If Dan had known that would be their last dinner together, he would have done so much differently. If he had known, he would have ... what? Professed his undying love for her? Stolen her away from her boyfriend? Suggested a duel at dawn for her hand - against a god?
Stupid. He could still sometimes hear Rorschach's voice in his ear, though until his unsettling visit yesterday it had been years since Dan had even seen him. Laurie loved Jon, had given up everything to be at his side. For Dan to mention his feelings for her wouldn't have changed her relationship with Jon - just the one with him. And then he wouldn't even have the memories to keep him company.
He was so tired of so much loss. First Laurie had moved away, then Rorschach had lost touch with reality. The Keene Act had robbed him of so much. At first, he had tried to see it as a gift, as Laurie had: the chance to retire and live quietly, to study his birds and write his articles, to not feel he had to jump at every siren on the street. To be an ordinary, law-abiding citizen. But now he just felt ... retired. Old.
The house, no longer an Owl Nest, felt too big and empty without Rorschach dropping by; his visit yesterday had merely confirmed that fact. It had taken Dan weeks to adjust to buying groceries for one. Though Rorschach had never officially lived there, Dan doubted he ever ate anywhere else. Who had been cooking for him these past eight years? He wished, quite sincerely, to see his old friend again, and for it to be like old times, but Dan had no idea how to contact him. Rorschach had always found him.
Hollis was a welcome friend, but Dan still felt like he was reveling in days gone by. But what else did he have to revel in? He had no wife, no kids, no real career, unless you counted his correspondence with a few wildlife biology grad students ... and he hadn't been on a date in twenty years. Nothing at all since Laurie had stopped calling him - but those had never really been dates in the first place, he reminded himself by rote. Still, he missed her friendship. Dan glanced in the hall mirror as he passed it. Once, he might have passed as handsome, but at forty-something ... Once, he had kept himself in perfect shape, but without a good reason ... Once, he had felt powerful, commanding, but in a cardigan sweater and not an owl suit ...
So many dead dreams.
Dan nearly dropped the dirty coffee mugs he was carrying two to a hand when the phone rang, shrilly. There was no one left to call him, he reminded himself. The last time the phone rang ... well, he couldn't even remember who was on the other end of the line. Nevertheless, a little jolt of electricity ran through him as that bell went off. Dan scurried into the kitchen and set down the mugs. He even smoothed back the cowlicks in the front of his hair, though why, he couldn't say. He lifted the receiver.
"Hello?" he said.
"Dan?" came the voice on the other end. "Hey, Dan. It's Laurie. Laurie Juspeczyk"