AN—Once again not the most amazing thing, but for what it is I'm happy. Written/posted more hurriedly then usual in order to be able to post SOMETHING; it's been, what, a month and a half since my last update? Part of that was because of my muse dying on me (this wasn't even what I was going to originally post—I was planning on writing something based on an idea from Arantzain, but decided to push that back till next time because it just REFUSED to work right), but it's mainly because, as mentioned in my profile, I'm in the process of switching from regular computer to laptop, and it's been—still IS, but at least now I can type—a real hassle.
The first two sections of this were an early start to LILI's challenge, but obviously I scrapped it. Since it was half-done already, I was able to come back and finish it off for a different theme with relative ease, which is why I wrote this instead of what I was going to. Arantzain's idea is next—if I can get used to this dang keyboard!
Spoilers for chapters 58-60, but nothing huge; if you haven't read those then you might have some trouble understanding this. Maybe not, though, not quite sure myself.
Implied sex, but nothing too graphic.
Infinity Born
(45. Awakening)
"To endure is greater than to dare; to tire out hostile fortune; to be daunted by no difficulty; to keep heart when all have lost it; to go through intrigue spotless; and to forgo even ambition when the end is gained--who can say this is not greatness . . . "
--William Makepeace Thackeray, The Virginians
She sees him again, and it's like something out of a dream.
His familiar features are lost in the narrow confines of the rifle scope, but she'd recognize that windswept mop of black hair anywhere. Her breath catches in her throat, something that hasn't happened to her once in the almost three months she's been out here. Her fingers clench just slightly. Her eyes narrow.
Roy Mustang.
Then she snaps out of it, because she's a soldier too, and she has a job to do….or rather, she has to shoot the Ishbalan lunging for Mustang and his friend because Roy has a job to do, and he has to be able to do it.
She's been wondering if he ever did make the ranks of the State Alchemists…it seems that he has. She remembers his determined idealism and frowns to herself, watching his friend drag him out of view. Is it possible that his dreams are still intact?
(They had better be—she wouldn't be out here if it wasn't for his goals.)
Smoke trickles into her nose. A small encampment of Ishbalans has recently been discovered, and what's left of them and their hideout is still ablaze; the State Alchemists can thank themselves for the victory.
(Was it a victory?)
If Roy really has become one of them, then he was probably involved too. The private furrows her browns. Somehow, she can't see the polite, respectful student of a million lifetimes ago using his alchemy to kill people. But then again, why would he be out here in the first place if not to fight…? It only makes sense that he would take part in the slaughter…
She would call him a murderer, but then she'd be ignoring the blood on her own hands, and she never has been a hypocrite.
The nameless sniper (her current moniker—it suits her fine, goes well with the detached dullness she's felt these past few weeks. Lately she's been wondering if maybe she isn't really just a ghost, a bodiless entity formed of wind and fog, drifting from place to place searching for some way out) settles down by the tamed roar of a small cooking fire, wearily. She aches deeply in places she never knew existed, and can't help but wonder if even death would be enough to cure her wounds.
"Hey…"
She looks up and over, and sees Roy's friend—Hughes is his name, isn't it?—grinning at her. He's saying something about how she saved his life, but the sniper isn't listening. She's watching the familiar face of the man behind Hughes jump from cautious curiosity to shocked confusion. Something almost like fear trickles into his eyes, and she feels a dark smear of satisfaction.
So he does recognize her after all that's happened.
"Riza-?!"
Hawkeye gets to her feet, calmly, but inside she knows that everything is about to change.
Roy sits down next to her, awkwardly, his hair being grabbed at by nightfall's strong winds. He's shivering slightly in the cool air; nights in the desert are chilly, something no one ever really gets used to.
(You don't get used to the day's blazing heat, and you don't get used to the night's frigid cold. Instead you wait for something that makes sense, and ultimately the longing will rip you apart.)
Riza knows that no one ever actually survives a war. Some are shot dead and others burned, and some are just left to drive themselves insane, but in the end the person they were when they started never comes back alive. The only question, she's decided, is what will step off the train platform at the long-awaited end. What kind of creatures will Ishbal leave behind?
