"I will not look, Evey," V promised with the utmost sincerity. "I shall keep my eyes both closed and averted, for as long as you require."

The pair stood in the Gallery's main living area, having a bit of an impasse this day before Christmas. Evey was positioned stubbornly between her mate and a table on which multiple cardboard boxes were stacked. V, meanwhile, had struck a much more plaintive posture ... his head lowered as if in request, one hand raised expressively while he pleaded his case. From the other, draped a black silk scarf.

Simply put -- -- while Evey had appreciated his help in carrying these heavy boxes down to their home, she was no longer in need of his assistance. ... ... *Or* his curiosity. ... ... On the contrary, she preferred that he see, and know, nothing of her next activities. -- -- Hence, the scarf, which she was currently requesting he wear as a blindfold.

Within those boxes, was V's Christmas present. It existed currently in many pieces, not only because there would have been no way to transport it otherwise, but also because ... well ... much of it was *meant* to be in many pieces, by its very nature. And now she wanted to get it out, set it up, and surprise her mate -- -- while simultaneously keeping one eye on him, and *his* eyes off of *her*.

... ... He was trying very, very hard to avoid the blindfold though.

"Hmm-mmm," she replied. At least she smiled while her head shook in the negative. "I know how curious you can be. And another thing," ... her grin quirked higher into flirtation ... "what's that you're always saying? About me 'drawing your eyes'? I can't have you 'accidentally' glancing over at what I'm doing."

V let out a breath. "You don't trust me?" he queried, dodging her admittedly valid point, and attempting mock offense instead. His head dipped sadly, the illusion ruined only by Fawkes's giddy grin. "After all these days, and all these years shared together ... you still do not trust me?"

At that, she stretched closer ... tempting him with a kiss just barely withheld from the mask ... a tease for the man she knew to be in equal play with her. "I trust you with my life," she assured, feigning her own surprise at having to state the obvious. "With my heart. With my body, and even with my soul. ... ... But no, I don't trust you not to peek."

... ...

Thwarted, but not defeated, he resumed his composure and tried yet another approach. ... ... "I could leave the room," he suggested. "Adjourn to the kitchen, or the training area ... where I could remain quite happily until you retrieve me?"

Alas, she had an answer for that too. "Knowing how good you are at slipping around corners?" she countered. He was trying *so* very hard to avoid this, and admittedly, that just made her try all the harder too. "Either I set this up now, while you wear that thing," ... she batted playfully at the scarf ... "orrrrr, I could do it tonight, when I'm sure you're asleep. But I bet Santa wouldn't like that."

... ... The night before Christmas, spent alone in the bed while his mate did some sort of construction in the living room? ... ... "Saint Nicholas would not like it?" V repeated. "*I* would not like it." ... Then another breath, this one in final defeat -- -- expressing more through that mask than any words ever could. ... "Alright, love," he finally agreed. "I shall do it this once."

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Twenty minutes later, and Evey was hard at work. She had the base together, the legs together, and was now working on the supporting pillar. The soundest building is always done from the ground up, right? Well that was the plan, and she was very pleased with how smoothly it was going.

V sat on the sofa, his back to the proceedings and the silk scarf tied around Fawkes's eyes. He knew he had little choice; he knew it left him uncharacteristically vulnerable; and *God* only knew how silly he looked. ... ... But he also knew it was only for Evey. Yes, the revolutionary hero of the century, was willing to look this foolish for his mate.

But he should not be counted out either. -- -- He could hear the whistling spin of metal screws engaging metal sockets. He could hear the clatter of objects knocking and bumping together. And he could even hear the little 'ouch' she made when something of the apparatus must have pinched her.

"Is it stone?" he asked, when there was no other idle chatter to be had. "These sounds you make speak to the resonance of marble, tapping lightly against itself."

Next to the rolling, swivel table she'd finally pieced together, Evey stopped and stared. ... ... He was better than she'd thought. ... ... "Very good," she granted him. "You sure that scarf is tight enough?"

"I cannot see a thing," he assured with a hint of dramatic flair. "Have not, since being relegated to this sofa. But I am familiar with the material, and wonder if you might now grant me a further clue?"

Glancing down at the piece of grey-veined, white marble in her hands, she agreed impishly. "Alright. Let's see what you can make of this."

