7/7

FINALLY

For the fanfic ask game: 29, 46, 48, 53, 58...okay, I should probably stop for now ^^'

Oh nooooo, not lots of questions XD

29. What’s something about your writing that you’re proud of?

Across the board, I feel like I'm most proud of my references - or I take the most joy in them, anyway. Sometimes they're like secret punchlines for people who know what I'm referring to, sometimes they're like hyperlinks to a whole lot of extra knowledge, and sometimes they're just a whole lot of foreshadowing. I love weaving webs in my stories, whether it's comedy or tragedy!

46. If you could only write one type of AU for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Oof, that's a hard question. I have a lot of ideas for AUs that are forked timelines (like, what would happen to the story if this one event was different), but if I can only write one type, I'd want it to be super different to canon to allow for range. Probably a school/university AU, but I'd heavily consider coffee-shop for the pure fluff.

48. Who is your favorite character to write for?  Has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom?

My entire time in this fandom I have always been a big fan of Royai, but I think I've switched from writing mostly Roy-centric to writing vastly Riza-centric. I love them both for different reasons - she's my angst muffin, and he's my clown.

53. What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Hands down, Riza Hawkeye. But if you ignore characters, probably pre-canon because I had a series of those.

58. Do you have a favorite piece of figurative language you’ve written?

I get the vague feeling I really liked some passages I've written like that, but even going back and looking for them, I can't find any! But I remember where I made myself feel something (like a character's desperation, or a particularly stupid joke).

And I'm going to be That Person and link two of them now, because of course if you ask me for my favourite bits I have to regale you with them.

There's this bit in A Bloodied Queen which I was thinking about years before I wrote it specifically because I planned a whole story arc in my Ishbal-fic around how to make this line more impactful, so I love it because I know I worked hard for it:

“Your job will be to watch my back,” he continued. “Do you understand? By entrusting my back to you, I am also granting you ample opportunity to shoot me from behind. Should I ever stray from the path, you are to put a bullet through my skull.”

Her fingers trembled with the memory of blood. For a moment she was both in that giant, open office in Eastern Headquarters, and in the upper room of a house in Ishval, with three dead men and one asking for her to grant a more immediate request. It was a mercy to kill a man so far gone that he couldn’t recover. That’s what she’d told herself.

Perhaps it was more necessary when what he could no longer recover was his true self. A man bleeding out would die soon, but in pain. A man who had lost his integrity could limp along with half a life for years, growing more and more despicable.

And my other favourite moment is going from Roy and Havoc having serious, heartfelt conversations, to him being a semi-flirtatious jerk as they join Riza, in A Bed Too Small, keeping it short to avoid potential spoiler?:

Spine straightening, Mustang’s stride quickened just a little bit as he approached the others. “Oh? Was your room assignment problematic?”

Would you ever write uhhhhh Wrath!Riza AU?

your brain, anon. i like it

-

aqua regia (for destruction, ice) // AO3

Not all that burns is fire. 

(Or: Riza becomes Wrath.)

-

i. 

In another world Riza Hawkeye might have asked the Flame Alchemist to burn away the circle on her back, might have looked at those scars in the mirror and pretended they could lift any of the weight from her shoulders.

In this world that is the least dangerous of everything Wrath carries: a stone at her core red as her eye behind the rifle scope, as hands complicit in plans to burn up this country tearing the heavens from their sky.

She cannot walk away from death as easily as Lust or Envy can, but when the elixir had slid into her veins Riza had burned from the inside and Wrath had walked away with that fire still in her veins, always searing beneath skin that she doubts mortal flame can scar.

(“Now hold still, dear girl,” the scientist had said, gold tooth gleaming dull in lab-light, “it’ll hurt worse if you struggle,” and Riza had remembered Berthold Hawkeye saying the same thing to Wrath at ten and fifteen and eighteen, red on her skin red underneath red burning its way into her heart, and it had been a lie then too.)

.

ii.

Wrath is angry at everyone and everything at once; furious at the ones who had found a cadet with steady hands and steadier soul and saw fit to unmake that, at herself, at those who knew how blood-drenched this country was and kept painting it anyway. The first time she had seen Roy Mustang again she would have snapped his neck clean in half if not for the knowledge of how valuable State Alchemists were in the chessboard of this country.

(That, and her own distaste for the heat of blood over her own hands. Riza has heard enough from Father and the other homunculi to surmise that the previous incarnations of Wrath had loved blood like the edge of a blade freshly sharpened on diamond.

But she is a sniper – the best markswoman Amestris has ever seen, even before they gave her an eye that could see through anything. Why else would they have chosen her?)

She is the Hawk’s Eye, the Fury of Ishval, hell and its woman scorned all in one, and she makes it known in constellations of bullets and impossible shots, precise and deadly as any alchemist’s array.

Riza had been angry too, when she had let herself be, but hers is a cold ire, locked beneath glaciers and the burn of frostbite.

Wrath makes no such pretences. Wrath answers to a dead woman’s name, and Officer – Lieutenant – Major Hawkeye holds her anger boiling right under the surface, scalds her hands in it and fires the next shot.

.

iii.

Roy Mustang holds her at a careful arm’s length.

It might’ve been offensive if it weren’t so ironic. He of all humans should know what it means to hold flame in your hands: let one weakness slip and fire would burn it right through like so much dry grass.

Then again, maybe it’s that same familiarity that breeds wariness. Riza would hardly know. Fury is not the absence of fear, but in her case it’s fairly close anyway.

Either way, it’s the same distance that prevents Mustang from recognising Wrath’s work in doctoring the Elric brothers’ documents a whole two decades older. 

He decides to take Havoc with him, citing something about the persuasion of fellow Easterners; Riza remains in East Command and doesn’t wonder how he will react to finding out that the alchemists he is looking to enlist as human weapons are just barely a third his age.

Not even half of hers, unless you counted the several years since she had become Wrath. 

Company for you, Riza thinks none too quietly, and Wrath bristles, shoving her away to wrest back control.

(Riza lets her. This is exactly the duty she’d been assigned – locating potential sacrifices among the State Alchemists and beyond, so there’s not even any insubordination for Wrath to report, even if she won’t realise until much later how spot on she’d been to find one who’d already been through the Gate.

For now she listens to the Flame Alchemist’s empty-handed return from Resembool, hears him say with seemingly unwarranted certainty I saw the fire in his eyes, and this time she does wonder how he can notice that yet miss the same thing in hers.

Riza knows what she sees in the mirror, after all, even if she always has one eye hidden behind a false lens and swept fringe.)

.

iv.

Wrath, unsurprisingly, finds the Fullmetal Alchemist an absolute riot. 

Eight pints of unrefined rage wrapped in red with the volume cranked up to fifty percent past maximum, and if you had asked anyone at all to name one person in this room who might be the personification of fury itself – well.

Edward Elric gets angry in a way that neither of them know how to be. Riza runs cold where Wrath veers hot, but it’s always controlled, the reins another line in the delicate balance between them; in contrast Edward is an explosion, angry and incandescent with it, and sometimes Riza almost wishes they were like that too.

(No you don’t, Wrath mutters over the scratch of a pen.

Riza blinks and sighs, blacking out a line of expletives about Hakuro and the latest shitshow he’d thrown at them; homunculi weren’t much for paperwork. It’d make some things easier, you have to admit. He gets things done.

Like getting himself nearly killed three separate times in a week, ooh, aren’t you supposed to be babysitting the sacrifices, Wrath? I’d like to see them doing it–

Riza doesn’t sigh again, but it’s close.)

Neither of them feel particularly bad about keeping silent over the Elrics’ search when she’s sitting right here, but on Riza’s part it’s mostly because she’s seen enough to be certain that Edward at least would never use a Philosopher’s Stone if he learned what had gone into its making.

Wrath is just looking forward to the day he does find out. Now that’ll be something to watch.

.

v.

She meets Greed walking down a hallway one afternoon, nodding cordially at the flurry of salutes as he passes each of his people.

Wrath doesn’t miss a beat with her own salute. “Your Excellency.”

“At ease, Major,” the Fuhrer replies with a wave of his hand, but he slows down anyway. “I hear young Elric has made some – acquaintances, shall we say, from Xing with exceptional sensing capabilities. He does collect the most interesting people. I’m impressed.”

“Fullmetal doesn’t take kindly to being called young, sir,” Riza says. “I did hear the same, but I haven’t had the chance of meeting them yet.”

(Not for the first time, she wonders why they had thought it a good idea to put Amestris and all that it represents in Greed’s hands. If humans are possessions to be had, what stopped him from deciding that he’d rather keep it all for himself in the end?)

The Fuhrer smiles, benign as any lethal poison. “Let me know if you’d like some time back in the East, I’m sure your grandfather would enjoy a visit too.”

“I have my duties here, and I’m afraid I’m not much of a chess player. It would only bore General Grumman.”

Wrath’s hands do not tense at her sides, but only because they’re both too disciplined for that. Her aim is every bit as true as his swords, and she might not be able to die and walk away unscathed but neither can Greed; how dare he, Riza thinks.

How dare he, Wrath seethes in agreement, and perhaps it’s time to let some things slip to the Elrics after all.

(She is angry at them, for taking this entire plan one-and-a-half steps closer to fruition, but Riza is angry at everyone; this is just par for the course.

The difference is that she is even angrier for them. Riza barely remembers her mother, and if Berthold had still been alive Wrath would have killed him anyway, so she cannot honestly say that she understands the Elrics in that regard.

But Edward rages at the universe demanding equivalency from it while Alphonse aims cuttingly sharp remarks and wonders about his humanity in the next breath. They would be furious if they knew, anger burning hot and frigid cold, and she is Wrath and Riza Hawkeye and both and neither – this, she understands.)

.

.

+1.

“There was something I’d wanted to ask of you, after Ishval, if – things had been different,” Mustang finishes blindly in more ways than the literal, and it’s irritating what a production he can make out of not saying if I hadn’t mistrusted you.

Riza’s fringe is properly out of her eyes for the first time in years, not that he can see it, and she’d walked away from the Promised Day essentially unscathed but the Philosopher’s Stone is gone now along with Wrath; if she did ask the Flame Alchemist to burn away the circle after regaining his eyesight it would even scar over properly.

She won’t. She knows she won’t. 

Wrath had known it too. Riza still hasn’t quite parsed the jumbled impressions of those last moments, but above all of it there had been mirth. Amusement, because they had both looked at Riza’s soul unfolding around them and recognised the anger there that was hers. Had always been, only shut away and sunk deep in ice. 

If she has any fire in her veins now it is only proverbial, but she is still the Hawk’s Eye, the Fury of Ishval, and there’s more than enough left to burn the next person who tries to lay hands on her.

She looks at Roy Mustang now and continues to not snap his neck because he might be the best hope for this sorry excuse of a country, and anyway if she strangled an injured man in his hospital bed Wrath would laugh at her from another plane and say told you so, he had it coming.

“I’d rather you continue not asking it, Colonel,” Riza says, controlled as ever, but the anger is her own and she relishes the cold-hot burn of it. “I was Wrath, sir, consider yourself lucky that I didn’t let my finger slip on the trigger anytime during Ishval.”

Mustang winces, like he’d managed to avoid consciously putting it together until this point. “I suppose that, ah, rather answers it anyway. So that’s a no to supporting my bid for presidency?”

“That depends on your plans. Which you can tell me about after I’ve returned from my month’s worth of personal leave,” she adds pointedly, and turns to go instead of adding that Greed’s not exactly a high bar to beat anyway. “Have a speedy recovery, sir. Good day.”

Mustang’s expression as the door closes suggests that he’s actually okay with having a second-in-command that has been angry at him for years, and she’s… not sure what to do with that, really, but maybe she can work with it. Maybe.

(Fury is not the absence of fear, nor a dearth of kindness; the Elrics are proof enough of that. Riza knows what she saw in the mirror this morning, familiar and foreign all at once, and she’ll just have to figure out the rest from there.

Perhaps she’ll drop by Resembool and stay for a bit. She’s not angry at anyone there, not anymore – it might be a nice change of pace for once.)

.

.

.

EDIT: NOW WITH ART FROM ART

(more fics here)

oh boy. this was literally stream of consciousness on my part with even less planning than usual, impossible as that sounds – all i knew i wanted was for wrath!riza to be much more like greed!ling than wrath!bradley, because otherwise what would be the point. 

but then even as i was writing i realised how many people riza would have reason to be angry at, justified or otherwise: roy for the whole flame alchemy thing, the elrics for getting into this mess, even grumman for leaving her with berthold if he’d even suspected what was going on (and for the record, wrath would 100% killed berthold on riza’s behalf if he hadn’t already been dead)

and then i dithered on how to finish this (and indeed whether to finish it at all, i was tempted to throw hands after the second to third sections) but then my three brain cells summarily went GIVE RIZA HAWKEYE AGENCY GIVE IT BACK TO HER and fuck yeah i agreed. so here we are. in this verse roy never asks her the whole “guard my back but also shoot me if i go wrong” thing, because it’d just be… utterly ridiculous, in context, and also it’s possible that riza ends up leaving the military entirely or goes to support olivier for fuhrer instead. wrath would certainly appreciate the hell outta that

anyway this is a mess and probably the most ooc riza i have ever written but i hope y’all enjoyed it anyway

title notes: aqua regia aka regal water, a nitric/hydrochloric acide mixture so named by alchemists for dissolving noble metals like gold + a bit cribbed straight off robert frost

The Grandest Of Sins - Chapter 1 - Where It Begins

“Basque Grand. The Iron Metal Alchemist.”

Harsh words in a raspy tone echoed through the night like a herald’s call and a death sentence both; though either would be a fair description for the soon-to-be-late State Dog. 

“I remember his face…”

A softer voice replied, slender fingertips running over the smooth print of a severe moustache over an even harder face.

“Weapons expert. Proficient at hand-to-hand. He won’t go down easy.”

She listed in what was almost a warning; pale lavender eyes flashing violet beneath the shadow of a hood so thick, even the moonlight struggled to peer beneath.

Still; her scarred companion didn’t threat, offering her a chuckle and the closest thing to a smile she could get from the usually stoic man.

“None of God’s work ever is. It’s our duty to do it just the same.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“The City that even God forgot…”

Captain Roy Mustang half-muttered to himself as the red sun rose over Xerxes; the crumbling towers almost appearing like teeth of some long dead beast rising up from the desert.

It was said to be a cursed place, where even God had feared to tread, abandoned by its people long ago through death or some other misfortune.

Over the centuries, the sands had begun to reclaim what was theirs, flooding the streets and devouring buildings and landmarks alike till only ruins remained.

Witnessing it first hand, he could almost believe nothing living had been here at all; the sheer stillness of the place making it feel frozen in time for the weary and foolish traveler.

“Are you certain it came from here and not Xing?”

He asked, one eye keeping watch of his unit as both Havoc and Breda “investigated” the arm of a skeleton rising up from the dunes, only to rip it off completely.

The two young Sergeants were inexperienced and about as different as fire and water.

Jean Havoc - tall and blonde with a strong fighting spirit and an even better combat ability; though his overly trusting nature may get him into trouble later on down the line.

Heymans Breda - stocky and red-headed with a talent at covert ops and the intelligence to pull them off; though his unassuming appearance hardly marked him as a soldier. 

Yet despite all their differences; the boys had known each other since the Academy, and he was glad to have them serving in his Unit.

“Reports from a couple of Xingese travellers passing through all say it emanated from here…”

Replied Lieutenant Hawkeye; their reports now memorised as they passed by crumbling cathedrals and destroyed statues alike, to the centre of what once was meant to be the Greatest City on Earth.

First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye - Daughter of his once mentor and perhaps Roy’s oldest friend.

Though not an Alchemist despite her bloodline; Riza’s skills with a gun and sharp eyesight more than made up for it. She was one of the best marksmen he had ever witnessed, though she had little love for bloodshed, and Roy knew that he had her loyalty more than anyone else in his Unit.

“But for the sky to turn black, even if there was an eclipse…”

Mused Mustang, reaching a hand down to soothe his horse as they rode gradually closer to the centre.

The animals had been growing increasingly skittish ever since they entered the city, flinching at the smallest of sounds, even trying to bolt on several occasions before their riders could get them back under control.

It’s clear they sensed some sort of unusual presence; something that set their nerves on edge.

Roy couldn’t say he felt much different.

“Captain; up ahead…”

Called out Specialist Abrams from the front of the group, drawing his attention to what should’ve been the very heart of the city.

Specialist Anthony Abrams - Big enough to rival The Strong Arm Alchemist himself; Abrams had hands as large as a man’s head, and Roy had seen those same hands crush men’s skulls like grapes in battle, though as the Unit’s medic, he was just as capable at a gentle touch.

“What in the world..?”

Gasped Hawkeye; voicing the astoundment they all felt as they stared down into the colossal hole where Xerxes Royal Palace once stood; now reduced to nothing but a pit of rubble and destruction, the sand stained a deep black as of burnt, despite no sign of fire.

“Whoa; whoa!” 

Yelled Breda; his horse choosing now to play up, tossing the Sergeant off his back and onto his ass, as the creature fled back the way they came from at bullet speed.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye; assist Sergeant Breda in retrieving his horse, before he ends up walking back to Eastern…”

He commanded; the slender Lieutenant already off her horse to help the most likely bruised Sergeant off the ground.

“Specialist Adams; try and make sure the rest of the horses remain this side of Amestris…”

He continued; the bulky Medic taking his Captain’s reins whilst Roy dismounted off his horse with more dignity than his subordinate had.

“Sergeant Havok; you’re with me…”

He finished; the tall Soldier a good bet in combat if whatever lay in the centre of this crater turned out to be unfriendly.

“Let’s see if we can find out what caused this hellhole…”

He couldn’t say exactly caused this level of devastation. 

He’d heard of perhaps some bombs made in Xing that could demolish entire buildings in seconds, but what would the Xingese have to gain blowing up a lost city?

“So, do you think Alchemy could’ve caused this, Captain..?”

The young Sergeant asked the most obvious question; his fingertips playing with the strap of the rifle he had slung over his shoulder; the man clearly sharing his uneasiness in entering the ruins.

“I’m not quite sure…”

Mustang admitted, using his boot to kick a stray piece of rubble out of his path as he pondered what he’d been taught in his training.

Alchemy was the art of deconstruction and reconstruction; to destroy alone seemed out of the grasp of the Alchemic arts.

“If so; I’ve never seen something like it…”

He finished; trying to remember if he’d even read about Alchemic destruction on this scale in the history books.

“Well; if you’ve not seen anything like it in all your years of service; then I guess we really are screwed…”

Havoc drawled almost cheerfully despite the apparent uneasiness in the air; clearly drawing on the nearly insignificant age gap between the Captain and his men as a thing of humour.

Roy would admit he was younger than most in his position; perhaps the youngest in living memory, but what he lacked in experience he more than made up in ambition, and the gumption to deliver upon it.

“What the fuck-!”

Havoc was drawn to a stop as they reached the middle of the crater where the terrain dipped into a deep indent that seemed carved out of the stone from sheer force, revealing the cause of this devastation.

“Is that… a person..?”

Muttered Havoc, jaw dropped open as both their eyes fell upon a blackened, skinny form curled up dead centre of the destruction.

A woman 

A woman lay where it all began.

Moms Made Fullmetal 2020 Day 3

Word Count: 3928 Author: Katie/Ally; RealityBreakGirl Rating: T Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, Roy Mustang Prompt:  Disappointment or Apologies or Grounded Summary: The boys are grounded. A mission is underway. The boys un-ground themselves. And Riza will do whatever it takes to protect her two boys.

Disappointment/Apologies/Grounded

“I can’t believe he-he—He grounded us!”

Edward’s complaint sounded loudly in the car, and if Riza Hawkeye was a more expressive woman, she would have sighed at it.

“He grounded us! Like we were—Like we were kids or something!”

“Um, but you know, we are kids, Brother.”

“Th—That’s not the point! He shouldn’t be able to ground us!”

This was shaping up to an epic rant, and it honestly wasn’t one that Riza was in the mood for. “The Colonel has his reasons,” she said, hoping to cut off the rant. “Please accept that, Edward.”

“Reasons to treat us like kids?!” Edward shot back.

“Um, it does seem a bit of an overreaction, to be truthful, Lieutenant,” Alphonse said. “We fixed all the damage we caused.”

“I understand that,” she replied evenly, “but remember that the Colonel has more information then you do, and a better read on the situation beyond you two and your mission. You need to trust him sometimes.”

“But pulling our traveling privileges!” Edward clearly wasn’t finished protesting. “He just wants to keep me around here to show off when the generals come through.”

Riza huffed, a little bit exasperated. “Edward, would you please just accept that he’s trying to help you? Your last mission caused far too much property damage. Eyes are on you. You have enemies. It’s not a bad thing to lay low for a bit.”

“Tch. Whatever.” Edward was clearly not having any of this, too angry at the colonel to want to consider any other perspective.

“It’s just hard, ma’am,” Alphonse tried to take up for his brother. “We’re not used to staying in one place for long, especially when its our research on the line. And it does seem like the Colonel’s decision was a bit of an overreaction.”

She pulled the car to a stop in front of the hotel the boys were staying at, and put it in park, turning to where she could look at both of them easier. “Boys, listen. I understand your frustration. I really do. But please believe me when I say it’s for the best. Go inside, go to your room, and relax a little. And please trust us.”

“Its not you I’ve got a problem with,” Edward said, but he got of the car anyway, Alphonse not far behind him. “Fine. We’ll go to our room tonight. We’ll do some research tomorrow. Happy?”

“I’m satisfied for now,” Riza replied. “As long as you keep to that.”

