I wonder if you've realized that all the Roycentric chapters are two capitalized words, and the Rizacentrics are all sentences.....^^
Also, I know that I haven't said Roy was 'The Flame Alchemist' but I have told you he was an alchemist. I'm surprised no one's asked me how he got his alchemic research if he never met Riza.......
You guys seemed pleased with that last chapter, I'm glad. Nothing like the feeling of accomplishment and a job well done. Hope you didn't come up with a clear conclusion on the gunshot, because as I write this now, I'm not even sure who it was from or for. There's the obvious choice, and a few more. Right? That should leave you guessing a bit. I'll stop talking now, promise. ^^
I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its' characters
Remember the feelings, remember the day
My stone heart was breaking
My love ran away
This moment I knew I would be someone else
My love turned around and I fell
Be My Bad Boy, Cascada
Chapter 6 - Losing Ground
Roy took off like a freight train in the direction of the gunshot, reaching for his gun and gritting his teeth. Gunshot reminded him of Ishval, where he'd murdered so many women, children, and just people in general it haunted him daily. Until Maes had died, that had never gotten in the way of his women, but now it threatened him even when he chatted up a cute girl. The crisp, cool air cut at his cheeks and whipped his hair back.
He arrived at the place where the shot had sounded as if it came from, noting that there were no people, alleyways, or blood. He looked up at the grungy apartment in front of him, seeing only one light on in the whole place. Two stories up, street side, last room.... and it had some sort of speck all over it. Flies or dirt, maybe. Or maybe blood.
He didn't take much time to think about it, running up the stairs two at a time. When he reached the second floor, Roy sprinted the last little distance to that room with the light on, knocking frantically to find that it just pushed open. The latch had been busted. The blood splatter on the wall was spread in an abstract way, aimed mainly at the outside wall, dripping down it thickly. It was definitely pretty fresh. And so was the body.
He took short steps, willing the blonde on the floor to not be who he knew it was, feeling a bit sick that he hoped someone else died. The shoulder length strands spread around her in a messy circle, her back with the bullet wound staring up at him, her arms flung out next to her. He prayed to god that the shoulder-wound wouldn't be fatal, knowing in reality it wasn't, as long as he got her to treatment soon enough. Roy flipped Riza over slowly, keeping her back from touching the carpet.
"Oh...Hi...Roy...." She said, attempting some sort of a smile. "How...are you?"
"Shut up. Talk more and it'll bleed worse." He muttered, hurriedly taking off his jacket and pressing it, hard, to her bullet wound. He lifted her up to carry her down the stairs. "I guess you didn't see the shooter. Don't say anything. We'll get him. There was a lot of blood....You don't have much time if I don't rush." He talked to himself to make everything seem real, to make it all seem okay and fixable. The first pay phone he saw, Roy rushed to it and dialed 566, the Amestrian 911, leaning Riza up against the booth, practically shoving her into the jacket. The blood still seeped through, but he'd slowed it quite a bit.
"I'm on 7th street and I have a woman in severe pain. She's the victim of a shooting. Left shoulder. Room 29, Anderson Apartments. Please hurry, she's bled a lot. I don't think she's passed out yet, but she's a little hazy. Yes, I'll stay on the line. I don't know her last name, but her first name is Riza. Roy Mustang. Thank you. Please make them hurry. Please."
The ambulance arrived within five minutes, but since Roy wasn't related or very close to her at all, they didn't say he could ride along. He didn't ask. They told her she'd be taken to Johnson Hospital......That was two blocks from his house. Roy started his walk home, for the first time praying to a god he didn't believe in.
When he woke up in the morning, he wasted no time getting dressed and rushing down the street, looking more worn than usual, walking faster toward the hospital than he did away from The Strongarm Alchemist. It occurred to him that he may have to know her last name, but he realized since he'd saved her, they still might let him see her. Which meant he'd get to know her last name.
Neither thing really mattered if she'd bled out or had some complication, though. Which he was worried to no end about.....and that puzzled him.
When Roy reached the hospital, he dashed up to the ER, not waiting on the elevator, and trying but failing to look professional as he asked the receptionist if he could see Riza. When she asked for a last name, he told her he'd brought her in. She let him past, but made a nurse follow him to the room. She had a little trouble keeping up in her skirt. He found the door open, which meant she was okay. Riza Hawkeye, who was in Room 342, was okay.
"Riza. You're okay."
"Who let you in?"
"I'm the one that found you last night."
"......What?"
"You were drowning in a puddle of your own blood." The nurse turned Roy around and told him not to say something that could traumatize her.
"I'm a big girl, Ms. Leonard. I'll be fine... I....I want to know what happened."
"Alright." The nurse left.
