Hi! First Fanfiction and one shot! I just basically wrote this to practice my writing skills and to get an outside source of critics to see how it comes along. Plus, I absolutely adore this couple pairing. And as a side note this is my first time really using a story in the first person, it was just a little experiment I wanted to try. Please read, review, and enjoy!

I do not own any of these FMA characters (But oh how I wish)

'There can be no more Flame Alchemists.'

She had warned me about this. I guess I should've expected this but, still, I was a bit surprised.

"Please," he begged. "Teach me."

Those words felt familiar. It seemed like ages ago since I have said those exact words to an older gentleman who was notorious for turning away countless students, thinking they were "unworthy" of knowing his secrets or even his spare time. I had felt the same desperation then that this boy feels now, and I could easily feel an involuntary sense of kinship vibrate through my old bones.

But no. I have held firm all of these years and old habit has made me strong against this weakness of finding common ground with these aspiring young alchemists. It was a good sign that I have remained true to my word even in old age. Although to the world I may be stubborn, I was sticking to an old honored moral code.

And besides…I keep my promises.

"I am sorry, but no." He looked up at me with his dark eyes, glistening underneath his brown mess of hair. Is that what I looked like when I first inquired to Master Hawkeye?

"Sir, please," he took a step forward. "You are renowned for your work. I can think of no better teacher than you. And since you've retired from office, I'm sure you probably need help around the house too." He indicated to the large estate inherited long ago by my mentor and grandfather-in-law. "Please I'll do anything. Anything you ask!"

Well, he definitely knew what he wanted. It was true though; along the lines of help. Ever since I've retired from the office as Fuhrer, my mind has grown restless. Taking a student in could occupy my days, possibly even years to come, and also keep my mind in check. I'd hate to grow older and even more useless.

The idea of taking him in as my apprentice was becoming more and more tempting. Now that the children were grown and out of the house it has become very lonesome in these wide spacious rooms. The word 'yes' was hanging there on my tongue like a water drop dangling from a faucet. But a glint of gold stopped me. As it always did.

"No…"

Her shirt dropped unceremoniously to the ground like a rock. My eyes widened only a fraction and I had to bite my tongue from crying out. I was able to stifle a gasp when she turned her head and looked at me over her shoulder with her large brown eyes. I was so used to seeing them stern or indifferent, but I had never seen her with that look in her eyes; afraid. Like she was afraid of what I might do next.

"Riza…"

"Mr. Mustang," she started but stopped herself before gulping. Swallowing a burden that had pressured her more than what was visibly marked on her back. "These are the secrets to my father's work."

I took a step forward.

"I was entrusted with his secrets. He trusted me to give it to only someone who was worthy of his research, and with your dream I'm sure he wouldn't let anyone but you carry on his legacy. With this I know you can go and help people. All you have to do is break the code and work on your technique." She was babbling now.

It was all that I could do but stride forward and wrap her up into a tight embrace. Her back was pressed to my chest for the sake of her decency. Her train of thought that spewed into slurred words stopped abruptly at the surprise hug. It had stunned her enough that she didn't even react to my forearms pressed against her exposed breasts.

I had managed a few words after cooling down a growing heat of rage towards my master. "He shouldn't have done that to you."

"I agreed to it."

"No. No you didn't." I had stayed with the Hawkeyes long enough to know how they acted, how they functioned. How Master Hawkeye blatantly ignored his own daughter in favor of his research in alchemy. How Riza cringed when her father was close to her, flinching every time he raised a hand or slammed his fist down on the table.

No. He knew this wasn't her consent.

"Riza, he shouldn't have done this to you."

She smiled bitterly at my words. Closing her eyes, she shook her head trying to shake off the trailing tears down her face.

"He entrusted me with his secret."

But he had burdened her more than keeping his secrets.

"And I trust you with this secret."

A milky white hand pulled back the frayed hood and produced a nightmare beyond anything I could ever imagine.

"Hello, Mr. Mustang, or should I say Private Mustang?"

The same eyes that looked pleadingly at me over the shoulder now stared at me with a trace of recognition that could only easily be defined as 'Hell on Earth.' I wasn't brave enough to speak, only giving her a sad grimace at the situation.

'She has killer eyes too.'

We talked for hours about everything and nothing. Expertly avoiding the subject with Maes close by on how we clearly knew each other long before the war in Ishbal had even started. It was a comfort to have her close by, but it was utter turmoil that she was even there.

