Chapter Text
There's something ruthless in the shining of snow in polar daylight. In the air undiluted by myriads of wet breaths. An unkind perfection. Even the storm is perfect: monochrome layers of white upon white wherever the eye may see. The icy wind pierces every inch of exposed flesh, silencing its pointless thermodynamic struggle.
The world is beautiful, and Rorschach is a stain upon its face. Watching him limp into the storm, Daniel searches himself for an ounce of compassion, pity, fear of or for what Rorschach represents. Instead he feels only sadness and exhaustion. He's so tired. Tired of being outplayed. Of wrestling the odds for inexistent happiness. Of Adrian and his megalomania. Of Jon and his divine inactivity. Of Rorschach, who can't compromise.
Somewhere, lost in the rivers of time, is a world of yesterday: a world in which he never went to Karnak, never left the safety of Laurie's arms. Locked behind a thin veil of now, forever luring him from beyond.
This golden dream shatters against the reality of what he must do. Time is running through his fingers by the minute. He has to make a heartbreaking decision and save the world. He can still sense the sting of it on his cheeks as he plunges foolhardily into the storm. With luck, no further sacrifice will be necessary, except for his own.
The odds are against him. Out of retirement, he's slower and less combat ready than Rorschach, the never-resting dweller of shadows. A few circumstances tip the scale slightly towards balance. One; his awareness of Rorschach's twisted ankle. Two; the visibility factor. Three; his winter gear, which in these temperatures makes all the difference.
Four. Rorschach trusts him.
This last one is what trips him up—literally as much as metaphorically. Snow plunges beneath his foot. Hands outstretched, head full of reproach at losing his advantage, he braces for impact. It never comes. A swift wiry arm catches him by the elbow, stifling the fall. Astonished, he finds himself face to face with the symmetry of darkness on snowy white.
This is his chance. He might not get another. He grabs the savior arm, shifts his balance, praying that the size difference might help counteract Rorschach's liquid swiftness. He honestly has no idea if he can win this battle, only that something compels him to try.
To his surprise, no immediate retaliation follows. Rorschach's posture stiffens a bit, but he doesn't go for a jaw hook.
"Daniel," he says instead. "Let go."
There is no anger in his voice at all. Given the choice, Daniel would've taken the hook. Shedding tears in minus fifty Celsius hurts a lot.
"I can't. Rorschach, I can't let you do it. I won't."
Tension snaps like a string. He twists the arm that's still in his grasp and kicks Rorschach's ankle at the same time; the anticipated hook arrives too late and misses, but a moment later he feels a jab of pain in his side; another swing, this time at his legs; they topple down together, sending fountains of snow in all directions. Daniel can't see much because of it. He manages to pin Rorschach down by both wrists, and it takes him every shred of strength to retain the grip. Rorschach fights back like a wolverine: with limbs and teeth and all the unfair tricks. But he's smaller, his purchase in the snow is poor. His fury is working against him. He's tiring himself out.
"Let go," he growls with growing desperation. "Let go, let go, let go!"
He strives to get up. Daniel uses the momentum to roll the writhing body over and press it down with his knee. Even from that position Rorschach manages to put up a hell of a fight, the rabid little freak.
Something seems off in his resistance. Its lack of direction. It might be a rouse, but Daniel takes it as a hint.
"Rorschach..." He pauses for a breath. His chest is aching. The wind howls in his lungs. "Don't wanna hurt you... Please... stop."
Rorschach's hands claw the leather on his forearms. As his defeat becomes imminent, something large rises up from his chest toward the throat. Daniel senses its approach. One last half-hearted kick, and the body beneath him slumps. Here it comes.
"Traitor!! Disloyal dog, weak, fat, slobbering, dumb, spineless animal! Should've left you to the police—no, should've killed you! Won't hide from me in a thousand years!.. Will hunt you down, tear you apart, take everything from you, over and over and over!!"
The pouring of expletives continues, but it blends with the sounds of the storm. Daniel is suddenly aware they're no longer alone. A subtle glow illuminates the gloom. He meets the eyes looking at him from above.
The snow doesn't melt or plunge beneath Jon's bare feet. For a minute or so he studies Daniel with a quizzical expression and a glimpse of curiosity.
"Strange," he says, his voice unaltered in the wind. "I've never considered... tachyons, perhaps... yes, of course. The Maxwell equation would account for... ah. Forgive me."
He kneels before them, reaches out, brushes Rorschach's thigh with two fingers. Rorschach yelps in pain, making Daniel flinch. Hidden in the corner of Jon's mouth is a soft, innocent smile.
"There, that's better. This is not where you die, Rorschach. Please accept my apologies, my sympathy... and congratulations." He stands up. "I will be taking Laurie home before my departure. She has suffered enough, don't you think?.. Take care, Daniel. You are admirable in more ways than you know. Farewell... and good luck."
And then he's gone. It's just two of them.
Daniel lets out a shaky breath. Warmth seeps out of his body, dissolving in perfection. Beneath him, Rorschach sobs.
"Come back," he mutters, barely intelligible. "Come back, you arrogant... fate of humanity... don't get to choose... who lives and who dies."
"No. And neither do you."
Rorschach falls silent. His body is shaking with each sob. When Daniel lets him go, there is no reaction. He allows himself to be hauled up, takes a step, falls. The sprained thigh refuses to serve him. Daniel sighs and scoops him up like an injured bird. He can feel the heat escaping through Rorschach's trench coat and knows they won't last long if they stay outside.
It's time to go home.