Rorschach climbed through his window.

No. Not his window.

It'll be Walter's window in just a few hours. Dawn is approaching.

He gritted his teeth and breathed heavily under his latex mask. Calling his latest skirmish with the scum of the city that night 'rough' would have been and overstatement. Yet, the events of that night had riled him up. He punched the near by counter top hard enough to make the cabinet doors shake and fought the urge to make anymore noise with his need to express his fury.

Rorschach would have been lying to himself if he called the mixing of emotions coursing through him just a jumble of rage, contempt, and pure blinding disgust.

He groaned and cupped the fist that had just made vicious contact with Walter's counter top.

Lust.

He stripped himself of his gloves, hat, and coat. Usually temperature, no matter how extreme, never bothered him. Now, though, he felt unbearably hot. He roughly popped open the loose floor board and placed the items inside.

Why? Why, did she have to touch me?

He sighed deeply, frustrated with himself beyond measure. He took off his milky white scarf, which reminded of something else that was milky white. He stuffed his scarf into the hole.

Rorschach noisily dragged one of Walter's kitchen chairs out to the middle of the floor. He sat on the small wooden chair, and began untying his shoes. That night's events crept into his thoughts.

3:00 AM. Woman screams.

Drop down from fire escape to find three men surrounding a young woman. One had a knife. Another had a pipe. Third was holding woman by the throat.

Man with knife notices me. Man with knife easily disarmed. Broke his nose. He ran.

Man with pipe is afraid. Attacks wildly out of desperation. Took pipe from him mid-swing. Shatter his rib cage. Will drown in his own blood. Leave him to die.

Strike third man in the face with pipe. Releases woman. Falls to the ground. Crush his larynx with heel of shoe.

Woman is distraught but unharmed.

Rorschach grumbled as he struggled to push the memory out of his mind. He tossed his shoes and socks into the opening in the floor. He stood and took off his suit jacket.

Woman stares at me.

See her tear streaked face as I turn to leave. She grabs my coat. She presses herself to me.

Sobbing she thanks me.

Rorschach stopped unbuttoning his white collared shirt as he turned the concept of 'gratitude' over in his head.

Woman's hold on my collar is surprisingly strong. Grab her wrists. Shove her away. Tell her to go home. Walk away.

Rorschach sat, shirtless, and defeated in Walter's apartment. The heat that rose from his belly into his chest was agonizing. He couldn't get the feel of that woman out of his mind.

The breath underneath his mask was hot. He lifted the brim of his mask over his mouth and set it on the bridge of his nose. It stifled him tonight.

He rubbed his mouth and jaw and tried to think of something else. Anything. Anything but her. Her warm rapid breath in his scarf. The tightness of her grip on him. The light pressure of her body against his chest. That look in her eye as she stared at him. He wondered what look she would give him if he were on top of her.

Rorschach growled. He had to stop thinking like that. Utterly ashamed and disappointed in himself he looked out the window. The sky was violet.

His hands formed tight fists as he looked down at the slight bulge in his pants. Fighting off his primal urges didn't seem like an option tonight.

Rorschach moved the chair back to the kitchen table. He sat, elbows on the wooden tabletop, head in his hands. Feet pressed firmly to the floor he clenched his jaw and stared hard into the wood grain of the table. He couldn't stand to look down at himself as he began stroking his groin with one hand.

He pressed gently down on his trousers. He could feel his erection growing. He nibbled slightly on his bottom lip as he reached underneath his waistband. He fondled himself for a few moments, a thin sheet of sweat forming on his upper lip. As he licked his lips he unzipped his pants. He sharply took in air as he pulled his member from its pinstriped prison. The window was still open and the cold night air came as a shock to him.

He brought his other hand to his mouth trying to quiet himself. He wrapped his fingers around himself for the first time in months. The sensation dragged small strained sounds from deep within his chest.

He moved his hand up and down around his shaft, squeezing slightly, making his abdominal muscles tense. That woman crept into his thoughts again.

She clutches my coat collar. Forehead resting on my chin. She's shaking. Can feel her breasts pushed firmly into me.

Rorschach tried to suppress a moan. Failing, he bit into his hand. It'll leave a mark.

He quickened his pace. The chair creaked under him. He found himself getting annoyed. Annoyed over that woman. Why did she have to thank him like that? Why did she have to thank him at all?

He grazed his thumb over the tip making his hips buck. He breathed heavily. He ground his teeth deeper into his hand, grunting.

Rorschach felt himself getting close. The sky was a creamy orange color now. His body was rigid, tense. Rorschach hated Walter for letting such brief contact with a woman get to him like this.

Whore.

No… Not her fault.

He hastily ripped his mask from his face. The heat building in him was torture. A few sweat slicked red locks of hair stuck to his forehead. He ran his free hand through the unkempt tresses. He bowed his head and groaned, climaxing.

Walter felt the warm slick liquid drip over his knuckles. He put his forehead down on the table and closed his eyes, sighing. He hated himself for being so soft, so weak.

It was Rorschach who started. It was Walter who finished.