Fic: Ships in the Night
Mar. 21st, 2009 10:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafina20Title: Ships in the Night
Fandom: Watchmen
Summary: Meg, a social worker, unintentionally becomes entangled in the world of both Rorschach and Adrian Veidt. Pre-book
Part 1, Part 2
Meg's Journal, July 2, 1985
Billy told me to leave. He actually told me that he wanted me to leave so he can play. I'm thrilled and ecstatic and joyful. I'm empty and shaky and near tears. I hadn't realized how used I've become to his constant presence. His hand in mine, his arms around my waist. Looking over to him every few minutes to make sure he's still okay, still entertained by his books or coloring or toys or video.
I feel kind of bereft. And I feel guilty about that, because this is a breakthrough. This is what we've been working towards.
I feel free. Happy. Unfettered. I want to run and scream and dance. I want to go home and sleep. I was to do something stupid. And I feel guilty about that because I love Billy so much and he needs me. The fact that I'm glad he's gone makes me a terrible person. It must.
I feel… confused.
"Hey, Alexi," Meg says as she rushes to her desk. It's covered in folders and paper, which she sweeps into her bag. She drops into her chair and begins to scan her messages, trying to see if there's anything pressing.
"Hey. Where's the kid?" Alexi asks, turning in her chair.
Meg grins. "Billy wanted to stay at preschool today. Usually, after we go to the therapist, I take him the preschool down next to the shelter? He only ever can stay an hour because that's all I can stay. Past week, he's been crying when we leave because we wants to stay with his friends. So, today, he told me to go and pick him up later. Actually pushed me and told me he'd be fine." She pushes her bangs from her face; they're getting long. She should get them cut before the fundraiser. "He might actually be able to go to kindergarten this fall."
"That's great. You keeping him?"
"I might. It'd probably be best for him. Course, if I do, I'll have to move. Adrian wants me to let him buy me a place, but…"
"Adrian Veidt? He wants to buy you an apartment? Are you two sleeping together?"
Her entire body went up in flame. They had slept together, after all. Adrian had fallen asleep with her last night. They'd woken with a foot of space between them, Adrian's hand on her arm. All very innocent, all very chaste.
Alexi, though, would never buy something like that.
"No, we're not sleeping together," she says.
"You're blushing."
"Because I'm embarrassed. Because you know questions like that embarrass me and I think they're inappropriate, and you ask them anyway." She runs both hands through her hair. "Look. Adrian has been spending a lot of time with me and Billy. I don't know why, except I think he likes that I'm doing something good for society. I don't know. I do know that he doesn't like I live in such a bad part of town, especially not with a kid. And he knows about the attack."
"Why does he care? I mean, why you? You're…." She breaks off. Shakes her head.
"What, ugly?"
"Just, he's giving attention to you like you'll return it. But you're, you know." She leans in, over the desk. Whispers. "A lesbian."
"I'm not a lesbian! I'm not anything. And Adrian… He'll lose interest. Once the fundraiser is over. I'll introduce the two of you tomorrow night, and I'm sure that, what with you being gorgeous and sexy and all, he'll be enchanted."
Alexi seems somewhat appeased. She leans back. "All right. Sorry I was being a bitch. I just haven't had a date in forever. And job's getting me down. So. Just so you know, we're doing a follow up visit to Shairpe 's place tomorrow. We've got, uh, three home visits, and one of your kids called in and wants to talk to you."
Meg holds up the message. "Yeah, I saw that. I'll call from Veidt Industries later. I still need to swing by my apartment, pick up some clothes, then go pick up Billy." She sighs. "Thanks for holding up my end. I'll pay you back. I promise."
"Meg, don't worry about it. I know you will. Besides, you're saving the world. Don't worry about me."
She rolls her eyes, then waves as she gathers the rest of her belongings together. Her mind is already going a mile a minute as she leaves the office. Hits the street. She waves to Terri, the homeless woman who hangs around the office, but doesn't have time to stop. Says hi to the different kids along the route. Smiles at the man who plays the guitar on the corner, in front of all his belongings. She drops some coins in his hat.
She almost walks by Walter without seeing him, it's been so long. She actually gets passed him, then stops at the newsstand, realizing who she sees. She turns to make sure, then walks back to him.
He's looking at her, sign rested kind of casually on his shoulder, leaning against the wall.
Meg can't help the smile. She walks back to him, smiling probably wider than necessary. "Hey! I haven't seen in you in forever."
As usual, his face is expressionless. "Been busy," he says flatly. His body language, though, is welcoming. Arm hanging down loosely, foot propped against the wall. Entire body relaxed as he looks down on her.
"You too?"
His eyebrow twitches, which, for him, is the same as a smile.
Pleased, Meg sets down her bag. Inside is the envelope with cash she set aside for him weeks ago. She takes it out now and straightens. "Look, um. I know we don't know each other very well, but I talk to you all the time. And you're still here. I mean, most of the time. You know what I mean. I mean…." She sighs in frustration. Runs her hand through her hair. "I talk to a lot of people on the street. They need to talk, right? And there's no one to listen. But for some reason, I keep talking to you. I mean, you don't talk. Not much. But, you listen. I think. And, uh, I get the feeling you don't mind that I talk your ear off."
His shoulder raises and lowers. "Don't mind."
"That's good to know." She licks her lips. "Anyway. You know I, um. I saw where you live. And I kinda came into some money recently. Right? A lot. I don't like keeping things all to myself. I like to share with friends. So, um. Here." She holds the envelope out.
He looks at it, then back at her. His eyes roll up. Jaw tightens. "Money is for you," he growls.
Meg frowns. His voice. His annoyance. His…
"Oh my God," she breathes. Her eyes feel like they've popped open. She her gaze over his body, her heart pounding. Then, as her cheeks start burning, her eyes settle momentarily on his lips. She blushes harder, remembering last night. Remembering the strange urge to kiss him.
Rorschach seems to realize what's going through her mind. His skin colors. He pushes away from the wall. Pushes past her and walks swiftly away, disappearing down the alley.
"Wait!" She drops the envelope back into her bag. Runs after him. "Wait. Please, I'm sorry. I didn't…"
"Go away."
"Rorschach." She grabs him by the arm.
He stops. Stares straight ahead, still as stone.
She lets go. Runs her hand down her slacks, nervous. "Last night, I told you I didn’t care about what's under your… face. It still doesn't."
He doesn't say anything.
Meg lets out a breath. Steps back. "Anyway. Billy and I are going to be staying at Adrian Veidt's penthouse for the next couple nights. The drive's been… hard on me, and Billy's therapist and school and everything is up there. So…" She shrugs. "Anyway. I'm sorry about the money."
"Too soft sometimes."
"Maybe. But not towards those who hurt other without justification.
He gives her a look. His eyes, she notice, brush over her lips. Then he turns away. "Where's boy?"
"Shit!" She checks her watch. "Dammit, I gotta go. I have to pick him up in about fifteen minutes." She turns and begins running down the alley. Then, still running, she turns. "Stay safe, okay? I worry about you."
He's leaning against his sign. Watching her. His chin lifts. "Never in danger. Offer it."
She grin at him, then turns and runs off.
Rorschach's Journal, July 2, 1985
No one has ever recognized me without my face. Ever connected Walter to me. Don't mind. Not really.
Uncovered nest of drug dealers near box of kids. Sweeping in today, cleaning them out.
