Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. Alan Moore would most certainly want nothing to do with this, seeing as how he wanted nothing to do with the movie. ;) Warner Brothers owns everything.

Rating is for chapters to come, hopefully.

"In Between and After."

Chapter 1.

Evey was restless.

In the weeks since coming to the shadow gallery, she had tried to keep herself busy. She found her biggest distraction in books, because lord knew she couldn't avoid them. Her room sometimes felt dangerous, there were so many books in precariously tall piles. And more kept coming in; V was forever bringing new additions to his collection.

She had spent hours in the gallery, looking at the things he had "reclaimed." Life above had been so colorless, so devoid of anything visually stunning, that living here was a shock to her senses. Sometimes she would be struck when walking by a work of art so forcefully, that it took her breath away. She would stop, turn and face it, and simply look.

Why would anyone call this "objectionable?" That was where he had found most of it, in the "Ministry for Objectionable Materials." Was it the beauty or the creativity? Was it the passion that lay within the brushstrokes? The government had tried so hard to turn England in to a land of passionless automatons, mindlessly living lives in fear of anything and everything.

Evey shook her head. Living with V had solidified a lot of ideas she had had lurking in her brain. She had always had a problem with the way the world was, but his articulate nature had made everything crystal clear. The government had sucked the art, the beauty, out of life in London. The gallery was a testament to that. It's objects imbued the walls with life and intensity, and she drank it in like she had been parched.

Still, she was restless. There was no way around the fact she was a prisoner. V may like to play host and make her as comfortable, or spoiled, as possible, but that didn't change anything. She could not leave. There were so many locked doors, so much secrecy. Evey's blood boiled if she thought about it too hard, an element of claustrophobia she didn't know she had. Trapped.

The books were not enough. She loved to escape in them, but it was a temporary reprieve from her reality. The art fed her soul, but could not fully heal the black hole that was her imprisonment. Movies, music, food, it was all here. She had everything she should need, and yet lacked the most important thing of all, air. It was starting to make her twitchy.

She turned, took a deep breath, and hardened her resolve. Her feet carried her to the muffled sounds she knew to be V training. She paused at the threshold, looking at the man who, whether she liked it or not, had become the center of her universe. He was her jailor, her provider, her link to the outside world, and her friend all rolled in to one.

Evey hesitated at that last thought, "Friend?" There was no denying the fact he was a nice man. Evey chucked inwardly, "Friend? Nice?" These were terrible words to describe him. He was intelligent, well spoken, courteous, challenging, and occasionally fun. She enjoyed his company. And yet, the image before her now drove something else home. He was a killer. This was as inescapable as the fact that he was her captor, her jailor, and he held her life in his hands. Hands that had held many lives in them, and he had crushed them. She had never known anyone to be so ruthless, so unyielding.

She believed in his sense of honor. He believed he was righting wrongs, this murderer. But that's what made her pause the most, his actions were always veiled in doing what was right. But killing? Keeping her here? She was at his mercy, and he had already shown himself to be relentless. He would do what he thought was right, and damn anyone else's sensibilities. Damn her freedom, all for his revolution.

And yet he had saved her, twice. She owed him so much, because without him, she knew she would be nursing the emotional and physical wounds of rape. She didn't know if she could have survived, had he not found her there, screaming for help.

And this was the crux of it all, this bipolar feeling. She didn't know how to feel about him. She wavered between resentment and gratefulness, affection and anger. It made her feel powerless and out of control. And add on top of it the feeling of being trapped, and Evey was desperate to take action. To do something to alleviate this helplessness.

Which led her to standing on the threshold of V's training room, clearing her throat until she saw his head tilt in her direction, and she took a bold step forward.

"Yes, Evey?" his velvet voice said.

"V," she paused, "I want you to teach me to fight."

V took a breath, slowly removed the knife from the dummy it was impaled upon, stowed it away, and looked at the small woman in his room. She looked so frail, so breakable with her small frame and angular features. Her curls framed her face, making her look more innocent and doll-like. He was struck forcefully with his first memory of her, surrounded my leering men unzipping their pants, terror on her face and she screamed for help. He shivered. He had killed them all, and gladly. They didn't deserve to touch her.

And then his second memory, the anger in her eyes as she defended him, spraying that detective with mace. She was no doll, no painted porcelain figure to be displayed and kept. He knew there was in intensity lurking behind her docile manner. He had been expecting something like this.

"I can not make you a warrior Evey, I can not make you invincible. What do you hope to achieve with this?"

For a second, she showed that intensity. Her eyes flashed. "I am not a fool. I do not expect invincibility." Her tone softened, and she looked contrite, "I merely want a chance. If I face something like those men again V, I want a chance."

True, still he knew that he could not give her what she wanted too easy, she needed to learn first. "There were six of them, Evey. You were powerless. What do you hope to achieve with this?"

She frowned, and looked inward for a second. "I hope to gain some of myself back. I am truly powerless, I was then, and I am now. I have nothing V, except my life. I'm tired of being afraid."

Her words sparked something in him, and behind the mask, he stilled. There was a high price to pay to loose your fear, and he knew she did not realize the cost. Not truly. He could teach her a little about fighting, and it would make a difference. She would feel braver; feel more self-possessed when she entered the world again. Until she found herself outnumbered again, in a situation with no hope, and all the self-defense he taught her would matter very little. It would be nothing, if she panicked, if she feared.

He didn't know what else to do though. He could only try and show her how to behave without fear. It would be better than trying to break her. He wasn't that ruthless. Was he?

Outwardly, he nodded, acknowledging her statement. "Okay Evey. if that is what you wish, I will do my best."