[ indeed, but the lines have always been blurred. they've always been more comfortable with one another than anyone else, but here, perhaps out of necessity, the lines have gotten even more murky. still, roy feels the same tension, the uncertainty of what to do, or what he's supposed to say.
he's supposed to be fine, but he's definitely not fine. and he's stuck, for half a second, on how to put that into words when riza asks the important question. and he takes half a step to the side, to incline his head toward the tent. ]
Alive. [ quietly, almost in disbelief, at the word. ] Recovering.
[ he's silent, for another minute, after that, before he draws in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. to release some amount of tension, and nerves. it only barely works. ]
I'm going to have to explain what happened, but he's not stupid. He knew he was dying.
[ so that tiny peace of mind that roy could have given maes, even if it was a lie, is now gone. ]
[ part of riza almost wonders if it has something to do with the fact maes hughes is here. like that by a single reminder of the stricter regulations, to their lives back in central, that maybe those lines should be firmer once again. even if it doesn't quite feel right, even if it has never quite been that solid.
she hesitates, still, unsure of what she should do and what she's allowed to do and what roy wants her to do. it all swirls somewhere in her chest as she watches him, her eyes only leaving his face briefly to touch on the tent he's motioning towards, before turning back to him. alive, recovering. the words hang delicately in the air - like if she pushes too much on them, they might shatter around their feet.
roy's breath breaks that moment of frozen tension in riza - watching as he wrestles with the gravity of what's going on, of what happened just a couple of years prior. she remembers the funeral, she remembers the way he'd been. that reminder, and the ghost of that roy mustang breaking through if only is slight frames, pushes her to step closer towards him, her hands going to his arms. palms setting flat against his biceps.
she still doesn't know what to say, but the urge to have some kind of physical contact with him is overwhelming. and once she is there, she pauses - still uncertain what it is she should do for him. ]
You will, but you don't need to right now. [ said softly, still feeling as though she's treading on something breakable, as she searches his face. ] It will be okay.
[ it isn't so much the rush of memory that flooded back upon seeing a living, breathing maes hughes again, or even the knowledge that he could have saved him if he had been faster . . . it's being suddenly faced with the reality of what had happened on that night. that maes was terrified and desperate to tell him what the military was, to keep him safe, to keep amestris safe, and trusting roy mustang, of all fucking people, with the burden of saving their country.
he knows it's a high burden to carry on his shoulders, and he accepts it. willingly. he's never regretted his decision, and he knows it's the right thing to do. it's what he's meant to do. but maes' murder has never felt tangible to him, until thsi moment. until hughes grabbed onto his coat and begged him to listen and to stop it. and how his heart hurts with the knowledge that roy did stop it. he did. with plenty of carnage along the way, as is roy's way.
there's a sudden shuddered breath, as he tries to inhale, to calm the weight of anxiety in his chest. but something gets caught in his throat, and he clears it abruptly before he blinks to look up abruptly, at the tree canopy, to will himself to just not. his eyes prickle with a suspicious wetness that he hasn't had in a long time, and now isn't the time to fall apart.
-- when is the time to fall apart? ]
I have walked that length of street so many damn times, and all I've done is focus on what I could have done to stop it, instead of thinking about how he must have felt in that moment. [ it's the tiniest admission of guilt and feeling selfish, but his throat tightens, and he stops to draw in a breath, moving one of riza's arms aside as he reaches up to quickly rub his eyes, making a frustrated noise to himself. ] He was terrified. He was murdered by some shapeshifting monstrosity and had no idea what that person was, but all he was focused on was trying to get me on the phone.
[ riza watches him with more attention and care than he probably wants, waiting to see a crack appear, waiting to surge forward to help support the area around it. because she can't even begin to conceptualize what it is that's going through his head, she can step in to help. help support, help protect, help...somehow, else, that she doesn't know if she'd been able to before.
hughes' death had been, back in amestris, a step in the chaotic turn of their country. he'd been a general, a servant, who had been trying to warn them of the horrors that were to come. roy, caught up in that, had more to deal with than just the death of his friend, and riza had known that. had known that despite it all, he would be carrying this with him too. that before, none of them had time to process.
now, even with the reactions and even with the magic and even with qri - disappearing off to who knows where and with who knows what - they have the time they hadn't been afforded back home. on top of that, they have the chance to experience the time, despite knowing what they'll return to.
something catches in roy's throat and riza's hands tense a bit on his arms, reminding him of the moment, of the now. his voice cuts something in her ribcage, but she lets his arm pull from her hand, simply standing there, still so unsure. ]
Sir- [ she presses her lips together in a thin line, before moving half a step closer, trying to find his eyes again. trying to find him again, through his frustration. ] You stopped what he was desperate to warn you about, and you put an end to his murderer. And now he can know that, too. That his wife and his daughter, and Amestris, are safe.
