Chapter Text
"Jeeeean..." Becca drawled silkily, walking to the kitchen.
"Yeeees?" Havoc turned away from the coffee machine and smiled at Rebecca, inwardly giggling at her expression and wondering about the duality of this woman.
She could all but grope him in public and shamelessly whisper dirty suggestions, rendering him to a hormonal puddle and keeping a straight face herself, but at other times she would look so shily uncertain, asking him to give her a hug after a tiring day or early in the morning. Jean assumed that now was the last type of situations and readily opened his arms.
"Does my girl want my special warm embrace?"
Becca nodded and meekly came closer, letting him wrap his arms around her, hugging him in return. That demeanor should have tipped Jean that something was off but it was early Tuesday morning and he just wanted to enjoy this quiet moment.
"Jean," said Becca again, sounding muffled as she pressed her face to his chest.
"What is it, babe?" just as quietly asked Jean into her hair.
"My mom will come to visit me this weekend," she drew a deep breath before continuing: "And she wants to meet you as well."
Jean went rigid and inadvertently tightened the embrace. Becca cringed, berating herself for bringing this up after all. But as the news was out, she decided to elaborate further:
"I know it's been just four months but soon you all will move to Ishval. Also mom will leave on Sunday already, she is passing the Central on her way to visit her sister in the North. So there is time only for a short walk and dinner at my place."
Jean stayed silent, absentmindedly rubbing circles on her spine.
"I wan...It would be nice if you could be there," continued Becca and then added a way out for him at the last second: "But of course you don't have to. I know you are probably busy with preparations."
Only now she noticed how tightly she was gripping his T-shirt. She made a conscious effort to relax her fingers. She wanted to pull away and at least look at his face but Jean didn't loosen his hold and she had no choice but wait for him to finally react.
"Yeah," mumbled Jean and Becca's heart dropped. "No... Ah, let's talk about that again later this week, I will know better about work plans by that time."
But Becca knew too damn well that there were no plans for that weekend. Riza told her about her "totally work related" trip with Mustang to the safehouse, set on Friday night. Therefore the team would essentially be free as wind for the next weekend and they were told about that yesterday. But she offered him this excuse herself. Could she really blame him now for using it?
“Ok,” she whispered and squeezed her eyes tightly, hoping that Jean wouldn't notice her hitched breath and downcast eyes.
However for all his usually laid back attitude and seemingly aloof behaviour, Jean Havoc knew when to pay attention, especially to his partner, be that on the field or in personal life.
He lowered one hand to the small of Becca’s back and cupped her cheek with the other, gently tilting her head up to look at him. He frowned worryingly when he saw her eyes brimmed with tears.
“Hey, hey, Becky, it’s alright,” cooed Jean. “I am pretty sure nothing would come up and I will be there, don’t cry.”
“Noo…” sniffled Becca, turning her gaze away from him. “I said that you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. And I mean it.
“I don’t want you to change your mind just because of these stupid tears,” she angrily rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know what has come over me.”
Rebecca extricated herself from him and walked to open the fridge. She didn’t feel hungry anymore but was ready to use any excuse not to look at Jean right now.
“Forget it. Let’s get ready or we’ll be ready for work.”
Jean left the kitchen without saying a word and Becca couldn’t fight back the returning tears. She gave up pretending to make breakfast and gripped the counter, taking deep breaths, trying to calm down before Jean returned. She heard his muted voice, urgently addressing someone on the phone.
Dammit, he already has so much on his plate. Did you have to dump this on him as well? Becca berated herself again.
Workload didn’t stop him from helping Breda’s sister with moving two weeks ago. Came the next bitter thought. Maybe you are not anywhere high in priority for him after all.
Rebecca gritted her teeth, holding back a sob.
Maybe he only puts up with you till they move away from Central?
No, Jean would never...
How do you know?
Riza...
What? She only knows him as a fellow soldier with a long line of failed relationships.
But...
What? You can never keep a man either. Always throwing yourself on them with commitment that they don’t need. Pathetic.
I didn’t!
No wonder you got on their nerves. You prompted and deserved their wrath as well.
Did I?
Suddenly she felt hands on her shoulders, turning her around and pulling her in another embrace. Enveloped in familiar strong arms, pleasant scent and warmth Rebecca couldn’t help but relax and only then heard Jean’s voice calling her name with growing worry.
“Becca! Becky, please, look at me,” Jean nudged her. “Babe, I am sorry I made you cry,” he slightly rocked them on the same spot.
“Shh, let’s get you water, then go sit and talk properly.”
“We can’t,” finally replied Becca, not recognising her hoarse voice. “If you’re late, Mustang will bitch about it forever.”
“It’s ok, we have all day. I’ve called in for both of us.”
“You did what?!” Rebecca looked up at him but couldn’t decipher his expression through tears still glistering in her eyes.
Jean lifted his hands, carefully brushed the tears away and cupped her face.
“I called the Command, requested personal leave. Then called Riza. She will cover for us so neither Mustang nor Grumman would dare to bitch about anything,” he elaborated and smiled when the last part made Becca snick despite still sour mood. But then concern marked his features again.
“We really need to talk, though. I’ve never seen you so upset over something like this.“
Rebecca averted her eyes again. Embarrassment and uncertainty mixed together and fueled her doubts, making her question his every word and every note in his voice.
“Like what?”
Stay in and listen to him making light of my feelings?
“What?”
Does this step matter so little to him?
“Over something like what, Jean?” sudden anger gave her enough strength and determination to push him away.
She stepped back and met the counter. She wanted to both lash out and retreat. But Jean stayed right between her and the way to the living room. Rationally she knew that Jean wouldn’t attempt to stop her if she tried to walk past him. But at that moment his tall and broad figure was no longer a source of familiar comfort to her, and any rational part of her mind was clouded by more primal feelings and fears.
A man was between her and the way out. She felt cornered - something that she promised herself would never happen again.
Rebecca was out of breath but couldn’t let herself show that. She breathed heavily through her nose, staring wolfishly at Jean, minding every move of his chest, every blink of his eyes. He was staring back at her, frowning.
“Becca,” began Jean, taking a step towards her.
“Stay back!” she hissed at him, immediately tensing and tightly gripping the counter behind her. “Don’t come any closer.”
Jean halted. Slowly he raised his hands, palms up, and took a step back. Then another few till he was by the threshold of the room.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked quietly, not making any other move.
She nodded curtly. He let out a heavy sigh and walked out of the room. She heard slam of wardrobe doors, faint rustling of clothes, whish of bad dragged on the floor.
He is really leaving...
Did you expect anything else? You asked for it. And who would want to stay with you anyway? Just like everyone before him. And they denounced you. You just didn’t want to believe that the problem was you.
At the sound of the front door shutting closed Rebecca crumbled down, trembling and no longer holding back the tears. Even though she was all alone, she still cried silently - the habit drilled into her far too long ago.
Too numb to feel either tears, streaming down her face, or the cold from tiles on her uncovered thighs and arms, Rebecca cried herself to unrestful sleep.