Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, dinnae, own Fullmetal Alchemist. Enjoy!
Roy found Riza leaning against the back wall of the house with one delicate sandal propped against the stonework. He could tell she knew he was there but given the circumstances, realised she could be forgiven for ignoring him. He took a deep breath to ready himself. Smooth talking would not suffice with his Lieutenant. Bare faced honesty was what was required, a concept Roy often struggled with.
"You'll freeze." He said, still keeping his distance.
She shot him a look, noticing as she did the two cigarettes and two glasses of wine.
"Sir, I'd rather not." She looked away again for a few seconds, then back at him when she saw he hadn't budged. "Thank you. I know it's your big night but if you could allow me a few moments to myself ..."
She looked angrier than he had ever seen her. The woman had shouted at him before in a work context, huffed with him when he was being unreasonable and had once succeeded in breaking his little finger back when they were teenagers but this was different. Her countenance was almost more than he could take. Pulling rank, snide comments about her past relationship with Vultee and his implying she was behaving like an imbecile was enough to cross several lines. His face went red thinking about it. He realised that more than anything he had experienced in the past, this was the most horrible feeling he could ever have. So horrible, he didn't quite know what to do with it. He had never in his life been beholden to anyone but it dawned on him that making the woman in front of him happy was the only thing in the world at that moment he was bound to do.
"Riza-"
"Don't sir." She snapped before composing herself once more. "It's okay. You can handle yourself. I know. I get it. I'm sorry to have misinterpreted the meaning of the letter." She wasn't even looking at him.
'Horrible,' he thought. He felt sick.
"I'm sorry." He said quietly, then annoyed with his own impotence in the exchange began anew with fervour and impatience. "Look Hawkeye, just take the damn wine and let's talk about this."
Her eyes flashed at him and she scoffed, "Behaving like an imbecile again, am I? I do apologise, Colonel that I can't puppeteer my feelings quite as shrewdly as you do."
He couldn't believe his ears, she had never spoken to him this way before. He was inclined to blame her attitude on the wine or tiredness but he knew better. A levee had broken and he deserved the soaking he was going to get, though at present he felt like he was in greater danger of drowning.
"My attitude earlier-" he began but was stopped again.
"-was atrocious and unprofessional. We all work very hard to keep you safe and you swan about like you're untouchable. Well done if you are but the rest of us certainly aren't, Colonel. The rest of us actually try very hard." She pushed herself off the wall and turned to face him. "While you laugh in the face of danger we continually exert ourselves only to be called lunatics and imbeciles when we show the least bit of concern for you. Even if I didn't give two damns about you, I was only following protocol in wanting to keep the evidence from the letter but I was stupid for thinking you had any respect for the work I do or why I'm there in the first place."
Mustang reached back and shut the door, making sure no one was listening. His temper was starting to work its way into his pores. He knew he had no right to feel angry, that he deserved everything she was saying and on another day he would have completely agreed with her but today he was wounded and scared by her outburst.
"You really believe I think that?" He asked in hurt.
"Can you just go back inside please? You have guests." She said resignedly.
"I don't care about the fucking guests, Riza, I care about you!" He screamed, wine spilling over his pale hands.
She continued to look at him squarely before looking back out at the lawn.
Roy, his heart hammering in his chest, set the glasses of wine on the windowsill and moved toward her. He ducked down in front of her, trying to catch hold of her elbows with his hands to secure eye contact, or some contact at least. She tried to shrug her arms free of him, more furious than she had ever felt in her life but try as she may, his hands kept hold of her.
"Lieutenant ..." Mustang implored but she kept trying to twist out of his grip, her actions frantic. "Riza, please-"
Panicked by his intensity and his unwillingness to let her be, Hawkeye struck out with a sharp upward slap to his face. She paused to catch her breath. "Stop it." She said through gritted teeth.
He let go of her elbows and looked away. She could see his eyes become dull with the upset and she knew she should stop herself. She knew that although it was impossible to pack everything back into the box, she could still prevent things from getting worse. There was a part of her though that wanted to push and for the first time in her life, she let that part seep into the front of her mind.
She began in a low voice. "Charming as you are, Colonel you have hurt me greatly and I won't subject myself to your silvery words now that you're feeling the kickback of your actions earlier." He was looking at her now with eyes full of loss, huge and black and wet. She pushed on. "You forget too easily that a heart beats under the fabric of my uniform and that I am not a token or a mascot."
He mouthed 'I know' but no sound was made, he shuffled his feet and wiped at his eyes. He turned away from her for a moment, pacing a little and balling his fists. She pushed further.
"When you made that comment about Quentin-" she stopped, all at once afraid of the territory they were in.
A dead silence fell between them as he looked off into the distance while she continued to stare resolutely at him.
"I know. I'm sorry." He pleaded. "I'm sorry." He repeated, looking dejectedly at his feet.
