Log: Complete

[velated-v.livejournal.com]

When; September 8th
Rating; PG
Characters; V velated_v , Evey ever_evey
Summary; Jealousies, and who is it who really wears the mask?
Log;



Evey was feeling rather worn out as she opened the door to her home. Wedding plans were much more complicated than she had first suspected, and she and Christine had spent several hours working out the details. After they'd planned, debated the merits of different options, and traded anecdotes about their respective lives--both in the city and out of it--Evey had left with a substantial list of things to do in the coming days.

She had somehow become in charge of almost all the musical plans; "hire musicians to play at reception" and "try to convince V to play the organ during service" were her two most important tasks--and she wasn't currently looking forward to either. And as enjoyable as the day had been, she wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch and have some time to herself.

As she slipped off her shoes, she called out, "V?" That syllable left her mouth with a more menacing undertone than it ever had before; her irritable mood combined with her current voice's naturally ominous sound left all her words sounding threatening. Remembering the way V had mistaken her 'borrowed' voice for an intruder that morning and very nearly brought a knife to her throat, she quickly added, "It's Evey--I'm home."
He didn't answer.
Not for lack of hearing her call out, though he would plead such a thing if pressed. Instead he was sitting in the greenhouse.
A corner of the underground garden had now been converted into his 'study' of sorts, complete with an ancient ( now restored) roller-top desk, a reasonably comfortable swivel chair.
Two filing cabinets bracketed the desk, but a veritable forest of paper littered the area.
The laptop he had commandeered soon after entering the city sat open, but had long since faded to a screen saver.

Now V was slightly slumped in the chair, listening to the sharp mettalic-on-wood 'thwack" of his knives imbedding themselves into the far wall.
Barber's Adagio for strings serenaded from the jukebox, but the rhythmic sound of the knives made a strange juxtoaposition.

'Damn foolish girl! he mrmured to himself...this business of making allies was a costly one.
Evey would know better than anyone how difficultit was to anger V. Truly anger him.
This sulking was a result of frustrated irritation rather than true anger, but irritation alone was a dangerous thing when dealing with someone as volatile and yet focused as V.
He sighed as the last of his knives bit into the wood, then rose to retrieve them once agian.

She sighed when he didn't respond; it was rare that he didn't return her greetings when she came home. To be fair, Evey thought, he could be out. He hadn't mentioned any plans to leave that afternoon, but in this place, emergencies tended to rise out of nowhere at any time. Cocking her head, she listened for some signal that he was present.

He had to be home, though--she could hear his daggers hitting something. The noise didn't seem to be coming for the room he generally used for working out, though. As she followed the sound through their home, Evey realized that it came from the greenhouse.

It wasn't so far from the entry that he wouldn't have heard her calling to him, since he had managed to answer her from that room on other occasions. And knowing this, her exasperation increased somewhat; while the company she currently desired most was that of a good book, she felt that she deserved some acknowledgement.

"It wouldn't hurt to say 'hello' back, you know," she told him upon entering the greenhouse. And as the words left her mouth, she realized how poorly she'd chosen them. His posture, as he yanked the knives from the wood, radiated frustration; he was in no better a mood than she (and was, quite easily, feeling more disagreeable). She took a few steps toward him, casting about for something kinder she could say, but all that left her mouth was another of those awful, watery noises that had come along with the voice she currently possessed.

He simply dropped back into the chair and twirled a knife up between his fingers before taking hold of the blade.
With a small burst of speed that would not register to most eyes, the knife left his hand to imbed itself agian into the far wall.
" Did you have a nice visit?" he asked, his tone anything but pleasant.

Damned children, and now damned curses were even denying him the comfort of Evey's voice.
The next knife imbedded itself nearly half-way up the length of the blade.
Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to speak to him just now, but he made no comment in order to warn her.
This ridiculous situation with Rukia, Rosiel, and Severus kept swirling through his troubled thoughts.
More than that, Henry's medallion sat on top of a smallish pile of papers mocking him with it's mysteries.

