Notes: Does this angstfest have a point? Will these two idiots ever be happy? Will I ever have them kiss? We will never know.
A million thanks to Xennariel for helping me choose a title, and for her general kindness and patience.
The Weight of my Sins
Everything was darkness and then there he was, Roy Mustang, at the very middle.
The only thing he had was Riza's breathing. It was the only sound in the room and he focused on it, he relied on it to keep himself sane. To remember there was something outside his head, and he wasn't living a nightmare.
Except Riza was the very thing he wanted to tear his mind away from.
No. He shouldn't let those thoughts bother him, not when the Ishvalan reform and reconstruction were ahead of them. Nights like these, he longed to take pen and paper and write, write everything that came to mind. All his ideas. All his questions. Planning ahead made no sense if he missed any important details or possible outcomes. He was getting his eyesight back, after all. So the possibilities were endless.
If Riza were awake... but no, her breathing was even, heavy, as it had been for the last few hours. Could've been minutes, could've been days. If Riza were awake, he could've asked her to help. At the very least, he would've had someone to talk to.
He sighed. There she was, again. Was there any use in trying to push her out of his mind?
The images assaulted him; Riza in a pool of her own blood. Her eyes, pleading, begging. Her smile, her sweet smile as he held her in his arms. Even as minutes earlier, it had been Riza putting a gun to his head, firm even in the face of his rage, his screams. Pleading.
Riza, telling him that if she shot him...
This was not just about him, but everything they'd fought for. Even if he was gone, Riza should live. Then again, without Riza, there was no dream. If there was no dream, then was there even a point? A guilt-ridden Riza was hardly a better option. Riza, living the rest of her days with a heavy heart. He couldn't have that either. Things were difficult enough for her already.
There were days in which Roy had to be strong for both of them. Days in which guilt consumed her, the will to live abandoned her. It was not the guilt Roy was used to, that hit him like a punch on the stomach when it came around, and forced him to be better, stronger in his fight for a better future. It was guilt that enveloped Riza like a shadow and restrained her, little by little, taking her breath away until her mind became her own worst enemy.
He sat up, resting his head on his hands. He winced. So that was not a good idea, when his hands had yet to heal from the stabbing wounds. Great.
"Colonel." Riza's voice reached him through the dark, finally freeing him from the whirlwind of thoughts. It startled him, forcing his back straight and his eyes, his useless eyes, to fly open.
One word. One word was all Roy had needed. One word in that gentle voice of hers, a voice that held no bitterness. It was concern and devotion, thing he clearly did not deserve.
"You should go back to sleep, Lieutenant."
It took Riza a few seconds to answer.
"This is when I usually wake up, sir. How long have you been awake?"
"I'm not sure I even slept." There was no use in lying, not after he'd given himself away so blatantly.
"You should've woken me up."
"I could never do that. You need to rest."
"I have been resting more than enough."
"Glad to hear you're feeling well."
He heard skin against fabric; she was surely shifting in her bed. He couldn't know. Riza said little, but expressed more than she realized. Part of it was lost to him now, after the world had gone black. Her posture, the curve of her mouth, the light in her eyes. If he could only see her. If he could only—
"What has been keeping you up, sir?"
He wasn't stupid enough to believe she wouldn't ask, but how could he tell her?
"Just thinking about these last few days. I didn't properly thank you for your work." He forced himself to smile. Well, that was not quite a lie. "You've far surpassed any expectation I could've possibly had."
"It pleases me to hear that, sir. But you don't have to thank me for doing my job."
"It's not an easy job. A little gratitude can't hurt."
"I'm humbled, sir. Now, please, let me hear the truth."
He lowered his head again. Even if he tried, Riza would never let it go. Guilt, he'd thought. And if he said nothing, it would stay with him forever.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," he said. "I am so sorry for everything I put you through."
"Well, there's no need for that either." She was soft, almost tender. "As you said, this is not an easy job. But you listened, sir. When you could've entirely lost your mind, you held back and listened. I wouldn't have forgiven you if you hadn't."
"You would've never forgiven yourself."
"You shouldn't be worrying about that. That is my own responsibility."
"I don't understand the way you think sometimes, Lieutenant. You say that, you tell me to stop assuming responsibility over the ways in which I've made you feel, yet you refuse to accept that the weight of my sins is not yours to carry."
