The autumn air blew softly through Central City, rustling the leaves in the trees. This had been a particularly mild autumn; it was nearly November, and the leaves had only begun to get their bronzy color. Brenna Mattli jogged swiftly through the streets, stopping only briefly to check her watch. 06:25. She was almost late for work. Brenna quickened her pace and ran towards the center of town; toward Center Command. Brenna worked as a clerk at the second branch of the military's library, where they stored the files on recent acquisitions, as well as personnel files and case files since the first branch burnt down.
She arrived at the branch with only seconds to spare, and there was already a line forming. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," she mumbled, unlocking the front door. She was the only one who worked at the second branch, but she didn't mind, no matter how busy she sometimes got. People tended to annoy her. The lock clicked open and Brenna held open the door, waving people inside. "Yes, welcome, welcome. Form one queue at the front desk, please. One at a time. No pushing. Hurry up. Let's go, let's go, let's go." The line of officers dwindled as they all entered the library. Brenna pushed her way to the desk and perched herself on a stool. "Hi, what can I get for you?" she greeted the first officer.
The day passed slowly after the initial rush died down. It was almost time for Brenna to close when a group of officers walked in, led by their fearless leader. "Good afternoon, Colonel Mustang." She greeted the raven-haired man brusquely, hopping off her stool. "What do you need?"
"Actually, just a personnel file," the colonel responded coolly.
"Do you have a code? Or authorization number?" Brenna tapped her pen against the counter.
The colonel looked abashed. "Never have I needed an authorization number before."
"You only need them to view personnel files." She sighed, adding "sir" to at least add a bit of formality.
"I don't have a code. Or a number," Colonel Mustang complained.
"Where's Lieutenant Hawkeye? She usually has them all," Brenna mumbled, beginning to grow frustrated.
"She's on leave," Mustang replied, his jaw clenched.
"So," a member of the group began, attempting to diffuse the situation. "Who all is going to the military masquerade ball tonight?" Various members of the colonel's group muttered their plans, going along with the attempt at calming the two down.
"Are you going, Captain Mattli?" one of the men in the group questioned. He was blond, and slightly attractive, with a roguish grin; a cigarette dangled from his mouth, annoying Brenna slightly.
"This is a no smoking establishment, Lieutenant Havoc," she stated sharply. "And no, I don't believe I am."
"Aw, why not?" Havoc questioned. "It's going to be fun."
"Well, if you must know, I don't have a thing to wear, and no one I choose to talk to outside of work is going to be there." Colonel Mustang smiled slightly. "What?" Brenna spat.
"Oh, nothing. I'll come back tomorrow for that file." He nodded to his little posse and they all followed him out.
"Apparently, idiots travel in packs," Brenna mumbled to herself, laughing slightly.
Brenna locked up the library and walked back to her apartment. She had only sat her keys down for a second when there was a knock at the door. Brenna rolled her eyes and answered it.
"Second Lieutenant Maria Ross, reporting for duty, ma'am," a raven-haired woman stated, saluting despite the large bag she was carrying.
"Duty?" Brenna's brow furrowed. "What duty?"
"I was told to come force you to the masquerade," she stated simply, pushing herself through the door. "You aren't allowed to say no. Your dress has been paid for already."
"But I don't want to go," Brenna stated.
Lieutenant Ross shrugged. "Oh well." Ross pushed Brenna through the apartment to the bedroom, where she was forced to pull her hair out of its customary messy bun. Brenna's sandy blonde hair fell in curls to her shoulders. "We're not doing your hair," Ross said, nodding. "It's too pretty."
"Gee, thanks," Brenna replies sardonically.
"Here," Ross handed her the bag. "Put this on." She scurried out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
"I wonder how long it'd take her to notice I jumped out the window?" Brenna mumbled to herself, walking over to the window. "It's only four stories. The fall wouldn't be too painful."
"I can hear you," Ross called through the door.
"Damn." Brenna was now forced to put on the dress. She took it out of the bag. Oh my god, she thought. I didn't know one dress could have so much fabric. The dress itself was fairly pretty. It was a deep purple, with golden designs. A slit in the dress came up to Brenna's hip, and the purple fabric at the bottom flared out in various places. The flared places were trimmed in gold, and they sparkled when Brenna moved. She slipped on the dress and found it was rather comfortable. She would have thought the tule that kept the bottom fluffed out would be uncomfortable and scratchy to the skin.
The door opened and in stepped Lieutenant Ross, who was, surprisingly, not in a dress. Ross handed Brenna a purple mask that was covered in gold swirls. Feathers accented the right side, and were attached with a small purple rose pin and some lace.
"Why aren't you dressed?" Brenna questioned, taking the mask.
"I'm not going," came the reply. Brenna's blood boiled.
"You mean to tell me you forced me to go and you're not even going?"
"Pretty much. Now, come on, you're going to be late." Ross ushered her toward the door. "There's one thing you need to remember: if you don't want anyone to know you were there, leave five minutes before midnight. At midnight, everyone will be unmasked." Brenna nodded silently. "There's a car waiting for you. And, just for tonight, enjoy yourself. Don't do anything you would normally do."
