/Incarnadine/

adj. blood-red, crimson

Roy and Riza understand each other much too well.


When they first meet, as gangly, awkward preteens, they are a matched pair of masks and lies and deceptions.

There is a wall between them at first. He is Mr. Hawkeye's student and she is Mr. Hawkeye's daughter. He is Mr. Mustang and she is Ms. Hawkeye, and for a while they don't understand each other at all.

But everyone trips and falls and everyone's masks crumble and Mr. Mustang and Ms. Hawkeye become Roy and Riza sometime between stumbled apologies and frantic sobbing and pouring their heart out to one other.

And then, even when they don't understand themselves, they understand each other.

They understand each other much too well, and when he leaves to join the military she knows that he knows that her heart shatters. But she guards the pieces jealously, just as he knows she will, and when he returns in freshly tailored military blue, her broken heart mends piece by piece, as she knows his does too. But he is, once again, Mr. Mustang, and she is, once again, Ms. Hawkeye, and the distance that they have forced between themselves is suffocating.

And in every other way, they are closer together, and his eyes trace the sharp crimson lines on her back. It is too much like blood and he shudders.

When he leaves again, he knows she'll follow him the same way that she knows he loves her and he knows she loves him.


They next meet when Riza Hawkeye finds Roy Mustang in the crosshair of her rifle and she seriously considers pulling the trigger right there and then. Roy Mustang had taken her trust and defiled it, used it to kill innocents. But still she understands, understands Roy Mustang and his dream, and understands he had, if not no choice, but none that adhered to his morals but this one.

It is, at last, only the knowledge that Mustang is drowning in guilt and letting him live would be a much more painful punishment that makes her re-aim at the Ishvalan attempting to kill them.

The gun rings out and the man that she both loves and hates with equal ferocity glances up, surprised, and she can only look away. She can't stand to look at him anymore.

A day passes, and the man that had been with Roy comes up to her to thank her for saving their lives but she has eyes only for the shadow behind him.

"It's been a long time," she says coolly, "Do you remember me, Major Mustang?"

He gives her a sad, sad look that conveys all the understanding and love and guilt that she already knows is reserved for her in his heart and, because he understands her so and she him, says only one thing in reply.

"How could I forget?"

And his eyes pierce into her, never ending.


They seldom meet after that, and he doesn't complain because he understands that secret hate she harbors deep in her heart for him. He continues to kill, as does she, and the acrid scent of fire and blood fills the air as he reflects on how he wishes he hadn't entered the military, entered the war. The only reason she is here, she is killing with her delicate hands, is because he is.

And then he finds himself with a pistol in his hand and against his temple and he's trying to pull the trigger but the safety isn't off and he's fumbling fumbling fumbling, and there she is, and she gives him a long, mournful look as he cries hysterically into her chest. It feels just like old times, except now he has no need to explain himself. She already knows, and no matter how much he lies through the tears the guilt is already wedged into her. On impulse, he brushes his lips softly against her cheek and she gives him a surprised look. 'I love you,' his eyes say.

"It wasn't your fault," is what comes out of his lips, but she understands him, and always will.

"Shh," she whispers, "Don't talk."

And he knows she means that she already knows and there's no need to try to tell her.

And it remains unspoken.


The hate never truly leaves her eyes until the inferno that had destroyed so many lives before turns itself on her.

She looks him in the eyes and tells him to burn her even as she knows that this will destroy him. But he will still do it, and that's what matters, because he understands her and her pain and he doesn't want that for her.

The pain is more severe than she expected, but the harrowing look in his eyes is worse. And the guilt fires within her.

He has atoned his sins to his goddess and now they grieve together.


She isn't much surprised when he calls her to his office, and she is even less surprised when he tells her his goals. They both smile at each other, and she says, "Into hell," even they both know that this has been the case since he was nineteen and she, seventeen. There is a guilt still in his eyes and she knows they are thinking the same thoughts.

They go out drinking with Maes Hughes from the war and he only smiles at her and elbows Mustang. "Finally got yourself a girlfriend, eh?"

She is rather fond of the man named Hughes and his ability to keep such jolity in the middle of war and looks upon him indulgently. "The fraternization laws make any sort of relationship between commanding officer and subordinate impossible," she says, prim and proper and looking for all the world like the military officer she says she is.

He waves his hand flippantly, though the gleam in his eyes betrays his knowledge. "I'm just teasing," he says, "Jeez! You two are so uptight!"

And they, Roy and Riza, Colonel and Lieutenant, share a smile of guilt and longing for a world in which they were anyone but themselves.


The rest of the team comes together not long after that, with Jean Havoc and Vato Falman and Heymans Breda and Kain Fuery.

They act as they always have ever since they were children, with masks in place and nothing of themselves showing through.

And the team never even suspects until one of them almost dies and the other is weeping and yelling shouting screaming their name and it doesn't even matter who's who any more because they are the same – drowning, drowning, entrenched in horror. For if one dies, the other is soon to follow.

The next day, the masks drop.

And that's when Havoc and Falman and Breda and Fuery finally understand.


Then Edward Elric arrives, all storm and fire and gold, and the masks fall silently back into place and he never suspects a thing.

Colonel and Lieutenant don't speak to each other unless absolutely necessary and when Flame speaks to Fullmetal, Flame is smirks and arrogance and every inch the bastard Fullmetal claims him to be.

When Fullmetal leaves, the masks slide off and they exchange weary looks and wish that they could tell him something - anything. But Edward Elric is still a child, no matter how much he claims otherwise, and they refrain.


They get phone calls from Hughes from time to time, filled with laughter and doting on his Gracia and Elysia, and they all try to pretend that this isn't his way of staying sane.

And so they weather through the calls - Roy and Riza - making affirmative sounds and laughing at the appropriate times. Then that one phone call comes from an outside line and all there is is a resounding silence and rasping, dwindling breaths before the utter finality of disconnection.

They are in Central and back after what seems like an eternity and they both suddenly realize how much they miss Hughes' calls, how they had kept them sane just as much as him.


It isn't until Roy almost dies and then Riza almost dies in the basement of Laboratory 5 that anything changes.

She had given up, he knows, she had given up everything when she had heard that he'd died.

And he understands. He understands more than he wishes to because if he'd been in her exact same position he would have done the same.

But he says nothing of the sort. She knows that he understands; it is an unspoken fact. So he scolds her.

'Live on,' his eyes plead her, 'If I die, live on.'

She stands resolutely. "Yes, sir," are her words, but her eyes tell the truth. 'You know I can't do that.'

And he does.

They had already accepted the reality of death, accepted it much too long ago. But this strikes too close to home and they can only wish wish wish that they hadn't- met, promised, loved.


AN:

I was going to write until the end of the series and then some, but the ending right there was just way too good to pass up. Also, I couldn't think of anything else to write.

Constructive criticism is always welcome.

etione