O Prolong Now the Sorrow (2/3), Watchmen (2009)
Saturday, 16 January 2021 14:15![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
derwent_fFandom: Watchmen (2009)
Pairing: Brief Dan Dreiberg/Laurie Juspeczyk, Gen or Pre-slash Dan Dreiberg/Adrian Veidt
Rating: T
Summary: April 1986. Dan Dreiberg is preparing to move when the phone rings and brings Adrian Veidt back into his life.
“Well,” Dan said, putting down the bag, “Welcome home, I guess.”
There was a sad curiosity in the way Adrian explored his own penthouse. Dan wandered what Adrian thought about it. He’d come here a couple more times in the past week, but still he couldn’t dust off the unlived-in aura of the place.
He went to the kitchen and checked the fridge. Sophie had filled it with the groceries Dan requested. He was considering what to cook for dinner when Adrian appeared.
“You didn’t mention my ... obsession with purple,” he said, and Dan had to laugh at that.
“Yeah, you’re the only person I know who could pull off wearing all those purple suits.”
Adrian nodded. He still looked pensive, and Dan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at life’s absurd joke that made him less of a stranger in Adrian’s house than the man himself.
“There are action figures on the coffee table,” Adrian changed the subject. “I don’t suppose you can tell me why?”
“Huh?” Dan followed him to the living room. The whole set was there, complete with Archie and Bubastis. Next to them lay Adrian’s copy of Under the Hood and a biography of Ramses II. Dan recognized them as the ones from Adrian’s desk downstairs.
“Sophie must’ve brought them up. Probably thought they’d help with your memory.”
Adrian picked up the Ozymandias figure. “One of the specialists at the hospital had this on his desk. He hastily put it inside the drawer when I came in. Now I understand why.”
“Better get used to it,” the teasing came out easily.
He picked up the tiny version of himself, twisted its right arm so that it held out in greeting, and brought it closer to Ozymandias. “Hi Ozy, I’m Nite Owl II. Wanna go for a ride in Archie?” With his other hand he reached out for Archie. “I’m pretty sure you can open it – Yep, you can.” It took him a couple of tries, but finally Nite Owl sat inside the ship.
His grin was answered with a small, delighted smile that lit up Adrian’s face, making him seem even younger. Later, Dan would pin down that wondrous expression as the reason for his next words. “If you’d like to, I can take you to see the real one,” the offer came out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.
Adrian’s eyes widened minutely in surprise, moving quickly from Dan to the tiny Nite Owl and back to him again. Right. Dan cursed his perpetual awkwardness. “Well, the cat’s out of the bag now, I guess?”
“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.” A hesitant pause. “To be honest, I’m relieved to have another former costumed superhero beside me. On purely intellectual grounds, becoming a vigilante made sense. But there is also something rather – juvenile, about the idea.”
But then Adrian shook his head. “Either way, it’s in the past now. So that’s how we knew each other?”
Dan nodded, grateful for the backtracking before they broach uncomfortable territory. “We patrolled together occasionally. And help each other with the more complex cases. And the others, too. Here,” he called them out one by one, “The second Silk Specter, Comedian, Rorschach, and um, Doctor Manhattan – though I think that one won’t be produced anymore.”
“Yes, probably best if we don’t,” Adrian agreed, having been informed about the attack while at the hospital.
Adrian turned his gaze to the last figurine. “And this is?”
Dan’s mouth suddenly felt dry. He swallowed. “She’s Bubastis, your pet lynx. Genetically engineered to have purple fur. Normal cat wasn’t enough for you, I guess,” he finished with an awkward chuckle, desperately hoping Adrian wouldn’t pursue the matter further.
No such luck, of course. “Where is she now?” That pensive look had returned to Adrian’s face.
“… She’s dead, Adrian. I’m sorry,” Dan didn’t know how to soften the blow.
Adrian was silent for a moment, then, “How?”
“... I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. Dan didn’t know exactly how Bubastis died. He only knew this: that Bubastis had run after Adrian, Jon following after them, and that Adrian returned alone, and then Jon materialized outside after reassembling himself.
