It did not take long after Dr. Manhattan's arrival for the conflict to end. The war had been won, but Eddie had a hard time giving a shit, all things considered. He'd been fighting there for nearly a year, and now it was all over, and damned if he got any of the credit for it. Damned if anything he'd done here had even mattered.

And what was worse, Dr. Manhattan seemed to consider him a friend just because Eddie didn't act intimidated like the other soldiers and wasn't afraid to go near him. It was almost comical, the way the young men would suddenly remember somewhere else to be and clear out whenever he was present, leaving only Eddie to try to make conversation.

That was where he found himself on his last night in Vietnam. Everyone was celebrating in some way, but all Eddie could think about was the fact that he would soon be back home and done with all this bullshit. Even war had lost its appeal to him, and he wondered if there was really much else for him.

"Goddamn fireworks," he grumbled, hearing a few loud bursts from outside. "You think this country'd had enough goddamn fireworks!"

"I suppose V.V.N. night must mean something to them," Manhattan observed.

"Nah, most average Vietnamese don't give a damn who won," replied Eddie, pouring himself a shot. "It means something to the dinks, an' it means plenty to us. I mean, if we'd lost this war...I dunno. I think it might have driven us a little crazy, ya know? As a country." He scoffed. "But, thanks to you, we didn't, right? Downa hatch." He downed the shot.

"You sound bitter," Manhattan said, sounding as close to amused as he could. "You're a strange man, Blake. You have a strange attitudes to life and war."

"Strange?" he asked with a laugh. It figured the glowing, half-naked blue man would be the one to give him a talk on what was strange. The two walked out to the porch of the bar as he continued. "Listen...once you figure out what a joke everything is, being the Comedian's the only thing makes sense."

"The charred villages, the boys with necklaces of human ears...these are part of the joke?" His tone was not accusatory, but rather laced with a genuine curiosity.

"Hey, I never said it was a good joke. I'm just playin' along with the gag." He would have said more, but he noticed a commotion around a helicopter that had recently touched down. None other than Dick Nixon emerged from it, much to the joy of the crowd.

"Ha! Lookithat!" He shook his head in amusement. "There he is. First press helicopter into Saigon since the ceasefire. He's got the next election in the bag for sure. Me, I'm takin' the first chopper out!"

"You're anxious to leave?" Once again, Dr. Manhattan spoke with curiosity.

"Doc, are you kidding? I hate this place. I hate the temperature, I hate the smell, I hate this rotten, cheap bourbon." He sneered. "First chopper out, man, I'm gone." He turned to head back inside, and Manhattan started to follow him, when they heard a voice from behind.

"Mister Eddie?" Anh, now very visibly pregnant, followed him inside as he tried to ignore her.

"Oh, great," he muttered to himself. "Oh, thank you, God, that's just what I needed..."

"Now, war is over, Mister Eddie. Now, I must talk with you," she said, remembering his promise that he had never had any intention of keeping. He had hoped she would follow instructions and continue to stay away from him even after the ceasefire so that he could slip away undetected, but luck had clearly not been on his side.

"Listen, we got nothin' to talk about. I'm leavin'. Saigon number ten, New York number one, okay?" He wouldn't even face her.

"You...walk away...from this?" She sounded hurt, and she sounded angry, but she did not sound surprised.

"Sure."

"But me, I cannot walk from what grows in my belly. I cannot forget!" she protested.

"Well, that's unfortunate, because that's just what I'm gonna do," he said with a shrug. "Forget you, forget your cruddy little country, all of it." Knowing her, his harsh words would drive her away, leading her to storm out in a huff, and then he would in the clear once again.

"I do not think so. I think you remember me and my country," she said. "I think you remember us as long as you live." He snickered and started to think of what to say to her next, when he heard the sound of glass breaking and turned.

"Huh? What's-" Before he could finish the question, he saw the broken bottle in her hand, and before he could make a move to stop her, she raised her arm and brought in back down, slashing a jagged edge of glass down the side of his face. The pain was sharp and nearly brought him to his knees, and he touched the wound, warm blood on his fingers.

"My face!" he snarled, before groaning in pain. Hot anger surged through him as he stared Anh down, who looked terrified of what she had just done. "What did you do, you bitch, you hurt my face, you whore, you..." His hand went to the gun at his side. "...filthy, stinking, worthless..."

He drew it, and Manhattan raised a hand. "Blake?"

"...lousy piece of..." He pointed the gun at Anh, who had tears streaming down her face and who was too afraid to even move. His head cleared for a moment then, his anger no longer controlling him like it once would have, and he had that moment to think, to reconsider.

But the woman standing in front of him was not Sally, even if they shared a laugh, and a life with her would not make up for the life he had missed out on, and the baby she carried was not Laurie, and would never be Laurie, and he hated them both so much that he couldn't stand it.

