One of the best things about winter, even in the middle of that sprawling concrete jungle known as London proper, were the cold, dark, starry nights. Setting in well before dinner, and lasting through til the beginning of the typical workday, darkness fell just as surely and just as deeply as the temperatures.

... ... Or so was the new enjoyment Evey had come to find in the season.

While most citizens sought winter play on the ice of public skating rinks; marveled at the light displays growing grander each year along the shore of the Thames; or dashed in and out of the shoppes, delighting in the season's sales; it was those who felt at home in the darkness, who now inherited a much larger portion of the city.

And when the snow fell, the smaller parks especially became havens of solitude. -- -- So that was where Evey and her mate had begun to seek their winter diversions.

It was gone 1:00am that night, as the couple strolled along a narrow path. No light to guide them, save the moon and the reflection it threw off two inches of clean, fresh snow. No sounds to cut through the crisp winter air, save their own shared conversation, and the muffled crunch of snow-padded footfalls.

There were flurries in the air again, but V was certain they'd be back in the tunnels before any significant amount could fall. So the little white crystals became a source of play, caught on pitch black gloves -- both his and hers -- for study and amusement, before they melted away into pinheads of water.

In fact, they were soon so busy enjoying nature's tiniest show, that they nearly missed the man on the distant park bench. ... ...

... ... Down another trail, just beyond the shadows of the bare, snow dusted trees -- -- something moved.

... ... A shoe, nothing more. A foot, making an adjustment atop the bench's arm rail.

V's grip on his mate's hand strengthened instinctually, halting her into silence. And both peered across the dim expanse, waiting for any sign of acknowledgement from the stranger.

... ...

... ...

"I do not believe he's well," V commented, many seconds later when no more movement had been seen. What's more, he could detect the glint of curved glass, nearby in the snow. A bottle, making the situation a bit more clear. ... "I dare even say he's intoxicated. Perhaps attempting to sleep the confusion away? Choosing this for his nighttime bed?"

"He shouldn't be out here," Evey whispered with considerable concern. "They're calling for two more inches tonight. He shouldn't *be* here."

... ...

If she sounded surprised, there was a good reason for that. Such occurrences had become significantly rarer over recent years, the new government having channeled many resources into the fight against homelessness and destitution. -- -- This simply was not a common sight.

There was, of course, always the possibility that he was merely drunk ... though to have gotten 'lost' this far into the park ... that did stretch the imagination a bit.

"We have to check on him," she insisted. "We can't leave him here."

V nodded, already in agreement with his mate. But he was wary ... always wary for whatever traps may lay in wait. It was nothing more than the first rule of survival. ... ... And no matter what, the safest place for Evey was by his side.

... ...

There was something very surreal, Evey soon realized, in approaching such an unknown, unexpected scene. Something unnerving, and deeply disturbing in the image before her. -- -- -- A man on a bench, alone against the encroachment of winter's white blanket. -- -- -- Something about that bothered Evey on a level even deeper than she'd expected, and well beyond the normal twinge of trepidation that comes with meeting a stranger.

No rebels sprang forth though, from hidden, camouflaged positions. Nothing to threaten. Not even any further movement from the man. The world remained silent, until V and Evey could finally discern his face.

... ...

And how odd it was, to be confronted by Fawkes.

Covering the man's face ... between the brown coat he was bundled in, and a tattered black cap pulled down across salt-and-pepper hair ... curved the eternal grin of England's most famous mask.

... ...

The man started -- -- apparently awake, though inebriation had considerably slowed his reflexes. Suddenly confronted with visitors, he moved backward in a slightly wobbling motion ... threatening to fall right off the bench in the process.

"It's ok," Evey assured, her attention unexpectedly fixated by that mask. "It's ok. We just wanted to know if you have somewhere to go."

"Aaaach," the stranger grumbled, waving her away as if having heard such words before. "I'm fine dearie. Just leave me alone." He tried to fold back in upon himself, searching for escape from both the weather, *and* his uninvited guests.

