The Watchmen universe and characters are the property of Alan Moore and DC Comics. I'm not making any money here, so please don't sue me!
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Adrian Veidt thought to himself that they must be the only couple ever to actually watch a drive-in movie.
Much to his frustration, his wiry, red-haired companion did not so much as touch him during the show. Walter merely sat and started fixedly at the screen, chewing his popcorn in a bovine way. If he had rented out the drive-in, as he had originally considered, Adrian might have pressed the issue; but renting would only have attracted attention. This way, he—Adrian--could be anonymous. Still, he had at least expected a little flirtation—perhaps a hand on his upper thigh, some reason to be encouraged. A he sat, watching Walter more than the movie, Adrian himself did nothing, knowing that even an overture invisible to the nearby patrons might be rewarded with a broken nose.
It was a science-fiction double feature. As the first black-and-white film drew to an end, with pie pans spinning off into a construction-paper void, Adrian stretched and unhooked the speaker from the door.
"You know what?" he said. "I'm still hungry."
"But you've had popcorn," Walter said, as he finished chewing. He had cut Adrian no slack at all earlier, grabbing an extra tub and gruffly dumping half of the popcorn into it.
"I know, but now I need some protein to even out the carbs," Adrian said, trying to sound disapproving. "I'm getting one of those hot dogs. Did you want anything?"
"Yeah, I'll take one of those," Walter said coolly.
Adrian himself did not eat much—breakfast was usually the biggest and sometimes the only meal of the day. He could make himself eat for social occasions, however—and the truth was that Walter had exclaimed over the hot dogs when they had picked this place.
Adrian knew that Walter did not think of this excursion in the same way that he did. He would never let himself think that way, even if they both knew how things would end—and how they had ended before. This night had been designed for Walter, however: things that he enjoyed, or had at one time. Adrian recalled how sad it had made him the week before to hear Walter tell the story of the little girl, and explain why he demanded to be called Rorschach, even when out of his mask.
Be that as it may, my friend, he had said, one must feel alive sometimes. And so a plan had been hatched.
To Adrian's surprise, Walter got out of the car with him, following at a few paces, head down like a hesitant puppy. He thrust his hands in his jacket and stood back as Adrian waited in line. When Adrian made his order, he spoke loudly--his manner, jovial, his cadence and intonation, not his own. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that his ploy had worked: his friend's lips were pursed, on the verge of cracking up.
"That was a good Dan Dreiberg impression," Walter said as Adrian walked back to him.
"Glad you liked it," Adrian replied, handing Walter the hot dog and the drink he had gotten to go with it.
"Well, the glasses help."
"This is true," Adrian conceded as he slipped the frames back into his jacket pocket. Humor hadn't been his only purpose in the disguise, however. If the woman at the concession stand had been convinced, for a second, that she had seen the famous Adrian Veidt, she was now convinced that she had not.
The conversation lulled as they strode back to the car. Adrian spoke first, as Walter began eating his hot dog.
"What did the Zen Buddist say to the hot dog vendor?"
" 'Make me one with everything.'"
"Right. 'That'll be $1.50' says the vendor. The Buddhist gives him two bucks, and gets nothing back. 'Where's my change?' he asks. What does the hot dog vendor say?"
"Dunno, haven't heard that part."
" 'All change must come from within'."
Walter actually cracked a fractured smile, as he dusted off his hands tossed the hot dog wrapper in a nearby trash can. "You've been spending too much time with The Comedian."
"That would hardly seem difficult," Adrian replied.
Walter snorted. He looked up at the screen as they got back to the car, at the second movie which was beginning. Adrian was reluctantly reached for the window speakers, but Walter held out his hand. "You know what? Let's go. I've seen this one."
Thank the Gods, Adrian thought, but merely said, "Very well."
*****
When they got back to Adrian's penthouse hotel room, Rorschach followed him inside without any discussion. The lights were low, and classical music was playing softly in the background. They were on Adrian's turf, and Adrian's tastes would rule now. It wasn't quid pro quo—it was just the natural order of things.
"Would you like something to drink?" Adrian asked. "There's champagne, wine, whiskey, scotch..."
"Just wanter, thanks," Rorschach replied.
The other man took a seat on the couch as Adrian poured—first the water, then a flute of champagne for himself. The champagne earned a dubious look from Rorschach as Adrian came back over with the drinks.
"Well, that was nice," Adrian said. "I'd never been to a drive-in before."
"Mm-hmm. Told you."
Adrian considered continuing the small talk—commenting on the movie and so forth—but the first swig of champagne killed the chatter on his lips. No need to be fake, he told himself; all pretense would be over soon enough.
