Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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"Evey?" V called to her from across the room, hidden well within the shadows.

"Mmhmn?" she replied absently as she shuffled through the songs on the jukebox, her back turned to him.

"Evey--" he said again, his voice nearly failing him as he took one step further into the light that the Wurlitzer emitted.

"What?" she said as she shot a look at him over her shoulder. Her heart nearly stopped.

There he stood, wringing his gloved hands anxiously, averting his eyes. Eyes she could actually see, for V stood before her in a new costume that she had never seen before. No mask. No wig. No high neck shirt. But a face. A real, animate, expressive face.

She turned and stepped closer to see him better, offering her hand out to him as an invitation to come to her. He didn't. Or rather, he couldn't. He had put so much work and hope into this but now his confidence was all but obliterated. It had been slipping from him from the moment he took down the porcelain mask and replaced it with another. He couldn't even look at her. He stood motionless, scarcely breathing.

Get a hold of yourself, man. What are you so afraid of? You've worn these faces before. Just... Not in front of her. Prosthetic faces. False skin and hair. This face the guise of a normal man. A face that had never been and never would be him. He had spent days, merciless hours working on it, perfecting it, hiding every inch of what he was beneath. So why was he afraid now when he had been so sure before? Why, when he had made certain that nothing could go wrong?

Evey made a tentative approach, squinting as she attempted to make out his features in the dark. She reached out and took his hands in hers and he jumped, his lips drawing apart as he gasped. She couldn't help but smile.

"Look at me."

He did no such thing. He merely turned his face away, clenching his jaw, holding onto what was left of his dignity and control. He couldn't look at her. Just couldn't. Nor could he size up her reaction by her voice alone and it was killing him. He wanted to run away, but his feet kept him planted to the spot.

"V," she said softly, stepping closer still and placing a hand on his chest. "V, look at me." Why was he being so evasive? "Please?"

Oh, how V loathed that pleading little voice of hers. When had she gained the power to make me so submissive? Truth be told, it had always been that way, and they both knew it. There had always been something in the way she looked up at him and spoke to him that softened his resolve.

"Please?"

Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his head back and raised his eyes to hers. The gentle wisp of a smile on her face helped to relieve some of his apprehension, as did her quiet giggle. His skin flushed. He wondered if she could see it.

"Come, come, I can't see you very well." She tugged on his hands as she moved to lead him toward the Wurlitzer, never once taking her eyes off of him. It was the only light in the room and she knew it would be far more taxing to try to drag him to the kitchen, especially given the panicked look on his face.

He didn't budge. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. He couldn't retreat now and he certainly couldn't fight what he had brought upon himself. What had he expected? To allow her a quick glance and then to disappear back into the shadows?

What am I doing? I didn't think this through. Why am I doing this? He kicked himself mentally. You wanted this, remember? His subconscious argued back. For her to see a part of you that no one else will ever see. For her to know you... Not as the Devil in disguise, nor the murderer in the matinee, but as the man that you refuse to be. That you want to be... For her.

Evey stopped tugging on his hands and came to stand before him.

But what if she doesn't see it that way?

"V?"

What will you have lost, old man?

His head nodded slowly in the dark, and his legs began to work as he took a step toward her, with her across the room. Closer to the jukebox Evey led him, as if to pick out a song with him, though she made no attempt to look at the selection. V, however, took full advantage of the opportunity to look away, a hand atop the glass casing: a means of stability for his quaking nerves. Fight or flight. Fight the flight...

He doesn't look anything like I thought he would, Evey thought, trying to hold back her girlish grin. He had light brown hair that framed his face and swept down across his brow. A strong chin and jaw, a long pointed nose, and smooth pink lips against unblemished white skin. And his eyes...

"V, look at me," she requested again, this time receiving his gaze immediately.

Fight the flight.

"Blue," she whispered softly. "Your eyes. They're blue." And they were; they were of the deepest blue-- the deepest that she had ever seen. Evey Hammond stood before the infamous terrorist called V, gazing into his dazzling eyes. She could hardly believe it.

V lips twitched softly. "Yes," he replied. "Yes, they are." And he stared back at her, as he had countless times before through the black screen of the eyes of Guy Fawkes.

"They're beautiful," she added softly, finally drawing the softest smile to his lips. She had seen him look down at her with those eyes and speak to her with those lips. She had dreamed of this. To see him at last and to hold his gaze. To see him speak to hear with that voice she loved.