"You were face down in red. Blood all over the walls." Roy said spitefully.
"Why wasn't it Falman?"
"What?"
"It's always been Falman before....." Riza mused.
"Are you gonna be okay?"
"Where's Vato, Roy?"
"Probably with his girlfriend Rebecca....." Roy mocked her name.
"I'll kill him!"
"Why? Don't do that, he works half the time....." Roy muttered. Riza glared at him, saying 'Get the hell out' with her mind.
"Right after I get the bastard that killed my mom and tried to kill me...... Whoever Jo-anna is, I hope she's dead, and if not, I'll get to kill her myself!"
Roy left in a hurry. The look in her eyes told him she didn't exactly want company. He went home only a quarter of the speed he'd gotten there with. Even when he'd saved her from dying, she couldn't be swayed! What the hell was wrong with this woman! And she seemed upset the warrant officer hadn't been the one to save her. She'd thought about other men in front of him!
Of course, probably half the women he met did that when they came home with him. So why was it bothering him now? Most of all, how could Riza Hawkeye be swayed? His smiles did nothing, his kiss infuriated her, and being around him in general seemed to piss her off to no end. What could he do?
"She's impossible! I can't break her!" He whispered loudly to himself, unlocking his door and throwing his black jacket on the couch. Roy dressed for work and came back downstairs, going back out the door. He hadn't bother dressing to go to HQ in the first place because he didn't want to have to dig out a uniform until the last possible moment, lazy ass that he was. Being a bachelor, he kept his clothes clean-looking to impress women, but wearing them four or five days until his day off didn't exactly bother him.
His work, again, was uneventful. Falman still hadn't shown up, Breda looked as if he had a hangover, and Havoc still blubbered on about how he had no girlfriend. Fuery was the only one doing anything, and that was all of a few communications connections. Roy went home angry, but a little scared. Riza was still okay, right?
Hang on.
WHY DID HE CARE? Roy slapped himself mentally. He'd saved her, it was done. She was a lost cause. Bitchy, annoying, and a little bit crazy. Too much authority. Why did he care about someone who was so confident they were stronger than him? Imagine having her in the army. She'd raise ranks so fast she'd knock the Fuhrer off his throne before he could blink! Which meant he'd be stuck down in the lower ranks, not able to accomplish his dreams, working for a fucking woman. A FUCKING WOMAN!
That thought sent him over the edge. He pulled out a book he hadn't looked at since he was younger, when he was discovering he had a talent for alchemy. His adoptive mother didn't care much for him (he was her first and only boy. He had quite a few sisters, though) and she was perfectly happy when he found a book he spent so much time with, away from her. She was almost giddy (as giddy as Madame Christmas could be, anyway) when he got State Alchemist certification and never had time to come see her.
"History of Folksongs, by Berthold Hawkeye." Roy read aloud.
Hawkeye. It clicked. The man he'd spent most of his sixteenth and seventeenth years decoding the work of was related to Riza, maybe. His code had been impossible to crack. Every little lead had had some sort of dead end, but after those two long years, Roy had finally discovered all the secrets of Flame Alchemy. It had been the best feeling he'd ever had, second only to maybe the night before in the bar. Funny that the Hawkeye family had the power to make him so incredibly happy and so terribly sad, unlike any other people he'd ever met.
He flipped the book open to the first poem, and sung it. His voice was surprisingly good, and he kept the tone of the song carried well.
"Dancing through the bitter night fighting the nipping cold,
a brilliant fire lights the town, singing songs of old.
The fam'lies gather 'round our feast to eat thier hungry fill,
And then they tell the fright'ning tales and scare the children still."
"..... I hate folk songs...." He mumbled, staring out his window into the dark. Then he rose silently from his chair and canceled every date he'd had planned, telling them all he was engaged. Wouldn't Hughes have been happy at that lie.......
Roy sighed unhappily. It was approaching midnight, but he wasn't tired in the least. All he could think about was Ishval, Riza, and that idiot Maes. They seemed to be his favorite topics. How horrible Ishval had and and how he wanted to just stop thinking in general, just to purge the thoughts, how he could possibly make Riza feel something for him and win her over like (almost) every other woman he'd met had been, and how much he wished Hughes could come back so Roy could kill him himself for being such a huge, irreplaceable distraction and general area of his life since childhood.
He went to sleep with these thoughts and had terrifyingly real dreams
That was the first time since he'd been three that he'd cried and broken out in cold sweat in his sleep.
It probably doesn't seem much like it, and I can't imagine that tune for a folksong, but the song was intended to be sung like 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen'. I don't know why, it just seemed that way when I sung it the first time. And yeah, it's not real, I typed it. ^^;