A/N: Rorschach will be making an appearance soon. I promise.

I find myself in the position of talking to officer after officer. Dan - that's the name of the man who let me sleep at his place randomly because of Rorschach - had called the police. It was more for my benefit than anything else. At least, that's what he told me when I woke up the next day in the afternoon.

So after the last officer came, I was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a headache that I was sure was the size of New York itself. Dan was frying something on the stove. He was rambling about how he was sorry for my loss, yadda, yadda, yadda. Kept speaking even after it was apparent I wasn't going to answer. I think it was nerves.

Nerves because Rorschach had shoved me at him. Nerves because he had about ten policemen come through his home. Nerves because I barely answered and he had to come up with a story about how I was a friend and I ran to him out of desperation to stay out of my own home.

I look back at him dully when he asks me something. I ask him to repeat it.

"You don't mind grilled cheese for dinner, right?"

"Yeah." I stare down at the barely touched tea in my hands. "Yeah, that's fine."

He sets a plate and a small bowl of tomato soup next to it. He sits down himself at some point as well. He's eating his meal but I can't even seem to touch mine. I think it's from the images in the back of my eyes. I see blood. I see my mothers face in a silent pain with dull eyes staring at the ceiling. I see Rorschach busying himself around my apartment.

I see my life crumbling out from under me.

I'm an orphan, jobless, and now homeless. I'm alone. Dan doesn't make a difference in this situation. I'm staying at his house while the police search for my mother's killer. After that I'm on the streets with nothing but with what little I own. I'll be nothing if I can't find something to do with myself.

Dan coaxes me to eat after awhile. I don't know how he convinces me but there's food in mouth despite it tasting like nothing. I eat half of the half of grilled cheese before pushing the plate away.

"I'm sorry," I suddenly blurt. "I don't know why I came here. I don't even know you. I don't know why I listened to a note from a crazy man who thinks he's still a hero. I'll leave tomorrow. I-"

"Hey, hey, hey," his voice is gentle. "I offered to let you stay despite the circumstances. You've just been through a traumatic experience. Besides I'm not going to let you leave while your mother's killer is on the loose. It wouldn't be right."

I'm crying. There are tears streaming down my face as I shake in my seat. He's so nice that I don't even know what to do with myself. I've never known such kindness in my twenty years of living. I cover my face, grab my napkin, and wipe at my nose while I hiccup.

Dan doesn't touch me but knowing he's right there is such a comfort.

"Th-Thank you s-so much." I sob out. I can't hardly think past thanking him now.

He simply grabs a tissue box for me and sets in front of me. I'd hug him if I wasn't more interested in blowing my nose right now.