Disclaimer: Watchmen belongs to more creative souls.
To a point, Rorschach could understand what Daniel was going through. Blaire Roche had been killed only six months previous, and he still beat himself up over it. But when Daniel saw the gruesome reality of child murder, he didn't have the same reaction Rorschach had. Instead, he became a wreck and turned to the bottle. Rorschach saw alcohol as a menace and loathed what it did to good men. He didn't want his partner to change because of what happened. Daniel was more pure than anyone he had ever met, and Rorschach wanted it to stay that way.
Blaire Roche's death felt like it had happened either years or only days ago, depending on his mood. Although, for the most part, Rorschach could function normally—what he had deemed as his new "normal"—and didn't let it interfere with his work. The similarities in the case of the twins' deaths had brought back a sick feeling that weighed heavy in his gut, but he had already learned how to move past that. Daniel didn't have the experience.
Emily and Richard Borden were twins, aged 10, and had been missing for five days. They were known as little terrors to everyone who knew them, even their own parents, and some neighbors cruelly stated that they were glad to be rid of them. Not surprisingly, the reason for their disappearance was unknown. Although, a few had suspicions that the twins had wandered off in rebellion and got lured away by a pervert.
Rorschach was furious with how people were treating the case, especially when the memories of Roche were still so fresh in his mind. Without notifying Daniel, he began searching out leads, going to every bar and hotspot he could think of until he got a tip about a hermit who lived near the docks. Once Daniel was in on the case, he wasn't taken aback by Rorschach's commitment to finding the Borden twins, clearly holding in any comments about possible outcomes. He did voice his confusion on taking the lead seriously, as the man wasn't a known child molester, didn't even have a record, but Rorschach insisted on following through.
They chased the man around a maze of identical buildings, catching him rather easily, since he wasn't exceptionally clever or fast. As they walked to his current residence, an unused storage unit, the criminal started sobbing, begging for his life. Rorschach had a new reputation of extra brutality in the past six months, and the man probably figured the police wouldn't find him alive. But the masked vigilante only continued to drag him along the wet pavement.
When they entered the building, the stench hit them hard.
Rorschach could handle gore; he created it half the time. Daniel, seeing the body parts strewn across a large desk, immediately vomited and didn't stop until his stomach was completely emptied and he was left gagging. They had interrupted the man's work, a bone saw still halfway through the hip of Richard Borden, while the girl had already been cut into fourteen jagged pieces.
Upon seeing the grisly layout of the room, Rorschach became more than enraged. And when he caught a glimpse of Daniel's expression—sick helplessness with the onset of misery slowly pulling his face taut—out of the corner of his eye, he wasted no time in throwing the murderer towards the desk, grabbing a knife, and slitting his throat. After the man gurgled his last breath, Rorschach turned to Daniel, about to suggest that they contact the authorities, but he saw that his partner was visibly shaking. He observed him for a short moment before robotically finding a dingy sheet with which he covered the bodies, silently apologizing for being too late.
Rorschach had become desensitized to every act of violence, with the exception of crimes against children, after Kovacs closed his eyes for the final time. But Daniel was still far too emotional, something that showed through after many of their patrols. The shorter man always expressed his objection to that aspect of his partner, but he secretly enjoyed the balance between himself and Daniel. In some way, it helped him remember what a normal person's reactions were to events such as this, and it kept just a sliver of Kovacs alive. Having emotions was a weakness, but not having any at all was just as damaging.
Walking back over to Daniel, Rorschach calmly said his name, hoping just his voice would be enough to snap him out of it. The broken man only continued to stare at the floor, although his shaking had subsided. After some time passed, Rorschach awkwardly settled his fingertips on Daniel's shoulder.
"Oh, r-right," he said quietly, his voice sounding forced. "Archie." Daniel fumbled with his belt to get the remote, dropping it several times before he managed to turn it on.