Meg's Journal, July 3, 1985
Billy's with the baby-sitter at Adrian's penthouse. Adrian has a camera feeding video images so if Billy gets anxious, the baby-sitter can put us on. If it gets too bad, she'll call or come right away.
I'm so nervous, I feel like I’m going to throw up. I'm wearing a dress. Adrian was right; the dress, as elegant as it is, is comfortable and makes me look kind of passable as a woman. He convinced me to get my hair styled, too, and talked me into make-up. I feel like a doll, I feel like a fool.
But I kind of feel pretty, too.
"How are you holding up?" Adrian asks just as Meg walks away from yet another famous guest she's just shaken hands with and thanked.
Meg lets out a huge sigh. "I don't know. My cheeks hurt from smiling too much. How do you do it all the time?"
He laughs and puts his hand on her lower back. "After awhile, you build up muscles," he says, his accent noticeably thicker. It does that more and more around her, she's noticed, but disappears the moment he talks to someone else. "It's just like any other muscle."
"Oh, right." She smiles up at him as he sweeps her onto the dance floor. "I keep forgetting, you're Ozymandias, the smartest, strongest, fastest man in the world." She winces and stumbles, losing the beat.
Adrian narrowly misses stepping on her foot. "And you, my dear, need some dance lessons."
"Somehow missed that growing up."
He holds her tighter against him. Begins waltzing to the music, leading her along. She sees flashes out of the corner of her eyes and knows they're being photographed. Her cheeks begin to warm.
"You're blushing. Why?"
"People are looking at us."
"So? Let them look."
"So? Well. They look at you and see Adrian Veidt, American's golden boy. You're rich and famous. Powerful. Gorgeous. And then they look at me and wonder why you're wasting any time."
He shakes his head. Squeezes her. "You're smart, compassionate, kind. You're out there every day, fighting the fight that I once did."
"You fought criminals."
"And you protect victims."
"It's different."
"Maybe, maybe not."
They dance for a few minutes in silence. All around them are the elite of New York, the politicians and lawyers. The people who sit in their high towers and penthouses, who drive in their limos and fly across the country in their private jets. People who've never starved, never sat in their living room, afraid of the bullets flying outside. Never lived in a box on the street or were forced to used a dog's bed because that's all your parents could afford. Never…
Meg breaks away from Adrian suddenly. "I'm sorry. I just need… I need…"
"Meg?"
But she's running now, across the dance floor. Past the rich and past her coworkers. Out of the banquet room and into the hall. Then bursting through the side doors, into an alley. Into the warm, summer night air.
She braces her hands against the wall. Lowers her head and tries to breathe. Her chest is constricting, heart hurts. She can't breathe, can't think.
"Meg." Adrian's hands are on her. Lowering her to the ground, pushing her head between her legs. "Just calm down. Just breathe." He strokes her back. Rubs circles with the heel of his hand between her shoulder blades.
Meg listens to the sounds of the city: cars on the street. Talking from pedestrians going about their night. Music from inside, people talking, laughing. Clink of glasses and silverware on plates.
"They don't care," she finally says, voice hoarse. "None of them. They don't care about any of it. About the kids or the slums. None of it. They throw money at the problem and look the other way, and none of them actually do anything." She lifts her head. Leans it against the building. "And I'm just… I put a party together so they can come and congratulate each other on how noble they are while getting drunk and eating. Meanwhile, across town, there are kids going to bed in a box, starving."
Adrian sighs. Sits next to her. "They have the money, but not your moral certainty. So what? You take their money and do good with it."
"It's dirty money."
"It's not dirty money. It's money. Just money."
"Spoken like someone who's never gone without."
Adrian looks at her. His eyes are abruptly cold, face stone. "I went without. I starved in the streets. I had to steal to feed myself. I struggled and fought and clawed my way up to where I am. When my parents died, Meg, I gave my fortune away. All this?" He waves his hand. "I created myself."
Meg looks away. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's okay." He reaches out and takes her hand. "Sometimes, Meg, in order to do the good you want, you have to be willing to shake a few hands and smile a few people whom you despise. But all you have to do is remember why you are doing it. What the ultimate goal is." He turns her face gently and gazes into her eyes. "Think of Billy, and all the many children out there like him. Think of all the good you can do with the money we're raising tonight. That's all that matters."
She nods. Takes a deep, soothing breath. Exhales slowly. "I know. I just… feel dirty. I don't know."
"The world isn't black and white. Going in there, talking to those people… there's nothing wrong with it. And please. Tell them everything." He smiles charmingly. "I think it would be good for them to hear the reality."
"Maybe I will."
Adrian rises. Holds his hands out. "You know, this moment aside, you're really quite good at this. Mingling with the so-called elites. Talking to them. Getting them to hand over their money."
She puts her hands in his. Allows him to pull her to her feet. "As long as this is it. I'm not sure if I want to do something like this again."
"That would greatly disappoint me, Meg."
"Why?" she asks, frowning.
He kisses her hand. "Never mind. Let's go back inside. We can talk later."
About what? she wonders, allowing him to lead her back inside. It’s not like there’ll be another one of these fundraisers for the kids any time soon. It’d have to be at least a year from now. And she fully intends to push the planning off on someone else. This isn’t what she wants do with her life. As heartbreaking as her job can be, she loves it. Loves working with the kids and feeling as if she’s doing something.
This sort of things makes her feel hollow. She worked for weeks putting it all together. Hiring musicians and caterers. Getting out invitations. Decorators and decorating herself. Planning seating charts and parking and a million little details she’d never thought of before beginning this. She’d worked and sweated and planned and pulled it off. It’d been a rush the moment it all came together and she knew it was finished. There’d been a sense of accomplishment, but now...
Now, who cared? Tomorrow, it’d be over. These people would go home and go back to their jobs and, eventually, they’d forget until she reminded them again.
But, with her job, it was never over. There was always someone who needed help. Needed her intervention or her ear. Needed her to do something. It was exhausting and she loved every minute of it.
So, yeah, maybe Adrian wants to talk later. Maybe he wants to hire her to do this kind of thing for him; he’s said often in the past few weeks that she has a talent for it. And, yes, she has to admit, she does. As hard as it was, she’s kind of good at it.
But she doesn’t want to do this for a living. No matter what the money or whatever perks Adrian might offer, there's no way Meg is ever going to accept any job that takes her away from what she loves doing most.
Rorschach's Journal, July 4, 1985
Some of the drug dealers got away. Cleared out hideout. Burned it to ground. Going after rats tomorrow night.
"Teddies!" Billy shouts suddenly, mouth coming abruptly unstuck from the candy apple he's been gnawing at.
Meg turns and game he's pointing at. "You want to try and win one?" she asks, kneeling next to him. From her pocket, she produces a napkin, which she licks and tries to get some of the worst of the stick from his face.
Billy pulls his face away, pushing at her hand. "Meg! No! And, yeah, I want a teddy."
"You might as well give it up as a bad job," Adrian laughs as Meg evades Billy's hand and continues to try and clean his face. "It won't come off until you scrub him down in the bath." He reaches down and picks Billy up, lifting him over his head. "We'll have to do it the old fashion way and scrub you with stones, I'm afraid."
"No!" Billy kicks, shrieking with laughter. His hair is falling over his face and his arms are out on either side. His entire face is screwed up, joy shining from it.
