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tamingthemuseFandom: Watchmen
Title: Reflection
Characters: Silk Spectre II (Laurie)
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse 142 flummox, story_lottery 3 jump rope
Word Count: 1081
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Laurie reflects on her relationship with Jon and her life.
Author's Note: Ever since the present tense challenge in February, I can't seem to stop writing in it! I don't own anything, as usual.
Laurie sighs softly as Dan closes the door to the guest room behind him, relieved that she is alone at last. He’s been hovering around her all night, as if he thinks that she is something fragile that will break without warning, and it isn’t helping her mood. She knows that she should probably be ashamed for feeling this way, especially since he has been so considerate to her, but she can’t help herself. The past few days have almost completely drained her, and she doesn’t have the energy right now to carry on a conversation. Maybe things will be better in the morning, once she’s had a good night’s sleep.
She takes a shower and enjoys the hot water sluicing down her skin, washing the dirt and grime of the day into the drain. As she stares down at her feet, Laurie wishes that it was this easy to clean her life. She had dreams once, back when she was a little girl, when she had spent her days playing jump rope with her friends, her pigtails shining in the hot summer sun. Things had been so simple then, so easy. How had everything gotten so completely fucked up?
Her face is wet, and she isn’t sure if it’s solely because of the shower or if she’s started crying again.
When the water is so cold that it makes her shiver, Laurie finally turns off the spray and wraps a towel around her. Dan had thrust a stack of them into her hands before telling her goodnight, and Laurie notices that he has included a terrycloth robe in the pile. His thoughtfulness makes her feel even guiltier for her abrupt dismissal of him earlier, and she reminds herself to thank him again in the morning for all that he’s done for her. Maybe she’ll make breakfast for him. It’s not much, but then again, she doesn’t exactly have much anymore, either. Nearly everything she owns is still at the Rockefeller Military Research Base, and she isn’t sure if she’ll ever see any of it again.
The abrupt change in her circumstances is all the more apparent when Laurie realizes that she hadn’t even packed a nightgown before being unceremoniously kicked out of the quarters she had once shared with Jon. Maybe the government will send them to her once they are done inspecting them for cancer-causing agents. The thought of Dan accidentally opening a box of her lacy underthings should be funny, but she isn’t laughing.
Laurie is thirty-five years old, and what does she have to show for it? A row of half-empty perfume bottles? The few changes of clothing the government had begrudgingly allowed her to take with her? Her measly savings account, which probably would have only bought her a week’s rent in some sleazy hotel if Dan hadn’t offered to let her stay with him? A broken heart?
She isn’t sure about the last one. A part of her will always love Jon, but she hasn’t been in love with him for a while now. Laurie’s not exactly sure when her feelings for him changed, and she’s too tired to sort them out right now, anyway. All she wants to do is sleep for a little while – maybe a long while. She’d told Dan that she could probably sleep until Thursday, and although she’d been joking, she wonders if that might be true. She hasn’t felt this worn out since her days of fighting crime, when she’d had a particular difficult night and the bruises to show for it.
The bed smells strange to her, and it’s much smaller than the one she’d once shared with Jon. Jon had no need for sleep, and he only joined her when they made love. Ever since they had moved into the military center, she’d been seeing less and less of him, anyway. Before that last disastrous time, it had been weeks since he’d touched her with anything remotely resembling desire. She wasn’t even sure if he was still capable of really feeling desire anymore. The only thing that had held his attention recently had been his work, and he’s seemingly deserted it now.
Laurie curls against the spare pillow and breathes in deeply. It smells like detergent and a bit like Dan’s cologne, and in spite of everything, she smiles a little. Jon has no scent of his own and never bothers with cologne, and experiencing a man’s scent like this is something of a novelty to her.
Dan’s thoughtfulness is a novelty to her, too. Jon has never been deliberately unkind to her, but it had felt lately like he was only tolerating her presence most of the time. When had been the last time he’d done something unexpected for her, just to show that he still cared? Laurie thinks for several moments, but she can’t recall.
She misses Jon terribly, or at least the way he used to be, back when they had first met. Back before he’d become so detached from the world and everyone who lived in it. Back when he’d taken her out to dinner and laughed at her jokes and touched her like he wanted her and kissed her like he really enjoyed it…
That Jon is gone, and has been gone for a while, and will likely always be gone, and that makes Laurie’s heart beat painfully in her chest.
Laurie wonders if Jon has seen this day coming since before they’d even met, if he had known from the moment that their lips had first met that she would leave him eventually. It all seems rather morbid to her, if that is the case. Maybe he hadn’t seen this because of the burst of tachyons, the burst that he believes is due to nuclear holocaust.
And then Laurie remembers, and she feels very foolish for being so concerned about her feelings when the world will likely end before the year is over.