What was even worse was her job description.

"I'm a sniper," she stated. "I find targets and execute." She didn't mention how those targets were civilians. Men, women, and even children would be found through her scope and all she had to do was pull the trigger and within a heartbeat a life would be snuffed out.

'Why are we killing civilians when we should be protecting them?'

There was an elephant in the room that we needed to discuss. Something I had avoided at first when we first started talking, especially with Hughes and other soldiers that were close by to hear. They didn't need to listen to the troubles we had seen, they didn't need to know how we got here.

"You've been using flame alchemy." A statement. Not a fact.

I did hesitate, shamed as to what she probably witnessed on higher grounds trying to kill any opposing Ishbalan; innocent or guilty.

"Yes." It was all I could manage to say. After all of the killing, after all of the burned corpses collected and shoved into a random hole in the ground, the look she gave me was more painful than everything in the last few months combined.

"You've used it."

I didn't have the heart to answer. The "it" she was talking about burned holes into my memory and seemed to weigh her shoulders even further down with that simple speculation of fact. Where we were now, was not how I had imagined using the long sought out flame alchemy.

We sat in silence for a while. The truth was hung heavy over our atmosphere and it seemed to solidify the quiet agreement between us to just revel in the silence of the war for as long as we could. I didn't need to know the war that brewed behind Riza Hawkeye's eyes were collected sins on the battlefield combined with my own.

"Burn it off."

My hands shook while she stared at me with an obsidian glare. Nothing could break her determination. Not even my shaken beliefs after everything we did in the war.

"You promised me."

"I did."

"But you won't?" I lifted my eyes from the ground unable to find any strength to even shift my neck to give her a proper glance. My expression said it all. How could I burn her? It would break me before it would break her."

She wasn't going to take that kind of bullshit. Not even from me.

She knelt down and lifted her pant leg revealing a long hunting knife; a hidden weapon for any close sneak attacks, a common occurrence to happen out on the battlefield. "If you don't burn it, then I will cut it out myself." Her steely expression did not leave any trace of fear or regret on what she was about to do. I knew there was nothing I could do to change her mind, but even with the long blade she held out in front of her still made me hesitate.

But her eyes broke my resolve.

That hard glare disguised as feminine brown eyes looked at me, no, through me. No matter what I did to convince her otherwise on the terrible thing that was about to be done would do nothing to shake her out of her concrete decision. It would be gone. One way or another.

"Alright." Her stance faltered as the knife lowered only a fraction. "But I'll only burn enough to make it useless. So nobody can use it." It was a long minute before the weapon was dropped to her side and she nodded to my compromise. It was the best we could do at that point.

She turned and unbuttoned her shirt before dropping it to the ground, just like the first time I saw the grotesque beauty in the retreating sunlight in her home.

She was hurt.

I had hurt her.

Every time I snapped my fingers and took a life I had hurt her.

I felt shame overcome me and slipped on my gloves and prepared for what was to become one of the most recurring nightmares of my lifetime.

I held her one last time before doing the horrible deed. And even though it was selfish of me, I knew I couldn't go any further without any unbounded source of strength; I kissed her. Slow and steady so I could relish her, if only for a moment. What surprised me the most was that she kissed back. Hesitant at first, but savory when she parted her lips. She knew this was just as hard on me as it was for her. She apologized the only way she could and kissed me back. All those time I had admired her and fantasized about her, and she was there now in my arms. Consensual and willing. For a moment, what she asked of me was not in our minds. It was an ugly memory that played for us in our heads, reminding us about the dirty job I was about to do.

We parted, regrettably.

"I'm so sorry."

I broke away from her and snapped my fingers.

There were times in life where I was completely surrounded by darkness. Times where I never saw the light at the end of the tunnel or saw any hopeful ray of sunshine to lighten the path that seemed to be stuck in an abysmal darkness. But having my sight taken from me was somehow more besotting than all of those times of darkness combined.

My fingers trailed across the thick cotton blankets covering my legs amazed at how perceptively heightened my senses were now that I was missing one of them.

"Colonel?"

I didn't turn to the voice that rung like a bell, "Lieutenant?"

"How are your…How are you?"

I turned my torso towards where her voice penetrated the darkness my mind floated in and gave her a sheepish smile. I wasn't going to let her worry and add stress to the wound on her neck. "I'll be better," I held out my hand to her, signaling for her to take it from where she sat up in her own bed and be pulled towards mine until she sat with her hip brushing my thigh.

