Roy and Riza Observation Journal

by hanamuri

Rumor has it, Roy and Riza are having an illicit affair. No, Riza's just one name in his list of exes, sprung another one. Some hearsay argues that nothing is going on between them. The debate remained endless on the unspoken question everyone has on this impeccable duo: what's up with these two?

12. Log 12: Riza Hawkeye

Author's Note

16,429 words purely in Riza's perspective. The overview of my royai headcanon.

Thank you, readers, for reaching the end of this story! 12 chapters in 12 months, I couldn't have done it without you! I hope you'll enjoy this as much as I did while writing it. This is the longest chapter I ever wrote, and it was the fastest one. The power of writing in Riza's POV.

P.S. I kept reminding myself that the Rating is T haha.

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Log 12: Riza Hawkeye

Spring 1927

Choices. Riza knew she always had trouble with those. No, she didn't mean picking out which gun she would use, which attire she would wear, or which schedule she should follow. She meant decisions involving changes in routine, the path to her future, and prioritizing her own needs. More importantly, these decisions always involve Roy Mustang.

Everything wasn't the same since the trial. Upon hearing about her intention to resign, Roy was first to approach her, grabbing her wrist as she left the courtroom.

He opened his mouth to speak, yet no words came out. Riza hadn't moved, hadn't breathed, until she felt him loosen his grip on her wrist.

"I trust you are not only doing this for me," he said, his eyes searching for hers.

"You know you have my word," she told him. It wasn't particularly a lie.

"And when will you choose to resign?"

She tried her best to keep a straight face. "When you have reached your goal."

His eyes widened. "So you're willing to accomplish your duty?"

"As I always do, Sir."

He seemed relieved. "Then I'll continue to rely on you to watch my back."

"Until the day you reach your goal," she stressed.

When Roy had left, she was surprised to find herself wishing they dug more out of the conversation. Little did she know, it was the last they've ever spoken about it.

For the months and years following the trial, they had focused on reinforcing the East. New Ishval became Amestris' portal to the Orient, and the railroad to Xing had branched off to different trails. From what used to be a deserted battlefield, it had become a city of trade and commerce, a melting pot of culture and heritage. Ishval had truly risen from the ashes, and some travelers from Xing call it the "city where the Phoenix landed".

Riza felt a surge of relief on the success of the Ishval Restoration project, thinking how it was the first step to bringing happiness to the people of Amestris, especially for the Ishvalans. Perhaps her theory was correct: crossing the muddy path would forge a bridge to the next generation.

Much recently, Grumman declared to the public his retirement and appointed Roy to be the next Führer. There were complaints and doubts, especially after the series of scandals and the infamous fraternization trial. Yet everyone believed he was the better option. Olivier Armstrong was appointed as the military secretary of the International Union, and Hakuro was still serving his sentences in prison. In the end, the public gave him the benefit of the doubt.

It was not until then had Roy granted her permission to process the papers for her resignation. Much to her surprise, she wasn't the only one leaving Roy's team. Falman took the offer of working at the North Headquarters, Breda at the West, and Fuery at the South. Havoc, on the other hand, insisted he stay on Central. He said he still hasn't paid his debt to Roy, and that he has a lot of catching up to do in terms of his rank.

All these reassignments will be effective tomorrow when Roy will be promoted to Führer.

Riza knew it was a decision of their own free will, but she couldn't help but feel as if everything was her fault.

"Riza!"

She jolted in her seat when Rebecca snapped her fingers right in front of her face.

"You've been zoning out more often," Rebecca noted. "That Mustang surely rubbed off on you, huh?"

Riza smiled weakly. "Perhaps he did."

"Then thank god you decided to resign," Rebecca said as she stabbed the piece of beef roast on her plate. "I wouldn't want to have Roy Mustang the 2nd as my best friend. I might even catch you slacking off."

Riza rolled her eyes. "That would never happen."

"You'll never know."

"Then I grant your consent to shoot me when it does."

Rebecca's laughter made everyone turn their heads at their table, and this time, Riza didn't mind. After all, everyone shared the same joyous spirit as Rebecca did. The streets of Central were brimming with bright lights, packed with people walking shoulder-to-shoulder. She never knew that Central was this festive at that time of the year, and it made her realize it was her first time being out of work on the Harvest Festival.

Black Hayate barked from below their table, and White Chianti yipped after him. Rebecca gave them a wink and slid some of her chicken bones on the ground. Hayate and Chianti barked back in gratitude, gobbling down Rebecca's offer. Riza felt glad she asked her to help her walk the dogs, it certainly eases her apprehension for that night.

"So," Rebecca leaned forward, chin resting on her laced fingers. "Do you have the resignation letter with you?"

"Yes, I do," Riza responded promptly, patting her purse. "Right here."

"Don't you think he'll feel bad about you resigning?" asked Rebecca. "It's not every day you get to work with someone for 16 years? 17 years?"

"18 years now."

"18 years!" Rebecca looked at her as if she won the lottery. "I mean, who wouldn't feel empty when their subordinate left their side? After 18 years!"

Riza felt a lump on her throat. "He's never said anything against it after I declared my resignation."

"Oh. I see." Rebecca nodded slowly. "And what about you? Surely you've grown fond of the guy."

"I guess I have," Riza confessed. She knew it would take a long time before she got used to it. If she gets used to it.

Rebecca must have sensed the air when she decided to change the topic. "Any plans on what you'll be doing after?"

Riza pondered for a minute, debating on whether or not she'll disclose her plans to Rebecca. "I am considering taking Officer Olivier Armstrong's offer."

"No way!" Rebecca almost jumped. "That's an international job!"

"Only because I am indebted to her." Riza cocked her head to the side, allowing her bangs to obscure her face.

"You're too modest, Ri," said Rebecca. "Just admit you're talented. And a teensy weensy bit competitive."

Riza gave her a look.

"It's true!" Rebecca chuckled. "You'd always try to beat my record. You know, as the early riser back at the academy!"

"You tend to stay awake until 4 AM."

"Surely that doesn't count as cheating, does it?"

Riza laughed along, taking the last sip from her lavender tea. She hoped this would be enough to keep her calm through the night.

"God, that was such a long time ago," Rebecca groaned. "Who knew we'd actually reach 40."

"Time certainly flies fast." Riza smiled wistfully, resting her cheek on one palm.

Everything has changed from when they met at the military academy. Rebecca used to tie her unruly hair into a high ponytail. Now she proudly wears her hair loose, flaunting her natural curls. Riza admitted she had dramatic changes in her appearance as well, from her blunt cropped cut to her now chin-length hair. She figured it was a compromise between keeping her hair too long and keeping them too short. It was the perfect length, it never blocked her line of sight without clipping them. Besides, she believed it suited her age well. Perhaps they really aren't getting any younger.

"Rebecca," Riza said after a while. "How did you deal with your resignation?"

"Oh, you know, I started my own business—"

"The shop?"

"Yes."

"I see," Riza mused. "What about that man you told me about?"

"Oh!" Rebecca chuckled nervously. "You still remembered."

"Of course I remembered," she chimed. "And I couldn't just ignore how you look at your purse every five minutes."

Rebecca cursed out loud. "I keep forgetting you're the Hawk's Eye."

Riza chuckled, linking her hands together. "Go on."

"So." Rebecca sighed in defeat. She took something from her purse, then flaunted it to Riza. "I'm engaged."

Riza gasped. It was a silver ring studded with three gemstones in one line. They look like diamonds, and they seemed to be real.

"I… I guess I was too shy to wear it when I haven't told you about the news yet," Rebecca admitted as she put on her ring.

"So who's the lucky guy?" asked Riza.

"Oh. You might get shocked."

"Really."

"It's Jean Havoc!"

Riza raised her brows, pretending to be surprised.

Rebecca paused. "You knew all along, didn't you?"

"Everybody knows, Rebecca."

"For real?" Rebecca shrieked. "I shouldn't have told those nut heads."

Riza laughed. "Nobody told me anything. It's just that I always suspected it."

"And you haven't asked me about it?"

"Not a breath."

Rebecca looked like she was about to cry. "I'm sorry Riza! I know I promised you I'd tell you, but then the battle at Briggs happened, and the case happened—"

"It's alright, Rebecca—"

"And all that wouldn't have happened if we just stuck our noses to ourselves. I'm so sorry for helping them with the observation journal!"

"Yes, I know."

Rebecca gawked at her. "You do?"

Riza nodded.

"Since when?"

"Let's just say, it isn't uncommon."

Rebecca clapped her hands together and bowed in front of her. "I'm so sorry!"

Riza pushed Rebecca's head back upright, brushing her hair as she did. "There's nothing to forgive, Becca. Nobody used those journals against us. But next time you better ask me instead."

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry!"

"Besides, you've known me long enough to know the answer without asking me."

"I know—" Rebecca cut her breath. "Wait, does that mean—"

Riza opened her mouth to speak, only to get interrupted by Rebecca's sudden shriek.

"Shoot, I'm late!" Rebecca abruptly stood, completely forgetting about her question. She left her paycheck on the table before saying, "I'm so sorry I need to go, I have to open the shop if I wanna take advantage of all the tourists in this festival."

"It's alright, Becca. Thank you for accompanying me," said Riza. She was about to wave goodbye when Rebecca struck her finger at her. "You better tell me what's going on between you and Mustang when we meet next!"

Riza smiled then called out to her, "Congratulations on the engagement!"

Rebecca said something muffled in the noise of the crowd, waving her goodbye. Riza then looked at Hayate and Chianti huddled close together, and sighed. Everything has definitely changed.

She walked down the crowded pavements, two fully-grown dogs flanking both her sides. It was a hassle to tug them closer every now and then, but having them around kept passersby a few feet away. Even at 20:00 hours, the streets were still packed with people. To any other adult, it might have been just another day to deal with the traffic and earn holiday pay. But to her, there was something about festivals that made her feel nostalgic. Rather, it made her feel like she was a little girl again, giddy with the warm and pleasant atmosphere.

