Title: The Black Sheep
Couple: Miles/Olivier; hints of Royai
Genres: Hurt/Comfort/Romance
Rating: M
The Black Sheep
Chapter 1.
That night someone had been tortured to death, and the culprit was caught.
At first, Miles thought he should scold her. She had waited to be seen with the mangled corpse, and that annoyed him. It was reckless of her. If someone recognised her she would have been snatched off her post as General. That was what he figured anyway. Miles was still growing used to military rules and such. He was still a bit of a rookie.
He felt a wave of betrayal. This murder wasn't military procedure; she had murdered this man for personal reasons. That was criminal. Then again, she had killed many men without her career to back her up, General Raven being one of them.
Between the two of them, Miles always felt like the honest one. He had been a good boy, and obeyed her commands and even forced himself to agree revenge was wrong. He found that hard to believe now, standing in front of her, blood across her gloved hands. She looked mental. Maybe she was. Miles had never been comfortably sure of her stability. She kept her emotions locked inside, and he knew that was unhealthy. It would only be a matter of time before she snapped.
They were alone. Central was quiet when dark. She sat atop of a wall, her precious corpse sprawled below her. She looked too calm. There was no remorse in her eyes, which made Miles shiver. She was deranged.
'You might catch a cold, ma'am.'
He couldn't bring himself to reveal how he felt of this murder. He was afraid what she could do to him. Dismissing him was like stealing his soul.
'So?' She was giving him an attitude.
He hated her when she acted this way: uncaring and disloyal.
'What do you intend to do with the body?'
She looked at him, her aqua eyes shining in the dark. She propped her elbow on her knee and shrugged. 'Apparently crows like to eat human flesh.'
Miles swallowed, hoping she was joking. He remained a few feet away from her, his eyes resting on the bloodied blade still firmly gripped in her hand. She craned her neck to the side and poked her sword at the body. Miles didn't find this unusual of her. She had a sick humour sometimes.
'I came to find you,' he said. She didn't respond. 'You said you'd be at the manor. You weren't there, so I checked to see if you were still at the graveyard. . .'
She laughed, and a chill shot up his spine. The blonde jumped off the wall, deliberately treading over the corpse and walked to her subordinate. He was frozen, fists clenched. He had known her for years, and he was still afraid of her.
'No. I've been here for a while now actually.'
Miles swallowed. 'Ma'am? I think you're tired.'
She rolled her eyes back. 'Oh right, I see.'
'You should have let General Mustang deal with this.'
'Him? What would he do?' She scoffed. 'I dealt with it.'
'Ma'am, you killed him.'
'I know I did.'
He gritted his teeth. He couldn't believe she was acting so dim. 'You murdered him. It was just revenge you wanted, and you know full well what revenge can turn you into–'
'Don't talk to your superior that way.' She glared at him, and he buckled. Her eyes turned to the corpse. 'I fucking know what I wanted, Major. I'm not stupid.'
Miles lowered his gaze. He bit his lip, desperate to figure out what was going on in her head. He couldn't understand. He didn't know what it felt like to lose someone so close. His loved ones passed away before he could remember. How could he relate? Yet he still felt angered towards her. She was a fucking hypocrite, and she knew it. He felt like he deserved an apology or some sort of reasonable explanation. She would never give him the pleasure though.
'When did you find him?' His voice was weak and soft.
She shrugged. 'I don't know. Sometime after the funeral. It was hilarious how scared he was when he saw me.'
Miles examined the man. His face was unharmed, yet his jacket had been ripped open and horrific cuts were across his chest. Blood pooled to the ground, and he was a messy state. Both of his legs had been chopped clean off, and when he found them sprawled nearby Miles almost threw up.
He wasn't scared by what she could do to him; he was scared by what she could do to herself. She hadn't just killed that man – she had killed a part of herself. She was slowly falling apart.
'It was just him?'
'Yes: sniper. I would compliment him if he hadn't shot someone close to me.' She sneered. 'Real good aim.'
Miles allowed her to walk past him. He swept his eyes back to the corpse, and wondered if he should dispose of it. He turned to his General who continued to walk away smoothly, her sword hanging limply from her fist. She didn't order him to follow, so he let her go alone.
