Of course, one of the many inevitable facts of life is that I must go crazy fangirling over any new manga I read. Of course, finishing the manga in four days is a bit much. I usually write about D. Gray-Man, but in the case of FMA, it has to be Roy and Riza. They're adorable together. This is an oneshot set after the manga epilogue. Very sweet, and I hope not too OOC. Enjoy. I don't own FMA or any of its characters.
As the sun rests, seemingly just for a moment, on the far line of the horizon, Night flips his cane, donning a sharp black tuxedo, and prepares the equivalent exchange of places with Day, as has been since the beginning of time. Day removes her white hat, hurrying with soft-soled steps around the arch of the world, dancing to the hidden music, the Nocturne of Amestris. The soft autumn breeze whirls around Night's feet as he chases Day with equally fluid paces, their dance never faltering, below the heavens and above the earth in an unending, melodious duet. And with each flourish of Night's black-gloved hands, velvety sable washes over the azure sky.
And one by one, diamonds speckle the velvet below, as the lights of Central City flare to life, fireflies on the circular, opaque glass of Amestris.
In the maze of paths and lanes of a small, deserted park in Central City, black boots slip with a silent hunter's tread between the soft pools of lamplight, under the rustling trees above, the stars jewels in their hair. The shadows somehow seem less dark than the liquid ink of the coattails flapping about the boot-heels. Something in this stranger's stride belies the power he holds.
In the brief luminance of a wrought-iron lamp, the shadows clear from under the army cap, and the weak rays illuminate the lines of silver ranking on the figure's shoulders, revealing him to be a General. The light falls on an intricate seal of a circle and fire-salamander, printed on the backs of white gloves, which are now reaching up to straighten the cap past coal-black eyes of glittering intensity.
Roy Mustang lets the column of light wash over him like water as he pauses to glance about the empty park, watching the wind waltzing with the trees to the trickling music of a hidden blackbird. Roy usually never allows himself to contemplate deeply about matters other than the military; he finds it distracts himself from the more important things. But sometimes, his mind wanders to matters strangely emotional. Why, when Hughes passed away– Roy breaks the thought off. He has never truly gotten over Hughes' death, not even when his death was avenged on Envy. Even now, over two years since the last battle, after rebuilding Ishvala and now returning to Central to report…
Roy is glad of the cool night air. He had neglected his car in Central headquarters, preferring to walk the short distance, cutting through the park. He reflects that the park has always been empty at this hour; in the old days, when he worked at Central, he had favoured the quiet. It was the only place that gave him peace from the horrors of past war.
As he continues on his silent way, Roy chances to turn his head as he passes by a path that separates from the one he is on, curving to his right. He narrows his eyes. In the hazy boundary between the soft shadows under the trees and the lighted path, a solitary figure is silhouetted on a park bench, head bowed, the starlight and lamplight glancing off a blonde fringe.
Riza. Something in the way her head is tilted sends a pulse through Roy's thoughts. Somehow, he knows Riza must be contemplating something serious. For a moment, Roy dithers between walking on and walking over, and then curses his stupidity and strides toward her, setting his features into what he hopes is a natural expression. Although Roy's footsteps are velvety quiet, Riza snaps up her head, one had darting with invisible speed to the holster at her side. As Roy emerges into the circle of the lamp, a flutter of unreadable emotion flits across her face, but the next instant, she is on her feet, her expression one of attention.
"Sir!" Riza exclaims. "Has something happened?"
Roy takes a moment before responding. "No, nothing's happened," he answers, examining her. Riza's blonde hair, grown again in the past year, has been let down from her usual military style, tumbling down to her shoulders, obscuring her signs of rank on the shoulders of her long autumn coat. Roy decides he rather likes the effect. Her eyes seem red-rimmed, but then again, it could be the glow of the lamp above them.
