A Brief Acceptance (part 9)
It’s surprising to say the least; as Daniel opens his sleep heavy eyes he fully expects to be alone. Something wedges into his ribs uncomfortably, sharp and insistent. When he sees it’s an elbow, an elbow attached to a body, a body attached to a Walter he lets out a “mph!” of surprise and claps a hand to his mouth.
Walter is sleeping; his limbs are splayed, jutting at odd almost inhuman angles, (one of which is still poking at Daniel’s ribcage,) sheet tangled around his frame in what vaguely resembles a toga. Even in his sleep he doesn’t smile, expression blank but somehow foreboding and Daniel takes the opportunity to appraise the odd features that make up Walter’s face. Most people would say Walter is ugly, but Daniel disagrees. Certainly he’s not handsome; not even attractive, but something about his face is pleasing, interesting to look at, the mash up of distinctive features intriguing; high cheekbones, scattered freckles, thin lips press firmly together. Daniel shifts closer, dislodging Walter’s arm from where it’s firmly planted, and squints in an attempt to better study the face he rarely gets a glimpse of. Walter’s nose is what one would refer to as a “pug nose,” the bridge of it bumpy, obvious evidence of a previously break.
Daniel reaches forward, lightly runs his fingers through the red hair; it’s surprisingly soft, sticking up unevenly in areas, clinging to the skull in others.
“Daniel.” Dan’s eyes go wide, his hand freezing. So, Walter is awake then.
“Uh, sorry.” He responds sheepishly, retracting his hand from what appears to be a very annoyed Walter who stares at him blankly; a shiver shoots up Dan’s spine. He will never voice it but the fact is that Walter has a knack for being, well… Creepy. Even without his mask.
“Cover your eyes.” Walter says finally, eyes locked on Daniel to make sure the command is obeyed. Daniel opens his mouth dumbfounded; shuts it.
“Well, uh, why?”
“Close. Your. Eyes.” The command is issued again and Daniel groans, clasps his hand over his eyes in compliance.
“Fine.”
There are snatches of sound; the creak of the mattress, the rustling of cloth. Oh. Walter doesn’t want to be seen naked apparently. Daniel rolls onto his stomach and presses his cheek into the pillow, facing away from the other man. He can’t help but think that it’s a tad late for Walter to get shy about such things.
The rustlings stop and Daniel hesitates then lifts his head, glancing at where Rorschach stands, now fully dressed. Daniel wishes he would shower first, because he’s just washed those clothes the other damn day, and now they’re soiled. Again.
“Aren’t you gonna clean up?” He asks hopefully, tossing a pleading look at the swirling blots.
“Hm. No time. Coming?”
“Com-?.. Where?”
“To talk. Your idea.” Rorschach grunts, shrugging stiffly. Daniel sighs, glances at the clock. Well, this is the best he’s slept in so long and he’s a bit reluctant to abandon that. On the other hand however, Rorschach is right; Daniel is the one who suggested they talk and he had better “get while the getting’s good” so to speak.
“Fine.” He sighs, sitting up and stretching his aching muscles. Rorschach flinches, obviously uncomfortable with Dan’s blatant nudity. Daniel notes with both sympathy and amusement that Walter stands rather oddly; apparently, a specific area pains him. A specific area located where he sits, to be exact. “Gimme a sec.” Dan murmers tiredly, attempting to restrain the urge to ask if he’s hurt Walter. Obviously, such an inquiry would not be met well.
He doesn’t have to say it twice; Rorschach grunts an approval and then he’s out the door, eager no doubt to escape the scene of their crime. Daniel’s bones ache and he wonders if he’s ready for this; ready to set his admittedly vague plan into action. Ready to possibly shove Rorschach over the precipice of insanity that his legs already dangle over, because rekindling the obsession might be the death of them and most certainly will be the breaking point as far as common sense goes. But nonetheless the wheels of his mind have been set into motion and they can’t be stopped, not after he’s delved into the fact that if they let Veidt go unchecked than they’re no better than him, he who played god and succeeded. Yes, Veidt’s plan had worked, at least insofar as that nuclear Armageddon was temporarily averted. Or, hell, maybe permanently; Dan doesn’t know. But he had wrought such terror on the streets of New York, had decided to use half of it’s citizenry as unwilling martyrs, and who was he to decide, who was Adrian fucking Veidt to choose for the world. Yes, it was inevitable, inevitable that children would lay with their skulls cracked open, that lovers would die in pools of each other’s blood, but Veidt had chosen who would be sacrificed in the name of world peace and it disturbs Daniel to no end. Who was Ozymandias to save the world with such a damning action?
