Warning: Spoilers for episode 25
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Also, the book excerpts, while not directly quoted, were inspired by an episode of Gilmore Girls (I added my own ideas as well). I do not own Gilmore Girls either.
Pairing: umm . . . seeing as that is the whole point of this story, I'm not telling you! In the end, it is for you to judge.
To See You Smile . . . .
Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang stared at the package before him.
Actually, it wasn't a package anymore; the gaily colored paper had long since been shredded (the Colonel never was one to open presents neatly) and the ribbons torn away, revealing the prize inside. Which was likely to become a smouldering pile of ash within a few seconds. His gloves were on, fingers posed to snap, but . . . .
He relaxed his hand, staring at the note again, at the familiar handwriting scrawled in the simplest of messages.
Happy Birthday, Colonel.
Than, just below, in less familiar, neater writing,
I found this wrapped in Maes' desk at home. I hope you like it.
Mustang's eyes narrowed in annoyance. It was typical, he thought, of Maes to get one last dig, even as he rotted in his grave. He still wasn't sure what to do with the book. Burning it was the most obvious choice, though the least satisfying. Perhaps he should rip out each page, one by one, until he held the empty covers of the thick tome in his hands. Or maybe he could use alchemy to break it down into its separate molecules and watch as they dispersed with the breeze sneaking in his open window.
He finally lit upon a choice. Pulling off his gloves, he picked the dog eared, heavily pre-used book up, snorting in disbelief at the slightly faded title.
THE ULTIMATE LOVE BOOK! (Or, How to Find Your Soul Mate in Under a Year)
Another note fell out of the pages, landing face up on Mustang's desk.
Hey, Roy! Don't you dare throw this away! And, by the way, happy birthday!
A gust of wind flipped the card to the floor, revealing the other side to be a picture of Elicia in a swimsuit printed with little red hearts. Cute.
Roy Mustang tightened his grip on the separate covers, prepared to rend the sickening book (it was pink, for crying out loud!) into pieces. He shook his head in disgust.
Then, he opened the book and began to read the introduction.
Chances are, you are either a lonely somebody that is truly desperate to find the love of your life, or an extremely disgruntled single somebody that received this book as a gift and is only reading it to get out of something else even more unpleasant.
Roy nearly laughed, glancing up at the stack of paperwork lying ominously on the corner of his desk. At least one thing in this damned book was accurate. He flipped a few pages and started the first chapter.
According to most religions, God created both man and woman so neither would be lonely. And this book was created because, despite divine measures, humans still become lonely. This book will help you find the one person you can love the rest of your life. The best part is, he or she is right under your nose.
There are millions of people out there today, and you probably have become discouraged by sheer numbers. After all, what are the odds of you finding the one person that suits you perfectly? Don't worry. A few simple steps and you will know who you have been looking for. Once you know the person, the rest of this book will help you go about letting them know how you feel.
First, begin to think about all of the people you know. Who stands by you, no matter what? Who do you want by your side the rest of your life? Who can't you imagine life without? Who could you devote yourself towards? Who do you always want to see smile? Who's life means more than your own? Close your eyes and just think for a few minutes. A picture should come to you.
Looking a little apprehensively at his office door to make sure no one was watching this foolery, Mustang closed his eyes. It couldn't hurt if it got him out of paperwork, could it?
His first instinct was, of course, Maes. But the thing was, he could imagine life without him. That, he admitted, was called "reality." He tried to force himself to think more seriously . . . wait. Since when did he take this kind of crap seriously? He was Roy Mustang, for crying out loud! Why would he want to settle down in his prime? Mustang gritted his teeth, shoved the other thoughts most of the way out of his mind, and made himself think . . . yes, seriously. Who did he always want beside him? Good question. Did that translate to "Who never gets on his nerves to the point where he just wants to flame them and be done with it?" Probably not. Who always stood by him, ready to back him up?
His eyes opened as he gasped involuntarily in shock. He rubbed at his temples, shook his head to dislodge the image, but it remained, as stubborn as Maes Hughes with a pile of photo albums. He swallowed. Typical. The one person this damn book said was right for him was unattainable. Impossible. Than again, Hughes was probably having a good hearty laugh right now, wherever he was. After a few moments of consternation, he closed his eyes again, smiling as he mentally sharpened the image.
It stood neutrally, balanced, comfortable with a gun in her hand. The best marksman, the most reliable companion. The one person he always wanted by his side. Blond hair, eyes that were generally emotionless, hidden behind protocol. He couldn't imagine life without this person. Without her, life as he knew it would simply cease to exist. The few times he had seen her smile, it had been one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. A flower in its first bloom. No, that wasn't right, he thought. A flower was too fragile. Her smile was . . . a river, lovely and unpredictable, strength unimaginable hidden beneath apparent placidity.
The office door creaked open, and hastily, he shoved the book roughly into the first drawer his shaking fingers found. He stifled a hysterical giggle, thinking of Fullmetal's reaction to the foul treatment of a book, no matter the subject. Carefully steeling his face, he faced the figure that had walked in without an appointment.
"Sir," Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye said, her arms too full of paper folios to salute. He acknowledged with a grave nod of his head. "Have you made any leeway on the paperwork I gave you earlier?" Nervously, he eyed the still-untouched stack on the very edge of his desk, as far as he could get it from him. "I see not. Well, then," the papers in her hand were unceremoniously dumped on top of them. "Get to work. Sir." The last word was almost an afterthought, and the expression she laid so easily into that single syllable nearly made him shudder. With a quick salute, she turned to leave.
"Wait, Ri-" he cleared his throat. She halted, spinning back around. "Lieutenant Hawkeye."
"Yes, sir?" Her eyes showed no sign that she had noticed the near-slip, any emotion still hidden, as it always had been, but not, he vowed, as it always would be, behind protocol. He smiled, though it was only a shadow of his usual arrogant smirk, and reached back into his desk, tossing a rectangular object at her. She caught it deftly.
"Read this. It was from Brigadier General Hughes."
For once she was visibly startled. She stared at the book in her hands, then back at her superior officer.
Then, she smiled.