Chapter Text
He woke up in a strange house. Unfamiliar. He was wrapped up in warm blankets, and the TV was turned on quiet. It was strange. Where was he? Last he remembered, in the fog of recent events, he'd been in the Arctic, yelling at God to kill him. One more body among the foundations. What did it matter? But he wasn't dead... was he? Walter checked his pulse. Slower then usual. Relaxed. His brow furrowed. So he wasn't dead. Interesting. He unwrapped himself, noting his clothes. He'd been stripped of his suit and coat, and changed into pajamas. Daniel's, he assumed. Too large for his scrawny frame.
Where was his mask? Likely with the suit, he reasoned. A quiet walk into a kitchen, and he didn't quite know where to begin. Was this Daniel's house? No. Daniel's place was smaller then this. Ms. Juspeczyk's? Maybe. He'd never seen her house. The clock on the wall said noon, which further confused him, given he was still in pajamas. He should be out on the street by now. He should have his copy of the Frontiersman. The sound of another pair of feet broke his thoughts, and he turned to face his old partner, who sighed in relief, "Oh thank God, you're awake."
"Daniel." He responded, quietly.
Dan crossed the kitchen and hugged his partner tight. Walter squirmed, and Dan let go, shaking his head, "Sorry. Forgot. You were just... out for so long. I thought I might actually have to take you to a hospital."
Walter snorted, "Glad you didn't."
"I know, buddy." his partner cleaned his glasses briefly, before returning them to his face, "You must be hungry. Do you want anything?"
"More wondering where we are. Ms. Juspeczyk's house?"
"Yeah.." Dan looked his partner up and down, "You sure you're not hungry?"
He gave no response. He wasn't sure.
The other nodded, "Well, if you have any more questions, let me know, alright?"
Walter stared in confusion at Daniel, "Where are you going?"
"I'm not... really going anywhere? I was gonna make some lunch for myself and Laurie. Did you want some?"
He thought for a moment. Did he? Was he hungry? He wasn't sure what he felt anymore. "...Sure." The response came out quiet. Muted. Why? He'd never felt like this. So... useless. Unworthy. It twisted his insides. He wasn't all that hungry, but he knew Dan would worry if he didn't eat. He was always that way. He remembered spending nights in the man's house simply because Daniel refused to let him leave, out of sheer concern. He was almost jealous, envious of Daniel's worry. His ability to worry.
Walter had never worried about anyone else.
He wondered what it was like.
Daniel brought him soup. It warmed his insides and he ate it far too quickly, suppressing hiccups so as to not seem childish. That would never do. A thanks was in order, though. "Thank you."
The man across from him, trying to avoid sitting on Walter's feet since he'd put them up on the couch and shoved himself into a corner, just smiled and nodded, "Of course." he adjusted his glasses, "...I know it's... a bit soon. But... do you remember anything from Karnak? At all?"
Walter finished eating, holding the bowl in his lap, thinking. Did he? "...snow. Cold. Manhattan almost killing me."
"He said you told him to do it."
A dead silent pause. Walter blinked hard, "Did. He couldn't even manage that."
"He didn't want to kill you."
"Told him to. Should've listened. Veidt's utopia is at risk."
Dan just watched his old partner for a moment. There was shame on his face. It had always been hard to tell with the mask on, but now that it was off, he realized that Walter was just a bit more expressive then he'd realized. He wondered how much Walter hated that. "So? Your life matters more then some genius-fueled fever dream." He didn't know what to call him now. Walter? Rorschach? What was he now? "Anyway. I've probably bothered you enough." he gestured to the bowl, "You want me to take that?"
The ginger nodded, and Dan took it from him, as Walter just sat in silence. Did he really matter that much to Dan? Or was there a reason he'd been saved? There had to be. There was always a reason. There couldn't not be.
He sank into the couch. The pajamas were still too big, and the TV was still on. Walter Kovacs shut his eyes, listening to Dan washing dishes.
He was alive.