Dichotomy IV
Title: Dichotomy IV
pairings : Walter / Nite Owl II , Nite Owl II/ Silk Spectre II
warnings : None. Possible rambling.
summary : The day Rorschach discovered Nite Owl II's alter-ego.
time period: early 1970s
Summer sunshine didn't suit his city; it was meant to be raining.
Soft misting of fog in clothes, dewdrops in hair; heavy rain somehow lessening and worsening smell of filth simultaneously; black clouds mirroring endless in skyscrapers, airships appearing as rogue clouds. New York's true face was meant to be grey, regardless of time of day. People noticed his smell less in the rain. Movements were further obscured by soft patters, torrentiel downpours; downsides however. April, October, coat did not dry. Ocassionally mildewed. Did not catch in time, had to replace. Expensive, bothersome.
Winter was less than desirable as well; footprints in the snow went both ways. Cold meant lining had to go in in trench coat, movements slowed a little. More to repair.
Spring was good, but Fall was his favourite. Beautiful colours. Usually rained during the night, not during the day. Slight chill made exertion while hunting criminals more tolerable. Exotic birds more visible as they migrated. Everywhere, things wasting away, going to sleep. Fading, like the lie under his true face.
Fall was when he first noticed Daniel.
Walking around with his sandwich board, Rorshach had picked up his newspaper as usual. Had sat down in shade of a golden maple tree to read it, removed the sign. Gentle breeze was coming off nearby pond. The burnt smell of dying plants and rotting leaves had not yet saturated the park air.
Hearing the ducks quack and squabble amongst themselves more than usual, he had looked up to see a man feeding them. His smile was gentle; expression patient, fond. There was a sketchpad in one of his hands; the mechanics of a mallard's wing sketched out in intricate, loving detail. He knew that smile. Had worn it when Rorschach had cautiously reached for grappling hook gun as though it may bite him, and clumsily thanked Nite Owl for grappling hook. Had not poured over avian sketches in great detail, but was very sure precise yet soft strokes on paper were familiar as well.
Studiedly casual, head dropped to chest, yet eyes roving like beatles on over turned log, he examined the man's profile. Chin and nose the same. Hair and eye colour not known, but given skin tone and features, brown not unexpected. Height matched. Build slightly bulkier from civilian clothes. Shoulders were not in same confident set, but supposed that was to be expected.
His heart was beating erratically. Hoped onset of bloodclots was not impending. Worried if needed pace-maker. Walter's expression didn't change, and a wheezy "Eehhnk" was his only outward reaction.
In the late fall light, eyes intent on avians, Nite Owl surprisingly beautiful. His hair was prismatic; clean and refracting the sunlight in multiple shades of brown. Fascinated, Walter got to his feet and slowly shuffled over. He felt especially shabby and dirty next to this man. Could not bring himself to care.
The topic of conversation came easily. "Bread unhealthy for ducks. Better off giving food to humans." Walter's low, quiet monotone reached the man's ears.
Nite Owl looked over at him, his smile amused. "I know. Really I like Owls best.... but I thought I should expand my horizons a little. Feeding an animal is the best way to get it close enough to study."
Something twisted in Walter's gut. Was that what he was to Nite Owl?
"Even most dangerous animal?" Walter rasped a little, his affront overcoming his surprise.
Nite Owl blinked in fashion true to his name. Then, a sly smile curved his lips. "Man?"
"Man. Walter." Walter held out his hand for the bread. Seemingly by reflex, Nite Owl gave the bag to him.
"Daniel."
"Sit?"
"Oh, sure." They sat together in the dazzling late afternoon sunshine on the embankment. Daniel sketched the ducks furtively, one leg up to make the sketchpad a makeshift easel.
Rorschach sat in a relaxed slouch, slowly ate a couple of pieces of bread, being certain to hold the food and consume it in a manner different from usual. Not that Daniel was particularly paying him more attention than the ducks. Sloppy. What if he had a knife? His partner was not the best judge of character. Ignored explicit warning.
Daniel. He rolled the name over in his mind, silently mouthing it. Tried it as two syllables, as three. He wasn't sure how it would sound until his lips shaping the word gave it breath. "Do you like wild animals? Or just ones playing at domesticity?"
"Huh... animals in parks are good," Daniel replied thoughtfully, "It's not like being caged, and I still get to see them. They're less afraid of humans so usually they're not too hard to find. Easier to study."
"Don't like birds with clipped wings, in cages, then."
Daniel turned a shocked look to the soft-spoken redhead before glancing away again. He didn't understand the expression in the man's eyes. What the faint lines in his face meant. "No! No.... Sorry." He raked a hand through his bangs, messing up his hair. The gentle breeze turned less gentle and carried on with the job. "Caging a bird, clipping its wings... it's wrong. It's a betrayal of what a bird is all about. Birds were born to fly. I may like them close, but I would never, ever, do anything that went against their nature." Daniel looked a little sad, and continued.
"I used to have a bird when I was small. It sang beautifully inside its cage. My parents warned me to never open the cage and let it out. I didn't listen. Nothing was ever so beautiful as the note she sang when she flew out the window."
Walter's hands trembled a little.
"Have not kept bird since?"
"No, not ever again. As my best friend would say, 'Fine like this.'"
Walter shook. "Yes," Rorschach said, as the hobo closed his eyes.
Years later, pampered bird with red plumage and canary yellow colouring left gilded cage for Ornithologist.
Walter remembered golden fall as Rorschach died in white summer.