by Maaya
Given a choice, Hawkeye thinks she might have been left-handed.
Her handwriting has always been sharp, all short, uneven lines and huge arches. Not very flowing, not at all like her female classmates' pretty styles with heart shaped dots over the 'i's. She never thought much about it. She learnt that writing is an art for the right hand. No matter how quickly her right hand tired - abnormally quickly, her teacher would say - she never considered picking up the pencil with her left hand.
When she was given a gun, she had without hesitation taken it in her right hand.
No one used their left hand, other than those unfortunate enough to have lost their right in one of the many wars.
Hawkeye watches Edward, who is sitting at borrowed Havoc's desk, scribbling with his left hand, his flesh hand. The boy frowns, he lets go of the pencil and stretches his arm, wiggles his fingers before attacking the paper again. It is a form asking for permission to search a Professor Kingsley's house, officially for proof of illegal activity concerning abortion. Unofficially, it's to look for and "borrow" some parchments the private alchemist had refused to show a "brat" like Edward.
She collects her papers from her desk, ready to leave yet another sheaf to the Colonel to sign. "Edward-kun, are you done with that anytime soon?"
Edward blinks up at her. "Huh? Mmm, hang on a sec..." He scribbles the last lines quickly, with aggressive lines. Not even Hawkeye can make the words out. "Here."
Hawkeye takes the offered paper with a nod, her next words surprises even herself. "Edward-kun...were you right-handed?"
Edward looks even more surprised now than when she had interrupted his writing. He glances down at his hands, looks up quickly and shrugs. "Yeah."
"I see," Hawkeye says thoughtfully. "I'll try to make the Colonel sign this," she indicates the paper, "as soon as possible."
Edward snorts, hesitates and then bows hastily before stalking out of the door, probably to look for his absent little brother. Hawkeye knows better than to be offended by the snort, she knows it was about the Colonel's laziness rather than her own ability to do her duties.
On the short way from her desk to the door to the Colonel's office, she wonders if anything would have happened differently, had she been using her left hand. It is a ridiculous thought.
By the time she puts her hand on the door handle, she has already realized it doesn't matter.
When she later exits the office, she has forgotten all about it.
end