The Ishvalan returned back to the corpse half an hour later, now having company beside him. Roy whistled low when he examined the General's doings, before standing up. Miles looked at him, uncertain. Roy smiled.
'Don't worry. I can burn this guy to cinders. There won't be a trace of him left. Little Miss Armstrong is lucky to have me as a friend.' He pulled on his Alchemic glove. 'Stand back a little. Don't want to singe you.' Both stepped away, and Mustang clicked his fingers. A spurt of fire blew towards the dead man, and latched onto him, eating his flesh greedily. Miles glanced away, whereas Roy dreamily watched the corpse melt. 'So, when did you find her?'
'Not long ago,' Miles said.
'Was this the guy?'
'Yes.'
'Shit.' Roy inhaled shakily. 'She should have had Hawkeye with her. She's very good at making people behave. I remember when I sought revenge for years. When I finally found the monster, I was stopped. Hawkeye helped me stay sane.' He realised he was placing Miles in heavy guilt, so quickly added, 'However you didn't know where your General was. I'm sure you would have helped her.'
Miles didn't respond. The crackle of burnt skin echoed in his ears. He swallowed and inhaled deeply.
Mustang left the corpse to burn alone after convincing Miles it would be gone by morning. The two officers walked away, an emptiness digging into their stomachs. Miles shoved his hands in his pockets and bowed his head.
'Six years.'
He looked at Mustang. 'Sorry, sir?'
'It took six years for Ishvala to be recovered. That's a long time,' Roy met his gaze. 'You've been away from your General for a while, Miles. Maybe some other things have happened to her.' He grinned and faced forwards. 'You can't really tell. Hm, maybe I should speak to her, ahaha.'
He forced a small smile.
'When do you return North?'
'That's up for her to decide. At the moment, I have no idea. She might send me back alone.'
Miles arrived at the Armstrong manor to check if his General was inside, but his answer was given when he spotted her slowly walking up the road, her sword still in hand. He dashed to meet her and she showed no surprise when he blocked her from continuing.
'I appreciate what's happening to you, ma'am, but. . . I want you to think about what you did.'
He hadn't been quick enough to save her, and it wasn't even his fault. She had disappeared from her mourning family to have sweet revenge. It had been a rushed meeting, and the man was on his knees before he had even noticed her. The pop heard when she whammed her fist into his face had been satisfying in a sickly way. He had crumpled over, mouth agape, eyes fixed to the sky.
She secretly hated herself for smiling at his lifeless body, but she was never the hero, like Roy Mustang gave the impression to be. She was neither villain or ally. Just an angel with a withered wing, struggling to keep up with heroic Generals like that Flame Alchemist.
'It was an accident.'
He almost laughed. He wouldn't buy that for a second.
'Go, Miles.' Even to her ears, she sounded exhausted.
She pushed past him, and he subconsciously grabbed her arms, pulling her towards him. She raised her eyebrows lazily. 'No. You're acting peculiar, ma'am, and I want to help.'
The General sighed. She would usually be offended by an offer, but tonight she couldn't be bothered. 'Don't.' She roughly shoved past him, away from sight.
The idiot should give up on her already. Leave her be. But Miles was too loyal. She had raised him into a lost cub, following his leader anywhere; everywhere, because he had nowhere else to go. Miles had been different to her other men. He was a broken boy when he appeared to her during the Ishval War, unlike the others who were strong and healthy. He was sensitive and shy, and she had fixed him by corrupting him even more.
Not many followed her like Miles. He would run to be by her side when he saw her, act as if she was some sort of God, salute her whenever she passed and never speak out of term. He was a good boy. A really good boy. It was like she, a lion, had adopted a black sheep – the outcast. And because the black sheep had nowhere else to flee, he stuck with her.
In all honesty, Miles tended to respect her more than any of her family. Those who had cared for her were gone, and Miles was the only one who remained. It was only a matter of time before the devil snatched him away from her, and she dreaded that moment so much. It was a fear she never spoke of.
Central's park was huge, and it was only when the holidays arrived did the circus crowd the grass. It was the beginning of winter, and adults were still going to work, taking their children to school or daycare. Ice had occupied the roads, and some cars skidded slightly, but no accidents were caused that morning.
