The retired Nite Owl's cheerful mood hit a bit of a road block when he discovered the second destroyed lock the two days upon his return home. The locksmith had repaired the device less than six hours ago, just finishing his work as Dan caught his taxi to dinner with Laurie. Dan ran a finger along the splintered wood in mild despair. Was it really that hard to come in the back way? Or even kick in a window, at least that he could board up. Propping the broken door closed tightly enough so he felt secure going to sleep in New York City was a chore, one he wasn't particularly looking forward to staying up till three am doing for the second time this week.
He knew he should have been expecting it, really. Should have just left the door unlocked for him. Rorschach had always had a strange sixth sense for picking up when people were talking about him, no matter where in the city he was or what time of day. And Daniel had invoked his name several times in conversations with two separate, and nearly equally disliked by the shorter man, women in the past few hours. He may as well have posted a flashing neon sign asking the vigilante to pay him another visit.
The lack of noise in the kitchen told Dan Rorschach had probably been waiting for a while. He'd had enough time to snoop through Dan's belongings again, eaten something from Dan's cabinets, had a cup of coffee, and done whatever other parts of his visiting ritual there were that Dan hadn't figured out yet. It was with no surprise, therefore, that Dan found the masked man writing dutifully in his leather bound journal, a small pile of dirty dishes sitting on the table before him as he finished whatever thoughts he was putting to paper. Rorschach grunted as a greeting as Dan pulled the same mug he had used earlier from the drying rack by the sink, pouring himself a cup of the coffee Rorschach had made. It was much stronger than what Dan normally made and he ignored his friends disapproving stare, or at least the slight tilting of the masked head he had always taken to be such, as he added enough sugar and cream to the bitter liquid to give cavities to a room full of five years olds. He'd noticed the lipstick stained mug Nicole used earlier was sitting in a different section of the sink than it had occupied when he'd left. Rorschach knew she'd been here today, but Dan would be damned if he was going to make it easier on the smaller man by starting that conversation for him.
Rorschach hadn't finished his journal entry yet, and an odd sense of happiness filled Dan that his former partner still felt comfortable enough to write in it in front of him. It had always seemed somewhat strange that it was Rorschach out of all of them who did sometime as sentimental as record his thoughts in a journal. Though Dan suspected the man did it for far different reasons than sentiment. Keeping a steady record of all activates so no details would be lost when he needed to look back for clues and patterns was his main goal, Dan was sure. But it was nice to think the withdrawn mask did it for some form of personal enjoyment as well. Wishful thinking, probably, but that certainly wouldn't be the worst character flaw Dan had been accused of in the past few days. Equally wishful was the quiet voice in the back of his mind that insisted this was a form of apology for rushing head in against Nicole without even asking for his side of it first, that this small sign of weakness was the only way Rorschach knew how to show he still trusted Dan a little, even if he didn't really know how to trust anyone. It was a nice thought.
The wishful thinking was probably half born from the waves of nostalgia washing over Dan at the scene. He'd been bitter this morning at the past mixing so readily with the present, but here, now, sitting at a table with his old partner after a night of dealing with the two most prominent women from his crime fighting days, he had to admit it was kind of nice. More than kind of, actually. For all the hardship those years had carried, and even with how bitterly they had ended, it brought out feelings of purpose and contentment he'd thought he'd lost the night he hung up his mask. Even the dirty cereal bowl and spoon Rorschach had left sitting on the table made him smile, the lone raisin sticking to the inside of the bowl bringing back memories of those days he hadn't considered in years.
Dealing with Rorschach during the dawn of their partnership had been, if it were possible, even more difficult that dealing with him in the twilight hours of their friendship. That was, Dan knew, more his fault that that of his reclusive partner. Dan had simply expected far more from Rorschach than the man was able to give, even as Rorschach expected nothing from him. Even once Dan had convinced Rorschach that yes, he really could stop by his house whenever he like, and no, Dan wasn't going to wait until he least expected it to stab him in the back or light him on fire, something that had been no small feat in and of itself, there had been the matter of trying to feed and otherwise play host to the intolerably frustrating man. Dan suffered from what Nicole called 'upper class sensibility.' He had been raised to be polite and accommodating to house guests, putting their needs and wants above his own. With people like Nicole and Laurie, women accustomed to getting what they wanted and with little difficultly in expressing what that was, this was an easy task to fulfill. Nicole, in particular, had never had any problem demanding he run to the store and pick up whatever item she needed, no matter what the hour.
