For a second or an eon, all was darkness in the mind of the fallen V. No sound, no thought, no pain. Nothing existed, not even love.

"It's time," a soft voice elegantly declared, barely audible at the edge of his fading consciousness. Like the genesis of a new universe, it was that voice from which light sprang forth, filling the void.

Life.

There was awareness now; awareness of doors closing, awareness of motion, of the sweet smell of roses.

Scarlet Carsons.

A heart beat slowly in the chest of his wounded body. A soft gasp followed beneath the mask.

Then he was still V.

He first became aware of the horrible, searing pain in his chest and legs. Then a sound from underneath the fabric of his clothing that almost resembled soft sizzling. His skin surrounding the wounds began to feel numb, then strangely warm. What was going on? His mind was hazy. Flashes of memories began to flash in his mind's eye.

The fingermen firing their guns at him.

Taking his last stand, resulting in the deaths of everyone in his path.

Hobbling, dizzy, towards the train tracks he had spent more than a decade laying in the dark tunnels by himself.

Turning the corner to find Evey, who ran to catch him as he fell.

Evey!

The thought of the woman who he loved, who had truly cared for him caused his eyes to snap open. The unforgiving light was almost blinding. When he adjusted, he finally became aware that he was in his train, filled with enough explosives to destroy Parliament. The train turned a corner, nearing its target as the fateful bells continued to toll, leading to his demise.

So he would die here, in the vehicle that would bring about the profound regime change he had labored so tirelessly to create. He would die on the train that would pave the way to justice. Evey had been so generous to give him such a meaningful send off.

Oh, how his heart ached for her. For the times they could have had, if fate had not been so cruel as to give them such different paths. If it were not for the lives that depended on the change this train would bring, if it were not for the men who had to die by his hand to make way for a more just future, he would have chosen her. If it weren't for his mortal wounds, still racking his body with agony, he would choose her now.

But he was alive. For whatever reason, his body and mind had come back to the land of the living.

And V did not believe in coincidences.

Not far away, Evey lead a wide eyed Eric through the halls just outside the Shadow Gallery, to the lift leading to the roof. The man was quiet, unsure of what to say to the young woman who had been both hostage and accomplice to the terrorist whose work would soon be done.

"So what happens now?" he asked, feeling slightly stupid. Eric's eyes had only recently been fully opened to the realities of their government, and he wasn't certain what he believed.

"We watch," Evey said, resolute. The doors of the lift opened to the roof, where they were greeted by the loud symphony music blaring through the streets of London.

V's music... she thought fondly. Her heart still felt heavy and numb, but it was filled with a bitter sweet sentimentality for the man who had changed everything for her. They walked to the ledge, looking at the Parliament building in the distance.

3... 2... 1... the tolls of the bell finished leading up to the crescendo, as if calculated. Parliament burst into flames, one explosion after another. Flares of colored fireworks shot into the heavens, clearly personalized by the artistic revolutionary. Evey watched his signature red V form in the sky above the city, and a thin film of tears lined her eyes. The idea of V would live on for some time to come, but the man was gone. She would never see that signature again.

"Are you going to have me arrested for what I've done? If you decide to kill me, I'm not afraid," the woman asked the inspector without taking her eyes off of her treasured sight. He shook his head.

"I've learned enough about your reasons from all the work I've done on the both of you. I understand why you did it," He sighed. "And I agree with you. This country needs to change." Evey felt a small crooked smile form on her lips.

"What do you think will happen now that they've all been killed?" She asked, referring to the leaders.

"I can't say for sure, but I can guess. With those in power removed, the public will want to revolt against the system at all costs. But there are still those who have benefited from dictatorship. Fingermen, politicians, some in the military, and others will fight against change, and the struggle will be hard at first. With a powerful minority opposed to a new system, the revolution will take time and people will get hurt. Ultimately, the numbers are in our favor and as long as we have a good leader, change will eventually come. Of course... that's just a feeling."

In time, the explosions died down, and the two retired back indoors just outside the entrance to the Gallery. Evey knew it wasn't wise to go outdoors; not tonight while riots might take place. But more than that, her heart was shattered. She would stay in the Gallery tonight, even if just to soothe her aching heart. The dust hadn't settled in the halls that had been his home, nor had it settled on his life- not for her. Eric sat on the bench next to her in the spot where the train had taken off, while tears threatened to spill out of her eyes.

He's gone.. I can't believe he's really gone... she thought to herself. She felt hollow. Memories of his life played inside her head over and over. Over the year, V had gotten to know Evey well. Yet in all that time, she had never really known the man behind the mask as little more than an idea. No, that wasn't quite true; she had lived with him for weeks on end. She knew how he cooked his breakfast and what he like to do when he wasn't out on the town. She knew how had been a bundle of paradoxes. Fierce yet gentle. Ruthless yet selfless. Well rounded yet over focused. Expressive, yet secretive. Cold... yet filled with love. She thought of his confession- the last words he had spoken to her. How she had never had the chance to say the same to him. Yes, the public would never forget the idea of V, but it was the man that she would miss forever.

If it weren't for his lightning quick reflexes, V would have been killed in the explosion before he landed on the tracks below. He had jumped out of the moving train just before the second to last toll of the bell.

It wasn't the first time he had escaped in a manner such as this. Today it was the 5th of November. Today, just the same as many years ago, V was baptized in flame. Just as years ago, V was reborn like a phoenix rising from the ashes. The man stumbled down the railroad tracks hunched over as rockets flew overhead. His cape was badly seared, having just barely missed the first blast. Dizzy and blinded from the light, V hit his head against the wall.

...A memory flashed of long ago.

A younger V fell to the ground, clutching his arm. It was bleeding badly.

"What use are my abilities to you if I am going to die?" he cursed under his breath. A woman approached him from behind, which he recognized as Dr. Surridge.

"Oh, quit protesting. If this stab wound kills you, then you're better off dead anyway." She brandished a large syringe, which she injected painlessly into his arm. Warmth flowed through his veins, numbing the wound. He watched his arm sizzle, as the wound began to heal at an accelerated rate. Delia smiled in satisfaction. Her experiment had been a success. "You, my obedient subject are one of the remaining survivors of Batch 5. This is batch 6. That serum should stay in your system for a long time to come." V blinked in amazement as the cut almost completely sealed shut, leaving only a scar. She chuckled to herself. "This is going to change everything"...

"Evey..." the reborn V grunted between clenched teeth. His bleeding might have almost stopped, but the wounds were still tender. All he could think of was the woman who had been his own revolution. "I'm coming for you."