me by putting it on, Evey Hammond, and dancing with me." He gestures towards the bedroom.

"Of course." Evey nods, gathering it up and walking slowly to go change. Her steps are slow and she is out of breath by the time she gets to the door frame.

"I'm sorry about your ribs. They will heal."

Evey purses her lips and nods. "You've done worse." She closes the door behind her and pulls off her disgusting prison shift.

"Evey?" He calls. She pulls the gown in front of her modestly, but realizes he is just calling through the door.

"Yes?"

"I've left a bowl of water and a wash cloth outside the door, if you want to clean up a little bit."

"Thank you," Evey calls gratefully.

She opens the door a crack and pulls in the bowl. V is somewhere else in the Gallery, whistling idly to himself.

The water is warm and judging by the scent, is lightly medicated. Evey takes the cloth, wets it, and starts running it slowly over her body. It has been a week since her last delousing treatment, and already she is filthy. The washcloth comes away grey.

She hisses as it passes over open sores. Lastly, she uses the cloth to wipe away the tears and grit on her face and is left feeling immediately refreshed.

She picks the dress off of the bed and unlaces the back. There is no corset; V knows her body can't handle that. The back scoops low, but the laces on either side are meant to crisscross all the way up to her shoulders.

Evey steps into it. It is breathtaking.

The long silk laces trail on the floor. Evey ties them up her back as far as she can reach without lifting her arms and stretching her ribcage painfully. V is going to have to help her. She shudders at the thought. Not in disgust- but something miles away from disgust that Evey can't name.

She opens the door and calls out, her voice echoing strangely in the shadow gallery. "V?"

He emerges from beyond a corner and drops a small bow. "You look beautiful."

Evey can't help but smile a little. "Even with no hair?"

"Even with no hair," he confirms. "Now, is there anything else you need?"

"Yes, actually. I can't lace my dress up the back and I was wondering if you could..." she stops short.

"Of course," he acquiesces gracefully. "Come with me," he offers her his hand. She hesitates for a moment, but takes it.

He leads her to a full length mirror so she can see herself in her entirety. She is still thin, but the gown has an empire waist and gives the illusion of curves where she has none.

V hesitates for a moment, his eyes lingering on her scarred back. Evey senses his hesitation. "It's alright, you won't hurt me," she says softly.

"My apologies," he says, taking the laces in hand.

"No need," Evey says softly. She feels V's gloved hands at her mid back. He is lacing up the dress loosely. And gently... so gently. The leather is cool and smooth, crawling ever so slowly up her back. She shivers, goosebumps rising at the nape of her neck.

Her skin is still smooth and ghostly white, not having seen the sun for a long time now. There are still bruises on her bare flesh, and lash marks both old and new. He drops the laces for a moment to atone for each and every mark he has left on her flesh. He touches her scars and bruises, his fingers feeling the tough, scarred flesh that seems so out of place on her body. So much like his flesh. So much like him.

Evey is aware that he has dropped the laces but says nothing. He traces her scars with his fingers, and she understands that somehow, in his own way, he is apologizing.

"I'm so sorry, Evey." He murmurs, voice low, thick, quiet. "For everything."

Evey doesn't answer. She summons the courage to look up and into the mirror, where V's face looms over. She can see the small movements in his forearms as his hands snake up her back. It seems so innocent, but feeling his hands on her back, his slow breath in her ear and her own heart pounding in her head makes her knees weak. It is the most sensual thing she has ever experienced in her young life.

V is conscious of how much he is affecting her, and cannot deny that he feels similarly. Even starved and beaten, the creature before him is exquisitely beautiful. He touches a particularly ugly bruise and she winces, their moment spirited away. Evey could have sworn that he abandoned the laces minutes ago, but they are done up. She shakes her head, reminding herself of V's quiet, superhuman agility.

"There," he murmurs, his voice shaky.

She turns to look at him, eyes filled with tears. "Thank you," she says. "For everything."

"Shh..." he says, using the pad of his thumb to brush her tears away. "It is time to dance."

Evey nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. She takes his hand once more and follows him to the juke box.

"Something quiet I should think." He flicks through the discs for a minute before settling on a soft, piano melody.

"Would you do me the honor of dancing, Evey Hammond?" He asks regally, extending his hand.

Evey laughs softly at his gallantry. The sound fills V's heart with joy. "Yes, I will, V."

They begin to waltz. Evey feels clumsy next to V. He is so straight and tall and his feet are so sure of where to go. She stumbles a little. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he murmers. "Just close your eyes and follow me."

She looks up at him dubiously, hardly daring to believe she can follow him better if she can't even see her feet.

"Trust me," he says, sensing her doubt. Evey blinks at him one more time but closes her eyes and lets him lead. Her limited dance skills don't seem to matter. They all come back to her as he calls out the steps.

"Forward half box... backward half box... hesitation... box... under arm turn," she turns easily under his arm. "There we go. Now you've got it."

The steps come to her easily now. Even with her eyes closed, V leads her with ease and she follows without a thought. Surely, Evey reflects, there can be nothing in the world that is better than this. As she dances with him, the pain in her body seems to flow away.

