Was it the shadow that first prompted V's awakening that night? The shadow that fell across his sleeping form, just before 2:00am?

The shadows never meant him any harm. He was their ally. He was their friend. ... And he was even more than that to this *particular* shadow -- cast by his dear love, Evey, as she stood in the doorway to his Gallery bedroom. Maybe it was that vicarious touch of a mate, formed of light and dark rather than flesh and blood, that reached through his sleep. Stretched out on his chaise lounge, he moved his head. -- -- The first sign that he had sensed something.

Evey moved quietly forward, clutching her coat tightly around herself. It was chilly out there at this time of night, and she wasn't giving it up until she had something equally as warm to replace it.

She'd gone to the room in which they usually slept. -- -- To 'their bed', as far as she was concerned. -- -- But found it empty. This chaise lounge had been her second guess, even though she had long assumed it abandoned.

... ... Apparently not, given how soundly he was sleeping atop it now. And as surprised as she was to find him here, the scene did remind her of other fond memories.

This was a trip she'd made often in the past ... wandering to his room in the dead of night. Well, maybe not this *exact* trip. Never all the way down from her London flat. Never bundled in a coat with her bare feet shoved hastily into trainers. But it was always comfort she had come in search of, and it was comfort that she sought now.

... ...

"V?" she asked softly. She'd stepped through the door, though still maintained some yards of distance. She knew what his reflexes were like. Knew better than to jar him awake, just in case he *didn't* realize who now stood before him.

But he did. And although he looked over his shoulder with surprising speed, his reaction was not defensive.

"Evey?" he asked, pausing as if trying to decide his true state of wakefulness. "Is that really you?"

... ... She gave a weak smile, pleased by the implication. If he thought she was merely a figment of his imagination ... well ... at least that meant his dreams were probably better than hers. That was a relief to hear.

"You're awake," she replied softly ... ... hopefully. A greeting in remembrance of so many other times she'd arrived in his doorway. A traditional greeting he should remember well from months gone by.

If it stirred his memories though, he didn't show it. Still trying to shuffle off the shroud of sleep, he was far too concerned with the mere fact of her presence. He turned further, swinging his legs down as if to rise. "What's wrong, love?" ... His eyes went to a small clock sitting on a nearby table, trying to focus far too quickly. ... "It's nearly two in the morning."

He moved to stand, but she was already near, offering reassurances that there was no emergency to chase after. "Nothing's wrong," she insisted, stepping in front of him to block his progress.

Finally ... after making what must have been quite an odd-looking exit from her flat building, hiring a cab ride with a very perplexed driver, and then journeying alone through the nighttime chill of the tunnels ... finally ... she released her grip on the lapels of her coat. They opened just enough to reveal the pajamas she wore underneath. Another fact for V to note with surprise as she coaxed his head gently against her bosom.

"Everything's ok," she whispered across the top of his hair, shushing him as her hands slid down to the base of his skull. ... ... She had found her comfort. -- -- The press of the mask and automatic wrap of his arms around her hips, were definitely a balm for whatever had upset her.

"But why have you come?" he asked, tilting his face upward. "Why would you venture here at night? And wearing little more than your bed clothes?"

A set of her fingers slid onto the mask, touching gently as if it were his real face ... ... knowing he felt it in much the same way. "Can we lay down?"

... ...

There was an undertone of unease in her voice, and he detected it immediately. Had questioned the same earlier, but was too busy trying to ascertain any more immediate dangers. Now he heard it clearly, and squeezed his fingers around her waist in automatic reassurance. He didn't even know what was wrong, but was already anxious to fix it.

Her coat came off ... the large buttons undone by joint effort. She'd found her 'something equally warm' now, and let her mate toss her street attire to a distant chair. And with her trainers kicked off, she climbed in beside him, lying down between V and the back of the chaise.

How often had she slept in exactly this location over the last year? Many times at least, before things had turned and their shared nights had moved to the bed she'd always used. It was second nature to slip right back into his arms, nestled against his side as was the tradition.

This time however, there was no hesitation in his arms. She was no longer the forbidden fruit, nor the porcelain doll. It was no longer a matter of trying to minimize contact atop too tight a piece of furniture. Now these tight quarters were an advantage.

"You should not wander at night," he murmured, resting his cheek to her head. "For what possible reason would I find you here at this hour?"

"I wasn't wandering," she replied. "I knew exactly where I was going. And I could ask you the same thing. I tried the bedroom first ... why are you here and not there?"

... ...

... ... "I ... found that I do not sleep as well, in such a large bed."

"Too comfortable?" she quipped.

