A/N: It's been four years since I last wrote a RoyAi fic, goodness sake. Needless to say... I guess I've improved my writing within that time, and I've also learnt to somewhat not be so flippin' OOC with the characters (I reread my fics the other day, aND I WAS CRINGING, EUGH). But yes! I can't believe that I managed to drag myself back into this emotional roller coaster, especially considering what happened to Bleach. But ANYHOW, I don't know what to say, actually. Hope you guys have fun reading this small piece of mine?

Disclaimer: Honestly, I'm just really glad that Hiromu Arakawa owns FMA, and I'm even more so appreciative with how she ended the series. Thank you.

They always knew that that was the case.

She was his, and he was hers; such fact had been lived without a doubt.

Although neither spoke a word about it, anyone who knew them immediately knew of it. It was a feeling that seemingly coated them wherever they went, as subtle as the two tried to make it seem. The way she followed him a step behind; the way he walked with such trust visible in his stance, his back wide open for betrayal; the way she held her gun for him; the way his eyes flickered if danger ever made itself known around her life; the feeling was just there and no one could deny it, because doing so would only make themselves look like a lunatic to others.

His reputation, however, had been what threw them all off.

A womanizer, he was known as, going out on dates at least more than twice a week. He was also frequently seen around one of the best bars in the city, a charming smile upon his features that had always made women swoon when given the chance. Not her, though, and sometimes, most of them wondered why it never did.

Or maybe it did, but they just never saw.

And then there were the phone calls whenever she was not there, the name Elizabeth being heard in more instances than one. He said it with such fondness, a smile in his eyes that should not have been considered as indifferent, but it was. If they had not known better, they would have said that he was finally serious about someone – an almost impossible and complicated case, you see, for everyone knew that Roy Mustang was forever a bachelor and he'd have to find a good enough woman to tie him down just like that.

And so, when one was known as such, of course people were confused as to how in the world the feeling radiated off of the two.

Again, she was his, and he was hers.

His personal team, on the other hand, made no comment about it. They were asked questions, curiosity about the Colonel and his First Lieutenant becoming a constant topic in spite of the hollow answers received. It was almost as if they did not care, as if there was nothing special in between the individuals of the subject. But if one were to look close enough, then the quirk of their lips would not have gone unnoticed. Even they knew it, but they never did dwell on the insights given for too long.

"It's really none of our business," they said, "As far as we can tell, they just have a normal commanding officer and subordinate relationship."

A bunch of liars they were, though nobody had the courage to call them out. Of course it had to be more than a 'normal commanding officer and subordinate relationship', if anything, it was like they were married. Unfortunately, others had labelled it as a 'babysitter and a child', but only because they have never really seen past the aspect of unfinished paperwork and threats. If they were to see them in action... well, that would have quickly become a different story.

Oh, but jealousy, now that was a common thing among the female officers.

Their words usually seethed with venom whenever she was brought up, a furrow in between their brows. Most never did understand the thing that the Colonel and Lieutenant had, though they deemed her apparently unworthy of his presence, nonetheless. She was unfeminine, so strict with the beloved well-known man, and was most definitely no fun whenever he came around with her following closely behind. He'd shoot them his unmistakeable smirk, and for a quick second, their hearts would take a leap until she caught their gaze; so normal, so... so boring.

They just could not see why he even bothered to keep her around.

But even so, even they knew the common case that everyone felt:

That she was his, and he was hers.

"You know, Lieutenant," He started, a pen twirling in between his index and middle finger, "I feel like we're being closely watched; more than usual, in fact."

"And what makes you say that, sir?" His companion spoke up from her desk, attention barely lifted from the reports that laid before her. There was no show of amusement on her features, whatsoever, as one would have expected if they were told of what she had just heard. But this was the Hawk's Eye; a woman acknowledged as calm and collected at all times, even in the face of danger. She was also most likely Mustang's greatest asset, but that went on unspoken.

Like so many other things.

"Well, whenever we're walking down the corridors, heads are turning even though they try not to. When we're at the mess hall, it's like watching us eat is some sort of a past time. Hell, even when an officer is dropping off several files, it's like he's trying to drill holes into my head or yours."

At the explanation heard, the Lieutenant could not help the small hum that vibrated within her throat. It had been the kind that showed the act of thinking, her mind going over the supposed claims over and over again. But he did have a point. The spotlight followed them wherever they went, and to say that she did not hear rumours would have been nothing but false. Words bounced off the walls easily, more so when it came from soldier to soldier. Still, she did nothing to stop the stories of her relationship with the very same man in that very same room during that very same moment, from evolving throughout the headquarters.

