Evey looked at V as the credits rolled on the screen. He looked tired. Not so much in his face, since that was always covered with the ever smiling façade of Guy Fawkes, but in his posture. She silently wished she could do something for him. It had been three months since her rescue from Jordan Tower. He said she had acted bravely. She had said she was foolish. Evey smiled and shook her head. V glanced over at her and she pretended to yawn. It was late after all, and yawning wasn't so odd.

"It is rather late Evey," V said, looking at her through cavernous black holes in his mask. "I will be going out tonight, do not wait up for me."

She could tell by his tone that this wasn't a lighthearted warning. He was serious. He was doing something dangerous, especially dangerous tonight. She hoped he wouldn't get hurt, but that was always a possibility. Especially since "terrorism" was such a dangerous occupation. She always worried about him when he left at night. She had gotten so used to having V around all of the time; she had learned to love the Shadow Gallery and its quirks. There was always something fascinating to be found in one of the corners, a world of its own, that's what the Gallery was.

"Evey?" V asked, shaking Evey from her thoughts.

"Yes, okay. I won't stay up. But…" she stopped and looked down at her hands, which were intertwined with each other.

"Go on," V said, his voice gentle as always. Deep and comforting.

"But do be careful, V. Be extra careful," she said, suddenly looking into his eyes, pleading with him.

V stopped. His hand was frozen in midair. He was about to push himself up from the couch but her words stopped the action. Evey watched this strange reaction. She had often thought about his safety but never mentioned it to him, never wished him safety before. Maybe it was too much for him to be cared for. She watched him lower his face to look at his hands and then lean back in contemplation. What she guessed to be contemplation, at least. She heard his breath hit the inside of his mask softly, his breathing was really slow.

V looked down from the ceiling, turning the mask toward Evey. "I shall be careful, sweet Evey, if only for your sake." V got up from the couch and offered his hand to Evey. She took it and was escorted back to her room, down the hall from V's own chamber. "Good night, my dear."

"Be safe, V," Evey whispered and looked at her door. She felt his gaze upon her. She turned the door handle, shut herself in her room, and leaned against the door. "Please be safe."

vVv

V gazed at the door after Evey shut it. She had sounded so desperate. Was she pleading with him? Pleading for his safety? How strange. V walked down the hall to his own room and looked at the knives that were lying across his dresser. They gleamed sinisterly in the light of the room and foretold of the coming action that was inevitable. Tonight was a night that held grief in its grip, fog eerily creeping in the streets of London. After the reward that was posted for his or Evey's arrest, V had been especially lethal. He did not want to get caught. He had less than a year before his plan came to fruition. He could not get caught when planning was in its final stages and actions were needed to keep on target.

Tonight he had a meeting with Eric Finch. Of course, Finch wouldn't have any men with him since Creedy took over the main search, but Finch could be dangerous enough with a gun in his hand. And what was with Evey's warning about his caution? Did she have less faith in him than she had originally? Was he more likely to slip up tonight? No, it was just a meaningless caution, said in remembrance of the film they had just finished, Casablanca. But he had gotten Elsa in the end. He had found his love. V believed he had found his too, but love or no love, his plan must be completed.

V sheathed his knives in his belt, tied his cape around his neck, and placed the hat on top of his head. His boots were polished to a brilliant shine; he could see the gleam of his mask in them. V stretched his hands in his leather gloves. He was ready to meet Mr. Finch.

V left his room and walked toward the entrance to the Gallery. He slowed by Evey's door but after listening to the silence as he crept passed he moved quickly to the outside where the air nearly knocked him over. Something was odd. There was tear gas coming from a few blocks away but V went in the opposite direction. He didn't have time to see what the commotion was, he had to meet Finch.

V quickly walked in the shadows, carefully avoiding the light, although his mask shone brilliantly in the dark anyway. He had reached the end of the street and climbed a fire escape to the roof. It was clearer on the roof. He could see almost the whole of the city. A faint breeze made his wig move slightly. A few more blocks and Finch would have a steely surprise.