"You can't stay out here," Evey replied with gentle persuasion. -- -- She took a better glance at his clothing, and it was no longer a question. -- -- This man was neither privileged, nor a threat ... and was in no condition to be alone in a wintry park. "There are places that can help. Will you let us take you to one?"

"Go away," he grumbled. And loudly at that. "Be a nice dearie and go away."

... ...

Evey's back straightened. ... ... She was not accustomed to being called 'dearie', but would overlook it in these circumstances. ... Far more important at the moment, was finding a way to get this man some assistance. ... Perhaps pulling rank on him would work?

"Sir, I am a government representative, and I really cannot allow you to remain in this public park. We have many programs to help you in any way you need. I'm afraid I will have to insist that you allow us to escort you to one of those centers."

... ... And still no success.

... ... "I said go away," was grumbled at her once more.

So V would make an attempt, leaning down a bit more closely. It didn't really matter if he appeared as the 'masked vigilante' in the park, now did it? Not when this man wore the same. Who would know? And if he ever said anything, who would even believe him?

"My good chap, I'm afraid the lady is correct. The weather will be quite unlivable tonight, and we cannot, in good conscience, allow you to remain in such an exposed location."

... ... And unlike Evey, *V* would not be accepting 'no' for an answer. He was already reaching down, prepared to lift the man bodily from the bench if the situation required.

... ... Not that his offer was declined though, in the end.

Instead, the man waved suddenly toward V's head -- proving his lack of inhibition for one thing -- and let out a mildly hysterical laugh. ... ... "Ha! Same idea, mate!" ... ... Then he knocked on his own plastic white chin. Thank God he had the sense not to knock on V's. ... ... "Damn thing's warmer than you'd think, yeah? Perfect against the bloody wind."

... ...

... ...

"I must agree, that is true," V chuckled -- actually chuckled -- as he hauled the man up from the bench. The drunkenly dead weight was swung easily over his shoulder, a grunt being the only response from his cargo. -- -- Perhaps the cold was already beginning to take its toll.

... ... And Evey?

Evey found herself just staring at the scene. ... ... Grateful for her mate's assistance. ... Relieved for the man who would soon receive a warm bed, warm food, and whatever assistance was required to get him back on his own two feet. ... ... And at the same time, feeling the sickening plummet of her stomach, right down to her feet.

She now knew why the scene had felt so surreal. Why the stranger's mask had shocked her so, then commanded her attention in a way only the genuine article could usually inspire.

It was her mate's agreement with the stranger, that collected her thoughts into a logical sequence. -- -- Almost like a set of V's own dominoes, cascading through her head as she saw the connections.

... ... V did not go about unmasked in the winter air. Nor did he wear Fawkes simply as protection against the wind. ... ... He had no cause, on the surface, to agree with this poor man's assessment.

... ... But there had been at least one winter before the mask. A particularly bad season. ... ... When the person who'd huddled away against the wind and the cold, had not been merely a stranger on a bench ... but the man that Evey now loved.

And with that knowledge sinking like cold lead through her body, she watched as one masked man picked up the other, then turned to meet her gaze.

... ...

"Evey?" V inquired, unsure how to interpret the expression on his beloved's face. Such sadness had suddenly come upon her; a sight to which V was quite unaccustomed. ... ... The type of sorrow he usually strove to shield her from, if at all possible. ... ... "What's wrong, love?" he asked, securing the man with one arm, then extending his second hand in request of hers. "He will be alright. We will take him to one of the community centers, and you can simply alert them to his presence."

... ...

It took a moment, but Evey forced herself to nod. Then she bent down, retrieving a spare pair of shoes the man had stashed beneath himself on the bench ... ... and using the opportunity to swipe at her eyes.

... ... For which masked man were the tears threatening? Both, in all honesty.

