Author: Manda
Category: General
Pairing/Warning: Liza/Roy
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Um, mention of Pride but not really who it is but kind of implied?
Notes: This whole thing's going to be blown to smithereens by the end of the anime/manga anyway, but whatever. It was fun to write at 12:30 AM in a caffeinated haze. Inspired by Kylie Minogue's "Love at First Sight" and the Hawkeye/Mustang Trading Arts figurines. NO, I AM NOT KIDDING.
It is a quaint, folksy, thin lovesong that the Colonel and Lieutenant sing and dance to together as they plough down enemies, climb the Central military headquarters' stairs. The rhythm of her guns perfectly complements the snapping of his fingers, the crackling of the fire, the cries of the soldiers as black-coats fall under the blue-coats' combined attack.
It is almost like making love, she thinks as she reloads her favorite gun with a clip from her belt. They fit together perfectly, black-haired flame alchemist and blonde-haired gunman. His process more mental, that science of alchemy; hers more physical, with recoil and line of sight calculated in every shot she makes. Together they create by destruction, resolve the dissonance to consonance, make rhythm out of the irregularity of their tapping black boots.
For a free Amestris!
It is almost like making love, he thinks as he whirls around to snap his fingers and charbroil the flesh of yet another soldier. They make the best partners imaginable, each in their distinctive fighting stances: him upright with back arched, her down low and crouching, both gracefully turning and on occasion throwing a punch or a kick to hurry their mission.
They are inside the main building now and she shoots the proud blue gryffon banner down; with a single snap of his it burns into ashes.
They hear the cries outside the building of the military factions they have already won with promises of flowers and candy.
For a free Amestris! Fuhrer Mustang!
He imagined he'd rise through the ranks like any other officer. She thought he'd win over a council with his quick tongue, that he'd whisk away the inconsistencies of the previous Fuhrer.
Instead, they court the country into a coup d'etat. It happened too fast, she thinks. It was like falling in love, he whispers.
Their feet dance and they whirl together into a side corridor. He moves next to her, forces the window open and breathes in cold autumn air from outside. There are chants outside at an irregular pace, urging them together toward the inevitable conclusion.
For a free Amestris! Fuhrer Mustang and Colonel Hawkeye!
Inside the main hall are Pride and the Fullmetal Alchemist, he says. Inside the main hall are Pride and the Fullmetal Alchemist, she echoes, an octave higher.
Havok, Breda, Fury, Falman and the rest sing the chords below as they link hands and tango toward the main hall. Her gun is firmly entrenched inside her flesh hand and his gloved hand. They twirl and kick together to smash the door into splinters. He is tense, knowing that in the next moments they will annul even more, create dissonant chords in their song, and they will have to or their song and dance will cease with no one to remember.
But then they will have the night to sing and dance, make love, solely create in beautiful, soaring harmony.