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Title; He will not see.
Rating; PG-13
Fandom; Fullmetal Alchemist
Summary; Spoilers for Ch 102. Hawkeye will not let him hear her grief.
Wordcount; 302
She stares at him, and knows that he cannot see her grief. He cannot see the dismay that seems carved there, and has been since she met his eyes, the eyes that are no longer focusing on her face, the eyes that can no longer find her with a glance, the eyes that are still searching for any hint of light.
He cannot see her grief, and if her mouth can stay shut, he will not hear it. Her mouth will stay shut, and he will not hear.
Something more than just his eyesight was lost here, something nameless and precious, and her own troubles pale in comparison. The slash on her throat - only just healed over - was the last thing on her mind. She would heal, this would not.
Something drips from her chin, and she lifts her hand to her face, pulling it away. It takes two moments of staring at her hand before she realizes that it's her own tears coursing down her cheeks, and she wipes them automatically away, realizing with a deeper pang that he could not see these tears- the ones he'd joked about so lightly before this last fight had begun.
"Lieutenant?" - and his voice is uncertain, more uncertainty than his voice should ever carry. His burdens have piled up on him, and her job was to lighten them. She clears the last of the tears from her eyes, already determining what he would need from her, and swallows on the last of the grief she will allow herself to show before even his blind eyes. She steps forward, touching his shoulders lightly with both hands. Her voice would not quaver when she spoke.
"I'm here."
Rating; PG-13
Fandom; Fullmetal Alchemist
Summary; Spoilers for Ch 102. Hawkeye will not let him hear her grief.
Wordcount; 302
She stares at him, and knows that he cannot see her grief. He cannot see the dismay that seems carved there, and has been since she met his eyes, the eyes that are no longer focusing on her face, the eyes that can no longer find her with a glance, the eyes that are still searching for any hint of light.
He cannot see her grief, and if her mouth can stay shut, he will not hear it. Her mouth will stay shut, and he will not hear.
Something more than just his eyesight was lost here, something nameless and precious, and her own troubles pale in comparison. The slash on her throat - only just healed over - was the last thing on her mind. She would heal, this would not.
Something drips from her chin, and she lifts her hand to her face, pulling it away. It takes two moments of staring at her hand before she realizes that it's her own tears coursing down her cheeks, and she wipes them automatically away, realizing with a deeper pang that he could not see these tears- the ones he'd joked about so lightly before this last fight had begun.
"Lieutenant?" - and his voice is uncertain, more uncertainty than his voice should ever carry. His burdens have piled up on him, and her job was to lighten them. She clears the last of the tears from her eyes, already determining what he would need from her, and swallows on the last of the grief she will allow herself to show before even his blind eyes. She steps forward, touching his shoulders lightly with both hands. Her voice would not quaver when she spoke.
"I'm here."