There was a little something that went through Edward’s eyes then, something that, she could tell, he was fighting in himself with. She didn’t let her gaze waver from him. Finally, he looked away.

“Yeah. See you in the morning, I guess.” He was still not happy, but Riza would take it.

“Yeah, bye Lieutenant Hawkeye,” Alphonse said, a bit more at ease then his brother. “Have a good evening.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, boys,” She replied. “Have a good evening yourselves.”

For a moment they stood there, as if expecting her to drive off. When they realized that she wasn’t, they turned, making their way inside the hotel. Riza waited for a few moments, just to make sure that they stayed inside, and then put the car in drive and left. Now that the Elrics were safe, she needed to focus on the mission at hand.

The brothers had come back at possibly the worst time ever, and with far too much attention on them. The brothers had inadvertently and unknowingly disrupted the supply chain for the black-market suppliers three times in the past two months. This last debacle had taken down one of the major underground warehouses for goods and had gained the brothers some powerful enemies. On top of that, the boys had returned to Central, where many of the main players in the black market had come together to meet. The team had been on this for months and was looking to make a big move to capture these leaders. But with the Elrics back in town and they having unwittingly made enemies of these powerful men, the attention was starting to shift to them. Normally getting them out of town would be a viable option, but with the current influx, Mustang had been worried that it would bring more attention to Ed and Al and make them more of a target.

No, the best thing to do was for them to lay low, and the best way to make that happen was to restrict their privileges. The option of telling them had come up, but the whole team agreed that it wouldn’t keep them out of trouble, it would just involve them more and that the opposite of what they wanted. This was a very precise operation, and they boys weren’t know for being very precise in their dealings with people.

Riza parked the car a few blocks away from the rendezvous point, quickly removing her uniform jacket, and bottoms, and slipping a skirt on instead, and taking her hair down, and put them and her service holsters and weapons the bag she had brought with her. In the dark her boots would do as far as footwear went, and she tucked some food on top of the clothing and weapons in her bag, making it look a little less suspicious. She headed out then, making her way towards the apartment they had all agreed to meet at.

Everyone else was already there, and the plan, which had been weeks in the making, was gone over while they all ate. Riza was, as expected, stationed in a nearby tower where she could see the whole area. She would be their eyes and ears, as well as their protection. The minute people started to leave the building, her job was to find their main targets and take them down—preferably without killing them, of course, but if it was necessary, she had been given the clearance to do so. It was all set up, it was all ready, and all they had to do was get in position.

A few more details, the suiting up and gathering of items, and the team was leaving in staggered exits. There were others on standby, of course, as this was far too large of a group and too big of a job for their six members to handle alone. But of course, they weren’t all of the men under Mustang’s command, just his most trusted ones, and more stood ready to move on command. There were lots of moving parts to this plan, and they needed to be able to stay within a certain margin of error.

It didn’t take Riza long to get to her sniper’s nest once she left, and she settled in quickly and nicely, able to see most of the building. She watched the patterns of the guards, saw people arriving, and, along with the other spotters, called in what they saw. Quietly, the teams moved in, ready to make the bust. It was almost time. There was no turning back now, no matter what happened.

Riza waited, quiet and still in the silence, only turning to look at movement here and there through her scope. Mostly it was guards, the occasional dog, or one of their own men. But her heart dropped to her stomach when she caught sight of something completely different.

Edward and Alphonse.

Mentally she cursed. What were they doing here? Clearly, they were sneaking around, but she doubted they had any idea of what they were about to stumble into. Not good, not good at all. Both boys had a large target on their backs, and they way that Edward tended to react to situation, while often useful, would also upset the entire operation. There was no way to warn the colonel. He didn’t have a radio with him, nor did most of the teams going in. She would have to take care of this herself. She didn’t see another choice.

“Ed and Al are here. Solow, Neason, come take over my position. I’m going after them.”

She heard the surprise and the responses from the other end, and then she slipped off her headset, only taking the time to make sure she was as armed as possible before she slipped down the stairs.

Although it wouldn’t have surprised many people, most didn’t realize just how good at being stealthy Riza was. Borne from years of sneaking around her own home to avoid her father, as well as years of hunting, stealth had come easily to her in her military training. It wasn’t a skill she always utilized, but she had it, nonetheless. Now it was put into use as she slipped down and away, going towards the building and her last sighting of the Elric brothers. Maybe she could catch them before everything went sideways—because she was convinced that it would go sideways now.

And it did.

She heard the shouts of surprise first, and then of civilians giving orders. She heard the telltale clap and ring of alchemy, and she emerged into the room just in time to see everything go wrong.

At least twenty men were in the room, several already firing at Ed and Al. She could hear the bullets ding off of Al’s armor even as Edward raised a wall to protect them both. Unfortunately, it happened at the same time that the explosions were set to block off the men’s path out one side of the building—and Ed’s wall was blocking off the entrance that the teams were planning on using to enter. There was no back up, and Ed and Al were between these dangerous men and their only exit.

She would have to do something about that.

She pulled her rifle amidst all the chaos. These were her boys. Ed and Al were her boys, and she was going to everything she could to protect them. One, two, three shots. One, two, three men down. It garnered her attention, though, and she had to move and move quickly. She dodged heading low zigzagging her way across and shooting as she went. These men were heavily armed, and they were one woman and two alchemists. She took out a few of them, but there were more of them coming at her, firing at her.

“Lieutenant!?” she could hear Ed’s surprised from across the room.

“Hunker down!” she called back, hoping that he’d listen.

She winced and stumbled as she felt a bullet graze her arm, and it stung like it was on fire, but she had more important things to worry about. While she was sure that the colonel and the teams were already working to find an alternate way around, she wasn’t sure that there was that much time. Some of the men in the room had decided to physically take on Edward and Alphonse and, while she knew they could hold their own in a fight, these men were big and played dirty.

And that was when she caught it.

This room was large and had an odd sort of decoration that went around the top. It was big enough for someone to stand on—or to snipe from. And there was a sniper up there.

No. No. Not her boys. She wouldn’t allow it!

There was a ping as the bullet struck Alphonse’s head, and she was certain that he would have a dent in it when they took time to look. She heard him protest, but she had to fight off the man in front of her. He had gotten too close for her to use her guns, was trying to keep her from moving forward physically, and made it so she wasn’t able to take down the sniper. Fortunately, Riza was no slouch in hand to hand, and Alphonse was no fool. He had moved to protect his brother better.

But these boys were her boys, were her responsibility, and she wasn’t going to let this thug or any other stand in her way. She wasn’t just the Hawk’s Eyes anymore, she was a vengeful Mother Hawk who was going to protect her young no matter who got in her way. It meant that she took some good blows here and there, but she worked to drop or otherwise incapacitate the men between her and her boys.

Suddenly a man was being kicked out of her face by a black and red figure, and the sound of clanking wasn’t far behind him

“Lieutenant! What are you doing here?”

“You were supposed to stay at the hotel!” She snapped back at him. Where had the sniper moved to?

“We’re not kids! We had a lead and we followed it!” Edward snapped back.

“You followed it into a military operation!” she said. “We need to l—”

She paused, spotting the sniper and realizing that Ed had put himself right into his sights when he came to assist her. Riza cursed out loud this time, and she moved, only hoping that whatever gun that sniper had, it wasn’t a proper sniper rifle, with proper sniper ammo. Her attention was fully on protecting Edward, not even paying the least bit of attention to whatever he might have been saying.

“Not my boy!” she snarled out.

In one fluid motion she stepped in front of Edward, using her momentum to shove him behind the wall he had erected earlier. Her had was reaching for one of her guns, but there was no time. The bullet pierced her side, and she went down with a cry. Simultaneously there was a blast from one of the blocked entrances and fire spilled out into the room, close enough that the flames licked at her arms. She cried out again, and for a moment, the world was a dizzying blur of pain, flame, shouts and smoke.

Then suddenly, something was blocking her from all of that, and a distressed young face appeared over her.

“Lieutenant! Lieutenant, hang on!”

“Is she--?”

“We—we gotta get her out of here, Al! She needs help!”

Riza reached up to grab at Ed’s sleeve, grasping it hard. She ignored the burns on her arm. “Hunker…. Down…” she said again.

“But you need—” he tried to protest.

Riza could still hear the fighting going on. It wouldn’t be safe to leave now. But through the pain, the only words she managed to get out again were “Hunker down!”

He hesitated for a moment, and then his coat was off of him, and pressing into her side. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he was saying. “I can’t help the burns, but I can try this! I’m sorry!”

Riza swallowed, and closed her eyes for a second, trying to hear how the battle was going. It sounded like it was winding down, and it should have, with all of the soldier that they had brought with them. Footsteps sounded, coming around the wall, and Riza forced her eyes open again, grabbing Ed’s head and pushing it down protectively, even as she pulled out a gun to aim at the intruder. Edward gave a startled sort of squawk at this, but she didn’t care. A startled Alphonse tried to reach for her, but she wasn’t having it.

She fired off a warning shot as whoever it was approaching. “Stay away from my boys!” she snarled out again.

The footsteps stopped. “Lieutenant?”

“Colonel.”

And just like that, all of the fight was gone out of her. The gun clattered to the ground and she allowed Edward up even as she sank back down. The voices around her grew frantic again, but she was having trouble concentrating on them through the pain she was in. She reached for Roy’s arm, holding onto his sleeve. “Keep them safe. Keep my boys safe…”

The next thing that Riza was aware of was waking up in a haze of drug-induced fuzziness. She blinked a little, trying to make sense of things. It took her a second to realize that she was in a hospital bed, and that she had dulled pain in her side and on her arms.

“Riza?”

That voice was familiar, and it took her a moment to place it in the drug-addled brain. She turned her head slowly to see Roy looking at her with concern.

“Roy?” she asked and then, after a moment, “sir.”

He shook his head. “It’s alright its just the two of. Are you finally with me?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Well, you’ve woken up a little before, but always slipped right back into sleep.” He smiled at her. “It’s kinda cute.” Riza scowled at him, and he laughed. “Alright, alright, you’re back with me.”

She took a moment to look down at herself, noting the bandages on her arms and the pain in her side. “What happened?” she asked. “How am I?”

“You took a bullet to the side, Riza, from a rifle. But you stopped it from getting Edward. That’s why your side hurts. As for you arms, one small part is from a bullet that grazed you. But the rest is my fault, I’m afraid. I didn’t know you were there, and you ended up in the way of some of my flames when I used them to burst in the door. They had to do surgery on your side. You’ve been out for about and day and you’re going to be in here for a least a week.”

“Oh.” She said, scowling a bit at the thought of a week in the hospital. But then another thought occurred to her. “The boys?”

“Safe. Both of them are safe. Turns out that some information had been planted to draw them to those black-market dealers. That’s why they ended up there. Speaking of,” he looked up and towards the door. “They’ve been worried sick. Do you feel up to having visitors?”

Riza answered with little hesitation. “Yes,” she said. She wanted to see that they were alright with her own two eyes.

Roy nodded and stood, heading towards the door. Riza didn’t pay much mind to what was going on until she heard a voice.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye?”

She blinked for a second, and then look up to see the uncertain faces of Edward and Alphonse (well, Alphonse’s body language) greet her.

“Boys,” the word fell from her lips, a little more relieved then she meant for it to sound. Oh well.

They seemed to perk a little at her response, looking encouraged by it, and came further into the room.

“Lieutenant! We’re so glad you’re awake!” Alphonse’s voice was enthusiastic, although quiet. “How do you feel?”

She was quiet for a moment. “Numb,” she finally said. “But I think that’s the pain medicine. Pretty sure when that’s out of my system my side and arms are gonna feel awful.” The boys exchanged guilty looks, and, even medicated, it didn’t escape her sharp eyes.  “How are you two?”

“Oh, um brother is going to have to figure out how to get this dent out of my head,” Alphonse said, bending to show her an area of his helmet that had a good dent in it. “But other than that, I’m fine!”

“I’m alright too. Just the usually bumps and scrapes.” Edward frowned. “It would have been a lot worse if it wasn’t for you.” He looked at her, his eyes full of guilt. “I—Lieutenant, I just—I—”

Riza shook her head. “If you’re going to apologize for me getting hurt, protecting you, don’t. I made that choice and I’d make it again. You do not need to feel guilt or feel bad about that.”

“But if it wasn’t for us being there, you wouldn’t be hurt like this!” Edward said, emotions and thoughts he’d clearly been dwelling on coming out. “You wouldn’t have taken that bullet for me, and you wouldn’t have nearly bleed out or gotten your hands burned! Mustang explained what the plan was! You would have been safe up in that tower! And just—we really—” he wasn’t looking at her anymore, his shoulders tight and his gaze downcast. Alphonse, like was, was looking incredibly guilty for a suit of armor. “…we’re sorry.”

“We know we shouldn’t have gone,” Alphonse added on. “We really didn’t think it would be that much trouble! But we did anyway. Are you angry at us?”

Riza was quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts as best she could.

“I’m not angry,” she finally said, and they both looked at her with surprise and a bit of relief. “But I am disappointed in you.” If possible, they looked more stricken then before. “I asked you to trust the colonel. I asked you to stay in your room that night. And you told me you would. And what I’m disappointed in, was that you broke your word.”

“But we didn’t—”

“You didn’t say that in so many words, no.” Riza said. “But I trusted that when you said that the both of you would stay in your room, that you would. You were complaining about being treated like a child, but a man is someone who means what they say, even if they don’t give their explicit word. And I’m disappointed that you didn’t do that.”

Both boys were looking down now, stricken. “Lieutenant,” Edward said, “we’re—we’re sorry. We’re sorry that we broke our word.”

“We’re sorry that we messed up the plan,” Alphonse added.

“We’re sorry that you got hurt.”

“We’re sorry that things got out of control.”

“We’re sorry that we didn’t listen.”

“We’re sorry that we didn’t trust the colonel more.”

“We’re sorry for disappointing you.”

The last one was spoken in unison. Riza was silent during their apologies and, when it seemed that they had finished. She gestured for the both of them to come closer. “Edward. Alphonse. Do you know why I’m so disappointed in you?”

“Because you got hurt?”

“Because we put the team in danger?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m disappointed because I care about the two of you very, very much. When Edward joined, I promised that I would always look after the two of you as best I could. That feeling has just grown deeper over the years.” She reached out with one bandaged hand, putting all of their hands together on the edge of her bed. “I care for everyone on my team—but you boys, I care for you in a special way. I would do anything I could to protect you.”

Both of them were staring at her with a mix of emotions clear in them, and she gave their hands a squeeze.

“…you mean a lot to us too,” Alphonse finally said. “Sometimes… sometimes its hard to tell just how much the adults around us care but…”

“But you’ve always cared,” Edward picked up. “And—and we care about you too. That’s why we’re so sorry. Our actions got you hurt this badly and we’re so sorry.”

She gave their hands a squeeze again. “It’s all forgiven, at least from me. Just promise me that next time you’ll listen when we tell you to stay put.”

There was rapid agreement from the boys, and then Riza asked them to fill her in on what had been going on with the case and in the office. Her boys launched into an explanation, and Riza settled back, content. Perhaps they weren’t her boys in blood. But they were definitely her boys in her heart.

Can you write me royai angst with no comfort? I just want to see them suffer. Its okay if you don't want. I love all your writtings!!♥️

anon.... u get me and speak my language uwu

idk if i’m entirely happy with this? but i’ve been staring at my laptop screen for half an hour trying to figure out why so. here u go. i’ll leave it up to you the reader to decide what happens in the end... 👀

i hope this is ok for you anon and hope you enjoy 😅💖

rated: m | words: 973 | warnings: multiple shootings

A blur of blonde hair moved in front of his eyes as he heard a crack. His hand was already lifting, becoming poised to snap, but Hawkeye was in his way. If he snapped, he’d hit her. And he wouldn’t taint her with his flames again.

Then, the blonde hair fell, as if in slow motion. Hawkeye’s legs faltered and she staggered, moving out of his line of sight.

Roy watched on, mute and frozen.

She hit the floor hard, one hand clutching her shoulder and Roy watched as her head bounce sickeningly off the concrete. A sea of blue surrounded him to form a perimeter, protecting him and the downed soldier, but Roy didn’t care. He saw the hand she’d used to clutch at her shoulder fall limp onto the ground as her body went still.

“Lieutenant!” he barked. Knees hitting the ground roughly, he gently rolled her onto her back. She was silent and her eyes were closed. Bending over her head, his cheek near her mouth, Roy checked to see if she was breathing –

It was there. Her chest was rising and falling. He could feel the warm air tickling his face.

She was alive.

Roy bowed his head, the weight of his relief crushing him as his forehead pressed against hers.

Riza gasped in pain beneath him, causing Roy’s body to jerk up so he could give her some room to breathe.

“Lieutenant?” he whispered. He shifted around, facing her head on.

While her eyelids fluttered open, unfocussed and unseeing, Roy cupped her cheeks with both his hands, hoping to try and give her something to focus on. It wasn’t entirely appropriate, but he didn’t care. His heart was hammering too hard in his chest and he felt too ill after seeing her take a bullet for him to give a damn. His breath caught in his throat as he watched her eyes roll back, but then she blinked again, and she seemed to be a little clearer. Roy’s thumb stroked over her cheek. He couldn’t resist. Anything to bring her back to him.

“Sir,” she groaned. Her head tried to roll to the side, but he kept it in place.

“Lie still,” he ordered, but it was soft. His heart was in his throat while adrenaline coursed through his body, so he didn’t have much energy to spare to make it a real order. “Your head took a pretty hard knock.”

“Roy,” she breathed quietly.

He didn’t need to worry too much about anyone overhearing. The atmosphere around them was raucous. People were shouting orders while civilians were screaming. Someone was yelling, asking where the hell the shooter was, while another was angrily demanding the ambulance should hurry up.

The bullet had grazed her shoulder. The shooter’s aim was off. He couldn’t get a good enough read on it though, because the area was oversaturated with blood by the time he’d glanced over at it.

“You’ll be fine, Lieutenant,” he reassured her. He hoped so. “Keep your neck still though.” He adjusted his grip on her cheeks, maintaining pressure. He was simply following protocol for a spinal injury after that nasty head knock –

Pain exploded in his chest. Roy gasped as his body was jerked roughly forward by an unseen force, collapsing over Riza’s body. She gasped in pain, a loud wheeze leaving her throat as he crushed her body with his own.

“Sir!” Her call was choked, her voice failing her as he’d knocked the air from her lungs already.

His hand flew up to his own gunshot wound as he struggled to roll off her body, clutching at his chest. Roy’s groan was loud as more shouts sounded around the area. Soldiers were demanding the shooter be located and the world around him darkened a little more, thanks to the tightening perimeter.

“Roy!”

He couldn’t answer her. His eyes flew open in agony, feeling the pain choking every breath from his lungs. Roy had turned his head, the action feeling like a great effort, so he could face Riza. However, his eyelids drooped, but he still saw the look in her eyes. Despite the bullet invading his chest, it tightened in response to seeing how alarmed and upset she looked. The Lieutenant had been shot. She couldn’t physically go and get help herself, so they were both stuck in a stalemate, unable to help the other. It crushed Roy too, knowing that he couldn’t fight for her life either. Instead, he was stuck on the cold ground by her side,

Roy grunted as he fought to open his eyes and keep them that way, fighting the oncoming darkness, but it was incredibly difficult. His arm twitched, aching to reach out for her fingers, but it wouldn’t move. The pain in his chest was paralysing his body, disobeying his wishes.

He couldn’t even hold her hand as he slipped away.

Left only one choice, he met her wet eyes with his own. A tear tracked down the side of his face, disappearing into his hair as his eyes closed one final time. The last thing he saw was her mouth parting and her eyes closing. Her head had been lifted, her neck straining so she could see him, but that suddenly fell limp onto the concrete.

Roy felt so cold.

He’d been so focussed on his Lieutenant that he hadn’t noticed the greying corners of his vision. That encroaching colour was becoming darker, quickly turning black.

One more time, he grunted and tried to move his arm, to reach out and grasp her hand and hold onto them tightly. He needed his anchor right now. He needed to feel her warmth and the pulse beneath her skin as he fought to survive. The only reason he was fighting, was so that he could get her help and see her again.

His wish was never granted.

In the Line of Fire

Pairing: Royai

Rating: K+

Words: 4872

Summary:  A simple arrest of a corrupt military official turns dangerous and Riza finds herself in the hospital, yet again. She swore a duty to protect her superior and her team, so why were they always so worried about her? Royai + Team Mustang

----

The first thing that registered in Riza Hawkeye's clouded brain was pain.

"Ugh," she groaned, even before things like lights and sounds became more apparent in her sluggish mind. There was a throbbing sensation all across her abdomen that hurt so much she felt like she was going to be sick to her stomach. Her eyes squeezed shut and she attempted to move in whatever odd state she had found herself in, but that only made everything worse.

Just as she started to feel around the tubing across her face, she heard an admonishing voice stop her. "Woah, woah, woah, there, Lieutenant. Try not to move so much."

The voice was feminine and not at all familiar. Riza managed to blink her eyes open and let her vision focus on her surroundings. She was lying down in a bed, she could at least tell that much. The person no doubt attached to the voice from before was standing above her, their hands trying to keep her form still on the bed. The pain was still present (and getting stronger, she realized with another groan) and her limbs felt heavy and slow, like they weren't even attached to her body.

Her brain woke up more and more as she looked around the room she was in. There were machines beeping and nothing but a simple curtain blocking her bed from the rest of the area. The person with the feminine voice came more into focus enough for the sluggish lieutenant to realize she was wearing the uniform of a nurse. She was currently trying to stop Riza from pulling at the cannula providing oxygen into her nose.

