Disclaimer: I do not own FMA!
Author's Notes: Heyyyy-o! Okay, so this is kind of a prequel to Desires and Duties, but at the same time, it can be stand alone. So... that means that this takes place after Episode 51 of the original, but before CoS.
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Promises
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Riza Hawkeye's fingers fiddled and pressed at the soft cloth of the General's gloves, trying to derive some sort of distraction and comfort from the futile action. Despite her attempts though, her mind kept diverting back to the distressing situation at hand, what was occurring just a few rooms down from her.
Her General – Roy Mustang – was getting a risky surgery done, and the First Lieutenant couldn't focus on anything else even if she wanted to. This operation would affect her just as much as it would him – except he would be left with a gaping hole where his left eye should be – and she couldn't shake the possibility of something going wrong, couldn't relax if she tried, until she set her eyes on Roy, safe and sound, again.
The surgery was meant to remove a bullet – left by that bastard, Archer, Riza recalled with gritted teeth – from Roy's skull. It had taken several days to sort out how to go about such a sensitive situation, for the damn thing was nearly lodged in his brain, and the General had spent each of those long intervals in a state of bleary consciousness. He was exhausted – so, so tired – after everything that happened to him: the blood loss from the stab wound near his heart (an entirely different situation on its own, one that had already been delicately dealt with), watching the late Fuhrer kill his own son in cold murder, and of course, being powerless to getting shot – point blank – in the eye.
Riza herself was still shaking with the aftermath of it all – how she had walked up to the Fuhrer's mansion and laid eyes on a motionless Roy, and how completely overcome she was because to her, in that moment, he was gone, he was dead and there was nothing she could do. She had failed her subordinates, she had failed Amestris, and most importantly, she had failed him – she hadn't protected him like she had sworn to, and now... now he was half-blind.
Clenching her fists around the gloves in an act of thinly concealed grief and anger, she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes again – it seemed to be a regular occurrence for her lately – and she blinked them away before they could get the best of her. The surgery would be over soon, if everything went according to plan, and she needed to be there for the General. She needed to know that he would be okay – there was a viable enough chance that the surgery might not work, something she didn't even want to ponder in the slightest – and then she would be able to put her concerns to rest and allow her heart to calm again so she could focus solely on the only man that mattered in her life. If she could just be informed of the state of his wellbeing, then she might be able to start thinking about how she could help him later on in the future.
But for now, all she could do was wait until the moment the doctor came to her and relayed to her the news.
The hour that followed felt indefinably long and tense to the Lieutenant, whose mind was abuzz with a thousand different possible scenarios that could play out. Every once and a while – though she tried to keep positive, it was difficult – one of the scarier possibilities entered her mind and paralyzed her momentarily, before she frantically pushed it out of the depths of her brain and tried to replace it with a less grim situation. "He'll be fine, he'll be all right, he'll be okay," she chanted to herself, biting her tongue until it nearly bled when his death acted itself out in her head.
As the scheduled time for the end of the operation approached, Riza's eyes searched the room, before landing on a clock that she began to watch obsessively. Each tick of the hand echoed in her ears, every second it seemed to stall, teasing and taunting her, and she was sure she was about to snap if—
"Miss Hawkeye? It was a success. The surgery on Mister Mustang was successful."
Riza's head whipped from the timepiece to the doctor standing a few feet away from her, clipboard in his hands that had information of Roy's on it. She blinked at him, trying to process his words. When she did, she jumped up, a relief so incredible washing over her that she felt lightheaded. It covered her from head to toe, allowing her muscles to relax and her aching chest to lighten considerably. Feeling a sudden urgency replace her previous tenseness, she eyed the doctor imploringly, who caught on easily.
Smiling, he held a hand out in the direction of a hallway. "If you would like to see him, then allow me to show you to his room."
Riza nodded, following the doctor impatiently. When they arrived at the door – Room Sixty Eight – and she was left alone, she froze before she moved to open the door. She was about to see him for what felt like the first time in an eternity, and for some reason, despite the practitioner's reassuring words that he was going to be fine, she was still terrified of what she was to see, what he had become, what he had been reduced to. With a deep breath and shaking fingers, she reached for the door and opened it slowly. Her eyes immediately fell on the broken man before her, laying in an uncomfortable-looking bed with one too many medical devices surrounding him. This man – who had once been the feared, powerful Flame Alchemist of Amestris – was now nothing more than a shell of a man grasping for dear life.
