Title: In God's Hands
Author: IndigoNight
Summary: It ended not with a bang, but with a simple nod.
Feedback: Yes please, yay reviews!
Pairing: Rorschach/Dan
Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen or the characters I'm just borrowing them for fun.
Spoilers: Not really
Warnings: Slash.
Author's Note: Ah, I love these two so much. It made me really sad to write this. If you've never heard the song In God's Hands by Nelly Furtado you really need to either go listen to it or else just go read the lyrics before reading this, or you probably won't quite get it. And it's a really beautiful song. Anyways, considering possible sequel, what do you thing? Read, review,
Enjoy!
Its quiet, early pre-dawn light just beginning to creep in through the curtains. Dan liked the quite, these few silent moments gets before the city woke to its busy bustling day.
He sat quietly with his back pressed against the headboard of his bed, sheet draped loosely around his waist. The only sound in the room was the soft snuffling snore of the bed's other occupant.
Rorschach was curled up on his side, back to him. He too wore a sheet push down to his waist, his mask folded up over his nose so that only the lower half of his face was visible.
Dan contemplated him quietly. His thin, but strong body; scarred in several place and covered in freckles. Dan knew the story behind some of the scars, wounds from Rorschach's own personal war that he himself had patched up, but others were a mystery to him, tales from the man's past that he would never tell.
Dan had never met anyone else quite like Rorschach and he doubted he ever would; sometimes he prayed he wouldn't, one was more than he could handle. It had taken him years to even find a crack in the man's defenses, and even long to convince him to let his partner in just a little. He'd never let Dan see what was under his mask, and Dan didn't think he ever would. Even as they made love, the mask was a permanent barrier between them.
God knew that he'd tried. Tried to get through to Rorschach, tried to convince him to come out of hiding, tried to earn his trust, and when that had failed he'd tried to ignore it, to love him anyway. But he was tired of trying, tired of fighting for something that Rorschach didn't seem to care about. Not anymore at least. More than just the impending Keene act was pulling them apart.
Dan almost hoped the act passed, he was tired, ready for a normal life. The only reason he'd stuck with it this long was because he knew Rorschach would never give it up, and without Nite Owl around as an excuse, Rorschach wouldn't have anything to do with him. His dreams of greeting his lover at the door with a kiss while dinner simmered on the stove, then curling up with him on the couch for a quiet evening of TV watching or some such would simply never come true.
A heavy weight in his chest he shook himself from his musing and got up silently. Rorschach stirred restlessly, but didn't wake. In the kitchen Dan started the coffee brewing and got out the ingredients for oatmeal. He hummed to himself as he cooked breakfast, only half listening to the morning news which he'd turned on in background.
Before long he heard the unmistakable sounds of Rorschach getting dressed in the bedroom. Dan knew he couldn't sneak out without saying goodbye, something Rorschach had attempted several times in the beginning of their relationship, since the entrance to the basement was in the kitchen, so he waited.
"Morning," he said with false cheer as the masked man entered. Rorschach merely grunted in response. He'd already pulled his mask all the way down over his mouth, scarf tucked in neatly around his neck and gloves covering his freckled hands.
"Want some breakfast?" Dan asked, already knowing the answer.
"No." Rorschach was heading without pause toward the basement door, not lingering.
Dan used to wonder where he always rushed off to, tried to stall him for as long as possible, tried to convince him to eat with him. He didn't know what Rorschach did when not fighting crime, where he lived. He used to worry about him, afraid he just wondered the streets, even in the wet and cold, worried that he wasn't eating or that he might get sick. He didn't worry anymore. He didn't have the energy to try.
Rorschach's hand was on the basement door when one word in the newscaster's voice made them both freeze.
"In other news," the TV's speakers reported, "The Keene act was passed in Washington late yesterday afternoon outlawing masking heroes…"
Even as the man continued talking, it seemed as though the entire house had fallen deathly silent. Rorschach's head was turned toward the TV, but Dan was certain he wasn't actually seeing it.
"It's over then, I guess," Dan said softly, trying to ignore the mixture of pain and relief rising inside his chest.
To most people the swirling inkblots of Rorschach's face were inscrutable, but after so many years Dan could read every subtle twitch. So he saw Rorschach's jaw tighten, could almost feel the look in his eyes hard as his shoulders drew up stiffly. "Never over," the gravelly voice said.
"It is for me."
The silence was tense, unbearably heavy, but Dan waited it out. He half expected Rorschach to get angry, a small part of him even hoping for it, for him to yell, to strike out, something to fight for what they'd had. But he didn't. There was no sign he was even in the slightest upset. He simply nodded, nothing more than a subtle jerk of the head and opened the basement door.
"Goodbye, Daniel."
Then he was gone. And it was truly over.