Ch. 24

Rorschach hadn't spoken to Nightshade in two weeks and three days.

Pausing for a moment, Rorschach wondered where he had counted that many days in his head before. No, it had been the other way around -- three weeks and two days -- that other time. But what had he done for three weeks and two days before that rang out so strongly in his mind?

It didn't matter -- whatever it was, had nothing to do with Nightshade, and nowadays that was all that he could wrap his mind around. He missed her sorely, and at this point in time it just hurt to think about her. He had become obsessed with the thought of her, and at night he couldn't release his hold on her even then, as he dreamed about her constantly.

God knows, he watched her. He would check on her to make sure she was all right. He would also watch her because he couldn't bear the agony of not being near her. Was all he knew how to do anymore. He really was pathetic.

Rorschach reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and looked at it. He still didn't know what to think of it -- that simple paper with her name, her number, which he already knew, of course, but it was the gesture that was important. Why had she given him, Walter, her number? Was she telling him that she knew, somehow? Did she know, but was merely waiting for him to tell her? If that was the case, why didn't she just tell him? It would make things much easier.

Damn, did she not realize how difficult this was for him? Two sides of him, battling constantly. His will to fit in and find peace and a sense of belonging. His stronger will stifling all desires but the one to punish wrong and protect the innocent. Many times Walter would feel like he was drowning in his own thoughts, keeping him up at night, giving him nightmares. He just wished she would reach out, pull him out of this place. Anything she wanted to do, he would do it. Get away from this city? He would. Shape up and have a better life? Of course. Take off this mask and say hell to it all? Gladly, at this point. Get married?

Rorschach laughed at that.

No, he had been obsessed with many things before, but a woman had never been one of them. Not like this, anyway. These days he just didn't find the point in crime fighting anymore. No, that wasn't quite right. It made sense to him from a logical standpoint, yes -- the city needed him, people like him -- but to put it bluntly, he didn't find the joy in it anymore.

But that was pretty ridiculous. When did he ever find joy in crime fighting? It wasn't something he had ever enjoyed doing -- it was just something that had to be done. A duty, a service. Some men understood that. The Comedian did. Dr. Manhattan. His personal wants had nothing to do with this. At some point in time, however, Nightshade had brought something else into the job that had become his focus for the past couple of years. With her gone, he couldn't remember what he had been so intent on accomplishing. He recalled being adamantly against finding Underboss, but that was pretty embarrassing to think about. Why had he thought it was for the best to leave Underboss be? He couldn't remember anymore. Why was that?

Rorschach tried to keep from panicking again -- that was another one of his favorite things to do now. He honestly could not figure out what was the matter with him. Something was very wrong, and it was screaming at him from inside his head, inside his heart, even, strangely enough. Even so, he couldn't determine what the issue was. All he knew for sure was that he needed Nightshade back with him. They had to be a team again, otherwise he would lose everything, he realized. He had tried tagging along with Ozymandias for a while, but Ozymandias was just as bad as he was. He was an emotional mess, as hyper logical and cold as the man was, and Rorschach knew for a certain that he had been lying at least on some part about Nite Owl II. What a pair the two of them made -- Rorschach actually had to laugh when he got home the other day after spending all night trailing Agent Orange (a name the press came up with for the murderer -- was this a joke?), he and Ozymandias realized that they had been going down the same block in circles. They hadn't even been talking or anything. They had just been so focused on their thoughts and carrying on that they hadn't been paying attention to where they were taking themselves. Oh, Big Figure would laugh if he had had to deal with this Rorschach and not the other one. The other Rorschach had been superior. He had no weaknesses and he made a good team with Nightshade. This was why he wanted her back -- he wanted the better Rorschach that came with her. When he put on his mask he felt ridiculous now, as if he was wearing someone else's clothes and trying desperately hard to pretend to be someone he wasn't.

Yes, he was just Walter Kovacs, wasn't he? He had always been of a fanciful nature. At some point or another he had led himself into believing that he could be as good as Rorschach, as strong and perceptive and efficient as Rorschach. Now he had gone and ruined Rorschach on top of everything else. Rorschach was a deflated mess now, a laughing stock, just a man wearing the mask that would be better suited for someone with far less flaws.

Rorschach groaned to himself, wanting to just claw at his hair, his face. He wanted to weep, not just a few tears but to just let everything bleed out from him so he wouldn't feel this way. So pathetic. The old Rorschach would laugh. No wonder he left too.

