1977, the early winter frost was creeping slowly up the drafty windows of Daniel Dreiberg's small Manhattan town house. The bit of sky Dan could see between the skyscrapers was quickly fading from vivid orange to a dusky blue. He glanced down from the window to a copy of the gazette on his work desk in the corner. The headline glared back at him definitively: "COSTUMED HEROS OUTLAWED". Daniel sighed slowly and turned to leave the bedroom. He passed the mirror on his way out and paused. The man looking back at him wore a light green button-up shirt, brown tie and glasses. He attempted a smile, but instead looked away from the perfectly normal man in the mirror, the unpleasant sensation of guilt rising in his chest.
Reluctantly he headed down the stairs to his kitchen. His hand touched the door to the basement but he stopped, turned quickly on his heel and proceeded to the lower cabinet nearest the fridge. Reaching to the back he pulled out a half full bottle of Jack Daniel's, and quickly unscrewed the cap. He took a heavy swallow, the smoky-sweet fiery liquid burning pleasantly. Almost instantly he felt a vague calm, it wasn't enough but it helped. Feeling only slightly emboldened he faced basement door and proceeded down the stairs.
Daniel knew is partner was waiting down there. Rorschach would want to hear it from him. Dan felt his pulse increase. He had gone over the whole dialogue repetitively from the moment he woke too only seconds earlier, but he had no idea what to expect from his wild-card partner. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he froze, paralyzed by the very familiar black and white face staring eerily back at him. The silence was heavy as lead.
"Hello Daniel…" The undeniable raspy voice finally cut through the deafening quiet.
"Hello Rorschach" Dan replied slowly.
"No,…No costume I see…." Rorschach whispered, his hesitation making the hairs on the back of Dan's neck rise.
"No." Dan stated as firmly as he could manage. "Did you read the gazette?"
"Yes…but thought…" Rorschach paused and looked at the ground. Daniel was immediately taken aback. This man, his partner, the terror of the underworld, appeared to be faltering. " Thought…part about you might…not have been from you."
"I'm sorry Rorschach, but it was from me. The anonymous tip to the press about Nite Owl's retirement was sent by me."
Rorschach nodded and looked back at the floor, hands in the pockets of his leather trench coat. Daniel couldn't believe how small he looked. The masked vigilante was not a tall or large man, not even close, but most of the time his attitude more then accommodated. Now however, the usual fierceness was replaced with the appearance of a rejected child, who had clung to a singular hope only to have it destroyed in front him.
"I'm sorry…" Dan apologized again. Rorschach did not respond. " I, I cannot become a criminal for these people. They don't give a damn about us. They don't appreciate what we do, I won't have the cops and the villains chasing me Rorschach. Not for this ungrateful city." Dan finished his piece, proud to have got it out, to have said what he intended to.
"Don't need appreciation…Don't need payment… not a prostitute…" Rorschach muttered just above a whisper.
"Its not about payment! Its about the risks we take for a city who doesn't even want us! Those risks just doubled Rorschach! Its not worth it!" Dan retorted, his fists clenching, heat surging to his face.
Rorschach responded quicker this time, a touch of his usual ferocity returning to his gravely voice. "Don't care if we are wanted! Only know that we are needed. Cannot surrender on account of political idiocy!"
Rorschach's resolute response only succeeded to push Daniel's patience to its limits, and his composure shattered. "Damn it Rorschach! You stubborn son of a bitch! You are going to DIE out there! You know that?! There will be twice as many people after you, and I won't be there with Archie to save your ass! You're insistence on carrying out this ridiculous charade for these ungrateful masses is going to be the end of you!" Dan exclaimed, his whole body shaking with frustration. Rorschach stared back, his expression unreadable beneath the drifting black splotches. Daniel continued furiously, horrible memories welling up inside him. "Do you remember anything about that night two years ago? Oh wait no,…you were unconscious for most of it!" Daniel spat the last line with a sarcastic bitter edge to his words.
"Remember some…" Rorschach responded quietly, the insecurity creeping back into his posture.
