I'm supposed to be doing my summer algebra, but where's the fun in that?
School starts in a week, my loves. Wish me luck.
IMPORTANT: For the sake of this story's timeline, I assumed that Hawkeye is 27 when the real series ends in 1915 (because Roy is canonically about 30 and we know that she's a bit younger). Using this, I figured that she was born somewhere around 1888, and decided that her mother had her at the age of 22 and died when Riza was 6.
It is snowing, and two children kneel in front of a grave. One of them is a boy, unsure of what to say, as he has never met the person buried here. The other is a girl, tall and blonde and rake-skinny. She has visited this cemetery more times than she can count.
They do not speak for several minutes. It is the girl who breaks the silence first.
"Her name was Juliet."
The boy squints, and sure enough, he can faintly pick out the words through the thick dusting of white flakes.
Juliet Eileen Hawkeye
April 4, 1866 - December 17, 1894
Beloved Wife and Mother
"She must've been great."
"Yeah." A pause. "There's another one."
Confusion scrawls itself across the boy's features. "Huh?"
"Another grave. My mother wasn't the only one who died that winter." The girl shuffles a few feet to the left on her knees and clears the snow from a second, smaller headstone.
Abigail Elizabeth Hawkeye
May 2, 1894 - December 12, 1894
Gone from this world too soon
"My sister," the girl says quietly. "Seven months old. Mama was devastated."
"What happened?" The words are out of the boy's mouth before he can stop them. They hang in the frosty air. "I'm sorry," he adds hastily. "It's not my place-"
"No," she says quietly, cutting him off. "It's okay." Her breath comes out in a short, visible puff. "We had the coughing sickness. Mama, Abby, and me. I was better by the beginning of December, but they didn't make it. Father turned to his alchemy, and I... I..."
She bites her lip, and the boy puts his arm around her thin shoulders. "I'm sorry." His voice is small, and it's the only sound that cuts through the cold afternoon.
They stay in that position for a long time. Eventually, the girl stirs, the January chill seeping through her threadbare blue coat. "We should go. I have to start dinner, and the fire could probably use some more wood."
They leave, picking their way past lines of granite angels and crosses. The snow continues to fall, quickly filling the gaps left by the young visitors, and all is smooth and white once more.
If you had not seen them, you wouldn't have even known they had been there.
I just had to sneak the name Elizabeth in there :-) I just couldn't resist.
Please drop a review and let me know what you think! Concrit is welcome, as always.