A deep, deep breath inhaled. A deep, deep breath exhaled, as Evey slowly drifted to the surface of sleep.
Her head lolled to the side, colliding with the hard mask that had somehow wedged itself above her shoulder. She lay on her back, sprawled a bit more than she traditionally considered lady-like, though V certainly seemed to be enjoying it. He'd landed halfway across her. Or perhaps only crawled halfway off of her. She wasn't quite sure at this point.
How long ago had they fallen asleep?
She glanced toward the clock, squinting to make out the time.
1:11am.
Then she smiled to herself, readjusting to wrap her mate into her arms. He puffed his own sigh muffled behind the mask, his bare hand sliding in smooth caress across her tummy.
"I'm awake, love," he murmured, barely saying the words before a yawn overtook him. "I heard the bells a short time ago. The strike of one."
Evey hummed in agreement, her fingers finding their way into his hair. "The first one," she clarified, in case he hadn't seen the clock himself. After all this was one of those surreal British Summer Time nights when time looped back and 1:00am came twice. For the moment, the clock kept 'old' time, 'new' having not yet begun.
In all honesty, Evey was impressed that she'd awoken at all. She'd told herself she would do so, before finally falling asleep. Well ... sometime between making love with her mate, and passing out from a tiring day, to be more accurate. But yes, she was surprised her subconscious had succeeded.
"It doesn't feel real, does it?" she mused. "Like the world is skewed or something. ... ... ... I wonder if there are people who really do get up now? To run around from clock to clock?"
"Are you suggesting I should be one of them?" he queried humorously. "Would you prefer to see me dashing about the place, resetting everything in a race against the minute-hand?"
"Noooo," she drew, firming up her tired grip just enough to insist he stay put. Her head tilted, her lips finding feathery bangs atop hard enamel forehead. "No one does it when it's 'official' anyway." ... Then she laughed. ... "Remember last autumn? When I didn't do it at *all*?"
V chuckled, sending a low resonance through Evey's bared torso. "I remember well," he agreed. "It brought you to the Gallery an hour early. The gift of time ... something I shall never refuse."
"Yeah," was her slow, contented sigh. "But then you lose it again in the spring. And that one's even worse. Then everyone's late the next morning." She paused for a yawn of her own. ... "You can never quite win, can you?"
A breath came muffled behind the mask, the hard chin nestling further across her shoulder. There was no point in arguing, when he knew how annoying she found these semiannual 'hiccups' in the calendar. He was, however, hard pressed to accept her assertion that they 'couldn't win'. No matter what time the world stamped to this moment, or how many clocks stood in disagreement it was a moment spent together. That was always the victory. Over anything and everything.
Evey glanced back toward the nightstand to discover another three minutes had passed. "Tick, tick, tick," she mused sleepily. "It's weird. It's happening, but it's not. It should feel like extra time, because in another forty-five minutes we'll be right back to one o'clock. Yet on the other hand, it's just flying right by. An extra hour, that'll be barely noticeable in the end."
"Oh, much can happen in an hour, love," V countered. "People enter the world in an hour, and exit. For some, this hour does not even exist. Nothing more than a bit of extra sleep and a nuisance to reset their timepieces. While for others, it will be perhaps the most important, most far-reaching hour of their lives. They will claim it, and make it their own. 'To fill the hour, that is happiness; to fill the hour, and leave no crevice for a repentance or an approval'. Wise advice indeed."
