The sound he made woke Rorschach up, and if he hadn't been so rattled, Dan might've enjoyed seeing him pretend that he hadn't been asleep.

"All right?" Rorschach asked.

"Nightmare," he admitted. "Again." Rorschach was silent, but Dan could feel his attention. The blots blurred into two trickles down each side, like the blood from her ears. "Why do you think he busted out her eardrums?"

"He?" Rorschach's head tilted. "You know something I don't?" It wasn't really a question. "Could've been anyone. Could've been her own mother." Dan winced and slid his fingers under his goggles to rub his eyes. He knew better than to argue. People really were capable of anything, but didn't that mean that they were capable of good too? Not often enough apparently.

"Did you get anything worthwhile from the Terrace kid?" he asked to change the subject.

"Insults," Rorschach said shrugging. Dan squinted at him, quickly going through the list of jibes that would inspire a bone breaking like the kid had gotten.

"He called you a limp wrist, didn't he?" he asked, fighting back the grin. Rorschach shrugged again.

"Sticks and stones," he said, and opened the hatch. The thought of being left alone with the persistent ghost of a dead girl, even if it was just a dream, sent Dan hurrying after him.

"Hey, look, we're both groggy," he said. "Come on up. You can stay here again tonight." Rorschach gave him another calculating stare that slowly took the shape of a jolly roger with a rooster crest. He had the feeling that he had just given away a weakness and tried not to blather an incriminating explanation. Best defense was a good offense though. "I know you were asleep in there too. Don't want you walking the streets without your full vigilance."

"Hnh," Rorschach said. Dan couldn't tell if he was amused or belligerent, but he started up the stairs. "If it'll keep you from sleeping with all the lights on." he muttered. Dan winced again, but was relieved anyway. They sat on the couch and talked for a bit, then Rorschach kicked off his shoes and Dan took the hint and went upstairs.

He was asleep in no time, but couldn't get warm enough. He rolled over and slammed awake when his nose touched someone else's. The girl was back, in bed with him this time, still staring at him like a cavefish, and pointing at the door. If he didn't look away, she didn't disappear and they were caught in a stare down that was sending Dan's heart rate skittering out of control. He couldn't stand it. He was going to have some sort of attack if he didn't break the gaze somehow. Without looking away from her, he inched around the bed and went to the door. Her stricken expression never changed. When he got to the door, he was able to pull his eyes away to see what she was pointing at.

She was there too, staring at him from the bottom of his stairs this time. He jumped, jerking back inside his room on reflex. She was gone from his bedside and when he was able to bring himself to look again, also gone from the stairs. He slid down to sit in his floor, feeling rubbery and sick. Years of fighting evil on the streets and a girl on his stairs was the first thing to ever make him faint? Please, no.

She had still been pointing, he realized, this time towards his front door. What did she want to show him? Where was she leading him too??

"Timmy's in the well," he whispered and then burst into hysterical giggles that sounded a little too much like sobs. He choked them back and heard a footstep on the stair. He was not going to look this time. He wasn't sure he could take another scare. Another step came. And another. And another, until the cautious, ready to pounce or dodge figure of Rorschach peered around the doorframe at him.

"Daniel?" he asked. There was enough uncertainty there to remind Dan of how he must look sprawled on the floor, shivering in a cold sweat. "You're sick?"

"Rorschach," Dan said conversationally. "Do you believe in ghosts?"