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31_days2009-07-01 06:34 pm
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2009-07-01 06:34 pm
[July 1] [Watchmen] Reoccurring
Title: Reoccurring
Day/Theme: 1•a dream is nothing but a ghost
Series: Watchmen
Character/Pairing: Dan/Nite Owl
Rating: PG
It was a barely a month that they were back from Antarctica that the dreams started. Even in what passed for deep sleep these day, he would feel eyes burning through whatever tentacled dream had him in its clutches. Someone staring, judging, calling him up from the depths of sleep. When his eyes opened, the room he knew blurred to match the mask gazing down at him. Everything fell out of focus except for the apparition of his former partner, sharp and harsh as ever against the swirling dreamscape.
“Is it you? How did you survive? Did you reassemble yourself like Manhattan did? Tell me!” There was never any answer, and maybe he wasn’t asking aloud anyway, and just as he was sure he was dreaming and decided to force himself awake, the figure held out an arm and pointed at the window. He always woke up with a gasp to find his room empty, but he only sometimes went to look at the window.
Finally, there was the night that he got up to look in the dream and there, looking up at him from the sidewalk was Rorschach again before he woke up. Over and over, night after night, the same events played out. Dan kept waking up to see Rorschach standing over him, pointing at the window. He looked out the window to see him looking up, and made his way down to the street outside.
Once there, Rorschach stood beside him, still silent and pointing. Some nights he pointed as shapeless thugs beating up a man with a suitcase. Sometimes it was a woman, screaming as shadowy figures tore at her clothes. Worst of all was when it was children, being led off into alleys by monsters. While Dan sputtered and protested, Rorshach pointed upwards. The sky was always black until two yellow eyes opened in it, swooping down over the city.
Dan couldn’t tell if it was Archie or a gigantic owl, but the yellow light dissolved the shadow-men and drove the monsters away. He turned and found Rorschach’s mask staring at him. Hopeful? It was bad enough to remember his disappointment without facing it every night in his dreams.
“I can’t,” he always tried to explain. “That’s over. You’re dead. As far as the city is concerned, so am I.” That was when he would turn and find himself alone and the darkness seeping in around him like the black on the mask. He woke up with a gasp, still alone, but in the soft shades of gray that covered his room.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered to his ceiling. “I gave up that dream, gave up that ghost.” There was no answer thankfully, even from dreams or ghosts that hadn’t given up on him.
Day/Theme: 1•a dream is nothing but a ghost
Series: Watchmen
Character/Pairing: Dan/Nite Owl
Rating: PG
It was a barely a month that they were back from Antarctica that the dreams started. Even in what passed for deep sleep these day, he would feel eyes burning through whatever tentacled dream had him in its clutches. Someone staring, judging, calling him up from the depths of sleep. When his eyes opened, the room he knew blurred to match the mask gazing down at him. Everything fell out of focus except for the apparition of his former partner, sharp and harsh as ever against the swirling dreamscape.
“Is it you? How did you survive? Did you reassemble yourself like Manhattan did? Tell me!” There was never any answer, and maybe he wasn’t asking aloud anyway, and just as he was sure he was dreaming and decided to force himself awake, the figure held out an arm and pointed at the window. He always woke up with a gasp to find his room empty, but he only sometimes went to look at the window.
Finally, there was the night that he got up to look in the dream and there, looking up at him from the sidewalk was Rorschach again before he woke up. Over and over, night after night, the same events played out. Dan kept waking up to see Rorschach standing over him, pointing at the window. He looked out the window to see him looking up, and made his way down to the street outside.
Once there, Rorschach stood beside him, still silent and pointing. Some nights he pointed as shapeless thugs beating up a man with a suitcase. Sometimes it was a woman, screaming as shadowy figures tore at her clothes. Worst of all was when it was children, being led off into alleys by monsters. While Dan sputtered and protested, Rorshach pointed upwards. The sky was always black until two yellow eyes opened in it, swooping down over the city.
Dan couldn’t tell if it was Archie or a gigantic owl, but the yellow light dissolved the shadow-men and drove the monsters away. He turned and found Rorschach’s mask staring at him. Hopeful? It was bad enough to remember his disappointment without facing it every night in his dreams.
“I can’t,” he always tried to explain. “That’s over. You’re dead. As far as the city is concerned, so am I.” That was when he would turn and find himself alone and the darkness seeping in around him like the black on the mask. He woke up with a gasp, still alone, but in the soft shades of gray that covered his room.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered to his ceiling. “I gave up that dream, gave up that ghost.” There was no answer thankfully, even from dreams or ghosts that hadn’t given up on him.