I'm Still Here Chapter 1: I'm Still Here, a v for vendetta fanfic

Disclaimer: As always, they're not mine and never will be. These characters and places belong to Alan Moore, DC Comics, Wachowski brothers, and Warner Bros.

Author's Note: This is one story of many (over 100) that are written in a timeline format. Not all of these stories have been posted on this site yet (some of them -- rated for adults only -- will never be posted to this site), but all of my stories -- including those not posted here yet -- have been posted on my aol website. Just click on my username for more information on how to get to my homepage, or do a search on PEAhopeless V for Vendetta Fan Fiction on the internet.

Special notes: This was written between 8pm and 2am one night. I think they possessed me. I really do.

This takes place on New Year's Eve.

If you are a new reader ... if you have only read up to this point in the chronology/timeline, then you should know that there's a surprise coming. When you reach it, I ask you to please trust me, and please bear with me til the end. There are special notes on my research as to the matter addressed in this story, in chapter two.

This story has accompanying artwork. To view them, visit my aol homepage and click on, "I'm Still Here".

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I'm Still Here

"Evey?" V cooed, gently rocking the woman who'd fallen asleep in his arms. "Wake up, love, or you'll miss the magic countdown."

New Year's Eve, and the celebrations raged on the television screen before them. The party atmosphere must not have been terribly contagious though, given Evey's current state of slumber. For nearly thirty minutes, she'd been sleeping peacefully across her beau's chest.

Not that he minded. Not that he would ever mind. In truth, he had probably encouraged it -- soothingly rubbing her back; her arm; her side, until she'd finally succumbed to the land of dreams.

And he knew that moment. -- -- When she had limpened in his arms ... her head lolling another inch down his sternum. She was listening to his heart ... he was nearly certain. Something she would do without telling him, and something that would make him smile broadly behind the mask -- also without telling her. Did she notice when its pace quickened? That was really the only question that remained.

Only a month ago, when an evening would end like this, he would be faced with prompting her awake, then trying to get a sleepy Evey Hammond escorted safely back to her flat. A task he was always willing to embark on, but one that left him saddened nonetheless, upon return to the silence of the Gallery.

As of just a few weeks ago however, the rules had changed. Three times already, during just this holiday season alone, he'd had the supreme honour of carrying a sleepy, groggy Evey from this very sofa to the comfort of her own bed. He would coax her beneath a blanket -- -- fully clothed of course, knowing well the boundaries he would not allow himself to cross -- -- then open another blanket atop her, lest the winter chill in the air catch up to her during the night. And then ... in hushed tones, he would assure her that all was well. That he would see her in the morning, and that she was loved. Always, that she was loved.

It was almost tempting to do so now, if only to hear that last endearment she would whisper just as he'd turn to leave her bedside. But there would be the devil to pay in the morning -- of that, he was certain. She wanted to see the New Year in ... ... had been quite adamant about it all day. Their first New Year's together. -- -- She was not about to miss it.

So, after reminding him multiple times of their 'midnight date', she had promptly and ironically fallen asleep at just gone 11:00pm.

It made him laugh to himself as he slid his hand a little more firmly down her arm.

"Come, love," he hushed, leaning his mask into the curls at the back of her head. "The party continues, and you're missing every exciting moment."

... ... Was that too facetious, he wondered to himself? But it worked. She took a deep inhalation, letting it out with an unconscious sigh, then began struggling her way to an upright position.

"Did I miss it?" she asked as his hands helped her regain her upright composure. -- -- Not too helpful though. ... ... He had to admit, he regretted the loss of that warm, wonderful contact already.

"No," he replied, rubbing gently up and down her spine while she fought to regain her coherence. "There are still seventeen minutes left to the waning year. Now is the time to say your farewells however."

... ... Evey squinted at the television, her eyes still adjusting to the waking world. "They changed bands since I fell asleep."

"They changed bands three times since you fell asleep," V delivered with a perfectly deadpan countenance.

"Very funny," she replied, playfully tapping his abdomen with the back of one hand. Then her eyes returned to her beau, and she gave him 'that look'.

The one she would give if she awoke while he was delivering her to her bed. Or even if she was just retiring to her room under her own locomotion, or leaving for her flat because staying was not an option, for one reason or another. 'That look', that said whatever life threw at her ... in the next minute, or the next day, or even this next year ... she was happy; she was content; and she loved him. Such trust, when there were still so many aspects of him that she had not yet become acquainted with.

"Ring out the old and ring in the new," she commented, her smile growing. She was talking to remain awake. ... He could tell. And he would oblige.

"Are you happy to see the year end?" he asked, rubbing her spine. He was trying to prevent his touch from becoming too lulling, but that was easier said than done. "Do you celebrate its departure?"

Evey shook her head in the negative, collecting thoughts.

"Yes and no," she answered honestly. "When it started, and you were still ... ..."

She faltered, and V nodded silently. Yes -- -- when he was still separated from her.

"... ... I was almost happy to see any span of time end," she continued. "Even a year, if that meant it would stop hurting so much."

V's hand dropped to her waist, already sliding around her in comfort even though he knew his task was to keep her awake. He couldn't help it. -- -- It was almost beyond his control when his arm went the rest of the way around her, and he pulled her back onto his chest.

"But this year," she mused, ... ... "this year ... or at least this last half of it ... was possibly the best of my life. ... ... Do you realize how far we've come?"

Although his smile was hidden behind the mask, he was certain she would feel it in his embrace. And yet again, he had to remind himself that resuming the joy of her slumbering atop him, was not the immediate goal.

"More than I would have ever thought possible," he agreed. "More than I would have ever dared ask for."

