![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: Still Not Quite a Happy Ending
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Watchmen
Pairing: Laurie/Dan
Rating: PG
Summary: Afterwards, in the dark, Dan can't sleep.
Disclaimer: Lies and bullshit, same as always.
Author's Notes: Oh, no, you guys! "Watchmen" fic! I have destroyed the sanctity of the comic! Flee!
Still Not Quite a Happy Ending
By Perpetual Motion
It would be easier to handle everything if Dan didn’t remember so damned clearly. Not just Antarctica, not just the giant, telepathic squid, but everything before it. It would be so much easier, Dan thinks, if he didn’t remember happiness.
Laurie rolls over and curls up against him. Dan flinches a little. “Your toes are cold,” he whispers into her hair.
“The world ended,” Laurie points out, “and you lived through that.”
Dan smiles against her forehead and listens to her fall asleep again. Laurie breathes easily, and her lips almost touch Dan’s shoulder. He’s happy, but it’s different. There’s a space between his ribs that feels completely empty, and when it gets too quiet and too dark, all Dan can do is remember.
He remembers Rorschach. He doesn’t want to remember Rorschach. Or, at least, he doesn’t want to remember the Rorschach from Antarctica.
Not fair, says Dan’s brain—the voice sounding like Rorschach—Remember everything or nothing. Rorschach was always Rorschach.
But, Dan thinks and stops. Because the truth, above and beyond everything, is that they’re all completely fucked up and none of them used to be.
Lie, Rorschach’s voice mutters. “Excuses are useless. You were fucked up before.
Probably, Dan concedes, and Rorschach’s voice is gone. Dan’s not sure he feels better as he watches the sun rise.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Watchmen
Pairing: Laurie/Dan
Rating: PG
Summary: Afterwards, in the dark, Dan can't sleep.
Disclaimer: Lies and bullshit, same as always.
Author's Notes: Oh, no, you guys! "Watchmen" fic! I have destroyed the sanctity of the comic! Flee!
Still Not Quite a Happy Ending
By Perpetual Motion
It would be easier to handle everything if Dan didn’t remember so damned clearly. Not just Antarctica, not just the giant, telepathic squid, but everything before it. It would be so much easier, Dan thinks, if he didn’t remember happiness.
Laurie rolls over and curls up against him. Dan flinches a little. “Your toes are cold,” he whispers into her hair.
“The world ended,” Laurie points out, “and you lived through that.”
Dan smiles against her forehead and listens to her fall asleep again. Laurie breathes easily, and her lips almost touch Dan’s shoulder. He’s happy, but it’s different. There’s a space between his ribs that feels completely empty, and when it gets too quiet and too dark, all Dan can do is remember.
He remembers Rorschach. He doesn’t want to remember Rorschach. Or, at least, he doesn’t want to remember the Rorschach from Antarctica.
Not fair, says Dan’s brain—the voice sounding like Rorschach—Remember everything or nothing. Rorschach was always Rorschach.
But, Dan thinks and stops. Because the truth, above and beyond everything, is that they’re all completely fucked up and none of them used to be.
Lie, Rorschach’s voice mutters. “Excuses are useless. You were fucked up before.
Probably, Dan concedes, and Rorschach’s voice is gone. Dan’s not sure he feels better as he watches the sun rise.