A completely different little boy from the silent, scared waif he'd been a month ago. He's not in any way completely back to where he was the first time Meg met him. He still has panic attacks and security issues. He'll always have issues. But, a month ago, no matter what she'd done, she couldn't get him to smile, much less shriek with laughter.
Now? He's laughing and shrieking and acting like a little kid.
Adrian tucks Billy underneath his arm. Runs his hand through his hair. "Let's go win a teddy bear," he says. He takes Meg by the hand.
It had been his idea that they go to the Fourth of July festival in Central Park. She'd assumed he have somewhere fancy and elegant to go, and she and Billy would watch fireworks from her window and go to bed early. But, Adrian had insisted he wanted to spend the day with them, and, in the end, she'd decided it'd probably be good for Billy to go out and have fun.
But she can't help but wonder what Adrian is up to. What he wants. He already offered her a job that morning, just like she suspected. He offered to put her in charge of creating a segment of Veidt Industries dedicated to improving the lives of underprivileged children. When she tried to give him her answer (no), he insisted she think it over.
And then, invited them out.
Meg is the first to admit that she hasn't the first clue about men or how to deal with them outside of work. So, it's possible she's misreading Adrian. She doesn't know how.
He still doesn't seem sexually interested in her. Even with all the touching and the chaste kisses, she doesn't feel that same panic she does when someone comes at her with sexual intent. And she doesn't think it's because she's attracted to him, because she's not. He's handsome, but she doesn't want to kiss him or anything.
Maybe he just likes being with Billy. He's in his forties. Doesn't have children, at least none that he's admitted to or the press could find. And he obviously likes being around Billy, from all the attention and toys and games. He's read a book to Billy every day, doing different voices for each character and acting things out. He tucks Billy into bed every time they stayed at his penthouse and rooms. Maybe, he's just living the life of a father through Billy.
He could, of course, adopt Billy, but Meg doesn't want to think about that. A super-wealthy adoptive parent would win over an overworked, underpaid adoptive parent any day. Meg doesn't want to think of what she'll do if she loses Billy.
"All right," Adrian says, plopping Billy onto the counter of the game. "This young man will like a dollar's worth." He hands the money over.
The teenager running the booth hands over the balls. Billy picks up the first one; his throw is wild.
"Let me show you." Adrian patiently shows Billy how to hold the ball and how to move his arm. Together, they aim.
They do look good together, Meg can't help but think. She smiles, watching Adrian talk Billy through his third throw. At the serious expression on Billy's face. The totally adoration in his eyes as he gazes at Adrian.
Adrian glances over at her. Smiles and gives her a wink. She grins back.
The next throw, Billy knocks down the milk cans.
"I did it!" he screams. He jumps up and down, clapping his hands.
"And the young man won himself a teddy bear." The teenager hands the bear to Billy.
"Meg!" Billy throws himself at her, teddy clutched in his arms. "I gotta bear!"
"Congratulations." She kisses him on the forehead, and wonders how he got sticky in his hair. "I’m jealous."
Billy's brow furrows. "You want it?"
"That's your bear. You won it. You keep it."
"But…"
"Don't worry. I'll win her one." Adrian hands money over again. Picks up the baseballs.
Three throws. Three sets of milk cans down.
"And the gentleman wins a bear." This bear was a lot bigger than the one Billy won.
Adrian takes it and hands it to Meg. "For the beautiful lady," Adrian says with a bow.
She rolls her eyes and takes it. "Thank you, sir."
"Can we go on rides now?" Billy asks, clutching his bear tightly. He doesn't seem to care that Meg's is bigger. All he cares is that he got his bear.
Adrian takes Billy's hand and then Meg in the other. "Let's go ride some rides."
They do the Ferris Wheel, the carousel, the bumper cars. They eat cotton candy and corn dogs (not Adrian, but he buys for them). They play more games and win more prizes. When Billy starts getting tired, they find a place to watch fireworks.
Despite the noise and the music and the talking all around, Meg somehow drifts off during the fireworks. She can still hear them, hear everything around her, but it's all so far away. She sits there, leaning against Adrian, Billy draped across the two of them, Adrian's arm around her, drifting away. She's comfortable and safe and, for the moment, the world was good.
"Meg," Adrian whispers as the show begins to reach is crescendo.
She blinks. Opens her eyes. "Yeah?"
He smiles at her. Gives her a little shake. "You all right?"
"Yeah." She rubs her eyes and blinks a few times.
"Good." His lips brush over her hair. "I'm going out of town tomorrow. Down to Antarctica for work. I should be back sometime next week."
"Oh." It'll be weird, not seeing him every day. This past month has been so insane. He's been a constant fixture of it, just as much as Billy.
"I would like to see you when I come back. Maybe take you to dinner?"
She sits up. "Like on a date?"
He looks at her out of those amazing blue-green eyes. Gives a small shake of his head. "Not a date. Friends going out together for a pleasant evening. If you think Billy will be okay."
She licks her lips. Thinks a moment, then nods. "Yeah. I'd like that."
Adrian smiles. "It's a… friends going out together for a pleasant evening, then."
Meg laughs. Rolls her eyes. "Yeah. It's a date."
Meg's Journal, July 8, 1985
Back to real life. Billy is going to preschool all day. We talk on the phone at snack. I pick him up at lunch and eat with him, then take him back. I can't stay late at work like I used to because of him, but I don’t mind.
I got him a bed. A really small one. We put it in the corner of the room and its blocked off with a sheet. I'm going to sell my bed and get something smaller. Maybe. I also might look for a new place.
I've seen Rorschach a few times on the street. Billy and I always stop and talk for a bit. Billy wants to hold his sign. I think Rorschach seems amused, but I’m not sure. It's hard to tell with him.
He's left me a few notes like he used to. He's been taking down some drug ring. At last count, he's taken down all but three of the major players. In his last note, he said something about them multiplying like maggots or something. I hope he crushes them all.
A crash in the bathroom wakes her. She rubs the corner of her eyes, sliding out of bed before she's really awake. The baseball bat is in her hands, ready, but she knows what she's going to find.
Until she finds it.
"Rorschach! Shit!" She drops the bat. Rushes in.
His shirt is soaked with blood. Blood drips off his leather gloves, from under his mask. His hat is off and there’s blood staining the mask on top of his head.
The worst, though, is his side. There’s a concentrated bloom of crimson that flowers out over the rest of his shirt. He has one hand pressed against it as he digs through the medicine cabinet with the other.
"What happened?" Meg demands. She drops the bat and enters the room. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she gently maneuvers him away from the medicine cabinet. “Sit. I’ll do it.”
Rorschach stumbles back. When his legs hit the toilet, he falls onto the lid. Once he’s sitting, Meg crouches in front of the sink and opens the cabinet drawers. Her first aid kit, recently restocked after Billy moved in, is underneath.
Meg moves, kneeling in front of Rorschach, opens it. “What happened?” she asks again.
"Guy had knife. Missed."
"He missed?"
"I missed."
She nods. Pulls out a wad of gauze and presses it against the wound. "Holds this."
He puts his gloved hands over the gauze.
"Has this ever happened before?" she asks as she digs through the bag, looking for antiseptic.
"Yes."
"What do you usually do?"
"Go to Daniel. Take care of myself."
She finds the antiseptic. Soaks another pad of gauze with it. "Okay. Move."
Rorschach flinches very slightly when she pressed the wet gauze against the wound. Other than that, he doesn't react.
