Beauty and the Beast
Adrian moved quickly to the hall bathroom. There, he grabbed two towels and two bathrobes. He cleaned off with one towel, then put on and tied the robe.
He paused briefly to look at himself in the mirror. His face and chest were flushed, his hair was tousled and dark with sweat. He had small bruises forming in different places, and he looked exhausted. He thought to himself that this must be what ruffled feathers looked like.
He walked back out into the living room on limbs that still felt like they'd been hollowed out by fire. He found Rorschach right were he had left him. Not only had he not left the spot, he didn't seem to have moved. Adrian decided that his feathers weren't the only ones that had been ruffled.
Rorschach accepted the towel with which to clean up, but rejected the robe and stood to begin collecting his own clothes. Adrian, for his own part, picked his boxers up with his foot and slipped them back on. He doubted that he would go back out again tonight.
“Whew! Well then!” Adrian said after a moment, not wanting the silence to grow into something uncomfortable. “I could use some water. How about you?” Rorschach nodded, and handed Adrian his glass from the coffee table as Adrian glided into the walk-in kitchen. There was still a little water in the glass, but somehow, that part of the evening now felt like a long time ago.
Once dressed, Rorschach positioned himself just outside of the kitchen. “I gotta ask you about something,” He said. Adrian nodded as he walked out carrying two glasses of fresh water.
Rorschach grabbed Adrian's left hand and pulled it toward himself. This was made easier by the fact that Adrian's hands weren't free. He turned the wrist just slightly, and pointed at three long, pale, well-healed scars running half the length of the forearm.
“That's right,” Adrian said. “Not entirely without blemish after all. Sorry to disappoint.”
Rorschach rolled his eyes. “How did this happen?” He asked. Then added mischievously, “I know I didn't do it.”
Here, Adrian pulled his hand back forcibly. “Cat,” he said, already feeling defensive. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now. The scars were shallow and well-healed. He had worn a jacket to the drive-in, and wondered when the other man had noticed. While binding his hands? Or while he'd been stretched out on the floor like a supplicant?
Rorschach swore. “That's what I figured! I'll never understand you keep such a dangerous thing around.”
“Because,” Adrian said. “I believe that insisting that everything be tame, everything be safe, is a character defect...especially for someone of my abilities.”
“Oh, I get it,” Rorschach said. “This is all about proving something, isn't it? Putting the wild thing in her place.”
It was becoming obvious, Adrian thought, that this discussion wasn't just about the lynx. Which didn't make his reply any less sincere or appropriate. “I don't stay safe because Bubastis remembers her place,” he explained. “I stay safe if I remember mine.” He turned up his wrist. “I consider this my fault.”
Rorschach shook his head. “She could be the death of you, Adrian.”
The sound of his first name came like a sweet shock to Adrian. If he remembered correctly, Rorschach had addressed him as “Veidt” a couple of times after they had first met up for the evening. There hadn't really been a need for names at the drive in. This might be the first time tonight that he had been called by name.
Oh, no, wait. Adrian smiled as he remembered: it was the second.
He cleared his throat. “If you look at the sad history of humans and animals,” he said, “it's more likely to be the other way around. Which is not my preference. Besides,” he went on, trying to lighten the mood, “you two got along well enough the last time you were together.”
Not even Rorschach could resist smiling at that memory. They had been at one of Adrian's country homes, and he had been staying long enough to have had Bubastis brought in from Antarctica. Early on, she had walked up to Rorschach with a large stick-more like a small kindling log-in her mouth. He had looked hesitantly from her to Adrian, always slightly afraid of the cat.
I do believe she wants you to throw it!
Rorschach had still hesitated, until Bubastis had finally dropped the log to the floor. It was far too bulky to go very far overhand, but when he tossed it underhand, she fetched it and brought it back to him. Adrian had watched slack-jawed as this process had repeated at least three times, until the cat had grown bored and wandered off after something else.
“Heh. Yeah, that was pretty crazy,” Rorschach said now.
“I've never seen her do that before or since,” Adrian observed.
Rorschach walked over to the couch and reclaimed his seat. “Speaking of carnivores,” he said, “there's something else I'm wondering about.”
“What's that?” Adrian asked, sitting the water glasses down on the coffee table.
“You ate meat earlier tonight. At the drive-in. Didn't think you did that.”
“I usually don't,” he said, sitting in a chair an angle to the couch. “But I do try to have it in at least one meal a month. That way I'll be able to eat it if there's ever nothing else around.”
Rorschach snorted. “Can't imagine what you think might happen.”
“I know, right?” Adrian replied. “Also...I just saw it as part of the whole experience. I believe that most rules are worth bending for the greater good...or just in order to experience life to the fullest.”
At this, Rorschach's gaze grew distant. “Must be nice,” he murmured. He began sipping his water.
“What must be?”
He shook his head. “It's not important.”
This only made Adrian more curious. “No, really. Tell me.”
Rorschach focused on him again. “It must be nice to be willing to explain away anything you want to do. “ He took longer drink of water. “ No offense. It's not just you---not by a long shot.”
