Love and Watchmen

She loves him.

Not loved, for her feelings have not lessened one bit over the passing years. As her hair greyed, and the creases in her skin became all the more prominent, and even when she did not see him for so long, her love remained. She wouldn't expect anyone to understand it, least of all Laurie. Her daughter had never been in a relationship like it; her atom bomb has power, but not in the way Edward Blake always has.

He was strong, he was muscular, he was a complete son of a bitch, and still she loves him, even to this very day. Was it because he, with his smoking and guns and swearing, was the complete epitome of masculinity? Maybe the costume wasn't all about the sex, but there's always been something phallic in firearms. But that's not it. Not quite. Lust often goes hand in hand with love, and this case was no different. They were together, with their bodies pressed up against each other, sharing warmth, him with 'Sally' on his lips, 'Edward' on her own, but he was gentle as well as strong.

It meant a lot. It's something special, a man like him being soft and gentle. Oh yes he could be rough, but he could be kind, and loving, and suddenly it no longer mattered what a bastard he was, or any of that; they were together. And it was magnificent. Edward Blake has always been a wonderful contradiction in terms: both hard and soft, angry and calm, hatred and adoration.

And that's why she still loves him.

She thinks she loves him.

She did, once, before all of this. It's horrible to even think, let alone say, but Jon was better before the incident. Maybe the government, those stoic suits and ties, would beg to differ, but she knows it's the truth. Wally enjoys the attention, as the best friend of 'Dr Manhattan- Superman in the flesh' but she, as his mere girlfriend, hates it. There's money involved, but she doesn't give a damn about that. She cares about Jon.

The problem is, she doesn't know if Jon is Jon anymore. He doesn't look the same, but maybe she would be able to deal with that, maybe, if he acted anything approaching human. She kisses him, he reacts, but it's mechanical, going through the motions, like he's doing exactly what he knows will please her; there's no spontaneity, no human error…

Nothing but lips against her own.

And she is scared, because if Jon has changed so much then what if he doesn't want her anymore? There are no lines on his garishly blue face, not like on hers. She doesn't think he will age. And she doesn't think he cares much that she is. He doesn't care about much these days.

She wishes she could say the same.

He lusts after her.

She sits in front of him, all slender, wonderful and dark, the light glinting off her perfect sleek form. Tantalising. Tempting. Terrifying, even. He hates her and he loves her, both at the same time. She grants him such joy, such release, but so much pain… The days of resisting are over though. There's nothing left but her, not after his encounters with the HUAC.

They took everything away in the end. Mothman? It seems like such a sick, cruel joke now… Almost a dream… Did he really fight crime, or just imagine it, lost in her wondrous curves? The memories have faded and yet are so bright, just out of reach. He doesn't know if they are real. He doesn't care.

And Byron Lewis picks her up, the neck of the bottle cool against his hand, wanting the sweet embrace that only alcohol can have; the embrace of a lover.

He supposes he loves her, in the conventional way at least.

Certainly he cares for her, but he learnt with Janey that the two are not the same. And love, in itself, is a very human concept. Really it is just a biological function to allow the DNA to be passed to another generation, something that is needed because human beings do not have an oestrous cycle. Pheromones, dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine are all released in the brain, causing pleasure and creating feelings of 'love'.

But it still hurts, knowing that Laurie will leave him eventually. Or at least he knows it will hurt when it happens. Exactly three years, one hundred and fifty eight days, two hours and three minutes into the future, she will sleep with Daniel Dreiberg. And he'll know that, before he knows that, before she tells him.

There's a set course ahead of him, things that have to be done, things that have to be followed, but not all of it makes him happy.

He loves her, as much as any man can love a pet.

She is family, the only family he has. There is more beauty in Bubastis than any woman (or indeed, man) he has ever seen. He watches the unique lynx hunt, her fur moving in waves, power muscles rippling, and he appreciates good work when he sees it. She moves like a well-oiled machine, powerful and superb in every way. Like him, she is toned to almost perfection.

And she understands, like no one else can. He talks, she listens, better than any of his staff. She will sit by him for hours as he watches his screens flicker, watching the world from his isolated base. He is not stupid enough to believe she can understand every word, but there is an intelligence in her eyes sorely lacking in anyone else's.

There is no need for any other companionship. The world needs to be changed, to be saved, and he knows how to do it. But the only one he can confide such things in is Bubastis. She knows.

He pets her, feeling her luscious fur under his hand, and he smiles.

He loves her. By god, he loves her.

She is beautiful, stunning even, with or without her costume. He can't believe his luck. How can it be, him, Daniel Dreiberg, ornithologist, retired (well, he thought he was) costumed adventurer, has earned the attentions of someone as wonderful as her? He's stolen the girlfriend of the most powerful being in existence, and he just doesn't care.

He has her, it's more than enough. And she wants him, actually wants him, something that hasn't happened often in his life. There were a few encounters, back in the old days, but not many that wanted Daniel as well as Nite Owl. The Twilight Lady had… well… been rather enthusiastic… but in a very different way to Laurie.

She is something else entirely.

He knows he's lucky to have the sort of woman men would gladly kill for, to have the touch of her skin, her scent, her kiss…

Silk Spectre and Nite Owl: it has a nice ring to it. The last 'superhero teamup' he had did not go so well, but now he is full of enthusiasm. In his costume, with her, he feel slike he can do anything- mask-killer be damned! The whole world is going to shit, but maybe, just maybe, they can both help save it.


Rorschach doesn't love Nite Owl.

But Walter Kovacs loves Daniel Dreiberg.


A/N I was afraid of doing this. Writing Watchmen fanfiction, it just… well… feels like going against the natural order of things. The original graphic novel is almost sacred, and this almost feels like desecrating it in some way, most likely because I know that no matter what I write I cannot compare. So that's why I did this in a sort of drabble format, but I know I've still messed up characterisation. For example, I had no idea what I was thinking even attempting to get into Dr Manhattan's mindset, but I've left it in so- if I do get any reviews- someone can tell me how to improve, so maybe one day I can write passable Watchmen fanfiction.

Also, I am aware there are many, many more relationships worth touching on (Captain Metropolis and Hooded Justice comes to mind) but I didn't want everything to sound all samey and be overly-long. I've probably failed at that as well. And i won't go into detail about the last few lines, except to say that, in my view, it's a one-sided thing.

(In the incredibly rare chance Alan Moore ever reads this, I respectfully ask him not to kill me. The same goes for Dave Gibbons, but he is slightly less terrifying. Slightly.)