For: etherati, From bane_6
Author: bane_6
For: etherati
Title: Another Morning After
Rating: PG13
Characters: Daniel, Rorschach
Warnings: Blood
Summary: Nocturnal AU. Hopefully there's a little bit of everything on the request list.
Waking up after a Change always felt like a blow to the head had suddenly dulled all his senses. Everything throbbed. Nothing seemed as clear or fit together as well, but he didn't have any clear memories to compare it too. It was more of a nagging feeling that scents and colors should be sharper. This time, the main thing he noticed was how cold it was.
He was up to his wrists in snow, naked in an alley. His breath came in clouds. The sun wasn't up yet and even the street lights were dim in his corner. He gave himself a shake to dislodge any clinging snow and hopefully jar the memory back into place. What had happened? He should've been safely locked up at home when he Changed. Rorschach should be there.
What had been so important that he had risked staying out later? He looked around the alley, trying to remember. The snow had covered most things, but there were three cherubic faces staring at him. They were life-size baby Jesus figures from Nativity scenes and they were scattered around because…
His memory trailed off again. He curled up against his own legs to stay warmer and hide how naked he was. Baby Jesus stared on and oh God, there it was. He remembered. Drugs. Smuggled. Inside the Nativity figurines. Someone had been stealing baby Jesus from displays all over town and as trivial as it had seemed, it had led them to a larger operation.
He had to find something to cover up with. He was cold and he wasn't going to be able to wander around long before he was spotted by someone. Hopefully Rorschach. He got up carefully, leaning against the wall. The snow under him was stained red, and there were chunks that that hadn't frozen yet. There was also sticky blood in the creases of his hands. Probably his face too, if he had fed that recently. He rubbed a handful of snow over his mouth and cheeks just to be sure and limped over to the dumpster to see if there was anything he could wrap around himself.
His toe caught on something under the snow and dragged it, making him stumble. It was Rorschach's trench coat, the one with the loose shoulder strap and the fang puncture in the lapel. It was as bloody as the snow, and Dan dropped to his knees to grab it up.
It wasn't ripped by claws but there were huge patches of blood down one side of it. What had happened? He clutched it to his face to breathe in the scent. It would've been calming except for the musty, metallic smell of blood. There were holes in the stained parts. They could've been bullet holes. He racked his mind for any memory of gunshots or Rorschach falling and there was nothing. HIs last memory of his partner was on stairs, they were running down stairs. Were they being shot at?
Panic was rising in him. He had to find Rorschach and see how badly he really was hurt, had to backtrack somehow. The snow had covered whatever had happened here. Why had Rorschach left his coat? If he was hurt that badly, why didn't he use it as a tourniquet? Why was it here if he wasn't? Where was he? Where was he??
Dan had stuffed the coat into his mouth before he realized it and the taste of blood, exactly the same as the smell, reminded him how hungry he was. He had to think. He was frantic and shaky. He needed something to eat and to get himself covered so he could look for Rorschach without attracting attention. It was very early morning, he reminded himself. People would be on the streets soon, going to work or coming back from the night shift. There was only a brief window of time where a naked man could run around the street and he had to move now.
Dan broke into the first apartment he found to get some clothes and food. It was just a matter of climbing a fire escape and waiting outside a window until he heard the door inside lock. He got in easily and scarfed down the first thing he laid hands on in the fridge which was a package of ground beef. He had to hurry, but the food helped clear his head.
The clothes he found were made for someone shorter and heavier than him, but there was a black suit that wouldn't call much attention to him and at least the shoes fit. He found marks on his side while he dressed, faint, star-shaped pocks. The ones on his chest had faded out long ago, but he remembered. He had been shot. That meant that not only had he not gotten home in time, but that he had Changed during the bust. He had been seen.
Maybe it had been being shot that had triggered the Change early. Maybe seeing Rorschach hit had set him off. He grabbed up the trench coat again and hurried back out. There were no other clues in the alley.
