Fic: Solidarity 4/14 (Watchmen)
May. 15th, 2009 08:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anactoriaTitle: Solidarity
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anactoria
Fandom: Watchmen
Characters/Pairing: Dan/Adrian
Rating: R overall, PG-13 for this part.
Disclaimer: Still don't own them.
Summary: It's 1992 and this isn't Utopia.
Notes: Beta --muse_of_graphia. Thank you!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
October 1990
Dan starts paying attention to the news again when the news starts getting harder to come by. There are fewer headlines these days, fewer titles on the shelves. Last time he dropped by the local newsstand, the racks were barely half-full.
Some of the papers have folded, unforeseen and costly legal troubles having materialized, seemingly out of thin air. At least a third have been bought out by InfoCorp, a new and faceless conglomerate whose house style seems to include the expunging of any discernible opinion, and, Dan guesses by the omissions, quite a few of the facts, too. But most are just eviscerated, running scared, their coverage carefully innocuous.
Same goes for the TV channels, and radio stations too. All news coverage has to be approved since the Media Security Act passed in August, which means current affairs tend to be a lot less current by the time you hear about them now. Pirate stations are popping up all the time, of course, on unofficial frequencies, but they rarely last more than a week or two before they get shut down. The underground presses and the pamphleteers get more stuff out there -- they're harder to trace -- but you have to know the channels to get them, find out who to speak to, and Dan doesn't exactly associate with the criminal fraternity much these days.
Laurie still doesn't watch the news. He can't blame her -- read between the lines and it's all depressing as hell -- but it means they mostly spend their evenings in separate rooms.
But for all Dennis Steele's ranting about conspirators and terrorists and Manhattanites (the word's taken on a whole new, sinister significance since '85), Dan's not reminded quite so painfully of the past. There's less starry-eyed optimism out there, less of Adrian preaching to the world as if he has a right, less gushing about how everything's going to be different and better now. That, at least, seems fitting.
Dan can't even see Adrian in the background today, and this is a fairly huge political event. The Republicans and the Democrats are working together, at last: the Allied Democratic-Republican Party of the United States of America. Pretty soon people will just be calling it the Party.
It's a huge ceremony, faintly ridiculous, and, Dan thinks, a little sinister too. Steele's spouting something about solidarity, about the necessity for unity in the face of a threat to the human race, about how global security sometimes has to take precedence over the rights of the individual and how anyone too selfish to realize that doesn't deserve to call himself an American. One party. One nation. Instinctively, Dan hears the words that come next, even if they're not spoken aloud: one world.
It isn't long after this that people start getting arrested.
At first it's people with criminal backgrounds, violent agitators, troublemakers. Then activists, members of political pressure groups. Then anyone who dares criticize the Party too vocally in the press. The headlines get smaller as the names get bigger.
Then people stop getting arrested. They just disappear.
Then the headlines disappear.
April 1992
They were almost friends. Easy to forget that, after everything. They worked together when the situation called for it, even had a couple of drinks and talked shop and politics from time to time. Dan always thought he was pretty well-informed when it came to current affairs, but he used to find himself feeling ignorant next to Adrian. At first. Then he'd forget to feel ignorant, and just be amazed that anyone could know so much -- about everything -- and manage not to be a bore about it.
And even after Ozymandias retired, Adrian always looked pleased to see him. Dan's still pretty sure that was genuine.
Almost friends. Except that, no matter how many conversations they had, Dan never could quite get a handle on what Adrian was actually like. He seemed more a collection of ideas than a real person.
Dan still doesn't think he really gets it, what Adrian's about, what's going on behind the smilingly neutral face he shows to most of the world, but at least now he's sure there is someone in there. Somebody human, not just a bunch of intelligence circuits firing and calculating away as coldly as the inner workings of a computer.
For instance, back then he'd never in a million years have expected to find Adrian bringing him a cup of coffee, let alone bothering to learn how many sugars he takes with it. Coffee and... some sort of maize crackers, apparently.
Dan puts down the screwdriver he's been holding, glad of the chance to rest his healing shoulder, and peers at them.
"The latest in government-issue cuisine," Adrian informs him, smiling wryly. "Interestingly, they've managed to duplicate the taste and texture of rubber exactly."
Dan frowns. "How would you know? Have you ever tasted-- wait, never mind, don't answer that."
"Studio 54 wasn't entirely dull," Adrian says mildly, his expression deadpan.
Dan's ninety percent sure he's joking, but he just shakes his head and shoves a cracker in his mouth instead of speaking. It is pretty disgusting, he has to admit.
"You're here after curfew again," he points out, once he's finished his mouthful.
"Serkan has asked me to stay. There were several new arrivals this morning, and he seems to think that they find my being here... reassuring." Adrian's expression turns pensive for a second, but he snaps out of it right away, with a smile. "Don't worry. I promise to be in bed before two."
