The verdant valley from which my musings grow.

Title: The verdant valley from which my musings grow.
Author: DarkTemplar
Summary: Evey thinks back on V as she strolls through the streets of London.
Rating: R
Characters: Evey, V.
Betas: Thanks to Jen again; a great beta as well as a wonderful gal. *hugs*
Author Notes: This takes into account the movie version of the story V for Vendetta which fans know was in many ways quite different from the book.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters featured in this work, Alan Moore et al have done something wonderful and I’m just playing with their creations. I make no money from this. It’s just purely recreational. In addition, there are some lyrics that appear in the fic and they are from the song “Pilots” by the band Goldfrapp.

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...Through the hellish torture of this land, even where I sit is in the sinking sand. Then tied around my neck is a noose, getting tighter and never coming loose...

There was a time, not so long ago, when a statement like that might have defeated me. Someone called Michael Joseph Harvey wrote that once. You’d never read something like that these days, not since the literary purge anyway, but it was something I found when looking through a vault once; his vault of treasured reclamations. It brings a bittersweet smile to my lips when I think of him again like this. His collections were not his own, nor were they stolen, as he put it, but merely reclaimed. I was the lucky one he showed them to. In a perfectly misconceived moment of madness, he had snatched me up and taken me to his sanctuary, where for a while, his world was mine, a place where I was within. In those few weeks I came to discover a great many things; things about me, about the world and about him. More than anything, I saw how even in the most cultivated creature, anger and determination could indeed go very far; it could be murderous. I learned of a person that had become so twisted through the pain of his own experience, coupled with a sense of civic outrage that nothing would suffice to make him go gently into the night to lick his wounds except ruthless and exacting punishment. In the time I spent with him, I had tried to see into those concealed eyes of his. I wanted to see the emotion in those cloth covered orbs. Many times I imagined what colour they might have been, but he never wanted to tell me or show me, and yet he opened up my own.

He is extraordinary. I know him simply as V and before I met him I had no idea there were quite so many words that existed in the English language that began with the letter “V”. His verbosity impressed me then, as it still does now, and I recall that he had a quote for every situation, every question I asked of him, while I lived with him for that brief time. His fondness for quotes rubbed off a little on me too, I have to say. Though the man has no face save for his slightly comical mask and his body is sheathed exclusively in black, the moniker of V suits him so well. V can stand for many things; vendetta, virtue, vigilance, victory, vindication, valediction. In terms of character there is valour, verity, verve, and voraciousness, despoiled naturally by vindictiveness, vitriol and viciousness. I understand very well that those characteristics in him were borne out of terrible cruelty and torture, directed as much upon him as they were to others like him. There is also verisimilitude; he wears a Guy Fawkes mask and uses explosives to make a point. The mask serves as both symbolism and guise, as does his modus operandi. And though I don’t know what he really looks like and that there are things about him that are ugly and frightening, to me he is beautiful, for he taught me how to not be afraid. It is the most important gift I have ever received from anyone and I will always have it with me, no matter what happens after the fifth of November. I think upon that date, still months away and it does fill me with a kind of dread. It is not dread or fear of change, but what will become of him…

I am not with him now. Yes, I ended up leaving him to his own devices. Events precipitated things to a point where I found myself a changed person. No more was I was the satellite, I had enough momentum to break free from his orbit. He had told me there were no longer locked doors and so, with my new sense of freedom and bravado, I walked out on him. At any rate, I really couldn’t stay there any longer. You must understand it would have been suffocating as well as intolerable in the end. It’s much too hard to live with a vacillating sense of moral indignation. I was still in a little bit of shock too, after I learned that it was he who had tortured me in my ‘mock’ imprisonment. V presents a quandary in me I find I am still grappling with. Do the ends really justify the means? I still don’t know, but surely we can’t simply just survive and put up with things that deep down we know are wrong? I think about some of the things he’s already done; such ends and such means! It warms my heart to think he’s out there creating chaos to the system despite my misgivings, and I find myself saying in my head ‘someone has to pay’. It’s in all of us, this vicious, vengeful streak, isn’t it? It is as human as compassion and love, though this has been in short supply for a great many. I will not get in V’s way, he has important work to do and I won’t suffer in the dark, gnashing my teeth and twisting my hands theorising on the ‘rightness’ of his methods while I lie in bed alone.

