TW: attempted rape, violence
Laurie calls me a few hours later, saying that Rorschach broke in to tell them that "that sonuvabitch rapist died".
"-and I don't even give a damn, you know, Lena?"
I smile despite myself, cheered a little by the familiar fire in her voice. "Yeah, I got the message, too. He broke in last night through the window, must've scaled the whole building."
"No way. You're kidding!" Laurie sounds amazed.
"Haha. I wish."
"Man, Rorschach, though. What a creep. And Jon's no good either - talking about gluinos again or some boring crap. So I decided to call Dan up, go to dinner with him - Hey, speaking of which, you wanna come with us? Bring Adrian along too?"
"Nah, kid. Week after finals, you know? I've got a ton of stuff to grade."
I can almost feel her roll her eyes. "You're getting old, Lena. Old 'n soft 'n boring. And stop calling me 'kid'. I'm only a few years younger than you."
"Whatever makes you happy, Laurel Jane."
She laughs. "Hey, screw you too!"
"I'll see you later. And tell Dan I said hi."
"Will do."
Almost fittingly, the weather's windy and wet on the day of the funeral. I open my umbrella as I exit the car, my fingers gripping the curve of the splash of rain on concrete grows louder as thunder cracks in the distance.
The hearse is parked ahead.
Each step towards the gravesite, towards the empty hole, six feet deep - it all feels oddly heavy and slow. Like something's changed. And really, it has - the man, the murderer, the hero, the mercenary, the mask and the cigar and the smiley-face pin, all reduced to this single resting place.
One of us, reduced to a cold body in a cold grave.
I almost can't believe he's dead.
The rain is falling harder now as the marines march closer, the coffin borne aloft by their shoulders. And when it passes by I take a breath, looking at the lid of the coffin, the swaying veil of the red-white-blue and the glossy black beneath, quiet and nondescript. His name, engraved on a small metal plaque.
When they reach the grave, the marines turn, pull the flag from the top of the coffin and solemnly fold it into a small triangle. Blue cloth and stars on the outside, it's handed to another official. The coffin, now suspended by straps of black fabric, is gently lowered down into the rectangular shaft. When it hits the ground below, they pull the straps back up and fold them together.
A man clears his throat, then, and we look up as the priest opens the Bible. His hands, wrinkled and worn, push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He gently presses the pages down flat as he begins to read.
"Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of miseries. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower. He fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth to stay."
Movement out of the corner of my eye, and I turn to see Rorschach - no, Walter, orange hair aflame and wet from the rain, walk by the iron gates. He stops, turns his collar up however futilely to ward off the wind and rain.
The ink on the sign is bleeding, like black tears that drip down and stain into the wood.
"-O lord most mighty, o holy and most merciful savior - Deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death..."
Adrian's eyes are flat, pensive as he stares at the grave, Jon's emotionless as usual and Dan - Daniel, his eyes are wet with tears, with rain and fear and anguish, his face crumpled.
The pools of muddy water are overflowing into the stained grass, gray and murky. But in a different place, a different time, the washed out color of the streetlamp is turning the puddles of to gold, the clouds in the night sky to silver as I crouched low behind a blockade near the entrance of a warehouse.
We'd been tailing a sex trafficking ring by the waterfront for some weeks now, following the shipments past the harbor, waiting for the right time to strike. Dan and Adrian were overhead in Archie, the murmur of their voices low in the com link as they relayed the information down to the Comedian and I.
My eyes scan the five guards hanging out in the lot, checking their weapon specs and their rotation shifts. I take a step forward, and the Comedian suddenly grunts, hand coming in front to block me.
"Kid, don't-"
The sound of the trip-wire sends a cold wash of fear through me, and one by one the floodlights turn on, casting bright white light onto the entire lot. Immediately the guards turn, guns aimed towards where we're hiding.
"Fuckin' rookie mistake, kid," the Comedian snarls as he cocks his shotgun. I grab a teargas canister and toss it high into the air.
"What happened?" Dan's voice is worried, and I know he can see the sudden plume of white smoke from above the second the canister hits the asphalt. The guards are yelling frantically as the canister spirals on the asphalt, the smoke beginning to obscure all vision.
"Ozy's little friend here screwed up, is what happened! Hey, over here, you sons-a-bitches!" Laughing, he vaults over the ledge and hits the ground, firing with deadly accuracy into the smoke. He turns to glare up at me when I stay, frozen. "What're you doing, girl? Don't you know a good fight when you see one?"
