Evey walked home with a lightness in her steps. She'd left her car at the house the night before and she didn't have the heart to call for a driver. The sun was out, and the world sparkled with color and life. She wanted to savor it. That strange feeling of inevitability that always hovered around her interactions with V hadn't faded, but for some reason it was easier to bear.

Maybe it's because he's proud of me, she thought, forgetting for a moment that he was dead. She didn't for a moment wonder if he was proud of her, only if his pride in her was the reason she felt lighter. He was proud of her; She had an absolute certainty about that, as though he'd stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders and whispered that truth in her ear.

She thought about the sight of V, just over her shoulder, in the flickering light of the police station loo. Hovering there, like a careful warning. If she hadn't run at that precise moment, if she hadn't overheard Finch...He'd been buying her life with something, and not just his integrity.

She took a moment, to mourn his fear.

There was someone following her, which might have something to do with whatever was causing Finch to panic. It was just as likely to be one of Finch's men sent out to look after her. With a mixture of prudency and spite, Evey doubled back. She ducked into a convenient alley.

Evey decided she'd had just about enough of her dear friend Finch.

When Evey turned onto her street, the boy from next door was kicking his football against her front gate. She stopped several feet away and put her hands on her hips. He noticed her and fumbled his footwork, the ball getting past him and rolling underneath her car. She raised her eyebrows, amused.

"Sorry," he said awkwardly, and crouched down. He failed at retrieving his ball for a few moments before going curiously still. "Uh," he said then, and sounded frightened.

She stepped over, leaning down in concern. "Are you all right?"

He was staring at something underneath her car. The reason he was staring was because someone had strapped a bomb to her undercarriage.

"Oh," she said softly. Oh, I see. She thought to push the boy behind her. She was almost certain she thought to do that, for as much good as it would do.

In one utterly clear moment she understood. Every window in her mind aligned and she saw far across her own memory. She saw her life strung out behind her from a thousand different angles, and saw the future pull away from her in brilliant white roaring light. She watched her parents fight over whether or not to stay in London. She went in for her first day on the job at the station and was issued her first ID. She saw Finch, his hair white, looking out over the Thames.

And she saw V, with his hand out, reaching to help her up. Everything was burning, everything was on fire, but she couldn't feel it. It was like it didn't matter at all. Her soul had settled like a dove in its nest.

Everything that she'd done and felt and experienced was just what had happened on her way here. She was always coming here.

Evey reached up and took his hand. V pulled her up, into his arms. His clothes smelled like ash.

No, no that was her.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. He sounded terrible.

"You came back for me, didn't you." Evey looked up at him, her heart strangely quiet and full. "You came back for this, so I would make a proper end of it."

"No," V said, and anyone with ears would have known just from his voice that he loved her. He lifted a hand to her cheek. "I just...didn't want you to be alone."

Evey let out a breath, smiling slightly. She blinked tears out of her eyes. "Thank you," she said. It wasn't enough, so she hugged him. She almost said 'I missed you' again, because it was true, she had missed him. But it was a lie, too, because it wasn't what she actually meant.

"I love you." She said the words like she was discovering them, syllable by syllable. Then, her heart leaping with feeling, "I love you."

V made a sound like a sob and sagged in her arms a little. She held him very tightly, her face pressed against black cloth. He cupped the back of her head with his hand and the feeling was a shock because it was a gloved hand against her scalp, against a half inch of hair and Evey had stopped shaving her head years ago. Evey stepped back, reaching up to feel the sudden, shocking fuzz on her own head. She froze.

They were standing on the train platform. She was wearing the blue coat and the skirt she'd worn on the last night of V's life. They'd gone from the scene of her death to the scene of his.

Beside them, the train sat silently, doors open. The explosives were gone but she was certain it was the same train, just empty. Waiting. There was something comforting about the way it looked. Golden light from the doors and the windows warmed the concrete and stone of the tunnel. She took a step toward it.

"You can go anywhere you like," V said softly.

Evey looked back at him with a frown. "Go?" She looked at the train, then back at him. His mask was scratched and dented where bullets had hit it. "You...want me to go?"

"No." The word shot out of him almost before she was finished asking. "But...I can't ask you, I wouldn't expect you to remain here-"

"Ask me," she said, startling him silent. She took a step toward him and he straightened a little, his shoulders dropping in a piece of body language that screamed his honest surprise. She lifted her face and V leaned toward her and they stood there, the potential for a kiss hanging between them, unrealized. "Ask me," she repeated, much softer.

"Will you stay with me?" he asked, that hope looming huge in his voice. The offer, the question, felt heavy and desperately important. "We could stay here together."

It was an echo, slightly altered, of the offer she'd made him, once. Evey blinked back tears. "Yes."

V let out a soft breath, like she'd given him an unexpected shove.

"Will you stay with me?" Evey asked. It seemed important to be equal about this.

"Yes." Almost instantaneous. V let out a breath of laughter. "I wouldn't choose to be anywhere else. 'Make me a willow cabin at your gate, and call upon my soul within the house.'"

Twelfth Night.

She smiled, and though she couldn't see his face, she would swear he smiled back. The moment felt oddly weighty. More than a pact; Almost like they'd just gotten married. There was a quiet sound behind her, and when she turned to look, the doors to the train had shut. The lights from the windows dimmed. It might have been frightening, the tube station might have gone very dark, but as the lights from the window dimmed, a light brightened in the archway that led to the Shadow Gallery.

Evey turned back to him, and they looked at each other for a moment. He let out a faint breath of laughter and reached out to her, one hand cupping her cheek, the other resting at the back of her neck.

"That's that done, then," Evey whispered. She moved to close the small distance between them, meant to kiss him, but stopped. She looked thoughtfully at the barrier of his painted smile, and then reached up for the mask, to dispose of it. V's hands came up and took her wrists, his grip gentle, not pulling her away. She gave him a questioning expression. Surely now...

V slid his hands up and down her arms, turning the moment into a caress. "I don't wish to frighten you."

Evey gave him a look.

"You mistake me," V said quickly. "I don't know what you'll see, what face lies beneath this mask. Things are mutable here, and I've had more than one face."

The statement had interesting implications. He seemed to know what face he would see, but wasn't sure she would see the same thing.

"I doubt it's something worse than death," Evey said with a sliver of humor. V made a soft sound of amusement. Then, slowly, dropped his hands. Very slightly, he tilted his head, offering his face. Trusting.

Evey touched the mask, tentatively. There were straps, holding it in place. He helped her hold his hair aside, helped her find the buckles to undo. It was surprisingly intimate.

The mask was heavy in her hands as she lifted it away from his face. For a moment she stared at him, at the man beneath. "Of course," she said faintly. Of course.

Evey reached up to touch him, but stopped herself. She leaned close.

"Open your eyes," she said quietly, breathing against his mouth. "It's all right."

He opened his eyes, and she kissed him. His lips were warm.

author's note: In my mind, his face looks like Hugo Weaving circa 2005, who both (amusingly) looks a bit like the mask, and (more practically) rather like several of V's disguises that Evey was familiar with. Whatever you think she saw, his face felt exactly right to Evey.