No, Dan has to do this and he knows it, knows it in his ageing bones and his slackening gut. So he pulls himself out of bed and dresses, ignores the part of his brain that insists he wear his Owl Suit. Instead he dons his typical attire, slacks, sweater vest, nerdy tie. He goes to find Rorschach, locates him in the obvious place; the Owl’s Nest. He sees him climb expectantly into Archie and his gut clenches uneasily because he knows. Knows he’ll be putting that damned suit on again soon. He follows reluctantly, ignoring the way his costume seems to glare ominously at him from its case, clambering into Archie as if he hasn’t done this a million times before. Rorschach is already seated so Daniel takes his lead, flopping into his designated position.
They just sit there; Daniel in the pilot’s seat, remembering for the first time in quite a while how nicely it contours to his back. After a few awkward moments, Rorschach breaks the silence, sitting stiffly in his own chair.
“Know a warehouse, safe place to talk. Can go there.”
Daniel sighs, massages his temples. How had he known that’s what the other man would suggest? Dingy streets and dusty warehouses. Almost nostalgic, in a way. “No, Archie should be fine. I have all kinds of security stuff on him; no one should’ve had a chance to tamper with anything.”
Rorschach sits still, seeming to mull over Dan’s words. Daniel in turn shifts uncomfortably, avoids looking at the black splotches that drift across his partner’s face. He hates that mask, hates the way it wordlessly implicates how weak he is, what a coward he is for not being able to don his costume once more as Rorschach does in the black of night every night. Hates how much he simultaneously loves it, how many fantasies he once had of Rorschach shoving him up against a wall during patrol and kissing him through it, probing tongues searching each other out in desperate swipes over latex, adrenaline from busting in some junkie’s head pulsing through their veins and fueling the encounter.
He reminds himself that he does help, volunteers so much of his time at the shelters; but an undermining notion always prevails in these instances. He’s a coward, a failure, old, and Rorschach will die one of these nights without Daniel there to save him, to pull his fist from a shattered face, to tell him when it’s time to stop. Even if the body lives, Rorschach will die just like Walter did, and he’ll be left with a shell, a coma-like zombie who will never speak again, never steal his canned goods, never do whatever it is happened last night and the night previous.
“Could have been bugged.” Rorschach asserts, pulling Daniel back to reality if such a thing exists.
Daniel blinks, tries to refocus his mind. He runs his fingers through his bangs, clears his throat. “Hm. I mean, no, no… I told you I would know if somebody’s been in here; Archie’s security features are top notch.” Here he illustrates by patting Archie’s dash affectionately, coming away with a thin layer of dust. He frowns at his dirty phalanges, wipes them on his pants leaving small streaks of gray in their wake. “He shorts out any bugs or unwanted electronic devices through a different version of the screecher. I installed that shortly after…” He trails off, reluctant to revive the event. “Well, you know… Anyways, it functions on a distinct frequency unperceivable to the human ear; I based it off of some early studies done by the-“
“Daniel.” Rorschach cuts him off; Daniel shuts his mouth, gives and embarrassed smile.
“Uh, sorry. I know how I ramble sometimes.”
“So. Wanted to talk?” Rorschach says, more of a statement than a question as far as intonation goes. He’s stiff as a corpse entering rigor mortis, hands clamped to his legs. Obviously he wishes to get right to the point, not to chat with Dan about obscure studies perpetrated by the U.S. government years ago on feasible ways to disarm spy equipment.
“Yeah…” Daniel adjusts his glasses nervously. “Look, we both… We both feel the same. About what happened.” He pauses, looks over at the other man to gauge his reaction. All that meets his eyes is fluid black on white. “About Karnak.” He finishes.
Rorschach looks straight ahead as per usual, pretends not to notice Daniel’s desperate attempt at eye contact. “Not so sure, Daniel. Not anymore. Not after seeing you sit back and do nothing; won’t even clean scum off the streets anymore.”
Daniel’s heart sinks; so, that’s what Rorschach thinks of him? That he’s not only a coward but agrees with Veidt’s actions?
“How… How can you even say that? You know that’s not the truth. I’ve helped- I volunteer almost every day, I donate…” Daniel says weakly, not sure he believes himself either. As if passing out bread and repaving roads is enough to atone for what he’s done by letting Adrian’s plot succeed.