And he almost chuckled right along with her. -- -- Actually would have, if it weren't for the memory of more than a few nights trying to do exactly as she suggested. ... ... They had not been pleasant.

His arm tightened around her shoulders and he answered her truthfully. "No, love. I grow weary of rolling over to find nothing but a blanket and a pillow. ... ... There was a time where I might have returned to slumbering unaccompanied in a bed. But I fear that opportunity has passed."

... ...

Her reply would not be a tease ... nor even anything humorous. It was the close of her eyes. The nestle of her head into the curve of his shoulder. The kiss pressed to his clothing.

"I believe it is now your turn," he stated, his brain having finally come round to full coherency. And he did want to know why his beloved would have made such an unwise journey. "For what possible emergency would you risk your safety, traveling in the dead of night?"

Evey's head shook and her arms wrapped more properly around him. Preparing for sleep.

... ... Or, more likely, pretending to.

"Tell me, love," he urged, one gloved hand landing in her hair. "Was there an issue involving your friend?" ... ... Evey had planned to meet a friend earlier in the evening, and hence was spending the night above. He doubted that was the true explanation, given the passage of time. But it did remain a possibility.

Evey shook her head again, then seemed to shiver against him, pushing her head further into the warmth of his neck. "Can't we just talk about it tomorrow?"

... ...

... ...

His first solution to her shiver, was the retrieval of a blanket. Reaching over his head, he located the woolen covering folded neatly on the neighboring trunk, then tossed it open across them both. If she was cold, it would keep her warm. ... ... And he would keep her even warmer.

Sitting up to ensure the blanket covered her feet, he then adjusted himself as well ... shifting onto his side and gathering her more securely into his embrace. No, the chaise had never been intended for two -- -- which made it all the more necessary to twine his legs with hers, pull her close, and move them as far back into the cushion as possible.

An excuse?

Maybe. Though he really had no need of excuses anymore. More accurately, it was the comfort that just might draw the truth from her lips. And once his head had landed beside hers on the shared pillow ... the mask's forehead tilted to his mate's ... he tried again. ... ...

"You know as well as I, dearest, that neither of us will sleep until you have shared it with me. Until you've unburdened yourself, and I have found some reason to justify such a risk taken with your life."

"It wasn't dangerous, V," she insisted. "Honestly. I took a taxi to within a block of the North entrance. The safest entrance I know of."

"That is not an answer to my question," he interrupted gently. His fingers began a gentle rub of her back. She was tense. Far too tense for having ventured down here merely on a whim.

Evey took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as one finger landed on Fawkes's pointed beard. Something to focus on ... something on which to keep her eyes. She had seen this mask quite differently -- -- little more than an hour ago.

"I just didn't want to be alone," she replied as casually as possible. "Had a nightmare and just didn't want to be alone."

"Was it that bad, Evey?" he queried. Terrors of the night were a torment over which he certainly felt empathy. He had more than enough demons and spectres to haunt his own dreams. ... ... His hope had always been that hers were of lesser evils.

Her answer was simple repetition. -- -- "I just didn't want to be alone."

... ...

Well, she sounded determined ... but not convincing. And while an attempted smile and small shake of her head certainly added to the illusion, she still wouldn't look at him properly. Nor had her finger given up its fascination with his chin. Which meant ... ...

"You still try to evade me," he commented, in what was probably the most soothing admonishment she'd ever been given. "When I would have hoped to be the one you would share truthfully with." ... His fingers caught hers, squeezing gently and moving her hand to the curve of his neck. Long ago, she had claimed the spot as her own. As one of their more intimate areas. And therefore, that was where her touch should be now. ... "Tell me what was so terrible, that it drove you here."

... ...

Her eyes found his, and her smile was gone. "Rebels," she answered simply. "More of that damn fighting with the rebels."

"They will not reach you," her mate assured instantly. "They will not touch you, love. Their influence is not as ..."

"*You*," she interrupted anxiously, and with a hint of very real frustration. "*You* were building some sort of bomb. But we were in the old Shadow Gallery." ... Her lips quirked with sarcasm. ... "I guess that's something. That it was the old one. Too long gone for this to be a premonition."

"Evey," he sympathized, pressing her hand briefly to Fawkes's lips, then returning it to the safety beneath his chin. "You are making no sense."

"It *blew* *up*!" she scolded back. He could still have her eyes, but they offered only the gleam of panic. "You kept telling me to stay back, and not get too close ... and then it *blew* *up*!"

