Hey Everyone!
I'm just getting back into writing, and I just had an itch to write something royai. Just so you know I haven't yet seen all of brotherhood so there may be a few discrepancies.
Chapter One
To most people, the sound of rain was comforting and blissful. It soothed the mind and sharpened the senses, if only for a brief amount of time. However, there are a select few that think on the other side of that coin. Roy Mustang was one of those few. There weren't many sounds in particular that he could think of off the top of his head that he despised as much as rain. Rain meant grey. An infinite backdrop of grey sky that stifled emotion, and left an unnecessary quiet and calm upon whatever it happened to drift over.
Rain meant silence. Roy hated the silence and stillness that accompanied these days. He would rather vaguely listen to one of his subordinates issues or interests than sit in silence with his thoughts. Sitting in his head, as Maes would put it, wasn't a good idea for someone like Mustang.
But worst of all, Rain meant uselessness. Roy had always been the assertive, smooth individual, with an uncanny drive and ambition. Being "the Flame Alchemist" had it's ups and downs, but one of the bigger factors that caused Mustang to choose that particular alchemy, was the fact that it gave him control. When the general populace, whether of his own country or not, knew exactly what he could do, it instilled an obedience, a sense of respect. It gave him leverage, and made him feel secure.
But now, Roy thought leaning back in his chair, staring out into the torrential downpour, Now all I can really do is sit here and watch. I'm not even that skilled with a firearm. I never really needed to be...
Once again, Roy regretted the silence. His last string of thought had sent him back. Back to the world of pain and destruction that he had perfected so well. The sounds still rang in his ears. The ever-vigilant sounds of scattered gun-fire, the faint sound of boot on rubble, and the sharp rasp of ignition cloth scraping together. So many pairs of red eyes, so many different shades, yet they all had one glaring thing in common. The upturned eyebrows, crows feet wrinkle, and widening of the pupil. Fear. As a master of destruction, and an expert of war, Mustang had the markers of fear seared indefinitely into his brain. Even now, years later, Mustang would lay awake at night staring at the ceiling while desert scenes flashed before his eyes. During his whole few minutes sitting inside his head, he never once blinked his eyes, or turned away from the grey that was Central Command.
The sound of pens scribbling across paper was a constant background noise, broken only every now and then by the shifting of said papers, or the creak of a chair. There was no airborne insect life to break the monotony, no radio, no crowded rooms next door. The term, "Sound of Silence" was personified by the room she was sitting in. Riza Hawkeye was bent over her desk, one hand holding a pen and acting as a headrest, the other slowly sliding down the page, searching for a piece of information that eluded her. She normally didn't mind busy work, it meant less time with her thoughts, which she spent enough time with at home as it was. She had always thought that central seemed a little to clean, a little too perfect. The poorly paint schemed walls, the identical desks and chairs, the detail-barren mess hall, all just seemed to rigid and unmoving. She glanced at the one thing that didn't fit that description. He was the only person that even from a distance seemed to be the one thing that doesn't belong. He was no stranger though. His air of command and assertive nature made him a presence that no-one could ignore, yet all wrapped up under the long dark black hair, neutral expression, and the eyes. Those dark onyx eyes were always staring out into oblivion, especially recently.
Especially now, she thought, watching his motionless form.
Fuehrer Roy Mustang of Amestris had been growing increasingly quiet and distant for the past week or so, and she had noticed. She knew something was bothering him greatly, especially at times like now, when his eyes would be narrowed, staring at nothing, fingers lightly resting at snap position. Every once in a while, his fingers would tense up unknowingly, and then relax, letting out a deep sigh. She was concerned for him, but at the current moment there wasn't much she could do without drawing the attention of her co-workers. When Roy had taken over as Fuehrer he had kept his old team, not wanting them re-assigned to another contingent.
Just then, the end-of-the-day bell chimed in, and her co-workers stopped what they were doing, stretched, and started to gather their thing to head home.
"About time," Havoc said, not waiting for the others and strolling out of the office for food.
"Are you coming lieutenant?
Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye looked up from her paperwork to see 1st Lieutenant Fuery standing in front of her desk with his question displayed on his features. Riza smiled and nodded.
"Of course Fuery," she said, standing up and sliding her arms back into her blue uniform. Fuery glanced at Mustang, then Hawkeye. She nodded.
"Don't worry, I'll be there in just a moment." Fuery again nodded and strode out into the hall, heading into the rain.
Riza turned to the chair facing the gloomy window. She had to do something.