Rorschach turns his head, looks at Daniel; every shape, every blot that forms there on that mask seeming to accuse him, to taunt him. Coward. Weakling. You’re no hero. You never were. Never were anything but a foolish dreamer. Even Rorschach’s tone as he speaks now possesses an accusatory lilt, and Daniel flinches. “Hah. Help. Admirable, but just a temporary solution to a quickly surmounting problem.
Daniel lowers his head, clutches it in his hands. He’s quickly developing a migraine, he can’t stand to look at the mask anymore, to receive its jeering messages. Coward. You’re a coward. “That’s not…”
“It’s the truth.” Rorschach snarls standing up stiffly, hands clenched at his sides. “You’re taking his handouts Daniel. Let him wipe your record clean; destroy all evidence of our little ‘excursions.’ Probably killed any surviving cops that had seen the evidence and refused to comply. Even got to keep your house Daniel. Never mentioned in press again, barring a brief mention of your proved innocence.”
Daniel looks up, pathetic, face creased with guilt and shame. “No, that’s not… Those cops, they all died when that thing arrived. A-and everybody was too busy with grieving and cleaning up to remember me, they just lost the case file, that’s all. That’s why they cleared me of all charges, that’s why the press printed my innocence.
Rorschach snorts, hands clenched into fists so tightly the leather of his gloves creaks in protest. “Without even checking your house again Daniel? No. Veidt paid them off, swept everything under the rug for you. To buy your silence.”
“But I didn’t ask him to, I never-“
“Haven’t done anything about what happened though. Haven’t done what’s right.”
Daniel jumps up, grabs Rorschach’s lapels. He’s overcome with rage, at the things that Rorschach says and implies, at himself, at Veidt, at everything. The bliss of the last night isn’t enough to make his knuckles cease to itch for a swift punch of his shorter companion. “And what have you done Rorschach?” He yells, shaking the smaller man who simply stands there steadfastly, hands jammed into his pockets. “What have you done?” He whimpers weakly, afraid of the emotions that whirl inside him, consumed by feelings he hasn’t really allowed himself to express, remnants of Karnak and Laurie, of failure and anger and a general sense of why.
Dan stands there, knuckles white, fingers digging into Rorschach’s coat desperately. His breathing is sped up from his outburst, heart thudding steadily against his ribs. But Rorschach just stares back, rigid and unfaltering. Finally, he shoves him off lightly, and Daniel staggers back, flops back into his chair, grasps his head in his hands. He does not dare to look back up.
“Daniel.” Rorschach says from somewhere near him; Daniel looks up reluctantly.
“What?”
“Did try. Sent journal to New Frontiersman previous to our trip. Contained enough evidence they should have been able to extrapolate the truth of what happened. Added follow up on return; small note indicating Veidt’s link to journal previously delivered.” Rorschach returns his hands calmly to his pockets.
Dan looks up at him incredulously, hands drifting shakily from his face. “You… You wha-… You didn’t.” But he knows that Rorschach wouldn’t lie, at least not about this, and his gut clenches because if it was printed then they were-
“Did.” Rorschach replies with a stiff shouldered shrug.
Daniel groans, closes his eyes. “You know this means we’re dead right? Fuck Rorschach, you realize it won’t make a difference besides sealing our fate? Nobody’ll believe that damned rag.”
Rorschach grunts, somehow managing to look offended despite being swathed head to toe in varying fabrics. “Wasn’t a rag.” He asserts, mask swimming with messages that Daniel doesn’t care to decode because they don’t mean anything, not really.
“… Wasn’t?” Dan questions, eye opening to a slit.
“Forced to shut down yesterday, reasons still unknown; suspect group of liberals funded by Veidt.”
Daniel feels a rush of relief. It’s surprising how strong his will to live is despite everything, and he wonders what possible reason he can have for really caring anymore. He tilts his head up, looks at Rorschach tiredly. “You realize that there are about a million people who would want to shut down those racists, including me. As for the fire it most likely wasn’t a crime of malice; probably some bored teenagers looking for trouble.”
Rorschach hurms, standing a few feet away in silence. “Daniel… Didn’t mean… Didn’t mean to upset you. Just feel so useless. Stuck busting petty criminals while Veidt goes unpunished.” He seems to look down at the floor like an ashamed child. Daniel’s heart pangs; the man is emotionally stunted as hell. It simultaneously infuriates him and touches him.