A huge burst of thunder cracks outside, loud enough that is heard clearly in the Shadow Gallery. Evey doesn't flinch. In that one moment of clarity, she knows what it is to not fear the thunder and lightening.

"V?" She whispers as they move together, "That feeling I just had... like I could be struck by lightening and not hurt at all... was that freedom?"

V smiles broadly beneath his mask. Now he is certain that she has that extra inch; hell, she has shown she has an extra mile for tomorrow.

"Yes Evey, that was freedom." He sighs contentedly, his own eyes closed now. "But only a slice."

"That was what it's like to live without fear..."

They dance together to the last few measures of the song. "Yes, Evey." He says softly.

The song ends and they break apart reluctantly.

"I'm tired now, V." She says, resting against him. He strokes her hair idly.

"Then you chose to stay?" He asks.

"Yes," Evey says immediately. "I want to learn how not to fear death."

"Then goodnight, Evey." V says, a hint of pride detectable in his voice. "This time tomorrow we will be dancing." He produces another syringe from his cloak, but Evey barely feels the prick.

"V?" she whispers drowsily as the drugs overtake her.

"Yes Evey?"

"I forgive you, and... I love you."

V cries silently as sleep takes her. She could have given him no greater gift than the words she just uttered.

"Sweet dreams," he whispers as she slumps against him.

--------------

Evey wakes again to deafening silence. Sometimes she wishes she would just never wake. The rats have gotten to the disgusting slop that is inserted though the slot in the door once daily. She doesn't care. Maybe today they will shoot her...

The cell door clangs open, startling Evey. "I'm coming," she says, resigned to the torture she is about to endure. She is blindfolded and dragged to the interrogation room, only this time, the blindfold is not removed.

"Today is the day, Evey Hammond. Today you will either choose to live out the natural term of your life or die."

Evey nods. Yesterday, she would have feared death, but today something was different.

V takes a deep breath. This is it, the moment of truth.

"If you do not tell us the whereabouts of codename V, you are to be taken behind the chemical sheds and shot by six men of the firing squad. Do you understand?"

"Yes." A cold calm settles over Evey. Death is close and she is almost ready to embrace it.

"Will you comply?"

She seems to take an eternity to answer, though in actuality, her answer is very prompt and firm.

"No. I would rather be taken behind the chemical sheds and killed."

"Fine." Enormous relief fills V.

Evey closes her eyes and waits, perfectly composed, for the guard to take her outside. She will die almost instantly. And then everything will be right again.

The guard's answer is completely unexpected. "You are now fearless. You have faced your death. You are free to go."

Her eyes snap open reluctantly beneath the dark cloth. This has to be some kind of sick trick. The sooner she dies, the better. She hears a rustling, as if someone is rummaging through a bag. She doesn't know it, but it is V, replacing his Guy Fawkes mask.

"Oh, my Evey," the guard's voice has suddenly taken on a new quality. It is gentle, and sad... but somehow proud.

Evey begins to tremble and the memories of last night rush back to her. "V?" she whispers, her hands movie to rip off the blindfold.

"Yes Evey," he says, one final time. Only this time it's not a question. He gets up and gathers her in his arms, determined that Evey would never see this place again.

She sobs inconsolably all the way back to the Shadow Gallery, but they are tears of relief, not sadness or anger.

V is overcome. He collapses to his knees with her as soon as they are on familiar ground."Shh, Evey, you're safe now. I promise." He cradles her in his arms. Her terrible ordeal is finally over. "No more hurt. No more fear."

Her sobs quiet but the tears still flow. Her eyes open and bore into him.

"Can you hear it, Evey?"

She stills at his words and her eyes sink closed again, as if to listen.

"Yes V. I can hear the music." She smiles blissfully.

"Listen harder."

She sits up suddenly, eyes shining with the light they had temporarily lost in the previous weeks. "I'm dancing, V," she whispers in awe.

"Yes," he confirms. She knows he is smiling proudly under his mask.

"This, Evey Hammond, is freedom. And now you have it forever. Dance with me?"

They rise and music seems to begin to play out of nowhere. "V, if I could fear one thing still, it would be a storm like the one that rages outside right now."

"Oh?" V asks, confused.

"I am very grateful for what you did, no matter how crass your methods were. But fear warns humans that danger is near. Perhaps some things are meant to be feared, things that are seemingly bigger than us, things we can't control. There are some things that just shouldn't be meddled with."

V considers. "Again, Evey, you have demonstrated to me that you are wise beyond your years and certainly much wiser than me."

Evey smiles lightly as they move in slow circles, bodies close.

"So it seems we must relearn fear, Evey, or the gods in the heavens will think us ignorant and smite us." He speaks playfully, but understands full well what she is implying. Their fear of nothing will be their ruin.

"Yes, exactly," she says softly.

"Then I hope one day we may learn to fear the lightening again, Evey."

As they dance, the familiar sound of rain and thunder echoes through the Shadow Gallery. The storm does not frighten Evey, but she hopes that one day, it will again.

---------