| There Would Be Roses RATING: G By: Skylark |
| Note and Disclaimer: Part one takes place a couple of days before the Old Bailey is demolished. Part two is after Evey’s prison time and the dialogue is almost word for word from the comic. Part three is November the 4th. I know I’m using a lot of the original novel and movie, but I don’t own it, I promise. Just using it for amusement, and hoping no one will sue me for my fun. |
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| Part One: V lowered the bag of fertilizer with a loud thump, dirt scattering on the floor. He stretched, his hands pressing into the small of his back, feeling the beginning ache that accompanies a hard day in the rose room. ‘I should take it easy for a couple of hours’, he thought, working out the tight muscles in his back with his ungloved hands, ‘I still have business to attend to this evening.’ A grim smile spread onto his face, and he bent over again, opening the fresh bag of animal dung. Carefully, he began to scoop it out and place it around the long stems of his precious treasures. He was glad, for once, that his calculations had been wrong, and had over estimated the amount of fertilizer needed to fill the base of the Old Bailey. He only used the best for his explosives, and his garden always appreciated the high quality. Not that he wouldn’t get the best for his roses either, it was just going to be a couple of weeks before he would have been able to go out to get it. He had a busy couple of months planned ahead. Tenderly, he made sure every inch was covered with the rich soil. He allowed the dirt to rub between his bare fingers, enjoying how it felt to rub the coarseness against his skin. It felt so alive. It was a part of the earth that gave life to his beautiful roses. How ironic it was one of his ingredients to make the bombs that could destroy so effectively. How…coincidental. He allowed his mind to wander to the shrine in the next room, where pictures of Valerie smiled down at the world. She had hoped that someday there would be roses again. And V had done that for her, keeping roses in this world when everyone else thought they were extinct. Hopefully, someday, he could share them. V wiped his hands on his black overalls and began to water the roses, leaning over them so he could appreciate the rich scent. If he had the choice, he would stay with his roses all day and care for them. But, unfortunately, there was work to be done before the upcoming November the 5th. When everything would finally be set in motion. V picked up some shears and gently cut the stem of one of the blooms, lifting it away from the rest. He held it expertly, none of the thorns cutting into his skin. Yes, he had business to attend to tonight. Nobody too important, not like the leaders he will be targeting in the coming months, but still a part of what had happened. He smiled grimly, rubbing the velvety petals between his fingers. He would share at least one of his roses with the world tonight. It will be one of the last things a man will see before departing it. V tucked the rose away in one of the many pockets and cleaned up the mess he had made on the floor. After making sure everything was in it’s proper place, V stood at the doorway, casting one last glance over his garden. It really was too bad no one would ever be able to see and appreciate his roses. ‘Well,’ V thought, smiling wryly at his treasures, ‘no one who would live to tell the tale.’ With a flick of his fingers V turned off the lights, and walked back to the Shadow Gallery, wanting a shower before heading up to the world above. |
| Part Two: V took Evey’s hand, leading her down a hallway she had never been before. She was nervous about following him, afraid of what else he could possibly surprise her with, but was overcome by curiosity about the letter still held tightly in her other hand. Was it possible the letter was real, not a forgery made by V? And how was she supposed to trust him, after being locked away in his pseudo prison for so many months? V opened a door and flicked on a switch, warm light bringing the hundreds of beautiful roses into sharp view. Evey’s breath caught in awe, her eyes growing wide. V was grateful for his mask, smiling proudly at the open amazement on the woman’s face. Evey walked into the room as if in a trance, forgetting for a moment all trespasses V had done against her. “Oh, V…I’ve never seen so many beautiful roses…” Staying near the door, V remained silent. Evey bent over the blooms and inhaled deeply, the sweet scent warming her to the core. Dreamily, she murmured, “Valerie said she hoped there would be roses again. Did you grow them for her?” “I grew them in her memory.” He paused, considering. “But I give them to others, upon occasion.” A moment or two of silence past as Evey continued to study the roses. The colors were amazing, dark and rich, the deep red petals complimenting the sharp green of the stem that contrasted with the rich brown of the earth. She wanted to feel what Valerie must have felt every time she smelled roses. Security. Happiness. Love. V allowed her a moment with his garden, secretly enjoying her unvoiced praises before stepping away from the door. His voice was quiet. “Evey, once you told me you would not kill, not even for me.” Evey stiffened, still