AN: Fullmetal Alchemist doesn't belong to me…so sad.

Lavender and Gunpowder

And I grit my teeth and I wish

I could stand up and ram my fist

Right through this wall that keeps on keeping me in. – Cross Canadian Ragweed

Roy's dark eyes stared through the amber liquid as it caught the fading evening light. The office was dark; all the others had gone home. Hawkeye would say he was brooding, but he preferred to call it remembering. I was a time for barriers to be dropped and the layers of armor he built around himself to fade away. The faces of the dead paraded past his unfocused eyes as he allowed the guilt to drown him.

The guilt he is never allowed to show, the weakness he is never allowed to indulge in. He is supposed to be strong, confident, and perhaps even arrogant; even when the nightmares plagued his sleep.

He brought the cool glass to his lips and cherished the burn as the liquid slid down his throat. The nightmares were the worst.

Burnt flesh has a very distinctive smell and even after dozens of hot showers where he tries to scrub his very skin off, he can still catch the scent of it.

The door opened, disrupting his thoughts. A shaft of light from the hallway framed the feminine figure in the doorway. Even though the light prevented him from making out the features, he knew who it was.

He watched as she closed the door behind her, leaving the light in the hallway. "Your brooding again, sir." She remarked as her light footsteps sounded through the empty room.

"I'm not brooding." He scowled when he realized just how childish it sounded.

She snorted softly and leaned against his desk, facing so that he could only make out her profile in the quickly fading light. "Whatever you say, sir."

He set the half empty glass on the table with a sigh. "Okay maybe I am."

She shot him a small smirk. "You know, if you would just take it as fact that I am always right, we wouldn't have these useless arguments."

He tilted his head back and studied her intently. "Maybe I don't think they're useless."

The smirk slowly left her face as she locked eyes with him. "What do you mean?"

He smirked, that playful light back in his eyes. Instead of answering he stood, picked up his jacket and shrugged it on. As he walked passed her towards the door, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"Don't even change perfumes." He murmured just loud enough for her to hear. The smell of lavender and gunpowder overpowering the constant stench of burnt flesh that haunted his senses.

He left her to stare after him, a wondering look on her face. She snapped out of it when the door closed behind him. The sight of undone paperwork stacked at the edge of his desk had her scowling and shaking her head.

She slid into his chair and pulled the stack towards her, pen in hand. "Damn you, Mustang." She said softly as she clicked on the small desk lamp. Isolated in the ring of light, her mind contemplated the man that drove her absolutely crazy.