“It's not really so hard if you accept life without judgment,” Adrian said. “Northing's really bad or good. Just more or less efficient.”
“Nuclear war? Human extinction?”
“Not bad. Just undesirable...from our point of view.”
“I've heard that argument before,” Rorschach said. “And I get it, I just don't agree. To me, if you think that some things are right and some are wrong, they're always that way."
“But Rorschach, I've witnessed your methods,” Adrian said. “Surely you concede that sometimes, the end justifies the means?”
“Only when the means don't contradict the end,” Rorschach said. “The people I lean on? They've all hurt people, or taken what doesn't belong to them, or done something that society has outlawed as being bad for it.”
“But who hasn't, in the grand scheme of things? Who's really innocent?”
“Blaire Roche,” Rorschach replied, barely audible.
A long, thoughtful silence fell between them. Adrian felt a keen sadness, and realized that he envied his friend's...simplicity was the wrong word, he was far too intelligent; and living by that code looked anything but easy. Clarity. They called it moral clarity for a reason, and things had not been clear for Adrian for some time.
“You know what I mean,” Adrian said, almost equally quietly. “I'm so sorry that that happened. But in a way that proves my point. I was referring to adults.”
“I know that,” Rorschach said. “But still...anyone who would hurt law-abiding people-yes, even adults-has to be stopped.”
Adrian deflated to hear this, but managed to conceal it. Oh, well. At least he had his answer now. He had never really expected help from anyone...or even a confidant, really. He would walk the most important mile of his life alone.
“But what about us?” he asked. “What about what we just did together? It's still illegal in most states of this nation, even if it's not enforced.”
“A means to an end, again,” Rorschach said. “Helps cut down on distraction. Besides,” he went on, trying dispel any static this last statement might have caused. “We're hardly the worst. Tipped off the police last week to a club downtown-people rutting like animals out in the open, swapping partners, multiple partners, that kind of thing.”
Adrian shrugged. “I've been in similar situations before. Much younger, overseas. In the end, it wasn't for me. But gain, I have to say-if everyone's consenting and being careful, I see no problem with it.”
“Well, I'll never understand it,” Rorschach said. “I mean--” cough “--you and I having our freedom the rest of the time, no strings? That only makes sense. But during?” He narrowed his eyes and gazed up Adrian's form appreciatively. “No, I'd never share you.”
Adrian felt himself blush, flattered down to the very marrow. “You haven't noticed me asking, have you?” He asked quietly. “Besides, doesn't sharing imply that there must be something left behind?”
Rorschach chuckled dryly at this. “Cute,” he said. “But let's be honest: I know that my ways aren't as, erm, exotic as you're probably used to.”
“I don't have to be here if I don't want to,” Adrian pointed out. “That being said...my offer still stands.” He snickered. “Metaphorically, at any rate.”
Rorschach sniffed, as if Adrian had alluded to something both obscene and absurd. “Which one?”
“All of them.”
It was Rorschach's turn to blush.
This line of discussion sent Adrian's mind back to the beginning of things. After the passing of the Keene Act, he had begun funneling Rorschach paid detective work for his high-ranking friends in the business world. They didn't even know who Adrian's contact was, but Rorschach helped them sniff out faithless executives who embezzled from or otherwise betrayed their companies. Adrian was more than smart enough to do this himself, but he needed to stay out of these matters, and he trusted Rorschach's skills for deduction and documentation above almost anyone's. This occasioned Adrian, for the first time, to meet Rorschach without his mask-to meet the ghost, as it were, of Walter Kovacs.
One day, Rorschach had dropped by one of his residences on business as Adrian had been getting ready to head out. Adrian had found himself dissatisfied with what he was wearing, and had impulsively switched shirts. As he did this, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a look on Rorschach's face-a look that belied some of the assertions that he even now still made about himself. Adrian watched him avert his gaze as that expression faded into a look of surprise at oneself. This all occurred in a second or less, and was very, very subtle. Anyone less observant than Adrian, or just less in tune with Rorschach, would have missed it altogether. It raised the possibility, though, that Adrian might actually be able to have what he'd been fantasizing about.
A few nights later, in the office of one of Adrian's warehouses, they'd gotten into an argument about something. It couldn't have been significant, because neither of them remembered it now. Adrian had found himself attacked, pinned backwards on his desk. In keeping with his philosophy of minimal violence and passive resistance, however, he did not defend himself right away, but merely waited to see if he would have to.
Come on! Fight back! Rorschach had said. You arrogant pretty boy. Know what I should do? I should turn you over, I should bend you over this desk and fuck you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?
Adrian had tilted his head thoughtfully. Well, actually...
Rorschach had looked as shocked and affronted as a cat that's just had water thrown in it's face. In an instant, he back halfwayacross the length of the room. If Adrian had been any less serious than cancer, he'd have had to laugh. As it was, he hadn't been, and he didn't. Things progressed steadily, if not rapidly, uphill from there.