"Who's Daniel?"
"Old friend. Partner."
She nods. "Why'd you come here?"
"Closer."
"Okay, hold it again. Lots of pressure."
He presses his gauze back onto the wound.
Meg tosses the wet gauze away. Begins digging through the first aid kit. "Do you think it needs stitches?"
"Can do without. Get later if needed."
She looks up. "Have you ever given yourself stitches?"
He nods.
"Nice. Okay. You're going to need to take off your coat and shirt. There's just too much in the way for me to get the bandage secure."
He looks at her for a long time. The gauze grows crimson as he does. Meg just stares back at him, waiting. Watching.
Finally, he nods.
Meg reaches out and puts pressure on the gauze. Rorschach lets go, then peels his coat off, followed by his hat, gloves, and shirt. She tries not to react when she sees the bruises and cuts that mar his skin. He’s spotted and bloody and scratched. It’s not all fresh, either; there’s a lot of scars and scabs. Evidence of a hard life.
He’s wearing an undershirt under his clothes, which he keeps on. He pulls it up, though, enough for her to have easy access to the wound. The mask stays on.
Once he's ready, Meg picks up another patch of gauze. She replaces the bloody gauze with the new, then tells him to hold. She grabs some tape and begins securing it down.
"Meg?"
Meg bites her tongue so she doesn't swear. "Billy, baby, go back to bed." She glances over her shoulder to see him in the door, holding his teddy.
"What's going on?" he asks.
"Rorschach's hurt, so I'm fixing it. You remember him, right? He helped me… get you out of that house?"
Billy's lower lip protrudes. He nods.
"Everything's fine, honey. Really. I'm sorry we woke you."
Billy blinks a few times. "You really okay?" he asks, eyes on Rorschach.
Meg's glad the worst of the blood's been cleaned away, although there's still some on the sink and the floor and her hands. Still. It's not as bad as it could be.
Rorschach doesn't answer. He's looking at Billy, head cocked to one side.
Meg nudges him. "You're okay, right?" she says, voice hard.
His head jerks. "Fine." He glances down at Meg, then back to Billy. "All better now. Go to bed."
"Adrian has a doll of you," Billy says.
Rorschach looks back at Meg, who shrugs. "Oh."
Billy rubs his eyes. Yawns. "Meg, can we have pancakes tomorrow?"
"Sure, honey. If you go to bed."
"G'night." With the promise of pancakes, Billy turns around and goes back to his bed.
Meg finishes wrapping the bandage around Rorschach. Then she sits back on her ankles. "All right. So. Do you need anything for the pain?" She rises and goes to the sink.
"No pain."
She raises an eyebrow. Looks at him over her shoulder, washing her hands. “No pain. You look like you’ve been mauled.”
“Fight. I won.”
“You don’t look it.”
“Don’t look as bad as them.”
She laughs. “Probably not.” She turns off the water. Crouches in front of Rorschach again and digs through her first aid kit for cotton. “Let me clean some of those other cuts.”
He says nothing. Sits there as she cleans the cuts and scratches on his arms and his neck. There aren’t many, and she assumes it’s because his clothing protects him from the worst damage. He’s got a lot of bruises, though, including a huge, painful looking one right next to his left shoulder blade and running down his back.
“What happened here?” she asks, pulling his shirt aside so she can get a better look.
“Pipe.”
Meg clucks her tongue in sympathy. “I think you should put some ice on it to get the swelling down. Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”
“No. Fine now.” Rorschach rises and steps away from her. “Just leav... ing...”
Meg darts forward just in time to catch him, keeping him from slamming his head against the sink.
“Rorschach?” she says, worriedly. She shifts around so she’s in front of him, holding his weight more easily. He’s a lot heavier than she thought he’d be, but he’s tight-packed muscles, so it makes sense.
When there’s no response, she shakes him slightly. “Rorschach?”
Still nothing.
“Damn.”
Very carefully, she begins dragging him out of the bathroom. It’s too hard with him leaning against her neck, she soon realizes. With a frustrated sigh, she bends her knees, lowering them both to the floor. Once she’s got Rorschach stretched out, she rolls him over. There’s barely enough room in the bathroom doorway to do this, but she manages. Once he’s lying on his back, she slips her hands under his arms, gripping him around his armpits.
It’s a lot easier this time. She’s able to drag him across the room, deadweight though he is. She gets him to the bed, dragging him over clothes and toys Billy and she have strewn around.
“Meg?” Billy sticks his head out from his curtained room.
“Billy. Hey," she pants. "Everything’s fine.”
“Is Rorschach all right?”
“He’s not feeling well. He’s sleeping.” She sits on the bed. Again, very gently, she rolls Rorschach face down. Grabbing him by the belt, she tugs. Her heart is pounding from the exertion. She can barely catch her breath.
Billy comes out and takes one of Rorschach’s legs. Face screwing up in concentration, he pushes. Makes little grunting sounds as he does.
Together, they get Rorschach on the bed and onto his back. Once he’s there, Meg flops down on what little space there’s left. Between the unexpected exercise and the heat of the night, she’s sweating profusely.
"Thank you, Billy," she breathes. She wipes her hands over her face. Sits up. "Now will you go to bed?"
Billy sticks his thumb in his mouth. Turns and goes back into his "room." The curtain is pulled shut a moment later.
Meg pushes herself up. Crawl over to Rorschach and looks down at him. She can't tell anything with the mask on. She knows he's unconscious and bleeding and hurt, but… the mask is obscuring too much. The dark spots have almost stopped moving, and she's not sure if he's unconscious from the blood loss or a blow to the head.
She has to take it off. And it's not as if she's never seen what's underneath. It's fine. It'll be fine.
Her heart picks up speed. She bends over his unconscious form. Slips her fingers underneath the mask and begins to pull it upward.
She's just got it over his nose when Rorschach's hands fly up. Clamp like steel over her wrists.
"Rorschach," she gasps. He's strong, even hurt. She can feel her bones creaking under his grip.
"What are you doing?" he asks through gritted teeth, all throat and spit.
She's shaking, terrified. "You're, uh… face. I need to check your head. And…"
His grip loosens. Whole body goes slack.
Meg sighs in relief. Carefully, she removes her wrists from his grasp. She finishes sliding the mask from his face. Sets it on the table next to her. She then moves to his feet and unties his shoes.
"Ug." She grimaces at the smell. Breathes through her mouth to offset it.
She loves pillows, so there are a million of them all around the apartment. She gets a few and slides them under his feet. Then she gets her winter blankets from the closet and covers him.
His face is bruised and battered. One eye is black. His lower lip is cut and puffy. There’s a dark purple spot next to his ear.
Meg sighs. Puts her hand on his forehead. His skin is cool to the touch. Slightly clammy.
She sighs again. Pulls the covers higher around him, tucking him in. Then, figuring that will hold him for the night, she climbs off the bed. Goes into Billy's little room.
"Billy?" she whispers, crouching next to the bed.
He opens his eyes. "Yes?" he mumbles sleepily around his thumb.
"Can I stay with you tonight?"
He nods.
Meg yawns as she climbs in bed behind him. Snuggles against him. Sleep is a long time coming. She spends most of the night listening to Billy's soft inhales. To Rorschach's harsher, near snores. Wondering what's going to happen.
The sun is just rising, peeking through the curtains in her bedroom, in the crack between the sheets around Billy's bed, when Meg finally drifts off to an uneasy sleep.
