oo
Riza winced each time the sound of her heel connecting with the linoleum echoed in the hall. She was finding it hard to strive resolutely across the surface and not sound like she was raising hell. One hand was resting on the top of her brown purse while her other hung loosely at her side.
She arrived at the door and swung it inward, trying to ignore the thoughts that the sight of the sofa conjured.
The first thing she did was tuck her bag underneath her desk, folding the strap around the body of the accessory. Next she let her fingers travel down the ridges left by the drawers on the side until she reached the third handle. Opening it, she rooted around inside before she alighted on the chosen object. A rough earthenware mug was then reintroduced to the outside world.
She had learned her lesson when, in a fit of hysteria, Mustang had accidentally knocked over a lesser cup, spilling its contents and ruining the morning's work. Riza had gone out and purchased the container which she deemed least likely to be involved in repeat events and the heavy mug had been it.
She set it at the corner of her desk but made no move to fill it. It was simply a reminder and excuse to leave the room sometime later in the day. She thought about it, and then reached out, shifting the cup's placement until it blocked out her view of the couch.
o
"But I thought Martha was still in the hospital?"
"No, she got her memory back in the last episode."
"So she finally recognized Roberto?"
"Sadly he's already found comfort in the arms of Jacqueline."
Hawkeye tentatively touched her temples and glanced at the landscape of her desk, eyes alighting on the mug. That's my cue to leave.
She stood up. "I'm going to get some coffee. Anyone else want some?"
Mustang waved a 'no' from behind his newspaper and the rest of the subordinates declined as well. Like they need more caffeine.
She reached the door before the conversation resumed.
"What about you, sir, did you catch any good soaps?"
"No, Havoc, I'm afraid I have a life."
Hawkeye smiled weakly as she gripped the cool doorknob. I hope that's true.
o
Mustang watched her exit over the dull fringe of the daily news. He had not gone out of his way to fold it properly so the inner pages had been slowly sagging, ultimately wafting into a heap near the floor, ignored. He now only held the outer shell of the paper, eyes scanning the meticulous print.
...the area at the corner of 5th and Bradley, what was previously deemed a safe neighborhood, was recently subjected to a rash of violent carjackings, the most recent of which ending in the critical injury of a brave bystander...
She was still toting around that ridiculously heavy-duty mug. He felt a surge of minor annoyance. He wasn't that incompetent; it wasn't like he was going to knock it over again. So what if he had applied a little too much vigor when relating why the completion of their paperwork was not the noblest objective? Someone had to make up for her severity.
...what was previously deemed a safe neighborhood, was recently subjected to a rash...
She had actually tried to be stern with him but the sight of the great Roy Mustang hurriedly trying to rectify his error had been too much.
At first he attempted to stop the flow of coffee by damming it in his hands, that failing he resorted to pushing the papers out of the way, and finally turned to her with a severely apprehensive look on his face when he realized his effort had resulted in a mini diaspora of her work all over the floor.
...at the corner of 5th and Bradley, what was previously...
Instead of her usual reprimands her eyes had softened with contained amusement and Roy had found the sight more subduing than any harsh words.
...the area at the corner of 5th and Bradley...
Mustang suddenly realized he had been stuck on the same sentence for an embarrassingly long period of time.
o
Lowering the protruding lip of the coffee pot to the rim of her cup, she titled the handle and waited for the coffee to fill to an acceptable level. Unfortunately some liquid dribbled down the underside of the pot to pool on the counter. She didn't notice until the puddle expanded enough to spill over the edge and produce a sizeable stain on her navy skirt.
Frustrated she jammed the pot back into the machine and grabbed a stack of napkins, fruitlessly wiping at the dark spot. Surrendering, she replaced the usable napkins, cleaned the coffee off the counter, and turned to leave, grateful the military's uniform didn't include khaki. I guess no amount of planning can stop some spills.
Once in the hall her mood brightened, however, when she spotted a familiar pair being escorted in the direction of the office.
o
"Sir, visitors," Hawkeye announced upon reentering the room. She was followed closely by the Elric brothers.
"Hello boys," Mustang greeted.
"Hello," returned Alphonse.
"Hey," grumbled Ed.
Al leaned in conspiratorially towards Hawkeye and whispered, "He's been grumpy since we left Rizenbool."
It was a small miracle Ed hadn't heard, being as Al's mechanical body didn't give him the ability to lower his voice to a standard whisper.
