Ch. 22
Nightshade hadn't been out in two nights. The first night, Rorschach had shrugged it off. The second night, he couldn't help but feel a little morose. At first he had worried, but he had checked up on her -- secretly, of course -- and she seemed perfectly fine. It was just Laurie, however -- it seemed Nightshade suddenly didn't want to get into crime fighting anymore. Rorschach was tempted to visit her at home, but he felt he had an obligation to explain himself to her somehow, and he really didn't have anything to say for himself.
Rorschach tried to think about what had happened between him and Laurie. Every time he started focusing too much on it, however, he would get an awful, almost panicked feeling and he would shake his concentration away just to get away from it. He slept poorly the past couple of days, and he didn't fare so well during his waking hours, either. It was almost as if he had gone insane, thinking about Laurie practically every instant. He needed his focus but it was gone for now, and all he had left to do was feel sorry for himself.
Brooding and sullen, Rorschach only went a few minutes before he was thinking about her again. He would think about her hair and eyes -- fine, then her smile, still fine -- then he would get carried away and remember how she had felt against him, how her hands felt on him as she put her lips on his, and then he would growl in frustration. Focus. He really didn't need this right now. He remembered the way her eyes peered up at him, wide and innocent as her fingers traced his mask to slowly lift it...
Damn. Damn, damn, damn.
Rorschach stalked the streets, roughly handling anybody who dared to commit a sin in his path. He even snarled at a jaywalker, who turned and ran as fast as he could away from Rorschach. Rorschach had to take a break for a while after that. He sat on a curb and tried to calm himself. He really was getting out of control lately. Reflecting on his behavior as of yet, he felt ashamed. A handle on his emotions was all he had, pretty much, and his grip was slipping and soon he wouldn't have that either.
Rorschach wished he could close his eyes and drown out the sounds around him, stifle his thoughts and sink into a peaceful oblivion. But Nightshade wasn't there with him tonight, and he had nobody to watch his back. She probably hated him, too, and he didn't blame her one bit.
Thinking about Nightshade -- Laurie, he felt a pang of guilt and despair. Why couldn't he just tell her his name? Why hadn't he? Dan, Dan, damn that Dan, had told her his life history, Rorschach was sure of it, as well as his name. All so easily too, to someone who he had been working with for one day. Rorschach had known Nightshade for two years, nearly going on three, and he couldn't even give her his name.
Searching for an answer, Rorschach remembered that fateful day in the dress shop when she had come in, looking radiant and beautiful. That day he knew. He had known then that he felt something for her, something so deep within him that it scared him to look at and so he had covered it carefully; watching her for anything, any bad behavior or indiscretion she committed that would ruin it, take it away so he wouldn't feel the way he did. It was easy to drown it out when she was Nightshade because then it meant they had a business deal. You just didn't get too involved with your partner -- otherwise, you could get distracted and hurt, possibly killed. When they became friends, it didn't bother him so much, either. He didn't have any other friends and he was happy to have one to call his own. He liked having his barriers and boundaries and as long as they were left as they were he was happy. Now, there were too many blurred lines between him and Laurie. He couldn't figure out where his feelings for her began or ended. He cared for her deeply as a friend, and respected her as someone he worked with, but then there was something else that he was holding back that frightened him to no end. It was that control that was giving away, like a dam that had been carefully built over the years. Cracks had begun to appear and he was scared to say the least. He couldn't remember when he had last been so afraid of anything.
Rorschach burned with shame as he stood up and started to walk, rapid steps rushing him quickly through the blocks. He knew why he didn't want to tell her his name. It was because the name meant something to her.
If he had never met her outside of their crime fighting lives, he wouldn't mind so much, he thought. But she knew Walter, and if he said that name to her, then it wouldn't matter anymore if he had the mask or not because she would just know. She would know who was under the mask and then the image he had made for himself would be broken. Rorschach was a symbol, a symbol that carried him through the night -- a carefully crafted image that drew out the right emotion in people. Fear. That symbol carried a purpose, and if anyone were to see what was underneath that mask, then that would be all they saw from then on. Rorschach wouldn't be anymore, and then he would be left with nothing.
Rorschach sighed deeply. Well, when he thought of it, it wasn't just the fact that she had seen his face. He had been foolish, you see, and he had given away his feelings far too easily and too early on. He had made that dress for her, and he just couldn't resist adding a little something. He couldn't help but write that note. Just two words, but he had poured everything he had into it. Into that dress as well, but the note was his everything.