[ despite it all, she feels the slightest amount of frustration in the back of her throat, still not convinced it's the right thing to say. still feeling like she's just nearly missing the point. which is partially why she does let her other hand drop from his arm, both hands moving instead to cup each sides of his face. ]
[ there's a sudden stillness, at riza touching his face -- not because he dislikes the touch, or shrinks away from it, but because he's forced to look at her. and she's right, in that the first portion of what she says isn't what he needs to hear.
gracia and elicia and amestris are safe, but that doesn't change the fact that hughes is dead. he's dead, and there's nothing roy can do to bring him back. he has the formulas memorized, the transmutation circle for human transmutation . . . but having been through the gate and back, roy knows all too well that equivalent exchange is not something that can be bent. there's no way to bring him back.
and this world isn't permanent. he knows, in the end, he's going to have to grieve him. again. there's no point in getting attached here, but it's also impossible not to. it's hughes. he's his best friend, the one who pushes him forward and reminds him not to take life too seriously and to keep pressing forward and to be cheerful in the face of such overwhelming odds. learning how to live without that has been hard, but roy knows he hasn't been alone in doing so.
he has no real family of his own. the family he has is the one he's made for himself. and hughes' murder had been the beginning of the end, a turning point, a tumbling domino effect in everyone that roy deeply cares has been hurt, or nearly died, since that night. edward, alphonse, havoc, riza . . . it's been non-stop since that night, and it really hasn't stopped. and riza is right, he supposes -- it's fine to grieve. he just hasn't had time.
he doesn't move, and his throat is still tight, and the prickling behind his eyes is still there. he doesn't cry, yet. but, in a quiet tone: ]
How do you grieve someone who isn't dead?
[ he's only ten feet away. sleeping off the battle against death itself. a few moments of extended time, borrowed. borrowed. ]
[ there is a small enough part of her that wonders, briefly, if that line she'd been worried about has officially been crossed. not because she has reached out to hold his face, but because there isn't a hint of regret in the decision. it feels right, it feels safe, and that part of her somehow wonders if that means they're already too far beyond whatever line it was they'd been dancing around.
and yes, she'd been wrong. her initial thought of what to say and what would help had been off. but the second comment, the one she'd actually felt, seemed to be closer to what it was he needed to hear. she can't tell what it is that's crossing his mind in those few seconds that they watch each other, but she can feel the weight of it. can feel him get heavier with the guilt, with the saddness, with the knowledge he is dealing with a situation that is wholly and entirely out of his control. she wants to reach in and take it from him, to pull it from his fingers so he can have a moment to breathe.
instead, he stands there, holding himself together out of a distant need to be fine, and riza's continues to hold his face, to look at him. ]
You can grieve the time taken away from you.
[ because hughes isn't dead, but the hole he left behind lingers. the years they spent back home, without him, are just as real. here, time is weird. here, things happen that should never be possible. but at home, they had still buried hughes. they attended his funeral. they faced envy, and roy the gate, and that was what roy hadn't had time to process. that was what roy was never allowed to process.
her thumb idly traces over his cheek, trying to tell him it's okay, that he doesn't have to hold that back for her. that she gets it, and that he's allowed to process, for once. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[ action ]
he's supposed to be fine, but he's definitely not fine. and he's stuck, for half a second, on how to put that into words when riza asks the important question. and he takes half a step to the side, to incline his head toward the tent. ]
Alive. [ quietly, almost in disbelief, at the word. ] Recovering.
[ he's silent, for another minute, after that, before he draws in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. to release some amount of tension, and nerves. it only barely works. ]
I'm going to have to explain what happened, but he's not stupid. He knew he was dying.
[ so that tiny peace of mind that roy could have given maes, even if it was a lie, is now gone. ]
[ action ]
she hesitates, still, unsure of what she should do and what she's allowed to do and what roy wants her to do. it all swirls somewhere in her chest as she watches him, her eyes only leaving his face briefly to touch on the tent he's motioning towards, before turning back to him. alive, recovering. the words hang delicately in the air - like if she pushes too much on them, they might shatter around their feet.
roy's breath breaks that moment of frozen tension in riza - watching as he wrestles with the gravity of what's going on, of what happened just a couple of years prior. she remembers the funeral, she remembers the way he'd been. that reminder, and the ghost of that roy mustang breaking through if only is slight frames, pushes her to step closer towards him, her hands going to his arms. palms setting flat against his biceps.
she still doesn't know what to say, but the urge to have some kind of physical contact with him is overwhelming. and once she is there, she pauses - still uncertain what it is she should do for him. ]
You will, but you don't need to right now. [ said softly, still feeling as though she's treading on something breakable, as she searches his face. ] It will be okay.
