Disclaimer: I don't own Watchmen, it's plot, or any of it's characters. I only own Kimberly/The Chameleon, and the story that revolves around her.

At Midnight, All the Agents...
Part 1

There was blood on the sidewalk. No; the sidewalk was submerged in blood. Red, thick, coppery blood. It was stale, but it didn't matter how long ago the blood was spilt. This city was bathed in blood, and only now did she realise that it didn't matter. Because just as easily as the blood was spilt, it could be washed away. And there he was, some nameless man with a hose, washing away the blood of a man, Edward Blake. Nobody cared about him; he was just another statistic in this hell hole of a city.

She kept to the shadows, waiting, watching, and not knowing why. She was drawn here, that much she knew, but she just didn't know why. Who was Edward Blake? Why did that name ring a bell so close to home? Why did she care about another street pancake, when there were others who needed saving? Others who were actually alive? Why did the death of one strange man bother her? A man with flaming red hair walked through the blood, not caring that it stained his shoes, and left a trail of red death behind him. Nobody cared for this man's blood. That's why she was here. That's why she waited, watching. No, that wasn't it. She wasn't sentimental like that, if she was, she would be crazy by now. No, it was the pin, that stupid smiley faced pin. A pin she had only known one grown man to wear at all times. A man she loved the way one might love a perverted uncle, but loved none the less. But, it couldn't be, not him, never him.

'Not my Eddie.'

She would find Rorschach tomorrow.

"What's a matter, love?" Adrian Veidt, a.k.a. Ozymandias a.k.a. the smartest man in the world asked as he approached the woman he had known for 19 years, exactly half of her life. When she didn't respond, he placed his hand gently on her shoulder. She jumped at the contact, her hand flying to her chest to calm her fast beating heart. 'Something is defiantly wrong,' he thought to himself. She was always alert, never surprised, and if she was, she didn't show it. For him to be able to startle her, something must have really shaken her up.

"Was it something on the patrol last night? Sweetheart, I keep telling you that you should st– "

"No," she said sternly, turning around to face him, her dark eyes in a fierce glare, her back to the large window she was previously gazing out. Adrian let out a sigh of defeat; they'd had this conversation a million times since '77 when the Keene Act banning the 'masked vigilantes' was passed.

"I'm sorry Kimmy, but you know how I worry about you," he replied, taking her left hand in his right and pressing a kiss against the large diamond engagement ring and diamond encrusted, platinum wedding band. She preferred her first rings, both a simple gold band, the engagement ring with a modest sized diamond, but he was a millionaire now, and well, he wouldn't have her in anything less than the best.

"I know. I just, you know why I have to do it, right?"

"Yes, and you know what I think about your reasoning, but if it makes you happy, then I am happy. But as of now, I can defiantly say you are not happy. And just as your happiness brings me joy, your sadness brings me sorrow," Adrian said in a calm, soothing voice, as he moved his left hand to cradle her cheek.

"Oh Oz," she sighed, nuzzling her face into his palm "do you remember Eddie?"

"Eddie? You mean, the Comedian? Of course I remember him, that dirty basta –"

"Well I think – I think he's dead,"

"What? What do you mean?" he asked, his voice filled with surprise.

"I, last night, I was on patrol. Rorschach was somewhere else, he said he had to deal with something, and so I was by myself. I saw blood dripping, no, flowing down the sidewalk. The body had been moved, but I heard some cops talking about a man named Edward Blake." Here she took a deep breath. "I-I didn't think anything of it, but then I saw the pin, you know the one, the yellow smiley face pin, only it had blood on it, and it wasn't from the red river. It was like a single drop of blood had landed on it. It could have been on the street before, probably belonging to some stupid kid, but the blood Oz, the blood. It didn't make any sense! And then I remembered him telling me to call him 'Big Eddie,' once. Is the Comedian Edward Blake? Is my stupid, badass, son of a bitch Eddie dead?!" She broke down into tears, hugging her husband close to her.

"Oh shh shh shh, love, don't get yourself worked up over this. I'm sure it's just a coincidence. The Comedian was a strong man, I'm sure he's alright. I'm sure that's just some other Edward. Shh now, shh. It'll be okay," he soothed, rocking her back and forth.

If her face wasn't buried so deep into his chest, she would have seen the look of pain and guilt that riddled his own.

She was waiting at the usual spot; somewhere outside an abandoned factory, blending into the shadows so well she was the darkness itself. He was there, too, but like her, he was a part of the night. It always started off as a game of hide-and-seek. She knew why too. It was because he didn't like her, or any woman for that matter. He especially didn't like women in revealing clothing; he thought them all to be whores.