He refused to allow himself the possibility that Rorschach might be dead, even if he had to check every lump under the snow that might be big enough to be a body. Rorschach was obviously hurt, but that meant he could be anywhere. He might've been taken to the hospital if the police had shown up. He might be home at the brownstone, trying to stitch himself up in a mirror. If he had been found by the police, he was probably in custody. If he had been found by the drug dealers, he was probably tied to a chair somewhere. He couldn't be dead. Because if he was, the sun might as well not come up.
That wasn't even allowed to be an option, but the worry ignited into rage and he was on the move again. He found a pay phone and called home to see if there was an answer. There wasn't. He called the nearest hospital about shooting victims, but they weren't much help. He bought a paper that had nothing about drug busts or captured vigilantes in it and went into a diner to watch the morning news. It didn't say anything useful either.
He found himself back in the alley. He still had the trench coat. It had Rorschach's journal in the pocket. Dan pulled it and opened it. There was their whole plan of attack, what they had known about the case, informants and contacts and the secret back door for deliveries. That was the stairs they had gone down. Dan remembered now. He couldn't resist taking a deep breath of Rorschach's scent from the book. It tasted like him too, traces of sweat and leather when he touched his tongue to the page.
Dan put it away before the rumble in his chest could rise to a growl. He hurried back to the delivery door, which swung in the wind. He went back down the stairs three at a time, already able to smell the blood. The corridor at the bottom of the stairs was littered with bullet casings and the remains of three or four badly mauled bodies. One had been torn completely in half and they were all partially devoured. None of them were Rorschach, so Dan stepped around them and kept going.
Following the trail back led the way to the ceramic mold machines used to make the Nativities. The machine was still on, but it wasn't running. There were scattered drug containers and a few smashed ceramic Jesus figures underfoot. More blood and bullet marks speckled the floor and there were shreds of his costume. He had Changed right here. WHERE WAS RORSCHACH?
He wanted to scream it, to howl until he got an answer back. He had to remember what had happened. They had gone out earlier than usual to hit this place, had given themselves lots of time to find this, shut it down, and get home. He paced the room, senses open wide for any trace of his partner. So many smells, so many different kinds of blood, and the hum of the idle machine was grating.
There! A whiff of Rorschach by the door and there was a spray of blood there too. He knelt to make sure and it did seem like Rorschach had been there. Maybe had lay there bleeding to death while his partner had rampaged. Maybe it had been Dan that had torn him open to begin with. Maybe he was gone because he had been eaten whole.
Dan was dimly aware of the string of 'No's he was whispering as he searched. He had to find his partner, find him and help him. Even if he was dead, and the whispering choked into a sob at that thought, had to find him before anyone else did. Even if he had been eaten, and the sob hitched into a gag, there should be something left. More blood down another hall, a smudge on the wall, a trail of spatters. It gave him something to follow.
He still didn't understand how he had ended up with Rorschach's coat in an alley a few streets over. Had he been chasing Rorschach and managed to snag the coat before he turned back? Had Rorschach just taken it off for whatever reason?
The sudden chirp of a police siren snapped him alert. Shit. His mind refocused on his own situation. He was up to his knees in a bloodbath at a drug lab, wearing a stolen suit. He had to get out of there, before they made their way into the building, but he might lose the trail. No, he would just have to hurry. If Rorschach had escaped this way, so could he.
An unlocked door led him to a back alley. He saw a police car go by on the street and then it stopped. If it backed up, the officer would see him leaving the scene, so he jumped, straight up to catch the edge of a window sill. From there, he spun and caught some grate work that let him swing up to a ledge. The car was backing up. Dan was out of line of sight now, but another twist and a scramble got him to the edge of the roof where he could roll completely out of sight.
Up on the roof, the wind was so cold it felt solid. Dan paced the edge, flexing and clenching his fingers. There was still no sign of where Rorschach might've gone. There was some commotion down the street which probably meant that bodies had been found. Dan stepped between some ventilation housings to get out of the wind.