Sure enough, Rorschach sat his water glass down on the coffee table after just a few drinks, regarding it as if it were going to tell him something. He turned to Adrian and kissed him—a hard, grinding, aggressive kiss.
The experience was at least somewhat familiar to Adrian by now, but it still caught him off guard. His senses filled with his companions masculine scent—distinctive but pleasant, and carrying the barest hint of familiar cologne. Whiskers scraped the skin of his face. As the older man moved to straddle him, Adrian submissively stretched his legs out on the couch.
Rorschach pinned Adrian's right shoulder down with one hand, and fondled the collar of his silk polo shirt with the other.
"Such fancy clothes," he said, "such fancy fuckin' clothes." He leaned down close to Adrian's ear. "You're the type of person who was made for these clothes. I'd like to tear them off of you, but I don't guess you'd appreciate that."
Adrian realized at this point that he was hard. He had forgotten what an effect this man's voice could have on him.
He managed to sit up and get just enough space to pull his shirt off over his head, His gaze connected with Rorschach's an instant afterwards. Rorschach had undone Adrian's belt in the meantime, and now whipped it off. This stung, but Adrian stifled his wince.
Rorschach had just gotten down Adrian's zipper—on jeans that were hardly ever worn—when the younger man leaped and turned the table on him, pinning at the other end of the couch, both wrists under Adrian's knees. Again, green eye locked with blue ones as Adrian slowly loosened the other man's skinny tie, and unbuttoned his checked shirt. Rorschach cooperated long enough to shrug the shirt off his shoulders when that was done.
Once again, Adrian had to pause to marvel at his compatriot's body. The skin was tan and weathered, and as freckled as you would expect with a redhead. His frame had a wiry strength, with hard, dense chest and shoulder muscles, but obvious clavicle and ribs. There were numerous small scars, and even a few burns, ranging from old and brown to fresh and pink.
"You really are beautiful," Adrian murmured
Rorschach frowned. "You don't have to say that. It makes you sound like a faggot."
Adrian shrugged. "I suppose I am. I mean it, anyway."
Next thing he knew, Adrian was on the tile floor next to the couch, the wind knocked out of him. It didn't escape his notice that while there was a hand at his throat, another had gone behind his head to keep him from cracking it open.
"Oh, yeah? Well that's not me." Rorschach countered gruffly. "I'm no degenerate like Silhouette. This? This is just us. It's just a thing."
"I don't give a fuck what you call it," Adrian said, "as long as you keep doing it."
Here, Adrian felt Rorschach's hand loosen from his throat, and slowly trail trail two fingers down the middle of his torso. It was all Adrian could do not to arch his back in response. The touch stopped, however, just short of his navel.
"So fucking perfect," Rorschach said, almost as if to himself. "Half the times I think that's why I do this—just to see those feathers ruffled for once. How did you do it?" he asked. "How'd you do what you did for so long without getting hurt?"
"I told you," Adrian replied, through a brain swimming with distraction, "I can have armor made for you, too. As good as anyone has. Relying on used Kevlar--"
Rorschach shook his head. "I do just fine without your help, thanks."
"Is that so?" Adrian asked, rubbing one hand up Rorschach's inner thigh. "I'm guessing that you want my help plenty right now. Let's find out."
But Rorschach grabbed his hand and pinned it to the floor, reaching to finish removing Adrian's pants with his other hand. His feet were between Adrian's knees this time, though, rather than straddling, so Adrian fought to regain the advantage. He wrapped his legs around the other man and pulled him forward with his free hand. This caused Rorschach to lose his balance and let up on Adrian's wrist. Then it was Adrian's turn to try and relieve the form now on top of him of its jeans.
Rorschach responded by biting Adrian on the shoulder—with teeth, but not with so much pressure as to actually do damage. It was a move meant more to distract than anything else, and judging from the cry that came from Adrian, it succeeded. Rorschach slipped free of the scissor-hold, his face on fire with triumph. His smile was all predatory curiosity.
Standing quickly, he grabbed Adrian by the wrists and dragged him a few feet onto the Persian rug just beyond the coffee table. Adrian was curious enough about his plan to allow this to happen.
"A little more comfortable for you," Rorschach said, taking a few steps back.
"Why, thank you," Adrian said sarcastically, doubting that he was the only one who preferred a softer surface.
Rorschach slipped off his jeans—which were almost falling down anyway—revealing plain gray flannel boxers underneath. His face was flushed from exertion and he, too, was clearly already excited.
"Now you," he said, gesturing at Adrian with his nose. Adrian obediently slipped off his pants and threw them clear of the rug. Rorschach shifted his weight to one foot, crossed his arms over his chest and regarded his partner.. The overall effect made Adrian's feel like his heart stopped for a second.