In fact, both actually found it more than interesting whenever a concept reached their ears. Not to forget their all time favourite: the two of them being married all along and that she was working as his aide to stop him from his cheating ways.

Honestly, the creative minds of several people were simply astounding the more they thought about it.

"There isn't another rumour going around, is there?" He asked.

"Sir, rumours are always going around." She responded.

"Okay, but what kind of rumours are going around this time for us to be... to be so observed?"

"Probably an unusual one, Colonel."

With her reply, Roy could not help but give the other an irked look, pen dropping onto the paperwork below. He was being serious, he really was, but the woman hadn't even bothered to look at him once since the beginning of the conversation. Did she not understand his wonders? His strange curiosity over what was being said outside of their office (yes, their office, because although he was the higher ranking officer, she obviously ran the place. Someone was either stupid or blind to not know that)?

"Everything's always 'unusual' when it comes to the theories about us," The simple statement had been muttered beneath his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

All the while, she should not have been smiling, but one could barely suppress the tug on the corner of her lips. She hid the smile well to no surprise, considering the amount of times she had done so whenever the Colonel got into the mood of something similar to a moody child. It was moments like this that really did play the entire idea of 'babysitting Mustang'. However, truth be told, Hawkeye couldn't see herself in any other situation. After all, she had been in the position as his adjutant for years, and if she were to become anything else apart from that, it would have been close to denying her... well, purpose.

Although after a second or two, the normally quiet Lieutenant replied with words that almost – almost – took the Colonel by surprise.

"They're not that horrible, at least," She took a pause, as if she had been carefully structuring the rest of her comment in her head, "Excluding the ones where I supposedly sleep with you for the sake of promotions, a few aren't so bad."

She had said it ever so casually, the tips of her fingers pulling away at the corner of the page as she flipped it over. Mustang, on the other hand, took his time in carefully watching her, albeit not frozen in place. He had merely forgotten that that kind of gossip still trailed around the building, and for a while, he could have claimed himself annoyed at the prospect. She was a respectable woman, to which led such things to be called unnecessary. As a matter of fact, there had already been numerous offers of promotions, though they were all politely rejected without his say in them. He knew that if he wasn't involved in her life, the chances of her already outranking him was higher than him taking Elizabeth out for dinner that night.

Or any other night, for that matter.

Still, the point was that the rumours assuming the possibility of her sleeping with him just to get promoted were nothing but idiotic.

And so, he sighed and sat back into his seat without moving his gaze from the woman in a short distance from him.

He went back into silence, a thought dwelling in the depths of his mind; a single question asked without much fear or hesitancy. It wasn't negative, nor could it have been considered as a positive idea, though it was still there and for the time being, he simply found himself thinking.

What would life have been like if they were not in each other's company?

For one, he most certainly would have been dead by then. Undoubtedly even, counting the number of times she fulfilled her role as a bodyguard and stopped death's arms from engulfing him into its embrace. And if that wasn't the case, he would have most likely been lost –not only physically, but also metaphorically, considering just how much he relied on her as a guide in certain matters. Plus, she was one of the few who managed to keep him in place when he couldn't do so himself.

He did give her the permission to shoot him if he were to ever stray from his path.

As for her, he always believed that she would have been better off without him. Roy was practically sure that she would have had her own team, she as her own leader. Or if not, she could have been following someone else's footsteps and supporting their dreams. But by God did he hope that whoever that person could have been, would have had the decency to treat her rightfully and justly; both as a woman and as a soldier.

And that's when another unasked question came around.

Was she happy with how things were?

Was she happy with the team? With how he was leading; with how she was part of him?

Was she happy?

A frown graced his usually eased face, unhidden memories flooding back not a moment too soon.

He thought of the time when she was filled with innocence, him being no older than sixteen as he studied under her father's tutelage. She was quiet back then, nearly just like how she was now, though it was more due to her shyness towards him (or towards anyone, really). Needless to say, he recounted the days when he gradually got to know the young Riza and understood her more than anyone and more than she expected.

Friends they were since, but it never became more than that. And to think that he had known her for fifteen years... he never did imagine all those years ago that they'd be where they were at during that second.

Time was a strange, little thing.

"Is everything all right, Colonel?"

With the concern heard within the gentle tone of her voice, Roy snapped out of his personal walk through memory lane. He blinked several times, the woman in mind coming into focus as he saw an expression that almost reflected his own.