leaning over the roses, wondering where this conversation could be leading. V stopped beside her, watching her every reaction. “When I picked you from the streets you were about to kill a man. For revenge.” His hand swept over the blooms encompassing them all. “There is a rose here for him. You only have to pluck it and hand it to me. Nothing else.” Evey straightened up as a gloved hand reached out to gently caress the stem of one of his roses. Softly, he continued, “To pick a flower is not a large thing. It is easy as it is irrevocable.” V tilted his face towards his companion, his hand still holding the crimson bud. “Understand what is being offered here, and do as thou wilt.” V lowered his hand and took a step back, allowing Evey some room to make her choice. Evey stared at the rose V had been handling, emotions swirling inside of her. She knew what he was saying, knew what gift he was willing to give her. With the single twist of a stem, she could condemn the man who not long ago she wished to kill herself. A small hand reached out and cupped the bloom, the red contrasting sharply to the paleness of her skin. V watched as she gripped the stem between thumb and forefinger, thorns pricking the soft flesh, his head tilting slightly. A long moment past. Then, slowly, carefully, Evey’s hand moved away from the stem. Her fingers journeyed up the rose, caressing the soft petals gently. Then her hand dropped by her side. She slowly turned away to look back up at V. They just stared at each other for a long moment, a small smile playing on both of their lips. Finally, Evey whispered, “Let it grow.” |
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| Part Three: V carefully adjusted the last of the controls, making sure that the new sprinkler system was working without a glitch. He wanted to be positive that the roses would be able to survive until Evey was able to care for them again. He knew she would love and honor them as much as he did because she understood who they grew for. ‘And who knows,’ he thought with a tinge of sadness, ‘maybe she’ll be growing them for me as well.’ V sighed and smoothed over a bit more fertilizer, making sure the bag was in plain view so Evey would be able to find it when she needed it. Finally, everything was ready and in place. V could leave this room and know it would be well taken care of if, or rather when, if he was honest with himself, he died. Everything Evey could possible need was here and he knew she would do a wonderful job. There was only one thing left to do. But he found he was having trouble bringing himself to do it, knowing it would be the last act he would do in the place that had meant so much to him for so long. V sighed, sitting down beside the box closest to the door, tenderly observing one of the blooms. It was one of the few that was still just a bud, just beginning to blossom. Evey had once said his roses reminded her of a story he had told her, that every flower was somebody’s life. She had commented playfully that he cared for them so tenderly, as if every life was precious to him. Then she had laughed sweetly, the sound echoing in the room, filling V with warmth. “Except,” she had said, the laughter dancing in her eyes, “you can’t have a rose for everybody here, can you? Just special people.” After a while, the smile had slowly left her eyes as she remembered seeing the rose he had given Bishop Lilliman and the others. She knew he was tender with most lives, but would pluck them if they did wrong. She had given V a searching look. “Is there a rose here for Sutler? For Creedy?” V never answered her. V’s mask fell into his gloved hands as a feeling of loss washed over him. How long since he had seen her last? Had last seen the smile dancing in her eyes like that day? But it didn’t matter now anyways. The time had come to finish what he had started so many years before. It was time to complete his vendetta. Swiftly, V rose to his feet and strode to the main box of roses in the center of the room. A knife suddenly appeared in his hand, and with a flash, he sliced the base of the longest stem. V smoothly sheathed his knife back into it’s belt, and picked up the bloom that had been severed from it’s roots. Determination filled him to the brim as he glared at the perfect blossom. Yes, there was a rose here for Sutler. And it lay in the palm of his hand. V carefully tucked the rose into his belt and walked around the room grimly, double checking that everything was in order. He wanted to make sure, for Evey at least, there would always be roses. Before leaving the room behind forever, V stopped one last time beside the bud in the box by the door. After a moment, he reached a hand out, palming the blossom with the stem between his fingers. There was only enough room for a rose for special people. And this one was the most special of all. He studied it for a moment, how the deep red contrasted with the black of his glove. His fingers journeyed over the petals, remembering how soft they are against his bare skin. Then his hand dropped by his side. A long moment passed, as he just stared at the bud. “Let her grow,” he whispered, his heart heavy with emotion, his vendetta weighing on him like it had never had before. “Let her grow.” |
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