---

Riza had been eight when she first attended a festival. Lights surrounded the streets, and everyone was beaming their widest smiles. She was always drawn to it, to how people simply celebrate someone else's successes, even if it were someone from hundreds of years ago. To think that some people celebrate it without even knowing the reason. It was enthralling, a mindset far different from what her father taught her.

"Again." Father would always say. She had watched Roy draw circles all over the study hall, the most perfect ones she'd ever seen, and he still didn't meet his standards. But it didn't matter to her. It never mattered to her. What mattered was that he always got what she wanted: her father's attention.

She had always envied him then, wondering what sort of sorcery made Father intrigued by a stranger like him. Riza would sneak up behind his back, watching Roy as if he were a bomb ready to detonate. She was dissecting his every move, only to realize that she reads the same books as he does, draws better circles, all that while cooking every meal, washing dishes, and doing their laundry. Yet her father couldn't even spare her a glance, his nose always stuck on his research notes.

What was it that she was lacking?

On that day she snuck out to the town festival. She knew her father would reprimand her for it, get her grounded, or worse, imprison her within the mansion as villains do in storybooks. It was a test, she said to herself. A test to see if she still mattered to him.

But what came for her was someone other than her father. It was Roy, standing in front of her, fighting off the peers who picked on her and called her father mad.

"Let's get you home," he said, almost yanking her arm off.

"No."

"Why not?"

Thunder stopped her from answering back, and the downpour that came with it led them under that trinket stall.

"I'm sorry you got dragged into this," Riza muttered, fiddling with her cardigan sleeve. "I know my Father sent you to go after me."

"It's no big deal," he simply remarked. "I guess I also wanted to know you're safe."

Riza froze. Why was he concerned over a girl he barely talks to? Is it because she's her father's daughter? But the look he gave her says otherwise. It was genuine, the same look she gives when she sees a lost kitten. Riza couldn't prevent her lips from curling upward, something she hasn't shared with another person since her mother died.

"Thank you," Riza finally said.

They stayed in that little trinket stall for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for the rain to stop. Roy would curse at the rain, how it drenched the festival lanterns wet, how it always ruins everybody's plans. Riza didn't mind the rain, for as long as he would share more about himself. A boy with foreign blood raised by many sisters in Central City.

"You've never been to Central?" Roy exclaimed.

Riza frowned. "What's so great about it, anyway?"

"The people, the food— it's my place!" Roy gushed about his hometown, his hands gesturing at every thought. "The way the entire city lights up after dark— it's as if stars fell from the sky!"

Riza's lips drew into a half-smile, gazing at him in amusement. "I think I'd like that."

"You definitely would!" Roy leaned forward. "And in Harvest festivals, they shoot fireworks in the sky!"

Riza couldn't forget the excitement in his face, the hitching in his voice. He was passionate, as if his entire body was burning with flames so bright that it hurts to see it. Her guts twisted into a knot. Was she jealous? No, it seemed different. She felt… intrigued. How could someone be excited over one thing that isn't even there yet? As if the future he sees is certain, without a worry on how to grab it. Riza didn't know by then that what she felt wasn't jealousy or intrigue. Rather, it was yearning.

Like a moth to a flame.

"I'll let you come with me!" Roy grinned. "If the Master approves, of course."

Riza's smile disappeared at the mention of her father. "Mister Mustang, I think we should get going."

The rain had stopped pouring, and her heart stopped beating. She didn't want the moment to end, she didn't want to come back to doing long hours of reading and writing and other chores in the hopes of gaining her father's favor. Just then, she realized she didn't mind wearing damp clothes and sitting on the floor next to cheap gems and trinkets, if it meant being seen and heard by someone. What mattered was she found what she always wanted, and it's on the boy she always loathed and envied.

"Riza, take your pick," said Roy, his hands gesturing over the gems and trinkets on the mat. He made a deal with the vendor for letting them stay in the stall.

"Are you sure?" Riza pouted. "Father will get mad—"

"And whose fault is that?" Roy smirked. "We wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

Ignoring him, Riza eyed the jewelry. They were rusty and muddy, just metal without its luster. Either they were secondhand or that they were made by hand. Her eyes darted between ruby amulets, emerald brooches, and pyrite earrings. Too big. Too heavy. Too noticeable. How would her father react when he sees this? Then her eyes fell on a batch of iron rings. "I'll take those."

Roy squinted at the rings. "Don't be too modest."

"Then I'll take two of those," Riza declared.

Roy chuckled. "You know, I have enough money to buy one for each of your fingers—"

"No, I'd only like two of those," Riza asserted. "One for you, one for me."

Roy only blinked, and her cheeks flushed at how she must have sounded. It was something she read in her storybooks, where people forge their promises on rings, on written things or silent whims. The ones she chose may seem invaluable and cheap, but to Riza, it was priceless. It bears the memory of a promise to be made in the future, a guarantee that there is a future.

The vendor gave them each a ring, and Riza placed hers on her left finger. It was a perfect fit, and she couldn't help but wonder how she would wear it once she grows older. Riza watched Roy place his ring in his wallet, before reaching out a hand to her. "Call me Roy."

Riza inspected it, her mind screaming not to take it. But her hand moved otherwise, and their skin met for the first time. "Call me Riza."

Strike one. Riza made a decision she knew she would never take back.

The days that followed were the highlights of her childhood. Her father may have prevented them from meeting (as he believed it would only distract Roy from his studies and Riza from her duties), but somehow, they both came up with a way to communicate. Roy would indicate the time of their meetup whenever her father asks him about his progress for the week. Other times, Riza would give him a look before telling her father how she sorted his clients' requests and what metal was needed to forge their requests, hinting at the time they would meet through the element numbers of the periodic table. She may not be able to do alchemy, but she'll always be the daughter of a renowned blacksmith.

Sometimes, Roy would accompany her in hunting and weaponry testing. She looked forward to seeing the fascination across his face every time she hit a target right on the spot. She loved how he would pester her with questions every time she cleans and sorts her father's forgery. Other times, they would meet at night, where Roy would share what he learned about alchemy, and Riza would share about geography, history, or some of her novels. Roy would pester her with questions, questions that always made her think of the world differently, questions she knew she wouldn't hear from anybody else.

"Is there such a thing as a selfless deed?" he would ask out of the blue.

"Of course there is," she would say.

"Of course there isn't," he retorted.

"But they're not expecting anything in return."

"That would defy the laws of equivalent exchange."

"Only kindness defies it."

"Then why do you think they do it?"

She paused. "Because it makes them happy to help others—"

"Exactly," he smirked. "They're still doing it for a price. If there's nothing to gain out of it, then people wouldn't do it."

She pouted. "How would you call it a price to pay if joy is something priceless?"

With that, Roy would only laugh. On occasions like those, she knew Roy had admitted defeat. In return for his exceptional ideals, Riza would hold his airy thoughts steady, keeping his feet on the ground. She wouldn't want him to lose his grasp of reality, she wouldn't want him to become possessed by his ideals like her father was.

Aside from debates and philosophical questions, they would often climb the roof of the mansion, chart for stars, and talk about how akin they are to the kindle of flames.

"When do you think you could learn Flame Alchemy?" asked Riza.

"Whenever the Master decides." Roy sighed, swinging his arms at the back of his head. "He seems to have a time of his own."

She remembered she asked him why he wanted to learn alchemy. Roy would simply shrug, and tell her it was cool. She thought of all the apprentices his father took in, and none of them lasted this long. Does it mean he would endure her father's fastidious demands over something he found… cool? It was not until he mastered the basics had he shared his true intentions.

"To protect as many people as I can," he said, chin high up in front of her father. "Especially those who can't protect themselves."

"You could do that with basic alchemy." Berthold did not look up from his notes. "So why would you seek Flame Alchemy?"

Roy cleared his throat. "Master, as you said, Flame alchemy is the most powerful form of alchemy there is—"

Berthold stopped writing. "Power?"

"Yes, to protect others, I need to be equipped to fight adversaries—"

"And how would you protect people with this… power that you speak of?"

"Flame alchemy would help me become one of those sworn to protect the country. The ones who are obligated to do so. The government, the military—"

"Rubbish."

Roy tensed. "Pardon, Sir?"

"Such a waste to teach the basics of alchemy to someone willing to become a dog of the military."

There was a moment of silence. Riza clutched tight on the hem of her worn-out dress, trembling from behind the door.

"You once told me that 'Alchemy is for the masses,'" Roy quoted him. "I believe that working in the military would better help people, to face any threat—"

"But what if you become the threat," Berthold said, then looked up to Roy. "Apparently you're not ready to learn Flame Alchemy, Roy."

"But, Sir—"

"Get out."

"Sir—"

"Get. Out."

Riza ran across the hallway, away from her father's study, away from Roy. Her heart was clenching itself tight, her breath suddenly spasmodic. Father was sending Roy away. The last time someone left the house was the last time she's ever seen them. She clutched her little hand on her chest, brows furrowed, shutting her eyes dry. It was just like when her mother left. Riza hung her head against her bedroom door, desperately ignoring the pinch on her throat. She pulled her knees up to her belly, unsure of what to do. No book has ever taught her that the ones she cared about most are also the ones who will make her cry the most.

"I'll come back." Roy drew out his smallest finger. "That's a promise."

Riza curled her little finger on his, her gaze on their clasped digits. It was the first moment she wished for time to stand still. "Where will you go from now?"

"Back to Central." Roy looked at her wistfully. "I'm not sure if I could help in running the Madame's shop, but we'll see from then on—"

Riza suddenly hugged him. She dug her head on his chest, the way she wished she did before her mother left. He smelled like sandalwood, earthy and rich with a hint of the detergent she used to wash their clothes. Much to her surprise, Roy hugged her back, and she felt his chin resting against the top of her head. This felt like home. He felt like home.

And she was right. Everything wasn't the same after he left, even the mansion felt empty in his wake. Father stayed within his study more often, and he no longer accepted clients for their forge. He suddenly became obsessed— rather, possessed— with his research, not even bothering to come out for a meal. It made her more estranged from him, and admittedly, she felt more afraid of him. Suddenly she understood what her father told Roy.