For Laurie, he had written. I am giving this to you. I made this dress, and I put my all into it, and now I am giving it... giving this, to you. Walter felt foolish afterwards, worried that she would know and somehow be offended -- after all, wasn't he implying something more with those words? What did people do when they gave themselves to one another? Words like that only opened doors that should remain closed lest improprieties take place. He didn't want that.
And yet he did. No, no... yes.
Rorschach shook his head, tormented. He hated his thoughts. His mind -- the awful way his mind would dissect and absorb his surroundings. When it came to Nightshade, Laurie, there were things he felt and thought about her that he wished he didn't. She was good -- she wasn't tainted or blemished with a track list of impure or wicked deeds under her belt. Thinking these things about her, he was doing a disservice to her, and he was thoroughly disgusted with himself. She wasn't an object, she was a person, and you don't think of a person like that.
So carefully, he had stored away any stray thoughts, any details about her that he noticed that became indecent in his mind. Carefully stored away and guarded with strict determination.
Oh, but then she had kissed him. Why did she have to do that? Why couldn't she just leave things as they were? Rorschach had been so happy when they were finally back together. Things would be as they were in the old days when they had first started fighting side by side. At this point he wasn't sure if they could regain what they had before all this had happened to complicate things. Of course, on top of everything else he had used her -- she hadn't just kissed him, he had kissed her as well, encouraged her, even. Then he had left, and he couldn't even tell her his name.
Rorschach was mortified. He wasn't one to kiss and discard. In fact, he had never...
Though a simple gesture to many people, to him a kiss held so much meaning, as much meaning as two words could have. The right words, the right kiss. He felt like a bastard for stealing that kiss, that meaning, from her. He had stolen it, couldn't pay for it with his own vulnerability. Rorschach hated himself. And he wouldn't blame it if she hated him too. In fact, he wished she did. Maybe that would be for the best. Then at least she would be safe from him and his thoughts.
Up ahead, Rorschach saw a figure move out of the alley and into the night. The figure, apparently male, seemed to move with a purpose, and for a moment Rorschach considered following him, then decided against the idea. His stomach was twisting him up inside, and he didn't have the heart to investigate. He passed the alley and almost walked by it, but something made him stop cold. He looked around, then walked further in to investigate. He got to the end and found three people, dead, mutilated, discarded. They were two men, one woman. Fully clothed, as if stabbed through their garments; they didn't look like residents of the area. They were too richly dressed. The murder on itself was a disturbing sight to witness as it was. It was the smile on the ground beside them that made it chilling.
Rorschach studied the smile for the longest time. It was drawn out in orange paint, careful brush strokes making it all too obvious that it was not from just a simple spray can. Spray cans were quick, this -- there was nothing quick about it. The smile was almost perfect, as if someone had taken great pains to draw it. He could imagine someone kneeling over the dead bodies as blood pooled around them, pausing on the details of their great work of art. Rorschach wanted to vomit. He for one wished he had followed the figure as his instinct had first told him. He should have listened to his instinct, but he had messed up. Who could blame him though? If he had followed his instinct those two days before at Laurie's house, he would have many more things to regret this very moment. No, he just couldn't trust himself to make the right decisions right now.
Rorschach looked around as he left the alley. He half expected Ozymandias to be there, since he had seemed so hot on the trail of what was now apparently a serial killer as Ozymandias had suspected. For one brief, sick moment he wondered if it was Ozymandias who was the perpetrator. No -- it couldn't be. No, on second thought, that was a ridiculous idea. If Ozymandias planned on murdering people, he wouldn't be so obvious. It would be quick, quiet, and he wouldn't spend the time to draw too much attention to it.
Unless he wanted to, of course. Rorschach felt a little spooked by the idea, by the fact that he could so easily imagine Ozymandias as a murderer.
Rorschach found Ozymandias an hour later. Ozymandias had not spotted him, and for a moment Rorschach considered leaving him be. But there had been a murder and if this man wanted to solve this, Rorschach couldn't just stand by and watch. He had seen the bodies -- that meant he was involved, at least to an extent. He had to pay his dues and at least assist by pointing Ozymandias in the right direction.
"Oh," said Ozymandias, as Rorschach approached. "Hello."
"Found bodies in alley on Madison," said Rorschach. "Seen them?"
"No, actually," said Ozymandias, giving him a curious look. "Thank you."
Rorschach looked around, not really sure what to say.
"Saw the killer," Rorschach muttered. "Presumably."
Ozymandias' eyes were wide.
"What did they look like?" he asked.
"Didn't get a close look, probably male."
"I see."
"That's all."
Rorschach turned and left. He was almost out of earshot when Ozymandias spoke.
