Author's Notes: Hello all! Well, in this installation, we will be riding on the angst train, compliments of Daniel this time 'round. Shocker, I know. I hope you enjoy, this is one of my best chapters yet, I think *sheepish smile*
Warnings: um. Kidnapping and vague vague hints of child abuse/molestation etc. For like a second. But still.
12. Fall Apart
This was bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad. The condemning mantra echoed in Dan's head as Nite Owl tore down the alleys, following the retreating shadows and the terrorized screams, barely registering the ever-constant presence bobbing at his left shoulder. His lungs were blazing, heart pumping more adrenaline than blood, and all he could see was the little, terrified face that shouldn't have been out so late at night even if it was only barely dark and where were his parents and why was he out alone and why was he so important that the kidnapper had run, had run away from him (and Rorschach, which was never really a good idea) when he shouted…something. Not "stop", though maybe he should have and it certainly wasn't anything coherent, just an enraged, shocked noise that was meant to communicate such things as "let that kid go" and "stop" and "don't hurt him" and "I will kill you" all at once and yet not at all and it wasn't as though he'd never dealt with a kidnapping case before, he had, many times. They always turned his stomach and he'll never forget the first one he took with Rorschach and how when they discovered what exactly they were using the children for and how many they had taken, Dan had been frozen with nausea and pain and shock and how Rorschach had screamed and screamed and screamed and there was so much blood and pain and this was exactly the same only worse.
It was worse because he had seen it. The initial taking. It had happened right in front of his face and he knew before he knew (like he knew when he was about to be punched because of a misstep) that he couldn't get there in time to prevent it. Too fast, not fast enough and now here he was, riding the shockwaves of terror emitted from the small child, scooped up by arms that were not familiar and far too small to put up any sort of real fight and that's why the kidnapper is even able to keep any distance between them is that he's big, tall and muscular and the child is so heartrendingly small and he can't be any more than six and what the hell was he doing out all by himself? Frustration spurred him on when his muscles began to ache and his lungs began to rebel. The man is right there just around the bend and his boots splashed through puddles of water and gasoline and piss and filth and he's almost there and when he finds the bastard, he's going to
Wait.
The alley opened up to a busy street and Nite Owl could no longer hear the little boy.
No. No no no no no no.
Someone kept repeating this in his ear and he wasn't sure if it was him or his partner, who stood, chest heaving beside him, casting around frantically for any sign of the child or his captor. He figured it was him when Rorschach suddenly grabbed his elbow and wheeled him around, intense and frantic in a way only Rorschach could be.
"Daniel," he rasped, and he was breaking his own Unbreakable Rule: Thou shalt not call your partner his first name whilst on patrol. The breach was enough to rip Nite Owl's mind back into sharp focus, "Could not have gone far. Has to be physically worn, especially burdened with a child. Should--"
But what Rorschach thought they should do was drowned out by the screech of tires and the careless driving that spoke more of urgency and the punch drunk wonder that came from getting away with something huge. They turned. His brain, sharp and shaky from adrenaline, frustration and fear only registered little bursts. An almost stereotypical white van. Burly arms and a familiar profile. A small little white hand gleaming against the tinted windows. Frantically beating.
There was no time to summon Archie. Nite Owl probably wouldn't even have had the presence of mind if there were. He just exploded from the shadows, dashing after the white car. He didn't really have a feasible plan and the rational part of his mind reminded him that the car didn't tire. He did. But a larger, secret, almost primal part of him positively growled at the thought of giving up the chase and he pushed on. The car sped on, heedless of any traffic and he was heading for the bridge and wait—
An idea that was more of a feeling than a conscious thought struck him and he jerked a hand to his belt and pulled. The little rectangle clutched in his hand, Nite Owl took aim at the skidding tires, gleaming in his racing mind as they touched the entrance to the bridge, just over the Hudson. Where all the dead bodies were.
Nite Owl pressed the button.
A jet of green light buzzed from the point and like an avenging angel, Nite Owl grinned savagely, righteously as he cut away the tires, heedless of the startled (startled and alarmed and so not Rorschach it should have stopped him) noises coming from his right, he pressed on, the laser slicing through the van's body and
Wait.
The van skidded out of control, flipped over its nose and crashed, rolling once, twice, thrice and then over, over the divide and in the air and he wonders disjointedly what freefall feels like and how it's surprising he doesn't know yet. Then, with a noise that sounds more like Atlas dropping the world than a splash, the almost dismembered van crashed into the black, brackish water of the Hudson.
Where all the dead bodies were.
Daniel's eyes went wide behind Nite Owl's goggles. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly and he was suddenly jerking back into motion, running towards the water when someone pulled him back. He looked dumbly at the visage of black and white and for a moment he didn't know who he was. The strange looking being who seemed to know him spoke his name.
"Daniel," Was that his name, really? For some reason, he thought it was longer. Or with more words. Or maybe he didn't have a name. "Go to Archie. Stay there. I'll come and find you."
Archie. He jolted out of the shorter man's grasp. "We can't—or I…Rorschach." That was this creature's name. Rorschach. Only he wasn't a creature. He was a man. He was Daniel's best friend. Daniel's. Or was he Nite Owl's? He didn't know. "We have to help." That much he did know.