It had been an interesting experience for Adrian, especially early on. Adrian found himself dealing with someone who was, with only a few exceptions that he alluded to, as pure as driven snow. Nevertheless, Adrian sometimes ended up feeling like the student. Even now, Rorschach could go unpredictably from a lamb, sexually speaking, in one moment to a lion in the next.
Adrian suspected that Rorschach did not avail himself of the freedom that their arrangement afforded. On one level this saddened him, but on another, he considered it not his affair, or anything he could do anything about. All Adrian knew, for his part, was that he got some difficult-to-define something out of his connection with Rorschach that he found with no other partner.
Now, in the penthouse, Adrian shook himself out of his reverie. His memories brought back to mind something he needed to tell Rorschach.
“I have another friend who probably needs a detective,” he said. “Are you interested?”
The other man nodded coolly, but Adrian could detect his barely suppressed relief.
“Okay then,” Adrian said. “I'll let them know. They'll leave the specs in the mail drop tomorrow, after 5pm. They'll be folded in a box that used to contain something by Sonitech communications.”
“Ah. Sonitech.” Rorschach said. “That should be interesting.”
“It will be,” Adrian said. “You know...I didn't quote a price..,”
Rorschach's expression was far away. “I might go up a bit, but not much. We've talked about this, Veidt.”
These jobs came along around once a year, and each one was enough to get Rorschach through about a year...but only at subsistence level.. Adrian wished he would charge more, but the other man made a good point: it would be very easy to be out-priced by detectives who didn't wear masks, or even by the police. Rorschach considered his work to be a privilege, and not something he could ask too much for...but competition was the real issue. Still, he was happy with the work, because it freed him up to do his own patrols and basically to inhabit his created identity almost full-time. And when he and Adrian were together, he would accept hospitality, but never help.
“I'm just saying,” Adrian said, holding his hands up, “inflation and all.”
“No, you're right,” Rorschach said. “It has to at least be worth my while. These assignments get more dangerous all the time. Could get arrested.” Adrian did not miss the anxiety in his voice with this last statement.
It was true that there was risk. Once, Rorschach had been able to get to the bottom of a mystery just by reviewing the company's books. Most of the time, though, the assignment involved breaking into the offices or even the homes of the suspected to look for evidence.
“That's something that really concerns you, isn't it?” Adrian asked with a frown, sliding forward in his chair.
Rorschach cut his eyes toward him. “Why do you say that?”
“Whether you realize it or not, you mention the possibility every time I see you.”
Rorschach nodded slowly. “It wouldn't be good. Sing-sing would be the most likely place. There are at least fifty guys doing life or hard time in there because of me. It would pretty much be escape or...take as many of 'em out with me as I can.”
Adrian's spine grew cold as he imagined these possibilities. “I would offer to help if it came to that, but--”
“But no judge is going to set bail for a masked vigilante double murderer,” Rorschach finished. “No, I know. It's okay. Even if he did, the bail hearing would probably come too late.” He shook his head. “It would be a bad way to go out, that's all.”
“But you don't get caught,” Adrian said, with an almost childlike admiration.
Not even Rorschach could ignore the tone in his voice, and so smiled faintly. “Gee, thanks,” he said. “But everyone's luck runs out eventually.” Adrian could tell, though, that he was sincerely frightened by the prospect.
“Perhaps,” Adrian said. He really didn't think there was much more to say to that. He regarded his empty water glass. “More champagne sounds good.”
“You know, if you were really having fun I don't think you'd have to drink the whole time.”
As he rose, Adrian picked up his old glass of now-flat champagne and looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow. There were only one, maybe two small sips missing. “Oh, yes, I've had so much, after all.” Rorschach's head dropped, wordlessly indicating that he conceded the point.
“Nothing for you, as usual, I assume?” Adrian asked once in the kitchen. He poured out the old champagne and re-poured about half that amount.
“You got that right,” Rorschach replied. “That's a lot of money you just put down the drain, you know.”
It was true, but it did not concern Adrian as he put the champagne bottle back in the refrigerator. “Either I drink too much or I drink too little,” he said. “I can't win, can I, Walter?”
He realized his slip as soon as it came out of his mouth. There was only silence from the other room. Adrian was greeted by a glare of blazing fury as he walked back in.
“What did you just call me?”
“I'm sorry, Rorschach,” Adrian said, taking sip of champagne as he reclaimed his seat. “It was an honest mistake.”
“Not really,” he said coolly. “But I'll let it slide...this time.”
“Thank you,” Adrian said. “I haven't been sleeping well-I guess it just happened.” While this was true, Adrian couldn't pinpoint a real explanation for what had happened. Perhaps he had just underestimated his friend's seriousness on the matter.
For someone who had been infuriated by what Bubastis had done, Rorschach seemed unconcerned about Adrian's sleep trouble. “Okay. But you know how I feel about that.”
“Quite,” Adrian said.
A long silence fell between them.
“I didn't give up. Didn't sell out,” Rorschach said. “Don't forget that.”
At this point, Adrian was on his third drink of champagne, and wanted to steer the conversation in another direction. He had heard Rorschach's opinion of the toys and other merchandise more than once. “Actually, I find it kind of interesting, how you and I ended up on different sides of the coin. We both had two identities for a while...and we both chose to dissolve one of them.”
