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So... how was it?

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Bailey24 wrote:

So... how was it?

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Bailey24 wrote:

Hi all,

So yesterday I finished up watching the movie in bits and pieces thanks to krydiam's preview and I had this burst of inspiration to write something.

I have never actually written a REAL fic before. Everything I have ever written has been just silly Mary-Sue-ish fics that I write just to get out the giddiness I have on my crush of the time, with the lead (female) character always (oddly... ) resembling myself.

BUT yesterday I wrote something, a little V fic (only about 2-3 pages long), that has been in the back of my mind since I first saw the movie.

I wondered how exactly Evey would have felt once the shock and excitement of seeing V's work done had subsided and she realised that her friend was gone. From that came this little piece of work that I am posting below. Of course, at least SOME of it is based on my own POV too, since I get REALLY sad and misty-eyed every time they show that last shot of V in the train right before the big explosion, so, yes, in a small way Evey's thoughts are my own too!

I apologize if it is not good, like I said, I am not accustomed to writing fics and letting people read them. I am always really scared that I make the characters too out-of-character or that I'll do whatever series it is I am writing about a great injustice, so I never let anyone read them... (And, really, it's just too embarrassing letting people in on your inner most thoughts sometimes, eh?)

And, also, I wrote this fic-dealie at around this time last night (12:30am-1am-ish), so you can blame that if it's terrible too...

Soooo, without further ramblings:

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Evey's Regrets:

I am supposed to be stronger now. After everything he did to me – for me – you would think that this moment would be a lot easier, but the truth is, it is that much harder.
 
I stood and watched the smoke in the sky, watched the smoking “V” the fireworks left behind get swept away by the cool wind of the November air. It’s odd, really, that he will be swept away, swept from the memory of everyone around, just as that smoke was… They will all remember the day. They will remember the symbol. They will remember that there was once a man behind the mask, but will they care about who we was? Will it matter?
 
Will they care about the fact that he died for all of them, to save all of them…all of us?
 
He tried to make me realise that it was not the man, but the idea that mattered in all of it. Just as blowing up Parliament was a symbol of freeing those of us so oppressed; he was just the symbol that saw to it that it happened in a timely fashion. That really does little to comfort me now.
 
I looked at Detective Finch standing beside me after the explosion. He was moved, noticeably so, but he could not really comprehend the magnitude of it all. It would hit him soon, just as it is hitting me now.
 
We are alone. We do not have out protector anymore. We do not have our saviour. It is all up to us now. We are in charge of our own future.
 
Even scarier than that, for me, is that I am alone.
 
This all started to creep into my consciousness when I came down from the roof to the Shadow Gallery – his home. It was…empty.
 
No music or movie was playing.
 
No one was play-fighting with a suit of armour.
 
No eggs were frying on the stove.
 
And they never would… He would never again play “Cry Me a River” on the jukebox, he would never excitedly watch and re-enact “The Count of Monte Cristo” like he used to and I would never again wake up to find him making me eggs in a horribly ridiculous apron…
 
In the grand scheme of it all it is very silly to cry over such trivial things, but he was my friend and those are the things I’ll miss most and that are most important to me.
 
He did what he had to do for everyone. He did what he thought was right and, yes, he was right, but that does not change that a selfish part of me wanted him to stay safe and unharmed...with me.
 
A part of me wanted him to take him by the hand and make him run away from there. He could have destroyed the Parliament building, but why did he have to go and confront the others?
 
I know why… I just wish it could have been different.
 
I am stronger now, there’s no doubt in my mind of that. I really don’t know if I would be standing if I did not have the power and strength he gave me, the courage he instilled in me. I may never completely forgive him for the pain he caused, subjecting me to torture in the name of curing me of my fear, but at least if he were alive I could work through it with him.
 
Now I just have his memory to hold to, to try and forgive and respect.
 
It hurts to look around the Shadow Gallery and see little remnants of him everywhere, but to know he, himself, will never return.
 
He left this all to me and now I sit here and feel so small. It is not so much that I need him by my side. I know I can take care of myself; I managed to after I left here the second time. No, that’s not what concerns me.
 
It is just that I want him by my side. His wit and charm. His companionship. His…love.
 
I keep thinking that I’ll open a door somewhere and find that it was all a ruse. That it is another one of his elaborate tricks and he is just fine. He managed to jump off the train two seconds before it went careening into the blocked tunnel under the Parliament building and exploded in a triumphant blaze! He is just fine! It was all just theatrics to try and gauge my reaction!
 
But I know I am just swimming in self-delusion and denial when I let my mind stray there. He said himself, before he left to take care of his unpleasant business, that there would be no more tricks.
 
I know he is gone.
 
V…is gone.
 
He died doing exactly what he set out to do and we are all better off for it.
 
I only wish I had told him how much he means to me. I really don’t think I made it clear enough. I just hope he did not die thinking I hated him for all he did to me, which, now, seems like ages ago.
 
I never actually told him… I never actually said the words.
 
That is what makes this so hard. That is why he is so impossible to let go. It is not just that I’ll miss his friendship, or that I will wake up to the morning’s light unsure of what to do, having lost the person that helped all of us to get to this state of virtual freedom, no, it is not that at all. It is the fact that I will never get to share the little things with him anymore.
 
I will never get to tell him I love him.

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So... how was it?

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