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#1 2010-08-10 19:47:08
- IndyWolf
- Member
- Registered: 2010-03-07
- Posts: 195
Big Doc's Girl
This is a Watchmen fanfic, so enjoy, guys! 
I figure it doesn't all have to be about werewolves, so I decided to post something different for a change.
Big Doc’s Girl
A/N: What if Dr. Malcolm Long had a daughter who asked questions about his relationship with Rorschach? What would happen if she became friends with him? Please R&R.
One night, when Celia Long was fast asleep, Heather Long, a tall, slim girl with frizzy black hair held in place by a headband, walked into her father’s study.
“Oh, hey, Dad. Whatcha doin’?” she asked him.
Dr. Malcolm blanched, but even though Heather was his baby girl, she was nineteen and staying for a while until she found a new apartment, so it’d be all right to tell her.
“Do you know of the famous, or perhaps infamous costumed vigilante Rorschach?” he asked her politely.
“Yes,” she whispered faintly. Eight years ago, in 1977, protestors went to the streets to recall all of the vigilantes. Heather never understood why, and eventually realized it was wrong, because she learned the masses were selfish and uncaring, but ordinary people were godsends. She wrote a paper in her Debate class on why the Keene Act was wrong, saying it wrongfully misinterpreted due process of law and justice for illegal activities. The teacher refused to accept it, but gave her an A for effort. She explained the schoolboard would get in trouble if Heather sent this to the Regionals. She fumed out of the teacher’s office and dropped Debate as an elective, opting instead for cheerleading. “I know him well.”
He was surprised. Normally, girls her age didn’t care one way or another about politics, or even local news. “Well,” he said, adjusting the rim of his glasses out of habit, “What do you have to say about him?”
Heather peeked open the door and checked to see if her mother was still sleeping, and she was. She closed the door. “Well,” she said, “This might sound surprising, but, uh, I don’t understand the legal validity of the Keene Act.”
He accidentally knocked down his water glass with a large THUD! Miraculously, her mother was still asleep. “Well, to be fair, dear, it’s a closed case. Has been for eight years. No reason to question it.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“If it’s a closed case, then why was Rorschach active those eight years, and why was he sent to jail because of it? Laws are very open-ended,” she said.
He chuckled, and rumpled up her hair. “My girl… are you planning on becoming a lawyer?”
“Well, maybe,” she said with a shrug. “I’m taking Criminal Justice and Psychology in my classes. They’re pretty interesting.”
“Tell you what,” he said, “You’re on break, right?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “My schedule is jam-packed.”
“Well, come over Saturday and give Rorschach a talk, will ya?” he asked her.
Her eyes bugged out, but the doctor noted it was not with alarm or fear, but with hastily concealed excitement. “That sounds… wonderful,” she said, hastily smiling. “I have to go to bed now. G’night.”
“Night,” he said.
She went to her room, flicked the lamp on, and began to write in her diary.
Dear Diary,
What I didn’t tell my dad was that I’ve had a secret crush on Rorschach since I was twelve, and although I’ve outgrown it, please don’t make him seem as bad as in the papers, please! I want to talk to him and maybe let my feelings out.
Love,
Heather
She turned out the light with her eyes wide open, and lay down and thought.
-<>-
The next morning, Malcolm made scrambled eggs and coffee, but her mother was still asleep. It was five a.m., about the time when Sing Sing opened up. Malcolm and Heather whispered, put their fingers to their lips and went, “Ssh!” so as not to wake their mother up, ate a quick breakfast, and left. When they got there, the cell block was empty; everyone was doing mandatory exercises. Malcolm smuggled some toast and a coffee up in an effort to better their relationship, but Heather read the police file, and found out he had concealed a special brand of sugar cubes when they confiscated his outfit. It just so happened that her father had those hidden in the teapot, careful not to let his wife know he was cheating on his diet. She decided to bring those in because if that was the only food they found on his person besides his most precious momentos, then he must love them, right? Two armed guards with a meager plate of pre-processed macaroni and cheese escorted in Rorschach.
Even from looking at this duo, Rorschach could tell it’d be a rough morning.
He thought, Like always? and shrugged it off. It was this utterly pretentious know-it-all who thought he could “reform” Rorschach, as if he needed any reformation. And who was that? She looked like she couldn’t be any older than twenty-one. Malcolm pulled out his toast and coffee, and Rorschach shrugged it aside.
