PART TWO
"Do you want a drink?"
You looked in surprise, lost in your thoughts. I put my hand on your shoulder, a gesture of companionship I was mimicking from somebody else.
"Isn´t it what Hughes did? Buy you a drink to cheer you up?"
I was worried I might have made you sound like a drunk but I knew that was what Hughes did. You looked so elegant that day, your hair combed backwards and your skin pale, pearl pale, so white that no one noticed the thin marks of tears on your cheeks.
You looked so breathtakingly handsome in your wreck, and it was killing me to see you like this.
I bought you a couple of drinks but you didn´t want to get drunk and I wished you would, I wished that for once you´d take the easy way out.
I wished you´d forget all about this night and let me help you down on my bed, and take off your coat, and take off your shoes, and lay next to you so that while the alcohol helps you sleep you´d have a warm body against you, holding you, whispering in your ear how everything it was going to be alright. Even if you couldn´t hear.
But you didn´t get drunk.
And at my door you wanted to say goodbye.
"Where are you going?"
You looked at me as if the answer was so painfully obvious.
"I think I´m going home. I´m not very good company tonight."
"I don´t care how good company you are."
I never had. That was not the point.
"Riza... I know what you are trying to do. Thanks, but no."
And I knew what you were trying to do, too. I said I would protect you but you always insisted that it was the other way round.
"I know you won´t believe me, Roy, but it´s not your fault."
"And then whose fault is it?"
I tried raise my hand to your face, I tried to reach you, to connect but... you withdraw from me as if afraid. Which you were.
"Leave me!"
"Fuck, Roy, stop making it so difficult."
"And do what? Watch everyone drop dead in front of me? Because of me? Tell me, lieutenant... What am I supposed to do? Go on like nothing happened and take the risk of watching you die, too?"
There was no answer to that. I couldn´t offer none. The raw power of your fear, of your guilt, your love, overwhelmed me.
Finally, after a tense paused, you touched your cap and bowed to me.
"Goodnight, lieutenant."
I crushed myself against you and for a moment, while I slid my arms under yours and pressed my face to your back, the only thing I could sense in you was surprise. You even held your breath as I held you.
"I won´t let you spend the night alone."
You spoke a lot that night, while I laid on the bed, resting my weight on my elbow, and you sat on the floor, resting your back on the bedside, your head near the pillow so from time to time I could entangle my fingers in your hair and caress you, or bent to place a ghost kiss on the top of your head.
You told me a lot of things I did not know, about Hughes and how you two met, about your time in Ishval before I came along and how he always suspected of us from the beginning. You spoke about his constant teasing to get you married, when he knew you were with me, and about how he could make you mad that you often had the temptation to roast him.
And you told me about how much he loved his wife, and how, the day after Elysia was born you came to his house and he was laughing but when you two were alone he broke down in sobs of happiness.
That night you spoke of Hughes, and of us and many more things, and I just listened but I think you drew comfort from my presence. When you stopped I fell asleep and when I woke up you weren´t there but I was carefully wrapped with a blanket and with the feeling that you had kissed my cheek before leaving.
Your back was turned to me, so I didn´t know if you cried that night.
x
The hospital quiets but never completely at night. Hawkeye can still hear the coughs and the pained sobs from the rooms nearby.
She hesitates, pacing a couple of minutes before his room.
As long as she doesn´t have visual proof of what happened she can pretend it´s a nightmare really. And if there was so much blood...
... Roy must be so pale, helplessly so.
Hawkeye is not sure she can cope with that, or with new scars carved in the body she loves so much. It seems all too much suddenly, much more than she ever thought she had to endure by staying by Roy´s side. A little sadly Hawkeye realizes that even if she had known what was coming... her choice would have been the same.
But it doesn´t mean she can stand it.
So she waits a couple of minutes before opening that door, breathing more heavily each time.
x
You were drawing patterns in my hand, like runes, naked both of us and the light dim, so soft. You followed the line of sun on my back with your gaze, your lips, you followed those lines even if you knew perfectly where they headed. The inevitable path.
But that was the beauty of it. The lack of consciousness in the familiar nakedness, the ease of knowing our skins so well, with the weight of hundreds of days like this.
"We knew each other in a past life," you declared, though I was sure you didn´t believe in those things.
"And were we enemies or lovers?"
You looked more carefully into my palm, I could feel your eyes slithering over my skin, the electricity running through our bodies, from sweat to sweat.
"I don´t know. Maybe both."
Your Sunday morning hardness pressed against me, life throbbing between us, claiming us again, like the undertow, repeating itself and yet deathly each time.
You kissed my neck, reverentially, like you kissed a statue.
"Maybe we killed each other..." you whispered and pushed me backward, to meet your kiss, to meet your mouth.
In that quietness, bare of everything but our desire, the tenderness, in this fleshy warmth we remembered...
We met in another life. We are lovers now.
x
There was so much blood, she keeps remembering.
And she couldn´t locate where it was pouring from, pressing Roy´s chest and stomach hysterically. Suddenly there was so much blood in them both that she couldn´t see straight, and the wound seemed to be opening everywhere.
