Price
PG-13
Crimebusters AU, pre-Roche. Dan/Rorschach/Laurie. Shenanigans happen, like arguing about prostitutes and laughing at Rorschach's hat and a little bit of longing.

One of the first things Laurie learns about Rorschach-the-man, as opposed to Rorschach-the-vigilante, is that he is very possessive of his hat. She learns this when she, Dan, and Rorschach are on patrol together, and a gang member manages to knock his hat off by the brim with an uppercut. Rorschach transforms, rages as he takes the man down and those around him. When the fight is over, he hunts down his hat and, finding it, cradles it with both hands and checks it for damage, like it's a well-loved pet and not an accessory.

When Dan sees Laurie smiling at the sight, he stifles a laugh with his hand and shrugs at her. She twirls her forefinger next to her head. It's supposed to be a joke, but Dan's posture gets sort of weird and tense, and even though he doesn't stop smiling, she can tell he's bothered. (The next time she's about to retort "You're crazy" back at Rorschach, she remembers Dan's posture and how it closed and just barely manages to edit herself.) Rorschach brushes the hat off even though it's not dusty and sets it back on his head with a little nod: There. Everything's as it should be.

Laurie bites her lip to keep from snickering.

A month after that, the Crimebusters are all sitting in hodge-podge chairs and arguing about how to treat whores. It's such a phenomenally ridiculous topic, because most of them seem to have no grasp on what the average prostitute goes through. Laurie, who works on-and-off with a woman's shelter, is at least slightly more knowledgeable about the topic, but the Comedian and Nelly keep drowning her out. She's getting to the point where she'd like to take her chair to somebody's face. (Maybe Jon's; even though he's remained silent on the subject at hand, he could take it without serious injury.) She's glad Rorschach, at least, is keeping out of it, though also a little confused - the creep has no qualms about calling her or her mother a whore, or about making his opinion on women quite clear.

But he's just sitting there, staring at - well, actually, Laurie has no idea where he's staring.

"What I'm saying," Laurie snarls through clenched teeth, "is that those women would benefit more from a shelter than a prison. Jesus, there's no reason to beat up a prostitute, none at all-"

"That's not what I'm sayin'," the Comedian interrupts, and it's so obvious that he's not taking her seriously that Laurie doesn't know why she's even bothering. "What I'm sayin' is…"

Nelly cuts in, "Prostitution is a crime, and most of these women chose to partake in the profession. Prison isn't the end of the world, Laurie. Their sentences are never very long, you know that."

"That's not the point," Laurie says, but before she can go into statistics, Rorschach stands. The room's focus moves to him; ordinarily, Rorschach is uncomfortable under such scrutiny, but he seems very calm, adjusting a glove.

"Pointless to argue about it," he says, "Prostitutes are hardly worth the low prices they attach to themselves, much less our time. If you'll excuse me, I have things to do." The room's silent for a moment (Laurie too stunned to react properly); with a brisk nod, he pushes his way between Ozymandias and Jon and heads for the door.

Laurie stares after him. God, she wants a smoke, and to get away from the group, and she wants to argue with Rorschach, and that's enough for her jump to her feet. Hardly worth the low prices - it's so much bullshit; she clenches her fists and stalks wordlessly after him. She catches up to him halfway down the hall, and she forces him around by his shoulder. He doesn't try to push her away. "Did youreally just," she says, heated and furious, but he doesn't look at her. He's detached from the situation entirely. "Rorschach," she warns.

"If you put a price on yourself you will inevitably only be worth that much," he explains, the words smooth. "They're only insulting themselves." After a breath's length of silence, he adds, "Not worth thinking about."

Laurie smacks her legs in exasperation. "Seriously? You really think that? That you can put a price on people you don't even know?"

Rorschach turns his body towards her, and she can feel his eyes traveling over her body. The silence between them shifts into uncomfortable territory, and Laurie is hard-pressed not to smack him. At length, he nods. The door to the meeting room swings open, Dan hurrying out, only stopping when he sees them.

Laurie glances back.

"Everything okay?" Dan asks in Nite Owl's voice, which Laurie always thinks is really corny and sorta cute. It's enough to take the edge off, though she'd still kill for a smoke.

Laurie nods.

"My mother," Rorschach says to Laurie, very quietly, as if that is enough to keep the conversation private, "was a good woman before she cheapened herself."

Neither Laurie nor Dan move for a second as the statement sinks in. Rorschach doesn't seem bothered at all, as if he's just told them about the weather outside, but Laurie's talked to Dan enough to know that Rorschach secrets himself away, never talks about himself if he can help it.

He must figure there's enough kids with whores as their mom that this does not need to be confidential.

"Rorschach." Dan's shoulders wilt, his Nite Owl voice absent. Laurie looks between the two and wonders what's just passed - Dan doesn't look concerned, instead almost irritated, maybe. Or just upset.

"Wait, so your mom…?"

"You would've gotten along well with her," Rorschach says, and there's no inflection but Laurie knows an insult when she sees one.

Vengeance is swift and silent: She stretches one slim hand out, snatches his hat, and presses it to her head. "Call me a whore again," she says as Rorschach bristles, angry fists and rising shoulders, "and the hat gets it."

Rorschach jerks the hat off her head with enough force to move hair into her face. Laurie doesn't even try to stop him, hands on her hips. It was, after all, just a warning. "Immature brat," he snaps.

"Rorschach," Dan tries, but the insult glances off of Laurie's curving lips and Dan's entreaty glances off the back of Rorschach's old trench coat as he turns away.

Her smile is knife-sharp, and it doesn't reach her eyes.

Two weeks after that, Laurie and Dan huddle together on a rain-soaked fire escape and Dan explains to her with a voice that matches the rain that the hat cost more than the rest of Rorschach's costume, that he only has the one, that he hopes Laurie doesn't really do anything to it because he can't afford another one; please, Laurie, he whispers, he doesn't know why it upsets you; and after it all: "He's never told me flat-out about his mother," soft, pleading face, palms open, fingers out. This is all I have.

Laurie brushes back a lock of wet hair and, open mouth against his burning cheek, "I won't take him from you."

A year later, when Laurie next divests Rorschach of his fedora, she is straddling his lap, and she rests it on her head with both hands, cradling it. Dan's hand warms her lower back, and when she smiles, the knives reach her eyes.