Zinjadu (zinjadu) wrote in fm_alchemist,

  • Mood:

[fic] Triptych

Massively de-lurking to post this. I hope you enjoy. ^_^

Title: Triptych
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Gen, Romance, Angst
Characters/Pairings: Roy, Hawkeye, Havoc (in that order); a bit of Havoai at the end
Summary: They know exactly how they feel about specific people, and don't make any excuses about it.
Word Count: 1210

And thanks to coramegan and rivendellrose for betaing. ^_^

i. bridges burned and left standing

He was not in love with her. They shared something that was not love, not quite. It was an odd closeness, their silence. He didn’t have to say anything, and she never asked.

Other women asked, where were they going tomorrow night, what he had done in the war, didn’t he think that child was cute, was he a hero. Question after question, inane to painful, rolled off their tongues when he could easily think of better uses for that muscle.

But she was silent when he needed it most. That quiet was a calm he could return to when the pressure began to bearing down on him harder than he had anticipated and forced the breath out of his body. When he was slumped over his desk on a pile of papers, she would enter the office, as quiet as a moth ghosting through the night, and gently wake him, reminding him that it was time to go home. She would take care of the rest. He could only nod dumbly as he was ushered out his own office and sent off to bed like a child up past bedtime.

There were times when she wasn’t silent. She spoke her mind, fierce in her will to protect him. What he had done to deserve that loyalty he would never know, but he cherished it all the same. She was reason, pointing out flaws in his plans, trying to keep him safe, her voice always pitched low.

While the silence, the quiet, kept them close, it also kept them apart, at a distance. The silence was a chasm neither could cross, neither knowing the other’s heart or deepest secrets. He would never tell her why he started on this path, or why he was so broken, though she knew he was broken, and most of all why he needed her. No, the man who had known why was dead now; there was no point in telling anyone else.

All of that made her safe. Set apart from other women and special to him in a way that few would understand. She never wanted that which he could not give and accepted what he could. A closeness that was not, separated and supported by silent moments. But most of all never love. It would never be love.

ii. form of matter

She had forged herself to be a weapon, a shield. One that would stand tall when others fell. All for the sake of one man. A man with a vision, and a belief, a hope. A man who didn’t know when to stop and rest, pushing on until he collapsed in the dust. It was foolish of him to push himself that hard, that far. It was why she followed him, why she would pick him up and keep him safe, because no one else could.

She had made herself as cold and deadly as the guns she carried. Leaving her home to fight in a war she only half believed in, only to meet a man who she could freely give all her faith.

To him, she was a pillar of strength, a source of it. He never treated her like other women, as if she were a bauble to be enjoyed as long as the brightness remained, but as a tool, though a cherished one. She had no illusions that if it came to it she would be used as it was needed. He wouldn’t like it, but sometimes distasteful things must be done for a dream. She killed so he wouldn’t have to.

Other men would try to treat her like a bauble, something pretty to play with, and she long ago stopped paying attention to men who paid attention to her. It was a waste of time and effort to try to be with a man who wouldn’t or couldn’t understand what she shared with the Colonel. Though to be fair not all men were like that, but did the other members of Mustang’s staff count?

Furey was barely a man, still very much a boy. Breda did not bear thinking about in that manner. Falman, while polite enough was too afraid of her to do anything other than smile and nod. That left Havoc. With his damn cigarettes and lazy attitude, his loyalty and ability in the field, he was a comrade, friend, equal. It was nice to call someone that, an equal, a friend. She had comrades aplenty, and did not require any more.

Yes, it was nice to think of Havoc as a friend.

Havoc didn’t treat her like she was a china doll or a blade to be wary of or perhaps most importantly like she was the only thing holding him up at times. He helped her shoulder the Colonel’s burden without implying she was weak, and he understood her glares better than anybody else.

She had forged herself, and though she was harder and colder than when she had been a girl, she was still made out of the same stuff. She thinks that Havoc might see that girl she used to be and still is, and the thought doesn’t scare her as much as she thought it would.

iii. countless moments

There were things Havoc knew about Hawkeye that the Colonel never would. Like how she got that scar on her knee, that her mouth made a perfect ‘O’ when she came, and that she only liked her eggs fried. There was a list longer than his arm, the things he knew about Hawkeye that the Colonel didn’t.

He was still fuzzy on how it started, the two of them becoming friends and sharing things that he never thought a woman like her would know or talk about. Or do. He had to smile at that thought.

Maybe it had started with that dumb story of how he’d gotten the scar on his forearm and it all turned into a damn funny pissing contest one dreary day in the office. She’d offered her own story, and rolled up her pant leg to show the proof of it. At the time he hadn’t thought much of it, but when the Colonel marched back in to demand time off she quickly rolled the pant leg back down.

There was another time when they’d found that Ed kid passed out on a stack of books and they’d taken him back to the military dorms. He dropped her off at her apartment, it being late and all, and he flirted with her a bit. For a wonder she didn’t shoot him.

He’d seen her drunk and giggling once. Though he was sworn to secrecy. She would have shot him then if he hadn’t. He knew she liked white chocolates best, and that her greatest secret was a pair of very lacy underwear. He really liked that pair of underwear. He knew that she had more kindness in her than anyone would ever guess.

For a million and one moments and more he had seen glimpses of Liza Hawkeye that no one else ever had, and that made him luckier than any other man he could think of.

And every moment he fell for her a little more.

  • Post a new comment


    Comments allowed for members only

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded