Ch. 34

Walter returned to work after calling Ozymandias. The rest of the day seemed to move at a snail's pace, and Walter had to struggle to stay awake. He caught himself nodding off at some point, and was grateful for Mr. Petersen's age -- the old man was fast asleep in the corner. Of course, this didn't let Walter off the hook; he couldn't just drop off to sleep because his employer was napping. In fact, he would have to remain even more alert now to make sure the customers were tended to. Walter thought about Laurie. Worried would be the better word, actually. He worried about her. It wasn't that he didn't think she would be fine physically; she would be safe with her parents with her. No, he was worried about his promise to see her and how she must think that he was in some sort of trouble or assume he didn't deem her important enough to bother with.

Well, if she was, you would have visited her.

"You're the one who wanted to investigate this case," Walter said aloud, before he realized he had spoken. He looked over at Mr. Petersen, who was still snoring away.

Walter paused for a moment, but the voice didn't come back. Relaxing a little, he laughed at himself. He was starting to hallucinate from his lack of sleep. He was also not thinking clearly, either, he realized. He should have called the hospital to leave Laurie a message when he had gone out to call Ozymandias. That seemed so obvious to him now he felt very stupid for not thinking of it at the time. No, he just needed sleep, that was all. Maybe after he saw Ozymandias, he would go visit Laurie at the hospital, then he would just call it an early night.

But this Agent Orange was out there, being his sick self, killing more people -- maybe even this very instant. Whatever Ozymandias' excuse for letting the maniac run around like he did, Walter couldn't have any of it. There was a big part of himself that wanted to see this Agent Orange stopped, even if there was a small -- very small -- part of him that said it was all right; he was only killing criminals, wasn't he?

Walter was shocked. He shouldn't be thinking like this. Those men, the dead men -- Underboss, the others -- they dealt drugs, and that was a criminal offense for sure, but they didn't deserve death. He couldn't imagine anything that would warrant such a harsh response. He wasn't against the death penalty for extreme cases, but when it came to laying down the law in such a serious manner, Walter felt such cruel methods of punishment were unnecessary.

You have to admit that sometimes killing is the only way to effectively stop those who won't hesitate for anything else. True, but that should only be a last resort -- killing to protect yourself, basically -- anything else should be taken into the law's hands. You've seen the law, how corrupt the system is. So many criminals go away unpunished, only to walk the streets and start over. We are supposed to aid this city. We do things that are beyond the police, do the things that they can't themselves because of their restraint. We don't have to go anywhere beyond that.

Walter jolted awake. He had been hovering around the brink of slumber, snapped out when a customer entered the shop. Walter stood up to attend to him. Mr. Petersen was still asleep in his seat in the corner. Walter saw him and envied him for a moment.

After the shop was closed, Mr. Petersen complained of arthritis and left Walter to clean up. By the time he was done, he was so late he had to run home to change, then run out again in order to meet with Ozymandias in time.

Rorschach arrived at the meeting place five minutes late, but there was no sign of Ozymandias. Instead, there was a man standing in a long coat with his hands in his pockets. Rorschach eyed him suspiciously for a moment before he realized that this was Ozymandias.

"Oh, hello," said Ozymandias, as Rorschach approached him. He was standing as if he was extremely cold.

"No costume?" asked Rorschach.

Ozymandias looked pained. Close up, he looked as if he hadn't had any decent amount of sleep for a long time.

"I think it's better this way," Ozymandias told him.

"You haven't quit, have you?" Rorschach asked him in a rough tone.

Ozymandias seemed surprised at that question. He stared at Rorschach for a long while before answering.

"No," he said finally. "I don't believe I have."

"Then what is this?"

"It's hard to explain, just...what do you need to know?"

Rorschach contemplated grilling the man further, but he decided against it. The case was more important, anyway. Fellow crime fighter or not, he didn't know this man very well, and under normal circumstances, he wouldn't find much to talk to him about.

"Why have you stopped investigating?" Rorschach asked.

"It's, difficult, really," Ozymandias said, wincing. "I shall have to set aside my pride and admit that I couldn't handle the case any further."

Rorschach watched Ozymandias as he spoke. The man looked twitchy and paranoid as he was currently, but when he talked his eyes shifted subtly and Rorschach knew he was hiding something.

"Let me ask you this," said Ozymandias, "Why are you going after this man?"

"He's a murderer that should be stopped."

"And do you understand his motivations for murder?"

"Yes, but still bad."

"But don't you feel that him targeting the very people we are fighting against justifies his murders just a little?"

Rorschach hesitated. There was something twisting inside him, and he could feel his mask moving. Strange, he had never been able to feel it before, but now there it was, shifting across his face and thoroughly bothering him. For a moment he contemplated tossing it off, call it a day, sleep and not wake up for a few days until all this had died down. Was it wrong that what Ozymandias had said rang some form of truth in him?

"You met him, haven't you," Rorschach observed. It wasn't really a question.

"Yes," said Ozymandias, looking relieved, somehow. "Yes, I have."

"Produced a convincing argument, I suppose."

"Very convincing."

"You need to find him and stop him."

"I... I can't." Ozymandias had his eyes closed.

Rorschach almost grabbed him by the collar and flung him against the wall. No, this was a man of words. Reason would work better than force. Rorschach would lead by example.

"Have notes?" Rorschach asked.

"Yes -- yes, I do -- but not with me, I'm afraid."

"Give me your notes."

"Are you really considering--"

"Yes."

Ozymandias studied him for a moment.

"All right," he said, finally. He took his hand out from his pocket; in it was a key. "Follow me, then."

Rorschach was pretty sure he knew where Ozymandias was taking him, but he was nonetheless surprised when they arrived at his apartment. Ozymandias' apartment was just as small and unappealing as Rorschach's was. Rorschach wondered about the man who felt no shame in showing a virtual stranger a place such as this. Inside, the apartment seemed humble, and on second thought it didn't seem so bad. Just sterile-looking, even for a place that existed in a dank neighborhood. Ozymandias left Rorschach hovering near the doorway as he stepped into another room.

"Here we are," said Ozymandias, as he re-emerged holding a folder. "That's all I have."

Rorschach nodded as he flipped through the files. Papers, hundreds, most of them with Ozymandias' neat handwriting, and some pictures; articles.

"It's kind of funny really," Ozymandias said, his eyes never moving from Rorschach. "There was a time when I would have jumped at the chance for you to help me with this case. Now I wonder if I should even pass it on to you."

"He's just a man. Men like him should be stopped."

"Are you taking your partner with you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"In the hospital."

Ozymandias looked mildly alarmed. Rorschach realized it was the most emotion he had seen him convey.

"What happened?"

"She was stabbed last night. At the general hospital now."

"I'm sorry -- you must be worried."

"Yes." Rorschach paused. "I found a murder scene. Killer Agent. Got Underboss."

Ozymandias was silent. His face went ghostly pale as he looked up at Rorschach with haunted eyes.

"He gave you a note, didn't he?" Ozymandias said, coming closer.

"Yes."

"God," Ozymandias turned away, and all Rorschach could see was his profile. When he turned back, his eyes seemed wide with a near-madness that disturbed Rorschach. "You need to stop."

"Can't."

"No -- don't you see? He wants you to find him; thinks this is some kind of twisted game. You have to stop playing it."

"Not playing a game, just doing what's right."

Ozymandias gave an aggravated sigh and started to pace the room.

"He's testing us, all of us, having so much fun," said Ozymandias, nearly raving in this state. "Thinks he'll gain something out of manipulating us, doing this, all this and strangely enough it all makes sense."

"You're capable of defending your own. How did you not apprehend a man like that?"

Ozymandias shook his head and gave no answer.

"Maybe it's better to just for once let the police handle something like this," Ozymandias muttered.

"We should all join the police force then," Rorschach joked.

"Wouldn't that be a sight," said Ozymandias, though he rewarded Rorschach with a bitter laugh.

Rorschach hovered for a moment, not entirely sure what to do. Then he nodded to Ozymandias and left without another word.

The outside air seemed cool and fresh and invigorating after the stench in Ozymandias' apartment. It wasn't any physical smell, but a strange mixture of fear and repressed anger. Whatever it was that the murderer had done to Ozymandias, it scared him to no extent and also angered him beyond any emotion Rorschach would expect from the man. Rorschach had to drag himself from his train of thoughts to direct his focus on visiting Laurie. He crouched outside the hospital building, wondering if he could possibly scale it. He could -- though with some difficulty. He briefly cursed Ozymandias and his fancy grappling hook and had a very odd and brief idea of stealing it from him. He pushed that thought away and climbed to the third floor, to where Laurie's room had been. He walked on a ledge and peered around a window. Inside was an old man with a nurse checking over him. Rorschach crept past while avoiding detection. He looked in another window, where a man lay in bed with what looked like his family around him. They were too busy talking to one another to notice him. Rorschach finally reached Laurie's window and looked inside. Her damn mother was there, of course. Rorschach cursed inwardly to himself and waited more then half an hour for her to leave before he gave up. At some point he had almost decided on storming in, but he imagined Laurie would have an angry outburst at him not visiting her in the morning as he had promised, and it made him cringe to think of Sally Jupiter watching over this with a smirk on her face.

Rorschach made a note to stop by at a later time and made his slow way back down. He returned to his apartment and contemplated sleep, but no, Agent Orange was out there -- why had they given him that name again? He had to be found. If he was indeed playing a game and trying to getting his attention, then it should be relatively easy to get to him.

