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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years

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Embers of Revelation

Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner Word Count: 12296 Rating: T Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021 Warnings: Child abuse/neglect Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate Pairing: Royai Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Chapter: 2 of 7 Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang’s team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye’s hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can’t stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart AO3 || ff.net

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Chapter 2

The night didn’t pass too peacefully for Havoc or Breda. Havoc’s legs were giving him quite a bit of trouble and he was restless most of the night. He tried to sleep or hold still, but after a while he gave up, and went downstairs where he could move as much as he needed too. Eventually he fell asleep on the couch. He thought, at one point, that he heard someone else up, but shortly after Hayate joined him, which explained a lot. Eventually the two fell asleep together.

The morning dawned early, but not too bright. He was woken up by the sounds of someone in the kitchen, and groggily drug himself up. He stumbled into the kitchen, wincing as his legs tried to work themselves out. They functioned just fine, but there was still an ache to them. Not to his surprise, both Hawkeye and Fuery were up and in the kitchen, coffee already going. They looked up at his entrance.

“Oh—did we wake you?” Hawkeye asked, looking at him.

Havoc yawned. “Yeah, but don’t worry about it.”

Fuery had gotten up and was busy fetching a cup for Havoc. “Didn’t sleep well, sir?” he asked.

“Yeah… this weather is messing with my legs,” he said. “Makes them ache more and more the longer it goes on.”

Hawkeye frowned. “Do you have anything you take or do for them?”

“Yeah,” Havoc said, “but I try not to take it too much. I don’t like being too compromised.”

“It’s not like we’re doing anything dangerous here,” Fuery said with a smile as he handed Havoc a cup of coffee fixed just the way he liked it. How did Fuery remember little details like that anyway? And why would he bother?

Still, it didn’t stop Havoc from accepting it.

“Yeah, but still. Don’t worry, if it gets to be too much, I’ll take one of those pills.”

Hawkeye was frowning. “Have you ever tried any herbal or folk remedies?” she asked him.

Havoc shook his head. “Nah, I haven’t. to be honest, even if my ma used them, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Hawkeye nodded. “Let me see what I can find and put together. I might be able to give you something that’ll help.”

“You know herbs?” Fuery asked, sounding a little surprised.

Hawkeye nodded. “I learned when I was younger from books, and an older woman in town. They were useful things to know, especially when a doctor wasn’t always an option.” She stood up, heading over to the refrigerator. “I’ll see what I can look into. For now, though, we had better start on breakfast.”

With a nod, Havoc and Fuery both got up, and the three of them started working on the food.

It wasn’t too much later that the others started filing down the stairs, Falman first, then Breda, and finally, Mustang. Like all good military men, they started their approach with a trip to the coffee pot. Once the coffee was fixed, each of them sat at the table, where they slowly woke up and, eventually, started to help with breakfast. It didn’t take long until they were all sitting around the table with a full breakfast laid out in front of them and another pot of coffee ready.

“So,” Breda said as they ate, “What’s the plan for the day?”

Mustang looked out the window, where the rain could still be seen pouring. “Well, there’s not much we can do here about our mission,” he said. “Fuery, did you get the radio working?”

“Not to my satisfaction,” he said. “I mean, it works, yes, but not as good as it could.”

“Can you make it work as well as you want it to?” Mustang asked.

“Maybe, with the right tools and supplies,” he responded.

Mustang and Hawkeye looked at each other, silent communication passing between them again.

“We’ll see what we can find you,” Hawkeye said. “I’m sure there’s something laying around. If there’s nothing in the house, there might be something in the barn.”

“If you can get that repaired, then we’ll use that as our primary means of updates on the weather and the train station.” Mustang said.

“What about calling the station?” Breda asked.

Hawkeye shook her head. “There was never a phone installed here. Father saw no need, and we didn’t have the money for something like that. I didn’t see the need after he died, as I didn’t plan to stay here for long.”

Breda nodded, and Havoc supposed that made sense.

“Havoc, will you take care of the horses?” Mustang asked.

“Sure thing, Boss. Although if anyone else has experience, it might not be a bad thing to have someone else that knows what they’re doing as well.”

“I can help,” Falman said. “I did a few turns taking care of the horses at Briggs.”

“You any good?” Havoc asked.

“The horse master wanted to see about getting me transferred down there,” Falman said.

Havoc raised an eyebrow. “Alright, good enough for me.”

“Okay, so that’s settled. As for the rest of us…” Mustang shook his head. “Well just do as we need to. There’s plenty to read, and always work to do. We’ll figure it out. However,” he said, “when what needs to be taken care of this morning is taken care of, we can dive into the intel that we were given, see what we can learn.”

“We can go head and pool what knowledge we have and get something of a plan in place for when we do get there,” Hawkeye said. “It can’t hurt anyway.”

Breda grunted. “That’s true enough. And it’ll certainly be something more productive then just sitting around reading random books. No offence, Falman.”

“None take, sir.”

“What chores and the like need to be done?” Mustang asked.

Hawkeye considered for a moment. “Well, our uniforms need washing, and the boots demucking. That will take a while. Sir,” she turned to Mustang. “I need you to check for some things for me in the basement.”

He looked at her with a bit of concern in his eyes, obviously willing, but, again, the basement brought up something bad, just like the last time they had been here. Hawkeye obviously wasn’t willing to go down in it still. Havoc couldn’t help but wonder, once again, just what it might be.

“Of course, Captain,” he said. “Just let me know what it is you need.”

“Just to check for some dried herbs and ingredients for me. I’m going to work on something for Havoc’s legs, see if it helps.”

Understanding seemed to bloom in Mustang’s eyes, and he settled down. “Ah, I see.”

“You’re going to what now?” Breda asked.

Hawkeye smiled at him, “Just apply some good country remedies. Hopefully one of them will help. If it helps his legs, it might help your arm as well.”

They had all noticed, but had chosen not to comment on, the way that Breda seemed to be favoring one arm. It was the one with the elbow he had broken, and Havoc knew that it was giving him trouble as well.

Breda still looked a bit surprised. “If it works, I’ll give it a try,” he said. “You I trust. Him,” he pointed to Havoc with his fork, “not so much.”

“Gee, thanks,” Havoc deadpanned. “See who makes sure there’s enough coffee for you next time.”

“Alright, so, I’m going to look for herbs for the captain. And the rest of you?” Mustang said, interrupting the play argument before it could get started.

“I’ll go check on the horses,” Havoc said, “And Falman can come with me.” Falman nodded his agreement.

“I’ll be working on that radio,” Fuery said. “Although it would be good if someone could show me where theses spare parts might be.”

“I can show you here in the house,” Hawkeye said, and Fuery nodded.

“So that just leaves the dishes and the uniforms,” Havoc said, and shot a grin Breda’s way.

Breda pulled a face. “Oh no. I’m not doing all of that alone!”

Luckily for him, Hawkeye came to his rescue. “I’ll help you,” she said. “It’s my house, and besides, I’m sure that Fuery needs some time to decide what he needs.”

Fuery nodded. “Yes, sir, I do,” he said. “So, it’ll be a while yet.”

“I can help you in the meantime,” Hawkeye reassured him, and Breda seemed somewhat mollified.

Breakfast didn’t last much longer after that, and they all finished and then cleaned up their places. Breda and Hawkeye set about putting away any extra food and cleaning the dishes. Anyone, they all knew, could wash dishes, so after Riza gave him a rundown of where things went in the kitchen, she left him to it to start on the uniforms.

Havoc and Falman pulled on their muddy boots from the day before, and their coats, and headed out the backdoor towards the barn, not only with instructions to see to the horses, but to bring back anything useful from the barn or the shed. Havoc was still a little concerned about that shed and the chemicals in it, but he couldn’t deny that Hawkeye seemed to know what she was doing—not after she had somehow miraculously saved the pot that Havoc would have sworn up and down Mustang had ruined. He was highly suspicious that she wanted him to bring back in a number of those.

Well, if the house blew up, at least the rain would put out any fires.

Falman, it turned out, was very good with horses. Something about his demeanor seemed to sooth the animals, and they let him do almost anything. The two men both mucked out the stalls, laid fresh hay, and then fed them. After that, they poked around the barn to see if there was anything useful in it.

“Sir?” Falman said from one of the corners. “What about this cart?”

“Hm?” Havoc walked over to him. “Oh that. Hawkeye said last time that she used to take that to town with her when she knew that she’d need to pick up a lot of materials or supplies. She said that sometimes she tied her goat to it to pull, and sometimes she just pulled it herself.”

“She pulled it herself?” Falman said, sounding a bit incredulous. “All the way to town?”

“That’s what she said.” Havoc repeated.

Falman fell quiet, thinking for a moment. “Sir…” he said carefully. “About the captain. Some of the things she says about living here, or the ways that she acts—”

“I know exactly what you mean, but you need to drop it,” Havoc said sharply. “Even when we were here last time, I learned very little solid facts. I just had snippets and conjecture to go off of. If Hawkeye wants us to know, then she’ll tell us. Other than that, it’s best not to say anything.”

Falman nodded. “Understood, sir,” And, bless him, Havoc believed that he did. Falman was a good man. He understood when to back off and not to push.

They did manage to collect a few things that they thought would do Fuery some good and put them in the spare basket that Hawkeye had given them. After that they stopped by the shed, and Havoc got to watch the wonder and the fear of this shed creep into Falman’s eyes. After all, a lot of these chemicals could be dangerous if they broke down or were too old.

All Havoc could do was shrug and load some up into the basket. “Hawkeye seems to think they’re safe,” he said, and that seemed to be the end of that.

By the time that they got back inside, both Breda and Hawkeye had moved on from cleaning the kitchen. It was clean and ready to go. Remembering Mustang’s warning about a child Hawkeye hitting him with a mop when he tracked dirt in, they headed straight to the washroom to remove their boots and hang up their coats. Riza and Breda were in there, Breda working on cleaning up their boots, Riza working on the clothes.

“Hate to say, but we brought you some more work,” Havoc said as they walked in.

“Oh, good,” Breda said sarcastically. “Riza, not to question you, but our boots are just going to get muddy again. What’s the point of cleaning them?”

“It’ll get the worst of it off,” she said. “And it’ll keep them from getting so mucked up.” She looked at him. “You know the dangers of letting a boot get too wet.”

“Yeah, but that’s for marches, not taking the boots on and off,” he pointed out.

“Still. Better to keep them clean—and you know it, Lieutenant,” she said, although there was a bit of a tease in her voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, pulling a slight face at the work.

“How were the horses?” Riza asked. “And did you find anything?”

“We found several things that Fuery might find useful,” Falman said “and we retrieved a few bottles of chemicals for you, Captain.”

Riza smiled at them. “Thank you.”

“The horses were fine,” Havoc said. “A little ancy because of the weather, but fine overall.” He shifted, his legs just constantly aching in this weather. “I can’t blame them much for that, to be honest.”

“Hopefully this rain will let up soon,” Hawkeye said. “And then we can all leave.”

“We were lucky that you had this house we could stay in, though,” Falman said.

“Yes, I suppose so,” she murmured.

“We’ll leave the chemicals on the kitchen table, yeah?” Havoc said, “And then take these parts to Fuery.”

“Alright,” Hawkeye said. “I’ll tend to them later.”

Havoc gave her a wave, and he and Falman exited the small room, leaving Hawkeye and Breda working. It didn’t take long to unload the chemicals on the table.

“What’s the captain going to do with these?” Falman asked as they put them on the table.

“I don’t know,” Havoc said, “but the last time we were here Mustang ruined a pot trying to cook something. I thought for sure that the pot was done for. But Hawkeye brought in some of the chemicals, did something to the pot for a few days, and then somehow, amazingly, she managed to clean off whatever it was that the general had done.”

Falman didn’t look terribly impressed, but Havoc pushed his point. “I’m not kidding, Falman. It was black and burned and there was smoke coming out of it. I don’t know what he managed to burn that bad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pot or anything burned quite that badly. Trust me, you don’t want to let him cook.”

“The general is an accomplished alchemist,” Falman said. “Surely he can do something like simple cooking.”

“You’d think he could,” Havoc said. “But trust me, he can’t.”

Falman seemed to take his words into consideration but didn’t comment more on them. Instead, they finished unloading the chemicals and took the pieces to Fuery, who had the big radio pulled out and the back of it off.

“How’s it looking?” Havoc asked.

“Not unfixable, but it’s not going to be easy, especially without some of the proper parts. But I think I can make do. General’s volunteered to make some of the parts I need, if he can.”

“Well, that’s handy,” Havoc said.

“Yeah, I’ve got him looking though one of the technical manuals I brought with me so that he’ll have an idea of what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, giving the General orders now,” Havoc teased.

Fuery looked up from his work and grinned. “Well, when he asks what he can do…”

Havoc laughed. “I get that. Alright, keep working—maybe we’ll get more than scratchy ballroom music at some point.”

“Here’s hoping, sir!”

There wasn’t too much more to do after that, except clean up a little more. Falman went off to read, and Havoc, needing something to do, decided that he might as well go ahead and start working on lunch for everyone. True, it hadn’t been terribly long since breakfast, but it did take a while to prep things for six people plus one dog. He moved some of Hawkeye’s chemicals from the counter back to the table—who had moved those? —and got to work preparing the vegetables for what he hoped was going to be a good meal.

The finishing of chores and the smell of cooking food eventually brought everyone out from their jobs. Hawkeye and Breda had finally finished the uniforms, which were now drying in the washroom, and Fuery took a break from the radio, with Hawkeye promising to show him around the house a bit more to see if there was anything else he could use. Mustang complained about the technical manuals, and Hawkeye teased him about not complaining about paperwork any longer. They all enjoyed lunch together, and, after it, Breda took care of cleaning up the washroom while Mustang went to look around the basement. Hawkeye showed Fuery the attic and Falman went outside to make some observations. Havoc took care of the kitchen. By the time the afternoon rolled around, everyone was either finished with their chores or ready to take a break. They all moved into the living room where there was more space and the warmth from the fireplace. Fuery still had his radio to tinker with as well, which kept the younger man quite happy.

“Alright, before we start, status update. Fuery, the radio,” Mustang said.

“I’m working on her sir. She’s an older model and I don’t have access to parts, but I think with your help and some of the things I’ve found around here I should be able to get her working well by this afternoon. Of course, she’d work better with an antenna, but we don’t have one and it would be dangerous to put one up in this weather.”

Mustang frowned but seemed to put a pin in that idea. “Keep working, Fuery. I’m sure you’ll get it.” He turned his attention to Falman. “Weather report, Falman?”

“Yes, sir,” Falman said. “I went out and made some observations. Without the proper tools I couldn’t be sure of several things, but there is a still a wind coming out of the west and the clouds appear to be low-hanging cumulus and still saturated with rain. It’s still as unusual as it was back in Central, sir, and it doesn’t show any signs of letting up. However, they do appear to be mostly rain clouds and not necessarily storm clouds, which does make a difference.”

“Right,” Mustang said. “Havoc? The horses.”

“They’re doing fine, sir,” Havoc drawled. “A little ancy, but that’s to be expected in weather like this. We’ve got enough supplies to keep them for a couple of more days, but then we’d probably want to see about taking them and the wagon back. When we do, I suggest we take that small cart with us, and we can load it up with anything we need and pull it back.”

Mustang nodded. “Hawkeye? The house?”

“Seems mostly as we left it,” she said.

“Mostly?” he interrupted.

“Yes,” she said. “I do hire someone to come in, check on things, and make sure there’s basic upkeep, so anything that seems a bit out of place is probably due to him.”

“I wondered why this place was in so good of shape, considering no on lived here,” Havoc said.

“Yes, well, I had thought about just abandoning it to its fate, but… well, it’s always good to have a backup,” she said.

“It worked out well for us, at least,” Breda said.

“But the house and all seem fine to you,” Mustang pushed.

“Yes,” she said. “Everything seems to be in order.”

“Good.” Mustang nodded at Breda, a bit of a smirk touching his lips. “And the state of the laundry?”

Havoc heard Breda mumble something under his breath, but he couldn’t catch what it was. “It’s fine, sir. Clean and drying out. Hopefully we won’t get that muddy again anytime soon.”

“Maybe,” was all Mustang said in response to that, and moved on. “Alright, you all have your files, correct?” Five heads nodded at him, and one tail wagged. “Good. Let’s go over what we know.” He flipped open his file.

“This is yet another society formed after the Promised Day. It’s very secretive and very hard to find. If it was just about being secret, we wouldn’t have had any problems with it. However, there have recently been attacks that have been traced back to what the local authorities are calling the Spark. Apparently, people in the area haven’t been overly happy with the government, and this group is trying to spark some sort of conflict or knowledge to life.”

He flipped the page. “There’s several photographs of areas that they’ve attacked or been spotted at,” he said, taking the photos out and passing them around. “Unfortunately, the perpetrators themselves are never caught at the area.”

“How do we know that these are all the same group?” Breda asked. “It could be several different groups of people that the local authorities are blaming on one group.”

“That’s true,” Mustang said. “However, there is other evidence that links to this group. Unfortunately, it’s circumstantial at best, supposition at worst.”

“If it’s that unclear, then how come we’re being sent on this mission?” Havoc asked.

“We’re being sent because it’s unclear,” Mustang said, “And because of our expertise in dealing with alchemists.”

“There’s alchemy involved?” Havoc asked.

Mustang nodded. “One of the signs that has been seen at every crime scene are signs of alchemy. It’s a very good, very specific kind of alchemy. It’s almost impossible to spot if you’re not directly looking for it and covers its tracks very well.”

He pulled more papers out of the folder and passed them around. “This is Herman Stitue. He was an alchemist that specialized in Alchemy that was difficult to see, mostly for the restoration of objects, buildings, and other places like that. Fifteen months ago, he disappeared, and all of his research was stolen. Seven months ago, his body was found. Six months ago, these alchemic incidents that were covered up started happening. It’s suspected that he was kidnapped along with his research and made to train this group.”

Hawkeye seemed to tense up a bit at that, and Havoc wondered why. Sure, part of it, he knew, probably had to do with the General’s flame alchemy. It was a very secretive, very specialized form of alchemy itself. But this seemed to be a bit more than that. Maybe she was worried about Mustang getting taken on this mission too?

“In fact, when the disappearances of other alchemists were looked into, similar circumstances began to emerge. Investigations has been tracking this one for a while, as it seems that it’s mostly been alchemists with very unique or secretive forms of alchemy that have disappeared. This is the first real lead that has been discovered, and the Fuhrer decided it was best to send us on this mission.”

No one seemed willing to address the elephant in the room, so Havoc, as usual, bit the bullet and did it himself.

“Begging your pardon, General, but doesn’t it seem a bit risky sending you in? After all, Flame Alchemy isn’t exactly well known, and you yourself have the hands-free alchemy going on now. Seems like you’d be a prime target.”

