Watchmen: A Mirror of the Trackless Sky by Cherry Ice
Title: A Mirror of the Trackless Sky
Author: Cherry Ice
Fandom: Watchmen
Characters/Pairings: Dan/Laurie, Veidt
Length: 1500
Warnings: None
Spoilers: The GN.
Why this must be read: Written with sparse language and a light touch, this is a story about the impossibility of the aftermath, picking yourself up and moving on. I love the little touches of grief that keep striking when you least expect it, and of hope striking out in Veidt's brave new world.
The memorial is still makeshift, battered, crowded. In time, it will be replaced with plaque after plaque of names, neatly carved and sterile. Their names will be on there, separated by seven letters and several hundred thousand names. Now, though, there are pictures and flowers, newspaper clipping and dolls, names in marker and pen and spray paint.
'Walter Kovacs' he writes, for a friend long dead, 'Rorschach' for one he has yet to mourn. "I was never close to my father," he tells Laurie as he writes. Concentrates on the letters. "He wasn't a bad man, or a bad father. We just didn't connect." Steps back to look for an open space, drops his head as his throat closes up. "Hollis, he..."
"I know," she says, and takes the marker from his hand. Writes up 'Hollis Mason' neatly, and underneath that scrawls 'Edward Blake.' "He was my father," she tells Dan, finally, and beneath a wall black with names, she comes apart at his touch.
A Mirror of the Trackless Sky
Author: Cherry Ice
Fandom: Watchmen
Characters/Pairings: Dan/Laurie, Veidt
Length: 1500
Warnings: None
Spoilers: The GN.
Why this must be read: Written with sparse language and a light touch, this is a story about the impossibility of the aftermath, picking yourself up and moving on. I love the little touches of grief that keep striking when you least expect it, and of hope striking out in Veidt's brave new world.
The memorial is still makeshift, battered, crowded. In time, it will be replaced with plaque after plaque of names, neatly carved and sterile. Their names will be on there, separated by seven letters and several hundred thousand names. Now, though, there are pictures and flowers, newspaper clipping and dolls, names in marker and pen and spray paint.
'Walter Kovacs' he writes, for a friend long dead, 'Rorschach' for one he has yet to mourn. "I was never close to my father," he tells Laurie as he writes. Concentrates on the letters. "He wasn't a bad man, or a bad father. We just didn't connect." Steps back to look for an open space, drops his head as his throat closes up. "Hollis, he..."
"I know," she says, and takes the marker from his hand. Writes up 'Hollis Mason' neatly, and underneath that scrawls 'Edward Blake.' "He was my father," she tells Dan, finally, and beneath a wall black with names, she comes apart at his touch.
A Mirror of the Trackless Sky