A/N: At this point, you know my usual sorry spiel for the delay so I'll skip it. Well here it is folks! The next chapter. 'Bout freakin' time, huh...I'll decidedly be skipping the promise of a speedy update as well. Shorry guys, you I'm a tardy little shmuck. ;)
I WILL tell you, however, that I've got a decent chunk of the next chapter typed up. That doesn't mean it'll be up anytime soon though so please please PLIZ don't get your hopes up! I just don't want y'all to get fed up for waiting. But who knows? I just might surprise you. KAY DONE NOW READ! :D

Upon regaining consciousness, Renee took a hoarse, life-drawing breath as her eye lids fought to open wider than they had initially shot open. Her lungs ached for fresh air.

She saw nothing.

A thick layer of woolen material enveloped her, trapping her in a bubble of heat and moisture. Her skin felt raw, itchy, and had accumulated a thin layer of salty sweat. She felt a sharp sting that pierced the throbbing mess of a wound she couldn't see. Dry blood and sweat melded and made love under the sheath, trapping a putrid scent that made Renee taste her own bile. She wanted to scream, but her throat was raw, burning with stomach acid and unpleasantly coated with a copper-like taste. She moved her hips around, using the strength she had already spent to figure a way, at the very least, out of the discomfort of the fabric that covered her. Bits of hair clung to her face and neck, but it didn't matter in the least. Renee rocked herself until she sat upright, slouching due to her bound limbs. Her eyes searched frantically, her breathing beginning to rumble and quiver in her throat repulsively, for a break in the fabric. Her body tumbled. It rolled, fell over and got back up many times as she searched relentlessly.

There!

Her head vaulted through an opening in the gas chamber almost of its own accord. Her eyes clamped shut, she began drawing sweet, cool breath. The air that hit her skin melded with the sweat and irritation, soothing it and sending a chill all throughout her body. She didn't dare open her eyes and possibly ruin this rare moment of indulgence. Indulgence in oxygen…in a moment's peace.

It had recently become all too apparent that life's necessities became luxuries from the moment Renee had become acquainted with Rorschach. Her life stood at the edge of a blade. It started out as mere ignorance of the fact, but eventually she became fully aware of how much danger she had gotten herself into.

And she didn't care.

Some nights, upon hearing the telltale banging against her door, the signal that the vigilante was in need of her services, she would simply stop whatever she was doing and become lost in the sound of her own racing heartbeat. Her palms would shake and begin to go clammy. Sometimes she had to sit down and breathe deeply, trying her hardest to shake the insurmountable clawing fear in her chest. But she always showed up. No matter how bad the anxiety got, she never abandoned the endeavor. She figured if she had the gall to even suggest such a foolhardy plan, she had no choice but to follow through. And on her walks to the meeting place, she truly felt that the choice was no longer hers. She would think long and hard about stopping in her tracks and running back home and never seeing Rorschach or risking her life ever again. But these became more and more fleeting with every meet up.

Renee struggled against the several layers of electrical tape that bound her hands behind her back. The sound of rustling coupled with the hoarse, throaty whine she produced in the struggle sounded like awful discord in her ears. Her eyes still shut, she registered the soft, bouncy surface on which she had been placed. It creaked and groaned along with her light thrashing. A light snap caused her to gasp as the tape finally began to tear. Getting on her knees, she bent her torso over and rested her face against what was apparently a bed and began, with what little energy she had, trying to pass her bound wrists over her bottom and down her legs so that she could undo the rest with her mouth. Her labored breathing grew more and more hoarse as it picked up pace. Muscles began cramping due to the awkward pose, but finally and after much exertion, Renee had finally brought her hands under and over her legs to her front. But she couldn't continue. With a great, exasperated groan, she fell to her side on the bed, eyes still closed, and lay there, panting softly and still bound. Her mouth was dry as she sucked lightly on her lower lip, then her upper. Her throat felt dry, possibly from lack of hydration or from lack of speaking for so long. Though she wasn't very vocal in her day to day life, some of her evenings spent with Rorschach made up for such slow-paced days.