Hawkeye doesn´t remember much of what she said to Roy then.
She cannot know if the rest of them heard it, or if they care.
But she remembers the weight of Roy on her lap, and his sweet, feeble smile when she brush a lost lock of hair from his face, leaving a trail of blood on his forehead.
She held him against her chest, caressing Roy´s cheek with her thumb, looking into his eyes, urging them to stay focused.
She can´t remember her words but she knows Roy was slowly letting go, closing his eyes, and she shouted at him, cold, desperate voice, and threatened to drown him in paperwork if he didn´t stay awaye. Upon this he smiled again, weaker, and much, much sweeter.
x
"They are not actually real, the colours. They are an illusion. Aren´t they?"
Holding the kaleidoscope high still I looked at you over my shoulder. Your expression was odd, of sadness and patience.
"When I was young I thought there were only black and white. We all think that. Eh?"
You stood up, walking slowly and matter-of-factly, behind me.
"And then I was sent to Ishval and the world turned grey for me. It didn´t matter what I said or did, it was all greyness around me."
I felt your hand faltering on my waist, and then your arms around me and your warmth behind.
"And between all that greyness, that complete lack of colours, you appeared, and I fell in love with you, and there were indeed colours. Colours I didn´t know existed. I still have my doubts."
You took your gift from my hands, lingering a second to brush my palm with your fingers.
"It´s like this kaleidoscope. It´s only with you that I see those colours. And I don´t know if they are real but I don´t care."
I could felt you smile at my back, while you kissed my hair.
"That´s why I gave you this. And that´s why we are celebrating your birthday."
x
"I don´t know if I can do this," is the first thing she says to him, and even if he can´t hear her it´s important that she´s sincere.
He is pale, of course, but the room is so badly lit that she can pretend it´s really just the impression. He does look peaceful and anyone would think he was merely sleeping but Hawkeye, who has spent many hours of her life watching Roy sleep, can tell the difference.
"I know what you´d say." She straightens the sheet over him, resting her hand on his chest, holding her breath until she feels the faintest beating. "You´d say we should stop meeting like this."
And he´d smile in that arrogant and charming way of his, she is sure.
"And you would be right. Yes, for once you would be right. I can´t keep doing this, Roy. Not if each time I´m going to feel this guilt for not being able to protect you, and you are going to feel guilty for my guilt and..."
She is far too nervous for being here to make any sense. For a brief moment she is glad he can´t hear a word. He would be disappointed with her lack of control.
She has been wanting to hold his hand behind the covers but she is afraid of the coldness she could find.
x
Maybe the change of the weather, its elusive patters, is of no consequence to you and me, but maybe it draws our path, and we follow unconsciously, too happy to be in each other´s arms to notice the fast change in the scenery, and that the future was consuming too quickly.
It was a rainy afternoon (our story was punctuated by those) and we run inside, hurried to my room, because it was smaller and warmer.
(And because you always liked making love to me with the window opposite us, pouring light and darkness over our silhouettes.)
Then you hugged me, tightly, almost painfully, the wetness of your t-shirt invading even my skin, my loins.
"Okay," I said, backing a bit, but you didn´t let me, you were crushing me "I get it, you are feeling romantic."
I heard you breath for the first time since you embraced me, a long, agonistic sigh that went like electricity through both our bodies.
"You scared the hell out of me." You told me through gritted teeth and there was anger there, and an edge of desperation. "Last month... you scared me."
Softer now, nobody ever hears your voice breaking but me. I tried to disentangle from you but still your grip was too firm, I tried to take your words lightly but you looked on verge of tears.
I rolled up your shirt and with my fingertips felt the lines of your scars. How strange that I was the one who had scared you, when you were the one who almost died.
"Why do you tell me now?"
"Because I didn´t tell you then. And I hate myself for that."
But why now? Why here?
"Maybe because it´s raining and it puts me a bit moody, maybe because you look so beautiful with your hair wet, I don´t know... But you have to know. Fuck, Riza you have to know."
I knew, I knew, I wanted to tell you, I´ve always known, and for me it was enough. I didn´t stop to think that maybe for you it wasn´t.
You let loose of me a bit, finally running your hands through my hair and pressing your face to me, wanting to smell me, to absorb me, to devour me.
"If nothing else in the world, you must know this, Riza."
You had invoked my name twice, and it had almost a religious taste in your mouth, one I want to share, and your lips were salty from the rain or maybe from the tears, I didn´t know. There was a part of me that hated this moment, you seeming so serious and broken.
That part of me didn´t know what to tell you to make it better. That part of could only push you away a bit, to regain consciousness, to withdraw from your intoxicating scent.
"Come on, let´s get you off those wet clothes."
You nodded and looked at me miserable. When I helped you get rid of the damp t-shirt your whole body was shaking.
x
As soon as she takes his hand in her she cannot fight the urge to put it to her mouth and kiss his fingertips. It is cold as she imagined so she wraps it in both her hands, only to discover hers are not much warmer.