Adrian nodded absently, fingers still cradling Bubastis. “I think I’ll turn in. Go ahead and have dinner, Dan,” he murmured, lips curled up in a half-smile that did nothing to hide the curtain that had descended upon his face.
The morning sunlight streamed in through the window, turning Adrian’s hair golden while hiding his face in the shadows. He was sitting on his desk, eyes drinking in the whole office. He caught Dan’s eyes and gave a faint smile.
Dan returned the smile, heart somewhat lighter now that Adrian didn’t seem as morose as he’d been last night. Not that Dan was dismissing his grief over Bubastis – after all, he’d probably feel the same over Archie. It was just … he woke up this morning in a cloud of self-doubt, second guessing his decision to move in and help taking care of the other man. Add to that the stress prompted by this afternoon’s meeting with the board to discuss Adrian’s leave. Dan was frankly stretched thin as it was, and having to tread lightly around the other man would be too much to ask today.
As he listened to Sophie’s briefing, his frown deepened. “Looks like we won’t have any trouble convincing them that Adrian’s leave is really due to exhaustion,” he retorted. “Did he get enough sleep?” The question was addressed to Sophie.
“Not as much as he should,” Sophie agreed. She was the only employee with the knowledge of Adrian’s true affliction, but they’d agreed that it would be best if they kept up the charade even in private, along with limiting Adrian’s contact with those that might suspect his actual condition.
Dan shook his head. “Come on, Adrian, look how well you COO’s been handling your duties so far. When you’re, er, recovered, try to consider permanently delegating some of them.” Then he looked up and smiled reassuringly, “Don’t worry. I do know something about how to run a corporation, despite what appearance suggests.”
“I know,” Adrian nodded. At Dan’s surprise, he elaborated, “One of the wings in the hospital has your name on it. The technician told me it was a donation. I mentioned it to my lawyers, who filled me in on your family.”
It was a bit awkward, honestly, but Dan supposed he couldn’t fault Adrian for wanting to know more about the man taking care of him.
He and Sophie returned to their briefing, while Adrian stood up and wandered towards the shelves. He methodically examined the contents of each shelf and drawer, taking out and rifling through a few files that drew his attention. Even as he took in numerous reports and memos Sophie presented, Dan kept a watchful eye.
The tense lines in Adrian’s back and shoulders worried him. He wondered if anyone else would catch it too, or if he’d just spent so many years observing Adrian. Even so, it was unusual for Adrian to be easy to read. A quick glance at the clock told him it was a quarter to twelve. Might as well take an early break.
“Right, that should be enough. Let’s just go get lunch ...” he hesitated. Right now, Sophie definitely knew more about Adrian’s habit than the man himself. But still, it felt strange asking her while Adrian stood there, as if he was a feeble-minded man incapable of comprehending his surroundings.
Quick-minded that she was, Sophie caught his hesitation. “Adrian usually gets the vegetarian option from our employee cafeteria. I have today’s menu on my desk; I’ll get it so you can take your pick?”
“I’ll just have whatever you’re having, Sophie. Thanks.” Dan smiled at her. She was a godsend.
“I’ll have the meals sent up here.” With a reassuring smile, she walked out.
The sound of the door clicking shut softly behind her nonetheless sounded unnaturally loud in Dan’s ear. Adrian still hadn’t turned around.
“Adrian?” he called, aiming for a light, unconcerned tone and completely failing.
“There are reports written in French, German, and several other languages here,” Adrian said mildly as if discussing the weather outside. “Not only did I have no problem in understanding them, but I also breezed through them in only a fraction of time it would’ve taken you.”
“And yet,” he continued, and now something dangerous crept inside his voice, “I spent an hour holding Bubastis’s old collar last night and I still couldn’t remember a single thing about her.” An unfamiliar spasm ran through his fingers, as if he wanted to clench them into a fist but managed to stop himself just in time.
“… It’s only been nine days!” the words came out before Dan could come up with better alternatives. “Adrian, you heard what Lindsay said. Memory recovery has nothing to do with your intelligence. There isn’t anything else they really can do, anyway – they haven’t even figured out what’s wrong with you!”