But what if you become a threat?

She would catch herself thinking about it more often than she should. Months after Roy left, she would find herself staring out the window, watching the snowfall from her windowpane. She thought how Roy would have loved to see it. Snow rarely falls on this side of the country.

Light seeped between the cracks of the wooden floor below her, followed by her father's yelling. Riza paid no attention until a knock was made on her bedroom door. Berthold swung it open, leaning limply by the doorway with blood on his chest. And he... laughed.

"Your mother— I can't—" he spewed out blood.

Riza could only look at him with horror, and immediately sought his aid, "We need to send you to the infirmary—"

"It took— two things," he coughed again. "B-but I— acquired one important thing."

She held him steady, trying her best to decipher the words he was sputtering. If her mother's death took away anything, it would be his sanity. Berthold coughed again, and everything around them was covered with blood. Her bedroom floor, her clothes, her hands— her breath quickened. Judging by the amount of blood loss per second, they weren't going to make it to the hospital on time.

"The most ultimate and powerful form of alchemy," he said as he looked up at something Riza couldn't see, "...is now in my hands. In my mind, waiting to be reborn."

Her heart was on her throat, afraid of making any signs of defiance from him. But she needs him to snap out of it, and convince him to stay alive. "How will you write it down in your condition?"

Berthold broke free from her grasp, clutching to the walls for balance. "Don't underestimate me, child."

He started drawing a transmutation on the wall with his bleeding hand, and chanted in a language she's never heard him speak before. "Igni Natura Renovatur Integra."

Nature is completely renewed with fire. Riza recognized it as a dead language, one she sees in her Roy's notes, religious books, and medical books. She studied the language to try and decode her father's research before, yet she never had a single glimpse of them.

The lines of the circle glowed blue, and suddenly, she saw nothing but a flash of white. Riza rubbed her eyes, and saw her father drop limply on the floor.

"Father!" She immediately checked on him. He was unconscious. She leaned parallel to the ground, carefully watching the rise and fall of his chest. Her eyes widened. He was breathing normally.

Whatever happened that day, they never spoke of it again. But Riza never thought it would lead her to what she once wanted. Ever since then, Riza has stood close to her father, and presumes it's because she was the only one who could take care of him. He disapproves of going to the hospital, or seeking aid from a medical professional. He said he wouldn't risk exposing flame alchemy to the wrong hands.

"If you insist on getting me professional help," he would say as he coughs and writes on his research notes, "why won't you become a professional?"

And so she did. At least, she tried to. Despite being in her teens, she spent most of her days trying to figure out her father's illness. She would ask the local clinics about the particular symptoms, and they would suggest medicine, one that costs more than her father's previous earnings as a blacksmith.

To pay for all the expenses, Riza worked from clinic to clinic, doing errands for them. In return, she gains information on how she would treat her father's symptoms. If that wouldn't suffice, she would hunt at dawn, selling raw meat to the market.

Will she be enough this time?

Riza arrived home late one day, drenched by the pouring rain. The circles under her eyes were getting darker, but she paid them no mind.

"Riza," her father called out to her weakly.

She set his medicine on the bedside table, before turning to him, a hand on his wrist. "I am here, Father."

Berthold lies idle for a moment, contemplating, before sitting up. It was not until that moment had she realized she's never seen him without his long cloak before. His skin bore inscriptions written in the same dead language he once spoke, on his arms, on his legs, on his torso, and even on his back. Some parts were marred with lines, with dried up blood, with burn scars.

He must have caught her staring when he said, "These are my research notes, and all research from our past generations passed down to me."

She gulped. No wonder she couldn't find his research anywhere.

"However, these are all incorrect," he said, eyes narrowing. "Open the drawer to your right."

Riza did as told, and dragged out a thin sheet of canvas. Her eyes widened. It was an emblem she's never seen before, two serpents, several triangles, a sun, a salamander, inscriptions written in the dead language.

"That was the closest alchemical array your mother and I had created."

Mother. She traced the lines with her fingers, tempted to take the canvas for herself. "And you obtained the knowledge of the correct one?"

Berthold nodded. Riza looked at the array, then at her father. Not a single patch of his skin was left unmarked. Suddenly, she understood what her father was implying. This could be a chance to redeem herself, finally feeling that she was sufficient and deserving in her father's eyes. But what made her decide was how this great power could be used for the benefit of the people. And possibly, possibly, meet Roy again.

She gazed into her father's eyes, full of determination. "Allow me to carry the secrets of flame alchemy."

Strike two. Riza willingly accepted a burden, an indelible responsibility she knew would haunt her for as long as she lived. Partly because of the smallest probability to meet Roy again.

For months, she would catch herself imagining how their reunion would go, rehearsing what she would say. Yet words failed to come out of her lips when that moment came.

"Is anybody here?!"

Her heart skipped a beat, recognizing the voice. It was Roy's. And it was filled with panic. She dashed to its source, towards her father's study— only to find her father on the floor, drenched in his own blood.

"Riza!"

She froze. She didn't know what she expected when they'd finally meet again. But she knew this wasn't it.

"Riza," she heard her father say, and her eyes immediately snapped to him. He was looking past her, unaware she was there. "I was too absorbed in my research to do anything for you. I'm sorry."

Her lips parted. He didn't think it was her fault, he never thought any of it was her fault. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to take back the words she used to cut herself open, to take back lost time cursing her father. But she couldn't bring herself to do any of those.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mustang," she said meekly as they stood before her father's grave, "for having to rely on you to help me with the arrangements for my father's funeral."

"It was nothing," replied Roy. "He was my mentor. I would do anything for him."

Riza let out a breath. So he came back for her father. That made sense. She silently read the names on the graves, and realized she was now an orphan. Roy had asked her if she had any other relatives, and she told him both her parents never mentioned anyone.

"What will you do from now?" asked Roy.

It was the same question that lingered inside her head, the same question she once asked him. She didn't want to bother him, didn't want to hold him back in any way. So she told him her father made sure she received a good education, that she'd somehow get by on her own.

"But if you need any help, anything at all, don't hesitate to contact me at military headquarters." Roy gave her his calling card. "I'll most likely stay in the military for the rest of my life."

For the rest of his life? Riza looked up at him. "Please don't get killed."

"Don't jinx me," Roy chuckled. "But I can't promise that. In this profession, you never know when you'll wind up dead in a ditch somewhere, like a piece of garbage."

Riza watched him, his gaze far out in the distance. His eyes were burning again, with determination and certainty for the future only he could see. A future Riza wishes she could see too.

"But if I can help strengthen the foundation of this country and protect its people with my hands, that would make me happy." His lips curved into a small smile, then he caught her staring. "Sorry. I must be boring you with my naive dreams."

"I think it's a wonderful dream." She smiled wistfully. "My father didn't take his secrets to the grave. He told me he hid them in a code that's indecipherable to the average alchemist."

Roy looked at her, perplexed.

"Can I truly believe that there will be a future in which everyone can live happily?" she said before turning to him. "Can I trust you with my back so that I can help make it come true?"

Strike three. She entrusted her father's greatest work to the hands of someone she last saw five years ago.

There was no guilt in her thoughts, only conviction. She believed she was more capable of making her own decisions now that she's eighteen, now that her father's gone. Wasn't she?

"Ignis motio celeris…" Roy mumbled to himself, studying the array laid out before him.

Riza felt her shoulders tensed, unsure if it was by the soft blow of his breath or the rich timbre of his voice. The pads of his fingers felt warm against her cold skin, sliding down her shoulder blades. As she shivered, she felt him quickly lift his fingers, her skin lamenting their departure.

"I-I apologize." He sounded sheepish. "It was not my intention to startle you."

"Ah, no. I should have gotten used to it by now," she told him. "I should be the one apologizing."

Silence. Riza stretched her neck to face Roy beside her, only to find him staring at her pensively.

"Are you alright with this?" He finally spoke.

Riza nodded, sitting up with a cardigan over her chest. "I can stay in this position instead, if it'll make you more comfortable—"

"No, no, that's not what I meant," he said. "I meant, are you alright with this?" His hands gestured to the space between them and the array on her back, eyes softening at the sight of it. "Did he force you?"

"No," she replied bluntly. It was her conscious decision. Wasn't it? She shut her eyes at the memory, almost hearing the screams and whimpers she forced down her throat whenever the needle would prick against her skin.

Suddenly, warmth covered her body, cotton pressing softly against her bare back. She fluttered her eyes open to see Roy had given her his cloak, their faces inches apart. His gaze was steady, piercing right through her as if his eyes saw her better than her own.

"I've always admired your courage," Roy admitted. "I hope you know that."

Riza felt her lips quiver. She never thought she'd hear praise from her father's apprentice— from someone she envied for winning his favor. Roy Mustang, the boy she always looked up to, showed appreciation for her. He had always made her days bearable, with his silly jokes and crooked smile. He brought laughter and light back to the silent hallways, to the hollow spaces between her bones. He was her favorite memory, and his words meant more than the validation she gets from hitting her target with a single arrow.

At that moment, Roy offered her a reassuring smile, and Riza could almost feel fire igniting her skin, burning from her chest up to her face. She wanted more out of the sensation, unsatiated until she could no longer remember how cold feels like. Her father would have stopped her from getting anywhere near him. But it wouldn't hurt to reach for the sun if she had been frozen for so long. Riza drew herself closer to him, thinning the gap between them.

Like a moth to a flame.

Roy didn't move. She didn't move. They stayed like that for a while, inches apart, before Riza pulled herself back from him, her conscience washing over her. He was her father's apprentice for god's sake. He'd never see her in any other way. She felt her heart drop down to her stomach, acids rising to the back of her throat. Her father would reprimand her— it was completely inappropriate.

She bit her lip, gaze downcast to evade his searching eyes. "I'm terribly sorry."

"No, I'm terribly sorry." Roy leaned back in his seat, breathing in deeply as he did.

There was a long pause, and they could only hear the crickets from outside.