V made quick work of the jumps between buildings, eventually landing on the inspector's roof. He ran down the building and stopped right above Finch's living room window. He breathed deeply. Be extra careful. He grabbed the edge of the roof and swung down silently onto the ledge. The television was on, Finch facing the screen. Be safe. V tried the window and was surprised to find it open. His boots creaked on the wood floor and Finch jerked. Obviously he had been asleep. V quickly grabbed a knife with each hand and placed one across the inspector's neck. Finch was wide awake now, perfectly still against the cold blade of the knife. His breathing was strained, shallow, as he felt the steel graze his skin, enough to give a silent warning. V placed a scrambler on the end table after he put away one of his knives.

"Hello, Mr. Finch," V said in a very deep, hoarse voice. "Let's have a little chat, shall we?"

vVv

Evey stood at the door for a while, leaning on it for support. Why did she care so much? Evey dressed for bed and brushed her honey colored hair. She normally wore it in a loose bun, but wore it down when she slept. It was somehow relaxing to brush her hair. She could just let her mind wander and think about what was going through her at that moment.

She was so scared, so angry at him for taking her, but felt relief and actually safe while she remained in the Gallery. She had never had a home after her parents died. She was in the Juvenile Reclamation Project and was bounced from house to house, never having enough time to actually stay anywhere to call it a home. After a few months of that, she was put in a large building, like an orphanage, but worse. Food once a day, maybe twice. Communal bathroom. Sharing beds with girls and rats, as well as cockroaches and other insects. She had love for eight years of her life, then it was gone, swiftly eradicated by black bags.

Evey stopped stroking her hair with the brush. Her eyes had become blurry. She had not felt this scared since she watched the riot on the tele. She had been so afraid that her parents were going to die. And then the bagmen came. The visions filled her nightmares during her years in the Reclamation Project. Her roommates all cried in their sleep, so she was not alone. But then again, she was.

She couldn't bear to think of her childhood any longer. She turned off the light and collapsed on the bed, watching out for books that might have been knocked in her passing. But in her bed her thoughts changed. She was so scared for V. How could he go out almost every night in the cover of darkness and wreak more havoc in London? She had never been very religious, but she prayed for his safety. She prayed that he would return. She didn't want to be left alone again. She was safe and comfortable with V. Yes, he had his quirks, but he was genuine. He cared about her welfare, about her.

Evey turned to face the ceiling. Did she care for him as well? Of course she cared about how he was feeling and what he thought, but did she care for him on a more personal level? Evey stared at the empty space above her bed. She had started to care for him! She had never told him to be cautious before. She wanted him to return - return to her. Evey wanted to think about this some more, but sleep was overtaking her. She had never slept so soundly until she entered the Shadow Gallery; until she found a home.

vVv

There was a loud bang. Evey jerked awake, her hair covering her face. She sat up and grabbed a robe V had procured for her a month ago. She glanced at the clock on the floor by one of the many piles of books. 4:33 AM. Was V getting home, only now? Evey crept to her door and opened it only a crack. She heard the soft music of the jukebox flowing through the Gallery. She loved that sound. She saw a light coming from the television room, but heard only the soft lyrics sung by a male voice.

Why is it I spend the day,

Wake up and end the day

Thinking of you?

Why does it do this to me?

Is it such bliss to be

Thinking of you?

And when I fall asleep at night

It seems

You just tiptoe

Into all my dreams

Oh, I think of no other one

Ever since I've begun

Thinking of you.

Fred Astaire. She loved that voice. It was calming. Maybe she should just go back to sleep. He told her not to stay up for him. But she didn't. But how was he supposed to know that? He was probably leaning against the jukebox just listening to the music. He was prone to do that. Evey liked that about him. He was able to stand perfectly still and just enjoy the work; listening as if nothing else mattered, listening as if that was the only sound in the world.

vVv

V limped a little. It was not as bad as it could have been, but he needed ice. If Finch had just told him what he needed it would not have happened! V put his hat and cape on the hat stand by the jukebox. He limped over to the kitchen and dug in the freezer for some ice. If only he had noticed that the window ledge was rotten, he would not have twisted his ankle trying to jump out of it.

V set his hat on the end table and draped his cape on the back of the couch in the television room as he went into the kitchen to get some ice. Be careful. So much for that warning. Be safe. Well, he was safe, just not as safe as she had wanted him to be. Evey. What would she say about his carelessness? V grabbed an icepack from the freezer and sat down at the table. He pulled off his boot and put the ice on his ankle.