Fandom: Watchmen
Summary: Meg, a social worker, unintentionally becomes entangled in the world of both Rorschach and Adrian Veidt. Pre-book
Part 1, Part 2
Meg's Journal, July 2, 1985
Billy told me to leave. He actually told me that he wanted me to leave so he can play. I'm thrilled and ecstatic and joyful. I'm empty and shaky and near tears. I hadn't realized how used I've become to his constant presence. His hand in mine, his arms around my waist. Looking over to him every few minutes to make sure he's still okay, still entertained by his books or coloring or toys or video.
I feel kind of bereft. And I feel guilty about that, because this is a breakthrough. This is what we've been working towards.
I feel free. Happy. Unfettered. I want to run and scream and dance. I want to go home and sleep. I was to do something stupid. And I feel guilty about that because I love Billy so much and he needs me. The fact that I'm glad he's gone makes me a terrible person. It must.
I feel… confused.
"Hey, Alexi," Meg says as she rushes to her desk. It's covered in folders and paper, which she sweeps into her bag. She drops into her chair and begins to scan her messages, trying to see if there's anything pressing.
"Hey. Where's the kid?" Alexi asks, turning in her chair.
Meg grins. "Billy wanted to stay at preschool today. Usually, after we go to the therapist, I take him the preschool down next to the shelter? He only ever can stay an hour because that's all I can stay. Past week, he's been crying when we leave because we wants to stay with his friends. So, today, he told me to go and pick him up later. Actually pushed me and told me he'd be fine." She pushes her bangs from her face; they're getting long. She should get them cut before the fundraiser. "He might actually be able to go to kindergarten this fall."
"That's great. You keeping him?"
"I might. It'd probably be best for him. Course, if I do, I'll have to move. Adrian wants me to let him buy me a place, but…"
"Adrian Veidt? He wants to buy you an apartment? Are you two sleeping together?"
Her entire body went up in flame. They had slept together, after all. Adrian had fallen asleep with her last night. They'd woken with a foot of space between them, Adrian's hand on her arm. All very innocent, all very chaste.
Alexi, though, would never buy something like that.
"No, we're not sleeping together," she says.
"You're blushing."
"Because I'm embarrassed. Because you know questions like that embarrass me and I think they're inappropriate, and you ask them anyway." She runs both hands through her hair. "Look. Adrian has been spending a lot of time with me and Billy. I don't know why, except I think he likes that I'm doing something good for society. I don't know. I do know that he doesn't like I live in such a bad part of town, especially not with a kid. And he knows about the attack."
"Why does he care? I mean, why you? You're…." She breaks off. Shakes her head.
"What, ugly?"
"Just, he's giving attention to you like you'll return it. But you're, you know." She leans in, over the desk. Whispers. "A lesbian."
"I'm not a lesbian! I'm not anything. And Adrian… He'll lose interest. Once the fundraiser is over. I'll introduce the two of you tomorrow night, and I'm sure that, what with you being gorgeous and sexy and all, he'll be enchanted."
Alexi seems somewhat appeased. She leans back. "All right. Sorry I was being a bitch. I just haven't had a date in forever. And job's getting me down. So. Just so you know, we're doing a follow up visit to Shairpe 's place tomorrow. We've got, uh, three home visits, and one of your kids called in and wants to talk to you."
Meg holds up the message. "Yeah, I saw that. I'll call from Veidt Industries later. I still need to swing by my apartment, pick up some clothes, then go pick up Billy." She sighs. "Thanks for holding up my end. I'll pay you back. I promise."
"Meg, don't worry about it. I know you will. Besides, you're saving the world. Don't worry about me."
She rolls her eyes, then waves as she gathers the rest of her belongings together. Her mind is already going a mile a minute as she leaves the office. Hits the street. She waves to Terri, the homeless woman who hangs around the office, but doesn't have time to stop. Says hi to the different kids along the route. Smiles at the man who plays the guitar on the corner, in front of all his belongings. She drops some coins in his hat.
She almost walks by Walter without seeing him, it's been so long. She actually gets passed him, then stops at the newsstand, realizing who she sees. She turns to make sure, then walks back to him.
He's looking at her, sign rested kind of casually on his shoulder, leaning against the wall.
Meg can't help the smile. She walks back to him, smiling probably wider than necessary. "Hey! I haven't seen in you in forever."
As usual, his face is expressionless. "Been busy," he says flatly. His body language, though, is welcoming. Arm hanging down loosely, foot propped against the wall. Entire body relaxed as he looks down on her.
"You too?"
His eyebrow twitches, which, for him, is the same as a smile.
Pleased, Meg sets down her bag. Inside is the envelope with cash she set aside for him weeks ago. She takes it out now and straightens. "Look, um. I know we don't know each other very well, but I talk to you all the time. And you're still here. I mean, most of the time. You know what I mean. I mean…." She sighs in frustration. Runs her hand through her hair. "I talk to a lot of people on the street. They need to talk, right? And there's no one to listen. But for some reason, I keep talking to you. I mean, you don't talk. Not much. But, you listen. I think. And, uh, I get the feeling you don't mind that I talk your ear off."
His shoulder raises and lowers. "Don't mind."
"That's good to know." She licks her lips. "Anyway. You know I, um. I saw where you live. And I kinda came into some money recently. Right? A lot. I don't like keeping things all to myself. I like to share with friends. So, um. Here." She holds the envelope out.
He looks at it, then back at her. His eyes roll up. Jaw tightens. "Money is for you," he growls.
Meg frowns. His voice. His annoyance. His…
"Oh my God," she breathes. Her eyes feel like they've popped open. She her gaze over his body, her heart pounding. Then, as her cheeks start burning, her eyes settle momentarily on his lips. She blushes harder, remembering last night. Remembering the strange urge to kiss him.
Rorschach seems to realize what's going through her mind. His skin colors. He pushes away from the wall. Pushes past her and walks swiftly away, disappearing down the alley.
"Wait!" She drops the envelope back into her bag. Runs after him. "Wait. Please, I'm sorry. I didn't…"
"Go away."
"Rorschach." She grabs him by the arm.
He stops. Stares straight ahead, still as stone.
She lets go. Runs her hand down her slacks, nervous. "Last night, I told you I didn’t care about what's under your… face. It still doesn't."
He doesn't say anything.
Meg lets out a breath. Steps back. "Anyway. Billy and I are going to be staying at Adrian Veidt's penthouse for the next couple nights. The drive's been… hard on me, and Billy's therapist and school and everything is up there. So…" She shrugs. "Anyway. I'm sorry about the money."
"Too soft sometimes."
"Maybe. But not towards those who hurt other without justification.
He gives her a look. His eyes, she notice, brush over her lips. Then he turns away. "Where's boy?"
"Shit!" She checks her watch. "Dammit, I gotta go. I have to pick him up in about fifteen minutes." She turns and begins running down the alley. Then, still running, she turns. "Stay safe, okay? I worry about you."
He's leaning against his sign. Watching her. His chin lifts. "Never in danger. Offer it."
She grin at him, then turns and runs off.
Rorschach's Journal, July 2, 1985
No one has ever recognized me without my face. Ever connected Walter to me. Don't mind. Not really.
Uncovered nest of drug dealers near box of kids. Sweeping in today, cleaning them out.