"Now I'm good." Even blind I knew she was rolling her eyes at me. I knew her too well.

She let my hands trail up her arm to her shoulder where it met her neck. The thick bandages encircled her throat, covering a mortal wound that bled her lifeblood away only a few hours ago. The terrifying thought of losing her was more than anything I could bear. Feeling her alive and near me, even injured but bandaged, gave me a glimmer of light in my dark world.

She didn't move away from me. She could never abandon me now, not after everything we've been through. Her own thumbs began their own treks across my cheeks and snubbed the tears that had formed without my consent. "Colonel, I'm so sor-."

"No," I cut her off. "Don't apologize."

"But your eyes…"

"Your neck…" Her beautiful neck that was cut and displayed like meat at a butcher shop would always haunt me. "Trust me there are worse things that could happen." I let my finger trail across the bandage where I knew a thin line was cut into her alabaster skin.

There were definitely worse things that could happen aside from losing my eyesight.

I pulled her to me and felt her own arms wrap around my neck like a scarf. Her silky hair rubbed affectionately at my cheek and trailed down to my collarbone.

The few times I'll ever believe in heaven, would be right there with her in my arms.

I pull her down with me until we are cuddled up close in bed. I don't know if it is day or nighttime, and I don't care who finds us in this position. All that matters is her here with me.

"No matter what Lieutenant, promise me," I feel her shift her chin onto my chest. "Don't ever leave me."

I'm met with a long silence, but like a miracle she speaks all I want to hear.

"Never."

It was a simple event. If anybody passed through in the public chapel in the hospital it could just as easily be a small meditation of close family and friends.

But when I slipped that ring on her finger and she did the same, the feel of her hand felt different. The thick calloused hands that have hovered and squeezed a trigger over the years molded into mine like warm dough.

There were many times I thought she regret knowing me. Regret ever sharing the secrets on her back with me or even asking me to burn the burden that weighed heavily on her shoulders. I have even felt that twinge of regret in my gut when I asked her to continue using her pistols to keep me in line after Ishbal.

But then I looked at her. And she gives one of her rare smiles, obscured under a veil found at a thrift shop and adorned in a simple white summer dress, a warm twist of her lips that gave me a burst of confidence about what we were doing.

She squeezed my hand and I have to squeeze back. We've known each other for a long time now. It was a wonder why we waited so long to get married, but it was worth the wait as I lifted the small veil and pressed my lips onto hers.

"Think about what you're doing!" He breathed heavily red in the face, "do you realize what potential his alchemy has? What he can teach us?"

"Yes I do. That's why I said no."

"But-"

She started towards the door and apologized again before kicking him out. I didn't bother coming down the stairs until then. Not out of cowardice, but more of how my wife could scare the living shit out of these kids and I don't have to do anything. So just basically laziness.

"You know," the boy turned from the open door and pointed at Riza. "You have no right to treat me this way!" He cried out at her venomously. "You're just his wife, you don't speak for him. I want to hear him say it, I want him to tell me why he can't teach me flame alchemy!"

"Very well," I chose that moment then to descend the stairs with our firstborn fast asleep in my arms and stare down at the boy, the stupid idiot, who would dare raise a finger towards my wife. "I will not be teaching you flame alchemy…or for anyone for that matter. Ever."

He was obviously surprised that I was there, star struck even; I just continued to stare back at him coldly and wrapped an arm around Riza while tightening my grip on our son. "And how dare you treat my wife that way," I added.

"You can't just keep all of it for yourself you know," he finally barked out. "The pursuit of knowledge is what every student searches for, all they need is the right teacher. You can't just lock away what you know about flame alchemy like-"

"He can and he will." Riza replied coolly, practically breathing arctic air with that simple statement. Despite being pregnant and out of uniform, Riza was still able to make any pig-headed moron shake his knees.

"You heard the lady," I motion for the door and inwardly laughed at his blanched white face. As if he could even handle Flame Alchemy.

He left us, unable to convince any adult members of the Mustang family that he more than deserved to learn my alchemy. I closed the door and looked back at Riza, hoping she wasn't too unsettled with the confrontation. Her back was to me so I couldn't see her face, but I knew her mind was miles away from me. It happened often whenever a potential student came to see us, but this was the first time when she was so heavily pregnant. The nerve of that kid, pointing a finger at Riza.

