Angels.

&.i saw you reaching out, trying to save the rain;

"Heh. Told ya, Roy. We've got the Hawk's Eye watching over us." Roy's feet shuffle under him, fleeing the small stream of blood that trickled into the Ishbalan dust toward his boots. His eyes shift, and it isn't the first time Maes' has noticed just how the once starry obsidian eyes seemed to have sunken deeper into the alchemist's head, giving off a hazy, always-drunken expression he didn't like to see on his friend's face.

"Tch. Hawk's Eye? Lame codename, Maes." He shuffles his boots again, trying in weakly in a vain attempt to scratch the bloodstains off his boots using the dusty floor.

"Not a codename this time, though personally, I think it'd be a nice codename. But it's her real name, Hawkeye."

Roy's eyes shift, more seeming a black colour despite his natural meridian colouring, a look of fleeting unease flitting in his eyes, "Her?" His gaze moves to a nearby tower, where he knew the unseen sniper must be crouched.

"Yep, her. Barely more than a baby, that girl. All the children the military are dragging out onto this hell front nowadays, though I heard she willingly volunteered to be here, can't imagine why.."

Up in the tower, sharp amber eyes flicker as, unknowingly, Roy's eyes meet her own through the glass of her sniper. She'd seen him before, walking around solemnly in the remains of the battlefield, here and there picking up pieces and whatever happened to catch his interest. Roy Mustang. The Flame Alchemist. He couldn't have contradicted the title more, water coloured deep blue eyes, black tendrils of hair that would shiver in the dust-carrying wind, a cold, icy atmosphere of silent suffering.

"Hawkeye, huh?" Roy mutters, and his eyes are, once more, downcast at the bloodstained dust, "..guess I'll keep an eye out for her."

&.we're just as human;

"You know, no matter how much you clean that gun, it's bound to get dusty in this place." Roy mutters, half to her, half to himself. Her eyes flutter to him, and Maes grins, "You know, he is right, for once."

Roy shoves his boots on the floor, grinning as the dust lifts up off the ground, landing neatly on her gun and hands. Glaring good-naturedly at him, she takes the cloth, wiping the thin layer of dust off the gun. Maes' eyes scan the little tent, peering curiously at the gun, he asks, "Hey, Hawkeye, why is it that you use a gun as oppose to other weapons..?"

She smiles almost fondly at the gun, picking it up, and Roy winces at the clank sound as it brushes one of her other guns, "I prefer guns, because unlike another weapon, like a knife, or even, Alchemy, you can't feel your opponent die as you kill them. It's simply pulling a trigger, you don't get so close as you smell their blood.. it's a simple reason, childish, perhaps.. but. That's why I prefer a gun over another weapon."

"Cause I don't want to feel their lives fade away.."

&.the loves we never knew;

"Need a walk home, Hawkeye?"

She looks up, smiling as Maes grins at her, "Sure, as long there aren't any pictures involved." He laughs, and despite it, he can't help but notice the his friend's eyes aren't clear and bright as they used to be, instead, taking on a faded, dullened, and frailer hue. Still, he knows better than to think she's become weaker over the years, if anything, her loyalty to Roy must have strengthened her even more than she already was, but that was not to say that it hasn't taken parts of her. It was the best, most innocent, parts of her that the war and endlessly protecting him has taken from her.

If it were up to him, he'd take away all of her and Roy's duties and promises, he'd take them, every load and loyalty that lead to their suffering, on himself, if he could.

"You're growing your hair out, Riza?"

She peers at him under heavy and tired eyelashes, and he winces inwardly as she uses her hand, brushing them across her eyes in an utterly defeated expression as she says, "Yeah. I just.. I felt like it. I-"

"Is it for Roy?" she looks up, startled, the tired expression disappearing (but not quite gone) from her face. Inevitably, she relaxes and admits, "Yes. For Roy." Maes watches as her eyes follow a nearby couple, a black-haired man and a blonde woman, holding hands and laughing, free of the troubles that the country has dumped onto her and Roy's shoulders, more than anyone else's.

"You know.. you could've had any man. It's not too late, Hawkeye, you could resign.. take up a normal life."

She turns to him, face and smile weary as she says, "No. I couldn't.. even if I wanted to. You know that. Even if I did resign, I'd come back to him, eventually, wouldn't I..? I can.. I can never stay too far away from him for much too long. I'd worry, and I'd.. I'd fear for him. And you know how useless he is. He's reckless-" she laughs, "and he's stupid, an idiot. He's.. and he's the only one I've ever been able to love."

Her footsteps stop, and quietly the tears wash her face, and he watches, and wishes, not for the first time, that he could take the unseeable load off her shoulders, take away the pain, and her suffering, even while knowing he can't.

&.all the dreams that we left behind;

"He's gone, Riza.. he's really gone." his voice is hoarse and tired, and she raises heavy eyelids to glance at Roy. She hasn't cried for a reason other than Roy in quite a while, but she can't help but admit to the wetness in her eyes as she glances at the gravestone.

It's a marvellous gravestone, smiling, wide-eyed angel perched in such a position to seem that the stone creature would take off at any given moment, the bottom portion of it twisted and moulded to become one with the valiant grey gravestone. It's a beautiful, glorious gravestone, but it's not enough.

Their optimistic, runaway friend that had meant much to both of them. No, never would this material stone be enough for the starry eyed wonder that they had both known, limitless energy and beautiful in his own indefinite free spirit.

Still, he's one of the many things they left behind in this crusade, and inevitably, the thought that crosses both their minds, 'Is it worth it..?'

&.i wanted to be, all that you need;

"Useless man.."

Her voice is soft as is the expression in her eyes, and despite the rain cascading down his hair and shoulders, down her own as well, she can pinpoint every tear that makes its way down his face. "This. This has gone on far too long, Riza." his expression is sure, decided, and she does not doubt him.

"This has to come to an end."

&.i suppose they're heroes;

"Thank you!" Roy's head swims, despite the happy crowd, thanking them for the return of the little boy. They'd been simply passing through, and it hadn't been hard for Riza to, at a distance, shoot the man that had kidnapped the little boy in the leg, just enough to prevent his moving.

Of course, they thank them, but she can barely stand the noise and chatter in the harsh sunlight, the last time they'd been there, it had been to an angry crowd, cursing at them for taking away their loved ones. They can almost taste the lingering fear and hate that shadowed in this place, even if the villagers did not know of it.

She pulls her gun up almost in a frightened manner as the sinister dust reaches high to threateningly grab at her gun, and he shifts his feet endlessly, not wanting them to stay in place for much too long.

&.i thought i lost you, somewhere;

"Sir. I'll be transferring over to the Fuhrer's today." her salute is proper, as is her stance though her eyes are regretable and soft.

"Yes.." his voice is unsure, "Hawkeye. Be.. be careful."

For just, just a second, she relaxes her pose, allowing him to wrap his one arm around her in a fond goodbye, "Yes. I will, sir. I'll be back, you know." His eyes are sad, and he swears he could see a watery sheen covering her eyes, even as he knows there is one in his. Through the many years, he's gotten so used to her constantly being at his side, and even though she isn't gone yet, he can feel the empty space behind him, already.

"I know. Come back safely, Hawkeye."

&.somewhere along the way, between flashing lightbulbs, whirring, fire-brightened dust, frightened smiles and broken eyes, I think we found our Angels;