It was a quiet, pleasant morning. As the sun's soft glow peeked through the bedroom window of Sam and Sandra Hollis. The light fell upon the latter's face, and she stirred, smiling faintly. After a minute, her eyes lazily opened, revealing her "husband" lying across from her, sleeping peacefully. Her smile grew, and she quietly untangled herself from the sheets and crawled out of bed. She silently reached for a yellow silk bathrobe that had been haphazardly tossed into a chair the night before, when they had been more concerned about other things that didn't require clothing. The robe had been a gift from Sam on Valentine's day. She had laughed uncontrollably when she opened the box. Before she had become the Sparrowhawk, she had worn a costume very similar to this, though it rode considerably higher around the legs. Sam had laughed, too, knowing she had understood the joke, and they had kissed.
That was nearly nine months ago. Now, Sandra slipped the robe on over her otherwise nude body and tied the sash around her waist. Usually, Sam was the first to rise, Nite Owl though he was. Even when she awoke first, he was quick to follow. Today, though, it looked as if he was utterly worn out. Last night had been a little… energetic. Her smile changed suddenly into a smirk. She owed him some coffee when he woke up, at least.
Silent as shadows, she slipped out of the bedroom and down the hall into the kitchen, where she scooped some fresh grounds into the top of their new coffee machine, and poured in the water. She placed the pot back onto the heating plate, and checked the calendar. It was the twelfth, a Sunday. Maybe they could go for a walk later, it was bound to be a beautiful day.
When the coffee was nearly ready, Sandra went to the cabinet and pulled down a pair of yellow ceramic mugs. A sound from the doorway made her turn, on guard- an old habit. It was only Sam, wearing his own flannel robe.
"I thought I smelled coffee," he said, stifling a yawn. As Sandra took the creamer from the fridge, he looked at the calendar, much as she did. October twelfth. An osprey stared at him from the photo on the top half, with startling gold eyes. He looked quickly away from the photo, turning his attention to Sandra. She was rummaging through the cabinets.
"Something wrong?" She paused, and looked over her shoulder at him, dark hair cascading down her back.
"No. I just can't find any- wait!" She pulled a round tin from the shelf. Sam took half a step back. "I didn't know we had these," she continued, placing it on the counter. Sugar cubes. "Sweet Chariot" sugar cubes. Sam turned silently to a different cabinet, and pulled down a bag of sugar as Sandra poured them both coffee.
"One or two?" She asked, hand hovering over the tin. Sam gently took the tin from her, replacing it in the cabinet next to a can of beans, and gave her the bagged sugar instead.
"Sorry," he apologized compulsively. She looked at him, confused. "I can't use them."
"Well, I-"
"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't, either." A little stiffly, Sam took the mug of black coffee and headed to the table. Sandra felt a twinge of anger, but suppressed it, instead leaving her own coffee on the counter and sitting down across from him. She reached across the table, grabbing his hand.
"What's wrong?" He stared at his bitter coffee, hesitating.
"It's been a year," he finally said. Sandra frowned. "Since he was here."
"Who?" She asked, lost.
"Rorschach." Her heart sank as the old ghosts came out.
"Oh, Dan-" His true name slipped out before she could catch herself.
"A year ago, I came home to find him right here-" He pointed at his seat. "-eating a can of cold beans. Came to warn me about the mask killer, Laurie."
"He warned me, too, Dan, but I don't let him haunt me!"
"You don't understand," he muttered, and looked back at the calendar. The osprey stared at him, cold but familiar, with those black blotches marring the immaculate white of its face, perfectly symmetrical…
"Help me understand," Laurie groaned desperately, clutching his hand harder, trying to lend him some warmth.
"I was his only friend, Laurie. He came to warn me about danger, and all I could think was 'I wish he would steal food from somebody else. Who's going to clean up this mess?' He probably cost me a hundred bucks in sugar cubes alone, over the course of one year…" Tears stung in his eyes. "And when Jon- when he died, what did I do? I hid his mask and his hat away in the closet. They're all that's left of him, and I hid them away, like something to be ashamed of." Laurie was speechless. She barely felt her own tears rolling down her cheeks. "Even worse- even worse, I let him walk out of there, out into the snow, and I knew they wouldn't let him go. Even though nobody in the world would believe him, I knew they wouldn't let him go."
"It's not your fault, Dan," she whispered, rubbing his hand between hers. "He would have gone anyway, you know how he was!"
"Maybe you're right," he said, still refusing to make eye contact with her. "But I could have been a better friend while he was still around. Maybe if I was, maybe he wouldn't have- wouldn't have- oh, dammit!" He pulled his hand free and covered his face, hiding from her pitying, worried gaze and calendar osprey's glare. Laurie rose, and hurried around the table to embrace Dan, rocking him comfortingly like a mother does her child.
"Sometimes," Dan finally continued, "When I'm coming home alone, or when I wake up in the middle of the night… I half expect him to be sitting on the couch or standing in the door. Sometimes I expect him to do what he always did- say barely enough to hold a conversation, eat my food… Like friends. But the other times, I expect him to come in and kill me, you. For the 'good of the nation.'" Laurie squeezed him tighter, crying harder than she ever expected she could over Rorschach. "He was the best of us."
"Wh-what do you mean?" Laurie asked, suddenly perplexed.
"We may have been the people's guardians, but he was their friend. And it took them until now to figure that out. Remember when they published his journal?" She nodded silently. It had been morbid; she stopped reading after the first paragraph. "He was the best of us, and he didn't even get a headstone to prove he existed. No epitaph to declare who he was." Laurie sniffed, dried her tears, and gave him a final squeeze.
"Dan… It's a beautiful day. Maybe we could go visit Hollis." It was only a twenty minute walk to the cemetery. It would give them time to wind down.
"…I think I'd like that, Laurie. I think I would."