"Now turn over." Adrian complied, and soon felt the Rorschach's slight weight settle around him again, just above his knees. He bit him again, on the ball of the shoulder, this time without teeth. Then he shifted up the shoulder just a bit. By this time, Adrian had the idea, and raised up enough to bow his head, offering up sensitive spot at the base of his neck. He cried out when Rorschach obliged.
"There we go," Adrian heard him say. "Heh. Never difficult to figure out what you like."
He proceeded down Adrian's body, nipping at his ribs, at his side, at his spine as he arched in response. Adrian gradually pulled his knees underneath him and stretched his arms out before him. The other man tauntingly varied the sharpness and intensity of his bites based on Adrian's gasps, moans and other reactions.
Then came the sensation of one finger, massaging the outside of a very sensitive area through the satin of Adrian's black boxer shorts .
Adrian lay there and submitted to this, but just for a moment. Then he pulled away and turned, sitting up again. Rorschach was crouched across from him now. In one quick movement, Adrian swept the other man's feet out from under him, then pulled him onto his back on the rug.
"Don't dish it out," he told him, "if you can't take it."
"Hey," Rorschach warned, as Adrian knelt at his feet, "don't forget the rules..!"
"I won't," Adrian said. He slowly worked his way up his companion's lower body, biting first one leg and then the other with the same sort of gentle, mostly-toothless bites. He moved from the shins up to the inner thighs, reveling in the slight feeling of resistance as he moved the knees further apart, reveling further to feel it give away. With his hands, he applied pressure to strategic spots on the sides of the ankles. He paused in this, slowly stealing up to pull down the waistband of the shorts just slightly. He slowly licked one long, horizontal stretch just above the hairline—the most he imagined he could get away with. Eyes closed, Rorschach writhed slightly under this attention, and whispered Adrian's name.
It was Adrian's turn to light up with triumph, and his turn to lean close to the other man's ear. "Now that's what I like to hear," he said, with a purr that would have made his pet lynx proud.
"That's enough", Rorschach said gruffly, panting and raising one hand. "That's enough, that's enough."
Adrian was not sure whether it was some hang-up or merely sensory overload that brought on that plea—most likely some combination of both. Either way, he sat back and waited, a few feet away, as the moment passed. His partner's breathing returned to normal and his arms and hands relaxed. Rorschach sat up, and appeared to be about to say something, but Adrian sprang to his feet and extended his hand. Somewhat to his surprise, Rorschach took it, and soon stood across from him.
If Adrian had been on the receiving end of the first kiss, he initiated this one, equally fierce and hungry. He carefully propelled them both a few feet backwards towards the nearest wall. When Rorschach attempted to reverse things, placing Adrian against the wall, he knocked them both into a nearby display pedestal. The vase on top fell and shattered..
"Well, now look what you've made me do, Rorschach said, as they both paused to stare at the new spray of powder on the floor.
"Don't worry about it," Adrian said. "Nothing in here that's valuable is breakable."
Again the eye contact, again that dangerous half-grin. "That's what you think!"
"Oh! Oh is that so? Adrian said, putting one first on his hip. "Do your worst."
He didn't struggle as Rorschach bent one of his arms carefully but firmly behind his back. He found himself slammed into the opposite wall, which was caddy-cornered from where they stood, and had to throw out the other hand to keep from hitting it with center mass. When the other man abruptly yanked down Adrian's boxers, Adrian merely stepped out and kicked them clear. When Rorschach removed his own shorts, however, Adrian attempted to turn around, only to be pressed further against the wall. He stepped backwards with all of his weight, pushing Rorschach off balance, then jabbed backwards with an elbow that barely missed, but succeeded in getting his captor to let him go. With both hands now free, he grabbed Rorschach by the arms, just underneath the shoulders. He held him there for a moment, in front of him, and raked him with his gaze, head to foot.
"Well?" Rorschach finally asked defiantly. There were shadows in his eyes. "Well?"
Adrian's mouth twitched with a barely perceptible smirk. Wordlessly, he turned and put his hands out, bracing himself against he wall.
"Just a second," an uncharacteristically enthusiastic-sounding Rorschach. "Don't even. Turn. Around." Adrian sighed, bowing his head, but obeyed.
He heard bare feet padding quickly across tile, but then lost the sound. When he heard nothing more after a few seconds, he risked a glance over his shoulder, only to be genuinely startled by Rorschach's sudden appearance on his other side. He had to admit, he was impressed. The other man had moved as quietly as Adrian himself could ever hope to.