"Well I remember all of it… I remember your blood everywhere, all over the floor of Archie, all over me, all over half the Bronx!" Daniel snapped causing Rorschach to flinch slightly. He glared at the black and white face, every second of that horrible night flooding back, clear as the frozen night air.
***
Run, run, run…
1975, A vigilante who called himself 'Nite Owl' was rushing down a dirty street in the south Bronx. A cold rain was falling, making the ground slick with mud and liquefied street scum, but Nite Owl ran as fast as he could. He was carrying another man in his arms, clutching him close to his chest, another vigilante, his partner; Rorschach.
Run, run, run… Nite Owl repeated under his breath like a mantra. Don't look back, just go, keep going… Rorschach was delirious, moaning slightly, rambling nonsense, but his body was growing more loose by the second and his voice fainter. Damn it… We were so stupid…so stupid….never should've gone in there… it was a trap…There had to be at least thirty in that warehouse….stupid,…stupid… Damn it! Nite Owl cursed his poor judgment over and over as he desperately charged down wet and slimy allies, the echoing voices of his pursuers growing louder behind him. Rorschach's head flopped lifelessly to the side and Nite Owl responded with a quick adjustment of his grip so that Rorschach's head rolled back against his chest instead of drooping off to the side. "Hey!! Hang in there okay! Don't pass out on me! We're almost there man,…just a little further…I gotcha…just stay with me okay?" Nite Owl pleaded to his failing partner.
Finally Nite Owl could see 'Archie', his owl inspired hover ship, in the abandoned lot where they had left it. Run, Run, RUN!! Nite owl's chest was on fire, his lungs burning, but he could hear voices behind him, closing in. Nearly within firing distance. "ARCHIE, OPEN THE DOOR!!" Nite Owl screamed as he came within yards of the craft. The small light on the door turned blue signaling that it recognized his voice, and the door opened. Nite owl clutched Rorschach tight to his chest and made a final dash to ship, leaping through door. "CLOSE THE DOOR!" He shouted frantically as he came to an exhausted halt inside the cabin.
Nite Owl laid Rorschach down as gently as he could on the floor of the Owlship before rushing to the controls. His mind racing, he took the ship straight up, hearing the loud pings of bullets against the armored exterior. He gasped for air, desperate to catch his breath as he steered he ship out over the East River, safe from harm. Wasting no time, he set the craft to hover and turned on the fog screen. For the first time he was able to relax enough to assess his surroundings. He looked down as his hands and to his horror realized they were covered in blood up to his elbows.
"Rorschach!!" Nite Owl rushed to where he had laid his partner, kneeling beside him. He grabbed Rorschach's hand and squeezed it tightly. Normally such a gesture would be out of the question, Rorschach usually cringed away from affection regardless of how innocent it may be, but Nite Owl wasn't thinking about their usual boundaries now. A dark pool had formed around his fallen partner and was continuing to spread ominously across the floor. Nite owl set down Rorschach's hand and began to frantically undress him. "Daniel…what…what are you doing?" Rorschach's delirious groan came as a welcome assurance to Nite Owl that his partner was in fact still alive. "I need to see what's been done to you,…I need to bind these wounds, you're bleeding out everywhere…" Nite Owl responded as he pulled off his friend's shredded suit jacket, shocked to see the white shirt underneath was completely red. Unbuttoning the sticky shirt he gasped at the damage before him.
There was a small black bullet hole is Rorschach's right shoulder, oozing blood profusely over his chest and neck, but that was not what immediately caught Nite Owl's attention, causing his vision to spin, and his head to feel light. It was an ugly knife wound that ran all the way from the left pectoral to below the navel, splitting in places deep enough to reveal his partner's internal workings. Nite Owl felt suddenly very sick, the urge to vomit rising heavily in his gut, but he swallowed hard, his brain forcing back the creeping insanity; the urge to scream and turn his back form the horrific scene before him. He could still hear Rorschach's painful labored breathing, he was still alive, Nite Owl could've give up on him yet.