He brought out Rorschach's journal again and held it under his nose, letting the paper and partner smell of it settle his nerves. There was an old brick tenement directly across from him. It looked dingy, but a few of the windows had Christmas lights up. They blinked off and on, red and green and an especially vibrant blue. One window was open and it took Dan awhile to think anything of it. There were short white curtains, and the wind had sucked them out to flutter like a white flag against the brick.
Why would a window be open in this weather? He focused on it and could see the jagged outline of the broken lock from there. He stood up and went to the edge of the roof to see closer. Was there really a faint red smear on the pane? Could it be possible that-?
He jumped before the thought finished itself. He dropped from the roof and caught the edge of a fire escape six stories down, then dropped the last five to land on all fours in the alley below. He sprinted across the street, ignoring the shouts and beeps and near misses. A glance up to count how many floors up the open window was and then he was tearing up the stairwell. He lost patience with the stairs and sprang up the railings until he got to the right floor and then he was moving down the hall at a crouch until he felt cold air rolling from under a door. It was locked, but the door was cheap and he was willing to bet the lock was too. A sturdy kick sent it vibrating open.
It was a tiny apartment, scrubbed as clean as it was likely to get, empty and unlived in, waiting for a tenant. There, curled by the closet door was Rorschach. He was bloody, and bent in a painful angle, but trying to get up, get battle-ready until he recognized Dan. There was a moment of relief like a whirlpool for both of them, frantic tension draining away so quickly that their heads spun.
"Door," Rorschach gasped, and Dan slammed it shut behind him, fastening the chain. He hurried over and all but pounced on his partner. Rorschach had grabbed Dan's goggles and utility belt before he escaped. He was trying to patch himself up with the supplies from the belt, but cold and blood loss had him shaking and he couldn't reach the one in the back of his shoulder. His mask lay torn and leaking beside him. He was freezing, probably again from losing the blood and spending a night on the floor with the windows open, and he burrowed against Dan with a groan.
"God, you scared me," Dan gasped, pawing him over to look for more injuries. Rorschach had been shot through his arm and through his side just above the hip, but that looked like a flesh wound. The one between his arm and shoulder blade was more worrisome, but it didn't look fatal either. There weren't any claw marks. Blood loss could really be the worst of it. Rorschach's good arm had hooked around him and he felt icy fingers through the stolen clothes. He pressed his face into the cold neck just to feel the pulse, jittery but there.
"You scared me," he said again.
"F-face," Rorschach said.
"What?"
Rorschach grimaced and rolled to claw at a floorboard. It pulled up with a creak.
"Used to live here," he grunted, fumbling under it. "Spare face. Needed it to go back for you. Bleeding. Had to rest."
"Oh man," Dan said, helping him. There was another mask and some old journals tucked away. He pulled them all out. "You're lucky there wasn't a new tenant."
"Hngh," Rorschach agreed. Dan scooped up the masks and books with the belt and goggles and bundled them in the stained trench coat. He pulled off the stolen suit coat to wrap around Rorschach.
"Let's get you home," he said. "See if any of it's bad enough for a trip to the hospital."
"Isn't," Rorschach said at once, but grimaced again as Dan pulled him up. They left the blood on the floor and made their way down to the street again. Dan called them a cab and they had to pass all the flashing lights and the news vans at the factory as they went by. The driver said something cheerful about the news being interesting tonight. Rorschach didn't answer so Dan had to make an agreeing noise.
At the brownstone, Dan went against the first aid kit's orders to change the dressings to see how bad the wounds really were under the patches. He inspected and cleaned each one, having to dig a bullet out of the shoulder. It was a small caliber thankfully. Three shots, five bullet holes, but nothing vital seemed to have been hit. Rorschach was exhausted and weak, so Dan was able to get some pain pills down him. He also propped him up as comfortably as possible with the threat of taking him in for a transfusion if he didn't stay that way. Once he was settled, Dan curled up against his uninjured side.
He had resisted licking the blood off Rorschach just because with all the injuries the risk of infection was higher than ever, but he could smell it. Rorschach's hand wrapped around his arm, still cold but steadier than it had been before. It gave him a tug, then a harder one when he didn't move.