Frustrated, but inwardly empathetic, Rorschach grabbed the device from him and hit the necessary buttons. Then he dragged Daniel to his feet and nearly shoved him out into the open air, a cold gust blowing in their faces. Rorschach knew the cold would do Daniel some good, help him get his bearings.
By the time Archie hovered nearby, Daniel was coherent enough to get himself onboard, much to Rorschach's relief. "Will fly ship," he stated as he took a seat in the pilot's chair.
"I'm okay," Daniel responded weakly, pushing his cowl and goggles back.
Rorschach only grunted as he let the authorities know the location of the twins and their murderer. It took him a moment to remember how to operate the complex machine, and after pushing a few wrong buttons and giving a jerk on the steering column, he finally got Archie soaring above the buildings.
Neither said a word the entire trip back. Rorschach occasionally glanced at his partner and saw him slumped him in his chair, staring out of Archie's eye. He hoped the man would get over it soon, but he knew that was extremely unlikely. All he could really hope for was that Daniel wouldn't turn into someone like himself as a result.
Archie settled in the Owl's Nest with a clunk. A part of Rorschach was surprised he had managed to make it back without needing any assistance. He'd only flown the airship two or three times in all the years since he first stepped onboard.
Then he turned to Daniel, who was still completely silent and didn't make to stand. Rorschach had done his part, gotten the man home. Now he just needed to heal, something Rorschach had no intention of interfering with. Healing was best done alone. Although, according to Rorschach, nearly everything was best done alone.
Not bothering to even snap Daniel out of his trance, Rorschach exited the airship and made his way down the tunnel to go home. He knew he wouldn't be getting much rest, not with the nightmares that were sure to plague him—and there would be nightmares—but his body was beginning to protest. Simply lying down would suffice. Perhaps he'd skip playing Walter for the day.
Looking back on it, Rorschach knew he should have helped Daniel, even if just by being a physical presence. He wondered how long his partner sat in Archie, how long before he dressed himself in civilian clothing, how long before he vomited again. Rorschach could relate to Daniel's pain, but they handled it very differently. In a way, that pain made Rorschach stronger, more insightful into human nature. But for Daniel, it only made him pathetic.
The next night, Rorschach went to the basement and found Archie sitting lifelessly, pieces of the Nite Owl costume scattered about the floor and up the stairs, appearing to have been thrown rather than dropped. He stood there for a long moment, debating whether to go patrolling on his own or to see if Daniel was alright. But his feet started moving on their own, and he soon found himself standing in Daniel's kitchen. He wasn't going to help. No, he was only going to make sure Daniel was still sane and breathing.
After finding no sign of life on the first floor, Rorschach headed upstairs. He took each step with deliberate slowness, not sure if he wanted to see what he'd find. Eventually, Rorschach stood in the doorway of his partner's bedroom. In the dark, all he could make out was the form of someone sitting on the edge of the mattress. His hand hesitated at the light switch for a minute, somewhat disturbed that Daniel still hadn't acknowledged his presence. When he flicked it on, Daniel squeezed his eyes shut while blindly reaching for his glasses on the nightstand.
Rorschach's eyebrows rose slightly under the mask when he took in Daniel's appearance. His face was sickly pale, and his hair looked as though it were trying to escape his head, locks sticking out every which way. He was hunched over and dressed only in a raggedy pair of blue sweatpants. This was nothing like the cheery, albeit sometimes irritated, Daniel Dreiberg that Rorschach was used to.
"Yeah, I'm . . . not in the mood to go on patrol tonight," Daniel said, almost inaudibly, as he stared at the wall.
Alright, Daniel was sane and alive, even if he hardly looked it. So why was Rorschach rooted to the floor? Something in him made it impossible to move his feet, to leave this sad excuse for a man and go clean the streets of scum. It took an amazing amount of willpower to finally back out from the doorway, and when he could no longer see Daniel, it felt like someone had a hand in his chest and they were trying to pull his innards through his ribcage. The feeling startled him so badly that he didn't go back to see his partner until five days later.