"He's right," Dan says. "They do. And by 'bed' I'm assuming you mean my floor. I should start charging you rent."
Adrian smiles amicably at him. They were never this familiar, before -- but the way they live now, the world they live in now, forces intimacy. And of course Adrian always was a master at putting those around him at ease; that's what made trusting him so instinctive, the possibility of doing otherwise so unthinkable.
Dan's wiser now, though. Wise enough to be... not discomfited, exactly, but acutely aware of how easy it's been to slip back into being almost-friends again. Working together, reminding each other to sleep and eat lunch, sitting up late and chatting about inconsequential things (only not really, because day-to-day stuff isn't inconsequential, not any more) and avoiding any mention of Karnak or Rorschach or Laurie or the millions of innocent people who were killed -- who Adrian killed -- before this whole current mess even got started.
It's not that he thinks Adrian's got some hidden agenda this time; that seems pretty unlikely, given their circumstances. It's the fact he seems so intent on working himself into the ground, the way he insists on exchanging sympathetic words with every single refugee who passes through HQ, like he's carefully folding away each sad story to add to his list of personal regrets. And Dan keeps finding himself wanting to reassure Adrian, to say something, anything, to make him stop it. He's not sure he should want that. On some level, it still feels like a betrayal. But he does; he can't help it. Adrian gets to him.
"You've altered the panelling on Archie's sides," Adrian notes, interrupting his train of thought. "I hadn't noticed that before. A lighter material?"
Dan shakes himself. "Yeah. More durable, too. Good thing I changed it when I did, really -- it's pretty much impossible to get hold of materials without a government licence now. They come down like a ton of bricks on unauthorized imports."
Yeah, he thinks, before he lets his brain switch off and focus on weight and maneuverability and what the hell he's going to do next time he needs a spare part instead. Almost friends.
May 1991
It is 03:00 EDT when the phone rings.
Adrian is not asleep. His thoughts keep him awake later and later at present; but perhaps this is preferable to the alternative. He has started to dream again. He is usually drowning.
When he hears the words "repeat attack," "Dr. Manhattan," "splinter group," they form an impossibility. Jon is galaxies away, and the only other bodies with access to the technology are Veidt Industries and --
And the US military. Adrian's heart stills in his chest.
"...state of emergency," the voice on the other end of the line is saying. "We'll need you here as soon as possible."
"Of course," he replies. "I shall leave for Washington directly."
By the time Adrian has dressed and arranged to have his private jet ready for take-off, the sky outside has lightened a few degrees. He stands at the window for a moment, looking down, numb. This is a perfect move by Steele and his ever-widening circle. It will allow them to push through some of the more repressive measures at which more moderate members of the Party still hesitate; to point suspicious fingers at anyone who even dares question their wisdom.
There is not even any point telling the truth, now. Their stranglehold on the media is almost complete. Adrian would simply be arrested, another traitor, the story left to sink without trace.
There is a white van parked across the road, in full view of his penthouse. It has been there for days, and there are three others at strategic locations around the bottom of Veidt Tower. Unmarked and, at the moment, unofficial.
Not for much longer, though; he knows that now.
He ought to be shaking with rage, or perhaps even fear. Instead, there is nothing but a dizzying, yawning emptiness that he will come to know as despair.
April 1992
"Face it, Jude. We're screwed."
"We'll just have to find another way. There's always another way." Judith stops two paces inside the workshop doors, determination evident in the set of her mouth. Serkan almost walks into the back of her.
"Screwed," he says again, shaking his head.
"Guys?" Dan turns from his enthused explanation of Archie's landing mechanism, his eyes widening with concern. "Do we have a problem?"
Adrian places his coffee cup on an empty worktop and joins them, keeping his expression carefully calm.
"I should say," Serkan begins, his voice pitched a fraction higher than usual. "We're-- "
Judith cuts him off with a warning look. "The South End group has been..." She swallows. "Apprehended. Which means we have no access to false documentation right now. We've got six people to get out tomorrow, and they'll never pass the checkpoints without it. So we're going to need another way of getting them across. Do you think you can get them over in-- " She waves a hand.
"Archie," Dan supplies. Judith's always seemed uncomfortable with Dan's anthropomorphizing. In a situation like this, she says, too much sentimentality can only be a danger.
It's a viewpoint Adrian understands, at least, though he's not sure he can say he subscribes to it any more.
"Yeah," Dan is nodding. "We can get out of HQ via the tunnels, the same way I got Archie in here. Once we're out over the harbor, we should be clear to get away. What time do you need me to be ready?"
"And there's the problem," Serkan cuts in. "They've got transport, but their driver won't risk taking a direct route from New York. Which means they won't be arriving 'til after curfew, and the city's gonna be crawling with Patrols. Which means the second we bring them back here, they'll be traced to us. Which means we're screwed. Like I said."