Although by comparison to the other women, and even some of the men who used to be a part of the team, her outfit was conservative; it showed maybe a sliver of leg where he thigh-high boots and scale like armour ended and a bit of her upper arm where her sleeve and long gloves ended. But it was tight, formfitting, and dark green leather, so to him she was a whore. A whore with a sense of morals, but a whore none the less. And so he couldn't like her. Ever. He may have been named after the psychologist, be you didn't need to be one to see his loathing for women in anything tighter than a shapeless sack. Even then he didn't like them. But they had an understanding. Two heads were better than one, well, when it came to the big things. And she hadn't given up like the rest of them. That earned her the tiniest bit of his respect, but only a tiny bit.

So they played this game, every night for eight years. Every night since the rest of the 'CrimeStoppers' gave up on the city all because of a stupid law. It also didn't help that she insisted on calling him 'Ror,' but it wasn't like her calling him by his full name would have changed anything.

She silently stalked in the darkness, soundless and invisible. She knew he was doing the same. If she walked past where he was hiding without seeing him, he would attack, that is, if he saw her. It was a matter of pride, of him showing her that he was superior and she was a whore. It was a matter of dignity, of her showing him she was more than T and A, an equal.

She watched the shadows for anything that looked out of place; not a foot or the form of a body, that would be too obvious and a trap. She fell for that once, and wouldn't ever again. But he still left them out, in the hopes that she would slip up. She saw a flash of white, but knew better than to follow it. He never slipped up, they were all just tricks. But she had some tricks too.

She bent down to the floor, feeling for any loose rocks. Her hand came into contact with a smooth, small stone. 'Perfect,' she thought. She spotted an empty, rusted paint canister, and expertly threw the stone at it. It sailed silently though the air and then hit the can, knocking it over. As it rolled on the floor she looked for signs of movement. Nothing. She then silently made her way through a broken window that was shrouded in darkness. She stayed in the frame, back against one side, both feet pressed up against the other, suspending her in midair. She looked up and that's when she saw him. He was dangling from the 20 foot ceiling, holding onto a rope near one of the multiple skylights that lined the ceiling. 'That ass,' she thought 'how the hell am I supposed to get up there without him seeing me?'

She left back out the window and looked around for something to climb. She spotted a ladder by the side of the building but knew better than to take it. If he was on the roof now, he'd be watching it. She examined the cement brick wall, and decided that it was her only way up. So she began to scale the building from the outside. Since it was so old, there were lots of bricks jutting out of the wall, giving her something to hold on to. It was tough, but she finally made it to the top of the building. Without making a sound, she walked towards the skylights, being careful that her shadow wasn't cast against one; it would give off her position. The roof was littered with chimneys and vents, providing plenty of cover, so it wasn't that hard. Just as she was nearing the broken skylight she saw Rorschach near, she was tackled from behind. She fell face-first into the hard, cement roof with a loud 'Oof!'

"Too cocky. Always need to check surroundings. Can't jump into something unprepared," a familiar gruff, monotone voice said, coming from on top of her as he grabbed for her wrist. She quickly rolled over, throwing the man she now identified as Rorschach off of her. Before she could get up, Rorschach rushed at her again, but this time she dodged it, managing to escape into the shadows once again.

"Come out Chameleon. No more time for games. You lose," Rorschach said shoving his hands in his pockets. But she didn't listen. Instead she moved through the shadows, eventually making it to the ladder that lead to the water silo. She stealthily climbed up it, and when she was high enough, she jumped off it, right onto Rorschach's back. Despite her four inch height advantage, Rorschach didn't go down. Instead he slammed her backwards into one of the exhaust ducts. She held on to him tight, trying to get him in a headlock. When she didn't let go, he grabbed her wrist and flung her over his shoulder. Once again, she landed painfully on the cement, this time on her back.

"Surrender?" Rorschach asked, looking down at her, the black blots on his face changing into what she perceived as smirk, although it couldn't have been so. The marks weren't controlled by him. Adrian had told her so, and he was always right, well about these things anyways.

"Yeah, yeah Ror, I surrender." She said, putting her hands up in a mock gesture of defeat.

"Good. Have new information. Follow," he said, starting to slink off into the night.

"Wait! Ror, hold up! I want to ask you about something I saw yesterday," she exclaimed, scrambling after him. He always made her clumsy. He made her feel 17 again, nervous, afraid, completely reckless and inexperienced. It was the one thing she didn't like about working with Rorschach, well, maybe one of the many things she didn't like about it.

"Wasted too much time already. Talk on the way," he grumbled without stopping. She matched his speed easily as they slid down the rope inside of the factory and snuck out a broken window.

"Did you hear about Edward Blake's death?" she asked. They were slinking down an alleyway when he grabbed onto a fire escape and started climbing.

"Yes. Suspicious. Fell from building. Strong windows. Had to have been thrown. Going there now for further investigation," he replied briskly. They were now jumping from rooftop to rooftop of some low class apartment buildings.