"Come on now, dear. Just try and relax. You got out of emergency surgery not that long ago. I don't think the surgeons would appreciate it if I let you reopen your wounds."

Wounds? Emergency surgery? What the hell was happening? Riza thought to herself, trying not to let the rising sensation of panic overtake her senses. She came to the realization that her fuzzy feeling was due to some medication and there was nothing the veteran lieutenant hated more than not being in control of her mind or body.

Vague memories came to her in pieces as she attempted to settle down on the bed and the nurse let out a sigh of relief. A routine warrant arrest. A surprise attacker. The sound of a gun going off. The stench of blood. There had been a lot of blood, that much she could remember for sure. The coppery smell of it was hard to forget. The fact that she was in a hospital in excruciating pain apparently coming out of emergency surgery would suggest that the blood had been hers.

But what exactly had happened? That much her drugged mind was still trying to figure out. Regardless, it was difficult for her to concentrate given the sensation coming from her abdomen.

"It hurts," she let out quietly. She knew she sounded childish, but she didn't think the nurse would hold that against her. The other woman immediately nodded her head and moved to a nearby cart where a few different syringes with clear fluid in them lay.

"I'm sure it does," the nurse said in a knowing voice as she grabbed one of the syringes and attached the end to the IV Riza hadn't even realized was there. She pressed the plunger and a strange tingling sensation erupted in the lieutenant's arm. "There you go, sweetie. Hopefully that will help make you feel muuuch better."

Great, more drugs. At least this one should help with the pain. Riza was finding it very difficult to think about anything else.

"You'll be moved to your room upstairs in a little while, once we're sure everything's stable," the nurse started to say as she began her other tasks. "If you're still awake by then, you can reunite with your team. They've all practically been busting down the door trying to get updates on your condition. Thankfully the surgery went well."

Riza tried to focus more of her energy on remembering what had happened, made easier by the pain medicine's already remarkable effects. She recalled getting assigned to handle the warrant arrest for a corrupt brigadier-general who had been guzzling the military's funds. She and the rest of the Colonel's team had all gone together and things were going smoothly until…

As all the memories flooded back in quick succession, Riza's eyes popped open in panic and she sat up straight in the bed, the worst possible decision she could have made.

She nearly screamed in pain as she fell back down, clutching at her stitched together abdomen. The nurse let out a gasp and ran back to her bedside as she settled. "Jesus Christ, Lieutenant. Now why the hell would you go and do that!? They'll fire me if they see you moving around so much."

Riza gritted her teeth together and tried to control her breathing as the wave of severe pain began to abate slightly. The nurse shook her head and tsked at her, but the lieutenant's mind had gone to a completely different place.

"T-The...the C-Colonel. Is he...is he okay?"

The nurse tilted her head in confusion at the question. She answered her as she reached under the blankets covering Riza and lifted her hospital gown to make sure the sudden movements hadn't reopened the surgical site. "Colonel Mustang? Of course he's okay. He was with the team that brought you in. You're the one in the hospital, why the hell would you be worrying about him?"

Riza supposed she appreciated the candidness with which the nurse spoke to her, considering that attitude was usually rare with the staff of the military hospital, but the other woman couldn't have possibly understood the fear and the panic that had overtaken her and led her to where she was right now.

The arrest had been fine until one of the brigadier-general's men showed up announced with a gun. He'd been a good shot and a stealth expert apparently because not even Riza had seen him coming. Everything had happened so quickly. Just as the colonel was dragging the general outside his home in handcuffs, the man had popped up out of nowhere and started shooting.

His first target was an expected one, but Riza hadn't had any time to try and pull her own gun out to stop him. With the bullet mere seconds away from plunging straight through Colonel Mustang's chest, Riza did exactly what she had been trained to do.

She jumped in front of him and took the bullet herself.

She could hardly recall the inevitable chaos that ensued after she'd been hit. As pain had immediately engulfed her, she'd thankfully still been able to reach around to pull one of her guns out and immobilize the attacker. She figured either Havoc or Breda had swooped in after that to finish him off, but by that point it was too late for her.

The world had started to fade away just as she felt strong arms encircle her form and bring her to lay on the ground. Many different faces had passed across her vision as she struggled to stay conscious while blood poured from the wound, but one of them...oh she'd never forget that one. She'd never forget his look of pure and unadulterated fear.

Still, looking back she had absolutely no regrets. Even given the excruciating pain she was in, she'd do it again in a heartbeat. If she hadn't taken that bullet...she didn't even want to think about what might have happened.

Riza couldn't help the wince as the nurse unwound the bandage around her midsection and she got a good look at the long slice through her abdomen, sewn and stapled shut. No doubt that's where the bullet had landed and she'd just spent the last however many hours in surgery as the doctors searched for shrapnel throughout her gut. The recovery for this one wasn't going to be easy, but at least she was still alive.

The nurse worked quietly to clean around the wound before she wrapped it back up again. A sleepy feeling overtook the lieutenant as the pain medicine started to take even more effect. She had nearly drifted off when footsteps approached from the other side of the curtain and it was tentatively pulled aside to reveal a young girl, probably no older than sixteen, with scared and nervous eyes.

"U-um...Ms. Alicia?"

The nurse instantly stilled, an annoyed look flashing across her face as she started to put up some of her supplies. "What is it this time Madeline?"

The girl caved further into herself at the tone of the nurse's voice, but continued on. "Those men outside are still being very...persistent. They're wondering if maybe just one of them can come back and see her."

The nurse, Alicia, snapped the cover close on a nearby box of supplies and straightened up, her face contorting in anger. "I already told you and them. They don't get to come into my unit and start making demands. That sweet-talking colonel can pull rank all he wants, but he and the rest of his team will wait to visit the lieutenant after she's settled in her room upstairs. Got it?"

The poor girl nearly looked close to tears. "I know, that's what I've been telling them, b-but…"

Alicia sighed and rubbed a spot on her forehead, no doubt trying to abate a headache. She took pity on the poor girl and attempted to soften the tone of her voice. "I'm sorry, Madeline. I'll go out there and yell at them myself in a minute. Colonel Mustang thinks he can get whatever he wants, but he won't pull one over on me."

"O-okay...sure," Madeline answered, as she nodded her head and made to leave.

Riza immediately stopped her. "Wait." She almost made an attempt to sit up in the bed again, but her nurse looked out for blood and she didn't want to try her patience any further. "You talked to the Colonel, right? You're sure he's alright? He's not harmed in any way?"

Alicia rolled her eyes to the ceiling and shooed the younger girl away. "Not this again. Lieutenant, I've already told you, the colonel is completely unscathed, otherwise he wouldn't be out there banging down the door trying to get to you. Physically, he's perfectly alright. Emotionally might be another story."

The lieutenant let out a breath of relief at that knowledge and relaxed back on the bed. Good. That was good. She had toed the line of death's doorstep, but she'd do far more if it meant the colonel could continue on and work toward his goals. It took a large weight off her shoulders to know that he had come out of such a dangerous situation unharmed.

She heard Alicia let out a scoff and Riza's eyes turned questioningly toward her. "That must be nice," she spoke, her voice much softer than it had been before.

Seeing the confused look on the lieutenant's face, the nurse continued on. "It must be nice to have a whole group of strong men willing to go to war for you at the drop of the hat."

Riza stayed silent as the nurse got back to her previous tasks. "Rest assured, Lieutenant Hawkeye, I'm a force to be reckoned with in this hospital. If they're all willing to face me, then that must mean they care about you quite a bit."

Riza couldn't help but let out a small sigh. "They shouldn't worry so much. Protecting them all is part of my job."

Alicia tilted her head to concede that point. "Mm, that might be true, but I don't think they'd quite see it that way. I was there when you first got here and were rolled straight to the OR. They all looked like they'd seen a ghost."

The lieutenant pursed her lips shut and said nothing.

As the nurse started to roll up a spare bandage, a thoughtful look crossed her face. "Just wait until you see them again. Especially that commanding officer of yours. The medics that brought you in said you'd taken the bullet for him. I'm sure that's why he's so antsy to see you. He's been out there looking like the most guilty man in the world ever since you arrived."

Another sigh and a shake of her head. "That man's a fool. I'm his bodyguard. That's what I'm supposed to do."

"As I said, I highly doubt he sees it that way."

An uncertain feeling dwelled up within the stoic lieutenant. If even her nurse could tell plain as day what emotions the colonel was experiencing, that put the both of them in a tricky position. She hadn't wound up this seriously injured before, but they'd both been in and out of the hospital throughout their tenure in the military. The worry they felt about each other was hard to keep at bay and people instantly picked up on it. Perhaps if it had been Havoc or Breda who had jumped in front of the colonel, he'd be just as concerned, but she knew it was different with her.

It was always different with her.

Almost able to see the internal battle she was having, the nurse sighed and set down the bandage. She patted Riza on the shoulder and let a rare smile cross her face. "Get some rest now, Lieutenant. You've been through quite a lot in the last few hours and I know you're going to need all the strength you can get once your team is allowed to see you. That morphine should be kicking in real nice right about now."

Alicia was right, as the lieutenant's eyelids began to feel like they weighed tons. She didn't offer any argument as she let the sheer exhaustion combined with the pain medicine let her drift back off to sleep.

---

For the second time in the last day or so, the lieutenant felt like she was swimming through a fog. The pain in her abdomen had gone down to a dull ache and she was able to rest somewhat comfortably in the haze. She started to register the sound of distant voices swimming around in her mind as her limbs started to feel less heavy.

The voices chattered on for a while and she listened contentedly until her mind woke up a bit more and they started to get more clear.

Now she could tell that the voices were distinctly familiar.

"-updated us from the scene. Brigadier-General Graham has been taken to the military prison. His adjutant who shot at us was pronounced dead at the scene. The rest of the area has been secured."

"Bastard didn't even stay alive long enough for us to wail on him. I hope he rots in hell."

"Come on now, Lieutenant Havoc. That seems a bit cruel."

"Cruel!? You know what else is cruel? The lieutenant sitting on her deathbed! I don't give a damn about no stupid general's right-hand man. Not when Hawkeye almost died."

"We should keep our voices down. The nurse said that the lieutenant needs her rest."

The tension in all their voices was quite apparent, even if she hadn't yet gotten a look at all their faces. Alicia was right when she'd said the team had been wracked with worry. In a way it was endearing, considering it was now more obvious than ever how much she meant to all of them, but it still didn't erase the fact that she'd do the same again for all of them.

A quick thought appeared suddenly that she'd heard every member of her team speak...except for one.

"Fuery's right," she finally said, her voice hoarse from sleep. "You're all rather loud."

She cracked her eyes open just as her teammates crowded around her bed. There they all were. Fuery, Havoc, Breda, and Falman all stood with frightfully concerned expressions looking over her form lying on the hospital bed. She managed to get a quick look at the rest of the room, which was different than where she had previously awoken. They must have gotten her all settled in her hospital room. She wondered if Alicia was still going to be her nurse. In the brief interaction they'd had, Riza would admit that she had grown to like the other woman.

"Lieutenant!" Fuery gasped, before clamping his mouth shut in an attempt to be quieter. The other men had no such inclinations.

"How are you feeling Hawkeye?" Havoc questioned.

"Are you still in any pain? I'm told you should be on some strong medications," Falman added in his usual knowledgeable way.

"We've been worried sick about you. That scary nurse from downstairs wouldn't let us anywhere near you," Breda interjected.

She looked at all their faces, unsure of who to answer first and trying to keep from grimacing as the pain increased the more awake she felt. She opened her mouth to say something before all four men moved out of the way as a fifth presence approached the end of the bed, making himself known for the first time since she'd awoken.

"Give her some space," his deep voice ordered, a touch of anger underlying his words.

The rest of the team immediately shut up and Riza's eyes finally focused on his form. Colonel Mustang stood resolutely at the end of her bed, an expression on his face that would be completely unreadable to most but that the lieutenant instantly understood. His gloved hand clutched the railing on the bed tightly, almost to the point of breaking, and the muscles in his face clenched.

"She just woke up from a major surgery. Let her settle down and gather her surroundings."

A chorus of quiet 'yes, sir's answered the colonel's tight words before a tense silence enveloped the group.

"I'll be alright," Riza eventually said in a quiet voice. "To be fair, I woke up earlier. Nurse Alicia already pumped me full of drugs which seem to have done their job decently enough. It's good to see all of you."

She just managed to give them a small smile which seemed to ease the tension from most of them.

"Is that the same nurse that yelled at all of us?" Havoc quietly asked, and if she had the energy, Riza would have laughed at the frightened expression that passed throughout the men. Alicia must not have been kidding about not messing with her part of the hospital. It was amusing, to say the least.

"Seriously, Hawkeye. Are you feeling okay? You scared the living daylights out of all of us," Breda said, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

"The doctors told us you were lucky. We managed to stop a lot of the bleeding at the scene and the bullet did minimal damage internally. From what I've been reading about gunshot wounds in trauma situations, it could've been a lot worse," Falman commented, his face shadowing over.

"It's good to see you awake," Havoc added, his voice thick with emotion as he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder and lightly squeezed.

"I've got Hayate at home with me now. I'll make sure to walk him a lot and only give him treats when he's good," Fuery said with a reassuring smile.

Despite the situation, Riza couldn't help the warm feeling that arose within her at her teammate's words. She reached up to Havoc's hand on her shoulder and grasped at it, a thankful expression passing across her face. "Your concern is appreciated. I'm sure you're right in saying I'm lucky. I know it won't be an easy road to recovery, but truthfully I've dealt with worse."

The rest of the team couldn't possibly understand the hidden meaning within that statement...but Mustang did. His eyes briefly narrowed before he turned to look out the window, maintaining his blank expression.

The group chatted for a few more minutes, Riza's reassurances putting the men far more at ease than when they had arrived at the military hospital. As the sun set from outside the window, the room was cast in a darker light. Finally, the colonel cleared his throat and stepped back up to the bed with authority.

"It's been a long day and it's getting late. Visiting hours will soon be over and we need to write a full report on what happened tomorrow morning."

Even with the mention of tedious paperwork, the group nodded their acceptance and said their goodbyes to their lieutenant, promising to be back to visit tomorrow. Riza knew her injury was just the result of her doing her job, but it was nonetheless still sweet of them. She really did appreciate their concern, even if it was slightly unfounded.

Her teammates filed out of the room speaking their last goodbyes, leaving the space in a deathly silence. Colonel Mustang had stayed behind, which didn't surprise Riza in the slightest, but she still didn't know if she was ready for the inevitable conversation.

He didn't say anything for awhile and the lieutenant didn't try to initiate anything either. Her eyes followed him as he placed his hands in the pockets of his black overcoat he hadn't taken off for some reason and he walked up to the machine recording her vitals. He watched as her heart rhythm strip was meticulously drawn out with each of her passing heartbeats. She could only imagine the thoughts swimming through his mind.

Eventually, Riza got tired of the silent treatment and asked, "Are you alright, sir?"

His eyes instantly flashed toward her and if the atmosphere hadn't been so serious, she might have laughed at his look of pure confusion. "Am...am I alright?" he repeated in disbelief.

The lieutenant didn't falter. "Yes. I wasn't with it enough to have seen if there were any other attackers. The nurses told me you were fine, but I wanted to make sure that you were unharmed."

The colonel let out a huff at her and placed his hands on his hips, seemingly searching for words to respond to that with. He looked absolutely baffled that she would be asking him such a thing right now.

"Am I unharmed? Lieutenant, you just took a bullet to the stomach, why the hell are you always worrying about me?" The heat that nearly spilled off his words caused Riza to narrow her eyes in annoyance. Could he be that clueless?

"You ask me that like it's not my job to protect you. That man was shooting at you, not me."

"And yet, here you are again taking the brunt of the blow for my sake."

"That's what I'm supposed to do!" she exclaimed as she raised her voice. She couldn't figure out why him, her team, and pretty much everyone else considered it such a huge tragedy that she'd been shot. She signed up for this. She was a soldier. It was a duty she took on willingly by her own volition, but everyone wanted to turn her into some kind of martyr.

"No," Roy countered, his voice rising to match hers. "No, that is not what you're supposed to do. I didn't bring you, and everyone else, onto my team to lay down their lives for meaningless reasons. You fight to live and help with my goals, not die just to keep me unscathed."

"Meaningless!?" Riza asked incredulously, ignoring the pain flaring up at the energy she was having to use for this argument. "Someone was going to shoot you. I'm your bodyguard, Colonel, what better reason could I possibly have?"

"That's just it though!" Roy nearly shouted. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to control the pace of his breathing. He was getting far too worked up about this. "You're not just my bodyguard. You're not just my adjutant."

You mean so much more than that to me, were the unspoken words at the end of his statement. She was glad he hadn't actually said it out loud. She probably would've searched for a gun and shot him if he had. She did not need him bringing such ideas into this right now. She needed to remain practical. She couldn't think about how badly her almost dying was affecting her superior. That in and of itself brought on a whole host of complicated questions she did not have the energy to answer.

"Colonel," she began, her voice rising in volume as she went along. "This is not about who gets to be the one lying in the hospital bed. I saw the attacker move, I knew where he was aiming. If I hadn't done anything you'd be dead right now!" With her final shout, she made a move to sit up fully and instantly felt like she had been shot all over again.

She let out a strangled cry of pain and fell back against the bed, her breathing heavy. Instantly, the colonel's entire angry countenance fell, replaced by one of concern and worry. Much like Havoc, he placed a hand on her arm and began rubbing up and down to provide comfort as she rode out of the wave of intense pain.

Her eyes were still shut and her breathing was haggard, but she gathered enough strength to continue on. "I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I let that happen. You stupid man, there would be no point for me if I just let you die. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. You know I would."

Here, her eyes opened, and she met the colonel's dark gaze fiercely. He would not change her mind on this. She would not waver. She would help him in any way to get where he needed to be. Even into hell, had been the vow. She was deadly serious about that.

The colonel said nothing as his anger dissipated and his face returned to the blank expression from before. He heaved a loud sigh before he stood to full height and walked out of the room. He returned mere moments later with a nurse equipped with all the proper pain medications. She got another dose of one of them, the nurse looked her over to make sure things were still okay, and then left the room as quickly as she had come, sensing the charged atmosphere.

Riza watched with hooded eyes as Mustang sat himself in the chair by her bed and slumped his shoulders. He'd be kicked out for the night shortly so Riza was sure he was trying to figure out the words he wanted to leave her with.

Eventually, he spoke in a quiet tone, "Lieutenant...please stop acting like your life is meaningless. I know you're trying to protect me and I want you to but...you can't be so reckless. Please, for my sake, don't be so reckless."

As he spoke, Riza could see, truly see, the emotion that had been plaguing him. She could see every bit of fear, worry, terror, and anxiety he'd experienced since watching her take a bullet for him. He was taking the responsibility of everything onto his shoulders, as he always did, and it was weighing him down heavily.

They were close enough that Riza could reach out for his gloved hand without much effort, and she squeezed it reassuringly. His haunted eyes instantly met hers.

"You're one to talk about being reckless," she eventually said, a ghost of a smile on her face revealing her slight tease. To his credit, Roy managed to let out a breath he'd been holding in. "I'll be alright. I'm still alive. That's all that should matter now."

The colonel's face became more determined. "You're damn right that's all that matters. And it better stay that way. You can't keep watching my back if you're not around."

Riza simply nodded her head, their argument resolved and their worries momentarily lifted.

Surprising her thoroughly, Roy let a lopsided and tired grin cross his face before he leaned over to place a chaste kiss on her forehead. The lieutenant could feel her cheeks heating, and she'd berate him for the gesture later, but the colonel had already stood to his feet and began to make his way out of the room. He flashed her one last smile, promised he'd be back to check on her early the next day, and then left her alone in the dark.

She laid back on the pillows, sleep wanting to overtake senses yet again. She pictured Roy's face as she drifted off. Regardless of what he thought, she had, and would always have, a duty to protect him. She had a duty to protect her entire team. With all her skills, she would not watch one of them die if there was something she could do about it.

Still, the colonel's unspoken order resonated loudly in her mind. She was to keep living and fight to keep living, as long as she was with him on his climb to the top.

This time, it was an order she didn't mind following.

Seconds

Call their predicament fate or karma; blame it on the moonlight or the romantic music playing during the movie's wedding scene. Whatever forces were at work, the opportunity was there for Rebecca and Jean, ready and ripe for the taking. The only question that remained was if she was hungry enough for seconds in spite of the complications.

It was going to be a very interesting vacation.

Written for @fmasecretsanta2019 for @areyousanta

Fandom:  Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types  

Relationship/Pairing:  Rebecca Catalina/Jean Havoc, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang, Lan Fan/Ling Yao

Genre:  Modern AU, Cruise Ship Vacation, Night After the One Night Stand

Rating:  Teen And Up Audiences (contains suggestive sexual references)

Word Count:  2,288 words

Read on AO3

Carnival’s newest attraction, the Mardi Gras, was a ridiculous boat, at least in the opinion of one, Rebecca Catalina.

The cruise ship’s towering atrium featured floor to ceiling windows that courted nearly panoramic waterway views.  Numerous restaurants dotted the ship map; their descriptions were laced with four dollar words such as “fragrant,” “authentic” or “sumptuous” that made Rebecca’s mouth water.  And if the ginormous pool on the lido deck was not enough, there was always the wonderland dubbed the “Ultimate Playground” stuck awkwardly on the back of the ship to consider.  The colorful tracks of the world’s first rollercoaster at sea cut through the thick, humid breeze, and on the first day of the cruise, the line to ride the attraction stretched around the deck.

