A/N: Freaking hell. SO SORRY for the super long delay, not only did college try to eat my brains, but I had writer's block like you wouldn't believe. Still, it's been ages, and that's super lame. :( This definitely won't happen again, seeing as I've basically written every other chapter to the end except this one. Thanks brain. :/
Warnings: none, except this is a really experimental chapter and probably doesn't actually have any place in this story except that I really needed to update and I've gotten curious with this idea ever since I read this in other comic books. Oh yeah, THERE'S LIKE FIVE SECONDS OF SLASH. FOR REALZ THIS TIME.
33. Realities
Blood was pouring through Rorschach's fingers as words (incoherent, frantic, rambling, desperate) poured from his mouth. Pleads to the sky and to god and to the man limp on the ground, his only friend.
Daniel was not responding and Rorschach shouldn't have expected him to. This was not anything that could be mended with sutures and bandages and painkillers (no more kind words, gentle hands, gentle eyes, patience breathed out in a sigh). Still, Rorschach babbled and pleaded and pressed bare hands (skin to skin for the first and last time) to the wound and did not feel the sticky warm sensation of blood oozing onto his hands. Daniel's eyes were open (blank and bleak and terrible) and staring up at the sky with a half-lidded gaze. Blood trickled, thin and watery through open lips and this wasn't right. It was never supposed to be Daniel, never intended to be Daniel (good, gentle, unassuming) to be the one to end this way. If it wasn't for… for—
Rorschach looked up, lips pulled back into a snarl (his mask was off and the monster was gone and everything was so very empty) at the man who had put a bullet in Daniel's head. Rage filled him, washed over the jagged edges of loss and grief and fear (yes fear, fear of being alone and all his fault--). He wasn't getting out of here alive, and that was how it was supposed to be. He didn't much want to live anymore, anyway. Didn't want to live now that everything was gone in a flash of tentacles and horror and failure. Now that there was a body that shouldn't be dead bleeding and cold at his feet. A punishment for defiance—
(Rot in hell…)
The flash of pride Rorschach felt at Daniel's words drew him up, to stare at the man with pain and defiance in his eyes, "What are you waiting for? Do it."
Adrian did pulled the trigger again. Everything went—
Went—
But this isn't right—
"Rot in hell…"
Life is so very long…
…
It was one of the first times Hollis had ever been out on. The night was generous, yielding a thwarted mugging, a stopped assault and plenty of gratitude and awe. Hollis went back home with a spring in his step despite being exhausted, battered and bruised. He was finally doing good, finally making a difference, making lives better and life had never been sweeter.
Then he opened the paper the next morning.
A kid had been orphaned, his parents shot. A robbery. One he could have stopped if he'd only stuck to his pre-decided patrol route. The picture of the little boy, stunned, silent, heartbroken, was splashed across the front page, the theater posters a backdrop to his pain.
When whispers of a dark shadow, sinister and angry, reached Hollis' ears, he pulled out the old newspaper clipping of the little boy orphaned and looked at the posters behind him. Then, he stopped wondering, shook his head, and put the paper away.
Bats were very intimidating creatures…
Bats were
"It's time my enemies shared…"
All those I might have helped…
…
"Hi, I'm here to pick up an order?"
Walter looked up from the register to see a tall, brown-haired man standing before him, smiling behind large glasses. Walter nodded, "Name?"
"Ah. Daniel. Dreiberg." The man shuffled his feet and Walter spared one moment wondering how a man could possibly manage to look friendly, polite, and painfully awkward all at the same time. Biting down an amused smirk, Walter found the order slip and disappeared into the back room. It never took Walter very long to find what he was looking for and not a minute had passed before he found the order. Formal wear. It had needed to be taken out around the shoulders and the pants had needed to be hemmed.
Walter pulled it off the rack and stepped out of the room, back into the light of the front room. He passed Dreiberg the order and instructed him to go try it on in one of the fitting rooms.
After a moment, Dreiberg stepped out of the room, his black slacks and suit jacket looking ridiculous with his tennis shoes and worn blue T-shirt with an owl of all things emblazoned on the front. The man grinned, as though he were aware of just how silly he looked. "So, ah. What do you think?"