“Well you caught that child rapist last week.” Daniel offers meekly, leaning back into his seat. Secretly he thinks that Rorschach didn’t just catch the man, he’d killed him, left the dead body to rot in an abandoned building unceremoniously amongst a pool of its own blood. Not that the pederast had deserved any better. “But, uh, it’s OK. I can understand the whole ‘useless’ bit.” He smiles nervously, knowing how lucky he is to have evoked a semi-apology from Rorschach. In response Rorschach shakes his head curtly.
“Not the point.” He says in response to Daniel’s attempt at reassurance. “Veidt is still out there. Whole world practically worships him, ignorant to what he’s done.”
“Rorschach. You know he… He potentially saved the entire world from a nuclear holocaust.”
Rorschach snarls, pent up with fury he has no real outlet for, administering a vicious beating the only way to release it. Unfortunately, there were no pimps or drug addicts insight, and so his anger remains. “No excuse. Wasn’t for him to decide.”
“I- Look, I agree that what he did was wrong… He should have used his resources to find a better solution, to at least try. But we can’t just come out and tell the press the truth. They wouldn’t believe us; you’re, well, you, and they would obviously deduce who I am. Or, more accurately, who I was.”
“More important to stay out of jail rather than do the right thing?”
Daniel closes his eyes as the barbed comment latches onto him. Yes, he’s a coward. Rorschach knows it. “No. I just mean even if they did for some unconceivable reason believe us we would destroy the already fragile world peace that’s been forged and half of New York will have died for naught. And maybe the other half would die after we trigger a nuclear war.”
Rorschach sits down, obviously frustrated. The chair squeaks as he descends into it, body rigid, fingers flexing subtly through his gloves. “Well, what do you propose we-“
“We kill him.” Daniel interjects quietly, even as his insides twist and clench in his gut. He knows that he can’t rescind this now; once it’s been heard Rorschach will latch onto it, won’t stop gunning for Veidt until the deed has been done. Of course Rorschach has thought about it before, of course he’s plotted out every elaborate detail. But, it seems, he’s been waiting. Maybe because he’s afraid to endanger Daniel too, or maybe because he too has been subjected to treacherous thoughts such as Daniel’s. Thoughts that maybe Veidt was right. That he had done what was needed.
Rorschach nods solemnly, as if he expected this was coming, was just waiting for Daniel to gather up his meager courage and take the leap. He doesn’t say anything and Daniel shifts uncomfortably.
“Well, er… How do you think we should… I’ve been considering it and, um, I thought we could… Well I don’t really have much of a plan to be honest.” Daniel mumbles nervously, light perspiration dusting his forehead. It’s hot and stuffy in here despite Archie’s extensive ventilation system, and so Dan flicks on the air and leans back. “I just figure we should, well… Watch him. I know that he’s got pretty tight security, but…”
“Once a week he doesn’t.” Rorschach interjects, turning ever so slightly to face Dan.
“What?” Dan’s brow creases, and he looks at Rorschach with an escalating sense of unease.
“Veidt. Goes out, usually once a week. Alone.”
“Well uh, where does he go exactly?”
“Don’t know yet. Been watching but only attempted to tail him more recently, thought sloppiness seemed suspicious.”
“And?”
“… Lost him.” Rorschach admits, leaning back slightly in the chair. Daniel doesn’t pause to consider how worried he should be that Rorschach is in fact as obsessed with Veidt as he previously expected. This was, as a matter of fact, the apparent reason for Rorschach’s regular excursions in broad daylight, as risky as such things are. Daniel wonders how he can manage going unnoticed; unlike Daniel he had not been labeled innocent by Veidt’s connections, but dead.
“Well, I guess that’s where we’ll start then. Although I’m not sure how it’ll help us. Also, we’ll likely wind up dead; even if he’s alone let’s face it. He’s still stronger than the both of us.”
Rorschach gives his typical grunt, standing to leave. “Everyone has a weakness. Even world’s smartest man.” He says, and for a moment Daniel thinks he can actually hear a splinter of something in the other man’s voice; uncertainty.
As Rorschach exits, presumably to head back to whatever hovel he currently resides in Daniel slumps backwards and closes his tired eyes, not daring to ask the man to stay with him. Their relationship isn’t that simple, is so complex that he knows one wrong move will scare Rorschach away. For good this time. “I hope to god you’re right.” He whispers to the empty airship.