V noticed he still had his belt on and reached to unbuckle it. He was tired. He wished he could just go to sleep, be careless for once. But that was never a possibility. V thought he heard a rustle near Evey's door and quickly slid on his boot. He paused, waiting to see Evey slip into the hallway, but nothing happened. V sighed. Was it relief or disappointment? He didn't know. He had only a few hours to sleep before he would make Evey breakfast as he did every morning.

V stood stretching his leg cautiously and gently putting his foot on the ground. He made his way to his bedroom and felt sleep overtake him. He barely landed on the bed and had taken his boots off when he was immersed in a dreamless sleep.

vVv

Evey placed her left hand on the doorknob and the other against the wall. She heard his door shut and breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't heard her slip and catch herself on the wall. She thought she had been quiet, but one can never tell with V. He seems to know everything and hear most everything. He sees things before they play out. Like every time she tried to beat him at chess. She found that she really didn't like that game.

Evey stepped back from the door and sat on the edge of the bed. She was no longer tired. It felt as if she had been awake for ages. But she didn't want to leave the confines of her room to disturb V. That was the last thing that she would want to do. He needed sleep as well as Evey. She lay back on her bed and stared at the black ceiling. Every time the lights were turned off the whole Gallery turned black since there were no windows. She sometimes relished in the emptiness, sometimes shook in its embrace. She closed her eyes, her world still dark. Evey lay still on the bed breathing evenly. She was bored. She couldn't stay in this room like this much longer. It was one of the times where the darkness held no comfort.

She moved again to the door and opened it silently. Evey stepped out into the hall with a light robe over her pajamas, her feet softly padding on the stone floor. She crept along a passage and peered into the room with the television. She felt her way to the couch and sat down searching for the remote. She turned the screen on and the familiar glow made her feel more comfortable. The volume was turned down low and Evey curled up on the couch. She watched a rerun of Gordon's television show and then the news flashed on. She didn't hear anything that the reporter said, but the woman blinked too much. She was lying about whatever story she was telling. Evey soon fell asleep watching the mute reporters. Her hand holding the remote fell to the floor and her hand brushed the stone as the remote clattered out of her hand.

vVv

V awoke suddenly. He had barely been asleep. He was just about to fall into a deep slumber when he subconsciously heard a high-pitched noise and then a clatter. He got up and tested his ankle. It was a little better, but he could feel that it was still swollen. V pulled on his boots and walked cautiously to the door. Evey shouldn't be awake at this hour.

He pulled the door open and walked into the hall. There was a light coming from the television room. He walked slowly and looked around the corner through his mask. V sighed. Evey was there on the couch. He had not vacated it an hour ago, yet there she slept. V crept over to the couch silently and placed a blanket on Evey's sleeping form. He would have picked her up, but with the fear of waking her, he decided not to. He turned the tele off, glanced at Evey once more, and went back to bed.

vVv

Evey woke up on the sofa with a blanket halfway covering her. Her hand had scraped the stone floor and her knuckles were scratched. The lights in the Gallery were dim, probably V being courteous and respectful of Evey. He was always thoughtful that way. In the little things he did he always showed her great difference and was respectful to her wishes.

Evey rubbed her eyes and stretched like a cat. She heard the rattle in the kitchen and knew V was cooking breakfast. He was such a great cook. Evey had not even dared to cook anything while in the Shadow Gallery because of the excellence of V's own dishes. She smelled coffee in the musty air of the television room. It floated like a haze into the room and surrounded the sofa with the smell of coffee beans. Evey rested her head on the armrest and listened to the noises. There was the ticking of the mantle clock, the rattling of V in the kitchen, the soft hum of the electricity that ran throughout the underground lair. Then she heard her own heartbeat. She closed her eyes and felt completely relaxed in a place that was utterly foreboding, but since V was there it didn't matter. He made everything feel right.

She smelt him before she heard him and felt him even before he entered the room. V looked down at the reposing Evey. "Good morning, mademoiselle."

Evey opened her eyes lazily and looked up at V, who was leaning over the back of the sofa, his hands resting on the top. "Good morning."

Evey made an effort to rise and took V's proffered hand in assistance. "Could you not sleep?" asked V, in a concerned tone.

"No. I mean, I did for a while, but I woke and couldn't fall asleep again so I came out here to watch something on the tele, and I guess I fell asleep."