"Oh?" returned Hawkeye. They both postponed the conversation, however, to watch the scene unfold as Mustang spoke.
"Listen; there is something I need you to clear up for me."
"Alright," said Ed, notably calmer.
"You two arrived in Central by train and purchased the tickets fairly easily."
Ed nodded.
"What doesn't make sense to me…," Mustang paused, Ed looked up, even Hawkeye looked interested, "how did the teller see you over the counter at the ticket booth?"
"Well Al got the- HEY! WHO ARE YOU CALLING A FISH SO SMALL IT COULDN'T EAT A WHOLE FLAKE OF FISH FOOD?"
"That's a new one," muttered Al.
"Why Full Metal, you've gotten in touch with your creativity!" congratulated Mustang.
Hawkeye smiled, she had missed the boys. They always seemed to set everyone halfway down the path to absurd.
o
"…but it didn't matter, she pulled another wrench out of her back pocket and hit him from clear across the room…"
She listened interestedly while Al avidly recounted details from their stop in their hometown. Apparently the cause for Ed's discomfort was a fight he had participated in with the mechanic, Winry. The way Al told it Ed's fondness for the girl was apparent.
Again Riza found herself wishing that the brothers lived in a world where the greatest conflicts were those surrounding Ed's romantic endeavors and where Al possessed a voice that wavered from a sad artificial echo.
o
The car ride back from the train station had been a solemn one. Mustang had insisted on giving Ed and Al a ride, no doubt as some subdued response to their recent absence. Which naturally means -I'm- doing the driving.
It was clear to her he held a particular fondness for the duo, but the man was prone to ignoring his feelings. Lately she had become curious how far that tendency extended. Does he deny to himself that he enjoys his favorite foods?
She stopped at a stop sign and glanced around the interior of the vehicle. Mustang rested carelessly with his elbow propped up and his head in his hand, gazing out the window. She had no urge to start a conversation. The rear seats had long been empty since the departure of the boys. There were still indentations in the leather, significantly deeper in Al's place. The tank was at half empty and the radio remained perpetually dormant.
It suddenly occurred to her that they had never once, in all her years of carting around the Colonel, turned on that radio. She could also comfortably assume that no one else who used the car would have the slightest inclination to activate the device. The screen and dials lay smudge free as testament to that fact, gleaming in the light that filtered through the windshield. It struck a chord with her that seemed to resonate off the grim walls around her.
In another life, would her hand reach out to those buttons and flit across to check her favorite station, would her mouth form the words to a familiar song?
Mustang lied to himself, their subordinates lives were bleak, brightened occasionally by brief social outings and trashy television programs, and herself? She hid behind obligation and responsibility, tethering herself to a life in the military and allowing herself nothing else.
She realized slowly that this was not sudden revelation, but a slow accumulation of something that had been etching away inside of her. She was still at the corner, too absorbed in thought to progress farther, as if the stop sign had been a divine command to reevaluate her dismal place in life. She absently registered her breaths were coming shorter.
She couldn't go on and keep feeding her weathered spirit with daydreams. She loved her job but could she honestly believe they were working towards something admirable? Could routine and tradition continue to spur her up the ranks? Could the brief moments of speculation that she allowed herself of a life with the Colonel sustain her? She was still dubious as to how but he had rooted himself in her existence and she could no longer plausibly deny that she loved him.
She glanced at Roy through the overhead mirror, speckled with grime. He didn't even seem curious at their prolonged stop, studying some drab leaves wedged in a gutter as water flowed sluggishly around it. Hawkeye's knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel, her dampened palms wrapped fiercely around the taut leather.
"Sir," Hawkeye started; he didn't turn his head. "Do you have feelings for me?"
He probably fancied she couldn't see his face but she took in every inch of it reflected in the clear glass. It was expressionless.
"Yes."
Nothing changed with this admission and nothing further was offered. Something in that response dragged her back into reality. Wordlessly Hawkeye took her foot off the brake and continued driving. It was shortly down that same street that she first tried out the radio. It wasn't tuned and she got nothing but static.
A/N:
I thought this one was sort of whimsical. At any rate this chapter is kind of important. / Let me know if I should cut out making descriptive passages, I often have some subtle stuff in there but I don't know if anyone's catching it. / Next, Hawkeye seeks a confrontation. / Please R&R!