Somewhere in New York the world’s smartest man slumbers, unaware of his mistake, the flaw in his perfect plan, the chink in his diamond armor. Later on, he will realize what he’s done wrong.
He’s let Rorschach live.
x-posted
Walter is sleeping; his limbs are splayed, jutting at odd almost inhuman angles, (one of which is still poking at Daniel’s ribcage,) sheet tangled around his frame in what vaguely resembles a toga. Even in his sleep he doesn’t smile, expression blank but somehow foreboding and Daniel takes the opportunity to appraise the odd features that make up Walter’s face. Most people would say Walter is ugly, but Daniel disagrees. Certainly he’s not handsome; not even attractive, but something about his face is pleasing, interesting to look at, the mash up of distinctive features intriguing; high cheekbones, scattered freckles, thin lips press firmly together. Daniel shifts closer, dislodging Walter’s arm from where it’s firmly planted, and squints in an attempt to better study the face he rarely gets a glimpse of. Walter’s nose is what one would refer to as a “pug nose,” the bridge of it bumpy, obvious evidence of a previously break.
Daniel reaches forward, lightly runs his fingers through the red hair; it’s surprisingly soft, sticking up unevenly in areas, clinging to the skull in others.
“Daniel.” Dan’s eyes go wide, his hand freezing. So, Walter is awake then.
“Uh, sorry.” He responds sheepishly, retracting his hand from what appears to be a very annoyed Walter who stares at him blankly; a shiver shoots up Dan’s spine. He will never voice it but the fact is that Walter has a knack for being, well… Creepy. Even without his mask.
“Cover your eyes.” Walter says finally, eyes locked on Daniel to make sure the command is obeyed. Daniel opens his mouth dumbfounded; shuts it.
“Well, uh, why?”
“Close. Your. Eyes.” The command is issued again and Daniel groans, clasps his hand over his eyes in compliance.
“Fine.”
There are snatches of sound; the creak of the mattress, the rustling of cloth. Oh. Walter doesn’t want to be seen naked apparently. Daniel rolls onto his stomach and presses his cheek into the pillow, facing away from the other man. He can’t help but think that it’s a tad late for Walter to get shy about such things.
The rustlings stop and Daniel hesitates then lifts his head, glancing at where Rorschach stands, now fully dressed. Daniel wishes he would shower first, because he’s just washed those clothes the other damn day, and now they’re soiled. Again.
“Aren’t you gonna clean up?” He asks hopefully, tossing a pleading look at the swirling blots.
“Hm. No time. Coming?”
“Com-?.. Where?”
“To talk. Your idea.” Rorschach grunts, shrugging stiffly. Daniel sighs, glances at the clock. Well, this is the best he’s slept in so long and he’s a bit reluctant to abandon that. On the other hand however, Rorschach is right; Daniel is the one who suggested they talk and he had better “get while the getting’s good” so to speak.
“Fine.” He sighs, sitting up and stretching his aching muscles. Rorschach flinches, obviously uncomfortable with Dan’s blatant nudity. Daniel notes with both sympathy and amusement that Walter stands rather oddly; apparently, a specific area pains him. A specific area located where he sits, to be exact. “Gimme a sec.” Dan murmers tiredly, attempting to restrain the urge to ask if he’s hurt Walter. Obviously, such an inquiry would not be met well.
He doesn’t have to say it twice; Rorschach grunts an approval and then he’s out the door, eager no doubt to escape the scene of their crime. Daniel’s bones ache and he wonders if he’s ready for this; ready to set his admittedly vague plan into action. Ready to possibly shove Rorschach over the precipice of insanity that his legs already dangle over, because rekindling the obsession might be the death of them and most certainly will be the breaking point as far as common sense goes. But nonetheless the wheels of his mind have been set into motion and they can’t be stopped, not after he’s delved into the fact that if they let Veidt go unchecked than they’re no better than him, he who played god and succeeded. Yes, Veidt’s plan had worked, at least insofar as that nuclear Armageddon was temporarily averted. Or, hell, maybe permanently; Dan doesn’t know. But he had wrought such terror on the streets of New York, had decided to use half of it’s citizenry as unwilling martyrs, and who was he to decide, who was Adrian fucking Veidt to choose for the world. Yes, it was inevitable, inevitable that children would lay with their skulls cracked open, that lovers would die in pools of each other’s blood, but Veidt had chosen who would be sacrificed in the name of world peace and it disturbs Daniel to no end. Who was Ozymandias to save the world with such a damning action?
