Tile: Behind His Back

Summary: Behind a great man, lies an even greater batch of friends. Roy muses about his

Life…..(implied Royai.)

Rating: K

AN: 'ello, just a random idea that came into mind. This is for my friends, who pushes meforward when I can't do it myself, and for making me smile and laugh till mystomach bleeds. Hope you like it! Pls. leave a review!

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Behind His Back

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The man rubbed his gloved right thumb and fingers consistently, producing red dancing flames. His right eye spelled boredom in every way as he gazed at the flames licking his fingers while his left remained behind the black eye patch he wore. He adjusted to a more comfortable position on the bed, just so he could look properly at the continuing life outside his window. An object poked his hip and he grimaced, fishing out a book Riza had so nicely left for him under the covers. He was, once again, reminded how good God was to him to let him keep his life and, yet again, a good, functional eye after taking in more than a few bullet shots on that day.

To be honest, he didn't understand. Even after the Ishbal conflict, the Scar incident, the Homunculus issue, and most of all, his valiant fight with the Fuhrer, he was extremely lucky to be alive when hundreds of soldiers lost theirs.

Then why am I still alive?

He had gone through so much ever since he started dreaming of becoming a State Alchemist. Applying for the test wasn't much of a hard task with the powerful and useful hot flames he can whip out from his fingers. He met the most loyal and trustworthy batch of comrades, Havoc, Fuery, Falman, Breda, and Armstrong; a responsible lieutenant, Riza; a noisy best friend, Maes; and tons of beautiful women.

A naughty smirk played his lips.

From major, he was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel with the blood of thousands in his hands. It was after the war when he decided to one day become Fuhrer to help the people by using his judiciary influence and expertise in alchemy, so no war like that of Ishbal's will ever happen again. Maes Hughes supported his goal from behind and was to 'push him to the top' along with his nagging of when he'll get a wife. He overlooked the fact that a day will come when he'll no longer hear that man's bragging voice every time he talks of his 'Elicia-chan.'

The smirk sagged to a deep frown. Maes died on duty…while I still…

Maes received the highest honor of being promoted to Brigadier General and a funeral worthy of the Fuhrer for willingly risking his life for the military. He remembered the day so vividly. It felt as if he had lost a part of him while he stared at his friend's proud epitaph. They laughed, shared troubles, and supported each other, both wanting what was best for everyone. They played with their lives for duty countless times; why did death only take him?

A memory lingered in his mind. I should have been good as dead if it wasn't for…

Riza had once saved him from making a fatal mistake with his encounter with the feared criminal, Scar. He had so stupidly forgotten that he was practically rendered useless by the rain! She had deliberately tripped him on his feet before he could supposedly produce the flames that he had though would appear and shot with the gun in hand in his stead. Both he and Scar escaped with their lives.

The glass lenses of the picture frame resting on the table beside his bed reflected a fraction of light that came into the room. It was the state military group picture taken a few years back.

Over the years he had served to be Lieutenant Colonel and as he made his way to Brigadier General, his subordinates had faithfully followed, submitted to his every order—though how utterly ridiculous it may be (recall the order to find a girlfriend for Havoc)—and believed in his cunning and manipulative ways of leadership to attain the goal of being Fuhrer on a mission to make women wear tiny mini-skits! Though he had numerous of stolen girlfriends by the man he recognized to be the leader, Havoc didn't falter in imposing to be him at such a crucial moment for the accomplishment of the mission. He even gave up his cigarettes as proof of such sacrifice! Fuery, Falman, Breta, and Major Armstrong risked possible detainment as a minor offense and even as sever as a death sentence as a traitor if the military took it as a major offense.

He smiled gratefully at the familiar faces. Any man would be proud to have these men as friends. His eyes landed on the only woman in the photo, the one next to him, and focused on her lovely oval-shaped face.

Riza Hawkeye.

Of course, she's a great friend too and the most trustworthy in his opinion. This neat, organized woman who has a very disciplined dog to prove her strict ways had been pushing him to make sure there will be no late paperwork and always reminded him of any appointments or meetings he had. Though it was an assumption he made that she kept back the names of the women who had called while he was away or the part when he forgot a certain date he had that evening since she never informed him of the matter. She was always so prompt and hardly left his side. Her loyalty was also tested when she was asked to spy on her commanding officer and inform the military of any unusual activities—which she told Mustang the moment she got the chance of what she had been asked to do. She was the only person he had allowed to accompany him and had given her the most important and dangerous job among his friends.

He closed his eyes.