"Thank you," he replied quietly. He was beginning to breathe again. He look down once more with the true intent of selecting a new song.

However, Evey inched closer to him, sliding between he and Wurlitzer, obstructing his view, her hand resting gently on his chest once more. "Say something."

His brows quirked in a most charming manner, a shy smile appearing once again. "I'm sorry?" He tipped his chin down as he often did to tilt the mask. His knees were shaking. Did she notice?

Evey blushed. Was it growing warmer in the room? Did he feel it? Too much wine. I'm dreaming again. She felt as though she was having to suppress a giggle at every single move he made, every flit of his eyes across her face.

"Say something. Recite something. Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde. I have to see you say it. I have to see it on these lips." And without a thought, she reached to touch the object of her admiration.

"No," he snapped suddenly, stopping her hand before it reached its target. His expression hardened at once, though his voice regained its calm, mellow tone. "Evey. I-- Please don't."

Her face fell and she looked down as he placed her hand back on his chest. "Why not?"

He sighed, cursing himself internally. He wanted and needed complete control of this situation and he was losing it along with his confidence once more. "This is not my true face," he began, working around the lump in his throat.

She raised her eyes and peered up at him. "What? What are you talking about."

"This," he motioned to his face, "is merely another mask."

Her brows furrowed and she shook her head. "Wh-- It's.. Huh?"

V groaned internally. He had wished never to go into this with her, but it seemed she left him no choice. He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them gently, tilting his head once more. "You have seen my hands, Evey. And my forearms."

"Yes," she agreed, though she wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"You asked me weeks ago what had happened, and I told you there had been a fire," he explained patiently.

She nodded.

"The fire did not damage only my hands" he told her, his eyes darkening. He couldn't bring himself to elaborate. And by the look on her face, he knew that he didn't need to.

"Oh," she said simply. And there it was. Pity in the eyes that gazed up at him in terror. He knew it would come, though he had hoped to avoid it.

"As I have said before, Guy Fawkes is not a costume," he continued, hoping to answer any questions before they came. "It is a protection for both myself and for you."

Evey shook her head. She didn't understand. "Protection?" She hated herself. It had been only days before that she had confronted him about his disguise, days since she had spat accusations at him. Her head was spinning with questions. She grasped his doublet tightly and stepped closer, wishing to fall into his embrace, but the hands on her shoulders kept her right where she was. "But.. What does that have to do with me touching you?"

"It is prosthetic skin," he told her, releasing her at last as he began to back away. "It may tear."

"I'll be careful," she whispered as she followed after him, her voice taking on a tone V had never before heard. It was hushed and gentle but full of hidden meaning, almost intimate. It caught him off guard, slowing his retreat.

He came back to himself as she closed the distance between them and reached up to touch his cheek. He caught her hand, taking the other one too and held them both to his chest, shaking his head. "No, Evey, I'm sorry. There are too many... Risks involved."

Evey sighed and looked down at the floor, resting her forehead against where her hands lay over his heart. She stared at the rug beneath their feet, absently realizing that they had backed into the hall. V must have been trying to make his way back to his dressing room.

That's when it dawned on her. Evey's eyes widened and a wisp of a smile touched her lips. They were in the hall. She wiped her expression clean and looked up at him, her hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders, his own hands gripping her forearms. "But, V... If I cannot touch you, then how do you expect to kiss me." The look that he gave her almost made her laugh but she resisted.

Kiss you? What in the bloody hell...? He was completely bewildered by her contention. "I-- I beg your pardon?" he stammered, unable to mask his surprise, his voice hitching on that last syllable. What was she on about?

Evey gave him a wistful smile and looked up at the ceiling. "Do you know what mistletoe is for, V?" she asked, mirroring her inquiry from a few days before. When she brought her eyes back to him, she found him glaring up at the herb, his lips pressed in a fine line. He had unintentionally backed them into the central hall, where they now stood directly beneath the mistletoe he had been so very careful to avoid.

"Evey," he began but couldn't find the words to finish, lowering his eyes to hers. He merely shook his head and then emitted a nervous giggle. Evey had heard that giggle once before when she had first met this peculiar man. "Evey, please... I can't," the false smile he forced was painfully obvious, and he failed miserably at passing off her request as a joke. Another giggle and another shake of his head.

"Kiss me, V."