Rorschach sat at the table and didn't even bother to take off his mask, though it bothered him. Working was easier this way. He started reading through the papers that Ozymandias had compiled. Ozymandias' notes were insightful and observant, though at times they went on for far too long, and even bordered on becoming philosophical musings as Ozymandias detailed his theories behind the murderer. Initial notes for motives and studies of his method of killing followed. At some point Rorschach came across a note that was in a different hand. He recognized it -- it was the Agent's scrawl for sure. Rorschach recalled Ozymandias' question to him (He gave you a note, didn't he?) and realized that this was a note Ozymandias himself had received from the man:

"Midnight neighbors similar DESIRES

in finding EVIL to punish might I show you

something

exceptional in NATURE ? it is a difficult process to

beat

the longing and desire to

do

the RIGHT THING and I beg to question

will morals conquer necessity"

Another polite smile at the end. Rorschach shook his head and folded the note and left it under his cabinet with the first. He sat back down and continued to read again. Ozymandias' notes seemed to get choppier at the end, as if he had been rushing to finish, though if he had come to any conclusion he never wrote it down. After the notes came newspaper articles, and Rorschach read them as part of his duty more than anything else. He doubted he would find anything in them, and he didn't. Nothing he didn't know already, anyway. It was close to midnight when he finished with Ozymandias' file. Rorschach stood up and wondered if he should go to bed. He willed himself to go on instead, and went out into the night.

Rorschach started to wander, though in his mind he had some purpose. He revisited the locations of the murders, trying to see through the killer's eyes and not really liking what he saw.

Rorschach found himself in a residential area, a few blocks from where a mafia don had been murdered in his home. He was tired. His mind was racing with facts and details, but his body was really starting to wind down. He realized he had been awake for nearly forty eight hours. So weak.

"No," he said, and shook his head a little. "Just tired."

Yes, he was so tired. He turned his head and paused. He was in a garden, and in it were many bushes, one of them holding a single rose. Rorschach approached it. Even in the moonlight it was a brilliant red, and very deep in bloom. He ran his gloved hand over the petals, and the water droplets that had been resting on the surface trickled down into inner grooves. Rorschach watched the glistening drops for a long while in pain before he finally registered it. It must be because he was tired. Looking around, he reached up and cut the rose at the stem and pocketed it. He looked around, feeling utterly exhausted. He laughed to himself as he imagined lying right down on the ground where he had been standing and going to sleep in the street like some hobo. No, he should push forward; it was no big deal, just sleep.

Rorschach allowed himself to think about Laurie again. Briefly he wondered how angry she was with him, and if she hated him now. Part of him wanted her to hate him so he could beg for forgiveness and see if she would take him back. Another part of him panicked at the thought and that hurried him along back to the hospital, where he stood and stared up at the building for a long time. It was around three in the morning now. Laurie wouldn't be awake. But if he went home and went to sleep, he might not wake up in time to see her before he went to work. He climbed the walls again, though this time the windows were dark as he sneaked past them. He climbed into Laurie's window, looking around the room first to make sure her mother hadn't decide to spend the night next to her daughter. Laurie was alone, and he felt relieved.

Laurie was fast asleep when he approached her. He watched her for a moment, feeling pained again. He wished that he could stay here with her so she would wake up and find him there and he could tell her he hadn't forgotten about her. There was just something important -- very important -- that needed to be done.

Rorschach took the rose out of his pocket and looked at it carefully. It wasn't damaged, though the dew was gone from it now. He set the flower down carefully next to the bedside table and turned to leave. He was halfway out the window when he heard Laurie gasp.

Rorschach turned. In the moonlight he could see Laurie staring at him, eyes wide with fear.

"Rorschach?" she said, looking instantly relieved.

Feeling a little ashamed, Rorschach stepped closer.

"Yes," he said.

"Rorschach, why didn't you come to see me?" asked Laurie. "I thought you were hurt or in some kind of trouble."

Rorschach stepped even closer.

"I was investigating the killer Agent case," he told her.

"You could have called," she said, softly. Rorschach noticed that she didn't even seem angry; just very disappointed.

Rorschach came to her bed. He felt his vision swim, and knew it was the damn mask. It seemed to be constricting him, somehow, suffocating him. It made it hard for him to think. He took off his hat and set it on the bedside table on top of the rose. The mask, however, he tossed aside onto the floor next to him. See how you like it, he thought.

"I'm sorry," Walter told Laurie.

Laurie frowned a little.

"Ozymandias came by for a visit," she told him. "He even said you mentioned me. Couldn't you stop by, at least, before you went out for the night?"

"I had to look into the case," Walter explained. The words sounded hollow when he said them. Her bed looked very inviting from where he was standing, so he climbed into it.

"You promised."

"I'm sorry, very sorry." Walter said. His face was close to hers so he kissed her. "Please forgive me."

If Laurie had given him a reply, he didn't hear it. He had only meant to rest for a moment, but he fell asleep.

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To be continued...

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Author's Note: Thanks again, Vaudeville! Your fluff ideas really help this story from going down into a pit of angst and depression.