"So we don't bring them back here," Adrian suggests, calmly. "We meet them at their arrival point, take them directly to the harbor, and Dan meets us there with Archimedes. Surely that's the obvious course of action?"
"You've got to be kidding me," protests Serkan. "They watch the place night and day, we'd be picked up in no time-- "
"It's a possibility," Judith admits, ignoring him. "But it will be difficult to pull off without being seen. Any ideas?"
"Curfew lasts from eight until seven-thirty, and despite the size of the police force, there's no way they can keep the whole of the harbor covered at all times. There have to be movements, shift changes, and they'll be scheduled at headquarters." He raises an eyebrow. "And I'm sure not every Patrolman is as pure of purpose as the Party would have us believe."
"Bribe someone for the info, you mean? We don't have that kind of money."
"I do. And that means we do." Adrian catches Dan's surprised glance out of the corner of his eye, and for a second he almost feels gratified. "Not an ideal solution, I'll admit, but these people's lives are in danger. We must simply do what's necessary."
"Dangerous, but it could work." Judith frowns. "The only problem is finding our guy."
At that, Adrian smiles. "I believe Dan and I may be able to help you there."
*
"James Morgan. I know that guy." Dan frowns, the name tugging threads of old memory out of the back of his mind. "Hey, didn't you put him away back in '70?"
Adrian nods. "Three times, if memory serves. A top-level gangster, but one without loyalty. A mercenary. Happy to exploit anyone who came his way. That doesn't seem to have done his present career any harm, however. He appears to be a lieutenant."
"Yeah, I remember. He gave me the creeps. Just the way he looked at people." Dan and Rorschach dealt with Morgan themselves, once or twice. A really unpleasant piece of work, one of those guys who could make your skin crawl without even opening his mouth. He never seemed particularly bothered about being busted, either; he'd just give them this look that was defiant and sort of... mocking. Hungry, even. Dan grimaces. "Reckon he'll sell us the information?"
"I'm sure he can be persuaded."
For a fraction of a second, Dan thinks he sees a shadow cross Adrian's eyes. Then it's gone, and he's not sure whether or not he just imagined it.
"However," Adrian's saying, "I think it would be best if I went to bargain with him. Alone."
Judith stares at him. "Do you think that's wise? I mean you sent the guy to prison, for Christ's sake."
"Exactly." Adrian half-smiles, inscrutable. "I remember Morgan quite well. The idea of my asking his help will probably appeal to his... sense of humor."
"Won't that just put you in more danger?" Dan asks, frowning, his insides tightening. But already Adrian has that hard, determined look in his eyes that means he's made up his mind, and Dan knows better than to argue.
*
Two hours before curfew, Adrian breezes into the comms. room and produces a single computer disk from his inside pocket, to admiring looks all round.
Dan jumps to his feet, only now realizing how nervously he's been waiting.
"Well?" he demands. "What'd you get?"
"Morgan was quite obliging, as it turns out. Patrol times, shift patterns, positions. It's all there. We have an hour or so before we need to move."
"Wow." Serk pounces on the disk and shoves it into the computer.
Dan stares. "Yeah. Wow. That went smoothly." Too smoothly, he thinks.
"Indeed." Adrian smiles blandly. "I should speak to Judith. If you'll excuse me..."
For a second, Dan's left blinking after him. He should be pleased, he knows, this is just what they wanted, but... something's not right. No narrow escapes? No delays? No problems at all? That's pretty rare. Besides, there is something closed-off and careful in Adrian's expression, something that, Dan has learned, over the years, means he is not telling the whole of the truth. What if-- but no, even after everything, he can't imagine that Adrian would sell them out. He's seen too much to believe that.
A second later he's out of the door and chasing Adrian down the empty corridor, his heart in his throat.
"Wait."
Adrian stops outside the kitchen door and turns to face him with a look of mild surprise that Dan is sure is entirely fake.
"What happened?"
"Hmm? Just what I said."
"So what did all of that set you back?"
"Very little, as a matter of fact." Adrian won't lie to him outright, not now, but he's not volunteering any information either. Typical.
Dan's eyes narrow. "So what did you tell him?"
"Please. You know me better than that." Adrian's voice is steady, his expression opaque, unfazed by the implicit accusation. Or perhaps he can just tell Dan doesn't really believe it himself.
And it's infuriating. Dan won't let Adrian start talking down to him, shutting him out again like this, he can't. Not when they're just getting to know each other again; not after he's almost started to trust Adrian, care about him, for fuck's sake. He grabs Adrian by the wrist and pulls him, unresisting, into the empty kitchen. The door slams shut behind them.
"That's not an answer," he says. "Adrian. What did you do?"
"Dan. I assure you, it would be better if you didn't pursue this line of enquiry."
"What did you do?"
