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Resurrection Blues	By : JackHawksmoor Category: DC Verse Comics > V for Vendetta Views: 2255 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own V for Vendetta, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Resurrection Blues
- 2-ch 2
- 3-ch3
- 4-ch4
- 5-ch 5
- 6-CH 6
- 1
- 2
- 3
Resurrection Blues
Ch 2
“Bang.”-Cowboy Bebop

She woke curled up against him with a sick, wet gasp and realized in the first confused surge of thought that there was a heart beating underneath her cheek. Underneath the damp black fabric she had crushed in her fists.
Wait...what?
She lifted her head and had to blink her eyes against the strange, glittery glow.
Then she opened her eyes wide and stopped breathing.
The Wurlitzer was the only source of light still lit. It was enough to illuminate the glitter of frost that seemed to be covering every inch of the gallery all around her. The paintings. The statues. Everything.
She had frost in her eyelashes. She lifted her hand to rub at them and left a melted outline of her fingers in the frost on V's vest.
She exhaled in slow shock and her breath fogged in the air before her face.
Then V shifted beside her. His head moved a little and he sighed, fogging the air above the mouth of his mask.
Evey's hands were shaking. She deliberately curled her hands into fists, then relaxed them.
V made a soft murmuring noise and moved. He stopped as if he'd felt her leaning against him.
“Evey?” Soft. Very soft. But he sounded human again, and she had to turn her face away and take a few deep breaths so she wouldn't cry.
He sat up slowly, hesitating, taking in the surreal surroundings.
“What went on here?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice.
“I don't know,” she said. Madness and wonder. Genie wishes right from the bottle.
“Do you remember what happened,” she managed, “at the tube station, you...”
-Died-
“After what happened? Do you remember?” His mask had gone askew when she'd heaved him onto his bower of explosives. She'd reached out to right it...
V barely hesitated.
“No.” Calm, to the point. 'Yes, I killed him'
“I...” She lowered her eyes, considered the floor for a moment, and went for broke. “I put you on the train,” she managed. When he made no immediate response she looked up at him, almost pleadingly. “I put you on the train, V.” She reached up, touched her mouth. Her fingers were cold. “You were dead.”
The white mask tilted away from her, picking up a faint shine from the neon light coming off the Wurlitzer There was a slight movement in his shoulders, as if he was thinking very hard.
“Did you.”
Mute, she nodded once.
The mask turned once more in her direction, but didn't quite lift high enough to look her in the eye. It was almost like he couldn't quite force himself to do it.
“That was...very kind.” V almost sounded breathless. He was looking at her hands now, she would swear it. Checking for blood?
“It must have been beautiful,” he said, his voice suddenly thick. She knew exactly what he meant. Parliament.
“It was.” She said it almost before he'd finished speaking, and the wonder in her voice was enough to get him to look up at her face again. She saw a shiver run through him when he did, and it came to her all of a sudden that he was upset. He turned from her quickly, as if it hurt to see her. Looked around at the gallery.
“Home,” he said, after a moment. As if he was tasting the word, to see if it was still good. He straightened himself in a fluid motion that for some reason made her stomach ache a little in appreciation. He drew a leg up, leaned his elbow where it bent at the knee.“Quite an afterlife I've found my way to,” he said thoughtfully, and Evey frowned at him.
“If this is a way station,” he said quietly, seriously,”I can not hope to be going anywhere pleasant.” He leaned closer to her, and his hand came up and just brushed her cheek. She caught her breath.“I should hate to taint you.” His voice seemed to imply that every grace humanity was offered rested firmly across her shoulders.
Her head came up sharply.
“Taint me!” she said, indignant. He cut her off.
“Have you died then, Evey?” A hush of deadly seriousness colored his voice. Very upset. The idea of his own death had not seemed to distress him half so much.
Evey opened her mouth with an easy answer about to fall from her lips, but stopped, twitching a little. It couldn't be...she didn't remember anything...
“I don't know,” she said honestly, sounding bewildered to her own ears. He hunched his shoulders and barely nodded, a slight inch of movement. He took one breath, sounding pained. She looked down to cover how much it bothered her to hear it.
“I'll probably wake up in a minute,” she said, blinking a tear down her cheek. “And you'll be gone again...” She leaned forward a little, just enough to rest her head on his shoulder. It was pleasant in a purely physical way, like stepping into a hot shower after a long day.
He made the smallest sound as she touched him. It was sweet to her ear, given the cause.
“Evey...” he sighed, and she felt his hand come up against the back of her head. His fingers trailed down her neck and curled under her jaw. He lifted her head so she was looking at him.“"Things must be as they may"” V murmured gently, his voice warm enough to wrap herself in on a cold winter night. “But before we continue on to our fates, let me say this.” His other hand came up, resting at the back of her neck, until he was effectively cradling her head in his hands.“If there was anything that could have made me regret leaving this life...it was you.” She had heard that kind of conviction in his voice before. The first time it had convinced her to commit what was, at that point, one of the rashest decisions of her life. It was reassuring to hear it again, like a signpost on a dark and wooded path.
She smiled, suddenly warmed.