Over a foot wide and half-an-inch thick, a flat, smooth, half circle of decorative stone was plopped heavily into his lap ... the sound of his mate's laughter just behind him. And yes, he was indeed surprised. ... What on earth was this woman building?

A black leather hand ran questioningly along the edges ... discovering the shape ... sampling the weight ... even tapping once, all to determine that it was exactly as it seemed -- -- a large, semi-circle of marble.

... ... V was optimistic though, beyond merely perplexed.

"A half-moon?" he queried, then turned his face toward the tell-tale brush of her hair. "Is this your attempt to do as poets have suggested for centuries? Are you trying to give me the moon?"

... ...

He knew that would bring her closer, and even from behind both blindfold and mask, he could imagine the embrace of his beloved as it happened -- -- her arms wrapping around his neck ... the press of her chest to the back of his shoulders ... her voice soft at his ear as she hushed an, "Awwww."

"When we go outside this evening," she cooed, "to watch for Santa, I will do my absolute best to pull it down and wrap it with a bow." ... ... Both chuckled. She, at the romantic image it suggested. He, at the knowledge that yes, he did believe she might even try. ... ... "But if that doesn't work, I think this is something you'll like just the same."

"My love," he replied, his hands reaching to curl affectionately around her own. "I will love whatever it is you currently struggle with. You know that." ... Then a gentle squeeze for her fingers, one of which was probably involved in the earlier 'ouch'. ... "And I will do so even if you allow me to help in its creation."

"Nope," she declined, followed by a kiss to his ear. At the moment, she had scarf, hair, and his black second skin to work through. But that was alright for now. There would be many more kisses while they hid away from Santa tonight. ... ... "I'm actually finished with the hardest parts. I have to seat the 'half moons' yet, then the rest is just the details."

And before he could even coax another kiss -- one way or the other -- she had uncoiled herself from around him, and the marble slab disappeared from his lap.

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Well, those 'details' took nearly another hour -- keeping V on the sofa and Evey quite busy. She wanted it perfect, and moved around and around her creation, surveying the gift from every possible angle. It was built for that, after all, and she really did want this to be right.

And those 'details' gave the blindfolded man no new clues either. Tiny knocks were heard in the distance ... ... some, the repeated clinking of stone against stone; while others involved the more organic 'thunk' of wood ... ... as well as the squeal of what sounded like a squeaky hinge?

V's head rose to an angle of curiosity, at the introduction of the latter sound. And Evey responded by repeating the noise ... turning again this round table she had created. "Yeah," she concluded. "I'll have to get some oil for that. But it'll do for now."

... ... And that was the only explanation V was given, while the mysterious noises continued.

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"Ok, here we go," she announced, when the time had finally come to lead her mate to his prize. She shuffled him along, positioning him in just the right spot before the scarf would be removed.

... ... And then ... ...

... ...

"Well?" she prompted, returning her mate's vision to him. "Do you know what it is?"

... ...

Before them stood a round, marble table, supported on one central pillar. It could spin, as Evey demonstrated with the touch of her hand ... repeating that squealing noise in the process.

Around its rim, forming literally a fence for the tabletop's edge, sat a low, carved wooden structure. Tiny rows were sculpted into the timber, rising up and outward, just like seating in a stadium would be. One small section of this 'audience' was taller than the rest, perhaps where those patrons of noble rank would sit? And in the middle -- -- the focus of this Elizabethan theater -- -- was a fully populated, black and white chess board.

... ... Populated, that is, with some very interesting characters.

"A Shakespearean stage!" V exclaimed, his tone dramatic with delight. He reached out with considerable interest, turning the white king to face him. It was the white *knight*, however -- a remarkable likeness of a braying donkey's head -- that gave the theme away. "And I do believe this is a Midsummer Night's Dream," he concluded, adjusting the bishop next. -- -- It was an elegant, dignified fairy, clearly in solemn, devoted service to his King Oberon and Queen Titania.

"Mmm-hmm," Evey smiled proudly, then pointed down the line of high-ranking pieces. "King and Queen of the fairies, then some assistants that I hope are a little nicer than Puck ever was, then Bottom's donkey-head for the knights, and the rooks are trees ... for the forest."

V was already nodding, his gloved finger moving across the pawns, touching each as he mentally identified its character. "Humans, lovers, players, and tradesmen alike," he summarized. "Treated as ... well ... treated as pawns, during that magical night of mischief."

... ...