Adrian gives him a glance that's marble-cold, almost defiant, and entirely at odds with the casual tone of his voice. "I can be very persuasive when I so choose. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"
"Persuasive? What, you threatened the guy? Beat him up?"
"No." Adrian looks at him as though he's stupid. Well, no, that's not exactly likely. Unnecessary violence has never been Adrian's style.
Dan shakes his head. "What, then?" he demands. "I just don't see what else you could mean. Unless, I don't know, you seduced him or someth-- "
The sentence starts out half-joking, but he breaks off as snatches of yesterday's conversation spring to mind, unbidden.
Appeal to his... sense of humor. That way Morgan had of looking at people, that made Dan think he knew how girls felt when assholes wolf-whistled at them. The shadow across Adrian's eyes.
"Oh. Oh my God." Dan stares, stupidly, for a minute. His throat's gone dry.
Adrian just holds his gaze, head high. He doesn't say anything.
"What the fuck?" Dan manages finally.
Adrian shrugs, unconcerned. "As I expected, Morgan remembered me quite well. I could hardly offer him information. We are the enemy, after all. And... well, he simply refused to consider monetary payment. In some ways that makes good sense. The incomes of Party employees are monitored very carefully, you know."
"Jesus, Adrian." Dan's not sure what's worse, the thought of-- of-- well, he doesn't even want to think about it -- or the fact that Adrian doesn't even sound bothered. "Maybe you should've just beaten it out of him."
"Dan." And he can still manage it, that disappointed-teacher look, the one that instantly makes whoever's on the receiving end feel two feet tall and five years old. He doesn't even need to say grow up.
Of course he couldn't. Beating up a guy who's a cop and in with the criminal fraternity could bring all manner of unwanted attention down on their little operation. Dan's still got the injuries from their last incident, and that was minor compared to what the big-timers or the Party could inflict. Still, maybe that would be okay, if it were just the two of them, but there are dozens of other people here, too, people who trust them, who they have a responsibility to.
"Besides," Adrian goes on, gentler, "If anyone should have to -- "
Dan can't help it then. He loses it.
"Adrian," he spits, "Get over yourself."
Adrian blinks at him, stunned. That's almost satisfying. "I beg your pardon?"
Dan sighs, scrubs at his eyes, tries to calm his voice down a bit.
"Look. I know why you're doing this. I know you feel awful about everything, you feel responsible. Even if I don't agree with what you did -- I know you didn't want all of this. But it wasn't just you, Adrian."
He's expecting Adrian to interrupt him, to argue, but he doesn't respond. He's just looking at Dan in confusion. His eyes are wide, all of his assurance suddenly gone.
"If one man couldn't save the world, one man couldn't screw it up this much either. Hundreds of people contributed to... this. Thousands. And we could really use you being halfway sane right now and I can't stand seeing you act like this. You might not give a crap what happens to you but I do, okay, so just stop being so reasonable about it, stop being a fucking martyr, just-- just-- Oh, fuck." Dan breaks off hopelessly, sighing. "You don't even get it, do you?"
He's not sure what kind of reply, if any, he's expecting, but all he gets is that same blank, bewildered stare, and his anger sinks back down to sad frustration as quickly as it reared its head.
It's obvious the words aren't getting through, and maybe there aren't even words for what he's trying to say, anyway. I need you is too selfish and There are more important things than your fucking penance right now, okay? is too cruel, and all he really wants is for Adrian to react, speak to him, give some sort of sign that he's feeling something, and it doesn't seem as though that's ever going to happen.
So he almost gives up then, only another of those small, stupid little impulses grabs him, and before he's allowed himself to think too much about what he's doing, he's reached out and taken Adrian's hand.
Adrian looks down at the touch, his eyes uncomprehending. Dan feels his own heart falter, but then Adrian doesn't pull away from him, so he doesn't let go.
There are still small scabs on Adrian's knuckles, from the fight with the gangsters weeks ago. Dan runs his thumb over them, very softly. As though he's smoothing in ointment; as though the touch could soothe everything away.
"Dan," Adrian's tone is light again, but this time he's not smiling. Dan even thinks he detects the hint of a tremor in his voice. "What are you doing?"
Dan's not sure if he knows the answer to that, and even if he did, he couldn't put it into words. So instead of replying he just shakes his head and gently tugs Adrian into a hug.
And Adrian... lets him. He doesn't hug back, exactly, but he doesn't tense up or step back, either, and Dan figures he can probably count that as a victory.
"You're an idiot," he says, against Adrian's shoulder. "I don't know why I never realized it before. An idiot."
He hears Adrian's breath catch at the words, and he's already pulling back, looking up to search Adrian's expression in case he's just said something horribly wrong. But then Adrian's hands are at the small of his back, not letting him go.
Adrian closes his eyes and leans forward just a little, so that his forehead is resting against Dan's. They stand like that for a long moment.
