Fic
Title: Paradoxical Emotions [3/???]
Author: Raffi__
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Watchmen'. Really, I don't.
Rating: T for this chapter, M for fic overall.
Character(s)/Pairing: Rorschach / Daniel (duuuh~)
Warning: none, I guess..?
Lenght: aprox. 1000 words.
Summary: Telling the truth sometimes hurts more than hearing it.
Notes: This chapter may seem completely OOC, but believe me when I say that there is a reason behind this. ;D
xX - Paradoxical Emotions - Xx
Part III
You had seen it coming and didn’t expect anything else. You wonder just how stupid you could possibly be. You were the one who pressed your partner against the cold, dirty wall in this godforsaken alley. You were the one who felt the adrenaline rush through your blood system as you pressed closer to the smaller frame, your free hand wandering all across his body. You didn’t even stop to think about why Rorschach hasn’t beaten you you into a bloody pulp by now; he remains tensed, and motionless like a stone.
When you finally feel that nothing can stop you - not even yourself - you do the most idiotic and crazy thing. His fedora falls on the ground. You do not waver even for a second, as you rip off his mask, realizing later that you just announced your own death sentence.
You yelp, not sure if it is out of pain or surprise, as he steps on your foot, his elbow making a direct, extremely painful contact with your ribs. Stumble, your legs betraying you; your brain registers sharp pain from a gloved hand straight to your goddamn jaw. This time it is broken for sure. A quickly-vanishing thought of what you’ve done, instantly erased from your mind as another punch follows shortly.
You get up, finding support in the nearby wall, his inkblot mask still in your hand. You are prepared for the worst-case scenario as you stare at Rorschach’s second face, the one that he has been hiding for so long, as if it was his secret identity but not Rorschach.
His eyes are cold as steel as he stares at you, lips in a thin line. You feel the chill run down your spine; you still can’t read the expression on his face.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bright idea in the first place… you note to yourself, fingers digging deeper into the black and white latex you still have possession of.
You feel that you should start explaining yourself, but on the other side, is there actually a point in trying to convince Rorschach that you are still his friend and this was nothing to worry about? Like, ‘Hey Rorschach, old buddy, old pal! Oh, what? Oh, don’t mind me while I push you against the wall and try to violate you. It’s okay. We’re still friends, right?’
This is not something you can laugh off like a crappy joke or get away with by simply saying, ‘I’m sorry’. You’ve broken the unspoken rule between you. Twice. Moreover, you are aware that if you will stay quiet as a fish, he will be the one to act first. And that will be bloody, like hell.
‘Rorschach, listen-‘ You begin your speech, wavering and doubting how you should confess. ‘I know that my words will all sound like lame excuses and there’s probably no way I can justify my actions, but-‘
‘Do you know who are you talking to, Daniel?’ He finally speaks, his voice calm, but you can hear and see that he puts much effort into it.
‘What…?’ You are not sure if you heard him right. ’What do you mean?’
His gloved hand points at the latex you hold. You frown in confusion, lost to the track of the conversation.
‘This mask?’ You speak, not sure of what exactly you are asking.
‘You’re talking to a faceless man.’
At this point, you are not sure if you have anything to say to this, but you try nonetheless. ‘I know exactly who I’m talking to-‘
‘And who’s that?’ You are instantly interrupted.
Rorschach - who IS he, really? What is this red-haired, blue-eyed man’s true name? You are dumbfounded by the realization that you know absolutely nothing about the man in front of you, about the man who you almost violated in this stinking alley, who was your partner, your friend and your…
‘Tell me, Daniel. Who do you see?’ His voice tingles with what sounds almost like impatience. He wants to hear you answer this complicated and tricky-in-all-ways question.
And you feel paralyzed. Numb. You want to say something but all the words are stuck in your throat in a hideous knot. Panic slowly builds up and infects your system. This particular panic that makes you sick all over, sick and angry with yourself for not being able to open your mouth and say what is important.
You feel like a coward. Moments ago, there was absolutely nothing that could’ve stopped you from carrying out your plan, but now you stare helplessly at the man in front of you and feel like a child again, that was caught doing something wrong.
Seconds seem like hours, before you finally say, ‘I see a friend.’
You feel cold-steel eyes glaring at you, drilling a hole in your scull, it seems. ‘A friend?’
Oh, the irony. You know that he knows that you are lying. Besides, what kind of friend would actually do what you did..?
‘Daniel.’ Rorschach’s voice is grave and demanding - demanding truth - from a man he once considered his partner, from a man with whom he spent thousands nights risking their lives for greater good. For justice.
For the sake of those moments you shared as vigilantes, you feel obliged to tell him the truth, but the guilt devours you, guilt for not being there to patrol the streets with him, when the Keene Act was announced, guilt for leaving everything behind and forgetting who you really are and - most of all - guilt for showing just how much you care for him in such an animalistic, immoral way.
Telling the truth sometimes hurts more than hearing it.
