Summary: When Rorschach is arrested and sent to prison, the world sees a murderer behind bars. You see your husband.
The first time you entered the prison, every eye followed you. Some even recognised you.
“That’s his wife.”
“Poor thing.”
“Bet she didn’t know.”
You kept your head high, becuase you knew, they don't know Walter. The guard stopped outside the visiting room.
“You’ve got thirty minutes.”
You nodded. Your hands trembled anyway. Not because of Walter. Because of everyone else. You knew exactly who filled these cells.
Murderers.
Rapists.
Gang leaders.
Men your husband had personally dragged into police custody over the years. Men who had sworn revenge.
The steel door buzzed open.
Walter stepped inside wearing the coarse orange prison uniform.
Without his mask. Without the shifting inkblots that hid his face.
Every single time you saw him without it, your heart ached.
His red hair was untidy. Bruises coloured one cheek. His lip was split.
He looked tired. So very tired.
But when he saw you…
Something changed, only for half a second. The hardness softened, not enough for anyone else to notice, but it was enough for you. You stood before you could stop yourself.
“Walter…”
He sat down.
“So you came.”
“I’ll always come.”
“Shouldn’t.” His eyes searched yours.
“What?” You frowned.
“People watching.”
“I don’t care.”
“They’ll use you.”
“I don’t care.”
“I care.”
You reached across the table. For a moment, he simply stared at your hand, Walter had never been good with affection in public.
Even after years of marriage. Slowly… his scarred fingers rested over yours.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered.
“I’m exactly where I belong.”
For a moment, there was silence, then you looked at him more.
“You’ve been hurt.”
“It's nothing.”
“Walter.”
“They tried.”
“…Who?” Your stomach tightened.
He shrugged.
“Everyone.”
“I knew this would happen.” You felt sick.
“They’re cowards.”
“They’re dangerous.”
“They’re criminals you arrested.”
“They’re criminals.”
“I know you didn’t kill him.” You leaned forward, Walter looked at you.
“You believe that.”
“I know it.”
“Why?”
The question surprised you.
“You’ve never lied to me.”
“I’ve hidden things.”
“Not the important ones.”
“You know what I am.” His eyes drifted down.
“I do.”
“Not good man.”
“I disagree.” He gave the smallest shake of his head. “Broken.”
“Missed you.” His expression became serious again. The words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear them. Your heart broke.
“You did?”
“…Yes.” He looked annoyed with himself.
“I missed you too.”
“Apartment quiet?”
“Too quiet.”
“Cat?”
“Still ignores me.”
“Hm.”
“He sits by the window every evening.” Walter looked away. “He waits for you.”
Silence. You knew what he was thinking. He would never admit it, but he missed that cat. Even if he insisted the creature merely tolerated him.
You reached into your handbag.
“I brought something.”
The guard immediately stood.
“No objects.”
“It’s just a photograph. It was checked beforehand.”
After checking it thoroughly, again, he allowed it. Walter accepted it.
It was a picture of your sitting room. The cat asleep in Walter’s old chair. Blanket folded over the arm. His journal still on the table where he’d left it.
Home.
His thumb brushed over the edge of the photograph.
“…Looks the same.”
“I’ve left everything exactly as it was.”
He stared at it for a long moment, then folded it with extraordinary care.
“You’ll keep it?”
“Yes.”
“It’ll remind you what you’re coming home to.”
“You think leaving.” Walter looked up sharply.
“I know you’re leaving.”
“They’ll try to keep me.”
“We’ll prove you’re innocent.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No evidence.”
“We’ll find it.”
“You shouldn’t waste your life.”
“My life is with you.”
His jaw tightened.
“You deserve…” He stopped but you finished for him.
“Someone normal?”
He nodded once, but you laughed.
“I married a man who wears a mask made of moving ink.”
He almost looked offended.
“It’s fabric.”
“I know.”
“You chose this.”
“I chose you.”
His eyes closed. As if hearing those words hurt more than any punch he’d received.
“You shouldn’t love me.”
“I do.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand more than you think.”
“I’ve done terrible things.”
“You’ve done necessary things. You’ve saved people. You’ve protected children. You’ve given everything for justice.”
“No compromise.”
“I know.”
“I won’t.”
“I know.”
Even if it kills me.
He didn’t say those words. He didn’t have to. They hung between you. The loudspeaker crackled.
“Visiting time ends in two minutes.”
“So soon?”
Walter stood up from his chair.
“I’ll come next week.” you said.
“Dangerous.”
“I’ll still come.”
“They may follow you.”
“I’ll still come.”
“They could hurt you.” You walked around the table before the guards could stop you.
“Walter…”
One guard sighed.
“Make it quick.”
You wrapped your arms around your husband.
For the first second, he froze.
Unused to being held. Then his arms enclosed you with surprising gentleness.
Carefully. As if you were something fragile. He buried his face against your hair. You heard him breathe. One long, shaky breath.
“I love you,” you whispered.
He said nothing.
For a moment.
“…Know.”
You smiled through tears.
“And?”
His voice cracked.
“I love you too.”
It sounded painful, like the words had fought their way through walls built over decades.
You kissed him. The guards separated you. Walter never looked away.
Not once.
Until the steel door closed between you. That evening, back in his cell, another inmate sneered.
“Your little wife still thinks you’re a hero.”
Walter sat on the edge of his bunk. Carefully unfolding the photograph.
Looking at the little apartment.
The waiting cat.
The home that still believed in him. His voice was calm.
“She knows truth.”
The inmate laughed.
Walter folded the photograph and slipped it safely inside his prison Bible.
For the first time since entering prison… The cell did not feel quite so empty.
Because somewhere beyond concrete walls and iron bars… You were waiting.
And Walter Kovacs had never broken a promise to come home.