But even then, conversation was very limited.

Often times, the two wouldn't exchange so much as a greeting. They would meet, separate into their planned courses, and try their hardest to survive the night. She learned after a while not to rely solely on her partner when the situation became too high risk. She implemented this for a number of reasons: one was the obvious; to shake the "willing damsel-in-distress" front. The title came with it an unshakable feeling of dependence, helplessness and self-loathing. And, she supposed, the other was just to let Rorschach know that she was, and would always be, more than he ever expected her to be. Being the only truly significant being in her life, she had so much to prove to him. It became more so because with each passing day, she understood the vigilante a little more. More often than not, such things were difficult to grasp and to empathize with.

He never talked about himself.

And quite frankly, she never bothered asking, remembering how little he cared for small talk. The only talking he would partake in was talk of criminal affairs, crime fighting, and his casual piece on what he thought of the current situation, whatever it may be. But it often involved seedy, unsavory types. She found it odd. Though in her heart she would disagree with almost everything he had to say, she couldn't find the right words to voice her protest. His words were bitter and morbid, but his tone didn't carry a hint of venom in it. It was more of a disenchanted understanding of how people thought, and why they did what they did.

One such incident always stayed with her:

"You know Rorschach…not every criminal deserves to die."

"Huh…and what makes you say that?"

"Well…there are a lot of things to consider, like…what sort of home they come from and…their experiences as a child, an adolescent, or…"

"Really. Let me paint a picture for you then. Imagine a young boy, raised without a father by a mother who, by so-called 'necessity', is a whore..."

He practically spat that last word.

"…He receives little to no attention beyond ridicule from anyone, save for merciless beatings by a mother who resents his very existence. Out of curiosity, I have to ask…Would a criminal with a background similar to that be considered an 'exception' in your eyes?"

She didn't know what to say. What was he getting at? What was he trying to tell her? If it weren't for her insurmountable curiosity, she would have done the smart thing and not pressed the matter. But she did.

"I mean, I guess so. It should certainly be considered when dealing with-"

"And what makes you say that? Is it an unfounded, innate moral sensibility…Or do you think like the others? You feel as though it's the 'right way' to feel because you are compelled by a flock-like sensibility akin to the general populace? A sheep."

Her reluctance to grasp and agree with his views was similar to a child's outrage towards an adult that disclaimed the existence of Santa Clause. She had believed in something for so long, that for someone to blatantly tell her that it was all a lie was difficult to accept. To say the least. After a while, all she could do was listen to him and try to take it all in one ear, and out another. Sometimes, during those seemingly eternal sleepless nights, she would try to think of how it must feel like to live by the words that he spoke, to carry out his life to those words, and to never question them. Another reason why she decidedly remained unvocal to his ideology was, she figured, his unwavering sense of moral absolution. She was quite familiar with the term, but didn't think she had ever met anyone who she could honestly say lived by it. Those who believed the death sentence to be wrong for example, no matter how severe the situation, would later demand the head of a murderer who had killed a loved one. These people could not live by an unchanging moral code. There were too many exceptions, or an inconsistent and purely biased knowledge on the issue, or a lack of emotional attention, the latter of which, once acquired, would completely invert one's code of ethics. She knew for a fact that Rorschach was all but devoid of emotion, but such emotions were never thrown into the equation for him to question his own actions. He was never the type to provide exception for any individual he held higher on an emotional level.

…That she was aware of.

Once her breathing had evened out, she sat on her calves and began gnawing at the tape, eyes still closed. A minute or so of relentless biting and pulling, her wrists were finally free. She gingerly rubbed them as the skin around them had grown red and irritated. But she refused to open her eyes. She began to wring her hands to get blood circulating through them once more, then frantically moving the hair out of her face and fanning fervently. She was trying desperately to distract herself from the fact that she had no idea where she was.

