Rewrite: Struggles Unknown
May. 30th, 2009 07:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bofoddityLast year I wrote a Dark Knight-fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
femgenficathon, and was rather unhappy with it for reason I couldn't quite identify. When the opportunity came I asked ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kimouski to take a look at it, and this is the result.
Title: Struggles Unknown
Fandom: Nolan's Batman-verse
Characters: Vicki Vale, Rachel Dawes
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1251
Summary: Rachel Dawes was somebody who tried.
Notes: Thanks tokimouski for the whipping aid!
Original version: Struggles Unknown
Most people in Gotham looked forward to Harvey Dent's funeral. Only three attended Rachel Dawes's.
Vicki Vale parked her car and watched from a distance as a plain casket was lowered in the ground. A middle-aged woman was the first one to toss soil in the grave; the mother, Vicki assumed. The second was Bruce Wayne, followed by his manservant. Wayne without a carefree strut was a strange sight.
Vicki observed for a while before she saw a pair of guards take notice of her, after which she started her car in haste. As she drove away she was happy to see she wasn't being followed.
At home, her article about Dent waited for the finishing touches, but she had other thoughts in mind.
*
Back in school, Dawes was the girl who knew all the rich kids.
She was a year older than Vicki, so they didn't cross each other often, but like everybody else, Vicki was aware of her. Dawes was pretty in a "girl-next-door" way, but ordinary enough not to be a threat to the popular crowd. She was nice to the right people, like any average person, but what made her a somebody instead of a nobody was that she was friends with Wayne, the prince of Gotham. Most people thought that had to mean something, but Vicki saw nothing special in her.
It was Dawes herself who showed Vicki that she was something more.
Dawes started questioning things. Dawes started shaking up things. Before, Dawes was somebody who may have stepped in when somebody was being bullied; now she marched to the principal's office to demand action instead of indifference. She wanted explanations for why so many unauthorized people were hanging around school grounds and why nothing was ever done about that. Her lunch breaks started to become much lonelier.
Rachel Dawes used to be the girl who rich kids said hello to because she made Bruce Wayne smile. But Dawes decided to be more, and that made Vicki admire her.
*
Vicki herself had been born daring and never became less. A reporter's duty was a dangerous one in Gotham and there was nothing else she wanted for her future, but first she needed to survive an internship — something her boss was happy to remind her about.
"Willing to do anything for a story? Fine. Just make sure you live long enough to tell it."
She tended to be more worried about the red pen than a mobster appearing at her door one day, but the reminder stuck. Eventually that made her seek out allies. When her searches turned out fruitless she dug up Dawes.
It had been a while since school, but Dawes didn't look like she had grown up. She didn't look like a lawyer either, much less like one the D.A's usual opponents would take seriously.
"You tell me about what's happening where, and I make sure rest of the city knows too." Vicki smiled. "Well?"
It was comedic to see Dawes frown that deep; she reminded Vicki of an angry pixie. "It wasn't easy for me to get this internship," Dawes said, her voice stern. "How can I trust that you won't cause any trouble for me?"
Vicki shrugged. "I wouldn't want to lose a good source, would I?"
"No. It's too risky for both of us." Dawes prepared to stand up, but hesitated. Vicki could tell there was a piece of pity about to be tossed. "But you can ask me for a statement whenever you need to."
Vicki was disappointed. "I rather take those from the D.A. himself."
Gotham Gazette suffered from selective reporting when it came to names like Falcone or Maroni. The D.A.'s office lacked the leverage that publicity could give them. Vicki and Dawes were both alone on their fronts. Vicki had thought Dawes would be happy for a chance to put movement in some very rusty wheels.
"What does Bruce Wayne think of your promising career as the defender of justice?"
The flinch was brief, but there. Dawes's chair screeched on the floor as she stood up. "Good bye, Ms Vale."
Later, as Joe Chill's attempt to redeem himself came to a permanent end, Vicki wondered if Wayne was willing to give thoughts on a city that had betrayed his parents. When he disappeared, she thought the chance was lost. When he came back, she had already forgotten.
*
But she didn't forget Dawes, and couldn't understand why. Dawes hadn't chosen the easy way, but she was far more willing to compromise than Vicki was. She was too much of a rule follower. Vicki was sure that would backfire on her one day.
Eventually their internships had turned into full-time jobs, but Vicki found herself scavenging for other opportunities when serious journalism got too scary for the Gazette. Gossip magazine jobs wouldn't look good on her résumé, but Vicki wasn't too worried. She had a way of dragging herself back from the bottom.