"So, " Roy cut the silence. "Have you decided on what you'd do from now on?"

Riza pursed her lips, the red in her flushed face slowly fading. "I decided to join the military."

Roy seemed surprised. "How come?"

Riza pondered for a while. Her father had always despised the military, and she never knew why. She wanted to see it for herself, to somehow disprove him. "In a country led by military officials, it was logical enough to believe that one could protect most people by joining the military."

Roy only gazed into her eyes, as if the answer to his question was written there. She almost felt like melting. "So you and I share the same ideals then."

Riza nodded slowly. "As you may say."

Strike four. She knew this was right. And Roy believed it too. Right?

The academy was nothing like she expected. Roy warned her on how strict the routines were, yet nothing could prepare her for it. The reveille was at 04:00 hours, a piercing trumpet call to start the day. Mornings were spent with the History of Amestris, Calculus, Algebra, Trigonometry, Philosophy, and Logic, while afternoons were spent with athletics and boot camps. Riza was glad she spent most of her time reading books and hunting that she never had much trouble adjusting. But her only problem was in getting along with other cadets.

She would hear them whisper to themselves about how dull she sounds, how she always wears old-women-clothes, a teacher's pet, wondered if she had any relatives in the military, or if she had any experience with 'handling' men.

"Hey, don't let them get to ya." A cadet suddenly sat next to her at the mess hall, her curly hair scrunched up in a neat ponytail. "Riza, is it? I love the way you answer questions. And damn, you always ace tests!"

"Are you here to ask me to tutor you?"

"Oh no, nothing of the sort!" She chuckled. "The rest of the bitches here are either too boring, too pink, too rich, too normal."

"I wouldn't say that out loud if I were you."

"Then let 'em hear some more!" She yelled, before turning to her and offering a hand. "Rebecca. Rebecca Catalina."

Riza gave her a small smile. "Riza Hawkeye."

She never had a real friend before, one who's also a woman. Rebecca would talk about boys with her, about fashion, about how life makes it hard for girls like them. It was nothing like the philosophical questions she and Roy exchanged, and this was what makes her friendship with Rebecca special. She made her feel proud she's a woman, and that made her academy days bearable and a whole less… boring, in her words.

When Riza came home after her first year at the academy, she was surprised to see Roy by her doorstep. "I thought you had duties at East Headquarters?"

"I wanted to show you something," he said, excitement in his voice. "Close your eyes first."

"Just so you know, I aced self-defense, and I'm not afraid to use it."

Roy playfully gasped. "Then I'll be a dead man."

Riza laughed, her hands fumbling in front of her. She suspects he had pulled another prank on her. "Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see it when you see it," Roy reassured. The chilly winter breeze greeted them, and Riza tugged her cardigan closer. They must be in the backyard.

"Keep your eyes closed," Roy instructed, placing her hands on her eyes.

"What's taking you so long?" Riza shifted her weight on one leg. "You're always so slow."

"Haven't you heard of 'haste makes waste'?"

Then she heard a snap. Then another. And another. The next thing she knew, Roy put down her hands. "Open your eyes."

Riza found herself in the middle of a sea of light. Sky lanterns glowed softly in a yellow-orange hue, floating around her like jellyfish that swallowed fire. Riza marveled at the sight, dazed by the forest's fiery radiance. The whole place glowed warmly as if incandescent lights powered it, painting the trees peach.

"Happy 20th birthday," chimed Roy.

Riza turned to face him, her eyes still in disbelief. "You can do Flame Alchemy?"

"Surprise, surprise." Roy nodded beside her. "I've been practicing while you were gone."

"Why?" asked Riza. "Why would you do something this extravagant for me?"

She watched him gulp, the corners of his mouth slowly curving upward, eyes crinkling into a fine line. Then he laughed. A nice laugh, it squeaked at the end. Watching his expression change was like watching flames flicker, a slow, mesmerizing constant transformation. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. She felt more drawn to him than before.

"I remembered you like to see lanterns, and fireworks, and stars," Roy said as he counted his fingers. "I couldn't do the latter, so I settled with—"

"You talk too much."

Riza planted a kiss on his cheek, his skin soft and smooth against her lips. When she pulled back from him, his eyes widened in shock. She sucked in her lips. Was it wrong? Did she do something wrong? Whatever it was, she knew she didn't regret it this time. Seize the opportunity, as Rebecca would say.

Roy scrubbed his hand on his jaw, suppressing a smile. "You know it takes more than that to shut me up."

Suddenly, he yanked her close to him. Riza watched him close his eyes, leaning slowly toward her until she felt his lips brush softly against hers. The kiss was just long enough that she could inhale his breath and feel the warmth of his skin. His scent flooded her senses. Home. Roy pulled back from her, and she touched her lips. He tasted like peppermint.

"Now that shuts up the both of us," Roy remarked. "Eyes on the proper target, soldier."

Riza shot him a glare. "Were you telling me I was wrong? That I miscalculated?"

"I'm simply telling the Hawk's Eye she missed."

"That will be the first."

"First miss?" Roy smirked. "Or first kiss?"

Riza scowled. "Let me try again then."

"Am I worth the shot?" jeered Roy.

"Figure that out yourself."

Riza pulled him by his collar and slammed her lips on his. It was just them in the middle of the forest, with the warm lanterns glowing around them. If this was what Flame Alchemy would yield, Riza knew she would never be left in the cold again.

Strike five. She initiated romantic relations with her father's apprentice.

There was excitement in the thought of engaging in a relationship with an officer who's two years her senior. Fortunately, no laws prevent them from being together, as she is still a cadet and not an enlisted member. It brought some sense of thrill, added by the fact that her father may not even approve of this. She's older now, much older, and she should be making her own decisions, whether or not she defies her father's will.

All her books never told her about the formula of how relationships should work. Fortunately, Rebecca, bless her soul, explained its stages. But she never mentioned it being this awkward, and candid, and real. Nothing changed between their friendship, in fact, Riza believed she knew Roy even more.

Roy would suddenly hold her hand as they were reading their books on the couch. At first, she would think he had something to say. But he always ended up staying quiet, humming along as he studied his alchemical notes. Often, they would engage in a debate, and he would pester her with political and intellectual questions, like he always did when they were younger. Other times, as she was cooking or even washing the dishes, he would suddenly hug her from behind, resting his chin at the slender nook between her neck and shoulders. He would tease her at how terrible she is in social dance, and at the same time, is patient in teaching her how it should be done. She would melt into his kiss after a long hard day, and sometimes, or most of the time, they wound up in bed. It was awkward at first. She wasn't used to dropping her guard, baring herself in front of another person, letting herself be this vulnerable for someone. But she could always get used to how he'd do the same for her.

Things had gotten serious between them. Roy had even taken her to Central, and introduced her to his many sisters. It wasn't like anything she'd expected, and she began to appreciate Roy even more. He wasn't born in a rich and big wealthy family as most people would assume. He was raised in a humble, supportive, and warm environment, surrounded by the most welcoming women she's ever met. They would perk up whenever she arrives, offering her free meals and drinks. They would ridicule and grill Roy with her just for fun, and they would spill her interesting gossip and information around the country. They even offered to make Roy's gloves. Despite their economic stature, they were the ones who had the most class and respect for others.

"It's for them," Roy suddenly said as he was lying beside her, playing with her hair. "Well, it started with them."

Riza searched for his gaze. "What do you mean?"

"You once asked me why I wanted to join the military."

"Oh, you remembered my question." Riza ran her fingers through his hair. "I thought you were daydreaming again that time."

"No, no." Roy chuckled before his expression turned serious. "I used to fight all the nasty brutes picking on the girls. Could you believe it? Me, a five-year-old."

"I'm surprised you're still alive."

"You know I don't pull my punches," he said, the smile still on his lips. "Aren't you going to ask me who won?"

"The answer's obvious."

"It's me, right?"

"No."

"Mean."

Riza rolled her eyes, suppressing her laughter.

Roy cleared his throat. "So, ever since then, the Madame took me to Mr. Grumman. And he told me I was fighting the wrong way."

"Obviously."

"Stop interrupting my moment," he said, laughing. "He said if I wanted to protect those I care about, I have to get stronger. But if I wanted to stop it all, to get to the main problem on why pricks like them exist, I should get into their game. Into their system. And when I'm on top of it all, I wipe it clean."

Riza gazed into his eyes, burning with sheer will once more, transfixed in the future. She couldn't help but say, "And from there you went to become my father's apprentice."

"I guess you could say that." He met her gaze. "And that's when I met you."

She rolled her eyes. "But soon after you left us to become a dog of the military."

Riza tugged on the military identification tag on his neck, pulling him closer, when she noticed there was something else hanging on its chains.

"Is this…?"

"Oh." Roy scratched his head, and took it off his tag. "It's from when we stayed at that trinket shop."

He placed it on her palm, and her lips parted when she realized it was his iron ring. "You kept it with you?"

"Yeah."

"After all this time?"

"Uh-huh."

Riza inspected the ring, it was smaller than she remembered.

Roy cleared his throat. "Did you, uh, keep yours too? Or am I just being weird for keeping it?

"Of course, I did." Riza smiled at him. She kept it within her mother's jewelry box, among all other prized possessions. She might hang hers on her tag as well once she gets enlisted.

"Maybe that makes us both weird," said Roy.

"I could deal with that."

Roy chuckled, then tucked her hair on her ear. "I'm so glad I have you."

Her guts twisted into knots. "I'm glad to have you too."

She wished they'd always stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, eyes locked into each other's gaze. But no one can stay forever young, no one can pause a moment and attempt to tame time, no matter how powerful one may be.

"I passed the State Alchemist exams," said Roy, taking off his coat.

"That's fascinating news," Riza exclaimed. "Congratulations!"

"Yes, everyone was thrilled with the power of Flame Alchemy," Roy gushed. "Especially the Führer. You should've seen the look on his face. He never knew it was possible to create fire from bare hands! Well, gloved hands."

Roy then cupped Riza's face, and her cheeks instantly grew warm. "And it's all thanks to you."