Halfway through it, Dan realizes someone's trembling. It isn't him.
Chapter 5
Author:
anactoriaFandom: Watchmen
Characters/Pairing: Dan/Adrian
Rating: R overall, PG-13 for this part.
Disclaimer: Still don't own them.
Summary: It's 1992 and this isn't Utopia.
Notes: Beta --
muse_of_graphia. Thank you!Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
October 1990
Dan starts paying attention to the news again when the news starts getting harder to come by. There are fewer headlines these days, fewer titles on the shelves. Last time he dropped by the local newsstand, the racks were barely half-full.
Some of the papers have folded, unforeseen and costly legal troubles having materialized, seemingly out of thin air. At least a third have been bought out by InfoCorp, a new and faceless conglomerate whose house style seems to include the expunging of any discernible opinion, and, Dan guesses by the omissions, quite a few of the facts, too. But most are just eviscerated, running scared, their coverage carefully innocuous.
Same goes for the TV channels, and radio stations too. All news coverage has to be approved since the Media Security Act passed in August, which means current affairs tend to be a lot less current by the time you hear about them now. Pirate stations are popping up all the time, of course, on unofficial frequencies, but they rarely last more than a week or two before they get shut down. The underground presses and the pamphleteers get more stuff out there -- they're harder to trace -- but you have to know the channels to get them, find out who to speak to, and Dan doesn't exactly associate with the criminal fraternity much these days.
Laurie still doesn't watch the news. He can't blame her -- read between the lines and it's all depressing as hell -- but it means they mostly spend their evenings in separate rooms.
But for all Dennis Steele's ranting about conspirators and terrorists and Manhattanites (the word's taken on a whole new, sinister significance since '85), Dan's not reminded quite so painfully of the past. There's less starry-eyed optimism out there, less of Adrian preaching to the world as if he has a right, less gushing about how everything's going to be different and better now. That, at least, seems fitting.
Dan can't even see Adrian in the background today, and this is a fairly huge political event. The Republicans and the Democrats are working together, at last: the Allied Democratic-Republican Party of the United States of America. Pretty soon people will just be calling it the Party.
It's a huge ceremony, faintly ridiculous, and, Dan thinks, a little sinister too. Steele's spouting something about solidarity, about the necessity for unity in the face of a threat to the human race, about how global security sometimes has to take precedence over the rights of the individual and how anyone too selfish to realize that doesn't deserve to call himself an American. One party. One nation. Instinctively, Dan hears the words that come next, even if they're not spoken aloud: one world.
It isn't long after this that people start getting arrested.
At first it's people with criminal backgrounds, violent agitators, troublemakers. Then activists, members of political pressure groups. Then anyone who dares criticize the Party too vocally in the press. The headlines get smaller as the names get bigger.
Then people stop getting arrested. They just disappear.
Then the headlines disappear.
April 1992
They were almost friends. Easy to forget that, after everything. They worked together when the situation called for it, even had a couple of drinks and talked shop and politics from time to time. Dan always thought he was pretty well-informed when it came to current affairs, but he used to find himself feeling ignorant next to Adrian. At first. Then he'd forget to feel ignorant, and just be amazed that anyone could know so much -- about everything -- and manage not to be a bore about it.
And even after Ozymandias retired, Adrian always looked pleased to see him. Dan's still pretty sure that was genuine.
Almost friends. Except that, no matter how many conversations they had, Dan never could quite get a handle on what Adrian was actually like. He seemed more a collection of ideas than a real person.
Dan still doesn't think he really gets it, what Adrian's about, what's going on behind the smilingly neutral face he shows to most of the world, but at least now he's sure there is someone in there. Somebody human, not just a bunch of intelligence circuits firing and calculating away as coldly as the inner workings of a computer.
For instance, back then he'd never in a million years have expected to find Adrian bringing him a cup of coffee, let alone bothering to learn how many sugars he takes with it. Coffee and... some sort of maize crackers, apparently.
Dan puts down the screwdriver he's been holding, glad of the chance to rest his healing shoulder, and peers at them.
"The latest in government-issue cuisine," Adrian informs him, smiling wryly. "Interestingly, they've managed to duplicate the taste and texture of rubber exactly."
Dan frowns. "How would you know? Have you ever tasted-- wait, never mind, don't answer that."
"Studio 54 wasn't entirely dull," Adrian says mildly, his expression deadpan.
Dan's ninety percent sure he's joking, but he just shakes his head and shoves a cracker in his mouth instead of speaking. It is pretty disgusting, he has to admit.
"You're here after curfew again," he points out, once he's finished his mouthful.
"Serkan has asked me to stay. There were several new arrivals this morning, and he seems to think that they find my being here... reassuring." Adrian's expression turns pensive for a second, but he snaps out of it right away, with a smile. "Don't worry. I promise to be in bed before two."
