A/N: This story takes place as if Laurie, while still keeping in contact with Dan, decided not to stay with him. The events of the graphic novel will not be largely changed otherwise, I will make this work. I am a sincere fan of Watchmen and will try to do the graphic novel justice. Although Rorschach is not a fan of Laurie, as I hope you can see here, I want to establish more of a backstory in later chapters. This will not be a fluff piece, for that would be to go against both of their characters. It will be Rorschach/Laurie eventually, and I will try my hardest to keep them in character.

Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen or any of the characters.

Enjoy!

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He, Daniel Dreiberg, had to be one of the most foolish men on the planet.

Slowly closing his front door, he leaned against its reassuring frame, distrusting his own legs.

He had stood there on his faded stoop, smiling pleasantly and waving goodbye as if his smile wasn't about to shatter behind closed doors. His voice had remained light and lively as he sent her off into the chilly night, bidding farewell to the dark-haired woman as she headed down his quiet street. With her skills, Laurie was as safe as anyone could be, it wasn't that which gave him pause. No, he, Dan Dreiberg, had let one of the few opportunities life had given him slowly walk away.

The urge to run after her, to beg her again to stay, was strong within his chest. But being who he was, his feet refused to move and his mouth remained determinedly closed. They had returned earlier than normal from a night with Hollis, Laurie protesting that she still had to find a room for the next few nights. It was at that point that he had offered the guest room on the second floor of his brownstone. His breath had caught in his chest, hoping against hope she would say yes.

She had looked tempted, he had to admit. For a few seconds she almost seemed as if she would agree. And then her smile had faded to a shadow of its former self and she delivered the disappointing news, asserting that while she was grateful for his support, she needed to live on her own for once. To prove she could, she had said.

It had taken a force of will almost as powerful as Rorschach's to keep his smile in place.

Now it took his entire being just to keep from running after her.

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The number on the door matched the one etched carelessly into the key.

Cool and rough to her fingertips, Laurie passed a thumb over the worn grooves and listened to the motel clerk's footsteps retreat down the shabby hallway. He had barely said a word the entire trek up the stairs. By the time they had reached the third floor, the huskily built man had gone absolutely silent, only the sound of the soft wheezes in his chest reaching her ears. Definitely a smoker, some corner of her mind whispered, and probably terminal.

The poor man. Or at least she liked to think of him as such; for all she knew, the dark-haired guy had murdered ten people under the auspices of some greasy back alley. While this wasn't the worst part of town, it still wouldn't surprise her. Nonetheless she preferred to give people the benefit of the doubt.

Most people anyway.

Some just weren't that deserving.

Brushing aside her souring thoughts, she turned her attention back to the still closed door. The floor, as much as she could tell by the relative silence, was largely empty. Apparently as luck would have it, the clerk had had one of the better rooms ready and open for the right price. Lucky her; the old, tired motel beat the seedy sex hostels a few blocks down. No matter how much Laurie wanted to get away, places like that were simply out of the question. She stared at the door as if it would unlock on its own.

Besides her overstuffed purse, the one bag she had thought to pack rested on the floor behind her. A blouse or two, trousers, jeans, and a few other necessary items made up the list of contents. All things considered, she was probably set for three or four days. The only thing was, she had a feeling her stay would turn out to be quite a good deal longer. She didn't need Jon's knowledge of the future to know that.

No doubt another visit to the lab lay in her future too, and with any luck it would be brief and final.

A sigh left her mouth before she could stop it, a habit she had thought eradicated long ago. It didn't fit a crime fighter, her mother had said; one must always have poise and discipline. Yet it couldn't be helped, and she had more pressing problems. Reaching for her bag, she straightened and slid the key into the lock. The metal had to be forced some, a few of the tumblers no doubt on the border of rusted in place, but the abused contraption yielded eventually. Splintered and stained wood swung inward at her touch to reveal a room that had probably seen better days.

The carpet gave up little eddies and puffs of dust like bursts of some toxic pollen in a field of flowers as she walked to the bed. Well alright, it required more imagination and energy to envision than she had at that moment, but it made a nice picture nonetheless. It trumped looking at the heavy curtains and bare taupe walls at least. The room wasn't necessarily as horrible as she had imagined given the motel's location in the city, yet it wasn't what Laurie was used to.

But then again, wasn't that the reason she had left – or one of them anyway? To escape the status quo that did nothing but disappoint again and again and again?

