Rorschach's Journal, May 13th, 1982
Solved a cold case with advice from Dreiberg. Strange luck.
Two years ago. Young man, twenty-three. George Haust. Seen walking down a lane, mumbling to himself on Valentine's Day. Thought to be drunk. Last seen entering house, same mumbling state. Next day house was found with front door wide open, no signs of struggle.
Forty-eight hours later case was turned into missing persons. Went to house to look for evidence. Reports were on. No struggle. No suitcases. No signs of leaving. Just left.
Or was told to left.
Looked into it for weeks. Found family members, friends, enemies. No one inclined enough. Or intelligent enough. Six months later, still no leads. Police filed as dead.
Didn't want to live with that. More important things, though. Comedian's "joke" still on my mind (see entry April 1st, 1981).
Today. Went to Dreiberg's at nightfall. Wanted to mention another artist in few months filed missing. Wanted to see what he knew. And a bowl of Rice Crispies.
Got in like always. Went to kitchen. Dreiberg eating meal in front of TV. Watching Politicians regurgitate lies and serve them on concealing serving platters. Didn't notice me until after debate. Came in, nearly killed him when he tripped at seeing me.
"Hurm… Balance's been better."
"Jesus, Rorschach. You know you could… knock, right? I'd let you in." Paused.
"Probably," finished for him.
"Probably." Smiled, shook head and put plate in sink. "So… what are you doing here, Rorschach? You know, I've had a pretty rough day. I don't know if I can handle…" Rubbed back of his neck. Annoying nervous habit.
"Wanted your opinion."
"Ah…" Rolled shoulders. Rubbed neck again. Very on edge. Finished up cereal and pulled face back down fully. Didn't like it being exposed so much. Even to Dreiberg. Waited. Knew he wasn't going to be any help. Didn't want to leave yet though. Something wasn't quite right.
"Look, I've had a long day. Maybe it's just Friday the 13th, huh?" Nervous laughter. Wants me to leave.
"Hurm. What happened?"
Didn't expect an answer. Just a dismissal.
"A kid… probably in his mid twenties comes up to me and starts rambling. The poor kid just keeps saying he doesn't know who he is, or how he got there or what's happened to him for the past few years. I didn't know what to do. Then he said that he remembered me. Not how I look now he said. A younger me, he said. He keeps on swearing he's seen me when he was a kid, he just can't remember. I got him some help, but it was weird. I think I saved the guy when he was younger, y'know, back in the day."
"The day."
"Yeah… I remember a group of kids held up in a school, do you? That was one of the worst hostage situations… But I forget everything. Anyways, I think he was one of those kids.
"He didn't know what he was doing though. It looked like amnesia to me. He didn't seem completely off, y'know? Kept telling me his name, hoping I'd recognize it or something."
Was remembering the school hostage. One person shot. Teacher in the back of the head. She'd been trying to tell a kid it would be all right. Gunman spooked and got trigger happy. Landed him in a comfy electric chair.
"What was name?"
"George Haust."
Knew that name.
"Didn't remember anything?"
"Not for the past two years it sounded like. Told me he remembered everything up to going to some bar in the winter of '80."
"Fugue."
"What?"
Stood up and straightened face. "Dissociatve fugue. Identity crisis. Forget who you are, become someone else. When finally come to, don't remember other self or actions done since fugue. Caused by trauma, physical and psychological stress."
"So you think his subconscious just decided one day to become someone else entirely?"
"Stranger things happen. Last seen Valentine's Day in '80. Name matches. Story too."
"Huh. Valentine's Day. Don't blame the guy."
"Hurm?"
"Valentine's Day isn't exactly mercy on a guy's heart when he's alone, is it?"
Didn't say anything. Never thought about it before.
"Oh. Well… What was it you were going to tell me?" Awkward silences don't sit well with Dreiberg.
"Not important. Thanks for the Rice Crispies." Made to leave.
"Hey, Rorschach?"
Stopped.
"Thanks… for stopping by. I mean, I know I'm usually not as… talkative. But it was… nice to see you. Haven't seen you since last Halloween… And just… well…. Thanks, I guess."
Didn't say anything. He looked away from my face first. Kept thinking about what he said. Didn't understand. Finally spoke.
"Nice to see you too." Words felt strange. Dreiberg looked different though. Shocked. Amused. Happy?
Heard him laugh as I left. Uncomfortable laugh.
Almost thought I heard him speak again. Something like, "see you around".
Stranger things have happened.
Author's Ramble: Just wanted to thank everyone who's reviewed. I love hearing what you guys think. It's nice to see Watchmen fans still alive on . Oh, and if you have a recommendation for a "theme" for a journal entry (the themes are the titles to each chapter), I'd love to have some new ideas. Just leave your idea in a review, or PM me. Thanks again for reading! - Jacqueline.