Daniel used to dream in black and white.

 He didn't mind the that they were in black and white – they were familiar, comforting. Quickly shifting, moving; always changing, and he found a strange sort of peace with them. Perhaps it was because he had seen that same thing so many times, back when he had teamed up with a a man who he would come to call a friend. Every night he would look into the man's face, watching these shifting inkblots that never seemed sure what “expression” they wanted to settle on. Every night he would fight at this man's back, protecting him as the other returned the favor – and every night, shaking fingers would lift up the bottom half of the mask to press heated kisses to thin lips.

 Then, retirement had followed and he still continued to dream in black and white. It kept him sane – made him remember. Even as the extra pounds settled around his waist, the memories of being young, fit and fighting back-to-back with his partner was enough to keep the depression away. Though he would wander down to the Owl Nest and stare longingly at the suit, Daniel was a man who listened to the law. Besides, forced retirement wasn't the worst thing he would experience in his life.

 Years later, he saw that same mouth (the only part of his partner's face he had ever seen over the years) as it set at his table, devouring a can of beans. There was a wave of emotions that crashed down on him, but he had no time to sort them out before he realized that those familiar colors were leaving, and cutting his heart down to the core with a simple exchange of words:

Those were good times, whatever happened to them?

 You quit.

 After the heartache, Daniel recalls the worry he feels when he hears the news: Masked Vigilante 'Rorschach' Captured. He and Laurie had already donned their outfits, saved people from a burning building, and when the idea hits him – he runs with it. Let's break Rorschach out, we've already crossed the line – let's jump even further. Protests, as he expected, but they broke him out.

 It was the first time he had seen his friend's face completely, and as he looked back, he knew that he stared too long. Daniel can remember the feeling of his cheeks heating up beneath the cowl, and he wonders if Rorschach can recall the things that happened in this very ship – all that time ago. No, his brain protests. That time is over – you have Laurie now, and you're happy. The instant they set down inside the Owl Nest and began to pack whatever was needed before the police arrived, Daniel lost not only Laurie, but the false sense of happiness he had assured himself he had.

 The rest comes in almost literal blurs (tears? No – he would never admit that) and all he can remember is Adrian, thirty-five minutes, Jon, Rorschach, Laurie, Adrian, Rorschach, Jon, Rorschach, Rorschach, Rorschach. The scream torn from his throat is raw, guttural, and primal. He can remember the feeling, how his stomach dropped as he watched his best friend explode into a shower of blood. Red on white, stains, forever embedded into his memory. World peace, utopia – it wasn't even worth it. Once people realized Manhattan had left, they had to hate someone, and once again, turned against one another.

 Within two years, the threat of a nuclear arms race was making headlines.

 Now Daniel dreams in white and red.