There was once a time when Jackie thought she was above drowning her sorrows. She'd started drinking when she was sixteen, sneaking beer from her parents' stash- the bottles they kept in a box in their closet next to the condoms. She isn't a complete prude- she'd gotten drunk and had suffered her fair share of hangovers. But never before had she drank to run away.
"Fuck," she whispers into the bottle, her breath ghosting down the neck to create an eerie howl. She smirks bitterly and shakes her head. "Fuck," she repeats and takes another drink.
She's never drank at Dan's house before this. Sometimes she can get away with sneaking a few bottles but she never drinks here. It's a night of firsts for Jaclyn Lacy.
She finishes the bottle quickly, drowning her tongue with the flavor she can no longer taste. This is her third...or is it her fourth? She shakes her head, wondering idly if she can walk without assistance.
Rorschach will not be pleased. Dan never cares if she drinks or not- he is not the reason she's never enjoyed a fresh beer here after patrol. But Rorschach...Rorschach hates that she drinks anyway, but so long as she never does it in front of him- or talks about it, for that matter- he is content to berate her for other things.
Like Vicki.
Jackie curls her lip in disgust and goes to take another sip from her bottle, forgetting it's empty. A single drop plunks onto her lower lip and she swips at it with her tongue, glaring accusingly at the bottle.
"Bullshit," she spits and tosses the bottle aside. It twirls almost gracefully into the other empty bottles, standing like sentries at a battle post, and knocks them over like bowling pins. One clatters to the floor and explodes into dozens of spinning brown crystals. Jackie watches them for a moment, entranced, until she hears a loud rush down in the basement.
The boys are back from patrol.
"Oops," she whispers to the pieces of glass, as though sharing a secret. A laugh hisses through her teeth and she carefully tries to stifle it, shoving out of Dan's rickety kitchen chair.
Immediately she nearly sinks back into it. "Shit!" she hisses and throws an angry glare at the chair.
The room doesn't spin, but it does move in a slow and deliberate dance that Jackie tries to keep up with. She shuffles to the corner of the kitchen where an old broom leans against the wall. Before she can reach it, however, the basement door creaks open.
"Jackie," Dan says, blinking in surprise. He has already taken off his uniform and his hair is mussed from his cowl. Behind him, Rorschach stares at her silently, inkblots churning restlessly.
She smiles and stumbles toward them. "I...I decided to wait for you," she explains, leaning heavily on Dan's chest.
"You're drunk," he states, easing her gently back toward the chair.
"Shh!" she urges and points at Rorschach. "Don't tell him! He's a stick-in-the-mud."
Dan only nods, sitting her down. "I know, I know," he murmurs.
Jackie glares at him, suddenly aware of where he is putting her. "You know, for someone as rich as you," she begins stringently, "you'd think you'd invest in better furniture."
"Yeah, you'd think that," Dan agrees, grabbing the broom and the dust pan. Jackie watches, still smiling, as he kneels before her and cleans up the mess of glass. After a moment, she reaches out and touches the top of his head, stroking her fingers through his hair. "You have lovely hair," she croons, rocking from side to side.
"I have a special shampoo I use," Dan replies absently and carries the glass pieces to the trash can. When he turns around, he smiles at Jackie. "Now what do you say I take you upstairs and you get some sleep, okay?"
Jackie smiles back. "Okay," she agrees easily, reaching for him in an embarrassingly childish gesture she will regret in the morning.
Dan takes her hands in his and helps her to her feet, then wraps one arm around her shoulder as she staggers heavily against him. He turns to Rorschach. "Laurie's number is on the fridge," he murmurs in a low tone. Then, gripping Jackie tightly, he strides out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
Jackie drifts down the hall with him in a blurry haze, giggling and muttering things to him. She isn't fully aware of what she's saying, and won't remember in the morning anyway.
She only barely remembers Dan lifting her into bed and wrapping the thick comforter around her.
~r.~
The creak of the door as it opens impales Jackie's ears. She groans but refuses to open her eyes.
Someone flips on the light in the bedroom. It gathers on her eyelids and the blood pulsing heavily behind her skull. She groans again.
"Turn off the light," she grumbles.
There is a moment of silence. Then footsteps as someone comes closer.