She gave him a small smile, casting her gaze down. "You and I both know it's all thanks to my father—"

"And to you," Roy stressed. "Who knows how the hell he'd survive without you. Seriously, an unknown illness like that, for 3 years? 4 years—"

"5 years."

"5 years!" Roy exclaimed. "I think you should consider being a combat medic."

She felt her shoulders tense.

"You are in your final year, right?" Roy asked. "That is, if you wanted to specialize in that field."

Riza nodded weakly. "I'll think about it."

"Or you could do office work instead." Roy looked at her pensively, unaware he was cocking his hips. "You always loved reading and writing—"

"That's different."

"Is it?"

Silence.

"But I am glad that you are a State Alchemist now," Riza consoled. "That's one step closer to your dream."

"Our dream." Roy turned to her.

Riza darted her eyes the moment she caught herself staring at his lips. "Does that mean you would be reassigned?"

"Perhaps," Roy leaned back, sighing. He seemed to be disappointed that she changed the subject. "If I come back alive from the war, that is."

Riza snapped her head toward him. "What do you mean?"

"The civil war is brewing in the east, and they need more men," he replied nonchalantly. "I'm one of their recruits."

She rose from her seat. "I thought you're no longer a soldier. I thought you're a State Alchemist?"

"Executive Order No. 3066," said Roy. "Every State Alchemist is being promoted to Major, and enlist into war."

Riza pursed her lips, distress drew across her face.

"I'll be back before you know it," Roy reached out to her, attempting to console her. "With all the power you entrusted me—"

She shoved his hands away from her. "Power?"

Roy froze.

"Did you plan this all along?"

"Plan what all along—"

"Using flame alchemy for mass murder?"

A shadow cast over Roy. "Riza. Be careful with what you're saying—"

"How could I?" Riza exclaimed, which came out louder than she thought. "You told me you'd use it for the benefit of the country—"

"I did, and—"

"And what?" Her voice was trembling. "Does killing people lead to a world where everyone is happy?"

"How else can I protect the people from those who choose violence?"

"And you choose violence in return?"

"What other choice do we have?" Roy sputtered. "We can't demand peace if they have their guns aimed at us—"

"But to fight them with alchemy? With flame alchemy?" Riza cried out. "It's not a fair fight. This isn't what you alchemists call equivalent exchange."

"Oh, yes. Yes, it is. To attain peace, something of equal value is paid." He spat bitterly. "If it's the peace of my mind, so be it."

Riza parted her lips, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're becoming one of them."

"How else could I get on top of the system without being in the system?" Roy exclaimed, almost yelling.

"It's all future this, future that. Can't you see what you're doing is far from what you want?" said Riza, breathless. "You're thinking way ahead."

Roy looked at her, stunned. He seemed hurt. "And you're thinking too much into it."

Her heart clenched, her lips trembling. "You know the end does not justify the means—"

"What else can I do?" Roy fumed. "Do you not trust me enough?"

Riza stood there, frozen. She believed his words. She believed their words. But what's to come is something she knows isn't right. She needed to believe in her own words, her own voice. "I have to ask you to leave now, Roy."

Roy looked up at her, hurt in his eyes. "So you wouldn't follow me into this path after all."

Her throat ached. The air she breathed in burned. She neither confirmed nor denied his statement, and instead said, "You're just like him. Possessed in his research."

It's just like what her father says. Roy became a dog of the military.

Roy gave her one last look, before leaving the mansion.

She thought it was the last she'd seen of him. She thought she'd have it in her to quit the academy and live the normal life everyone she knew was telling her. But how could she, knowing she entrusted the most powerful alchemy to Roy, a dog of the military. She has to at least fight back, mitigate the effects, prevent further damage, despite knowing her own life will never be enough to compensate for the weight of the burden she's cast upon herself.

Strike six. She agreed to enlist in the war, even if she's still a cadet. After all, there's no use dirtying her hands if they're already stained with blood.

That's what she thought until she saw how much blood she splattered with every bullet, just how many lives she took within a few months.

Everything smelled like burnt flesh, like raw meat rotting into its decay, like the dead rats she sees on the streets. Riza had been crouched into the crumbling building for hours, scanning the southern area of the Ishval battlefield. The upper echelon immediately assigned her to the frontlines, despite she was still at the academy. She could tell just how desperate they were. Shoot any Ishvalan you see. If the purpose of this campaign was to suppress the rebellion, why order to kill every Ishvalan on sight? They seem to be retreating, and they're only defending their lives rather than attacking the military. Ishvalan weapons and technology weren't as high-end as theirs, so why call on state alchemists? It made her stomach churn. She wondered what ulterior motive the upper echelon has on their sleeves, and somehow hoped it was for the better.

No. Riza clapped her right cheek. There was no time to be naive anymore. She had no business in knowing what the military thought, whether or not it was the right ideal. What she did know is that the campaign will never prove the answer to that, as war does not determine who is right, only who is left.

Suddenly she saw movement at 2:00. She tightened her grip on the trigger, and saw the Ishvalan leap to attack two military men—

Bang!

She hit right on target, and pride surged through her veins. No. She told herself. She shouldn't be feeling satisfaction of having a job well done.

Her eyes focused on her scope, checking to see if any soldier was harmed, then her heart dropped. One of them was Roy Mustang.

"Hey!" A man with glasses approached her at camp. "Thanks for earlier. You were the one who fired that shot, right?"

"Yes, Sir," Riza replied politely. When she heard more footsteps, she stood up, drawing out her hood from her face. Her gaze met Roy's, and she has never seen him this terrified before. Terrified of her.

"It's nice to see you again, Mister Mustang. Or perhaps I should address you as Major Mustang now." She did not stutter or tremble. "Do you remember me?"

His forehead creased, as if in disbelief. "How could I forget?"

After their fateful reunion, the man with the glasses, Hughes, offered they would tag along with her for a while. Roy hadn't asked why she was there, nor what she was doing. Perhaps he did not bother to pester her with questions like he used to. Or perhaps he already knew the answer.

They talked about their experiences in the war, what they do to cope with the horrors, what they think to keep themselves going. But Riza couldn't help but ask one question.

"Please, tell me, Major," Riza said, eyes on her palms. "Why are we killing citizens when we, soldiers, should be responsible for protecting them?"

Roy only looked at her, guilt in his eyes.

"Why?" said a man in a low ponytail across from them. "It's simply because that's our duty. It's because those are the orders we were given. Isn't that right?"

A sly smirk crossed his face. "You there, little lady."

Riza gazed up at him, too exhausted to even react. But she could see how Roy stiffened when the man looked at her.

"You don't like your work, do you? It's written all over your face."

"It's true," she admitted. "I don't enjoy killing."

"Really?" He seemed intrigued. "When you drop an enemy, can you tell me, in all honesty, that you don't for a moment indulge in the satisfaction and pride of a job well done? Miss sharpshooter?"

Suddenly Riza thought she couldn't breathe.

"That's enough!" Roy pulled the man by the collar, yet he was not provoked. He deadpanned, looking straight at Roy's eyes.

"Shouldn't you know you'd kill thousands in war, not one or two people?" He simply said, dusting his cloak. "The moment you put on this uniform out of your own free will, you knew something like this could be expected of you. If you don't like it, you shouldn't have put it on in the first place. Why do you act as though you're the victims, when this was the path you chose, free of coercion?"

Everyone stayed silent from then on. Riza was close to tears. He was right. This was her decision, and as an adult, she has to own up to it. These were the words that kept her going, that kept her pushing through the muddy path that she chose. She has to carry the burden she caused, even if it exceeds her own weight.

At the end of the war, Riza found herself making graves for the bodies that lay abandoned on the ground. Some had unrecognizable faces, some had missing limbs, some were burnt to a crisp.

"Aren't you leaving?" said Roy, approaching her. "You'll get left behind."

Riza hadn't answered, she only continued toppling sand and gravel over the makeshift grave.

"Is that for a fallen comrade?"

She stopped. Now he's pestering her with questions. "No, Sir. It's for an Ishvalan child. His body was abandoned on the side of the road."

Roy only gazed at her, tenderness in his eyes. It must have reminded him of what he told her before, about lying dead like a piece of garbage. "Let's go home. The war is over."

Riza faced the grave. "Inside me, the war isn't over yet. No. It will never end as long as I live."

Only the rustling of the wind was heard between them at that moment.

Riza blew out a breath before proceeding, "It was my decision to trust you and pass my father's research on to you. It was my decision to join the academy in hopes of improving the lives of other people. As much as I regret what's happened, I can't escape the fact it was my choices that brought me to this position."

Her voice was trembling, she knew that. Yet she still continued, "I'm a killer. And no amount of denial or repentance can absolve me of that."

She sniffled, trying her best to endure the stinging pain in her eyes. She curled her fists into a ball, clenching them tightly at the hem of her uniform. "I have a favor to ask of you, Mister Mustang. My back… I want you to burn it beyond recognition—"

"What?" Roy yelled at the top of his lungs. "I could never do such a thing—"

"You have to!" She said, tears streaming down her face, refusing to let him see them. "You have to. If I can't repent, the least I can do is prevent the creation of another flame alchemist. I want the secret that's written on my back to be illegible."

She wiped her tears on the back of her hand, before turning to face Roy. "To remove the burden of my father's legacy. And allow me to make my own choices, to be independent. To be Riza Hawkeye. It has to be done."

Roy hesitated, then he gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. "All right. I'll burn it off your back with the least amount of scarring possible."

Strike seven. She no longer used words to graze herself open.

"I'm sorry," Roy whispered tenderly against Riza's ear. "This is the best I could do."

"This is more than enough," Riza said in between breaths, her voice struggling to hide her trembling. Blood seeped down her spine and to the small of her back. Roy had burnt parts of the array, as per her request. "Thank you, Major."

All stayed still, and not even the flames inside their lamp flickered. Nothing but strips of smoke spiraled around the air. They were back at the mansion, back at the place where it all started. They couldn't afford to let anyone else see the array on her back, and so Roy had tended to her scars, finally sealing the menace that caused naught but slaughter.

