I saw the Watchmen movie yesterday. And though it didn't live up to the comic books, I wasn't expecting it to, it was pretty good. Though, I am personally going to stick to how the story goes in the comic books rather than go to the movie for source material.

And thank you so much to all of my reviewers, you guys are all so wonderful! I'm so glad that you like what I'm working on. It's been a long time since I've seriously written, and I'm glad that it's good enough for all of you.

Again, if you see anything completely terrible, tell me please!

Thank you again!

"In later news, the body of doctor Alan Maria Marcus was found beaten to death, his body in a trashcan. Police are unsure of who was behind this crime. And whoever did it, doesn't seem to have any traceable motive. Was this a hate crime? A political move? More on it at 11."

Brygida watched the news with her hands at her mouth. It had been two days since that night. It was October 10th, 1985. And she couldn't help but wonder if he actually cared about her and her trauma, or if he wanted to get rid of someone who had become famous for his malpractice trials, and always won.

That day, she slipped out of her house and decided to meet Marja at the café where she and Laurie had been meeting. The little moon-faced blond girl bounced into the café minutes after Brygida walked in.

"How are you, darling?" Marja asked, ordering a vanilla chai tea.

"I'm alright... Been a little confused lately, but I'm okay..." She smiled, "You saw the news this morning, right?"

"Of course! I can't believe that the surgeon that fucked you up so bad is dead now." She put her hand on Brygida's, "Are you alright with that...? I mean, you never got to yell at him like you had been talking about for so long... And, his sudden, unexpected death isn't the best kind of closure..."

"Yeah... I'm alright..." Brygida whispered, taking a sip of her black coffee and staring out the window.

Marja frowned, "You're not telling me something. What's going on, baby?"

Brygida glanced at Marja, "I think I know who killed him..."

Marja nearly jumped. She scooted her chair closer to her friend, "Do tell do tell!"

"You know about the masked 'vigilante' Rorschach, right?"

"Mm-hm..."

"I'm pretty sure he killed him."

She blinked, "But... why?"

"I'm not quite sure... I ran into him a couple of days ago, he had a scalpel in his pocket and I regressed a little... Told him about what happened. Two days later, the old bastard's dead."

"You're so lucky!" Marja squealed, "Rorschach is a freaking hottie, I love him. He's the subject of most of my sexual fantasies." She giggled, biting her lip.

Brygida's jaw slackened, "Are you insane? He's terrifying! I mean, sure, he's kind of cool, but all in all, I really would not want to be around him for a prolonged period of time. He scares the crap out of me. I wish he would just stick to following the rules. He should join the police force or something. At least then it would be legal."

Marja stared at her friend with wide eyes, "Baby doll... Are you serious? He's the reason there's less crime on the streets, not the damn police force. He's amazing."

"He kills people without restraint, Marja. What if Dr. Marcus had a wife and kids? People who were depending on him? There's a reason behind everything, and if I had to deal with a little trauma for the rest of my life, I wouldn't mind as long as those kids grew up in a good environment and learned how to be better people than their father."

Marja sighed, "But at the same time, he gets rid of so much scum. There are so many people who just shouldn't be on the streets, or even in jail, and he takes care of them... Can't you come out of your shell and see that at least a little bit?"

Brygida looked out the window and sipped her coffee again, "I don't know..."

There wasn't much talking for the rest of the trip. Marja attempted to get a couple of conversations going, but Brygida was too out of it to really make an effort to listen and respond. After a half an hour, Marja gave up, hugged her friend, and left.

'I still told him one of my most personal secrets...' She thought, sipping her black coffee, 'Moment of weakness or not, he knows... And I don't know if that's good or not. He killed someone because of it... Maybe. It might not have been him... Ha. If I were into wishful thinking I would believe that...'

She paid for her coffee and left to go to work for the first time in ages. Parker Jones didn't show up that day, and she was glad. It was a complete cliché to have a stalker anyway, and it wasn't Brygida's thing to be cliché. Why be afraid of someone who's too afraid to face you? The whole idea of being afraid a stalker is bull anyway, unless said stalker was 7 feet tall with a bad temper and a history of beating their stalk-ee's to death.

And she was suddenly reminded of Rorschach.

He was such an interesting person. She wanted to pick through his brain, see what happened to him to make him the way he was now. What did he look like under the mask? While reading another installment of Superman, she daydreamed about what he looked like.

She didn't know exactly how tall he was, but she knew he was taller than she. He was always looking down on her. In all meanings of the saying. She guessed that he had light brown eyes, probably dark brown or black hair. Strong jaw, tired eyelids, intense gaze, perhaps he scowled a lot. She smiled to herself, imagining such a person walking down the street and then upon hearing a woman scream, ducking into a phone booth and coming out with his hands on his hips and a tattered cloak waving in the breeze behind him.

Rorschach, superhero extraordinaire!

She chuckled to herself, adjusting her glasses with the cracked lens and turning the page of the comic book.

"Newspaper?" Someone tapped her shoulder. She turned, lowering her glasses to the end of her nose and staring at the new comer.

His sign blocked the sun.