A little over five months trapped in this mad carnival was begginning to take it's toll. V was a man of action, and more than that: a man of study.
Yet whenever he felt soooo close to dissecting the mystery of this nameless city, the ruse would be revealed, and he would find himself agian at square one.
Now he had been drawn into a pseudo-political scheme by his seraphic stalker, and an innocent was caught in the middle. An innocent who had displayed a slightly unsettling desire to please.
Perhaps Evey knew of this. Perhaps not...at this moment V was in no mood to muse on such things.

"Tiring--and headache-inducing--but nice, yes," she answered, her voice equally devoid of congeniality.

If she perceived the dangers of speaking to him in his current funk, she didn't show as much outwardly. Instead, she hopped up onto one of the tables in the room and sat, taking care to avoid any of the scattered papers. Accidentally moving anything from its proper place--even if that place happened to be "lying haphazard on the tabletop"--would only make him more incensed.

Biting back the urge to tell him that he sounded like a sulky teenager, she was quiet for several minutes. The only sound in the room was that of his knives driving firmly into the wall.

The silence stretched long between them, until Evey couldn't take it any longer. She let out a puff of annoyance. "I'm going to sit here until you tell me what's got you so on edge, you know." Her legs swung back and forth as she spoke. "Let's have it out now and be done with it."

If she had not stepped into the room, she would have felt no responsibility to go and find out what was wrong. V's moods were something he needed to work out in his own way, simply by nature of his personality, and if he wanted her comfort, she would give it. Today, though, a petulant voice in her head darkly declared that if he was going to turn his irritation on her, she had the right to know what was behind it.

The last knife left his hand and imbedded itself so deeply into the wall that it his the stud beneath, and vibrated with a mettalic ring.

" This entire bloody city 'has me on edge'", he replied, swivelling in the chair. His movements were sharp and conveyed a sense of deepening irritation at having to not only brood upon the day's matters, but also to be forced to explain himself.
Despite outward appearences, V was just as capable of having a bad day as anyone. He simply managed to keep these frustrations under control until a more appropriate outlet might be found.

" The foolish actions of others 'has me on edge'."
He stood and crossed the room to draw the knives from the wall. The last & most deeply imbedded required a particularly violent jerk, and thus took a small piece of wood with it.
" The complete ridiculousness of this situation, and these hasty children 'have me on edge'!" he near spat as he finished listing the reasons he was upset, and turned on his heel to imbed two daggers into the wall.

Evey jumped at his small flare of temper, and the realization that he had startled her gave him pause.
He looked away, and when he spoke agian a great deal of the heat had gone from his voice.

" Miss Rukia has been tricked into Rosiel's service...."
He returned to the chair and eased back into it, then leaned foreward to rest his head in his hands.

" She did so in an attempt to gather information for me..."

Evey scooted back on the table and drew her knees up to her chest, her hands meeting at her ankles when he looked away--a defensive measure of sorts, less from V than from herself. She suspected she might've jumped up and wrapped her arms about him otherwise.

The desire to soothe him vanished as he explained more specifically what was wrong.

"She would, wouldn't she?" she asked, more than a little bitterness evident in her voice. "Thinks rather highly of you, V." And the reverse seemed true, too, from what Evey knew of Rukia--and while she didn't add that part, her brow was furrowed and her _expression reflected less anger and more hurt.

She had never met the young woman, and neither had they spoken over the interlink. But Rukia and V had had quite a few conversations, from what Evey had seen--including one which had occurred when she, Evey, had been asleep and ended with Rukia asking V about his mask! She suspected that there was more beyond it but hadn't made any effort to try and hack past that point--out of respect for V's privacy, yes, but more importantly, because she suspected that his reply would be very highly guarded.