"Riza." He said as he faced her. "Riza, look at me."

She gazed into his eyes and saw nothing but pitch black. The fire within him had burned low.

"This is your chance," he spoke softly. "A chance to choose another path."

Riza's lips parted.

"A path where you don't have to take another's life, where you don't have to go through something terrible again." He leaned his head against hers, their foreheads touching. "A path on what could have been."

"I—" She swallowed the sour lump on her throat. "I couldn't simply cast a blind eye on the lives I already took."

"Then you have to choose," Roy simply said. "I'm not forcing you to do anything."

Riza thought for a while. She can choose to live the rest of her days hollowed in this empty mansion, letting self-pity eat her soul away. Or she could grab this opportunity to aid Roy, gamble on the smallest probability that his goal— their ideals, rather— would come true. Even if she has to wade through a river of mud to get there.

Roy tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his breath blowing softly against her lips, almost a ghastly kiss. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, waiting for his next move, waiting for her own move. Then he stood up, and planted a kiss on her forehead instead. "Take all the time you need."

He was leaving. She wanted to scream, she wanted him to turn around and come back to her, for her. But she didn't. She couldn't.

She knew they became different people, deliberately branding themselves into strangers who wouldn't even dare speak of each other's names. It was as if they were reborn. Or perhaps they left a part of them to die along with the ashes of Ishval. But one thing's for certain: she has to decide to own up to all her decisions.

Riza had burned the rest of her father's manuscripts and wiped the markings on the walls clean. She sold all their possessions, even the weapons her father forged for themselves. Save for her mother's jewelry, and some of her favorite books. Then she mortgaged the mansion to gain leverage for what's to come.

Without a trace of the past, she felt more independent now. Although the burden of her father's legacy was still there, she could freely say she's on her way to making her own decisions. No debts. No grief.

Riza Hawkeye was on her way to becoming her own person.

"So you decided to take this path after all," said Roy as he rested his chin on his clasped hands. They were now at East Headquarters. "Even after what you went through in Ishval."

"Yes, Sir," Riza replied curtly. "If the world truly operates based on the principles of equivalent exchange, then we soldiers have plenty to give back. If this world is meant to prosper, then it is our duty to carry the bodies of the dead across a river of blood to their resting place. If this will grant happiness to the next generation, I'll do what it takes."

"Hm." Roy shut his eyes, contemplating, before standing up. "From now on, I'm assigning you to be my assistant. I feel like I can trust you to watch my back."

Riza did not flinch, yet her eyes widened at the slightest.

"Although, I expect you understand what this means. You'll be able to shoot me in the back as well. If I ever deviate from this path, then I want you to shoot me. And I'm trusting you to do so, you have that right."

There was a pause, and the silence felt like it lasted longer than it actually did.

Roy finally spoke. "Will you follow me into this path?"

"Of course I do, Sir." Riza closed her eyes, her head tilting into a small bow. "I'll follow you into hell if you ask me to."

Strike eight. She knew there's no turning back from this path.

In the next months, they were immediately stacked with paperwork. She had to turn down several officers from across Amestris who had offered her to work for them, including Olivier Armstrong.

Lieutenant General Frederick Grumman had once asked to see her, and revealed he was her grandfather. He told her he had sent Roy to become her father's apprentice as a means to check on her, without telling Roy about it. They would often catch up on lost time, and Grumman would never cease to pester her about her relations with Roy.

Everything seemed peaceful enough, until they met two talented brothers who gave up everything to alchemy.

Riza gaped at the alchemical array drawn on the ground, heart heavy with dread. "Is this..?"

"Where are the Elric brothers?" Roy spat, trepidation written all over his face. "I want them found, now."

She never knew she'd see that same array again. She had scrubbed it off her father's study, burned it off her mind, but time has a funny way of repeating itself in other people's lives.

"How are you so confident they would be joining the military?'' Riza asked as they were leaving Resembool. "After what they've been through?"

Roy simply smirked. "I saw eyes that were burning like fire."

Riza felt relief wash over her, and she couldn't help but smile to herself. Just like yours do, Sir.

She never thought she would be searching for military recruits, and a little boy, at that. It was harder than she presumed. She never thought she would see so much fear and hatred whenever civilians or children would look at her.

"Nice to meet you." Riza handed out a hand to a little girl, a girl she now knew as Winry.

Winry only looked at her hand, refusing to shake it, eyes always averting her gaze. "Miss Riza. Have you ever shot a person?"

Riza drew back her hand. "I have. Many times."

"I don't like soldiers. My mom and dad got killed when soldiers took them to the battlefield. And now that guy Mustang is trying to take Ed and Al away." Winry cast her eyes down. "I don't want them to be soldiers. Please don't take them away."

Riza shut her eyes. She saw herself in Winry. "We're not taking them with us by force. The choice is theirs to make."

She took a sip from her tea before proceeding, "To be honest, I don't like being a soldier either, knowing that if the situation calls for it, I have to be prepared to take a life."

"Then why are you in the military?"

A small smile escaped from her lips. "Because there's someone I need to protect."

Winry opened her mouth to speak, before shutting them close again. Riza could feel her gaze piercing right through her. "It's not something I'm being forced to do. It's something that I decided for myself. I pull the trigger by my own free will because I need to keep that person safe."

Riza paused, then stared down at her palms. "Until that person reaches his goal, I will pull the trigger without hesitation."

And she did. She did as many more times than she could count.

"Why you," Riza firmed her grip on the trigger, aiming at the homunculus in front of her. "You bitch!"

The laboratory echoed with her gunshots. She knew her bullets were useless, she knew her reaction was useless. But she was told that Roy was dead. He couldn't have died like that, this couldn't be the end of their path. She looked at her pistol— only one shot left. Riza couldn't help but let tears stream down her face before dropping on her knees. This was beyond hope.

"You humans are such foolish creatures."

Alphonse stood his ground, covering for her. "Don't just sit there, Lieutenant, run!"

"Stay out of my way, boy," Lust slashed through his armor. "This woman wants to die."

Alphonse took a step forward. "I won't let you!"

"Leave me, Alphonse!" Riza cried out.

"No!" Alphonse screamed. "I won't let another person I care about be killed—not if there's anything I can do to protect them!"

Riza froze. She's heard this kind of rhetoric before.

"Well said, Alphonse!" Roy suddenly declared.

There stood Mustang, standing limply with a large injury in his abdomen, daring a supernatural being for combat. Riza had screamed at him, never bothering if his flames would reach her. His eyes were burning with determination, the same blaze as he had before, then she saw it— the power of flame alchemy. Roy was the first one to do the impossible: kill an immortal being.

"I hate to lose, but if I must die, I'm glad it's at the hands of a man like you," Lust said as she was withering, flakes of her skin whirling in the air. "Those eyes so clear and focused… I love them. I look forward to seeing them become clouded from suffering one day."

Riza made sure she wouldn't.

When they came to the hospital, Roy fumed at her, the cot rattling in his wrath. "You are an idiot! You believed in the enemy's words, when all they said were lies? Even if they were telling the truth, how could you just lose the will to fight? I expected more out of you, Lieutenant!"

"I'm very sorry, Sir." Riza stammered, her heart dropping. She was a disappointment to the Colonel.

"Learn to keep it together. You can't shut down under pressure. And never ever give up on life!" His voice echoed throughout the room, and she swore it reached the corridors. "As a soldier and as my subordinate, you need to firm up your resolve."

"Yes, Sir." She closed her eyes and gulped.

"I'm going to continue to trust you with my back," said Roy, and Riza perked up. "Devote yourself to this task."

The task was harder than she thought, especially if she was the one holding him back.

Their enemies were using her against him. She knew that, Roy knew that. Führer Bradley had dismantled Roy of his team, and assigned her as his secretary. It almost felt like she was being held hostage, like she was being watched.

I'll always be watching you from the shadows.

When she got home that night, all her senses were heightened. Startled by a cat eating scraps in the alley, by the flickering lamp post in front of her porch, by the eyes of her own beloved pet, gleaming amidst the darkness cast inside her room. She slumped her back on the wall and sat on the floor, examining the slit on her wrist, wincing at the scratch on her right cheek. She's been to war, but this— these things they are fighting are much beyond human capacity.

If you speak of this to anyone else, Colonel Mustang and your other friends will not go unharmed.

She'd tell herself it was fine. She was fine. Was she?

She jolted when her phone rang, hands trembling as she reached the handle.

"Good evening, Madame," Roy said over the phone. "The flowers you ordered are ready for delivery."

"I didn't order any flowers," she spat.

"All right, sorry. I got drunk and bought a ton of flowers. I'd be grateful if you'd help me get rid of some."

She sighed, placing a hand on her hand.

"What's wrong?"

Riza widened her eyes.

"What happened?"

Riza tightened her grip on the handle. "Nothing, Sir. It's nothing."

"Really." He sounds unconvinced. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm sure." She felt her shoulders slacken. "About the flowers, I don't own a vase."

Roy was about to say something, when she immediately cut him. "Thank you for calling, Colonel."

Riza dropped the phone back to its receiver, glancing at Black Hayate, then embraced him into her arms. "How does he have such uncanny timing?"

His voice brought her comfort, reminding her not to let the enemies get the best of them. If they were able to communicate behind her father's back, they would be able to do the same now.

Riza sent him acrostic signals indicating Selim Bradley was a homunculus. Roy must have understood her signal when Rebecca slipped a note to Hayate's collar. Everyone was moving in sync, in secret, all according to Roy's plan. And the next thing she knew, they finally met again.

"If you want to escape, now's the time."

"Too late for that, Sir," they all muttered.

Riza arched her brow. "Your orders?"

Roy spared her a quick glance. "Don't die."

Never give up on life. If not for herself, then at least for him. Roy had relied on her to watch his back, and she pledged to follow him even into Hell. But she never knew Roy would go somewhere worse than that.

"What's the meaning of this, Lieutenant?" asked Roy, voice hoarse, eyes dark.