By that point, it was clear how much the images of those dead twins had been haunting him. Daniel had stopped shaving and looked like he had only bathed once, maybe twice. The stink of alcohol hit Rorschach's nose and made him wince, as if the smell had physically assaulted him. Beer bottles littered the counters and table in the kitchen, and Rorschach slowly walked passed them to stand in front of the man who he could barely recognize.
"Daniel."
"Rorschach."
He could pick up anger in Daniel's tone, the type of anger he knew all too well. This had to stop before it got any worse.
"You have been drinking."
As if to emphasize Rorschach's obvious statement, Daniel took a swig from the bottle in his hand. "So?"
"Not good. Better man than this."
"Who're you to judge? Y'beat an' kill people," he retorted as he stabbed Rorschach's chest with his index finger. "I don' need one of yer lectures." Daniel finished the bottle and glared at the shorter man accusingly. Taking a step forward, he whispered maliciously, "You don' even care. It doesn't bother you cuz you've seen it all b'fore. Y'just brush it off an' keep walkin' like the callous bastard you are."
His partner's harsh words combined with his alcohol breath flipped a switch in Rorschach's brain. Without any warning, he swung his fist into Daniel's face, sending the man careening to the floor. Rorschach didn't even let what happened register with Daniel before he picked him up by the collar and rammed him into the wall.
A thousand words were spinning like a twister in his head. He was so furious that he didn't even know which ones to grab onto and hurl at his disgraceful partner. Instead, he just pushed Daniel into the wall for a few minutes, the inkblots on his mask shifting faster than they ever have. It wasn't until Daniel started blinking rapidly, fear etched into his face, that Rorschach let go and took a couple steps back, panting with rage. He saw the dropped beer bottle out of the corner of his eye and grabbed it. He stared at the cracked object in his hands for only a moment, then threw it into a far wall, making the taller man jump.
The fear in Daniel's eyes seared into his brain with almost as much agony as if he were actually burned. He knew he had to get out of there before his anger reached dangerous levels, but he wanted to make sure Daniel understood. Stepping up to him again, he repeated, "Better man than this."
With that, Rorschach spun on his heel and exited down into the basement, hoping that the next time he'd see Daniel it was the Daniel he considered to be a friend. He had no idea what he'd do if the man was still a drunken mess.
Three nights later, Rorschach found himself walking in the tunnel that led to the Owl's Nest. He wasn't sure if his outburst had done anything at all, but he could no longer ignore the voice in his head that spoke of the many "what if"s. Once again, he convinced himself that he just wanted to make sure that his partner was still alive.
When he heard clattering at the end of the tunnel, the nervousness he hadn't even realized was there calmed down somewhat. His pace slowed until he was just on the edge of darkness and his eyes scanned the open area, finding nothing. Stepping into the light, he caught movement coming from under Archie.
Daniel's head popped out, and Rorschach's body relaxed ever so slightly. He was clean-shaven, and his eyes were no longer bloodshot. He looked so much like himself that Rorschach almost thought it had been some horrible dream.
Crawling out while rubbing his greasy hands on what must have once been a white cloth, Daniel awkwardly approached the shorter man. "Hey," he said lamely.
Rorschach remained silent, still observing his partner as if waiting to be disappointed.
Daniel looked off to the side, now fidgeting with the rag in his hands. His eyes were downcast, and a slight pink color rose to his cheeks. He attempted to look Rorschach in the face a couple times, but instead, he settled his gaze on the man's scarf.
"I'm . . . " Daniel struggled with his words for a moment, and Rorschach patiently waiting for him to form a sentence. "I'm really sorry . . . about how I acted. I said some things I didn't mean and . . . God, I'm just so embarrassed. I've never let myself get that bad. I don't know why I let it disturb me so much. I mean, I . . . I've seen horrid stuff like that before."
"Different with children," Rorschach stated quietly.