[ action ]
he knows it's a high burden to carry on his shoulders, and he accepts it. willingly. he's never regretted his decision, and he knows it's the right thing to do. it's what he's meant to do. but maes' murder has never felt tangible to him, until thsi moment. until hughes grabbed onto his coat and begged him to listen and to stop it. and how his heart hurts with the knowledge that roy did stop it. he did. with plenty of carnage along the way, as is roy's way.
there's a sudden shuddered breath, as he tries to inhale, to calm the weight of anxiety in his chest. but something gets caught in his throat, and he clears it abruptly before he blinks to look up abruptly, at the tree canopy, to will himself to just not. his eyes prickle with a suspicious wetness that he hasn't had in a long time, and now isn't the time to fall apart.
-- when is the time to fall apart? ]
I have walked that length of street so many damn times, and all I've done is focus on what I could have done to stop it, instead of thinking about how he must have felt in that moment. [ it's the tiniest admission of guilt and feeling selfish, but his throat tightens, and he stops to draw in a breath, moving one of riza's arms aside as he reaches up to quickly rub his eyes, making a frustrated noise to himself. ] He was terrified. He was murdered by some shapeshifting monstrosity and had no idea what that person was, but all he was focused on was trying to get me on the phone.
[ action ]
hughes' death had been, back in amestris, a step in the chaotic turn of their country. he'd been a general, a servant, who had been trying to warn them of the horrors that were to come. roy, caught up in that, had more to deal with than just the death of his friend, and riza had known that. had known that despite it all, he would be carrying this with him too. that before, none of them had time to process.
now, even with the reactions and even with the magic and even with qri - disappearing off to who knows where and with who knows what - they have the time they hadn't been afforded back home. on top of that, they have the chance to experience the time, despite knowing what they'll return to.
something catches in roy's throat and riza's hands tense a bit on his arms, reminding him of the moment, of the now. his voice cuts something in her ribcage, but she lets his arm pull from her hand, simply standing there, still so unsure. ]
Sir- [ she presses her lips together in a thin line, before moving half a step closer, trying to find his eyes again. trying to find him again, through his frustration. ] You stopped what he was desperate to warn you about, and you put an end to his murderer. And now he can know that, too. That his wife and his daughter, and Amestris, are safe.
[ despite it all, she feels the slightest amount of frustration in the back of her throat, still not convinced it's the right thing to say. still feeling like she's just nearly missing the point. which is partially why she does let her other hand drop from his arm, both hands moving instead to cup each sides of his face. ]
You are allowed to grieve for him.
[ action ]
gracia and elicia and amestris are safe, but that doesn't change the fact that hughes is dead. he's dead, and there's nothing roy can do to bring him back. he has the formulas memorized, the transmutation circle for human transmutation . . . but having been through the gate and back, roy knows all too well that equivalent exchange is not something that can be bent. there's no way to bring him back.
and this world isn't permanent. he knows, in the end, he's going to have to grieve him. again. there's no point in getting attached here, but it's also impossible not to. it's hughes. he's his best friend, the one who pushes him forward and reminds him not to take life too seriously and to keep pressing forward and to be cheerful in the face of such overwhelming odds. learning how to live without that has been hard, but roy knows he hasn't been alone in doing so.
he has no real family of his own. the family he has is the one he's made for himself. and hughes' murder had been the beginning of the end, a turning point, a tumbling domino effect in everyone that roy deeply cares has been hurt, or nearly died, since that night. edward, alphonse, havoc, riza . . . it's been non-stop since that night, and it really hasn't stopped. and riza is right, he supposes -- it's fine to grieve. he just hasn't had time.
he doesn't move, and his throat is still tight, and the prickling behind his eyes is still there. he doesn't cry, yet. but, in a quiet tone: ]
How do you grieve someone who isn't dead?
[ he's only ten feet away. sleeping off the battle against death itself. a few moments of extended time, borrowed. borrowed. ]
[ action ]
and yes, she'd been wrong. her initial thought of what to say and what would help had been off. but the second comment, the one she'd actually felt, seemed to be closer to what it was he needed to hear. she can't tell what it is that's crossing his mind in those few seconds that they watch each other, but she can feel the weight of it. can feel him get heavier with the guilt, with the saddness, with the knowledge he is dealing with a situation that is wholly and entirely out of his control. she wants to reach in and take it from him, to pull it from his fingers so he can have a moment to breathe.
instead, he stands there, holding himself together out of a distant need to be fine, and riza's continues to hold his face, to look at him. ]
You can grieve the time taken away from you.
[ because hughes isn't dead, but the hole he left behind lingers. the years they spent back home, without him, are just as real. here, time is weird. here, things happen that should never be possible. but at home, they had still buried hughes. they attended his funeral. they faced envy, and roy the gate, and that was what roy hadn't had time to process. that was what roy was never allowed to process.
her thumb idly traces over his cheek, trying to tell him it's okay, that he doesn't have to hold that back for her. that she gets it, and that he's allowed to process, for once. ]