Spark
Summary: A Roy/Riza one-shot romance. After Roy heads up to do battle with Eckhart, Riza is stuck on the ground, emotions getting in the way of her work. Short, sweet, and sappingly cute.
A Note: How long has it been since I wrote fanfic? Uhm… My last fic was in the Lord of the Rings fandom back in, oh… January of '06? Wow. (On that note, I've been a ficcer for over six years. That's a third of my life!) For the record, this is my first FMA fic. Please, take pity on me and review? Good, bad, constructive, flames (I'll donate them to Roy. -), I don't care. I won't be offended. Just review
I don't own this. Really, I don't. I'm playing happily in Arakawa's imagination, and I promise to put everything back the way I found it. Sorry for leaving any sap laying around…
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She glared up at the hot-air balloon as it flew higher, higher, taking him away from her. He had told her that there was only room enough for one in the basket (as far as she was concerned, she'd have fit, too.) and he was off and away before her scream of "Liar" reached his ears.
Ranking be damned, she thought, grabbing the rifle off the ground where it had fallen. She had to be more careful about that. But damn it, he had left her here on the ground, as he soared away to fight the leader of these armored masses. He'd never left her behind before. He'd never fought anything like this before.
She couldn't help but worry as she picked the assailants off, one by one. She knew her preoccupation wasn't doing her any good, but she couldn't help it. She was worried about him, plain and simple. What would happen if he died? Where would she go, what would she do with herself? She had followed him into the military so that she could protect him, even though their paths had split when he became a State Alchemist, and she had remained a simple soldier. But she had followed him anyway, and had always remained next to him, to protect him whenever he needed it.
What would happen if his gloves got wet, up there? Everyone knew you couldn't make sparks if water was in the way. If anything went wrong, it could kill him.
No-- He wouldn't die. He couldn't die. Because she had told him, long ago, that he wasn't allowed to die without her. And he had promised that he wouldn't. And she knew he'd honor that childhood promise. He would be back if it was the last thing on Earth that he did.
She let that faint gleam of hope-- So like a weak flame, it was, barely able to stay alive-- carry her through the next few, hectic minutes. It was her determination to see him again, if anything, that kept her strong, and that kept the tears from spilling out. She'd never cried in front of anyone except him, and she wasn't going to start now.
The attackers slowed, stopped. They collapsed, nearly as one, and she let out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I think it's over," she said softly to the soldier next to her-- Major Armstrong. He nodded. "I think it is."
She saw half of the airship arc through the sky, and the other half descended slowly-- She knew that one carried him. He must be alive, she decided. She began to clean up some of the smaller debris on the battlefield, looking more for a reason to stall, to wait for him to return.
The minutes dragged on as she didn't see him, even though the piece of the airship had landed twenty minutes ago, already. Where was he? Was he alive? Would he come back? She sat down by the barricade, gazing in the direction that the airship had gone down in.
A little while later, a small jolt shot through the ground, and startled her. She jumped up, and began looking for him in earnest. Maybe that had been him, closing the way for those airships, so they couldn't come through again. Maybe he was headed back.
He approached her a few minutes later, and she could see from the moment he came into view that he was covered in dust and bits of rubble. She jumped up, and nearly flew toward him, colliding with him as he avoided a light pole. The force of her hug nearly sent him sprawling backwards, as exhausted as he was, but she didn't let go.
"Never do that to me again," she whispered. She could feel the tears breaking loose, and imagined that they were probably soaking his torn uniform. "Never leave me again."
He pulled back, taking her chin in one of his gloved hands. "I promised you, didn't I?" he asked her, smiling tiredly.
She nodded, pulling her sleeve across her eyes, regaining her composure. "I was worried, Sir. I apologize. It won't--"
He pulled her into a hug, and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry," he said, "for causing you worry. But the Gate's closed, now. And I'm here."
She nodded into his chest, but pulled back, saluting him. "I do apologize, Sir," she said. "That was uncalled for."
He laughed. "I didn't mind," he told her.
She nodded, eyes cast down. "Still, Sir..."
"Would you like to meet me for dinner, tonight?" he asked her.
She glanced up at him, startled. "I'm sorry?" she asked.
"I saw that one of my favorite restaraunts was undamaged in the earthquake and bombing. It appears to still be open. Would you like to join me for dinner?" he asked again, laying an arm across her shoulders.
"I think..." she said haltingly, "I think I'd like that."
Everyone always said that General Mustang would find a wife, SOME day. Within a matter of months, there was a new diamond ring on Riza's finger, and the two of them often sent eachother soft smiles, when they thought that neither the other nor anyone else was looking.
Quite a few sens were exchanged between the lower-ranking soldiers over those next months-- It seemed that there had been quite a pool on who and when Roy would decide to marry. And marry, he did.
Brigadier General Roy Mustang and First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye exchanged wedding vows on a beautiful spring morning, on the lawn of the Central Command chapel. Many of the soldiers were there, and insignia gleamed on the soldiers' full dress uniforms, but none gleamed so brightly as his.
She was a stunningly beautiful bride, unexpectedly soft in a wedding dress that made her look more like a princess than a soldier. Many of the men that day remarked on how she, always 'one of the boys', had turned surprisingly female. Many of the men remarked privately that they were, yet again, jealous of the catch Roy Mustang had managed to make this time.
Neither of them ever noticed this. They were too absorbed in eachother that day, both of them realizing on their own that they had each found exactly what they'd always wanted:
"I love you."