"Would you mind assisting me?" he asked.
Rorschach paused and looked at Ozymandias, confused.
"Thought you wanted to work on it yourself."
"Just not with Nite Owl II, actually," admitted Ozymandias.
"Hurm."
Rorschach didn't feel much like anything that night, let alone being taken along for an audience to Ozymandias' one-man show. Then again, he was in a despondent mood -- what would he do by himself? Besides, after seeing the murderer slip past him he felt, to a degree, responsible for his capture.
Rorschach and Ozymandias walked in silence, towards Madison and that cold alley with the three dead bodies. Rorschach decided the scene would be a great complement to his mood.
"I know you have been wondering about me, and Nite Owl II in particular," said Ozymandias, suddenly.
Rorschach almost stopped, surprised by this sudden statement. He glanced at Ozymandias but stayed silent.
"Nothing ever happened between us, you know," said Ozymandias. His tone was matter-of-fact. "He can be so... clueless, sometimes."
Rorschach nodded. He would much rather not hear this, but he agreed about Nite Owl II for certain, and he found enjoyment in hearing disparaging remarks being made towards the man. He didn't hate Nite Owl II as much as he had before, but there was still something about him that annoyed him to no end.
"I get so frustrated with him," Ozymandias continued. "He has so much potential, and yet I feel as if he is just throwing it away. He really is an intelligent man -- if only he would stop and think once in a while."
"And just how intelligent are you, Ozymandias?" Rorschach asked.
Ozymandias looked slightly taken aback. Then he laughed.
"See, you have potential too," he said. "And you have done the same."
"And what is this potential you see?" Rorschach asked, tersely.
Ozymandias looked far away.
"My parents used to be rich," he told him. "They gave me everything, all their fortunes, but I discarded them. I knew I could reach my fullest potential only if I rely on my own from the start and not on the charity of others."
"And you're rich now?"
"Not quite," laughed Ozymandias. "But I am rich with experience for a man my age."
"And yet you're all alone -- just like me."
"Well..." Ozymandias finally seemed to falter. "There is more to life than mere association. Sometimes your peers can let you down as much as boost you up."
Rorschach grunted. Ozymandias seemed to regain his confidence again.
"Besides, I thought you had someone -- or am I mistaken?" asked Ozymandias.
"I don't know who you mean."
"Your partner? Nightshade?"
Rorschach said nothing. Ozymandias frowned a little.
"I'm sorry," he said to Rorschach. It was so strange how sincere he sounded whenever he said those words. "I suppose I just made my assumptions. I guess we are even in that regard."
Rorschach felt absolutely miserable. He wished he could stop walking, stop moving -- just stop. Be still for a while and let the world go by without him.
"Sometimes I wonder if we are doing the world any favors through our actions," said Ozymandias, softly, as if he had somehow felt Rorschach's pained thoughts. "I look at the people we put behind bars, the progress we are making, and at the same time notice how much more is going around in the world that will never be resolved... It seems as if what we are doing is so futile -- we need grander actions for issues of equal proportions."
"We're doing just fine," said Rorschach.
"Are we really? All we're doing is scratching at a disease in an attempt to make it go away. We need to start making bigger changes -- apply the cure rather than mere antiseptics as you may say it -- or all this is for nothing."
"Heard of Kitty Genovese?"
Ozymandias paused.
"Yes, I think I have, a few years back."
"She was stabbed and assaulted. Not so surprising in a place like this. Thing is, everyone was watching and nobody did a thing about it."
"Ah yes, now I remember. By the time anyone had called the police, it had been too late, hadn't it?"
"Yes."
Rorschach was silent for a long while, and Ozymandias waited patiently without prodding him. Rorschach had to strain to push out the words. His distress was making him withdrawn and it was hard to speak.
"If...If one person had stepped up," said Rorschach, finally, "She might be alive right now. Everyone was waiting for someone else to do the right thing -- in the end, nobody did. But if one person had, then I think... I think more would have stepped in."
"And your meaning is?"
"We need to be that one person, the one who does something. We are making a difference. We're setting an example, showing this city, this world, that we won't stand by and let go of our principles."
"And is that why you fight at night? Is that why you put on the mask?" Ozymandias was peering at him, fascinated.
Rorschach looked away. He wished this night was over and he could wake up in a new world where all this didn't matter.
"Yes," he said, finally. For some reason it caused him great heartache to say that one word.
Ozymandias smiled at him, and to Rorschach it seemed as if a great weight had lifted off of the young man. It was so unfortunate for Rorschach that the weight on his own shoulders had only become heavier.
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To be continued...