She waits patiently as Mustang positions himself slightly crooked, so that he's not directly facing the fire in front of them. She pretends not to notice, but it's hard to ignore the way he winces whenever its flickering light drifts over his face.
(The Flame Alchemist doesn't like to be reminded of what he's here for.)
"…Why did you join the military, Riza?"
She's in the process of cleaning her rifle, and doesn't answer right away. "…I remembered your dream, how you wanted to aid people. I thought I could help."
He laughs, bitterly. His sarcastic nature is new, and Hawkeye can't say she likes it very much. "My dream? It was the first thing to die in this fucked-up place."
"You shouldn't say that." She raises the scope to her eye, aims it at some distance target to make sure everything checks out. "You shouldn't give up."
"…." He looks away for a second. "What if it's not my choice? What if trying to hope out here is just a waste of time?"
"Then you waste your time." Hawkeye can feel Roy's dark eyes boring into her now but ignores them, not raising her own from her gun. "If it seems foolish to have dreams out here then you act like you are a fool. It's better then giving up on everything and becoming nothing—no one."
(Isn't this bizarre—a ghost giving advice to a desperate man.)
"So what are you hoping for?" Roy asks with a slight smile. "I find it hard to believe that you could ever be foolish, but if you are still hoping for something, then what is it?"
Hawkeye bites back a smirk of her own. Is he testing her? Apparently some of the old Roy Mustang she knew still exists, if he can still evaluate someone so carefully. (He's always been like that—there was always some ulterior motive hidden in every question and comment he made. He was always holding up everything and everyone to the light, checking to see how he could warp matters to his advantage. It used to drive her crazy, but now it's become strangely reassuring to know that side of him still hasn't died.)
"I'm hoping that my father's student won't put what he learned to waste," is all she says when she finally replies. "I'm hoping he does what he set out to do."
The student in question grins weakly. "He doesn't actually have a choice, since his teacher's daughter won't leave him alone long enough to consider doing anything else. She's so damn determined, he's gonna have to do what he decided to, don't you think?"
(It's weird, to have this kind of friendly bantering in Ishbal, of all places. Maybe they're still human if they haven't forgotten how to tease each other.)
"You make it sound like she wants to play bodyguard all the time," Hawkeye retorts coyly.
"She doesn't have to, no one ever asked her to."
"But if she doesn't, then the man she's watching out for will end up wandering in front of a tank. Or he'll fall asleep on guard duty and get faced with a firing squad. Or he'll spend all his time reading some of those alchemy books I'm sure he brought with him and forget to eat."
"Hah. Your confidence in this man is staggering," Roy says dryly. Then his voice changes. "Seriously, though," he murmurs, "you shouldn't have come out here."
This place will ruin you, is what Riza knows he wants to say, so for answer she comments softly, "There are some things….some people….worth risking ruin for."
Roy looks startled. "That…that doesn't…how do you know that? How do you know when it's worth it?" he demands.
"You just do."
"That's not a very practical answer, Hawkeye. How do you know?"
How do you know you'll survive this? How do you know I'm worth risking everything for?
"I'm afraid I can't give you a practical answer, sir," she says with a touch of irritation. "You'll have to simply trust that I understand how to make the correct decisions in cases like this."
"Trust you—!?"
"Yes. Trust me. Like I believe you used to," Riza snaps. The Flame Alchemist winces.
"I….I trust you, Riza. But…you're asking me to trust that it's a good thing you're out here! You're asking me to trust that you belong here!"
"No, I'm asking you to trust that I have my reason for being here."
"Well, maybe your reason doesn't want you here in the first place."
"Maybe he has no say in the matter."
"Maybe he should have some say! It's because of him that you're here, so maybe he should have some influence—"
"It was because of his influence," she interrupts firmly, "that I'm here. But it was my decision to be influenced by him and join the military, not his. It was my choice. I don't regret it. He will have to accept that."
