Watchmen fic: "Searching"
Title: Searching
Character: that would spoil the ending.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Night Owl. Rorschach. And the possible return in the wake of the film.
Note: I had to write this. The characters are too similar (and/or opposite) not to write.
That and the vital piece occurred to me when I was reading this masterwork of Rorschach fanfiction.
Author’s Note: Written for me.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Watchmen or anything related to it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dan is Night Owl when he hears the news - there’s a vigilante out by the harbor, with a face that’s like no other face.
Not all the bad guys say ‘Rorschach’ - for some, there’s a supernatural, even religious awe…or terror, depends what day it is. Dan’s heard a lot of the circumlocutions folks make to refer to The One Whose Face Flows, and no doubt Rorschach had heard even more. Has heard, Dan corrects himself. He had been Night Owl out on patrol when he’d heard the news, and he wasn’t heading home, not until he’d resolved this one way or the other.
Home.
Home is where the masks come off.
Laurie worries about him. Doesn’t understand. She had Dr Manhattan for much of her career. Night Owl had Rorschach; that level of platonic loyalty is like a favorite coat: it becomes armor.
Psychological armor. But then, isn’t that the whole point of dressing up in masks? The masks are supposed to keep you safe, give an air of trustworthiness and - usually - respectability.
Rorschach was always there, always ready to bang heads together until the night quieted down and the pushers and pimps hid under their own beds. At least until Night Owl had quit; Keene Act or no Keene Act, to Rorschach, it was quitting. There were a lot of nights that Dan felt the same way.
And now…now there was the possibility that Rorschach was still alive. What had Dr Manhattan said, down in Antarctica? ’Reassembling myself was the first thing I learned.’ But why make it look like he’d destroyed Rorschach down in the Antarctic? “Must investigate,” Dan said to himself, knowing full well who he sounded like.
There’s a fog out tonight, one that lifts and rolls back down all the time. There’s not much of the docks left to scour.
And then he sees him. Right height. Right girth and pacing. “Hey!” he hollers.
The other guy freezes where he stands, a silhouette through the fog. His reaction, exactly right.
“Rorschach?” Night Owl asked.
“No.” Gravelly voice, check. Not exactly the same, but, meh.
“Then who are you?” as the fog started to lift.
“The Question,” replied the figure, a perfectly blank face between the unremarkable black hair and stereotypical-in-appearance trenchcoat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The end
Character: that would spoil the ending.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Night Owl. Rorschach. And the possible return in the wake of the film.
Note: I had to write this. The characters are too similar (and/or opposite) not to write.
That and the vital piece occurred to me when I was reading this masterwork of Rorschach fanfiction.
Author’s Note: Written for me.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Watchmen or anything related to it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dan is Night Owl when he hears the news - there’s a vigilante out by the harbor, with a face that’s like no other face.
Not all the bad guys say ‘Rorschach’ - for some, there’s a supernatural, even religious awe…or terror, depends what day it is. Dan’s heard a lot of the circumlocutions folks make to refer to The One Whose Face Flows, and no doubt Rorschach had heard even more. Has heard, Dan corrects himself. He had been Night Owl out on patrol when he’d heard the news, and he wasn’t heading home, not until he’d resolved this one way or the other.
Home.
Home is where the masks come off.
Laurie worries about him. Doesn’t understand. She had Dr Manhattan for much of her career. Night Owl had Rorschach; that level of platonic loyalty is like a favorite coat: it becomes armor.
Psychological armor. But then, isn’t that the whole point of dressing up in masks? The masks are supposed to keep you safe, give an air of trustworthiness and - usually - respectability.
Rorschach was always there, always ready to bang heads together until the night quieted down and the pushers and pimps hid under their own beds. At least until Night Owl had quit; Keene Act or no Keene Act, to Rorschach, it was quitting. There were a lot of nights that Dan felt the same way.
And now…now there was the possibility that Rorschach was still alive. What had Dr Manhattan said, down in Antarctica? ’Reassembling myself was the first thing I learned.’ But why make it look like he’d destroyed Rorschach down in the Antarctic? “Must investigate,” Dan said to himself, knowing full well who he sounded like.
There’s a fog out tonight, one that lifts and rolls back down all the time. There’s not much of the docks left to scour.
And then he sees him. Right height. Right girth and pacing. “Hey!” he hollers.
The other guy freezes where he stands, a silhouette through the fog. His reaction, exactly right.
“Rorschach?” Night Owl asked.
“No.” Gravelly voice, check. Not exactly the same, but, meh.
“Then who are you?” as the fog started to lift.
“The Question,” replied the figure, a perfectly blank face between the unremarkable black hair and stereotypical-in-appearance trenchcoat.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The end