Prompt 172, Bare or Bear, "Little Burdens"
Title: Little Burdens
Author: Tiri
Series: Any
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG
Characters: Alex Rivers (OC), Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Kain Fuery.
Summary: The men compete for the best scar story.
A/N: I should probably have waited until a 501-1000 word limit to do a fic like this, to give myself more freedom and room to express what I wanted, but the prompt fit... or, I thought it would when I started. I don't know if it still does, but I hope my intention got out at least. Either way, enjoy more Alex; since you guys seem to like her, I thought I'd do something a little more centered around her this time. If there are complaints, I'll remove this, and go back to writing for more canon parts of the fandom, or things that fit the prompts better, without a fuss. (For those of you who missed it, here is what I've written for her before.)
"C'mon, Breda, you can't expect us to believe that one."
It had been loud all day in the office -- boisterous voices bounced off the walls every moment, and now focusing on paperwork was practically impossible. When Lieutenant Havoc's voice broke through with an audible grin, little Alex finally lifted her eyes from her work, and stared at him from across the desks. Lieutenant Breda had his sleeve rolled up, and was showing off a scar. Alex cringed, frowned, but he laughed.
"I'm telling the truth! He came at those ladies with a knife, and I got him."
"And then they all 'thanked' you, was that it?"
"Well, something like that."
From the kind of laughter that ensued immediately after, it was clear nobody believed him -- not even with that sly smile he gave. Men and their scar stories.... With a sigh, Alex pushed away from her paperwork, leaned back in her chair, and wiggled her pen between her fingers.
"I got one for ya'," she announced, and while her elders turned to blink blankly at her, she smiled sweetly. "Interested?"
"Sure, Kid, shoot," Breda replied, rolling down his sleeve.
"Store robbery, two years ago. Just me and the cashier, until this big guy waltzes in. Probably as tall as you, Lieutenant," she nodded to Havoc, "but thicker, broader shoulders. Shades, dark clothes. He pulled a gun on the poor cashier, so I -- it was kind of stupid, actually," she laughed somewhat shakily, spinning the pen in her hand, "I leaped over the counter and grappled with him. I was shot three times before he finally ran off. How's that for a feat?"
They blinked the equivalent of a double-take.
"Wait, wait, you were shot?" Sergeant Major Fuery balked.
"Can't beat it, can you?"
"I find it hard to believe you were actually shot! You must have been, what, sixteen then?"
Cocking an eyebrow, Alex nodded without a word, and quietly unclasped the top of her jacket, pulling it and the collar of her undershirt to the side -- there lay a starburst, below her right collarbone, abnormally red scar tissue lined in unnaturally grey flesh. A second later, it was covered again.
"You couldn't have survived that," Havoc gaped.
Alex shrugged, and bowed her head to her paperwork.
"I must not have, then," she remarked solemnly, pen scratching her signature. "My point is, we've all got those little burdens, some scars we don't wanna be reminded of... right?"
She sensed the boys glancing between one another. One of them coughed, and try as he might to suppress it, Havoc took the suggestion; he began hacking, pulling his cigarette from his teeth.
"That was one of mine," Alex continued. "So can we work now? I'd rather bear the files than the memories. Sound reasonable, gentlemen?"
A pause followed.
"Yeah," Breda mumbled, guiltily. "Sorry, Kid."
"Don't worry. I'll just tell the Colonel it was you guys' fault if I don't finish."
Alex grinned widely when the boisterous voices started up again in outrage.