V and Rukia had clearly become friendly--and very quickly--lately, and something about it had bothered Evey. She had tried to stamp down that feeling of doubt, reprimanding herself for letting her thoughts stray in such a direction...but he'd been so *busy* lately, throwing himself wholly into his experiments and research, and the fact that he had taken so much time to communicate with another young woman...
He looked back at Evey, the mask cocked to the side in a visual cue of what , for him, was a perplexed look.
Where in the world had *that* come from?
" She is simply as eager to be free of our mutual gilded cage as we all are. Her hasty decidions, however, have now landed her into a situation niether she, nor I, may remedy." His tone was mildly confused, and somewhat suspicious. That had sounded positively ....jealous?
He sighed with feeling, and looked back at the blue rose blooms not far from where they sat. More than likely he was simply out of sorts, and thus hearing negative emotion where none existed.
" Forgive my temper. I am not accustomed to being inadvertantly responsible for the destruction of a child's ideals. For Rosiel will certainly use his obsequeous charms to flatter and decieve her into believing his madness is brilliance."
"Really? Is that the whole of it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

She wanted to believe it--wanted very much to fully quell those ridiculous suspicions that had been present in the back of her mind lately. In the face of his explanation, imagining anything more serious seemed absurd...but some element of uncertainty remained all the same.

He needed to confirm for her exactly what his relationship with Rukia was, and, more importantly, what theirs was...or rather, what theirs continued to be. Evey would much prefer if V did it without realizing what she was asking, but she had the sinking feeling that if he hadn't already figured out the logic behind her questions, he would shortly.
He regarded her with another quizzical look...
No, that *was* indeed jealousy he had heard!
Standing quickly, he moved closer to her, and gently uncurled her hands from thier position. Planting them firmly around his waist, he next put one gloved hand over her eyes, and used the other to remove the mask.
Before she could make any sort of protest, he leaned down and kissed her very slowly & tenderly.
"Silly dove..." he whispered, but paused when he noted his own voice had returned. Thank god for that, but more importantly, *Evey's* voice would have returned. ( A relief because this aquatic sounding one frankly bothered him.)
He cleared his throat for good measure, but niether removed his hand or restored the mask.
" ..Silly dove. There is no one in this world or any other that could ever hope to mean a fraction of what you mean to me. Rukia is a child in mind and heart, if not in years." - Another light kiss- " And I have grown much accustomed to loving a woman."

As he kissed her, the tension running through her body faded away. Her hands moved slowly up his back, while her legs relaxed and snaked around his hips. She clung to him in a full embrace, her eyes closing serenely behind his hand.

His words sent a shiver through her; she sighed, both at what he told her and at her own foolishness. "Oh, V...I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." The voice that left her mouth was once again hers, and it was a relief...but it hardly seemed worth noting at that moment, when she could hear him make a contented little noise in his usual voice and feel his lips brushing hers once more.

"I love you, and--I would never--I don't know why I thought you might--" she added sheepishly, her cheeks flushing slightly at the thought of exactly how silly she had been.

Suddenly, she had the overwhelming need to feel him, feel his skin beneath her fingertips. One hand crept up to cup his cheek; if he couldn't allow her to see his face in this bright light, she would at least feel it.

"It's alright, love. I am sorry as well for making you wonder."
He turned into her caress and kissed the center of her palm softly, then closed his eyes as her fingers trailed across them, then lightly moved on to his ruined nose, and beyond to outline his mouth.
True, Evey had now seen much of his scarred and riddled flesh, but he still felt uneasy with the idea of being seen in the bright, unflattering lights of the greenhouse. It wasn't a question of trust, for he did truly believe she loved him, and that love would change not a whit if she were given the appurtunity to see him fully.
The problem lay with *him*, and his own inner struggle agianst the permanent representations of both the weakest and strongest point in his existence. Contrary to appearences he was not ashamed of his scars, quite the opposite. He felt them to be permanent reminders of what he had endured in order to become what he was now. Since arriving in The City V had been given more than one offer to 'heal' the webwork of tension scars, and each time he declined.

