((This is the final chapter, published separately but simultaneously with the sixth to be fair, because I promised Demon of Water I'd post the last chapter by the end of the week and she's…very persuasive, I should say. God bless you, Demon of Water.))
He couldn't help but hope. Furher Mustang was human, after all. He was hesitant at first. His heart and nearly fallen to pieces when he was denied a warrant to question that woman in Aquroya all those years ago. He wasn't sure if he could take the same pain again if his hopes were false. An idea occurred to him, an insurance of this last hope. He was surprised he hadn't thought of it before. He had been too occupied with the thought of the kid alone.
"Wait, kid!" They were rounding the platform between the first and second flights of stairs now. His voice resonated about them. He wasn't sure if it was this or his eagerness that made it so loud. "What's your last name?"
He had tugged on the scarf as the kid ran past, almost as eager as the man was to reach the apartment, which he knew to be three flights up. Unknown to Roy, this "mystery mom" lived in the same apartment Hawkeye had six years ago. The landlord had known the woman to have been respectful of her neighbors and serious in maintenance of the residence, it had been fairly easy to return to it. But the boy was rushing past, and wouldn't stop immediately. It wasn't as if Roy's action would have strangled the child, though. The careful mother had meticulously draped the scarf about the boy's shoulders, and only loosely about the lower part of his face. That hood had hidden his forehead and, inadvertently, his intelligent eyes, from the cold. It had also hidden them from the eyes of others. Otherwise, Roy might have learned long before. The hood didn't cover the eyes, per se, but in the dying light outside-and even more so in this blank, fluorescent light that fell down on them from above- it just cast a shadow over them. Together with the scarf, the apparel left only the nose and the upper regions of his cheeks divulged. But when Roy removed the scarf, the hood fell back, revealing to a shocked Furher a cloud of tousled black hair. The boy turned, confused, but clarifying to Roy exactly what he was facing.
Two orbs of amber stared into his own black ones. "Grumman. Why? Are you going to charge my mom or-"
"Come on, kid!" Roy took him by the arm, beginning to almost leap up the stairs with the same alacrity the child had moments before. He had that gentle, blunt stare as the greatest proof of what he thought. The name was only further confirmation, further opportunity to hope.
Riza cringed in the kitchen as she heard the door to the living room flung open in an explosion of sound and energy she had characterized as that belonging to Maes.
"Maes! If you keep hurling the door open like that you're going to break-"
"It wasn't me, Mommy!" Maes cut in, his voice slightly muffled by the coat he was trying to escape from as he simultaneously shirked his boots off his feet. "It was-"
It was Mae's turn for an interruption. Riza stood in the doorway, eyes wide in shock as they took in the sight of the man who spoke next.
"Me." Roy's eyes would have widened, but he was far too confused. He was happy, excruciatingly happy that his hope had become reality. But he was hurt, too. He didn't understand.
Roy had thought that she had needed rescue, that she hadn't left him but had been whisked away by some villain, that her resignation was a forgery or that it was signed under duress. But the years had gone by, and Hawkeye seemed fine. He noted her shoulders sloped more gently than they did those years ago, probably from her resignation from the military, and her more recent job as a mom. And what hurt most, was that after six years, the first word she spoke to him wasn't a relieved greeting, a warm welcome, or even a loving embrace.
"Gracia," she breathed, "she told you didn't she?"
"No." he answered. How silly, how strange it was, he thought, that he was facing the woman he had ever really loved for the first time in several years, and talking to her was like exchanging pleasantries with a stranger off the street. "I offered to walk 'Maes' home after I rescued him from a drug junkie."
Hawkeye looked at Maes with great concern, he took this as a cue to run into the kitchen. He didn't know what was happening between his mommy and this strange man he heard on the radio or saw on posters, but he relied on instinct, much like his mother did. His instincts told him to run as fast as his little feet could carry him.
"He's our son, isn't he, Riza?" Roy spoke, watching the little black-haired head slink behind a counter in the kitchen and out of view. "Is that why you left me?"
She seemed physically wounded by these words. Those familiar, eyes, that rather calm fiery color, washed over his face. But the years had shaped it into a cold façade, and he was not as easily read as he had been in the past. She hadn't moved from the doorway to the kitchen, besides shifting to the side a little bit to allow Maes to flee. The man watched as his former subordinate fell to her knees.