That last time I saw him I realised it wasn’t just that I was free to go that made me feel a little bolder, allowing me to walk away, but that I didn’t need his protection anymore; this was the real freedom. And despite his convoluted and, I have to say, cruel method of making me see how lost and scared I was, he became for me, something more than just a crazy ideologue with a mask and a vendetta who saved me once-no twice; he became my friend. Before that he was too much the apparition for me, even though we had spent so many of our days together in casual pursuits, as only we could in a confined catacomb existence, the ‘cover’ would still throw me off kilter too. So many times I wanted to look up into a real face, see real flesh and hair. I realise now how selfish that was though he never complained directly about it save for the occasional shake of a head and a gently disparaging “Evey” under his breath from time to time.

I won’t think about the sadness of our parting though, the problems with his philosophy, or the conflicts within me. I prefer to simply think of V the man for the time being; how he can be when he’s not jumping off rooftops and plunging knives into unsuspecting finger men or obsessing about his plans. I said earlier, he is a cultivated creature, and this was demonstrated to me on a daily basis. In his makeshift hideaway, he always laid out the best silverware for dinner and the finest goblets from which to sip our wine. I never saw him eat or drink though; he merely sat politely at one end of the table as I ate and drank my fair at the other. When we looked across the table at each other engaged in some pleasant conversation, it was resplendent candlelight that cast its glow over the proceedings. The flickering flames would create the most interesting shadows across the walls of shelves and artwork. It always made me feel as though I was living in a darkish fairy tale; there was always a sense of quiet foreboding that pervaded over all. I knew I was a prisoner of sorts. I couldn’t leave at the time in order to protect his future plans and I had no idea what my future had in store for me so shortly afterwards. I think back on that time though and I do miss it a little, miss him. I recall that glorious juke box of his. It had so many wonderful songs stored on it. We danced to many of them. Before I met him, I had no idea how to dance and he taught me the Veleta, it was a type of waltz. The dancing has me going back to that night again…

Not yet. I can’t think on it just now, so I take a look around me and focus on my surroundings. I should be doing this anyway. I walk across the street and I admit that I feel somewhat nervous to be in such a public place, but I hadn’t been here in a while and I wanted to see it again and so I’m here. I see the street sign marked ‘Portobello Road’, but as I look around at the buildings I realise that this is not how I remembered it, it is as though the street sign is a lie. The brightly painted buildings are all gone; the deep crimson façade of one shop has been painted over with a dull grey wash and the brilliant blue of another is now whitewashed and patchy. It was like that all up and down as far as my eyes could see. All of the street art has been torn down as well, replaced with ugly signs of government propaganda emblazoned upon them. I walk for a bit along the footpath and I pass the old Spanish shop. I think back to when I was just a little girl and my parents would come to buy things here. There would be jamons and chorizo hanging all over the place, wonderful cheeses behind the glass counters and all sorts of coloured tins on the shelves with all manner of spices contained within them. I recall one such tin in particular. It was a brand of smoked paprika and on the tin there was a picture of a smiling wedding couple drawn in an old fashioned fifties style. I always thought that a little odd, but then food, love and happiness, the way they were combined in that picture makes so much sense to me now. What more is there? It’s so simple yet now, achingly unattainable. That little tin was just a big tease; a fantasy.