The atmosphere oozed excess. It was just the sort of laissez-faire ambiance that Riza Hawkeye shied away from.  It was the precise brand of absurdity that her wealthy grandfather would choose to celebrate her college graduation.  Not that he had been invited, and in this respect, Riza and Rebecca’s vacation mimicked Riza’s upbringing.  George Grumman generously financed it, but ever-faithful Becca was left to weather the changeable tides alongside her best friend.

Not all waters had been as navigable as those of the murky Mississippi River.  

“Enjoying the view?”

Rebecca startled at the sound of Riza’s voice.  She grounded her thoughts in the here and now, honing in on the small talk circulating around the dinner table.  Her dark, wing-lined eyes darted away from the windows of the formal dining room and toward the beaming face of her best friend.  Riza Hawkeye looked happy; if not for the three-course meal they’d just devoured, for the new company at their table — her long-distance boyfriend, Roy Mustang and his tagalong pal, Jean Havoc.

But where Jean was concerned, Rebecca had her reasons for reticence.  Reasons she was not apt to share with Riza during this vacation, a trip that was supposed to be all about her best friend and not Becca’s bedroom faux pas.

She simply wouldn’t think about how she had foolishly spent the night with Jean before they’d remet as travel companions of Roy and Riza that morning.  Rebecca wouldn’t think about the lip-biting set of abs hiding underneath his well-pressed button-down.  She tried not to notice the way she caught Jean’s baby-blue eyes darting away from her over dinner.  By all accounts, their night together had been meant as a fun, casual encounter, but the next day’s harsh revelation had complicated matters.

He’d said he was on a business trip when He caught her eye in the hotel bar the night before departure, and Rebecca had not questioned him further.  Not when his sweet talk was so saccharine and the rough stubble on his chin had felt so good on her-

“Are you feeling alright, Rebecca?” Riza asked; her lightly penciled eyebrows were knit with concern underneath stylish round glasses.

“Yes, sorry!’ Rebecca replied happily.  Too happily, perhaps. “I’m absolutely fine. Wonderful even.”

She was not fine, let alone wonderful.  She was scared shit-less of being called out by the elephant at their dinner table.  A very attractive, extremely capable elephant with who had played her body like a fiddle. His brash melody was stuck on a loop in her mind.

Rebecca watched as Jean licked a bit of chocolate mousse from his spoon, and she suppressed an indignant eye-roll.  The least he could do was be less like sex appeal on a stick.  He could pretend not to know that he tied her stomach into knots, courtesy of their shared secret.  But given the way those baby-blues bore into her, nevermind that she refused to meet his gaze, Rebecca realized that they’d have to talk about it.

The sooner, the better.

God, she hated being 23 sometimes.  Young enough to take some disastrous missteps in good faith but too old to run away from her problems.

“So Catalina, how about we take a walk to clear your mind,” Jean purred. “Get to know each other a little better while these two catch up.  What do you say?”

A sinking feeling settled into the pit of Rebecca’s stomach, and it turned over on itself when she spied Riza’s hopeful expression.

The things she did for the love of a friend.

“Sounds like a great idea,” Rebecca uttered; her words sounded stiff as they slipped through her burgundy lips. “I’m gonna make a stop by the bar before we leave.”

She rose from their table with her room key clutched firmly in the palm of her hand.  Even as her gaze lingered upon Roy and Riza’s intertwined fingers, she bid them good evening and walked across the dining room to the mahogany bar at the far end of the large room.  Through a stilted smile, Rebecca ordered another glass of cabernet sauvignon, urging the bartender to be generous as the long shadow of Jean Havoc crept over her shoulder.

If the previous night had taught Rebecca anything, it was that Havoc was a livewire, energetic and unpredictable when he allowed his passions to overpower his common sense.  But the chilly night air on the lido deck appeared to temper Jean’s demeanor.  Quietly, he sat back against the sturdy frame of a ship deck chair with the top three buttons of his shirt undone and his hands leisurely placed on the back of his head.  The spiky ends of his hair caught the humid breeze as he stared back at Rebecca with a lazy, contemplative smile.  His patience offered no inroad, but neither did it discourage a conversation.

Rebecca got the message loud and clear — she would have to bring it up, or they would simply sit outside for the remainder of the evening watching Crazy Rich Ishvalans play across a large screen over the pool.

She took yet another sip of wine and placed the stemmed glass on the table between their lawn chairs.  After adjusting the hem of her green maxi dress, Rebecca swung her sandal-clad feet upon the lower slats of her deck chair.  A long, slow sigh escaped her throat, and she, ever brazen, decided to jump headfirst into uncharted territory.

“I think it goes without saying that we should not mention what happened last night to Riza or Roy,” she announced. “Still, I think it would be beneficial for us to talk privately since I have some questions.”

“Don’t worry, Catalina.  I don’t kiss and tell,” he said with an amused air. “But now that you mention it, I might have some questions too.  Ladies first.”

Rebecca attempted to organize her thoughts by level of importance.  But her wounded pride, a part of her that resented she’d been lied to, spoke up first.

“You said you were in New Orleans on business,” she stressed. “This cruise doesn’t seem like business to me.”

Jean shrugged his shoulders, turning his head to look at her.

“I thought work provided a better excuse to make a clean break, and honestly, I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

His tone shifted, tending toward a playful vibe. “I know we agreed to keep it casual, but who’s to say you wouldn’t have fallen madly in love with me and tried to follow me onto the ship if you had known.”

Rebecca’s left eyebrow arched incredulously even as her lips quirked with suppressed laughter.

“Does that happen to you often?” She quipped.

“No,” Jean chuckled. “I don’t do that sort of thing anymore.  Not since I got injured three years ago. Consider last night an exception.”

“That’s right,” Rebecca hummed, “you used to be a Marine.  Jealous boyfriend catch up to you and made you change your ways?”

“Nah,” he said, still in good humor, “it was a bullet.  But enough about me; my turn.  Do you do one night stands often, Catalina?  Am I just another person in a long line of notches on your bedpost?”

She tipped the glass of wine to her lips and drank, mindful that Jean was giving as good as he had gotten. “I don’t think we’ve had near enough alcohol for that question.”

And this, she meant wholeheartedly.

“But, to give you a direct answer, no,” Rebecca admitted. “I’ve been too busy with my MBA program to go out, much less date.  Last night was…”

She didn’t want to parrot his words, though certainly, their time together had been ‘an exception.’ Phrases swam in her wine-drenched mind; none were suitable.  Last night had been many things, satisfying and unexpected, to say the least.  But to sum it up in a single word...

“Needed,” Jean added. His eyes stayed fixed on a dark point in the distance, between the blanket of stars and the cloak of dark water. “For both of us, I think.”

It was impossible to get a read on him.  Rebecca was left to marvel at the way Jean had coaxed the answer straight from her subconscious.  Speechless, she could only nod and hum her agreement as her fingers fidgeted with the straps of her sandals.  She scanned the lido deck, looking for some sight to redirect a conversation that had gone too far, too fast for her liking.

Small groups and couples, not unlike Jean and herself, dotted the layout.  Some watched the movie, transfixed by the hilarity of a makeover montage featuring the film’s gruffest character, Buccaneer.  Others simply sat engrossed in quiet conversation and after dinner drinks.

A pair of young Xingese kids, probably high school-aged, caught Rebecca’s eye. They sat on the edge of the deck with their legs dangling into a large pool at the center.  A boy with slender, slanting eyes reached down into the water and brought his hand up, playfully splashing the girl next to him.  She laughed in response, running a prosthetic hand through her hair and clearing the water from her heart-shaped face.  And in the blink of an eye, she pulled him into the water.

The scene read like young love and are Becca watched as a childhood crush matured into something meaningful right before her eyes.  The teens chased each other through the pool and moved as if they were two halves of the same whole, different as could be and complementary down to their core.  When finally the girl caught the boy, she pinned her arms around him against the side of the deck. He laughed, brushing her bangs from her face.  The apples of her cheeks turned cherry red.

“Do you see them?” Rebecca asked, nodding subtly in the direction of the pair. “What I wouldn’t give to go back to that age knowing what I know now.”

“And what would you do differently?” Jean asked.

She told herself that he was only indulging her to be polite, but still, Rebecca answered.  Sour memories of her high school regrets were slow to be forgotten, and the question was quickly answered.

“I cared too much about what others thought,” she explained. “Spent hours trying to make my hair straighter or attempting to do my makeup the same way.  I swapped band for cheerleading and junk food for gym classes.  The only thing I never compromised on was having Riza as a best friend, and sometimes I’m afraid that the pressure I put on myself to conform rubbed off on her during difficult times.”

So much for keeping the conversation light.

“I used to be like that,” Jean admitted.

“You cared too much about what other people thought?”

“No, I regretted past stuff so much that I forgot to live in the present.”

Rebecca was surprised by his candor, and she turned to face him, unsure if she should end the conversation or listen to further insights.  Before she could give her course of action a second thought, Jean sat up, and, to Rebecca’s continued shock, he pulled at his side of his shirt.  The action revealed a patch of puckered skin, red and raised, in the shape of a crater.  Jean pointed to the modest scar on his side.

“It looks small, doesn’t it?” he said. “But that bullet nearly cost me everything.  Took me a year to walk again, and the doctors say my long term prognosis involves a wheelchair, but I can’t dwell on any of the what-ifs.  I have to take the good stuff life offers me while I can seize it.”

Rebecca couldn’t help herself.  She had to ask, needed to know why this theory of his, contrived as it might be, struck a chord.

“And what is life offering you right now?”

The question might have been bait — this much Rebecca was willing to admit.  Call their predicament fate or karma; blame it on the moonlight or the romantic music playing during the wedding scene of the movie.  Whatever forces were at work, the opportunity was there, ready and ripe for the taking.

All they had to do was seize it.  Bottle the spark that cracked between them if only for a handful of nights at sea.

Jean leaned in and tucked a lock of curly hair behind Rebecca’s ear.

“I know we agreed not to let it happen again, but I get the feeling life is offering me a second helping of what I had last night.”

It was her turn to flash a knowing grin.

“I never said the first time was the last.  I just don’t think we should let it complicate Riza and Roy’s vacation.”

“Well then,” Jean whispered.  His hot breath curled around the curve of her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Are you hungry for seconds?”

For the second time in as many days, Rebecca/SelfRestraint.exe failed to run properly.  Fortunately, Rebecca/ThinkingTooMuch.exe was also compromised.

“Starving,” she replied.

A/N:  Surprise, @areyousanta! I am your back up gift giver for the FMA Secret Santa 2019.  I heard you like Havolina, Royai and Lingfan, so I tried to tie those ships into this modern AU. However, I admit, this one-shot is primarily fluffy (and suggestive) Havolina. The struggle to keep this fic PG-13 was real, and I'm not sure that flourchildwrites/goodjudgment.exe was functioning properly, lol. As always, I really appreciate all the kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes and reblogs my readers generously provide. Don't be a stranger and check out my tumblr, @flourchildwrites. Send me questions, comments or whatever else may be on your mind.

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 18

Last time, Ross was framed for the murder of Hughes, and may have been “killed” or actually killed by Roy. Hopefully we can figure out what the heck’s going on this episode, because I haven’t been this confused by how a death could be faked or not since BBC Sherlock.

Alright, looks like The Mighty Armstrong (who’s absolutely rocking his off-duty outfit) did take Ed to Resembool, supposedly to get his arm “fixed”. Oh hey, it’s the little Xing girl! May Chang, right? Wait, turn around you two! You just walked past a new character! Wait a minute, last time we saw the little girl she was traveling with- Methinks we’ll have a fight scene this episode. Ed’s demanding details from The Mighty Armstrong, who says he was just told to bring Ed here and rendevou with someone. A Lieutenant Breda? I recognize him as one of the Mustang Crew, but that’s about it. Although Ed doesn’t seem to be that happy to see him. Episode 18 - “The Arrogant Palm of a Small Human” Back in Central, Al’s wondering why Al hasn’t called to let them know he’s in Resembool. And Winry calls out the “repair” excuse when she was RIGHT THERE. Seriously, whatever’s going on they couldn’t think of something better? [Al]: “And the stuff with Lieutenant Ross… I have no idea what’s going on.” You and me both, buddy! What the heck suddenly Sword Guy’s in the room. Sitting right next to Winry? Nope nope nope shove of Princey you are not messing up my ship. Anyways, the illegal alien/lockup escapee popped in to let them know Ed’s just fine- Right as we cut to Ed dying of dehydration. What’s up now, why’s Ed in the desert? “Crossing the border”? Wait, with what Ling was saying, are they going to Xing? Why? Also TURN BACK YOU MISSED MAY! Breda asks the fourth rider, a Mr. Han, how much further it is, and the guide points out some ruins ahead. Wait, ruins? Oh hey, didn’t Ling mention some place called *checks past posts* Xerxes? Somber piano music as we look over the shattered pillars of this past civiliza- nope, Ed’s just ignoring everything to cool off in a well, complaining about how he was nearly burned by his own metal arm. Mr. Han asks why they brought a kid along, Breda complains that it was a direct order. Now that he’s sufficiently cooled off, Ed redresses and asks about his place described in a fable. The Eastern Sage, origin of alchemy? Ooh, history! An ancient kingdom destroyed in a single night, a sole survivor traveling to Amestris to spread the science of Alchemy… And Mr. Han says they have a story of a drifter from the West who lead them towards Alkahestry. Hmm, two survivors, going different directions? Makes sense that Ling would want to visit the ruins then, if Alchemy/Alkahestry originated from here. As they speculate how such an advanced society could be almost completely wiped out in a single night, Ed stops to look at some engravings on a wall. This feels familiar… wait, was this the stuff on the Door of Truth? Before Ed can say anything about that, Han yells at him to catch up. Man, this is a really big ruin, they’re heading insi- wait, what? WAIT WHAT [Lt. Ross]: “Edward!” You’re alive! You’re alive you’re alive you’re alive! How?! [Memory!Roy]: “Back east, where I was… It’s a nice place. None of the big city noise… and lots of beautiful women.” Oh boy, brace for enthusiastic shirtless Mighty Armstrong hugs, Ross. Daw. Breda says that there wasn’t anywhere in Amestris they could safely hide the “dead” Lieutenant Ross, so they spirited her out here. So Ross knew all along? Flashback! Breda’s confronting Roy about the newspaper article, how with Ross being publicly arrested and charged without a trial it’s all too showy. Then Roy gets a call from Falman- who’s quickly interrupted by Barry. Not on an official line, dude! In the park (in what I think is the same phonebooth Hughes was murdered in) Roy is confirming with Barry that a bullet was fired, but at him, not Hughes. And with that, Roy springs into action. He makes Barry promise not to kill anyone (still not sure how he got Barry to follow that), set a street, and had Breda gather supplies… oh. Right. Duh! The core theme of this show is Alchemy! Of course Roy could make a fake body! But that still doesn’t explain the dental records… Roy just says he has it under control. He has plenty of experience burning bodies. Later that night, Roy stops Ross in the alley, then throws down the fake corpse, torches it, takes her ID Cuffs and tosses her in the dumpster, to be escorted by Havoc. There’s a little wrinkle when Ed runs up, but Ross and Havoc make their escape. Back in current!Xerxes, Han’s explaining that Roy made a deal with Ling- hold up, “young lord?” Is this the old ninja working for Ling? I thought his name was Fu, not Han. Anyways, Han got orders to escort Ross east to take refuge. Ed admits that he’s impressed by Roy pulling off the trick. And then Breda twists the knife by saying Ed was sent out as well to not interfere in Phase Two. Oh, they’re gonna try and reel in the mastermind! Using Barry as bait, they want to see who comes for him and take them down. Uuuunfortunately, they’re sending Bio!Barry to do the job… Mid-show pictures of The Mighty Armstrong crying in all of his majestic shirtless glory, and the Holy-Leto-I’m-So-Happy-She’s-Alive Lt. Maria Ross. In the Central Hotel Ling’s let the other Blondes know the plan, and confirming that Ed was sent out of town so that he wouldn’t interfere in the operation. Unfortunately for Roy, Ed’s the Protagonist, so I don’t see this working out. In the meantime, Ling struck up a deal with Barry for the secret to his Soul Armor. But of course all the “science guys” who did Barry up like this are all dead, and he doesn’t know. That Alphonse kid, on the other hand… The Xerxes gang are going over their notes, sketching out the Goths and trying to figure out the methods and reasons behind the Homunculi. Ed takes a moment to think about how Hughes is gone, to which The Mighty Armstrong asks what his next move will be. [Ed]: “Al and I committed a taboo, but we still have people that help us. Some people get angry at us, and others support us silently. Each one of them has tried to help me keep my promise to my brother. So I have no choice… I can’t turn back. Which means, all I can do is move forward, right? And I’ll protect everyone I can along the way. I refuse to let another person become a victim. Not while I’m alive. I know that’s a hard promise to keep. It’s hard enough just trying to take care of myself. And to think that I’m even capable of it… maybe I’m just arrogant. But it’s the only thing I can think of. So I have to do it. I have to.” Cue approving grins from the rest of the group. You go, Protagonist. Ross gets ready to head out to Xing with a couple other people, confirming that her parents shouldn’t be told she’s still alive, otherwise they’d be in too much danger. Bleh, I can understand it, but I don’t want anyone else to feel like Gracia. She does ask they let Roy know that she is supremely grateful for what he’s done, and if there’s anything that she can do to repay the debt to just let her know. One final handshake with Ed, and she’s off to a new home, asking Mr. Fu (so wait, is it Fu or Han?) what Xing is like. As a native, Fu talks it up as a paradise. Then recommends she stop crying to save her fluids for the trek across the desert. Back in Central, Roy’s pencil-pushers are snickering at him as he talks on the phone to his “sweetheart”, who of course is Riza. But she suddenly stops and says they have a “customer”. “Kate”(Fuery) lets “Jacqueline”(Havoc) know. Hey, Falman? You might wanna get ready for a visitor. Bio!Barry is in the house! And in an interesting change of pace, Barry’s the one arguing for keeping someone alive! But then Havoc bursts in and starts trying to shoot Bio!Barry anyways? What’s going on here? Oh I get it, hidden identity in case the Goths are watching. But why try to shoot him and distract Barry? Who’s not doing so hot as he just figured out who this Human Chimera reminds him of, and lost his right arm for the trouble. Outside! Now, where did that Chimera go… broken window! Bio!Barry’s bouncing around the street now, leaps at Havoc who has a really unfortunately-timed stovepipe. Then there’s a rifle shot? Ah, so that’s why Havoc wanted to get outside, so they could get covering fire from Hawkeye. Who plays off the sound over the phone as slapping around a difficult customer. Bio!Barry’s at gunpoint clutching his perforated hand, so Havoc can ask some questions. However, the dude’s not exactly up for conversation. And Barry confirms, it’s his old body! Ok, phew. Was really worried about the evil clone possibility. This is just necromancy via sticking animal souls in corpses, then. In Xerxes, Ed’s gone back to look at that wall from earlier, identifies it as looking like the TC from the Fifth Lab. Two-headed dragon, sun… and the top part missing. No complete Human Transmutation ritual for you! What th- Ishvalan attack! Oh dear, that’s a lot of Ishvalans. [Polite!Ishvalan]: “‘Scuse me, young man. I’m afraid that we’re gonna have to take you hostage until your military returns our holy land to us.” Ed snarks that he isn’t worth that much, Polite!Ishvalan talks about how the death of a single child sparked the Ishvalan Civil War. Then an old lady in an eyepatch (Madam Shan, helped by a young Ishvalan boy who looks to have a burn scar and man there are a lot of burn injuries in the crowd, starting to get a bad feeling) orders the Leader to stand down and stop dishonoring the name of Ishvala. Ed lets his attacker go, muses that he’s always heard that Ishvalans hate Amestrians. But Madam Shan and the kid know that not Amestrians are bad, when they were injured in the civil war they were saved by two Amestrian doctors (!!!) Yeah, yeah they recognize the Rockbell name. They saved so many Ishvalans, refusing to abandon their post. Ed asks how they died- NO NONONO YOU FUCKER WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, SCAR?! So yeah. The Rockbell’s were killed by a patient that they saved, an Ishvalan monk wrapped in bandages with a tattooed right arm. With this knowledge, Ed leaves the Ishvalans, along with a message for the resting place of the Rockbell’s: their thanks, and their apologies. In Central, Barry’s laughing at the chance to chop up his own body, whatever’s kept him from killing people is failing in the face of this otherwise-impossible-opportunity. Riza’s commenting on how a customer is mouthing off… before she hangs up, saying she has her own customer to deal withat is Gluttony. Oooooh crap. You may wanna run, Riza. Wait, that’s it?! Boooo, awful cliffhanger! Ok, so Ross is alive! Yay! Still not sure how they dealt with the dental records, but whatever, everything else was answered! And now we’ve got the Goths responding it seems, with Bio!Barry and Gluttony set loose. Onwards to fight scenes!

In the Line of Fire

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: FullMetal Alchemist

Characters: Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye

Riza narrowed her eyes slightly as she peered around the corner of the dilapidated hallway, her keen eyes scanning the dank area for any sign of movement. She raised her pistol, her finger resting on the trigger, as she edged forward. She whipped back behind the safety of the wall as the hall filled with flashing lights and frantic popping, for a rain of bullets ripped through the air. The projectiles embedded themselves into the wall a few feet away from her, a few of the crushed bullets clattering to the ground and rolling across the cracked concrete floor. The air grew silent after a few minutes of incessant fire, and Riza wrinkled her nose at the acrid scent of gunpowder.

“Have you cleared the second floor yet, Lieutenant?” Roy's voice buzzed over the transmitter in her ear. She raised a hand to press the button, peering around the edge of the corner once more.