The ticking of the clock on the wall was what filled the silence in between them. What were they doing there staring at each other? Didn't she ask him something—

"Yes," He finally answered, relaxation making itself known alongside a hint of a smile, "Everything is swell, Lieutenant."

She continued to stare for a moment longer before the furrow in her brows disappeared at its own accord. It was one of those days, you see, where the Colonel made it as good as impossible to have his thoughts read. And it was not like she could have threatened him about it. If something truly bothered him enough, it generally did not take long for him to confide the shadowing thoughts to her.

So she always waited, because she was always ready to listen and he knew that.

Though it seemed like she hadn't needed to wait long, for just as she was about to resume to her work, he spoke up with the sense of seriousness tracing around his following words.

"Are you happy, Lieutenant?"

Well, that caught her off-guard.

"Sir?"

"Are you happy?"

It was of the concept of ordinary, and yet between them two, it was anything but. There had been a form of weight on the spoken query, one she was all too familiar with, deeming itself a situation where humour could not fit. There was sincerity in the question, genuineness seen in a softened gaze that met hers with what could have been described as undeniable fear. The reason as to why it was even there was unknown, just like the rest of his wonders.

And for a while in time, she could not help but ask herself the same thing.

Was she happy?

It never really crossed her mind; the field of her own happiness being far from her thoughts as she had learnt to not think about it since she was a young girl. She grew to adapt, to simply work around what she received and to be satisfied with the results. She could not (or rather, would not) complain for she saw it as a waste of time if she were to act in any way. And so, with the question of normality coming to with such flow, Riza fell into stillness and pondered the answer herself.

"I... guess I am." She said, her turn to blink her widened, brown eyes at her personal revelation.

"Then why do you sound so uncertain?"

"I'm not, sir."

"You're guessing that you're happy, Hawkeye; that basically screams out 'not sure if I'm happy or not'."

No reply.

Seconds went by.

"Colonel, I'm happy – at least, as happy as I can be after everything."

He took in her answer, the frown making its return upon lips and eyes that lied about his age. How was he supposed to react to that? He wanted her happy, yes, but in retrospect of their past, just how happy was she? Again, she mirrored the expression and again, she asked.

"Are you sure everything is all right?"

"Are you happy with following me, Lieutenant?"

This time, she did not hesitate.

"Sir, if I wasn't, I wouldn't be following you in the first place. And I do specifically remember telling you that I'd follow you into hell if you wished."

"And you have permission to shoot me if I ever leave this path."

"Yes."

"Is there any other person you'd prefer to follow other than me?"

A pause.

"Major General Armstrong, sir."

If he had been one for theatrical reactions, the almighty Flame Alchemist would have fallen out of his chair and tumbled across the floor. Instead, his exterior kept its calm while the interior aspect of it all drowned in shock. She was joking, he knew that she was. But if she hadn't been...

"Really? The Ice Queen Major General Armstrong? That Armstrong?"

With the question, he earned himself a shrug from the Lieutenant, who went on and said, "She's a good leader; does her work as well, apparently. Trains her men right and proper, is also feared but has the loyalty and trust of her subordinates."

"So if you were given a chance, you'd get out of my command and transfer into hers?"

Hawkeye shook her head, somewhat unnoticeable if a person had not been paying attention, "No, sir."

At that point, her commanding officer did not know whether he was to feel confused or relieved or something in between.

Fortunately enough for his curious ways, she continued, "Unless you do something utterly stupid, it'll take more than a mere 'chance' for me to stop supporting you."

She was his.

It was then when he leant closer towards his desk, elbows propped onto the surface of the furniture as a smile was kept hidden behind interlocked fingers. Her attention had returned to the paperwork before her, the fountain pen in her hand scribbling away in her little, neat handwriting. He knew that writing of hers, had seen it for so many years, and he had admired it all along.

Letters were curved, connected, and slanted to a specific degree. She never did waver when she wrote, just like how she never did waver when she fired her gun.

All in all, Riza Hawkeye was not a woman who wavered in action. She knew what she had to do when the time would call for whatever it was calling for, and for that, he greatly admired her.

How in the world did he find himself a woman like her?

"Colonel, you staring at me is not going to help you in finishing your work."

A woman who kept him in place like she did; how rare were they in the world?

"Ah, guess I have no choice but to do as you say, Lieutenant."

And that got him a smile he judged more precious than anything he had ever seen. Not that he was going to say it out loud, though he was sure that she knew of his views in acknowledgement of the well-known case that everyone supposedly believed in.

And he was hers.