As if realising her appearance, Riza appears mortified, her light brown eyes widening as she involuntarily reaches up to her hair. "Oh! My apologies, sir," she says quietly, unlike her usual confident self. "I let it down after I left work."
"No, it's quite alright," Roy says quickly. "I was walking home. What are you doing here?"
"Just…thinking," Riza replies, glancing away.
Roy watches her for another few seconds, then lowers onto the bench and removes his cap. "What about?" he asks casually, trying to sound bored.
Riza looks at him, emotionless. Roy motions with a hand, and she slowly sinks next to him. They stare at the icy stars above, as they have on many a mission, just the two of them at a fire, talking about the subjects soldiers discuss on missions. But no matter. Tonight, Roy wants to talk about anything else, something not related to their jobs or the military. He notices again how Riza's hair covers her signs of rank, and wishes that his general's rank is not so visible on his cap and his shoulders, that they could speak as...friends, and not a General and his subordinate.
When Riza speaks, her voice is soft and strained. "Do you remember what today is?" Her face is still hidden from Roy by sheets of blonde hair.
Ah. Of course. Roy growls inwardly at his insensitivity – today is the anniversary of her father's passing. He had hoped by not mentioning it, she would be less melancholy. "Yes. Of course I remember," he says softly.
Riza starts, and turns towards him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be bothering you about this, sir."
Roy lets out a slow breath, sighing, "Riza." Riza registers the use of her first name. Roy continues carefully, avoiding her gaze, "He was my sensei. I believe I have a right to know. And don't call me sir. Just talk to me as we used to do, all right? We're off work right now."
Riza nods, a minute motion. Her voice is hoarse. "I can hardly remember him now. He was so…complicated. Somehow, I still miss him. I haven't mourned in the intervening years, but this year…I don't know. After all this time, I thought I would have gotten over it, but I haven't."
"Some people you never let go," Roy murmurs, turning to her. Riza nods to show that she understands. Roy leans back, fingering his hat, and continues, "Perhaps it's better that you don't forget. This way, your father will always teach you. I have never forgotten what Sensei has taught me, or what Hughes has taught me."
"You, Roy Mustang, are a very wise man," Riza comments wryly.
"You've only just noticed?" Roy answers indignantly, glancing at his boot. Then a muffled sniff sounds to his right and he turns, jaw dropping. He has only ever seen Riza Hawkeye cry once the whole time they were together in the military.
Riza scrubs angrily at her eyes, growling, "I'm sorry. I never cry in public."
Roy notices the emphasis on 'in public' and hisses when he realises she must only show her emotions at home, alone. He searches his pockets for a handkerchief and finds none. Aware of the silent trails down Riza's cheeks like liquid diamonds, Roy curses and reaches over with a gloved hand, brushing away her tears with his fingers.
"Sir! Your gloves!" Riza exclaims. "They're getting wet…"
"It doesn't matter," Roy says with finality. "I don't mind." Then he decides to take a leap of faith, and pulls her into an embrace. At first Riza hesitates, torn between her rank and her emotion, but then relaxes into it.
They sit in silence for a while.
Riza has never seen Roy act like this. On the rare occasions she has chanced upon Roy on one of his dates, laughing like an idiot while fingering a glass of wine, she has always seen him as he appears: shallowly spewing eloquent fancies while the women simper prettily. Riza could never simper. And she didn't expect Roy to comfort her in such a concerned manner. And actually, it's quite sweet.
"How do you always know what to say when I'm like this?" she breathes into his coat.
"When have I ever seen you cry like this since we entered the military?" Roy counters.
The muffled answer comes. "You haven't seen me cry."
Roy blinks as he slowly understands. "That time…when I called you while drunk and told you about the flowers…you were upset, and not just because of Bradley, weren't you?"
"I was afraid," Riza whispers. Roy's gloves are sodden now. "I thought I had taught myself not to fear anything after the war. But I didn't have anyone to talk to about Pride's threats." Roy feels her slow exhalation. "I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't. I regretted leaving your side, even though I was ordered to."