“There's a difference, though,” Rorschach said. “Ozymandias is still there if you want him.”
At this, Adrian closed his eyes and bowed his head. How could he make anyone in the world understand the magnitude of the decisions there were to be made? How to explain how much he didn't want to be Ozymandias right now?
“I don't believe all of that, anyway.” Adrian said.
“What? That you could put the mask on again?”
“No. That Walter Kovacs isn't there.”
Rorschach's expression was defiant and incredulous as he leaned on one arm. “And who are you, exactly,” he asked, “to tell me who I am?” His voice had the dark calm of a policeman or lawyer letting someone talk themselves into a trap.
Adrian knew that exertion and weariness were conspiring against him to make the champagne hit home quicker. He knew that he needed to shut up-immediately-but it didn't seem to be happening.
“I'm no expert,” Adrian continued, “but I just don't think that someone's original identity can just...go away like that. If you really had a dissociative event, I doubt you would remember it.”
“So you think I'm just crazy, do you? Or making it up?” Rorschach asked, a startling tremor in his voice.
“I didn't say that.”
“Just because you don't want to believe it doesn't mean that it's not true,” Rorschach said. “Lots of things happen in this world that people would rather not think about.”
“I'll prove it, though.” Adrian said, holding up his pointer finger.
“Oh, this'll be good. How's that?”
“Daniel. Drieberg.”
“Wait just a minute!” Rorschach yelled. “Are you tryin' to say that Daniel...is like you? That he and I--”
“No, no.” Adrian said. “He's far too caught up in his futile crush on Miss Jupiter to...think outside the box, so to speak. I also believe that your affection for him is likewise platonic. Which is why it proves my point.”
Rorschach frowned. “We worked together for years. We were friends. You haven't proved anything.”
“You are friends” Adrian said. “You still keep in touch, you still enjoy spending time with him. Me? I'm just a means to an end; a need that's fine to fulfill in private as long as it's stigmatized and criminalized in public. But friendship? You claim that's not a need that 'Rorschach' has.”
Rorschach's face was inscrutable as he rose from the couch. “I don't have to take this,” he said. “From now on, don't question what I say about myself-and leave Daniel out of it, too.”
Rorschach stalked over to the coat closet and pulled out his trench coat. At least, Adrian thought to himself, it was the one that smelled like a house fire and not the extra, the one that smelled like garbage.
“Look,” Adrian said, walking over to him, one hand up, “it's just a point of view, surely--”
“-And besides” Rorschach interrupted, putting on his coat angrily, if that was possible. “It's not as if I'm not your dirty little secret, too.”
“All the men I'm involved with are a secret,” Adrian countered, sincere surprise in his voice. “It's nothing personal. Half of that aspect of my life, I keep from the public. I wish it were different, but it's to protect the brand--”
“Oh, well the brand--”
“ If you really think that I'm ashamed and you're not,” Adrian challenged, impulsively, “then tell Drieberg about us.”
Rorschach jerked his head back in surprise. “But he thinks like you. He wouldn't care. Surprised as hell, most likely, but wouldn't care.”
Adrian smiled. “Exactly.”
Here Rorschach chuffed dismissively and looked at the floor, shaking his head. “Smartest man in the world, huh?” Then he met Adrian's eyes with a stare like a bull's. “You're pretty sharp, Veidt. But if you were really that smart, you wouldn't be involved with me.”
Adrian sighed. “I keep telling you: put yourself down on your own time. Because I don't agree.”
“This,” Rorschach said, pointing to his face, “isn't why I said that.”
“Then why?”
“Because of this.”
At this, Rorschach came around with an unexpected punch. It had almost no visible lead-in, and knocked Adrian flat out, face-down on the floor.
Adrian struggled to his hands and knees, the wind knocked out of him. He shook his head like a dazed pugilist. Adrenaline surged through him, thundering, urging him to knock over the other man and proceed pummeling him. But Adrian had his rules: he would only fight to defend himself or someone else from death or long-term harm.
He sat up into a stooping position, and fixed his gaze upward at Rorschach. “You know the drill,” he said quietly. “You can show yourself out.”
A look akin to hurt passed over Rorschach's face, briefly, like a shadow on the desert; but Adrian knew that he wouldn't have had it any other way.
The door closed. After the footsteps receded down the hall, Adrian cursed loudly, standing and dashing to the freezer for ice.
* * * * *
Later that night, At home in his apartment, Rorschach journaled furiously about everything except what was really on his mind.
* * * * *
In his penthouse, Adrian typed on his computer, using an operating system custom-designed for him by a talented young man from Simi Valley. An air-locked bag of cold water lay beside him: he had managed to head off most of the swelling, but would still probably have to use concealer around his right orbit.
Tears were in his eyes as he worked. “Oh, my friend,” he said, “what a powerful weapon you gave me against you tonight. I only pray I never have to use it.”
Having finished outlining a plan, he saved it in a new file, labeled with Rorschach's name. Then he shut the computer down, and went off to try to get some sleep.
