Beneath the snow
"'Beneath the snow…'"
The quiet tune fell softly from her lips like the faraway echo of a shotgun shell after fire, the melody ringing softly in the still hallway, reverberating with the squeak of leather boots against the tile.
"'...lies a dream that I once had…'"
Her hair was pulled back to its natural bun, a single strand gone astray from her faultless bangs. Her eyes, deep and russet, did not stray as she walked; they were sharp and alert, attentive and guarded and though they remained fixed upon the end of the hallway, she was perfectly aware of all that surrounded her. Her uniform was crisp and taut against her skin, the pistols at her waist ready to be drawn.
"'...and I know, that I'll never…'"
As she walked to her office to being her day-to-day, the empty halls provided a silent audience for a solo act, her gentle song of the soul playing just above the distant beat of her heart. The hallway voiced a thought, startling her out of the fog of reverie.
"Good morning, Lieutenant Hawkeye." Riza stopped short in her tracks, her hand flying to her forehead in a respectful salute, spinning on her heel and facing her superior.
"And to you, sir." She replied, routinely, dark eyes glued to his. Roy Mustang towered high above her, his face firm and his shoulders stiff, rigidly straight, almost threatening. Gloved hands hung limply at his sides, flaccid, but ominously caustic. Despite this mien, his ebony eyes strewn over with regret were soft, not entirely devoid of the distant warmth within him; the warmth he saved for her. She allowed a thin smile to pass between pressed lips.
"Entertaining the halls, I see." He said mockingly, the narcissistic tone in his voice rising. She felt the smile slip away, replaced by an accusatory look that she managed to keep in check.
"They have better taste than some, sir." She replied, remaining just barely within bounds of her authority. He smirked, finding her retort worthy of his silence and walked past her accordingly, tossing a casual hand.
"At ease, Lieutenant. Let's get to work."
She nodded, her hand returning to her side and following him down the empty hallway. It was early; she and the Colonel were the only ones in the building at this hour. She leaned against the stilted doorframe for a moment, watching Roy approach his desk. His shoulders were hunched now as he stared out the window, snow lightly blanketing the world of Central outside, the sun glowing dimly over the chaste horizon. Thin, pale beams of light shone over his face, illuminating the void that was ebony eyes, clouded, like smoked glass shaded over with charcoal. She realized that she was staring, and began to move toward her desk.
"…that song."
She stopped, turning toward him, his deep voice, so charismatic, exuding through the empty room. The room was still, almost expectant, like a photograph freshly taken, waiting within the cavern of film to be released.
"Sir?" she dared to breathe, afraid of disturbing the tentative silence. His eyes remained glued to the glimmering snow that mantled the ground, the insipid light of the sun being shrouded by growing clouds.
"The song that you were singing." He repeated, unmoving. "Where did you learn it?" Riza was taken aback, but her slim, tight face displayed no sign of surprise.
"It was sung on the warfront." She replied, wonderingly, trying to derive sense from his question. "During the Eastern Rebellion."
"You weren't there." He returned, his tone neither accusatory, nor implicative. She nodded once, her face allowing the slightest bewilderment upon her features.
"No, sir."
Quiet reigned throughout the room, as though a chasm separated the two though she was within arms length of him. She returned to her desk, sifting papers from one pile to another and attempted to content herself with a book, but she couldn't sway the ever constant image of Roy, staring out the window, out of the corner of her eye.
"Sir," she said softly, her voice faltering under the pressure of the silence. His eyes flickered to her for a moment as if in reply. "Did you recognize the song from when you were there?" she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral. Roy sighed deeply, slouching, as though letting the world tumble from his shoulders.
"Yes." He replied, voice distant, reflective with reminiscence. "I first heard that song after one of the later battles in Ishbal. I never got to hear the last lyric." Riza nodded, satisfied with her answer, finding it satiable enough; though her mind questioned, she returned her gaze to her work.
"…the snow was stained red." She looked up, startled. He continued, his voice monotonous at first, but pain was slowly seeping into his words.
"I sat outside our tent with a pistol in my hand, staring at it, wondering why I couldn't pull that trigger when I could just as easily snap my fingers," the hand at his side clenched into a trembling fist. "And incinerate the lives of thousands."
Riza stood from her desk silently, the book before her flipping to a close. She took a tentative step toward his desk, searching within her for words to soothe him.
"As I convinced myself that I could pull the trigger," his words dwindled away to a soft, almost inaudible tenor. "Snow began to fall… a clean slate covering the crimson that stained the earth."
Riza was at his side, joining him at his standpoint before the window, watching the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the darkening clouds. The faraway rumble of thunder crashed, filling the silence that built between them.
"The song was simple but portrayed how I felt." He breathed, looking down at her almost imploringly, almost pleading her understanding. "The dream I had to fight died under the snow, along with the blood of those we had walked upon, becoming a nightmare that even death wouldn't awaken me from. The world became cold under the fresh start of a new snow, atonement the only recourse to what I had done. I vowed never go back to Ishbal."
Her eyes studied the clouds above, feeling his gaze bore into her face with scrutiny. The hand at her side grasped his; she felt a shiver run through him.
"Beneath the snow lies life waiting for the promise of spring." She said softly, feeling the surprise from within him. "Under the deepest of cold, lies warmth." She turned to him, matching her eyes to his, her gaze gentle and understanding. He smiled thinly, gloved fingers entwining between hers.
"Maybe you're right, Lieutenant." He replied, shifting his eyes back to the window. She smiled, rejoining his gaze.
"'And I know that I'll never go back.'" She said quietly. Roy turned to her again, confusion evident within his eyes.
"What was that?" he queried.
"'Beneath the snow, lies a dream that I once had… and I know that I'll never go back.'" She sang softly, her voice carrying the tune gently, like a fragile child in a mother's embrace. "That is the last line of the song." Roy smiled down at her, feeling the warmth of her hand in his spread through him.
Words were not needed as the snow began to fall.