'We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict.'

- Jim Morrison

Evey was walking back to the flat when she realized she was being followed. In the weeks since leaving the Shadow Gallery, all her senses had seemed heightened. She noticed everything, it seemed. So she was not surprised that she could pick up on something as subtle as being followed.

She had just come from work - a cashier at a small clothing store - and was tired. It hadn't been easy leaving the Gallery, and V. Especially V.

Evey had forgotten how boring everything was above ground: no art, no books, no movies, nothing that wasn't completely censored and sanitized.

So she was in no mood to deal with someone following her. It was not yet curfew, but fall was in full swing and it was already quite dark. Evey turned purposefully down the alley that was a short-cut to the boarding house where she had been renting her tiny flat. A dense quiet followed her, nearly physical in its weight.

Evey stopped halfway down the alley, and her rubbed shaved head, irritated. Shifting her purse to the other shoulder, she smoothed her suddenly sweating hands onto the legs of her pants.

'I know you're out there,' she stated sharply. There was a distinct pause, and then the shadows moved forward. And he was there, like he always had been, the mask seeming to float towards her, disembodied. He bowed his head slightly in greeting, as if to imply that he had just happened to be heading in the very same direction as her. Evey regarded him cooly, trying to seem far more disinterested than she actually felt.

'What are you doing here?' she asked. V hesitated, his cloak moving around him slowly in the wind, making it seem like he was constantly in motion. His hands clenched and unclenched, as if trying to explain something that their owner could not.

Evey felt like she could wait a lifetime to hear his voice again. Every instinct told her to smile at him, to say something kind that would rouse him from his paralysis. But her own voice conveyed only annoyance.

'It's late. I'm tired. And one tends to meet unsavory characters after curfew,' she added. V said nothing; his hat was pulled lower than usual, and Evey had the feeling that he wanted to bolt, and hope she would put the whole thing off as an hallucination. Evey put her hands on her hips, as if exasperated by all the masked vigilantes accosting her on her way home.

'Well? What do you want, V?' He sighed, as if hearing his name had somehow given him permission to speak. His shoulders tensed visibly.

'I wanted to make sure you were well,' he replied quietly. Evey didn't doubt the sincerity of his statement, but something rang false. She took a step towards him. He forced his hands to stop their nervous twitching.

'I miss you,' she whispered, unsure of why she sounded near tears. Something seemed to snap in V. With one fluid movement he had pressed her up against the rough concrete wall of the alley. He pinned her gently, but there was no way she could possibly move.

Evey wasn't prepared for this. She wasn't prepared for the sound of his panting behind the mask, or by the way he was shaking. Evey's purse slid off her arm; neither noticed. She pulled him more tightly against her, suddenly wanting to shield him from a world that had shattered him so.

For a long time they clung to each other, listening to the way their rushed breathing mingled. Then Evey slowly pressed her hips against him, unsurprised to feel his growing hardness against her stomach. V stopped breathing, gripping her even more tightly. Part of Evey idly wondered if she would bruise; most of her didn't care, as she rub her hips against his.

'I can't apologize,' he whispered suddenly. Evey thought he had never sounded more human. She raised her her hand to stroke his wig; he let her, moving his violent grip from her elbows up to her shoulders without ever breaking contact. Evey shifted, feeling her breasts crushed against his chest.

'I know,' she soothed. She heard him let out another breath, that noise that she could never describe. 'Sometimes, I want you to die,' she explained, smoothing the black hair away from the grinning mask. V let out a short, sad laugh that sounded like an agreement.

'You should hate me.' His voice was puzzled. His hands gracefully slid down her sides to massage her hips. Then he felt Evey's free hand begin to undo his pants, and he nearly fulfilled her wish.

But he didn't. Nor did he stop her, although every sensible part of him knew he should. Unfortunately, the sensible parts of V had never had much sway over his actions.