Now it’s all gone as is everything else. The street is deserted and yet, it used to be so lively. So much has changed. I came here because I was feeling disconnected and wanted to simply blend into the throng of shoppers I thought would be milling about. I just wanted to be among the seething masses again. I guess there are no crowds anymore; I keep forgetting it’s supposed to be dangerous, but how did shopping become so threatening? I miss the smells and noises of the markets, and the general chaos of commerce, as people bartered and traded all kinds of things. Now you have to go and pick up supplies at giant depots like you are some kind of delivery truck, and there is nothing quirky to be found in your allocated list of non banned goods to make you smile or get excited about either. This place is dead just like the others; just one more thing to be disappointed by. I can’t help but sigh out loud. Sometimes it’s better to let stuff like that out, it’s small and its better then letting things build up. At least the sun still feels warm on my face and today the sky is blue despite what humans have done. Nature can still put on a resplendent show of colour, even in London. I take a deep breath and think of where I might go to pass the time before sunset makes me think of getting back to my shelter.

It’s not wise to simply linger.

I am feeling somewhat nostalgic for past experience but there’s only one memory that keeps surfacing and its flavour is bittersweet and the feelings associated with it melancholic. I have been thinking of it too much, but perhaps it is a sign that I should be paying my masked friend that visit that I promised him that night, weeks ago. I cannot deny that there is a pull there though I feel instantly sad and a feeling of gloom shadows my thoughts about it even though parts of that night were beautiful to me. I remember the way he was that evening, for one second I think he forgot about the fifth of November and in a way it was romantic of him to do so. I almost felt happy that he thought about something else for a change, something not related at all to his precious ‘November Five’, but this is cruel of me to say now, he has been through so much already, and I take it back immediately.

I recall the way the light of the fire flickered against the wall behind him that night. I remember how warm it was and thought quite purposefully at the time how I was going to miss that warmth when I left. And then I just came out and told him that I couldn’t stay and that I was leaving. I saw something change in him when I announced my plans. Something in his assured countenance went amiss just then, even before he’d said a word in reply. In the time I had spent with him previously, I had become accustomed to reading him with some measure of accuracy. Perhaps that is facetious of me to say after he tricked me so profoundly with my ‘imprisonment’, but I did learn to read some of his body language no matter how much he tried to conceal it from me or make me think it wasn’t important. Because he was always masked and ensconced completely in thick black garb, I never had that much to go on, just the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his head and sometimes the tremor of a hand to tell me what went on inside him. I had filed all that away in my mind; on the nature and possible meaning of his mannerisms. It all came back to me that night as I watched him and realised that my leaving was going to dent him a little. I think he just didn’t believe I would really go, or perhaps he just didn’t expect that my leaving would actually hurt in some way. I could see very well that it did. To others he may have looked simply puzzled with his cocked head, but I saw his hands tremble just so as he turned slightly around. He then leaned casually on the desk but the looks we exchanged made me wonder whether he was more shocked by this or I. With him you never truly knew but I saw that his hands were busy with ornaments on the desktop; with undue reason he seemed to want to suddenly rearrange their placements.

I watched him calmly and quietly until he stopped his ministrations. He retreated back to his ever faithful demeanor of cordiality soon enough and then walked calmly towards me before placing a hand gently upon my arm. I was filled with anticipatory curiosity as he bent his angled head towards me slightly and spoke.

“Very well Evey, I understand.”

And then he asked a favour of me and it was the easiest promise in the world to make, because I wanted it too. Of course, I would come see him one more time before the fifth. I probably would have anyway, even if he’d never asked me, I know I would have wanted to regardless.

His hand lingered on my arm and he suggested a final dance before we parted ways. I assented of course, despite the fact that at the time, my legs were still quite unsteady and I could still feel the collective throb of bruises on my shins and on my arms, I wanted to dance with him one final time. I walked into his waiting arms willingly and looked up to his face and mouthed a ‘thank you’ for everything he’d done for me and he just nodded as the record he’d chosen for us dropped into the slot and the needle came down into the groove. We gently swayed with the music. It was a slow dreamy number and my pains melted away as I closed my eyes and listened to the simulated ivory key-tinkle of the synth keyboard and the soft moan of the trombone underscoring the velvety vocals of the female singer. For a little while I was just a girl dancing with a man who’d offered his arm as well as his good company to me and I hummed along to the tune in my head as the words washed over me.

...Armoured cars sail the sky
They’re pink at dawn
If I lived forever you just wouldn’t be so beautiful
As the sun
When it shines
All over the world
We’re pilots watching the stars
The world pre-occupied
We’re pilots watching the stars
Who do you think we are?...