Disclaimer: The characters and their canon storyline are not mine.
He paused briefly to look at himself in the mirror. His face and chest were flushed, his hair was tousled and dark with sweat. He had small bruises forming in different places, and he looked exhausted. He thought to himself that this must be what ruffled feathers looked like.
He walked back out into the living room on limbs that still felt like they'd been hollowed out by fire. He found Rorschach right were he had left him. Not only had he not left the spot, he didn't seem to have moved. Adrian decided that his feathers weren't the only ones that had been ruffled.
Rorschach accepted the towel with which to clean up, but rejected the robe and stood to begin collecting his own clothes. Adrian, for his own part, picked his boxers up with his foot and slipped them back on. He doubted that he would go back out again tonight.
“Whew! Well then!” Adrian said after a moment, not wanting the silence to grow into something uncomfortable. “I could use some water. How about you?” Rorschach nodded, and handed Adrian his glass from the coffee table as Adrian glided into the walk-in kitchen. There was still a little water in the glass, but somehow, that part of the evening now felt like a long time ago.
Once dressed, Rorschach positioned himself just outside of the kitchen. “I gotta ask you about something,” He said. Adrian nodded as he walked out carrying two glasses of fresh water.
Rorschach grabbed Adrian's left hand and pulled it toward himself. This was made easier by the fact that Adrian's hands weren't free. He turned the wrist just slightly, and pointed at three long, pale, well-healed scars running half the length of the forearm.
“That's right,” Adrian said. “Not entirely without blemish after all. Sorry to disappoint.”
Rorschach rolled his eyes. “How did this happen?” He asked. Then added mischievously, “I know I didn't do it.”
Here, Adrian pulled his hand back forcibly. “Cat,” he said, already feeling defensive. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now. The scars were shallow and well-healed. He had worn a jacket to the drive-in, and wondered when the other man had noticed. While binding his hands? Or while he'd been stretched out on the floor like a supplicant?
Rorschach swore. “That's what I figured! I'll never understand you keep such a dangerous thing around.”
“Because,” Adrian said. “I believe that insisting that everything be tame, everything be safe, is a character defect...especially for someone of my abilities.”
“Oh, I get it,” Rorschach said. “This is all about proving something, isn't it? Putting the wild thing in her place.”
It was becoming obvious, Adrian thought, that this discussion wasn't just about the lynx. Which didn't make his reply any less sincere or appropriate. “I don't stay safe because Bubastis remembers her place,” he explained. “I stay safe if I remember mine.” He turned up his wrist. “I consider this my fault.”
Rorschach shook his head. “She could be the death of you, Adrian.”
The sound of his first name came like a sweet shock to Adrian. If he remembered correctly, Rorschach had addressed him as “Veidt” a couple of times after they had first met up for the evening. There hadn't really been a need for names at the drive in. This might be the first time tonight that he had been called by name.
Oh, no, wait. Adrian smiled as he remembered: it was the second.
He cleared his throat. “If you look at the sad history of humans and animals,” he said, “it's more likely to be the other way around. Which is not my preference. Besides,” he went on, trying to lighten the mood, “you two got along well enough the last time you were together.”
Not even Rorschach could resist smiling at that memory. They had been at one of Adrian's country homes, and he had been staying long enough to have had Bubastis brought in from Antarctica. Early on, she had walked up to Rorschach with a large stick-more like a small kindling log-in her mouth. He had looked hesitantly from her to Adrian, always slightly afraid of the cat.
I do believe she wants you to throw it!
Rorschach had still hesitated, until Bubastis had finally dropped the log to the floor. It was far too bulky to go very far overhand, but when he tossed it underhand, she fetched it and brought it back to him. Adrian had watched slack-jawed as this process had repeated at least three times, until the cat had grown bored and wandered off after something else.
“Heh. Yeah, that was pretty crazy,” Rorschach said now.
“I've never seen her do that before or since,” Adrian observed.
Rorschach walked over to the couch and reclaimed his seat. “Speaking of carnivores,” he said, “there's something else I'm wondering about.”
“What's that?” Adrian asked, sitting the water glasses down on the coffee table.
“You ate meat earlier tonight. At the drive-in. Didn't think you did that.”
“I usually don't,” he said, sitting in a chair an angle to the couch. “But I do try to have it in at least one meal a month. That way I'll be able to eat it if there's ever nothing else around.”
Rorschach snorted. “Can't imagine what you think might happen.”
“I know, right?” Adrian replied. “Also...I just saw it as part of the whole experience. I believe that most rules are worth bending for the greater good...or just in order to experience life to the fullest.”
At this, Rorschach's gaze grew distant. “Must be nice,” he murmured. He began sipping his water.
“What must be?”
He shook his head. “It's not important.”
This only made Adrian more curious. “No, really. Tell me.”
Rorschach focused on him again. “It must be nice to be willing to explain away anything you want to do. “ He took longer drink of water. “ No offense. It's not just you---not by a long shot.”
“It's not really so hard if you accept life without judgment,” Adrian said. “Northing's really bad or good. Just more or less efficient.”