A moment later, something splashes onto her face, jarring her out of her stupor. With a gasp, she sits up in bed, choking on the liquid that has splashed into her mouth and nostrils- coffee, she realizes. Eyes wide with shock, her startled gaze lands on Rorschach standing a few feet from the side of her bed.
"What the hell was that for?" she demands breathlessly.
"Heard coffee was good for hangovers," he replies.
She groans once more, pressing her hand against her temple as though she can force the pain away. "You're an asshole," she mutters. At least the coffee was cold, she thinks to herself.
"You were pathetic last night," Rorschach replies. His voice remains relaxed, and yet he somehow manages to sound scathing. The disapproval rolls off of him in waves and much as she tries to ignore it, she feels the shame creeping up her spine.
"You always know just what to say, Rorschach," she mutters. She shakes her head and immediately regrets the sudden movement.
"Stop joking, Jaclyn," he snaps.
"Oh, calm down, Rory, I just had a few drinks-"
"Four."
She glares at him. "Yeah. Four. Get the fuck over it," she growls.
"You chose drinking over patrolling," he rumbles. "Last night, you were no better than the rest of the scum in this city. Lives were lost last night. Tell them to get over it."
Guilt accompanies the shame, weighing heavily on Jackie's shoulders. She hangs her head and nods. "I...I know, Rorschach, and I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I just...Vicki and I got into a fight and she...told me she never wanted to see me again." The pain of the memory brings tears to Jackie's eyes but she fights them back.
"No excuse," Rorschach growls, but his voice- by infinitesimal increments- is softer. "The city needs you."
She nods, looking up at him without blinking. "Yeah."
"Will expect to see you out there with us tonight."
"Okay."
Though she cringes at the thought.
Then another thought crosses her mind, a memory, and she furrows her brow. "Last night...when Dan was, er, helping me out of the kitchen..." She trails off, for a moment overcome by embarrassment. It was bad enough getting shitfaced in front of Dan. But Rorschach?
He nods. "Go on," he commands.
"Dan said that Laurie's number was on the fridge," she continues and raises an eyebrow curiously. "Did you call her?"
The idea seems ludacris in her mind, a near impossibility. But in her mind she can hear Dan's voice, the seriousness in it.
Rorschach tenses but does not hesitate. "Yes," he responds. "Met her on patrol last night. Dan offered to help her with a case she's been chasing." The clear displeasure in Rorschach's voice borders on mutiny. Jackie struggles not to smirk.
His pure loathing of Laurie Jupiter...and her mother...and women, in the abstract...was not lost on her. Hell, it had taken almost three years before Rorschach warmed up to her, and she considers herself lucky it happened at all. It's not all women, she knows. Once in a blue moon he finds one he thinks is honorable. But he still doesn't trust them and he certainly never associates with them.
"What case?" Jackie inquires.
"New Underworld lech. Lightning Jack. Ran the market for five years on heroin. Has a new trade but we're not sure what it is," Rorschach responds.
"Brings home the bacon, though?"
Rorschach nods. "In the hundreds of thousands."
Jackie nods thoughtfully. "Obviously illegal."
"Obviously."
She grimaces at his dry tone. "Okay, you don't have to get all fucking snarky with me," she grumbles. "I think it's time you left."
"Probably right. Patrol in two hours."
Jackie stifles another groan and instead looks hopefully at the coffee cup in Rorschach's hand. "I'll need some coffee to shake off this hangover. Do you think you could warm up a cup for me?" she inquires sweetly.
Rorschach snorts and tosses her the cup, which she barely catches. "It's your fault you're hungover," he says, turning to leave. "Warm up your own coffee."
Gritting her teeth, she rolls clumsily out of bed. "Worth a try," she mutters at his retreating form.
"Oh, and Jaclyn."
Jackie pauses and looks up. Rorschach's body is halfway out the door, his head turned toward her.
"Always thought Vicki was a whore anyway."
A surprised grin spreads across Jackie's face. "You think everyone's a whore," she teases.
"Only the women you date," Rorschach replies and walks out.
The smile stays with Jackie all two hours she spends preparing for patrol.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, all! So, after all this time, I've decided to try out a new story! I don't know if I'll finish it, but we'll see how you all like it and then continue from there. Please read and review!