However, it seemed like Dawes was the one who would make it, becoming an Assistant D.A. and making enemies out of same criminals who used to think nothing of her. The average girl was willing to take a stand again. She took risks. Vicki had her own battles to fight, but she was all for that.
*
When she finally met Dawes again, she was back at the Gazette, her career on the rise. It was a shock that Dawes's wasn't.
Dawes didn't look like a pixie anymore. She looked Madonna-like and vague as she smiled and waited for Vicki to ask how wonderful it was to work with Harvey Dent. A passive smile. Vicki wanted it gone.
"How did it feel when Harvey Dent got your job?"
Dawes dropped her mask, the old spirit flashing in eyes. "He has more experience," Dawes said. Her lips curved into a more clipped version of the smile she had worn before. "It was only understandable that he became District Attorney instead of me."
Dawes kept smiling. Maybe she was hoping that Vicki would move onto their subject, the one city wanted to know about. But Vicki wasn't up for that yet.
"But you've been around Gotham longer. You have tried to draw attention to what's wrong with Gotham for a long time, but it's him whose effort people admire. That must sting, I'm sure."
Dawes looked down and said nothing.
Vicki stared at her in rage. It had to sting, to be secondary to men shinier than her like Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent. Something about her got her into law school. Something about her nearly got her a D.A's position. There had to be a human in there who was angry that there had been no thank you at all.
Dawes leaned back in her chair, meeting Vicki's eyes again. "I think we should go on to the interview."
Vicki was the one to force a smile this time. "Very well."
"I did everything I could and it wasn't enough."
Vicki blinked. She hadn't expected a burst of emotion. Dawes's face was the same, but charged with everything she had tried not to feel.
That was the last Vicki had to do with Dawes until the news of her death.
*
The morning after the funeral, Vicki began working on her article again. The deadline was in few hours, but she didn't have much to write.
Although we lost a great man, we also lost somebody else.
It wouldn't be much more than a footnote, but people who tried deserved at least that.
femgenficathon, and was rather unhappy with it for reason I couldn't quite identify. When the opportunity came I asked kimouski to take a look at it, and this is the result.Title: Struggles Unknown
Fandom: Nolan's Batman-verse
Characters: Vicki Vale, Rachel Dawes
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1251
Summary: Rachel Dawes was somebody who tried.
Notes: Thanks to
kimouski for the whipping aid!Original version: Struggles Unknown
Most people in Gotham looked forward to Harvey Dent's funeral. Only three attended Rachel Dawes's.
Vicki Vale parked her car and watched from a distance as a plain casket was lowered in the ground. A middle-aged woman was the first one to toss soil in the grave; the mother, Vicki assumed. The second was Bruce Wayne, followed by his manservant. Wayne without a carefree strut was a strange sight.
Vicki observed for a while before she saw a pair of guards take notice of her, after which she started her car in haste. As she drove away she was happy to see she wasn't being followed.
At home, her article about Dent waited for the finishing touches, but she had other thoughts in mind.
Back in school, Dawes was the girl who knew all the rich kids.
She was a year older than Vicki, so they didn't cross each other often, but like everybody else, Vicki was aware of her. Dawes was pretty in a "girl-next-door" way, but ordinary enough not to be a threat to the popular crowd. She was nice to the right people, like any average person, but what made her a somebody instead of a nobody was that she was friends with Wayne, the prince of Gotham. Most people thought that had to mean something, but Vicki saw nothing special in her.
It was Dawes herself who showed Vicki that she was something more.
Dawes started questioning things. Dawes started shaking up things. Before, Dawes was somebody who may have stepped in when somebody was being bullied; now she marched to the principal's office to demand action instead of indifference. She wanted explanations for why so many unauthorized people were hanging around school grounds and why nothing was ever done about that. Her lunch breaks started to become much lonelier.
Rachel Dawes used to be the girl who rich kids said hello to because she made Bruce Wayne smile. But Dawes decided to be more, and that made Vicki admire her.
Vicki herself had been born daring and never became less. A reporter's duty was a dangerous one in Gotham and there was nothing else she wanted for her future, but first she needed to survive an internship — something her boss was happy to remind her about.
"Willing to do anything for a story? Fine. Just make sure you live long enough to tell it."