“I know,” Mustang said, and glanced at Hawkeye, who seemed to be sitting very straight, clearly not happy with this turn of events, but also clearly having foreknowledge of it. “But that’s part of the point. It’s hopeful that my presence will draw them out and that we’ll be able to find and apprehend them more directly.”

He closed the folder. “It’ll be dangerous, but if we can ever get there, it’ll be worth it.”

“Yeah, well, first we have to get there,” Breda said. He looked out the front window, which someone had opened the curtains to, for whatever reason. “But that’s not going to happen any time soon, it looks like.”

“Alright. Then the question becomes, what do we do in the meantime?” Mustang asked.

“Not get wet,” Breda suggested, and Havoc rolled his eyes.

“We have enough supplies to stay here for a few days,” Riza said. “We can stay longer if I go hunting.”

“If we go hunting,” Havoc said. “I’m pretty good too.”

Riza conceded that with a nod. “You know how to dress a kill too, don’t you?”

“Of course. You got a place to do it? It won’t be good to do it in the barn with the horses.”

“No, that won’t work. It’ll make them too skittish. I used to just do it in the backyard, but with all this mud that won’t work.”

“I’d say your shed, but there’s too many chemicals in there to make me comfortable.”

“Mm, true, and it’s not very big.”

“What about the chicken coop? If Mustang can fix it up like he did that gazebo.”

“That might work.”

“Alright then! What kinds of things can we hunt around here?”

“Well, I’ve let the land grow wild, so probably a decent verity. Squirrels, rabbits, things like that obviously, but there should be some deer too.”

“That sounds good. Hey—ever get any waterfowl on that pond?”

“Okay—” Mustang interrupted them. “So, Hawkeye and Havoc are going to go hunting. What else?”

“Well, sir, if someone else doesn’t mind getting a bit dirty, there’s always the orchard and whatever is growing out there, and the old garden plot. Could be some vegetables still growing wild.” Hawkeye said. “I don’t mind taking care of it all, but that is something that someone else can do.”

“I can do it,” Falman volunteered. “I’ve been reading over some of the herbology books as well and I think that I might be able to identify other useful plants. I’ll be out anyway making my observations on the weather, so if I do it, no one else has to worry about being out in the rain.”

Mustang nodded. “Good.”

“I’ll keep working on the radio,” Fuery said. “And, when I’m finished, if there’s anything else that needs repairs or fixing, I can always take a look at that. Otherwise, just point me where I’m needed, sir.”

Mustang nodded. “We’ll probably take you up on that, Fuery.”

“I’ll help out with whatever needs to be helped out with around here,” Breda said, “but I’m also going to be working on these files. I want to be as prepared as possible for it, when we actually go.”

“Good,” Mustang said. “I’ll work on it too. We can discuss it. But I’ll also be on standby for any help that might be needed. If we can make it easier with my alchemy, then I’m more than happy to help.”

Hayate stood up and barked from where he was next to Hawkeye, his tail wagging.

“Ah, yes, good, Second Lieutenant Hayate,” Mustang said. “You’ll take guard duty. Excellent.”

“At least the pooch is being useful,” Breda muttered. He had a truce with the dog, but it was obvious to anyone that he was still not overly comfortable with him.

“For downtime, you’re welcome to make use of the library,” Hawkeye offered. “Or explore the grounds, if you want. Just please stay out of the study and unoccupied bedroom on the second floor, and the basement.”

That was at least twice she had mentioned for them to stay away from the basement and Havoc couldn’t help but wonder why. There hadn’t been anything special about it that he had seen when he was down there, except that it looked more like a lab then a basement, including a large table with a bright light over it. Maybe it was some alchemy thing, like telling them to stay out of her father’s study. He didn’t know, but Havoc had to admit that he was curious.

The rest of the day went fairly peacefully. Havoc and Hawkeye talked hunting strategies, and the best places to find things. Fuery worked on the radio, getting Mustang to help him make some parts. Dinner time rolled around, and they paused to eat, and then with some unspoken agreement, sat down their work after that and retired to the living room.

Havoc was glad to see that someone had closed the living room curtains, although he hadn’t recalled anyone doing it, cutting off the sight of the pouring rain and adding a layer between the window and ever-present chill the rain seemed to bring.

Fuery kept working on the radio, almost finished with it, and Havoc laid in the floor, stretching out his legs. Falman was in a chair, absorbed in a book, and Mustang and Hawkeye were on the couch, seemingly reading the same book, although Havoc was sure it was just an excuse to be close. Although, looking at them sitting there, a blanket pulled over their laps as they looked at a book, Havoc couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking at a picture of a younger Roy and Riza, sitting on the couch, reading, as children.

“Hey,” Breda had gotten up and come over to him. “Com’on.”

Havoc knew what Breda was talking about, and he laid on his back, lifting his legs up in the air. Breda pressed down on them, and they ran through some of the exercises that Havoc had gone through in Physical Therapy. While he no longer actually needed the exercises for his legs, as he had built up all of his former strength, it was still good to go through them. They felt good to his legs and sometimes they helped him sleep better as well. Breda knew the exercises well, as he had been with Havoc for a lot of his recovery, egging and pushing him on.

They were partway through this, when Fuery suddenly let out a satisfied noise, and all attention turned towards him.

“I think she’s fixed!” he said, and went to the front, fiddling with the nobs. He turned her on, and they all waited to see what the radio would bring. To everyone’s happy surprise, and Fuery’s eternal satisfaction, the radio seemed to find a station in all of the rain and began to play it.

“—was ‘The Xingese Sandman’ sung by Anette Hanshaw. And now we bring you an hour of your favorite instrumentals to dance along to. Find your girl, fellas, and hold her tight as you dance the night away with these favorites!”

“Hey, good job, Fuery!” Havoc said.

“See if you can find some news on somewhere,” Mustang instructed. “Or some sort of weather update.”

“Yes, sir,” Fuery said, turning the dial.

He switched through various channels, trying to find something, and Havoc couldn’t help but notice the way that Hawkeye and Mustang would give each other looks when they landed on the music stations. These two were just getting worse and worse at hiding this, weren’t they?

Ah well. It wasn’t like anyone here was going to rat them out. And maybe, just maybe, Grumman could do something about it. Havoc had seen the way he eyed the two of them. He wanted them to get together just as much as anyone else did.

Finally, Fuery landed on a station, and they listened as the news played out. There were, apparently, torrential rains over most of the country. Up north it had turned to freezing rain, and there were reports that even Drachma was having to shut down several things on account of it. There was widespread flooding, and stranded passengers from washed out tracks and roads. The military was as mobilized as it could be, but with the problems in transportation, there was only so much that could be done. Most places were simply working with what they had.

Mustang looked a bit grim as the news went off. “That doesn’t sound too good,” he said.

“It sounds like we’re going to be stuck here a while,” Breda said. “Means our chance might slip away.”

“Or they might be as bogged down as we are.” Mautang looked over at Havoc and Falman. “When were you planning on taking the horses and the cart back?” he asked.

“In about two more days,” Havoc said. “Why?”

“Well, I left word for Grumman about where we were and what happened, but it would probably be a good idea to check in. I might go with you,” he said.

“It’s too bad we don’t have a phone here,” Havoc said. “Then you wouldn’t have to leave.”

“Um, well, if someone in town is selling one, I could hook it up,” Fuery said. Eyes immediately swiveled to him. “It wouldn’t be too hard. I’d just need the phone itself and some cable. There’s already electricity in place, so there’s poles to run the phone wires on. And I think there was a place we passed that had a phone line, so it would really only be running it from there. It’s nothing I’ve not done before.”

Mustang frowned. “But in this weather?” he asked.

“Well, it’s not thundering and lightening, so it’s just the rain and wind I’d have to watch out for, which isn’t as dangerous.” Fuery said.

Mustang looked at Hawkeye, who nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “When we go into town, you come too and see if you can find what you need.”

“Can do, sir!” he said.

Havoc, meanwhile, had gone back to his stretches, grimacing a bit, and Hawkeye had taken note.

“Are your legs still hurting you?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll probably be up again tonight.”

She looked at Breda. “And your elbow.”

“Yeah,” he said, removing his hand from it as she spoke, like a little kid caught by a parent.

She frowned. “Sir,” she said, turning to look at Mustang. “Did you get those herbs I asked for?”

“I did,” he said. “They’re in the dining room.”

“Good,” she said, and got up, leaving the men behind. She came back a few minutes later with a pestle and mortar, and several different kinds of herbs and flowers and dried things that Havoc would have probably chalked up as “weeds.”

Falman was looking at it, intrigued. “What are you doing, Captain?” he asked.

“Well,” she said. “It’s a poultice I used to make as a girl, when my own limbs would ache. It’s not perfect and it’s not as strong as a lot of medicines, but it does well in that gap between “nothing” and “medicine that leaves me compromised.” Her hands were deftly working, almost as if they were moving on their own accord. She clearly knew what she was doing.

Havoc watched her and he and Breda continued to exercise and Fuery put the back on the radio again. Falman had moved next to her, and she was explaining what she was doing in very detailed language that Havoc honestly didn’t understand or could hope to understand. All he knew was that she was grinding things up in that little bowl and then adding things to it, making a poultice that would, hopefully, help him.

“Where’d you learn to do all of these things, Captain?” Fuery asked, and Havoc could see Mustang tense at the question.

“Oh, here and there,” she said. “From books, and from a few of the older ladies in town,” She paused, did something, and then went back to work. “Doctor’s visits were expensive, especially for minor things that could heal on their own, so I learned to take care of as much as I could myself. I’m hoping that this will help. As I said, I used it myself when my own limbs would ache.”

“Growing pains?” Fuery asked, but he sounded fairly confident in his answer.

“No,” Riza said, surprising them all. “I would typically use them after a hard day of cleaning, or cutting wood when I was a little bit older, or any other manner of physical stress, but it was also effective after father’s discipline.”

She said it like it was nothing, but Havoc couldn’t help but notice the tightening of Mustang’s lips, or the way the other men seemed to pause.

“…you mean like after that thrashing you said your dad gave you when you broke that dish?” Havoc asked, wondering if he could get a little more information.

Hawkeye let out a snort. “I wish I had this then. But I was five. I didn’t know about it yet. Besides, I understand why he was so upset.”

That didn’t make Havoc any more comfortable, but it was clear from Mustang’s look that Havoc—and the rest of them—weren’t to pursue. Instead, he changed the subject. “That’s the same stuff you gave me after that fight with Henry Thompson, isn’t it?”

“It is,” she confirmed. “And it helped, didn’t it?”

“It did,” he said. “It really did. I definitely was hurting then.”

“I’d say that it should have taught you not to pick a fight with someone bigger than you, or a larger group, but it didn’t do any good for that.”

“Hey—I couldn’t let them just push you around like that!”

“I’d have been fine. They pushed me around before and I always came out of it okay.”

“It wasn’t right.”

“Neither was you getting your face bashed in. You’re just lucky I got help and found that slingshot.”

Mustang laughed. “You took us all by surprise with those marbles and that slingshot.”

She looked up at him, amusement on her face. “Well, someone had to do something effective,” she teased. “You certainly weren’t.”

Before he could say anything more, Hawkeye got up, taking the bowl with her. “I need to add some water to this. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She got up and left and the men watched her leave the room before eyes slid back towards Mustang.

“It’s the captain’s private life, and I’ll let her decide what to tell you and what not to,” he said.

The men exchanged looks but didn’t say anything else.

Soon after Hawkeye walked back into the room with the bowl, it being full of something that smelled good and seemed, well, goopy.

“Here,” she said, handing it to Havoc. “Try this tonight after your shower. It should help, I hope. I’ve never tried it on something like this, specifically, but it’s worked on other aches and pains before. It’s worth a shot.” She looked at Breda. “I made enough for you to have some too, Breda,” she said. “It should work on your elbow as well.”

“Thanks,” he said, looking a little surprised. “I’ll try it out.”

“If it doesn’t work, let me know. I might can find something different. It just might take a little trial and error.”

Havoc was sniffing at it. “Huh. Maybe you should have become the local witch woman instead, Riza,” he teased.

“You hush,” she said. “There’s nothing magical about it. It’s just a knowledge of herbs and other plants.”

He just grinned at her.

It wasn’t long after that they all began retiring to bed. The showers had to be taken in stages, although Mustang was good at reheating the water for them. Havoc opted to go last, and so stayed downstairs for a bit longer, leafing through a book he had found. Hayate was down there with him, seemingly taking his guard duties seriously, padding in front of the doors and sniffing around, although he seemed to like sniffing around that basement door the most. It was almost enough to make Havoc want to open it and go back down there.

“Yo, Hav, your turn!”

Breda’s voice traveled back down the stairs, and Havoc turned from his musings. “Yeah, coming,” he said. He left his wanderings downstairs with his book and headed up the stairs to take his shower. It didn’t take him long to shower, and soon he was in the room with the stuff that Hawkeye had made for him. He looked at it, until Breda griped at him.

“Just try it already,” he said. “I’ve already put some on my elbow and it seems to help. It’s worth a shot.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Havoc replied. He scooped a bit out of the bowl it was in and started rubbing it on his legs and lower back. It soaked in like a lotion or oil would and he found it did start to help after a few minutes. “Wow,” he said blinking at the poultice. “Alright.”

“Yeah,” Breda said. “Whodathunk that Hawkeye would be a freaking herb lady.”

“Yeah,” Havoc said, and frowned a bit.

“Hey,” Breda waited until Havoc was looking at him. “What did you mean by that question you asked Hawkeye earlier? About a thrashing.”

Havoc frowned. “When we were here last time, I asked her about a broken dish. She said that she had tried to look at it as a child and broke it, and that her father gave her, her ‘first thrashing’.”

Breda frowned. “First thrashing?” he said.

“That’s what she said,” Havoc said. “She never really explained it more than that, and I didn’t think it best to push. Besides…” he frowned more. “She didn’t seem to think that it was a big deal, either, which… I’ll be honest, concerned me.”

Breda frowned, clearly starting to piece some things together. “Hav… what was she like the last time you were here?”

Havoc was silent for a moment. “…not good. She wasn’t doing well here. This place seemed to hold a lot of bad memories for her,” he said honestly.

“Anything in particular?” Breda asked.

Havoc’s brow furrowed. “Only one particular thing stood out to me. She wouldn’t go in the basement.”

Breda’s frown deepened. “She didn’t want to go down to it earlier, either,” Breda said. “Asked Mustang to go down there for her.”

“Yeah,” Havoc said. “When we were searching, she refused to go down into the basement. Mustang and I went down there, but she didn’t.”

He wasn’t going to mention how she had turned pale at it and then disappeared, having a breakdown on the roof of the house. It seemed like a private moment, and not something that she would want to spread to her men. She trusted them a lot, but Hawkeye had her pride.

Breda grunted, thinking, and then sighed. “Well. It’s not our business, unless it becomes our business. We might as well see if we can get any sleep tonight.”

“Yeah,” Havoc said, pulling back the blankets. “Night, Breda.”

Breda grunted, and nothing more was said.

Havoc slept better that night, although he still woke early with his legs still hurting him. The longer the rain went on, the worse it seemed to get. Still, he pushed on. Morning went as mornings did, with him, Hawkeye, and Fuery the first ones up. They worked on breakfast, and everyone stumbled down the stairs and to the coffeepot before they all settled in for breakfast. Riza worked on the kitchen while Havoc and Falman went out and tended to the horses. Then, rain gear on, Havoc and Riza went out to get the lay of the land. Getting lucky they managed to kill a few things for their hunt, and set a few traps, but they mostly found good places where they could probably bag a few deer.

They spent at least half the day out there, looking over places and tracks. There were a few human tracks that Havoc spotted, but Hawkeye reassured him that she allowed hunting on her land, since it was one of the few areas where the woods were allowed to grow wild. It was probably another hunter thinking about the fact that there wasn’t going to be much food coming via the trains or the roads anytime soon. Havoc couldn’t blame them for that.

They returned to the house muddy, but with a plan for the next day, and stripped out of their muddy clothes in the washroom before heading up for showers. Havoc let Hawkeye go first, taking care of their boots while she was showering, and then taking his turn.

Not long after that was lunch, and then they all started going over the information that Breda and Mustang had laid out. They put together a few more theories and ideas on what could be going on, but there was truthfully not much more they could do.

The next couple of days were much of the same. Hawkeye and Havoc got up early the next day, went hunting, and came back with a couple of dear which they spent the rest of the day preparing. Falman found and harvested some food from the orchard trees and from the remains of the old vegetable garden while making his observations. Fuery worked on things around the house, improving them or just outright fixing them. Mustang and Breda helped out where they could—except no one allowed Mustang in the kitchen after another near disaster that was only averted because of Breda’s quick thinking.

Although the days passed with a slow pace, all of them felt the urgency that was needed for their travel to continue. Finally, the horses were out of hay, and it was decided that the next day they would need to go back into town. Havoc was set to drive the wagon, as he was the most experienced out of them all, and the roads were still nothing but muck. Unfortunately, when Havoc woke up that morning, he was in a great deal of pain. His legs were aching more than normal and he winced as he sat up, relying more on his arms then anything else.

“Hey—Hav, you alright?” Breda asked him. The movement must have woken him.

“…. There’s… a lot of pain this morning,” Havoc said as he attempted to stand with some stability.

Thunder crashed overhead, and Breda looked up. “I wonder if that’s why,” he said. Concern creased his forehead “Hey—you lay back down, alright? You look like you could use it.”

Havoc wasn’t one to typically give in, but today the pain was pretty severe, and he laid back down in the bed with a grimace. “Yeah,” he said a bit breathlessly. “Yeah, I think I will.”

“Guess you won’t be making it to town today, huh?” Breda said.

“Nah, I’m afraid not. Probably best for me to take one of those pain pills and just not do much today. Sorry.”

Breda shook his head. “You can’t help it. I’ll let the others know.”

“Yeah… I’ll try to make it down in a bit.”

“Okay.”

Breda dressed then, and left, heading down the stairs. Havoc could hear the movement and the voices of the others as they woke and moved around, getting their day started. He grimaced. He felt useless, but there really wasn’t much that he could do about it. When he was in this much pain, there wasn’t much he could do at all, except sleep it off.

He let himself doze, at least until he heard some footsteps, and a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” he said, automatically starting to push up, and then aborting that when pain flared through his lower back.

Hawkeye appeared at the door, a tray for eating in bed in her hands. Havoc suddenly remembered that she had cared for her father near the end of his life, and he wondered if maybe she had used trays like that when he needed to eat.

“Heard that you’re feeling pretty bad today.” Thunder rumbled again, and she grimaced. “Think it’s the change in the weather?”

Havoc shrugged, and pulled himself to more of a sitting position, bracing himself through the pain. “Not sure. I wouldn’t be surprised, but all I know is that I’m in a lot of pain today.”

“Well, hopefully you can eat a little,” she said. “I brought you some breakfast.”

“You’re the best, Ri,” he said, shooting her a grin. He waited until she approached and noted the way that she settled the tray on his lap like a pro, and then set about making sure that things were in easy reach for him, almost without even thinking about it. “So, what’s the plan for the day?”