"Oh of course." She bent over the chair in front of the cart and pulled a New Frontiersman. She handed it to him with a smile, "Has the world ended yet?"

The red haired man looked at her like no one had ever asked him that. And maybe no one had asked if the world had already ended. Maybe people had only asked when the world was ending, or how the end of the world was going. But never "has it ended already".

"Maybe." He replied, nodding a goodbye as he walked off.

Brygida felt goose pimples raise on her arms. She rubbed them as she felt her teeth begin to tremble. Since she had given her warmest clothing to the young mother and her son, she didn't have much warm clothing. And the cold was beginning to get to her as the warmth of the coffee disappeared from her system.

Bernard came up behind her and draped a blanket around her shoulders, "Don't freeze, crazy girl. What happened to your coat anyway?"

"... Lost it..." She mumbled into the blanket, snuggling I and continuing to read her comic book...

October 12th, 1985.

The beginning of the end.

The Comedian is dead.

No one laughed.

The public was none the wiser as they went on with their daily lives, still blind to the world with their ignorance that survives the test of time.

Only Jon knew, but he would never tell. The ability to do so was never his anyway. At the same moment in his time, he sees Laurie kissing him, leaving him, loving him, and what can he do? Nothing.

Brygida spent her ignorance in bliss, reading comic books and drinking coffee and hot chocolate. She hadn't seen Rorschach in a while, so she had to assume that he had forgotten about her. Perhaps she had to be in some kind of trouble for him to notice her.

Maybe she should run down the street naked again.

Laughing at herself, she sipped her hot cocoa and started to read the new comic, Tales of The Black Freighter. It was quite a terrifying comic book, and the protagonist was no Superman. The helpless survivor of a destroyed ship, the captain seemed less than thrilled with his situation. It was certainly melodramatic, but not without reason. Chewing her knuckle, Brygida lost herself within the comic, not noticing when the sun was suddenly blotted out by some UWO, an Unidentified Walking Object.

"Brygida." Spoke the headstrong, high pitched, blond girl named Marja, "I think you need to stop moping and start having fun."

"Who says I'm moping?" Brygida hummed through her hot chocolate.

"No one has to say it, I can see it." She replied brusquely.

"Ah, I see..." Taking a last sip of her hot chocolate, Brygida licked it from her top lip and then wiped the remainder off on the back of her hand, "So, what do you suggest I do about this moping?"

"Take a day off, baby cakes..." Marja smiled, "Go do something that you love. Something to de-stress. I think you've had too much Rorschach in your life lately."

"I haven't seen him for a couple of days..." She replied, returning her eyes to the comic book. Brygida was the kind of person who avoided subjects that she didn't want to have anything to do with. And she didn't want to show Marja that she did, actually, want to see him again... He was interesting to her. Like a screwed up comic book character.

"Most of us have never seen him, dear." Marja said, smiling a toothy smile.

And Brygida picked up some hostility.

"You've never seen him?" She asked, taking another sip of hot chocolate and looking at her friend with slackened, unamused eyes, "In all seriousness Marja, just go out walking at night. This damn city is crawling with people who'd probably want a go at spreading your leg—"

"That's disgusting!!" She shrieked, "How could you even say that to me?!"

"That's how I met him. I don't know what happened to the man, but Rorschach..." She paused. Did he really save her? She knew that he had knocked her out, and she hadn't seen the man who had attacked her since then, but was he really necessary...?

She continued, "Anyway, I met him by accidently putting myself in danger. If you're intentionally putting yourself in danger, he may or may not come. I don't know. You're young. You'll meet your boy one day."

Marja shook her head in disbelief, "I think... I think I'm going to need to take a break from you, Brygida... You're draining my emotionality, here. All I'm trying to do is make you feel better, and you're shoving it back in my face..."

"Well maybe I don't need your help!" Brygida snarled. She waved a dismissive hand. "Fine, just go away. Call me when you're not on your period."

"Fine!" Marja walked off.

And after she saw her 'round the corner, Brygida wished that she hadn't said that. Marja was one of her closest friends, and losing her was like losing the ability to drink water. She would call her and apologize that night.

She spent the 13th daydreaming. Bernard was sick, but he came to work that day nonetheless. She liked that about him. He worked hard no matter what shape he was in, but she couldn't find it in herself to do the same. She was only 19. She should have time to decide whether or not she's serious about her own life.

She wondered if she really meant the things she had said about Rorschach... Was she really scared of him? No... She didn't think so anymore. Despite the killing, he was a kind person... To her, anyway. He gave her back her glasses. That was something. He saved her from that man... sort of. She had to admit, it probably did look like he was going to stab her.

Maybe he wasn't as horrible or terrifying as she had first thought...

Jane called her the next day. Her darling singing buddy Jane.

"Let's go do something" she said.

After work, Brygida met Jane at the movie theater, where they saw Silver Bullet, some Stephen King movie about a werewolf. The two of them laughed about how terrible it was afterwards.

"How's the vocal center?" Brygida asked as the two of them walked down the street, ice cream dripping down their fingers.

"Truth or sugar?" Jane asked, licking the melted ice cream from the base of her wrist.

"Truth."