“No, sir,” she answered with a small frown. “They’ve holed themselves up in the rooms.” Her eyes slowly trailed across the hallway, waiting for the enemy to venture back out into the open to take another shot at the military officer. A flicker of movement caught her attention, and she raised her pistol as one of the enemy crept out of one of the rooms, slowly edging his way down the hall towards the woman. Riza retreated back around the corner, listening to the sound of the man's timid footsteps slowly drawing closer. As she saw the edge of his boot poking just past the edge of the wall, Riza's arm snapped out to punch him in the nose. His head shot back with a sickening crack, and as he reeled she grabbed his gun with two hands, a semi-automatic rifle, and jerked it upward so the butt of the gun collided with his chin. He stumbled back again, but recovered faster this time and gripped the weapon tightly; Riza whirled it in his hand so that when he squeezed the trigger the bullets sprayed across the ground and ripped open his booted foot. He wailed in agony, allowing Riza to kick him in the middle and wrench the gun out of his hands. As he made for the weapon, she elbowed him in the face, and this time his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped over.

“Get her!” came a gruff cry from the end of the hallway, and Riza snatched the unconscious man by the collar of his shirt and held him up as the air came alive with rapid gunfire once more. She held him up as a shield as she quickly ran along the edge of the hallway, slinging the rifle over her back and shooting over the dead man's shoulder at the black lumps she could distinguish between the blinding flashes of light. She ducked into an empty room and threw the bullet-riddled body aside, loading another magazine into her pistol and waiting for the assault to die down.

“Lieutenant! What’s your status?” Roy buzzed in her ear again. There were several sets of footsteps approaching rapidly now; it seemed the enemy wanted to overwhelm her with numbers.

“I’m working on it!” she grunted and slung the rifle into her hands, quickly dipping out of the room to release a spray of bullets into the hall. Alarmed screams and bodies slumping to the floor followed, but a few escaped her attack by slipping into the rooms a few doors down. Once again, silence descended as the two parties waited for the other to strike, and time ticked slowly by as Riza stood in the door frame with her hawk-like eyes narrowed and her expression stony. Come on out, she thought.

She gasped suddenly as the sound of shuffling feet came from the other end of the hall, and she slipped back into the room just in time before a stream of bullets ripped into the door frame. She slammed the door shut and flipped the lock, jamming a chair under the doorknob for good measure before backing away from the door. “I’ve been blocked in. They called for backup,” she alerted her superior as she wedged herself in the corner, as far away as possible from the door. She jumped slightly as it suddenly lurched violently, the doorknob shaking violently as one of the men threw himself at it in an attempt to bust it down.

“Lieutenant! Stay put. We're coming to get you,” Roy cried in her ear, but she was already crossing the room to head to the window, banging on it with the butt of the rifle. Cracks rippled across the glass as she hit it with all her might, and after a few good hits, it shattered and glass clattered to the ground, crunching underneath her boots as she punched as many of the sharp bits clinging to the window frame and turned to sit down on the sill.

“Can't do that, sir. I’m heading to the third floor,” she responded calmly as she pulled herself up onto the ledge above her, standing on the sill as she began banging on the window above her with the end of her gun. She ducked her head as glass rained down on her, and she slung the rifle around her back to grip the windowsill with both hands to begin hauling herself up.

“Lieutenant! That floor hasn’t been cleared yet! I said stay put!” Roy yelled at her, and as she pulled herself up into the window the door to the room gave way and she heard the enemy rogues’ feet pounding all over the floor as they searched for the disappeared woman. Riza dragged herself into the upstairs room just as one of them ran over to the window and ducked out, shooting at her feet while she rolled onto the floor, pistol in hand. She didn’t have much time as all the noise had likely attracted attention, and she quickly ran to a door adjoining the room she was in and the next as the door burst open and a man with another rifle stepped in and began shooting. She cried out as a bullet ripped through her calf, but she managed to stumble to the door and swing it closed just as another stream of bullets ripped through the air. She fell roughly onto her back after locking it, and she groaned as she crawled backwards to the opposite wall, leaving a thick trail of blood behind her. She grunted as she propped herself up against the wall, holding up her rifle as she watched the door lurch violently.

“Come and get me,” she growled as she held it up, her finger barely squeezing the trigger. The door jerked once, then twice, then another time, and she watched with hazy vision as the wood began to splinter underneath the force.

Then silence. The only sound was her own ragged breath tainting the air, until the frightened screams pierced joined in, and Riza narrowed her eyes as a brilliant red hue glowed in the small gap between the door and the floor. The doorknob jiggled, then turned red with intense heat, until the metal could take no more and melted to a puddle onto the concrete floor. The door slowly creaked open, and Riza smiled and lowered her gun as her superior officer stepped into the room, smirking without a scratch on him.

“Well. You look pretty good, considering you just got shot,” Roy commented casually as he looked down at the blood smears stretching between the door and her, but despite his cool demeanor she could sense the hard edge of his tone and see the crease of worry in his forehead. He crossed the room quickly to crouch down in front of her, grabbing the edge of his cloak to rip a large section of the fabric free. She gritted her teeth as he propped up her leg slightly to wrap the strip of fabric around her upper leg, tying it tightly to stop the flow of blood from her gunshot wound. He smiled slightly as Riza glanced at the door. “Don’t worry. I have Havoc keeping watch. We need to get you out of here,” he grunted as he slipped her arm around his shoulder and dragged her to her feet.

“I can walk on my own, sir,” she protested, but then hissed in pain as she tried to place her weight on her leg. The colonel ignored her objection and began walking her out of the room, where Havoc was leaning in the door frame with a rifle taking shots at whatever fool poked his head out of the room they were hiding in. Wiggling the cigarette in his mouth, he waved lightly at Riza and the colonel as she limped up beside him.

“Well, this mission is going great. I knew clearing out insurgents was going to be a cake walk,” he said cheerfully.

“Shut up, Havoc,” Roy grumbled and propped Riza against the wall, stepping briskly out into the hall. Before any of the enemy couldn’t react, he released a stream of fire down the hall, and the sound of screams mingled with the roaring flames. “There. That should buy us some time,” he huffed as he watched the burning hallway, ducking back into the room to once again support Riza and begin walking her slowly towards the stairs. Havoc walked backwards behind them, holding the gun steady as he watched for any sign of the enemy.

“Really, I’m fine,” Riza grunted as she shuffled along beside her superior. Really, she knew she wasn’t, but he had one arm around her middle and was pressing her close as he half-walked, half-dragged her down the hallway, and the feeling of his warmth made a blush rise to her cheeks even despite the dire situation. Even in the midst of battle this man drives me insane, she thought, hoping she couldn’t hear her heart beating furiously.

“Don’t try and act tough,” he sighed as he kicked open the door to the stairs, easing her down onto the first step as Havoc held open the door. She pursed her lips, but then inhaled sharply as she put her weight down on his injured leg for a moment, and intense pain shot through her nerves in an instant and made her entire body shudder as she tried not to scream. Despite Roy tying off the wound, blood was still dripping out of her, spattering onto the steps as they inched their way down. I’m hurt worse than I thought, she realized as she clenched her teeth.

Suddenly, the door to the stairs crashed open with a bang!, and Havoc unleashed a stream of bullets and caught the perpetrators off-guard for a moment.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” the blonde-haired man cried, then cursed as his cigarette fell out of his mouth. Riza cried out in alarm as she felt her legs suddenly give way, and she blushed fiercely as she realized that Roy had scooped her into his arms and was carrying her down the steps as Havoc shot repeatedly at the enemy behind them. She ducked her head as a bullet whizzed by, clipping a few strands of her hair as it went. Resigned to the situation, all she could do was throw her arms around her neck and hang on tightly, her heart pounding the entire time.

Somehow, they made it down to the first floor alive, and as they crashed through the door the insurgents behind them were met with the barrels of fifteen guns. It seemed the first floor had been cleared successfully and the military had made base camp there, luckily for the harried colonel and his two subordinates. The few surviving renegades that had chased them down the stairs opted to surrender, and as they dropped to their knees and were taken into custody, Roy carried Riza over to the medical tent and gently set her down onto a wooden box while a nurse came to fuss over her.

“It’s a clean wound, thankfully,” the woman smiled up at her as she assessed the damage. “Thanks to the colonel cutting off your blood flow, you didn’t lose too much blood, so you'll be fine. I’ll go arrange for transport, so we can get you to a hospital,” she chirped before vanishing into the tent to start a radio call. Riza sat calmly on the box while Roy bent down in front of her, staring at her bleeding leg.

“It’s nothing, sir,” she told him firmly.

“’Nothing’ my ass,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have sent you out there alone,” he sighed and ran his hand through his dark black hair. He narrowed his eyes sadly, reaching out with a gloved hand to gently touch her calf. A shudder ran through Rina’s entire body, and her heart rate skyrocketed. She was grateful that the glow from the lantern nearby eclipsed her raging blush, and looked away in mild embarrassment.

“Roy, we said we wouldn’t do stuff like this while we're on the job-" she hissed under her breath, and then she gasped when his finger caught her underneath the chin and turned her face. She blinked as his lips suddenly covered her own, but she found that she could not pull back; instead, her eyes drifted closed and she leaned into the kiss, her hand reaching up to gently cup Roy's cheek. They kissed for a moment, and then he pulled back, but only mere inches.

“I don’t care about that. You’re hurt,” he murmured.

“That nurse said I would be fine,” she sighed with a small smile. Part of her loved how much he worried about her, but the other part of her clung stubbornly to pride and hating to be seen as weak. Roy pursed his lips at her, unconvinced. Riza smiled and took his hands in her own, gently rubbing the tops with her thumbs. “Really, Roy, I’m fine. You saved my life.”

“Well, I guess it’s fair, considering you saved mine,” he murmured softly and brought one of her hands to his mouth to kiss her palm. Her heartbeat shot up again, and her cheeks turned pink. Ugh, look at him, he thinks he’s so smooth, she thought as he smirked proudly up at her, and she rolled her eyes and pulled her hands back as the nurse came walking out of the tent.

“The transport is on its way. I’ll start preparatory treatment here. Colonel, I’ll take it from here,” the nurse said socially, and Roy slowly rose to his feet and cleared his throat as Riza stood up unsteadily to hobble into the tent.

“Take good care of her,” he called as he uncomfortably watched Riza duck into the tent. She glanced over her shoulder with a small smile.

“Shouldn’t you be clearing out the rest of those insurgents, Colonel?” she smirked at him, and now it was his cheeks that turned a bright shade of pink. He scowled slightly at her as she chuckled and saluted him. He gave her one worried glance before whipping around to walk stiffly to return to battle, and Riza's smile slowly faded as she watched him go. Be safe, she almost called after him, but she knew that the words were unneeded. He would always come back to her.

Just like she would always return safely to him.

“Let’s get that bullet wound taken care of, miss, before it turns into a problem,” the nurse chirped from inside the tent. Riza hesitated, watching Roy turn the corner, and then obediently entered the tent so the nurse could treat her. As she sat down on the cot and allowed the nurse to begin inspecting her wound, she smiled as she heard Roy barking orders.

He would always come back to her, and always be there in her time of need. And I’ll do the same, she thought with a small smile, leaning back slightly as the nurse began to work on her bullet wound.

I’ll always do the same.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Poison and Wine

Royai Week 2019 | Day 6 – Picture prompt; gun with flowers Rating: M (sexual content) Genre: Smut Word Count: 1,185

A/N: Last stretch of Royai Week! Day 7 will be posted within a few hours of this one. It’s a late home run for me, but I’ve loved it and I’m looking forward to finally having time for everyone’s works! Love to the mods and the creators who made this week happen. :)

Still, there is a yearning for something other than mechanical and calculated in her—something that burns and awakens rather than only carrying her through the motions of what she does.

A few short years of routine and emotional detachment have considerably hardened Riza. She doesn’t remember the first or last time she had let her emotions get to her in her profession, or even how she had felt about it before being robbed of her idealism. She hasn’t forgotten empathy, or compassion, but she has learned to keep them behind a line in the sand, and the sense of judgment for when to cross it.

           Raids. Investigations. Gunfights. Riza fires the decisive shot for each one, then lays down her arms because she cannot comfort a mother or a child or unsuspecting townsfolk with bullets.

           She crosses the line for everyone but herself.

           Riza tries to find balance in the military’s firing range, where there are no living targets with fates to settle. It works best in the late hours, in that odd period between midnight and early morning that finds her alone, with no other occupants. She picks a gun at leisure; fires each one as long as she feels like it; switches targets in between magazines. Sometimes, she walks or runs between the targets, drops and rolls and picks herself up and fires. She misses some targets as well—sometimes deliberately, sometimes not—then takes aim again and fires a perfect bullseye.

           When she is done and panting and sweating in the middle of that empty space, Riza flexes her fingers and stretches her muscles. Her body used to hurt for several hours at the end of each session, but by this point, there is no muscle to free from rigidness. There is no burn, no exhilaration from the exercise.

           She cannot even feel frustrated about it.

           Still, there is a yearning for something other than mechanical and calculated in her—something that burns and awakens rather than only carrying her through the motions of what she does. A hunger rather than a goal.

           Riza returns to the office from the firing range, hair damp from a shower and body relaxed by the lure of sleep. On nights like this, she doesn’t expect company in the office she shares with Roy Mustang and the other officers in his team. But upon her return tonight, he’s at his desk, looking far less dapper than the clothes he’d put together for a night out—shirt and tie and trousers under a handsome black coat. He is in the middle of loosening his tie when he turns and sees Riza entering the room.

           She feels it then—a spark of her yearning.

           “Hawkeye,” he says, looking mildly surprised despite his tired eyes. “I wasn’t expecting you here so late.”

           “I did some practice shooting.” She looks at him from head to toe. “Weren’t you at one of your dates, sir?”

           Roy pulls off the tie, then his coat, and he hangs both on the back of his seat. “I was, but then I had to come back and look for the postcard Jacqueline had sent me a few days ago.”

           He pulls open a drawer at his desk; Riza promptly locks the door behind her. Roy lifts the drawer’s false bottom, and he takes out a folder perhaps containing the document he had referred to—an intelligence report that Lieutenant Havoc had put together in the week. As he begins going over the report, his features are made sharp by his intense focus, distracting Riza as she approaches to read along with him. She falters for only a second.

           She reaches for the folder to slide it an inch in her direction. Another spark disturbs her tedium, coming this time from the point where her hand accidentally brushes his. Riza makes the mistake of a quick glance, where her eyes meet Roy’s. She is surprised by how greatly he mirrors what she feels on the inside, guarded from feeling and desperately looking for a way out. They linger there for only one more second.

           She takes his face in both her hands as Roy pulls her close by the back of her head. Whatever they’d seen in each other’s eyes is stronger in their lips—they kiss hungrily, like it’s the best way to make sense of emptiness, like it’s the fuel to a fire that has broken out through cracks in the ground. Riza’s fingers trace the outline of his neck, down into his shirt and over his back, and he lifts her up by her backside so she’s straddling his waist.

           Suddenly, she’s impatient, and he’s greedy. Roy quickly brings her to one of the couches before his desk, and as soon as he lays her down, his hands travel down to pull off the trousers of her uniform, kissing each inch of her exposed legs as he goes along. She kicks off her boots, then relieves herself of her top before she turns her attention back to the buttons of his. Both are breathing heavily when they go back to kissing on the lips, and the rest of their clothes quickly come off.

           When he enters her, Riza groans and throws her head back. The shock of the first hard impact quickly gives way to warm pleasure. She moves her hips with a craving she never knew she was capable of, faster now then slower again when she wants to savor how they fit together. She clings to him wherever she can reach him with her hands and her heels. Roy surprises her even more, grabbing fistfuls of her hair and moaning in between labored breaths. She had underestimated him; his hunger might have been even greater than hers.

           Lost in a frenzied delirium, Riza releases a moan that had been bubbling in her throat, then another, and she doesn’t stop when she finds that the sound arouses her and elicits a physical and vocal response from Roy. Then after some time, out of nowhere, she feels it—the sweet, gradual buildup of something even greater, something overwhelming that climbs from her hips and up her back to every inch of her being.

           “Roy,” she whispers. “Colonel—”

           He thrusts his hardest and fastest, and the rhythm pulses until she reaches her climax. Riza reaches for the back of the couch, her head digging into the armrest, and somehow it keeps going and going as he moves. Roy comes to a halt, his voice controlled but forming her name, over and over even as he moves in slower, longer strokes. She floats down from her high pleasantly, guided by his hips.

           It ends with their foreheads touching and their breaths quivering. Roy tentatively runs his fingers through her hair; she is caught off guard by both the gesture and the tenderness of his touch.

           “How are you feeling?” he asks her quietly.

          Riza closes her eyes as their breaths slow to a calm pace. She catches his hand by her cheek, squeezes it gently as a positive response. The spontaneous flames in her have turned into warm embers, but the note of concern in his voice adds another element to her release. She is like a flower in spring, blooming into new life.

Duality, chapter 3

Read on AO3

Chapter Length: 3935 words (full length so far: 11,402)

Rated: E

Status: Incomplete (3/?)

Summary: Roy Mustang is a young man, dealing with his burgeoning sexuality, a difficulty alchemy teacher and his hard-set daughter, and a good-looking cadet that also likes quiche.

Shout out to @flourchildwrites for rewording and comma fixes. She’s kind of the best. (And she needs some love. Go read her stuff.)

Chapter 3: Antagony and Alchemy

Roy awoke with a start. Not a nightmare. Not his alarm shrieking. Just in an unfamiliar place.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to slow his racing heart. As soon as he started to calm down, however, he remembered that he had to meet with Master Hawkeye. Fuck. Was he late on his first day?

Roy scrambled out of bed, acutely aware that the taupe curtains on the four-poster were expelling small amounts of dust, as if indignant that they had been disturbed. Stumbling, he frantically pulled off his wrinkled pajama pants and glanced out the tallest of the windows in his room. Roy groaned, one foot still tangled in folds of fabric; the early light of day was just beginning to crack the horizon. Tendrils of pink-orange light had just started to seep through the crack in the curtains that matched the bedspread. In the pale gleam, the walls looked to be a sickly grey color - so unlike the deep, rich red of his room above the bar.

He briefly debated whether or not he should delay starting his day, but Roy’s bladder ached, demanding his full attention.

He re-situated his pants and stumbled into the hallway, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Roy was fairly certain that the bathroom was across the hall and to the left. He hesitantly approached and opened the door, and when he saw the cool blue tile, he was relieved - both physically and emotionally.

The young alchemist decided to make his way downstairs to poke around in the kitchen for some tea. As he descended the steps, he heard noise coming from the kitchen.

Roy attempted to sneak quietly down the hallway, approaching the kitchen with all the stealth of an excited labrador. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the mop of blonde hair move effortlessly around the kitchen.

“Was that really you attempting to be sneaky?” she asked, almost cruel humor evident in her voice. Miss Hawkeye hadn’t even turned around to speak to him. She just continued putting away dishes and checked on the kettle on the stove. Roy jumped at the sound of her voice.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked, almost out of reflex. At this question, Miss Hawkeye turned to look at him, a deadpan expression gracing her delicate features.

“Your footsteps are heavy, your clothes swish when you move, and I could hear you breathing.” Miss Hawkeye looked over her shoulder at him standing stunned in the doorway. “You might as well sit down. I’ll be starting breakfast in a few minutes.”

Roy slowly made his way to the small table and sat down, still regarding the back of the blonde’s head with a stupefied expression on his face. “How did you hear all of that?” There was so much noise as she continued cleaning - the clink of dishes against one another, the hiss of the gas at the stove, and the percussive sound of bubbles beginning to form as the water boiled all culminated in the quiet cacophony that was kitchen noise.

Inelegantly, Miss Hawkeye snorted. “Well, City Boy, the better question is how you think we get our meat here. I go hunting. You’d scare away a deer from five miles out with footsteps like those.”

“What’s wrong with a butcher shop?” Roy asked.

“Money,” Miss Hawkeye said shortly. “We’re not in the poorhouse, but why pay for meat when I can hunt it for the price of bullets? I do usually take it to the butcher for them to process it. He keeps the pelts as a fee.”

“Oh,” Roy intoned. He realized at that moment that he had never thought about where the goods he consumed came from. As he looked at the table in front of him, he heard Miss Hawkeye clear her throat.

“A vegetarian breakfast for you, then?” she said, not as unkindly as she had previously spoken to him, as she placed a cup of tea on the table in front of him.

Roy smiled sheepishly. “No, no, I’m sorry. I guess I just never thought about it before. Don’t feel like you have to cater to me! Thank you,” he said, nodding towards the teacup.

Miss Hawkeye raised an eyebrow at him and turned back to her task on the stove, now sizzling brightly with spicy-smelling meat in one pan and eggs in another. Roy sat and sipped his tea, oscillating between watching the girl bounce around the kitchen and taking in the rather spacious backyard through the window. As far as he could tell, the Hawkeye property extended to the tree line, a good fifty yards from the house.

Suddenly, his thoughts turned as he realized what an ungracious guest he was being. Aunt Chris would be ashamed. “Can I help you with anything?” Roy blurted, recognizing only after the words had escaped his mouth that Miss Hawkeye was putting a plate in front of him.

She looked down at his reddened face, a suspicious and questioning look marring her features. “No, not really,” she responded, a hard edge to her voice. “I’ll be right back.” With that, she dashed out of the kitchen carrying a tray with a covered plate, a teacup filled with liquid, and what Roy thought might be a sugar bowl.

He heard her ascend the stairs as he turned back to his breakfast, frowning at the short answer he received. The grimace was short-lived, however; Roy didn’t realize how hungry he was until he saw the food placed in front of him. He started to eat, still looking around and taking in his surroundings.

