In the end

In the end it was Dan who went to clear out Rorschach's apartment. Jon had gone off to another galaxy, Adrian was busy rebuilding his Utopia and Laurie, well, Laurie barely knew Rorschach. Not that any of them really knew him, but Dan felt that he was the closest thing Rorschach had had to a friend.

Laurie had offered to come along for moral support or something but Dan turned her down. This was something he had to do alone.

He told the landlady he was Rorschach's half-brother and she had told him he had to give her $500 back rent before she'd unlock the door. Privately he thought she was probably lieing about how much was owing but he paid her anyways.

Once inside he had sat on the only relatively clear piece of furniture, the bed, and thought about how strange it was that he had never been here when Rorschach was alive and how uneasy it made him to be here now that he was dead. It was almost like he expected Rorscahch to walk in at any moment, but that was ridiculous, wasn't it?

Finally, he heaved himself up and set about cleaning up the place. Pulling out a roll of trashbags from his coat pocket he opened one and began tossing in empty bean cans and old copies of The New Frontiersman. When he came across something that wasn't trash he set it aside to look at later. After the third bag had been dropped into the garbage can in the alley outside the window, he turned to the small pile on the bed. Popping open another bag he stuffed in Rorschach's remaining clothing and linens to be washed and donated to charity at a later date.

All that was left on the bed was a series of diaries, each neatly labeled with a year starting with '63-'64. The only one missing was this year's. Dan opened the first one.

My name is Walter Kovacs and today is my thirteenth birthday. Dr. Matthews gave me this Journal and told me to write down my feelings and stuff. I accepted the journal, but broke three of his fingers and his jaw when he smiled at me and patted my shoulder. Smug bastard. I'm not a pet and he's not my father. He's lucky I didn't break his writing hand.

Dan closed the book. He wasn't sure what to do with the journal's but he stacked them up and tied them together with twine. Perhaps he'd read them all when he got home.

All that was left was a locket, a tiny, ragged teddy bear and a dog-eared copy of Faust that was full of underlines and notes in the margins in Rorschach's own handwriting. Dan didn't know why it was the book that surprised him the most. The locket was inscribed the with word "Mother" and contained a picture of a tiredly pretty woman.

When the funeral was held three days later the coffin held 22 journals (one "rescued" from a newspaper office), 1 teddy bear, 1 locket, 1 book of classical literature and Rorschach's fedora, which Adrian had been brought back.

If the undertaker or priest thought it strange, neither mentioned it.

Laurie cried, Dan stoically tried to comfort her and Adrian tried to wrap his mind around the concept that this was all that was left of someone's entire life, a box of junk and a funeral attended more from a sense of duty than any real feelings of connection.


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