"You thought I was kidding about the emergency room?" he asked, mostly teasing.
"Cold," Rorschach grated, like it was his fault.
"I can get you another blanket-"
"Want you."
"I'll squash you."
"Good."
So Dan obliged, rolling over him as gently as he could. He tried to keep his weight on his knees and elbows, but Rorschach kept pulling until they were nestled together.
"That has to be hurting you," he ventured.
"No."
"Do you remember what happened?"
"Ambush. Had to fight our way out. Got cornered. Ran out of time."
"You were shot."
"Both were. You changed. Attacked." He shifted a little, grimacing again. "Knew they couldn't hurt you. Face was damaged. Had to get other one. Couldn't call police. Might've seen you. Reported it. Intended to come back for you when moon set, but ran out of strength."
"Ran out of blood, you mean."
"I'm fine. Just tired."
"Just shot and half-frozen to death."
"Fine now."
"Thank God."
They lay that way for awhile, dozing off and on. Dan eased off Rorschach when he was sure he was asleep and went to make lunch. He ate until he was full, then made soup and cocoa for Rorschach. He woke up long enough to eat and then they slept some more. Dan got up again to heat up more dinner and to carry the tv up so Rorschach could watch the news.
"See if it says anything about us," he said, leaving a drink and a plate on the night stand. "I have to go get ready."
"What…?" Rorschach floundered to get up and Dan stopped him with a kiss.
"To lock myself in," he said. "It'll be dark soon. It's the second night. I don't dare risk being out this time."
"I can-" Rorschach began, still trying to get out of bed. Dan kissed him quiet again.
"You rest," he said. "Heal up. Eat if you can. I'll see you in the morning."
"If it was third night you could stay," Rorschach whispered.
"Not with you in this shape," Dan almost laughed. "You need to at least be able to swing a lamp at me." Rorschach grumbled, but didn't protest, even if Dan did have to pull his fingers loose. Rorschach did his best not to look forlorn as Dan left and Dan did his best not to linger any longer. He made sure the house was all locked up and headed down into the basement. It was cold down there, but he barely noticed. He had developed a ritual for taking off his clothes and folding them so that they would be there when he Changed back. It calmed him.
He shut himself in the cage and sat down in the floor. He had kept a book in here for awhile, but it hadn't survived the last month's change, so he just sat and counted his blessings until the first pangs doubled him over. It was all right, he told himself. He was safely locked in. Rorschach was safely upstairs. He didn't have to fight or hold back. It didn't make the transformation any easier or less painful, but he could let his human mind slip under the surface without the distress he used to put it through.
He woke in misery hours later. His jaws and fingers were in agony from a night of biting and clawing at the bars. As if the Change wasn't violent and exhausting enough, he had battered himself against the cage all night. He would have to check it for repairs some time today. Or just curl up in the spare cage and do repairs in the month to follow. He forced his legs under him and his back to straighten out. Bipedal, he reminded himself. Upright. You can do it.
The mechanism he had built into the bars could only be triggered by twisting his finger through a tiny lock. He had to manipulate the switch that let the other bars slide wide enough to get his arm through. From there, he could reach the door latch and let himself out. It couldn't be done with claws.
Rorschach was there in the floor, wrapped in his blanket and leaning up against the wall. Dan blinked at him for a moment, trying to process why he would be there, then groaned and sank to his knees. Rorschach held up a corner of the blanket for him and they huddled in together. Dan was shaking and sweaty from the strain of changing back. Rorschach was stiff and shivering from a second night on a cold floor. Dan curled around him and under him, getting him off the cement.
"All right?" Dan asked eventually. He had to pop his jaw to get it to work. Rorschach made an affirmative noise and Dan hugged him tighter. They would just rest a little while, he told himself. Then, a shower and then breakfast, and then they could sleep until the moon rose if they wanted. Just five more minutes. Ten minutes, tops.
"Have to go find my hat," Rorschach said after awhile. He must've been going over a mental to-do list as well.
"I'll get you a new one for Christmas," Dan promised, kissing him.