Meg's Journal, July 3, 1985
Billy's with the baby-sitter at Adrian's penthouse. Adrian has a camera feeding video images so if Billy gets anxious, the baby-sitter can put us on. If it gets too bad, she'll call or come right away.
I'm so nervous, I feel like I’m going to throw up. I'm wearing a dress. Adrian was right; the dress, as elegant as it is, is comfortable and makes me look kind of passable as a woman. He convinced me to get my hair styled, too, and talked me into make-up. I feel like a doll, I feel like a fool.
But I kind of feel pretty, too.
"How are you holding up?" Adrian asks just as Meg walks away from yet another famous guest she's just shaken hands with and thanked.
Meg lets out a huge sigh. "I don't know. My cheeks hurt from smiling too much. How do you do it all the time?"
He laughs and puts his hand on her lower back. "After awhile, you build up muscles," he says, his accent noticeably thicker. It does that more and more around her, she's noticed, but disappears the moment he talks to someone else. "It's just like any other muscle."
"Oh, right." She smiles up at him as he sweeps her onto the dance floor. "I keep forgetting, you're Ozymandias, the smartest, strongest, fastest man in the world." She winces and stumbles, losing the beat.
Adrian narrowly misses stepping on her foot. "And you, my dear, need some dance lessons."
"Somehow missed that growing up."
He holds her tighter against him. Begins waltzing to the music, leading her along. She sees flashes out of the corner of her eyes and knows they're being photographed. Her cheeks begin to warm.
"You're blushing. Why?"
"People are looking at us."
"So? Let them look."
"So? Well. They look at you and see Adrian Veidt, American's golden boy. You're rich and famous. Powerful. Gorgeous. And then they look at me and wonder why you're wasting any time."
He shakes his head. Squeezes her. "You're smart, compassionate, kind. You're out there every day, fighting the fight that I once did."
"You fought criminals."
"And you protect victims."
"It's different."
"Maybe, maybe not."
They dance for a few minutes in silence. All around them are the elite of New York, the politicians and lawyers. The people who sit in their high towers and penthouses, who drive in their limos and fly across the country in their private jets. People who've never starved, never sat in their living room, afraid of the bullets flying outside. Never lived in a box on the street or were forced to used a dog's bed because that's all your parents could afford. Never…
Meg breaks away from Adrian suddenly. "I'm sorry. I just need… I need…"
"Meg?"
But she's running now, across the dance floor. Past the rich and past her coworkers. Out of the banquet room and into the hall. Then bursting through the side doors, into an alley. Into the warm, summer night air.
She braces her hands against the wall. Lowers her head and tries to breathe. Her chest is constricting, heart hurts. She can't breathe, can't think.
"Meg." Adrian's hands are on her. Lowering her to the ground, pushing her head between her legs. "Just calm down. Just breathe." He strokes her back. Rubs circles with the heel of his hand between her shoulder blades.
Meg listens to the sounds of the city: cars on the street. Talking from pedestrians going about their night. Music from inside, people talking, laughing. Clink of glasses and silverware on plates.
"They don't care," she finally says, voice hoarse. "None of them. They don't care about any of it. About the kids or the slums. None of it. They throw money at the problem and look the other way, and none of them actually do anything." She lifts her head. Leans it against the building. "And I'm just… I put a party together so they can come and congratulate each other on how noble they are while getting drunk and eating. Meanwhile, across town, there are kids going to bed in a box, starving."
Adrian sighs. Sits next to her. "They have the money, but not your moral certainty. So what? You take their money and do good with it."
"It's dirty money."
"It's not dirty money. It's money. Just money."
"Spoken like someone who's never gone without."
Adrian looks at her. His eyes are abruptly cold, face stone. "I went without. I starved in the streets. I had to steal to feed myself. I struggled and fought and clawed my way up to where I am. When my parents died, Meg, I gave my fortune away. All this?" He waves his hand. "I created myself."
Meg looks away. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's okay." He reaches out and takes her hand. "Sometimes, Meg, in order to do the good you want, you have to be willing to shake a few hands and smile a few people whom you despise. But all you have to do is remember why you are doing it. What the ultimate goal is." He turns her face gently and gazes into her eyes. "Think of Billy, and all the many children out there like him. Think of all the good you can do with the money we're raising tonight. That's all that matters."
She nods. Takes a deep, soothing breath. Exhales slowly. "I know. I just… feel dirty. I don't know."
"The world isn't black and white. Going in there, talking to those people… there's nothing wrong with it. And please. Tell them everything." He smiles charmingly. "I think it would be good for them to hear the reality."
"Maybe I will."
Adrian rises. Holds his hands out. "You know, this moment aside, you're really quite good at this. Mingling with the so-called elites. Talking to them. Getting them to hand over their money."
She puts her hands in his. Allows him to pull her to her feet. "As long as this is it. I'm not sure if I want to do something like this again."
"That would greatly disappoint me, Meg."
"Why?" she asks, frowning.
He kisses her hand. "Never mind. Let's go back inside. We can talk later."
About what? she wonders, allowing him to lead her back inside. It’s not like there’ll be another one of these fundraisers for the kids any time soon. It’d have to be at least a year from now. And she fully intends to push the planning off on someone else. This isn’t what she wants do with her life. As heartbreaking as her job can be, she loves it. Loves working with the kids and feeling as if she’s doing something.
This sort of things makes her feel hollow. She worked for weeks putting it all together. Hiring musicians and caterers. Getting out invitations. Decorators and decorating herself. Planning seating charts and parking and a million little details she’d never thought of before beginning this. She’d worked and sweated and planned and pulled it off. It’d been a rush the moment it all came together and she knew it was finished. There’d been a sense of accomplishment, but now...
Now, who cared? Tomorrow, it’d be over. These people would go home and go back to their jobs and, eventually, they’d forget until she reminded them again.
But, with her job, it was never over. There was always someone who needed help. Needed her intervention or her ear. Needed her to do something. It was exhausting and she loved every minute of it.
So, yeah, maybe Adrian wants to talk later. Maybe he wants to hire her to do this kind of thing for him; he’s said often in the past few weeks that she has a talent for it. And, yes, she has to admit, she does. As hard as it was, she’s kind of good at it.
But she doesn’t want to do this for a living. No matter what the money or whatever perks Adrian might offer, there's no way Meg is ever going to accept any job that takes her away from what she loves doing most.
Rorschach's Journal, July 4, 1985
Some of the drug dealers got away. Cleared out hideout. Burned it to ground. Going after rats tomorrow night.
"Teddies!" Billy shouts suddenly, mouth coming abruptly unstuck from the candy apple he's been gnawing at.
Meg turns and game he's pointing at. "You want to try and win one?" she asks, kneeling next to him. From her pocket, she produces a napkin, which she licks and tries to get some of the worst of the stick from his face.
Billy pulls his face away, pushing at her hand. "Meg! No! And, yeah, I want a teddy."
"You might as well give it up as a bad job," Adrian laughs as Meg evades Billy's hand and continues to try and clean his face. "It won't come off until you scrub him down in the bath." He reaches down and picks Billy up, lifting him over his head. "We'll have to do it the old fashion way and scrub you with stones, I'm afraid."
"No!" Billy kicks, shrieking with laughter. His hair is falling over his face and his arms are out on either side. His entire face is screwed up, joy shining from it.