The sudden voice nearly made her jump to the ceiling.

"You gonna open your eyes yet or what?" the unknown being drawled through a dark chuckle.

Her hands shot down from her head to the bed, hard enough to get it creaking. She panted unevenly through gritted teeth as she slowly turned her head in the direction of the voice. If anything, she was now more adamant about keeping her eyes shut. She also couldn't shake the feeling that this voice sounded eerily familiar.

"Huh…A lot more stubborn than I remember."

Footsteps now accompanied the voice as it drew nearer and nearer. Renee turned her head back around, bracing herself for whatever came.

"Hey, now. No need to tense up. Lemme get a good look atcha…"

A sudden weight dropped onto the bed next to her, sending her stumbling back a little. But she remained rigid. Her breath hitched up once she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Relax, now. Just turn around and let me get a look at that pretty little face of yours."

But she remained stoic. The lack of reaction she received led her to believe that he had given up and that he was about to leave. Her shoulders dropped a little as she relaxed herself.

"No?...Alright then…"

Renee couldn't react quickly enough to the swift palm that clamped down onto her head, fisted her hair, and jerked her face violently back. Her body tumbled back clumsily into whoever this was.

"That's a good girl."

His tone remained eerily steady, in spite of how much force he was exerting. The pain in her scalp only prompted Renee to shut her eyes even tighter, causing painful blots to explode across the back of her eyelids. She gritted her teeth as quivering breath drew in and out through them. She could feel warm, steady breathing across her cheek. Their faces were so close she could practically smell him, though she would never admit that it was a welcome change from blood, sweat and grime.

"Now listen here, little darlin'. I'll let go of your pretty little curls if you open your eyes, alright?"

He hadn't expected an answer, but as he slowly loosened his grip, Renee visibly relaxed. Now, she wasn't sure exactly what prompted her next move. But she found herself locked in grave regret once she made it.

Without warning, Renee rolled backwards, tumbling off the bed onto an unwelcoming slab of concrete and landing on her shoulder. Ignoring the pain with her eyes now open, she stumbled hurriedly down to the other end of the room, where she spotted a door. Her suddenly illuminated vision caused her some pain, but she ignored it. It was very difficult, however, to ignore the feeling of a strong hand snatching her ankle, causing her to be yanked back mid air and onto the solid, grey floor. She landed with a thud, winded on impact. Without a word from the man, she was slowly dragged back. Silent tears impeded her vision as the door shrank smaller and smaller.

Renee was swiftly grabbed by the shoulders, hoisted up above the ground, and dropped unceremoniously onto the bed. Instead of scrambling up for another escape attempt, she lay there on her back, completely motionless. His method of silent force was not only intimidating…it was downright frightening. She took this time to finally get a good look at her surroundings.

It was a small, simple room. The walls were lined with white wallpaper, covered in some questionable dark red stains, some fresher than others. The ceilings were covered with pink insulating foam, all of which was packed in plastic. A single, flickering light bulb hung from a string that swung eerily like a metronome. Large, rusted metal pipes snaked through the walls as if they were simply passing through on their way to another room. Some dripped in tune to the swinging of the bulb, and she briefly wondered where the pipes led to exactly. She was promptly brought back to reality as a hand began stroking her face.

"A lot more headstrong than I remember too…"

Renee's eyes widened as the man now loomed over her, his form silhouetted by the flickering light. She had encountered him before.

"…not to mention…You've become quite the looker. Maybe a little big in the hips and thighs, but-"

"It's you…"

At the sound of her weak, cracking voice, the man smirked darkly. His hand began to wander further down, away from her face, and began absent-mindedly stroking her neck and collar bone. His stare left her eyes and fell on the areas his hand was caressing. He took a deep breath and released it before continuing.

"You know…when I saw you…All those nights ago, I tell ya...It was tough to keep my cool."