Shaking uncontrollably, Nite Owl reached for the medical case and pulled out a roll of gauze. He stared at it helplessly then back at his friend, bleeding uncontrollably before him. It wasn't enough, he could stitch wounds and remove bullets, but right now, he just needed to stop the bleeding and even the large plush roll of gauze in his hand wouldn't come close. Tears were growing hot in Nite Owl's eyes, his throat clenched. This was beyond his ability to fix, but still he desperately wrapped the hemorrhaging body, using all the gauze and then Rorschach's clothes. He absently noticed another gunshot wound in Rorschach's left thigh as he removed the pinstripe pants to use as bandages. He bound it tightly, What's was one more hole in this man's body… Nite Owl thought in an almost detached way as he tied the shredded cloth securely. When he had done all he could, Nite Owl slumped down next to the blood smeared body on the floor, dressed only in haphazard bandages, underwear, and a dirty black and white mask. Rorschach's breathing grew softer and he had stopped moaning. Nite Owl swallowed hard, tears running down his nose, the bitter reality of their profession spread out before him. Why do we do this…?
Only seconds had elapsed before a sudden shock ran through him, one last ditch effort to save his partner, his friend. He sprang for the controls, fumbling for the communicator. Feverishly, he entered Silk Specter's frequency. He rarely worked with the other vigilantes but tonight there was one he desperately needed.
"Laurie! Are you there Laurie?! Help! I need Help! I Need---" Nite Owl was cut off by Silk Specter's quick response.
"Dan! What's wrong!? Dan!-"
"I'm fine, I'm fine, I need Manhattan now! Rorschach's down, Laurie, it s bad, its really bad, he's dying here. Send Jon! There's no time, we're over the East River!"
"Oh my God Dan,.. Jon!! Nite Owl and Rorschach! Over the East River, They need hel---"
Silk Specter's voice was cut off suddenly by a loud CRACK. Almost instantly there was a flash of dazzling sapphire light, and it was as if God had materialized before Nite Owl; tall, muscular, nearly naked and entirely blue. Dr. Manhattan turned his shining white, star-like eyes to the fallen vigilante at his feet. He lifted the unconscious Rorschach off the floor with a slight motion of his hand. "Go home Dreiberg. Laurie is waiting for you. I'll meet you there in three hours and twenty-four minutes." Dr. Manhattan spoke in his usual manner, calm and serenely detached. It sent chills down Nite Owl's spine.
"Wait!" Nite Owl stopped the imposing blue figure just before he turned to teleport away, "Please…respect his identity, I've never even seen his face completely…if he survives, and finds out others saw him…he'll never forgive me for letting it happen." Nite Owl knew the request seemed ridiculous at a time like this, but he also knew it was the truth. Dr. Manhattan smiled ever so slightly and was gone with another azure burst of cosmic light.
Nite Owl did as he was told and returned to his townhouse. The weight of the night bore down on his exhausted body as he limped up the stairs to the his kitchen. He lifted his head to see Laurie, still in her Silk Specter costume removing a squealing tea kettle from the blue gas flame. "Dan!" She rushed over, embracing him warmly. Her hands rubbed his back gently and she spoke soothingly to him as if she knew exactly what he needed to hear. "It's going to be okay Dan. You did your best. Things like this are risks we face in our profession. Rorschach knows that."
After Nite owl had changed into his pajamas and robe, he sat down at his kitchen table, sipped hot black tea, and vented the horrors of the evening to Laurie. "We've both been outnumbered and beaten up before, but never this bad…It was a poor judgment call. All our preparation had told us that there should only have been ten guys left in that gang. What we didn't count on was all the other criminals with a vengeance. I recognized some of them, they never ran with that group before. They teamed up to get us. We showed up and realized immediately that it was a trap. We just needed to get out, but they were on us, they had guns, knives, you name it. I was shot square in the gut, but my body armor held. I have a nasty bruise, but it'll be fine. We were fighting for our lives in there, just trying to get out. I just needed to get to get a fog bomb off, but I couldn't get a chance to detonate it. It was a frenzy. Then it happened so fast,…I heard shots, and a scream that sounded like Rorschach. I managed to break free from the group around me, I detonated the fog bomb, somehow smashed through the swarm that surrounded Rorschach, scooped him up and got the hell out of there."
