Unmasked

Chapter 13

Resurrection

Waking up with like trying to see through muddy water. V had to crawl and scratch and pull his way out of the dark that beckoned him back down down down.

Once he was able to gain semi-awareness the first thing that he noticed was the feeling of silk sheets on his bare skin. The second thing that he noticed was the pressure on the bed beside him. His eyes went to it saw the familiar shaved head of Evey Hammond. His Evey. This had to be a dream, he thought. This was cruel. This dream could not erase the memory of Evey walking out of his life, no matter how real it appeared. He deserves it, of course, but the pain of it had been much more than he had originally anticipated. And after that, being alone once again for that year in the shadow gallery... It had always been there but somehow, after she left, the loneliness expanded a thousandfold. Yet she had come back, he remembered. Just that once. The day of his plan to bring down the world and himself with it.

Memory and feeling and emotion all began to come back at once and it was a fight to keep his breathing normal. Why did he have no clothes on? And if Evey was the only one there she must have been the one to take them off. Oh God. She'd seen. She'd seen him. But then why was she still there? This must be a dream. Or maybe it was heaven or, more likely, it was hell. No. As the feeling came back into his body pain came too. Pain was something that he was used to. Something that he could deal with. He felt the stinging and the bruising all over his body. The sound of guns ringing his ear. Ideas are bulletproof, but he was not. He shouldn't be here.

Suddenly Evey's head shot up off the bed. She looked to the door, then to him, then to herself in the mirror across the room, back to him, back to the door. She was obviously mulling something over and he tried to stay as still as possible while she decided on whatever thought was running through that brain of hers. Finally, she seemed to have decided to get up. She looked at him one last time before rising slowly from her perch. Her legs were wobbly and he wondered how long she had been sitting stagnant there, next to his bed. He wondered how long he'd been in that bed at all.

She gave the cheek of his mask a soft kiss and it was a fight to keep his breathing even and his body slack. When she finally exited the room and closed the door behind her V let out a sigh and slowly sat up. The blanket fell away from him and the sight of his own skin made him cringe as it usually did. He tried to avoid his reflection in the mirror across the room and instead examined his wounds.

His torso was riddled with wounds in different states of disrepair. Some were simply wrapped while others were clumsy packed or amateurishly stitched. To make matters worse he realized that he was not wearing any trousers either. Good God, she had seen practically everything. He reached a shaking hand to his face and his fingers were met with cold, lifeless porcelain. Blessedly, his mask was still on, but V still did not know how he could ever face her again after she had seen the beast under the layers of black clothes he had come so accustomed to wearing during her stay at the shadow gallery.

The wounds had already begun to heal at a rapid pace, as did most injuries that he sustained. That was one thing he could thank the scientist who used him like a lab rat for. He doubted his endurance or his strength or his rapid healing had existed before the experiments, and they were very likely the reason that he was alive, a fact which still surprised him.

With no small amount of effort, he heaved his legs over the side of the bed and very carefully tested them before getting up and walking to the door to turn the lock. Once he was sure he would not be interrupted he made his way to the shower, bringing a fresh set of clothes and a new mask with him