He hadn’t been in the kitchen last night. And it looked just like what he imagined a kitchen in a normal house would look like, he supposed. The kitchen at the bar was an industrial one, one designed to prepare food for a crowd of people all at once; Madam’s kitchen was cold, hard, and shiny. The Hawkeyes’ kitchen was more cozy, featuring a black cast iron stove along one wall and an intricately carved, coffee-colored buffet and hutch along the opposite wall. A checkerboard pattern adorned the floor.

The black and white pattern of the tile had just started to make Roy’s tired eyes dizzy when he heard Riza re-enter the kitchen.

“Do you ever get to eat breakfast with your father?” Roy casually asked.

“Sometimes,” Riza responded. “He usually sleeps in until the last minute, though. Up doing research,” she added, a hint of disdain tinting her voice.

Roy hummed in response. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, taking in the flavor of the meat - maybe pork? - before asking another question.

“I don’t mean any offense by this Miss Hawkeye, so please don’t take it as such.” A pregnant pause filled the air as Roy debated on whether or not he should continue. Master Hawkeye’s frail frame wasn’t something he felt he could ignore. “Your father doesn’t look well. Has he been sick recently?”

Miss Hawkeye seemed to deflate slightly as she sat down at the table with a plate of food. She hesitated, as though considering whether or not to even say anything at all.

“Father fell ill about three years ago. It was the same sickness that… took mama… I mean, Mother. But Father got better.” Bitterly and quietly, she said, “At least I thought he got better.” She carefully schooled her face into what might pass as indifference, letting the implication hang in the air.

The boy floundered for a moment. Dead parents he could handle. He’d been handling that on his own behalf for just about as long as he could remember. But a parent dying slowly, life and death hanging in the balance right before the young man’s very eyes? What was he supposed to think or say or do? There was one thing Roy was positive of: there was no way, on any plane of existence, that Miss Riza Hawkeye would accept any form of sympathy from him. So, he went with the optimistic route.

Clearing his throat, Roy said, “I’m sure the heat yesterday didn’t help. He’ll probably fair better as the days get milder. He’ll be able to get some more strength back before the cold sets in.”

Miss Hawkeye nodded as she lifted a bite of food to her mouth; he noticed that she didn’t look convinced.

Roy stood, reflexively taking his breakfast dishes to the sink. He scrubbed his plate and utensils, followed by his teacup. Turning to the stove, he grabbed the cast iron pans. Before the young man had made his way back to the sink, however, Miss Hawkeye maneuvered into in his path.

“Stop cleaning. That’s not something you’re expected to do.” She looked him like an alchemist - comprehending, deconstructing, and reconstructing the bits and pieces of her father’s latest apprentice. However, her gaze held no curiosity. It was uncertainty.

“It might not be expected of me,” started Roy, “ but I live here now, too. I don’t expect you to clean up after me. I’ll be as much help as I can be around the house.”

Roy heard Miss Hawkeye scoff under her breath. “Are you sure you know how?” Her eyes flitted from the pans in his hands to the soapy water in the sink.

“I helped my aunt and sisters clean since I was pretty young. I think I can handle it,” the young alchemist responded frigidly.

He noted, with some pride, that Miss Hawkeye seemed taken aback. “Do you want me to help you finish the dishes?” he inquired, an air of chilliness still permeating his tone, though it had warmed significantly in comparison to his last statement.

“I’ll wash, you dry?” the blonde grudgingly suggested.

“Sounds like a plan,” Roy responded, astonished that she agreed at all.

She looked at the pans again and said, “First thing… cast iron pans don’t go in soap. Ever.”

They worked quickly in companionable, albeit slightly awkward, silence. As Roy finished drying and stacking the last dish, he turned to Miss Hawkeye.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he started. “The last twenty-four hours have just been really overwhelming for me. Me coming here has to really throw a wrench in, well, everything.”

“Apology accepted,” she said efficiently. “I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t capable. I’ve done everything by myself for so long now that it’s just second nature.”

She didn’t actually apologize for her behavior, though, Roy noted. Not that it really matters, he thought.

“Thank you for breakfast, Miss Hawkeye.”

Eyebrows raised, she regarded the alchemist before her and hesitantly nodded.

She still doesn’t trust me. Although… Maybe this was a step in the right direction.

Just then, he heard the tell-tale sounds of movement in the bedroom above them. Realizing he only had about a half an hour before he was set to meet with Master Hawkeye, Roy excused himself to finish getting ready for the day.

He walked up the stairs contemplating the interesting meal he just shared with the youngest member of the household. Roy reached his room only to see the disheveled mess that he left the bed in as he rushed to get ready “on time” earlier.

The boy strode over to the bed with an air of determination. He straightened the sheets, comforter, and pillows and resolved that Miss Hawkeye would not be taking care of all of these chores by herself anymore. Stepping back and admiring the simple job, Roy smiled.

He approached his suitcase, resigned to unpacking later that day, and grabbed the first set of clothes he laid his hands on, and his toothbrush. He headed back towards the bathroom.

After washing his face, brushing his teeth, and changing into a new set of clothes, Roy felt ready and confident to tackle the day. He returned his belongings to his room and, glancing at the clock, realized he was due in Master Hawkeye’s study in only a few moments.

Stepping lightly, he made his way back down the stairs. My footsteps are not heavy, the apprentice thought. The young man took care to move in such a manner that wouldn’t make nearly as much sound.

Roy stopped in the doorway and found Master Hawkeye sitting at his desk.

“Well, come in. Let’s get started.”

The morning passed by either agonizingly slow or astonishingly fast depending on the mood of Master Hawkeye, and by the end of it, Roy had lost all sense of time. For hours, he remained in the center of the dimly lit study as Berthold paced the perimeter of his office. The young alchemist quickly learned to stand when answering Hawkeye’s questions and to sit and jot down what notes he possibly could when the learned man chose to lecture. Most of his notes were simply terms with “look up later” scrawled in nearly illegible writing beside it.

At times, Roy thought he was drowning; it seemed as though Master Hawkeye would question the propriety of an answer simply for the sake of doing so. Other moments, his teacher fell silent, shaky hands rummaging through the well-stocked bookshelves for a new book that he promptly tossed in Roy’s direction.

By the end of the morning, the aspiring alchemist had three more books to read, a task that would easily consume what was left of the day. Suddenly, he understood that his afternoons were not for rest or recklessness. He was expected to study - and study hard.

Around 2:00 in the afternoon, Roy and Master Hawkeye emerged from the study. The apprentice felt a hand clap him on the shoulder.

“Good work today, boy. I’m impressed with everything you managed to learn from the books alone,” the long-haired man pronounced.

Roy managed a weak smile and nod in his master’s direction. He was exhausted. And hungry. Breakfast with Miss Hawkeye seemed so far away. Master Hawkeye must have read his thoughts.

“I’ll bet there’s lunch prepared for us,” Hawkeye said as he used the hand on Roy’s shoulder to steer him towards the kitchen. Just as he suspected, there was a covered plate of sandwiches on the countertop waiting for them.

“Thank you,” Roy said meekly to the air, hoping that Miss Hawkeye would hear him, wherever she was.

After appetites had been sated, it seemed that Master Hawkeye’s daughter appeared from nowhere, only to disappear again, this time into the study with her father. While the small family converged, Roy returned to his room and unpacked his belongings. He barely managed to finish removing items from his suitcase before he heard the door to the study open and close again.

The apprentice noted that their meeting didn’t take long, but Roy couldn’t help but wonder what it was all about. He collapsed onto his bed with his notebook and pen and set out to write a letter to his aunt. He should probably let the Madam know that he made it safe and sound.

The months continued similarly. Every day, Roy would wake up and have breakfast with Miss Hawkeye. However, the conversation between the two youths remained stilted. No matter what he did, the little lady of the house refused to open up. Aunt Chris's letters counseled patience and persistence, and if there was one thing the Madam understood, it was a woman with a complicated past.

Keep trying, she wrote in her semi-regular correspondence. Her script, much like her advice, was bold and straightforward. Don't let her talk down to you, but never bite back. Little girls who were forced to grow up too fast are always too tough on the outside, Roy. Thankfully, I don't have to worry about you falling for her. William sends his regards.

After breakfast, Roy met with Master Hawkeye, and by 2:00 (but never before noon) they would break for lunch. Then, Miss Hawkeye entered the study for, what the young alchemist discovered, her own tutoring session. Roy scrambled each afternoon to complete the assigned reading. In between books, he attempted to rewrite the hastily-scrawled notes from that day’s lesson, as well as include anything that Master Hawkeye had stressed that he pay attention to during his reading. Evenings were dedicated to more shared meals between the youths of the house and leisure, though Roy would occasionally bring work that Master Hawkeye assigned. Miss Hawkeye preferred to complete her own schoolwork at the breakfast table after the meal had been cleared.

"So you're not studying alchemy with him after all. Just algebra and basic science?" Roy asked one morning over a piece of freshly baked bread. The loaf was dense, almost deflated, but he knew better than to complain. Miss Hawkeye chuckled sarcastically in response.

“I had to leave school when Mother got sick,” she said scornfully as her small fist curled into a ball. “So Father has continued to teach me.” A dark look crossed her face as her eyes traveled towards the door to Master Hawkeye’s study. Roy put another mental note in the “Master Hawkeye’s Daughter” folder: try to never be on the receiving end of that look.

The arrangement made sense when Roy stopped to think about it; if he had thought about it for more than a half a second his first night there, he probably would have made that conclusion on his own. How could Miss Hawkeye play housekeeper so well if she was also expected to attend school Monday through Friday? What he wasn’t expecting was the temper that came along with the answer or the edge to her voice that seethed with thinly-veiled disdain.

One mild November morning, Roy strolled into the kitchen and was shocked to see Master Hawkeye sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea. The young alchemist suddenly felt like the air was sucked out of the room. Was he still wearing his pajamas? Fuck. He was definitely still wearing his pajamas. Just because Hawkeye could walk around in his lounge-abouts didn’t mean that his apprentice could.

“Good morning, sir,” Roy said, careful to keep his face nonchalant, thinking poker face, poker face, poker face. Master Hawkeye had just had a talk with him the previous week about how alchemists had to protect their secrets and their research; to do that, Roy needed to learn to not show every emotion that he felt across his face. Roy was still trying to figure out what kind of research his teacher had conducted, but in the meantime, it was all about learning what he could and gaining the trust of his superior.

“Good morning, Mister Mustang,” the master responded with a nod of approval.

Miss Hawkeye, as usual, was flitting about the kitchen, getting breakfast ready. She and Roy had fallen into a pleasant rhythm over the past few months, despite conversations between them still feeling about as warm as Briggs in the middle of January. Roy retrieved plates and utensils from the appropriate cabinets. He set them on the countertop beside the stove, waited for Miss Hawkeye to fill them with food, and then delivered them to the table.

He could feel the older man’s eyes on him as he went about the normal morning routine. Master Hawkeye’s eyes were still glued to the boy as Roy gently put a plate down in front of him. “Thank you,” he grumbled, eyes never leaving Roy.

“I didn’t really do much,” Roy hedged sheepishly. “All the credit should go to Miss Hawkeye.” Roy turned to Riza to see that she had stiffened, her back still to the table. The small smile faded from Roy’s face.

Master Hawkeye cleared his throat. “Thank you, Riza.”

“You’re welcome, Father,” she responded crisply. She turned and made her way to the table, carrying a teapot and other necessary accouterments.

The trio ate awkwardly in silence.

Silence around a meal table wasn’t something Roy was used to, given the bustle of the bar, the rowdiness of his sisters, and the general calamity of attempting to feed so many mouths all at once. Even at the Hawkeye’s house, meals shared between Miss Hawkeye and Roy were never silent, though they were generally less boisterous than the meals the boy grew up with.

The clink of silverware against plates and the occasional ting of a glass being set down slightly too hard seemed to reverberate around the room. The young man would give almost anything to be back at the bar where he never had to worry about silence around a meal. Anything except a quality alchemical education, he supposed.

Master Hawkeye finished his food first, stood from the table, and addressed Roy, breaking the silence. “When you’re done, we’ll get started for the day.” Roy watched him walk around the table and continue down the hallway into his study. The apprentice turned back to the table just in time to see Miss Hawkeye’s demeanor relax significantly.

“Is everything… Are you okay?” Roy asked hesitantly. All he got was a stiff nod in return.

Roy began gathering dishes and moved towards the sink as he usually did when he heard a small sound from behind him.

“I’m sorry, what?” he said.

“Don’t worry about the dishes today. I’ll take care of it,” Miss Hawkeye explained. “Go ahead and start your lesson.”

Roy shot her a confused look but did as she asked. He walked down the hallway and entered Berthold’s study, only to find Master Hawkeye sitting at his desk with steepled fingers, not unlike the first night Roy met the man.

“What are your intentions toward my daughter.” The sentence was phrased like a question, but spoken with the cold clarity of a statement that left Roy shivering.

“Nothing, sir,” he said honestly. “We talk over breakfast, sometimes discuss what we’re studying. Occasionally she’s recommended books to me, as I have done for her. But otherwise, we don’t really interact. And besides, it’s not like I would like her anyway, I have a boy- uh, I mean someone waiting back in Central,” Roy rushed through his quasi-rambling explanation.

This is it, he thought. I’m out. I’m done for.

Even though he managed to keep his face straight throughout his explanation, the beads of sweat rolling down his neck betrayed him. Hawkeye’s lessons in controlling his emotions were working for his facial expressions. Roy’s bodily reactions were harder to dominate.

A raised eyebrow dominated his master’s face for a few silent seconds. Then, to Roy’s shock, a toothy smile split Hawkeye’s face. It looked almost demented in the low light of the morning.

“Thank you for your honesty, boy. I appreciate that you’ve respected me by not attempting to cross any boundaries.”

Roy frowned internally at this. Miss Hawkeye was the one who said she wasn’t interested in being friends. He was respecting her, not Master Hawkeye.

“But you don’t have to isolate yourself. You two can be friends,” the older man continued.

Roy made a sarcastic sort of sound. “Maybe you should tell her that,” he muttered under his breath. He realized at the last second that was said a bit louder than he meant to. Roy looked up, the slight panic in his eyes meeting the calm expression of his master.

He chuckled again, and Roy could have sworn he heard him say, “Maybe I will.”

“Alright, Mister Mustang. Let’s get started for the day. If you remember, I had you read and review Alchemic Transmutations of Water. Mercury is commonly associated with water in alchemy. What is the alchemical symbol that we use to denote water?”

“An upside-down triangle,” Roy answered confidently.

Master Hawkeye’s lips quirked up. “Correct. Now, explain why.”

Royai Week Day 4 One-Shot: Someone To Talk To

A few days late, but I think you guy’ll like it. I’ve got one more thing for today, so look forward to that, too!

Title: Someone To Talk To

Rating: K+

Word Count: 2,918

Ship: Royai

Theme: Touch

Summary: Normally, Riza keeps her thoughts about Ishbal to herself. But on a night where she can't sleep, she ends up turning to Roy for comfort.

BANG!!!

Through the periscope on her rifle, Riza watches her target, an Ishbalan man collapse to the ground, lifeless.

Next, she reloaded the gun, turned it slightly, and waited patiently for “the enemy” to come. When a target was in her sights she would pull the trigger and, with perfect accuracy, shoot a bullet through their head and watch them fall over dead.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Every day was the same routine; get up, get dressed, have a quick breakfast. Then head into town, pick the tallest building you could find, and check to make sure it was secure before going to the top floor. Then check your gun, position it, and kill.

Kill. Eat. Kill. Sleep. Kill. Eat. Kill. Sleep.

A never-ending cycle, but one she’d grown used to. Get up, do your job, then have a break and don’t think too much about what you’re actually doing.

Every now and then, she’d see the fear in the eyes of Ishbalans trying to flee through her periscope. Any sympathy she felt for these men and women though, she tucked away behind a mask of indifference and shot them.

She was Major Riza Hawkeye; ace marksmen at the top of her class, sent here to aid the State in their annihilation of the enemy. Who cares what she thought?

Riza positioned her rifle, ready to shoot the next Ishbalan in her line of sight… And felt her amber eyes widen at the sight of an Ishbalan child.

He couldn’t have been more than ten or twelve years old, but he looked like he’d been fighting all his life. His cloths were torn, the gun he was holding in his hand had obvious scuff marks on it, possibly from a desperate struggle to acquire it. Or maybe it was worn out from years of use. She’d never know.

But the most striking thing about this boy had to be his face. His cheek bones were visible, which meant he’d probably had very little to eat or drink for days or even weeks. And there was barely any emotion in his eyes. Just fatigue, fatigue and a sliver of what looked like a desperate plea for survival.

Riza’s grip on her rifle tightened, knowing her mask was starting to slip. She had to kill this boy, it was what she was here to do.

She looked into her periscope again, and she saw not just tears forming in his eyes, but the dark bags underneath them, too.

She sighed…and loosened her grip on her gun. She could afford to break the rules just this once, she told herself. One less person to kill, one less sin to bear.

“There’s the brat!”

Riza looked into her periscope and saw a group of soldiers approaching the frightened child…and he was pointing the gun at them.

Her grip on her gun tightened once more, and her mask slipped again…but only for a moment.

She pointed her gun at the child, placed her finger on the trigger and pulled it.

BANG!!!

Riza awoke to a dark, unfamiliar ceiling. It took a moment, but when recollection came to her she breathed a sigh of relief. She was in Central on an errand with her boss, Colonel Mustang. They planned on spending the night in a hotel, but his friend Hughes had insisted they spend the night at his place.

Ishbal, the child, it was all a nightmare. She was resting comfortably in the guest room, safe and sound.

But just because Riza was in a safe place didn’t mean she felt safe.

She could still feel the butterflies in her stomach, the jumbled fog her brain was in as she stared up at the ceiling, replaying the image of the boy on loop in her head for what felt like hours.

She’d been having these memories turned nightmares for the last few weeks, now. Though why was anyone’s guess.

But whatever made these thoughts go away, she had to do it now.

In a few hours, she and Roy would be on a train back to East City. That meant another long day of office work, keeping her male colleagues in line, and protecting and/or babysitting the Colonel. If she wanted to perform even just one of those tasks successfully, she was going to need some sleep.

Riza turned on her side, closed her eyes and tried not to think of the boy and his dead eyes. Or his sickly cheeks. Or the gun in his hands. Or anything related to him, really.

This went on for what felt like hours to Riza. Occasionally, she would stop obsessing over the memories, which made her feel safe and at peace again.

It never lasted long.

The second she realized her thoughts had drifted away from her unpleasant past, something, like a thought about the boy, or the stench of Ishbalan corpses rotting in the streets, would take hold and the cycle would begin anew. The butterflies in her stomach would flutter wildly, and her mind raced with negative thoughts that constantly reminded her how awful she was.

Finally, Riza sighed.

She looked up at the clock on the night stand and noticed the time; it was two in the morning. Riza growled.

“Damnit!” she thought. Why was this so hard? It was a memory, buried and forgotten. She’d already made peace with it.

“No…that’s not it,” Riza realized. If that were true, this wouldn’t be bothering her as much as it was.

If she mentioned or even talked about these thoughts, than she’d have to admit to herself that she, like many of her colleagues, could not forget the massacre.

And she couldn’t have that.

When Riza came back from the war, she made an oath to herself; what happened in Ishbal stays in Ishbal. She’d seen the kind of psychological damage it’d done to her friends; some grieved in quiet, other became depressed and reclusive, some quit the military altogether, but not her. If she was to walk the path of a soldier, than she would make sure it was a fulfilling life.

And she’d been doing just that.

She had her hobbies, she had her dog, she had her friends. The war had been hard on her, but it had not broken her. She came out the other side a little bit wiser, a little more mature.

That’s why she never asked to be discharged.

She stayed to help guide and protect someone dear to her, true. But there was also a part of her that wanted, or rather, refused to believe she’d made the wrong decision with her life…it just felt like she’d be giving into defeat if she did.

And these constant flashbacks might just do her in if she wasn’t too careful.

Riza rubbed her eyes. She needed to relax, and at this hour the only thing that could help her do that was a good book and a comfy place to read.

She got up from the bed and walked over to the desk she’d placed her overnight suitcase on earlier in the day. She grabbed her white robe off the desk chair and wrapped it around herself. She picked up the latest paperback novel she was reading and made her way towards the living room, deciding she needed a change of scenery.

When Riza entered the room, she gasped. There was a man standing at the window, staring out at the full moon hanging in night sky.

It didn’t take long for her to figure out who this mystery man was. His black hair, his confident stance and broad shoulders, even the way he loosely held the glass tumblr in his hand while the other one lay tucked away in the pocket on his robe. Obviously it was her Colonel, Roy Mustang.

“Colonel?”

Roy turned around and gasped.

“Lieutenant!” he said. “What are you doing up?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

She watched his posture relax as a somber expression formed on his handsome face. It didn’t last long. A few seconds later, Roy shrugged his shoulders in indifference.

“Couldn’t sleep. Didn’t wanna sit around in my room, so I figured I’d stretch my legs and have a drink.”

Roy wasn’t fooling her, though.

From the corner of her eye, she could see an open bottle with at least two thirds of alcohol left in it on the coffee table. Probably that rare bottle of vintage scotch Hughes gave him earlier tonight as a late birthday present.

Riza stared sadly at the floor.

“I see…”

Once again, he’d turned to alcohol for comfort. He hadn’t said anything, but she knew. There was always a melancholy look to his eyes whenever he got like this; the fatigued weariness of a man trying desperately to drown out the voices of the innocent lives he’d taken…and failing.

But hell would have to freeze over before he ever admitted it.

It’s why she hadn’t asked him if he was okay, even though she would like an answer. Doing so would make her a hypocrite.

