No Promise Left to Keep
Flicker…
The shadows crept around, closer.
Flicker…
The last light bulb dimmed and went out, letting the blanket of night sweep over the empty stone beast that during the day was Central Command Headquarters. Around the perimeter of the building, presently hidden from view, only the sentinels should have been awake. But the soft rattle of keys betrayed the presence of another.
A white-gloved hand locked the front door securely then quietly slipped the ring of keys back into the pocket of dark blue uniform pants. Once this task was done, the man ran the white-cloaked fingers through his charcoal hair.
He should have been home long ago, but work had kept him late again. His job was difficult. It had been so hard, so tedious, to painstakingly climb up in rank once more. Day after week after month after year, he had promised himself he would rise again. To make a change. To find his place. To keep a promise.
It had been his dream once, long ago, in a different world. A world in which the military ruled. The only world he knew.
Until now.
Now he was once again a high-ranking officer… in a world ruled by the Common Man. A peaceful world. Yes, a good time to be alive. And he was perfectly happy.
But so tired.
He closed his only functioning eye. Lately, he was always tired. He should have gone home hours ago, just like everyone else.
The soft click of boots on the stone steps behind him made the weary man glance up. For a second, he looked slightly startled, but the smiled slowly. He spoke softly, almost resembling a shy child, "You… didn't have to wait for me, you know…"
Another figure lingered in the darkness, cloaked in night: another soldier who should have been asleep long ago. She saluted, raising a slim hand to her forehead, clicking the heels of her black boots together softly in the loud silence.
"Are you turning in for the night, General Mustang?" Her voice was still as crisp and professional as ever.
The man almost laughed. "Turning in for the night?" he repeated in amusement. "Why, Lieutenant, it's nearly morning…"
She dropped the salute and reached out to catch his arm, helping him down the last steps. She looked up into the careworn ebony eyes she knew so well, noticing as if for the first time the tinge of silvery gray at his temples shining dully by the light of the thin crescent moon.
The General noticed her gaze and chuckled quietly. "I'm getting old, Lieutenant Hawkeye," he grinned. "Life does that to you…"
Hawkeye frowned slightly, shaking her head in silent protest. Old? This man was only in his mid-thirties!
But with all that he'd been through, he must feel old indeed, she thought sadly. He only yawned and scratched his prematurely graying head, stopping in front of a public telephone booth not far from the building they had just left.
Hawkeye paused as well, looking back at him uncertainly. "My car's not far from here, sir. I'll give you a ride if you'd li--"
"You remember too, don't you, Riza?" Mustang's voice was soft, reminiscent.
Hawkeye stepped closer. "Sir?"
"Sometimes I still have nightmares," he announced quietly, half to himself. "I keep thinking that somehow I could have prevented it, protected him. Human transmutation has even crossed my mind, on occasion…" He laughed dryly, sadly. "I disgust myself."
"General Mustang?" Hawkeye frowned, looking concerned.
"General!" Mustang laughed suddenly. "Oh, if only he could see me now, how he'd laugh!"
"Who, sir?"
Mustang's smile faded. "Stop it, Riza," he said quietly. "I don't deserve to be called that. Certainly not by you."
His hand moved without warning, reached up, and freed Hawkeye's long blond hair from its tight clip. He smiled, observing the golden waterfall cascading to her waste, watching the spun-gold strands frame her surprised face.
"That's better…"
She watched him with wide, questioning amber eyes, but did not move.
"You've saved me so many times, Riza Hawkeye," he said softly, charcoal eyes peering into hers. "You've always supported me, been here, stayed by my side… always… no matter what. But I've been too afraid to acknowledge you, afraid I didn't deserve a woman like you…"
Hawkeye blinked. "Gen--"
He shook his head. "Please don't."
She fell quiet.
General Mustang looked up at the phone booth once more, suddenly filled with a deep sense of loss.
Yet at the same time, a weight was lifted.
It is time for a new beginning…
The wind whispered in agreement.
I've kept my promise…
Far away, he could almost hear a familiar loud, easy laughter.
Aside from Riza Hawkeye, there was one other who had done so much for him.
Who had died for him.
It was high time he followed his best friend's most oft-said advice.
Wide amber eyes looked up at him curiously as he took Hawkeye's slim white hand in his own.
A new beginning…
"Riza, do you know what the last thing Maes ever said to me was?"
A new life…
She blinked. "No, si-- Roy… what?"
Roy Mustang grinned wolfishly.
"The last thing Maes Hughes said to me was
"Get a wife."