For: etherati
Title: Another Morning After
Rating: PG13
Characters: Daniel, Rorschach
Warnings: Blood
Summary: Nocturnal AU. Hopefully there's a little bit of everything on the request list.
Waking up after a Change always felt like a blow to the head had suddenly dulled all his senses. Everything throbbed. Nothing seemed as clear or fit together as well, but he didn't have any clear memories to compare it too. It was more of a nagging feeling that scents and colors should be sharper. This time, the main thing he noticed was how cold it was.
He was up to his wrists in snow, naked in an alley. His breath came in clouds. The sun wasn't up yet and even the street lights were dim in his corner. He gave himself a shake to dislodge any clinging snow and hopefully jar the memory back into place. What had happened? He should've been safely locked up at home when he Changed. Rorschach should be there.
What had been so important that he had risked staying out later? He looked around the alley, trying to remember. The snow had covered most things, but there were three cherubic faces staring at him. They were life-size baby Jesus figures from Nativity scenes and they were scattered around because…
His memory trailed off again. He curled up against his own legs to stay warmer and hide how naked he was. Baby Jesus stared on and oh God, there it was. He remembered. Drugs. Smuggled. Inside the Nativity figurines. Someone had been stealing baby Jesus from displays all over town and as trivial as it had seemed, it had led them to a larger operation.
He had to find something to cover up with. He was cold and he wasn't going to be able to wander around long before he was spotted by someone. Hopefully Rorschach. He got up carefully, leaning against the wall. The snow under him was stained red, and there were chunks that that hadn't frozen yet. There was also sticky blood in the creases of his hands. Probably his face too, if he had fed that recently. He rubbed a handful of snow over his mouth and cheeks just to be sure and limped over to the dumpster to see if there was anything he could wrap around himself.
His toe caught on something under the snow and dragged it, making him stumble. It was Rorschach's trench coat, the one with the loose shoulder strap and the fang puncture in the lapel. It was as bloody as the snow, and Dan dropped to his knees to grab it up.
It wasn't ripped by claws but there were huge patches of blood down one side of it. What had happened? He clutched it to his face to breathe in the scent. It would've been calming except for the musty, metallic smell of blood. There were holes in the stained parts. They could've been bullet holes. He racked his mind for any memory of gunshots or Rorschach falling and there was nothing. HIs last memory of his partner was on stairs, they were running down stairs. Were they being shot at?
Panic was rising in him. He had to find Rorschach and see how badly he really was hurt, had to backtrack somehow. The snow had covered whatever had happened here. Why had Rorschach left his coat? If he was hurt that badly, why didn't he use it as a tourniquet? Why was it here if he wasn't? Where was he? Where was he??
Dan had stuffed the coat into his mouth before he realized it and the taste of blood, exactly the same as the smell, reminded him how hungry he was. He had to think. He was frantic and shaky. He needed something to eat and to get himself covered so he could look for Rorschach without attracting attention. It was very early morning, he reminded himself. People would be on the streets soon, going to work or coming back from the night shift. There was only a brief window of time where a naked man could run around the street and he had to move now.
Dan broke into the first apartment he found to get some clothes and food. It was just a matter of climbing a fire escape and waiting outside a window until he heard the door inside lock. He got in easily and scarfed down the first thing he laid hands on in the fridge which was a package of ground beef. He had to hurry, but the food helped clear his head.
The clothes he found were made for someone shorter and heavier than him, but there was a black suit that wouldn't call much attention to him and at least the shoes fit. He found marks on his side while he dressed, faint, star-shaped pocks. The ones on his chest had faded out long ago, but he remembered. He had been shot. That meant that not only had he not gotten home in time, but that he had Changed during the bust. He had been seen.
Maybe it had been being shot that had triggered the Change early. Maybe seeing Rorschach hit had set him off. He grabbed up the trench coat again and hurried back out. There were no other clues in the alley.