Rorschach reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper again. He looked down at it as if he didn't understand what was written on it. He gazed down across the street to Blake's house, looking inside the window. Yes, he was sitting on the roof of a neighboring home looking for a glimpse of the girl he liked. Yes, he was creep. But he wouldn't be able to handle himself otherwise. Besides, he wasn't doing anything inappropriate, such as looking in her bedroom window. He had a clear view of the living room from where he was, and he could see Blake reading the newspaper as he was usually known to do. Laurie was there, sitting by the window and staring out into the street, but she wasn't looking at where she would see him. He imagined it was easier to see in than out, anyhow. He was a little disappointed at the thought. Some part of him wished she could spot him. She had reverted to her old ways in the last two weeks she hadn't been out fighting. She'd gone soft. How small and vulnerable she looked there by the window now.

He wished he could protect her, to shield her from the ills of the world, to take her and hold her when she was in need of comfort. He wished he could be there for her, be a better man for her, provide for her and cherish and respect her. He wished for other things also, but he quickly tossed those thoughts aside.

Rorschach climbed down from the roof. He hovered around the Blake home for a few moments before leaving. Every night he would deliberate, wondering if he should go in and see her, but every night he left as he did now. Maybe tomorrow would be a better night. Rorschach went home and put up his jacket, suit, gloves, scarf, and mask. He shivered slightly in the cool air. Without all the layers it seemed so cold. Or maybe it was his empty apartment. Walter sat on the edge of his bed, looking towards the floor but not really seeing the room. He settled onto his back on top of the covers, hands clasped over his abdomen. His eyes closed for a moment and he started to drift into sleep but he jolted awake, his own stressed body unable to cope with relaxation. Walter rolled over onto his side and glared at the empty space next to him. The sheets were cool underneath his cheek, and he shivered again. He climbed under the covers and settled down once more. Between the sheets he felt even colder. Walter felt miserable. He tried closing his eyes. Couldn't sleep. Briefly he considered going back to Blake's, climbing in the window and into Laurie's bed. Nothing indecent -- just to be warm and sleep. He laughed at that idea.

Walter got up and walked to the window looking out into the street. It was too late to be awake, too early for morning, and he never felt like staying out too much anymore.

Walter sighed and retrieved a chair and set it next to the window. He sat down and looked out for a long while and was surprised to wake up in the morning feeling stiff and sore from having slept while sitting. He groaned as he stood up, twisting his neck about and felt satisfied to hear a crack. He got dressed and went to work. He almost stopped at Blake's house again. No, he wouldn't do that today. He was Walter, and Walter was going to work. He would go to work and busy himself with women's clothing; mending, measuring, cutting, oh joyous day of days.

"So," said Rebecca, when Mr. Greer was out of earshot. "How come your girlfriend doesn't stop by so much?"

Walter looked up and realized that Greer's assistant was talking to him.

"What's her name... Laurie?" she smiled at him. He was pretty certain this was the first time she had smiled at him, let alone attempted a conversation with him. "She seems nice."

"She is," said Walter, nodding to her politely. "Very nice."

Walter was depressed. Even in a place such as this he couldn't escape thoughts of her. Rebecca smiled at him again as she left to attend to a customer that had just come in. Mr. Greer walked by and nodded at him. Why were they so warm to him now? They had been like that ever since that day when he came back from an errand to find that Laurie had left a note for him. Walter reached for his pocket before realizing that her note was in his jacket. Of course. Despondent, he went back to work. Walter returned late that afternoon and had dinner. Then he put on his costume and ventured out into the evening.

Rorschach didn't have much to accomplish in his mind, but he was determined to get something done tonight. Maybe a bank robbery would make him feel less useless. Foiling one that is, not perpetrating one. He laughed to himself and wished Nightshade was there to hear that joke.

Rorschach stopped walking. He really missed her.

Rorschach turned and started walking in the opposite direction from where he had been headed. He reached Blake's place in only a few minutes. He paused only once before he walked up to the door and knocked on it. He was a little startled when Blake answered.

"Well well well," said Blake, smiling down at him. "Look who's no longer fourteen and ready to put on his man shoes."

"Pardon?" asked Rorschach, taken aback.

"Inside, now," Blake nodded, grabbing him by the arm and practically ripping it out of his shoulder in an effort to drag him inside.

"Where's--"

"In the shower. I'm glad you turned up when you did, kid," said Blake, gesturing to the living room. "Sit down."

Rorschach cringed into the armchair. He watched Blake as he closed the door and locked it before taking what seemed like forever to make his way into the living room.

"So," said Blake, sitting down on his usual spot on the couch. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, in your life. How's life treatin' ya?"

Rorschach briefly wondered if Blake was drunk. No, he seemed pretty jolly, actually. Drugs, then. No, that didn't seem right, either. He was acting most peculiarly, however.

"That exciting, huh?" asked Blake. "Wow, must be real busy since I haven't seen you around since... I dunno, September of 1910?"