Rorschach reached over and pushed Adrian's hands together, revealing that he now had his tie in hos other hand. Adrian's already elevated heart rate quickened even more. He got the delicious feel of one bare thigh against his as Rorschach quickly bound his hands together. The ultimate knot was tied tight enough, even with the stretchy material, that Adrian flinched.
Adrian swore internally. Had he mentioned this to Rorschach at some point, and forgotten it? Or was it a lucky guess? Perhaps an actual precaution? Adrian felt an almost pathological need to control of most situations—it was just part of his personality. As the CEO of a multinational corporation and all-around do-gooder, he had more than his share of responsibility. He relished the opportunity to give up that control. He willingly but necessarily took the submissive role in most of his sexual interactions—after all, he was stronger and faster than anyone he knew. Right now, however, he had a sensation of helplessness that would have been intoxicating no matter who he had been with.
Now, Rorschach positioned himself behind Adrian, hands on his hips, and entered him slowly. Adrian chose this last moment to resist, tilting his hips forward to control how deep the other man could go. With a growl, Rorschach pulled him backwards and pushed in further. Adrian gaped in soundless shock, both at the penetration and and at the heat of his partner's skin. His hip-bones were predictably sharp and prominent, but it was as if he had some sort of internal furnace.
They fell into a motion now familiar to the both. They weren't far at all from the wall, but Adrian bent his elbows, and leaned forward as much as he could to make things easier. One hand slipped around to massage not his shaft, which was now almost painfully hard, but the tender flesh right underneath it. In just the time that they'd been coming together like this, that was something that they had learned worked for him, something that helped put him over the edge. Sure enough, he soon felt a quicksilver tension building deep within him. He subtly bit down on one of his bound hands, hoping that it would go unnoticed.
No such luck. Rorschach slowed his motion considerably, and raised one hand to pull Adrian's hands away. "You got somethin' to say, blondie?" he asked.
"Um, 'Oh, God, please don't stop'?" Adrian offered, sparing a chuckle at his own expense.
"Heh. I thought it might be something like that."
They resumed their rhythm, and it wasn't long before that quicksilver-fire feeling shot through Adrian's form, overwhelming him altogether. His knees buckled slightly, but he remained standing. Moments later, he felt the other man come to his own shuddering climax, and then pull out. Only then did Adrian permit himself to sink to the floor.
Rorschach did likewise, and Adrian had an instant of mind-erasing surprise as he leaned against him, placing his brow against Adrian's shoulder as he caught his breath. As quickly as this happened, however, it was over, and Rorschach slumped into a sitting position across from him.
As soon as his own breath was back, Adrian slipped free of his necktie bond with ease, then tossed the tie onto the coffee table. A look of irritation cross Rorschach's face. Surely, Adrian thought, he must have known that he'd submitted to that willingly, and that most knots posed him no problem?
Adrian scrambled unsteadily to his feet. "Stay right there," he said. "I'll be back in a second." He clutched at his throat and then cleared it, surprised at the sound of his voice. He must have been screaming, toward the end. A lot. He didn't even remember. That was the way it usually went, though—himself, so vocal, and Rorschach so quiet. Adrian reflected that that it was the opposite of what most people would expect of them. Or was it?
He moved quickly to the hall bathroom. There, he grabbed two towels and two bathrobes. He cleaned off with one towel, then put on and tied the robe.
Adrian paused briefly to look at himself in the mirror. His face and chest were flushed, his hair was tousled and dark with sweat. He had small bruises forming in different places, and he looked exhausted. He thought to himself that this must be what ruffled feathers looked like.
He walked back out into the living room on limbs that still felt like they'd been hollowed out by fire. He found Rorschach right were he had left him. Not only had he not left the spot, he didn't seem to have moved. Adrian decided that his feathers weren't the only ones that had been ruffled.
Rorschach accepted the towel with which to clean up, but rejected the robe and stood to begin collecting his own clothes. Adrian, for his own part, picked his boxers up with his foot and slipped them back on. He doubted that he would go back out again tonight.
"Whew! Well then!" Adrian said after a moment, not wanting the silence to grow into something uncomfortable. "I could use some water. How about you?" Rorschach nodded, and handed Adrian his glass from the coffee table as Adrian glided into the walk-in kitchen. There was still a little water in the glass, but somehow, that part of the evening now felt like a long time ago.
Once dressed, Rorschach positioned himself just outside of the kitchen. "I gotta ask you about something," He said. Adrian nodded as he walked out carrying two glasses of fresh water.
Rorschach grabbed Adrian's left hand and pulled it toward himself. This was made easier by the fact that Adrian's hands weren't free. He turned the wrist just slightly, and pointed at three long, pale, well-healed scars running half the length of the forearm.