His voice came out in a low drawl, sounding almost a little inebriated. Renee swallowed deeply as his hands continued to trace over her neck and shoulder. She eyed it hesitantly. That same hand that firmly held a gun to her temple only a short time ago. He would lean in close to her neck every so often, breathing in and out against the sensitive flesh. She truly couldn't see a way out of this. She didn't even know how much time had passed. But what pressed her even more deeply was that she truly didn't know if she would ever see Rorschach again. He would probably go looking for her…a little. But she knew that there was so much wrong in the city. So many injustices to be rectified. So much retribution to be dealt out. And in all the wrong that he had to deal with…she was only a drop of water in a storm-plagued sea of vice.

And through the storm came a sudden crack of thunder.

Renee tuned back into reality, only to feel a trembling weight crushing her upper arms. And as her eyes cast upwards dejectedly, they were met by those same dark eyes. But they were different than before. The dim lighting against him gave the man a more ominous air. She struggled briefly, but once she truly felt the strength of the leader's hands, she gave in. Though his arms trembled while grasping her, she could tell it wasn't out of exertion. He appeared to be working himself into frenzy. Her heart racing profusely, she closed her eyes as frantic and irregularly paced breathing passed through her parted lips. The brown military coat he once wore came with it a sense of calm and poise. Shedding one meant the other was absent as well. The sight of his broad chest heaving through his wife beater was horrifying. Her head lolled to the side, not wanting to face the mass on top of her.

"What…do you want from me?" she whispered thickly and shakily through gritted teeth.

Her tone carried a hint of anger which did not go unnoticed by the man. With a low, dark chuckle, his eyes continued to rake up and down her body as he answered.

"Hmm…I don't think you're in a position to be making any demands. That's quite a mouth you've got there…"

He trailed off, eyes suddenly fixated on her lips. His breathing began to quiver and turn shallow. The sound of a frightened whimper in his ears caused his grip on her arms to tighten and loosen simultaneously. Finally, he dropped his head as if in defeat, letting his face rest in the crook of her neck. He began laughing sinisterly. Renee lay there, completely dumbfounded and filled with dread. She looked around the room frantically, not looking for anything in particular, but it was the only way she could express her horror physically. His laugh turned into a snarling growl, his hot breath against her hair line causing her to physically shiver. Feeling the slight convulsion, he froze, raised his head and looked at her in what she could only describe as silent awe.

"You…you little slut, you..."

Though vulgar and dauntingly worded, he wore a twisted smirk.

"I shoulda known…All that time with that fucking psycho, huh. Yeah, that had to've done it. Tell me…how many times did that prick FUCK you, huh? Once? Twice a day?"

He whistled lowly for effect.

"Well, shit! Ain't no point in doing what I had planned, is there? Huh? IS THERE!"

For some reason, tears welled up in Renee's eyes, causing her irises to shine a more brilliant green. Her mouth opened in protest, but the only sound that escaped her throat was a fading squeak. She had no idea how to react. Too often she found herself left speechless, as if everyone was out to test her limit and to see how much it took to break her. She winced at the pain he was causing her arms as he grasped them more and more tightly the angrier he got. Tears fell across her face. She suddenly felt embarrassed. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, though it carried a mocking quality to it.

"Oh, I see how it is…Poor little girl, all alone in the big bad city. Must have gotten wonewy, huh?", he began, pursing his lips a little and speaking in a babyish tone. Gingerly, he wiped the tears from her face, flecking them away before they fell into the immense darkness of her hair. And then, his face became hardened.

"Good to know that there are good-hearted people like that fucker you play side-kick to, huh?"

The tiny hint of playfulness in his tone was gone. He looked furious. Letting go of her arms, he swung a leg over her body, and plopped down onto her hips. He leaned over her once more, thighs locking her hips firmly against his.

"Now…you haven't answered my question, sweet pea…"

Dropping his head lower, he placed his mouth right next to her ear as he demanded in a low whisper.

"How many times…did…he…fuck you?"

