Author's Notes: Okay, so this chapter had NO plan other than the title and the lines "Walter has a bad day" in my notebook. So I really have a couple of people to thank for the idea for this one. Firstly to Jackie May because I was in the middle of writing her a big, whiny message about how I don't know what to do for this chapter when I worked out what I wanted to do for this chapter. Which was lucky. For the both of us. Also to Grieverwings, because she's been my Idea Bucket for, like, ever. And Vaudeville, because she puts up with me like nobody's business. I know this is a really long AN, but I was so GLAD I was able to figure out this damn chapter I kept putting off, I thought I might thank them here. Because it's such a relief to have this thing DONE.

Warnings: Tailor!schach guys!!! But only kind of. You'll see what I mean. And vague crudeness on the part of three annoying ladies.

15. Bad Day II

Even if Walter had suspected how the day was going to work out, he would still have hauled himself, stiff and bruised from a night of justice, out of his little cot and stumbled into his work clothes. Hardships, he believed, increased your moral fiber, built up character and made you a better, stronger person. So he made it a habit of facing life's trials stoically and taking it like a man. Like his father would have wanted.

Still though, Walter would still be only human for a few more years, and still was willing to admit he had limits.

They were tested almost the moment his bare feet touched the floor of his apartment.

His alarm woke him at 6:30, as usual. However, last night's patrol was so brutal and exhausting that he lay awake the rest of the night unable to sleep. He was used to operating on as little as 3 hours of sleep on a regular basis, so he told himself that this wasn't all that different. He could get through it. He was barely through his breakfast (dry cereal out of the box. The electricity in the building could just as easily spark a fire as it could power a refrigerator and Walter wasn't in the mood to risk burning down his building for the sake of milk) when he heard his landlady through the thin walls and floors haranguing some other tenant for their rent. Sounded like she was downstairs. Walter groaned inwardly, raising his eyes to the ceiling in silent plea. A week. All he needed was one more week before he got paid and would be able to make rent.

Quickly, he pulled on some socks and shoes, ran a toothbrush through his teeth and an impatient hand through his hair. Opening the door as quietly as he could, he poked his head out into the hall and scanned the hallway. Silence and an empty, grungy hallway was all that met Walter's alert gaze. She wasn't yelling at a tenant downstairs anymore and he couldn't tell where she had been…

"She just went up the stairs," a thin voice lisped across the hall. Walter turned his head to see the little boy and girl that sometimes played out in the hallway when Walter came home from work. He'd earned the pair's everlasting devotion after he'd mended the ears of the little girl's stuffed rabbit who, she informed him quite seriously, was named Wrinkles because he didn't have any. They were both now peering out of their door with little smiles on their faces. The little girl spoke up again, "She's gonna come up from over there," she pointed to the door at the end of the hall to his right, "Use the other stairs so she won't catch you." They both looked as though they were party to a great revolution in helping Walter evade the rent and their irritable landlady.

Walter grinned, just a little, and nodded. He'd just grabbed his bag and was locking his door when he heard the unmistakable sounds of Ms. Shairp thundering up the stairs. The boy and girl looked at him excitedly, "She's coming! Run, Mr. Kovacs!" the boy squeaked out, little, chubby fingers flying to his eyes on some childlike reflex. The little girl jumped up and down, nervously urging him to run, giggling frantically.

Rorschach never ran from anything, never started nervously or looked at anything or anyone in dread. But then, Rorschach never had to deal with rent. Or Shairp. So Walter felt perfectly justified in pressing an index finger to his lips, signaling quiet to his little neighbors and lightly bounding down the hallway, their hushed giggles following him out the door.

He was at the foot of the stairs, home free, when—

"Kovacs!" Walter winced and turned slowly, forcing his features to blankness as he beheld his landlady looming at the top of the stairs.

"Ms. Shairp." He greeted warily. She glared and lumbered down the stairs. Lovely.

"Don't think I didn't see ya, you little scuzzball." Her creativity when not being lewd was remarkable, "Rent's due. Pay up." She held up one fat hand, palm outstretched, as though she expected him to just have it on hand. He resisted the urge to shy away from her flabby arm. Disgusting.

"Get paid next week. Will have your money by then." He ground out, purposefully looking everywhere but her face.