“What about you?”

Riza looked up…only to be greeted by the toned, muscular chest of her superior the blue bathrobe around his body could’t hide. It made her blush.

“Couldn’t sleep, either?”

Riza jerked out of her trance to meet the curious look on Roy’s face. Though, she swore she heard just a sliver of concern in his voice.

“No, it’s not that,” she answered.

Silence fell over them.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked.

Riza gasped, completely floored by his question. It wasn’t until she looked into his dark eyes and, noting the tiniest bit of concern in them, that she relaxed and gave him a smile. She could never deny him anything.

“Sure.”

Roy returned her smile with one of his own, sending her heart a flutter. It’s a pity she didn’t get to see a genuine one from him more often, she thought.

She sat on the couch and straightened herself, her Colonel following suit. He took a seat beside her and placed his glass on the coffee table.

And Riza? Well, her eyes were fixated on his chest.

She couldn’t help it, though. His perfect abs, his flawless pecks. She wanted to pounce him, trail kisses all over his bare torso and listen to him moan her name. Maybe even go home with him and make sure no one ever bothered them again-

“You can take a picture, you know? It’ll last longer.”

Hearing that, Riza snapped out of it to see the Colonel smirking at her with that impish

grin of his. Embarrassed, she tore her eyes away from him and stared at the wall in an attempt to save her dignity.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, unable to keep the redness on her cheeks from spreading across her face.

He chuckled. “Right…” Riza frowned; she should’ve known he’d see right through her, he always did. “So what’s on your mind?”

Her amber eyes turned somber as she gave herself a moment to compose an answer.

“I was dreaming about Ishbal, again.”

And just like that, she felt her Colonel’s mood change from jokey and playful, to one of melancholy introspection, as it always did whenever someone brought up Ishbal.

“I see…” He paused. “Is this the first time in awhile?”

Riza smiled half-heartedly. “Yes,” she lied.

She could feel Roy burning a hole into her head with his gaze, practically demanding she tell him the truth, but she stood her ground.

He didn’t need to know these nightmares were a reoccurring issue, not when he had more important matters to attend to. Besides, it was her job to worry about him, not the other way around.

She was his adjutant, his protector. She stayed in the military (mostly) for him, to help guide him on his path to redemption. If she broke right now, it’d be a betrayal of everything she’d worked for since Ishbal. Both for Roy, and for herself.

So she straightened herself and kept looking straight ahead. Roy could say whatever he wanted, but she would not budge.

A few minutes later he let out a sigh. Riza smiled internally. Finally, he’d given up! For once, victory was hers!

“Was it anything specific?”

Or so she thought…That question had really taken her back…

Oh well, she could give him a dignified answer. “You remember how I was a sniper during the war?”

“Yeah.”

“Well there was a time when I noticed an Ishbalan child.” She paused. “My orders were to kill anything that wasn’t “strictly military”. In other words, anyone who wasn’t Amestrian. But when I saw him…he looked so pale and gaunt…I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him…”

“So you let him go.”

“That was the plan. But then-” She balled her fists up…she wasn’t sure how to go about explaining this part. “Then I-”

“It’s okay, Lieutenant.”

When Riza turned around, she saw Roy staring at her with an intense gaze. “Just give yourself a second to calm down,” he said. Instantly, she knew what he was doing.

He was using their secret code, of sorts. A code only they knew. When one was about to loose their cool, the other would speak more calm and deliberately, in an effort to remind whoever was panicking to relax and quietly collect themselves.

Riza nodded and took a few deep breaths. A few minutes later, she was relaxed and ready to continue.

“But then there was a group of soldiers approaching, the child held up the gun in defence…it all happened so fast I-” She stopped herself, taking another deep breath. “I pointed my rifle at him and shot…He was dead by the time he hit the ground…”

Riza closed her eyes, feeling…tears falling down her cheeks? Her eyes widened.

No, no, no! This can’t be happening, she thought. She was First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye; ace sharpshooter and assistant to The Flame Alchemist. She couldn’t afford to look weak, especially not over something that happened almost a decade ago.

She dried her eyes. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she said. “I don’t know why I’m crying-”

“Riza?…” She turned to face the Colonel, and was surprised to see he was no longer hiding the worry he felt for her in his eyes. “Do you want a drink?…You look like you could use one…”

Suddenly, Riza felt herself relax.

In all this stubbornnes she kept forgetting that right now, she was Riza, and he was Roy. There was no office, to ranks, no regulations to keep them in line.

They were just two normal - well, as normal as one could ask for - people who’d been through the same ordeal, who felt comfortable letting their guard down in front of each other…and that was okay.

So she smiled, nodded and said “Thank you.”

Roy smiled. He got up and walked into the kitchen to get her a glass.

They sat there for the rest of the night, discussing their demons haunting while slowly drinking themselves silly. Finally, they fell into a deep, peaceful slumber shortly before dawn.

When Riza woke again, the vague outline of the sun slowly rising in the sky, her nose taking in the scent of…ash? And cologne?

It took a moment for recollection to come to her before she remembered falling asleep in the arms of her Colonel.

She looked up and took in his sleeping face, smiling at how calm and at peace he appeared.

There was a part of her, however small, that wanted to let him sleep a little bit longer, knowing he could use the extra shut eye. But deep down she knew that would be impossible.

It was six-thirty according to the grandfather clock in the corner; they needed to be at the train station in an hour, or else they would have to wait for another one and risk being late.

Besides, the last thing Roy needed was for Hughes to find them like this and snap a picture. Although knowing their luck, he probably already got his ‘incriminating’ evidence.

But they’ll cross that bridge when they get there, should it ever come.

“Colonel?” she said softly.

Roy opened his eyes. “Hmm…wha?…” He rubbed some sleep out of his eye, finally noticing Riza staring at him. “Oh, is it morning already?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “We should get back to our rooms and pack.”

“Right…”

She grabbed her book and slowly moved out of his embrace. He got up and collected the tumblrs and (now) empty bottle of scotch.

“How are you feeling?”

She turned to face him and smiled. “Better,” she said.

He smiled. “Good.”

Riza felt her heartbeat flutter when she saw that smile. She walks over to him, and watches the surprise on his face as she placed a hand on his chest and kissed him on the cheek.

When it was over, she smiled and said “Thank you, Roy.”

She watched as the surprise on his face faded and softened into a smile.

“No problem,” he replied. “You’ve listened to me babble on when I’m feeling down, it’s only fair.”

She smiled.

“Now, let’s go, Lieutenant,” he said, and walked towards the hall.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, following right behind him.

The whole time, she couldn’t help but smile. It felt nice having someone to talk to about these memories, she thought.

And now next time couldn’t come soon enough.

The End

Rebirth

THE GREED!HUGHES FIC IS UP. My computer is on it’s last legs, but I finally managed to get it typed. Really pumped about this fic, actually. I hope you enjoy it as well. Definitely moved cannon around to make this work. @ladywiltshire @dailymaeshughes

Read on AO3 here.

Bido crept after the Fuhrer. He knew in his heart this was a bad idea, but the Fuhrer had Greed, and everyone else… everyone else was dead. Bido scrunched his eyes shut for a moment. He couldn’t think about that right now. If he just followed Greed… Maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok.

Bido followed the Fuhrer all the way to Central, then deep beneath the city. Not good, not good, not good, not good, Bido chanted in his head. But still he followed. The scene that followed was like something from a nightmare. Bido watched from the rafters as Greed screamed and cursed as he was lowered into a vat. Bido shoved his fist into his mouth to keep from crying out, tears streaming down his face. The leader, Father, they called him, collected a red liquid from a little spigot at the base of the cauldron they dropped Greed in. Father studied the liquid for a moment.

“Well, Greed, maybe I’ll have use for you again someday,” he said before tossing the vial to Envy. “Put that somewhere safe, until we find a decent host vessel.” Envy muttered about not needing someone so useless as Greed and stomped off. Bido followed.

“Useless fool, Envy muttered. “Never did anything for us, just ran off to ‘live his own life’. What an idiot. He got what he deserved. Good riddance. Now, I suppose it’s time for Lust and me to have some fun.” He grinned evilly. “That Hughes has been poking a little too close to the Truth, and it’s time to do something about that.”  Shoving the vial in a cupboard, Envy stomped away. And Bido did something he had become very very good at in the Devil’s Nest: he stole the vial.

Continuing to follow the Homunculi didn’t seem to be a good idea. But Bido did it anyway. At least it gave him a clear path out of the hell hole under Central (and this from someone who lived ---had lived--- in a place called the Devil’s Nest) and out into the open air again. Why he continued to follow after that was a question Bido couldn’t answer. Really, he should be running as far away as possible. When the Homunculi entered the Central military headquarters, Bido stayed outside, hiding himself in some bushed behind a phone booth.

“Greed,” he asked the vial cradled in his hands, “What am I supposed to do now?” Tears streamed down his face, and Bido curled in on himself, a little ball of pain. How long he stayed like that, Bido didn’t know. A commotion by the phone booth caught his attention.

           “I need to speak to Roy Mustang now!” a voice barked. A moment of silence as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line, then a string of numbers. Bido watched in horror as Envy cornered their prey, switching faces with a manic smile. The man hesitated, gun wavering in his hands. And Envy struck. Bido waited until the Homunculus was gone before creeping out of the bushes. The man in the phone booth lay in a pool of his own blood. He was still alive, but barely. Bido looked at the vial clutched in his hand, then back at the man. This was probably an awful idea. But everything had been awful since the Fuhrer showed up under Dublith. It can’t get much worse, Bido decided. Cradling the man’s head in his lap, Bido uncapped the vial and coaxed the liquid down the man’s throat.

***

Not dead then, Hughes thought. But this might be worse. Like burning and freezing at the same time. Like his very soul was under attack, being torn slowly to ribbons, surrounded by a dense red fog.

Well, your soul is under attack, another voice intruded smoothly. Name’s Greed, and this body is mine now.

Like hell! Hughes thought back at him.

Feisty, aren’t you? No wonder you go in trouble with the family.

Family… That THING that attacked me… I’m sure it was a homunculus… You’re a homunculus?

Bingo! Give the boy a cookie! Though I’m what you’d call the ‘black sheep’ of the family. The red fog started to coalesce, forming a face, fangs bared in a leer.

You’re doing quite well, fending me off. I didn’t expect so much resistance from the original soul.

I have too much to live for, Hughes growled. The face, Greed, laughed.

I like your spirit! Greedy for life. I’ve got control now, I suppose there’s no harm in letting you stick around. You amuse me.

What the hell? Hughes asked, though it no longer felt like he was being torn to pieces.

I’m only going to say this once, because I don’t do explanations, Greed said. I’m a homunculus. I think you figured that bit out. This body is now mine. Got that? Mine. I’m letting your soul stay because I find you amusing. So, you’re also mine. The end!

***

Greed opened his eyes. Bido peered down at him nervously.

“Greed?” he asked. “Is... is it you?”

“Yeah, I’m Greed,” the homunculus started, only to be interrupted by the rather lizard-faced man letting out a sob and clutching Greed tightly to his chest.

“I thought I’d lost you forever!” he cried rocking back and forth. Greed was so shocked he didn’t pull away.

“Um,” he started, fully intending to ask who the hell the lizard man was, but he was again interrupted, this time by a pair of Amestrian servicemen, a dark-haired man and a blonde woman.

“Hughes!” the man cried. He only refrained from dropping to his knees next to Greed at the woman’s quietly bitten ‘sir!’. Greed pushed himself out of Bido’s lap, into a sitting position.

“Listen, all this attention is flattering, but I don’t know any of you people.” Mustang’s face fell and Bido let out a strangled sob.

“We need to move,” Hawkeye said calmly. Greed noted that she’d drawn a gun at some point. Not that it could hurt him, but the little lizard man who seemed so fond of him… Mine now, Greed thought, well, a bullet could definitely hurt him.

And the Hawk’s Eye doesn’t miss, Hughes added helpfully in the back of Greed’s mind.

“The car’s just around the corner,” the woman was saying. “Can you move?” This was directed at Greed, her voice carefully neutral. He staggered to his feet with a wince.

What the hell happened to you? he asked Hughes mentally.

Your siblings, Hughes replied drily. Out loud, Greed said,

“I can manage.” He started a little when Bido slipped under his arm, supporting him. Mustang led the way, Hawkeye following covering the group with her gun.

“Ooo, this is nice,” Greed cooed, sliding into the back seat. Mustang and Hawkeye had a quick, whispered conversation that ended with Hawkeye in the passenger seat, handgun still at the ready and Mustang in the driver’s seat.

We’re doomed, Hughes said morosely. If I’m still alive, this might kill me.

What are you going on about? Greed asked.

Roy’s driving. If we survive this trip, it will be a miracle. Before Greed could respond to Hughes, Mustang punched the accelerator, throwing Greed back into the seat. Hughes might be right about this he thought sourly.

“Do I even bother to ask where we’re going?” Greed asked.

“No,” Riza told him firmly.

She’s pretty, Greed thought. I wonder…

Don’t even, Hughes chided him. First, she’s totally off limits. Second, Roy would roast you into crispy crunchy pieces. Third, he wouldn’t get the chance, because Riza would take you out herself. And I’M still in here too, and would like to keep my body intact.

MY body, Greed corrected distractedly. The rest of his focus was on not engaging his ultimate shield and digging his claws into the smooth leather seats.

“Sir?” Riza asked as Mustang brought the car to a stop. “Do we really want to use the same location as where we kept Barry the Chopper?” Roy shrugged.

“Well, we already know it’s a decently secure location, and our equipment is still here, so we can radio the rest of the team for back up.” It was silent as the moved into a somewhat rickety room, empty except for a rundown table and a couple chairs that had seen better days. Greed and Roy sat down at the table. Bido hovered just behind Greed, as if he was still afraid to let the homunculus out of his sight, while Hawkeye took up a defensive position by the door.

“What makes you think I’m just going to go along with this?” Greed asked. Mustang’s shoulders sagged, just a little.

“Your powers haven’t fully settled into Hughes’ body yet. The cut across his, your forehead hasn’t healed yet. You’re still vulnerable.” Mustang took a deep breath through his nose. “And… we might be useful to each other.” Greed cocked an eyebrow at Mustang.

“Now you’re speaking my language! What did you have in mind?” Greed asked. Mustang winced.

“An exchange of information,” the colonel said.

“Mmm, I’m already in the head of military intelligence,” Greed said, tapping the side of his head. “You’re going to have to do better than that!” Greed leaned his chair back, crossing his ankles on the table.

“Who the hell are you?” Mustang asked, doing his best to keep the pain of seeing this… this thing that looked like his long time best friend but wasn’t out of his voice.

“I don’t usually do freebies, but, notoriety is one of the many things I want, so, I’ll tell you who I am. I’m Greed the Avaricious. I want it all. Everything you can think of. Money, power, sex, status, prestige. I want it all. I am Greed distilled and personified. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m a homunculus. Though if I’m reading Hughes’ memory right, the existence of homunculi was part of what he wanted to tell you. Why did you show up just then, anyway?” the homunculus asked. Mustang ran a hand through his already messy hair.

“Hughes called me. I caught a little bit of what sounded like an attack, so I got his location from the dispatcher. I guess I was too late.”

Don’t let him beat himself up, Hughes spoke up in Greed’s mind. He’ll worry it like a dog with a bone, obsessing over whether or not he could have saved me.

He’s not my friend, it’s not my job to comfort him, Greed thought back. He could feel the displeasure radiating from Hughes, but chose to ignore it. It was his body now, and Hughes was just one soul. He’d had centuries of being formed from a philosopher’s stone, he could deal with cranky souls. He dragged his attention back to Mustang.

“I guess I was too late, though,” Mustang was saying, “because when we got there we found you.” He frowned. “How did,” he gestured vaguely to Greed, “this happen, anyway?” Greed paused. He didn’t actually know. His first memory was of arguing with Hughes as he fought for control of the body. Bido made a small noise, as if seeking permission, so Greed nodded magnanimously. No sense in admitting there was something he didn’t know.

You know, I can feel you rolling your eyes in there, he told Hughes irritably. Settle down, this probably concerns you too.

I thought nothing concerned me anymore, Hughes responded snarkily, as I’m just a soul sharing your space…

Just shut up and listen, would you? Greed told him.

“It all started under Dublith, after we grabbed Alphonse Elric…” Bido started.

“Alphonse Elric?” Mustang shouted, slamming his hands on the table. Bido flinched. Greed glared at Mustang.

“Hey, leave him alone!” Greed growled. “You’re the one who wanted him to tell this story.”

“Are Ed and Al all right?” Riza asked. They all turned to look at her, having almost forgotten she was there. Her focus was on Bido, though.

“Are the Elric brothers all right?” she repeated softly. Bido nodded.

“Yes, their teacher showed up, then Fuhrer Bradley, and that’s when things went horribly wrong for us…” he shuddered, looking at Greed in desperation.

“Everyone else… the rest of the Devil’s Nest gang…” he choked, “are… are dead!” He buried his head in his hands.

Comfort him! Hughes scolded inside his head. But Greed was frozen. Flashes of another body, of another life, of a group of chimeras like Bido who were under his protection, who were his swept through Greed’s mind. Coming back to the present, Greed found himself gently patting Bido’s shoulder. Did he decide to do that? Greed wondered, or was it somehow Hughes’ influence? No, that was impossible. Bido pulled himself together to continue the story, explaining how he had stayed hidden and followed the Fuhrer, and everything that had come after, up to pouring the vial (which he hadn’t known was a philosopher’s stone) down Hughes’ throat.

Things that seem like a good idea at the time…Hughes commented drily.

“I can’t believe he melted me down!” Greed said irritably. “Well, I can actually, this is the guy who makes homunculi who are vice personified… But he melted me down!” Greed huffed. “So you’re out to take down my baby brother, Wrath, right? The one you know as Fuhrer Bradley? Why don’t you set your sights a bit higher and take out my old man while you’re at it?” Greed glanced at a rather dazed Roy Mustang. “If that’s your goal, I’ll cooperate. At least until we take Father down. Then all bets are off.” He leered at Mustang, and threw a wink at Riza for good measure. That shook the alchemist out of his stupor, though his lieutenant acted like she hadn’t seen.

So that’s what Hughes meant when he said she was unavailable… they’re a couple.

I wish! Hughes muttered. They should be, but they won’t. Military regulations, Roy’s ambition, the shadowy past they have that neither one of them will talk about…Hughes heaved a long-suffering sigh. If you’re going to be using my body, please remember to pester Roy about needing a wife. And by ‘wife’ I definitely mean Riza, but don’t say that. I have bets going about how long this is going to take them.

What is with your pathological need to parent everybody? Greed asked. He could feel Hughes’ mental shrug.

Pay attention, I think they’re going to decide what to do with you… us.

That’s not denial, Greed threw at Hughes before turning his focus fully outward. Roy and Riza were finishing up a non-verbal conversation. Totally married, Greed noted.

Put money on it, I’ll add you to the pool, Hughes chimed. Roy stared at him, hard. Bido shifted nervously behind him, even though the full intensity of the glare wasn’t directed at the chimera. Greed didn’t flinch.

“The lieutenant and I have decided to accept your offer. There are a couple other people I trust that I’m going to call in, then we can discuss… how we proceed.”

“Team Mustang, right? Breda, Havoc, Fuery, and Falman?” Greed asked. Mustang cocked his head.

“Yes… but what did you call them?” the alchemist asked.

“Team Mustang. That’s the label in Hughes’ mind.” Greed said.

You didn’t have to tell him that! Hughes scolded. The faintest ghost of a smile brushed across Roy’s lips.

“He would,” Roy muttered, barely audible. He continued, louder. “My team are the only ones we can trust. And you can’t just wander around Central wearing Hughes’ face. We’ll have to figure something out, maybe fake your death…”

“And why can’t I ‘wander around Central’?” Greed pouted. Mustang looked at him pointedly.

“As much as you look like Maes Hughes, you’re not him. And I’m not going to let a homunculus rummage through any more state secrets than I have to,” Roy threatened.

“Is that so?” Greed glared back.

“Boys. Enough.” Riza’s commanding voice cut through the tension, and both Greed and Roy leaned back. How does she do that? Greed wondered.

“But I agree with the colonel,” Riza continued, “you can’t go to work as Maes Hughes. We’ll have to figure out an alternative.” As Greed watched, all the color suddenly drained from Roy’s face.

“Oh my god,” he said, “what do we tell Gracia?” Hawkeye’s face dropped, matching Roy’s pallor. She stared at Greed in horror.

“Who’s Gracia?” Greed asked. Hawkeye and Roy just stared at him, too caught up in their own thoughts. Hughes, however, had no such issues.

Gracia is only the most wonderful woman on the entire planet! And she married me! And… no wonder Roy’s panicking, I should probably be panicking too, but there is no way we are letting them tell her I’m dead when I’m not dead… Well, this is going to get complicated. But Gracia is so strong…” Hughes continued babbling about the virtues of his wife and Greed felt his jaw drop just a little.

“Wife?” he said not realizing he was speaking out loud as well as to Hughes. “I have a wife?”

No, Hughes corrected, I have a wife, and you’re just currently renting space in my body.

How are you so chill about this situation? Greed asked. Really, you should be curled into a ball of existential doubt right about now. I mean, you managed to survive joining with a philosopher’s stone, but even so, why the hell are you so calm?

Would it change anything? Hughes asked pragmatically. It happened, I have to deal with it. I’ll have a break down later, after I know my family is safe, will that work for you?

You’re almost as snarky as Envy, Greed told him.

I refuse to be compared to someone your conscious labels as ‘the garbage lizard’, Hughes responded.

“We can’t tell her this,” Roy said, finally having recovered enough for speech.