... ... V was, at last, struck speechless. Yes, in his mind's eye he could visualize any number of explosive packs he might construct for use against a rebel cell. And yes, he certainly knew the light show an ignition could create. ... ...

Visualizing himself *within* it however, was not pleasant -- to say the least ... ... drawing on memories of only one explosion in whose proximity he'd been forced to remain. And visualizing *Evey* in the midst of this. ... ... Some quite horrific thoughts filled his head.

"I would never allow you near," he began, only to be cut off yet again.

"You kept saying 'don't come too close', and then there was this huge," ... her head shook in search of a description that might do the dream justice, her face twisting at the memory ... "just this huge fireball. And there was no way through it."

She glanced down and away, watching the flames rather than her mate. His mask was drifting closer, wanting to offer comfort. ... ... That mask -- -- pictured so differently by the time her nighttime terrors had finished with it.

"No way through," she repeated softly. "Everything was burning. And then where you used to be, all I could see was the mask, charred this horrible black colour." ... Her hand withdrew from his, her knuckles pressing to her lips in self-restraint. She had done the same upon awakening -- fighting off those first sobs before they could spill over from her dreams. ... "The fire was just everywhere."

... ...

V inhaled slowly, his vision filled with a different fire -- the one that had haunted his own dreams for decades. He knew what it was like to find no escape. To see no route through the searing flames. ... ... That plummeting sensation of entrapment, when all you could do was take the first step through it, knowing it would probably be your last.

His hand caught her chin, demanding her attention again. "Love, I would never allow a fire to harm you, least of all one created by my own hand. I would never allow you so close to ..."

"I wasn't the one trapped, V," she stated sadly, stopping his words. "I wasn't the one harmed. I was trying to get *to* *you*. And yeah, I know how far away you try to keep me. That's why it'll happen one of these days, all over again." ... Her fingers reached for his arm, touching the wounds nearly healed beneath the clothing. A sensation V himself barely felt, but that finally jarred the tears from her eyes. ... "You're going to get killed. Alone ... because you won't let me close enough to help."

... ...

... ...

"Evey ... "

"I'm not going through it again," she insisted, with so much determination that she just might have her way -- -- by force of willpower alone. Then she climbed back into his arms ... physical determination as well.

"We have had this conversation before," V stated calmly, just as unwavering as she. "I will not have you in danger. There shall be no compromise on that, love."

"Then no more secrets," she beseeched. "No more rushing off into a fire fight without so much as a by your leave. And if it's that bad, no keeping me at a distance. I could hear you all night saying 'don't come too close'. But it's too late. I'm already closer than you think."

She squeezed him then. So hard ... ... with so much strength built up from her dream -- the same strength that would have seen her through even the fire if she'd had to ... ... that his breath actually did pause for a moment.

... ... Or maybe it was the tears soaking through his black second skin, that siphoned away his air. He gathered her in again ... clinging fast as memories and nightmares swam in tandem through his head.

Of course he understood. How could he not? -- -- -- June 1st, just over two years ago, he'd sat numb before his television while the CPD descended to rubble.

Unable to reach her.

Unable to assure her that he was there.

Unable, even, to have reminded her that she was loved.

Perhaps she was closer than *she* thought as well.

"Don't ever try to hold me away," she begged softly. "Out of the fire? Fine. Out of the range of the bullets? Fine. ... ... But not away from you. Don't *ever* tell me not to get too close. And don't ever go so far out on that line that I can't see you, and tell you I love you."

... ... "I know," he murmured, his first words of yielding. God help him, he *did* understand. "And I *am* sorry. ... ... I should have warned you of my actions. Especially in these days just past."

She nodded into his neck, then slid her hand once more along his upper arm ... denoting those most recent wounds. "I should have been there for these," she added. "Even if you wouldn't have let me help with the bandages, I should have been close enough to make sure it was ok. ... To make sure *you* were ok."

And his reply was one she didn't expect. There was no fight in him for this. ... ...

The mask pressed once more to the face of his beloved. Hard metal to soft, supple cheek. "You've done that already love. You came tonight to ensure my safety, even at risk of your own. I know this. I do not approve of the hour, nor your travel therein. But I know why you come as an angel in the night."

"I can barely stand it when it's only a nightmare," she mourned. "I can't go through it again."

And then she kissed him.

... ... The mask first. Remembering it scarred with bullets; now having seen it black and burnt. ... ... But yes, her trip here tonight was worth it, the moment she'd seen it white, grinning ... and close enough for a kiss.

... ... Then his neck. Beneath her lips beat his pulse. -- -- Barely detectable through his coverings, but strong and alive nonetheless. Powerful, and determined enough to free him from nearly any situation. Still fallible though, and she gave thanks every day she could feel it like this ... close enough for a kiss.