I follow his command, dropping down onto the lot below and flicking out a pair of steel-tipped batons. The two of us sprint across the open lot towards the warehouse.
Back pressed up against the side entrance, I unhook a grenade from my belt and unclip it before tossing it inside. A scuffle and then a man yells, before the grenade goes off, orange flames and smoke blasting out of the door.
I duck and roll in, whipping the batons through the air once and hearing the crackle of electricity as they charge up.
"Shit!" one of the men yells, and fumbles for his gun, but I vault over the couch and slam the batons on either side of his neck, shocking him unconscious.
The Comedian grabs the other man's neck and twists, snapping his spinal cord. "Watch out, kid-"
I turn and duck as the third guard appears from a side room across the hallway and swings an Uzi forward. With no time to spare, I flip over the dining table and collapse behind it as the bullets slam loudly into the hardwood. Just a few meters away from me, the Comedian is sitting behind the couch.
"Shit, my shotgun's jammed." He pulls at the trigger again, before growling in frustration.
"He's getting near!"
"No shit, kid, you don't think I can see that?" He pauses, and I can see the gears working in his mind, before he suddenly smirks. "...Ya think he can shoot both of us at once?
I groan. "So it's both sides, then." I flinch when a bullet suddenly shreds through the table, and quickly unclip a stun grenade from my belt. The Comedian slips on a pair of earplugs as I press a button on the side of my helmet, soundproofing the inside, before tossing the grenade out.
Silence.
I close my eyes.
Bang.
One. Two.
The two of us jump out from the blockades, and to my surprise, the guard's still holding the Uzi, his mouth open in a soundless yell. Immediately a round shatters into my helmet, the screen shutting down but the glass itself holding strong, and I tuck and sprint forward, dodging side to side as the guard frantically swings the gun between me and the Comedian.
He's the first to reach the hostile and tackles the man to the floor. The Uzi goes flying into the air and lands on the carpet, and the Comedian grabs it.
"No-" I yell-
And he fires into the man's head, his skull immediately shattering and blood spraying out.
"Christ-" I look away from the sight, feeling my stomach turn. "Stop it!"
He drops the submachine gun and spits at the ground. "Fuckin bastard grazed my side," he mutters, as he touches his side and his fingers come away with blood.
I shake my head. "That's not an excuse to just - kill him like that! He was already down!"
He rolls his eyes. "We don't have all day, kid. You wanna keep arguing about morals or finish this mission?" Without waiting for a response, he turns and heads down the dimly lit hallway. and I jerk suddenly when Adrian's voice comes back onto the speaker.
"-aker? Starmaker? What the hell is going on down there?"
The Comedian kicks down the door labeled "Basement", and the connection fizzes out as I follow him down into the concrete stairwell.
The electricity must have gone out at some point, because it's pitch black down here. I flick my headlights onto the lowest setting, and descend the stairs. The air grows colder and colder as I move downstairs, past one flight and then another. On the last flight I come across an open door, the green EXIT sign flaring bright in the darkness. The hallway laid before me is dark, the Comedian's hulking form illuminated by a single shaft of yellowed light coming from the room before him.
The headlights flicker off as I take a step forward. "Comedian? What-"
But he won't move, his eyes glued to the scene inside. I sprint down the hallway towards him, and it's then that I hear the shouting and screaming coming from the slant of light in the half-open door.
"They're here, they're gonna string you up, you bastard-" A woman is pushing against Montagua, trying to escape as he tears at her undergarments.
"Shut up, you bitch, stop moving. No one's coming to save you."
Neither of them seem to see us, and as they keep struggling, rage is filling me. "Move, Comedian!" I hiss, attempting to shove him aside.
His hand is shaking.
"Stupid whore." Montagua laughs, grabbing a fistful of her flame-red hair and knocking her head against the bedpost.
She screams, pitched and terrified, and it's that noise that finally makes something snap inside of the Comedian.
"Get your filthy hands off of her!" He roars and charges through the door, tackling the man and kneeing him hard in the stomach, and when Montagua makes to stand he cracks the butt of the shotgun against his head. The woman falls limply down beside the bed, covering her ears and screaming loudly.
During the commotion, a guard in the side room rushes over and I grab a cushioned chair and throw it at him, slamming him to the ground. He reaches for his fallen machine gun and I duck behind a short metal cabinet as he opens fire, painting bulletholes all across the walls.
