A/N: I had this crazed idea of how the hell Sally would want to sleep with The Comedian after what he'd done to her, or attempted to try on her. So this is just one of my many whirly intakes of how it could have happened. I haven't read the Watchmen graphic novel (I've only seen the film), so to any hardcore fans out there, if I mess up, please don't kill me. Obviously I don't own this, I'm just an admirer. This piece will have adult content in it, so for the faint hearted I decide you shouldn't read or flame me. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. –EA.

Turn Another Corner

She walked outside,
among the men,

finding me,
your last.

Ten million miles,

her way was close,
to her inside.

Can't you see her life is broken
turn back,

believe nothing is over.

-30 Seconds To Mars's Praying For a Riot.

The night was as hot as hell. Sally Jupiter woke from a crude and rather frightening nightmare, her head throbbed painfully and she glanced over at the bottle of absinthe over on the night stand. The source and maker of the horrific nightmare she had seen in her slumber.

She swung her legs across from the bed and made her way whilst stumbling to the bathroom of her apartment. The ill lights spluttered on full, she splashed cold water across her face hopefully that it would waken her senses. Her body was trembling uncharacteristically and with the way she felt – it was like taking a cold drink from staying in the desert for far too long. Depression was a horrid thing, but what made it worse is that she had to put on this brave front everyday whenever she would meet up with the Minute Men. She knew she was strong physically but inside everything felt so fragile, one simple move – and she'd lose everything.

Sally made her way to the kitchen; the moonlight shimmered against her thin silk gown she wore. She yanked the pins from her hair which caused more pain and her deep thick auburn locks fell about her shoulders. She rushed to the window, heaving it open and letting the wind calm her anxiety. The humidity of the city was so ironic, so clear about the state the city was in. The dark dank damp streets almost mirrored the way she was feeling. She briskly moved to the cabinet, hunting for her prescription pain killers.

"Shoot, I'm out," she hissed.

Momentarily, she threw off her gown and started to change with whatever clothes she had near her. Sally grasped her keys and locked the door securely. Her little pills were what kept her going these days anyway. Though one single persistent thought stung out like a son of a bitch, drinking alcohol – hang on a second, absinthe and taking medication soon after would kill ya. She knew a lot of her idols destroyed themselves with drink and drugs – but Sally Jupiter was much stronger than that. There were great times and memories she could share with the Minute Men, but other bad ones. Memories so cruel, she wanted to lock them away and dump them in the ocean. If she could do that, she would. But then again, life just wasn't fair. You either cope, or give up, and the second option Sally knew she'd never take.

As she walked, she wrapped her coat about her neck and she could picture Hooded Justice's unmasked expression – not sad that she was dead, more infuriated. But that was who he was…

Sally looked up at the stars; she wasn't taking any medication tonight, just the chill and feeling of the walk made her feel more refreshed. That horrid groggy feeling was disintegrating all the while…

Sally stared up at one particular building, the wind rushed around her ankles and it made her deep auburn hair blow across her sight. Mirroring that image in Audrey Hepburn's Breakfast at Tiffany's – probably the coat she had was similar to the character, Holly. She stared up at one of the windows and she had a feeling she knew the major cause of her depressive phase was caused by one of the Minute Men in the building she stared up at. She had the hidden bruises to prove it. Sally did not need to trip down that memory lane; though there was one persistent experience she couldn't help but visualise and run through…that feeling of being pushed down flat on her belly, having her dignity stripped away from her and left to pick up the pieces, sensing that itch that she was on show, like a freak displayed at a circus.

Sally sighed and with this, dark images ambushed her thoughts. The sickening thing was, she felt elated. Deep deep down if Hooded Justice knew what she had surging around like fire in her mind right now, he'd probably slap her and tell her to 'get over it'.

But who the fuck could after what she'd endured? Who would go to the limits to get revenge known?

She found herself walking up the steps.

"What am I doing?" she whispered under her breath.

It was like being on automatic pilot, her feet led the way but she wanted to protest. But what was the point when it came down to someone who deserved rightfully what she had waiting in store.

Breaking into people's apartments and houses was an easy target and pass time for Sally Jupiter. Of course, she only broke into the houses of cretins who caused all of the problems in her city, raising the crime toll. The more havoc they created, the less she felt for their sake and the more the Minute Men had to work their fingers to the bone.

The door quietly gave way, and she squeezed her way through, closing the door as quietly as she'd arrived. She could smell the cigar smoke and her pulse raced. Her eyes diverted to a picture on the wall, though she never expected for it to be there, it simply wouldn't be entangled in their psyche. It was a framed pristine polished photograph of the Minute Men right at the peak of their prime, her lips trembled and an overpowering streak of guilt and shame eluded her to no end.

Who would've thought that the person causing her all of this misery was one their own? Who's smile in the photograph stretched from ear to ear? Nobody other than the misogynistic, egoistical, and sadistic, Eddie Blake...

A bellowing snort like snore echoed over Sally's shoulder and she turned to deceiver the direction of the sound.

She moved into the kitchen and prised the butcher knife from the holder. Sally treaded lightly and poked her around the door into the bedroom. Eddie Blake lay wrapped as snug as a bug, his blinds attached to the windows created streaks of moonlight which shimmered along his barrel chest.

Sally tiptoed to his bed and sat on the edge. She slowly brought out the knife, leaning over him and as weightlessly as she could, she pressed it between his chin and shoulder. Lying against the base of his throat.

This is it, she vowed. This is the end for you Eddie.

Her fingers twisted down on the knife's handle and she tensed her arm, raising her hand, the knife came thundering down. Right at that moment, his eyes slowly slid open. Her wrist froze and she stared down at him.

"So...are you gonna kill me or not?" he asked, in his deep timber malevolent voice.

She glared. "I'm doing something I shoulda done along time ago."

"But I thought we were friends Sal."

"Friends?" she hissed. "I've never let a friend hit me till I was black and blue all over and try to rape me."

He rolled his eyes. "You're still reeling from that?"

"When you're stripped of your feelings and clothes to be exploited like a circus freak and toy, you'll understand."

"I won't care."

She leaned down so close their noses barely grazed. "Cause you've got no love Eddie," she whispered. "And no heart and for one point in my life, I was willing to give you mine."

The grin on his faded like a fire being blown out. He grabbed her shoulders and flipped her onto her back. He flicked the blade away; it dawdled out of Sally's hand and he pushed it so it fell with a clang to the floor. He bent down to the hollow of her neck and stroked his mouth against the tendons, breathing in her perfume. Sally closed her eyes and stretched her head back as Eddie began to make his mark, kissing delectably against her skin. Her fingers lurched to his face; she traced letters and numbers across his rugged jaw and held his face strong.

Just this once, she thought and closed her eyes as his lips pressed softly against her mouth.

When it was over, Sally Jupiter faced the landscape of the city. Her heart had resumed its normal pace and the atmosphere was shockingly serene. She eavesdropped on the slow breathing behind her, Eddie Blake was sleeping and a warm glow trickled across her belly. Sally rose to her feet, pressing her hand against her stomach and slotted the butcher knife back into the casing.

She opened the door and turned back to the apartment.

Just this once, she vowed, moving into the dank deviously depressing corridor. And never again.