"That's right," Adrian said. "Not entirely without blemish after all. Sorry to disappoint."
Rorschach rolled his eyes. "How did this happen?" He asked. Then added mischievously, "I know I didn't do it."
Here, Adrian pulled his hand back forcibly. "Cat," he said, already feeling defensive. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now. The scars were shallow and well-healed. He had worn a jacket to the drive-in, and wondered when the other man had noticed. While binding his hands? Or while he'd been stretched out on the floor like a supplicant?
Rorschach swore. "That's what I figured! I'll never understand you keep such a dangerous thing around."
"Because," Adrian said. "I believe that insisting that everything be tame, everything be safe, is a character defect...especially for someone of my abilities."
"Oh, I get it," Rorschach said. "This is all about proving something, isn't it? Putting the wild thing in her place."
It was becoming obvious, Adrian thought, that this discussion wasn't just about the lynx. Which didn't make his reply any less sincere or appropriate. "I don't stay safe because Bubastis remembers her place," he explained. "I stay safe if I remember mine." He turned up his wrist. "I consider this my fault."
Rorschach shook his head. "She could be the death of you, Adrian."
The sound of his first name came like a sweet shock to Adrian. If he remembered correctly, Rorschach had addressed him as "Veidt" a couple of times after they had first met up for the evening. There hadn't really been a need for names at the drive in. This might be the first time tonight that he had been called by name.
Oh, no, wait. Adrian smiled as he remembered: it was the second.
He cleared his throat. "If you look at the sad history of humans and animals," he said, "it's more likely to be the other way around. Which is not my preference. Besides," he went on, trying to lighten the mood, "you two got along well enough the last time you were together."
Not even Rorschach could resist smiling at that memory. They had been at one of Adrian's country homes, and he had been staying long enough to have had Bubastis brought in from Antarctica. Early on, she had walked up to Rorschach with a large stick—more like a small kindling log—in her mouth. He had looked hesitantly from her to Adrian, always slightly afraid of the cat.
I do believe she wants you to throw it!
Rorschach had still hesitated, until Bubastis had finally dropped the log to the floor. It was far too bulky to go very far overhand, but when he tossed it underhand, she fetched it and brought it back to him. Adrian had watched slack-jawed as this process had repeated at least three times, until the cat had grown bored and wandered off after something else.
"Heh. Yeah, that was pretty crazy," Rorschach said now.
"I've never seen her do that before or since," Adrian observed.
Rorschach walked over to the couch and reclaimed his seat. "Speaking of carnivores," he said, "there's something else I'm wondering about."
"What's that?" Adrian asked, sitting the water glasses down on the coffee table.
"You ate meat earlier tonight. At the drive-in. Didn't think you did that."
"I usually don't," he said, sitting in a chair an angle to the couch. "But I do try to have it in at least one meal a month. That way I'll be able to eat it if there's ever nothing else around."
Rorschach snorted. "Can't' imagine what you think might happen."
"I know, right?" Adrian replied. "Also...I just saw it as part of the whole experience. I believe that most rules are worth bending for the greater good...or just in order to experience life to the fullest."
At this, Rorschach's gaze grew distant. "Must be nice," he murmured. He began sipping his water.
"What must be?"
He shook his head. "It's not important."
This only made Adrian more curious. "No, really. Tell me."
Rorschach focused on him again. "It must be nice to be willing to explain away anything you want to do. " He took longer drink of water. " No offense. It's not just you---not by a long shot."
"It's not really so hard if you accept life without judgment," Adrian said. "Northing's really bad or good. Just more or less efficient."
"Nuclear war? Human extinction?"
"Not bad. Just undesirable...from our point of view."
"I've heard that argument before," Rorschach said. "And I get it, I just don't agree. To me, if you think that some things are right and some are wrong, they're always that way."
"But Rorschach, I've witnessed your methods," Adrian said. "Surely you concede that sometimes, the end justifies the means?"
"Only when the means don't contradict the end," Rorschach said. "The people I lean on? They've all hurt people, or taken what doesn't belong to them, or done something that society has outlawed as being bad for it."
"But who hasn't, in the grand scheme of things? Who's really innocent?"
"Blaire Roche," Rorschach replied, barely audible.
A long, thoughtful silence fell between them. Adrian felt a keen sadness, and realized that he envied his friend's...simplicity was the wrong word, he was far too intelligent; and living by that code looked anything but easy. Clarity. They called it moral clarity for a reason, and things had not been clear for Adrian for some time.