Sinking slowly onto the faintly sagging mattress, she let her bag fall at her feet and her hands came to rest in her lap. This abrupt change was stirring in the way things weren't the past few years. Life at the research base had flat lined to a dull monotony, one based on routine and a lingering feeling she still harbored for her lover. That had faded though, or was fading, spurred in part by his growing detachment from both her and life itself. If he wanted to drift from this world, so be it. She refused to do the same.

Laurie had been a protector of the innocent for years and look where it had gotten her. If she had any say in the matter – and goddamn it, she did no matter what Jon claimed– she wouldn't add accomplice to the savior of humanity to the list. To a woman accustomed to heavy burdens, she had found one she could not shoulder.

After all, the world could end tomorrow. Following a life of being a puppet on another's strings, the last thing she wanted was to die bearing such a burden and under the control of another. To be honest, she wasn't entirely sure if she could even live without someone else.

It was time to learn; she owed that to herself.

When she had walked out the door yesterday, she hadn't known exactly what she would do. She hadn't known where to go, having few friends to call upon. In the long run, or what she could see of it anyway, that didn't seem to matter. Her first stop had been at an ATM she had found on Broadway, securing just enough for a night wherever she decided to stay. The government had long provided her with a monthly stipend, something about providing 'any and all necessary services to Dr. Manhattan in his work' – whatever that was supposed to mean.

Money secure in her pocket, she had strolled through the streets. Subtle fear clawed at her heart, but it was washed away by a pleasant sort of disbelief. Freedom or something akin to it settled around her figure, the thought that she could go anywhere or talk to anyone without the influence of another was intoxicating. She had moved from the house of her mother into the house of her lover with no pause, no breath of fresh air in between. This was her breath of fresh air, and it was the freshest, dirtiest, freest air she could find. A plan wasn't what she needed. A mentor, a lover, a handler wasn't what she needed right now. Right now the brunette needed to be alone, and this sort of feeling – this grungy, spontaneous feeling sticking to the ribs of this place – was more welcome than the cold iron of the military base or the warm tranquility of Dan's home.

Ah, Dan. Warmth spread through her chest at the thought of his smile. A good man. A good friend.

Perhaps that was why, for all of his entreaties to the contrary, Laurie had said goodnight and walked out onto the street after all. Her heart was full with intentions to see him again, continue to talk to him and grow closer to her old friend in the coming weeks, but live with him she could not. Listening to Dan and Hollis talk, laughing and reminiscing, she had realized that for all she wanted to, she could not impose on his life. In few words he had explained that he lectured on and off for the city college, his forte, of course, being ornithology and the history of bird evolution. The quiet life of the intellectual was a path that suited him perfectly, she thought, all scholarly and cheerful in his sweaters and aviator glasses. He was comfortable the way he was, or if he wasn't he created quite a brilliant charade to the contrary.

The last thing he needed was to be brought into the well of her pain. He had his life and his job. The man didn't need the turbulent waters of another person's break-up flooding his quiet home.

That's what she told herself when she left several hours ago anyway. While nonetheless true, she had to admit it wasn't the full story. When it came down to it, after living with Jon for so long, she needed to be on her own.

Her brow furrowing, she couldn't explain why she had to repeat that thought. It smelled suspiciously of justification, of an excuse, but it was all she had.

Shrugging at the direction her thoughts were taking, she glanced around the room once more. Comfortable if small, homey if drab. No neon or lycra, no stains from unspeakable acts in the night marring the furniture; just a plain old room. Looking out the window at the rampant signs of decay you would probably never know something akin to normalcy existed inside these walls, but there it was. Unlike the garish hovels popping up around it, the only strike against her new home was its age and exhausted nature. This place, this motel, was probably the last refuge anyone would expect of her. Jon might know, yet no one else had to.

How refreshing was it that her mother, not that she made it a habit of calling, would never have approved. Answer, thought Laurie, very refreshing. Even Dan, in the case that he tried to hunt for her out of misplaced chivalry, would never think to look here. At that thought in particular she could not decide if she was grateful or sorry, yet decided that no matter which, it was for the best. When she saw him again, it would be on her terms. It wouldn't be at the suggestion of Jon and it certainly wouldn't be driven by the thought of nuclear war. Perhaps then she could laugh and smile with the two Nite Owls, old and new, and feel like normal again.

Her chest filled with a pleasant calm, glinting like glass.

Here she could figure out how to pick up the pieces of her life. The prospect of being blown to bits as is wasn't welcome. A smile on her face, she glanced down to the key she hadn't realized she was still holding. The numbers etched into the tarnished metal stared back at her.

Room 3006, Empire Motel.

Yes, this would definitely do.