A shred of moonlight filters through the blinds and makes out Roy´s profile and he seems so unreal that it scares Hawkeye. He looks so... no, she can´t think about it. Not yet. Not ever.
Hawkeye thinks of all the things she wants to tell Roy, all the things she should tell him, but words refuse to come so she lays her head on the pillow and places both Roy´s hand and hers over his chest, fingers entwined, she is so close to him her forehead is pressed to his hair.
When morning comes she still has her fingers entangled in his.
x
You were waiting in the hallway, maybe waiting for me, maybe not.
"You know what day is tomorrow?"
I shook my head.
"Tomorrow... it´s been three months..."
And those words, said almost casually, fighting to hide the emotion, the bitterness and guilt, echoed through the deserted hallway.
"I´m going to leave some flowers on his grave."
Seeing you like this robbed all the air and warmth from my lungs, I had never physically ached for another person this way.
Then you looked up at me, in that fashion that you reserve only for me, masks fallen, a half-smile and that glow in your eyes that told me you felt safe letting me know you were only human.
"Will you come with me?"
Nobody seemed to be approached the place but I glanced up and down the hallway, and I brushed your cheek with my fingers.
You captured my hand, pressing it against your face, closing your eyes as if nothing in the world could give you more happiness, comforted by the warmth, in a moment that lasted too little, before we remembered where we were.
Who we were to the world outside.
x
"Ah, Edward-kun."
The boy looks taller and slender, and a bit too thin to her, she wonders if he has changed so much since the last time she saw him or it is just that the world itself had changed forever in the last days.
"Lieutenant... I´m sorry. I know he was your friend."
And he means it. He really does mean friend. And that saddens Hawkeye more than the death itself. That nobody knows... That all should be lost now, the kisses, the caresses, the warmth, everything lost forever because nobody knows... and nobody will remember...
"Edward-kun..."
He snaps his head up, unable to read the lieutenant´s eyes. They seem hard, not really sad, but something was lost, gone in them.
"Uh?"
She looks away, her voice suddenly breaking in her throat.
"You must know that regardless the impression he wanted to give colonel Mustang always looked for yours and Alphonse´s best interests."
She owes Roy at least saying that.
"As long as they didn´t interfered with his interests."
"No."
"No, you are right. He did. I think I´ve finally understood that."
And he´s telling the truth again. Hawkeye doesn´t know if she feels content or bitter by the irony of it all.
x
You were never one for colourful words and grand demonstrations, it was not in your nature to indulge in clichéd declarations. You said they only cheapened what you felt.
But one night, not a particularly eventful night, just you holding me, playing with my fingers, still both a bit shaking from orgasm, you talked a lot that night, and I remember your words as your kisses tried to write a love letter on my back, never knowing if it would arrive.
"There will be books trying to capture this moment, between you and me, and I think they will fail miserably" you said, in a confident voice, as if speaking of a scientific truth, as if it were one of the exact formulas of your alchemy.
"Dozens of novels should be written about us and still it would all be one great understatement."
It had all been done before, you said. And it had all been written down before, you whispered.
Still we learned to erase human story, to unname all and any language of the world, so that each time we kiss would be the first kiss ever.
x
The afternoon it´s so chilly that even if it´s a romantic idea Hawkeye cannot spend the whole day there.
The grave looks strangely humble and sober for Roy´s high rank but it´s beautiful and she thinks it fits him. She has bought lilacs because Roy always said they reminded him of her scent, and not the other way round.
When she bought them she remembered the girl from the flower shop used to have a crush on Roy.
Thinking about that makes her smile as she leaves the lilacs on the ground.
x
How you liked to make the world disappear, to make everything so clear and focused, to make me want to hide forever with you. You liked to draw a line between the world outside and what we really were.
How do you say goodbye?
I´ve tried to say goodbye but you are still here with me, I´ve never been able to disentangle from your arms.
"Come here," I hear your voice, calling on a Saturday afternoon. "Quickly, come and see this."
It had been sunny and dry just minutes ago and suddenly a fantastic storm reached us. There was water everywhere. With nothing to do but kill time and make loved you wrapped me in your arms, a warm blanket of skin.
"It´s beautiful," you said softly.
I never quite understood why you, the Flame Alchemist, had got so fond of watching the rain. Maybe it gave you a sense of normality. Maybe you just found it romantic to see our bare bodies mirrored in the glass while the rain poured down the window.
"I love hiding here with you." You whispered to the sound of a thunder, pressing me against you, until your heartbeat shook my whole body. "Promise me I can always go back to you and hide."
You rocked me gently, like a child to a lullaby, resting your chin upon my shoulder and oh, we fitted so well.
"Always."
Always, I said and I felt you smile to that.
But what does it matter now, when everybody assumes that we just work together, that we were partners, friends?
What does "always" means when nobody will ever know our story?
x
The graveyard closes at 8:30 each day, and the guard slowly closes the gates today.
He thinks a storm is approaching.
The flowers would rot faster then, even Hawkeye´s lilacs.
x
THE END