“The others are still going to go to town. Falman thinks he can drive the wagon, and if not, then between the four of them, they should be able to figure it out,” she said. “The General wants to call Headquarters and check in, Fuery wants to see about getting a phone set up, Falman thinks he’ll be able to take care of the wagon and the horses, and Breda has to ‘get out of this house’ or he’s ‘going to go stir crazy’,” she said with a grin.

Havoc laughed, but then gave her a sympathetic look. “Hey, Riza, if you want to go—” He felt a little bad about making her stay behind, and so he couldn’t help but make the offer.

But she shook her head. “No, I’m going to stay right here,” she said. “I had enough of the rain and muck when we were hunting. Besides—It’ll be easier to get some of the cleaning down without you men tromping around everywhere,” she teased.

“Oh, I see,” he said. “You just want some peace and quiet to yourself.” He teased her right back.

She laughed. “Maybe so. But even with that, if you need anything, just call.”

He shook his head. “Honestly? I’m going to take one of those strong pills and probably try to sleep this off. Although if someone could snag me a book or two that would be great.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Riza said with a smile. “I’ll be back in a bit to get that. You just rest up.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Thanks, Riza.”

She just smiled at him, and then left the room.

Havoc started eating, listening to the sounds going on down below him. He wished he was down there with them, but his legs ached like mad when he moved them, much less tried to get up. Riza came back for the tray, and Breda came back up later to finish dressing. He brought Havoc a stack of books and promised to look for something more his speed in town. Havoc pulled a face at him, but thanked him nonetheless, and got Breda to help him up and to the bathroom once before he left. Once he was settled back in bed, he took one of those little pills, and then listened as he heard the others leave. The pill did it’s work and, as he fell asleep, the last things he heard were the sounds of Hawkeye turning on the radio and getting to work downstairs.

The pills always sacked him out hard for a few hours, so Havoc wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard the noise of the others coming back in. They were being noisy, and something about it had Havoc trying to shake himself out of his drug-induced fog. He blinked, trying to focus and wake up. They seemed to be… calling for someone?... Riza? They were calling for Hawkeye? That didn’t make sense. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then making their way around the rooms. That was confusing as well, and he tried to make sense of it, at least until Breda opened the door.

“Hey—you seen Hawkeye?” he asked.

Havoc shook his head. “Naw. I was asleep until just now.”

“Hm,” Breda said.

Havoc was waking up more now. “Why?” he asked.

“She’s not down there. Could she be out hunting or something?” Breda asked.

Havoc forced the sleep away as best he could, and sat up fully, ignoring the pain he felt. “She shouldn’t be,” he said. “Mornings or evening are best, and we’ve got plenty. I don’t even think she’d be checking the traps right now.”

Breda’s frown increased. “Alright. I’m going back downstairs. Something’s not right here.”

“Wait—” Havoc said. He pushed the blankets back and swung his legs out of bed, wincing. “I’m coming too.”

“You sure?” Breda asked, looking a bit concerned.

“Yeah—the pain’s not as bad right now, not with the medicine on board.” Havoc said.

“Alright,” Breda said, but he waited on Havoc to get up and pull on some pants before they both made their way down the stairs together.

Downstairs was not in good shape. Mustang looked grim and didn’t waste any words.

“Her boots and coat are still here,” he said, “and she’s not in any of the outbuildings. There’s no signs of foul play, but that doesn’t mean that there wasn’t any.”

“She’s not upstairs,” Breda said. “I checked all the rooms.”

A dusty Fuery came out from the kitchen. “She’s not in the attic either,” he said. “And no signs of any windows being opened.”

“Hey—where’s Hayate?” Havoc asked, suddenly realizing that the little dog was missing too.

“Maybe outside?” Fuery asked.

“If you’re asking about Hawkeye, she’s not there either,” Falman said, coming in the front door, dripping wet, his back to them as he closed it.

“What about Hayate?” Mustang asked.

Falman turned around. Nestled in his arms was a hopefully asleep Hayate, soaking wet and muddy.

“I found him outside, locked in the chicken coop,” he said. “He seemed to have been drugged.”

“Drugged?” Mustang said. The ramifications of that hit all of them. Hawkeye certainly wasn’t drugging Hayate and putting him outside. That meant that someone else had to have. That also meant that someone could have taken Hawkeye.

But there were no signs of foul play, and she most certainly would have put up a fight.

“…There is one place it doesn’t sound like you’ve checked,” Havoc said, and looked over towards the door that led to the basement.

Mustang paled immediately and turned on his heel to head straight for it. The others followed suit, Falman carefully hurrying to put Hayate down in front of the fireplace before joining them.

Mustang was already at the door, reaching to unlock it. The fact that was locked from the outside might have normally been reassuring, as it would have been impossible for the lock to be locked from the outside if someone was inside but considering that it was clear someone had been in the house, it wasn’t a reassurance anymore.

Mustang threw open the lock and pulled on the door, but the door didn’t budge. He tried again, but it didn’t move. He cursed, throwing the lock back into place, and then clapping and laying his hands on the door. A circle of it fell out, part of the door and part of the door frame, large enough to house the entire locking mechanism. Mustang didn’t even look at it. Instead, he threw the door open and raced down the stairs. The rest of them weren’t far behind him.

The basement was much as they had left it, with the same items around it. The only difference Havoc could see now was that the light over the table was on, and Mustang was trying to talk to Hawkeye, who was crouched in a corner.

No. Wait. She wasn’t crouched. She was curled into it, eyes blown wide, clearly terrified. Havoc glanced at Breda. Neither of them knew what was going on.

“Riza?” Mustang called out to her. “Riza?” he reached for her, and she flinched back.

“N-no!” she said, and there was thick fear coating her voice. “No, no, please! Not again! Not yet!”

“Riza—Riza please, it’s me, it’s Roy.”

“No, no, please, no, don’t, not again, not yet—”

She was pleading with him, begging for something—for something to stop, to not happen again, or to be delayed, and Havoc felt his stomach turn.

“Riza…” Mustang reached a hand towards her, and she closed her eyes and turned away from it, huddling into the wall as much as she could, letting out a sob. Her hands immediately came up to her mouth as if she had said or done something wrong, and she trembled.

“Riza, please! It’s Roy! Come on—” Mustang sounded desperate, and he reached out and touched her. She startled, terror flooding her eyes and suddenly she was moving, scrambling back, finding another place to hide under a desk that was down there. Sobs poured out from under it.

“No, no, Father, please no!” She was out right crying. “It hurts—please Father not again! Let me heal first! Please!”

“Roy—what’s going on here?” Breda asked, moving a step forward. “What’s she talking about?”

“Later,” he said. He glanced back at them. “I’m not putting you off—but we need to get her out of here first.” He turned to look fully at them. “Please.”

It wasn’t the commands of a superior officer. It wasn’t even the words of a leader. It was, instead, the plea of a friend.

“She doesn’t look like she wants to come out of there,” Falman said.

Mustang’s face was distressed. “I know—we’ve got to get her out there. Breda.”

“Yeah.” Breda’s voice was serious, and he moved next to Mustang. With a look at each other, they reached down and grabbed her arms, pulling her out.

Riza screamed as they did, thrashing in their grip. “NO! No Father, please no!” She twisted in their grip, and Havoc couldn’t help but notice that her gaze was fixated on the table that was down there. “Please, please, please, the drink doesn’t work anymore, it hurts, please don’t, don’t use the ropes again, please father no, don’t please!”

She was clearly caught in the full-on throws of a flashback, with no idea what was going on around her anymore. She was in a panic, not seeing anything around her, not fighting so much as reacting, and begging through tears for her father not to do something to her—all of which was… disturbing wasn’t even a strong enough word in Havoc’s opinion. It made him feel sick.

“The stairs,” Mustang said over her cries, and he and Breda hauled her over to them and up, Hawkeye still begging and pleading the whole time.

Fuery followed after them, and after a moment, Falman did too. Havoc brought up the rear, but he couldn’t help but look back at that table. The last time he was down here he had assumed that it was just a table, maybe for doing experiments on. But Hawkeye’s words, her begging, the talking of ropes, and those odd-looking metal loops in the table brought new possibilities to mind. Images of a young Hawkeye being strapped down to that table, tied down on it by her father while he… what? What did he do to her? His mind rebelled against imaginong any further, although dark thoughts of what it could be circled in his head, unacknowledged.

Whatever her father did, though, was traumatizing, and Havoc could feel dread living in his stomach from this. It was clear that Hawkeye had been through something awful at the hands of her father, and that it was more than a one-time event. With a last look at the table, he climbed the stairs, hoping that the situation would be improved when he got up there.

The situation was little improved. Hawkeye was still clearly upset, her cries still going on. She had been taken to the couch, where someone had put a blanket around her. She huddled in it like she was hiding, keeping it pulled closely around her, her back pressed into the couch. Mustang was kneeling in front of her, talking to her. Getting her out of the basement seemed to have done something, though, because she didn’t seem to think that anyone in the room was her father anymore.

Instead, she was upset about Mustang.

“R-Roy?” she said, and he reached out, gently putting his hands on her face.

“Yes, Riza, I’m here. I’m here, Riza.”

She was trembling, and her face crumpled, tears falling. “Roy…”

He smiled at her. “Yes—Yes, I’m here, Riza.”

“You—you came back.”

Havoc watched as understanding and disappointment flickered across Mustang’s face as her words made it clear to all of them that she wasn’t back with them yet, but that she was still caught in the past.

“Yeah. I came back,” he said, apparently deciding that it would be better to play along with this for the moment.

She closed her eyes and let out a sob, leaning into his hand. Suddenly, her eyes flew open, and her hands darted up to grab his wrists. “You—you have to leave! You have to leave! Father doesn’t approve of the military! He’ll kill you! He’ll—” She sounded so certain, so desperate, and Havoc exchanged looks with Breda.

Mustang shook his head. “No. No, I’m not leaving you.” His voice was firm, but there was something that Havoc thought sounded like regret in it.

“But father—” she started.

“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Mustang said.

Her gaze crumped again. “He’ll never stop looking for me, Roy—you don’t understand! He won’t give up! Not after what he’s done to me!”

“No!” Mustang snapped out the word with fierceness. “No, I promise you, Riza! He can never hurt you again! Never! I’ve made sure of it, and I’ll protect you! I swear it!” He moved quickly, wrapping her up in a fierce hug, holding her tightly as they sat there on the couch.

“…y…you promise?” she said, her voice trembling.

“I promise,” he said. “I swear it, Riza Hawkeye.”

She seemed to fall apart on him there, but they were tears of relief, and she clung to him, sobbing, thanking him, all the while he apologized for not coming sooner.

It was, to an extent, play acting, but Havoc could see clear regret in Mustang’s eyes—he regretted not stopping whatever had happened to Hawkeye sooner, not coming here sooner to save her from whatever it was that her father had done to her. Whatever this was, it went deeper than he had imagined.

The team still hovered, none of them sure of what, exactly, to do, and yet none of them wanting to leave Hawkeye’s side. Hawkeye’s tears eventually calmed, although it was because she fell asleep on Mustang, having cried herself to sleep under his reassurances that he wasn’t going to leave her.

Fuery was the first to speak. “…is she going to be alright?” he asked softly.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

“I don’t know,” Mustang finally said, which was not an answer any of them wanted to hear. “But I’m not leaving her. I promised her I wouldn’t.”

That much was pretty clear, Havoc thought, and to be honest, no one looked like they wanted to try moving him from the couch anyway—not when they could still see Hawkeye’s tear stained face and the way that she clung to him even in her sleep. Not when they could hear the echoes of her screams and sobs.

“What happened to her?” Falman asked and looked as if he immediately regretted saying it out loud, even if it was what they all were thinking.

Mustang just looked down at the woman in his arms, and gently stroked her hair. “Something traumatic,” he said. “Something horrifying. But… it’s not mine to tell. I won’t tell it. It’s up to her if she wants to entrust you with it or not. It’s not my decision to make.”

There really wasn’t any arguing with that, and the room fell silent. After a few moments, Fuery got up, and went to the kitchen. Havoc could hear him turning on water and starting to move pots around, clearly starting on supper, even though it didn’t look as if any of them were particularly hungry. Breda got up not long afterwards, and Falman as well. Havoc sat for a few minutes longer, and then he, too, got up and started to wander towards the kitchen. His legs were aching again, but he could at least sit and help cut up vegetables.

He walked solemnly out of the room, intent on heading straight for the kitchen. He paused, though, when he saw Falman and Breda looking at the lock that came from the basement door. It was still sitting where it fell when Mustang has used his alchemy to remove it.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Falman was saying. “I didn’t think it did then either, but I wasn’t as worried about it at that moment as I was about whatever had happened to Hawkeye.”

“No, you’re right,” Breda said, picking it up and looking at it. “It’s locked from both the inside and the outside. The outside makes sense, if someone wanted to keep her in there. But the inside? From the way she was acting, I doubt Hawkeye locked herself in there.”

“So then, how did the inside get locked?”

“That’s the hundred-million-cen question,” Breda said. “The only thing I can think of, is that there’s another way in and out of there.”

“If there is,” Havoc tossed in. “It either wasn’t there when Boss, Hawkeye and I came last time, or it’s extremely well hidden.” He shook his head. “I never saw any sign of a door or other opening down there. And you know Mustang would have mentioned it by now if he knew of one being down there.”

“Yeah,” Breda said, rubbing his chin. “Hey—how old do you think this house is?”

Falman and Havoc both looked around. “I’d guess over a hundred years old,” Havoc said.

“I’d say somewhere around one-hundred fifty, with renovations happening every so often.” Falman said. “Looking at the general style, the heights of door frames, and the way the foundation looks around the outside of the house, that is.”

“Yeah, okay, so, it’s old,” Breda said. “So, here’s a question: Why doesn’t the basement have an outside entrance? Just about every old house I’ve been in has an outside entrance to the basement for anything from coal to potatoes, to just a quick way to get in and out. So, where’s the one that belongs to this house?”

“There… isn’t one,” Havoc said, puzzled.

“Maybe,” Breda said. “Or maybe, there isn’t one now. If there is one and it’s somewhere, or if the remnants of it exist somewhere, then that might be how someone got in, locked the door from both sides, and still got out.”

“We’re going to need to find that, then, and see if we can prove it,” Havoc said.

“I’ll start looking around outside tomorrow,” Falman said.

“I’ll poke around too, if I can,” Havoc said. “I owe it to Hawkeye, at least.”

He felt a little guilty for the whole thing. How long had she been down there while he was sleeping in his bed, passed out from a drug? Had she called out for help? Had she screamed for him? Had whoever this was done something to her? He didn’t know. He didn’t know, because he had been sleeping instead of being up and facing the day like he was supposed to.

Pain be hung, he wasn’t going to let that interfere with his ability to be around or help his friends anymore. If he had to put up with pain so that they didn’t, then he would. He honestly never wanted to see Hawkeye in that position again, not if he could help it.

Breda seemed to sense what he was thinking and clasped his hands on Havoc’s shoulders. “Hey,” he said. “This wasn’t your fault, okay? You didn’t know and you couldn’t know. And taking that pill because your legs were in pain is not a bad thing. This was unpredicted. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Yeah, well…” he sighed. “I’m going to go help Fuery with supper.”

Breda let him go, obviously reading that, at the moment, there wasn’t a good way to convince Havoc to let go of the guilt. Logically, Havoc knew it wasn’t his fault. But knowing that didn’t make him feel less guilty, especially when he thought about Riza’s pleadings, screams and tears.

“Hey, Fuery, need a hand?” he asked as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hm? Oh, yeah… sure. Just... cut up these vegetables for me, will you? I’m going to make a soup for tonight. I think we could all use something a little warm and comforting.” Fuery said.

He wasn’t wrong, and Havoc knew it, but he also knew that he didn’t currently feel like eating. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, getting to work cutting the piles of vegetables that he had laid out. It was good mindless work for his hands as his brain thought and rolled over the knowledge that he had.

He knew that this place held bad memories for Hawkeye, ones that she didn’t want to discuss and that he hadn’t pushed. Mustang knew most of them, although clearly not all of them. Riza had told them that story about her and the water jars when they had been here earlier in the year, and he hadn’t known that one. Also, from the stories, he was about twelve when he arrived, and Hawkeye somewhere around nine. That left a lot of years for Riza to be on her own here. Her mother had been alive long enough to teach Riza some things, but not long enough for Riza to form good solid memories of her.

Riza’s father had been harsh to say the least. That thrashing she talked about getting after she broke that plate, the one that she said was the first thrashing that her father had given her. Havoc was pretty sure that it wasn’t an over-statement of the past anymore, but a legitimate thrashing that her father had given her when she was five years old because she had dropped a plate he could have put back together again with alchemy.

He also knew that Her father had died in the house, and she had cared for him up until the end.

And now he knew that her father had done something horrific and traumatizing to her, something that, apparently, she was tied down for. The implications of that made a shudder run through him, and he now wondered if that had anything to do with the reason that she always wore shirts that completely covered her back, refusing to take them off.

What kind of a man was her father? And just how twisted up had he gotten her that she wouldn’t leave him after that and would, instead, care for him until his death? How had that been broken? He was beginning to understand now why she was so angry about coming back here those months ago. He’d have hated to be shoved back into a place that held a deep trauma like this too. He knew that she had trauma from Ishval as well. Just how had Riza Hawkeye managed to become so stable an individual after all of this? How had she survived in this house and come out as normal as she had? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to, but he was also worried about her. There were too many questions and not enough answers for his liking.

With a sigh he focused on the vegetables and chopping them up. He would likely get no answers tonight. None of them would. He didn’t know if they’d get answers tomorrow or not—it really was a long shot. But he did know that he would be there for Riza no matter what.

As Havoc predicted, no one was especially hungry, although they all tried to eat at least a little of the soup. Most of it was put into the refrigerator for later. Hayate, at least, was feeling better, although it was clear that the little pup was still groggy. He mostly wanted to curl up and lay on people. Even Breda was gentle with him this time, gently pushing the little pooch away from him.

Havoc didn’t particularly want to leave Mustang and Hawkeye down here on the couch alone—none of the team did—but staying up all night would do no good either. Breda and Falman told Mustang of their concerns about the basement. Together with Fuery, they worked on something to make sure that if there was an entrance to the house from the basement, whoever it was either wouldn’t be able to get into the house or would set off alarms if they did. Mustang was armed with his gloves and a small pistol, and Hayate was sleeping on the couch with them as well. In an unspoken agreement, Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery all took turns standing watch that night. However, even for those that attempted sleep, there were a lot of wandering feel and frequent bathroom trips. It seemed no one could quite relax.

Havoc laid in bed and tried to sleep, although it didn’t seem to be working. Outside, the rain poured even harder than before, drowning out any other sound he might have heard. The thunder and lightning came in waves of noise. It all seemed strangely appropriate for this day, and it felt like a bad omen somehow. Was something worse to come in the future? He wasn’t one to believe in such things, but he still found himself hoping that favor would look kindly upon them. This had surely been enough excitement for one trip, right?

