XIX "The Old, New, Borrowed and Blue."
It was nearly midwinter before the plans were set. The wedding wasn't until March; Roy's mother had been taking care of most of the arrangements and Riza's dress was not due to be stitched until well after the holidays. She moved into Roy's apartment with a promise that they would find a house as soon as finances were stable. Their license was signed and approved. There was nothing to do but lay naked in each others' arms on late weekend mornings, giggling like 16 year-olds and tracing the frost patterns on the window.
It was nice to feel young again.
The fateful morning came around without much incident. Riza snuck away before dawn had even broken; Roy awoke alone and feeling out-of-place, occupied with a single thought.
A bride has all the counsel in the world before she's given away. The groom, who takes, receives no pity.
Roy moped around and, having nothing to do, picked at his breakfast and played with the dog. He was still tired from the bachelor's party last night, more from trying to avoid people's attempts to get him to loosen up than celebrating his last night being a singleton. He hadn't really been single for ten years, and as of yet he'd never regretted a moment.
Well, almost.
Havoc arrived ten minutes late to pick him up, grumbling vaguely about a cattle driver on the road, and Roy's unsettled stomach took it as an omen. There were ten thousand different little things he could think of that might upset. He pushed the unease down. Nothing was going to go wrong. He stood around feeling dumb and deaf, saying hello to old friends and more recent ones. His father arrived with his handmade wedding bands. The chairs were set. Coffee was brewing somewhere nearby, and just the smell of it put his nerves in an even worse state.
The largest church in the area was hosting, but there were still people standing in the isles. Blue and black uniforms dominated the grid, faces he'd never seen before wished him luck. Riza's aunt had accepted her invitation and said hello, although she seemed to feel awkward. The only one who seemed to understand his nervousness was Denny Blotch, who'd been married three years earlier and had a kid on the way. Gracia would have happily given him the hug he wanted so badly, but she was off counseling Riza, or at least helping her struggle into her dress.
He did, however, get a very familiar slap to the face. It smarted worse than he remembered.
"Hello there, Ms Rockbell. Wonderful to see you made it."
Winry, now almost as tall as Riza and as aggressive as ever, scowled and stalked off. Her grandmother apologized for her, trailing a thirteen year-old boy he'd never seen before.
Alphonse Elric, the younger brother of Full Metal. Roy had gotten a letter from Rizenbul when they'd found him, and knew the boy harbored no memory of him or Riza. It was certainly a pity, because Al had always seemed to like the military a lot more than Edward ever had.
He'd been told enough about the events three years ago, though, and asserted that he'd asked to come along to the wedding. He wanted to talk to Roy about human alchemy.
"Now's not the time," Pinako told him harshly.
"Talk to me afterwards," Roy promised the boy. If he could do anything to clarify the teen's viewpoint, it would certainly make him more comfortable than he was now, suddenly. Just thinking about anyone trying that again…it made him queasy.
It seemed an eternity before the bells in the city chimed noon. His mother ordered him into place next to Havoc (who'd taken Maes' rightful place). Alicia marched through, garbed in some ridiculous lace thing he never would have put on his own daughter, dropping daisy petals. Long seconds passed as he watched, heart pounding, waiting, watching the crowd turn down the isle expectantly.
When Riza did appear, trailed by two of her familiar but irrelevant friends, she took his breath away. Her ivory dress was extremely well-tailored for her slender frame, without excessive fluff or mind-numbing intricacy. It reflected her character, he thought, simple, stunning and elegant, but with a hint of mischievousness. Though he knew she hated white, she looked immaculate despite herself. Beneath her veil, her cornstalk-colored hair was done up in a million tiny braids and thin blue ribbons. She met his eye from a distance, held the gaze as if she didn't need to look at where she was going. As she approached him he saw that she was wearing a very familiar amber necklace, and a pair of matching earrings that he didn't recognize. Her silk-gloved hand was trembling when he took it, though he'd thought she looked very composed. Was it the attention, he wondered, or the anticipation?
"You look absolutely amazing," he whispered to her, after the vows and the kiss and the cheers, and she blushed deeply. Was she being self-conscious, thinking so little of herself that she hadn't believed that already? Or perhaps, again, she was just embarrassed at all the attention—that would be just as much like her.
One would have thought that after all the stress over the vows, the reception would be easy. Not so.
First were the photos, which were an absolute pain. He'd hated to smile before he'd met the photographer his parents had hired. Friend after friend insisted on one more, after the official album shots…they took almost two hours. If he hadn't had a very lovely and equally irritated wife in his arms, he might have killed someone.
Then the bouquet toss…Winry caught it, and looked just about as shocked as her grandmother.
At some point at the reception between food and more food and a session of steal-the-bride, Roy managed to track down Alphonse, pull him outside to somewhere solitary and have a word with him about human alchemy. He'd learned quite a bit since the revolution, though his court-order had taken away his license to practice.
"You don't think I can bring my brother back," the boy said, looking downtrodden.
"I don't think alchemy is going to help you do it," Roy said. "I didn't say it might not be possible some other way. Especially if—as I believe and I know you do—that he's not dead."
"Some other way that you know of?"
"As much as I wish I did, for your sake, no."
An eighteen year-old Winry had overheard them and came ready with another smack. This time, Roy blocked it.
"You jerk, you shouldn't walk all over someone's hopes like that!"