"He's right," Dan says. "They do. And by 'bed' I'm assuming you mean my floor. I should start charging you rent."
Adrian smiles amicably at him. They were never this familiar, before -- but the way they live now, the world they live in now, forces intimacy. And of course Adrian always was a master at putting those around him at ease; that's what made trusting him so instinctive, the possibility of doing otherwise so unthinkable.
Dan's wiser now, though. Wise enough to be... not discomfited, exactly, but acutely aware of how easy it's been to slip back into being almost-friends again. Working together, reminding each other to sleep and eat lunch, sitting up late and chatting about inconsequential things (only not really, because day-to-day stuff isn't inconsequential, not any more) and avoiding any mention of Karnak or Rorschach or Laurie or the millions of innocent people who were killed -- who Adrian killed -- before this whole current mess even got started.
It's not that he thinks Adrian's got some hidden agenda this time; that seems pretty unlikely, given their circumstances. It's the fact he seems so intent on working himself into the ground, the way he insists on exchanging sympathetic words with every single refugee who passes through HQ, like he's carefully folding away each sad story to add to his list of personal regrets. And Dan keeps finding himself wanting to reassure Adrian, to say something, anything, to make him stop it. He's not sure he should want that. On some level, it still feels like a betrayal. But he does; he can't help it. Adrian gets to him.
"You've altered the panelling on Archie's sides," Adrian notes, interrupting his train of thought. "I hadn't noticed that before. A lighter material?"
Dan shakes himself. "Yeah. More durable, too. Good thing I changed it when I did, really -- it's pretty much impossible to get hold of materials without a government licence now. They come down like a ton of bricks on unauthorized imports."
Yeah, he thinks, before he lets his brain switch off and focus on weight and maneuverability and what the hell he's going to do next time he needs a spare part instead. Almost friends.
May 1991
It is 03:00 EDT when the phone rings.
Adrian is not asleep. His thoughts keep him awake later and later at present; but perhaps this is preferable to the alternative. He has started to dream again. He is usually drowning.
When he hears the words "repeat attack," "Dr. Manhattan," "splinter group," they form an impossibility. Jon is galaxies away, and the only other bodies with access to the technology are Veidt Industries and --
And the US military. Adrian's heart stills in his chest.
"...state of emergency," the voice on the other end of the line is saying. "We'll need you here as soon as possible."
"Of course," he replies. "I shall leave for Washington directly."
By the time Adrian has dressed and arranged to have his private jet ready for take-off, the sky outside has lightened a few degrees. He stands at the window for a moment, looking down, numb. This is a perfect move by Steele and his ever-widening circle. It will allow them to push through some of the more repressive measures at which more moderate members of the Party still hesitate; to point suspicious fingers at anyone who even dares question their wisdom.
There is not even any point telling the truth, now. Their stranglehold on the media is almost complete. Adrian would simply be arrested, another traitor, the story left to sink without trace.
There is a white van parked across the road, in full view of his penthouse. It has been there for days, and there are three others at strategic locations around the bottom of Veidt Tower. Unmarked and, at the moment, unofficial.
Not for much longer, though; he knows that now.
He ought to be shaking with rage, or perhaps even fear. Instead, there is nothing but a dizzying, yawning emptiness that he will come to know as despair.
April 1992
"Face it, Jude. We're screwed."
"We'll just have to find another way. There's always another way." Judith stops two paces inside the workshop doors, determination evident in the set of her mouth. Serkan almost walks into the back of her.
"Screwed," he says again, shaking his head.
"Guys?" Dan turns from his enthused explanation of Archie's landing mechanism, his eyes widening with concern. "Do we have a problem?"
Adrian places his coffee cup on an empty worktop and joins them, keeping his expression carefully calm.
"I should say," Serkan begins, his voice pitched a fraction higher than usual. "We're-- "
Judith cuts him off with a warning look. "The South End group has been..." She swallows. "Apprehended. Which means we have no access to false documentation right now. We've got six people to get out tomorrow, and they'll never pass the checkpoints without it. So we're going to need another way of getting them across. Do you think you can get them over in-- " She waves a hand.
"Archie," Dan supplies. Judith's always seemed uncomfortable with Dan's anthropomorphizing. In a situation like this, she says, too much sentimentality can only be a danger.
It's a viewpoint Adrian understands, at least, though he's not sure he can say he subscribes to it any more.
"Yeah," Dan is nodding. "We can get out of HQ via the tunnels, the same way I got Archie in here. Once we're out over the harbor, we should be clear to get away. What time do you need me to be ready?"
"And there's the problem," Serkan cuts in. "They've got transport, but their driver won't risk taking a direct route from New York. Which means they won't be arriving 'til after curfew, and the city's gonna be crawling with Patrols. Which means the second we bring them back here, they'll be traced to us. Which means we're screwed. Like I said."
