This is the last chapter. I do not own Watchmen. I own the narrator.
***
I didn't have a grave for my last bottle.
After the prison breakout no one heard from him. I wondered if he'd had a home with a family to go back to or if he was alone.
I twisted the cap off to get what I wanted. There was something satisfying in hearing metal scrape against glass. It broke off iving me the sweet aroma of what I crawled after like an addict strung out in an alley. I chugged the first few gulps and tripped over my feet. I must've looked like a drunk.
The drink burned down my throat and fingers scrunched together as I fought down the feeling of a nosebleed.
Rorschach.
A different burn sunk into my chest. It didn't have anything to do with the drink. It didn't have anything to do with the graves. It was a heavy stone I carried with the knowledge that Rorschach was gone. I tried to down it. I sucked down half the bottle before it all came back up.
I made it to the trashcan in time. I'd been heading for the gate anyway. I purged all I could onto the bottom of that trashcan. Pink and yellow sick swirled at the bottom playing into one another. It all came out. The sickness that had been churning in my stomach for almost a year finally found a way out.
I choked and heaved over the trash can trying to get some air. Fresh, pure air and not this pollution the city was breathing in like it was the same thing. How could they stand it? How could they just go about their lives with the stench of a decaying society all around them? Like it doesn't affect them…
I took another drink and calmed down. There wasn't anything I could change. All I could do was pay a tribute to the three men with bottles.
I kept the last one. Coca-Cola in green glass is a special find. They're classic. You don't find them a lot these days.
***
Ever since Rorschach made the reference in Watchmen I've wanted to do a fic like this.