The car took Brenna to the fuhrer's mansion, where there was a large queue of people in the courtyard. A band was set up on the far side of the courtyard, already in full swing. Everyone was wearing masks, including the fuhrer, who was easy to spot with the large clump of bodyguards surrounding him. Brenna attempted to make her way through the throng, but ran into a man on the way. He was tall, and the first thing Brenna noticed about him were his ocean blue eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Miss," he said softly, adjusting his simple black tuxedo. Brenna then noticed his mask. It was simply decorated, black with silver jewels, and covered most of his face.
"It's fine, don't worry about it."
The man paused, and Brenna was sure he was going to walk away, but he stopped. "Would you care to dance?"
Under normal circumstances, Brenna would have told this stranger no. But this was a party, and Ross had told her to step outside her comfort zone. "I'd love to." Although she couldn't see it, Brenna could sense the man smiled.
The night flew by, and slowly, Brenna learned about this masked man. He enjoyed the simple things in life, for he had grown up in a suburb of East City. His family owned a small store, and he had been expected to take it over before he joined the military. The man was polite, yet spunky, and Brenna couldn't help but notice the slight scent of smoke on his breath while they danced. Although normally a misanthrope and a loner, Brenna realized she enjoyed talking to this masked man.
As the night went on, Brenna lost track of time; it all whirled past in a blur of dancing and laughing with her newly found comrade, and she was shocked when the fuhrer called for quiet and announced the time. 23: 53. The gala would be ending in 7 minutes.
"What's wrong?" Brenna's blue-eyed partner questioned, concern evident in his eyes.
"It's nothing; I didn't realize it was that late."
"Why? Do you need to leave?" His disappointment was evident.
Brenna thought for a second. She didn't want to leave. She didn't want to lose the only person she enjoyed talking to. But she also didn't want him to see her. Not many people liked her; to some, such as Colonel Mustang's troupe of ne'er-do-wells, she was the brunt of more than one practical joke. She didn't want this man to see her as such. Brenna considered her options: she could either leave and regret not knowing, or she could stay, see the identity of the man in front of her, and possibly get made fun of. "No," she said slowly.
"Okay, good." His eyes smiled. "So, Brown Eyes, one more dance before the big reveal?"
Brenna chuckled. "Sure." The music began again, slowly and pensively. Brenna allowed herself to get wrapped up in the man's arms.
The song ended and the fuhrer called for quiet again. 23:55. The reveal. "Ladies first, then the men!" the fuhrer called jovially.
Brenna rolled her eyes and untied the strings to her mask. The man's blue eyes widened slightly. "Captain Mattli?" he breathed.
Brenna nodded slowly. "Is there a problem?"
"No, Brown Eyes, it's just..." he paused, taking off his mask. "I wasn't expecting it to be you."
"Second Lieutenant Havoc?" Brenna stated incredulously.
"Yeah," he grinned. "Call me Jean."
"I'm sorry," Brenna mumbled, turning. "I've got to go." She spun on her heel and walked quickly away.
Brenna walked briskly back to her apartment and collapsed on the couch. "Of all the men in the military, why'd it have to be him? Why?" She pulled her knees to her chest.
Minutes later, a tentative knock at the door rousted Brenna from near-sleep. "Who is it?"
"It's me, Brown Eyes," Havoc responded weakly.
"Go away."
A faint sigh. Three steps away from the door, then three back. "No. Look, Brown Eyes, I'm not leaving until you tell me why you left so suddenly."
"I..."
"Just let me in. Please." Something in his voice compelled Brenna to get off the couch and open the door. "Thank you."
"You have five minutes," Brenna told him coldly.
"That's all I'll need. Why'd you run off?"
"Why'd you follow me?"
"I asked first."
Brenna sighed. "Because, before tonight, you've always been in that group that pokes fun at me."
"What?" Havoc's brow knitted in thought.
"You and Roy and Breda! You're always commenting on how lonely I am at work! Well, you know what, I happen to like it that way!"
His expression dropped from confusion to remorse. "We never meant to hurt you."
"Well, you did. I have friends, just none of them are stupid enough to join the military."
Havoc chuckled. "Then they must be pretty smart. But I still don't understand why you ran off."
"Because... because..." Brenna spluttered. "Because I actually enjoyed talking to you!"
"And you couldn't believe that you could enjoy conversing with someone you despise?" Brenna said nothing, but turned her head to stare at the floor. "I'm sorry I came, see you tomorrow at work. Goodnight, Brown Eyes." He turned, fumbling around in his pockets for his box of cigarettes.
Brenna watched him shut the door before snapping to her senses. I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought, opening the door. Havoc was just getting to the end of the hall. "Jean, wait!" she called, jogging to catch up, her dress sparkling as she moved. He paused and waited for her to approach. "I did enjoy talking to you, you know." He continued to stare at her. "I just couldn't get over the fact that you, of all people... I... I wanted to see you again," Brenna finished in a whisper.
After a brief pause, Havoc smiled his roguish grin and Brenna's heart fluttered. Before she knew what was happening, the blond had his lips pressed against hers roughly. Once the kiss registered in her brain, Brenna's eyes slowly closed and her arm wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss. Havoc bit down lightly on her lower lip and Brenna obliged, his tongue sliding over the ministrations, smoothing them before pushing her against her own lustfully. The world around her melted away as Brenna's mind became completely enveloped in those few seconds.
They broke apart, and Havoc leaned his forehead against Brenna's and looked down the bridge of his nose to stare into her eyes. "Then let's see each other again right now, Brown Eyes," he whispered.