Laurie smiled at him across the table. "I know you might not feel like it now, but you seriously are a hero Dan. That's incredible. Sounds like you really held your own." Nite Owl blushed and smiled sadly. He shook his head and took a sip of his tea before responding. "Nah… Rorschach is twice as fast as me. He's incredibly fierce, like a little pit bull. The only reason I'm okay and he's all messed up is because I wear body armor…and maybe because I play it safer. Like I said, he's a pit bull, doesn't always think before he attacks." He gazed at his reflection in the teacup for a while before looking up a Laurie and forcing a smile. "I guess that's why the Rorschach and I make a good team. I do the thinking, he does the dirty work."
The hours past slowly, The two finished the pot of tea and moved on to wine. Laurie vented some of her own grief about being the second Silk Specter, Nite Owl listened intently, happy to turn the subject away from his misery for a little while. Precisely three hours and twenty-four minutes later they were startled by a loud CRACK, and brilliant flash coming from the living room. Nite Owl leapt to his feet, dashing out of the kitchen. Laurie followed, though not nearly as hastily. Dr. Manhattan stood in the center of the room, his presence the same as always; powerful and striking, yet quietly sedate. He held in his arms a smaller man, dressed in white cotton hospital pajamas, with a peculiar black and white mask over his head but rolled up to the nose.
"Is he alright…?" Nite Owl asked, his eyes fixed on his unconscious friend.
"He will be. I took him to the military base and gave him a blood transfusion. I have removed the bullets and sealed the wounds, but they will need time to heal fully. He also has multiple cracked ribs and a concussion. He will need time to recover. I sedated him for now. Keep his mask above his nose, he needs air." Dr. Manhattan replied calmly, as if it were just another day's work.
"Did anyone see him…?"
"No. Only me, I carried out your request"
"You…you saw his face?"
"When I examined his skull for fractures. It does not matter, it was a meaningless face to me, I do not know the man."
Nite Owl nodded sadly, somewhat disappointed that Dr. Manhattan had been the first to see the face of a man he felt only he truly knew. He decided immediately not to share the knowledge that Dr. Manhattan has seen his face with Rorschach when he woke. Nite owl reached out and took the limp body from the glowing blue man. His partner felt icy cold but alive.
"I need to get him wrapped up,…he's freezing." Nite Owl exclaimed in surprise at Rorschach's chill skin.
"His temperature is low. He lost a lot of blood. I was able to replace enough to keep him alive, but not even close to all he lost. There was a shortage of his blood type at the base."
"Thank you…"
"You're welcome Dreiberg, Laurie and I will be going now." Manhattan replied impersonally, and extended a hand to Laurie.
In a blink they were gone and Nite Owl stood alone in his living room, Rorschach's cold sedated body in his arms. He carried him to the spare bedroom and laid him down on the fresh sheets. Before covering him with a quilt, he paused to look at his partner. Rorschach was a small but tightly muscled man with pale freckled skin. "Who are you?" Nite Owl wondered aloud as he pulled the blanket over his partner, his eyes falling on the half masked face. "Well, I know one thing you are…" He sighed exhaustedly, and patted Rorschach's shoulder. "One lucky bastard."
***
1977, Only the sound of water, dripping in the dank abandoned subway tunnel which once served as the Owl Ship runway, broke the silence. As the last of the memories of that terrible night lingered in his mind, Dan felt the momentary rage ebbing away like the ocean after a storm surge. Rorschach stood motionless, head down, the brim of his fedora hiding most of his face. Finally he lifted his fluid black and white face, and spoke in a low measured voice. It if he was trying hard to contain something.
"You were a good partner Daniel…I know,… I was not always so good."
"Rorscha--" Dan started.
"It was good working with you… would liked to have worked together longer… but, good time while it lasted." Rorschach finished, and turned away heading towards the tunnel.