She tended to be more worried about the red pen than a mobster appearing at her door one day, but the reminder stuck. Eventually that made her seek out allies. When her searches turned out fruitless she dug up Dawes.
It had been a while since school, but Dawes didn't look like she had grown up. She didn't look like a lawyer either, much less like one the D.A's usual opponents would take seriously.
"You tell me about what's happening where, and I make sure rest of the city knows too." Vicki smiled. "Well?"
It was comedic to see Dawes frown that deep; she reminded Vicki of an angry pixie. "It wasn't easy for me to get this internship," Dawes said, her voice stern. "How can I trust that you won't cause any trouble for me?"
Vicki shrugged. "I wouldn't want to lose a good source, would I?"
"No. It's too risky for both of us." Dawes prepared to stand up, but hesitated. Vicki could tell there was a piece of pity about to be tossed. "But you can ask me for a statement whenever you need to."
Vicki was disappointed. "I rather take those from the D.A. himself."
Gotham Gazette suffered from selective reporting when it came to names like Falcone or Maroni. The D.A.'s office lacked the leverage that publicity could give them. Vicki and Dawes were both alone on their fronts. Vicki had thought Dawes would be happy for a chance to put movement in some very rusty wheels.
"What does Bruce Wayne think of your promising career as the defender of justice?"
The flinch was brief, but there. Dawes's chair screeched on the floor as she stood up. "Good bye, Ms Vale."
Later, as Joe Chill's attempt to redeem himself came to a permanent end, Vicki wondered if Wayne was willing to give thoughts on a city that had betrayed his parents. When he disappeared, she thought the chance was lost. When he came back, she had already forgotten.
But she didn't forget Dawes, and couldn't understand why. Dawes hadn't chosen the easy way, but she was far more willing to compromise than Vicki was. She was too much of a rule follower. Vicki was sure that would backfire on her one day.
Eventually their internships had turned into full-time jobs, but Vicki found herself scavenging for other opportunities when serious journalism got too scary for the Gazette. Gossip magazine jobs wouldn't look good on her résumé, but Vicki wasn't too worried. She had a way of dragging herself back from the bottom.
However, it seemed like Dawes was the one who would make it, becoming an Assistant D.A. and making enemies out of same criminals who used to think nothing of her. The average girl was willing to take a stand again. She took risks. Vicki had her own battles to fight, but she was all for that.
When she finally met Dawes again, she was back at the Gazette, her career on the rise. It was a shock that Dawes's wasn't.
Dawes didn't look like a pixie anymore. She looked Madonna-like and vague as she smiled and waited for Vicki to ask how wonderful it was to work with Harvey Dent. A passive smile. Vicki wanted it gone.
"How did it feel when Harvey Dent got your job?"
Dawes dropped her mask, the old spirit flashing in eyes. "He has more experience," Dawes said. Her lips curved into a more clipped version of the smile she had worn before. "It was only understandable that he became District Attorney instead of me."
Dawes kept smiling. Maybe she was hoping that Vicki would move onto their subject, the one city wanted to know about. But Vicki wasn't up for that yet.
"But you've been around Gotham longer. You have tried to draw attention to what's wrong with Gotham for a long time, but it's him whose effort people admire. That must sting, I'm sure."
Dawes looked down and said nothing.
Vicki stared at her in rage. It had to sting, to be secondary to men shinier than her like Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent. Something about her got her into law school. Something about her nearly got her a D.A's position. There had to be a human in there who was angry that there had been no thank you at all.
Dawes leaned back in her chair, meeting Vicki's eyes again. "I think we should go on to the interview."
Vicki was the one to force a smile this time. "Very well."
"I did everything I could and it wasn't enough."
Vicki blinked. She hadn't expected a burst of emotion. Dawes's face was the same, but charged with everything she had tried not to feel.
That was the last Vicki had to do with Dawes until the news of her death.
The morning after the funeral, Vicki began working on her article again. The deadline was in few hours, but she didn't have much to write.
Although we lost a great man, we also lost somebody else.
It wouldn't be much more than a footnote, but people who tried deserved at least that.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-06-01 01:24 am (UTC)I think I described your writing once as a painting done in soothing neutrals with a slash of red across it. Unexpected, beautiful and evoking.
That was missing here. And maybe that's just me. But still, very, very lovely.
**don't brain me**
no subject
Date: 2009-06-01 11:37 am (UTC)Also, I'm glad you liked both versions. It's well appreciated, as you know.