"One more flame and it's over." Riza fixed her aim on his back, her perspiration making her lose her grip. "I have no intention of letting you dirty your hands."

"Lower your gun."

"I can't obey that order, Sir. Please put your hand down."

"I said, lower your gun!" He yelled, his screams echoing through the tunnel. His eyes were flaring flames glaring back at her.

"I won't let you kill Envy, Sir," said Riza. "But I have no intention of letting it live either. I'll finish it off."

Roy let out a growl, almost animalistic. "But after all this time, I've finally got the killer cornered!"

"I know!" shouted Riza. "I know. But, right now your actions aren't for the good of the country or even your own comrades. What's driving you isn't your vision anymore, you have been clouded with hatred."

Roy had not moved.

"Please, Colonel. You must not take that path." Her hands tremble, yet they remain to aim at his head. "Don't go where I can't follow. "

She couldn't let vengeance consume him, distort his vision of the future— of the one thing she's only living for. Suddenly her father's words reverberated in her head. In the wrong hands, flame alchemy will bring naught but ill-fortune. Her finger was itching to pull the trigger.

After a while, Roy finally spoke. "If you want to shoot me, then go ahead."

Her heart dropped.

"But what will you do after I'm dead?"

"I have no intention of living alone. After this battle is over, I will bring the secret of flame alchemy, that led good men to madness, into the grave along with my body."

Roy released a cry she's never heard from him before, snapping furiously into the tunnel walls, flames bursting out his wrath.

"I won't allow that," Roy said, lowering his hand. "I can't afford to lose you."

It was not until that moment that Riza knew who she truly was for Roy. For a man who wielded the most ultimate and powerful form of alchemy, only she was his vulnerability.

Just as he was hers.

"Answer me, Lieutenant!"

She watched him scream at her, lying on the floor, bleeding herself to death. She never thought she'd see his eyes flare the way before, a mix of anger and worry and regret and… tenderness. If his eyes glowed red when they were flames of vengeance, then they glowed blue seeing her in this state.

She found it ironic, to want to follow him and help him reach his goal but all she did was get in his way.

"Now hurry up and begin the human transmutation," the gold-toothed doctor said, clapping. "Who will you attempt to save? A family member? A lover? Or you can hold out until this woman is dead and resurrect her. That would be fine too."

"I won't die," Riza cried out weakly. "I've been given strict orders… not to die."

"But you're far too mortal, my dear." The gold-toothed doctor grinned. "Mustang, a woman who's dear to you lies bleeding, and without treatment, she'll be dead in minutes."

"Don't attempt human transmutation…," she rasped, calling out to Roy. "It's not worth it."

Suddenly the air around her burned her lungs. She glared at Roy, hoping he got the signal.

"All right, Lieutenant," he finally said. "I won't commit human transmutation."

Riza sighed in relief, despite knowing she badly needed her every breath. She focused on her breathing, trying her best to ignore the pain on her neck, when she saw a flash of blue around her. Breathing suddenly became easier.

Roy picked her up and held her in his arms, and she allowed herself to melt in his embrace. It has been a while since she's felt his touch.

"I'm glad you noticed my eye signals," she told him weakly.

"How could I not?" Roy huffed. "We've known each other for a long time, after all."

She smiled weakly at him. They've been through so much, suffered too much, sacrificed more than they should, all for the ideals and visions they wanted to pursue. She's known Roy for many years, and knows many things about him that others don't. But what she doesn't know, and could never know, is what the future has in store for them.

She didn't know she'd hear more of his unbearable screams when they tied him down, pierced blades through his palms, and forced him to commit human transmutation. She didn't know the flames in his eyes would soon lose their luster, Truth's toll from the person who had a vision for the country. But she didn't know he'd let her be his eyes, his guide, his strength. But she always knew they'd overcome it all, for as long he had been by her side.

"So tell me something," Dr. Knox started. "You're gonna aid in the restructure of Ishval?"

Roy nodded, maintaining a pensive look on his face. "Ishvalan War Extermination. That's where everything went wrong. So it's time to correct it."

"Correct it?" asked Dr. Knox.

"We know that this won't erase our sins," Riza began, "It's not too late to fix this."

She knew that a life or two— like her life and Roy's— would never compensate for all the lives slaughtered by the past regime. They could never bring back the dead, nor the time they took from them. The only way was to move forward: cultivate a better future for the next generation, especially for the Ishvalans. To Riza, that was the true equivalent exchange.

If going through this river of blood will grant happiness to the next generation, then I'll do what it takes.

New Ishval was getting more prosperous year by year. They were getting closer and closer to achieving Roy's goal.

"Ever wonder when we could come back to those days?" Roy had asked her, his face lit by the fireworks on New Ishval's opening.

Riza gazed wistfully at the sky. She knew he meant the days prior to the Ishval War. "In due time, Sir."

But she never expected time to fly so fast.

"Do you plan on settling down?" asked Winry as Riza was fixing her hair for her wedding.

"Do you mean leaving the military?"

"Yeah, something like that."

She pondered for a while. "I never thought of that before."

"Even after that certain someone accomplishes their goal?" Winry asked. "I mean, you did say you joined the military for that reason. To protect them until they reach their goal."

It made her rethink all her decisions. Had she truly been acting on her own? Had she truly been independent? Was she truly Riza Hawkeye when all she's done is follow Roy? To prove herself worthy of the mark imprinted on her back, to prove herself worthy in the eyes of her belated father?

"That makes two of us then," admitted Olivier when they were on the train to Briggs. "The former General Philip Gargantos Armstrong always wanted his military legacy to be passed on."

"So he was supportive in your career?" asked Riza.

"He was anything but that." Olivier snorted. "He only wanted his son to do it."

It reminded Riza of her own father, wondering why he chose Roy to wield Flame Alchemy instead of his own daughter.

"Tsk. Men," Oliver huffed. "They're all the same, don't you think?"

Riza placed her hand on Olivier's shoulder. "But so are women."

Olivier eyed her hand, then looked at her with the most reassuring smile her lips ever made. "Mark my words, Hawkeye. Someday you'll get to prove yourself as well."

It had struck her since. She thought of ways on how she could prove herself, only to find herself asking another question: why would there be a need to prove herself? Then it suddenly occurred to her. She had only been making decisions according to what she thought her father would have wanted, what she thought Roy would have wanted. But what did she want?

All she knew was that she joined the military to disprove her father's notions, to support Roy in attaining his goal. But her father was right about the immoral tendencies within the military and the government, and it had come to a point where she was blocking Roy's path to being Führer.

For as long as they live, their enemies will continue to use her against him, use their relationship against them. Having her hostage, having false scandals, having their own observation journal— they were always being watched no matter what the reason was.

And she doesn't want him to suffer when she's suffering, she doesn't want his judgment clouded in situations between her and the country. Most important of all, Riza wanted to make her own choices, free from her father's expectations, free from Roy's validation.

"Then I will resign from the military."

Strike nine. It wasn't as if she no longer supported Roy. It's just that she does. For once in her life, she no longer wanted to follow someone else's path. She wanted her own path, to finally be independent, to finally be Riza Hawkeye.

---

Riza had finally arrived at Central Headquarters, with the two dogs panting beside her.

"Hawkeye!" Fuery ran to welcome her. "You brought both of them all alone?"

"Rebecca had a detour," she said as she tugged on their leashes. "But I was able to manage them on my own."

Alex Armstrong approached them with two other dogs trotting beside him. "I have Cloud and Shadow with me!"

Black Hayate and White Chianti dashed toward their two puppies, or what used to be puppies.

"Where shall I be taking them, Miss Hawkeye?" came Armstrong's iconic deep voice.

"To Mrs. Hughes' apartment," Riza said. "Winry and her children are staying there for the festival. They've brought Snow with them as well."

"Oh!" Armstrong crooned. "A puppy reunion?"

"Exactly what they were asking for."

"That is perfect!" Armstrong exclaimed, sparkles floating around him. "I heard Ed and Al will arrive tomorrow. It will also be an Elric reunion!"

"I'm as excited as you are," said Riza as she gave him their leashes. "Take them to Mrs. Hughes' safely, all right?"

"Miss Riza, Brigadier General Armstrong!" A cadet ran towards them.

Riza smiled as she approached. "You've grown into a fine lady, Miss Elicia. Or should I call you Cadet Elicia now?"

"Second-lieutenant in a few months," she winked. "I'm almost done with my on-site training."

"So you've taken the office work," Riza mused. "Suits you quite well."

"Someone's gotta take my dad's place in the Intelligence unit," Elicia huffed proudly. "Besides, it's a waste not to use my documentary skills. I got it from him, after all!"

After catching up with Elicia, Riza and Fuery helped the dogs into Armstrong's car.

"Wrap everything up 15 minutes before midnight," Armstrong told them. "Or else you'd catch the HQ's curfew."

"Oh, yes, it's quite a hassle moving out of HQ with the lights out," Elicia laughed.

Riza smiled. "We'll take note of that."

She and Fuery waved goodbye to Elicia, Armstrong, and the four dogs, watching the vehicle take off.

"We've started unloading Mustang's things to his new office while you were gone," Fuery said as they entered headquarters.

"Without my command? That's the first."

"Sadly, it's also the last."

Riza chose not to comment on his remark. "Anything I can help you with?"

"You could sort the papers when we get there," suggested Fuery. "The papers are with—"

Fuery bumped into Breda, just when he was about to turn the corner. Papers were flying all over the place.

"What the hell, Fuery?" rasped Breda. "Watch where you're going!"

Riza couldn't help but suppress a chuckle, wondering how she worked with five men each with two non-dominant hands. She helped them pick up the papers, sorting them quickly like sorting her clothes for the laundry. She hated to admit it, but she thinks she will miss doing extra paperwork for these men.

The three of them took the flight of stairs, until they entered the highest floor. A sudden chill ran down her spine as they walked the corridors, remembering the time she was Bradley's assistant. But this was a different term now. They've finally reached Roy's regime.

"Oy, where have you all been?" Havoc muttered.

