A Hawk's Eyes
Summary: In grief and despair she buried the man she loved. In grief and despair she completed the array on her back. In grief in despair she exchanged her eyes with a monster with his face...
Timeline: It's a crossover between the manga and the anime except it leans more towards the animation. In fact, the only scene used in this story that is exclusively from the manga would be the tattoo on Hawkeye's back.
Warnings: slight AU and x-over theme between the anime and the manga. Possible spoilers
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Day 51
She wonders if he dreams as she does, of planes and places filled with half-forgotten shapes and people.
She awakes from another nightmare, swallowing down the stale air like a newborn lamb taking its first breath.
She dreams of another life where such things are possible and even if they weren't that she would be able to see his calculating gaze rather than blindly stumble across it with the pads of her clumsy fingers.
She dreams that she could see the color of his violet eyes, his dark hair, the alabaster cool skin and his face.
But she remembers all this as a dream and even more disconcerting, the line between her colonel and the wretch she brought back from his grave has blurred once again.
Day 52
They gather back to her from the four winds where they had once fled like scalded dogs with tails between their legs.
They stand united around her trying to support her, cajoling her to let go.
He knows that less than three months ago, they were on his side and wonders if he knows-remembers that.
Al isn't a blind-too trusting-fool. He knows that the specter-creature-man is dangerous more than anyone else realizes.
But is it not hypocritical of him to judge?
He who had existed as a little more than armor-bound soul.
He feels for him, the colonel-general-man-homunculus, who cannot feel anything more than the persistent gnaw of his growing psyche, the snappy bites of the loyal Hayate, residue anger-despair-helplessness of his brother, the pain of Hawkeye's decision weighing down on everyone else, the disgust-contempt-hatred-awe-horror-love however well hidden it may be.
So... Alphonse feels for him an obscure way, even understands why he must be
Because it was never the colonel-general-Roy-hewhomustneverbenamed that was brought back but a mold shaped in their expectations,
And Al is sure; perhaps that sentiment is the heaviest burden of all.
Day 53
He knows that's on everyone's minds.
He makes a game of it, which letter will be on people's tongues when they speak of him?
An 'r' or an 'l'?
It frustrates him that he still persists as a minor pronoun.
His attention strays when the conversation becomes one-sided with the report that the killer has not yet been found. Blue eyes skim over his prone form meaningfully. He articulates through a raised eyebrow and the blonde immediately ducks his head like an unruly omega being chastised by an alpha.
He briefly wonders if it would work as half as well on the black-and-white ball of fur by Riza's feet.
He knows what they refuse to say, their eyes are open, accusations written clearly across the curves of their faces.
The evidence is too incriminating for even him to ignore.
He cranes his head and looks at the newspaper Breda is waving around and smirks.
The people-corpse in the black-and-white bodies could have been his doubles.
They could have been Roy's cousins or brother-sister.
Body count rose steadily with his absence and return. But there were only Roy-Lust look-alikes in the city. Sooner or later there would be only one-two left.
The original and his reluctant copy.
Just him
He closed his eyes, purple-grey and dreamy.
Day 54
He's seen more in his short 17 years than anyone would ever dream of in a lifetime.
He knows about the religious conspiracy in Liore, the secret project with red stones in Xenotime.
He knows about the mechanics of the gate and remembers the stores of unwanted films still reeling in his head.
He knows for sure now that he (still can't say it, still can't say it...) is the undertaker-executioner but is at a loss as to explain how and thusly why.
He needs to prove it but how can he?
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When compared to one another, a homunculus is an inferior or a superior version of a human being.
--But they desired so constantly to become one.
He wonders where the last thought comes from--a residue exposure through the gate perhaps.
But he remembers Lust's last wishes, Wrath and Sloth's unnatural melding, Pride's all too-real aging, Envy's... well envy.
So where does that leave... their walking dead?
He stays; he hurts, prods, pokes, but does not aim to kill.
He is graceful and clumsy, fluid and lagging in a way the colonel never was and never will be.
A thought occurs like the flash of a firefly in the night. It is born of others in the process of being forgotten. Its edges are frayed, made up of a thousand other pieces that have already come and gone.
What does he want?
Day 55
Could lambs be raised as wolves?
She's seen an article once upon a time, of an unlikely love of a pup being suckled by a mother cat.
Roy-
Lust-
The homunculus-
-a creature of a thousand names and a proto-human of sorts, a modern day Adam more dangerous than any god would have ever intended.
And he is hers, hers, hers, hers,
Her nostrils flare and air pours in, her sob is swallowed and she digs her nails deeper into the groove of his once broken spine.
All of it, in a way that they stray Hayate never was for he was as strong as he was fierce, a creature of his own mind and wit--something too free for her to claim wholly.
He whispers poison-secrets-into her thirsty ears and she revels in their startling clarity. It is like looking upon the makings of a Vatican glass. He shapes with words, a frame in time she does not need.
All of it hers, from him to his pale lips, hers.
Hers in the most intimate way anyone could think of.
A bond between a mother and a child, between twins of similar natures, between two star-crossed lovers.
He is hers.
The reason he came back to her, the reason he is hers.
Because she is his whether she likes it or not.