It was then that Heather looked him in the eye for the first time. The police manhandled him brutally, as if he didn’t have enough scars already, his hair was a wild, carrot-y red, and his eyes were blank, judgmental, and uncompromising. She decided to act fast.
“Hey,” she greeted, and Rorschach glanced at her briefly and boredly, “I got these for you.” She pulled out a packet of sugar cubes.
Rorschach instantly became alert, and snatched them out of her hand. “You got those for me?” he asked her, pointing at him. He looked like he was touched.
“Yes,” she said, “I like you, Rorschach,” she added with a smile.
Malcolm decided not to interject they were his and his daughter was very sorry she stole them, because he actually looked grateful for an act of kindness she did.
“Say,” he said, “I normally have until ten a.m., but-” he paused, since Rorschach opened his mouth, but closed it. “-I decided to have an open session with just you and my daughter. Just talk. Go for an hour, and see how it goes.” He went to his private study and recollected his thoughts. What the hell just happened?
“Hey,” she said, “How’s it going?”
“In prison,” he said with a smile. “Yourself?”
She laughed. “In college. It sucks.”
He gazed at her sympathetically, and pondered over his remaining sugar cubes. He gave one to her. “Take it,” he said, “It’s for you.”
She was awed. “Thank you,” she said, and ate it. It was the sweetest thing she had ever tasted, and it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.
“You’re welcome,” he added briefly. “So… what brings you to this cold, dank recess in the blight of the human condition?”
“To be fair,” she said after considering his words, “I came here to check up on you. I don’t support the passing of the Keene Act.”
Rorschach was dumbfounded, and almost considered slapping her across the face and shouting, Why were your family all masked adventurers and you didn’t tell me, hurm? Instead, he stared open-mouthed, before he finally got the guts to ask, “Is your family masks?”
She rolled her eyes, and said, “I wish. Nothing ever happens here.”
“You mean…” he said amazedly, “You’re one of the few people who don’t support the Keene Act, even today?”
She almost felt like crying. Maybe the people did vote on it, and maybe no one wanted them in the streets, but when she realized that, she became angry instead. Why didn’t you tell me, Dad? she almost felt like shouting.
When Rorschach saw the bizarre, sudden mental rage going on in her head, he became puzzled, but she began crying. And then he did something he thought he would never do. He put his hand on her shoulder.
“Oh, God…” she said. “I thought everyone supported you guys. I had no idea!”
“How come?” asked Rorschach with a troubled look.
“You think I know these things? You think I know every single thing that happens on in this crazy-ass world? I don’t know anything!” she said, reaching her arms out in a flourish. “But, yes, the Keene Act negated due process of law, freedom of assembly, and the right to bear arms as we know it. Still…” she said, pausing. “I’ve always been supportive of you guys regardless. You were New York’s shining beacon of light, and then when everyone became violent, they looked for a scapegoat, and they found you.”
Rorschach was more than astounded; he was absolutely heartened, appreciated, and loved. It was like this girl was his words in his journal screaming out loud. She embodied everything that held dear to him and everything that was beautiful to him. Right then and right there, she meant everything in the world to him.
“Miss…?” he asked.
“Heather. Heather Long,” she said.
“Heather Long… very beautiful,” he said, and she saw his fingers were trembling. She took his hand, and he got the courage to speak. He said, “When I get out of prison, have something to look forward to. Have someone to protect. Thought I protected city, but it was just one big mass. You… you are special. You are someone to protect.” He stroked her hair next to her right ear, and it sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine.
“So…” she said, “Now that that’s settled, what do you want to talk about until 10:00am?”
He grinned wryly, and said, “Was a time back in ’67 with a Molotov Cocktail…”
Dr. Long was shocked to hear his patient and his daughter laughing together and chatting brightly with each other. When the clock reached 10:00, Dr. Long opened the door and found them holding hands. He was stunned speechless. Rorschach looked disheartened, and promptly let go.
“Time to say goodbye,” he said.
“When will I see her again?” he asked him.
“Same time next week?” he asked him brightly. “Or, if you like, she could attend our regular evening sessions, but it would be a family session,” he said, with emphasis on family.
Rorschach snorted. “Better off without her. She doesn’t need to suffer.”
“No,” she whispered to him, “You need company in those evenings. I’ll come, and I’ll come every Saturday. Bye,” she said, and she left. Rorschach was escorted back to his cell, and he paced furiously and thought.