Evey chuckled so very lightly ... so subtle that he felt it rather than heard it ... and her hand rubbed gently on his abdomen. "I know. ... ... Who would have thought, just half a year ago, that we'd be doing this now? ... ... I like it though." ... ... Her hand made another pass across his stomach, and she lifted herself higher, laying her head more squarely on the expanse of his shoulder. "You make a good pillow. Has anyone ever told you that?"

V laughed ... a low rumble that shook her lightly. "No, my dear." ... His hand landed involuntarily in her hair, stroking downward in such a lulling way that he swore he wasn't trying for. ... "I don't believe such qualities have ever been attributed to me."

"Good," she murmured, inching a little further into his neck. ... ... ... "We're getting closer, V. ... ... I like that. ... ... Am I allowed to admit that I hope the next year brings us even closer still?"

He froze.

Not for long. But he froze.

Closer? ... ... And he was pretty certain she didn't mean merely this closeness with which she was settling down for sleep. ... ... Maybe she was more awake than he'd given her credit for.

"I can claim that I'm half asleep, if it makes it easier to hear," she continued, having noticed his sudden stillness. Her tone was almost apologetic. "Or I can blame it on the holiday mood. Or I can ..."

"No, love," he interrupted, pressing his mask to the top of her head, his arms encircling to still her. "You needn't blame it on anything. ... ... You might, however, choose to blame me for my own inability to be forthright."

"V, I," ... she tried to sit up, fully prepared to withdraw the statement. New Year's Eve was not a time to trod on thin ice. She knew that. But he stopped her again ... the mask coaxing her head further into his neck, and with just as much adamancy and care as if it were his genuine face burying into her hair.

"There is something I have delayed telling you, Evey. ... ... Perhaps my courage is lacking. Perhaps I do not know when, or if, this will actually become an issue. But at this hour, on an evening when Father Time steps down from his throne to give the world a new, clean page, I believe there should be honesty between us. ... ... I once promised you no more lies, and then lied by omission -- -- the omission of my own survival. I will do that no longer. So I must indeed tell you something."

... ... He paused, waiting to see if she would argue. Or try to stop him. Or try to encourage him. ... Or try to do anything at all. Instead, she remained silent under the weight of the words he'd already spoken.

So he took a deep breath, and began the statement he had dreaded for months.

"You know my hands, love. You've seen them. You know the damage. ... ... And you know that I did not take up this mask as mere idolatry of Mr. Fawkes. ... ... The scars of Larkhill run far and wide. And are inclusive. ... ... It was not merely my physical appearance that Larkhill stole ... that the fire wiped from my life. But my physical presence as well. ... ... While I come to you an intact man, I am nonetheless a broken man."

She said nothing at first. Didn't even move. Then, with a small voice, ... ... "You mean you can't, ... ... "

"I mean that certain abilities, that would directly affect any such relations with you, are robbed of me. ... ... And I beg that you not ask me to elaborate in blatant detail. I can barely express that which I've already said."

... ... Silence again, while the revelers on the television whooped and hollered. Another new band stepped in, setting the musical pace even faster.

Then, Evey's small voice again. ... ... "Do you want me though?"

It was literally so outlandish that V let out a small breath of shock. "Oh, Evey," he purred. ... ... His hands captured her head, drawing her up so that he might face her properly. ... ... "If you had any idea. Truly, love. If you had any idea at all, the thoughts that filter through my mind during our times together, you could never ask such a thing. Of course I feel those more amorous inclinations."

Two gloved fingers trailed down through the lock of wayward curls that fell across her cheek. And even with that mask between them, she felt not even the slimmest doubt as to his veracity. It was in his voice, and in his touch. ... ... She did believe him.

He could sense her trust in his answer, and he readily offered another bit of reassurance. -- -- "I only mean, my love, that sharing such things with me, would not entail everything one might naturally expect."

... ... It actually drew a small smile from Evey. Yes, she knew the answer to that. -- -- "It's already not what 'one might naturally expect'," she replied. ... ... "But it's what I want. And I'm still here." ... ... Her smile rose a little further, instinctive to her next words. ... ... "I love you."

V's head tilted, wondering briefly if she really understood the implications. "I would not take such a step lightly. Nor would I have you do so either, Evey." ... ... He paused, searching for some way to make her appreciate the gravity. ... ... "We speak of your life here. Of certain human joys that would be lost to you."

"I know what you mean," she answered quietly. "But there would be other joys. ... ... You'd be the greatest joy of all. ... ... I'm still here, V. ... And I love you."

... ... For seconds, he just stared. ... Humbled. ... Willing himself to believe this was no dream. That he hadn't merely fallen asleep beside her.

But that same acceptance was in her eyes. -- -- That same, unyielding acceptance as always, glowing more warmly, and with more assurance than he'd ever been blessed to witness. ... ... It wasn't a dream. ... ... "As I love you," he finally swore, the mask tilting just a little closer. "As I love you."

Some feet away, a countdown began ... revelers shouting the numbers out.

'Ten.'

'Nine.'

And neither V nor Evey were paying the least bit of attention.

"Can I still wish that the next year brings us closer?" she murmured in a soft, hopeful voice.

'Eight.'

'Seven.'

"Yes, love. ... ... I would like to believe that is a wish worth having."

'Six.'

'Five.'

She inched toward him, V's hands drifting from her face as his arms moved to embrace her.

'Four.'

'Three.'

And then she was back where she wanted to be ... held with such gentle strength against him, while she buried into the man she loved.

'Two.'

'One.'

Her face rose as the shouts of 'Happy New Year' went out behind her. And she kissed his neck, hearing his happy sigh in accompaniment.

The next year had begun.

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Go to chapter two for my research on V's condition and how it is dealt with in the adult stories that I have written for V and Evey.

This story has accompanying artwork. To view them, visit my aol homepage and click on, "I'm Still Here".