His breath caught in his throat. Those words. Words he thought never to hear. That voice of seduction. How odd that it calmed, or rather, sobered his nerves, centered him to the moment at hand. Didn't she understand what she was asking? The weight of her actions? Evey stood within his reach, looking up at him expectantly, her hands slipping over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. His own hands made a tentative trip down her forearms, once again considering what to do. He forgot that she could see his eyes as they lowered, following the gentle curves of her neck and collar bones, to her midriff and then away, cursing himself.

He remembered suddenly the first time that she had touched him. It had been the first time that he could recall feeling arousal in years as she stood revealed in her nightgown all those nights ago. Now, as his hands slid over the bare skin of her arms to her shoulders, he considered what it all meant. From that moment in time, their relationship had drastically changed. It felt as if every single moment since those first few had led to this one. Fate was taunting him now in the form of that cursed green weed above them.

"Evey..." He tried to begin once again, his head tilting just as it always did when he was uncomfortable, his eyes adverted from hers. "I don't--"

"V," she interrupted, shaking her head. "Just-" Shut up, she thought, glancing purposefully at his lips then up again to catch his eyes.

From her shoulders, his hands moved of their own accord down her sides, resting gently on her hips, moving around to the small of her back as he took a fraction of a step closer to her. His heart was pounding in his throat, every nerve in his body on fire as her petite frame arched and molded to his. What have you got to lose? He tilted his head down, his skin crawling as he felt her fingers upon the skin of his neck, moving up into the hair of the wig on his head. He sighed unconsciously, his hands moving up her back to hold her closer as he brought his lips to hers... But then, he hesitated and looked over her face.

"V?" she asked, almost a whimper, as her eyes opened once more. They were so close. So close that she could feel his shaky breath as his lips hovered above hers.

He turned his head, smiling softly as his nose brushed gently against hers, his eyes slipping shut. Oh, Evey, how I adore you. More than you can ever know. He brushed his nose against hers again and pressed his lips to her cheek, moving then to embrace her, his lips landing then on the nape of her neck. He couldn't. He shouldn't have hung the sodding thing to begin with. Now he had corrupted the mind of a confused, intoxicated girl. He couldn't allow her to forfeit her dignity simply to satisfy his maddening desires. He was asking too much. Much more than he deserved.

Evey, on the other hand, nearly sobbed, overwhelmed with disappointment. This was not how her dreams had turned out. This was the part where... Why couldn't he just... She squeezed her eyes shut and took a slow, deep breath. "V?" she whispered, scarcely realizing her words. She called his name again, and straightened a bit, hoping to draw his gaze.

He pulled away just enough to look at her, gasping as Evey captured his lips with her own. A tender, lingering kiss, perfect in its fervor and need, yet infinitely more disappointing than Evey's kissed cheek. V didn't move and neither did his lips as she kissed him. Like a statue. It might as well have been Guy Fawkes.

Evey pulled away, staring at him in confusion. He doesn't want me? He doesn't... Her eyes lowered to his chest, her hands moving down from his neck. She didn't move, didn't speak. How could she have been so wrong? How could he have let her believe... that he might actually... What a bleeding coward.

But it was no sooner that the words had crossed her mind that V turned the tables on her. "Evey," he breathed, desperate to recapture this moment as he pulled her tightly against him, stealing both her lips and her breath away. And finally Evey released the sigh she had been holding, melting into his arms, clutching his doublet as her knees grew weak. This kiss: perfect in its fervor and need, and very, very real. No mere dream.

As V slowly pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, looking down as he willed himself to breathe again. Wherever that burst of daring had come from, he was going to need more of it.

"May I make a request, Evey?" he asked breathlessly, straightening a bit to look at her.

"Anything."

"Don't ever ask this of me again."

She stared up at him in disbelief, almost shock, confused by his words. But as the last syllable rolled off of his tongue, he brought his hand from her hip to her cheek and pulled her to him for another kiss. Her knees finally gave and she slumped against him, rescued quickly by the strong arm that tightened around her waist, helping to right her footing.

"A man had given all other bliss, and all his worldly worth for this," he recited to her, just as she had asked, brushing her cheek with a gloved thumb, "To waste his whole heart in one kiss... Upon her perfect lips." A feather light touch there before he took them again, never wishing to let her go. He had kept his word... He had made it all well worth her time.

Fin

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'A man had given all other bliss, and all his worldly worth for this, to waste his whole heart in one kiss upon her perfect lips.' Alfred Tennyson