"I'm just trying to keep your friend from doing anything dumb?" he replied. Alphonse hurriedly retreated, casting a pleading look at Winry.
She tried to remove herself as well, but Roy gripped her wrist. "It's about time you settled down, Ms. Rockbell," he continued. "What would your parents say about your behavior, do you think?"
"I think they'd call it just," she snarled. Her struggles were beginning to subside.
"I think they'd feel sad that you're so bitter about it, when it's not your fault," he said softly. "Let me be the guilty one, huh? I don't need extra punishment."
She clenched her jaw and glared at him.
"If I never told you I was sorry, I'm telling you now," he continued, now that he had her attention. "I almost pulled the trigger on myself back then. I didn't have the courage to stand up to my orders before it was too late…but I knew afterwards I didn't want things like that to happen anymore. I found a way to make a difference, and look what it cost me. Would you have been happier if I'd died?"
She plainly didn't know what to say to that, and shook her head.
Roy released her wrist. "Riza told me she'd confided something in you a few years ago, that she would have done anything to protect me and my goals. You probably didn't know it at the time, but that was a secret between us. She is the only one who knows what I've gone through, the guilt I've felt you're your parents and the grief I went through for Ed and Al. That woman's strength has kept me alive these last, hard years—it's why I've married her. And I think you understand that—you wouldn't be here otherwise."
Winry's face grew red, but the defiance in her eyes faded a little. Like Riza's moods, hers were often false, designed to hide a deeper feeling. Roy knew she didn't really hate him, knew that she felt he had given Edward more than another might have been able to. "I don't…not respect you for that," she said quietly, looking away. "But I get angry…when I think that we've lost him for good."
"Nothing is so lost that it can never be found," he said gently. "If that's something you can take from this day, from Riza and I, take it."
She nodded, slowly, probably thinking of the bouquet she'd caught. "I wanted to say congratulations…you both look so happy, and I'm jealous. Since Al doesn't remember, it feels like I don't have anyone to share all the amazing things I've been through. It makes me feel so lonely."
"You should try and make an effort to visit East City more often," Roy said. "We'd welcome you."
"I should, shouldn't I? I'll remember that."
Roy stood there with the girl for a moment, thinking about his words, wondering why they just seemed to come…as if somehow he felt that he'd long ago shouldered Winry's parents' duties but had never quite had the opportunity to exercise them. She went off to be by herself finally, so he shrugged the moment off and went to go have some cake.
Eventually someone struck up the band; Roy tracked down Riza and dragged her out for the obligatory first dance. Soon enough she was swept away by someone else. An hour later his second campaign to have her back drew a moment of success. The sun had already set, in progressing shades of purple and orange, and now the stars were beginning to wink to life.
Perfect timing.
"What's that grin for?" Riza loosened one of her hands and poked the dimple in his cheek.
"I'm just enjoying myself."
"Oh no, Roy Mustang, I know that mischievous look when I see it. What trick are you going to pull this time?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Riza Mustang."
Her eyes narrowed.
He laughed. "I'm just amazed at myself. I've been so on edge about today, and I was about ready to give up on it, and now just being with you turns my mood around just like that—" he snapped the fingers of his recently freed hand. The choreography had gone so well. Riza didn't even glance at the faint pencil markings on his glove.
He'd never done it at such a distance before—and for a few seconds he was afraid it hadn't worked. If he started snapping like crazy someone was going to spot him, and Riza wasn't going to sleep with him for a week (or longer, depending on the jail sentence). He drew a relieved breath when he saw the smoke trails, and a second later the first red firework burst over the reception with a gigantic snap.
The crowd sucked off a collective gasp, and began to applaud as the night sky was filled with bursts of celebrative color. Riza stared for a long moment up into the sky before she realized what he'd done.
"Roy…"
"Oh come on, I couldn't resist."
"Why does this not surprise me?" She exclaimed, and surrendered into yet another tight hug. "They're amazing. Who helped you?"
"Accessory to a federal crime? I'll not reveal my sources except under pain of pain."
"I might be able to manage that."
"Not in public, you won't. You've never liked to show off."
"Pervert," she hissed, but she was laughing.
Feet sore and swollen, they sat down for the final presentations—the speeches, the toasts, the wonderfully distracting drinks. A projector began to cycle through ten years' worth of photos, many with their own back-stories and private jokes. They told a few as they felt inclined, though many were a bit more private than even the photographers had probably guessed.
We might survive this, Roy thought, relieved.
As a finale, Havoc took up the microphone and cast a sly grin back to the bride and groom's table.
He and Riza looked at each other, sharing the thought: I don't like this.
"I think many of us here tonight have spent most of the day wondering why this didn't happen years ago," the speaker began, still grinning. "And how long, exactly, we should have been wondering it. When some of us here at Headquarters got our invitations, we decided that we wanted to work up a little tribute. What we came up with really isn't ours, but we think it's an excellent story. Got the tape, Fury?"
A thumbs-up emerged briefly from the top of the sound booth.
"But before that, a little explanation is warranted, we feel. We're sure the newly-united Mustangs will be happy to hear that the air vents at headquarters have recently been soundproofed, so that any classified secrets now being discussed can't be heard in the staffroom. We don't think they realized—and understandably they were preoccupied—that we know a little more about Christmas Eve than we probably should."
"Oh no," Riza moaned, and buried her face in Roy's shoulder.