Grin still in place, the brunette calmly rose from the bed, the loops of her oversized purse still around her fingers. Heading for the dresser opposite the mattress, she shrugged off her coat and tossed it on one of the chairs. Always orderly thanks to her mother's chiding, she set about unpacking the spare clothes she had thought to bring. The drawers were thankfully all empty, no hidden surprises just waiting to be discovered. A couple pens lay scattered around in one, but that was all. Blouses were neatly folded and tucked into a drawer, jeans soon following. While it certainly was pungent, the heady scent of cedar was not unpleasant.

Considering that she had bought the room expecting bugs and discarded unmentionables, this was definitely the top of the rock as far as she was concerned. At the rate the clerk had charged her, Laurie had a feeling she had gotten one of the better rooms, not to mention probably cheated for it. No doubt the others would be peeling and sagging, but who was to say. Does an exhausted man complain about the cleanliness of his sheets? She smirked at the thought, knowing full well that she probably knew one or two who would. No names would be named, of course, but if she had to bet… Shaking her head, she stuffed her bag into one of the empty drawers.

Finished in no time at all.

Not that she cared, really. She had no 'hot date,' as her mother used to say. It was nearly eleven at night and she had nowhere to be. Nowhere except in bed and asleep, the voice of reason reminded her. After the past two days, that didn't sound like such a bad idea after all.

She moved to the bed and pulled down the covers before releasing her hair from its confines. Even after she had so deftly put them away, her pajamas would need to be pulled from the drawer and her current clothes slung over the chair. As her hands sunk into the shadowed recesses of the bureau and claimed her prize, she decided she would drop by Dan's tomorrow to show him she was alright.

In the meantime, she would sleep. With any luck the nightmares would stay away.

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The early autumn chill seemed to seep from the ground up. Clawing and biting, it tangled with the shadows in a hideous tableau, cold and indifferent to the suffering of man. This was the streets, a reservoir of all that was filthy in the world. Muggings in dark corners. The flash of a knife or the glint of a gun in the vague illumination of a streetlamp. Splash of blood, thick, red, oozing, on the brick wall as a body slides downward. Whores baring themselves like animals in heat to every passerby, rubbing against prospective clients. People huddled together on the sidewalk; a few of these will be frozen solid by the end of the year. The city shivered as one. The city screamed and rotted as one.

Causing the suffering of so many, the ice could not hurt man like man could. When it came to the race to the bottom, nature could not outstrip man in his lust for cruelty and pain. The steam that rose from the sewers was like the breath of the monster at the city's heart. Somewhere below his feet, it seethed, black and pulsing. The shrieks and keening of its victims filled the abandoned alleys and empty streets. The world shut them out.

Found whore in alleyway. Knife pushed through gut. Looks recent, maybe half an hour. She still smelled of fornication and perfume, laid over the reek of blood.

His shoes whispered over the pavement, dull and worn in the shifting pools of lamplight.

The stench suits her. Disgusting.

His hands, pushed deep into dark pockets, clenched for a moment into fists. The steam from his breath trailed behind him before dissipating into the night. Hands relaxed.

Saw second Silk Spectre with Dreiberg tonight. She is one more distraction to add to his list, one more chain. They went to see Hollis Mason and returned home, stayed on street talking. She checked later into a motel on Twentieth Street. Cannot tell if she has finally left Manhattan or is playing some sort of game.

At the end of the day, it probably didn't matter.

He wanted to say the affair was below his concern, that the streets and the mask killer were his first priority. If the daughter of that over-spent whore wanted to fool around, Manhattan could take care of his own girl. She wouldn't be the first woman to abuse and misuse the confidence of her lover. She wouldn't be the last. It was expected.

The gravel littering the sidewalk crunched beneath his feet, disturbing the eerie not-silence of Lower Manhattan. Icy wind muffled the cries of the streetwalkers and sex show hawkers three blocks behind him. An itch started inside his chest, one that could not be scratched. Irritation and resentment scuttled beneath his skin.

In a place he could not crack open and destroy, he felt the undeniable pull to learn more. Except for its effects on Daniel, he could not think of a more worthless inquiry. He hated it, this distraction.

A flash of movement in the shadows caught his eye, a gasp of surprise – female, young – quickly following.

He was spared having to think more on why.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this. As anyone familiar with my style knows, I like dark, realistic characters and situations. There will be a few flashbacks of sorts later on to the Crime Busters era and perhaps a bit before. I hope I am keeping everyone within character, and don't worry, she still will interact with Dan as expected. I always just thought that she would want to exert her independence from her mother and Jon at least in this small way.

Please review! Points to those who do... In what ways can I improve this?