A short gasp escaped Riza's mouth, and upon closing the door, the tears she had been holding back since the day had begun began to fall uncontrollably, out of grief and relief and everything in between that she felt for the man. Making her way over to him in small, hesitant steps, she observed his slumbering face – for the first time in days he looked to be at peace, even if it was a drug-induced state. The right side of his face was relaxed, and a small smile even danced on his lips.
The left side, however, was a mess – as was to be expected. Already-bloodied bandages were wrapped around the base of his head, covering the recently-aggravated area. The reality of it all hit her harder than it ever had before – Roy Mustang was blind in an eye now, and there was nothing she could do about it. Covering her mouth to prevent a loud sob from exiting, she pulled up a chair so she could seat herself beside his bed and just watch him. She was not permitted much time do so, though, for a knock at the door interrupted her. She was given no time to respond, either, for a few seconds later, the doctor came waltzing in, and Riza, ever the military woman, began to wipe at her eyes furiously.
The doctor gave her a sympathetic look. "It's all right, Miss. I understand that these have been an emotional few days for you – no need to try and hide that." Riza blinked at him before turning away, feeling her cheeks burn in humiliation. She shook her head, trying to regain her composure as quickly as she could. The doctor remained silent until the Lieutenant was ready to speak. When Riza turned back to him, he gave her a smile and looked down at the clipboard from before. "I've come to discuss the matter of rehabilitation and care for the wounded area," he clarified, and she nodded, standing and making her way over to him reluctantly. All she wanted was to be alone with Roy right then, but this was a serious discussion and she was prepared to do anything to make his life easier.
"He'll need someone looking after him for a few weeks – two or three months even, so that he can get adjusted," the doctor explained, looking up at her expectantly, and Riza didn't even have to think twice. She had already thought the plan over herself multiple times.
"I'd be more than willing to take that position," she informed him, keeping her eyes off the General so as not to burst into tears again. "I'm his adjutant, after all – I like to think he trusts me with this." And she knew that he did, that he trusted her unconditionally, even though she felt like she didn't deserve it any longer. The doctor nodded at her, before writing something down on the clipboard.
He then looked up at her again, knocking the pen against the middle of the page. "As for treating the area – these are the steps that should be taken: it should be cleaned twice a day, and Mister Mustang should be taking his medication faithfully to keep the swelling and risk of infection down significantly. I know that I said the surgery was a success, and it was, but there is still a very large chance that it could become irritated and infected. It's a major wound, and it won't be easy to look after for the first bit. But I trust you'll tend to it well, Miss."
Riza nodded accordingly, before taking a paper that was handed to her by the doctor. On it was a list of things pertaining to treating the injury, and her eyes roamed it pensively, determined to memorize each and every little detail. She owed Roy that much.
The doctor proceeded to explain that a cane would be of the General's interest once his ability to walk was restored in a short while before finally dismissing himself, promising Riza that he would prevent any further interruptions. Returning to her seat next to his bed, the Lieutenant stared down the man, who was still sleeping soundly.
Raising a hand, she placed it on his, squeezing her fingers around his own gently. She was silent for a few seconds before she felt tears well up in her eyes again, but this time they did not fall so excessively and quickly, instead tumbling down her face slowly and landing on the stiff mattress. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it, unsure of what to say at first. She had so much that she wanted to get off her chest – things that she knew he wouldn't want to hear when he was awake again – but she didn't know where to begin for once. When her lips parted for a second time, though, the words rushed out in a jumble.
"I-I'm sorry," her voice shook from the tears cascading down her cheeks. "I'm so, so sorry, Roy. I shouldn't have let this happen. I know you don't want me to dwell, because I can't change what's already done, but I can't help it. This is all my fault." Anguish built up until her chest until it became unbearable, and a strangled sob left her throat. Leaning forward, she placed her forehead against his muscled upper arm, trying to regain her breath. "A-and I don't know what I can do to make it up to you – there's nothing I can really do, I know that. But I want to so badly.