A completely different little boy from the silent, scared waif he'd been a month ago. He's not in any way completely back to where he was the first time Meg met him. He still has panic attacks and security issues. He'll always have issues. But, a month ago, no matter what she'd done, she couldn't get him to smile, much less shriek with laughter.
Now? He's laughing and shrieking and acting like a little kid.
Adrian tucks Billy underneath his arm. Runs his hand through his hair. "Let's go win a teddy bear," he says. He takes Meg by the hand.
It had been his idea that they go to the Fourth of July festival in Central Park. She'd assumed he have somewhere fancy and elegant to go, and she and Billy would watch fireworks from her window and go to bed early. But, Adrian had insisted he wanted to spend the day with them, and, in the end, she'd decided it'd probably be good for Billy to go out and have fun.
But she can't help but wonder what Adrian is up to. What he wants. He already offered her a job that morning, just like she suspected. He offered to put her in charge of creating a segment of Veidt Industries dedicated to improving the lives of underprivileged children. When she tried to give him her answer (no), he insisted she think it over.
And then, invited them out.
Meg is the first to admit that she hasn't the first clue about men or how to deal with them outside of work. So, it's possible she's misreading Adrian. She doesn't know how.
He still doesn't seem sexually interested in her. Even with all the touching and the chaste kisses, she doesn't feel that same panic she does when someone comes at her with sexual intent. And she doesn't think it's because she's attracted to him, because she's not. He's handsome, but she doesn't want to kiss him or anything.
Maybe he just likes being with Billy. He's in his forties. Doesn't have children, at least none that he's admitted to or the press could find. And he obviously likes being around Billy, from all the attention and toys and games. He's read a book to Billy every day, doing different voices for each character and acting things out. He tucks Billy into bed every time they stayed at his penthouse and rooms. Maybe, he's just living the life of a father through Billy.
He could, of course, adopt Billy, but Meg doesn't want to think about that. A super-wealthy adoptive parent would win over an overworked, underpaid adoptive parent any day. Meg doesn't want to think of what she'll do if she loses Billy.
"All right," Adrian says, plopping Billy onto the counter of the game. "This young man will like a dollar's worth." He hands the money over.
The teenager running the booth hands over the balls. Billy picks up the first one; his throw is wild.
"Let me show you." Adrian patiently shows Billy how to hold the ball and how to move his arm. Together, they aim.
They do look good together, Meg can't help but think. She smiles, watching Adrian talk Billy through his third throw. At the serious expression on Billy's face. The totally adoration in his eyes as he gazes at Adrian.
Adrian glances over at her. Smiles and gives her a wink. She grins back.
The next throw, Billy knocks down the milk cans.
"I did it!" he screams. He jumps up and down, clapping his hands.
"And the young man won himself a teddy bear." The teenager hands the bear to Billy.
"Meg!" Billy throws himself at her, teddy clutched in his arms. "I gotta bear!"
"Congratulations." She kisses him on the forehead, and wonders how he got sticky in his hair. "I’m jealous."
Billy's brow furrows. "You want it?"
"That's your bear. You won it. You keep it."
"But…"
"Don't worry. I'll win her one." Adrian hands money over again. Picks up the baseballs.
Three throws. Three sets of milk cans down.
"And the gentleman wins a bear." This bear was a lot bigger than the one Billy won.
Adrian takes it and hands it to Meg. "For the beautiful lady," Adrian says with a bow.
She rolls her eyes and takes it. "Thank you, sir."
"Can we go on rides now?" Billy asks, clutching his bear tightly. He doesn't seem to care that Meg's is bigger. All he cares is that he got his bear.
Adrian takes Billy's hand and then Meg in the other. "Let's go ride some rides."
They do the Ferris Wheel, the carousel, the bumper cars. They eat cotton candy and corn dogs (not Adrian, but he buys for them). They play more games and win more prizes. When Billy starts getting tired, they find a place to watch fireworks.
Despite the noise and the music and the talking all around, Meg somehow drifts off during the fireworks. She can still hear them, hear everything around her, but it's all so far away. She sits there, leaning against Adrian, Billy draped across the two of them, Adrian's arm around her, drifting away. She's comfortable and safe and, for the moment, the world was good.
"Meg," Adrian whispers as the show begins to reach is crescendo.
She blinks. Opens her eyes. "Yeah?"
He smiles at her. Gives her a little shake. "You all right?"
"Yeah." She rubs her eyes and blinks a few times.
"Good." His lips brush over her hair. "I'm going out of town tomorrow. Down to Antarctica for work. I should be back sometime next week."
"Oh." It'll be weird, not seeing him every day. This past month has been so insane. He's been a constant fixture of it, just as much as Billy.
"I would like to see you when I come back. Maybe take you to dinner?"
She sits up. "Like on a date?"
He looks at her out of those amazing blue-green eyes. Gives a small shake of his head. "Not a date. Friends going out together for a pleasant evening. If you think Billy will be okay."
She licks her lips. Thinks a moment, then nods. "Yeah. I'd like that."
Adrian smiles. "It's a… friends going out together for a pleasant evening, then."
Meg laughs. Rolls her eyes. "Yeah. It's a date."
Meg's Journal, July 8, 1985
Back to real life. Billy is going to preschool all day. We talk on the phone at snack. I pick him up at lunch and eat with him, then take him back. I can't stay late at work like I used to because of him, but I don’t mind.
I got him a bed. A really small one. We put it in the corner of the room and its blocked off with a sheet. I'm going to sell my bed and get something smaller. Maybe. I also might look for a new place.
I've seen Rorschach a few times on the street. Billy and I always stop and talk for a bit. Billy wants to hold his sign. I think Rorschach seems amused, but I’m not sure. It's hard to tell with him.
He's left me a few notes like he used to. He's been taking down some drug ring. At last count, he's taken down all but three of the major players. In his last note, he said something about them multiplying like maggots or something. I hope he crushes them all.
A crash in the bathroom wakes her. She rubs the corner of her eyes, sliding out of bed before she's really awake. The baseball bat is in her hands, ready, but she knows what she's going to find.
Until she finds it.
"Rorschach! Shit!" She drops the bat. Rushes in.
His shirt is soaked with blood. Blood drips off his leather gloves, from under his mask. His hat is off and there’s blood staining the mask on top of his head.
The worst, though, is his side. There’s a concentrated bloom of crimson that flowers out over the rest of his shirt. He has one hand pressed against it as he digs through the medicine cabinet with the other.
"What happened?" Meg demands. She drops the bat and enters the room. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she gently maneuvers him away from the medicine cabinet. “Sit. I’ll do it.”
Rorschach stumbles back. When his legs hit the toilet, he falls onto the lid. Once he’s sitting, Meg crouches in front of the sink and opens the cabinet drawers. Her first aid kit, recently restocked after Billy moved in, is underneath.
Meg moves, kneeling in front of Rorschach, opens it. “What happened?” she asks again.
"Guy had knife. Missed."
"He missed?"
"I missed."
She nods. Pulls out a wad of gauze and presses it against the wound. "Holds this."
He puts his gloved hands over the gauze.
"Has this ever happened before?" she asks as she digs through the bag, looking for antiseptic.
"Yes."
"What do you usually do?"
"Go to Daniel. Take care of myself."
She finds the antiseptic. Soaks another pad of gauze with it. "Okay. Move."
Rorschach flinches very slightly when she pressed the wet gauze against the wound. Other than that, he doesn't react.
"Who's Daniel?"
