Evey stood on the balcony above the shadow gallery, watching the fireworks in the distance with as much joy as she imagined V would have felt. Salty tears pricked in the corners of her eyes as a sharp prang of loss jarred through her body, but she wouldn't let herself cry. She had cried enough that night; now was the time to concentrate, no matter how many tear filled nights she may have in front of her.

Had he really just died? She had yet to comprehend what was happening. After everything he had done for her…and she'd never thanked him for it. What really pulled at her heart was her reluctance to say those three words back to him, back on the blood smeared tube platform. Even though the mask blanked all visible emotion, it didn't take an expert to know that underneath he must have been wearing a hopeful expression. How could she not return the sentiment? She loved him. More than she had ever loved any other man in her life, and all she'd been able to say was 'I don't want you to die.' It was pathetic and it made her sick.

Her hands clutched at the balcony, the same one she'd stood on all those months ago, absorbing the freshness of the rain through her grubby skin after all that time imprisoned. Her eyes stung.

'I love you' she whispered, as a fiery V scored high into the night air. Whistles and roars of approval erupted from the crowd, echoing the ecstasy of the moment. But Evey stood there on that balcony, feeling tiny and alone in the world despite Finch hovering uncertainly at her side. Even when she'd been out in the real world, she had known V was there in the shadow gallery waiting for her to come back. But now the roles were reversed, and now she would be taking his place. Waiting for a man who could never come back to her.

The fireworks dimmed and a last, earth shattering cheer sounded. V was a God to those people. Did they sense he was gone? The thought of continuing where he left off terrified and excited Evey at the same time.

She finally turned to Finch, who was standing beside her with a concerned look on his face.

'So…' he began awkwardly. The Hammond girl shone with a confidence and spirit he hadn't seen in a person since before the reclamation, and even though she was a breath of fresh air, he felt inferior next to her.

'I think you should go now,' she said, turning back to the smouldering ruins of parliament.

'But…'

'I'll contact you tomorrow. Eric, is it?' he nodded. 'I just need some time alone for now. If you don't mind, it's just…I…I don't know what to do…'

'I understand. Here's my office number,' he removed a small laminated card from his wallet and placed it on the balcony next to her hand, 'and if that's unavailable, which I very much expect, my home number…' he left another card.

'Goodbye Mr Finch.'

'Goodbye.' He turned to leave, surprised that she trusted him enough to let him go on his own with V's home so nearby.

'Oh, and Mr Finch?'

'Yes?'

'If you go anywhere near the shadow gallery...'

'Yes, yes. Of course. You can trust me, Miss Hammond. I suppose that trust is something we must share now that the revolution has started.'

She smiled slightly, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. 'The revolution has definitely begun, although I'm sorry to say I won't be celebrating it like everyone else.'

He studied her carefully for a moment. Why would she not be celebrating the beginning of a new era? She had just as much right as anyone else. For God's sake, the only negative thing was the death of V, and he'd held her captive for a year. She should feel well rid of him. Then the mental image of V's bullet ridden body adorned with scarlet carsons flooded into his head. The man certainly deserved a dramatic funeral pyre, but he assumed it wasn't natural to take that much care for someone meaningless to you. He wondered absentmindedly if the terrorist and the damsel in distress had formed some sort of bond. It was possible by all means, but really? He wouldn't have thought so.

As Finch left the balcony via the steep concrete steps to the lift, he cast a sly look back. The Hammond girl had an absoloutely heart rending look on her face. He couldn't describe all the emotions that flitted across those delicate features in his two second glance. But he was certain of one thing; V was more to her than he'd assumed.

He sighed and carried on, not wanting to pry.

Evey produced a scarlet Carson she'd taken from V's body, one last reminder she couldn't resist taking at the time. She looked up at the sky. Although it was night, no clouds scarred the perfect dark blue above. A night to remember for certain.

The rose was beautiful in the half light. Its petals curled inwards slowly, seeming so soft she wished she could disappear in them, to forget about all this and just feel at peace. For a split second she looked down at the drop below her and then pulled back quickly. No, he wouldn't want that. She had felt like taking her own life so many times in the past…it seemed ironic that she wouldn't even consider it in her worst moment.

Instead Evey ground the rose stalk into her palms, feeling the thorns scrape against her skin, drawing pinpricks of blood. It wasn't enough.

She punched the edge of the balcony, the pain erupting from her knuckles leading her on. She did it again and again, carrying on until her knuckles were scratched and seeping blood, until the force travelled so far up her arm that it reached her very core. She sank down the wall, a battered hand clutching her face. The ground was hard and there was some cracked glass underneath her leg, but it didn't hurt much. The rose was clutched in her throbbing right fist, the petals disarrayed and the stem broken. Evey stared at it for minutes on end, realising that she'd destroyed the last part of V in her possession. But he was dead, he wasn't coming back. Neither was the rose.

She tossed it backwards, over the wall. It fluttered down on to the pavement below and would later be picked up by a jubilant passer-by on their way home from the celebrations. But they wouldn't keep such a thing; it would most likely end up in a bin somewhere. It's strange how something so perfect can go to waste.

Evey made her way back to the shadow gallery, feeling torn and broken like her rose. How could she possibly continue V's legacy?

'I hope you trust me, V,' she muttered, more to herself than her surroundings. 'I'll need a whole lot of motivation.' And with that she entered the empty shadow gallery, feeling more alone than she'd ever felt before.