"You know what I mean," Adrian said, almost equally quietly. "I'm so sorry that that happened. But in a way that proves my point. I was referring to adults."
"I know that," Rorschach said. "But still...anyone who would hurt law-abiding people—yes, even adults—has to be stopped."
Adrian deflated to hear this, but managed to conceal it. Oh, well. At least he had his answer now. He had never really expected help from anyone...or even a confidant, really. He would walk the most important mile of his life alone.
"But what about us?" he asked. "What about what we just did together? It's still illegal in most states of this nation, even if it's not enforced."
"A means to an end, again," Rorschach said. "Helps cut down on distraction. Besides," he went on, trying dispel any static this last statement might have caused. "We're hardly the worst. Tipped off the police last week to a club downtown—people rutting like animals out in the open, swapping partners, multiple partners, that kind of thing."
Adrian shrugged. "I've been in similar situations before. Much younger, overseas. In the end, it wasn't for me. But gain, I have to say—if everyone's consenting and being careful, I see no problem with it."
"Well, I'll never understand it," Rorschach said. "I mean--" cough "--you and I having our freedom the rest of the time, no strings? That only makes sense. But during?" He narrowed his eyes and gazed up Adrian's form appreciatively. "No, I'd never share you."
Adrian felt himself blush, flattered down to the very marrow. "You haven't noticed me asking, have you?" He asked quietly. "Besides, doesn't sharing imply that there must be something left behind?"
Rorschach chuckled dryly at this. "Cute," he said. "But let's be honest: I know that my ways aren't as, erm, exotic as you're probably used to."
"I don't have to be here if I don't want to," Adrian pointed out. "That being said...my offer still stands." He snickered. "Metaphorically, at any rate."
Rorschach sniffed, as if Adrian had alluded to something both obscene and absurd. "Which one?"
"All of them."
It was Rorschach's turn to blush.
This line of discussion sent Adrian's mind back to the beginning of things. After the passing of the Keene Act, he had begun funneling Rorschach paid detective work for his high-ranking friends in the business world. They didn't even know who Adrian's contact was, but Rorschach helped them sniff out faithless executives who embezzled from or otherwise betrayed their companies. Adrian was more than smart enough to do this himself, but he needed to stay out of these matters, and he trusted Rorschach's skills for deduction and documentation above almost anyone's. This occasioned Adrian, for the first time, to meet Rorschach without his mask—to meet the ghost, as it were, of Walter Kovacs.
One day, Rorschach had dropped by one of his residences on business as Adrian had been getting ready to head out. Adrian had found himself dissatisfied with what he was wearing, and had impulsively switched shirts. As he did this, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a look on Rorschach's face—a look that belied some of the assertions that he even now still made about himself. Adrian watched him avert his gaze as that expression faded into a look of surprise at oneself. This all occurred in a second or less, and was very, very subtle. Anyone less observant than Adrian, or just less in tune with Rorschach, would have missed it altogether. It raised the possibility, though, that Adrian might actually be able to have what he'd been fantasizing about.
A few nights later, in the office of one of Adrian's warehouses, they'd gotten into an argument about something. It couldn't have been significant, because neither of them remembered it now. Adrian had found himself attacked, pinned backwards on his desk. In keeping with his philosophy of minimal violence and passive resistance, however, he did not defend himself right away, but merely waited to see if he would have to.
Come on! Fight back! Rorschach had said. You arrogant pretty boy. Know what I should do? I should turn you over, I should bend you over this desk and fuck you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?
Adrian had tilted his head thoughtfully. Well, actually...
Rorschach had looked as shocked and affronted as a cat that's just had water thrown in it's face. In an instant, he backed halfway across the length of the room. If Adrian had been any less serious than cancer, he'd have had to laugh. As it was, he hadn't been, and he didn't. Things progressed steadily, if not rapidly, uphill from there.
It had been an interesting experience for Adrian, especially early on. Adrian found himself dealing with someone who was, with only a few exceptions that he alluded to, as pure as driven snow. Nevertheless, Adrian sometimes ended up feeling like the student. Even now, Rorschach could go unpredictably from a lamb, sexually speaking, in one moment to a lion in the next.
Adrian suspected that Rorschach did not avail himself of the freedom that their arrangement afforded. On one level this saddened him, but on another, he considered it not his affair, or anything he could do anything about. All Adrian knew, for his part, was that he got some difficult-to-define something out of his connection with Rorschach that he found with no other partner.
Now, in the penthouse, Adrian shook himself out of his reverie. His memories brought back to mind something he needed to tell Rorschach.
"I have another friend who probably needs a detective," he said. "Are you interested?"
The other man nodded coolly, but Adrian could detect his barely suppressed relief.
