A/N: SORRY GUYS! I know it took FOREVER! But hey, let us look on the bright side - I finally updated this thing XD

To dear reviewers: YOUR PRAISE MEANS SO MUCH TO ME :3 I sure hope you'll like this chapter just as much as the first one.

Disclaimer: Watchmen, Rorschach, Nite Owl belong to Alan Moore. Not me. Sadly. DD:

xX – Paradoxical Emotions – Xx

Part II

You see a puzzled expression. The man in white is waiting for you to start explaining what happened. You don't feel like answering any questions that might come your way, simply because you can barely speak. Maybe you should've gone to see a doctor earlier, instead of suffering for a whole night without getting any sleep. You look like a punching bag that had its insides ripped out.

You are surprised to hear that it's not all that serious; you lost a tooth or two, but your jaw is still in one piece. The doctor gives you advice on staying out of trouble and being careful and probably something else – you aren't sure what; your ears were playing deaf for that time.

That night you can't sleep. The ticking of the clock almost drives you insane, but you don't move. Tick tack. Eyes glued to the front door, you are waiting – tick tack – for a miracle – tick.

Your heart almost escapes the boundaries of your chest as the knock on your front door echoes throughout the whole apartment. You rush to the door only to find a woman who's lost and needs directions.

You tap your fingers on the wooden table in your kitchen; like a lunatic you stare off into the empty space in front of you.

It's three in the morning and your body needs rest – you refuse. You wait for something that you are not sure of yourself. Even if he does come back, deep down inside you know you have nothing to say to him at this point. Like a little child that doesn't want to miss a thing, you ignore common sense; your hand turns the door handle that leads to the basement.

'Stop following.' You stop dead in your tracks, feeling a chill running down your spine. You were quiet, but not quiet enough.

He stands few feet ahead of you, his hands in pockets. He looks like a shadow, menacing and bringing horror to the pitch-black alleyways, bringing his justice to the scum that await their prey here every night. No one will give a damn if another hopeless woman is found dead here, in this godforsaken place, her lifeless body lying on the filthy concrete. People wouldn't give a damn; it probably would not reach the media. There is no such thing as 'forgiveness' or 'mercy' around here; so let his judgment prevail.

You take a step forward, hoping and praying for his justice not to come down on you. He remains motionless. Another risk - another step. Breathe. The silence between you and him crushes you under its weight. Your brain yells at you to get the hell out of there, that you will only make things worse.

Can it possibly get any worse? you ask yourself. You need reassurance; you need courage for one last step, which will close the gap between you two. You take a risk.

Now you stand right behind him, lost for what to say. No ideas at all.

Your common sense makes its comeback to enlighten you – apologise. 'Apologise for what?' your mind instantly barks back; you do not regret a single thing you did last night. 'It was wrong', common sense hisses, hopelessly trying to bring out your conscience as the ultimate judge. 'But it felt good,' your mind fires back, ignoring everything else that might come its way.

'Rorschach-'

The deafening roar of thunder shuts you up, and you are again at a loss for what to say. Heaven itself forbids you to talk. Rain comes down and washes away everything you had in mind.

Awkwardly, you place a hand on his shoulder and he shrugs, making it painfully obvious that any physical contact coming from you is sickening; regardless, he remains silent. And it confuses you - he could've just broken your arm, but he didn't.

'No.' He says it loud and clear, making sure that you'll hear it; adjusting his scarf he walks further into the alleyway, its darkness welcoming him.

You blink a dozen times, not knowing what he means by this 'no', but you never knew that you were so stubborn and don't take 'no' as an answer.

You catch up with him, your footsteps echoing in synchronization with his. The only thing you see in menacing dark is Rorschach's ever shifting inkblot mask. He has no intention to stop – you know that - so all rational thought be damned. You step in front of him, blocking his path.

He lifts his face to glare at you; inkblots stop their dance.

'Just listen to me.' You know that he won't, and you try nevertheless. 'I know it was a stupid thing to do and I can imagine how you feel-'

'You can't,' he barks back, trying to resume his way. 'Move.'

And you can predict what is going to happen if you stay where you are. And you know goddamn well that this time you'll have to stay in hospital for a few days if you continue this nonsense. You sigh, moving to the left; he takes a few steps forward. You act fast as you grab him by the collar of his coat and, as if you've done this million times before push him against the wall, his face making direct contact with concrete, holding his right arm firmly behind his back you press your body to his. You feel every muscle in his body tense beneath you. You can picture the shock and anger creating a mind-blowing mix of emotions on his face. The idea of taking control. It turns you on.

You want to see. You want to see his face. You need contact. You need to feel. You'll be a complete fool to do this, fool double-time if you don't.

-To be Continued

This chapter is even shorter than the first one, for that I'm very SORRY DDD: I know how you feel... You've been waiting for a freaking ETERNITY and in the end you have this aprox. 1000 words long chapter!? WTF! D:

I'll do better next time, I promise!