... ... And finally his shoulder ... his arm. Just the latest in a long line of injuries. Almost healed already, thanks to this man's unique physiology. But still in need of her attention ... and close enough for a kiss.

V released a thready breath as the endearments came. He would never deny his pleasure at having her here in his arms for the night. Even if he regretted the catalyst and disapproved of the journey -- there was no point in denying how good she felt tucked in against him. And when her arm insinuated itself beneath his waist, he matched it intuitively ... one gloved hand slipping below the blanket to glide gingerly along the dip of her side.

"I think I missed this chaise," she murmured. "I'd forgotten how nice it was to be this close."

V nodded in agreement, watching as his mate was lulled by his touch. "Close enough to banish the nightmare?" he asked wistfully.

"Yeahhhh," she drew, stretching herself better along the line of his front. "Just keep making it go away."

... ...

It was a request he wished nothing more than to fulfill, and his caresses continued. The light press of his hand -- blunted by both leather and cotton, yet enough to bring comfort to them both. The whispers muffled by the mask, then further buried into the hollow of her throat. Still heard by his mate though, and answered by her own across his forehead.

And it was therefore nothing but natural instinct when his thumb brushed feather light across the curve of her breast. It stopped just as quickly though, retreating awkwardly ... the masked man remembering the circumstances.

"It's ok," Evey assured quietly, taking his hand and returning it to that same perch atop her ribcage. Then another kiss, offered to his neck.

"But you're upset, love," he replied graciously ... sincerely. "I would take no advantage while you still suffer from the night terror."

... ... "You know why I came down here," she hushed, then spelled it out so there might be no confusion. -- -- "To make sure you were alright. To tell you I love you. ... ... And you know I wouldn't have crawled in here, if I didn't want you too."

This time, his nod was reduced to a modest bow of his head, his thumb taking a far more purposeful stroke of her breast.

And yes, he did need this. As did she. A snub, if you will, to all those rebels; bullets; even fires, that thought he and his mate could be pried apart. They were already too connected for that, and they would prove it.

"My sweetest Evey," he breathed, his hand cupping the orb properly. Then the gentlest squeeze, while his head nudged hers atop the pillow. ... ... "Will you remove the glove?"

And finally, a smile from his beloved ... hinting more at genuine anticipation, than merely suppressing those fears that had chased her from her flat. Whether or not the gloves had survived the fire in her dream, meant nothing at all. Because now she was personally stripping one off of him ... finger by finger ... until the leather came free.

Back to her bosom went his hand, this time with the benefit of a much finer touch. Now he could feel her response. Bask in the softness beneath his fingers, while the orb's tip pressed much more firmly into his palm.

That still was not good enough though, and his hand retreated just long enough to slide up beneath her pajama top. Lying as tightly together as they were, he saw no point in trying to undress her. ... He could still reach her. ... He would always find a way to reach her.

And as his fingers began a proper massage ... greeting and loving any and all of his mate's waiting skin ... Evey released the deepest sigh. "This is so much nicer than fighting off those thoughts alone. I wasn't sure if I should come down here at first ... but within minutes, I couldn't get out of the flat fast enough. I was moving so fast that I almost forgot my shoes."

"Ohhhhh, you may always come to me, love," he purred. "You must of course guard your safety, or I shall take it upon myself to guard it for you. But you may always come to me." ... His face pressed to hers, reveling in the close of her eyes. The look of bliss on her face, just from his touch alone. ... "I want you to come to me," he murmured, his breath wafting away to tickle her ear. "There is little in this world that pleases me so much, as knowing you wish to be here."

"More than you could know," she murmured, pressing one more kiss to the hard, metal lips. One for the outer V, then one for the inner V ... ... her hands steering his head in search of her true mate ... kiss after kiss offered to his neck.

... ... A low, barely existent moan rumbled from his throat, and his gloved hand dug reflexively into the rise of her bottom. Amazing. Her kisses were amazing ... even through both black fabric and toughened scar tissue. ... ... Amazing.

And then she sighed, burrowing her head beneath her mate's. "Oh I like this," she cooed. "Even that nightmare can't reach me here, can it?"

... ...

... ... The words -- quite simply -- inspired in V a swell like no other.

Even with all that had happened in the wake of that dreadful Halloween holiday ... and with all that *might* have happened ... ... still, she knew her safety was found here -- with him. Even from horrors only imagined ... her safety was here.