"Yes, so I would gather." V escorted Evey to the kitchen, turning on a few lights as he went by them. Evey knew this was mostly for her benefit, because V could see perfectly well in complete darkness as well as in brightly lit rooms. Evey, on the other hand, stumbled against everything in the dark.

Evey noticed he had a slight limp on his right leg, but decided not to say anything about it. She had begged him to take care of himself, but obviously her words were unheeded. She was disappointed that he would be so careless as to get himself injured, but it was a job that had required certain risks. He put his life on the line most nights for the people of England, and hopefully, even for her.

She did not want him to get hurt, however romantic it was. She wanted him whole. V sat her at the kitchen table and put a plate of French toast before her. Evey was quite hungry and was glad to have something else to concentrate on other than her feelings about V's safety. He had probably tried and by Providence he was injured. He didn't look too badly hurt though, he was still walking after all.

V sat down across from Evey and stared into her coffee cup. "The morning cup of coffee has an exhilaration about it which the cheering influence of the afternoon or evening cup of tea cannot be expected to reproduce," V stated, still looking at the ceramic mug.

"Yes, 'behind every successful woman there is a substantial amount of coffee," Evey replied after finishing a forkful of toast.

V looked up at Evey and saw a small smile. He loved her smiles. They were not overenthusiastic, but just enough to show appreciation or genuine pleasure in something. V gazed about his kitchen and found that nothing could bring him pleasure more than the person in front of him.

Before Evey he had lived alone in his lair and plotting against everyone from Larkhill. He read a lot, watched the reports on the news, and went out to do business. He lived a solitary and lonely life, he realized now. When Evey came he was bewildered. He couldn't help but try and take her to safety, even if it meant that she had to be captured and taken away. He couldn't let the government black bag her too. Not after she tried to save his life.

After breakfast Evey showered and dressed and went to work trying to organize he books in her room. She had gone throughout the Gallery and cleaned and organized and had purposely left her room for last. There were so many books that she would have to alphabetize them by author so at least they could find one easily. She sat on the floor digging the books out from underneath her small bed. Although it was low to the ground, there were at least fifty books underneath. She gathered al of them and put them in their own piles next to her bed. This was getting ridiculous.

Evey sat back on her heels. "Why do you have so many books?" she asked to herself, not knowing that V was walking by her door at that particular moment after his fight with the suit of armor.

"'For friends... do but look upon good Books: they are true friends, that will neither flatter nor dissemble'," V said leaning against the doorjamb.

"Friends?" Evey asked turning around.

"'These are not books, lumps of lifeless paper, but minds alive on the shelves. From each of them goes out its own voice... and just as the touch of a button on our set will fill the room with music, so by taking down one of these volumes and opening it, one can call into range the voice of a man far distant in time and space, and hear him speaking to us, mind to mind, heart to heart'." V raised his right hand to encompass all the books in her room.

"If I had a heart to heart with you, I'd start ranting, V."

V looked down on Evey as she stared up at him. "And why is that my dear?"

She couldn't take it anymore; she had to say something about his injury. He wasn't doing anything to help it by fighting and lunging at that stupid knight. "Have you iced your leg?" Evey asked looking down at one of her many piles of books.

"Iced my leg?" V replied, all innocence.

"Yes! You obviously hurt yourself last night. The one night I tell you to be careful you hurt yourself! Oh V, I jinxed you," Evey lamented, her eyes scrutinizing a hardback novel.

V kneeled and took her hands in his. "You could never jinx me, sweet Eve. Providence was against me last night, but I returned. I am safe."

"'Better a thousand times careful than once dead'".

"'Who can hope to be safe? Who sufficiently cautious? Guard himself as he may, every moment's an ambush'," V stated looking at his fingers intertwined with hers.

"You aren't going out tonight, V, are your?" Evey sounded so pathetic and like a child who was afraid to be left alone in the dark. But that was what she was essentially; left in the dark at night to be alone when V went out for an escapade.

"No, not tonight."

Evey sighed, relieved that they would have another night just being in one another's company.

V stood and looked down at the now blushing Evey. He smiled behind his mask. "There is a movie I would wish you to see. It's called Lawrence of Arabia. I think you'll like it."

"Alright," Evey said. "Is it long?"

"Shorter than some, longer than most."

"It seems I am getting no where with this conversation, so if you don't have any plans, we could start it now."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," V replied and held out his elbow so Evey could grab it.