He refused to allow himself the possibility that Rorschach might be dead, even if he had to check every lump under the snow that might be big enough to be a body. Rorschach was obviously hurt, but that meant he could be anywhere. He might've been taken to the hospital if the police had shown up. He might be home at the brownstone, trying to stitch himself up in a mirror. If he had been found by the police, he was probably in custody. If he had been found by the drug dealers, he was probably tied to a chair somewhere. He couldn't be dead. Because if he was, the sun might as well not come up.
That wasn't even allowed to be an option, but the worry ignited into rage and he was on the move again. He found a pay phone and called home to see if there was an answer. There wasn't. He called the nearest hospital about shooting victims, but they weren't much help. He bought a paper that had nothing about drug busts or captured vigilantes in it and went into a diner to watch the morning news. It didn't say anything useful either.
He found himself back in the alley. He still had the trench coat. It had Rorschach's journal in the pocket. Dan pulled it and opened it. There was their whole plan of attack, what they had known about the case, informants and contacts and the secret back door for deliveries. That was the stairs they had gone down. Dan remembered now. He couldn't resist taking a deep breath of Rorschach's scent from the book. It tasted like him too, traces of sweat and leather when he touched his tongue to the page.
Dan put it away before the rumble in his chest could rise to a growl. He hurried back to the delivery door, which swung in the wind. He went back down the stairs three at a time, already able to smell the blood. The corridor at the bottom of the stairs was littered with bullet casings and the remains of three or four badly mauled bodies. One had been torn completely in half and they were all partially devoured. None of them were Rorschach, so Dan stepped around them and kept going.
Following the trail back led the way to the ceramic mold machines used to make the Nativities. The machine was still on, but it wasn't running. There were scattered drug containers and a few smashed ceramic Jesus figures underfoot. More blood and bullet marks speckled the floor and there were shreds of his costume. He had Changed right here. WHERE WAS RORSCHACH?
He wanted to scream it, to howl until he got an answer back. He had to remember what had happened. They had gone out earlier than usual to hit this place, had given themselves lots of time to find this, shut it down, and get home. He paced the room, senses open wide for any trace of his partner. So many smells, so many different kinds of blood, and the hum of the idle machine was grating.
There! A whiff of Rorschach by the door and there was a spray of blood there too. He knelt to make sure and it did seem like Rorschach had been there. Maybe had lay there bleeding to death while his partner had rampaged. Maybe it had been Dan that had torn him open to begin with. Maybe he was gone because he had been eaten whole.
Dan was dimly aware of the string of 'No's he was whispering as he searched. He had to find his partner, find him and help him. Even if he was dead, and the whispering choked into a sob at that thought, had to find him before anyone else did. Even if he had been eaten, and the sob hitched into a gag, there should be something left. More blood down another hall, a smudge on the wall, a trail of spatters. It gave him something to follow.
He still didn't understand how he had ended up with Rorschach's coat in an alley a few streets over. Had he been chasing Rorschach and managed to snag the coat before he turned back? Had Rorschach just taken it off for whatever reason?
The sudden chirp of a police siren snapped him alert. Shit. His mind refocused on his own situation. He was up to his knees in a bloodbath at a drug lab, wearing a stolen suit. He had to get out of there, before they made their way into the building, but he might lose the trail. No, he would just have to hurry. If Rorschach had escaped this way, so could he.
An unlocked door led him to a back alley. He saw a police car go by on the street and then it stopped. If it backed up, the officer would see him leaving the scene, so he jumped, straight up to catch the edge of a window sill. From there, he spun and caught some grate work that let him swing up to a ledge. The car was backing up. Dan was out of line of sight now, but another twist and a scramble got him to the edge of the roof where he could roll completely out of sight.
Up on the roof, the wind was so cold it felt solid. Dan paced the edge, flexing and clenching his fingers. There was still no sign of where Rorschach might've gone. There was some commotion down the street which probably meant that bodies had been found. Dan stepped between some ventilation housings to get out of the wind.