She falls into a restless sleep, dreaming of jump rope and that first Crimebusters meeting and Jon’s hands framing her face for the last time and Armageddon, and only the scent of brewing coffee lures her tired, aching body from bed in the morning.
also posted here
[week 11]
Title: Reflection
Characters: Silk Spectre II (Laurie)
Prompt:
tamingthemuse 142 flummox, story_lottery 3 jump ropeWord Count: 1081
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Laurie reflects on her relationship with Jon and her life.
Author's Note: Ever since the present tense challenge in February, I can't seem to stop writing in it! I don't own anything, as usual.
Laurie sighs softly as Dan closes the door to the guest room behind him, relieved that she is alone at last. He’s been hovering around her all night, as if he thinks that she is something fragile that will break without warning, and it isn’t helping her mood. She knows that she should probably be ashamed for feeling this way, especially since he has been so considerate to her, but she can’t help herself. The past few days have almost completely drained her, and she doesn’t have the energy right now to carry on a conversation. Maybe things will be better in the morning, once she’s had a good night’s sleep.
She takes a shower and enjoys the hot water sluicing down her skin, washing the dirt and grime of the day into the drain. As she stares down at her feet, Laurie wishes that it was this easy to clean her life. She had dreams once, back when she was a little girl, when she had spent her days playing jump rope with her friends, her pigtails shining in the hot summer sun. Things had been so simple then, so easy. How had everything gotten so completely fucked up?
Her face is wet, and she isn’t sure if it’s solely because of the shower or if she’s started crying again.
When the water is so cold that it makes her shiver, Laurie finally turns off the spray and wraps a towel around her. Dan had thrust a stack of them into her hands before telling her goodnight, and Laurie notices that he has included a terrycloth robe in the pile. His thoughtfulness makes her feel even guiltier for her abrupt dismissal of him earlier, and she reminds herself to thank him again in the morning for all that he’s done for her. Maybe she’ll make breakfast for him. It’s not much, but then again, she doesn’t exactly have much anymore, either. Nearly everything she owns is still at the Rockefeller Military Research Base, and she isn’t sure if she’ll ever see any of it again.
The abrupt change in her circumstances is all the more apparent when Laurie realizes that she hadn’t even packed a nightgown before being unceremoniously kicked out of the quarters she had once shared with Jon. Maybe the government will send them to her once they are done inspecting them for cancer-causing agents. The thought of Dan accidentally opening a box of her lacy underthings should be funny, but she isn’t laughing.
Laurie is thirty-five years old, and what does she have to show for it? A row of half-empty perfume bottles? The few changes of clothing the government had begrudgingly allowed her to take with her? Her measly savings account, which probably would have only bought her a week’s rent in some sleazy hotel if Dan hadn’t offered to let her stay with him? A broken heart?
She isn’t sure about the last one. A part of her will always love Jon, but she hasn’t been in love with him for a while now. Laurie’s not exactly sure when her feelings for him changed, and she’s too tired to sort them out right now, anyway. All she wants to do is sleep for a little while – maybe a long while. She’d told Dan that she could probably sleep until Thursday, and although she’d been joking, she wonders if that might be true. She hasn’t felt this worn out since her days of fighting crime, when she’d had a particular difficult night and the bruises to show for it.
The bed smells strange to her, and it’s much smaller than the one she’d once shared with Jon. Jon had no need for sleep, and he only joined her when they made love. Ever since they had moved into the military center, she’d been seeing less and less of him, anyway. Before that last disastrous time, it had been weeks since he’d touched her with anything remotely resembling desire. She wasn’t even sure if he was still capable of really feeling desire anymore. The only thing that had held his attention recently had been his work, and he’s seemingly deserted it now.
Laurie curls against the spare pillow and breathes in deeply. It smells like detergent and a bit like Dan’s cologne, and in spite of everything, she smiles a little. Jon has no scent of his own and never bothers with cologne, and experiencing a man’s scent like this is something of a novelty to her.
Dan’s thoughtfulness is a novelty to her, too. Jon has never been deliberately unkind to her, but it had felt lately like he was only tolerating her presence most of the time. When had been the last time he’d done something unexpected for her, just to show that he still cared? Laurie thinks for several moments, but she can’t recall.
She misses Jon terribly, or at least the way he used to be, back when they had first met. Back before he’d become so detached from the world and everyone who lived in it. Back when he’d taken her out to dinner and laughed at her jokes and touched her like he wanted her and kissed her like he really enjoyed it…
That Jon is gone, and has been gone for a while, and will likely always be gone, and that makes Laurie’s heart beat painfully in her chest.
Laurie wonders if Jon has seen this day coming since before they’d even met, if he had known from the moment that their lips had first met that she would leave him eventually. It all seems rather morbid to her, if that is the case. Maybe he hadn’t seen this because of the burst of tachyons, the burst that he believes is due to nuclear holocaust.
And then Laurie remembers, and she feels very foolish for being so concerned about her feelings when the world will likely end before the year is over.
She falls into a restless sleep, dreaming of jump rope and that first Crimebusters meeting and Jon’s hands framing her face for the last time and Armageddon, and only the scent of brewing coffee lures her tired, aching body from bed in the morning.
also posted here
[week 11]
