Watchmen Slash: Ozymandius/Rorshach
TITLE: One Night Without Fire
AUTHOR: harmonyopc
FANDOM: Watchmen
PAIRING: Rorshach/Ozymandius
RATING: PG-13 to R for language and sexuality
WORD COUNT: 2,760
SUMMARY: "You wouldn't survive without something to conquer, would you?"
“I can tell you are cold,” Adrian states. So matter-of-fact. “No matter how hard you try, you can’t hide it from me.”
“World’s smartest man,” I rebuff. “Still doesn’t know everything.”
He laughs, a conciliatory sound. Almost as if he’ll let me have this one. “You’re right. I don’t. But I have known you for … how long now? And I can tell.” He studies me. “You never lie. Go on. Tell me I am wrong.”
That chafes. “No reason to be cold in here,” I rationalize. “You have it all figured out. Your temperature-controlled, carefully managed … habitat.”
“Habitat,” he muses. “A place where kept animals may believe they are free.” The shadow of something like a wry grin appears. “Yes, I find it … appropriate.”
“Wild outside, tame inside,” I counter. “Like humanity?”
“If anything, I’d say we’re usually the opposite,” he smiles. “I have to admit, it takes a lot of effort to keep a place like this running. But in the end, it is worth it.”
“Worth it to who?” I half-snarl. Not sure why so aggressive. Comment about me being cold not too far off the mark. Must be it. Nothing unusual, though. I always shiver in this place. It’s like sleeping in museum. “Veidt. I know you want isolation. Privacy. For your work. But the Arctic?” I shook my head. “It’s not the work. It’s about conquering. Taming the wild. Bending nature to your will.”
He stares at empty fireplace. Archaic thing to man like Veidt. No firewood in here. His personal sleeping quarters. Never tolerate the smoke. Thermostat instead. No answer from Veidt. But his hand grips the glass, turning white. Wonder if he is strong enough to shatter it without meaning to. Probably. Wonder if he could ever lose control enough to do it. Probably not.
I gesture at the fireplace. “You’ve never even used one of those, have you? Just decoration. If you had to pit yourself against the forces of nature … ” I chuckle with malice. “You wouldn’t last a day.”
This gets his attention. “What are you saying, Rorschach?” Turns that brilliant gaze on me. And I react. Like always. It’s the eyes. Not what’s under the ridiculous armored bodysuit. And stupid purple belt. But the eyes. Clear like water. Blue like sky. Innocent. But cunning. A wild animal. Stops my heart.
“I’m saying … you wouldn’t survive without something to conquer, would you? Can’t leave things as they are.”
He blinks slowly. Once. Very controlled. Says quietly, “Why should I leave things as they are? Are things really so wonderful? … Besides, my namesake didn’t. He had a vision. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m doing this work to follow in his footsteps.”
“Your namesake perished,” I counter. “Vision died with him.”
“No, it didn’t,” he argues. No trace of smile now. “He died, but his goal, his dream, did not. It lives on, even without him. That is all that proves a man is great, Rorshach.”
“I disagree. If you’re so great,” I sneer at him, “prove it. Prove you can make it one night without having to master all you see.”
His eyes narrow. Thoughtful. Wily. He reminds me far too much of blue cat. Waiting for opportunity to pounce.
“And why should I do that?” he asks. “Are you that much of a glutton for punishment, Rorschach?”
I don’t bother to answer. We both know the truth of that. Ironic. He is the one who wears protective armor. But when we’re alone, I’m the one who makes him suffer.
Then his words sink in. “Me? Punishment? How?”
That ghost of a grin again. “My ancestors used to put out their fires on the longest night, the winter solstice, and just let the cold take over. They did it in faith that the sun, the spring, would return. They sat up and kept vigil until dawn, trying not to freeze. They wanted proof they could survive one night without fire.” He turns his gaze to the window, admiring his reflection against the black arctic night. Curtains drawn back. Probably just so he can preen like this. Man in love with own reflection. However, I can’t blame him. “Up here … well, solstice or not, it makes no difference. The cold is constant and worse than anywhere on Earth. The windows are reinforced, but they’re still glass. And if I open them, if I prove” - sarcasm not like him - “I don’t have to master my environment, if I turn off the temperature controls in here for an entire night…” He stares at me, then states didactically, “You will freeze.”
“And why not you?” Sinking feeling.
He laughs outright. “Because as I’ve said … I know you . I don’t think I’m the one with something to prove. I’m wearing my armor, and I’m not stupid enough to think it would be safe to remove it under those circumstances. It’s designed for just such an emergency. There is an additional snowsuit for outside work, but this would suffice for indoors, even with a window compromised.” He grins at me. Feral. Eyes of blue fire. “I can survive if something goes wrong. I’ve planned for it. You?” He gestures with one long, graceful hand. “You have what? A trenchcoat. And you’d never ask for help even if it killed you.”