Riza didn't have to travel far to work, and decided to walk. The grass across the park was covered with dew, and her boots were shining after a few steps. She wrapped her coat around her firmer, growing chilly. A couple of school children dashed past, a football being passed between them.
Her eyes caught sight of a large man sitting on a bench. His eyes were fastened to the ground and he looked miserable. Riza recognised him, but out of timidness began to walk past. Her sympathy got the better of her, and she sat next to the man. There was silence for a while.
'I hope the funeral went well,' she said gently.
'Hm?' He rose his head. 'Oh.'
Riza sighed. 'Are you okay to go into work?' She knew Alex was a very sensitive man, and the impact of what had happened recently must have affected him deeply.
'Of course,' he said. She pulled a sympathetic expression. The old Alex wouldn't have stated that. He would have buckled down and stayed at home, crying.
'Well, if you don't start moving, you'll be late.'
Alex exhaled slowly and leaned back, toppling the bench a little. 'You go on ahead, Hawkeye.'
She remained put. 'I'm not leaving until you do.'
'Fair enough.' She noticed a small smile.
They sat in silence again for another few minutes. 'How is your family taking it?'
'They're all the same, you could say.' He frowned, and his eyes began to pour with tears. 'Poor mother couldn't stop crying.'
Riza patted his shoulder. 'What did you do after the funeral?'
'All went back home. . .' he sniffed, wiping his eyes. Then Alex frowned. 'Though, I'm not sure where Olivier went.'
Hawkeye's heart skipped a beat. She remembered the phone call she had with Roy last night. He had told her to check near Central bridge if there was a corpse there. Riza found that a peculiar thing to say, but she obeyed. There was no corpse. The fact Olivier had gone missing last night made Riza shiver. Was the corpse related to her absence? Was Mustang not telling her something?
When Roy was pissed off, he tended to speak before he thought. Last night hadn't bothered him very much, but now he had slept and everything fell into place. Olivier's hypocrisy was nasty, and he couldn't believe Miles hadn't said anything. Well, if the Ishvalan didn't have the courage to speak to her, then Roy did.
He knew she wouldn't be home (he wasn't even sure if she had been home yet), and spent the first few hours before work searching for her. Mustang found her at the train station, reading the times for when the trains would be leaving.
'You're quite sick, did you know that?' He yelled, ignoring the faces that turned to him.
Olivier calmly looked at him. 'What's your problem, Mustang?'
'My problem?' He scoffed. 'My problem? What's your problem? Were you drunk last night or something?'
She gritted her teeth. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Jeez, I'm talking about. . .' he lowered his voice, '. . . the guy you killed last night. Do you know what kind of impact that would have on Miles? If I recall correctly, you are someone who is really against revenge. Don't you find it a little hypocritical to start murdering people yourself?'
She rolled her eyes. 'I don't think you can tell me the wrongs about murdering people.'
He stopped. He widened his eyes and hated her. 'You know, I want to take this outside.'
Olivier looked amused. She walked out and he followed. He was breathing heavily, fuming and despising her. He swallowed.
'Don't remind me–'
'Mustang, what makes you so confident to confront me like this? It's not as if you haven't murdered anyone yourself.'
'That is all in the past.' He sparked with fire. 'I have learnt my lesson. What's happened to you? You're becoming a freak.'
She snorted. 'Excuse me, I'm not the one who relies on Alchemy to keep me alive.'
Roy snarled. His temptation to click his fingers was becoming too much. She smiled, recognising his anger and beckoned him. He was just about to snap, when a tanned hand forced his limb down. Mustang looked sharply towards Miles, surprised to see him here. Olivier glared.
'Don't you start as well,' Miles muttered, lacking confidence. Roy lowered his hand.
It clicked into Olivier's head why Miles had appeared. 'Wait, did you come here to save me or something?'
'Ma'am.' Miles said. He wasn't going to answer, not wanting an argument. They had never argued before.
Roy looked at her bluntly. 'I've got to head to work. Seeing as your sister's funeral is over, you may as well return North.'
Olivier wheeled around, completely ignoring her subordinate, and entered the station. Miles followed suit, several feet away from her whilst she checked the timetable. After a few seconds, she turned to him. 'We're going back.'