The woman is still screaming, covering her face as the Comedian shoves Montagua into the bathroom and smashes his face against the mirror. When the guard pushes the chair aside and starts to reload the magazine, I vault over the cabinet and kick him upside the head, rendering him unconscious.
"Fucking - god - damned - bastard-" He punctuates every word with slamming Montagua's head against the sink faucet, and the water is running red.
"Stop! He's done - stop!" With my yell, the Comedian finally lets go of the man's neck, and his body slumps down, doll-like and limp.
The woman takes a shaky, tremulous breath, fingers laced across her eyes as she glances wildly around the room, gaze finally settling on the bathroom. "He...oh my god, he's dead, isn't he?" She covers her mouth in shock, eyes filling with tears.
Ignoring the sickening dread in my stomach, I kneel down beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Ma'am? I need you to look here. Just a moment." I flick out the flashlight from my pocket and shine it in her eyes, side to side. Definitely a concussion.
"Fuckin...Jesus…" He's still muttering angrily, aims a kick at the side of the bed that startles both of us, but when he turns to look at us, the scowl on his face drops. "She okay?"
"Uhh. I think so. Mild concussion, some dehydration." Her head nods, red hair spilling down her shoulders, and I shake her. "Ma'am? I'm gonna need you to stay awake, come on. Hey, hey, hey, look-" I start when the woman struggles weakly against me. "You're safe now, okay? We're gonna get you back home. We're here to protect you. Just take a deep breath."
Just then, Adrian and Dan rush into the room. Dan stops just short of the doorway, mouth falling open when he sees the blood splattered across the bathroom.
"Jesus. What the hell happened here?"
"Nite Owl, I'm gonna need you to call the police first. We got a wounded civilian."
Dan takes a look at me, and nods. "Right, I'm on it."
Adrian circles around the bed to find me crouched beside the woman, who, despite my best efforts, is still nodding off. His eyes flit over to the mess in the bathroom, the dead body slumped there, and he stands, anger in his voice as he looks at the Comedian.
"Did you do this?"
The other man laughs, leaning against the wall. "What do you think? Nice little painting, ain't it?"
Adrian's tone is deathly. "This isn't one of your little jokes, Comedian. You've just lost us our link to the head ring. And don't think that his death is right. This isn't justice."
"Well, too fucking bad. He deserved it."
As they keep bickering, Dan arrives, and I help the woman over to him, who in turn gives her a blanket and moves her away from the area. When he comes back, the two of us head out into the hallway, neither of us wanting to stay near the confrontation going on in the bathroom. I sigh heavily, leaning my head back against wall.
"What's the ETA looking like?"
Dan shrugs. "Don't know. Couple of minutes, I think. They say they've already got a dispatch in the area."
"Neat." I turn, and sigh a little as I look at my husband, still standing his ground against the mercenary.
"Not so neat, really. You sure we can't bring her back to the hospital with Archie? It'd be a lot faster."
"I don't think she's in the condition to use any kinda flying transport. Plus, we all know how bad you fly," I joke, elbowing him. Dan snorts.
"-we're done here." Adrian storms past me.
"Didn't know it was gonna take just a coupla words to sort out your bitch ass, Ozy!" the Comedian calls after him.
"Hey, knock it off," Dan says. "C'mon. We're all gonna have to wait until the cops show so that she's taken care of, then we're heading back."
"Whatever." He shoves past us and exits the basement.
After Archie takes off, Adrian heads to mid-ship where I'm sitting. "Lena, are you alright?"
"Yeah." I motion towards my side. "Just a few bruises, I think."
He glares at the Comedian, sitting in the back corner of the ship. "I should've been more careful. You shouldn't be alone on any more missions with him. The Comedian isn't disciplined enough."
"Hey, buddy, it's...y'know, it's over. I'll deal with that later." Adrian half-smiles at the tired tone in my voice, and I lean my head against his shoulder. "C'mon. Lighten up, bucko. Besides, haven't I done a great job protecting myself? I mean, look. I haven't died a single time!"
"Immature." Adrian scoffs, but leans down to press a kiss against my temple.
Outside the window, the dark water recedes into the streets and then to the endless sweeping cityscape; the flickering neon and the gold-rimmed skyscrapers, the harsh orange dots lining each sidewalk, each street, the smog blurring it all and making it seem like something out of a dream.