“I believe you,” she said simply.
He hissed in a slow breath through his teeth at the magnitude of that statement. His head tilted and his thumb stroked along her cheek.
She kissed him gently. She had left a kiss there once, lingering on painted lips. An offering, freely given. Now she retrieved it, and he went still as tombs as she did it.
She felt him, heard him inhale deeply on the other side of a porcelain smile. Tasting as much of her as he could.
“V,” she said against the false lips. “I would like it if you kissed me.” She looked up at him as she said it, and was not surprised when he pulled back. Nor by the way he stiffened up. His hands slid away from her face, down to cup her shoulders.
“Evey...” The concentrated longing in his voice she had not expected, and it squeezed at her heart dangerously.
“Please,” she sighed it with every scrap of feeling she had left. Then she looked up at him, leaning very close. “We may not have much time.”
He lowered his head. The shadows made his mask look dark and unfamiliar.
No one gets a second chance, not in a reasonable world, he wouldn't-
His hands at her shoulders clamped down hard, and his whole body tensed.
“Shut your eyes,” he said in a rough, scratchy voice.
Hope snatched her voice away. She held her breath and shut her eyes. The sounds she heard were magnified a thousand times over.
He was breathing very fast, puffing against the mask. There was a shifting of cloth and the faint clink of metal. Straps?
His breath sounded different. Not muffled any longer.She curled her hands into two tight fists in her lap. A soft thunk as the mask was set aside.Evey felt him lean over.
Delicately, touching nothing but her lips, he pressed a kiss there. It was light, and meant to be brief, she could tell he was pulling away almost before he'd touched her. She spied his intent and opened her mouth under his as soon as she felt him try to pull back.
He froze at the feel of her tongue on the inside of his lip. She pushed her luck, leaning into him. Following through with careful, deliberate persistence. He gave way under the sudden onslaught. After a stunned moment he began to respond to her, hesitantly at first. He seemed to gain more confidence as they went, tasting her as she 'd tasted him.
The heat coming off him was incredible. His breath on her face felt like a blast from a furnace. It should have burned but didn't. It just soaked into her, sinking into her bones. Making her feel young and strong and delightfully indestructible.
She lifted her hands to cup his face, but he snatched at them quickly, holding them away from his cheeks. He parted his lips from her, breathing into her face as if suddenly indecisive.
She probably failed to hide her disappointment.
He squeezed her hands. She couldn't tell if it was in reassurance or if he was accepting the blame for whatever he must be seeing on her face. The temptation to open her eyes was terrible, and perhaps he saw that, too. He recoiled from her, and she lowered her head, hearing him retrieve his face and settle it back into its accustomed place.
Evey opened her eyes and looked down at her hands. She could still feel the warmth he'd passed on to her, radiating high in her chest like a small sun.
He did not quite look at her over his shoulder.
“I'm sorry Evey,” he said. He sounded sorry. He sounded like someone had given him a good hard smack.
She smiled.
“You taste wonderful,” she said.
V froze, looking at her as if she'd sprouted wings.
“Ah.” It wasn't quite a word, more like an exclamation of breath. It was delicious to the ear, and sent a little shiver down the small of her back.
Evey's face felt warm and she looked away. It was good that she had, as it allowed her to notice a rather glaring change in the surroundings.
She sat bolt upright, looking about in disbelief.
“V...” The frost was gone. Just...gone. She reached out and touched the floor, the upturned chair, the stool next to the chair. Nothing was even wet.
“Interesting,” V mused. She looked up as V got to his feet, watched him as he walked a step or two, ran his fingers over the yellow stone of the wall with a thoughtful noise.
Evey rubbed her hand over the short stubble on her scalp. Looking up and around.
“We've broken all the lights,” she said.
“I can't imagine we had much to do with it,” he replied, walking back to her.
Evey stared at him and puffed out a breath in disbelief.
“Though, it's a pity about the frontispiece,” he said, nodding at the cracked face of the Wurlitzer
He held out a hand to her and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet with just enough force that she bumped him a little.
“Oh,” she said sorrowfully, touching the imperfection. She turned her head quickly, looking back at him. “Will it still play?”
V leaned past her and pressed a button. His sleeve brushed her arm. After a moment, the machine started to click and hum in a familiar way.
A woman began to sing energetically, and V turned to her. She would swear they shared a relieved smile.
He squeezed her hand and she realized that he hadn't let go of her after helping her up. His fingers...lingered. Clasping her hand, now tight, now loose, as if he was of a mind to release her but couldn't quite bring himself to.
Finally, he spoke.
“Shall we explore our unusual purgatory?” V asked with a gesture at the gallery. He did not release her, his decision made.
Evey slid her fingers a little further against V's offered hand. She nodded thoughtfully.
“All right.”
Evey fell into step beside him, glancing around the gallery. There was an occasional crunch of broken glass underfoot.
“After all, mortals seldom tread in the realm of the gods for no reason,” V continued. She paused, frowning.
“That's a funny way to put it,” she said. He glanced back at her. “Gods,” she prompted.
V turned and held her arm out to the side a bit, as if admiring her.