"It's really terrible. Anja's been kicking people out left and right. Michelle and Penelope were let go just yesterday. You were just the first of many..."

Brygida frowned, "Do you have any idea why?"

Jane nodded solemnly, "I think Anja is losing her mind... We've caught her talking to herself in her study. I think she's on a mission to get her daughter into the Metropolitan Opera. She's been getting rid of all our best singers, anyway." She laughed, "I don't know if I should feel safe or be insulted."

"Hah. At least you're still there, and you can learn and get better than her daughter, and then she'll kick you out."

Jane laughed, "Yeah I guess so." She looked down at her ice cream, now just a puddle of slush in the cone, "I was serious though... We really think that she's losing her mind. She's been asking stranger and stranger things of us lately. Yesterday she asked us to get her a blowtorch and some kerosene."

Brygida looked at Jane, "Did you...?"

"Are you kidding? Most of the girls in there didn't know what a blowtorch was nonetheless know where to find one. Anja made us leave early because we couldn't find one for her."

Brygida laughed for the first time in ages.

She and Jane went their separate ways, promising to meet up again soon. Brygida decided to go see her old vocal training center, just to see how it was doing. Perhaps Anja got her hands on a blowtorch and was going to the houses of the girls she removed from her teaching. Brygida didn't doubt it at all.

She hummed Carmen's "Habanera" to herself as she walked to the Center. It had always been a part of her dream to do Carmen. It was wonderfully scandalous and a fantastic piece of opera. To be the famous Carmen, the girl that everyone wants, the girl that is so completely free as both a gypsy and a woman in times like those...

The Vocal Training Center was on fire.

Brygida's mouth hung open as she dropped what was left of her ice cream cone.

It was a beautiful inferno... The colors moved smoothly through the flames, red waves of water licking the building clean. She stood in awe of the fantastic beauty for a moment longer...

And then started to laugh. It was hysterical. There was just something so fantastically funny about it that she didn't even stop to think if there were people in there. The door was blocked by burning debris and the ceiling had started to cave in, but all Brygida could do was laugh until tears rolled down her cheeks. The tears reflected the red of the flames, and Brygida could feel the heat running down her cheeks as if her tears were fuel oil and they had caught fire.

And she was happy again.

It was midnight.

Rorschach stared down at the girl laughing as the building burnt down. He didn't recognize her in the violent red glow of the fire. Leaping fluidly down the building side, Rorschach stalked his prey.

'The girl who set fire to this building will die tonight as she laughs in her own ignorance. She will die, she will die, she will die...' Rorschach thought, coming upon the girl who was gasping for breath as she convulsed with laugher, 'She killed people. Very bad. Will die tonight. She will die tonight and her body will burn with theirs. She will feel their pain and understand how they feel, drop into hell and drown in her own sorrows, drown in fire, drown in tears...'

Rorschach was right behind her. She didn't notice him. He didn't recognize her.

He stood there as she calmed down, quieted her laughter to a dull chuckle, wiped her cheeks, stood up...

And turned around.

"Rorschach?" She said, a slight smile on her lips. But her smile quickly dropped when she saw his raised fist. She cried out shortly, attempting to protect herself from the punch that she was so desperately afraid of...

Rorschach stopped short. He was suddenly disgusted by his own thoughts; he felt like throwing up. To think that he was about to kill the girl that he had saved a couple of days ago, the girl whose doctor and torturer he killed.

"Did you start the fire?" He asked, having a hard time lowering his fist. He had never had to put it down without punching someone first.

"No..." Brygida replied, her voice choked with high-pitched fear, "I swear to god, I found it like this..."

"Not very convincing." Rorschach growled, "Laughing hard. Happily. Why?"

Brygida slowly lowered her arms, "I am happy that it's burning down." She saw his fist tighten in his glove, and quickly added, "B-but not because I did it! The woman who owned this building was my vocal teacher... And she kicked me out because... Well I'm not entirely sure, but as far as I know, she thought me a threat towards her daughter's career."

Rorschach slowly put his fist down.

She turned back around, smiling jovially, "And now it's burning! The thing that I thought I would love for all eternity spurned me, and now it's gotten it's what for.." She looked at Rorschach, eyes glistening with new, radiant tears, "How can I not be happy?"

Rorschach stared at her as she basked in the glow of the destruction, happy; not ignorant at all, just... happy. And he saw in her what he saw in the Comedian all those years ago.

Understanding and acceptance.

It wasn't that she didn't care if there were people in the building, it was that she accepted that they were dead, and there was nothing that she could do. Such is life.

And Rorschach's respect for her increased dramatically. Even a person as young as she had a better understanding of the world then even Daniel Dreiberg, an old man, who had decided that lies and ignorance was better than the truth.

Rorschach walked next to Brygida as fresh tears trickled down her cheeks, a smile on her lips and her hands clasped behind her back. She didn't look at him.

Rorschach looked at the fire, and though he didn't find the same beauty in it that Brygida did, he found it mesmerizing as well, and the two of them stared on into the fire and flames... And at that moment, theirs was a connection that no earthly being could comprehend.

"Name?" Rorschach asked, his hands in his pockets and his eyes in the fire.

"Brygida." The girl answered softly.

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too."