It was one of those common nights in the Eastern Command Headquarters. The lights in Colonel Roy Mustang's office were still turned on and his desk was filled with files that need to approved, proofread and rejected. He furiously procrastinates through it and First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye does her share by organising the approved ones.
"I hate these damn overtimes," he said through gritted teeth, as he sieved his way to more paperworks.
"You placed that upon yourself, Colonel," Riza replied straightforwardly and unsympathetically.
Roy lifted his face and he gazed at Riza's back. She was wearing her uniform but he could see her skin beneath the blue fabric flex with every stretch that she does whenever she reaches the upper shelf. He knew that her back wasn't flawless, unlike the other women that he sees. He knew that that was where Berthold Hawkeye, her father and his mentor, kept his secret. He knew that he was the one who was responsible for the gnash on her back.
Then why is it that he finds it so beautiful?
He could still feel his gloved hands brush against her bare back, he could still see the glow that her skin made under the dim light on that night. He could feel disappointment and guilt wash over him like rain.
And like rain, it made him feel impotent.
The familiar, amber shade in front of him dragged him back to reality. Riza, ever so stern and just, was staring at him with questioning eyes. Roy managed to suppress his smile by smirking smugly.
"What's the matter, Colonel?" Riza asked. She was done with what she has to organise in the shelves. Only half of the mountain-load of paperworks were left on his desk. He looked down and he saw that her maintenance kit for her gun was open.
"I'm getting sleepy," he murmured. "Would you mind letting me rest, Lieutenant? You can wake me up after fifteen minutes."
Riza gauged the amount of paperwork that needs to be done. Black Hayate was guarding the Colonel's office door.
"Fifteen minutes, then," she finally said.
Roy gave her his trademark smile and then he stood up, staggered, and fell on Riza. She cocked her gun to alert him, but it was no use.
She sat up straight, and like a jigsaw puzzle, the Colonel's head rested snugly on her lap, and his raven black hair complemented her blue uniform. Riza made an unnoticeable, hopeless smile and then she carried on on maintaining her handgun.
"Maybe if I get lucky, I'll dream about her," Roy said, smiling a little.
"Dream about who, sir?" she asked.
"Elizabeth," he softly replied. Roy slightly opened his eyes to look at Riza's facial expression, and he sighed contently, being comfortable with his position.
He could've sworn he saw his Lieutenant smile.
He could've sworn he saw his Elizabeth smile.