"Mind giving us a hand?" yelled Falman.

They were struggling to plaster some kind of tapestry on the wall. Riza dreaded they were hanging a large portrait of Roy in his brand-new office.

All four of them hoisted the tapestry up, and hooked it on the wall.

Riza took a few steps back to make sense of what it was. "Is this the map of the world?"

"You bet."

The tapestry itself was large, larger than the old Amestris map. Amestris was at the center of the map as small as a wheel, while Xing was as large as a wagon. There was also Drachma and Creta, and names of other countries she wasn't familiar with. Perhaps the thing she wasn't accustomed to the most was seeing how vast the ocean was. Amestris was at war with other countries for so long that she still couldn't believe oceans existed. And this was the world they will soon be exploring.

"Now if only that was my face," Roy chimed, his back against the doorway. "If it was, none of you will ever take your eyes off it."

The men groaned, trying to burn the image off their minds. Riza turned to see Roy, and she had forgotten to breathe for a second.

His hair was slicked back, his new uniform a snug fit to his lean figure, with four stars gleaming on each of his shoulders. "How'd I look?"

"Like a father too young," remarked Fuery.

"Like you're attending your own funeral," squinted Falman.

"Like a doll dressed up for a playdate," confessed Breda.

"Like you're itching to scratch your butt," said Havoc.

"Aw come on!" Roy cocked his hips, his voice high-pitched and indignant. "I tried it on for you guys!"

The men argued with their answers, until Roy turned to Riza, waiting for her answer.

She cleared her throat. "You look very much like yourself, Sir."

"Thank you, Lieu—" He cut his breath short. "Thank you, Hawkeye."

The room fell silent, and the air suddenly felt heavy around them.

"So," Havoc awkwardly broke the ice. "Anyone up for Becca's Bar?"

"Only if you call the shots!" Breda declared, quickly making his way to the door.

"Me too," said Fuery.

"As do I," Falman decreed.

"Alright, I'll add all of you on my tab—"

"Wait!" Fuery blocked the doorway, his hands stretched out barely reaching the frame. "Shouldn't we take our last group picture?"

"That could wait until tomorrow," Havoc flicked a finger to his forehead and passed right through him.

"We all look exhausted." Falman patted his head and slipped through the narrow space between Fuery's hands and the door frame.

"And I badly wanna grab some drinks!" Breda hoisted Fuery up, carrying him like a surfboard.

"S-Stop carrying me down the stairs!" Fuery's voice echoed throughout the hallway.

"We'll catch up," Roy called out to them.

"As we should," Riza stated. "We wouldn't want to catch the curfew, don't we?"

"That would be dreadful."

It was just the two of them in the largest office in Amestris, but Riza felt the room was still too small for the both of them. Her fingers hovered over her purse. She has to give it to him now.

"Sir." Riza hands him an envelope. It was her resignation letter.

Roy cocked his head, inspecting the envelope.

"Oh." He acted as if he had forgotten about the deal, but did not hesitate to receive it. "So I have reached the end of the bargain, haven't I?"

"I'm afraid so."

"No way to talk you out of it?"

Riza shook her head.

"Very well, then." Roy took a deep breath, opening the envelope. "I always attend to the needs of my—"

A clangor of metal filled the room. Roy narrowed his eyes on the length of the chain. "Is this your...?"

"Identification tag, yes."

He held the iron ring hanging inside it. "So you still kept it with you."

"The same way you did, Sir."

Roy seemed perplexed as to why she had given him her military tag. To ease his confusion, Riza clarified, "Aren't soldiers supposed to surrender their tags after their service?"

"Yes, but not necessarily," he pondered. "Don't you wish to keep it?"

"I would," Riza mused. "But then nothing will remind you not to slack off."

"This will make a perfect paperweight, then."

"How tragic."

Roy chuckled, and Riza felt her heart clench. She'd miss hearing that every day.

"Any chance I'd convince you to keep it?" Roy bargained.

"You could always try," she said, lilting. "But that would have to wait until tomorrow."

"Mm, right." Roy placed the letter on his desk. "So I have to sign this tonight, correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"But I don't have a—"

Riza handed him a fountain pen.

"—pen." Roy frowned. "You've really set your mind to it, haven't you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Always the stubborn one."

"Shouldn't you know that by now, Sir?" Riza said, approaching the desk.

"Perhaps some things never change."

She watched Roy sign the document, and when he swished the last stroke, he stood back, seeming proud of his work.

"Congratulations, Miss Hawkeye. You're officially an unlisted member."

"Thank you, Sir."

Riza half-wished she hadn't looked up at that moment. His gaze was intense, eyes burning into longing, into yearning, into a need for something.

Before either of them could move or speak, the lights suddenly switched off.

"Oh." Riza sighed. "My apologies for keeping you here this late, Sir."

"I believe I should be the one saying that," said Roy.

When her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized it wasn't pitch black. The city lights glowed incandescent through the large glass windows of the Führer's office, illuminating the room.

Her lips parted. She's never seen Central City from up high at night, even though she has worked in the Führer's office for months. Bradley always left headquarters before nightfall, and she would take evening papers directly to their residence.

"I told you they'd look like stars," said Roy. "Will you still consider this as a promise kept, now that those are all under my hands?"

Riza snapped her head towards Roy. "Don't tell me you've planned this to happen."

"And what if I did?" he told her. "At least it wasn't last-minute."

"Really." Riza arched an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"Really!" Roy pouted. "You wouldn't believe how long it has been."

"And just how long has it been?"

"Since we were together."

Roy caught her gaze, and it was only until then had she realized the considerable distance between them.

"That must have been a really long time, then." Her hands fiddled with the hem of her blouse.

"Truly was."

Riza felt her body drawn by the pull of his gaze, moving on its own. Roy secured a stray lock behind her ear, the warmth of his touch making her flinch. She either felt like breaking away or collapsing into his arms— there was no in-between.

"Don't fight this," Roy told her softly, his hand sliding down her neck.

Riza slowly looked up at him. "I won't."

His fingers lifted her chin, and suddenly his mouth was covering hers, a kiss so soft she wasn't sure it was real. Her eyelids fluttered as she reached up— to push him away? To hold him closer? She can't be so sure.

But when Roy yanked her by the waist and dug his fingers under her hair, she suddenly knew the answer.

Riza matched the intensity of his kiss, letting herself drown in his touch, in his warmth, in his comfort. Her hands tugged him by the collar, pulling him closer until no gap exists between them. She couldn't help but smile in between his kisses. It felt so familiar, like coming back home.

Suddenly, a loud whistle made them both jolt, followed by a crackling noise. Riza pulled away from the kiss, only to see fireworks shooting from afar. It must have come from Central square.

Roy chuckled aloud. "That almost gave me a heart attack."

She bit her lips, flustered by the moment they just shared. Embarrassed, she turned her back on him, eyes on the fireworks from afar. "Were you scared you'd get caught?"

"I was scared we'd get caught," corrected Roy.

"I'm not the one enlisted in the military," Riza teased.

"Then there shouldn't be any problem now, is there?"

"At least not for me."

Roy burst in laughter, the loudest she's heard from him after a long time. She shook her head, a smile escaping her lips, still facing the large windows. The fireworks continued to explode in the night sky, where red, orange, purple and gold flittered ardently above the twinkling city lights. It was as if stars fell from the sky.

"You were right," she said after a while.

"Right?"

"They do have the most beautiful fireworks during the Harvest festival."

"Better than the ones in Ishval? Or in Fullmetal's wedding?"

"Yes, Sir."

"But those are the ones I made!"

"Exactly, Sir."

"How frank." He huffed. "But at least you admitted I was right."

"You said it ages ago."

"That still counts."

Riza laughed, pulling herself into an embrace. "Thank you, Roy," she paused before proceeding, letting his name roll off her tongue like honey. "For always keeping your promises."

"Anything for my most treasured aide."

Her cheeks warmed up, and she suddenly felt ashamed at how she was blushing like a teenager. She was about to retort, when Roy spoke first.

"I hope you don't mind if I make another promise."

Riza blinked. "And what would that be?"

"Eyes on your six, Hawkeye."

Riza turned around, only to find Roy was on his knees, pulling out a little box from his pocket. "I figured you might want to replace that old ring of yours."

Her eyes widened at his grand gesture, both her hands covering her mouth.

"I know I've once asked you to watch my back. But now," he said, maintaining her gaze, "Riza. May I stay by your side in every path that you choose?"

Strike ten. This was a decision involving changes in routine, the path to her future, prioritizing her own needs, and more importantly, it involved Roy Mustang.

Riza suppressed a smile. "You know there's no need to ask."

---

Author's Note

How did you find this chapter? How did you find this fic as a whole? I'd love to hear all your comments, no matter what they may be. Your love and support have always meant a lot to me, and they've helped me be motivated not only in writing but also in my studies and in life in general.

Again, thank you so much for reaching the end of this story. To tell you the truth, this was the first multichapter fic I have ever finished.

12 chapters in almost 12 months... you know what this means.

After 12 months of planning (still ongoing lol), I finally decided to release "meridian"!

July 4, 2021, 3:00 PM (Pacific Standard Time)

"meridian"

12 years since The Promised Day, Amestris reopened its gates. Ed and Al's research became a global sensation: a new rule by the laws of the East and the West. It was their promise to help those who suffer from alchemy, one that would have spared the life of a little girl they couldn't save. However, alchemy isn't the only technology the world owns. As their knowledge expands, greater threats await. After all, every promise is a debt to be paid in the future. Starting when Roy was promoted to Führer, Riza hands him an envelope. It was her resignation letter.

I kinda wanted to post this before Arakawa posts new FMA content on July 12th hehe.

Acknowledgments

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and this fic. Words could not describe how I am grateful to each and every one of you, dear readers.

Especially for volvare, Deborah (silvery-dreams-dr), Wolf_with_a_Mane, and Musing_and_Music! Thank you for your undying support of this fic, your comments always make my day!

To my s/o, for his patience whenever I tell him my crazy royai ideas at 1 AM or even while we're at class.