V took the shoes from her as well, relieving her of all physical burdens so that she had no reason to deny him her hand. -- -- Whatever was bothering her, would be made better. And the first step was seeing their new friend to safety.

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One thing that V preferred not to do, however, was parade himself through one of the community centers. Two men in masks, particularly at this time of year -- and especially should anyone notice his personal array of knives -- would only attract questions.

Much more logical was his decision to deposit the stranger just around the corner, while Evey went ahead to the service door. He did remain vigilant though, watching from the distance as she spoke to a public service worker.

And after she'd pointed in the appropriate direction, the worker disappeared back into the building ... retrieving additional assistance, no doubt. ... ... Enough time bought for Evey to hurry back to her mate and their ward.

... ...

"They're coming," she assured the stranger. "Can you understand me? They'll see to helping you back on your feet, and in the future as well."

The stranger nodded, and actually smiled this time as he used his unusual term of endearment. -- -- "Thanks dearie."

And when Evey rose again, knowing her mate would want to vacate the area as soon as possible, she was surprised to find he had removed his cloak. It was being smoothed between his hands, finally to be lowered as an offering to the man on the sidewalk.

"Stay warm, my good man. And truly the best of luck to you."

... ... That's when a door banged closed in the distance, and two community service workers were heard chatting as they followed Ms. Hammond's directions.

It was the signal to leave ... V taking his lady's hand to disappear back into the shadows. In their wake, a black cloak was unfurled ... settling down atop its new owner. Another man in a mask -- and it would warm him just the same.

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This time, V and Evey both watched from the distance, finally relieved once the workers had supported the inebriated man between themselves -- -- black cloak flowing and waving behind the lot of them -- -- and the trio began their journey back to the center.

... ... He was in good hands now, in a program Evey knew the workings of well. His next visit to a park bench would, hopefully, be taken as nothing more than a lunch break, during a normal London work day.

"God pity all the homeless ones," V murmured, reciting the words as if in prayer. "The beggars pacing to and fro. God pity all the poor tonight, who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow."

... ... He meant it for what it was. -- -- A lament over this human condition, immortalized by poets and bards throughout the ages.

... ... But when he heard two more lines of the chosen verse, delivered in a voice so weak he barely recognized it as his mate's, he knew there was more at work within her thoughts. -- -- -- At his side, Evey's eyes closed, and she whispered, "But somewhere, like a homeless child, my heart is crying in the cold."

... ...

... ...

... ...

"Tell me what is wrong, love," he urged. ... He turned her to face him, strong hands capturing hers. -- -- Silent insistence that there would be no more escape or evasion. ... "Tell me what upsets you. It began in the park, and I suspect it has little to do with our new friend's future. ... Even now, you are not happy."

Evey shook her head dismissively. "No, no. Really it's nothing. Just the surprise of it all. And the cold."

... ... She tried to avoid his eyes, but had little other choice when black leather landed beneath her chin. Her face was lifted with such care; the mask ... the man *behind* the mask ... watching her intently.

... ... And he found exactly what he expected. -- -- The same glassiness in her eyes that he'd detected earlier in the moonlight. -- -- Sadness, made real in a shimmering droplet.

"Please?" he asked softly. "Don't hide things from me."

... ...

Yes, he did realize the hypocrisy of his statement. -- -- For a man who lived behind white mask and black clothing, to request that *she* reveal all. -- -- But he was, who he was ... just as she was, who she was ... ... and she was not supposed to be this sullen. She was not supposed to be this pained, for that only pained him as well.

So yes, perhaps it was hypocrisy at its finest. But he would not demand that his request be logical. Since when had matters of the heart ever been logical? And so he repeated his petition ... "Please let me in, love?"

... ...

Evey tried again to look away, but failed ... her mate's attention following far too closely.

... ... "It was just seeing him in the mask. Someone in the mask."

