Reason for the Unreasonable-Rorschach
Title: Reason for the Unreasonable
Fandom: Watchmen
Characters/Pairings: Rorschach
Prompt: IDK, this song just kind of sparked the muse
Word Count: 537
Genre: Introspection
Rating: PG
Summary: This is how he becomes
Warnings: Raaaaambly, abruptness
Author's Note: I should be working on that other story, ngh. Also, fail title.
Because if he lets it drift, if he lets it stop hurting, then he isn’t doing his job.
Walter Kovacs isn’t used to living for something. He isn’t used to having someone to think about every time he turns the lights down, every time he dreams, every time he slips the mask on. He’s never had a reason to care before. Which of course isn’t really true because there was always Kitty, little Miss Genovese who wanted a black and white dress and got a knife instead.
He shakes when he thinks about it, anger and sadness and wondering what humanity could possibly be to accept that so easily. But she was never a reason live. Just a reason to do what he does in the night and the alleys and blood stained sidewalks.
He knows She is a reason to live. Sometimes, he wonders what that means.
Rorschach never wonders. To Rorschach there is only Before and After because the Middle is where they are torn down and sewn back in a different shape altogether, a shape that moves and never settles and never lets go, a thin blanket barely concealing the raging empty thing inside him.
Sometimes, Walter Kovacs stares into the quiet tenement and knows Rorschach is the only thing that keeps him from moving on. He wonders if he’s fixating, focusing, letting it get the better of him.
Then he puts the mask on and doesn’t anymore. He can’t let go, can’t ever forget, because if he does then he’ll betray Her memory and if he does that, he’ll die. Rorschach tells him that if he dies, then New York dies with him. Don’t stop, it rasps in his head and the rasp makes it to his voice when he snaps a man’s arm for slapping a woman who may as well be Her all grown up.
He stops sleeping because he can’t stop thinking about Her. And when he isn’t thinking about Her, he’s thinking about the next night when Rorschach will take him out into the streets, where he’ll continue doing what he’s done for years. Except with more violence. Except with more purpose.
Because it’s the reason he lives now.
Rorschach pulls away from everything warm, including Daniel, including the team. He boils and writhes and grows, breaking everything that comes near, and leaves Walter wondering why he hasn’t broken too. He is just as flawed as all of them, but he isn’t broken. At least, that’s what he tells himself, as he curls on his cot in the early morning light, as he makes his sign, as he walks the familiar sidewalk that’s painted surreal in the sun.
He thinks it might be less painful if Rorschach just let him break, and Rorschach tells him that’s an escape and throws all those memories back in front of his eyes and refuses to let him cry.
He doesn’t know when they switched, when Walter became the mask and Rorschach became real. He knows it’s better that way though. Rorschach will never forget. Rorschach will never falter. He’ll save this city the way Walter never could. And that’s the only thing that keeps him from finally falling away and vanishing forever.
Fandom: Watchmen
Characters/Pairings: Rorschach
Prompt: IDK, this song just kind of sparked the muse
Word Count: 537
Genre: Introspection
Rating: PG
Summary: This is how he becomes
Warnings: Raaaaambly, abruptness
Author's Note: I should be working on that other story, ngh. Also, fail title.
Because if he lets it drift, if he lets it stop hurting, then he isn’t doing his job.
Walter Kovacs isn’t used to living for something. He isn’t used to having someone to think about every time he turns the lights down, every time he dreams, every time he slips the mask on. He’s never had a reason to care before. Which of course isn’t really true because there was always Kitty, little Miss Genovese who wanted a black and white dress and got a knife instead.
He shakes when he thinks about it, anger and sadness and wondering what humanity could possibly be to accept that so easily. But she was never a reason live. Just a reason to do what he does in the night and the alleys and blood stained sidewalks.
He knows She is a reason to live. Sometimes, he wonders what that means.
Rorschach never wonders. To Rorschach there is only Before and After because the Middle is where they are torn down and sewn back in a different shape altogether, a shape that moves and never settles and never lets go, a thin blanket barely concealing the raging empty thing inside him.
Sometimes, Walter Kovacs stares into the quiet tenement and knows Rorschach is the only thing that keeps him from moving on. He wonders if he’s fixating, focusing, letting it get the better of him.
Then he puts the mask on and doesn’t anymore. He can’t let go, can’t ever forget, because if he does then he’ll betray Her memory and if he does that, he’ll die. Rorschach tells him that if he dies, then New York dies with him. Don’t stop, it rasps in his head and the rasp makes it to his voice when he snaps a man’s arm for slapping a woman who may as well be Her all grown up.
He stops sleeping because he can’t stop thinking about Her. And when he isn’t thinking about Her, he’s thinking about the next night when Rorschach will take him out into the streets, where he’ll continue doing what he’s done for years. Except with more violence. Except with more purpose.
Because it’s the reason he lives now.
Rorschach pulls away from everything warm, including Daniel, including the team. He boils and writhes and grows, breaking everything that comes near, and leaves Walter wondering why he hasn’t broken too. He is just as flawed as all of them, but he isn’t broken. At least, that’s what he tells himself, as he curls on his cot in the early morning light, as he makes his sign, as he walks the familiar sidewalk that’s painted surreal in the sun.
He thinks it might be less painful if Rorschach just let him break, and Rorschach tells him that’s an escape and throws all those memories back in front of his eyes and refuses to let him cry.
He doesn’t know when they switched, when Walter became the mask and Rorschach became real. He knows it’s better that way though. Rorschach will never forget. Rorschach will never falter. He’ll save this city the way Walter never could. And that’s the only thing that keeps him from finally falling away and vanishing forever.