She scowled, frown lines creasing her white, quivering face, "Fine, Kovacs. One week. Any later and your filthy ass is on the street ya hear me?"

"Yes ma'am." He grumbled, turning and continuing on his way out of the building and into the pale morning sun.

Walter made it all the way to the subway station before he realized he didn't have any change for the subway. He'd left it on the table next to the abandoned box of cereal. Suppressing the urge to tip his head back and scream, Walter merely knuckled this forehead once irritable and turned back to walk his route to work, almost certainly going to be late. It was what he got for being so stupid. Rorschach never forgot anything.

Walter strode down the sidewalk briskly. He was in no danger of losing his job, not that he liked it much anyways, but that wasn't the reason for his haste. He merely felt that he shouldn't supplement being careless with being lazy as well. So despite his muscles aching sharply, Walter forced himself into a light jog all the way to work. His bag, full of cloth, an unfinished project and a small lunch, was painfully bouncing off his side where he'd been hit by a crowbar last night. Walter hated crowbars.

By the time he got to work, Walter was sore and grumpy. And late. His supervisor, a large, balding man with a wrinkled, saggy face was not pleased.

"Kovacs!" He hollered as Walter punched in, "Where the hell have ya been? You're mor'an 15 minutes late! 'M not gonna stand for my employees comin' in late all the damn time! Not gonna stand for it! You unnerstand what I'm sayin' Kovacs? Not gonna stand for it!"

"Yes sir." Walter replied dully. "Won't happen again."

The large man before him purpled and swelled, "You're damn right it's not gonna happen again! You know why it's not gonna happen again? Because you, my tardy friend, are on packaging duty today. Yeah, ya heard me," he gloated, gleefully taking in Walter's horrified expression, "packaging duty. But look at it this way kid," he leered happily, "It's probably the only time you'll ever get your hands on lady's underwear."

Walter scowled, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot as he walked by the cackling man. Seething, he shoved his bag into his cubbyhole and trudged over to sit at the assembly line between two other workers. He glared balefully at the underwear and bras hanging on the rack slowly moving past. Growling a little in the back of his throat, he jerked a pair of lace underwear from that was revolving past his head, resisting the urge to shudder in revulsion. If he thought it would have made a difference, Walter would have pointed out to his supervisor that he's never once been late, never once shirked his hours, and always did his work correctly. One accidental tardiness shouldn't result in this kind of punishment. But it wouldn't have made a difference and Walter didn't believe in whining. In life, you had to take the little hardships in stride and you would become a better, tougher individual. He was pretty sure President Truman wouldn't complain over something like this. He would persevere, uncomplaining, against any minor injustices done upon him. And so would Walter.

"You see now, Ruthie, these are what I need," then again, President Truman probably never had to listen to the sordid gossip that pervaded the workplace. Walter glanced up to see a large, middle aged woman whom he tentatively remembered as Betty. Greying, with large, drooping eyes and overdone makeup, Betty was holding a lacy, near transparent black bra over her own large bosom. Walter grimaced.

Ruthie, an older woman with a pinched, calculating face (unfortunately taking station immediately to Walter's left) squinted through thick glasses at the lingerie, "Heh. Sure, if they make 'em big enough for those ta-tas, why the hell not?" Walter wanted to go home. "Whaddya want 'em for anyways? Bert still not givin' you any?"

Betty nodded mournfully, her extra chin quivering against her neck, "I think he's gettin' bored with me. Mebbe I jus' need to spice things up a bit."

Ruth shrugged in a fatalistic manner, "If you think it'll work, sure. Fer me, I never unnerstood what lacy underpant ever did fer a man. Hell, they get taken off anyways. And the goods unnerneath are still the same."

The girl on Walter's right, only a little older than himself, looked up from her now-filled box of lingerie, "Well, I dunno. I think it's kinda like givin' a present. It's all inna presentation, y'know? An' I think it gives guys a thrill, unwrapping all the works."

Ruth snickered, "Yeah. The gift that keeps on givin'."