Adrian turned to face him, eyes hard as the marble floor beneath them. “Forgive me for being frustrated, Daniel. But since you don’t seem interested in telling me about my past, I have to seek the answers myself, now, don’t I?”
Dan couldn’t believe it. He rose to his feet. “I would’ve answered if I knew the answers. Maybe if you hadn’t been so needlessly reticent and actually shared stories about your life with your friends like normal people, I would’ve been able to tell you who you are.”
Anger filled Adrian’s face, and distractedly Dan thought his face had never been more beautiful, for once displaying unguarded human emotion. Adrian’s whole body was tense, the way it used to when he was ready to pounce on some random criminal, and Dan wondered how he’d explain the bruises on his face later at the board meeting. The only time Dan had gained the upper hand, that day in Karnak, was because Adrian had let him, had put on no resistance whatsoever against Dan’s desperate blows.
A knock on the door put a pause on the tension between them. “Lunch’s here,” Sophie’s voice rang through the intercom.
Dan took a deep breath and told her to come in. Her eyes flickered between them, picking up the remains of hostility, as the kitchen staff served lunch on the table.
She remained inside after the staff exited the room. “I’m sorry, but one of the board members, Mr. Upton, is here. Said he knew Daniel and would like to discuss a few things before the meeting.”
“... Nathaniel Upton?” Sophie nodded. “Yeah, I know him. He was a good friend of my father’s.”
He bit his lip and glanced at Adrian. Before he could say anything, Adrian cut in, “I think I’ll have lunch upstairs instead.” He picked up the tray despite Sophie’s protest. “No, you go ahead and tell Upton to come in and talk to Dan. And enjoy your lunch.” With swift movement that brooked no argument, he left the room.
Taking off his glasses, he turned to Sophie and smiled ruefully, “Call Upton in.”
As he listened to Upton’s footsteps walking in, he polished his glasses before putting them on again.
“Hello Daniel, it’s good to see you.”
Upton’s hair had turned entirely white, but the smile on his lips was still the familiar one from Dan’s youth. He returned the smile, his first one of the day lacking the unease thrumming through him since the morning. At least here was an ally that might help in that daunting meeting later. The man had known Dan since he was a kid standing timidly beside his father at society events. His father even enlisted Upton to help persuade Dan to join the family business, back when Dan just graduated from Harvard and was still unsure what he wanted to do, beside the bone-deep conviction that he didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps. He’d heard what the man had to say and, out of respect, politely thanked him.
And yet, look where life brought him to after all.
They sat down on the couch. Upton waved away Dan’s offer to get him lunch. After they got the small talk about family out of the way, he dove into the point.
“I have to admit that I was surprised,” Upton said in a low tone, “I didn’t realize you and Adrian knew each other ... well. Though after mulling it over, I suppose I shouldn’t have. Am I correct in presuming that you became friends in your vigilante days?”
Dan’s head jerked up. His parents knew, of course – should something happened that compromise his identity, they deserved to know the truth from him instead of the news – but he made them promised not to tell anyone else.
Seeing Dan’s lips pursed in anger, Upton lifted an arm in a placating gesture. “No one else knows. Your father told me when he was dying because he was worried about you. You’ve always been a solitary fellow, but it became worse since you donned the mask, and your father wanted someone to know in case something happen.”
It made sense, Dan supposed, though the sting of betrayal lingered. “That’s correct,” he said. “Though it doesn’t really matter how I knew him, does it?”
“You must understand how shocking the whole thing is,” Upton replied, still in the same soothing tone. “Veidt always seemed so … unaffected by physical limitations that plagued other people. That’s why the board gave him such a carte blanche over the company.”
“Yeah, I get it. And don’t worry, I make no pretense of having Adrian’s brain. In fact, that’s what I’m going to talk to the board this afternoon: that I’m delegating most of Adrian’s duties.”
“That sounds good,” Upton smiled in agreement. He stood up, but instead of saying goodbye, he faltered and bit his lip, hesitating. Dan waited patiently.