“Nuclear war? Human extinction?”
“Not bad. Just undesirable...from our point of view.”
“I've heard that argument before,” Rorschach said. “And I get it, I just don't agree. To me, if you think that some things are right and some are wrong, they're always that way."
“But Rorschach, I've witnessed your methods,” Adrian said. “Surely you concede that sometimes, the end justifies the means?”
“Only when the means don't contradict the end,” Rorschach said. “The people I lean on? They've all hurt people, or taken what doesn't belong to them, or done something that society has outlawed as being bad for it.”
“But who hasn't, in the grand scheme of things? Who's really innocent?”
“Blaire Roche,” Rorschach replied, barely audible.
A long, thoughtful silence fell between them. Adrian felt a keen sadness, and realized that he envied his friend's...simplicity was the wrong word, he was far too intelligent; and living by that code looked anything but easy. Clarity. They called it moral clarity for a reason, and things had not been clear for Adrian for some time.
“You know what I mean,” Adrian said, almost equally quietly. “I'm so sorry that that happened. But in a way that proves my point. I was referring to adults.”
“I know that,” Rorschach said. “But still...anyone who would hurt law-abiding people-yes, even adults-has to be stopped.”
Adrian deflated to hear this, but managed to conceal it. Oh, well. At least he had his answer now. He had never really expected help from anyone...or even a confidant, really. He would walk the most important mile of his life alone.
“But what about us?” he asked. “What about what we just did together? It's still illegal in most states of this nation, even if it's not enforced.”
“A means to an end, again,” Rorschach said. “Helps cut down on distraction. Besides,” he went on, trying dispel any static this last statement might have caused. “We're hardly the worst. Tipped off the police last week to a club downtown-people rutting like animals out in the open, swapping partners, multiple partners, that kind of thing.”
Adrian shrugged. “I've been in similar situations before. Much younger, overseas. In the end, it wasn't for me. But gain, I have to say-if everyone's consenting and being careful, I see no problem with it.”
“Well, I'll never understand it,” Rorschach said. “I mean--” cough “--you and I having our freedom the rest of the time, no strings? That only makes sense. But during?” He narrowed his eyes and gazed up Adrian's form appreciatively. “No, I'd never share you.”
Adrian felt himself blush, flattered down to the very marrow. “You haven't noticed me asking, have you?” He asked quietly. “Besides, doesn't sharing imply that there must be something left behind?”
Rorschach chuckled dryly at this. “Cute,” he said. “But let's be honest: I know that my ways aren't as, erm, exotic as you're probably used to.”
“I don't have to be here if I don't want to,” Adrian pointed out. “That being said...my offer still stands.” He snickered. “Metaphorically, at any rate.”
Rorschach sniffed, as if Adrian had alluded to something both obscene and absurd. “Which one?”
“All of them.”
It was Rorschach's turn to blush.
This line of discussion sent Adrian's mind back to the beginning of things. After the passing of the Keene Act, he had begun funneling Rorschach paid detective work for his high-ranking friends in the business world. They didn't even know who Adrian's contact was, but Rorschach helped them sniff out faithless executives who embezzled from or otherwise betrayed their companies. Adrian was more than smart enough to do this himself, but he needed to stay out of these matters, and he trusted Rorschach's skills for deduction and documentation above almost anyone's. This occasioned Adrian, for the first time, to meet Rorschach without his mask-to meet the ghost, as it were, of Walter Kovacs.
One day, Rorschach had dropped by one of his residences on business as Adrian had been getting ready to head out. Adrian had found himself dissatisfied with what he was wearing, and had impulsively switched shirts. As he did this, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a look on Rorschach's face-a look that belied some of the assertions that he even now still made about himself. Adrian watched him avert his gaze as that expression faded into a look of surprise at oneself. This all occurred in a second or less, and was very, very subtle. Anyone less observant than Adrian, or just less in tune with Rorschach, would have missed it altogether. It raised the possibility, though, that Adrian might actually be able to have what he'd been fantasizing about.
A few nights later, in the office of one of Adrian's warehouses, they'd gotten into an argument about something. It couldn't have been significant, because neither of them remembered it now. Adrian had found himself attacked, pinned backwards on his desk. In keeping with his philosophy of minimal violence and passive resistance, however, he did not defend himself right away, but merely waited to see if he would have to.
Come on! Fight back! Rorschach had said. You arrogant pretty boy. Know what I should do? I should turn you over, I should bend you over this desk and fuck you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?
Adrian had tilted his head thoughtfully. Well, actually...
Rorschach had looked as shocked and affronted as a cat that's just had water thrown in it's face. In an instant, he back halfwayacross the length of the room. If Adrian had been any less serious than cancer, he'd have had to laugh. As it was, he hadn't been, and he didn't. Things progressed steadily, if not rapidly, uphill from there.
It had been an interesting experience for Adrian, especially early on. Adrian found himself dealing with someone who was, with only a few exceptions that he alluded to, as pure as driven snow. Nevertheless, Adrian sometimes ended up feeling like the student. Even now, Rorschach could go unpredictably from a lamb, sexually speaking, in one moment to a lion in the next.