"Okay then," Adrian said. "I'll let them know. They'll leave the specs in the mail drop tomorrow, after 5pm. They'll be folded in a box that used to contain something by Sonitech communications."
"Ah. Sonitech." Rorschach said. "That should be interesting."
"It will be," Adrian said. "You know...I didn't quote a price..,"
Rorschach's expression was far away. "I might go up a bit, but not much. We've talked about this, Veidt."
These jobs came along around once a year, and each one was enough to get Rorschach through about a year...but only at subsistence level.. Adrian wished he would charge more, but the other man made a good point: it would be very easy to be out-priced by detectives who didn't wear masks, or even by the police. Rorschach considered his work to be a privilege, and not something he could ask too much for...but competition was the real issue. Still, he was happy with the work, because it freed him up to do his own patrols and basically to inhabit his created identity almost full-time. And when he and Adrian were together, he would accept hospitality, but never help.
"I'm just saying," Adrian said, holding his hands up, "inflation and all."
"No, you're right," Rorschach said. "It has to at least be worth my while. These assignments get more dangerous all the time. Could get arrested." Adrian did not miss the anxiety in his voice with this last statement.
It was true that there was risk. Once, Rorschach had been able to get to the bottom of a mystery just by reviewing the company's books. Most of the time, though, the assignment involved breaking into the offices or even the homes of the suspected to look for evidence.
"That's something that really concerns you, isn't it?" Adrian asked with a frown, sliding forward in his chair.
Rorschach cut his eyes toward him. "Why do you say that?"
"Whether you realize it or not, you mention the possibility every time I see you."
Rorschach nodded slowly. "It wouldn't be good. Sing-sing would be the most likely place. There are at least fifty guys doing life or hard time in there because of me. It would pretty much be escape or...take as many of 'em out with me as I can."
Adrian's spine grew cold as he imagined these possibilities. "I would offer to help if it came to that, but--"
"But no judge is going to set bail for a masked vigilante double murderer," Rorschach finished. "No, I know. It's okay. Even if he did, the bail hearing would probably come too late." He shook his head. "It would be a bad way to go out, that's all."
"But you don't get caught," Adrian said, with an almost childlike admiration.
Not even Rorschach could ignore the tone in his voice, and so smiled faintly. "Gee, thanks," he said. "But everyone's luck runs out eventually." Adrian could tell, though, that he was sincerely frightened by the prospect.
"Perhaps," Adrian said. He really didn't think there was much more to say to that. He regarded his empty water glass. "More champagne sounds good."
"You know, if you were really having fun I don't think you'd have to drink the whole time."
As he rose, Adrian picked up his old glass of now-flat champagne and looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow. There were only one, maybe two small sips missing. "Oh, yes, I've had so much, after all." Rorschach's head dropped, wordlessly indicating that he conceded the point.
"Nothing for you, as usual, I assume?" Adrian asked once in the kitchen. He poured out the old champagne and re-poured about half that amount.
"You got that right," Rorschach replied. "That's a lot of money you just put down the drain, you know."
It was true, but it did not concern Adrian as he put the champagne bottle back in the refrigerator. "Either I drink too much or I drink too little," he said. "I can't win, can I, Walter?"
He realized his slip as soon as it came out of his mouth. There was only silence from the other room. Adrian was greeted by a glare of blazing fury as he walked back in.
"What did you just call me?"
"I'm sorry, Rorschach," Adrian said, taking sip of champagne as he reclaimed his seat. "It was an honest mistake."
"Not really," he said coolly. "But I'll let it slide...this time."
"Thank you," Adrian said. "I haven't been sleeping well—I guess it just happened." While this was true, Adrian couldn't pinpoint a real explanation for what had happened. Perhaps he had just underestimated his friend's seriousness on the matter.
For someone who had been infuriated by what Bubastis had done, Rorschach seemed unconcerned about Adrian's sleep trouble. "Okay. But you know how I feel about that."
"Quite," Adrian said.
A long silence fell between them.
"I didn't give up. Didn't sell out," Rorschach said. "Don't forget that."
At this point, Adrian was on his third drink of champagne, and wanted to steer the conversation in another direction. He had heard Rorschach's opinion of the toys and other merchandise more than once. "Actually, I find it kind of interesting, how you and I ended up on different sides of the coin. We both had two identities for a while...and we both chose to dissolve one of them."
"There's a difference, though," Rorschach said. "Ozymandias is still there if you want him."
At this, Adrian closed his eyes and bowed his head. How could he make anyone in the world understand the magnitude of the decisions there were to be made? How to explain how much he didn't want to be Ozymandias right now?