He brought out Rorschach's journal again and held it under his nose, letting the paper and partner smell of it settle his nerves. There was an old brick tenement directly across from him. It looked dingy, but a few of the windows had Christmas lights up. They blinked off and on, red and green and an especially vibrant blue. One window was open and it took Dan awhile to think anything of it. There were short white curtains, and the wind had sucked them out to flutter like a white flag against the brick.
Why would a window be open in this weather? He focused on it and could see the jagged outline of the broken lock from there. He stood up and went to the edge of the roof to see closer. Was there really a faint red smear on the pane? Could it be possible that-?
He jumped before the thought finished itself. He dropped from the roof and caught the edge of a fire escape six stories down, then dropped the last five to land on all fours in the alley below. He sprinted across the street, ignoring the shouts and beeps and near misses. A glance up to count how many floors up the open window was and then he was tearing up the stairwell. He lost patience with the stairs and sprang up the railings until he got to the right floor and then he was moving down the hall at a crouch until he felt cold air rolling from under a door. It was locked, but the door was cheap and he was willing to bet the lock was too. A sturdy kick sent it vibrating open.
It was a tiny apartment, scrubbed as clean as it was likely to get, empty and unlived in, waiting for a tenant. There, curled by the closet door was Rorschach. He was bloody, and bent in a painful angle, but trying to get up, get battle-ready until he recognized Dan. There was a moment of relief like a whirlpool for both of them, frantic tension draining away so quickly that their heads spun.
"Door," Rorschach gasped, and Dan slammed it shut behind him, fastening the chain. He hurried over and all but pounced on his partner. Rorschach had grabbed Dan's goggles and utility belt before he escaped. He was trying to patch himself up with the supplies from the belt, but cold and blood loss had him shaking and he couldn't reach the one in the back of his shoulder. His mask lay torn and leaking beside him. He was freezing, probably again from losing the blood and spending a night on the floor with the windows open, and he burrowed against Dan with a groan.
"God, you scared me," Dan gasped, pawing him over to look for more injuries. Rorschach had been shot through his arm and through his side just above the hip, but that looked like a flesh wound. The one between his arm and shoulder blade was more worrisome, but it didn't look fatal either. There weren't any claw marks. Blood loss could really be the worst of it. Rorschach's good arm had hooked around him and he felt icy fingers through the stolen clothes. He pressed his face into the cold neck just to feel the pulse, jittery but there.
"You scared me," he said again.
"F-face," Rorschach said.
"What?"
Rorschach grimaced and rolled to claw at a floorboard. It pulled up with a creak.
"Used to live here," he grunted, fumbling under it. "Spare face. Needed it to go back for you. Bleeding. Had to rest."
"Oh man," Dan said, helping him. There was another mask and some old journals tucked away. He pulled them all out. "You're lucky there wasn't a new tenant."
"Hngh," Rorschach agreed. Dan scooped up the masks and books with the belt and goggles and bundled them in the stained trench coat. He pulled off the stolen suit coat to wrap around Rorschach.
"Let's get you home," he said. "See if any of it's bad enough for a trip to the hospital."
"Isn't," Rorschach said at once, but grimaced again as Dan pulled him up. They left the blood on the floor and made their way down to the street again. Dan called them a cab and they had to pass all the flashing lights and the news vans at the factory as they went by. The driver said something cheerful about the news being interesting tonight. Rorschach didn't answer so Dan had to make an agreeing noise.
At the brownstone, Dan went against the first aid kit's orders to change the dressings to see how bad the wounds really were under the patches. He inspected and cleaned each one, having to dig a bullet out of the shoulder. It was a small caliber thankfully. Three shots, five bullet holes, but nothing vital seemed to have been hit. Rorschach was exhausted and weak, so Dan was able to get some pain pills down him. He also propped him up as comfortably as possible with the threat of taking him in for a transfusion if he didn't stay that way. Once he was settled, Dan curled up against his uninjured side.
He had resisted licking the blood off Rorschach just because with all the injuries the risk of infection was higher than ever, but he could smell it. Rorschach's hand wrapped around his arm, still cold but steadier than it had been before. It gave him a tug, then a harder one when he didn't move.