He would never forget that day, the day when he challenged the Homunculus Fuhrer, King Bradley to a duel. It would be naïve for anyone to think he would stand a chance. He already had foreseen his defeat and would really have died if it weren't for the slightest stroke of luck and an innocent boy's sacrifice. The boy—Bradley's own son—had given him the opportunity to kill. Once again, he lived while the boy died in his father's hands and the father in his. He really believed at that pint that he was the luckiest man alive…but then, even luck eventually runs out.

He reached for his left eye, smoothing out the soft, black cover with his fingers.

He wasn't able to escape the swift metal bullets that came piercing through his body the moment he stepped out of the mansion. Finally, he though he would die and join Maes…

His fingers treaded down to his cheek.

The tears she cried could still be felt as they fell down onto his pale face and the continuous calling of his name. Riza cried for him. He could no longer remember it properly, but while he still barely controlled his senses—just on the verge of passing out and never waking up again—her cry echoed in his head, refusing to stop. His life passed through his eyes—his childhood, his experiences, everything came into mind and went. Scenes of Riza alone and his friends sad as they stared down on his would be grave made him realize a thing or two. He didn't want to die just yet. There were still so much things left undone. Firstly, he still had to get a wife for Maes' sake! He couldn't bear to face his friend without saying he had found the woman of his life and had wonderful kids with her. Secondly, he can't possibly leave Havoc in a steady relationship for more than two days. It would be breaking tradition! And lastly, Riza….he didn't want her using that strict voice on another man since someone must certainly fill in his spot when he's gone. He pictured her laughing with a handsome man while they shamelessly held hands and kissed, an unusual feeling rising in his stomach. His mind went blank after and woke up to find his walls, table, and all his belongings greeting him a welcome home. The eye-patch covered what was left of his left eye. And with his right-eyed vision, he saw the bouquet of flowers and on his bedside table, was Riza's scarf and gloves…

Musang pulled the drawer open and reached down for the remembrance he kept of the military days. He managed to get a black hat, symbolizing authority, into his hands. It was the same formal hat he wore during Maes' funeral.

After the terrible accident, he detained himself from position. There won't be a reason why he should still pursue the dream of becoming Fuhrer. With the homunculus Bradley dead, things were bound to get better from then on. But he thought—everyone male did—how the opportunity was wasted to implant the mini-skirt decree. He sighed and stretched his muscles. Soon, he would be able to leave his quarters after two weeks of captivity under his 'hawk-eye' ex-lieutenant. She already couldn't forgive herself when she failed to protect him, what more if something will happen to him again? He remembered her apologies (the thousands of them) of claiming how sorry she was and that she was the one to blame, and that if it wasn't for her late arrival, he would be well and 'unscarred.' He had jokingly replied, saying: "yes, but if it wasn't for you, I would also be dead." Adding a teasing remark of: "Besides, I thought you of all people would be pleased to have me 'scarred.' Less women would call the office that way!" However, instead of biting him off with sharp words, she smiled radiantly and tucked a strand of blonde hair, now wore loose, behind an ear. Havoc and the others invaded the room with beers in hand after the conversation.

He chuckled. He had to admit, it had been shockingly slow for him (the usual one-step ahead person) to understand the situation. There were obvious reasons for his being sill alive. He looked at the hat on his left and the photo on the right and smiled mischievously. Perhaps it was because of the people whom he called his friends from behind, always supporting and pushing him to success; a lovely and more than capable lieutenant protecting him on the front; gallons of luck included; and enough wit and guts to outsmart his enemies that kept him alive all these times. No, he knew it was.

He wasn't able to erase the smile on his face when the wooden door opened and a blonde entered the room, in her arms were bags of groceries. It was obviously a given that she caught a glimpse of his upturned lips when she decided to inquire the man.

"You seem happy, Roy," she said, undressing her coat and hanged it on a chair. "What's going on?"

He didn't respond, but made a gesture with his hands, indicating for her to come closer. She sat at the edge of the bed, curious at what this man was up to.

"What is it? By the way, Havoc and the gang will be joining us for dinner so…." Her voice trailed off when he casually dumped the black hat on her fair hair and fixed I properly on her head.

He grinned, causing her to wonder what happened while she was away to cause this strange behavior.

"What's with this?" she asked, rolling her eyes upward.

"Nothing," he answered breezily. "I think it looks better on you, don't you think so? Another thing," he smirked. "I think you'd better advise Havoc not to bring anymore girls this time…."

F.I.N.

That's it. It was really fun doing this even if (like most oneshots) it was rushed. I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading and please review!!

--Genasyz-- (ReViEw!! Smiles)

I don't own FMA or Roy Mustang.