Finally the older man made up his mind. “You know,” he began, tone heavy with regret, “Elise and I were really relieved when we heard that you survived the attack. It’s been a long time since we last saw you, and we should’ve done more to keep in touch. We’re sorry that it took a nuclear attack for us to realize that. Let’s have dinner and catch up sometime?” Despite the hesitation and embarrassment coloring his voice, sincerity radiated off of him.
Dan blinked. The notion that someone cares that much for him, that someone would regret not reaching out until it was almost too late – it hadn’t crossed his mind.
And yet, he was at fault too – he’d spent too long hiding, wallowing in his short-sighted misery, distancing himself from old friends and acquaintances, those who once knew him. He thought about this distinguished, kind man, who was not too proud to admit his faults and to seek ways to rectify them, and felt something like shame creeping up.
“I’d love to.” And he meant it.
That evening, Dan stepped out of the lift, wanting nothing more than soaking in a hot bath. The meeting with the board was a frustrating reminder why he’d spent his whole life avoiding business.
The sight of Adrian on the sofa staring at the action figures in front of him stopped him in his track. Further along the coffee table his copy of Under the Hood was left open.
He felt guilty, but he’d been hoping that he didn’t have to run into Adrian tonight. Their argument earlier still lurked in the back of his mind, and he wished he’d had more time to analyze the whole thing and try to come up with less … fraught words.
“Why did I do it?” Adrian asked, eyes not leaving the figures.
Because you wanted to help people, Dan could answer. But that wasn’t the sole motive, even in their early days. He’d sensed another: because you wanted to bring order to this chaotic world. Or, he could answer with what Dan in Karnak, flayed open by grief and betrayal, would have said: because you thought that being far superior than other people gives you the right to play God.
But what good would it do? He settled on the easy one: “I don’t know why you did it.” He shrugged and tried to smile, “Sometimes I’m not even sure of my own reasons.”
If that answer wasn’t enough to satisfy him, Adrian didn’t show it. Instead he took in Dan’s tired expression. “How did the meeting go?” his tone was almost reconciliatory.
“Well enough, I suppose. They are pleased with our solution, and they wished you a speedy recovery.”
“Good,” he paused. Then, “Dinner’s on the table – I asked the kitchen staff to send it up.” His face remained neutral, but his eyes fixed intently at Dan’s face, gauging his reaction.
“Thanks,” Dan said, slightly at a loss for words. Adrian had always been a perfect host, but there was something new here, something akin to genuine concern, or the desire to please. And Dan would brush it off coming from Pre-Amnesiac Adrian, certain he was reading into things that weren’t there. But now...
He went to shower at the guest’s bathroom. All the while, Adrian’s behavior kept bugging him. It didn’t seem fitting, this reconciliatory gesture. But then again he’d never seen Adrian that angry either. At least not for personal reasons – there were a few cases so heinous that ruffled even Adrian’s countenance, mostly those involving children. So he didn’t exactly have the data to figure out whether this was normal.
The scientist part in him, the one he’d been trying to suppress, whispered that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, to see whether this Adrian, stripped of the history that made him who he used to be, would still end up agreeing with his previous self’s action to kill fifteen million people.
He tried, mostly successfully, to banish the idea. That detached observer shtick was (the old) Adrian’s style; and even so it would be wrong to turn around and apply that thinking to Adrian himself.
Still, he went to sleep with a nagging feeling.
After those rough first couple of days, they settled into a routine with a speed that frightened Dan. Though he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised – it was never difficult for Adrian to put Dan at ease around him.
They exercised and had breakfast together in the morning. The hospital sent an occupational therapist, but since Adrian did not lose any physical or mental abilities, they came up with a structured plan on how Adrian would regain both private and personal knowledge instead. So Adrian spent the morning catching up with the world, which he did by blazing through his library, reading five, six, and even seven doorstoppers daily. Dan mostly stayed around in case Adrian had any questions. During lunch Sophie came up to update them on the company’s goings-on. If anything urgent came up that needed Adrian’s personal input, the three of them figured it out together. Thankfully she was an internal hire, steeped in its institutional knowledge thanks to her almost ten years in the company.