"So we don't bring them back here," Adrian suggests, calmly. "We meet them at their arrival point, take them directly to the harbor, and Dan meets us there with Archimedes. Surely that's the obvious course of action?"
"You've got to be kidding me," protests Serkan. "They watch the place night and day, we'd be picked up in no time-- "
"It's a possibility," Judith admits, ignoring him. "But it will be difficult to pull off without being seen. Any ideas?"
"Curfew lasts from eight until seven-thirty, and despite the size of the police force, there's no way they can keep the whole of the harbor covered at all times. There have to be movements, shift changes, and they'll be scheduled at headquarters." He raises an eyebrow. "And I'm sure not every Patrolman is as pure of purpose as the Party would have us believe."
"Bribe someone for the info, you mean? We don't have that kind of money."
"I do. And that means we do." Adrian catches Dan's surprised glance out of the corner of his eye, and for a second he almost feels gratified. "Not an ideal solution, I'll admit, but these people's lives are in danger. We must simply do what's necessary."
"Dangerous, but it could work." Judith frowns. "The only problem is finding our guy."
At that, Adrian smiles. "I believe Dan and I may be able to help you there."
*
"James Morgan. I know that guy." Dan frowns, the name tugging threads of old memory out of the back of his mind. "Hey, didn't you put him away back in '70?"
Adrian nods. "Three times, if memory serves. A top-level gangster, but one without loyalty. A mercenary. Happy to exploit anyone who came his way. That doesn't seem to have done his present career any harm, however. He appears to be a lieutenant."
"Yeah, I remember. He gave me the creeps. Just the way he looked at people." Dan and Rorschach dealt with Morgan themselves, once or twice. A really unpleasant piece of work, one of those guys who could make your skin crawl without even opening his mouth. He never seemed particularly bothered about being busted, either; he'd just give them this look that was defiant and sort of... mocking. Hungry, even. Dan grimaces. "Reckon he'll sell us the information?"
"I'm sure he can be persuaded."
For a fraction of a second, Dan thinks he sees a shadow cross Adrian's eyes. Then it's gone, and he's not sure whether or not he just imagined it.
"However," Adrian's saying, "I think it would be best if I went to bargain with him. Alone."
Judith stares at him. "Do you think that's wise? I mean you sent the guy to prison, for Christ's sake."
"Exactly." Adrian half-smiles, inscrutable. "I remember Morgan quite well. The idea of my asking his help will probably appeal to his... sense of humor."
"Won't that just put you in more danger?" Dan asks, frowning, his insides tightening. But already Adrian has that hard, determined look in his eyes that means he's made up his mind, and Dan knows better than to argue.
*
Two hours before curfew, Adrian breezes into the comms. room and produces a single computer disk from his inside pocket, to admiring looks all round.
Dan jumps to his feet, only now realizing how nervously he's been waiting.
"Well?" he demands. "What'd you get?"
"Morgan was quite obliging, as it turns out. Patrol times, shift patterns, positions. It's all there. We have an hour or so before we need to move."
"Wow." Serk pounces on the disk and shoves it into the computer.
Dan stares. "Yeah. Wow. That went smoothly." Too smoothly, he thinks.
"Indeed." Adrian smiles blandly. "I should speak to Judith. If you'll excuse me..."
For a second, Dan's left blinking after him. He should be pleased, he knows, this is just what they wanted, but... something's not right. No narrow escapes? No delays? No problems at all? That's pretty rare. Besides, there is something closed-off and careful in Adrian's expression, something that, Dan has learned, over the years, means he is not telling the whole of the truth. What if-- but no, even after everything, he can't imagine that Adrian would sell them out. He's seen too much to believe that.
A second later he's out of the door and chasing Adrian down the empty corridor, his heart in his throat.
"Wait."
Adrian stops outside the kitchen door and turns to face him with a look of mild surprise that Dan is sure is entirely fake.
"What happened?"
"Hmm? Just what I said."
"So what did all of that set you back?"
"Very little, as a matter of fact." Adrian won't lie to him outright, not now, but he's not volunteering any information either. Typical.
Dan's eyes narrow. "So what did you tell him?"
"Please. You know me better than that." Adrian's voice is steady, his expression opaque, unfazed by the implicit accusation. Or perhaps he can just tell Dan doesn't really believe it himself.
And it's infuriating. Dan won't let Adrian start talking down to him, shutting him out again like this, he can't. Not when they're just getting to know each other again; not after he's almost started to trust Adrian, care about him, for fuck's sake. He grabs Adrian by the wrist and pulls him, unresisting, into the empty kitchen. The door slams shut behind them.
"That's not an answer," he says. "Adrian. What did you do?"
"Dan. I assure you, it would be better if you didn't pursue this line of enquiry."
"What did you do?"
Adrian gives him a glance that's marble-cold, almost defiant, and entirely at odds with the casual tone of his voice. "I can be very persuasive when I so choose. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"
"Persuasive? What, you threatened the guy? Beat him up?"