No, Dan has to do this and he knows it, knows it in his ageing bones and his slackening gut. So he pulls himself out of bed and dresses, ignores the part of his brain that insists he wear his Owl Suit. Instead he dons his typical attire, slacks, sweater vest, nerdy tie. He goes to find Rorschach, locates him in the obvious place; the Owl’s Nest. He sees him climb expectantly into Archie and his gut clenches uneasily because he knows. Knows he’ll be putting that damned suit on again soon. He follows reluctantly, ignoring the way his costume seems to glare ominously at him from its case, clambering into Archie as if he hasn’t done this a million times before. Rorschach is already seated so Daniel takes his lead, flopping into his designated position.
They just sit there; Daniel in the pilot’s seat, remembering for the first time in quite a while how nicely it contours to his back. After a few awkward moments, Rorschach breaks the silence, sitting stiffly in his own chair.
“Know a warehouse, safe place to talk. Can go there.”
Daniel sighs, massages his temples. How had he known that’s what the other man would suggest? Dingy streets and dusty warehouses. Almost nostalgic, in a way. “No, Archie should be fine. I have all kinds of security stuff on him; no one should’ve had a chance to tamper with anything.”
Rorschach sits still, seeming to mull over Dan’s words. Daniel in turn shifts uncomfortably, avoids looking at the black splotches that drift across his partner’s face. He hates that mask, hates the way it wordlessly implicates how weak he is, what a coward he is for not being able to don his costume once more as Rorschach does in the black of night every night. Hates how much he simultaneously loves it, how many fantasies he once had of Rorschach shoving him up against a wall during patrol and kissing him through it, probing tongues searching each other out in desperate swipes over latex, adrenaline from busting in some junkie’s head pulsing through their veins and fueling the encounter.
He reminds himself that he does help, volunteers so much of his time at the shelters; but an undermining notion always prevails in these instances. He’s a coward, a failure, old, and Rorschach will die one of these nights without Daniel there to save him, to pull his fist from a shattered face, to tell him when it’s time to stop. Even if the body lives, Rorschach will die just like Walter did, and he’ll be left with a shell, a coma-like zombie who will never speak again, never steal his canned goods, never do whatever it is happened last night and the night previous.
“Could have been bugged.” Rorschach asserts, pulling Daniel back to reality if such a thing exists.
Daniel blinks, tries to refocus his mind. He runs his fingers through his bangs, clears his throat. “Hm. I mean, no, no… I told you I would know if somebody’s been in here; Archie’s security features are top notch.” Here he illustrates by patting Archie’s dash affectionately, coming away with a thin layer of dust. He frowns at his dirty phalanges, wipes them on his pants leaving small streaks of gray in their wake. “He shorts out any bugs or unwanted electronic devices through a different version of the screecher. I installed that shortly after…” He trails off, reluctant to revive the event. “Well, you know… Anyways, it functions on a distinct frequency unperceivable to the human ear; I based it off of some early studies done by the-“
“Daniel.” Rorschach cuts him off; Daniel shuts his mouth, gives and embarrassed smile.
“Uh, sorry. I know how I ramble sometimes.”
“So. Wanted to talk?” Rorschach says, more of a statement than a question as far as intonation goes. He’s stiff as a corpse entering rigor mortis, hands clamped to his legs. Obviously he wishes to get right to the point, not to chat with Dan about obscure studies perpetrated by the U.S. government years ago on feasible ways to disarm spy equipment.
“Yeah…” Daniel adjusts his glasses nervously. “Look, we both… We both feel the same. About what happened.” He pauses, looks over at the other man to gauge his reaction. All that meets his eyes is fluid black on white. “About Karnak.” He finishes.
Rorschach looks straight ahead as per usual, pretends not to notice Daniel’s desperate attempt at eye contact. “Not so sure, Daniel. Not anymore. Not after seeing you sit back and do nothing; won’t even clean scum off the streets anymore.”
Daniel’s heart sinks; so, that’s what Rorschach thinks of him? That he’s not only a coward but agrees with Veidt’s actions?
“How… How can you even say that? You know that’s not the truth. I’ve helped- I volunteer almost every day, I donate…” Daniel says weakly, not sure he believes himself either. As if passing out bread and repaving roads is enough to atone for what he’s done by letting Adrian’s plot succeed.