No, no, no Hughes chanted.

“I agree, sir,” said Riza. “Maybe the idea of faking his death you suggested…”

Like hell! Hughes growled. Then the deluge started. Memories, emotions, overwhelming sensations, all focused on Gracia. These were… Hughes feelings? What was going on? Greed felt his control slipping. What? How could his control be slipping? Greed scrabbled to regain his mental balance in the face of so much raw emotion, but it was too late. Hughes had momentarily gained control. He blinked.

“Roy?” he asked. Mustang frowned.

“Yes? It hasn’t changed?” Roy said, an edge to his voice.

“Roy!” Hughes wrapped him in a quick spontaneous hug, lunging across the table. Roy stiffened.

“It’s me! It’s actually Hughes. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to maintain control, though. Greed is not happy. So I need you to listen to me. DO NOT lie to Gracia about what happened to me. Don’t do that to her. You don’t realize how strong she is. She can probably help, honestly. GRACIA NEEDS TO KNOW.” He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. When they opened again, the cheerful brown had been replaced by a hard purple. Greed planted his hands on the table, panting heavily.

What the hell was that? Greed growled.

I couldn’t let them lie to Gracia, Hughes said, utterly unrepentant.

Don’t do that again, Greed said.

No promises, Hughes replied blithely. Greed groaned.

You’re impossible, he groused.

You better focus, Hughes said. Roy’s starting to look worried.

Greed turned his focus outward.

“Do what he says, for the love of all things good, and don’t lie to his wife!” And there was no more talk of lying to Gracia. Much talk of what, exactly they would tell Gracia, but not of leaving her out of the considerations.

His Favorite Scent

This is also posted on Fanfiction.Net and AO3.

Pairing: RoyxRiza Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor. Word Count: 1207 Written for the prompt: “You smell nice.” Summary: Roy gets hurt on a mission and Riza carries him to safety, but he says something that throws her off and makes her wonder about the meaning behind his words.

-------------

The mission wasn’t supposed to go this way. He wasn’t supposed to get hurt.

Hawkeye grit her teeth and trudged forward, Mustang’s body heavy on her back. The warmth of his blood seeping into her clothes spread like a fractal spiderweb across her shoulder blades. He was losing too much blood too fast and, if his unconscious state was any indication, he needed medical attention soon or he wouldn’t be coming back from this. He had only been shot in the shoulder, but the bullet must have hit some sort of vital judging by the amount of blood pumping out of his wound and into her uniform.

The thought of losing him drove Riza forward, pushing through the pain from her own wounds, spiking up her side whenever she stepped too hard on her right leg. She was concentrating so hard on moving him to safety as fast as possible that she barely noticed when he moved a bit, his eyes cracking open ever so slightly. He moved his face to bury it into the fabric at her neck and nuzzled her, inhaling deeply. Riza definitely felt that and faltered in her step.

“Sir,” she started, intending to ask how he was feeling and relieved that he was awake.

He spoke before she could finish, a murmur so quiet she almost had to strain to hear him.

“You smell nice…”

Her eyes widened a fraction in surprise when his words registered with her and she furrowed her brow, frowning and adjusting him on her back so his face was no longer pressed into her neck. If it had been under any other circumstances, she might have even blushed from the compliment.

“What kind of thing is that to say in this situation?”

Riza was astounded he could still spew out frivolous compliments in even such a dire time. He must have been delirious from the amount of blood he lost.

Roy didn’t respond and moments later his body sagged again as his world returned to darkness.

000000

Riza was never fond of hospitals. The bleach white walls and stark fluorescent lighting were too bright for her eyes. The medicinal smells that surrounded her as the stitching needle thread it’s way through her skin reminded her of things she’d rather leave in the past.

She was certainly not fond of needles.

The doctors cleared her to go home once they finished stitching the wounds on her leg and arm closed, but she insisted she remain with Colonel Mustang. Her excuse was that he needed his bodyguard to watch out for him should the people who shot him return to finish what they started, but deep inside she knew that was only a minor part of it. The real reason she wanted to stay was because she was worried about him and, until he woke up, she didn’t want to leave his side.

The hospital staff eventually agreed to let her stay.

She pulled a chair up next to Roy’s bed, making herself comfortable to prepare for the unknown amount of waiting time she would have to sit through until he woke up. The doctors assured her he would wake once the medicine wore off, but until he opened his eyes, she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest. It was her fault he was hurt, her split second decision to turn away from him almost cost him his life.

In the early hours of the morning, as Riza sat half asleep, staring off in the direction of Roy’s hand resting against the bright white sheets of his hospital cot, the colonel woke.

Roy groaned quietly and he made a face as he tried to move his stiff shoulder and arm. The noise reached Riza’s ears and she was immediately alert. Looking up, their eyes met and a little smirk played on his lips at the sight of her worry-lined face. For some reason, the first thought that crossed his mind was that she was beautiful.

Remembering what happened, he quickly looked her over and his smirk turned to a frown when he caught sight of the stitches on her arm. Riza noticed where his eyes were lingering and she sighed, glad he couldn't see the stitches in her leg. She was fine and didn't need him fretting over her.

“You’re hurt,” Roy said, worry lacing his tone. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Colonel. Please worry about yourself more! How do you feel?”

Roy’s gaze returned to hers and he attempted to shrug, only to gasp as pain shot through his arm.

He spoke before she could comment on anything.

“I’m feeling fine, really. I’ve had worse.”

“Don’t move too quickly,” she scolded. “You’ll reopen your stitches.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Roy muttered, moving to get into a more comfortable position.

Silence stretched between them for a few minutes before Riza spoke again.

“You...Do you remember what happened after you were shot? What you said?”

Roy stared at her as she averted her gaze to stare out the window on the other side of the room. The moments ticked by and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him again. Since when did Riza Hawkeye become so bashful around Roy Mustang? It was almost absurd.

Riza caught him fidgeting out of the corner of her eye and he made a quiet humming sound. He must have been trying to remember the events from that afternoon and when his breath hitched for a second, she thought he must have remembered.

“No, I...I remember passing out while I was on your back, but… That’s it.”

Riza finally looked back at him, surprise evident in her expression. She felt a mix of emotions at his response, but the most prominent feeling was one of disappointment. It was such a silly thing to feel disappointed about, but nevertheless, a negative feeling settled in her chest and she fought back a sigh, struggling to keep a mask of neutrality on her face.

“I see,” was all she could manage and Roy looked at her with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sir, I just...thought I heard you say something while I was carrying you out of that place and I was simply wondering if you remembered what it was. It’s not important.”

Roy said nothing, but Riza caught the mischievous glint in his eye and he slowly sat up a bit and moved closer to her. She followed his hand as he reached up and brushed his fingers through her hair.

At this point, Riza was convinced the loss of blood was still affecting his state of mind.

“Sir?”

“Thank you,” he said, voice sincere and tinged with longing she recognized and knew all too well. “Thank you for saving me back there, for saving me all the time, from everything.”

“It’s my job.”

Roy gave her a look that said he knew it was more than that. She sighed, not even trying to deny it.

She didn’t resist when his hand moved to the back of her head and pulled her forward against him. He held her close with his good arm and pressed his nose into the skin where her shoulder and neck met, taking a deep breath and smiling.

“You still smell nice.”

understanding

read on ao3 and ffnet

"I was wondering if for your royai and havolina oneshots you could write something where rebecca can't understand why Jean trusts and follows roy and why riza loves roy until she sees roy take a bullet to the chest for riza and how upset and hysterical riza is about it. Later, Havoc explains that mustang would go to great lengths to protect anyone of his subordinates and how mustang had saved his life once and rebecca finally gets why they all trust mustang so much?" - Patsy Koala

Rebecca Catalina couldn’t understand it. Why did Riza Hawkeye follow Mustang so readily and without question? Just by looking at them, she could tell they shared a bond, but why? Curiosity always got the better of her. Every time she tried to set up a date for Riza they only lasted one or two before her friend would shrug and tell Rebecca she wasn’t interested in them. Rebecca had been frustrated as time wore on but seeing Riza and Mustang together she could see why Riza’s attention was always elsewhere.

However, it didn’t explain the trust and love. It was clear as day Riza loved him. Every time Rebecca would mention him, especially by first name, a small smile would appear on Riza’s lips and her gaze would shift, staring off into the distance for a fraction of a second.

Mustang always appeared to be sleeping around though. Rebecca knew, she had seen him. He got very cosy with the women he met up with in the evenings at this restaurant and that bar around the East and Central. This had been going on for years, but why did Riza love him so much, and not question that behaviour? Not react to it? The one thing Rebecca didn’t want was for Riza to get her heart broken by him.

But as she watched Riza clutch a dying Roy Mustang in her arms, she finally understood. She had gotten the wrong end of the stick for years, but seeing them both in this situation, everything slotted into place. Jean’s words echoed through her head at that precise moment, still frozen in shock from what she had just witnessed.

“Mustang acted like he didn’t care,” Jean had told her, when Rebecca questioned – in frustration – why Riza followed Mustang so readily for years. “And that was exactly it, just an act, to throw off the higher ups and alleviate the suspicion such a young officer in such a high position would hold.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it, Mustang acted lazy and played dumb, yeah? It was so he wasn’t seen as a threat. Back then, if the Generals had any idea about how he really was, and what his true goals were, he probably would have been restricted in his movements, kept in the same place so they could continue towards their plan for the Promised Day.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Rebecca agreed. “But I don’t get why Riza followed him so blindly. She could have done so much more.” So much better, Rebecca had also thought at the time.

“Oh, definitely,” Havoc agreed without hesitation. “But after Ishval they both made a promise to each other, to reach the top and prevent anything like the genocide of the Ishvalan people from happening again.”

“That’s why –” Rebecca cut herself off, finally realising.

Havoc nodded. “That’s why they did what they did. If they’d pulled the same stunt as Armstrong, the homunculi would have succeeded on the Promised Day.

“Make no mistake,” Jean added gently. “He cares about all of us, not just Hawkeye. He loves her so much. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it before, and the feelings are mutual, which is why she is top priority to him, and vice versa.”

Rebecca understood that now as Riza stood over her commanding officer, feet straddling his bleeding body, firing off rounds in quick succession, two assailants falling like dominoes. There was a coldness in her expression that Rebecca had never seen before.

The four of them had been enjoying drinks at Madame Christmas’ bar that Friday night. Rebecca was behind the bar, looking after the place while the Madame took a night off.

After the Promised Day Rebecca had found her new calling in life after meeting the infamous Madame Christmas. Deciding this line of work was more thrilling than the military, she had been taken under the Madame’s wing, and had begun to learn the way of information gathering. Plus, all the eye candy that came through the door was also a nice bonus. There was only one man on her mind nowadays though.

And her first shift overseeing the bar? Four armed men had entered the bar, firing shots.

As the door banged open, Mustang had turned sharply, even before Riza.

“Riza Hawkeye?” On instinct, she begun to turn, a frown on her face as she didn’t recognise the voice.

Rebecca couldn’t comprehend what her mind was seeing. Seeing the metal glint in the lamplight, Mustang’s stool fell as he launched himself out of it to wrap his arms around Riza’s midsection, his black coat billowing out behind him like a cape. If only it had moved upwards, covering them both from view. He pulled Riza into his arms as two guns fired, the bullets entering his body. Mustang fell to the floor with a thud. Before he hit Rebecca already had her gun out and fired at the man closest to her. She was rusty with a firearm, being out of the game for so long, but she could hold her own.

However, nothing could have held a candle to Riza Hawkeye, even when she was calm. This Riza had nothing but cold fury to fuel her, and that was much more terrifying. The assailants never stood a chance.

When Riza hit the floor, Mustang’s dead weight on top of her, she sprang to her feet beside Jean – who fired at another shooter – taking out the other two. This Riza was anything but calm. Before Rebecca could blink the two assailants were on the floor.

Then the screaming started.

“Roy!” one of Christmas’ girls screamed. Another poked her head around the door to the back, a hand flying to her mouth as she took in the scene. Rebecca quickly barked an order at them to hide upstairs, still unsure of the situation and how secure the bar was.

“Nobody move!” Rebecca shouted. She vaulted over the bar and sprinted for the door, pistol raised and ready to fire. Jean was before the door right after her. Shooting her a quick look, his expression grim, she nodded. He kicked the door open and exited through, gun raised and ready to be trained on anyone who would dare shoot at them. The street was empty, save for a black sedan parked haphazardly outside.

“I’ll keep watch,” Jean announced, voice tight. “Get an ambulance.”

“Right.”

Rebecca raced back inside, only to come screeching to a halt. Mustang was on his back, a worryingly large pool of blood spilling onto the wooden floor. Riza was bowed over him, her eyes boring into his own. Rebecca saw something fall onto his face. A second later, she realised it was water.

Riza was crying.

One of the girls was already on the phone for an ambulance, speaking with such a calmness, it suggested she had done this before.

“No, no, no,” Riza whispered over and over. Her hands were spread across his torso, putting pressure on his wounds. One was near his shoulders, the other down near his waist. “Roy,” Riza called to him, voice broken. It made Rebecca’s breath catch in her throat. It took her a few seconds to get moving, but Rebecca eventually crouched by Mustang’s side and gently moved Riza’s hands. Her friend’s eyes tore away from Mustang’s, flashing in a challenge.

“Let me,” Rebecca urged, placing her own hands over the bullet wounds.

After Riza removed hers, she brought them to Mustang’s face.

“Riza,” he groaned, the coughed. Blood spattered on Riza’s face, and she flinched, but didn’t appear to be bothered by it.

“I’m here,” she replied. Her bloody thumbs stroked against his cheekbones, making bile rise in Rebecca’s throat. She had seen death, seen bloodshed, but this was so much worse. Mustang had never been her favourite person in the world, but she didn’t dislike him. Rebecca had always admired his drive and ambition to change this country for the better. When she had discovered he was leading the coup against Bradley – and why – her respect for him only grew. What she hadn’t liked, was the way he acted, especially towards Riza. It had been clear from very early on that Riza was smitten with Mustang. It was hardly a surprise when Riza admitted it to her in confidence years ago.

Rebecca had struggled to figure out their relationship – and Mustang’s feelings – ever since.

Riza looked distraught, broken, terrified, right now, emotions Rebecca would never have associated with Riza Hawkeye. But when it came to him…

Where the hell was that ambulance?

“Good,” he muttered, eyes closing. “Good…”

“Stay with me,” Riza begged, shifting on her knees and readjusting the grip on his face. it caused his eyes to flutter open and that was enough for her. “Roy, stay with me! You don’t get to die, not like this.” They remained closed, not reacting to her words. Rebecca watched as the panic begun to rise in Riza. “No! Roy, open your eyes! We have so much left to do. You promised…” she whispered, tears falling thick and fast now. “You bastard, you promised!”

“I love you,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper. Rebecca had to strain to hear it. “Remember that…”

“Roy!” Riza screamed.

“Riza?” Rebecca called urgently to her, trying to break through her hysteria. To be perfectly honest, she was terrified. Rebecca had never seen Riza react this way to anything ever. Seeing the wild panic, the fear, the hysteria, Rebecca finally understood why Riza Hawkeye followed Roy Mustang.

She loved him, and he loved her. Pure and simple.

Mustang coughed underneath Rebecca, his body shuddering with the effort. Rebecca’s hands shifted, slick with his blood, and she fought to keep them in place.

“Get… somewhere safe… please.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Riza shook her head. “I’m never leaving you.”

“We’ve got the place on lockdown, Roy,” Rebecca told him. His head rolled, his unfocussed eyes looking in her direction. “There’s nothing to worry about, we’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you,” he breathed.

“Just – Just stay with me, Roy. Please,” Riza begged, a hand moving up to his hair and stroking it down. The same hand made its way back to his face, cupping his chin. “I can’t do this without you.”

The door burst open once more and a teary eyes Riza Hawkeye lifted her firearm without hesitation. Rebecca’s gaze snapped up, but she relaxed upon seeing the paramedics. What she didn’t miss was how much Riza’s hands were shaking.

Riza had a death grip on Rebecca’s hands all the way to the hospital. Jean drove them behind the ambulance, weaving in and out of traffic, the emergency vehicle never leaving their sights. Rebecca didn’t think anyone would dare stop General Mustang’s car as it raced after an ambulance, in which he lay dying.

The worst part was not knowing his condition.

Despite their urging, Riza refused to leave the waiting room to return to her apartment. Mustang had been taken into surgery eight hours ago and they had yet to receive any word. The rest of the team joined Rebecca, Riza, and Jean in the small waiting room, each looking exhausted but worried. It had been midnight when Jean made the calls and here they were, at eight o’clock in the morning on a Saturday, still all gathered in silence as they awaited Mustang’s fate.

Breda had sat in a chair for most of the night, lost in thought. His elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped together, covering his mouth, he stared at the linoleum tiles below him. He was the only one who regularly broke the silence. He asked questions regarding the shooting. “Why did they target Hawkeye?”, “Were there anymore?”, “Was this over?”. Rebecca watched his brain run a mile a minute trying to figure out the mystery. After an hour or two – Rebecca lost track – Breda left for a while. When Rebecca got up to stretch her legs, she heard him on the phone down the hall, speaking in a low voice, asking someone to go to the Madame’s bar and secure the area and collect evidence.

Fuery looked desolate when he entered the room, eyes fearfully finding Riza’s stricken and tear stained face. Apparently, that was all he needed, and the young man nodded in understanding. He looked at Jean for a few moments, who shot him a look and Fuery nodded again, exhaling. He took up a chair next to Riza, the one Jean had recently vacated to pace instead. Rebecca had watched as his hands itched in his pockets, no doubt fiddling with the packet of cigarettes he held in there. She knew he would be dying to smoke but refused to leave the room.

That was what surprised her the most, adding further understanding to her initial question, was just how worried they were about Mustang. Each person in that room cared about their commanding officer a great deal, and Rebecca had been a fool to think Mustang didn’t care about his staff. Loyalty and respect went both ways, especially with these men Rebecca had come to learn, so it spoke volumes that they had come to the hospital as soon as they heard and refused to leave until they knew he was going to be okay.

Even Falman had phoned twice through the night, asking about Mustang’s condition and if there was anything he could do to help. Breda told him there wasn’t, but they would keep him updated as soon as they knew the situation.

“Riza Hawkeye?” a doctor asked, entering the room. All eyes snapped up to the doctors, the woman looking slightly taken back by the response. Her gaze found the two women in the room, eyes asking which one was Riza. She stood wearily, as if the entire night had weighed down her body. The doctor took a deep sigh, a sympathetic look on her face, and that was all Riza needed. Rebecca’s heart stopped, plummeting into the depths of the earth.

“No,” Riza whispered. Rebecca’s heart tore in her chest at the thought of Roy dead. No, he couldn’t be. He was too stubborn to die. He –

The bastard, he couldn’t leave Riza behind like this. They had so much left to do!

“You are named as legal guardian, should General Mustang be unable to answer any questions himself. He’s stable – for the moment – but still in intensive care.” He was… alive. Rebecca thought Riza was going to collapse. The hand on Rebecca’s forearm tightened considerable, Riza’s fingernails digging into her skin, hard. “At the current moment, he will appear to make a full recovery.” The air in the room relaxed as the boys drank in the doctor’s words like she was giving them water in the desert. “There’s still risk of infection, but we are hopeful. If you can, Captain Hawkeye, could you please walk with me? We have many things to discuss and it’s hospital policy that only family or named guardians are to be present.”

Two hours later, Riza returned to the waiting room, eyes red and raw from crying.

But she smiled.

The air appeared to fill with air as everyone collectively exhaled in relief.

“He’s okay,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “He’s going to be okay.”

Jean enveloped Riza in a bear hug faster than anyone could blink. She returned it equally as fiercely, eyes squeezing tightly closed as she clutched her friend, a desperate need of comfort. Breda placed his hand on her hair, ruffling it as he chuckled in disbelief. Fuery was crying silently, crowding around the rest of the team as they all revelled in each other’s comfort.

So. now, Rebecca knew exactly why they followed Mustang without question.

They all loved him, whether it was romantically in Riza’s case, or platonically like the rest of the boys. There was a lot of care, respect, and loyalty between them, something which took years to develop and earn. There was no doubt in Rebecca’s mind that it had all been an act.

Mustang cared deeply about his team. It was evident in the way they reacted to the news he was still among the living.

*          *          *

“You’re… okay?” Roy asked, somewhat confused. His voice was hoarse and low, unable to speak louder than a whisper.

“I’m all right. Are you?” Riza asked, clutching his hand tightly.

“Sore,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering closed in pain.

Riza was up and out of her seat in a second, unable to contain herself any longer. That had been the longest ten hours of her life and she didn’t want to ever go through something like that again.

Just as her eyes closed, she saw Roy’s eyes pop open in surprise as Riza pressed her lips against his. There was a quiet sigh beneath her as she clutched the front of his hospital gown desperately.

“You saved my life,” she murmured. “At the risk of your own.”

“I saw it coming. Of course, I had to.”

Riza chuckled, a tear falling down her cheek. “That’s supposed to be my job.”

“This stuff goes both ways, Riza,” Roy replied, a smile forming on his face. His nose rubbed hers, Riza refusing to move too far away from him. Their breaths mingled together intimately. “Especially when you love someone.”

Riza smiled, kissing him again before pulling back to look in his eyes. Dark circles plagued the skin under his eyes. His face was drawn tight in pain but didn’t show any complaint. He wasn’t out of the woods, but he was alive.

That was all that mattered to Riza after her night.

He was alive and still with her.

To you, I will always return, Riza heard in her mind, and she smiled to herself as Roy shifted, eyes fluttering closed in his exhaustion.