"Old friend. Partner."
She nods. "Why'd you come here?"
"Closer."
"Okay, hold it again. Lots of pressure."
He presses his gauze back onto the wound.
Meg tosses the wet gauze away. Begins digging through the first aid kit. "Do you think it needs stitches?"
"Can do without. Get later if needed."
She looks up. "Have you ever given yourself stitches?"
He nods.
"Nice. Okay. You're going to need to take off your coat and shirt. There's just too much in the way for me to get the bandage secure."
He looks at her for a long time. The gauze grows crimson as he does. Meg just stares back at him, waiting. Watching.
Finally, he nods.
Meg reaches out and puts pressure on the gauze. Rorschach lets go, then peels his coat off, followed by his hat, gloves, and shirt. She tries not to react when she sees the bruises and cuts that mar his skin. He’s spotted and bloody and scratched. It’s not all fresh, either; there’s a lot of scars and scabs. Evidence of a hard life.
He’s wearing an undershirt under his clothes, which he keeps on. He pulls it up, though, enough for her to have easy access to the wound. The mask stays on.
Once he's ready, Meg picks up another patch of gauze. She replaces the bloody gauze with the new, then tells him to hold. She grabs some tape and begins securing it down.
"Meg?"
Meg bites her tongue so she doesn't swear. "Billy, baby, go back to bed." She glances over her shoulder to see him in the door, holding his teddy.
"What's going on?" he asks.
"Rorschach's hurt, so I'm fixing it. You remember him, right? He helped me… get you out of that house?"
Billy's lower lip protrudes. He nods.
"Everything's fine, honey. Really. I'm sorry we woke you."
Billy blinks a few times. "You really okay?" he asks, eyes on Rorschach.
Meg's glad the worst of the blood's been cleaned away, although there's still some on the sink and the floor and her hands. Still. It's not as bad as it could be.
Rorschach doesn't answer. He's looking at Billy, head cocked to one side.
Meg nudges him. "You're okay, right?" she says, voice hard.
His head jerks. "Fine." He glances down at Meg, then back to Billy. "All better now. Go to bed."
"Adrian has a doll of you," Billy says.
Rorschach looks back at Meg, who shrugs. "Oh."
Billy rubs his eyes. Yawns. "Meg, can we have pancakes tomorrow?"
"Sure, honey. If you go to bed."
"G'night." With the promise of pancakes, Billy turns around and goes back to his bed.
Meg finishes wrapping the bandage around Rorschach. Then she sits back on her ankles. "All right. So. Do you need anything for the pain?" She rises and goes to the sink.
"No pain."
She raises an eyebrow. Looks at him over her shoulder, washing her hands. “No pain. You look like you’ve been mauled.”
“Fight. I won.”
“You don’t look it.”
“Don’t look as bad as them.”
She laughs. “Probably not.” She turns off the water. Crouches in front of Rorschach again and digs through her first aid kit for cotton. “Let me clean some of those other cuts.”
He says nothing. Sits there as she cleans the cuts and scratches on his arms and his neck. There aren’t many, and she assumes it’s because his clothing protects him from the worst damage. He’s got a lot of bruises, though, including a huge, painful looking one right next to his left shoulder blade and running down his back.
“What happened here?” she asks, pulling his shirt aside so she can get a better look.
“Pipe.”
Meg clucks her tongue in sympathy. “I think you should put some ice on it to get the swelling down. Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”
“No. Fine now.” Rorschach rises and steps away from her. “Just leav... ing...”
Meg darts forward just in time to catch him, keeping him from slamming his head against the sink.
“Rorschach?” she says, worriedly. She shifts around so she’s in front of him, holding his weight more easily. He’s a lot heavier than she thought he’d be, but he’s tight-packed muscles, so it makes sense.
When there’s no response, she shakes him slightly. “Rorschach?”
Still nothing.
“Damn.”
Very carefully, she begins dragging him out of the bathroom. It’s too hard with him leaning against her neck, she soon realizes. With a frustrated sigh, she bends her knees, lowering them both to the floor. Once she’s got Rorschach stretched out, she rolls him over. There’s barely enough room in the bathroom doorway to do this, but she manages. Once he’s lying on his back, she slips her hands under his arms, gripping him around his armpits.
It’s a lot easier this time. She’s able to drag him across the room, deadweight though he is. She gets him to the bed, dragging him over clothes and toys Billy and she have strewn around.
“Meg?” Billy sticks his head out from his curtained room.
“Billy. Hey," she pants. "Everything’s fine.”
“Is Rorschach all right?”
“He’s not feeling well. He’s sleeping.” She sits on the bed. Again, very gently, she rolls Rorschach face down. Grabbing him by the belt, she tugs. Her heart is pounding from the exertion. She can barely catch her breath.
Billy comes out and takes one of Rorschach’s legs. Face screwing up in concentration, he pushes. Makes little grunting sounds as he does.
Together, they get Rorschach on the bed and onto his back. Once he’s there, Meg flops down on what little space there’s left. Between the unexpected exercise and the heat of the night, she’s sweating profusely.
"Thank you, Billy," she breathes. She wipes her hands over her face. Sits up. "Now will you go to bed?"
Billy sticks his thumb in his mouth. Turns and goes back into his "room." The curtain is pulled shut a moment later.
Meg pushes herself up. Crawl over to Rorschach and looks down at him. She can't tell anything with the mask on. She knows he's unconscious and bleeding and hurt, but… the mask is obscuring too much. The dark spots have almost stopped moving, and she's not sure if he's unconscious from the blood loss or a blow to the head.
She has to take it off. And it's not as if she's never seen what's underneath. It's fine. It'll be fine.
Her heart picks up speed. She bends over his unconscious form. Slips her fingers underneath the mask and begins to pull it upward.
She's just got it over his nose when Rorschach's hands fly up. Clamp like steel over her wrists.
"Rorschach," she gasps. He's strong, even hurt. She can feel her bones creaking under his grip.
"What are you doing?" he asks through gritted teeth, all throat and spit.
She's shaking, terrified. "You're, uh… face. I need to check your head. And…"
His grip loosens. Whole body goes slack.
Meg sighs in relief. Carefully, she removes her wrists from his grasp. She finishes sliding the mask from his face. Sets it on the table next to her. She then moves to his feet and unties his shoes.
"Ug." She grimaces at the smell. Breathes through her mouth to offset it.
She loves pillows, so there are a million of them all around the apartment. She gets a few and slides them under his feet. Then she gets her winter blankets from the closet and covers him.
His face is bruised and battered. One eye is black. His lower lip is cut and puffy. There’s a dark purple spot next to his ear.
Meg sighs. Puts her hand on his forehead. His skin is cool to the touch. Slightly clammy.
She sighs again. Pulls the covers higher around him, tucking him in. Then, figuring that will hold him for the night, she climbs off the bed. Goes into Billy's little room.
"Billy?" she whispers, crouching next to the bed.
He opens his eyes. "Yes?" he mumbles sleepily around his thumb.
"Can I stay with you tonight?"
He nods.
Meg yawns as she climbs in bed behind him. Snuggles against him. Sleep is a long time coming. She spends most of the night listening to Billy's soft inhales. To Rorschach's harsher, near snores. Wondering what's going to happen.
The sun is just rising, peeking through the curtains in her bedroom, in the crack between the sheets around Billy's bed, when Meg finally drifts off to an uneasy sleep.
