Yeah, I got nothin' between the last chapter and this one.

This'll be one of the stories that's just a bunch of unrelated scenes. That seems to be the only type of story I can do.

Have a bunch of small ideas, ya know, but there's never enough around them to write decent detailed chapters.

Just know that Rorschach's grown a little fond of James, even though he'll never admit it, & lets him come along on his doom prophesy rounds & on city patrol some nights (provided he stays out of the way), sometimes giving him random vigilante tips. Goodtimes.

.Young Americans.

A second nauseating crunch, followed by a man's screams of pain echoing down the alleyway.

"Pay."

The man scrabbled for his wallet, because when Rorschach breaks two of your fingers and tells you to do something, you do it. "Here. Take it. Take whatever you want." He held the wallet out to James, who hesitantly accepted it, never moving his deer-caught-in-the-headlights stare from Rorschach's face. "There. I paid. Come on man, why don't ya let me go? You're scarin' the kid."

The third finger snapped, another howl. "Not why he's upset." No, James was scared because he'd been caught with some slimy businessman's cock down his throat. Rorschach had found them just as the man had zipped up, refused to pay, and started walking off.

"Hit him." Rorschach instructed. James set the wallet on the ground (minus the money it used to hold) and punched the man in the jaw. Ignoring the cries of protest, Rorschach said, "Keep wrist straight. Show me." So James socked the man once more, doing his best to keep his wrist stiff. Rorschach nodded. He dropped the slimy businessman and turned his attention on James, smacking him hard across the face, and once again for good measure. He was furious, breathing hard, and he raised his hand to strike another time. James tried hard not to cringe too bad (he wasn't pathetic scum and he wasn't a little boy; he would handle it and prove himself) and waited, but it never came. He gingerly held his stinging cheek as he walked behind Rorschach down the street.

They walked to a familiar building. Rorschach pounded on the door. Then again, when it wasn't promptly answered. He was seconds away from kicking in the lock when the door opened.

"Rorschach. What are you doing? It's after three in the morning," A very tired looking Daniel scrubbed a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

"Kid needs job," Rorschach informed him. "Ask Hollis."

"What, right now? This really couldn't have waited?" Dan asked uselessly. "He's not old enough to hold a job anyway." Silence. Dan sighed. "While we're all here, do you want something to eat? I'm not answering the door again until noon, and you're not breaking in."

"Must be going. Need to have talk." Rorschach started down the steps. "James. Come." James cast an apologetic glance toward Dan before doing as he was told. They continued on quietly for several minutes.

"I was only trying to help," James offered. It was the truth. "I've asked all over the city for any kind of work. They all say I'm too young." Having a talk with Rorschach was frustrating. "We need food, you know. Need to actually eat things. And pay the rent."

"Our mother was a whore. Will not follow footsteps." Upon reaching the alley behind their building, Rorschach ducked into the shadows and emerged again with his mask on, tucking his face into the pocket of his coat. This filthy redheaded mess of a man was still Rorschach to James. The boy didn't know his friend's first name (as far as James was concerned, the birth certificate read only "Rorschach"), but he knew the last name was Kovacs. The landlady was always yelling it. So in his head, he abandoned his old name and re-christened himself as James Kovacs. He hadn't let Rorschach know about this.

"Odd jobs, James."

"It is a rather odd job," James replied quietly. There was no humour in the statement.

"Not what you told me." The two climbed the stairs and entered the apartment. "Figured as much. Had to go find you."

It wasn't as if James was proud of what he'd done for a few extra dollars. Far from it. He hated it, but it seemed to him his only option. Money was tight ever since Rorschach had been fired from the clothing shop. (Apparently, employers don't appreciate it when their workers accidentally sleep through shifts due to late night crime fighting. Funny, that.)

Not that they'd lived extravagantly before, but it wouldn't be long before the landlady came hammering at the door shouting "Kovacs! I know you can hear me in there! You gimme the rent or you get the hell out!" James thought maybe she wouldn't be heard. Maybe she'd open the door to find two emaciated bodies. His stomach growled and he wished they'd grabbed something to eat at Daniel's.

Rorschach glared disapprovingly for a long time. James continued to feel more and more ashamed. He unsuccessfully tried to preoccupy himself, wanting to ignore that scrutinizing gaze. Couldn't concentrate on the articles in the newspaper, like someone was reading over his shoulder. Doing the crossword was out of the question. 24-down. "Close noisily" was the clue. And all James could focus on was Rorschach standing on the other side of the table, burning holes in him with that angry, unmoving stare.

"I won't do it again. I promise I only wanted to help. Didn't know what else to do." It was clear he was legitimately upset and genuinely remorseful, and in a moment of desperation, he embraced his friend tightly, nuzzling against his neck. "Please, Rorschach, I'm sorry. Please forgive me?"

Rorschach had gone entirely tense. He patted a tentative hand against his assailant's back once or twice, trying hard to muster up some sort of affection. Or most likely he just wanted this moment over and done with. Whatever would speed it along. "Fine. It's.... fine."

"Thank you." James looked up at a very uncomfortable Rorschach and grinned, setting his hand on the back of his friend's head to pull him closer, and pushing their lips together.

"Hrrm?" Rorschach turned his head away, scowling. "Stop that!"

James laughed. He tugged playfully at the red hair, grimy and thick and stiff from sweat and days without washing. "Go take a shower." He went to sit outside while the air was still cool, leaving Rorschach to fume by himself.