"I was scared, too, you know that?" she continued talking as though he could hear her, her words distracting her from the sinking, sickening feeling deep within her stomach. "More scared, more terrified than I felt at Ishbal, even. I thought I had lost you and I couldn't stop crying—" She gave a bitter laugh and wiped away the steady stream of tears still falling from her eyes, "—Just like right now. I thought that you were gone and I didn't know what to do, because honestly, what are we without each other, Roy?" She sniffled a bit, squeezing his hand in hers again, trying futilely to calm herself. Her heart was clenching in her chest, unspoken words at the end of her tongue, ones that she couldn't even admit to an unconscious Roy.
Riza couldn't imagine her life without the General in it – she had tried before, but she couldn't think up the scenario of not being by each others' sides constantly, supporting one another in everything they did. But on that night – upon seeing him collapsed on the Bradley manor's steps, bloody and beaten – she was hit hard with the reality of how easily they could be separated, and that their bond, while powerful and reliable, could, in fact, be severed so abruptly. What they had together was not invincible like both had liked to think it was, and so when she had cried for the first time in years above his broken body, she was forced to accept the dark and dim possibility of a future without him. Riza had never been so fearful of something in her life – that her sole happiness, her sole purpose in life, could be taken out of this world, her world, with one well-placed bullet.
Overwhelmed all over again, fresh tears poured from her eyes, and she stopped talking altogether, unable to form coherent sentences any longer. Instead, she remained wordless and basked in the peace of the small room they were in – for in a few hours, she would not allow herself to be so vulnerable; she would need to be there for the General, and a sobbing Lieutenant couldn't do that. And besides, the last thing Hawkeye wanted was for Roy to see her in such a distraught state – he didn't need to concern himself with the state of her emotional wellbeing, he needed to focus on recovering. So for now, Riza Hawkeye could be the woman who simply cared too much for a man as opposed to a strict, stoic Lieutenant. She could afford allowing her softer side to show just this once.
It seemed as though no time passed at all as she sat there, succumbing to her sobs that eventually lessened to short, miserable sniffs. Riza didn't know how long it had been – an hour, several? – but it didn't matter, for she couldn't bring herself to focus on anything but the slow rise and fall of her superior officer's chest.
When the last of her tears finally dried up, she reached up and felt her face – it was sticky and stiff from the weeping she had done. Frowning, she looked about the room until her eyes landed on a sink and towel that she could use to wash the grime from her face, but when she moved to go grab it, the hand that she had wrapped around hers moved and then held her back.
Riza froze and blinked at their intertwined fingers, and then her eyes slowly moved up Roy's form to land on his face, his one eye fluttering open groggily. The Flame Alchemist remained lying in his bed for a few more seconds, before trying to prop himself into a sitting position with an accompanying grumble at his inability to. Riza wasted no time in helping him, placing a hand on his shoulder and moving him about until he was leaning comfortably against the plethora of pillows behind him. As Roy sighed into the pillows, his turned to face her and offered her a small, weary smile. "R-Riza," he managed out, still a bit out of it from the medication travelling through his system. He lifted his heavy arm and found her hand again, grasping it gently and limply, devoid of the strength he once possessed in spades. "Glad to see you."
Riza felt her throat constrict for the umpteenth time that night, and biting her lip to prevent another show of waterworks – he was awake now, she told herself, no more of that – she nodded shakily at him. The pair watched each other for a short bit, exchanging nothing but glances, the Lieutenant's eyes growing waterier by the minute. She wanted nothing more than to hug him senseless, but she knew that the action would be wildly inappropriate, so she instead stayed still, not trusting herself to remove her hand from his hold for fear she would act on her whim.
"How have you been?" Roy asked her softly a few minutes later, the question catching her off guard. "I hope you've been tended to you. I can't bear to think of you getting hurt." She couldn't believe the raven-haired man before her in that moment – was he honestly wondering how she was doing after he had just undergone such a risky surgery? After getting shot in the freaking eye!?