My ears pop as the altitude drops, and the glow of nightlife is soon replaced by the flare of the halogen lamps lighting the tunnel. Dan slows down and does a final turn inside the basement, carefully setting Archie down on the racks facing the tunnel entrance. The Comedian and Dan head out first, Adrian and I following after.
I turn to him. "You get home first. I have to work it out with him."
Adrian sighs, squeezes my hand once. "Don't let his words get under your skin, Lena. You know how he can be."
"Yeah. I know."
Once Dan and Adrian have left the basement, I turn to look at the other man, sitting on the ledge cleaning his shotgun.
"Comedian. We need to talk."
"Yeah?" He wipes the grease from his hands with a towel and tosses it on the ground. "What about?"
I brace myself. "What happened back there? What was that?"
"None of your business, kid."
"It is my business, you idiot! You killed Montagua when you knew we were supposed to bring him back alive. And that woman - she could've died if you kept on standing there like a god-damned pole in the groun-"
"I said, none of your fucking business!" He raises a hand and I startle, flinching. Seeing the movement, he clenches his jaw and instead brings his hand up to comb roughly through his hair. He takes a deep breath, and I can suddenly hear the wobble in his voice.
"Christ, kid, you...I've had… I've done things, things I ain't proud of. And it...you know, it comes back sometimes." He pauses, takes a step back. "I can be sorry for the things I've done, can't I? And...and I'm sorry for tonight. You shouldn'ta seen that."
"Then... talk to me, for chrissakes! If we need to be a functioning team, you need to...you need to trust me."
He laughs sardonically, takes a swig from his flask. "You know what, I thought you were a good sort. Kept quiet, kept to yourself. Don't be a bitch, Madeleine." The sting surprises me, but it's that last word that surprises me.
"How did you-"
He straightens, eyes gleaming, and I can tell now - this is when he's at his best, when there's only wounds on others to pick at and he doesn't have to think about where he's bleeding.
"Heh. That's right, I know all about you. I know about your little job down at Columbia, I know all about you and what you did, I know about that girl back in Seattle, Ava or some shit-"
"Don't you dare." My fists are curled. The smile falls from his face, bit by bit, and, I think, something inside him - weakens.
"You know what, fuck this. Fuck this, and fuck you, and fuck the Watchmen. Do you think I'm not human? That I don't hurt the same goddamn ways that you do?" He takes a step back, and I stare at him, seeing the shape of a tired, weary man who's almost done fighting.
"...Thou most worthy judge eternal, suffer us not, at our last hour...For any pains to death, to fall from thee..."
The water is falling in steady streams from the metal tips of the umbrella, and it's so, so cold.
The priest closes the Bible, makes the sign of the cross across his chest, and the silence ends, then, the small crowd breaking up into murmurs. An older marine, probably one who'd worked with Blake back overseas, picks up a brand-new spade. Digs it into the dirt - a strange, metallic scrape - and then the first shovelful hits the lid of the coffin. Dan looks down at his hand, where I finally notice the smiley-face pin, brown blood smudged on the cadmium yellow. He sighs as he tosses it down into the grave, and the next shovelful blocks it from view.
Adrian is quiet on the ride home, and as the city passes by through the tinted windows I marvel at how fast everything has changed. And I realize - we always felt that we'd live forever. Maybe not on those stakeouts, during the knife fights and riots, with danger so close, but...when it was all over - we felt invincible.
And it's strange to imagine that one of us is gone already. No matter how - crude, how evil and cruel and unwelcome he'd been at times, he was still one of us.
A Watchman.
When we get home the rain has stopped, pale blue sky showing through shifts and slivers in the clouds, the wan sunlight reflecting off the skyscrapers. It's so quiet now, the aftermath of a funeral lingering in the air, a somber wind permeating the space between us. Yet, in my head, the priest is still talking, his voice soft in the loud patter of rain on umbrellas, quiet amidst the darkness of the cemetery.
But it's not Blake in the ground, and there's no more sun.
"From henceforth, blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, even so saith the spirit, for they rest from their labors. Lord have mercy upon us. Christ have mercy upon us. Lord have mercy upon us.
"Our father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
"Give us our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation…
"...but deliver us from evil.
"Amen."
And there's no more sun.
And still to come,
The worst part, and you know it,
There is a numbness,
In your heart and it's growing.
-The Shins, A Comet Appears
Please review.