Bringing his head back up, he looked down at her with mocking concern. This sparked a tinge of anger inside her, causing her to swallow deeply and look at him gravely.

Then, almost as if someone had flicked a switch on in his head, his expression slowly contorted into a horrible frown. His hand left her face with such speed, that the resulting wisp of air caused her to gasp. His hand came down hard across her cheek, eliciting a yelp from her and causing Renee's head to whip to the side most unnaturally. She slowly looked back up at him after a moment, eyes bloodshot and panting slightly out of terror. He grasped her jaw, pressing hard onto the area he had just struck.

"I said…HOW MANY TIMES DID THAT PRICK FUCK YOU?"

His voice boomed horribly as his hand came down and struck her again. And again. And again. He showed no signs of stopping, his frenzy eventually picking up pace and causing him to drawl a high-pitched giggle. Renee took the hits, crying out with each blow, until finally, her hands shot up, hitting him in the chest.

"STOP IT!", she screamed through her tears.

His hand froze mid air and Renee sagged as she shut her eyes and began weeping pathetically under him. The man's torso straightened up and he simply sat there, blankly staring at her weeping, defeated body, his arms folded. She drew a deep quivering breath to plea her case.

"I-I…we never…I'VE never even- oh God…"

It was overwhelming. There she lay, being beaten for something she hadn't done. But something, though it deeply upset her to even think of at that particular moment, that she had considered from time to time. But she knew Rorschach. She knew him in ways no man should ever have to know him. And she knew he would never. She knew SHE would never.

…well, maybe…maybe she MIGHT. Perhaps if he were still the mysterious vigilante that she had remembered him to be all those years ago.

But he wasn't. There were some things about him that she deeply wished she was ignorant towards. The Rorschach she idolized as a child and the Rorschach she came to call companion were two completely different people. Though as hindering as some of his traits were, there was no denying the sense of tension between them, especially in the midst of violence. Something about the imminence of death gave her a crushing feeling of anxiety and excitement. And every so often, in the midst of all the chaos, their gaze would meet. Though he wore a mask, there were times when she just knew that she was looking into his eyes. And he was looking right back into hers. This would rarely happen. But when it did, it was as if the very air went thick, locking that one moment in time. And in that moment, all the troubles around them seemed to disintegrate. And it was only the two of them. These moments were so fleeting and so few. But she remembered them all too vividly. And deep down, she knew that he remembered them as well. She was brought back by a firm hand grasping her neck.

"Oh, I see how it is…don't take me for a fool", he sneered repulsively.

"Don't think I don't FUCKING know how that maniac's mind works. You've seen it too haven't you…remember, darling…REMEMBER ALL THOSE NIGHTS BACK, WHEN I HAD A GUN TO YOUR FUCKING TEMPLE AND HE TOLD ME TO SHOOT?"

His grip trembled hideously around her neck and began to grow tighter. Her breathing began to turn shallow and it quivered, yet she still managed to utter a few words of defiance through gritted teeth.

"Y…y-you're berating a m-mental case while str…s-strangling me…Sorry if…if I don't take your c-cau…cautionary words t-to heart…" and with a guttural gasp, she placed the finisher on her sentence.

"…BASTARD!" she spat with pure malice.

His twisted frown melted away, leaving along with the low chuckle he drawled. His grip loosened a little, perhaps not realizing how tightly he was grabbing. Renee made a mental note of this and pursued it.

"So…so you don't want me dead…You didn't bring me here to kill me…is that it then?...Well?... is it?"

Whether it was because he simply refused to answer or because he was toying with her, she didn't know…until he let go of her throat, grabbed her wrists, and pinned them harshly over her head. He leaned in closer and closer, until his head was blocking out the light bulb that hung behind him and a deep shadow cast over his face.

"If I wanted to kill you, don't you think I woulda done so back then…?"

His hot breath against her neck and the dark monotone in his voice made her heart skip a beat. He resumed his earlier actions, leaning in and smelling her, touching her neck and collarbone, as if he had some deep familiarity with her for years. But how could he?