“If the gods have a realm,” he began, sounding pleased that she'd asked, “The afterlife must be it. They don't often have much to do with the living.”
“It's strange to hear that, coming from you,” Evey commented, leaning back.
“Why?” V asked softly, taking a half step to the side, as if trying to see her from another angle.
They might have almost been dancing, she thought with an strange kind of stillness settling over her heart.
Evey matched his footwork, squaring up to him again.
“ Aren't you the one who always talks about fate?” she asked, and some of that stillness crept into her voice and made her sound very...odd.
He took another half step to the side, one leg crossing behind the other.
“Fate? Have I talked about that?” He said it as though asking himself. “Coincidence, perhaps. I confessed a lack of faith. I never spoke to you about fate.”
“You don't have to say the word to be talking about it.” She smiled faintly. "We make guilty of our misfortunes the sun and the stars; as if we were villains on necessity; “ She prompted him. She was sure it wasn't quite right, but it was close enough.
His grip on her hand slackened, and he stepped back from her as if she was dangerous.
“You said that, or pretty close to it,” she reminded him. “After you brought me here, there was that bit on the news about what you did to Jordan Tower.” She hesitated and continued delicately. “It seemed to upset you.” He was very still, the dance forgotten. She couldn't read him at all. “Some of it,” she added softly, “seemed to upset you.”
“'Fools by heavenly compulsion...and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on'...King Lear,” He said.”yes.” He spoke with enough careful absence of emphasis she was left not entirely sure what he was agreeing with, if anything. Then he tilted his head with a little laugh.“I didn't think you'd noticed.” He was staring at her.
She smiled tentatively, somehow reassured.
“I lived here, V.”
There was a thick silence. His posture shifted and as he stepped near it suddenly occurred to her that he may want to kiss her again. Then he got closer, and she was sure of it. His mask tilted as he leaned in, getting as close to her as he could without touching. She saw him stop himself from going farther than that. Watched him stiffen up a little, and wondered why.
“In some ways...” He said quietly, and trailed off. She watched the tension in him swell up until, finally,“you never left.” His tone of voice was very different. “You were always here.” He sounded very much like a man who wanted to be kissed, but was expecting to be slapped.
Evey opened her mouth and pulled her head back, momentarily speechless.
She knew what he meant by it. For a bright moment that was all there was. He had loved her too much...But then, in her mind's eye, a splinter of memory was unearthed and she thought only of That Room. That room that was tainted with her blood, her shit, her tears. Her frightened little Evey. She had left that place behind, and yet she was still there. Some of her, bits of her. Forever.
He hadn't meant it that way. But that was what she thought of.
He saw it, in the line of her shoulders, the lift of her jaw. He recoiled from his position close to her as if he'd never belonged there. She folded her arms across her chest, turning away from him.
“Evey,” he began, and there was a plea in his voice, a man wandering through a minefield.
She looked at him and smiled, the curl of her lips carved with deliberate calculation.
“The realm of the gods has an eye for detail,” Evey pointed out, ignoring him coolly. ”My cup of tea is still on the table.”
He even pretended to look.
“Yes.” It was more of a sigh than a word. A quiet acknowledgment to misery.
She'd been deliberately jangled in nearly every way, and for a moment, it felt good to punish him for it. Then she looked up and saw the clock on a shelf.
A clock. Just a clock. 12:50am. She'd lost nearly an hour...
12:50. He'd be starting up in five minutes, she thought suddenly. He, or she.
The night after the fifth, right at midnight, someone, somewhere, had taken over the speakers again. Maybe even someone working at the office. Someone sick of silence. Someone with access to a wealth of banned music. They started with Beethoven's fifth, and ran blacklisted songs over the public announcement speakers for an hour. Ended with the 1812 overture every night, right at 1am. So, at 1am for the last four days, everyone who wasn't outside already would go out on the rooftops. Celebrating their freedom to balk curfew.
The freedom V had bought for them, paid in coin and blood. She glanced back at V, at the pained look of his posture, and felt a sharp burn of shame.
Evey hesitated, thinking hard, raking through the coals of her emotions. After some small amount of self-reflection, she nodded to herself, and unfolded her arms. Unlocking her body language deliberately.
“V,” she said, sounding apologetic to her own ears.
“It's all right,” he interrupted quickly.
“No, it isn't,” she replied, just as frankly. She glanced away, then back. “ I have something for you.” His head came up sharply. She tried on a small smile. “ A gift.”
“You...” he sounded caught off guard. He straightened, and rather looked as if he'd been lifted up. “Yes,” and his voice was softer, suddenly eager. “Yes, of course.”
She offered him her hand and he took it.
“We'll need to go up,” she cautioned him. She imagined this would decide one way or the other if they were in the real world or...or something else.
“All right.” His voice seemed to imply that if she'd told him they needed to march right into police headquarters, his reply would have been the same.
As they walked toward the lift she suddenly felt that she was dangerous to him, as if she held a weapon that she didn't know how to use.

"Things must be as they may"- Henry V
"We make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villains on necessity;... Fools by heavenly compulsion...and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on" -King Lear
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Resurrection Blues