Adrian suspected that Rorschach did not avail himself of the freedom that their arrangement afforded. On one level this saddened him, but on another, he considered it not his affair, or anything he could do anything about. All Adrian knew, for his part, was that he got some difficult-to-define something out of his connection with Rorschach that he found with no other partner.
Now, in the penthouse, Adrian shook himself out of his reverie. His memories brought back to mind something he needed to tell Rorschach.
“I have another friend who probably needs a detective,” he said. “Are you interested?”
The other man nodded coolly, but Adrian could detect his barely suppressed relief.
“Okay then,” Adrian said. “I'll let them know. They'll leave the specs in the mail drop tomorrow, after 5pm. They'll be folded in a box that used to contain something by Sonitech communications.”
“Ah. Sonitech.” Rorschach said. “That should be interesting.”
“It will be,” Adrian said. “You know...I didn't quote a price..,”
Rorschach's expression was far away. “I might go up a bit, but not much. We've talked about this, Veidt.”
These jobs came along around once a year, and each one was enough to get Rorschach through about a year...but only at subsistence level.. Adrian wished he would charge more, but the other man made a good point: it would be very easy to be out-priced by detectives who didn't wear masks, or even by the police. Rorschach considered his work to be a privilege, and not something he could ask too much for...but competition was the real issue. Still, he was happy with the work, because it freed him up to do his own patrols and basically to inhabit his created identity almost full-time. And when he and Adrian were together, he would accept hospitality, but never help.
“I'm just saying,” Adrian said, holding his hands up, “inflation and all.”
“No, you're right,” Rorschach said. “It has to at least be worth my while. These assignments get more dangerous all the time. Could get arrested.” Adrian did not miss the anxiety in his voice with this last statement.
It was true that there was risk. Once, Rorschach had been able to get to the bottom of a mystery just by reviewing the company's books. Most of the time, though, the assignment involved breaking into the offices or even the homes of the suspected to look for evidence.
“That's something that really concerns you, isn't it?” Adrian asked with a frown, sliding forward in his chair.
Rorschach cut his eyes toward him. “Why do you say that?”
“Whether you realize it or not, you mention the possibility every time I see you.”
Rorschach nodded slowly. “It wouldn't be good. Sing-sing would be the most likely place. There are at least fifty guys doing life or hard time in there because of me. It would pretty much be escape or...take as many of 'em out with me as I can.”
Adrian's spine grew cold as he imagined these possibilities. “I would offer to help if it came to that, but--”
“But no judge is going to set bail for a masked vigilante double murderer,” Rorschach finished. “No, I know. It's okay. Even if he did, the bail hearing would probably come too late.” He shook his head. “It would be a bad way to go out, that's all.”
“But you don't get caught,” Adrian said, with an almost childlike admiration.
Not even Rorschach could ignore the tone in his voice, and so smiled faintly. “Gee, thanks,” he said. “But everyone's luck runs out eventually.” Adrian could tell, though, that he was sincerely frightened by the prospect.
“Perhaps,” Adrian said. He really didn't think there was much more to say to that. He regarded his empty water glass. “More champagne sounds good.”
“You know, if you were really having fun I don't think you'd have to drink the whole time.”
As he rose, Adrian picked up his old glass of now-flat champagne and looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow. There were only one, maybe two small sips missing. “Oh, yes, I've had so much, after all.” Rorschach's head dropped, wordlessly indicating that he conceded the point.
“Nothing for you, as usual, I assume?” Adrian asked once in the kitchen. He poured out the old champagne and re-poured about half that amount.
“You got that right,” Rorschach replied. “That's a lot of money you just put down the drain, you know.”
It was true, but it did not concern Adrian as he put the champagne bottle back in the refrigerator. “Either I drink too much or I drink too little,” he said. “I can't win, can I, Walter?”
He realized his slip as soon as it came out of his mouth. There was only silence from the other room. Adrian was greeted by a glare of blazing fury as he walked back in.
“What did you just call me?”
“I'm sorry, Rorschach,” Adrian said, taking sip of champagne as he reclaimed his seat. “It was an honest mistake.”
“Not really,” he said coolly. “But I'll let it slide...this time.”
“Thank you,” Adrian said. “I haven't been sleeping well-I guess it just happened.” While this was true, Adrian couldn't pinpoint a real explanation for what had happened. Perhaps he had just underestimated his friend's seriousness on the matter.
For someone who had been infuriated by what Bubastis had done, Rorschach seemed unconcerned about Adrian's sleep trouble. “Okay. But you know how I feel about that.”
“Quite,” Adrian said.
A long silence fell between them.
“I didn't give up. Didn't sell out,” Rorschach said. “Don't forget that.”
At this point, Adrian was on his third drink of champagne, and wanted to steer the conversation in another direction. He had heard Rorschach's opinion of the toys and other merchandise more than once. “Actually, I find it kind of interesting, how you and I ended up on different sides of the coin. We both had two identities for a while...and we both chose to dissolve one of them.”