"You thought I was kidding about the emergency room?" he asked, mostly teasing.
"Cold," Rorschach grated, like it was his fault.
"I can get you another blanket-"
"Want you."
"I'll squash you."
"Good."
So Dan obliged, rolling over him as gently as he could. He tried to keep his weight on his knees and elbows, but Rorschach kept pulling until they were nestled together.
"That has to be hurting you," he ventured.
"No."
"Do you remember what happened?"
"Ambush. Had to fight our way out. Got cornered. Ran out of time."
"You were shot."
"Both were. You changed. Attacked." He shifted a little, grimacing again. "Knew they couldn't hurt you. Face was damaged. Had to get other one. Couldn't call police. Might've seen you. Reported it. Intended to come back for you when moon set, but ran out of strength."
"Ran out of blood, you mean."
"I'm fine. Just tired."
"Just shot and half-frozen to death."
"Fine now."
"Thank God."
They lay that way for awhile, dozing off and on. Dan eased off Rorschach when he was sure he was asleep and went to make lunch. He ate until he was full, then made soup and cocoa for Rorschach. He woke up long enough to eat and then they slept some more. Dan got up again to heat up more dinner and to carry the tv up so Rorschach could watch the news.
"See if it says anything about us," he said, leaving a drink and a plate on the night stand. "I have to go get ready."
"What…?" Rorschach floundered to get up and Dan stopped him with a kiss.
"To lock myself in," he said. "It'll be dark soon. It's the second night. I don't dare risk being out this time."
"I can-" Rorschach began, still trying to get out of bed. Dan kissed him quiet again.
"You rest," he said. "Heal up. Eat if you can. I'll see you in the morning."
"If it was third night you could stay," Rorschach whispered.
"Not with you in this shape," Dan almost laughed. "You need to at least be able to swing a lamp at me." Rorschach grumbled, but didn't protest, even if Dan did have to pull his fingers loose. Rorschach did his best not to look forlorn as Dan left and Dan did his best not to linger any longer. He made sure the house was all locked up and headed down into the basement. It was cold down there, but he barely noticed. He had developed a ritual for taking off his clothes and folding them so that they would be there when he Changed back. It calmed him.
He shut himself in the cage and sat down in the floor. He had kept a book in here for awhile, but it hadn't survived the last month's change, so he just sat and counted his blessings until the first pangs doubled him over. It was all right, he told himself. He was safely locked in. Rorschach was safely upstairs. He didn't have to fight or hold back. It didn't make the transformation any easier or less painful, but he could let his human mind slip under the surface without the distress he used to put it through.
He woke in misery hours later. His jaws and fingers were in agony from a night of biting and clawing at the bars. As if the Change wasn't violent and exhausting enough, he had battered himself against the cage all night. He would have to check it for repairs some time today. Or just curl up in the spare cage and do repairs in the month to follow. He forced his legs under him and his back to straighten out. Bipedal, he reminded himself. Upright. You can do it.
The mechanism he had built into the bars could only be triggered by twisting his finger through a tiny lock. He had to manipulate the switch that let the other bars slide wide enough to get his arm through. From there, he could reach the door latch and let himself out. It couldn't be done with claws.
Rorschach was there in the floor, wrapped in his blanket and leaning up against the wall. Dan blinked at him for a moment, trying to process why he would be there, then groaned and sank to his knees. Rorschach held up a corner of the blanket for him and they huddled in together. Dan was shaking and sweaty from the strain of changing back. Rorschach was stiff and shivering from a second night on a cold floor. Dan curled around him and under him, getting him off the cement.
"All right?" Dan asked eventually. He had to pop his jaw to get it to work. Rorschach made an affirmative noise and Dan hugged him tighter. They would just rest a little while, he told himself. Then, a shower and then breakfast, and then they could sleep until the moon rose if they wanted. Just five more minutes. Ten minutes, tops.
"Have to go find my hat," Rorschach said after awhile. He must've been going over a mental to-do list as well.
"I'll get you a new one for Christmas," Dan promised, kissing him.