He finally looked at him, the hint of a smile starting to pull at the corners of his mouth. "Y-yeah. I guess you'd understand that better than anyone. I just . . . Thank you, Rorschach. I have no idea how long I would've continued down that path if it wasn't for what you did."
"Result not solely dependent upon my actions. Should not be thanking me as if I had helped you. Merely reacted to what you said."
Daniel's smile faltered for only a second. Closing his eyes, he shook his head and took a step towards him. Opening them, Daniel said gently, "I know you well enough, Rorschach, and if you want to pretend that you hadn't meant to help me, that's fine. I just want you to understand how grateful I am."
There was something about the look in Daniel's eyes that made him ignore the comment on "pretending." For a brief moment, it sucked Rorschach in and left him wondering, who was that detestable man wearing Daniel's skin only a few days ago? It nearly made him feel ashamed for leaving his partner to deal with his trauma alone.
He supposed that just this one time, he could admit to himself that he truly did care about the man. Sometimes, when his thoughts settled on the subject for a little too long, it scared him how much he cared. It forced himself to put even more distance between them, which proved to be quite difficult in the weeks following Roche's murder. After Daniel finally got him to say what had happened, he was far too attentive, something Rorschach didn't need in the mess that were his ideals and his identity. But a small part of him always appreciated Daniel's efforts to be amiable, especially when he knew how frustrated Daniel got because of him.
It took Rorschach a minute to realize that Daniel had extended his hand towards him. Stiffly, he shook the proffered hand, not sure why Daniel hadn't just squeezed his shoulder like he usually did in similar situations. Maybe he finally understood that it felt too intimate to Rorschach and was respecting his wish for personal space. Although, the handshake was just a second longer than necessary, enough for Rorschach to notice. He never dared to question Daniel's actions when it came to their unusual relationship, and he wouldn't now either.
Once Daniel let go, an air of awkwardness settled in, neither knowing how to advance. It took Rorschach a moment to remember why he always came to the Owl's Nest.
"In the mood for patrolling this time?" He wanted to punch himself after hearing the hopeful tone in his voice. To make up for it, he quickly added, "Unless have another excuse to be indolent."
Rather than being angry, his partner gave a short chuckle, as if knowing that Rorschach was only trying to cover himself. "Sure. I need to get out. But let me just finish this repair work on Archie first. It'll only take another ten minutes or so."
Rorschach was never one to waste time sitting around, but he could be patient when he wanted to be. Ten minutes didn't sound too bad when he knew that Daniel would be coming out with him that night. He would never verbalize it, but he missed having Daniel by his side during fights. Not that he couldn't handle thugs and dealers by himself. Rorschach just felt more secure in knowing that if he went off the deep end, there was someone there to reel him back.
Nodding, the shorter man took a seat on a nearby workbench as Daniel made his way under the owlship again. After he started hearing the clangs of tools, and a mild swear from Daniel, Rorschach began looking around the large basement, not having taken in the sights in a good year or two. He could see various new gadgets, some finished and some given up on and tossed to the side, and also a few items that looked familiar. The prototype exo-skeleton caught his eye, and the events from that night flashed through his mind.
"Why do you keep something that doesn't work?" he asked, pointing to the looming machine as if Daniel could see him.
"Huh?"
"Exo-skeleton broke your arm."
"Oh, I, uh, guess I can't bring myself to get rid of it," Daniel called out from under Archie's belly. "It's something I built." Rorschach could hear the shrug in his tone.
"Too sentimental."
He narrowed his eyes at the faulty piece of machinery, remembering Daniel's howl of pain and his own brief moment of panic when he couldn't get his partner detached from the cruel metal.
"Yeah, I guess. Hey, could you hand me the soldering iron? It's in a case by my tool box."
Rorschach turned around to face the table and opened a case he assumed to be the correct one, but he found many devices contained within. The only thing Rorschach knew about tools was that they made decent weapons. Rather than take a guess at which one was the soldering iron, he took the entire case over to Archie and slid it under.
