A/N: AR in full effect. You will recognize some lines from the GN. We're almost at there...

BTW, if you haven't seen this yummy pic of JEH with the other male leads of Wm, check it:

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.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/from-

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****

The junk was humming through her veins. Everyone in the diner moved too slow; the light was too bright. The pig's mouth was moving.

"When we questioned you before, why didn't you tell us that you had a relationship with Kovacs?"

Arete stared at Detective Fine blankly. "I don't know what you mean by 'relationship'. And I haven't seen him in almost six weeks."

"Seen Rorschach?" asked Fine's partner.

Arete looked at Elena and Tina. They turned their faces away.

"You knew Kovacs was Rorschach, didn't you? We have witnesses, Miss Franklin. Some say they saw you with Kovacs; some say they saw you with Rorschach."

"What did Walter say?" she asked the detectives.

They exchanged a glance. "He won't talk about you," Fine replied.

A cruel smile played over her lips.

"Do you admit that you knew he was Rorschach?"

Arete remembered how her face had looked in the mirror with the black-and-white latex covering it. She told the cops nothing.

The chubby, dark-haired pig grabbed her arms and thrust them behind her back. "Arete Franklin, we are arresting you for aiding and abetting the known felon Rorschach, a.k.a. Walter Joseph Kovacs."

Arete felt the cuffs lock around her wrists. She remembered Walter binding her to the frame of her bed with nylon rope.

"You have the right to remain silent..."

She did.

****

"We do not do this thing because it is permitted. We do it because we have to. We do it because we are compelled."

Mal looked down at his notes. "So this...compulsion...is what motivates Rorschach."

"Yes."

"What motivates Walter Kovacs?"

The prisoner's brows contracted slightly.

The psychiatrist sighed. "I suppose that you know about Areety Franklin, Walter. They transferred her from Riker's Island this morning, and I had the chance to visit with her. What can you tell me about Areety?"

"'Air-i-tee'," the prisoner corrected. "Rhymes with 'charity'. It means 'excellence', 'virtue'." His upper lip curled slightly.

Dr. Long repeated the name cautiously with the correct pronunciation. "Beg your pardon," he said gruffly. He made a note. "What can you tell me about her, Walter?"

"Junkie whore."

Mal waited for more, but Kovacs simply stared at him.

"I understand that Riker's put her through detoxification for the heroin before she came here. Withdrawal from opiate addiction is not a pleasant process. She looked quite...worn...when I saw her."

The redhead shrugged.

"She was even more, ah, laconic than you. In fact, she didn't say one word the entire time."

The prisoner did not bite at this bait.

Long blew air out through loose lips. "Walter, she hasn't spoken to anyone since her arrest. Can you shed any light on that?"

"A doll is silent without its master."

The words were delivered in such a clipped tone that Mal heard them correctly, but was scarcely able to process their meaning.

"I'm sorry?"

The prisoner gazed.

"Frankly, Walter, what's of greater concern than her selective mutism is that she won't eat. If she doesn't get something down in the next twenty-four hours, they'll have to force-feed her. With a tube." Long winced sympathetically.

Bruised hands clenched on top of knees.

Mal examined Arete's mugshot, fascinated. He tried to picture her romantically involved with the man who sat before him. An adult relationship: the only one he could find any record of. He needed to pursue this.

"Do you know, Walter: her behavior reminds me of another well-known case. Are you familiar with Charles Manson and his so-called 'Family'?"

Kovacs sniffed.

"You see, Manson continued to wield some sort of psychological power over the females in his circle even after his arrest. These girls would follow his example, even going so far as to shave their hair and incise crosses into their foreheads." The doctor leaned forward, warming to his subject. "Correct me if I am wrong, Walter, but I suspect that you have some control over Arete's behavior: her silence, her refusal to eat. Is it a hunger strike of some kind? Do you know something I can tell her to stop this?"

Kovacs' eyes fluttered shut for a moment, then re-opened. There was no other response.

Dr. Long tried another tack. "For how long were you intimate with Arete?"

The prisoner produced a sneer of such disdain that Mal recoiled.

Was Kovacs incapable of physical intimacy with a woman? An intriguing possibility. The psychiatrist wrote "impotent?" on his notepad.

"She's in segregation as well, Walter. They're afraid to release her into the general population, especially after your...incident...yesterday in the cafeteria. All this bad blood: it might get directed at her. Had you considered that possibility, Walter?"

The redhead snorted. "Piece of human refuse in C-block told me he would rape her with a chair leg."

Dr. Long cleared his throat, repulsed both by the threat and the coldness in Kovacs' voice. "Would you say that you were in love with Arete?"

"Want to go back to my cell."

"Sure, Walter," Mal agreed with regret. "We can stop here for today."

As prisoner #62186 walked the gamut back to the segregation wing, flanked by two hacks, he ignored the insults flung at him like feces. In fact, he barely heard the catcalls and oaths. He was sitting at the table in his apartment, working on an article for the newspaper, and Arete knelt quietly at his feet. The dark locks of her pixie-cut fluttered gently in the breeze from the open window. Face relaxed, her almond-shaped eyes were fixed on a spot near his knee. Her small hands rested on her thighs, almost entirely covering the etched-in words. Her breasts rose and fell gently with the rhythm of her breath.

Soon he would stop writing. He would draw her into his lap and grow drunk with her scent. He would feel her arms twine around him; he would bury himself inside her and draw from her lips the name that he only ever wanted her to say.

Soon he would cement her emotional peace. He would reclaim her from the poison she put in her veins. He would take the gift she offered him and possess her completely.

The prisoner entered his cell and sat on the bunk.

Soon.