It has been a long time since either of them have had it this bad. Perhaps it has never been worse.

Nite Owl has never witnessed his partner crying before. He isn't certain that's what this is, but those sounds that Rorschach makes, he has heard them all enough to be able to give each its own meaning.

And the short, chipped 'hunhh' means 'pain' and it is uttered so frequently by the time they reach Archie that, despite their faintness, Nite Owl can practically hear him weeping.

//

It takes quite a bit of prompting to get Rorschach to take his arm out of his pocket. It's practically wrapped up in it and his trench around that.

Dan Dreiberg is more than grateful that the bleeding has stopped. And more than that, he's grateful that Rorschach never once argues, that he even lets Dan help him remove his trench and suit jacket. Dan is grateful that Rorschach lets him touch him at all.

//

But he has no choice.

//

Kovacs is hyper-aware of everything. That he is drenched in wet, sick cold that makes him hurt. That he can't feel his fingers and that they hurt. That his left suspender is a little but tighter on his shoulder than the right one. And it hurts!

He gnaws at his glove, balled up between his teeth so that he doesn't break them. Daniel resets his broken wrist and informs him in a quiet, apologetic tone that there is a lot of damage that he can't fix and that they will need to call Jon in the morning.

He nods. He can't look. He doesn't want to watch his life go up in flames by seeing and acknowledging what he already knows: the tendons have been severed and the appendage has been rendered useless.

He may never have use of his hand again.

His left hand.

//

More than just Walter's body is crippled.

//

"C-can call Doctor Manhattan tuh-- Hnh. Unh. T-tonight?"

"It's almost four in the morning, Rorschach. I'm not gonna--"

"Henh. Does he s-s-sleep?"

Dan sees him smile but it's all teeth, like a snarl, like a wounded animal.

//

He calls after helping Rorschach upstairs into the bathroom.

//

Dan is calm as he listens to the muted dial-tone through the receiver.

It really bothers him that he is so calm. He wonders if it might make him feel better if he were to freak out a bit.

But he'd snapped earlier. Nite Owl had stumbled upon the scene to find his partner in pain, whimpering and trembling in the hands of his captors. And he'd lost it. Dan might have killed a man tonight. He doesn't know. He can't bring himself to care just yet. And that doesn't make him feel better. Not at all. Not one little bit.

//

It's Laurie that answers.

And Dan already knows that Jon wont be able to come. If Rorschach isn't dying, she won't to send her boyfriend over in the middle of the night to fix him, even if he can be both places at once. So Dan doesn't ask. He just tells Laurie that he will call Jon tomorrow and that he's sorry for waking her.

Really, he is.

//

Dan makes his way upstairs.

Rorschach cannot possibly be finished in the shower yet. By the sound of it (or rather, the lack of sound of it), Rorschach has opted for a bath instead.

Dan cannot possibly help but check on him.

He knocks on the door, rapping his knuckles lightly, and turns the knob with his left hand, with a simple dexterity that his partner may never have again.

He pokes his head into the bathroom just in time to see Rorschach sit back up, pulling the discarded dress shirt over his lap. He's sitting on the toilet, naked save for his wife-beater, and the bathtub is filled with crystal clear, untouched water. And Rorschach's ruined arm is just... there, resting on his thigh, lame and pale and lifeless. A glaringly ugly thing.

"Water is too hot," Rorschach explains in frustration.

And Dan is almost certain now that Rorschach has been crying. He can tell by the way he carefully turns his face so that Dan can't see the his cheeks where the mask is rolled up, by the way every breath hitches on something like a sob, by the way that he is trembling with such violence that Dan can see it from the doorway.

"Can't get my shirt off," Rorschach tells him finally, as if it's the worst of his problems.

//

An it's all that Walter can take. He hunches over and finally lets himself go. The mask bubbles as a sob, a real one, finally escapes him and he rips it off in anger, tossing it away. He can hear Daniel gasp but doesn't look at him. It doesn't matter. Not anymore.

Doctor Manhattan can do wonders, miracles even, if he wants to. But the fact of the matter is that he doesn't want to. He doesn't want anything. He doesn't do anything. Why would he do anything to help me?

'Funny thing is,' the Comedian had told him once, 'Blue Balls over there could make it so that the world doesn't need people like us to run around n' try n' fix shit. But he doesn't. He just lets us fuck it up worse and tells us we're doomed five minutes before the axe drops.'

It's over. Life as he knows it.

