Everything was dark, comfortable, and black, and then his senses began to surface. Someone was shaking him.

"Rorschach! Rorschach!" Daniel was covered in blood and shaking him by the lapels. "Jesus, man! You passed out! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Daniel propped him up against the stairwell. Rorschach still felt dizzy and remained sitting, sucking air, his mask tugged up to the bridge of his nose.

"If I hadn't caught you, you'd have smashed your face open."

Rorschach tried to remember how he had gotten here and why he had lost consciousness. He couldn't feel his own arms and his head swam from the black out. His head lolled back to look up at Daniel's swollen eye and nose. Crimson bled in huge swathes down his wool sweater vest. How did? -Oh, wait- Short-term memory began to blossom back into focus.

"Should have let me."

Daniel glared at him. "That's not what friends do, okay? Have you eaten today?" Looking at the tattered trench coat and his partner's grizzled jaw he said, "Have you eaten this week?"

Rorschach flushed red and struggled to get up but he still fought lingering vertigo.

"Sit down before you fall down!" ordered Daniel through a clogged nose.

"Don't need your charity, Daniel." His voice cracked.

Dan released his lapels in shock. He'd never heard that tone in Rorschach's voice before. Rorschach himself was appalled at the slip. He drew himself up tight against the stairwell to try to staunch the control leaking out from the seams of his façade. This weakness was unacceptable and he would have to give himself a thorough beating when he left. But first, control. Breath in. Breath out. Walter was told to shrivel up and die in the corner of his consciousness. There was no room for him and he must learn to obey. He clenched his teeth and inhaled as feeling returned to his fingers and hands. He clutched them into the canvas of his worn coat.

Daniel was stunned at his friend's errant show of humanity. "I-I'm not offering charity. I'm your friend. It's what friends do." He coaxed. "C- Come on buddy. Let's-let's just get you some food." Trying to nudge him up, Daniel touched the side of Rorschach's arm and Rorschach flinched. Dan drew back quickly.

Rorschach raged consternations through his mind and Walter became overwhelmed. Daniel was too close. Daniel was covered in blood. Daniel was covered in blood because of his outburst and yet Daniel continued his unrelenting shows of concern for him. It perplexed him that Daniel should risk more abuse by persisting the way he did. He couldn't understand how Daniel could retain his unconditional generosity after having his face smashed in. After all the filth and desecration they witness from humanity on a nightly basis, how was he not eaten alive with cynicism and indignation the way Walter was? The question of how Daniel developed such an innate faith in him was at the forefront of his mind. Then he considered how Daniel's nose might be broken. Rorschach couldn't save Daniel from himself. The blood smeared across Daniel's hands and mouth reminded him of another moment that tasted like ash. Memories drifted to dogs fighting over a femur and singed girl's panties peeking from a stove. He felt that panic of oh, god constricting in his throat. There was nothing he could do. He was too late. He rained violent retribution down on the filth that roamed the streets. He'd done penance to his mortal flesh with denial of comforts like food and sleep. He slept out in the icy rain. His punishment was relentless. Nothing. Nothing took away the aching pit of utter failure that engulfed him. Nothing would bring back the little girl and even if it were possible, he could not take away the suffering and horror she endured before she died. So, his penitence was never ending and even then, it was never enough.

Daniel had knelt in front of him. Fat tears streamed out from under the black and white latex. The breathing wasn't working. It wasn't working. I can't control this. I can't control me. His mind panicked. His breath hitched as his inner turmoil mounted like floodwaters.

"Look, I'm sorry, Rorschach. You're my friend." Dan was stuttering in confusion. "I just want to help."

"C-Can't breathe . . ." Rorschach said more to himself than to Daniel.

Without asking, Daniel began to loosen the scarf around Rorschach's neck. He flinched but made no effort to stop Daniel. But, when his friend removed his fedora and made motions to shift his mask up further, Rorschach's hands shot up to grab Dan's wrists.

"You need to get enough air." Daniel said in a voice that was unsure. His hands hovered near the sides of Rorschach's face.

Rorschach seethed and Walter felt the sting of shame lash him over and over again. He felt the hesitancy of Daniel's arms through his wrists and a new punishment was meted out in his mind. He felt a sensation of disgust from Rorschach. Rorschach should not have to bear him as a burden any longer. As punishment, he should deprive himself of his mask and be made a spectacle of in front of Daniel so that Daniel could know and reject him for the degenerate he was. No longer strong, black and white, and independent just short, ugly, and red.

Daniel felt the trembling hands loosen their grip but the man in front of him seemed more distraught. Daniel let go realizing his mistake. "You don't have to-"

Trembling hands reached up and painfully slipped the mask away from his bowed head and held it clutched to his chest like a dead pet.

Walter didn't have the courage to look Daniel in the face. He turned his face down as hot tears of shame slid quickly down his hollowed cheeks.

Dan's mouth was open and he hoped in hindsight that he hadn't made an audible gasp. Even with his bad eyes he could discern Rorschach's face from where he sat. Sitting in front of him was the man he'd seen in the streets digging through the waste bins. He had felt sorry for him and given him change here and there but had written him off as a lunatic from that nuts-o sign he always toted. How could he be the same man he'd trusted with his life, who rode side shot in Archie, who had told Daniel he had a day job, and who Dan looked up to even if he was small of stature? They were friends weren't they? Why didn't he come to Daniel for help?