#fullmetal alchemist Big Bang 2021 #FMA Big Bang 2021 #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma #royai #riza hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Jean Havoc #Heymans Breda #Vato Falman #Kain Fuery #black hayate #fan fiction #fanfic

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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The Cinderella AU is back...and with it, a proper introduction to the character who fills the “evil stepmother” role -- Carewyn’s cold, cruel grandfather, Charles Cromwell. If you’d like to learn more about Charles and his family’s canon counterparts, you can consult this post, but to summarize quickly, in Carewyn’s canon, Carewyn’s mother Lane ran away from home to elope with a Muggle, which ended up protecting Carewyn and Jacob from Charles’s emotionally abusive influence. (At least until R started going after them, because hey, what d’you know, in Carey-bear’s canon, Charles is R’s leader.) But in this AU, Carewyn has to answer to Charles for some reason...so yeah, that doesn’t bode well, does it? You’ll just have to read on to learn a little more about why that might be...

Fashion changed very dramatically during the Renaissance, thanks in large part to the cross-pollination of different cultures and influences that came from more extensive travel, the growing popularity of published works, and royal funding of the arts. Pre-Renaissance men’s fashion, at least for the nobility, was very big on oversized sleeves, which ended up creating a more “top-heavy” frame. (Just look at most portraits of King Henry VIII.) As the Renaissance went on, though, trunk hose (which creates that kind of “bubble butt” look that we’re used to seeing in William Shakespeare Halloween costumes) became the latest fad, shifting a man’s frame to be much more “bottom-heavy.” Women’s fashion briefly flirted with wide trumpet sleeves (as one can see in this portrait of a young Elizabeth Tudor, later Queen Elizabeth I), but by the time the 1550′s were over, rounded sleeves grew much more popular. Fitted sleeves also went in and out of style in a lot of Europe throughout the 16th century, though sleeves were considered a special feature on gowns, so they often had a lot of embellishments, such as paneling, embroidery, or puffs. One exception to this rule, however, was in Italy, where fitted, detachable sleeves that could be used on multiple gowns became fashionable. Fashion in Italy in the 16th century was notably understated and modest compared to a lot of Europe, which tended to favor a lot of ornate beading and embroidery -- there were even laws on the books restricting how “bedazzled” women’s fashion could be. One such law even banned stripes, as it was considered wasteful to use two different kinds of fabric just to make a pattern. That being said, there were plenty of people in Italy who said “screw the rules” and worked around them anyway. Carewyn’s dress in this picture is somewhat based on this design, but with some tweaking, most notably with a fuller skirt and more ornate and puffy sleeves.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

When the end of the month arrived, Andre requested that Carewyn come to his chambers bright and early in the morning. Carewyn had anticipated that the prince had some extra duties for her to attend to, but instead, he immediately led her over to a corner of his bed chamber that he’d drawn a curtain around. When he pulled the curtain back, he revealed a full tailoring station inside his walk-in closet, complete with organized rolls of fabric, various jewels and beads strewn about over a table, several unfinished hats stacked on the nearby desk, an entire separate wardrobe of unfinished pieces, and several mannequins with fine fabrics half-pinned on them.

One mannequin, however, was wearing a completely finished, luxurious dark scarlet gown. It was made of about six different fabrics, all cut and sewn together in a complex tapestry of folds and textures and trimmed with many sparkling beads and jewels. Also lying on the floor just in front of the dress was a pair of heeled shoes made of off-white cloth with red and white roses sewn into the toes.

Carewyn couldn’t help but gape. Andre was grinning from ear to ear.

“So?” he asked. “What do you think?”

Carewyn glanced out the side of her eye at the prince, over to the dress, and back.

“Did you...make this, your Highness?” she asked, amazed.

Andre laughed. “Carewyn, please, it’s ‘Andre.’ But yes! I got inspired while working on your shoes, so I stitched this up to go with it. ...Do you like it?”

Carewyn walked around the mannequin to look over the gown, not daring to touch it. She’d never seen so many fine fabrics on one dress before -- velvet, linen, silk -- and all the embellishments must’ve taken full days to finish --

“It’s -- well, it’s extraordinary, your -- Andre,” she corrected herself very quickly noticing the prince’s pointed smile. Even she was finding it difficult not to smile too. “The beading on the sleeves, the lace work -- the alternating wool and cotton paneling along the bodice...it’s worthy of an artisan!”

Andre looked clearly both incredibly pleased and impressed. “You have an eye for detail, Carewyn!”

His face burst into a bright white grin as he bent down and picked up one of the off-white cloth shoes.

“I’m pleased you like it,” he said brightly. “I thought it’d be the perfect thing for you to wear today. Lord Cromwell sent a message to the palace asking Father if you could return home for a visit -- so I worked all night to get this done in time so that you could wear it for your outing with your new shoes.”

Despite her best efforts, Carewyn couldn’t completely keep the dismay and discomfort she felt off her face.

“What? Oh -- oh, your Highness, I -- ”

“Ah, ah, ah,” chided Andre, “what have I asked you to call me?”

“Andre,” Carewyn corrected very quickly, her eyes drifting up onto the dress rather than at Andre, “this dress is...truly beautiful...but it befits a lady of status, not -- ”

“It fits you,” Andre said, undaunted. “I used the measurements from your uniform fitting. It should fit you like a glove -- or better.”

Carewyn felt like her stomach was shriveling up. She hated turning away such a lovely gift -- under any other circumstances, she would love wearing it out and about. But...

“That...that is...it’s so kind of you, to use me as your template...”

Or “dress-up doll” -- that is what the Queen said I would be, isn’t it?

“...but I simply couldn’t wear such a gift on my visit...not when I have no comparable gifts to bring my cousins. Many of them are around my age, and...and well, I know Heather, Iris, and Dahlia would be very upset, knowing I got to wear such a beautiful dress and they didn’t.”

None of her cousins had ever been very respectful of Carewyn’s personal belongings. Not long after she first arrived, her aunt Pearl’s two bullying sons, Kain and Arsen, stole her jewelry box while she was sleeping and sold both it and its contents for pocket change. Her youngest cousin, her uncle Blaise’s bratty son Tristan, had once thrown a bottle of red wine out the window that shattered mere feet away from Carewyn and soaked her dress so badly that it never washed out. Even Iris had -- after Carewyn caught the eye of one of her suitors who’d come to call -- ripped the sleeve off Carewyn’s dress so badly that she had to hide from sight for most of the day, until she’d managed to sew it up enough that her chest wasn’t exposed. Carewyn had had to hide her mother’s old dress from her cousins for years, for fear they might steal and/or ruin it.

Andre frowned deeply.

“Well, I hardly can send along anything for your cousins without knowing their measurements,” he said with a quick glance at the wardrobe full of unfinished pieces.

His face then brightened with an idea.

“How about this -- I’ll order you. I order you to wear this dress on your trip home, and to have your cousins give you their honest opinion of it. Then you must bring their opinions back to me. Goodness knows I could use some feedback -- and maybe a few new ideas, if they have them,” he added with a teasing grin.

Carewyn opened her mouth to object, but Andre cut her off.

“As your prince, I command you to showcase my work to your family,” he said through a broad grin. “Am I clear?”

Carewyn really, really didn’t love the idea -- but she had to concede that she could use this to her advantage. She needed a stable place at the palace in order to achieve her goals, and she could help maintain that stable place at the palace by justifying to Charles why she had to be there. And Charles’s whole interest in her being there was to try to endear the Cromwells further to the royal family, and maybe even secure one of her Aunt Claire’s daughters a space in that family...

So, with a heavy sigh, she put on a small smile and inclined her head respectfully.

“Very well, Andre. I’ll wear your work proudly.”

And so Carewyn set off for the Cromwell estate on horseback, dressed in the new shoes and dress Andre had made for her. The shoes were lovely and fit perfectly, but they were rather impractical for walking around outdoors. Carewyn thought to herself that she might have to continue wearing her old shoes when she returned to her palace work, if for no other reason that she hated the thought of getting them scuffed up.

As to be expected, when she arrived, her cousins reacted very hostilely to her appearance.

“Well, well,” sneered curly-black-haired Kain, “what do we have here? Playacting as a lady, little Winnie?”

“All hail Lady Cinderwyn, Duchess of Dust!” sniggered his similarly dark-haired brother Arsen.

He reached for her wide skirt, but Carewyn -- remaining on her horse -- steered herself far enough back that he couldn’t reach.

“I wouldn’t damage this, if I were you,” she said as coolly and levelly as she could. “It’s not mine.”

Arsen and Kain exchanged a mocking, wide-eyed look and an “oooooh.”

“Are you a thief now, little Winnie?” asked Kain. “How far you’ve fallen -- we might need to call the castle guard on you -- ”

“Cinderwyn’s a thief!” crowed tiny Tristan in a sing-song voice. “Cinderwyn’s a thief!”

Claire’s three daughters looked a lot less mocking.

“You have some nerve, stealing clothes from your betters,” spat dainty, brown-haired Heather. “Grandfather should lash you within an inch of your life -- ”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Carewyn said very firmly. “Now I wish to see Grandfather. I have a message from the Prince he’ll want to hear.”

“Grandfather’s inside,” said Claire’s gangling, button-nosed son Elmer with a crooked smile. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy your new look, Lady Cinderwyn...especially with the finishing touch!”

He jumped right into a mud puddle that splashed everywhere. Carewyn just barely avoided the spray, but when she moved back, Dahlia and Iris successfully grabbed hold of her velvet brocaded skirt and yanked hard in either direction, as if trying to rip it.

“Iris -- Dahlia -- ” said Carewyn, her voice growing colder and harder as she struggled to hold in her temper and emotion as best she could, “if either of you have any ambition to marry his Highness, I would strongly suggest letting go of his dress this instant!”

All of Carewyn’s cousins stiffened.

“His dress?” repeated Dahlia, looking outraged. “You mean to say you took this from the Prince?!”

“He bid me to wear it, for my visit,” Carewyn shot back fiercely. “Or would you have me oppose his Highness’s will?”

“You...arrogant, pretentious, ungrateful little rat!” shrieked Dahlia. She tried to yank Carewyn off her horse, and there was a slight struggle as Carewyn tried to both comfort her horse and prevent Dahlia from dislodging her.

“Now, now, children,” said a very coldly serene voice, “a little less noise there.”

All of the Cromwell children looked up to see Charles Cromwell striding across the lawn. He was dressed in black, gray, and white with a dark red cape with black trim, and he supported himself on an ebony-wood cane with a dragon’s head carved out of black zircon for a handle. Behind him were Carewyn’s aunts, Pearl and Claire, with their husbands, as well as her uncle Blaise. All three of them were looking over Carewyn’s outfit disapprovingly -- Blaise looked particularly irritated, his upper lip curling as he rested a hand on top of Tristan’s shoulder that made the small boy flinch.

Iris and Dahlia were still clinging to Carewyn’s skirt, but they’d frozen up like startled cats when their grandfather appeared.

“Grandfather -- ” stammered Iris, “W-Winnie’s a no-good thief -- she stole this dress from -- !”

"I have stolen nothing,” Carewyn repeated coldly. She stroked her horse’s white mane several times to soothe it.

Pearl too had come up to rest a hand on Arsen’s shoulder and was looking at Carewyn very critically out her own almond-shaped blue eyes -- most of Carewyn’s family had them.

“Is that so?” she said, her voice a low growl in her throat. “Explain, then, what gives you the nerve to show up here dressed in such obnoxious clothes.”

“It’s positively garish,” added Claire in a higher, simpering tone from her comfortable spot in her husband’s arms, mirroring her sister’s disapproval like a child would imitate their older sibling.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows very coolly. “Prince Henri will be very disappointed to hear that. He worked very hard on this.”

This startled all of the Cromwells. Blaise looked scandalized.

“And I suppose that makes you think the Prince favors you somehow?” he spat, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released Tristan’s shoulder and approached Carewyn’s horse. “Rather than just thinking of using you as some saucy little tart and then discarding you, just like your wretch of a father did your mother -- ”

"I think nothing of the sort,” Carewyn cut him off coldly.

Don’t you dare talk about my mother.

Charles, the least visibly startled, took a few steps forward. Iris and Dahlia finally released Carewyn’s skirt so as to get out of the way, and Charles came to a stop about three feet from Carewyn’s horse, his own almond-shaped eyes locked on his ginger-haired granddaughter’s face.

“I believe you owe me a full report, child,” he said quietly. “Stand before me and give it.”

Carewyn’s red-painted lips pursed as she picked up her skirts and descended from her horse at last. She looked up at Charles with a very stoic expression.

“Prince Henri learned that I would be coming to see you, as per your request,” she explained. “He commanded that I wear this dress, for my visit. He’s heard about my cousins and desires Dahlia, Iris, and Heather’s opinions on it. Then he requested I deliver their feedback back to him this evening.”

The time limit was a flat-out lie, but one Carewyn knew she could get away with. She did not want to stay at the Cromwell estate overnight -- she’d rather sleep on a lumpy old cot in the servants’ quarters than on the floor by the kitchen fireplace.

Claire looked at Charles, her face breaking into a rather eager expression. “His Highness wishes to hear from my daughters? He must have heard from the rest of the court of their extensive talents -- ”

“Or at least purported talents,” said Blaise under his breath with a rather cynical look. “Seems the rumor mill is working well...“

Pearl shot Blaise a glare, but Claire didn’t seem to hear him -- she had already whirled on Carewyn.

“Tell his Highness that the dress is a work of art, fit for a queen!” she said insistently. “And make sure that he knows that there are much better models for his work here, at the Cromwell estate -- Iris has a far superior build, Dahlia the most perfect shoulders -- ”

“I suppose Winnie can do far worse than inanely fawning over your daughters’ target on their behalf,” said Blaise in a rather cutting voice. “Mindlessly swooning certainly worked for you.”

“Blaise!” Pearl snapped reproachfully.

Charles’s eyes drifted over Claire and her three anxious-looking daughters thoughtfully.

“...What feedback...do you believe would most please his Highness, child?” he asked Carewyn.

“He appreciated it when I noticed the details,” said Carewyn. “I would think if anyone had any creative ideas to add onto it...or perhaps constructive criticism...he might react well to it. His Highness is very interested in fashion and tailoring...I’m sure he would appreciate knowing someone who could indulge in that passion with him.”

He must be awfully lonely, locked up in the palace all the time. It’s no wonder he tried to find things to do indoors that could bring him some joy, if he’s unable to go much of anywhere...

Charles’s eyes flitted over the silk and ornate beading on Carewyn’s sleeves.

“His Highness certainly does have an eye for finery...has the royal family come into additional wealth recently?”

“I don’t think so,” said Carewyn. “The castle staff is very limited. And although the nobility are all dressed and fed well and the castle is decadent, the staff is frequently short of common necessities like nails and coal for the fire. Not to mention the staff’s rations are sparse.”

Iris gave a loud, haughty laugh. “Ha! Probably just as well -- you could do with getting some of that meat off your thighs!”

“Iris,” said Charles very sleekly, even as the rest of Carewyn’s cousins sniggered.

His lips curled up in a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

“...It seems that the King and Queen are indeed in need of our family’s charity. But we must indulge their pride. It’ll be far easier for them to accept help from a future daughter-in-law and princess than simply from a loyal servant of the realm. Carewyn -- you shall report back what his Highness wishes to hear. Customize three answers for Heather, Iris, and Dahlia -- one fawning, one critical, one creative. Whichever answer he likes best, we will then pursue that route with the cousin you’ve assigned to it.”

His almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“And once we’ve secured an invitation from the Prince...I expect that you will step aside, to make room for your cousin to make her move.”

Carewyn’s expression didn’t shift.

“I’m not interested in courting princes,” she said lowly.

Heather, Iris, and Dahlia can knock themselves out. Andre will see through them sooner or later, and it’ll be all their own fault.

There was a cold, diamond-like glint in Charles’s eye. “...Yes...you truly don’t care to chase any man except for your brother...do you, Carewyn, my dear?”

Carewyn tried not to blink or look away.

“You have news of Jacob?”

Charles sighed airily. “I’m afraid not, my dear. I know he’s well, of course...but news from the War front, as you know, is simply impossible to come by...”

“You know he’s alive,” Carewyn shot back a bit more sharply than she meant to. “That doesn’t mean he’s well. No one could be doing well out there.”

“And yet I’m sure you’re happy that the first is guaranteed?” said Charles. “At least, so long as you do your duty to your family, and to me?”

It was a warning, but it was done so delicately -- it was like his voice was flirting with a threat, rather than flat-out making one.

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly as her gaze drifted to the ground.

“You know I wish no harm to come to either you or Jacob,” Charles said softly. “Losing a child was terrible enough, losing grandchildren as well...well, it would deeply upset me. And per our agreement, you are the one who must shoulder the burden of your brother’s and your debt to me...particularly since you have no dowry and no possible claim to my estate. Remember, Carewyn...you are responsible for how you are treated -- and for how Jacob is treated.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit tightly together over her closed eyes.

“...Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now then -- rehearse the answers you plan to give to his Highness with your cousins. I wish them to sound convincing, so that when one or more of them is invited to the palace, they will be able to play their part appropriately.”

Carewyn hated every minute of hashing out responses with Heather, Iris, and Dahlia. Like their mother Claire, they and Elmer were all “follower” type personalities who tended to echo whatever they thought would please others -- so Dahlia, Iris, and Heather were constantly trying to steal each other’s ideas to “improve” Carewyn’s answers, despite all three of them supposedly needing to take three different approaches as part of Charles’s plan. Even the three girls’ hostile attitude toward Carewyn largely came down to her refusing to follow their direction, despite her lowered status in the family giving them authority over her -- something that, Carewyn believed, they would never do if their positions were switched.

When Carewyn was finally ready to leave (and successfully avoided Tristan’s muddy hands when the wickedly grinning little boy forcibly tried to hug her goodbye so he could leave stains on her dress), Blaise pulled Charles aside. As the male heir of the Cromwell legacy, Blaise had always followed in his father’s footsteps most, but there was one thing they didn’t agree on.

“Father,” he said, his voice very low in the back of his throat as he watched Carewyn ride away at a fast gallop, “I don’t approve of her returning to that place.”

Charles smiled coldly. “You always have disliked sharing your toys with others, Blaise.”

“It’s a bad influence!” said Blaise, whirling on his father. “We can’t monitor what she does, how she behaves -- who she speaks to -- how can we hope to keep her, if we consistently open her cage?”

Charles’s eyes, the same color and shape of all of his children and most of his grandchildren, sparkled with something crueler.

“Ah, my boy,” he said sardonically, “you have much to learn about cages. Physical cages have strong bars, but ones easy to see and constantly weathered. But a cage forged carefully in another’s mind...can become so strong that the prisoner willingly chooses to stay.”