Roy closes his eyes as if in pain, as if he is suffering in some distant area of the soul that hasn't yet a name. "And what if he can't….?"
"…He can. He's strong," she says quietly. "He's stronger then he thinks he is. He deserves the support."
A weary chuckle. "Even though he's probably going to end up drifting aimlessly in front of a tank before all this ends?"
Riza shakes her head, amused. "Yes, surprising as it might sound to him. Even with that."
A moment goes by; the wind's mysterious, unearthly voice mutters bits of nothing behind her.
Then Roy leans in, and Hawkeye feels a sudden thrill dart through her. What is he doing? All of a sudden he's so near…
"That's a very interesting point of view, Private…" he whispers smoothly, his mouth barely an inch away from her ear. His breath is warm on her skin: she shudders, almost without realizing it, caught up in this surprise. "Very interesting. But…I still can't understand how you decided I was worth all this. It just doesn't make any sense to me…"
Riza stares into his eyes, now only milliseconds from her own. The wind is still speaking softly to itself behind them—no, all around them—inside them—they're in the center of a war zone, so why does this all seem so right? This strange, harsh land has suddenly become the most beautiful, the most divine paradise…
And it is beautiful here, she decides distractedly after a moment…or at least, it must have been, once. Fire and metal, human ego: these parasites have long since leaked through the cracks, and now Ishbal is as stained as any other place touched by man. But even mankind, which favors itself unbeatable, cannot conquer everything….and even now, even here, Riza realizes with a start—though in the next instant she realizes she's known it all along—there is beauty…
There is beauty in the untamable wilderness around them. For all their tents and fires, for all their destruction, the soldiers are still swallowed up by the awesome size of the place. Their greatest disasters won't stand the test of time; the darkness of the nighttime desert swallows up even the strongest of their intrusive lights. There is splendor here that will never be ruined. There is a chance for everything to heal.
The wind, too—the wind carries its own splendor, and Riza is shocked for a moment to notice the out-of-place sweetness it's harboring now. Where are the scents of smoke and rotted flesh it usually picks up? Where is this new life coming from?
But then she notices just how dark Roy's eyes are, just how deep. They are still so close…
This new life—new hope—comes from them. They will mend what for the moment seems broken beyond repair.
(Hawkeye is sure of this with a finality that seems to come from entirely out of no where, which is hardly her style at all. But what need is there for explanation in this place? What words could possibly be heard over the ethereal song of the desert?)
"I don't understand it…"
Mustang reaches a gentle hand to her cheek and leaves it there; small tingles continue to spark at her skin wherever he touches. She leans even nearer to him with a fervidair that hides the true calm of all of this. "To me it seems so foolish…"
"Trusting people?" she breathes. "It's foolish?"
He laughs again, quietly as to not break this strange spell, but this time it's a richer sound then the sardonic tones he used before. "Very, when you consider who you're trusting."
Hawkeye reaches up and lowers his hand from her face, slowly, her gaze never wavering. Every time Roy exhales she can feel his warm breath against the side of her neck….he's all but buried his head against her shoulder. His arms are wrapping around her—she clutches at him out of need, out of want, out of everything that makes him what to Riza he always is.
"I thought you said I was never foolish." Her grip is just as strong in this embrace. Roy, she thinks, has to learn that he is not the only one trying to keep his head above the water. He isn't in this alone.
"You're right…" Mustang murmurs against her. "But this is really very unwise of you." He lowers his head slightly to drop kisses along her collar bone. "So is this…so is us doing what we're doing now…"
"Yes…" Hawkeye can't disagree with that. She once swore she'd stay away from all things impulsive, but in the here and now she can't seem to find the will. "It is…"
Firm hands tug at the buttons on her uniform, tugging the jacket off and throwing it to the side. She pulls her shirt off herself, letting his touch stroke at bare skin.