Walter knew Daniel was in shock from the utter silence that surrounded him after he removed the mask. There was nothing he could do but sit and bear it. Daniel would ask him to leave soon anyway, if he knew what was good for him.

Daniel's heart broke as he watched the red headed man before him wring the mask in his knuckles with anxiety. He knew the cardinal rule with Rorschach was not to touch but Daniel couldn't bring himself to sit by and watch as his partner came apart. He reached out to slowly take the whirling mask out of Rorschach's fisting hands and lay it across his knees. He took the gloved, hesitant hands into his own. Once powerful, now they trembled in Daniel's grasp. Rorschach still tried to tuck his face away. Daniel gathered Rorschach's hands and then ran his own hand gently over the fiery crown in reassurance. He knew Rorschach wouldn't want him to look at his face but Daniel was held by the need to see him. He needed to let his friend know that he was here for whatever he needed and that he was profoundly sorry for his friend's circumstances; whatever they may be.

His broad hand ran gently down the nape of his partner's neck and settled on his shoulder. Rorschach's sighs echoed off the cavernous walls of the Owl's Nest and Daniel could hear the faint noise of teardrops patting against concrete. He would stay here as long as it took. He didn't want to ruin this by speaking. Rorschach needed solidarity not a diatribe. He was aware of his annoying habit of chattering when he was uncomfortable. This wasn't uncomfortable. This felt real. This felt like the first normal event in the past year. So much time in skirting around the obvious anxiety growing between the two with society's growing distaste for masks, something had to break but Dan never thought it would be Rorschach. But now it all made since. Rorschach had given everything to protect his city and in turn it took everything.

Daniel understood, or at least thought he did. Rorschach had always been fiercely independent. Daniel had always looked up to that self-sufficient drive Rorschach exuded. Why did he now feel like the stronger one? He felt that Rorschach had never truly trusted him. As a partner he was with him in solidarity but as a friend he was apprehensive and aloof. He assumed this was because he didn't trust him with the responsibility of knowing his identity. He only sparingly reciprocated shows of familiarity and that was only in accepting a spot on Dan's sofa on occasion or a handful of sugar cubes. It weighed on Daniel now just how much that must have meant but it also saddened him that his friend was too proud to accept more support that Daniel continuously offered.

The ginger haired man took back one of his hands to wipe his eyes with the butt of his grimy palm. Dan hoped Rorschach wouldn't pull away. He still lightly grasped the bony hand but dropped his eyes to study the blurry bit of gravel next to Rorschach's shoe so he wouldn't think he was staring. It felt appropriate to say, "I can't speak for Dr. Manhattan but at the end of the day we're not gods. We're just human beings. It's hard to keep this up year after year."

Dan heard Rorschach give out a broken sigh. He felt the man shift his weight. Cautiously, Dan lifted his eyes to meet his partner's. A pair of blood-shot blue eyes set in a hard weathered face met his. Daniel cursed his myopia but could still make out the severe set to his friend's jaw, high cheekbones, and harsh piercing eyes. A set of warm brown eyes squinted at the bright stormy blue ones for a long time.

A warm feeling spread in the pit of Dan's stomach. It was the same feeling he used to get feeding baby birds or spotting a rare specimen on a bird watching expedition. He finally saw his face. He didn't see the face of the terror of the underworld. He didn't even see the desperate look of that strange wandering bum digging through the trashcans. All he saw was the face of his friend. He saw the face of his partner. A smile spread across Daniel's face as he gave Rorschach's shoulder a squeeze. The severe lines in Rorschach's face dropped into confusion. Dan let go of Rorschach's hand and stood up. Rorschach jumped at the realization he'd been holding Daniel's hand all this time. Dan bent and hooked some fingers lightly under Rorschach's arm. "Come on. You'll feel better after some food."

Rorschach let his baleful eyes roll up to meet Daniel's with a questioning expression. Daniel simply hauled Rorschach up to his feet and guided him to the bottom of the stairs. Rorschach stopped short and gently grasped the fingers under his arm. He placed them lightly on the stair rail and then turned to duck under Archie.

Daniel strained to see where Rorschach had gone. He had the valid fear that Rorschach might have left out the back exit after another unspoken refusal to join him in the kitchen. He heard some scrambling noises coming from the vicinity of the water heater. A blurry spot of orange near Archie announced that Rorschach was returning. The smaller man took Daniel's other hand and gently pressed the wayward pair of glasses into them. "Thank you." Daniel said quietly as he stared at his enigma of a friend. Rorschach just cleared his throat and bobbed his head in acknowledgment. Daniel slipped the glasses on over tender flesh. "Huh." he said in observation.

"What?" Rorschach mumbled.

"Freckles."

Rorschach's brow furrowed at being studied.

"I mean-no, I mean . . . it's not a bad thing. I just-" Dan sputtered.

Rorschach just gave another nod and tried to look like he didn't exist.

"Let's, yeah-food-" and Dan turned feeling flustered to climb the stairs. He was irritated with himself for screwing up predictably but was relieved to hear footsteps on his heels.