Rorschach was a different story entirely. The man would rather sleep in the gutter than make it seem like he even appreciated the offer of Dan's couch. Thus it should have come as little surprise, one night when they'd returned to Dan's house after a particularly grueling patrol of the city, that the only reply Rorschach had to Dan's offer of food was 'Doesn't matter.' Even after several attempts at clarification it had remained the same: Rorschach didn't care what Dan put in front of him. It had been an affront to Dan's hosting skills. The guest always set the terms, always got what they liked. After he had surrendered and finally placed a dish in front of Rorschach, he was then met with the feeling that the other man in no way enjoyed the meal, he was simply eating it because it was sustenance and it was there. This gnawed at Dan more than most crimes the two of them investigated for the next several weeks. Rorschach continued to pop into Dan's home unannounced, helping himself to whatever it was in the cabinets, and Dan continued to get the feeling none of his food was particularly to the vigilante's taste. Rorschach, naturally, refused to dignify Dan's accusations of such, or his pleads for the smaller mans' preferences, with any answer other than a dismissing grunt.
This drove the well bred man insane. It finally forced him to begin an experiment which, if anyone else had known about it, would certainly have amused his other friends to the point of pity for him. He had started buying random products and brands at the grocery store. Items ranging from those he simply didn't normally stock to ones he'd never heard of and would certainly never digest himself starting littering his cabinets. If Rorschach wouldn't tell him verbally what he wanted, the masked man would just have to let him know by forced selection. It took weeks to find the things he was sure the man actually liked rather than those he was just picking out because they were there. The slow process of continually purchasing whatever product Rorschach had opened, adding and removing new choices had continued until Dan had at least three food items he knew his partner genuinely preferred: Raisin Bran, Boston Baked Beans, and Folgers Dark Roast coffee. It goes without saying that Dan's cabinets contained at least two packages of each product for the duration of their partnership, despite the fact the only one of the three he personally enjoyed was the beans. After Rorschach's unannounced visit the other night, he had picked up the other two items first thing in the morning. It was somewhat endearing to see his friends tastes hadn't changed.
Dan hadn't realized how long he'd been zoned out, day dreaming about the past, until the sharp closing of Rorschach's journal snapped him back into the present. He looked up somewhat sheepishly to meet the general area the masked mans' eyes must be, wondering how long the other man had been starring at him before attempting to get his attention. Rorschach slid the leather bound journal into one of his many inner coat pockets without, as far as Dan could tell, looking away from the retired Nite Owl. Dan's shoulders slumped slightly as he realized Rorschach had caught onto his game. The withdrawn man wouldn't be starting any conversations here tonight, either. Dan debated playing the waiting game for a moment, and then dismissed the thought almost as soon as it appeared. Though Dan knew he could beat Rorschach as far as patience was concerned, his old partner's stubbornness beat his own by a mile. Dan couldn't count the number of stupid situations they'd gotten themselves into because Rorschach refused to budge from his plan and Dan was too weak willed to hold out against him for long.
"So, uh," he could swear Rorschach was smirking under the mask when he leaned back as Dan broke the silence, "Nicole dropped by today."
"Hrm. Twilight Lady makes social call on Nite Owl. Not how masks and criminals should behave."
"Retired masks and criminals, Rorschach. Nicole and I have been friends for years now."
"Parker is a whore."
"Former. And a pimp at that, technically."
"Whore, Daniel."
Dan removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose against the headache starting to build. He was getting the feeling of deja vu from this conversation. It was like having the reflection of his argument with Nicole earlier that day. He had a strange premonition that, if he let it continue too long, it would end similarly as well.
"Look, I know you don't like her, but she's important to me, okay? She just wanted to know what was going on, is all. She wasn't even mad at you, really," a little bit of a stretch of the truth, but oh well… "She was only worried you coming after her meant you thought something bad was happening to me."
"She made her choice, Daniel. Criminal. Motives irrelevant."