Charles turned on his heel, his lips curling up further still even though his face remained so doll-like and emotionless.

“As weak and overemotional of a thing she is, Carewyn is far more like you and me than Lane ever was. She’s very resourceful and she’ll do whatever she has to in order to get what she wants -- and that drive fuels everything she is and does. It may make her spirited, but it also makes it so that as long as she sees Jacob’s life in the palm of my hand...so too will she be.”

Blaise’s eyes flickered with a strange skepticism. “And...if Jacob’s life were ever not under your sway?”

Charles’s expression grew even more detached and emotionless as his smile faded and his eyebrows raised.

“...Would Carewyn really want to contemplate what state he’d be in, if he weren’t?”

Carewyn couldn’t be happier to leave the Cromwell estate behind. She didn’t slow down her horse’s pace until she’d reached the outskirts of the market, well after the manor house was out of sight. Only then did she slow her horse down to a leisurely trot, so that she could enjoy some time on her own wandering down the village streets before heading back to the palace. The castle staff wasn’t expecting her back to work until the following morning, so she could take her time.

Unfortunately for Carewyn, there was another reason her cousin Tristan’s hands had been so muddy -- and that reason soon became apparent when Carewyn reached into one of the pockets on the side of her saddle, thinking to temporarily change out of the pretty shoes Andre had given her and were now pinching her feet for the ride home. When she reached into the pocket, she instead found the tiny snake that Tristan had stolen out of the reeds by the nearby pond.

With a scream of surprise, Carewyn flung the snake to the ground -- the snake arched back, hissing angrily, and that in turn spooked Carewyn’s horse. With a loud, scared whinny, it reared back, bucking wildly.

“Whoa!” cried Carewyn. “Whoa, boy -- whoa!”

Several passerby turned around at the sound of the noise. A few looked like they wanted to help, but were too warded off by the horse’s kicking feet. Carewyn tried desperately to calm her horse, stroking its mane with one hand and clinging desperately onto the reins with the other, but it was no use. She wasn’t strong enough to wrench her horse into submission. And so when the horse gave a particularly violent jerk, Carewyn was thrown right off.

“AHH!”

Out of nowhere, someone dashed forward. Carewyn ended up slamming right into them, and the two landed roughly in a heap in the dirt.

Carewyn watched her horse gallop off the street, her face very tense and distraught. She then looked down at the person she’d landed on top of, and she gave a visible start.

Her “hero” was a man about her age dressed in modest clothes with tanned skin, slightly-too-long dark hair, and a beard. His sparkling black eyes were squinted slightly as he winced in pain, but nonetheless shone with some concern as he looked her over.

“Are you hurt, Lady Cromwell?” asked Orion.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #carewyn cromwell #charles cromwell #blaise cromwell #pearl cromwell #claire cromwell #andre egwu #orion amari #my art #my writing #orion!! you sweet tofu-eating knight in shining armor!!#and charles cromwell you no-good bastard :I #the cromwell clan by and large are terrible people but all of them are dark shades of gray except for charles #he's always been the worst of the bunch easily since he first appeared in my head #but hey for a character who leads r in his canon I guess that's not surprising #charles's cane has a black dragon head which is a reference to the hebridean black dragon which appears on the cromwell coat of arms #like mythical dragons the cromwells hoard their treasures -- not just financial wealth but also their family #it's frankly no wonder carewyn's learned to be stoic and sophisticated in this universe looking at how charles acts and treats her #she got her more tearful and emotional outbursts beaten out of her by her cousins' bullying #and yet she's too proud to grovel and cower :(#I'm looking forward to writing some more pleasant stuff in the next part <3

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originalcontent · 3 years

Text

Oooookay. Welcome back. Posting about pathologic part 4 I think? Part 4. We just reached Act 4 too, so everything’s going according to schedule. This gaming session had some ups and downs. Ups: That good good lore, and a lot of quality time spent with my good pals Daniil and Changeling and also Clara apparently, although she might not be my good pal after all, but w/e. Downs: FUuuuUUUUCKkkk we are so bad at video games, and also the kin folk have become A Lot, holy shit. Where to start.

Okay so this time the game wasn’t actually super stressful for me personally bc this time I kind of just handed off the controls to my sister every time shit got dangerous. She’s a lot better at video games than me. Shoutout @akpaley for keeping me from dying from stress in real life.

The drawback of this is that since she’s a lot better at video games she’s also a lot more willing to actually take risks rather than just running away from literally everything. Which I won’t deny, has gotten us a lot of much-needed money and resources but also.

WELCOME TO THE FUCKING DEATH SPIRAL PART OF THE GAME. I guess it had to happen eventually, right? Fuuuuuuuck us, do you have any fucking idea how much shit you have to redo when you’re randomly shanked by some dude every fifteen minutes? And they’re harder to fight every time we come back, apparently, and also our health is like permanently half gone? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck why are there not more clocks.

Victor Kain, you were the one who made the clocks?? I could fucking kiss you. I owe you my life. Or like, six hundred of my lives. Hhh.

Okay, seriously though, the clock lore is actually kind of sick. Victor told us that they’re smaller versions of the cathedral, and we were like “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THaT’S WHerE wE RESET THE GaME IN THe PROLOGUE!!!!!!! METAPHYSICS!!!!!!!!!” The Kains are so cool.

(Maria Kaina got infected tho. Sorry, you. :( Although technically that happens later.)

Um, we gave the rest of our shmowder to Khan. We’re out now. We’ve been looking for more but haven’t found anything.

Also we made a random potion, and the plague showed up and was like “fuck you,” and I was like “damn, calm the hell down, you’re the one fucking killing people.”

Met with the Saburovs more. They were like “we have another suspect!” and I was like “yeah they probably don’t but w/e” and my sister was like “they’re in an infected land and we should probably save their lives” and I was like “why do we care about helping the Saburovs again, literally all they do is accuse random people of killing my dad, the Kains are obviously the best family, we should just be throwing in with them” and she was like “that’s not all they do, they also run the guards, you know those guys who patrol plague districts?” and I was like “okay fuck you’re right let’s visit them” and it turns out that that there was actually some super cool lore pertaining to the town’s mistresses. Also, god if they don’t have some cool reflections. I love everything about this town’s history.

Afterwards we randomly decided to visit Yulia for literally no reason, and she was like “I’m glad you’re here, I have a lot of super heavy important shit to discuss with you about the Inquisition that will be here tomorrow, it sure is convenient that you’re in my neighborhood for some reason even though I live in an incredibly inconvenient location?” Also she knows something about the nature of Artemy, Daniil, and Clara-or maybe the Changeling but she called her Clara? Oh yeah, Daniil was there too for some reason. Poor guy, I don’t think he’s okay. He cried on my shoulder a lot, he was endearingly open and earnest and for once I felt bad about the dialogue options wherein Artemy throws shade.

And then Clara happened to be standing outside literally right then? I wonder if that was going to be a big quest location and we just happened to arrive right before the game told us to go there anyway. I think that’s it actually. We’re so good, damn. Clara keeps pulling shit and then immediately trying to reconcile and asking for help. I really like her, but we really shouldn’t be trusting her right?

Oh Murky was also there and she set up a meeting between us and her “friend” and that night we went and Clara and Changeling were both there and I’m so confused???? What is her deal? But!! Changeling facilitated a deal between me and the plague! And Murky is now off the hit list!!!!!!!!!! Does this mean she’ll live? Anyway the plague started talking to us, and our infection rose a bit in an unhealable way, and, dumbasses that we were, said “wow this is probably all just the natural consequence of the bargain we made. Guess there’s literally nothing we can do to address this.” (Spoiler: That is not the case, the cost of the pact was literally just that we became infected and would have to cure it with fire before it killed us. We figured that out eventually, I promise.)

Fast forward to the next day after we finish the day’s entire fucking plotline, when we have done literally nothing so our infection’s increased a shit ton and it starts actually killing us. And since we only have like half our potential health bar from getting killed so much, we literally can’t survive long enough to treat it. We run around trying to cure ourselves and die like ten more times before we finally accept that we just have to go back in time to before the infection was this bad, try to get cured immediately, and redo the whole day. There’s a whole fucking skeleton out by the theatre by now btw. Fucking death spirals. This play session took a long fucking time okay?

Alright, flash backward again. After talking with Changeling, we visit Stakh because after rescuing him twice in a row he promised we could talk. We go to his house and he’s sleeping, or maybe just pretending to sleep, but either way Artemy has the absolute sweetest little monologue, just talking to him, and so much has happened but I can tell there’s still a lot of tenderness there between them even if it’s buried deep, and it’s just such a soft scene against such a harsh story.

Guess who’s dead by morning.

The next day Aglaya showed up and was like “see me immediately,” so obviously we visit Capella and then town hall first off. Daniil’s there, he bitches to me about Aglaya for a bit. So cute, we really are friends. I promise to help him with corpse duty bc Capella wanted me to visit Grace anyway. We talk to the official people at the official desks, one is collecting babies, one is giving me some lunch money as a very good reward for being a very good little surgeon, and one is telling me that actually money is illegal now but here are some free coupons that actually are too cheap to buy anything with.

Aglaya is the woman from the prologue! Hhhh things are really building to a point, aren’t they. I wonder how Yulia knows her. But damn, the whole village was out there waiting to meet with her weren’t they.

I made a deal with the rat prophet to clear some space in the graveyard so Grace would be okay. Dunno what will come of that. I’ve been seeing him everywhere lately though.

I met with Oyun and gave him my dad’s house. I met with Aspity and was like “did you kill Stakh” and she gave me some vague shit, and in general I am very upset at the kinfolk right now but I tried to save them anyway. Went to the termitary and did the whole termitary thing. Wow that sure is a place, right? God, have I ever mentioned how much I love all the screaming soundtracks in this game.

Damn, Taya’s whole child queen vibe is unsettling.

The whole termitary is horrible, and what the kin folk have been put through is horrible, but their obsession with blood and strength legit terrifies me. I’ve spent all my time until now trying to convince everyone that they aren’t bad, and that they aren’t to blame for the disease, but now they want to kill? And they really really really want me to be a killer too. And the whole thing with Taya is creepy as fuck too, she’s just a kid. Anyway, we’re sending Vlad the older to them, I don’t know whether he or his son deserves to be torn apart more, but Changeling was really upset at the idea of Vlad the younger going there, so I guess we’re backing her. We run all around town making sure the right Olgimsky is going, and then we realize we actually have a few hours left so we take a hospital shift too! And then we die of disease like six times.

Okay, flash forward again, we’ve gone back, gotten some guy to molotov cocktail us, redone the entire termitary thing, saved the game on Vlad’s clock after sending him to his doom (sorry dude). That’s where we’re at currently.

(Only it’s not actually, we went back and spent like an hour going back and forth between the termitary and Oyun again trying to deal with their shit, and everyone was like “murder all dissenters :D” and I was like “what the fuck” and the day was almost over but then a dude stabbed us and we randomly died, and none of these places had clocks, so at that point we were basically like “yeah it’s after midnight, let’s just call it quits.”)

Anything else......oh, the warehouses are at risk again. Notkin and Sticky, what would I do if anything happened to them. I hope my medicines are good enough, I gave some to Bad Grief too but now all there really is to do is wait. :(

Oh, I once again have thoughts on how fucking theatrical is it that everything in the game is simultaneously literal and metaphorical, it’s gorgeous, and have I mentioned the costuming choices for the Orderlies and the Plague, hhhhhhhh, not to say anything nice about Mark fucking Immortell, but he knows what he’s doing with this thing. Listen if this post weren’t already way too long I would just gush about the theatrical elements again, but sadly it is too long.

Okay, that was our latest session! We’ll be back either very soon or in like three weeks.

#kj plays pathologic #pathologic #pathologc 2 #this got so fucking long holy shit #also: can anyone tell me how old clara/changeling is?#teenager? twenties?#i initially guessed the latter but i'm growing unsure #theorizing that if clara's a teenager she might be the eighth? bc i still have no clue who that is and clara doesn't appear on the character #screen #but if she's an adult then that wouldn't make any sense

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pof203 · 4 years

Text

Dissidia Final Fantasy NT Quotes Kingdom Hearts Edition (Lea)

To Other Characters:

Warrior of Light: “You better not blind me. Got it memorized?”

Garland: “Oh yeah. Fight, fight, fight.”

Firion: “Flowers burn, ya know.”

The Emperor: “Kneel to you? Don’t make me laugh.”

Onion Knight: “Hey, one class at a time!”

Cloud of Darkness: “I’ll just burn that Darkness away.”

Cecil Harvey: “No use worrying. Got it memorized?”

Kain Highwind: “Can you dodge my flames?”

Golbez: “Yikes, emotional much?”

Bartz Klauser: “Can you do chakrams, too?”

Exdeath: “You can’t avoid this one!”

Gilgamesh: “Oh boy, how’d I get stuck with the icky job?”

Terra Branford: “Just be sure to memorize this.”

Kefka Palazzo: “Where have I seen that make up before?”

Locke Cole: “I see it. The fire in your eyes.”

Cloud Strife: “Guess guys with spiking hair themselves shouldn’t through stones.”

Tifa Lockhart: “I ain’t your average dude.”

Sephiroth: “I’ll burn that long hair of yours!”

Squall Leonhart: “Who’s fire is hotter?”

Rinoa Heartilly: “You should introduce your dog to Isa.”

Ultimecia: “No flying off. Got it memorized?”

Laguna Loire: “Burn baby!”

Zindane Tribal: “I won’t fall for such a bad performance.”

Kuja: “You must have memorized a bad story.”

Tidus: “You can’t put out my flames.”

Yuna: “I know the feeling of keeping others safe.”

Jecht: “I think I speak from experience.”

Shantotto: “Can you tame my majestic flames?”

Prishe: “Prepare to have your fists burned!”

Vaan: “Flames can burn high.”

Garbranth: “Little did you know, rules are meant to be bent.”

Vayne Carudas Solidor: “Buddy, you just made my day.”

Lightning: “Show me your stuff, solder girl!”

Snow Villiers: “Just wait. I’ll melt that heart of yours.”

Y’shtola Rhul: “Stick around. What I do is magic in itself.”

Zenos yae Galvus: “Can you handle the heat?”

Noctis Lucis Caelum: “Can you memorize this, Your Majesty?”

Arydn Izunia: “It takes a crazy to know a crazy.”

Ramza Beoulve: “Got it memorized? This will be quick.”

Ace: “I’ll reduce those cards to ashes.”

Sora: “I hope you’ll have this fight memorized.”

Kairi: “Looks like I’ll be apologizing again.”

Riku: “I’ve improved. Got it memorized?”

Roxas: “I hope I can ring any bells.”

Lea: “I guess you’re Axel, huh?”

Xion: “Don’t forget: I’ll always be there to bring you back.”

Terra: “Hope we don’t cause a volcano eruption.”

Aqua: “Two opposing forces? This should be fun.”

Ventus: “I’ll never get use to your appearance.”

Young Xehanort: “You’re the only thing I wish I could forget.”

Shinryu: “The bigger they are, the brighter the fire!”

To Lea:

Warrior of Light: “I think we can both light things up.”

Garland: “I will take your fires and make them mine.”

Firion: “I won’t let my roses be reduced to ashes.”

The Emperor: “I like your rebellious flame. It makes me laugh.”

Onion Knight: “You’re quite the odd one, aren’t you?”

Cloud of Darkness: “The shadows will over power your fire.”

Cecil Harvey: “I admire how dedicated you are to your friends.”

Kain Highwind: “Will I blow out your flames or fan them?”

Golbez: “I will set your own flames against you!”

Bartz Klauser: “You use two kinds of weapons?”

Exdeath: “Fire is dangerous when not used in proper hands.”

Gilgamesh: “You won’t burn me so easily!”

Terra Branford: “I wish I could have friends like you to motivate me.”

Kefka Palazzo: “Hey! I’m the crazy one here!”

Locke Cole: “I’m still unsure about you.”

Cloud Strife: “You remind me of someone.”

Tifa Lockhart: “Hey! Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

Sephiroth: “Do you have someone you care for?”

Squall Leonhart: “What is it about memorization with this guy?”

Rinoa Heartilly: “You better not char my wings!”

Ultimecia: “Memories are not match for time.”

Languna Loire: “Is this going to be a heated battle or what?”

Zindane Tribal: “We should do a fire dance together on stage.”

Kuja: “I would sing a fire song, but I think that’s taken.”

Tidus: “When fire fights water, water wins.”

Yuna: “I have an Aeon who uses fire, too.”

Jecht: “Kid, you should try for out for Blitz Ball.”

Shantotto: “Still think you’re hot. I think not.”

Prishe: “I’ve been burned before.”

Vaan: “Fire in the sky? Should I be worried?”

Gabranth: “Let the judgment by fire begin!”

Vayne Carudas Solidor: “I have flames myself.”

Lightning: “You should memorize this.”

Snow Villiers: “I have memories too… Of my love.”

Y’shtola Rhul: “I’m looking to improve on my Ice Magic.”

Zenos yae Galvus: “Perhaps through you, I would find what I’m looking for.”

Noctis Lucis Caelum: “Wait, were chucrams part of the royal arms?”

Ardyn Izunia: “I control flames as well.”

Ramza Beoulve: “You still seem to be a novice with a blade.”

Ace: “I think I can take a chance at being burned.”

Sora: “Good thing I have plenty of burn paste.”

Kairi: “Let’s see our training pay off!”

Riku: “Who can forget your flames?”

Roxas: “After this, let’s get some ice cream.”

Xion: “I hope I can beat you this time.”

Terra: “No earth scorching here.”

Aqua: “Show me how good you’ve become with your Keyblade.”

Ventus: “First it was Frisbees, now it’s Keyblades.”

Young Xehanort: “Are you sure your flames are not from the Darkness?”

About Summons:

Ifrit: “I’ve heard about fighting fire with fire, but this…”

Shiva: “I’ll melt you good!”

Ramuh: “I don’t need any lectures from you!”

Odin: “Time to melt some steel!”

Leviathan: “This could be difficult for me.”

Alexander: “Pass your judgment on someone who deserve it!”

Bahamut: “I can reach you anywhere.”

Summoning:

Ifrit: “Strengthen my flames!”

Shiva: “Face the winter’s wrath!”

Ramuh: “Shock ‘em where they stand!”

Odin: “Hot steel coming through!”

Leviathan: “Blast ‘em with the current!”

Alexander: “Burn through with your light!”

Bahamut: “Win this battle now!”

#dissidia final fantasy #quotes #kingdom hearts #lea kingdom hearts #axel kingdom hearts

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phoebestarks · 3 years

Note

💥 + phoebe/peter

“WE’RE DOING NEW YEAR’S EVE RIGHT IF IT MEANS BLOWING OFF MY OWN HEAD WITH THESE FIRECRACKERS!”

prompt below the cut because OF COURSE it’s long lmaoo

Tony gave her and Peter firecrackers. Big fucking mistake. Apparently, he has enough braincells to score what, seven PHDs from MIT but he still forgets how chaotic Phoebe Kaine and Peter Parker are. (And how, despite having “superpowers”, have the collective 2 braincells on hold when the holiday season starts. (Peter normally gets it back for a bit.)) So he gives it to them and Peter is trying his damnedest to not let Phoebe blow anything up. Then again, they’re at the Avengers Tower on New Year’s Eve. They’re gonna blow some shit up.

