Storyverse. Dan/Rorschach, mature, sexual themes and actions, some violence, spoilers. Not what really happened, but all takes place in a time slot left blank by Moore and Gibbons, who own these characters. I only own my ideas. (first Watchmen fic, please be gentle)
I'm an emotional wreck. Hollis is dead, Laurie is off gallivanting with Jon, and we're off to go face Veidt, who, of all people, may be behind a plot to kill masks. Oh, and I'm stuck with Rorschach, who I broke out of prison and have yet to be thanked for it, though he did awkwardly hold my hand and call me a good friend when I snapped on him earlier. God Damn Rorschach. I'm not even mad at him, I'm just so stressed, and bloody uncomfortable. I mean, if he knew what I thought of him, deep down... oh well. Better to not think about it. Too warm for that line of thinking.
"Daniel, Archie running hot. Do something."He's right. Archie is running hot, engines spouting off more heat than needed, nor welcome. He's down to that blood soaked prison shirt, pin stripped pants, and 'face', his suit and gloves folded neatly beside him.I'm still in full suit and cowl, not comfortable to undressed with this man around. I wish I'd kept spare clothes on Archie.
"Nothing to do about it. Better he run cold than hot, we'll be over the arctic circle in little over an hour." Karnac. We're going to Karnac, to face the smartest man in the world and accuse him of senseless murder.
"Hurm." I hate it when he does that. Without being able to see his expression, his real one, it's so hard to figure out what that means. What the hell does 'hurm' MEAN?! I'm getting a headache, a bad one. I focus on Rorschach through my goggles, glad he can't see I'm staring. He's so...muscled. Not that I hadn't know that, I've watched him beat the shit out of people on countless occasions... but it still is a bit of a surprise. And the way he looks without his mask. I feel compelled to shift, uncomfortable, but don't want to give away that I'm having an issue. I hate this suit so much right now. Leather was a bad choice. It's too hot, it doesn't breath. This silence is oppressive. It makes me think of the handshake. I wish there hadn't been gloves. Why am I thinking like this? God dammit! Too hot. Too angry. Too oppressive.
"Don't trust miss Juspeczyk." He says it simply, in that monotone of his, before reaching into the pocket of the folded coat and taking out a "Sweet Chariot" sugar cube. the 'ronch' sound he makes as he chews makes me cringe. Rorschach. Quite the enigma. God damned if I can never figure him out. I'm going to break, snap, yell. I don't even care to try and stop it.
"-You- don't or -I- shouldn't? God dammit Rorschach, use some grammar!" I start to pace, uncomfortable. Sweat is building where sweat shouldn't build. It's too damned hot. I watch the man in the white mask with black blots pause, swallowing some sugar, lick his delicate seeming lips. He's clean shaven now. From prison, I guess.
"Both, Daniel. Can't be trusted. Whorish; like mother." There's a distant tone to his voice. The heat is getting to him too.
That's more than enough. I slam a closed fist against the wall, getting angrier. "You can't say that! Laurie isn't a whore, and neither is her mother! Sally is a fine woman, you've never even met her! You can't just call a woman a whore, Rorschach!"
"Haven't met. Seen outfit though. Whore. Wasn't referring to Silk Specter though. Hurm."
"Then who the hell were you refering to?! You said 'mother' in there, who's mom were you insulting?! God damn Rorschach, who'd you feel if someone called your mom a whore!"
I watch as he tenses, and something in me shifts, a cold stone of fear taking root in my stomach. He seems to be running over something in his head, something big, I really hope he isn't about to kill me, for whatever it is that I just said. "Daniel....are we friends? Good friends?"
He sounds so childish, and lost. I don't know how he can pull off those two extremes. At a loss, I nod. "Yes Rorschach. We're friends."
"Good. Only friend, Daniel. You're my only friend. I want to talk. About... hurm. About... psychiatrist. Prison psychiatrist."
Again I nod. I fail to see his connections, but that's hardly new to me.
"Didn't like him. Fat, Wealthy. Thinks he understands pain. Called me "Walter". I told him something, Dan. I told him about Rorschach. He knew Walter, Walter Kovacs. I let him know Rorshach. " Another pause, another one of MY sugar cubes going into hus gullet. It's too hot, I can't think. I can only listen.
"Not fair, for him to know Rorschach. Not fair for stranger to know both sides. You're a friend, Daniel. Would you....hurm." He hesitates, and it's just like the handshake. "Would you like to know Walter?"
