[ 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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]