Daniel looked at it in confusion for a second before smiling apologetically at him. "Sorry, I forgot you wouldn't know what it looks like."
Still crouching down, Rorschach tipped his fedora back to get a better view of Daniel and watched him work for a minute before bringing up the earlier subject. He had to make sure history wouldn't repeat itself, like it's wont to do.
"Alcohol thrown away?"
Daniel stopped moving, then slowly looked at him, his eyes unfocused. "Yeah," he replied softly. "I usually only keep a few bottles in the house, but I got rid of it all."
"Was more than a few bottles, Daniel."
"Well, I had . . . I had gone out to the store." He paused, looked to the floor as if he couldn't make up his mind on what to do, then finally got himself out from under the airship. Kneeling beside his partner, he continued, "You know that I'm not a drinker. I can count on one hand how many times I've gotten drunk, completely smashed. You really don't have to worry about that happening again."
Rorschach watched him as he began to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, looking every bit like a child who was caught doing something he knew he'd be punished for. He could understand being upset after having to witness the barbarity of child dismemberment, but Daniel had taken it to a new level. Becoming a drunken abomination was not an acceptable response, and he wanted to make sure Daniel knew how strongly he felt that.
"Will want nothing to do with you if it does. I hope that is an incentive," Rorschach stated coldly as he stood in one fluid motion. "Should finish repairs."
Daniel looked up at him in something akin to horror. Before Rorschach could take his seat at the workbench, Daniel scrambled to his feet and grabbed hold of Rorschach's arm. "Yes, of course that's an incentive," he said earnestly, squeezing his arm tighter. "You must think so poorly of me, and I don't blame you. Just please know how appalled I am by my actions. I'll never lose myself like that again. You're my friend, the only one I really have right now in this mess of a country, and I – " His mouth slammed shut, and his eyes darted around the basement. After taking a deep breath, he looked directly into the shifting inkblots, radiating confidence. "And I don't know what I would do without you."
Rorschach froze, confusion and disgust mingling together, torturing him to the point where he almost wanted to throttle the taller man. If he took the words at face value, it wasn't a big deal, but the tone that Daniel had used when saying them made all the difference. It felt like Daniel wanted him to read between the lines, to understand just how much he cared about him, and Rorschach didn't know how to handle it. Half of him wanted to shove the man away and start ranting about filth and degenerates, but the other half . . . He couldn't think about that other half. It went against everything he was, and he refused to let it take control of him.
Suddenly, Daniel's confidence vanished, apparently having worn itself out. "I mean, I – life would be pretty boring without you around." He gave a nervous laugh, looking, and probably feeling, like an idiot.
It was a pathetic cover-up that did nothing to lessen the odd mixture of emotions swarming inside of Rorschach. It wasn't until Daniel became quiet that he realized the man was still holding onto his arm. One emotion took over, beating the others down into submission, and allowed Rorschach to relax with Daniel being so close that he could practically feel his body heat. Or maybe that was his own that had been on the rise for the past few minutes. But he couldn't keep his guard down for very long, and he soon tensed up again under Daniel's touch.
"Arm," Rorschach stated, the tension bleeding into his voice.
Daniel stared at him stupidly for a moment before he looked down and jumped back, apologizing and trying to hide the blush in his cheeks. "I'll, um, finish the repairs now."
Rorschach didn't give any indication that he heard him, only stood there as if he were pretending to be a stone statue. It wasn't until everything in his head stopped screaming at him that he finally moved, stiffly walked back to the bench, though he didn't sit. He furiously tried to wipe Daniel's words from his memory, but every time he did so the same feeling from days before would assault him, making him want to clutch at his chest as if he were having a heart attack.
"Are you alright?"
Daniel's concerned voice made Rorschach's entire body stiffen to the point where it hurt. Then he realized just how long he'd been standing there. Daniel was in the process of packing up his tools, looking at him with genuine worry.