A voice rose up from inside her and said words that she never would have dreamed of saying before that night. They too carried a loss in them and her tone was splintered and dry from the cold and the emotion.
"Even Ed told me I looked nice tonight."
The words dropped like stones into a pond. They could both feel the implications of the comment radiating outward, washing over them. Hawkeye threw her hands up feeling suddenly pathetic and bit back the urge to cry. It must be the drink, she thought, the two of them standing screaming at each other. It was absurd.
Her breath hitched when she looked back to her superior. He looked so grave. He was staring at her, his black eyes weighing on her with a crushing intensity. He looked like he was in the middle of solving the world's most difficult alchemic equation, his face set in a grotesque scowl. She could see his hands were shaking. He looked like the ghost of the little boy who showed up at her father's house all those years before, so ardent and fine. A terrible guilt gripped her at that moment. His shaking hands, so incongruous with his character were a stark reminder of her ruthless pushing and added further weight to the lead in the pit of her stomach. She was compelled to quiet them and reached a hand forward to cease the fretting.
Before she could touch him, the back door swung open to reveal Ed and Madame Christmas. Both Riza and Roy blinked back with complete surprise, not knowing what to make of the unlikely pair looming at the threshold.
"Hey Colonel, your mother says you're a dab hand at the piano. I think she must be getting you confused with someone of some talent though!" Ed said, swinging carelessly on the door frame.
"Not now, Fullmetal." Mustang said when he finally found his voice.
"Roy darling, come in and treat us to your playing. I didn't spend half my annual takings on your time at the conservatory only for you to act bratty when someone asks you for a tune." Christmas added, half in jest and half with an air of authority. Ed laughed at the word 'bratty' now knowing where the Colonel picked it up when referring to him.
"Come on, Colonel." The voice of Breda joined in. Followed by a few more requests.
Mustang could hear people muttering about his playing inside the house.
"I'm classically trained and don't know anything popular. It would bore you all to tears." He found himself wishing for his gloves, he was so angry at the interruption. "Ask one of the girls."
"Get in and play for goodness sake, child. Poor Riza looks chilled to the bone." Christmas scolded, clearing room for his passage to demonstrate the inevitability of him coming in to play for them all.
Roy looked to Riza but she was looking away. The petulance wound its way into him again and his temper rose. He closed and opened his hands, staring at her for a few moments more, before he made his way towards the group at the door, picking up both glasses of wine and downing them as he went. He could hear his mother tut from behind him and more giggles from Ed. The shaking of his hands stopped as his stubbornness took him, his face settling into one of its masks.
As he made his way into the room he caught the eye of Hughes who shrugged at him with resignation. Hughes' face shifted to worry though as he caught sight of a hairline crack in his friend's otherwise flawless mask. He mouthed a 'you okay?' but it was lost on Mustang as he seated himself at the piano to the cheers of the others in the room. Mustang stood again, and removing his jacket to hand it to his mother, spotted Hawkeye make her way into the back of the room. A shadow of a look crossed his stoic features. He took a few moments to warm up his hands, allowing the conversation to start bubbling away again.
"This is going to be hilarious." Ed whispered to Winry but she was distracted, her eyes moving between the Colonel and his Lieutenant.
"I didn't know the Colonel could play." Falman said to Hughes.
"Oh sure he can." Hughes answered. "He trained at one of the best schools in the country before starting his alchemy. After that he was tutored on and off by Rudu Yao, one of the old masters. Christmas likes her household nice and multidimensional. You're in for a treat."
Hawkeye watched the Colonel flex his arms, the dull sheen of his pink waistcoat catching the light as his back muscles moved with the effort. She was still shell shocked from the altercation outside and were it not for the thick knot of people in the middle of the room, would have gladly made her exit. As it was though, she knew her leaving would create something of a stir and so opted to make herself remote at the back of the gang. It wasn't to last though as Vultee made his way next to her, two glasses in hand.
"I missed you before." He said with no trace of agenda. "I'm afraid that wretch, Jean Havoc made off with your wine and there's only white left. Care to?" He offered her a glass.
She looked at it for a long moment before taking it with a quiet, "Thanks."
"Are you okay?" Vultee asked, touching her lightly on the shoulder.
She smiled kindly at him and nodded her reassurance.
Not for the first time that night, an impatient Havoc cried, "Hurry up!" He was draped lazily over the back of one of the girls from the brothel.
Mustang's answer was to run his two hands up and down the length of the piano, effectively shutting the whole room up. He turned and smirked at Ed before turning back to the piano. Neither the sickness nor the anger had left him and he told himself he must remember to give Hughes the name of a good piano tuner in Central. Unfortunately, the instrument was about to become the victim of his vexation, the strength of which was sure to knock it out of tune. He thought back to Riza's hard profile as she refused to look at him and felt once again the torrent of her words, all of them he assumed to be true. No one knew him better than she did. He remembered also the sulk and strangeness of the mystery caller as well as his reaction to his subordinate's worry and tried to stop himself from dragging up the mess of regret and guilt that lay deep within him. A great hatred bit into his heart and he placed his hands on the keys.