The three women laughed, their cackling grating on Walter's already frayed nerves. He was starting to get a migraine and wondered distantly that if he got a concussion on patrol tonight that he would forget this conversation ever happened. It was nice to think about. Suddenly, he felt Betty's eyes fall on him and she crowed, "Uh oh, gals. Lookit that blush! Looks like Walter has some thoughts on the subject. How 'bout it, sweetie? Penny for your thoughts?"

The other two women looked at him, grinning wickedly. Not for the first time, Walter cursed himself and his propensity to blush crimson when embarrassed or angry and he wished fervently for his mask.

Ruth snorted, "Walter wouldn' know what to do with a gal if she stripped and gave him a lap dance." Walter felt himself blush deeper and they cackled louder, obviously pleased by his obvious discomfort.

"Aw. Leave the poor kid alone. He could have a girl. Whaddo you know anyways?" the girl on his right piped up in his defense. He wished she wouldn't.

"Walter?" Ruthie scoffed, "Not with that face, Mary." She shook her head, apparently unconcerned with any offence her words could cause.

Betty leaned across the table, scrutinizing his face, "Well, I dunno Ruth, he's gotta cute nose."

Ruth leaned her pinched, wrinkled face close to Walter's, who couldn't lean away lest he lean onto Mary. She smelled like cigarettes and grease. Finally, she leaned away and Walter suppressed a relieved sigh. "I guess so. Freckles make him look like a little kid though." She ignored his scowl, unperturbed.

Mary laughed, "Well, at least they ain't moles or zits or somethin'. And besides, he's got heartbreaker eyes."

"Mmhmm." The other two women nodded in agreement. "You got some pretty blue peepers kid," Ruth nodded with authority.

Walter blinked slowly, not particularly sure if running away screaming would result in him losing his job. Probably.

"Not to mention, kid," Betty winked at him, "Ya gotta nice ass."

Walter jerked to his feet, fully intending to announce that they had no right shoving their depravity on him. But all that came out was a strangled "Hurrk." He turned sharply, stumbling over his feet in his haste. At this point, Walter didn't think about his meticulously cultivated dignity, or the fact that he was a grown man. In a few moments, he was not going to be responsible for his actions and he had to do what needed to be done to for the safety of his fellow workers and his sanity.

He was going to hide in the bathroom until lunchtime.

* * *

When Walter left work at 5:00, he was ready to break some skulls. He sat in his apartment, staring impatiently for the sun to fully set. When it was dark enough, Walter pulled on his costume and left the day behind him.

It was like releasing a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding; like waiting anxiously for the results of an examination and then discovering you'd surpassed your own expectations. It was like becoming someone greater than you. Like moving beyond a poor, quiet, little man with only a high school education and becoming someone greater, stronger, and more clever than an ordinary soul. A little like President Truman. Or a brave soldier named Charlie.

Smiling thinly through his mask, Rorschach left his apartment and strode purposefully to Daniel's house. He liked coming over early so he could watch his friend work on some new project or invention. Rorschach regarded Daniel as something of a technical genius, and the fact that he used his intelligence and resources allowed Rorschach to overlook Daniel's liberal sensibilities and compromising ideals. Just barely.

When Rorschach ducked out of the shadows of the maintenance hatch and into the fluorescent light of the Owl's Nest, Daniel was where he knew he'd be: sitting on the workbench, hunched over some new device he'd created.

"Hello Daniel," Rorschach greeted, looking over his friend's shoulder. Daniel, too engrossed in his work to notice his arrival, jumped and let out a startled yell.

"Jeeze Rorschach." He laughed, pushing unruly brown curls out of his eyes, "Try and make some noise next time or something, okay man?"

Rorschach grunted dismissively, "Mind if we patrol early tonight?"

Dan blinked, "Sure. Sure, no problem. Something up?"

Rorschach considered his friend for a moment, "Had… hurm …had a frustrating day."

Dan grinned, clapping his shoulder, "Yeah, I know how that feels. You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Didn't think so. Well, come on, buddy. Let's go beat the crap out of people who deserve it."

"Thank you Daniel."

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A/N: Wow that was a monster. Haha. As some of you may have noticed, I made Walter's eyes blue. That's because I liked them blue personally, even though I am attempting to be as GN as possible. Also, it seemed the general consensus of people who responded that blue would be okay with them. And thus, Walter's eyes are blue. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I did. It was fun to pick on Walter. :)