In the afternoon, the men took the elevator down to the cavernous archive section, to go through each and every news clippings, internal and external correspondence and reports, interviews and profiles, and to watch countless recorded TV appearances. They kept a meticulous record here, in Veidt Enterprises. Every coverage in the press, no matter how short, was clipped and pasted to its own page, publication info written beneath.
In the evening they had dinner together. Conversations revolved on safe topics, ones that wouldn’t end up with an argument. Adrian wanted to start returning to work, preferably with the philanthropy recovery effort Veidt Enterprises was leading, and Dan saw no reason why not. The recovery project was recent enough that Adrian’s lack of memory wouldn’t significantly prevent him from handling it.
Dan knew he should talk to Adrian about what little he knew about Adrian’s past, especially about his days as a vigilante, but he kept putting it off, convincing himself that if Adrian wanted to know, he would bring up the subject on his own. The truth was Dan still hadn’t figured out how to approach this stranger. It would’ve been easy to fall back into old habit and act as he used to do with Adrian during their days as masks, except that Adrian’s betrayal at Karnak still weighed heavy in his mind. But neither could Dan treat him with the contempt he felt towards him since that revelation. This Adrian sitting across him was someone else – like an old familiar painting seen underneath a new light, bringing out previously unnoticed colors while once prominent ones now recede to the background.
And Dan wasn’t sure how he should feel about this new Adrian – blank, unburdened with whatever darkness from his past. He still had his innate curiosity and intelligence (the amnesia had zero effect on his genius, the doctors and their tests had assured Adrian’s anxious lawyers), but there was a lack of cold calculation in his gaze, where before it was ever-present. Not that it was obvious. You’d have to spend a lot of time looking at Adrian to see it, and god knows Dan spent most of his time of acquaintance with Adrian doing exactly that.
In the end, it was Adrian who finally asked him to talk about his time as Ozymandias.
Dan looked up from the ornithology journal he was reading. It was Saturday night, and he was curled up in an armchair, Adrian on the couch to his right watching the TV, or at least that was what Dan thought he was doing. Now Adrian’s hazel eyes watched him intently.
“Well, you preferred to work alone, reaching out when the case got complicated enough to warrant an extra pair of hands. Like that human trafficking case, the one involving beauty salons, you enlisted Laurie – Silk Specter and me to help…” he trailed off, remembering something. “You know what, I think I still have some of the case notes back in my place. I can get them, if you want?”
“That’ll be great, Dan. Thank you. What about the other masks?”
“I mostly worked together with Rorschach; Silk Specter with Dr. Manhattan. The Comedian worked best alone. But depending on the situation, sometimes we teamed up.”
“And then the Keene Act passed and we retired.”
Dan shrugged. “You, me, and Silk Specter were the only ones fully retired. Rorschach kept on patrolling illegally. The Comedian and Dr. Manhattan went to work for the government. Well, technically the latter had always done so.”
“Where are they now? Beside Dr. Manhattan, that is.”
He took of his glasses and closed his eyes, fingers massaging his temple. “Laurie moved to the West Coast to stay with her mother.” The image of Sally’s postcard, which arrived this morning in the mail, flashed in his mind. “Rorschach and Comedian are dead.”
“Was that why you visited me in October last year?”
“… Yeah. Rorschach came to tell me about Comedian’s death, thought someone was killing masks. I didn’t take it seriously, but thought it prudent to warn you anyway.”
“And a few days later someone did try to assassinate me. You most likely saved my life.”
Dan opened his eyes. There was a gentle expression on Adrian’s face, the same one he’d worn that day in his office when Dan came to warn him. It caught Dan off guard, and he couldn’t bear it. He shrugged, hoping the gesture was dismissive enough to close the subject.
No such luck, of course.
“Sophie told me the attempt was a blessing in disguise. It’d been years since I last took some time off. Apparently I was shaken enough by the attempt to take a vacation in Karnak for several days. If I’d been here during the attack … well, at least the building was fortunate enough to be out of the blast range.”
“Where were you that day?” He found nothing but genuine curiosity in Adrian’s eyes.