I nod. I don't trust myself to speak. I'll say something stupid. Like how the freckles on his upper arms are cute, and that I want to count them. That I know he's a ginger, and I like it. That there was a sugar wrapper on the floor that made me think of him when.... I blink the thoughts away, focusing on his gruff monotone.
"Was not particularly bright child. Innocent. Didn't last long. Was exposed to underbelly scum of city before pubescence. Mother a whore, father a good man, moral enough to know when to leave her. His name is Charlie. Moved a lot, each time to a more broken, smellier, nosier home. Cheaper rent. Get what you pay for. American way. Slums. Don't know how old I was when mother started ..... hurm. Taking clients." He twitches there, part of the mask jumping as skin under it jumps.
"I'm... I'm sorry, Rorschach. Must've been hard. I... didn't know. I didn't mean anything by...calling her... almost..." My words are confused, but he knows my meaning, silencing me with a wave of his hand.
"Walter Kovacs got over it. Was able to know it was good that pimp force fed her drain-o one night. Was informed at Charlton Home, place for the offspring of filth unfit to keep their own kin. Sent there after first brush with Rorschach. Instant mask, fruit in my face. Ten years old. Did not find again until 5 years later. Though Walter was weak... found strength. Made face. Disappeared into Rorschach. "
He's skipping over something. He wanted to tell me something with this story, but he lost it, lost the nerve, lost the thread.... I'm not seeing something here."What was Charlton Home like?" I know the place. Breeding ground for young gangs and pedophilia. I pray it wasn't as bad as that when Walter was there.
He pauses, playing with the hem of his 'face', keeping it at the half way mark. God I love watching parts of his actual skin, getting clues as to what he's thinking...it's so hard with just the latex. The swirls go over his eyes, making him look for a moment like a skull. I wish he'd take the damn thing off.
"It was mediocre. Walter was very weak there. Very weak indeed.... took opportunity to learn, though. Very bright. Frustration to teachers when proven wrong. Liberal teachers, stupid ideas, no proof. Hated one teacher. Female. Health class. Bad. Very bad. Dirty."
He's twitching again. I don't understand...
"Don't like women. Dirty creatures. Miss Juspeczyk's a dirty creature. All of them filthy, whorish things. Or innocent, possibly redeemable if removed from the environment of scum. Take a look at her clothes, Daniel, at her suit! Indecent, obscene, impure! She's seducing you, Daniel. You're falling in love with her shape."
So it does come full circle, in a discombobulated way. I don't like what he's saying, his tone reminds me of my father, condemning me for love. "God dammit Rorschach, I'm not falling in love with her shape! I'm not being corrupted, either! I can barely have sex with her, I have to think abo-" I cut myself off. This heat is getting to me. Thankfully he doesn't notice, busying himself with another sugar cube.
"Why bother, Daniel? Why go through motions, pretending? She doesn't love you. You claim not loving her sex. Hurm. You're lying."
"I AM NOT." I say it with more vehemence than I am accustomed to. He tilts his head, letting out that signature 'hurm'. I want to strangle him.
"Fine. Not lying. Something else afoot. Still don't see point. Besides. Pretty woman. Easy woman. Understandable weakness. Odd you don't admit to it... would admit to others... why not me? Why wo-"
I finally lose it, stepping forwards and silencing him, my lips over his. This should answer his question. I'm so hot, and this makes it worse, flushing brightly under my cowl and goggles. His lips taste like sugar, so does his tongue, which isn't moving against mine, but retreating. My arms find his shoulders, which are shaking. It ends too soon, a rough punch in the solar plexus knocking the wind out of me partially as Rorschach stands, hitting me again, punches that would break bones were it not for my armor. I'm soon against the wall, his hits almost like rain. I hear him mutter as he treats me like a punching bag, though I can't see his lips now that he's pulled his mask back down.
"Dirty. Immoral. Obscene. Stirrings. Daniel, bad. Gay. Very Gay. Don't Kiss. Don't touch. Daniel's pure. Doesn't think gay. Doesn't think like me. No. No no no no no. Trap. Some trap. Why?!" He grows tired of hitting me as I begin to grow lightheaded. He must be aware that he's not actually hurting me.
"WHY DANIEL?" He demands, black and white face a swirl. I try to answer him, something unintelligible getting past my dry rubbery lips. My tongue feels heavy, this is so ... wrong. Something's wrong. The floor's coming up fast.... Rorschach catches me, and I let the black of his mask consume my vision.