“Why are you so sure you want to use firecrackers! You have a LITERAL SUPERSUIT! There is nothing cool about firecrackers!”

Phoebe, ever the explosion enthusiast, (thanks Mythbusters,) looks at him as if he just said he didn’t like Taylor Swift (he does, don’t worry.) “Uhhhh, firecrackers are the coolest shit EVER what are you even talking about?”

“Phoebe, Mr. Stark and Thor can both do anything a firecracker can AND more.”

“But neither of them have the possible side effect of death!”

“We both know that’s wrong,” Phoebe and Peter turn around to see Tony staring at them. “Being in a fight with Iron Man kind of guarantees you’re about to die.”

“Tony, aren’t you supposed to be with Pepper? And you know, your kid?”

“She’s four months old - she doesn’t care about noise.”

“I don’t mean Morgan.”

“You’re my only other kid-” Tony replies, confused as anything. “I swear to god, Tony, stop being sappy, I mean Harley - he’s been looking for you this entire night. He hates fireworks, remember?”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Phoebe and Peter just nod. “I probably should go find him then. Well, you two have fun. Don’t kill anyone tonight!”

“No promises, Mr. Stark!” Peter jokes - a look of worry flashes over Tony’s face before he turns around again.

“Peter, I told you to call me Tony. Or your future-father-in-law. Either works, to be honest.”

Phoebe shrieks in embarrassment, “Get out Tony!”

“Love you munchkin!”

“Love you too,” Phoebe grumbles, trying not to get too sappy before all of this goes to plan. “Now, you said that you’re still against firecrackers?”

“Yup. Wait - how many do you have?”

“Maybe like, 20? I don’t know. I didn’t count. I just asked Happy to pick some up for me when Tony gave us permission to use some.” Phoebe shrugs, getting up from the couch on the terrace to get the box of firecrackers.

“Phoebe.....please, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Peter.....Tony gave me a supersuit. You’re Spider-Man. We’re not going to get hurt.”

“We will if you don’t pay attention....” Phoebe grabs a firecracker and throws it at the ground nonchalantly, almost hitting Peter, “TO WHAT YOU’RE DOING! PHOEBE KAINE GIVE ME THE FIRECRACKERS!”

“I DO NOT FUCKING CARE! WE’RE DOING NEW YEAR’S EVE RIGHT IF IT MEANS BLOWING OFF OUR HEADS WITH THESE FIRECRACKERS!”

“FINE! I JUST WON’T KISS YOU TONIGHT!” Peter blurts out, before immediately cringing. Phoebe stops in her tracks, staring at Peter, who frankly, she could barely see because the lights were turning out everywhere, “Hold up, you were going to kiss me tonight? “What, did you think that I was going to go kiss like, Harley or something?”

“No, but the whole point was that I was going to kiss you, dumbass.”

“Oh.” Peter blushes - Phoebe can tell that from a mile away.

“Yeah, oh. Now, can I use these firecrackers or not?” Phoebe grins.

“Phoebe Artemis Kaine.....”

“Come on! Peter, these are like, the best part of New Year’s Eve!”

“That’s still a no from me.”

“Fuck off!” Phoebe slightly stomps, Peter grinning at her.

#phoebe kaine #otp: two sides of the same coin #peter parker x oc #peter parker x phoebe kaine #phoebe asks #halli tag

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meetthetank · 4 years

Text

Cruciamen Chapter 4: Salt Statues

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M, Other Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), Emil (NieR: Automata), Kainé (Nier) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, genre typical violence, On the Run, Monster of the Week, 9S is a half demon, 2B and A2 are shapeshifter Dragons, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut in the future, inaccurate depictions of medical procedures, Fantasy Biology, A2 is Nonbinary Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25104214/chapters/64353769

A2 comes to the realization that they hate sand. It’s gritty, nasty, it gets into their clothes every time the wind blows. The sun reflects off the dunes and into their eyes without fail, constantly blinding them. Most heinous of all the sand’s sins is the fact that it’s practically boiling in the midday sun and burning the bottom of their feet. For a brief moment, they consider wearing shoes of some kind. Instead they resolve to bitch at Kaine for sending them out here, looking for salt of all things, as part of their repayment.

The witch’s ability to mend A2’s injuries was far more than they had expected. Within a couple of days the wound left by Hegel’s energy blast had been reduced from a searing pain to a dull throb. All the bruises, cuts, and cracked bones they hadn’t known about were patched together with skilled, but brittle hands. When she wasn’t flying at A2 with two wicked swords, Kaine seemed like an unassuming old woman. Her hands shook when pouring tea; she couldn’t stand up for very long without complaining about her back. She would look out of the windows of her hut wistfully from time to time, her sunken purple eyes betraying an age beyond what her body could present.

That, and Kaine had all the ornery fury of an elder from back home. If “respect your elders” hadn’t been drilled into their being from the day they were born, A2 would have told the old witch to shove it. But A2 can’t in good conscience refuse someone far older than them, and someone who is giving them food, shelter, and medicine.

So they trudge through the scorching desert looking for ancient brickwork jutting out of the dunes. Kaine described these structures as easily spotted from a distance, the only splash of color for miles, but A2 has yet to see anything other than sand and sand.

Movement on a dune in the distance catches their attention. They instinctively reach for their sword’s hilt and crouch low to the ground. The heat of the sand burns their face and hands, but they grit their teeth and bear the pain to get the drop on whatever demon or predator could be lurking about in such an inhospitable place. They peek over the dune inch by inch, not wanting to make any sudden movements. Without any camouflage like foliage or rocks, their pinkish hair would attract the creature’s attention if they move too fast.

As their eyes adjust to the sunlight they can make out more than one humanoid figure, but just as their heart sinks they see at least three or four smaller ones stumbling through the sand to keep up with the rest of the group. Humans, a group of ten by their count, with what looks like everything they own strapped to their backs. Even the children carry heavy loads that make their legs buckle with each step. A woman catches one of the kids as they stumble down the dune and gives him a loving pat on the head before taking his hand in hers.

A2 debates on doing what they normally do when coming across rival vagrants, doing what earned them a bad reputation along their erratic path. It’s the kids in rags that gives them pause. Those children can’t be more than ten years old and they’re forced to suffer conditions like these.

So A2 lets them continue on. They have their own issues to deal with anyway.

With a frustrated sigh, A2 takes to the desert skies. They already did a sweep from the air before, but there isn’t any harm in trying again. Kaine won’t let them back into the hut if they don’t come back with her salt, after all.

Sure enough, the ruins they’re looking for were sitting right under their nose the whole time. Red brickwork like Kaine described juts out of the sand. It would be impossible to miss, that is, if A2 wasn’t stupid. They can’t believe they looked over the white spire of some kind of cathedral as many times as they did.

A2 lands on the ground next to the spire and the building it sits on, kicking up a cloud of sand with the beating of their wings. They screw their eyes shut and shake their head back and forth as they transform back to their human form to try and get the sand out of their eyes. When that doesn’t work they furiously rub their eyes with the back of their hand, and then their thumbs. That seems to do the trick, but they hiss when their eyes are still itchy. They huff quietly, resolving to blink the remaining particles away.

The ruins around them are unlike anything they’ve ever seen. Great walls of identical bricks emerge from the sand like the spines of a great beast submerged in the dunes. Spikes of rusted, corroded metals mark the remains of buildings that had their bricks striped away by sand and time. Whatever used to live here had a unique way of building. They were able to keep their buildings standing long after their people either died out or left the city to rot—though those people must not have been that amazing if they had all died anyway.

A2 rubs their face as they look around for… actually they don’t really know what they’re looking for. They’re supposed to be looking for salt, but where in this place would that be? All of the buildings that still have all four walls are filled with sand, or totally empty where parts are above ground. If they were going to have to dig for salt deposits, Kaine could have given them a damn shovel or something.

In the center of a cluster of ruins, a strange shape sticks out of the sand. It looks like a small pillar of marble, but that shouldn’t be possible considering how soft the rock is. The desert would have swallowed it long ago, but it stands in defiance of time or nature. A2 strides over to the little piece of marble to get a better look at it. As they close in, they see five appendages sticking out of the top. It looks like a hand reaching out for the sun, or cupping it in its hand. Maybe this was a statue of some kind?

They reach out and grab the statue’s hand, its sharp, crystalline edges digging into their palm. With a small tug the hand snaps of the arm. A2 staggers back, gasping and almost dropping the statue’s hand.

“What in the…”

A2 stares at the hand, at the desperate way its fingers curl into claws, at the subtle musculature in its palm and wrist, at the ripples on its fingertips…

“Th-... This is… “

With a dry gulp, they turn the hand over to look at where it broke off. Just as they dread, there’s bone, muscle, veins and tendons. The same thing is inside the remaining arm. A clean, but geometric break across the crystal faultlines, with minute anatomical detail rendered in salt. A2 even sees the marrow running through the center of the two arm bones. Their hands shake, barely able to place the piece of salt into the roughspun bag Kaine had loaned them.

They dig through the sand, uncovering more and more of the statue. The arm connects to a shoulder, the shoulder to a neck, and the neck to a twisted screaming face. Whoever this used to be was now a moment in time, frozen in the throes of pain and terror. The realization of what was happening is clear on the poor soul’s face as they reach for the heavens for help that will never come.

A2 takes a piece of the statue’s arm and its head, stuffing them both unceremoniously into the sack.

The contents of A2’s bag are emptied out onto the wooden table as Kaine looks on with little interest.

“What the hell is this?” they ask with venom lingering behind their words.

“Salt,” Kaine responds as she picks up and examines the hand A2 brought back.

“I know it’s salt,” A2 snaps. “Why is it shaped like a person?”

“Because it used to be one.”

A2 knew the answer when they found the statue at first, but hearing Kaine say it with the same indifference that she’d use when identifying an herb unnerves them to the point of silence.

“Wh… How?! What the hell did you send me to dig up?!”

Kaine sighs, her shoulders sagging as she shuffles over to a cabinet and produces a small wooden hammer and a glass jar before sitting at the table across from A2. She picks up the salt hand and eyes it with disinterest before setting it down in front of her.

“... They’re leftovers from an event that nearly destroyed the world. The Great Dying.”

“What?!”

“A sickness tore through the ancient civilizations that existed thousands of years ago. It turned the people who were infected by it into salt piece by piece until their whole body was nothing but a white statue.”

“That… “ A2 can only stare at Kaine with their mouth agape. It is the one thing that they actually remember from their history education. They guess only the stories of great atrocities and mass death could capture the attention of the rambunctious cub that only wanted to play with wooden swords.

“Those salt deposits out in the desert are what's left of that disaster,” Kaine says,

“What the fuck could you possibly want with salt made from people?” There’s no malice in A2’s voice, just simple curiosity and confusion.

She shrugs. “It’s good quality salt.”

With the force A2 saw the day they met her, Kaine slams the hammer into the table, shattering the hand into dozens of shards. Again and again she crushes the salt down into a powder, then brushes it into the jar.

A2 grimaces, “Yeah, but… It’s… people.”

Again, Kaine shrugs. “It sells well. People around these parts have always used things like this. I remember there was a town that mummified corpses in honey, then sold the honey as a cure for all kinds of diseases.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. I’m fucking serious,” Kaine says with a barking laugh, “You’d be amazed what people think will cure shit like limp dick and cholera. I’m old, I’ve seen some shit.”

A2 laughs along with her, albeit with a twinge of hesitation. They’ve eaten a lot of things, but they’ve always steered clear of consuming human flesh. But this isn’t flesh anymore, it’s salt. And the human has been dead for thousands of years. So…

A2 stops thinking about it too much.

“So, you sell this stuff?” they ask, twisting a salinified chunk in their fingers.

“Yeah, but some of it I keep for other shit. Some potions and salves have to use this stuff specifically. Regular salt doesn’t cut it. That and it makes some damn fine cured meats.”

“You shouldn’t talk about the dead like that… “ Emil says, setting his long overcoat on a hook.

A2 doesn’t think they’ll ever get used to seeing his body covered head to toe in bandages like that, but at least this time they don’t gawk at him like a fish gasping for air.

Kaine scoffs, “What are they gonna do, salt me to death?”

“You should know better than to speak ill of the dead. It’s bad luck!” Emil huffs, putting his hands on his hip bones.

“Well I guess that explains my whole life then,” She mutters bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Silence passes between the three as what A2 brought back seems to fill the air with dread. Minutes tick by before Emil finally speaks.

“The Great Dying was horrible,” he says, his head hanging low. “One day everything was fine, but the next… It was like the whole world came crashing down in an instant. People tried to leave cities and towns to escape it but… You can’t outrun something like that.”

“You’re talking about it as if you were there,” A2 mutters.

He holds A2’s gaze with sad, lilac eyes. “People looked for something to blame. They hunted demons, dragons… each other. The Theocracy and their religion gained a lot of followers desperate for some sort of salvation or comfort.”

“That’s enough, Emil.” Kaine grunts and gathers up the chunks of salt. “What’s done is done. We can’t be burdened by the past our whole damn lives.”

A2’s chest tightens at those words, as if they were directed at them. Their eyes drift to their sword leaning against the wall and the black feather dangling from its hilt.

He’d be ashamed of them.

#nier automata #nier fanfiction #fantasy au #a2 #nier emil #kaine nier #Tanks fics

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sabraeal · 4 years

Text

Through the Wringer

Go For Broke | Previous

Obiyuki AU Bingo Mystery AU

“So let me get this straight.” Suzu heaves a sigh like a pair of cement shoes, nose pinched between a pair of fingers so long and spindly that if he moved them together with the other eight, spiders would start jawing on about his fine set of gams. “You just...gave her the paper.”

“Gave is a strong word.” Obi kicks his heels up, dirt crumbling right onto the placard that reads SUZU EASON, ADJUNCT. “I showed her the stuff, and she took ‘em.”

Right out of his hands too, so quick he’d hardly had time to blink. That Nowakoski girl had some fight to her, that’s for sure.

“And by ‘she,’ you mean our murderess,” Suzu snips, waving his hands. “Get your boots off my desk! This is-- this is an academic institution, not some-- some speakeasy or something.”

He slants his smirk the way he knows will drive his favorite almost-professor crazy. “They don’t let you do it at bars either.”

“Then I cannot fathom why you think you can do this here, to my very own desk!” Suzu frowns down at the worn desktop, running his fingers over the grooves of the hundred despairing adjuncts that came before. “I just got the thing, Obi, I want to keep it nice for at least a little while.”

He gives it to him, dropping his soles back down to the dirt. The egghead looks like he could use the break.

“And stop smiling!” Suzu huffs, brushing the clay and gravel off after him. “You just let a murderess take our only proof that Kain Wisteria may have died of something other than an unlucky break in Amiens.”

Obi waggles a finger at him “You’ve been hanging around that fussy grouch box and his rocks, haven’t you?”

Suzu puffs up, using all six foot, four inches of him to be just as intimidating as Raggedy Andy. “Professor Lata is a tenured professor.”

Obi doesn’t have the heart to tell him that’s not as impressive to all the non-eggheads outside.

“And he’s the geology chair,” he continues, as if that’s helping matters. “So his opinion--”

“Ah.” Obi fishes a wrapper out of the trash, the spicy scent of hot pastrami still thick on the air. “He bought you lunch.”

Suzu deflates, eyes skittering away from Obi’s grin. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“Seems to me like you’re taking pages out of his book,” he says as Suzu snatches the paper out of his hands, crumpling it back down into the trash. “Being a real grouch, I mean.”

“I’m not-- I’m not being grouchy!” he hisses, mouth pulled thin. “Do you know how much trouble I could get into for all this? You told me this would just be a little favor and now--” he throws up his hands-- “I didn’t even ask Shidan for permission! We’re sitting on a-- a ticking time bomb of a theory that you just gave to a murderer.”

“Oh come on.” He shrugs beneath the weight of his trench. “She didn’t kill anyone.”

Suzu’s as pale as they come in this city, so it’s a real light show when he gets hot and bothered. Which he is right now, if Obi can tell his colors.

“And which head made that deduction?” he grits out. “I’ve practically staked my career on this-- by accident-- and now our only proof is in the hands of--”

“Hey.” A head sticks around the corner, wearing a face so cute someone could slap it on a doll and it’d sell like hotcakes. “So this is where you’re hiding out.”

“Oh!” Suzu presses a hand to his chest, clutching at the cotton of his button-down. “It’s just you, Yuzuri. Can you tell Obi that he can’t just--”

“I’m not here to get involved in your lover’s quarrel.” Her hands hook on her hips, right where her sweater meets the swell of a decent pair of hips. “Shake a leg, mister. You’re needed down in reception.”

Suzu blinks. “Wha?”

Yuzuri’s mouth purses, sour, accentuated by the vibrant blush of her lipstick. Most earthly creatures could only aspire to be in Haki Arluleon’s league, but the department’s secretary certainly comes closer than most. “Kihal Guerreiro is down there reenacting Sunrise Over Okinawa.”

Obi tilts his chair back, mind grinding through his memories like a freight train through a signal gate. “Isn’t that the one where the girl burns down--”

“Sure is.” She fixes Suzu with a glare. “And it’s your fault.”

Ah, the girl’s got spunk. No wonder Suzu’s so stuck on her.

The aforementioned adjunct gapes. “M-me? I’ve never met her in my life! I don’t know anyone famous!”

Yuzuri cocks her hip in a way that clearly says, yeah, pull the other one, too.

“Okay, well,” he hedges, “I did see Rita Hayworth having an ice cream once. But that’s it, I promise!”

“I don’t care if you saw Hedy Lemarr dancing naked on Rodeo,” she snaps. “That woman is down there kicking up a real fuss because of you.”

Suzu goes whiter than a sheet that’s shook hands with Clorox. “You haven’t-- you haven’t told Shidan, have you?”

She barks out a laugh. “I didn’t have to. She’s down there reading him the riot act as we speak.”

“Oh.” Obi’s seen poltergeists with more solidity than this post-doc. “Oh no.”

“So you better get down there lickity-split,” Yuzuri tells him, “or else I’ll tell her where you live.”

She turns on her heel, real neat, like some of the flyboys did in their birds, showing off that long seam up that back of her nylons before she slams the door behind her, hard enough to rattle a diploma off the wall.

“Oh hell,” Suzu breathes, hands digging runnels through his hair. “Oh hell, I’m in for it now.”

“You know,” Obi muses, gaze lingering on the door. “I like that dame.”

Suzu sighs. “You would.”

Reception’s never been a quiet place; the secretaries are always typing away like gunfire, writing up the department’s next magnum opus or fielding calls that have them cradling their receiver like another appendage, but today it’s certainly, well--

Louder.