“There's a difference, though,” Rorschach said. “Ozymandias is still there if you want him.”
At this, Adrian closed his eyes and bowed his head. How could he make anyone in the world understand the magnitude of the decisions there were to be made? How to explain how much he didn't want to be Ozymandias right now?
“I don't believe all of that, anyway.” Adrian said.
“What? That you could put the mask on again?”
“No. That Walter Kovacs isn't there.”
Rorschach's expression was defiant and incredulous as he leaned on one arm. “And who are you, exactly,” he asked, “to tell me who I am?” His voice had the dark calm of a policeman or lawyer letting someone talk themselves into a trap.
Adrian knew that exertion and weariness were conspiring against him to make the champagne hit home quicker. He knew that he needed to shut up-immediately-but it didn't seem to be happening.
“I'm no expert,” Adrian continued, “but I just don't think that someone's original identity can just...go away like that. If you really had a dissociative event, I doubt you would remember it.”
“So you think I'm just crazy, do you? Or making it up?” Rorschach asked, a startling tremor in his voice.
“I didn't say that.”
“Just because you don't want to believe it doesn't mean that it's not true,” Rorschach said. “Lots of things happen in this world that people would rather not think about.”
“I'll prove it, though.” Adrian said, holding up his pointer finger.
“Oh, this'll be good. How's that?”
“Daniel. Drieberg.”
“Wait just a minute!” Rorschach yelled. “Are you tryin' to say that Daniel...is like you? That he and I--”
“No, no.” Adrian said. “He's far too caught up in his futile crush on Miss Jupiter to...think outside the box, so to speak. I also believe that your affection for him is likewise platonic. Which is why it proves my point.”
Rorschach frowned. “We worked together for years. We were friends. You haven't proved anything.”
“You are friends” Adrian said. “You still keep in touch, you still enjoy spending time with him. Me? I'm just a means to an end; a need that's fine to fulfill in private as long as it's stigmatized and criminalized in public. But friendship? You claim that's not a need that 'Rorschach' has.”
Rorschach's face was inscrutable as he rose from the couch. “I don't have to take this,” he said. “From now on, don't question what I say about myself-and leave Daniel out of it, too.”
Rorschach stalked over to the coat closet and pulled out his trench coat. At least, Adrian thought to himself, it was the one that smelled like a house fire and not the extra, the one that smelled like garbage.
“Look,” Adrian said, walking over to him, one hand up, “it's just a point of view, surely--”
“-And besides” Rorschach interrupted, putting on his coat angrily, if that was possible. “It's not as if I'm not your dirty little secret, too.”
“All the men I'm involved with are a secret,” Adrian countered, sincere surprise in his voice. “It's nothing personal. Half of that aspect of my life, I keep from the public. I wish it were different, but it's to protect the brand--”
“Oh, well the brand--”
“ If you really think that I'm ashamed and you're not,” Adrian challenged, impulsively, “then tell Drieberg about us.”
Rorschach jerked his head back in surprise. “But he thinks like you. He wouldn't care. Surprised as hell, most likely, but wouldn't care.”
Adrian smiled. “Exactly.”
Here Rorschach chuffed dismissively and looked at the floor, shaking his head. “Smartest man in the world, huh?” Then he met Adrian's eyes with a stare like a bull's. “You're pretty sharp, Veidt. But if you were really that smart, you wouldn't be involved with me.”
Adrian sighed. “I keep telling you: put yourself down on your own time. Because I don't agree.”
“This,” Rorschach said, pointing to his face, “isn't why I said that.”
“Then why?”
“Because of this.”
At this, Rorschach came around with an unexpected punch. It had almost no visible lead-in, and knocked Adrian flat out, face-down on the floor.
Adrian struggled to his hands and knees, the wind knocked out of him. He shook his head like a dazed pugilist. Adrenaline surged through him, thundering, urging him to knock over the other man and proceed pummeling him. But Adrian had his rules: he would only fight to defend himself or someone else from death or long-term harm.
He sat up into a stooping position, and fixed his gaze upward at Rorschach. “You know the drill,” he said quietly. “You can show yourself out.”
A look akin to hurt passed over Rorschach's face, briefly, like a shadow on the desert; but Adrian knew that he wouldn't have had it any other way.
The door closed. After the footsteps receded down the hall, Adrian cursed loudly, standing and dashing to the freezer for ice.
* * * * *
Later that night, At home in his apartment, Rorschach journaled furiously about everything except what was really on his mind.
* * * * *
In his penthouse, Adrian typed on his computer, using an operating system custom-designed for him by a talented young man from Simi Valley. An air-locked bag of cold water lay beside him: he had managed to head off most of the swelling, but would still probably have to use concealer around his right orbit.
Tears were in his eyes as he worked. “Oh, my friend,” he said, “what a powerful weapon you gave me against you tonight. I only pray I never have to use it.”
Having finished outlining a plan, he saved it in a new file, labeled with Rorschach's name. Then he shut the computer down, and went off to try to get some sleep.
Disclaimer: The characters and their canon storyline are not mine.