Evey pressed her forehead against the lips of the mask in an imitation of a kiss. She had no idea what she was doing; she felt the same as she had when she'd come out of V's makeshift cell.

'Sometimes I do hate you. I hate you so much I could scream. That's when I miss you the most.' Her pale hand disappeared into his pants, and they both made a noise when she found him.

'Evey,' he pleaded helplessly. V's brain had split cleanly in two. His hat fell back off of his head as he quivered. This was not supposed to be happening.

'You weren't supposed to see me until the Fifth,' she whispered, squeezing him roughly enough that he gasped. Her other hand, moved down to his hip as her body strained to get even closer.

'I know,' he grunted weakly, the tone of his voice sparking something deep inside of Evey. His fingers convulsed against her hips, trying to simultaneously pull her up against him and press her back to the wall. 'I intended to. Everything is almost ready. I am in error -'

'Shut up, V,' Evey murmured tenderly, moving her hand up and down his shaft once. He made a low moaning nose, shaking his head in apparent disagreement.

Evey moved against him again, wanting to hear him moan again. And she was suddenly furious with him. He was there, and alive, and unable to apologize, even after everything. Even when he wasn't there, he was in her head, the music of his piano a background to her new, dull life. Her hand began a slow, steady rhythm, feeling him grow with each stroke.

He had tortured her, lied to her, and slept with her. And now he was here, up against her, so strong and yet so desperately weak, and she wanted to scream at him until her throat ruptured and her lungs rebelled. Somehow, this only aroused her further.

Evey hissed softly, feeling hot and hungry and hateful. This was how she could hurt him as profoundly as he had hurt her. This is how he would kill her. Her hand moved faster, nails teasing him, moving in time to his ragged breathing.

'Who the fuck do you think you are?' she rasped hatefully. V could only make a low, incoherent noise in the back of his throat. 'Why do I still care?' she demanded, nearly weeping with anger.

V's thrusts became more frantic, then stopped abruptly. For a moment, Evey thought he was going to cry, or climax, or slit her throat and end them both with one clean move.

Instead, he pulled her hand away, and for a frantic moment Evey was convinced he would leave her in that alley. But those gloves were undoing the buttons on her pants, fumbling a bit.

'I should not want,' he muttered, and Evey heard the anger in his voice. He yanked her pants and undergarments down to her ankles. Without a word, she stepped out of them, and kicked them to the side. V groaned again, and managed to snarl through gritted teeth, 'So close to the end, I find a reason. And it changes nothing.'

Evey's arms moved to his shoulders and back, needing to feel him. His cloak billowed around her, shielding her from the world. Anyone unwise enough to venture down that particular alley would have only seen shadows moving against shadows.

'Evey,' he whispered, as if her name alone could save him. V lifted her, her back scraping against the wall.

'I hate you,' she sobbed helplessly, wrapping her legs around him.

'Thank you,' he answered, steadying her against himself. His thrust, when he entered her, was akin to returning to the remains of a burnt childhood home. Its very comfort and familiarity nearly shattered what was left of them both.

'Stop,' she whispered against the mask's mouth, grinding her hips against his. V braced her against the wall, using Evey's weight ti get as deeply inside her as possible.

'Stop making me feel.' Neither was sure which of them had spoken, or if anyone had actually said it out loud. Very quickly, it ceased to matter.

Evey's hands gripped his shoulders, his back, trying wildly to dig her nails through cloth to mark the damaged skin beneath. Her feet out with his steady thrusts. Anything to mark him as hers. Anything to prove this wasn't all another fucked up dream. Soft cries of pleasure kept slipping from her lips directly into those of the mask.

This only incited V further, his thrusts becoming more frantic. He was dying, drowning in flames, losing all sense of everything except her. This, a tiny voice in the back of his head reminded him, was why he needed to stay away.

The scent of Evey's arousal made V growl possessively. He pressed his forehead against hers. Their gaze locked, and the emotions in her eyes were beyond the realm of his words.