Rorschach merely grunted in response as he shoved his hands into his pockets and made for the stairs. He had run out of sugar cubes the day he saw Daniel drunk, and he hoped that maybe it was some bizarre version of withdrawal that was responsible for the emotional disaster he had just suffered.
After he entered the kitchen, he located his target and went in for the kill. But the tin was too light when he picked it up. Opening it, Rorschach nearly groaned when he saw that it was empty. Already in a bad mood, he slammed the tin on the counter, his other hand forming a shaky fist. He desperately needed to go out and deliver punishment to the city's filth, break a few fingers and maybe snap a few necks.
"Whoa, relax," Daniel said from behind. Rorschach hadn't noticed that he was followed. "I just didn't refill it. There's a bag in the cupboard above you."
Rorschach slowly, almost suspiciously, reached up to open it. His taut muscles loosened just slightly when his eyes fell upon the green bag.
"Jesus, you're more uptight than usual. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, Daniel," he growled, pouring half the bag's contents out onto the counter.
His partner sighed, and Rorschach could see him run a hand through his hair in his peripheral vision. "I'm sorry. I know it's my fault. I had naively hoped you wouldn't take that badly, but, god, I've known you for ten years. You'd think I'd get it by now."
Rorschach paused in yanking his mask up. He could tell how much Daniel was regretting it, and regret was something he was intimately familiar with. He supposed it was alright as long as Daniel understood.
"Sometimes it's hard to believe it's been that long," Daniel continued quietly, somewhat wistful. "I can still remember our early days, back when we took down the Big Figure. Things felt so much simpler then."
Suddenly, that foreign emotion returned, giving Rorschach a sense of calm. He couldn't comprehend it, but he didn't fight it. Instead, he lifted the mask to the bridge of his nose and unwrapped a cube. Before plopping it into his mouth, he said evenly, "I remember." Thinking about it, the only person he knew for longer than ten years was his mother—no, Kovacs' mother. He knew that Daniel, his only friend, would beat out her spot.
Friend.
Rorschach had already known Daniel thought of him as such, but he didn't know that he was his only friend. Daniel was sociable with everyone, save for the criminals they encountered on their nightly patrols. He thought the man had plenty of friends whom he had acquired throughout his relatively normal, happy life.
Although, with today's events, along with other instances that were popping up in his mind, Rorschach couldn't help but wonder what Daniel's thoughts were on their partnership. It wasn't like Rorschach could grasp any of it, him having just barely more understanding of human relationships than Dr. Manhattan, but it still set an uncomfortable mixture of warmth and nausea in his gut.
"You know what was nice? You didn't kill people." There was no accusation in his tone. He was merely voicing his thoughts. "As much as that bastard deserved it, you really didn't have to kill him."
Rorschach looked at Daniel as he chewed, savoring the sweetness on his tongue. He knew he didn't have to say it. He killed that man not only for justice but for Daniel as well.
Daniel stared back at him through weary eyes, his hand too close to his own on the counter. "You didn't have to kill him," he said gently.
Looking back to the scattered cubes, Rorschach could hear what his partner meant, what his own hidden meaning was. Daniel didn't want Rorschach to lose himself any more to his sense of retribution. But he was already too far gone, so what did another snuffed out life matter?
"Anyway," Daniel said nonchalantly, "while you stock up on sugar cubes, I'm going to get dressed. I really need to get back into the swing of things. It's only been a little over a week, and I already feel out of shape."
As Daniel went towards the basement doorway, Rorschach abruptly called out to him.
"Yeah?"
He swallowed hard, trying to say the words without letting any inflection betray him. "It's good to see you again."
Daniel smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling a bit. "It's good to be back."
His nausea died down to nothing, comforted by that familiar smile. Daniel hadn't changed. He had broken down into something vile, but he was still Daniel in the end, and that was all Rorschach wanted.