"Rorschach!! Please! Don't go out there alone,…please rethink this! Dan called after his ex-partner. There was no more anger in his voice, only despair. Rorschach did not answer, instead he walked steadily into the underground depths of the city, the inky blackness devouring him as he faded from view. "Rorschach!!" Dan shouted desperately to the tunnel, but only his echo answered. Defeated, he slumped to his knees and wept openly, all his guilt rising to the surface. Guilt for abandoning his city, guilt for abandoning his dreams, and guilt for allowing his best friend to walk alone into the blackest night.
***
Four months later.
The sound of the bubbling coffee maker finally quieted , signaling the brew was complete. Dan rose from where we was seated at the kitchen table, scanning the morning paper. He paused to look out the small kitchen window as he reached for the coffee pot. It was another dismal spring morning, cold and miserably rainy. It was 8:00 am, for years he rarely saw this hour, but now things were different, he was like everyone else. He filled his mug and returned to the newspaper. It reminded him of the article he needed to deliver today; an assessment of New York City's pigeon population . To most it seemed like a laughable thing to be writing about, but it was a job, something he was good at, something to keep his mind off other things. Sadly, his mind never stayed off the other things for long, especially as of late, and this morning's paper offered no consolation.
The crime rate had gone up in the last few months, especially crimes against the poor or otherwise 'unimportant' population. The police focused a lot of energy on the high profile crimes, apparently thinking nobody would notice if a cab driver was murdered for his tips, or a homeless woman was raped in an ally. At first it gave Dan a kind of twisted pleasure to think that the absence of his kind actually made a difference, but that faded quickly to shame for not being out there protecting the victims as he had once done. There was another thing that nagged at Dan, even more so the rising crime; his ex-partner had disappeared.
Rorschach was very active after their last meeting despite the new law. There was a story about him almost daily, although they didn't paint him as a hero anymore, regardless of how horrible the crime he managed to stop was. He was just another criminal now. In the spite of the grim headlines, Dan welcomed news about his former partner, at least it meant that he was still out there. Lately however, the headlines were gone, save one in which the writer proposed possible reasons for the vigilante's sudden disappearance.
The lack of Rorschach sightings was like a nagging headache to Daniel. He could manage to function around it, but it was always there. He knew Rorschach better then anyone, and though he desperately wanted to believe that maybe the vigilante had grown weary fighting alone and simply quit, he knew in his heart that Rorschach was too far gone for that. When he had watched him walk away that night four months ago, the blackness enveloping him as he disappeared down the tunnel, it became clear that who ever Rorschach had once been, whoever was under that mask, he had been devoured by the black and white face never to return. There was only Rorschach now.
With this in mind Dan knew that left only two possibilities, one bad the other worse. He was either injured or dead. Dan was taken back to incident in '75. Rorschach had been out of commission for nearly six weeks, half of which Dan had forced him to spend at his home where he could look after him. That was a weird time… Dan thought to himself with a nostalgic chuckle. Now it was just three weeks since the last reported Rorschach sighting. A broken bone took longer to heal then that. It felt strange that Dan was hoping his old friend was badly injured, but it was better then the alternative.
Dan finished his coffee and set down the paper. Nothing, no sign of him. He thought dismally. No Rorschach, but a plenty of sickening reports of rapes and muggings, burglaries and murders. With a long sigh Dan got to his feet and looked out the window again. The rain had slowed to a misty drizzle. He decided now would be a good a time as ever to deliver his article, and maybe pick up some groceries, he was out of snacks. He rose quickly and reached for his coat and hat.
The city stank of dampness and decay as he stepped out into the gray morning. New York never smelled good when it rained, especially when it had been raining for days, but despite this Dan decided to walk to the New York Gazette office to deliver his article. It wasn't too far and he felt the need to stretch his legs, he didn't get out nearly enough any more. He walked swiftly down the uneven sidewalk, trying to think of mundane things, normal things like what to make for dinner, or if he wanted to rent a movie to watch tonight. He'd think about these things for a minute or so but eventually something; a homeless man on the corner, a newsstand papered with forbidding headlines, or some gang related graffiti scrawled across a once clean wall, would send him spiraling back . This isn't my fault… Why should I have to suffer and risk my life? For them? For him? No. That's not fair. I've given enough.