"I have many regrets as well," Roy murmurs. "I knew something was wrong the moment you spoke. I shouldn't have offered you the flowers. I should have given them to you myself."
"Flowers are for little girls," Riza chuckles hoarsely. "But thank you for trying to comfort me."
"This is…strange," Roy comments, laughing in turn. "We're both acting a bit different tonight, aren't we?" His fingers absently stroke Riza's hair. "Must be the paperwork rotting our brains. Or," – he tilts his head to look down at her – "We're in some type of manga."
Riza raises her head to meet his gaze. They stare at each other for a full minute, deadly serious. Then they explode into gales of laughter. "That would be hilarious," Riza chokes as she scrubs the last of her tears form her face.
"And impossible," Roy answers.
"Thank you," Riza whispers.
"For what?" Roy grins.
"For being there to talk to," Riza smiles, something exceedingly rare. "Always. We never needed to speak to communicate."
Roy feels a spike enter his heart as her words bring him back two years before. "When Pride was trying to get me to transmute a human…and you were bleeding out…I understood what you were trying to tell me just by looking at you."
"You knew I would have killed you if you did as they wished, right?" Riza says, all laughter gone.
"Yes." Roy's sable eyes narrow. "But then, we would have died together."
"I don't get why everyone gets so worked up about that. Dying is dying," Riza comments.
"But living without someone that means a lot to you is worse than dying," Roy counters, tugging off his soaked gloves and taking her hand with a gentle pressure.
"What do I mean to you?" Riza asks suddenly. She swivels to meet his eyes. "What more than your subordinate?"
Roy is silent for a long while before answering. "You're…you're like a piece of canvas awning to me."
Riza's eyebrows meet, and her grip on his hand becomes vicelike. "Al…right?" She hazards.
"Don't misunderstand me," Roy whispers, brushing the hair out of her eyes with his ungloved hand. "What I mean is…you keep me dry when it's raining."
A slow, slow smile spreads on Riza's serious features. "Eloquent as ever," she murmurs. "Thank you."
They remain in the park for a while, neither of them wanting to move. But when the moon reaches its zenith, Roy rises and says gently, "I'll walk you home." Riza nods mutely and takes Roy's proffered arm, leaning her head on his shoulder.
They make their way to Riza's door, the streets empty, save for the wind whistling about them and the stars wheeling above. Riza presses closer to Roy. They move with a sort of dreamlike stupor, as if time has slowed into a liquid flow, yet coalesced into an instant.
At her door, Riza turns toward Roy, and before he can say anything, reaches up and kisses him on the cheek. Roy flushes bright scarlet as he returns her embrace.
"Thank you, Roy," Riza whispers into his coat.
"You're welcome, Riza," Roy murmurs back, closing his eyes.
Riza breathes out slowly, a release of pent-up breath, and steps back, her eyes shining with an amber glow, although they seem to glisten more than usual. Her deft hands fix up her hair once more to military standards.
Standing to attention, Riza says smartly, "Goodnight, General, sir!"
The corners of Roy's mouth uplift a tiny fraction. "Goodnight, Colonel," he replies, straightening.
With one last, lingering smile, Riza closes the door behind her. Roy understands what she could not say from that one smile.
Roy stares at the white wood of the door, one hand still outstretched. When did I reach out? I don't remember, he wonders, dazed. Slowly, like a man who has just experienced a revelation, he turns and walks away, hands in his pockets. Out on the deserted streets, a strange half-smile spreads on his features. He knows why Riza called him General; the military forbids such relationships. But I will not give up hope, he muses. Things are clearer between us now. That has to count for something.
Roy Mustang laughs once, and is silent on the rest of the long road home.
What did you think? Sweet enough for ya? Something like this had to happen, after all. Royai was the most perfect 'relationship' with neither side admitting it, so I decided to give them something more. Please review!