He fully buried his face in his palm at that, groaning slightly at his friend's dichotic view of the world. He'd always somewhat envied Rorschach his certainly, his pure moral conviction, even as it drove his friend past the limits of what most considered sanity. At moments like these, however, when the world's shades of gray were important in understand people, he found the attitude incredibly frustrating.
"Rorschach, I'm going to tell you the same thing I told her: I'm not here to justify your actions to each other, I just need you accept she's part of my life."
"I was subject of conversation."
Fuck.
The masked man said the words in his normal monotone growl, but Dan could detect the accusation in them. Why had he brought that up? Just because Rorschach seemed like he knew everything didn't mean the man was omnipotent, even if he suspected it he had no way to know for sure Dan and Nicole's primary subject of conversation during her visit had been him until Dan opened his mouth.
"Well, kind of…" his mind raced, trying to find any kind of damage control, "I mean, ah, you did attack her, of course she was going to bring you up." Bingo, topic change, "And about that. I saw her neck Rorschach, you went a little far for something you could have just found out from me, don't you think?" Even though he'd brought it up mostly as a diversion, Dan couldn't keep the real note of hurt from his voice at the fact his former partner hadn't even bothered to ask.
"She clouds your judgment. Always too soft with her, made excuses. Like now. Truth better from source."
It was a discussion they'd had before. The Twilight Lady, much to Dan's shock and Rorschach's disgust, had reinserted herself into their lives the moment she'd been let out of prison, going so far as to request Nite Owl himself pick her up on her release date. His partner had argued against it with something as near to passion as Dan had seen in the man outside of crime fighting, but in the end he'd gone, the action cementing the turbulent relationship with Nicole that still remained today. He'd done his best during his hero days to keep the two of them from bumping into or even thinking about each other, but there was only so much he could do. Conversations like the one he'd had with Nicole this morning, or the one he and Rorschach were having right now, still happened more frequently then he would have liked up until the Keene act passed and Rorschach's departure from his life made the point moot. He'd always suspected Rorschach saw his involvement with the former Vice Queen as his first step away from heroics and towards the soft lifestyle he now led. It wasn't surprising that even now Nicole remained a sore spot between them.
"Rorschach," he started again, "She isn't a threat. She has her kid to think of, she won't be getting in the way of whatever you're trying to do, so just leave her out of it, okay?"
"Hurm." The masked man stood now that he'd had his say and Daniel sighed.
"So, stopped by just to let me know you don't trust my judgment where she's concerned?"
Rorschach turned to look at him silently, his mask shifting in a steady stream as they gazed at each other. Most people would think he was mad, but Dan was sure he'd hit the nail on the head with his observation. It was a bit of a relief to realize Rorschach still at least somewhat trusted him, the major exception seeming to be when it came to dealing with Nicole. The masked man had never had much faith in Dan on that point to begin with however, so Dan could hardly hold that against him. Despite himself he smiled slightly, nodding a little at his old partner.
"Thanks, man. I was a little worried there."
"Thanks for cereal and coffee," was the only reply, "Be going now." The short figure turned from him again, stalking down the hall way.
"Be careful out there." Dan called out, thinking he heard an answering grunt before the man slipped back out into the streets, the door creaking shut behind him.
Dan slumped in his seat, the tiredness from dealing with the past, present, and all the left over issues from the both of them settling upon him now that he was once more alone. How could his life go from dull monotony, the only excitement being the occasional babysitting job from Nicole, one minute to the tension filled world he now found himself in, his life once more populated by masked heroes and deranged villains without so much as a by-your-leave. At least Rorschach didn't seem too angry with him, he consoled himself. He was probably still a little antsy about the fact he knew he'd been a conversation topic between his old partner and, as he so delicately put, a filthy whore. It was nothing he wouldn't get over, however.
But Dan still needed to make this up to Nicole. Unlike Rorschach, a simple attempt to show understanding wouldn't be enough to pacify the stubborn woman. Dan cleared the kitchen table, shutting the kitchen light off behind him as he decided to leave the dishes for the morning. As he gathered his tools to begin the process of making the front door stay shut for the night, he started planning what kind of gesture would best make peace between him the red head. Something involving making Nathan happy usually did the trick.
"Well," he sighed, hefting a screw driver in one hand, "It could always be worse."