For some reason I put a hand to my head and felt the spiky buzz cut that was my new crown. I remember I whispered to V.

“My hair V, you cut off my hair…”

He just continued leading me around the room in our dance, never breaking his steps but he did reply softly.

“And you look so lovely Evey…”

Damn him, but he made me smile right at that moment. I closed my eyes again and relaxed in his arms once more. For a few more minutes I held back as I listened to the rest of the song.

...Ice and clouds
Shimmer outside
Rain just falls
At magic hour
It’s just the sound
Of you and me
Time twitching
Murmurs of our friendly machine...

I did open my eyes eventually though. I was a different person; no ordinary girl and V, no ordinary partner. For one insanity-ridden second, I longed to simply tear off that ridiculous mask, but reason returned very quickly and I knew there was no real need for revelation. What did it matter to me what flesh lay beneath, what kind of nose he had, whether his mouth was framed by full lips, or whether he truly was hideously disfigured. His gloved hand still felt warm on my back as did the other as it held my own small hand in its gentle grip. I leaned my head against his chest for the first time ever. Even though we had danced before, he’d never held me as close like he did that night, close enough that I could do it, and it felt so natural. It startled me though, when I felt his heart beneath all that black, beating so strongly. I’m still not sure why I was so taken aback by the beating of his heart, perhaps it was really only then that I truly understood he was just like any one of us, human and aching as we all could be. He squared his shoulders when I looked up at him in wonder; I must have looked a sight to him, but a shudder ran through him nonetheless and I sensed vulnerability in him for only the second time in all my experience with him. Here was a man who already had a veneer, a costume that rendered him unreadable and yet, I could still read him. I knew that he was studying my face as I continued looking at him. Oh V you were never as cold as you imagine you are. I did tell him so that night, sometimes you need to say the words too; the looks you give, the actions you take aren’t enough. I was too afraid to say anything more for fear of crying. He was so alone and I was leaving him. It was for the best, we both knew that, there was a bigger picture after all, but we’re human and it all still hurts us doesn’t it?

We remained silent, dancing until the music stopped and it became awkward to just stand there and not speak. V filled in the void as he always did. He quoted from Thoreau and the words came unbidden to his lips so naturally from his vast memory stores of phrases and passages of literature.

“As if you could kill time without injuring eternity..."

All I had in me was the strength to say good bye as I reached up on my toes to whisper it close to his mouth; to his painted theatre smile. I extricated myself from his arms and he passed a gloved hand down my cheek in a sweet gesture that I will always cherish. And then he took a step back away from me and straightened up with the pointed chin of his mask raised in a dignified manner as he directed his open palm towards the door.

“Good bye Evey.”

With that he bowed ever so slightly as he placed his hand over his heart in a reverential manner. I tilted my own head forward in an answering bow of my own and then walked towards the door. I stopped and looked at him a final time. His head was still bowed towards me but he was not looking at me but to the floor. He whispered something my keen ears struggled to hear, but hear they did.

“Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.”

V knew how much I adored Shakespeare and he chose this particularly beautiful line to send me off with. He couldn’t have said it better and truth be told, there were tears in my eyes, as I gave him a tiny wave before I turned around and walked out through the door and along the vaulted corridor. The click of each footstep I made upon the tiled floor was like a ticker that marked the growing distance between us as I carried myself toward the stairwell. And then onto the street at last with his words gently teasing both my brain and heart, I was outside smelling the air of the city above ground once again. I was free, in my own control, but already I was missing him so soon and in a way I never imagined I would.

And I still do.

I rewrap the scarf around my neck a little tighter and zip up my jacket. The air has grown cold and the wind has picked up as the clouds come back to hide the sun once more. It is time to move on again and my shelter is some distance walk still. I take one last look upon the street sign suppressing my lamentable thoughts as best I can. There is one man out there who has decided to make a difference and I will be calling upon him again before the finale. I will see you soon my friend.

*The End*