“I was in Karnak too, actually,” he said quietly, avoiding eye contact, hoping that Adrian would chalk up his hesitation to the pain of remembrance.
“Really?” The surprise was evident in Adrian’s voice.
“Yeah. Rorschach and I went to … discuss the murder attempt with you. Later Laurie and Jon joined us. That was when we found what happened.”
“So Rorschach didn’t die in the attack?”
It was fortunate that Dan kept Adrian company down in the archive, because he knew for a fact Adrian hadn’t come across the uproar about Rorschach’s journal yet. It was up to him how to spin the story.
“No. Jon killed him in Karnak.”
“Why?” Adrian was frowning. Dan had never seen him this openly disturbed. “Even if he really was as detached from humanity as the reports portray him, why didn’t he just leave, without having to kill so many?”
God, what a joke. He almost wished the Comedian was around. Of course Dan knew that sooner or later the attack would come up. With the rate Adrian was devouring information, it was only a matter of time before he finally catch up to current events. He knew this, and he should have prepared his answers.
But he hadn’t. Because how the fuck do you tell someone that they were the one behind the most devastating disaster in recent history? How the fuck do you tell them that they murdered a colleague and frame another for the nuclear attack they committed themselves? How the fuck do you tell them what a megalomaniacal extremist they once were?
And more importantly, why should Adrian believe him? Sure, Adrian gave him power of attorney. But that itself didn’t mean much. It could be that his old self simply never updated his will. It could be that he considered Dan to be the least bad option. Add to that Dan’s initial frostiness and reluctance, and Adrian would be perfectly justified in questioning his motives.
Besides, there was no contrary evidence that Adrian was not the benevolent, genius leader everyone else believed him to be. There was Rorschach’s journal, but given that no one believed it, why should Adrian?
And those were just the practical issues. Did Dan have any right to tell Adrian the truth? Should he? If it had been Laurie who lose her memory, Dan was certain that he wouldn’t tell her, even if it mean having to carry the burden alone. And if it had been him, well…
Yes, it was true that they didn’t kill millions of people, but they stood by and agreed to bury the truth, to let the man responsible escape justice. How much were they culpable was a question that could be argued until the end of time. And no matter what answers others could come up with, Dan knew what his was.
The Adrian sitting across him – he was a different person from the one who destroyed cities and annihilated millions. Would he come to the same decision as his past self, were he given the chance? Dan wasn’t sure he would.
The clock kept ticking. Silence stretched on the empty space between them, questioning, implicating, accusing.
Dan made his call.
“I don’t know. And I’m sorry, Adrian, but I don’t feel like talking about the whole thing.”
“… Don’t be,” Adrian replied, tone full of apology. “I can’t imagine how it feels to live through the whole experience.” He gave Dan a sorrowful smile. “I’m sorry if I drag up memories you’d rather not remember.”
Dan shifted in his seat and decided it was high time to change the subject. “Sophie told me next week would probably be a slow one. I think I’ll head home for a few days. I’ll bring back the case notes when I return.”
Something crossed Adrian’s face, too fast for Dan to decipher. But all he said was, “Alright, Dan.”
Yes, Dan thought. It was probably time to put some distance back between them. At the rate Adrian’s recovery was going, in a month, or even less, he would be fit enough to return to his position, even if his memories didn’t return. And then Dan would be free to leave him and…
And do what? Following Laurie was out of the question – Dan chose Adrian over her. In all likelihood he’d go back spending his days occasionally volunteering with the recovery effort and his nights tinkering with Archie.
But no, that wasn’t entirely correct. He had that dinner invitation with the Uptons. And what about Will, his roommate and close friend in college? Dan called him in November, after seeing his name on the survivor list, but they hadn’t spoken since. He should give him another call. What about Marion, a friend from his college ornithology club who in January called and asked Dan to volunteer with this new conservation project. He turned it down, having already decided to move. Now that he’d chosen to stay, he could spend his time actually doing something helpful with the project. And there were other names too, now, running through his head. Second chances. Why hadn’t he recognized them for what they were?
Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Adrian watching him from the corner of his eyes.