“Listen here, Mister.” The words ring off the walls like an air raid siren, spoken from the diaphragm with true talent. “My friend has been calling your office for days, and she hasn’t heard from a single person who can give her an answer for this.”

Obi rounds the corner just in time to see Tinsel Town’s rising star shove a paper right into the professor’s chest, blue eyes blazing with a fire that would put Dresden to shame.

She’s dynamite up close; an Amazon straight off the isle with the stilettos she’s wearing, staring Shidan straight in the eye without having to crane her neck. Every inch of her is as dangerous as the femme fatales that have made her a household name, but still--

He’s hardly paying attention to her. Hard to, when her shadow’s got hair so red it practically blazes.

“My apologies, Miss Guerreiro,” Shidan soothes blandly, gaze hooded with the kind of weariness only a chair could muster. “I would normally be happy to answer any questions one of the public may ask, however--” his mouth pulls thin-- “I wasn’t even aware that one of my fellows had undertaken such an investigation.”

Suzu stiffens beside him, knuckles white where they grip the corner. “Well,” he breathes, backing away. “That’s my cue--”

“Why look.” Shidan’s gaze snaps over his shoulder, fixing Suzu as thoroughly as formaldehyde. “Here’s my fellow now. Suzu--” his teeth flash as quick as gun cotton-- “why don’t you come over here and explain yourself to this nice young woman.”

Suzu gulps, throat making a hollow thunk. “Ah...of course, Professor Weise.”

Obi’s not the kind of guy that leaves a man behind, but as Suzu shuffles his sad-sack self into the fray, he finds himself diverting from the flight plan, circling right around to where a high-necked blouse and Mary Jane bobs worriedly in Guerreiro’s wake.

“Well, well, well.” She jumps, turning those big eyes toward him, green as any of the arsenic bottles in the lab’s cabinet. “If its isn’t our winsome Wisteria heiress. Funny seeing you here.”

Her mouth pulls thin. “Oh. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” he agrees, slipping up beside her. She smells nice, something floral and vanilla that clings to her hair and makes him think of cookies at grandma’s. “I gotta say, Miss, for a humble war nurse, you sure got friends in some very high places.”

She huffs, arms crossing over her chest. “For your information, we met long before she got into show business.”

“That so?” he hums, hiking up a brow. “Now that you mention it, she was in one of Kain Wisteria’s flicks, wasn’t she? That one about the South Pacific.”

“She was in three,” the little miss corrects primly. “But the one you’re looking for is Sunrise Over Okinawa.”

He snaps his fingers. “Right, it came out just as I...”

She turns, all question.

“Ah, never mind,” he coughs. “Seems like Wisteria sure liked her work, if he kept using her like that.”

“Mm.” Her face crumples with the shadow of concern. “He did. He told her that with a little more work, she could be his muse.”

“Hah.” Obi lifts his hat, scratching at the back of his head. “That man liked his muses.”

Her knuckles blanch where they grasp her elbows. “He sure did at that.”

“You know, I’m surprised he didn’t try to put you in one of his flicks.” He grins down at her. “You might not be no Veronica Lake, but you got that Judy Garland look.”

Something happens to her face, so quick he can’t catch more than a ripple of it before it’s gone. She turns to him, shoving a paper into his hand.

“Here’s your report back,” she says, the words trembling. “You might want to be more careful where you leave these things.”

She glances at him, and he hears loud and clear: or who you leave them with.

“Right.” He glances down, catching the coroner’s letter head, stark and official under the university’s warm light. “Hey, ah, if you’re having trouble, I could get you in to see my friend.”

The girl whips back to him, wide-eyed, staring like maybe he’s missing a couple of sandwiches from his picnic basket. “I...appreciate the offer, detective.”

“Obi,” he offers, giddily.

“Obi.” Her mouth parts just slightly, uncertain. “But isn’t he right there? I could just ask him myself.”

“Well, sure,” he wheedles, “but that’s no guarantee he’ll talk to you. You know these egghead types. Insular.” He leans in, flashing a smile that could charm the hose off a Hepburn. “But me, I can put a good word in for you.”

She hums, hose still snug. “That so.”

“Sure thing.” He nods toward the charlie foxtrot happening hardly two yards from where they’re standing. “I could go up there right now and ask for you. I’m sure he’d be happy to do me the favor.”

“Of course he would,” she huffs. “He’s having a strip torn off him from both sides. Thank you very much, Mister...Obi, but I think I can wait.”

“Not at all.” He grins so wide the Cheshire Cat would go green with envy, and he’s rewarded with a look so wary that Wisteria’s pet cop would slap him in irons just to head him off. “Good thing for you, Miss, I don’t have any shame.”

She blink. “What? No, you can’t--”

He steps right up to the Western Front, marked by Guerreiro’s sharp elbow and says, “Hey, Suzu, this is the girl I was telling you about. Miss Nowakowski. She’s got some questions about that report you gave me.”

Suzu goggles at him. “Ah, sure, pal.” His mouth pulls into a rictus grin. “I’d--I’d love to meet her. Why don’t we all just go up to my office--”

“No need.” The red head shoulders through, nearly knocking him off his feet. She might be a tiny thing, but she stands shoulder to shoulder with the rest of them like she’d the tallest personality in the room. “I only came here to say that I’m giving permission to exhume the body.”

Shidan chokes. “I-- I’m sorry? I don’t think I heard that--?”

“I’ve already put in the request at the precinct,” she explains, shoulders square she she stares them all down. “But I want to come down here as request personally that you do the toxicology report, Mr Eason.”

“Oh, I-- I don’t-- I’m not--” Suzu pants, hand hooks in his sweater vest-- “I don’t have the authority for that, Miss.”

“But I do.” Shidan stares down at the lot of them, his mouth in a thin line. “I think we should be discussing this in my office. Come this way, Miss Nowakowski, Miss Guerreiro. It seems I’ve missed a few crucial conversations.”

#obiyukibingo2020 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #mystery au #Go For Broke #noir au #my fic #ans #every time i start writing this fic #i'm so convinced it'll be easy #and then i spend like 99% of my time during the second draft googling the DUMBEST STUFF #obi's shoe choice is in one line but guess how long i spent deciding that #TOO LONG

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iamknicole · 4 years

Text

Just the Two of Us (20)

HAHN AU

Since Marcie was driving down on her own, Lainey decided to work the whole day at her salon. Marcie and Melissa had planned to hang out until she got off. Lainey was glad she didn't have to make up something to get out of the house alone to meet Mitch.

Once closing time rolled around, Lainey sat at the front desk of the salon waiting on Mitch. He texted her letting he know that he was five minutes out then her phone rung.

"Mr. Governor, I didn't expect your call."

"Element of surprise. How was your day?"

"It was good, went by fast. Finishing some paperwork before I get outta here. Yours?"

Charles yawned, "Long. Very long. And boring. I spent most of my meetings thinking about you."

"You're gonna get in trouble," she laughed.

"You're worth it. I need to get to my next meeting they're staring at me. I'll call when I get home unless I call asleep. Okay?"

"Alright, babe. Bye."

As soon as she hung up, Mitch pulled up in front of her salon. Lainey watched him get out and slowly walk to the door, she stared at him for a minute feeling uncomfortable and regretting the choice to do it alone. He stepped inside and started to look around the room. Lainey got up from behind the desk, going to stand in front of it.

"Looks good in here, girl. You deserve it."

"Thank you. What do you wanna talk about?"

Mitch smiled at her, "Where your brothers? They must not know if they ain't here."

"Yeah and if they were here, you'd be getting worse than what B did to you, so you're welcome." She responded folding her arms across her chest.

He laughed holding his hands up, "You got me there. You look beautiful."

"Mitch, stop it. Say what you need to say so I can go home. Please."

They stood in silence for a few moments.

"Look, I'm sorry about that night. I was drunk and my better judgement escaped me. I just want you to forgive me."

Lainey rolled her eyes, "You don't need my forgiveness, Mitch. Whatever you thought was gonna happen, isn't. Let's just not do this, you leave me be and I won't tell my brothers that you keep texting me."

Lainey went behind the desk to grab her phone, purse and the key to one of Caleb's cars he let her borrow. Mitch watched her thinking for a second, he was trying to be nice but she wasn't listening. Lainey set her alarm then walked out with him in front of her and locked the building up.

"At least lemme walk you to your car, Lainey."

Again, she rolled her eyes and started walking to the car with him beside her. He opened the driver side door for her watching while she put her purse inside. Mitch pulled her to him before she could get in.

"Mitch, let go of me," she said flatly.

"I just want a hug."

Lainey stood there for a second then tried to push away from him. "You got your hug. Let go."

He held her tight, his big hands cradling and groping her ignoring her protests. Ignoring her cursing, he kissed her lips then her neck moving to pin her between him and the car.

"Let her go. You don't wanna do that."

Sucking his teeth, Mitch pulled away slightly from her and looked over his shoulder. "Get outta here, dude. We're good."

Lainey couldn't see who it was that approached them but she was glad they did. "No we're not. Get off me, Mitch."

"I said let her go."

Mitch turned to look at the person and his breath caught in his throat.

"Leave."

Mitch's nostrils flared but he walked away fuming. Bishop stared at his sister, waiting until Mitch drove off to speak.

"You good?" He asked in almost a whisper.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you. What're you doing here?"

Bishop put his hands in his pockets shrugging. "I'm usually here to check on you in the morning before you open and at night when you close. Make sure nobody bothers you."

Lainey furrowed her brows, "No, you don't. I never see you. I only see you like once a month in the store."

"I'm always around. You see me in the store cause I want you to see me. I'm always around especially when you're alone."

"Why?" She asked.

Bishop smiled, "You're my baby sister, gotta make sure you're good. Gone and go home."

With that, he turned and walked away from her. She tried to see what car he was getting into but the light from her parking lot didn't reach that far. Shrugging, she got into the car and sped out of the parking lot.

When Lainey got in the house, she took her shoes off at the door and went to the living room. She hugged both of her friends then sat between Cam and Marcie.

Marcie laughed moving over, "You are such a baby."

"That's right and he sitting too close. You're my friend," she said with a smile. "Where's B and Zion?"

"B upstairs and Zion went with Pop and Lil Q to get Mama."

Lainey frowned looking at her two friends and her brother. "So yall been here alone? What yall been doin?"

Cam and Marcie laughed, Melissa just sat in the love seat spaces out.

"Nobody did anything. We were talking," Marcie told her laughing, "That's it. But you're late. Where have you been?"

At that question, Lainey got up from the sofa and pulled Marcie up then Melissa. "We're gonna go get dressed to go out. And no you can't go, Cam."

Rushing her friends upstairs to her room, she let them know that she'd be right back and went to speak to Benny. She knocked on his door then eased it open closing it behind her. Crossing his room, she went to his bathroom and leaned against the doorframe. He stood at the sink in his towel with his wave cap on brushing his teeth.

"You need to put that lil bird chest away, B," she joked.

Benny scoffed and turned to her, "Stop playin with me. You see these muscles, girl."

Lainey laughed going to hug him. "Yeah, yeah, I see em. Just came to speak, ain't heard from you all day."

Benny kissed her head lovingly. "Was working, lil baby. How was your day?"

Lainey started to think about Mitch and Bishop but decided to leave that part out.

"It was good. Was able to get paperwork done. How was your day?"

"Good. Ima be out tonight but call me if yall need me while yall out. Aight?"

Lainey frowned, "Out where? Where you going?"

"Got a date," he replied before turning back to the sink to brush his teeth.

"A date with who? It ain't Melissa so I don't know her. You ain't going with somebody I don't know and don't like."

Finishing brushing his teeth, Benny rinsed his mouth out then washed his face waiting for his sister to get done. He grabbed his clippers to line up his beard.

"Her name is Kaylee, met her the other night when me, Cam and Zi went out. Nothin serious, just a date."

Lainey hummed, "What about Mel?"

Stopping, Benny looked at his sister through his mirror. "What about her, Lainey?"

"As much as I don't like it," she said rolling her eyes, "You clearly like her and she clearly likes you. And yall look kinda cute together."

"That's all true but I'm not about to just take half of her either, Alaina. She got somebody, she don't get to have us both. She gotta choose."

"Lainey," she corrected, "I'm not in trouble."

He winked at her going back to lining up his beard. Standing there a little longer, Lainey left his room and went to hers. Marcie and Melissa were sitting on her bed talking. She kicked off her shoes and went to sit at the foot.

"Did you bring them, Marce?" Melissa asked softly.

Marcie nodded going in her purse pulling out the three boxes. "I got them but why did I need to get 3?"

"Cause yall are gonna take one with me. I'm not doing it alone."

"Buuut I already know I'm not pregnant," Lainey protested.

Marcie laughed, "Girl, please. After what you told us that you and Charles did, your ass might be."

Lainey opened and closed her mouth a few times making her friends laugh. She playfully snatched one of the boxes from Marcie and got off the bed.

"I hope it's funny too that yall gotta go use the other bathrooms. Hope yall get caught. Get on my nerves," she fussed getting off the bed going into her bathroom.

While the girls took their tests, Bishop was walking into his parents' house. There was a lot that he didn't do for them anymore and they never complained about it. They asked him to come to their house and sit in on a meeting with them. He walked through the house, then down the stairs to the basement where the offices were. Upon entering his father's office, he noticed his two brothers, his father, Kaine, Vinny Malone, and a few other Malones. Quietly, he took a seat.

"Cryer wants us to take out the governor, other casualties are just a bonus." Kaine explained.

Vinny nodded, "And you want our help?"

"We don't need help, my friend. We just wanted to extend an invitation."

Vinny sat quietly for a moment. "What're the numbers?"

"He's offering 4 million. 2 for you, 2 for me. 200k for each additional person."

"Your daughter ... she worth 200k then?"

Kaine smiled evilly. "You need not worry about her. I'd do that for free. So do we have a deal?"

Coming to an agreement the meeting ended and the Malones left. Kaine kept his sons for an hour longer to discuss meeting back up to plan and surveillance. Bishop rushed out of there and sped away from the house, thinking about his next option. He knew he was going to protect his sister but he needed to figure out who he was going to go to first. Caleb and her other brothers or Charles.

"Shit, lemme go get Lainey trash. She always forgets." Cam groaned.

Getting up to his sister's room, he pulled the bag from the small trashcan. He started to leave but he heard something but the floor. Groaning to himself, he turned around to see what it was and frowned.

"What the fuck? Zion! Come here!" He yelled staring at the three tests on the floor.

#hahn au #have and have nots au #just the two of us

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years

Text

the way it was - chapter 11

this old heart darlin’ is weak for you

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

chapter 10 | read on ao3

1911

i love you

this old heart darlin’ is weak for you

Their holiday was a welcome break from their usual busy lives and while they’d both missed Mia terribly, they had to admit that it was nice not having to look after a toddler all day.

The next week was a complete blur. Riza’s teaching classes could be done from home. She had to attend the East City University in the morning to collect her paperwork for the day, which was a welcome exercise because the walk to the university meant Riza could give Mia her mid-morning nap. Then, she had two days to complete whatever she’d been given by her professor. It was a system that worked and Riza just hoped it always would.

At this pace she’d be a qualified teacher in two years. It was an exciting concept. Riza loved Mia, but she didn’t want to be a stay at home mother her whole life. She became restless after being in their apartment for too long, longing to go out and see what the city had to offer her that day. Riza wanted to learn and explore. There was so much knowledge out there in the world and so many places to see. Riza, now with the freedom she’d craved her whole childhood, wanted to see it all. Taking Mia along for the ride made it even more enjoyable.

The weekend after their short getaway, they found themselves in East City Town Hall, at a military ball. Roy was required to go and Riza was interested to see what this kind of party was about. She expected there to be stuck up big wigs in the military parading about with their medals, and Roy told her she wouldn’t be far off. It was a lot of sucking up to the higher echelon of the military, and the thought left a sour taste in Riza’s mouth. She’d heard some stories from Roy when he’d been venting after work. The higher ups didn’t seem to be particularly pleasant company to keep.

“They’re not,” Roy told her, buttoning up his shirt in the mirror in their bedroom. “But I have to go. Having you there would make the whole experience infinitely better. Plus, everyone is dying to meet you.”

“Everyone?” Riza asked, raising an eyebrow while she secured the necklace around her neck. She didn’t normally wear jewellery however Roy had been very sweet and surprised her with the necklace as a gift this morning. He’d bought it for her to wear to the ball, and she couldn’t turn it down. It was beautiful, but simple in design. Just how she liked things. It was a spontaneous gift from Roy and that was all it took for her to love it.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Everyone in the team is convinced you aren’t real and that I’m making you up.”

“Why?” she asked, amused.

Roy shrugged, then grinned. “I don’t think they believe that I could’ve ever secured a woman as lovely as you.” He kissed her temple as he passed, brushing his hand along her waist gently as he entered their bathroom and closed the door.

“The feeling is mutual, by the way.”

There was a pause, then the sound of the toilet flushing. After he’d washed his hands, Roy’s head poked out the door as he dried them on a towel. “You don’t believe in how amazing you are?”

Riza shook her head with a fond smile. “No. Well, yes, but not the point I was trying to make. I don’t believe how lucky I am to have fallen in love with you,” she clarified.

“Don’t ever think you’re not the most incredible person on the planet.” He hung up the towel before approaching. He gripped her waist gently while Riza wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. “And I’m the same. I can’t believe I’m so lucky.”

Chris was in town for the weekend to visit, so she’d taken Mia off their hands to spend some time with her granddaughter. Mia adored Chris Mustang, which was strange given the latter’s personality, however she was a completely different person with Mia. She loved her granddaughter unconditionally, and it showed in everything she did for her. Riza’s stomach dropped when she saw just how many gifts Chris had bought for Mia for this visit. In her mind, she mentally searched their apartment for where they’d store them all.

A taxi took them to the Town Hall. It was a subdued ride. Roy chatted with the driver while Riza gazed into the streets of East City. It wasn’t often she got to drive anywhere in the city. Whenever her and Roy went out, they always walked. It was mesmerising to watch the lights flash by as they flew along the road.

“Hey, boss!” a portly ginger man greeted them from afar. He called across the room towards them, offering Roy a wave. A blonde head popped up above everyone else, scanning the room for Roy. Upon spotting them, his eyes widened and his head ducked. He disappeared from view.

“Come on,” Roy urged, steering Riza towards the members of his team. Nerves tickled her stomach as they approached as it always did when she was introduced to someone new. Roy had stated there were four people in his team, so meeting four new people made it slightly worse.

“Hey!” the first man greeted enthusiastically with a wide grin. He glanced over to the blonde man beside him while wearing a rather smug look on his face, then turned his attention back to them both.

“Hey, Breda,” Roy greeted before turning to face her. “This is Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda,” he introduced, gesturing towards the ginger man. Lieutenant Breda grinned and offered Riza his hand, which she took.