... ... And then ... he saw the black.

... ... Really looked at them ... and knew.

The opposite forces -- those other Shakespearean characters, carved in deep, rich black -- were far less fantastical. ... ... There was no magic here. At least not of the type fairies might use.

... ... Something far finer though ... perhaps.

Again, the theme was given away by the knights -- the protectors of the board. Two wizened, haggard sea-captains stared out across the terrain, warning that *they*, at least, had never been fooled by the comedy of events surrounding them. One served to guard the queen ... the other, to look after her twin, identified as Sebastian -- the lowly pawn who held his sword so expertly.

Here, was 'Twelfth Night'.

The bishops were jesters -- -- V's first signal that this set had been specially made. How often had he commented to his mate that some of the wisest verse had come from Olivia's jester? And for the rooks: two tall, historic buildings with a slightly Italian flair. When placed together, a garden would be formed between them. -- -- Olivia's home and gardens, no doubt.

"Old Sir Toby, Andrew the coward, pompous Malvolio in his infamous stockings," V recited as he went down the line of pawns. "Do I even see some sailors? Perhaps others who had escaped from the sea?"

"Well, Viola and Sebastian couldn't have been the only lucky ones," Evey replied quietly, her tone hushed by the sheer emotion she could read in her mate's body language. ... ... He liked it. ... He *loved* it. ... And she would only now tell him the best part. -- -- "Speaking of which, Viola is the queen, and Duke Orsino, the king."

... ...

... ... V's eyes held hers for a moment, absolutely charmed by that idea.

Finally ... carefully ... he picked up the black queen, taking her away from the king -- or rather, the duke -- for only a very short time. V did know who they symbolically represented, and would have it no other way. -- -- They should be separated no more than he and his own mate.

"She carries her flower," he observed, noting the single bloom held chastely at Queen Viola's bosom. "And with her tresses of curls, love," he continued, his voice taking on a note of implication ... "and her petite stature, I must say, she reminds me a bit of someone I know quite well." Fawkes's grin turned toward his mate, matching his voice remarkably well.

Evey nodded, her own smile growing as well. "She might be ... 'partially' modeled after someone," she admitted, then picked up the king just as carefully as V replaced the queen. ... ... "Now look at Orsino."

Straight from the play, Duke Orsino was dressed smartly and neatly -- -- in a tunic and knee-high boots. And black, obviously, since he was, after all, the black king. No, of course the coincidences were not lost on the masked man. It suggested there had been a bit of 'modeling' done here as well. ... Orsino's cape however, was ornately engraved, and his hat, Renaissance inspired.

"I had to be a little careful," Evey commented, watching as her mate's thumb ran across his quasi ... very 'quasi' ... likeness. "Look at the spear though. I think I drove the artist up the wall, trying to match the way I've seen you hold a rapier. And I wanted that instead of a sword ... to set him apart a bit."

V's gaze landed on his mate ... felt right through the mask ... so intense that it might even have defeated the blindfold too, at this point. "He stands apart already, just by his good fortune in his queen." ... ... V's arm went around his beloved, drawing her to his side. ... ... "Oh yes, my dearest. I see what you have done."

... ... And when she smiled up at him, he had to admit, he was sorely tempted to kiss his own queen. Remove her to the shadows, remove the mask as well ... and allow his own joy to speak for both hero and duke alike.

... ... Evey, however, was not finished.

"There's something else too," she cooed mysteriously, slipping free from the circle of his arm. One remaining box sat among so many scattered and disheveled others. One, that would be the last to be opened. ... ... "The table, I ordered from Italy. The theater was done by a brilliant craftsman right here in London. The board and the pieces were created by an artist in Denmark. Remember I told you we were arranging a museum exchange? I knew how good this woman was the moment I saw her first piece."

V nodded, glancing once more at the Orsino in his hand.

... ... "And she was fast too," Evey continued, opening the little box and carefully removing something quite small. A tiny black ribbon dangled over the edge of her palm, but that was the only clue. "So fast, in fact, that I had just enough time to have one more thing commissioned. ... ... ... *This*."

With those words, Evey's hand extended toward her mate, offering a tiny, white-enameled mask.

... ...

It was Fawkes. ... Barely more than half-an-inch tall, but it was *V's* *Fawkes*. ... From the moustache-lined grin, to the rosy cheeks, to tiny black eyes that seemed to smile at her even now -- just like the genuine article. And the ribbon that draped from her hand? It was one of a pair ... each tied to small loops, just behind the mask's cheeks.