There is a hooded, craving gaze in Roy's eyes that makes her shiver again, but this time it's only partially out of lust. The way he's looking at her—like she is some sort of goddess, some strangely perfect being. Riza doesn't relish the idea of being put up on a pedestal…she's no divine being. She's more then that: she's Roy Mustang's protector, a position with greater challenges and a far greater reward then running the heavens could even try to produce. Surely she's got the harder, more satisfying mission when compared to the gods—
But now his mouth is on hers, warm and steady, and her thoughts scatter. Her own fingers are rapidly undoing the buttons on his pants, pulling the fabric down…Roy fumbles with the clasps on her bra, taking longer then really should be necessary to remove it out of impatience and duress. Afterwards he pushes her back against the sand, and the slightest moan escapes her lips.
"Roy….we shouldn't…not here…" she tries to protest, halfheartedly, as his fingers knead patterns into her suddenly-sensitive skin.
But where, then? Not in her tent, where even the smallest cry could give them away. Not in his, either; the Flame Alchemist shares a tent with the Crimson, someone Riza has frankly no desire to meet. There isn't any safe haven that she can think of.
(Some part of her knows there never will be, and the willingness to ignore the danger has suddenly become an intricate part of who she's determined to be.)
Roy hasn't stopped to worry about it, and when the last item of clothing joins the messy pile behind them and he presses himself harder against her, she gasps and forgets too.
"So foolish…" His voice is so soft she nearly mistakes it for the wind. "This isn't smart at all…"
Riza inhales a deep, shuddery breath. "Roy—"
A gunshot, from somewhere far past them. The yells that follow it are hidden in the distance, but still the spell fades off. Maybe that's a good thing, she ponders dully, still lying there in the sand. This is a war zone, after all. What right does passion have in war?
(What she does not consider is that this is far more then any spur-of-the-moment lust. This is love, but that word is a curse in Ishbal, so she'll never give it life.)
Mustang sits up, blinking. Obviously he'd gotten as carried away as his sniper. Sheepishly he shakes the grit out of her clothes and hands them to her; they dress silently, in the dark, since the fire has long since gone out. Muttering to himself about the uselessness of a flame alchemist who can't even keep a blasted cooking fire going, he prods a bit at the leftovers, and in a few minutes there are flames again. Then he turns to Riza.
"Erm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean for…." Roy looks embarrassed. "I'm sorry."
"It's ok." She attempts to shake out the sand grains buried in her hair, gives it up as a lost cause, and turns to him. "It's fine."
"But it's not! It's—"
"Roy," she interrupts. "It's fine."
(And it really is fine, because a ghost could never feel what she's feeling right now, so she must be alive after all. A bittersweet realization: does needing him so badly make her very naive or simply very weak?)
Her alchemist stands up, glancing out at the horizon as he dusts himself off. "…Come on. Before some sentry catches us." Riza nods silently and gets to her feet as well.
She walks a step or two behind him on the way back to camp. He's her soldier, after all, and she'll guard his back for as long as she has breath in her lungs.
"I'm sorry," he calls over his shoulder, "I kept you up all night talking."
"Among other things."
"Was that a joke, Hawkeye? Shocking."
Riza purses her lips and tells herself she's annoyed, though of course she really isn't, and Roy laughs. He's already gotten used to having her presence there behind him; he's already started to take it for granted, be that a good thing or bad.
And he's not alone: his sniper's already begun to take it for granted that he'll always be there for her to follow. She's never been more certain that she'll walk in his path till eternity erupts.
(Even if it's hell he ends up leading her to. Even then.)
It's the last time they openly talk about her being there, about her staying so firmly by his side. It's the last time Roy protests in fear of what might come. It's the last time in Ishbal they ever embrace, but to Riza that's ok.
She can wait.
AN- I wish my muse understood that not EVERY Royai idea needs sex in it! Seriously, they were supposed to KISS...somehow it turned into full-on groping and nudity. :sigh:...
(By the way...where has all the Roy/Riza fanfiction been these days? Talk about slim pickings! Me thinks that now that mostly everyone's seen the anime, the fandom's starting to wander off...which is a shame, as the manga is SO much better where Royai hinting is concerned!)
Enjoy, and leave a review if you please.