Try not to show reaction. “Fine like this.” I pause, thinking. “Your men. Your precious kitty. Freeze them too?”
“Don’t be silly,” he snaps. “This isn’t their … battle to fight. This room is sealed off. I would leave the temperature as it is in their wing.”
I remember how this building is sectioned. Partitioned. Adrian is smart. Plans for everything. I’ll give him that.
Am reminded of children playing Freeze-Out. In the depth of winter. Open all windows in moving vehicle. Take off coats. First one to make effort to stay warm loses. I never played. Never had friends to play it with. And higher stakes now. But I’m in.
Look him in the eyes again. He blinks, as if surprised. Wonder what he’s seeing.
“Do it, then.” Comes out as whisper. “I dare you.”
He smiles. I see only teeth. “Remember, Rorschach. You asked for it.”
Two hours later. Posh, cozy bedchamber now icy deathtrap. Dim. Surreal. One lamp lit, old-fashioned gas lamp on mantel. Never saw it before. Doesn’t fit him. Veidt stands next to partially-open window, illuminated gold outline staring into the darkness, as though icy night holds secrets for him.
I sit in same hard chair. I want to move, to get under covers in bed. But that would be weak. After another hour I consider getting up and doing push-ups. To keep me warm. But I don’t. Strong now. Used to physical pain as adult. Used to all kinds of pain as a child. I will keep my word. I will not show my throat to Veidt. No matter what he is at other times, he is predator now. I will be fine.
Sometime within the next hour I look down. I am shivering. Maybe I was before. Just didn’t notice. I clutch my coat around me in spite of self. Breathing sounds choppy. Teeth chattering even when I clench.
Adrian hears. He turns to regard me. “Had enough?” he says quietly. “We don’t have to do this, you know. We can just go to bed.” His eyes glimmer. No malice in his tone. No teasing. He means what he says. But so did I.
I shake my head. “I told you. Fine like this.”
Time passes. Time stands still. Time is irrelevant. Maybe this is what Jon feels. Except Jon wouldn’t feel the cold. Cold. So cold. I try to think warm. Fail. Cold is everywhere.
Adrian doesn’t speak again, but his words echo from before. “…don’t have to do this.” He’s right. Why am I doing this? Why should I suffer? He is pathological one. Needs control. He has armor. He won’t freeze. Won’t remove it to prove point. Not a fair fight. Who am I playing game of chicken with?
Doesn’t matter. I said I could do this. I will. He said I’ll never ask for help. He’s right.
I curl up, in chair, arms around knees. Adrian doesn’t appear to see. Adrian studies the night.
Adrian never moves. Frozen statue.
Something else he said earlier. His ancestors. Watched and waited on the longest, coldest night. Waited for the sun. Vigil.
Vigilante. One who keeps vigil?
I am called vigilante. What do I keep vigil against? Or keep vigil for?
Thoughts wandering. Can’t seem to keep things straight. Straight, upright, erect as an arrow. That man, that is Ozymandius. King of kings. Never a hair out of place. Except when … No. Can’t think of that now. Have to concentrate on survival.
Adrian wouldn’t let me die. But that is not Adrian over there.
God-like, bathed in gold, he turns to regard me again. Purple surrounding his eyes. When did he put on mask?
Blink and realize it is not mask. Just shadows. Stupid mistake. Not the kind I usually make.
Shivering has become fact of life. I breathe, I shiver. I think, I shiver. I move, I shiver. I don’t move, I shiver. Can’t hear my own respiration anymore. But can still see the fog in front of my mouth. Wonder why it does not turn to ice crystals and fall down.
Don’t care. I’m just here.
I must have fallen asleep, because I am dreaming. There is an angel-demon with hair of bright platinum. He hovers before me. Wings beat so fast they are a blur behind him. Invisible.
I can’t see its face. Too bright. Something damp sears the tip of my left ear. “Come, come on,” the demon bargains. Hot sweet breath melts the ice. I am no longer shivering, but trembling. A burning hand on my nape, on the hollow of my throat. Lips of flame press mine. The fiery breath of life, from God, through this angel, into me. I am alive. I am alive to feel this. “Come with me.” The angel-demon pulls back. Takes my face in its hands. My face.
I am staring into familiar eyes. Blue ice.
Adrian.
I am awake.
What is going on? I pull back clumsily. He is saying something to me. I reply. “What?” he asks. “I can’t understand you.” I want to insult him, but I can’t seem to get the words out. Very strange.
“Rorschach -” Suddenly he is beside me. Crouched. I blink. Man moves like ninja. “Rorschach. You’re turning blue. Hypothermia. You have to let me help you now.”
