Disclaimer: don't own Watchmen, no way no how.

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~ Overnight ~

by Lady Scale

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Rorschach knew something was amiss as soon as he felt the third bout of nausea creep over him that cold night. Walls peppered with various graffiti and old posters passed by unnoticed as he tried to ignore the slight pulsing in his temples. That particular district of town he was pacing through wasn't as populated as he expected to be, but the idea of passing out on the street and ending up exposed to danger wasn't his flavor of Beemans Chewing Gum, so he turned a corner and retreated into the relatively dark alleyway.

Just in time as well, because just then another bout seized and shook through him. His head pounded and seemed to spread to his ears and the area around the back of his jaw, making him clutch the sides of his face in discomfort, swirling and dizzy. No. Not pain. Discomfort. Rorschach can't be conquered.

Leaning against a dirty wall which proclaimed "Jab" with neon pink graffiti letters, Rorschach breathed heavily, trying to will the sensation away, deftly pulling at his scarf wider in hopes it would ease the bout down.

Puffs of condensation wafting through the latex fabric mask, and surely enough the onslaught passed as suddenly as it came, leaving him with wobbly legs. Hmm… Wobbly is an attribute that is distinctly not efficient in crime-fighting. Reluctantly he decided to call it a night. The prospect of losing consciousness looming over his head was not very productive.

But was he going to be able to reach his apartment? After a moment's consideration, he decided that the route to Nite Owl's townhouse was shorter.

The trek was thankfully unperturbed as he opened the door from the Owl's Nest, not feeling up to the task of breaking through the front door tonight. The pounding in his head diminished what little appetite he had left so the pantry lay unpilfered as well.

At the end of his strength he managed to collapse on the living room couch and deftly kicked off his ratty shoes, unknowingly revealing a pair of the most ungodliest socks ever – all patchy and reeking of a concoction of must and mold. Rorschach settled in for a nap, hoping that could help with his exhaustion.

His temples pulsed as if some leeches which have latched on his skull decided their progression was unsatisfactory and felt it right to puncture through the skin and attempt to squeeze into the vein, three at a time. Ears pounded as if swelling. An average joe would have already taken a pain pill, but not Rorschach. He was above the government's fishing nets of dioxin abuse. Nothing a nap won't cure. That was all he needed.

***

Slowly the cloak of slumber eased off and he came back to the land of the roused. Groggily stretching out on the couch, careful not to bring on a leg cramp, he felt no nausea and the headache was no longer present, so he tentatively got to his feet.

He checked the clock situated on the end table next to the couch, and in the dim light he could faintly make out the hour hand pointed at 3, meaning he slept through most all of his shift and he would need to be at his day job soon. Hurm. Scum were lucky tonight. Won't be next time.

Putting back his shoes on, he idly wondered about Dreiberg, who couldn't join in patrolling that night. Said he complained about aching.

Wait. Could he have somehow been exposed to whatever had plagued him and been affected as well?

Analyzing his prior symptoms, he already checked off food poisoning in his mental list, so was lead and mercury, even floruride etcetera, but he couldn't rule out the possibility of something in the water or the air. Inwardly he dreaded if anyone else through the city felt the effects of last night as well, confirming his thought of a government plot, as he climbed the stairs intending to check on Nite Owl.

***

Nite Owl was pulled from his sleep to the sound of shouting, and in the half-awaked state he listened, recognizing it as the voice of Mrs. Thaddeus from next door. Something about her spouse not paying the bill on time it seems. Intending to go back to sleep, his focus unconsciously drifted towards the other sounds, of the chirping birds, of the faint truck horn suddenly sounding from somewhere down the street and the general hum of the cars in traffic, to the hiss and gurgle of water in the pipes.

It took him a full 5 minutes to realize that he lived in a townhouse and not an apartment where one could hear the neighbors arguing, 5 minutes to realize his house had thick walls which dampened the city noises, and furthermore… the pipes? Wait a minute.

Blearily opening his eyes, daylight glinted off of the glasses on the nightstand and shifting slightly he looked out the window. Had he slept in somehow? He decided not to find out and just lay there a few more minutes.

And by all he knew, an hour could have passed before he heard something shuffle. He raised his head and tried to pin-point it. There it went again – from the livingroom. He listened onward, slowly feeling a chill crawl up his spine. A pair of shoes hitting the ground, and something that sounded like leather – oh, his couch. Only his couch could make that kind of squeak.

Tap tap tap went the pair of shoes on the parquet below. Someone was in the house.

Slowly his knees recoiled while he clutched the blanket around his middle, his mouth running dry. At the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, he was just about to spring out of bed and make a run for the tennis racket, but the faint string of muttering of 'govermentployliberalpoliticaldegenerates…' made him stop.

Aaaah. He let out a sigh of relief as he settled back, laying his head on the pillow again. That's just Rorschach.

The door opened gingerly. "Hi, Rorschach."

The man in the inkblot mask seemed to jump at that. Why did he jump? And what was he doing there at that time of day? "Hmm… Hello, Daniel. Thought I'd check on you. Hope you don't mind." "Naw. It's quite alright." Dan said, and he watched as his partner reached for the light switch. Why was he – Gah! Too bright!

"Rorschach! Turn off that light!"

There was a moment of hesitation before he heard the click of the switch again and he removed his hands from his eyes, looking around. Strange, his sleepy eyes must have been taken by surprise. Though the question that remained was why did Rorchach turn on the light in broad daylight, and HOW did the room suddenly become brighter? And why was Rorschach here in the first place?

"Aheh. Rorschach, I knew you as the kind of guy to come without any prior notice, but usually it was at night. Any reason for the day visit? And it's… what, 6 or 7 o'clock?"

The man in the fedora just stood there, just looking at me as if… what? As if I was some lunatic?

"It is 3 in the morning, Daniel."

…What??

"What are you talking about?"

"It's still night time."

Dan got out of bed and checked the window illuminating the room and his jaw nearly dropped. The streets, the buildings… they were illuminated as if by daylight, yet the sky was dark as charcoal. The whole panorama reminded him of what a photo would look if it was taken with the flash option during the night. One big flash at that.

Dan's mind reeled and suddenly he felt a hand clasp his shoulder, turning him towards Rorschach, who promptly grabbed his chin, and his heart leaped into his throat. He was angling Dan's head in the light coming from the streetlamps outside, observing him with that penetrating unseen gaze.

"Your eyes." He simply stated.

"What? What about my eyes?" He quickly ran into the bathroom, going around the house without his glasses, he suddenly realized, and looked in the mirror… to find large black pupils and striking orange irises that completely obscured the white of his eyes staring back at him.

"… oh my god."

Author's note: You'll get a cookie if you get significance of the Beemans Chewing Gum reference. ;D