Her fingers thrummed rhythmically on her swollen belly and shook her head at me. "They keep coming."

"It is becoming more frequent," I kiss her and rub my hand over a life two months short from being born. "But trust me, it will die down eventually."

She shook her head making her long blonde hair flap around her shoulders. "No. No it won't. My father went through the same thing, and he said the same thing too." I had to pause then; it was rare for her to mention her father. The trust and then betrayal of what he did to desecrate his own child's skin still shook me, and I could only imagine what she really felt about him.

"I mean, it's even a miracle he even accepted you. But he turned down countless students to learn under him. They just wouldn't leave him alone. Even after you left us to join the military academy, they still sought him out. And now it's only a matter of time before…" I pressed her into my arms before the first tear leaked out of her eyes. It was all I could do at the time. The stress of her childhood memories wouldn't have been good for the baby.

I knew exactly where her mind was, the burden of the secrets she bore on her tattoo weighed her down even after I burned her. I rubbed my palm across the scar underneath her clothes, knowing it abhorrently gave her small comforts. "Tell me what you're thinking," I said against her golden crown.

I tucked her head under my chin and felt her voice breathe across my throat. "Ishbal. Smoke. Blood. Fire." I instinctively squeezed tighter as if that would block out her bad memories. Mine included.

She shifted in my arms and looked up at me, eyes red and watery, looking like she woke up from an awful nightmare and didn't know where she was. "You have to promise me something."

"Anything." As if she needed to ask me.

"Promise me," she glanced down and rubbed her hand over her belly affectionately. She met my gaze again, "promise me that there will be no more Flame Alchemists."

"Of course, I-"

"No, Roy. I mean it. No more Flame Alchemists."

I looked down at her, trying to find meaning. Of course I never meant to teach anybody my alchemy; no matter what. They could threaten me, they could torture me, they could strip me of my own sanity but I would never betray the secrets hidden on her back. Why didn't she understand that?

"Riza, I promise that it will never happen. Trust me."

She shook her head, "I trust you. Without a doubt, I trust you. But more of them will come. And when they do, they'll bother you into an early grave if they have to. They'll find any way to learn it. And the only obstacle is you. You have to be strong." Tears began leaking from her eyes. Something she would, no doubt, blame on her pregnancy hormones. But for now they fell uncontrollably down her cheeks. I reach my hand out and stroke her cheek affectionately where she leaned in before pressing her hand against mine.

A long time ago, I made a promise to a teenage girl; newly orphaned with no family connection or close friends who would take her in as charity. So she turned to me, and shared with me her father's last secret that would forever mare her skin. She trusted me with the only thing her father had "given" her, only to support my dream in helping people. And like a bastard, I took it and used it in warfare; killing instead of protecting. And I dragged her down with me. Now she was crying in my arms asking me, begging me, to keep a promise.

I pull her into me tighter, knowing that was all I could do to reassure her of this duty she had entrusted onto me. It was when I promised her quietly that there will be no other being aside from myself capable of learning the dangerous art.

Audibly I settle her nerves and the rapid beating of her heart hammering against my chest, "alright. I promise."

She hiccupped, "do you swear?"

"Yes, I swear."

"There can be no-"

"There will be no more Flame Alchemists."

"Good."

"Do you trust me?"

"Always."

"No…" It was my final answer. "I'm sorry but no."

"But-"

"No."

The boy looked at me; defeat evident in his face. He left me then and there. After only a month of visiting and asking me every single day he had finally given up and moved on. Probably to another, more willing, alchemic teacher. Interesting. They usually last longer.

It was for the best.

I looked down at the antiqued gold band around my finger and smile sadly at the object that symbolized everything I had felt beyond words for my wife. It always seemed to serve more than just our exchanged vows. It also reminded me of a beautiful blonde looking at me with her eyes, always vigilant and protective.

I had kept my word.

She would be proud.

She made me promise a few things when she was on her deathbed, clutching onto my hand with all the strength she had left to hold on to this world. As her husband and life-long partner, I have fulfilled everything she had requested.

Her first I regrettably, even now, agreed to was that I would not follow her too soon. Her cryptic words delivered through shorts gasps and coughs only meant that I would not take my own life. She knew me too well that I would due myself in just to follow after her. Being alone here without her has hurt. Had it not been for that promise I would've probably done years ago what she had suspected would happen.