The issue with these scars was imply that they had represented a lack of personal identity; *his* face was Fawkes' grinning face in hiw own mind. V was the mask, and the mask was V.
And then came Evey...
After so much trial, tribulation, and personal catharsis, there came the moment when he realized he wanted her touch, her kisses...and the mask could not grant them.
Ever since that first glorious night V had been grappling with a question of identity. He could not be the mask alone, and so he was not simply an idea.
This made him question himself on levels he did not understand completely....it made him confused.
Perhaps *that* had more to do with his more volatile moods lately, more than The City, or Rosiel, or Rukia.

It seemed as though more time should have passed while these epiphanies took place, but V came back to himself as Evey's hands had stilled in thier exploration.
Why had she stopped? He opened his eyes and realized the world was blurred....tears?
Yes. Two silent tears were trailing over her finger tips....and V was at a loss as to what to say.

Evey's touch was no longer born of curiosity, as she caressed his face, and hadn't been for some time; his rough, uneven features had become familiar beneath her fingertips months ago. She brushed her fingers blindly over his nose, his lips, his cheeks with a loving experience gained from so many nights spent together in the darkness.

Suddenly, it didn't feel quite the same as usual, though--moisture on a face whose texture was usually so dry and leathery.

Understanding came suddenly, leaving her similarly unsure of how she might respond. It was a moment past words, she finally decided, and she gently pulled him closer for another tender kiss--and closer yet, so she could press her cheek to his. One of her hands came to rest at the nape of his neck, while the other stroked the silky dark hair of the wig.

She didn't know what had had provoked this particular show of emotion from him, and while she hoped he might share the answer with her, she was content simply to keep him close and offer whatever comfort she could.
He tried speaking, but though he opened his mouth to do so, nothing came.

Two tears...two tears in over twenty years of never once grieving for his lost face, and now...now...

"I am sorry, Evey" he finally managed after a seemingly long stretch of quiet.
What was he sorry for? V could not make sense of his thoughts, and like a man trying to pas his hands through water to smootha reflection, the understanding of what was wrong with him was becoming more and more confused.

She did not press, and did not ask. Somehow the small comforting carress of her fingers spoke volumes of her trust and understanding that this was something he need reconsiliate within himself.

Her spoken interference would only complicate things.

Numbly, V groped behind him with his free hand until he took hold of the chair and pulled it back.
A strange sense that something very important was about to occur washed through him, yet still he could find no words.....

....Well...If no words would come, then it was time to suit actions to needs.

Swallowing the desire to replace the mask, turn, and flee the greenhouse and thus this small, yet vital crucible; V took a shaking, yet cleansing breath.

" I am sorry first and foremost for making you worry", he began in a calming tone, though even to his own ears he souded shaken and lost.

" but, love......I am so very sorry that I have kept the mask so often between you and I"
He finished in a hushed whisper, and prayed for her understanding. Prayed she would know that he saw the mask as *his* face, and therefore portrayed it as such.

She couldn't reply with speech--not immediately then, at least. What could she possibly offer to ease the turmoil within his mind? It was a confusion she didn't understand--could never truly comprehend--and her words would not resolve it.

Her response was limited to a continuation of the sightless touches she'd been offering him before he spoke: to his neck, his scalp, his face.

...One of his faces, at least. Evey thought of the mask and the scars beneath both as belonging to him, each vastly important in its own way, but neither more worthy or valuable than the other. Each received its own share of kisses, smiles, endearments, and other attentions; each was perfectly acceptable in her mind.

She knew V didn't feel the same way, though; it was evident in his whispered apology, and in so many other subtle clues she'd picked up on in her time with him. And once again, it was a simple fact that left her without speech; what could she possibly say that could negate years of his own conclusions about his face (or lack thereof)?