-To be Continued.
Author: Raffi__
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Watchmen'. Really, I don't.
Rating: T for this chapter, M for fic overall.
Character(s)/Pairing: Rorschach / Daniel (duuuh~)
Warning: none, I guess..?
Lenght: aprox. 1000 words.
Summary: Telling the truth sometimes hurts more than hearing it.
Notes: This chapter may seem completely OOC, but believe me when I say that there is a reason behind this. ;D
xX - Paradoxical Emotions - Xx
Part III
You had seen it coming and didn’t expect anything else. You wonder just how stupid you could possibly be. You were the one who pressed your partner against the cold, dirty wall in this godforsaken alley. You were the one who felt the adrenaline rush through your blood system as you pressed closer to the smaller frame, your free hand wandering all across his body. You didn’t even stop to think about why Rorschach hasn’t beaten you you into a bloody pulp by now; he remains tensed, and motionless like a stone.
When you finally feel that nothing can stop you - not even yourself - you do the most idiotic and crazy thing. His fedora falls on the ground. You do not waver even for a second, as you rip off his mask, realizing later that you just announced your own death sentence.
You yelp, not sure if it is out of pain or surprise, as he steps on your foot, his elbow making a direct, extremely painful contact with your ribs. Stumble, your legs betraying you; your brain registers sharp pain from a gloved hand straight to your goddamn jaw. This time it is broken for sure. A quickly-vanishing thought of what you’ve done, instantly erased from your mind as another punch follows shortly.
You get up, finding support in the nearby wall, his inkblot mask still in your hand. You are prepared for the worst-case scenario as you stare at Rorschach’s second face, the one that he has been hiding for so long, as if it was his secret identity but not Rorschach.
His eyes are cold as steel as he stares at you, lips in a thin line. You feel the chill run down your spine; you still can’t read the expression on his face.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bright idea in the first place… you note to yourself, fingers digging deeper into the black and white latex you still have possession of.
You feel that you should start explaining yourself, but on the other side, is there actually a point in trying to convince Rorschach that you are still his friend and this was nothing to worry about? Like, ‘Hey Rorschach, old buddy, old pal! Oh, what? Oh, don’t mind me while I push you against the wall and try to violate you. It’s okay. We’re still friends, right?’
This is not something you can laugh off like a crappy joke or get away with by simply saying, ‘I’m sorry’. You’ve broken the unspoken rule between you. Twice. Moreover, you are aware that if you will stay quiet as a fish, he will be the one to act first. And that will be bloody, like hell.
‘Rorschach, listen-‘ You begin your speech, wavering and doubting how you should confess. ‘I know that my words will all sound like lame excuses and there’s probably no way I can justify my actions, but-‘
‘Do you know who are you talking to, Daniel?’ He finally speaks, his voice calm, but you can hear and see that he puts much effort into it.
‘What…?’ You are not sure if you heard him right. ’What do you mean?’
His gloved hand points at the latex you hold. You frown in confusion, lost to the track of the conversation.
‘This mask?’ You speak, not sure of what exactly you are asking.
‘You’re talking to a faceless man.’
At this point, you are not sure if you have anything to say to this, but you try nonetheless. ‘I know exactly who I’m talking to-‘
‘And who’s that?’ You are instantly interrupted.
Rorschach - who IS he, really? What is this red-haired, blue-eyed man’s true name? You are dumbfounded by the realization that you know absolutely nothing about the man in front of you, about the man who you almost violated in this stinking alley, who was your partner, your friend and your…
‘Tell me, Daniel. Who do you see?’ His voice tingles with what sounds almost like impatience. He wants to hear you answer this complicated and tricky-in-all-ways question.
And you feel paralyzed. Numb. You want to say something but all the words are stuck in your throat in a hideous knot. Panic slowly builds up and infects your system. This particular panic that makes you sick all over, sick and angry with yourself for not being able to open your mouth and say what is important.
You feel like a coward. Moments ago, there was absolutely nothing that could’ve stopped you from carrying out your plan, but now you stare helplessly at the man in front of you and feel like a child again, that was caught doing something wrong.
Seconds seem like hours, before you finally say, ‘I see a friend.’
You feel cold-steel eyes glaring at you, drilling a hole in your scull, it seems. ‘A friend?’
Oh, the irony. You know that he knows that you are lying. Besides, what kind of friend would actually do what you did..?
‘Daniel.’ Rorschach’s voice is grave and demanding - demanding truth - from a man he once considered his partner, from a man with whom he spent thousands nights risking their lives for greater good. For justice.
For the sake of those moments you shared as vigilantes, you feel obliged to tell him the truth, but the guilt devours you, guilt for not being there to patrol the streets with him, when the Keene Act was announced, guilt for leaving everything behind and forgetting who you really are and - most of all - guilt for showing just how much you care for him in such an animalistic, immoral way.
Telling the truth sometimes hurts more than hearing it.
-To be Continued.