Rorschach turns his head, looks at Daniel; every shape, every blot that forms there on that mask seeming to accuse him, to taunt him. Coward. Weakling. You’re no hero. You never were. Never were anything but a foolish dreamer. Even Rorschach’s tone as he speaks now possesses an accusatory lilt, and Daniel flinches. “Hah. Help. Admirable, but just a temporary solution to a quickly surmounting problem.
Daniel lowers his head, clutches it in his hands. He’s quickly developing a migraine, he can’t stand to look at the mask anymore, to receive its jeering messages. Coward. You’re a coward. “That’s not…”
“It’s the truth.” Rorschach snarls standing up stiffly, hands clenched at his sides. “You’re taking his handouts Daniel. Let him wipe your record clean; destroy all evidence of our little ‘excursions.’ Probably killed any surviving cops that had seen the evidence and refused to comply. Even got to keep your house Daniel. Never mentioned in press again, barring a brief mention of your proved innocence.”
Daniel looks up, pathetic, face creased with guilt and shame. “No, that’s not… Those cops, they all died when that thing arrived. A-and everybody was too busy with grieving and cleaning up to remember me, they just lost the case file, that’s all. That’s why they cleared me of all charges, that’s why the press printed my innocence.
Rorschach snorts, hands clenched into fists so tightly the leather of his gloves creaks in protest. “Without even checking your house again Daniel? No. Veidt paid them off, swept everything under the rug for you. To buy your silence.”
“But I didn’t ask him to, I never-“
“Haven’t done anything about what happened though. Haven’t done what’s right.”
Daniel jumps up, grabs Rorschach’s lapels. He’s overcome with rage, at the things that Rorschach says and implies, at himself, at Veidt, at everything. The bliss of the last night isn’t enough to make his knuckles cease to itch for a swift punch of his shorter companion. “And what have you done Rorschach?” He yells, shaking the smaller man who simply stands there steadfastly, hands jammed into his pockets. “What have you done?” He whimpers weakly, afraid of the emotions that whirl inside him, consumed by feelings he hasn’t really allowed himself to express, remnants of Karnak and Laurie, of failure and anger and a general sense of why.
Dan stands there, knuckles white, fingers digging into Rorschach’s coat desperately. His breathing is sped up from his outburst, heart thudding steadily against his ribs. But Rorschach just stares back, rigid and unfaltering. Finally, he shoves him off lightly, and Daniel staggers back, flops back into his chair, grasps his head in his hands. He does not dare to look back up.
“Daniel.” Rorschach says from somewhere near him; Daniel looks up reluctantly.
“What?”
“Did try. Sent journal to New Frontiersman previous to our trip. Contained enough evidence they should have been able to extrapolate the truth of what happened. Added follow up on return; small note indicating Veidt’s link to journal previously delivered.” Rorschach returns his hands calmly to his pockets.
Dan looks up at him incredulously, hands drifting shakily from his face. “You… You wha-… You didn’t.” But he knows that Rorschach wouldn’t lie, at least not about this, and his gut clenches because if it was printed then they were-
“Did.” Rorschach replies with a stiff shouldered shrug.
Daniel groans, closes his eyes. “You know this means we’re dead right? Fuck Rorschach, you realize it won’t make a difference besides sealing our fate? Nobody’ll believe that damned rag.”
Rorschach grunts, somehow managing to look offended despite being swathed head to toe in varying fabrics. “Wasn’t a rag.” He asserts, mask swimming with messages that Daniel doesn’t care to decode because they don’t mean anything, not really.
“… Wasn’t?” Dan questions, eye opening to a slit.
“Forced to shut down yesterday, reasons still unknown; suspect group of liberals funded by Veidt.”
Daniel feels a rush of relief. It’s surprising how strong his will to live is despite everything, and he wonders what possible reason he can have for really caring anymore. He tilts his head up, looks at Rorschach tiredly. “You realize that there are about a million people who would want to shut down those racists, including me. As for the fire it most likely wasn’t a crime of malice; probably some bored teenagers looking for trouble.”
Rorschach hurms, standing a few feet away in silence. “Daniel… Didn’t mean… Didn’t mean to upset you. Just feel so useless. Stuck busting petty criminals while Veidt goes unpunished.” He seems to look down at the floor like an ashamed child. Daniel’s heart pangs; the man is emotionally stunted as hell. It simultaneously infuriates him and touches him.