"You see people in the mask every November," V replied gently. "Is this because of who he was? ... ... Are you fearing something you should know better than to fear?"

"No," she replied honestly. After all, the past was done and gone. Why fear it? ... ... "It's just," ... ...

She rose onto her toes, pressing a kiss to the mask -- -- an impulse that had been brewing for nearly an hour, ever since they'd vacated that park. ... ... The enameled surface was cold, and she found her fingers skimming around the mask's edge. -- -- Near his ear. -- -- Carefully trying to determine the state of the interior. ... ... How important it suddenly was, to know that he was warm behind there. That neither winter nor wind was reaching him.

His hands moved to her shoulders, enjoying the moment as much as every other kiss she had ever blessed him with. ... ... But that was still not an answer, and he whispered his entreaty yet again. "Please?" ... muffled through the mask as he nuzzled the hard nose to his beloved's.

... ...

... ...

"How bad was it?" she asked softly, relenting at last. In truth, she was just so tired from the weight of her own thoughts. "The winter after Larkhill? In all that snow? ... ... How bad was it?"

... ...

V's head rose, understanding at last. ... ... Now it made sense.

He had never revealed too many details. Never burdened her with unnecessary images or memories. After all, he knew the same as she. -- -- The past was done and gone. Why fret over it?

Still, he would be honest. Because for every darker side of the human condition, there were those who would shine the light. His mate had reminded him of that truth, these recent years gone by ... ... in her own, vivid techno-colour.

"Help was there," he reassured her. "Good hearts still existed in the world, even under the devil's rule."

"The Sister," Evey concluded hopefully. "At the church."

... ... V's head bowed another inch in solemn acknowledgement. Yes. The only woman other than his mate, to whom he could genuinely say his life was owed.

"And I too was soon returned to my feet," he continued, remembering the promises she had so recently made the destitute man. "Moving toward the future, just as our friend will soon do as well."

... ...

Evey's eyes closed as she tried to nod. And when it didn't work ... ... when optimism would still not come ... ... the mask pressed once more to her face; his breath wafting out as a warm kiss through the cold night air.

... ... "But remember this, love. What suffering there was, is long past. And would readily be endured again -- -- a hundred-fold, if need be -- -- to have achieved this future." ... ... A press of hard lips to hers -- an impulse he too had been forced to resist, since first witnessing her concern as they'd approached that snowy bench. ... ... "I do love you, my Evey. For so many things ... not the least of which is the care you gave to a stranger in a mask."

... ... And she relented. ... ... To the pain of memories only imagined -- but so often imagined at their worst. ... ... To the distress the night's discovery would still have brought, even without the details of her mate's history. ... ... To the reassurance he offered, gathering her into his arms as she pressed kiss after kiss to the metal facade. -- -- Even without the cloak, they could create their own envelope of warmth.

Again her fingers slid along the edge of the mask, reminding them both how many layers now stood guard, in defense against the bitter wind. -- -- Herself being the most determined of those layers, surpassing even the loyalty of Fawkes.

And she wanted it to be complete. She wanted that protection to be thorough. ... ... "I want to go back to the Gallery," she murmured. "I want to be behind this mask with you, and make sure you're as warm as can be. ... Please, V? ... Can we go home now?"

... ... There was no refusal within him. -- -- How could there be? -- -- And he forced his arms to release her.

Another kiss though ... requested by the mask and given generously by his lady. One more, for their journey through shadowed streets, and across snow-covered sidewalks. ... ... Back to the Gallery, where winter -- as lovely as it could be on the surface -- could never reach either of them with its harshness.

His hand took hers in silent assent -- -- still more warmth, over which both felt a far more acute sense of thanks -- -- and he caught her eyes.

... ... "Promise me though, love," he spoke softly, "that you will not allow such things to cast unnecessary sorrow across the season? ... Do not follow Teasdale's words. Follow mine instead." ... His head tilted in silent plea. ... "No more crying in the cold?"