Disclaimer: Actually, I DO own Watchmen. Which is precisely why I am living in a small home and have to wash my own laundry. What? Didn't you know that the rich do that too? Also, I wrote Rocky Horror Picture Show. And the Bible. Just throwing that out there.

.T T.

"Ah, you're awake. Good. How are you feeling?"

Rorschach stood there dumbly, his mind a blank, while Adrian continued to smile at him with only the oblivious blondes or very small children can achieve.

As his mind went into overdrive, Rorschach fought back another wave of dizziness. He's supposed to be in New Orleans. About a new toy. A villain. Can't remember. Not important. What is he doing here?

Adrian. Ozymandias. A fellow Watchmen and self made billionaire. Or in Rorschach's opinion, a cowardly sellout.

Unfortunately for Rorschach, he was also standing right in front of the doorway. Feint towards window might work. Or throw the glass at him. Long enough to distract and get out. Also unfortunately for Rorschach, his feinting and aiming abilities were severely lower due to being sick. Which he wasn't. At all.

Adrian interrupted Rorschach's thought of a daring escape, "Daniel called me. While he's no stranger to patching people up, he couldn't tell if you were really bad off or not. I was in the neighborhood, and he asked me to drop in. I couldn't pass up a chance to patch up a comrade for old times sake."

"Louisiana is not what you'd call close." Rorschach said finally, his voice rough. The use of his throat for something other than breathing, alas, seemed to dreg up all the coughs and that had been residing in him for the last couple of days, which he had held back only through pure force of denial. Rorschach attempted to keep them at bay, but like a pack of hungry animals, they ripped out of his throat with a painful and startling ferocity (and isn't that just descriptive).

Tears gathered in his eyes as he attempted not to suffocate, due to all the air going out of his lungs instead of in. He braced himself with his free hand against the bed stand. Eventually the coughs subsided, and Rorschach looked up, red and out of breath, at Adrian only to see a strange look on the other man's face.

"You know," Adrian mused thoughtfully, "this is the first time I think I've actually seen you look, well, like a real human being."

Anyone else would have taken offense at such a comment, but Rorschach took it instead as a compliment. Can't be human after you see the underbelly of society. Can't be human if you want to win. These musings brought Rorschach back to his original problem, his lack of mask.

He snapped his head up, glaring at Adrian. Now that he had a target to focus his anger on, he could forget everything else. His dizziness, his runny nose, his throat, it was all pushed aside. Just like when he took out justice on the scum of society. Rorschach's world tunneled into one single purpose: getting his face back.

In his deepest, most gravelly tone (only made worse by his sore throat) he commanded, "Give me back my face."

This was his special voice that made corrupt politicians wet themselves, and the hardiest of mobsters cry. Needless to say, he was very proud of it.

And Adrian was apparently immune. Instead of turning into a small pile of whimpering goo, which was what Rorschach expected, he blinked in surprise and answered.

"Oh, you mean your inkblot mask? It was revoltingly filthy; I wouldn't be surprised if your extreme sickness is due to wearing that thing all the time."

"I'm not sick." Rorschach protested, still using his scary voice. He might as well been talking to a wall, for all the good that did him. Adrian continued to talk, ignoring the alpha undertones in Rorschach's voice,

"...And anyways, it was simply disgusting. Did you know the material is used mainly for women's dresses? Where did you find it anyways? The heat activated patterns are fascinating. Didn't Jon design-"

Rorschach interrupted him with a growl. He was quickly losing what little patience he had left. He wanted his face, and he wanted it now. If Adrian didn't tell him where to find it, he was smashing his glass in the other man's perfect face. See how he liked to feel exposed and revolting, with all his inside faults on the outside. "Where is it, Ozymondias?"

The use of his former code-name snapped Adrian out his one sided conversation.

"Oh. Well, it's at the dry cleaners."

"YOU DRY CLEANED MY FACE?!" Rorschach could barely think. Dry cleaned my face. The mask.

Isn't supposed to be dry cleaned. Will shrink and weaken the material. Supposed to wash cold and air dry. Don't iron. Rorschach remembered rules about clothes from his days in the garment industry. There's no more. Used up. He felt his control snap, and Rorschach launched himself at Adrian, snarling.

I'm going to shove the glass down his throat.

The blond dodged smoothly, grapping Rorschach and putting him into an effective half-Nelson. The shorter man struggled futility, all the while shouting,

"Give it back! I want it back!" He threw his head backwards and felt it connect solidly with Adrian's chin. Good. Hope he bites his tongue off.

Adrian cursed, and shook Rorschach roughly, apparently not so happy about the possible bruise to his face,

"Control yourself Rorschach! We washed it in Dan's washing machine. Don't you think we would know how to wash costume gear after how many years? Cease this tantrum at once! You're only going to make yourself sicker!" Rorschach would have protested more by head butting the man again, but he felt his strength rapidly leaving him, so he stopped struggling.