“Nice to meet you,” Riza smiled.

“Likewise, Mrs. Mustang,” he beamed. The title was far too formal for her liking, but from the glint in his eye, Riza guessed it was for the benefit of the blonde man who was glaring at him. She glanced between them both, resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow at their antics.

“Please, just call me Riza,” she offered. The smirk dropped from his face, and Lieutenant Breda’s smile was genuine this time.

“Of course.”

“This,” Roy announced, moving onto the next member of his team, gesturing to the blonde man who snapped out of his glare hurriedly. “Is Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. Don’t mind the glare or sullen look,” Roy added smoothly, making direct eye contact with Lieutenant Havoc. “He’s probably lost a bet with Breda over something. Ignore him.”

“Hey,” he muttered quietly but indignantly.

“This is Warrant Officer Vato Falman.” A grey-haired man took her hand and shook it firmly. Before being introduced his face had been a picture of seriousness, but now he smiled at Riza warmly.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.”

“And this is Sergeant Kain Fuery.” The last member of the team looked young – almost too young – with black hair styled in a boyish look. His glasses rose as a smile overtook his whole face. It lit up the room with its warmth, and Riza took a liking to the young man.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Ma’am,” he greeted enthusiastically. She liked Sergeant Fuery. He seemed very sweet.

“Likewise, to all of you.”

“What would you like to drink?” Roy asked her.

“A wine would be lovely, thank you.”

“I’ll get it, Ma’am,” Lieutenant Havoc interrupted. He looked slightly sheepish, and she supposed this was his way of making it up to them over whatever had stirred up the one-sided glaring match between him and Lieutenant Breda. “Don’t worry about it, Boss. I’ll be right back.”

“That was… Unexpected,” Roy stated, blinking after Lieutenant Havoc.

Lieutenant Breda snorted. “Havoc didn’t believe you’d actually married someone. He was convinced it was fake. A whole scam,” he chuckled. “It would’ve been elaborate if it had been, however, I don’t think you’re that smart to pull it off.”

“Hey,” Roy frowned indignantly.

Lieutenant Breda shrugged, but his grin remained.

“It’s a likely conclusion Breda arrived at, Sir,” stated Warrant Officer Falman. “It would require a whole lot of planning and backtracking that even a normal person would struggle and fail completely with it.”

“Thanks… I think.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Sergeant Fuery interrupted their conversation, drawing Riza’s attention away from her husband and his two colleagues. “They do this all the time. It’s all good fun.” Riza found herself smiling.

Sergeant Fuery gave off a very “little brother” vibe, and Riza felt the pull towards it. She thought he would be someone she’d get on well with. She wasn’t quite so sure about the other three yet, but wasn’t one to jump to conclusions. She’d give Lieutenants Havoc and Breda the benefit of the doubt. Warrant Officer Falman seemed perfectly cordial and friendly though, like Sergeant Fuery. He seemed very intelligent, and Riza wondered if they would have any deep and interesting conversations at any point. Roy wasn’t unintelligent by any means, but his focus was alchemy and military strategy and that was it. He had no interest in subjects that weren’t a science. Riza was fascinated by the world, and often wondered aloud why things were the way they were. If Roy had an answer, he would tell her, but the beauty of the world lost some of its wonder when a scientific theory had been applied to it. Riza was undeterred though. She still loved that about him. She’d often sit and watch the cogs work in his head as he tried to figure something out, or how he passionately described how something worked. She’d find herself falling in love with him all over again.

Lieutenant Havoc returned with their drinks and offered them to her and Roy. He gave her an apologetic smile as he approached. “Sorry for the glare earlier. I hope you didn’t think it was directed at you.”

Riza shook her head. “Not at all.”

Lieutenant Havoc let out a sigh of relief, and Riza found herself smiling behind her glass, amused. Bless him. “Okay, good. Breda can be an asshole sometimes and likes to rub it in my face when he wins.”

“What did he win?” Riza asked innocently. It was comical the way his face fell. Lieutenant Havoc glanced towards her briefly, then away, swallowing hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat nervously.

“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way,” he began, turning her away from the rest of the group. He placed a hand on her shoulder, walking a few steps away. She resisted the urge to shrug it off and went with him, too intrigued to pass the opportunity up.

“Havoc?” Roy called behind them. The hand left her shoulder, and Riza watched as he waved Roy off irritably. This was still very entertaining to Riza. It was adorable the way Lieutenant Havoc’s face had turned slightly pink in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry. I’ll start with that,” Lieutenant Havoc stated. He downed his drink – it looked like whisky – and placed the glass not so gently on the table next to them. He looked incredibly nervous, and like he didn’t want to offend her. “But Breda and I made a bet that Mustang had made you up.”

“Oh?” Riza asked, raising an eyebrow. She only just managed to hide her smile by taking another drink. Who would have the time to craft an entirely fictional wife and child, and then have the patience to maintain that for a year and a half?

“Yeah.” Lieutenant Havoc coughed to clear his throat. “I’m sorry. He never really mentioned you, but we saw a wedding photo. I thought it was some wife he’d lost years ago. From the way he’d handled it, it certainly seemed that way.”

Now that was interesting. Just how did Roy handle their wedding photo in the office?

“What do you mean?” she asked before she could think, her curiosity getting the better of her. She hadn’t meant to ask out loud, but she was interested to know the kind of person Roy was at work around these men.

Lieutenant Havoc shifted on the spot. “Oh. Well, uh, he would always be so careful with it. He would never show anyone and wouldn’t bring it up, but I caught him a few times smiling at it when he was alone.” Lieutenant Havoc paused and shot her a genuine smile. “I must say, Ma’am, from the way he smiles at that photo, he loves you a lot.”

Riza felt warmth spread across her whole entire body. A smile slowly spread across her face, and she nodded. “I feel the same way about him.”

Lieutenant Havoc grinned. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re real and still among the living.”

Riza chuckled at him. “Thank you, Lieutenant Havoc.”

“Just Havoc, Ma’am,” he grinned.

“Then it’s just Riza for me too.” His grin was infectious. She liked him. He was a bit of a goofball, he didn’t seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was open and honest. Plus, if Roy had hand picked him, then he must be loyal. From the way he spoke, Riza could tell Havoc had a lot of respect for Roy. That was probably why he’d apologised to her immediately. Riza could respect that about him.

“What are you two talking about?” Roy asked with a grin, announcing his approach. Havoc stiffened slightly and Riza smirked to herself.

“Oh, nothing,” she waved off. “I was just telling Havoc about one of my lovely single friends that might be interested in him.”

Riza snorted, unable to hold in her laugh, when she saw Havoc’s spine straighten even further. His cheeks turned a light colour of pink.

“Wow, relax, Havoc. It’s a woman, not an eight-foot crocodile.”

“Excuse me,” Havoc muttered, shooting a glare at Roy, who just laughed at his misfortune.

“It was about the bet, wasn’t it?” Roy stated, slinging an arm around her shoulder. They walked towards the dance floor, Riza noticed. Excitement coursed through her veins at the thought she’d be able to dance with Roy again. It was one of her favourite past-times, being held close in his arms as they swayed together.

“It was, yes. Poor guy was genuinely apologetic. I respect that though.”

“Havoc’s the kind of guy that will bet on anything – and I mean anything – so it didn’t surprise me. I want to address that though –”

There was the quiet tinkling of someone hitting glass, followed by an announcement that dinner was about to be served.

“Ah,” Roy smiled at her. “After dinner then.”

Dinner was beautiful. The food was exquisite, and Riza was thankful that the company at the table was solely the men in Roy’s team. They bantered back and forth, which was captivating. Riza laughed so much during dinner that it took her an age to finish her meal. They were good men, and Riza was glad they all had Roy’s back. She often worried about him at work, going out on field missions and the like. It made her feel better to know these men were looking out for him.

They were incredibly loyal to him, and now, by extension, her. Havoc had announced that quite loudly – he was on the way to getting very drunk – and the rest of the team agreed, raising their glasses in a toast. Roy had just beamed at her, giving her hand a quick squeeze under the table. She supposed this was what he’d wanted all along – for them all to meet and get along so well. The fact she’d been so readily included in this little group made her happier than anyone would probably ever understand. She’d been on her own for so long as a child, then Roy came along and lit up her life. However, it had just been the two of them. Now, she had a plethora of people around her who were happy and willing to look out for her. It was a wonderful feeling.

On the dancefloor Roy twirled her around effortlessly. She felt like she was flying in his arms. She could dance, but he was much better at it than her. He’d taught her when they were growing up together, in stolen moments away from her father’s oppressive presence. It was a welcome reprieve from her monotonous evenings of cooking and cleaning up after Roy and her father.

“I love you,” Riza murmured as a smile spread across her face. Her arms were looped behind his neck, her fingertips playing with strands of his hair.

A loving smile broke out across Roy’s face. His eyes softened and he bent low to capture her lips with his own. She sighed into his kiss, embracing the love he showed her. “I love you too.”

The memory of Havoc’s confession floated through her mind at that moment, broadening her smile.

“I must say, ma’am, from the way he smiles at that photo, he loves you a lot.”

“What?” Roy asked, noting how big her smile was.

“Nothing. I’m just happy to be with you.”

Roy hummed in agreement. He shifted his stance so that her body was pressed against his. Their cheeks rested against each other and when Roy spoke, his breath tickled her ear. It felt divine.

“I’m glad you’re here. These balls are always so boring.”

“You’ve been to more than one?” she asked, curious. She tried to think back to when he may have brought it up before but couldn’t find anything in her memory.

“Well, just one. It was after coming home from Ishval. It was a “celebration” of the war being over. It… Well, it wasn’t enjoyable in the slightest. Most of the time, Hughes and I just people watched. It was thrilling to watch the amount of ass kissing that went down that night. There were so many brown noses.”

Riza snorted, hard. She felt Roy laugh, the sound reverberating through her own body.

“It was nowhere near as good as tonight has been.”

Silence enveloped them, but it was Riza who broke it.

“I’m curious…”

Roy hummed in reply.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about me?”

Roy met her gaze.

“I’m just wondering,” she reassured him.

He was quiet for a moment, contemplating his answer. “At first, I was told not to trust anyone by General Grumman. He’s kind of become my mentor over the years.” Riza resisted the urge to react to the news. She wasn’t even sure if Roy knew the General was her grandfather.

Was he here tonight? Riza wasn’t sure if she was ready to deal with that interaction just yet. She’d been told as a child there was bad blood between her grandfather and her father, so they cut ties and moved away. How would the General feel, knowing his granddaughter had married someone working so closely with him?

“So, I didn’t and kept my cards close to my chest. I know I can trust the boys, but everyone else…” His face screwed up. “There’s a very small pool of people that I can trust in East City Headquarters.”

“That sounds very paranoid, Roy.”

“With you on the line, I’m very paranoid about this kind of thing.”

Riza thought he’d be joking, even just a little bit, but when she pulled back to look at his face, she saw his expression was serious. While she was glad, it didn’t sit well with her. It spoke of danger.

“But,” Roy continued. “It’s been a few years and Grumman has filled me in on who’s best to avoid and who can be trusted. I became more comfortable with the idea. I never denied it when people asked, but I didn’t want to project it, just in case. Plus, I’m not Maes Hughes, screaming about my family every two seconds,” he chuckled. “I don’t want to irritate people so much they began to hate me,” he winked.

“No, and I don’t blame you,” Riza agreed with an amused smile.

Roy wasn’t one for making grand gestures for her in front of an audience, and that was because he knew she’d hate the attention on her like that. And if no one at his work knew he was married, that didn’t matter to her really. She’d just been curious. He showed her, and her alone, how he felt about her. Everyone else didn’t matter, so long as she knew how much he loved her.

“I’m proud, in a way, that you played it so smartly.”

“Yeah?” Roy asked, seemingly surprised at her admission.

She nodded. “Like you said, ‘with my family on the line, I’d be very paranoid too.’” Her voice dropped in volume, causing Roy to press his cheek gently back against hers so he could hear her. “What you’re planning on doing is dangerous, and while I don’t like it for obvious reasons, I’d never hold it against you. After what you went through and seeing how it has affected you, I don’t want it to happen to anyone again either.”

Roy pulled away. She was trapped in his eyes, but Riza didn’t mind. She never would when it came to him. Taking a deep breath, she let it out in a rush, her decision made.

“You’ve got a good, solid, team behind you. I see that, now. It makes it less frightening for me, knowing you have this support behind you,” she admitted. “Before, in my mind, it was you against the whole world, and it was terrifying. But I see now that there are a lot of people who support you. Not just the core team. I’ve overheard others talking tonight, at the bar and around the room. Some people here really like you, Roy. They look up to you, and it soothes my nerves a little to know that there’s a lot of people who have your back. It’s not just me doing all the work,” she smiled wryly.

“Yes, but you do the best job out of everyone,” he murmured as he hugged her close to his chest. Smiling, she patted his back twice, affectionately, as he gave her body a tight squeeze.

Her hand found its way to his cheek when he pulled back. His eyes poured out with love for her, and it thrilled her to see it.

“Of course, I do the best job,” she replied, as if it was obvious. It made him laugh, a grin playing over his lips.

“You really do. Maybe I didn’t bring you up before because I wanted to keep you all to myself,” he grinned cheekily. “Since you do such a good job, after all.”

Riza stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh again, but louder this time. His head tipped back slightly. It truly was a beautiful sight seeing Roy so carefree and happy. He deserved it.

The rest of the night was perfect. During the fast songs they took a break to return to the table with the men. They were greeted each time with enthusiasm and joy. She was goaded into telling them how she and Roy met. She kept some parts out. Her childhood experience was still very raw within her, and she didn’t feel like dragging the past back up. That was firmly behind her. The only thing that had been worth keeping from it had been Roy, and she was eternally thankful that she had.

Fuery – they’d all insisted on Riza calling them by their last names rather than their titles – asked what their wedding ceremony was like. Falman asked to see the ring, complimenting her stone and band, stating they were the perfect combination. Havoc bought them a round of drinks to celebrate their wedding, despite it being over two years ago. His reasoning was they’d all missed it, so now was as good a time as ever to make up for it. Breda agreed wholeheartedly and staggered after Havoc to order the drinks with them. As they walked, they slung their arms around each other’s shoulders, slapping each other on the back amicably.

They were a good bunch, these boys, and Riza was officially initiated as “one of the team” that night.

Rebecca finally found her shortly after their “wedding toast”.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, flopping down into the chair next to Riza. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Where have you been?” she accused.

“Right here,” she smiled. Rebecca was slightly drunk, her cheeks pink and flushed from the alcohol, but she wasn’t fully drunk. Riza had seen her drunk a few times, and this wasn’t it. This was “merry Rebecca” – the Rebecca who had no filter and no shame. Riza had envied her confidence from day one and strived to be as good as her someday. Since meeting the brunette, it had done wonders for her confidence. It was freeing, and Riza was very thankful. Rebecca had also taken Riza to the East City HQ shooting range, smuggling her in late at night like they were a couple of teenagers. Riza had learned to shoot in the forests outside her home as a child, and she was pleased to see that she hadn’t lost her touch over the years.

Rebecca had done so much for Riza since they’d met, and tonight may just be the night she repayed her big time. It might not, however it was worth taking the risk. Plus, she deserved a little fun.

“Have you met Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc?” Riza asked, gesturing towards the blonde man who was slouched in his chair at the table. He smirked over at her, upon hearing his name, but he froze when he spotted Rebecca.

“No, I haven’t,” Rebecca stated slowly, eyeing him carefully.

“Havoc, this is my friend, Rebecca. The lovely lady I was telling you about earlier?”

Rebecca snorted. “Lovely,” she muttered underneath her breath, as if offended to be referred to in such a way.

“Uh, yeah. I remember.” He seemed to have sobered up rather quickly, Riza noticed, amused. He sat up straighter in his chair, like a bird preening at the prospect of a mate.

“I’m anything but a lady tonight, my friend,” she stated boldly, rising from her chair and striding over to Havoc. He watched her like a deer caught in the headlights.

Riza snickered when she noticed Rebecca had put extra sway into her hips as she walked. “And have you been talking about me, Riza Mustang?” she accused good naturedly, casting her eyes back over her shoulder.

“You said you wanted to find yourself a good man,” she shrugged with a grin.

“You,” she commanded Havoc. “Come with me.”

“What?” he asked, looking quite terrified.

Rebecca grasped him by his biceps and lifted Havoc from the chair. He yelped, almost falling over in his haste. Then, with a coy look over her shoulder and a wink, she dragged him over to the dance floor.

“God, help him,” Roy stated, taking up the chair beside her, the one Rebecca had just vacated.

Riza chuckled. “I agree. He’ll have his hands full with that one.”

“It’ll be good for him,” Roy stated, as if he was a proud parent watching his child go on their first date. “Either way, it will be character building.”

Riza snorted. “Rebecca can be lethal. I hope he’s strong enough for it.”

“He’s a good man,” Roy stated, his tone taking on a surprising sincerity after all their joking. “He’ll be good for her, I think.”

It certainly seemed that way, because not even half an hour later, Riza spotted the two of them slipping out the ballroom, hand in hand. Riza grinned when she spotted it. She was happy for her friend. Havoc seemed like her type – tall, handsome, and probably with some cash to play about with. He was a military man, so that was a given.

That would be a conversation for later.

All in all, it was a wonderful night. They took a taxi home, more than buzzed from the alcohol. Both Roy and Riza whispered and giggled to each other in the back like a couple of teenagers. With excitement in his eyes, Roy led her up to their apartment with a grin, his hand gripping hers tightly as they ran up the stairs. Once inside, Riza locked the apartment door in anticipation, only to be backed up against it. Roy’s kisses were feverish as he slipped her jacket off her shoulders. Riza gave him the same treatment, ridding him of his tuxedo jacket and leaving it to fall in a heap on the floor. It was expensive, as all his clothes were, but Riza didn’t think he’d care. Not right now.

They stumbled their way to the bedroom, bumping against the walls and breaking apart to laugh. It made Riza feel young again. It was like they were newlyweds on their honeymoon.

Roy held her close as they drifted off, both spent. Riza gripped his hand tightly, smiling down at their joined hands.

“I love you,” he murmured sleepily into her hair. Riza smiled, feeling sleep tug at her tired body, enticing it into unconsciousness. If she gave in, her only regret would be cutting this beautiful moment short. She wanted to live in it forever.

“I love you too, Roy. So much that it leaves me breathless sometimes.” Her admission was bolder than usual, but it was the truth. It came right from her heart. The alcohol had managed to pry it out of her grasp, and Riza was glad. At that moment, it was something she wanted him to know.

Roy hummed happily behind her, adjusting his grip on her waist, tugging her tightly against him. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What about Mia?” she yawned, letting out a quick laugh.

“That angel is the light of my life,” he stated, his speech broken as he began to drift off. “But you are the warmth.”

Riza smiled and settled back against him. His breathing evened, signalling he was asleep.

“And you are mine.”

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #emma writes #the way it was

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