Over.

//

Dan isn't sure what to do at first. Surely standing there, frozen and gawking like an idiot is not the right answer. But he is at a loss. Still, anything is better than nothing and he knows that he has to do something.

Dan pushes the door open a bit more and shuffles closer, stepping past this man who is his partner and sitting slowly on the side of the tub.

He doesn't look at Rorschach, not directly. It's a shame, because he has longed for years for his partner to reveal his real face to him. But Dan isn't so certain that he wants to see it anymore. Things are bad enough already and Rorschach is falling apart. Dan doesn't know if he can deal with so much humanity from this otherwise dispassionate and tenacious man. He can't bear to see this weakness in him. But neither can he stand by and leave him to flounder.

Dan cinches closer and reaches out to him, hazarding a glance at this man he doesn't know. He places a tentative hand on his shoulder, moving to slip that same hand across his back, an arm around his shoulders.

And then Rorschach is lunging into Dan's chest, almost knocking him into the bathtub. His hands squeeze Dan's sides a bit too hard, clinging to him like they are- like he is- being torn apart. And Dan doesn't know what he hell else to do but let him.

He carefully brings his other arm fully around his broken friend, holding him firmly, securely. And he is still so damn calm. Dan dips his chin to a mess of vibrant red hair and closes his eyes as quiet whimpers and laments and sniffles echo off the ceramic tiles.

//

Tens of minutes pass and Rorschach isn't crying anymore. He's still making that- hohn- that sound but the tears on Dan's shirt have dried. He's still shaking, practically humming in vibration and he hasn't pushed Dan away from him yet, but he has calmed considerably. And Dan can finally speak. But he doesn't.

He slides his hand over his partner's back in slow, careful circles, so that when his fingers curl under Rorschach's wife-beater, it doesn't shock him too badly. Rorschach doesn't respond but to sit up as Dan carefully peels the undershirt off.

It's a struggle, getting his right arm and his head out of it without looking at him. His left arm is easier, however. Although Dan really does not want to look at it, he wants even less to hurt him and he puts his single attention on it.

//

Walter watches Daniel. Watches the way he wont look at him. He doesn't know whether to feel touched or angry or... Anything.

He also can't help but wonder what this injury, this handicap, will mean for the two of them, if they will ever see each other again after this. If he knew Daniel, and he liked to think that he did, their few short years of partnership and even fewer of friendship wouldn't go to waste. At least, not on Daniel's watch. He would try in vain to find some way for Walter to still be a part of this world and Rorschach would only grow more distant now that Walter had failed his ideal.

And the rest of him? He will likely lose his job as well; after all, he can't sew with only one hand. His landlord will kick him out because he can't pay for rent and he will have to find a new place to work and live, but who the hell is going to hire a gimp anyway and who would rent a flat to a useless crippled unemployed mutt and jesusandhesonlytwentyeightyearsold

Walter yelps as Daniel strokes a warm, wet hand down his back. The surprise and the pain that follow his reflexive jolt shock him out of his implosive thoughts. He stares hard at Daniel, who is finally venturing to look at him a bit more, though he makes it no higher than Walter's cheeks.

"It should be fine now," Daniel tells him, scooping another handful of water and moving his hand from Walter's shoulder down to his arm.

Daniel's eyes turn away and he nudges Walter to sit up again. Walter flusters and moves to better cover his bare lap once more, his cheeks burning bright as he realizes his exposed nudity.

Daniel doesn't seem to notice as he stands, then crouches to pick up Rorschach's face, holding it out to him. "Do you need help getting in?"

Walter stares at the latex, watching it swirl dully in the heat of Daniel's fingertips. He takes it from him. "Don't think so."

Daniel nods and moves to the door. "I'll be right down the hall in my room if you need anything, okay, Buddy?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I'm gonna throw your clothes in the wash too," Daniel says and stoops to pick those up as well. "You're staying the night tonight, right?" And then Daniel looks up at him, meeting his eyes as Walter stares back, unabashedly. Daniel seems unaffected by his plain, ugly features, looking him over briefly then respectfully settling on his eyes again.

Walter nods slowly. "Yes."

//

Dan smiles softly. "Good."

When he moves to leave, Rorschach has a grip on his shirt, keeping him from standing. "Daniel..."

"Yeah?" Dan asks and looks at him again, seeing his brows purse and his eyes... He doesn't know for certain what it is he see there, what is behind those eyes, but he can see something.

"Thank you."