“Well you caught that child rapist last week.” Daniel offers meekly, leaning back into his seat. Secretly he thinks that Rorschach didn’t just catch the man, he’d killed him, left the dead body to rot in an abandoned building unceremoniously amongst a pool of its own blood. Not that the pederast had deserved any better. “But, uh, it’s OK. I can understand the whole ‘useless’ bit.” He smiles nervously, knowing how lucky he is to have evoked a semi-apology from Rorschach. In response Rorschach shakes his head curtly.
“Not the point.” He says in response to Daniel’s attempt at reassurance. “Veidt is still out there. Whole world practically worships him, ignorant to what he’s done.”
“Rorschach. You know he… He potentially saved the entire world from a nuclear holocaust.”
Rorschach snarls, pent up with fury he has no real outlet for, administering a vicious beating the only way to release it. Unfortunately, there were no pimps or drug addicts insight, and so his anger remains. “No excuse. Wasn’t for him to decide.”
“I- Look, I agree that what he did was wrong… He should have used his resources to find a better solution, to at least try. But we can’t just come out and tell the press the truth. They wouldn’t believe us; you’re, well, you, and they would obviously deduce who I am. Or, more accurately, who I was.”
“More important to stay out of jail rather than do the right thing?”
Daniel closes his eyes as the barbed comment latches onto him. Yes, he’s a coward. Rorschach knows it. “No. I just mean even if they did for some unconceivable reason believe us we would destroy the already fragile world peace that’s been forged and half of New York will have died for naught. And maybe the other half would die after we trigger a nuclear war.”
Rorschach sits down, obviously frustrated. The chair squeaks as he descends into it, body rigid, fingers flexing subtly through his gloves. “Well, what do you propose we-“
“We kill him.” Daniel interjects quietly, even as his insides twist and clench in his gut. He knows that he can’t rescind this now; once it’s been heard Rorschach will latch onto it, won’t stop gunning for Veidt until the deed has been done. Of course Rorschach has thought about it before, of course he’s plotted out every elaborate detail. But, it seems, he’s been waiting. Maybe because he’s afraid to endanger Daniel too, or maybe because he too has been subjected to treacherous thoughts such as Daniel’s. Thoughts that maybe Veidt was right. That he had done what was needed.
Rorschach nods solemnly, as if he expected this was coming, was just waiting for Daniel to gather up his meager courage and take the leap. He doesn’t say anything and Daniel shifts uncomfortably.
“Well, er… How do you think we should… I’ve been considering it and, um, I thought we could… Well I don’t really have much of a plan to be honest.” Daniel mumbles nervously, light perspiration dusting his forehead. It’s hot and stuffy in here despite Archie’s extensive ventilation system, and so Dan flicks on the air and leans back. “I just figure we should, well… Watch him. I know that he’s got pretty tight security, but…”
“Once a week he doesn’t.” Rorschach interjects, turning ever so slightly to face Dan.
“What?” Dan’s brow creases, and he looks at Rorschach with an escalating sense of unease.
“Veidt. Goes out, usually once a week. Alone.”
“Well uh, where does he go exactly?”
“Don’t know yet. Been watching but only attempted to tail him more recently, thought sloppiness seemed suspicious.”
“And?”
“… Lost him.” Rorschach admits, leaning back slightly in the chair. Daniel doesn’t pause to consider how worried he should be that Rorschach is in fact as obsessed with Veidt as he previously expected. This was, as a matter of fact, the apparent reason for Rorschach’s regular excursions in broad daylight, as risky as such things are. Daniel wonders how he can manage going unnoticed; unlike Daniel he had not been labeled innocent by Veidt’s connections, but dead.
“Well, I guess that’s where we’ll start then. Although I’m not sure how it’ll help us. Also, we’ll likely wind up dead; even if he’s alone let’s face it. He’s still stronger than the both of us.”
Rorschach gives his typical grunt, standing to leave. “Everyone has a weakness. Even world’s smartest man.” He says, and for a moment Daniel thinks he can actually hear a splinter of something in the other man’s voice; uncertainty.
As Rorschach exits, presumably to head back to whatever hovel he currently resides in Daniel slumps backwards and closes his tired eyes, not daring to ask the man to stay with him. Their relationship isn’t that simple, is so complex that he knows one wrong move will scare Rorschach away. For good this time. “I hope to god you’re right.” He whispers to the empty airship.
Somewhere in New York the world’s smartest man slumbers, unaware of his mistake, the flaw in his perfect plan, the chink in his diamond armor. Later on, he will realize what he’s done wrong.
He’s let Rorschach live.
x-posted