[fic] Every Breath You Take
Mar. 4th, 2010 05:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeTitle: Every Breath You Take
Fandom: Watchmen
Characters: Rorschach, with an Adrian cameo
Word Count: ~750 words
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rorschach is in love. No, really.
A/N: This is entirely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
adsartha's fault. And a rough draft. Not sure of Rorschach's voice yet.
Hurm.
Went to the house again today. She didn't recognize me.
Keys in the coffee can. Coat on the banister. Big house. Too big. Made supper out of toast and baked beans on stove. Fed the dog.
She's a quiet person. Leads a quiet life. Doesn't seem like the kind of woman to get in the way of a would-be mugger or rapist. Got a strong grip, though. Must be from walking the dog. Beast is as big as she is.
Up reading, now. Light on in bedroom window. The book by her bed is CS Lewis. Screwtape Letters. Her book, old and worn. Stack of library books downstairs. Does a lot of reading. All kinds.
Light went off before midnight. Stayed till the rain stopped, then went home. Don't think she recognized me.
Followed her to work today. Den of whores. Should have known better.
Stopped a robbery outside a methadone clinic. Saw her again. She had her coat on and was giving out condoms and clean needles. Helping aborted suicides kill themselves slower. She gave me a business card for a ministry charity, told me I could get a sandwich or two there. Do I look like a starving man? Still didn't recognize me.
She's a doctor. Works at a clinic downtown between the whores and the working poor, barely making ends meet. Working with plastic bandages and the touch, no fancy machines or expensive medications. Should tell Adrian. Might provide grant money.
Fight at the methodone clinic today. People pouring out, disgorged from buildings in medical robes and hospital gowns. Small riot. Easy to handle.
Junkie with a needle still in his vein was swinging a fire axe. Don't know how he got it. Three bodies wheeled out of the clinic. She looked scared.
Didn't look scared when she hit the mugger with her bag.
Police got there fast. Might have something to do with the pimp with two broken arms and a broken neck outside her clinic the other day. He got two fourteen year old girls hooked on heroin and put them out on the street to whore for him. He deserved it.
Left her card with the youngest. Maybe she can get clean.
Adrian said he'd look into it. Not holding hope.
Quiet at the clinic today. After the riot no one wants to make trouble. Might be someone watching.
She's back at work. Saw her with one of the girls today. Talking to a cop. Maybe social services. Might be salvaged, now. Maybe her parents will come to get her. If they care.
She asked me if I'd been to the shelter yet. I said no. She looked sad.
Went to the shelter. Old man asked me if I'd found God. Did not break his hand.
Saw her at the whorehouse again today. Came in with her bag, then the ambulance came. Don't know what happened but she looked like she had been crying when she came out. Started to rain after that. She went home instead.
Now I know she goes back to that place, every week. Makes sure all the whores are healthy so the men they sell themselves to don't catch something unpleasant. Doesn't take money from them for it, or she'd live in a better place. Wouldn't be spending all her money on dog food and eating grilled cheese for dinner.
Doesn't beg. Doesn't ask. Doesn't walk the streets with the rest of the whores, reeking of desperation. Doesn't use her fancy skills to make money off the rich and desperate. Day after day, she goes back to that place. To work with no money, no clean tools, helping the dregs of society get along with what they have, using what she has. She says they're supposed to be losers. She was a loser, once. Likes to subvert expectations.
Adrian's grant money came through. New equipment for the clinic. Better drugs.
Watched Adrian come down, himself, with his bodyguards and his bureaucrats. He recognized my face, didn't say anything. She recognized my face too, went inside in a hurry when she saw me.
Don't think she likes my face very much.
Lights went out early tonight. No reading.
She took the dog out when she came home, looked around. Dog looked around too, alert, watching for a threat. She thought I was a threat, maybe, but the dog knew better. Stayed in shadows till she went back inside.
Shouldn't come around anymore. Bad for both of us.
Hurm.
Fandom: Watchmen
Characters: Rorschach, with an Adrian cameo
Word Count: ~750 words
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Rorschach is in love. No, really.
A/N: This is entirely
adsartha's fault. And a rough draft. Not sure of Rorschach's voice yet. Hurm.
Went to the house again today. She didn't recognize me.
Keys in the coffee can. Coat on the banister. Big house. Too big. Made supper out of toast and baked beans on stove. Fed the dog.
She's a quiet person. Leads a quiet life. Doesn't seem like the kind of woman to get in the way of a would-be mugger or rapist. Got a strong grip, though. Must be from walking the dog. Beast is as big as she is.
Up reading, now. Light on in bedroom window. The book by her bed is CS Lewis. Screwtape Letters. Her book, old and worn. Stack of library books downstairs. Does a lot of reading. All kinds.
Light went off before midnight. Stayed till the rain stopped, then went home. Don't think she recognized me.
Followed her to work today. Den of whores. Should have known better.
Stopped a robbery outside a methadone clinic. Saw her again. She had her coat on and was giving out condoms and clean needles. Helping aborted suicides kill themselves slower. She gave me a business card for a ministry charity, told me I could get a sandwich or two there. Do I look like a starving man? Still didn't recognize me.
She's a doctor. Works at a clinic downtown between the whores and the working poor, barely making ends meet. Working with plastic bandages and the touch, no fancy machines or expensive medications. Should tell Adrian. Might provide grant money.
Fight at the methodone clinic today. People pouring out, disgorged from buildings in medical robes and hospital gowns. Small riot. Easy to handle.
Junkie with a needle still in his vein was swinging a fire axe. Don't know how he got it. Three bodies wheeled out of the clinic. She looked scared.
Didn't look scared when she hit the mugger with her bag.
Police got there fast. Might have something to do with the pimp with two broken arms and a broken neck outside her clinic the other day. He got two fourteen year old girls hooked on heroin and put them out on the street to whore for him. He deserved it.
Left her card with the youngest. Maybe she can get clean.
Adrian said he'd look into it. Not holding hope.
Quiet at the clinic today. After the riot no one wants to make trouble. Might be someone watching.
She's back at work. Saw her with one of the girls today. Talking to a cop. Maybe social services. Might be salvaged, now. Maybe her parents will come to get her. If they care.
She asked me if I'd been to the shelter yet. I said no. She looked sad.
Went to the shelter. Old man asked me if I'd found God. Did not break his hand.
Saw her at the whorehouse again today. Came in with her bag, then the ambulance came. Don't know what happened but she looked like she had been crying when she came out. Started to rain after that. She went home instead.
Now I know she goes back to that place, every week. Makes sure all the whores are healthy so the men they sell themselves to don't catch something unpleasant. Doesn't take money from them for it, or she'd live in a better place. Wouldn't be spending all her money on dog food and eating grilled cheese for dinner.
Doesn't beg. Doesn't ask. Doesn't walk the streets with the rest of the whores, reeking of desperation. Doesn't use her fancy skills to make money off the rich and desperate. Day after day, she goes back to that place. To work with no money, no clean tools, helping the dregs of society get along with what they have, using what she has. She says they're supposed to be losers. She was a loser, once. Likes to subvert expectations.
Adrian's grant money came through. New equipment for the clinic. Better drugs.
Watched Adrian come down, himself, with his bodyguards and his bureaucrats. He recognized my face, didn't say anything. She recognized my face too, went inside in a hurry when she saw me.
Don't think she likes my face very much.
Lights went out early tonight. No reading.
She took the dog out when she came home, looked around. Dog looked around too, alert, watching for a threat. She thought I was a threat, maybe, but the dog knew better. Stayed in shadows till she went back inside.
Shouldn't come around anymore. Bad for both of us.
Hurm.