Disclaimer: yeah, no, if I owned Fullmetal Alchemist, I would be able to buy a computer that's not a piece of shit.
Author's Note: Look! I'm not dead! Shocking, I know, seeing as I haven't posted anything in...well, let's just say it's been awhile. But I actually wrote something decent today! And now that it's like two thirty in the morning, I can finally use my family computer to post it! (my own computer has been dead for a few days now, and apparently, screaming at it, kicking it, and hitting it aren't helping me this time)
I promise, I will write more once school's out, in...10.5 more days! But first, I have to survive exams (shudder)
BTW, Ghost in the Graveyard is an actual game. I play it with my cousins, who are experts at scaring the shit out of me. You all should try it. It's very fun, especially with a big group of people, because then it's less likely that you'll get caught. Ok, long-ass author's note is done. I'm going away now.
In their days as children, when the sky turned dark and her father had vanished into his bedroom, Roy and Riza would play games
In their days as children, when the sky turned dark and her father had vanished into his bedroom, Roy and Riza would play games. The played the traditional games, races and Tag and Hide and Seek, but their favorite was called Ghost in the Graveyard. They would take turns counting, slowly, "one o'clock two o'clock, three o'clock rock" and so on, while standing on the front steps with covered eyes. The other would hide in the dark and wait. When the one who was counting finished, they would go and search, trying so hard not to jump at the sounds and shadows of the night. If they spotted the one who was hiding, they would shriek "Ghost in the Graveyard!" and run to the safety at the front steps, with the other chasing them.
In all honesty, Riza was much better than Roy. When he was the Ghost, he would always jump out and try to scare her, but Riza never screamed. Instead, she would bolt, and Roy would have to run as fast as he could to catch her. Riza, on the other hand, would wait in absolute stillness until Roy was just within her grasp. Then she would pounce, and they would both go tumbling to the ground, giggling the whole time.
Once, Roy was actually able to wait until Riza was close enough before jumping out of his hiding space. His arms wrapped around her and he pinned her to the grounds, grinning from ear to ear. She scowled up at him and stuck out her tongue, but that just made Roy laugh as he straddled her waist.
"How come you never scream?" he asked, perplexed. His question caused Riza to smile. ''Well, Mr. Mustang, because you're not very scary.''
Roy frowned. "Nuh-uh! I'm scary!"
But Riza just laughed at his indignant expression. "Yeah right, I've seen dust bunnies that're scarier than you. Now will you get off me? It's my turn to be the Ghost.''
Roy smirked. "Not until you admit that I'm scary." he said. He began tickling her, and she squirmed and giggled.
"Mister Mustang! Mist—Roy!!"
They both froze at her slip up. Riza's cheeks turned red and she hastily began apologizing. "I'm sorry, it w—"
"About time." Roy said with and honest-to-God smile, replacing his smirk. He got up and offered her a hand. Still blushing, she took said hand and Roy pulled her to her feet. "Your turn to be the Ghost."
Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye walked with caution through the graveyard. The white markers reflected the moon's pale light, giving the impression of a graveyard full of hundreds of ghosts. But she wasn't searching for the dead come back to life; rather, for a life longing for the dead.
She found her superior officer where she expected to, on his knees, head hung low, in front of a fresh grave. An empty bottle lay in his hand, just like the ones she had found back in his apartment. Roy was still wearing his uniform from earlier that day, even though it was after midnight.
Hesitantly, Riza put a hand on his shoulder. When he didn't move, she said his name, calling him out of his memories.
"Roy?"
With speed and agility that astounded her, given his current condition, Roy was on his feet, her wrist caught in his right hand between them, while his left still clung to the neck of the bottle. "Why did you come here?" he hissed, and it took all of Riza's self-control not to recoil as hiss breath washed over her. Whiskey.
"I'm here, sir," she told him, "because I'm worried about you."
His grip was beginning to hurt her, but she looked straight into his clouded eyes. He held her gaze for a moment, but then he broke off and looked away.
Roy glanced at his hand and seemed to realize how tight his grip was, because it instantly relaxed. He gently brought her wrist down, level with her stomach, and held it there as he inspected it, never looking up to see her watching him. The bottle slid unnoticed from his hand
"I'm sorry." he told her in a subdued voice. "I hurt you.'' Riza shook her head and began to speak, but Roy continued. "You could have been hurt, coming out here this late at night. All because of me."
"Colonel."
When he did not respond, she tried again.
"Roy.''
This time he looked up, and she saw the pain buried in his eyes, ''This was not your fault. There was no way you could have saved him.''
Roy looked back down, as if the ground had some hidden secret he was trying to decipher. "Riza, you of all people should know that when I joined the military, I swore to protect those beneath me. I swore that I would make this country better."
Hot tears fell on Riza's skin, but he was not finished. "I failed. A little girl lost her daddy, and I was able to do nothing to prevent it from happening. I--"
''You are an idiot."
Riza jerked her wrist out of his grasp, and she put both hands on his shoulders and shook him once, hard. ''Do you honestly believe that this is what Maes would-we wanted to see?' This-" and she reached down, grabbed the forgotten bottle, and shook in his face. His cheeks flushed with shame, and Riza continued. "This is self-pity, and it is loathsome. Roy, the world is not perfect; it's never going to be perfect no matter how hard you try to change that. Sometimes, sometimes terrible things happen to good people. But that does not give you an excuse to surrender. It does not give you a reason to try and drink the pain away. Do you understand—"
Riza couldn't lecture him anymore, because Roy's lips were on hers, crushing and demanding and at the same time completely gentle. Riza could feel her resolve breaking, could feel herself giving in to her emotions, but before she let go, she stopped herself.
She pulled back, pulled away, a deep blush creeping up her neck. "Come on, sir, let's get you home."
She knew he would not remember this night, as she helped him to her car.
She understood that he was drunk, and hurting, and that his kiss had meant nothing.
But for a moment, as she watched him sleep, she let herself hope.
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