"I wasn't born then," Rorschach told him.

"Right, I forgot. I wasn't either, actually." He laughed.

Silence. Rorschach wished Blake would get to the point. He just stared at Rorschach for what seemed like hours. Laurie finally emerged from her room, dressed and toweling her hair off. Her face lit up when she saw him.

"Rorschach," she exclaimed, rushing over. "It's great to see you."

"Laurie," said Rorschach, nodding to her. She looked at him and then at her father.

"What's going on?" she asked Blake.

"Oh, nothing," he answered. "Just holding him for you -- you can have him back."

Rorschach bristled. Did he think that he was just going to run off? It wasn't as if he had done something like that before. Well, he had, but... well, fine. But he hadn't been intending to leave just then and it felt insulting.

"Do you want to go to my room?" Laurie asked him.

"No," said Rorschach, so quickly that even Blake raised his eyebrow at that.

Rorschach made no move to explain himself, so Laurie finally nodded.

"All right -- the kitchen then." she said, leading him there.

Laurie walked to the sink and got herself a glass of water. She turned to face him as she drank it. She was wearing shorts and a loose-fitting shirt, but he could see all the parts that gave her curves and her legs seemed to stretch on forever. He felt uncomfortable.

Rorschach cleared his throat. Laurie looked at him and smiled. She seemed expectant, somehow.

"Thought I might persuade you to go out tonight," he told her. His hands were in his pockets.

"You mean crime fighting?" she sighed. "I don't know, I was going to call it an early night."

"All right," he said; removing his hands, he started moving towards the door.

"Wait, Rorschach, is that it?"

Rorschach turned to her, surprised.

"Yes," he told her.

"That's all you came here for -- to ask me to go with you? To go crime fighting?

"Yes."

Laurie gave him a wounded look as she calmly set down her glass and folded her arms.

"You don't have anything else to say to me?" she asked him.

Of course he had something to say -- he had everything to say, in fact, but he couldn't find the strength to say it.

"Wow," said Laurie, after she had waited a sufficient amount of time for him to respond. "Rorschach, are we even friends anymore?"

"Yes," he said, astonished. Why would he have visited her otherwise?

"Are you going to say anything besides yes?"

"Yes," he joked. She didn't seem amused.

"Rorschach, I haven't seen you in two weeks." Laurie looked away for a moment and bit her lip. "Do you know how bad I felt? I mean, considering the way we left things when you ran off that day, I thought I had done something wrong."

No, of course she hadn't. He had committed wrong by leaving that day, he knew that now.

"Nothing," Laurie sighed. "Not even a yes?"

"I'm sorry," he said, in a low voice. "I shouldn't have left."

Laurie's face softened, but it also made her look tremendously sad.

"I care about you a good deal, you know that?" she told him with a slight tremor in her voice.

He cared about her too. She had no idea.

Rorschach could only nod. Laurie made a small gasping noise and turned away. Her hands were on her mouth and her shoulders were shaking. Rorschach paused for a long moment, not sure what to do. He was sure she was crying, but he didn't know how to comfort her. He thought of something to say, but words were just not with him that day. Finally he approached her and put a hand on her shoulder, marveling at how delicate it was. She reached up to touch his hand, her fingers sliding up his glove and to the exposed flesh of his wrist. Her fingers were soft and also damp from tears. Heart breaking, he reached around to put his arms around her. She quickly turned to face him and returned the hug.

"I'm sorry," he told her again, and kissed her ear through his mask. She nodded, chin on his shoulder. He could hear her struggling to breathe through her tears.

"It's okay," she said, sighing deeply.

They held each other for a long while, and Rorschach tried to concentrate on how she felt against him, how she smelled. If she hated him now and they had to part ways, at least he would have this memory for him to look back on.

"Rorschach," said Laurie, finally, as she pulled away. She wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to smile. "Are we good now?"

"Yes," said Rorschach quickly, though he wasn't entirely sure what she meant.

"All right," she said, nodding. She smiled at him again. "Do you want to stay here for a while?"

"Need to go crime fighting," he told her.

"Of course," said Laurie. She looked very tired. Rorschach was worried that he had offended her.

"Good night, Laurie," he said, as he started for the door.

"Good night, Rorschach," she sighed again and attempted another smile.

Rorschach tried not to look at her as he left. If he did, he would feel compelled to stay. He hoped that he hadn't damaged what was between them beyond repair in his seemingly abrupt departure. He had left something, however, and he was embarrassed to be there to witness when Laurie discovered it. He was hoping that all would be right once she saw; more than anything hoped that she would understand what he was trying to tell her.

On the kitchen floor of Blake's home, Rorschach had left Laurie's note behind.

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To be continued...