"Yes, well, I was there last night, not in the building, but around, you know? Anyways, where he fell, there was this big pool of blood, and by the pool there was a smiley face pin, like the one the Comedian always wears. I think Edward Blake was the Comedian, and now he's dead." She was sliding down a water pipe on the outside of the building while Rorschach was ahead of her, already in the shadows. If she didn't hurry up, she would lose him.

"Interesting hypothesis. Might be true, might not be. Will look into," he said as they stopped in front of the building the Chameleon had been standing outside the night before. Rorschach quickly found the pin, and picked it up. After looking at it for a moment he put it in his pocket.

"So?" she said, eagerly awaiting his opinion, although knowing he wouldn't respond. He didn't disappoint. Instead, he reached into his brown, leather trench coat and pulled out the grappling hook Nite Owl, a.k.a. Daniel Dreiberg had made for him back when the two of them were partners. She stepped back as he shot the hook expertly. Without bothering to check if the line was secure, he started to ascend towards the gaping window. The Chameleon soon followed.

They made their way into the apartment, and Rorschach immediately went into the bedroom. "Check for hidden doors," he mumbled, opening a chest of drawers.

"I know the drill Ror," she called out, staying in the main room. He just ignored her. She stepped through broken furniture, taking notice of a bloodstained, framed pin-up of a woman who looked suspiciously like Sally Jupiter. She opened the drawers of a desk, tapping the bottoms to see if they were hollow. Nothing. As she looked at the desktop she noticed a picture. Picking it up, she saw what looked like the younger version of what could have been the Comedian, but must have been Edward Blake.

"Hey Ror, do you think this guy-" the Chameleon started as she walked into the bedroom; however she drifted off when she saw Rorschach. On the floor at his feet was the complete costume of the Comedian.

"No..." she whispered.

"Your theory correct. Blake is the Comedian," Rorschach said when he saw her. That was the last straw for her though. She dropped the picture, and it hit the ground, the frame shattering upon impact with the floor.

"No, no, no, no, no! No!" she yelled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Not Eddie, No. No, no, no! Not Eddie, it can't be Eddie. He, oh my God, but who...why...how? No, it can't be Eddie. I-I-I have to go now. I-I-I have...Oz! I-I have to see Oz. H-he'll know what to do. He-he-he always knows what to do. I have to go see Oz!" she stuttered, trying to muffle her sobs. With a hand over her mouth, she ran out of the bed room and slid down the rope. When her feet hit the ground, she broke off into a run, but still had enough sense to stick to the darkness. It was her instincts that lead her back to Veidt Tower, back to her home.

She made her way through the secret entrance Adrian had made for her when the tower was built. Going through the hidden passageways, she finally made her way up to the top-most floor, where her and Adrian's private quarters and his office were.

She burst into the bedroom, her head frantically whipping back and forth, looking for her only form of comfort, the man she married fifteen years ago. When she didn't see him, she got herself into more of a panic. "Oz! Oz! Where are you? Oz?"

At the sound of his frantic wife's voice, Adrian came rushing in from his office and into the bedroom. When she saw him, her knees buckled, but before she could hit the ground, Adrian had her in his arms.

"Shh shh shh, what's wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?" he asked frantically, looking over her body to see if she had any injuries. When he noticed she was fine, he pulled her closer to his chest, and began rocking her back and forth.

"O-O-O-O-Oz. Oz – I – he – I mean – Oh Oz!" she cried, not making any sense at all.

"Shh, calm down, it's okay. You're safe now. Nothing can hurt you, I'm here," he soothed, but she just shook her head frantically.

"N-n-no, not t-that. E-Ed-die, t-the Come-me-dian, is...he's gone Adrian, he's gone f-forever!" she cried.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Kimmy, I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry," he repeated, his words meaning more than just condolences, but she didn't know that. "Come on love, let's get you out of that and into bed. Then I'll get you some tea, alright?"

"N-no, don't leave me Adrian, don't leave me a-alone," she pleaded, looking up at him for the first time. Her dark brown eyes were red and full of tears, which slid over her high-cheekbones and down to her chin. Her small but full lips were quivering, and it took everything within him not to start crying too.

"I'd never leave you darling, never in a million years," he said, whipping away her tears, although more came to fill the void. He carefully took off her dark green, almost black mask that only covered her eyes, and pulled down the hood of her costume, her straight, bright red hair sprung out from underneath. He then removed the scale covered rerebraces, couters, gauntlets, breast plate, and thigh-high greaves, placing them on the floor. He then unzipped her steel-toed boots, pulling them off. Next came the leather gloves, and then the almost teddy-like body piece.

When he was done she was left in her bra and underwear. He scooped her up into his arms, and then gently laid her on the bed, before removing his cloths save his underwear and crawling under the covers with her. He pulled her tightly into his chest, and she nuzzled her face into him. After a while, her violent sobs calmed down into quiet sniffles, and then into the deep breaths of slumber.