"No, love, it can't," he purred in agreement. "Only he who adores you, shall reach you. And he always will."

With that, he tilted her the last few degrees into the back cushion, leaning above her as best as the tight quarters would allow. Physical reminder that -- no -- nothing would get past him. Even as vulnerable as he might ask her to be ... her safety would always remain assured.

His hand slid down her midriff, pausing in wait for that final invitation. It came as a subtle shift of her hips, and a parting of her knees around his. In moments, his fingers were dipping below the cotton of her pajamas ... past the elastic of her knickers ... until one finger could ease carefully through her folds.

Her hips moved again, already trying to draw his touch deeper. She succeeded too, to a degree ... ... or else he was simply just as anxious. Still, his next comment spoke of the patience on which he prided himself. ... ...

"There is no need for haste, love. Unless you plan on returning above before the morning."

"No, I'm staying right here," she teased, pulling him closer. "But there's nothing wrong with haste either."

"Perhaps," he replied with even more mischief than she. "It was once said that 'impatience hath his privilege'. And I believe you can claim more than merely my privilege, my dear Evey."

... ...

She almost had an answer, though whether it would have been an equally apt quote would forever remain unknown. His finger had already begun to move ... joined by another and allowed to sink deeper when she squirmed against him.

And when his leg shifted ... persuading hers a little further open ... debating the value of 'impatience' was no longer an issue. -- -- They both currently suffered from that particular vice.

She was soon clinging to him. Not merely from their snug fit in the chaise, but simply to get as close as possible. It was, in a way, reminiscent of her entry to the room less than an hour ago. The same underlying adamancy was there. The same drive toward her mate. ... Albeit for much more pleasant reasons this time.

"No more nightmares," he murmured, pressing the mask to her cheek ... ... burying her beneath him once more, where she could see, feel, and hear only him, and know intuitively that she was safe. "Please, love, no more tragic visions. Only moments of joy as you sleep. Moments of us."

The mask shifted, the pointed nose running a line along the side of hers, just as his fingers struck the same gentle sway within her. ... ... "Whether you fear for yourself, or for I ... we are both safe," he promised. "And I shall keep us one with the other. Nothing shall break that."

She whimpered, pushing herself into the curve of him ... understanding ... and perhaps even believing. She was so close though ... and his words to accompany her over the edge were chosen from far simpler fare. -- -- His ever whispered "I love you", to the one who would always be welcomed to his bed ... even on the occasions it was a chaise lounge, and even when the clock had announced the dead of night.

Her legs gripped around his ... ... limbs weakened by the hour ... weakened by her restless dreams ... then tired further by a frantic rush in search of her mate. But certainly strong enough to gain his attention when she flexed. Strong enough for the masked man to remain still and reverent, absorbing the memory for use in replacing his own nightmares as well.

That one syllable, 'V', came whispered through the silence, caught and held between them as they huddled together. A beautiful sound to capture and remember for those nights he really was alone in this small 'bed'. The feel of her body to memorize as well, as even her mildest spasms died away, her muscles relaxing against him.

... ...

Her night clothes were readjusted -- courtesy of her mate -- while she caught her breath. Another drift of his fingers across her midriff before he tugged her pajama top back into place. Didn't have to be perfect though ... nor did the blanket. He had every intention of *personally* seeing to her warmth.

"Thank you," she said softly, once the blanket had been retrieved and they were once again burrowing into each other's arms. He caught her legs between his as well, squirming himself and his mate as far into the chaise as possible. Settling down for the remainder of the night. -- -- Fortunately, since the last time they had slept here together, he no longer needed the excuse of merely 'ensuring he not fall off'.

"Oh Evey, you need not thank me," he replied, pressing Fawkes's nose to her temple. He was trying to coax her head beneath the tilt of his own. -- -- Those nightmares that assailed her would be well advised to keep their distance ... ... none should attempt battle with him tonight. "While I still do not approve of your chosen time, or method of travel," ... ... he let out the most blissfully contented breath, working his way yet one more inch into the embrace of his beloved ... ... "just to have you here ... perhaps I am even more fortunate than I realized."

"Shhhhh," she hushed, two of her fingers landing on the mask. -- -- That beautifully white, untouched mask, behind which her mate remained vibrant and alive. -- -- "We're both fortunate. And both together. ... ... Against everything. Even the rebels. ... ... Ok?"

He nodded ... still not pleased, but at least in understanding. She had made her point tonight. Or rather, a nightmare had made her point.

"I shall take more care, love," he promised. ... "And though I remain firm that I will *not* allow you in harm's way ... ... I will allow you that bit closer as well."