"I can't believe you," she choked out, dropping her head and allowing her blonde bangs to cover her face from his view. "After everything you've gone through, and you're asking me if I've been treated? You're really something, Roy Mustang."
A grin crossed his features, a glimpse of his old self, and he squeezed her hand, a gesture that sent a jolt directly to Riza's heart. "I've missed you, too," he told her back, sighing deeply and allowing his sore body to sink further into the pillows. He gazed at her for a few more seconds, before noticing her shoulders were bobbing slightly. "Hey, now," he frowned a bit, "what's wrong?" A few long moments passed before Riza looked up at him, tears collecting in the rims of her eyes and bubbling over. Frantic at her sudden change in emotion, Roy repeated his previous question with a sense of urgency, but his tone remained tender, "Riza, w-what's wrong?"
Riza could no longer fight it, and so in one quick movement, she shot up and was leaning over him, her arms wrapped loosely around his frame, forehead pressed against forehead. "Please, Roy," her voice was shaking uncontrollably, "Don't leave me. Never leave me behind or scare me like that again, please, please." Roy blinked, the intensity of the fear resonating in her voice settling in his mind and making a wave of nausea pass over him – he had done this to her; she was this distraught because of what had happened to him. Slowly, he raised his arms and encircled them around her, holding her against him to the best of his ability.
"As long as you promise the same thing to me," he murmured back. Riza responded by tightening her grip on him ever-so-slightly, and Roy continued with, "I will never leave you by yourself, Riza, so help me God, I will never leave you by yourself."
The pair held each other in silence, not wishing to separate but eventually parting with great reluctance when the awkward position became too much for them to sustain. When Roy looked up at Riza again, she was drying her eyes and a small smile was gracing her features. She mouthed a 'thank-you' at him, which he acknowledged with a nod. He would do anything for her, and he hoped that she knew that.
Riza returned to her previous spot then, her hand taking up its place in Roy's again. She talked lightly and casually with the Flame Alchemist then, wishing to keep herself from being a burdensome presence and deciding not to dwell any further on the depression she had been facing only hours beforehand. His few words had managed to stop the poison that had been seeping into her mind, finally put her worries to rest.
It was only when a yawn escaped the Lieutenant's lips that she was forced to acknowledge how tired she was herself – she had spent endless sleepless nights concerned about the General, and they were now catching up to her. But she could not find it in herself to leave Roy's side so soon, either, but the issue at hand was quickly resolved when the Flame Alchemist offered her a spot next to him in his decently-sized hospital bed.
"Here," he scooted over with a bit of difficulty, before patting the space next to him.
Riza tried not to pay attention to the growing heat in her face at the offer, before shaking her head. "I couldn't. You need to rest yourself, anyway – you need to recover."
"I'm not going to be able to sleep at all if I don't have you in my sights," he told her matter-of-factly, eyebrows furrowing in his seriousness. Riza's eyes widened a bit, and Roy quickly continued with, "f-for a little while, that is. I just... reassurance, you know?"
Riza blinked at him, before nodding, her chest swelling with mutual comprehension of the situation. Hesitantly, she stood and switched the lights of the room off, before making her way back over the man and settling into the bed in an awkward position. She was curled up in a ball and turned away from him, and Roy had to suppress a laugh, his arm wrapping around her middle and pulling her back flush against his chest. Riza tensed, but when Roy pressed the right side of his head against her hair and relaxed, she followed his actions and eased into his embrace.
Roy managed to fall into a deep slumber before Riza did, judging by his soft snores, his face nuzzled into her hair comfortably. Taking his hand in hers, the Lieutenant raised it to her lips and gently kissed it, before whispering the promise he had made to her back to him, "I will never leave you by yourself, Roy Mustang. Not a chance in hell." And at this, a smile adorning her features, Riza drifted off, not aware of the fact that he had heard her words, a grin on his own face as he pushed his face further into the crook of neck, content for the first time in months.
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Author's Notes: I swear, Royai is the angsty ship that just keeps on hurting you no matter what. I have so many damn feelings for this pairing and I JUST CAN'T UGH! XD This is a rambly mess that I felt inclined to write because... well, it's pure angsty Royai fluff, need I an excuse to write that?