Dr. Manhattan realized that he was not going to back down, saying, "Blake, don't-" But he pulled the trigger before he could finish the sentence with a monotonous, "-do it." His tone had been just as devoid of emotion as anything else he said; not very convincing for someone trying to stop a murder. It only made Eddie all the more glad that he had done it, and now Anh lay on the floor dead, bleeding from her chest.

He turned away like it was nothing, holding his face. "Medic. Gotta find the goddamn medic." He winced, the pain not subsiding at all. She had cut deep, and he wasn't sure how long it would take to recover. "Ow...that bitch."

"Blake, she was pregnant," said Manhattan, stopping him, and this time, his tone was just slightly accusatory. "You gunned her down."

"Yeah," he replied, his anger returning. After all they had seen, all they had done, all that Dr. Manhattan himself had done, he was going to play the high-and-mighty act now? "Yeah, that's right. Pregnant woman. Gunned her down. Bang. And ya know what? You watched me."

He shook his head, laughing. "You coulda changed the gun into steam or the bullets into mercury, or the bottle into snowflakes! You coulda teleported either of us to goddamn Australia, but you didn't lift finger!"

Eddie stalked out of the bar. "You don't really give a damn about human beings. I've watched you. You never cared about whatshername, Janey Slater, even before you ditched her. Soon, you won't be interested in Sally Jupiter's little gal, either." And that final dig was the only one he could afford without giving away too much information, but it was true that it was another fear that he had for Laurie.

"You're driftin' out touch, Doc," he said as he began to make his way to the nearest medical tent. "You're turnin' into a flake. God help us all." He shook his head, not needing to look back to see that Manhattan was not following him.

~X~

The cut was deep and the crude treatments he had wouldn't do much for it. He was told that it would definitely leave a scar, and when he took a look at himself in the mirror, he saw that the gash extended from just below his eye to the corner of his mouth. It gave him the appearance of perpetually sneering, which wouldn't be a bad expression to have, but the gash was unbearably ugly.

He should have seen her attack coming sooner, he should have been able to stop her, she shouldn't have attacked him in the first place. Anh had never been particularly aggressive and there was no reason for her not to act as he had assumed she would. If she had just had the good sense to leave him alone, she wouldn't be dead in some shitty bar and he'd still have the same face.

By the time he made it back to the United States, he was able to remove the bandages and see that it was still there, a permanent part of his appearance now. But he tried to push that out of his mind, not wanting to spoil his return too much. It had been a year since he had been in New York, and he felt that he owed someone a visit.

He hadn't bothered to write to Zoey or anything stupid like that while he was away, so he had no idea what her life was like now. It took minimal digging to figure out that she still lived in the same place, but he didn't know if she was seeing anyone now or if she was even still pretty. Either way, he still made his way to her home, costume and all, and knocked on the door.

Her eyes widened when she saw it was him; she didn't look much different at all, which was a relief, at least. "It's...it's you," she said, and then broke into a smile. "You're already back!"

"Sure I am," he replied, letting himself in. "War's over, baby."

"I know, but I just wasn't sure when you would be back..." She looked away, and he realized that she sounded close to tears. He had to hold back a groan. Was she really going to give him this sentimental shit tonight?

But she steeled herself and looked up at him with a grin. "So, you ready to get down to it?" He needed no further invitation, taking her into a rough and demanding kiss as he lead her to the bedroom. It'd been a long time since he'd done anything with a woman who could really understand what he was saying, one who could talk dirty in fucking English, and her apartment and bedroom were so damn clean.

When they were done, she laid next to him and stared up at him in awe, as if he weren't real, as if he would disappear or something. She reached a hand up, tracing it down his scar and he sighed. He should have known that she would point it out at some point, and he had been hoping to forget about it for a little while.

"What happened here?" she asked softly.

"Just what happens at war," he replied, smirking. "Just ignore it, baby." But after that, when he decided he was ready for a second round, he kept noticing her eyes lingering on it.

It wasn't that the sex was bad; it was great, and it always had been with her, and it was better than anything he'd had over the past year, but between her staring at his scar and her looking up at him with so much affection it nauseated him, and he just wanted out of there. He'd gotten close enough to Anh to know he didn't want to be stuck with anyone or anything, and if Zoey thought herself in love with him, then that would be the end of that.

He fucked her one more time that night, and once in the morning before he left, glad that he was not so old that he had lost his endurance just yet. She was so damn happy in the morning that she didn't even make a remark about seeing him again, as if she were certain that he would be back. He didn't tell her that he would never drop by again, that he would never be her boyfriend or whatever she wanted, that he would never come close to loving her.

Eddie just left, and went home to change into some normal, comfortable civilian clothes for the first time in a long time. Then he went out to buy a new mask, one that would cover his scar.