"I don't believe all of that, anyway." Adrian said.
"What? That you could put the mask on again?"
"No. That Walter Kovacs isn't there."
Rorschach's expression was defiant and incredulous as he leaned on one arm. "And who are you, exactly," he asked, "to tell me who I am?" His voice had the dark calm of a policeman or lawyer letting someone talk themselves into a trap.
Adrian knew that exertion and weariness were conspiring against him to make the champagne hit home quicker. He knew that he needed to shut up—immediately—but it didn't seem to be happening.
"I'm no expert," Adrian continued, "but I just don't think that someone's original identity can just...go away like that. If you really had a dissociative event, I doubt you would remember it."
"So you think I'm just crazy, do you? Or making it up?" Rorschach asked, a startling tremor in his voice.
"I didn't say that."
"Just because you don't want to believe it doesn't mean that it's not true," Rorschach said. "Lots of things happen in this world that people would rather not think about."
"I'll prove it, though." Adrian said, holding up his pointer finger.
"Oh, this'll be good. How's that?"
"Daniel. Drieberg."
"Wait just a minute!" Rorschach yelled. "Are you tryin' to say that Daniel...is like you? That he and I--"
"No, no." Adrian said. "He's far too caught up in his futile crush on Miss Jupiter to...think outside the box, so to speak. I also believe that your affection for him is likewise platonic.
Which is why it proves my point."
Rorschach frowned. "We worked together for years. We were friends. You haven't proved anything."
"You are friends" Adrian said. "You still keep in touch, you still enjoy spending time with him. Me? I'm just a means to an end; a need that's fine to fulfill in private as long as it's stigmatized and criminalized in public. But friendship? You claim that's not a need that 'Rorschach' has."
Rorschach's face was inscrutable as he rose from the couch. "I don't have to take this," he said. "From now on, don't question what I say about myself—and leave Daniel out of it, too."
Rorschach stalked over to the coat closet and pulled out his trench coat. At least, Adrian thought to himself, it was the one that smelled like a house fire and not the extra, the one that smelled like garbage.
"Look," Adrian said, walking over to him, one hand up, "it's just a point of view, surely--"
"-And besides" Rorschach interrupted, putting on his coat angrily, if that was possible. "It's not as if I'm not your dirty little secret, too."
"All the men I'm involved with are a secret," Adrian countered, sincere surprise in his voice. "It's nothing personal. Half of that aspect of my life, I keep from the public. I wish it were different, but it's to protect the brand--"
"Oh, well the brand--"
" If you really think that I'm ashamed and you're not," Adrian challenged, impulsively, "then tell Drieberg about us."
Rorschach jerked his head back in surprise. "But he thinks like you. He wouldn't care. Surprised as hell, most likely, but wouldn't care."
Adrian smiled. "Exactly."
Here Rorschach chuffed dismissively and looked at the floor, shaking his head. "Smartest man in the world, huh?" Then he met Adrian's eyes with a stare like a bull's. "You're pretty sharp, Veidt. But if you were really that smart, you wouldn't be involved with me."
Adrian sighed. "I keep telling you: put yourself down on your own time. Because I don't agree."
"This," Rorschach said, pointing to his face, "isn't why I said that."
"Then why?"
"Because of this."
At this, Rorschach came around with an unexpected punch. It had almost no visible lead-in, and knocked Adrian flat out, face-down on the floor.
Adrian struggled to his hands and knees, the wind knocked out of him. He shook his head like a dazed pugilist. Adrenaline surged through him, thundering, urging him to knock over the other man and proceed pummeling him. But Adrian had his rules: he would only fight to defend himself or someone else from death or long-term harm.
He sat up into a stooping position, and fixed his gaze upward at Rorschach. "You know the drill," he said quietly. "You can show yourself out."
A look akin to hurt passed over Rorschach's face, briefly, like a shadow on the desert; but Adrian knew that he wouldn't have had it any other way.
The door closed. After the footsteps receded down the hall, Adrian cursed loudly, standing and dashing to the freezer for ice.
Later that night, At home in his apartment, Rorschach journaled furiously about everything except what was really on his mind.
In his penthouse, Adrian typed on his computer, using an operating system custom-designed for him by a talented young man from Simi Valley. An air-locked bag of cold water lay beside him: he had managed to head off most of the swelling, but would still probably have to use concealer around his right orbit.
Tears were in his eyes as he worked. "Oh, my friend," he said, "what a powerful weapon you gave me against you tonight. I only pray I never have to use it."
Having finished outlining a plan, he saved it in a new file, labeled with Rorschach's name. Then he shut the computer down, and went off to try to get some sleep.