He thought it cold of her to leave her family after a death, but Olivier was never the type to have "family time". He didn't utter a word whilst she got them tickets.
When she returned, Miles shifted a little when he spotted three bulky men proceeding towards them. He wondered if they were relatives, but none had the typical Armstrong feature. They weren't military either. Miles felt for his gun. Olivier was unnerved.
'Are you Olivier Armstrong?'
She sighed, as if bored. 'That depends who's asking.'
The man shocked Miles when he grabbed the scruff of her collar. 'We need to talk, lady. Outside.'
She smiled pleasantly and removed his hand from her collar. 'No thank you. I'm boarding a train in three minutes with my subordinate. I'm going home.'
However they weren't letting her pass. Miles removed his gun and pointed it at them. They laughed. 'Stupid Ishvalan. Do you think we're unarmed? My buddy here has a much larger gun stuffed into his shirt.'
Miles didn't move. He glared at the man. How dare he treat Olivier like this? He wanted his General to fight back, but she wasn't. She calmly spoke. 'Okay. Let's go outside.'
He followed her closely, eyeing her, wondering if she was going to whisper an order to him. She was quiet. His heart thumped heavily when they exited the station and were escorted to a deserted area close by. When Miles turned, one of the men viciously kicked him in the groin. Miles didn't collapse, but he was unable to defend himself.
The side of Olivier's mouth twitched.
'You killed a friend of mine last night.'
Olivier looked at him. She barely reached his the middle of his chest. 'Oh. You must mean the guy who burst into tears because he was scared I'd hurt him. I remember.'
'Don't try and be funny.'
'I'm not. I'm only being honest.'
Miles watched her closely and the man. He was ready to pounce if they harmed her.
'Don't think you'll get away with it.'
'Do you think I killed him for no reason?' Olivier said.
'I don't care.'
She watched him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. Olivier met Miles' eye. 'Can you believe these people? They really think they're scaring us.' Her smile faded and she snarled at the larger bloke. 'Get off my back. You're wasting my time. I have more important things to do.'
'You don't frighten me.'
'Feeling's mutual.' Olivier shoved past him, catching the man off guard. In one quick movement, he removed his gun and shot her. Miles yelped. The bullet missed her by an inch.
The General dashed back and sliced the man in two. The other two men removed their pistols and began to fire aimlessly. Miles unbuckled his gun and shot at one in the arm. The man turned his attention on him and fired. Miles ignored the searing pain in his leg and continued to blast bullets towards the heavy bloke, until he finally collapsed.
'Fucking hate this place.' He heard Olivier whisper.
Revenge was like a circle: you kill one person, then another comes running after you for the same reason you killed that person. Now he understood why Olivier had rejected retaliation. He could see the realisation splatter across her face. There was no doubt these three men were cared for somewhere – someone would want to hunt her down personally. But she had many who wanted to kill her. It was only another one to the list.
She was in trouble. He was scared for her.
The train had no doubt set off by now.
'Ma'am. . . the bodies.'
Olivier didn't seem to have heard him. She slumped down, exhausted. 'I think Grumman's going to have a fit.'
When the bodies were reported, the uproar had been applauding. A commander was allowed to kill someone if the situation had been fatal. However it would have been preferred if the victims were knocked unconscious. Olivier had been away from Miles for the whole day, and he dreaded to know what would happen to her.
He had booked a hotel room for the night, and it was intended the two leave tomorrow morning. Whether that would be the case, he wasn't sure.
She arrived at midnight. He was still up. He had waited for her.
Olivier looked at him once, before proceeding towards the bathroom.
'Where are you going?'
'For a shower,' she said, her voice tense.
He slowly sat down again. She reappeared after fifteen seconds.
'How do you work it?'
Miles smiled and made his way to the bathroom. He inspected the shower's controls for a second, before pulling one of the handles. Scorching hot water splashed over them both. She screamed at him to turn it off, and he quickly pushed the handle. Olivier recovered before he did.
'Sorry,' he whispered.
Olivier leaned towards the handle. 'Idiot. It says "Hot" and "Cold". This shower is quite formal.'
'Then wouldn't you know how to use it?'
She ignored him and carefully pulled the handle, and turned it slightly anti-clockwise. 'Okay, thanks for your help.'
He nodded and turned away.