He started the etude softly, picking out the individual notes of the melody, knowing full well that in doing so his audience would doubt his ability. He then repeated the melody with chords, gathering the expectations of the party about him like a cloak. Pressing coyly on one final chord he paused, took a steadying breath and then crashed into the first theme with unabashed violence. His fingers cascaded over the keys with breathtaking speed, the shift in volume making the whole room jump in shock. The individual movements of his right hand could barely be seen as they danced through the arpeggios with unnatural speed, while his left struck out the melody with such ferocity that the china in the cabinets shook.
Hughes looked on, the skill of his close friend doing nothing to abate his concern. Mustang looked like a man possessed. The sheer complexity and volume made Elysia shrink back behind her daddy's legs. Gracia grabbed Hughes' hand in complete shock at what she was hearing, touched but unsettled at the same time. The eyes of the entire room dampened at the unearthly discordance yet compelling beauty of the piece. Ed felt the hairs on his flesh arm rise up and he had to shake a shiver form his spine. Winry held her hands to her face and looked on in amazement.
Hawkeye felt faint. It was too much: the noise, the faces of the others as they watched, Mustang's erratic movements. He didn't look real and the sound washing across her couldn't possibly be created by him, one man. There could have been three pianists and she still would have been backing herself against the wall from the aural assault. She looked at Vultee to try to anchor herself in the incorrigible realness of him but he too was hypnotised by Mustang's playing.
Havoc's mouth was hanging wide open. In his bleary condition he couldn't differentiate between one of Mustang's hands and the other.
Fuery leaned close and asked Falman how much Mustang had had to drink. Falman, remembering that a couple of hours prior the man could barely speak, looked back at his young associate with impressed agreement.
As Mustang played he felt his eyes start to well up again and so he hammered even more forcefully on the keys, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. Approaching the end of the piece, his hands leapt over the span of the keys but he felt his body grow rigid, succumbing to his anger and exhaustion. He felt claustrophobic and found it difficult to get a full breath. It was as though something was sitting heavily on his chest. Mustering the last of his energy he swept through the final theme of the piece and was on his feet before the final notes died. He slammed down the lid and stormed past the astonished onlookers who were still recovering from the performance and had yet to find the wit to clap.
Madame Christmas started the applause before turning to the room with an expression caught between pride for her son and embarrassment for his abrupt exit. "I think any musicians in the room will recognise and understand the strange recoil from a performance such as that. We must allow the birthday boy to play at being divo." She said with great diplomacy.
Hughes made to follow Mustang out the front door but was stopped by the appearance of Hawkeye at his side.
"Please. Let me." She took his elbow and petitioned him with a fraught look.
Hughes nodded and watched her leave. For the second time that night he brightened up the atmosphere of the room with an appeal to Madame Christmas to play an old burlesque number.
Pleased by the tactics to safeguard the esteem of her adopted son, she consented with a flourish.
Hawkeye found Mustang standing with his back to the house and his head in his hands. It was her turn to approach him with caution. She moved in front of him, knowing he was too engrossed in his poisonous introspection to have noticed her presence.
She was a woman known more for her actions than her words and so, staying true to herself, chose not to say anything but to instead tease his hands from his face. He reacted with a sharp breath but remained silent. He looked like he was about to pass out, his eyes seeming too unfocused and his face even paler than usual.
"Oh Roy." She said simply and dropped her forehead against the hard surface of his chest. She felt like crying and laughing all at once. She was utterly flummoxed by what had happened to them, by what was still happening to them.
For a moment they were both very still until she felt his chin come to rest on the crown of her head and his right hand run the length of her spine before resting in the nape of her neck. His left found purchase on the small of her back and he pulled her to him. He was shivering violently and she could feel the hammer blows of his heart pound through the front of him. She in turn wrapped both her arms around him and pulled him closer still. They stayed like that for what could have been a lifetime before she heard Roy take a long, shuddering breath. She heard him swallow and felt the minute mechanisms of his body tick away inside him.
"Riza," he began in barely a whisper, "I am so very sorry."
Riza smiled into the front of his waistcoat, maintaining her position. "I know." She answered.
He took another long breath and held it for an inhuman length of time before letting it go with a low sigh. She could feel the hot breath run over the back of her neck. He was so totally still then that were it not for the beating of his heart, she would question whether he was still with her or not.
"Are you okay?" She asked, somewhat stupidly.
"No." He answered, the bottom of his chin pressing against her hair when he spoke. "I'm terrified."
"Of what, Roy?" She asked, wanting desperately for him to open up on his thoughts about the letter and the mention of his birth mother.
He didn't answer.
"Roy, what are you terrified of?"
Another breath then -
"Of my loving you." He answered without decoration.
She froze in his arms.