“Don’t need any help,” I reply. He glares at me. Faster than my eye can follow, his hand slaps my face. “I still can’t understand. You’re mumbling. Rorschach, listen to me - ”
I start to snarl out a “Leave me alone!” but it never makes it out of my mouth. Adrian has disappeared. I see Blair’s kidnapper instead. The dogs. The chewed-up bones of the innocent.
It was cold that night, too.
One word registers. Hypothermia. Symptoms: sleepiness, clammy skin, garbled words. Hallucinations. The dream…? If I continue this little game. I will be incapacitated. Or dead.
If I do this, I’ll never get the chance to try again. Useless. Able to help no one.
I cannot do it for my sake. But I can do it for theirs. For hers.
“Adrian,” I try again. “I give up...”
“What?” He still doesn’t seem to hear. “I can’t understand. Rorschach -”
Stupid blonde boy. I’m not translating to German for him. I unfold my legs from chair and start for window. Will close it myself.
Legs won’t let me. Do not remember falling. Am on the marble floor beside the bed. I reach for covers. Only vaguely aware of someone - a king, a killer, a saint? - helping me pull a blanket over my shoulders. Tucking me in where I lie.
Something tells me I should be miserable. I’m not. I don’t feel much of anything at all.
After. I am too tired at first to open my eyes. I hear something, some small door on hinges, opening and closing. I smell something that is familiar, but so out of place here that I don’t know it. I hear a skritch, skrrrrrritch. Incredibly, the crackling of flames, the smell of smoke.
Fire. In Antarctica. What an oxymoron.
I am naked. No surprises there. My skin feels red and raw. As though someone rubbed it down vigorously for some time. Well, not fastest man in the world for nothing.
Hot drink in some kind of mug on bedside table. He approaches and hands to me. He is in purple bathrobe. Silky. Frivolous. But it fits him well.
I accept drink. I gulp, not caring whether mouth is burned. Seems to be coffee.
“You’re going to be all right,” he says. He has a look I can’t identify - pity? Compassion? Or just condescension. “You know, severe hypothermia damages the brain. And frostbite …”
“Spare the lecture, Veidt.” I push myself up in bed. No idea what time it is. I imagine I can see beginnings of light outside through whirl of wind and snow.
“This is no lecture.” Never more German than when he’s stern. “You overestimate yourself. You always go over the top. Why can’t you let enough be enough?”
“You pulled the plug. Opened window. Let in cold.”
“You insisted on this stupid game. Even watching your reflection, I couldn’t tell how bad off you were until it was almost too late.”
So that was what he was doing. The whole time. Looking at me. Something in my chest wrenches. He built this fire. Swathed me in blankets, rubbed my skin, gave me -
It is all too much. He needs to be taught lesson. Put in his place.
I quaff remaining contents of mug. Set down. Turn to face him.
I spring. He is ready. I am slow.
Nevertheless I tackle him. Tear off silly purple robe with my teeth. Go straight for the join of neck and shoulder, sucking, biting, licking. He thrashes beneath me and cries out. So free. So uninhibited. Something I will never be.
I pin his wrists. I know he lets me. It only excites me more. I work him over until I’m sure he is ready.
I have to stop often to rest. He pretends not to notice.
We both do.
When time is right, I take him with usual fierceness. Shove him against headboard. Hands clasping each other, wrists crossed as if he were bound. Blond head whips to one side. Perfect features contorted in ecstasy. Eyes closed. Throat wide open. The sounds he makes. Only time he sounds like that. Only time I’ve ever heard him say “please” in that voice, raspier than mine, desperate, needful. Only time I ever see him without mask on. Not purple Ozymandius mask. The other one. The one he wears all the time.
I have never told him why I like it so rough. Or why I can’t look him in the face when we do this.
It’s not shame. That’s what he thinks. But not shame. It’s those eyes. What I might see. The glory. The … passion. I get enough glimpses beforehand. Am almost incapacitated even then. A love I can never be worthy of. And reciprocate badly, like poorly transmitting radio.
We are done. Normally I wouldn’t touch him. This time I have to. For warmth. I curl close to him. Against his back.
Not so bad. Pleasant, actually.
He sighs. Out of nowhere, says, “And to think, we could have had that without you almost freezing to death.”
I stiffen. He feels it. Starts to turn and face me. Knows that was mistake.
I shove him away harshly. “You arrogant little fuck. You wanted this. Tried to talk me into corner.”
“No, not precisely,” he counters. “I did wonder how serious you were, though.”
“You failed,” I hiss at him. “Didn’t work, genius. Landed outside your trap.”
He visibly starts. “What do you mean?”
I smile. He will hear it in my voice. “In the end, wasn’t me versus you. Not even me versus myself. It was me versus all the scum out there. I die, they win. I can’t afford to lose.”
For one split second, almost predatory look sharpens brilliant blue eyes. Feral, bestial. Like giant blue cat, only worse. I repress a shiver.
Then it’s gone. Maybe I imagined it.
Maybe not.