Dan could feel the foul sensation of guilt rising again in his chest. No…., I will not feel this way!, I don't have a fucking thing to be ashamed of! he cursed himself, biting his lip angrily as he walked. The rain drops felt heavier. "Damn it… why didn't I bring an umbrella…" he swore under his breath, turned up his collar and quickened his pace. Feeling irritated with all his surroundings, Dan paid little attention the other pedestrians as he hurried through the city, if they didn't want to be knocked over they could move out his way. Dan used to hated people like that, the type who rushed down the streets selfishly, moving for no man, woman, or child. Most of New York was like that, and now so was he. The walk light was a flashing orange hand. If he made a dash for it he'd make it across before the traffic moved. He went for it, bursting into a full run. As he leapt a massive puddle along the curb is left shoulder clipped a man waiting on the other side hard.
Dan felt the impact against his shoulder, he heard the desperate stumbling foot falls, the loud 'clack' of something being dropped, the splash that followed, and a painful grunt. He heard all this, but for a split second he almost kept going. His bitterness willed him to not care, but he couldn't let it take hold of him. Dan spun around to see who he had knocked over in his self-centered haste. Instantly, in the very pit of his stomach, came a rush of sickening responsibility as his eyes fell on the pitiful individual before him.
It was the local 'prophet of doom' as many referred to him. He was a sorry shadow of a man with a pale haggard face and untidy ginger hair, often seen around midtown with is handmade wooden sign predicting the end of the world. Though likely suffering from some mental illness he was a decidedly harmless resident hobo. The man was on his back in the filthy grayish water in the street gutter, his sign a few feet away. He was trying with a great deal of effort to get up, and Dan noticed that his right arm was in a homemade sling.
"I'm so sorry!" Dan fumbled to help the injured man, uncontrollable guilt seizing him. His body was light, and Dan easily lifted him to his feet, only to notice him wincing terribly and favoring his left leg. "Hang on, I'll get you your sign…." Dan retrieved the sign and made sure the man had a good grip before he released it. The hobo swayed slightly before recovering his balance, and leaned heavily on the sign post. Dan stared at him for a moment, wondering how he got the injuries, but he didn't wonder long. He's small, sickly, no apparent family, and probably mentally ill… an easy target… assaulted, beaten, robbed of whatever pitiful cash he had… Dan felt sickened. There was nobody to protect a man like this now. Nobody cared, he could've died wherever his attackers found him and there wouldn't be a cop on the scene until the body began to rot. Dan then realized with a chill that the man was staring back at him, eyes fixed, and there was something odd and unreadable in his expression, something raw and painful, something deeper then the situation should merit.
Dan looked away feeling somehow penetrated and uncomfortable. He fumbled for his wallet and pulled out all the cash he had on him, about one hundred and fifty dollars. He extended it to the man with a trembling hand. "Here…Take this, I feel terrible for knocking you over…. Get yourself a good meal, or see a doctor." The thin weathered face stared blankly at the money then back at Dan. "Please take it." Dan was pleading now, unable to stare back into the strange depths of the vagabond's face any longer. "I just want to make things right." At the uttering of those words it was as if something cracked in the odd expression and the intense eyes appeared suddenly tired and defeated. The man motioned to his breast pocket with a nod of his head. "Oh! geeze, yeah I'm sorry!" Dan faltered realizing the man was supporting himself with the sign and his other arm was injured. "Here you go, now just be careful, alright…these streets aren't safe." Dan said as he discreetly slipped the money into the hobo's pocket.
"Thanks." the man whispered as he turned away and limped slowly across the street. Dan watched him go and couldn't help but feel that there was a profound sadness in that simple reply. A hopelessness likely attributed to the entirety of his regretful life. There was no gesture Dan, or anyone else, could offer that would save him, he was alone. Dan signed despondently and continued on, all the way thinking; Rorschach… Where ever you are…This city is lost… The Watchmen are gone…
*end*