"Sir, may I speak with you? The chair didn't move. No sound issued from it either. She slowly walked around his desk so she could see his face. His expression surprised her. His eyes were closed, jaw locked, one hand clenched into a fist, the other still at that white-knuckled snap position. His hand were shaking ever so lightly.
"Sir?" she asked, voice deep with concern.
Roy's eyes opened and locked onto her face, almost in one motion. It startled her. She watched as he slowly came back to his surroundings, going from the pained expression he wore before, to the old calm distant one he wore normally now. When he finally seemed to really register Hawkeye, He gave her a weak smile.
"Yes Lieutenant?" he said, lacing his fingers together in his lap and facing her.
"The day is over sir," she said, motioning to the wall clock. "You should go home and get some rest. You look like you haven't been sleeping well." To that, Roy chuckled to himself.
"Is it that obvious?" he said, bemused.
"Yes sir," she said. "You shouldn't stay out so late on work nights."
He nodded in agreement, but turned to stare back out of the window. Riza waited for a few moments, but it seemed like Mustang was already back out in space.
"Sir, you..."
"Maybe later lieutenant," said mustang absently, still staring. "I have a few things to finish up here. I'll probably be leaving in an hour or two. Your of course free to go home, it's just a few loose ends to tie up with Maes and some of the enlisted staff."
She stared at him, trying to decide if he was asking her to leave, or just being kind.
"Are you sure?" she asked, still unmoved from her position at the desk. He smirked that smirk that she had known since they were children.
"Don't worry, I'll survive for an hour or two alone. If I have any problems with Maes I'll be sure to send him to you." She nodded, sensing that he needed to be left alone. She gathered up her things, turned to give a salute, and then after a moments hesitation, departed for home.
Mustang turned his head to watch her leave. Even to this day, he swore she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever witnessed. He smiled, and then frowned, wondering if the concern she had shown was real, or just for her superior. She was one of the many things that had been haunting his thoughts. Every day they sat in near-silence, dealing with cleaning up the previous Fuehrer's messes. He sighed, turning to lay his head down at his desk. He just needed time to relax and get some uninterrupted sleep. As he dozed, and his subconscious once again returned to the massacre, he held onto the only image he could. A pair of copper eyes, temporarily shielding him from the terror.
Riza was staring out of the cab window, thinking of course, of Roy. Ever since things with the Homunculi, Ed's mission, and the strive to become fuehrer had ended, Roy had retreated into himself, leaving all others behind. He was no longer the confident, radiant, powerful playboy she used to know. And it scared her. The bags under his eyes were becoming more pronounced by the day, and all the feelings in the world she had for him wouldn't help if she had to keep hiding behind this professional facade. She reached for her purse to pull out a mirror to check her own eyes, since she certainly hadn't been sleeping any better, only to realize she had left it back at Roy's office. Cursing, she prompted the cabbie to head back.
Ten minutes later, she was striding down the hallway towards his office. She reached the door and went to open it, but stopped, hearing faint noise from inside. Curious, she put her ear to the door. It sounded like erratic breathing, and she could hear someone grumbling and grunting in a low register. She hesitated. She doubted the Colonel, as she referred to him still, would actually bring a "date" back to the Fuehrer's office, but then again, this was Roy. Almost every day she had had to endure watching him flirt with everything that had a pair of breasts, or a mini-skirt, except her. It was almost unbearable, but she still kept her promise, though it was getting harder to keep going. She deliberated for a moment. She needed her purse. It held paperwork that she would need for the morning report, and one of her favorite fire-arms. Not to mention Black Hayate's favorite toy. Sighing, she counted. 1...2...3!
She opened the door and took a step inside. The scene before her was not at all what she had expected. The lights in the office were all turned off except for the one that sat on his desk. Roy was lying face-down on his desk, dressed in his trench coat, gloves on. His hat had fallen off of his head onto the table. She moved closer and noticed immediately the problem. Roy was having a nightmare. He had fallen asleep signing the last few of his next days paperwork. His teeth were clenched, sweat beading on his brow. He was twitching in his sleep, his hands both ready to burn. She could hear him now.
"No... no more... I can't... they're just children..." he muttered, his breathing still erratic and sharp. Her heart was heavy. He was dreaming of Ishval. She knew exactly what was going through his head, and she knew suddenly why he had been so distant. She moved to wake him, when he said something that floored her.
"Don't... hurt her... Riza... please..." he half whispered, half cried her name. Her breath hitched. He never referred to her as Riza. Not unless it was a drunk office party or they had an extra boring day at work. She reached out and touched his shoulder.