"Yes, Roy. Yes." The last thing he had wanted to see from her, after all these years, was her tears. He had a small, small expectancy of them from the beginning of his hope. But he had fancied those tears as the products of a joyful reunion. He hadn't wanted to see her miserable, crumpled on the floor as he perhaps added to the burden on her shoulders, the burden she had been harboring for six years. But he knew she wasn't the only one tormented by her departure. And he knew she knew that as well.
"I'm so sorry." Her voice came in short breaths and mangled sobs. "I knew that if I stayed, you'd never reach the top. I know I broke my promise, I know."
He fell to his knees beside her, gently placing an arm about her shoulder. It still felt good to do that, he noted. He could feel her shaking in his arms, so close to falling apart. She knew his burdens were great. She kept speaking, trying to communicate through the flood of cold tears spilling from those large reddish brown eyes. "I'm so sorry. All this time, I-"
He pulled her closer. She was still the same, stubborn Riza who had left. Her heart was softer, though, and more scarred.
"All this time, I missed you. I didn't understand why you left. I'm sorry, Riza. I'm sorry I did this to you." He was sincere, of course, and happy she was not hurt. Had he been less shocked at this scene in general, he would have been flustered-irritated perhaps- that this entire episode had resulted from an attempt to protect him. But he understood, finally.
"You did nothing wrong." Her breaths were less shallow now, the tears less frequent, but they still came, and as he felt her clammy cheek against his neck, he feared that she might drown in them.
"Neither did you. You did what you thought would work. It's alright, Riza. It's going to be alright." Now this, too, was not as he pictured it. The headstrong, stubborn, invincible Riza, consoled by tiny words of comfort, was startling in itself.
"No, it's not. It broke you, didn't it? I hurt you. It was me who-"
Tears were coming down his cheeks, too. He turned his head and kissed her lightly. Not out of lust, of course. After the shock, he wasn't sure if his heart could hold anything. But looking at this woman, realizing her heart was just as battered and still beating, like his own, it held nothing but love. And though it was filled to the greatest capacity ever imaginable, it was feeling lighter by the moment.
The kiss did not linger. She was too breathless from crying for that. Nor did it have any real force behind it. His passion seemed washed away from their tears. But it was enough to quell that river of words soaked with sorrow.
"The beauty of something broken is that it can be fixed." He said gently.
Central was buzzing merely weeks later with the news of the
Furher's marriage, and his wife's role as his newly appointed
secretary. A charming boy, who later turned out to be a darling among
the Amestrian media, was also added to the family, a product of the
First Lady's previous marriage. Roy had invented this himself. He was
the product of the wife's marriage to her work, of course, which
resulted in her disappearance. Of course, he could also claim that
her first marriage had been to a rather arrogant Colonel about half a
dozen or so years ago, and that the marriage had taken place outside
the country and therefore there were no legal records of the ceremony
extant.
He had always been married to
her, when he thought of it. Not officially, the Furher supposed. But
his soul had been salvaged and repaired by her, it had been
hers since the moment she touched it. And in the same way with his
heart. They both had belonged to her, as she had to him. The two were
quite happy. The rest of the company was, too. Fuery, Falman, and
Breda had remained pretty much the same as they had been previous to
Hawkeye's departure. Havoc had been with a steady girlfriend the past
year or so. They all were confused when the Furher announced
his engagement to a Ms. Liza Grumman, but they were more than happy
when the past six years were explained to them. Hayate, though
getting on in years, became a regular sight in the Furher's office,
to Fuery's delight.
As for Maes, Roy and Riza
had him home schooled with teachers from all over the country. Elysia
became his best friend and- to no one's real surprise- he took up an
immense interest in photography.
(( That's all, folks! The promise Riza's referring to is the promise to stay by him and follow him to hell and back. I hope this lived up to expectations. I was rather distracted when I wrote this, but I promised I'd finish it by the weekend. Thank you all, reviewers, for providing both motivation and feedback on this. This was my first multiple-chaptered fanfic, and I hope the ones I produce in the future will be of better quality. Thanks again! Any reviews are certainly helpful!))