"I was the one you tasked with setting you straight." The warmth of her tone had disappeared. It clearly said, it's too early in the morning for this and we've gone over this already. "That gives me direct accountability, whether you like it or not, and it's only fair. I was the one who once trusted you and turned you into a weapon."
"You understand better than anyone that the weapon doesn't make the murderer. You say this all the time." He shook his head. His chest was burning, slowly, building up. "Trust, you say. That was the one thing I was asking from anyone who would listen. You gave that to me, and I failed you. And yet you trusted me again, you trusted me time and time again, after seeing the person I became. Do you still think of it as a mistake?"
"That comparison isn't valid, sir." Harsh, firm. Defensive. Desperately refusing to give way. "There's a fine line between faith and trust, and I don't think you're telling them apart correctly."
It exploded. It wasn't as destructive, or as evident, but his fists were clenched and it hurt and his stomach was tied in a knot. He couldn't tell exactly what triggered it. It wasn't her, no. He was not angry at her. What had she ever done? It had to be him, then. Him, because no matter what he did, he always found a way to hurt her.
"You asked me if you could trust me back then. You gave me the option of saying no. I didn't. Part of me... part of me felt that I should have, but I didn't. If I turned into a murderer, it was my choice, and I would've been a murderer with any other weapon."
"I keep wondering," she whispered, "how big is the part of you that resents me for arming you in such a destructive manner."
Roy could only imagine how difficult it was for her to ask such a thing, how tired her eyes looked, how her face sank in sadness and fear. How long had those thoughts consumed her? Why hadn't she let him know? Where had he gone wrong?
"I... I don't resent you at all." Roy sounded so desperate in his own ears."I never did. I can only think of one occasion, in all these years, in which you've truly disappointed me and even then..." The images hit him, the tears streaming down her face, her grieving expression upon believing she'd lost him. It was enough to make what remained of his anger dissipate. "Even then, I cannot think of it as something to blame you for."
Silence. Roy focused on searching for sound. Anything, anything coming from her side of the room.
"That's... good to hear." Riza finally said. Something, something in her voice —he might have been able to guess if he could just—
Roy turned around to sit on the edge of his bed. Cold tiles found his feet.
"Lieutenant, do you mind coming over here?"
Her answer were bare feet against the floor, and then the mattress sinking next to him. It was a sudden comfort, knowing exactly where she was. Not too close, not too far.
"What do you need, sir?"
His answer was his hand, a bandaged hand he placed between them, reaching, seeking. Then he felt it, a slight weight, something warm covering his fingers. Her thumb slid underneath his hand in a delicate grip. This. This is what he needed. Knowing she was there, safe, still willing to follow him even as he couldn't quite lead her anywhere in that state.
"Tell me, Lieutenant," he said. "Is the sun out yet?"
She released a shaky sigh.
"I'd say so. The light is orange, and long shadows have started forming."
So that was it. Riza was breathing through her mouth, her voice uneven, breaking.
"I'm sorry I've troubled you."
"Quite the opposite, sir." She squeezed his fingers. "Thank you."
His heart jumped. Suddenly such contact wasn't enough. He slid his hand away and raised his arm behind her, finding her long hair first, her upper back, and she stayed still until he'd succeeded in wrapping an arm around her. After a few instants, he felt Riza rest her head on his shoulder. Her cheek pressed against his skin, her humid eyelashes tickled him as she blinked. It was her, Riza. She was there.
Roy didn't know if he was seeking for comfort or offering it, but the darkness surrounding him wasn't so oppressing anymore. If Riza's unyielding mind had given way, even just a little, then everything was possible. If she could meet his many failings with so much loyalty, if she could accept his affection while forgiving him so readily... whether Roy deserved it or not, that was a question for a different time. She was there, and for a second or two, he had the power to make her just a little happier.
He pictured the rays of light as they shone through the window. Then Riza's smile, hopefully there in response to his. Her gaze, full of kindness and love. If there were tears in her eyes, they were quiet tears of relief.
"Tell me, Lieutenant. Are you ready to start the day?"
Riza turned her head slightly. She was surely looking at him, and she was so close. So unbelievably close.
"You said you haven't slept."
"I asked a question."
"Yes, sir." She took a deep breath. A silent yawn, maybe. "Do you want coffee?"
Her hair brushed against his neck, his arm moved with her every breath. Riza was still there, waiting for an answer. An answer she suspected would be affirmative, no doubt. But she was not moving.
Roy squeezed her arm and pulled her even closer, his smile growing wider.
"You know what, Lieutenant? I think coffee can wait."