Must conserve energy, in case of more serious fighting needed. Rorschach knew that Adrian wouldn't understand Rorschach's need for his face back. After all, Adrian was the one who willingly revealed hisown true face by exposing himself to the world. Still, the sudden act of showing up at Nite Owl's house was strange, and so was his willingness to help (torture) Rorschach. Not that he needed doctoring. Adrian claimed it was for 'old time's sake', but Rorschach wasn't buying it.

The crime fighter wracked his mind for some sort of plausible reason that Adrian would willingly come back after hanging up his cape. Was it boredom? Did he want to do more research for fresh toy ideas?

Or maybe it was something more sinister. Rorschach had always been suspicious of Adrian's desire to leave Watchmen. Had someone gotten a hold of him, someone who twisted Adrian's values and beliefs into unrecognizable shapes? Rorschach decided to come straight out and asked him.

"You brainwashed?" He felt the other man stiffen in surprise.

"What? No. Of course not. Who do you think could brainwash the world's smartest man, at the very least without him noticing it? Give me a little more credit than that, Rorschach." Adrian's moviesque chuckle was cut short by Rorschach's next words.

"Thought they did when you left us."

After a few moments of no response, Rorschach became uncomfortably aware of the awkward silence that was thickening in the room like molasses. He hated feeling like this. He wanted his face back. Rorschach wanted to feel like Rorschach again, not Walter. Not some puny garment maker. Not some whore's son.

Rorschach wanted to hide his face. Under the covers or the bed were the only possible options, but a true crime fighter didn't bury his head in the sand, so he stood stiffly, arms twisted back in the hold Adrian had on him.

He was suddenly released, and spun around to face the other man, swiftly positioning himself in a fighting stance, tense and angry.

Which is why he was totally thrown off balance when Adrian reached out, ruffled his hair affectionately, and proceeded to drag him out the door and down the hall.

"Wh-Stop." Rorschach tried to plant his feet on the ground, but it was tilting uncooperatively underneath him, so he had no choice but to grab the arm pulling him along.

"Now that your little tantrum is finished, its time to get you clean. You stink like the inside of a garbage truck. I bet every criminal in New York City can smell you a mile off. How are you supposed to catch any bad guys that way?" He scolded, walking down the carpeted hallway. He made no mention of Rorschach's gruff confession, although if one squinted there could have been something like a smile in his eyes.

Rorschach, after stumbling to halt, looked up at Adrian like he was crazy. "Take a shower? Not going to happen." He wouldn't mention it to Adrian, but to Rorschach, the grime felt like part of his costume, something he needed to blend in with the cockroaches and the leeches. "I'm leaving."

This was not one fight he was going to win, however

Adrian laughed, good humor restored, "No, you're not. If you even think about leaving. I will personally drag you back and wash you myself. And I know how much you'll enjoy that, yes?" He maneuvered Rorschach into the bathroom.

"Now, this is what we of the hygienically inclined like to call a bathroom. That over there is where water comes out like a waterfall and we wash ourselves in it. The common term for it is a shower. Now-" Rorschach interrupted him.

"I know what it is." Adrian brightened, and then clapped his hands together, obviously mocking something. Rorschach had an uncomfortable feeling it was him.

"Goody. Then let's get to it! Here are your towels," He handed the redhead two large (and fluffy, Rorschach noted distastefully,) towels from the towel rack, "and I presume you know how to use soap and such. Yes? Great." Adrian pushed Rorschach further into the bathroom, and closed the door. Rorschach noticed there was no lock on it.

Will slip out when he leaves and find face. Then lay low and wait 'till all of this blows over. Rorschach's plotting was cut short by Adrian's voice coming through the door,

"I don't hear the water running. There is nothing in there you can use for a tool to get out the window, and I should remind you we are three stories up." Adrian's voice sounded far too cheery for Rorschach. He hoped the blonde man would fall down the stairs.

Rorschach searched the room none the less, but found nothing except toothpaste, a brush, and a stick of deodorant. He couldn't think of any ingenious plans to use these to escape. Maybe he could grease the floor with the deod-

"I'm not hearing the sounds of a shower! Remember, I will check to see if you've scrubbed behind your ears." Was it just him, or was Adrian's voice seemingly getting more satanic sounding every second? "I should mention that we've barricaded this door, so you can't get out."

Rorschach pushed on the door, just to make sure. It was certainly stuck shut. He was trapped. He rattled the door handle,

"Adrian!" Adrian's voice drifted through the door, suddenly serious,

"Don't worry Rorschach. You're with your teammates, or ex-teammate. Even, dare I say it, friends." He heard Adrian take a breath, "The Watchmen take care of each other. Trust us."

Rorschach glared at the door. Have no friends, only enemies. Can't survive on trust. Despite these thoughts, his body slowly relaxed.

He locked into the mirror, a pale freckled face staring back at him. A stranger's face. Walter's face.

Must get out of here. Later. But Adrian is right. Can't catch the insects in web if the web is seen. Or smelled. Shower is a good idea.

Rorschach turned the shower on, and waited for the temperature of the water to rise.

He ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that just wanted to feel clean again, to erase the city's touch on him.

(= : =)