"Sir, wake up" she said, shaking him gently. His only reaction was to crease his eyebrows, and he began to become restless.
"No.. I can't... why can't I help... useless..."
"Roy!" she said, shaking him harder. She couldn't let him keep dreaming like this, even if it meant keeping him from sleep. She didn't like the way he said "useless", like an insult, but to himself. Her shaking had it's desired effect. Roy shot up straight, eyes wide, and because of whatever part of his dream he was in, he snapped his fingers. She cowered and closed her eyes, turning away from the flames that engulfed her.
(Roy's Dream)
Roy had been beaten, cut, shot, and even burned, and yet he dragged on, searching for those copper eyes.
"Riza!" he called into the destruction of Ishval, only to hear his own echo. He could hear her screaming, but he couldn't find her. He searched every structure, every corner, every alley, but to no avail.
Just as he had lost hope and collapsed to the ground, tears in his defeated eyes, he heard, much closer, her voice.
"Roy!" He sprang up and sprinted for the sound, round a corner he saw her bound and kneeling, knife to her throat, a dark skinned Ishvalan grinning at him. Roy's eyes narrowed, and he reached forward and snapped. Nothing happened. He watched in horror as the spark from his gloves vanished into nothingness. His alchemy had deserted him. Two other men came from both sides and held him under the arms, forcing him to his knees. One grabbed his hair and jerked his head up to watch, as the first man reached for Riza's throat.
"No! don't do this please! I can't take it! Riza! Riza!" he shouted, tears streaming down his face, snapping continuously, but to no avail. She looked up at him, and smiled the most beautiful smile. She said only one word. There was no blame in her eyes.
"Roy" The knife slide sideways, her eyes closed, and she hit the ground.
(End Dream)
Roy woke violently, still somewhat dreaming, and snapped his fingers. He heard a sharp
intake of air next to him. He realized that it had been Riza trying to wake him. His brain watched in horror as flames sprang into being right in front of them both.
"No!" he shouted, and the circle on his glove shone a bright blue as he reached out for her. There was a roar as the flames overtook her. He gritted his teeth and the instant before the flames destroyed her, he used his alchemy to create a vacuum between her and the flames.
Just as soon as they had appeared, the flames receded. Kneeling on the floor cowering, was an untouched Riza. Roy's eyes were wide with shock. Riza looked up at him, realizing she was ok. She saw the horrified expression on his face and reached out tentatively to take his hand. He recoiled, stripping off his glove, sliding onto the floor, and burying his face in his hands. He sobbed uncontrollably, hating himself for his stupid flames, and the stupid dreams. Riza kneeled next to him.
"Sir! Oh my god are you ok?" she was hesitant to touch him. He seemed so vulnerable. She had never seen this kind of emotional display from him.
He's in much worse shape than I originally thought, she said to herself.
"I'm so sorry... so sorry" he repeated over and over, shaking his head. He leaned into her, resting his head on her shoulder, trying to calm down.
"It's ok Roy," she said. Calling him by his first name made him go still, still trying to stifle sobs.
"I keep dreaming... about Ishval." She nodded, and stroked his hair, comforting him.
"It just won't go away. No matter what I tell myself, no matter what I try." He pulled back slightly, thought not out of reach of her hand. He took a few deep breaths trying to steady himself.
"It's ok," she said again, trying to talk him down. "I have them too sometimes." He shook his head vigorously.
"No, these are different. It started that way, watching faces I recognize..." he choked up, unable to continue. She just nodded, her heart breaking for the man she so deeply loved. She hated seeing him like this.
"But now... now its... its... " he shook his head, slowing down his breathing. It's you, he wanted to say. Your the one I can't save now. But he held his tongue. He took a deep breath and sighed.
"I'm sorry Lieutenant," he said shaking his head. "I should probably get home."
He slowly picked himself up off of the floor, with Riza's helping hand, and started fumbling with his jacket sleeve. Riza watched him with a concerned look on her brow.
"Sir, let me at least drive you home. Your still groggy and besides, you still technically don't have your license." Roy had become very still, very slowly turning over the gloves he had been wearing. They stood in silence for several moments. His eyes were focused very far off.
"How can you be concerned about a man that almost killed you just 5 minutes ago?" he asked, his voice raspy and pained. Riza's mouth opened slightly, shocked into silence.
That's all for the first segment. Let me know what you think, suggestions and constructive criticism is appreciated :) I know some of this may have strayed from some of the finer FMA details, but it's just a fanfic.