"When you were wearing that…I dunno what the fuck it was…certainly didn't leave very much to the imagination. And you know I love it, but…just not on you, little girl…"

Renee clamped her eyes shut as he began planting small, tender kisses along her jaw line.

"No, never on you…you're not that kind of girl. You were never that kind of girl, were you Renee?"

In a broken, trembling voice she finally spoke.

"Who…are you?"

And just as his lips hovered a mere inch above hers, he lifted his head and said:

"Not the same guy you knew before, Ren…"

And with a wink, he swiftly lifted himself off of her and hopped off the bed,

"Boys!" he called at to the door. "She's ready!"

The last sane thought in her head was the sight of three men entering the room, all dressed in black and wearing masks, with one carrying a running video camera. Then, the lights went out.

~17 hours later~

"…No. Nuh-nuh-no, we've already been over this. A thousand times, NO!"

Ignoring Daniel's hissy fit, Rorschach made his way through the doorframe, feeling no need to apologize for the harsh brunt against his former partner's shoulder. The man had tunnel vision with a single objective in mind.

"Where's your VCR?"

"My wh…do you have ANY idea what time it is!"

"No time to entertain polite banter, Daniel. Where is your VCR?"

With a groggy and very displeased sigh, the former crime fighter reluctantly led Rorschach to the basement.

In his haste, Rorschach dashed passed Daniel, leaped over the last few steps and hit the switch, illuminating the secret cave containing gadgets and paraphernalia that would sooner be regarded as relics of a former time period.

"What the hell has gotten into you? If you're here to ask for my help again, you know the answer is-"

"WHERE IS YOUR VCR?"

Rorschach's booming voice tore through the silence, echoing like thunder throughout the chamber. Daniel's weary, half-shut eyes shot open to the size of dinner plates at Rorschach's unexpected outburst. He could only imagine the twisted expression he wore under that mask, his fist trembling where it had slammed against the wall. Daniel noticed a VHS tape gripped tightly in his other hand. Putting two and two together, he decidedly didn't address Rorschach's erratic (even for him) behavior and descended the remaining steps.

"Over here, uh…can I see the tape?"

Rorschach's hesitation silently astounded Daniel once more. It was as if he were asking him to hand over his first born son. But in his desperation, Rorschach apprehensively handed the object to him, watching him closely to see what he did with it. He followed him even closer still when he walked over to an empty table on the far side of the basement.

"I think this'll be your first time seeing this. I had it installed after you decided to work alone…But there were times when we'd get VHS tapes as clues or evidence and didn't know what to do with 'em…heh, remember?"

Daniel's attempt to lighten the mood was not humored. Rorschach waited for Daniel's actions to proceed before he got vocally involved in conversation.

"Err Right, well...here it is."

Daniel stuck the tape in a slot on the side of the table, pressed a button on the surface, and took a step back. In a matter of seconds, half the table top rose to a ninety degree angle, turning into a screen. Daniel moved to press the button once more, and then stopped, realizing something.

"What exactly am I going to see if I play this tape, Rorschach?"

Although he was never one to harm an undeserving individual, Rorschach had never felt so tempted to clock Daniel right then and there. This girl was doing awful things to his emotional state of clarity. Even when she wasn't around.

"A threat. A ransom note. Not sure."

"Would this have anything to do with that girl you mentioned a little while back?"

"She's…been kidnapped, Daniel. Found this tape in her apartment." The faint hint of desperation in his voice did not go unnoticed.

"So they want you to find her…Okay, say that you do find out who kidnapped her. You'd be walking right into a trap going after them."

"What are you implying?"

"I'm saying that if you're going after them…"

Daniel trailed off for a moment, taking a few steps back to flick a switch. Rorschach's attention turned to the now-illuminated owl ship.

"…you're going to need back-up."

A/N: …Well who'da saw THAT comin'? Not I. REVIEW PLZ! :)