'V please.' Evey didn't know what she wanted, except for this to never stop. Nothing made sense. Nothing mattered, except his body against hers and inside her, and the sharp edge of her climax as it drew closer.

One of his hands left her hips to touch her face. Then one gloved finger slid into her mouth. Without thinking, whether or not he could feel it through the leather, Evey suckled hard on his finger, then bit down. V seemed to swell inside her.

'I'm-' Before he could say anything, before he could ruin everything, V's instincts completely took over. And there was no V, no terrorist, no master plan. There was only a man, desperately trying to tell something to the woman surrounding him.

It was the smallest gesture - his damp finger pulling out of her mouth to trace her lips in a makeshift kiss - that did Evey in. She closed her eyes, then pressed her face tightly into the crook of his neck as she came in great shuddering waves.

V saw her face lose control, felt her muffled cries of pleasure against his neck, and fell completely over the edge. He saw nothing but darkness, felt nothing but the ecstasy coursing through his veins.

When he came, Evey felt it more intensely than she ever had before. She thought he was going to collapse. His hips couldn't stop, thrusting hard as his climax broke him against her. This brought Evey to another orgasm, so all-consuming it felt very much like pain.

Through it all they were quiet, save for muffled noises that couldn't be helped. V returned to himself slowly, only to find Evey studying his mask like it could crack under her gaze. V's hips - still shaking from the fervor of their actions - kept her pinned to the wall.

V couldn't speak. If he did, all the things he had forbidden himself from saying would tumble out, and it would all be ruined. He would fail. He would fail Valerie. Nor could he move. If they separated, it would be like none of it ever happened. His memories would be gone soon, and he did not want hers burdened any further than they already were.

His hand was still holding her face, fingers splayed possesively across her cheek. He pulled his hand back awkwardly; Evey caught it, twining her fingers easily with his. V felt in this simple gesture that he had never loved her more. He could not fail her, or ask for any more than she had already given him.

He squeezed her hand once, smiling behind the mask, then slowly pulled out of her, gently lowering her to the ground. Almost immediately, it seemed to Evey, he was handing her the forgotten pants that had been tossed aside. Her underwear were still inside them.

She leaned against him as she pulled them on; he held his cloak up around her. Neither of them spoke; V was lost in his thoughts, and Evey was vainly trying to convince herself that she didn't care about him.

When she had finished sorting out her own clothes, now streaked with dirt, Evey silently buttoned V's pants. It was the most intimate moment of her life. He waited patiently until she was finished, then stepped back.

Evey retrieved his hat from where it had fallen behind him, and smacked the dust from it. V picked up her purse, politely exchanging the items.

The silence hung between them. V forced himself not to begin clenching his hands again.

'Will I see you again before the Fifth?' The question escaped him before he could stop it, and he cursed violently in his head. Evey offered him a crooked smile.

'I said you would,' she replied. He nodded, tactfully choosing not to point out that she could easily count this as their final meeting. V decided he wasn't in the mood for direct answers.

Evey looked at him. She was having an overwhelming sense of deja vu.

'Don't follow me to my flat.' Her voice was bereft of any emotion. V nodded again, then turned and walked away. Evey realized he had not agreed. The thought comforted her immensely.

Back in the Shadow Gallery, after seeing Evey double-check her locks, V sat cross-legged, setting up his dominos. They had to be perfect. As he reached for one, he noticed that the pointer finger of his left glove had been pierced by Evey's teeth. He stared at it, then slowly removed his mask. With no thoughts or comprehensible emotions, he touched the torn glove against his own lips. The noise he made was inhuman.

In her small, cramped flat, Evey changed out of her clothes. The back of her shirt was ripped, and her pants were filthy. Standing naked in the shower, the water stung sharply as it ran down her back. Examining it in the mirror, she saw that her back had been rubbed raw from the concrete wall. It hurt terribly. Evey was glad.