"The base is steel," she assured. "Though I'm sure it's not as sturdy as your own. Four were made ... on the pretense that they'll be used in plaques for various memorial sites throughout the city. And that's true -- -- three of them will. I'm working on the designs right now. But this," ... she motioned briefly toward the chess piece in V's hand, her voice dropping when she realized he did understand ... "this was the real reason."

... ...

... ... And the mask would fit the black king. There was no question.

... ...

Orsino's face had initially struck V as being particularly non-descript. There was nothing unique about it ... no beard ... no strong nose or particularly gallant jaw line. Perhaps the plainest face V had ever seen. He assumed, of course, that this lack of detail was specifically planned so as *not* to suggest anyone else.

... ... Carving a series of disfigurements would certainly have raised eyebrows. And so if Orsino could not have V's face, he would have no other's either. -- -- Because *Evey* would have no other.

As it turned out though, that little, white, ribbon-tasseled mask would fit just perfectly. "Will you attach it?" the masked man invited.

Orsino was turned over, and Evey stepped closer to do exactly as requested. ... ... How easily that non-descript face slipped behind the miniature Fawkes facade -- with neither complaint nor resistance. And how gently Evey's fingers worked -- showing as much care and tenderness now, as those times she removed the heavier, genuine mask from her beloved. ... ... Soon the ribbons were tied, leaving no more doubt as to the king's new identity.

... ...

For a moment, masked man smiled at masked man -- each clearly pleased, even if one remained inanimate.

... ... Each had their Viola ... their violet ... their mate.

... ... Each had their mask -- -- blending them in to the world, while simultaneously setting them apart.

... ... And both knew the courage of battle -- -- one having waged a revolution -- -- the other ... well ... he would soon have the entire cast of A Midsummer Night's Dream to challenge.

Orsino was returned to his rightful place beside Viola -- stepping just a bit farther onto her black square than was necessary ... ... after which V likewise brought his own mate back into his embrace.

"I adore it, Evey," he breathed. "I absolutely adore it."

"Not too over the top?" she questioned, glancing back once more at Orsino. He did look happy, and quite in charge of that checkerboard stage he proudly surveyed. Maybe it was his posture; maybe it was the confidence with which he held his spear; maybe it was his closeness to his queen; or maybe it was something intangible -- -- a remnant from having been so clearly aligned with England's most recent hero. ... ... Whatever it was, it was not merely the effect of a tiny, enameled, Fawkesian grin.

"No," V answered thoughtfully. ... "Would you think Viola 'over the top', to still love her duke -- -- even as he stands before her now?"

Evey laughed for just a moment, then stretched up to kiss the eternally wide grin. "Never," she affirmed. "I have the utmost faith in that queen." ... Then another kiss, in honour of deeper, fuller endearments, that would be taken once this larger mask she had *removed*. ... ... "And woe to the Midsummer Night's team, if they think they'll get past her, to threaten the duke."

"Oh, I do know that as well," came purred to her temple, followed by an embrace she would feel for hours. ... "Or past the duke, to threaten *her*."

"Hey, I thought the king didn't go on the offensive," she giggled, proving -- if nothing else -- that her mate's multiple attempts at instruction were at least bearing fruit.

"This one will," he countered quickly, "if need be. But come, shall we dedicate the board, love? Set the pieces in motion and engage the two sides in battle? ... Will you join me in the first game?"

... ...

... ... At that suggestion, Evey pulled back. "Well that's lovely," she teased. "Pick Christmas Eve as my next date of defeat? So much for the holiday spirit, huh?"

"Not at *all*," he assured. "On the contrary, for this occasion I shall ensure that you win. As will Twelfth Night, which I am certain you will play to victory."

"V," she laughed, "you're good at a lot of things. But even you can't lose that badly."

"Oh yes indeed I will," he promised. Squeezing her once more. ... ... Then he glanced past her, to the chair nearby, and the black silk that had been disposed of there.

... ... He never thought he'd offer such a thing. Never willingly -- and in his own voice.

... ... But this was for his beloved, as well as for Viola, and her own newly masked man.

... ... "I shall lose spectacularly," V stated, reaching for the scarf. "Even, love, if I must blindfold myself to do it."