Walter swallowed down his amusement and returned to business, looking at the man up and down. The pants were a good length, and fell nicely on his shoes. The jacket looked much better as well. Walter grunted, "Good. What do you think?"
Dreiberg grinned again, "Looks good to me. Thanks. I'll go and change back then."
Walter nodded and as the man disappeared back into the fitting room, Walter rang up his order. When Daniel came back out, he had his jeans back on and his formalwear halfway back into the bag and hanging haphazardly off the hanger.
"You're going to get them wrinkled faster if you don't put them back properly," Walter said before he could stop himself. The man looked surprised and Walter couldn't blame him. Finally, the man—Daniel Dreiberg—laughed and adjusted the clothes so they were hanging properly.
"Thanks again, man," Daniel said as he passed Walter the money, "I'm Daniel Dreiberg by the way—er." He trailed off and flushed as he realized that Walter probably already knew that. The corners of Walter's mouth lifted.
"Walter Kovacs," He replied, holding out a hand to Daniel. He laughed, relieved, and shook Walter's hand.
When Daniel left the shop, Walter couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. And the hope that he might come back again.
Come back again…
Come back…
…
It's the rasp of stubbled cheek against skin. The press of lips on lips, hungrily seeking to taste and explore and claim. The slide of skin on skin and the blessed friction resultant of it. Here there is warmth and breath whispered against an ear. And an ear pressed against a bare chest, feeling the heartbeat there, beneath warm and trembling skin and pulsing flesh. The words are never said, never actually released into the cold air between them. Everyday implied with light words, and patience. Gentle hands and gentle eyes where there never was anything but pain. And that is enough for the both of them. Because neither one has ever really loved or been loved before now. And sometimes that's terrifying. Sometimes it's suffocating and too much and there's a thousand things that could be wrong about this. But it's true, and it's them and it's right—
Right?
This must be—
Be near me when my light is low—
Lips that would kiss—
…
A man walks down the street to a purple-lit restaurant. He is nondescript, hunched over with the weight of his cares. Bespectacled, overweight, brow furrowed with perpetual worry.
Another man watches him, passing judgment with his dead-eyed stare. He is small in the way that said he'd always been small. His hair is red and his face is freckled and his body has been battered with a thousand cares and this is the way the world is—
This is the—
This is the way the world ends—
Its hour come round at last…
…Things fall apart…
…
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A/N: FINALLY. Okay, so there are some notes that go with this because some of this stuff WAS NOT MINE: (in order of appearance)
Okay, so this whole premise of this first "reality" was lifted in part from another comic book story. I won't say who for fear of spoilers, but here's a big hint: it's the guy whom Dan was based off of. And "Life is so very long" is from "The Hollow Men" by TS Eliot. Because I just had to analyze that poem, like, 3 days ago. And it's a damn good poem. XP
BATMAAAN! Because how could I resist. Also, in case you didn't catch that, in the awesome montage at the beginning of the movie, there's a shot of Hollis basically saving Bruce's parents. So I decided that Batman isn't allowed to be happy and killed his parents again. *evil grin* Also, "All those I might have helped…" is a half quote from Samuel Beckett's Endgame, which is fabulously incomprehensible.
TAILOR!SCHACH. No note here besides I basically love the idea that in some universe Walter's a happy tailor. (and this maay be my next big project…)
AUGH SO MUCH CONTRIVED FLUFF WHAT THE SHIT. D: Okay, so writing random slash moment with no explanation or build-up is hard. *whines more* And "Be near me when my light is low…" is part of a beautiful poem by Tennyson called "In Memoriam" where basically he talks about how sad he is that his best friend is dead and how much he loved him. It's sad and awesome. And "Lips that would kiss" is also from "The Hollow Men" from my all-time favorite stanza. It rips out my heart all the time. D:
Oh noes! Canon! No fun at all! :[ "This is the way the world ends" is from, again, "The Hollow Men" (okay, I just analyzed the shit out of this poem, SHUT UP.) and the last two lines are from Yeats' "The Second Coming", which will always hold a special place in my heart.
O HAI THERE PRETENSION, LET'S BE BFFS. XP Sorry. I hope this was worth the wait. I tried making it a little more exciting to make up for the looooong time between updates. And I would love to know what you think.
THANK YOU GUYS. REALLY.