Now have something to believe in, something to love, and something to be enraptured with… who knows? Maybe something good’ll come out of it, he thought, and quickly banished that thought in his mind with a laugh. It was true, though. For the first time in his life, Rorschach had a true friend.
-<>-
Dr. Long showed Rorschach several inkblots, with his daughter in tow.
“Daddy?” she asked him.
Oh, the savior, thought Rorschach. He closed his eyes and seemed to be praying.
“You do realize that Rorschach is purposely misleading you because he considers this exercise unprofitable and unwanted, right?” she asked him.
Both of them stared at her, and Dr. Long laughed nervously. “Well, uh, sweetheart, I think-”
“She’s right,” muttered Rorschach, toying with a broken fingernail.
“What’s that, now?” asked Dr. Long.
“She is right,” Rorschach repeated more firmly.
“Oh,” he said, obviously flustered, and added, “Well, uh, what would you like to do, then, Rorschach?”
“Talk,” said Rorschach.
“Gladly,” he said.
“Not to you, to her,” She looked at him appreciatively. “Privately,” he said.
“If that would be your wish, then I would be happy to oblige,” he said, smiling as he left for his office and took a much-needed nap.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked him. “Daddy’s a good man, and he only wants to help you.”
He shook his head. “Too good. Too naïve, I think. Need a realist.”
“Well, you’ve got one,” she said, “But you have to understand-”
He clasped her hand firmly. “There’s nothing to understand. Not anymore. Not now. Only want a reprieve, a release.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to do more than that, if you want to be my friend,” she said.
“…Friend?” Rorschach repeated.
“Yes, friend. Have you ever had one?” she asked him.
“Walter did. Rorschach does not… except, one,” he said, handing her a rose that Moloch gave the Comedian when he died. Tears struck her eyes. “Thank you,” she squeezed out, “It means so much to me.”
“You better leave,” said Rorschach, “They’re coming back.”
For the moment, Heather considered shouting at the guards to let him go, and tell them he never did anything wrong, only did what he thought, no, knew, was right. So what if he rough handled and even killed those criminals? They were horrible monsters, thieves, rapists. They stole everything that belonged to you, turned your heart into stone, and even killed you, sometimes mercifully from the outside, and others more cruelly, from the inside out. Rorschach was probably the only person who recognized that, and she knew it. However, she hadn’t counted on Rorschach recollecting her thoughts by the emotions spelled out on her face. She was shocked, and put a hand over her mouth. He was very impressed, and even moved. And then he was gone. After that, Heather felt like the only light in a cruel, miserable world was forcibly dragged away from her, and for the second time, she wondered if she would ever see him again.
-<>-
That Thursday, she was walking down the street when her ex, Johnny Armada, came up to her. Johnny Armada and she had been dating since they were thirteen, but when they were seventeen, he violently raped her. She was never able to prove her case, but she was able to file a settlement that would allow him never to speak with her again, since he had refused a restraining order.
“Hey, baby,” he said, leaning against the wall.
“Hey, you dog-faced pile of shite,” she replied, “Outta my way.”
He was unfazed, blocked her, and she reached underneath his arm to make a passageway and continued forward. She walked to her friend, Lidia, and started to talk to her, but after the initial smiles and hellos, he scooped her up behind him and tried to make her kiss him, but she punched him off. He rubbed his cheek in annoyance and asked self-righteously, “Whatcha do that for?”
Suddenly, a seething, blind rage gripped her; she pulled out her pocketknife, and stabbed him in the eyes. Lidia screamed, but Johnny screamed like a five-year-old girl whose foot got run over by a Mack truck. He ran around blindly, until his friend came by, and he ran screaming away. When he saw his friend like that, he fainted, looking for the entire world like a dead body in a ditch. Lidia was shocked and stupefied, and possibly even… mystified?
“Oh, my God,” she said, and started crying. When Heather saw Lidia in that state, all the blood poured down her head to her feet, and she reached out to console her, but she ran away screaming, “Police! Police!”
That Saturday, she would have a mandatory visit with her father.
It's still not done, since I need to finish the rest of the story. Comment away!
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#2 2010-08-10 20:14:43
- SilentKiller
- So very silent its killing
- Registered: 2010-06-21
- Posts: 2532
Re: Big Doc's Girl
looks good indy 
some parts were a bit confusing on who was thinking what...
I wanna read more!
Having faith is better than nothing.
Dont worry I wont bite you. I only bite people I really like.
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