Turning Point[Author's note: This is a one-shot prequel of sorts to "Apotheosis". 'Twould be advisable to read that one first. ]
Inspector Finch quickly shut off his torch and held still. He could hear voices further down the tube tunnel.
He frowned There shouldn't be anyone else down here at least, no one foolish enough to allow themselves to be heard. Then again, this section of the tunnel shouldn't even be open.
Rounding a corner, he stopped in shock at the sight of an utter impossibility. An underground train faced him at a platform some fifty metres distant not the sleek steel-and-glass construct that had ruled down here for decades, but an elegant gold-filigreed confection from a century long-gone. A shudder rocked him as his brain fought the initial instinct to leap clear of the mechanical behemoth the train wasn't moving.
Staying in the shadows, h
AwakenEvey Hammond awoke with a small gasp, her heart pounding. Something was wrong.
Her first impression was one of softness and warmth that bordered on the otherworldly; such comfort shocked her terribly. This was followed by an awareness of thick silence where once had been muffled cries and echoing shouts of anger. She lay unmoving in this womb-like state, confused into immobility. Only her eyes moved, reflecting her mind's racing as they darted back and forth with a curiosity that felt alien. Gradually they took in the sand-colored stone curves of the vaulted ceiling sweeping gently above her in the soft light, and with a dull jolt she suddenly remembered everything.
The storm... It had been nighttime; the first connection she'd had with a real time of day in she-knew-not-how-long. She remembered the feel of the raindrops on her skin, stinging deliciously and awakening her every nerve ending with their coolness.
FrustrationIt was happening again, and V was getting desperate. It had everything to do with his "houseguest", Evey; he hadn't truly appreciated the new pressures - however subtle - she would be adding to his life.
He had thought he had it under control earlier. Everything was just fine until he rounded a corner and spotted her curled up on the sofa with a book. Then, sure enough, his body developed its own ideas again. What was worse he knew she had noticed.
She'd been glancing at him all evening, although she'd tried to be discreet about it. If not for the fact that his eyes were almost continually drawn to her, he might have missed it entirely.
Thanks to a few awkward moments in the first days of her stay, he'd learned to shift his head slightly to one side as he watched her so the mask would not seem to be "staring" at her. Using that little trick, he'd noticed her furtive scrutiny easily which on this night, of course, didn't help matters at all.
It had caught him very muc
ApotheosisI. The Show Must Go On
The doublet was still too loose on her, in spite of the padding. There was no time to fix it; she'd just have to hope no one noticed. The trousers were a bit easier to fix with the excess length disappearing down into the boots. She'd hastily stuffed paper towels into the boots to take up the excess space, and to serve as a set of makeshift lifts to make her just a bit taller. She was still far too short, but with luck her position would hide that. The wig was next she realized her hands were shaking as she raised it to her head. Soft hair framed her face again for the first time in months. Not honey-colored waves this time, but a midnight curtain one whose scent brought memories of him that nearly drowned her.
No time for that. Minutes were slipping by, and she had to hurry. No time to even properly appreciate what she was doing as she reached for the mask