'Don't you need a wash?'
He turned to her. 'Aren't you–?'
She nodded towards his bullet wound. Miles had completely forgotten about it. He gritted his teeth and panicked slightly. 'I can fix that. I've done it many times on myself.' He cringed, unsure if he wanted her help. 'Remove your clothes.'
He slowly obeyed, his self consciousness rising dramatically. His wound stung when he passed his trousers over it. When she turned to him, he noticed her eyes sweep over his well formed chest and then to his bullet wound. He turned away, afraid what pain she would cause him by "healing" it.
After a few seconds, he hadn't felt a thing. He looked at her and she was looking at him, her expression sarcastic. 'You're a real pussy when you want to be.'
He cleared his throat and stared straight ahead. Something warm touched his wound and he inhaled sharply. Olivier ignored him and continued to remove the blood around his wound. After a while, she revealed a small knife and a pair of. . . were those tweezers?
Miles backed away.
'Oh come on.'
'Miss, I really think–'
'You really believe I haven't done this before?'
He swallowed. Was he testing his trust on her? Miles sighed and moved forwards. 'Okay.'
For a moment, the surgery seemed acceptable, but then she began to cut him open a little bit to grab hold of the bullet. He gritted his teeth and scrunched his eyes closed whilst she continued. How could she have done this to herself?
'I'm done.'
He opened his eyes, a tear escaping. She wasn't looking at him. She grabbed a glass from the mantel piece and dropped the bullet in. 'I've seen bigger. . .' Olivier pulled a face. 'That's what she said.'
Miles couldn't hold back the chuckle. Another minute passed, and she had wiped the blood away and covered his wound in a bandage. Before Miles could say anything else, she began to remove her clothes. He almost choked.
'Ma'am–'
'It's all right,' she reassured.
It was all right. Miles wasn't panicking. The shock only lasted a few seconds. He joined her in the shower, forcing his eyes to only look at her face. His mouth opened a little when he noticed a large scar across her neck. Innocently, his eyes looked down her figure. She was covered in injuries, and some had barely formed scabs yet. He looked away, surprised. Her body was neglected awfully.
'What did – um – they say?' He stuttered.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. Then realised what he meant. 'Oh. They spoke to me for hours about a load of bullshit, and then gave me a warning.'
'Is that it, ma'am?'
She shrugged, uncaring.
Desperate to distract himself from her scars, he grabbed the soap but in his panic dropped it. Olivier passed it him.
'No thanks,' he said.
'Don't you want it?'
'I'm finished with it.'
'You didn't use it.'
He sighed and gave her a look. She smiled. His heart leaped.
'I'm fine. I. . .' he blinked, his eyes catching her wounds again.
Olivier knew what was wrong, but didn't mention it.
'Are we heading back tomorrow, ma'am?' Miles asked an hour later, his body covered in a dressing gown the hotel had provided. She sat beside him, dressed the same, eyes scanning a book in her hands.
'That was the plan.'
'Was?'
'My dad wants me to stay awhile.'
'How come?' Miles cringed. That was probably a stupid question.
However she shrugged. 'I'm not sure.' They sat in silence for a while. She moved and faced him. 'I apologise for the way I acted last night.'
His heart fluttered. 'No. No, it's understandable.' He was lying, but he respected her for apologising. 'I'm sorry about Katherine. I didn't know you were close.'
Olivier swallowed and hastily removed herself off the settee. 'We weren't.'
'Can I ask something?'
She stopped at the door. 'Yeah, what's wrong?'
'How did she die?'
Olivier squinted her eyes at him. 'It was at Mustang's promotion. She and a bunch of other girls were there. The guy had shot her from a roof.'
'Why did they kill her?'
Her eyes swept over him and her voice was unusually high. 'I don't know.'
Miles knew she was lying.
author's note: GAWD! This took me years (hours) to write. I appreciate if some parts were a bit mindfucking, but I intend to clear everything up as this crazy fiction goes on. Thanks for reading, lovelies! My back hates me :)
P.S. I think Olivier became OOC, and I really tried that not to happen. If she did, do tell me and, if you can, tell me what she would have done instead.
P.P.S. I have no idea what punishment Olivier would get for killing someone who had tried to kill her. Meeehhhh. . .
