Disclaimer: FMA isn't mine.
Song: Sweet Chariot - Charlotte Martin
She paused outside the door, knowing he was still inside, that he had been hidden from her. The knowledge of that fact left a bitter taste on her tongue. She could hear Jean Havoc's voice, irritated and chafing at his uselessness as it always was these days. Then it came, the familiar sound that frequently appeared in her dreams, that she could recreate in her head without a seconds thought. The voice she lingered by the door to hear, because she wasn't supposed to know he was there, wasn't supposed to have any sort of contact with him. There was something in the tone of his voice, soft and just a little unsteady, that told her he wasn't as brave as he pretended. That he knew she had been there, just as she had known it was his black shoes peeking from beneath the curtains edge. She'd seen them every day of her life; how could she not know them? Her hands tightened into fists, and she jammed them into the pockets of her coat so the nurse walking by wouldn't see. So she could pretend she didn't miss him in all the ways she wasn't supposed to.
She was sorely tempted to wait for him to exit the room, wait for minutes and hours, until the clock circled back on itself. She would wait all day if it would mean seeing the surprise on his face, seeing those familiar eyes that had begun to fade in her memory. The fact that she could no longer bring his face clearly to mind scared her more than anything else, more than any note folded and passed to her from the farthest reaches of the North, more than the Promised Day or those creatures that wore human skin ever could. It terrified her that she didn't remember the exact shade of his eyes, didn't remember what he looked like when he wasn't tired, wasn't angry, wasn't worried. It had been nearly a month since she'd seen him, even longer than that since she'd heard his voice, longer than that since she'd seen a smile split his face.
A nurse approached from down the hallway, a woman with a mission, escorting a woman that Riza supposed must have been Havoc's mother, whom she had seen on several occasions, but had never chanced to meet. The nurse paused before her, and she stepped back in haste, turning her eyes downward, studying the dirt in the grout of the tile floor. The nurse entered after politely asking Havoc's mother to wait in the hall for a minute. The other woman had frowned, miffed as though being asked to wait to see her son was a personal affront to her family. After a moment, the doorknob rattled and the door opened a crack and his voice came out, clear as day, the broad expanse of his back still to her. She felt her breath catch; how easy would it be to wait, just a moment for him to turn. She no longer cared for the consequences, so long as...No, it would be foolish to throw everything they'd worked for away on some crazy whim. She turned, walking away and willing herself not to turn back, willing him not to see her, not to come after her as she knew he would...
By the time he turned around, she was gone, leaving nothing but a faint scent in the air to say she had ever been at all.
HAHA! Marching Band is finally over, and I have time to write. Some time at least, which is more than I had before. :)