The second was to burn her. A request that stabbed me deeply in the heart. She held my hands and pressed her chapped lips to them dearly when she asked that. Her logic was reasonable enough. She wanted all of her father's secrets to go with her in death. She wanted to be cremated and to rest peacefully, knowing that nobody could desecrate her grave or body in order to learn the horrible truths tattooed onto her back.

So the flames broke her down into something unrecognizable. Untraceable and unable to be formed together again even with the finest form of alchemy. Her beautiful body that I held in my arms for many years like a loving husband should hold his wife was now a pile of ash.

Her third request was something a bit easier I could handle. She probably knew too, that I was more than capable with my stubborn streak to fulfill her last wish.

I should've been happy. I should've counted my lucky stars that we had made it this far. Especially with our hazardous career choices, we should not have been able to live this long. But somehow we did. And we even lived many decades together, Riza and me, happily married and surrounded by grandchildren.

I should've been happy knowing that my sweet Riza was going to die peacefully, warm in bed, by my side and surrounded by our family we have created and raised. I should've been happy, she was even smiling at me reassuring me that it was alright and that it was going to be alright.

But I cried. Freely and emotionally, the tears came down in torrents. Silent understanding was just an understatement on how we communicated with each other. There could be volumes upon volumes written on how to understand Riza Mustang, but nobody would know her like I did. And with every shallow breath exhaled from her lined face brought her a moment closer on to death tore me up inside. From her all-knowing eyes she showed me that she knew what I was thinking and didn't have to say anything to let me know that she did.

There could be no other.

There was no other.

Our son and daughter, all grown up, were on the opposite side of the bed stroking her arm and saying sweet last words to their mother. I just looked over her body and face, comforted by her still beating pulse clasped between my wrinkled hands.

At last, she turned to me and gave one of her sweet smiles and gave a half-hearted squeeze in my hands.

"Roy," the words past her lips like a gasp and I leaned in further just so she didn't strain herself in raising her voice. "What is it, Riza?"

"Roy," she licked her dry lips and smiled up at me. "Do you…remember…our promise?" It took me a moment to remember. I was old too; my memory wasn't what it used to be. And I've made countless promises to her throughout her entire life, ever since we were teenagers and I was learning alchemy under the shadow of her father. But like a lightning bolt it struck me, and I nodded before kissing her cold palm.

She kept her smile plastered to her face and closed her eyes letting a few tears leak out. I brushed them away with my thumb and stroked her cheek affectionately.

When she opened her eyes again, she sent me a special message. Her own secret meaning of communication hidden in those brown irises that have greeted me every morning in bed and stayed with me every night as we fell asleep together. They spoke of the years we had spent together. The times we were apart and then finding ourselves together again. How we supported each other, protected, loved, and grew each other like second nature since the moment we first met. All of our years together were flashing before her dimming eyes. I begged silently with her to stay with me, I already felt lost without her.

Her one last message was a reminder of what I promised, all those years ago after turning away another student and we were still young, building a family together.

'There can be no more Flame Alchemists.'

She mouthed the words to me, only visible to my own aging eyes. I gave a firm nod. She squeezed my hand, a fraction of her strength of only a few seconds ago.

"I love you."

I knew her meaning. I knew it the day I burned a parchment of her skin to make her sleep easier at night but gave me gruesome nightmares of her charred flesh; all of her father's secrets would die with her. Even with me, the knowledge I possessed on creating the world's most deadly of elements in alchemy, I was to keep everything I knew with me until I drew my own last breath.

Even when Riza was alive, there were countless visitors who would come to our door and ask, beg, offer money and soul in order to learn flame alchemy. There were even some threats towards us, something immediately quashed by either by my hand or Riza's. But Riza was more adamant than all of the alchemist wannabes that have visited us over the years combined.

"There can be no more Flame Alchemists."

The boy that came to me today would disappear from my memory along with the others who have sought me out over the years. It was like clockwork. They have been growing more desperate to learn what I know now that I have aged increasingly, almost to the triple digits. Any day now I could die, and soon enough the secrets of flame alchemy will die as well.

So, begrudgingly, they come and go in defeat. Age has not weakened my stubborn streak. Somewhere out there, Riza would be proud. The secrets of flame alchemy would die. As would I; leaving a figuratively burning hole where flame alchemy would remain a mystery to the world. And Riza will be there, waiting for me. I know she will be I just know it.

For now I receive her silent messages of thanks of keeping my promise.

So there you have it! Please leave reviews!