The grip returned, this time on both his shoulders, which he knew distantly should surprise him, "We will. I'll take care of it now. Go on." Behind the man who was somebody's best friend and partner, nobody had come out of the water and there should be, there were people in that car. A man and a little boy
Wait.
Realization was cold and biting and crushing and Daniel suddenly collapsed under its weight and maybe Atlas dropped the world on him when he dropped the car into the Hudson. And he had—had… oh god, the little boy.
"Oh god no," Denial was safe and warm and somehow traitorous but he couldn't find it in himself to care, "The…the boy—I didn't…is…" He looked up at Rorschach, suddenly confident this man never lies, "What did I do?"
People were beginning to crowd around the water and their frightened faces blanched as they took in the damage. Someone was screaming. Someone else (or it could be the same someone) was crying and they weren't pointing at him yet, but Daniel felt that they were going to start soon.
Rorschach seemed to understand this as well, because Daniel was being pulled to his feet and pushed gently but firmly away from the destruction he had caused.
Death and destruction.
"Go on," Rorschach repeated, "Go to Archie." Rorschach never calls the Owlship Archie. The sudden recollection seemed surreal and silvery as it passed through his mind, but the anomaly of it alerted some untouched part of his brain that this was really, really wrong and what had he done? "Daniel." The man who never lies, his black and white partner, his friend, Rorschach was starting to sound worried. His voice was hard, "Go. Back. To. Owlship." The growl, familiarly dangerous, jerked him into movement, little shaky steps back to where he had come from. People were starting to come towards the place where he had been. Where Rorschach still was. He could hear them. They sounded angry.
Daniel staggered back to the Owlship. Archie. He stared at it, gleaming and proud and suddenly he hated it. Hated its cold, proud detachment, its shameless flaunting of the laws of nature and physics. Men weren't meant to fly and this… thing shouldn't even exist. It was useless. It could fly and shoot weapons and all other wonderful things, but it couldn't even save a little boy. Neither could he, really.
Neither could he.
He wasn't sure how long it was before Rorschach came back again, but by the time his partner had returned, Daniel was slumped on the cold ground, leaning against the outer, curved wall of Archie, staring into nothing. He doesn't really notice when Rorschach fumbles with the controls and opens up the ship. He doesn't notice as hesitant hands that are clearly trying very hard to be gentle pull him to his feet and lead him to a chair. What he does notice is a hand on his shoulder after a long pause and a black and white mask that hovers close to his face and even the inkblots look worried. What he does notice is the concern and uncharacteristic softness in the question, "Up to flying the Owlship Daniel?"
He knows it's the closest to "are you all right, Daniel?" as he would ever get. And it makes him lose his control.
With a strangled cry, he jerks his arms around his partner and buries his face in the front of his trench coat and any number of things should be running through his head right now. Like how he really deserves to be slapped in the face for being so soft or how he's probably going to be pushed off and punched in the nose by the very personal space-oriented Rorschach or how Rorschach's coat smells like sweat and grime or how this is really weird and childish of him to do. None of these things ever made it to the forefront because a primal, childish part of him recognized stability and comfort and he clung to it desperately as sobs wrack his whole body, as if in an attempt to wring all the pain out of him. Without ever moving his face from Rorschach's coat, he tried to explain to his partner who must hate him as much as all those other people did. As much as the parents of that little boy will.
What comes out sounds like unintelligible mumbling to Rorschach. But out of that he hears Daniel's voice, wrung out with grief and guilt, "…my fault, shouldn't have…"
Daniel feels arms awkwardly circling his shoulders, hands patting his back maybe a little harder than strictly necessary and hears a rough voice trying very hard to be soft murmur, "Ennk. Wasn't your fault. Just an accident Daniel. Just an accident. You were trying to save the boy and it went badly. You…hrn." There was a pause, considering and thoughtful, "You are a good person, Daniel. This doesn't change that. Regrettable accident. Good lesson for the future."
Daniel almost laughed. Rorschach was trying so very hard, but in the end, the man was who he always was: practical, taciturn Rorschach. He rested his temple on Rorschach's collarbone, still not thinking beyond basic comfort. "I wasn't me." Daniel finally admitted, "I was…someone else. Someone different. I wanted to kill that guy," he waited for Rorschach to pull away from him, disgusted or horrified, but he simply stood there. Reassured, Daniel continued, "I didn't like it. Who I became. I like to think things can be solved without people killing people. I don't like that there's that inside me."
"Inside all of us," came the swift reply, the voice rumbling against Daniel's ear, "What matters is how it is used, for good or for evil. When used for good, can be a powerful defense for those who have none. Just has to be controlled. Just takes time, Daniel. Time and many mistakes."
Daniel nodded against Rorschach's collar. The other man made an 'hrrk' noise and gently pushed Dan off his shoulder. Drained and only distantly embarrassed, he pushed up his goggles to rub at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Hey, Rorschach?"
"Hrn?"
"Have you ever read Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde?"
"…Yes."
"Would you ever let me know? If…you know…things ever started looking like that?"
It was a childish question and as soon as the words left his mouth, he flushed, expecting Rorschach to dismiss him and the question and tell him to take them back. Instead, a gloved hand squeezed his shoulder yet again.
"Always, Daniel. Am your partner for a reason."
"Okay. Thanks. Me too."
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A/N: Sad Dan is sad! :( Well, I told you I had to get angst in there anyways, so here it is. More to come I'm sure, but not for a while. This was exhausting!