But she wanted, needed to say *something*. "Oh, love..." Her voice was a low murmur. "Whatever you need, V--whatever I can give you...I will." The mask. The darkness. Solitude and privacy when he asked for it. Her affectionate presence when he didn't. "You don't need to apologize."

This was new territory for her, and she wasn't feeling sure of herself in the slightest. Quite the opposite, really; each word she spoke made her feel more vulnerable, exposing the truth: that she was feeling her way blindly in more than just her touch.

When they first met, trust was a foeign word to V, and to trust someone with not only his home's loaction and semblance of identity was nigh impossible.
At the time he had believed holding her captive until his plans came to fruition to be the best answer to a difficult situation...but now he could see the tangled skein of fate's threads weaving in and amongst thier lives. He could see the long and arduous path that stretched out behind them as leading from each culminating moment in thier relationship to the next.

And here he stood agian; looking back at the road he had travelled with a sense of amazement.

The path led to Evey; to her love and acceptance. To her fierce loyalty, and passionate feeling.
The simple fact she had felt jealous of a girl he barely knew made him feel strangely flattered...she cared enough for him that the mere suggestion that someone else might as well made her hold onto him all the stronger.
In so very many ways; her amazing strength had healed his perceptions of humanity....had given him back his soul.

He leaned foreward, and with a slight shudder in both body and voice, whispered near her ear.
"Keep your eyes closed..."

Slowly, he raised his hand from her eyes, and simply marvelled at her beauty.
One day...One day he would stand beofre her as a man; a whole identity.

Smiling softly, he closed the distance between them and kissed her slowly, tenderly, paying homage to the beautiful, wonderful goddess who held him in her arms and showed him how to love.
"Thank you, Eve." he whispered, barely moving away from the kiss.
" You will never know how *much* you have given me, and how deeply I love you....

Thank you for understanding."

"I love you, too," she answered, forming the words a milimetre from his lips. A small sigh, as she caught his hand in one of hers and laced her fingers with V's; she'd been reading Romeo and Juliet as of late but couldn’t for the life of her remember how the quotation about pilgrims' palms and kisses went. It wasn’t a moment that needed a quote, though, as they remained together, quietly basking in each other's presence.

The stillness was finally broken by her, offering not words from a wiser man but the coy statement, "And I like it when you call me Eve." She nuzzled her nose against his.

It might have been *her* given name, but as far as she was concerned, it belonged to him. Everyone else, both in this city and in their world of origin, called her Evey; it was only V who used Eve. And when he spoke to her, he tended to save it for private, intimate moments like this one, when no one else might hear.

She turned her head away slightly as she failed to stifle the deep yawn that escaped her. By this point in time, most days, Evey was in bed, if not asleep; she didn't make a habit of staying awake until the end of a curse day. Besides that, she and Christine had been hard at work (or "work", as they'd spent a good portion of two hours just trying on dresses in the Opera House's vast costume shop) most of the day. It was no wonder she was growing drowsy.

"I'm sorry, V--but I'm afraid I might fall asleep on you." Quite literally, in fact--as she was still curled around him, her legs wrapped about his waist while one arm wrapped behind his neck and the other still held his hand captive. She smiled guiltily and squeezed his hand.

He smiled and felt a cleansing sigh escape him.
Shifting slightly, he brought the mask back to his face, and reluctantly released her hand in order to secure it.

She was very tired, and it showed in her posture.
Feeling strangely lighter after such a painful admission, V said nothing, and simply slid his hands under her thighs & lifted her.
She made a tiny noise of surprise, which quickly dissolved into a laugh...one that he shared.
" Not to worry, little dove, I intend to see you properly rested; thereofore I shall remain on my most gentlemany behavior this evening." he assured her after recieving a side-long suggestive glance.

It was a bit difficult not to attempt to entice her into remaining awake with him, but V was true to his word.
And so an hour or so later, the two of them lay in darkness, thus allowing for the removal of Guy Fawkes from the equasion.
....and for the first time in nearly a week, he was able to fall asleep with ease.