"No." Adrian looks at him as though he's stupid. Well, no, that's not exactly likely. Unnecessary violence has never been Adrian's style.
Dan shakes his head. "What, then?" he demands. "I just don't see what else you could mean. Unless, I don't know, you seduced him or someth-- "
The sentence starts out half-joking, but he breaks off as snatches of yesterday's conversation spring to mind, unbidden.
Appeal to his... sense of humor. That way Morgan had of looking at people, that made Dan think he knew how girls felt when assholes wolf-whistled at them. The shadow across Adrian's eyes.
"Oh. Oh my God." Dan stares, stupidly, for a minute. His throat's gone dry.
Adrian just holds his gaze, head high. He doesn't say anything.
"What the fuck?" Dan manages finally.
Adrian shrugs, unconcerned. "As I expected, Morgan remembered me quite well. I could hardly offer him information. We are the enemy, after all. And... well, he simply refused to consider monetary payment. In some ways that makes good sense. The incomes of Party employees are monitored very carefully, you know."
"Jesus, Adrian." Dan's not sure what's worse, the thought of-- of-- well, he doesn't even want to think about it -- or the fact that Adrian doesn't even sound bothered. "Maybe you should've just beaten it out of him."
"Dan." And he can still manage it, that disappointed-teacher look, the one that instantly makes whoever's on the receiving end feel two feet tall and five years old. He doesn't even need to say grow up.
Of course he couldn't. Beating up a guy who's a cop and in with the criminal fraternity could bring all manner of unwanted attention down on their little operation. Dan's still got the injuries from their last incident, and that was minor compared to what the big-timers or the Party could inflict. Still, maybe that would be okay, if it were just the two of them, but there are dozens of other people here, too, people who trust them, who they have a responsibility to.
"Besides," Adrian goes on, gentler, "If anyone should have to -- "
Dan can't help it then. He loses it.
"Adrian," he spits, "Get over yourself."
Adrian blinks at him, stunned. That's almost satisfying. "I beg your pardon?"
Dan sighs, scrubs at his eyes, tries to calm his voice down a bit.
"Look. I know why you're doing this. I know you feel awful about everything, you feel responsible. Even if I don't agree with what you did -- I know you didn't want all of this. But it wasn't just you, Adrian."
He's expecting Adrian to interrupt him, to argue, but he doesn't respond. He's just looking at Dan in confusion. His eyes are wide, all of his assurance suddenly gone.
"If one man couldn't save the world, one man couldn't screw it up this much either. Hundreds of people contributed to... this. Thousands. And we could really use you being halfway sane right now and I can't stand seeing you act like this. You might not give a crap what happens to you but I do, okay, so just stop being so reasonable about it, stop being a fucking martyr, just-- just-- Oh, fuck." Dan breaks off hopelessly, sighing. "You don't even get it, do you?"
He's not sure what kind of reply, if any, he's expecting, but all he gets is that same blank, bewildered stare, and his anger sinks back down to sad frustration as quickly as it reared its head.
It's obvious the words aren't getting through, and maybe there aren't even words for what he's trying to say, anyway. I need you is too selfish and There are more important things than your fucking penance right now, okay? is too cruel, and all he really wants is for Adrian to react, speak to him, give some sort of sign that he's feeling something, and it doesn't seem as though that's ever going to happen.
So he almost gives up then, only another of those small, stupid little impulses grabs him, and before he's allowed himself to think too much about what he's doing, he's reached out and taken Adrian's hand.
Adrian looks down at the touch, his eyes uncomprehending. Dan feels his own heart falter, but then Adrian doesn't pull away from him, so he doesn't let go.
There are still small scabs on Adrian's knuckles, from the fight with the gangsters weeks ago. Dan runs his thumb over them, very softly. As though he's smoothing in ointment; as though the touch could soothe everything away.
"Dan," Adrian's tone is light again, but this time he's not smiling. Dan even thinks he detects the hint of a tremor in his voice. "What are you doing?"
Dan's not sure if he knows the answer to that, and even if he did, he couldn't put it into words. So instead of replying he just shakes his head and gently tugs Adrian into a hug.
And Adrian... lets him. He doesn't hug back, exactly, but he doesn't tense up or step back, either, and Dan figures he can probably count that as a victory.
"You're an idiot," he says, against Adrian's shoulder. "I don't know why I never realized it before. An idiot."
He hears Adrian's breath catch at the words, and he's already pulling back, looking up to search Adrian's expression in case he's just said something horribly wrong. But then Adrian's hands are at the small of his back, not letting him go.
Adrian closes his eyes and leans forward just a little, so that his forehead is resting against Dan's. They stand like that for a long moment.
Halfway through it, Dan realizes someone's trembling. It isn't him.
Chapter 5
