"Even though she always knew it would have to end. It still hurt." Oneshot. Ishbal, manga. RizaMaes. Rated for adult themes.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

Last Kiss

He was only twenty-four at the time. Twenty-four and already a Captain, thanks to his skills with those knives of his. No wonder her grandfather had been impressed.

"... and smart as a whip, this boy!" he had boasted, "Only Captain to ever beat me in chess!"

The light eyes behind his glasses had sparkled and he smiled with recognition, "Oh, so you're that Warrant Officer Hawkeye!"

Her grandfather must have talked about her as well.

"Yes," she had answered with a nod, extending her hand, "And you must be Captain Hughes. Its good to meet you."

His smile had grown and instead of shaking her hand like she had expected, he had taken it carefully and kissed the top of it, "Good to meet you as well. Call me Maes. Riza, was it?"

She had nodded again and wondered how this man could be like this, out here in the desert, in the middle of a war.

It had taken her awhile to figure out, that the reason for his nonchalance and informal attitude was because it was the only thing he could do to keep himself sane. He laughed and made jokes because he didn't want to be killing these people and there was nothing he could do to help them. He smiled when there was nothing to smile about, because otherwise he might end up holding a gun to his own head.

Soon enough, she had found herself thankful for his smile and his jokes and all his odd ways. And even quicker she had found herself thankful for his hot mouth, and rough hands, and that she had a private tent all to herself because she was a woman.

He would sneak into her tent quietly while she was sleeping during the cold desert nights...

"My, my, Warrant Officer Hawkeye, you're out of uniform," he said as his hand traveled along her bare thigh, "I'm going to have to reprimand you for that."

"Maes," she said sternly, shivering alittle under his touch as her hand griped his shirt, "Why is there a bandage on your arm? What happened?"

He kissed her forcefully, a silent answer telling her not to worry about him, before he murmured softly against her lips, "You're cold as ice, even with this blanket. I'm going to have to do something about that too..."

Those nights were filled with such desperation. A desperate need to forget that they had spent the day killing innocent people, that if they listened carefully they would hear the bombs in the distance, and that the nights were too cold and blankets too thin for a person to feel warm on their own.

Those nights all they knew was lust of their bodies, the look of their flushed faces, the touch of soft lips and delicate fingers. All they could hear was the soft moans and whispers from the other. And they couldn't feel the cold, just the warmth and comfort of their lover's body.

He would have to go back to his tent before he was missed, but he always kissed her before he did and promised that he would be back the next day, just as soon as it was dark enough.

Then the daylight would come, and they would be soldiers again. Uniforms covering the scratches and marks that their lover had left on their bodies, leaving only the wounds that the enemy had inflicted upon them.

That day he looked so serious when he spoke to her. She had never seen him look so grim before. They both stood there, facing each other in their Military dress, in a private compartment they had found on the train. The war was over and they were going home. They should have been celebrating but...

"I understand," she said with a nod, her face as stoic as ever, "The Military takes fraternization as a serious offense. We'd be risking too much if we continued." It wasn't as though she hadn't expected this. They both knew the law, they both knew they would have to end it sometime... but that didn't stop it from hurting.

She started to turn for the door to leave, thinking there was nothing left to say, when he stopped her, "Wait!"

She looked back as he grasped her hand between his, eyes pleading with her and his voice low, "Please Riza. Please know I love you..."

The hot sting of tears forming behind her eyes was blinked back, as she forced herself not to cry, she wanted more than anything to tell him she loved him too but suddenly her throat felt too tight and all she could manage was a quiet, "I know." Silently she prayed that he knew she loved him even if she couldn't say it.

He smiled lightly and lifted one of his hands to hold her chin. Then he leaned in and kissed her lips softly. His kiss was warm and gentle, devoid of desperation or need unlike so many other kisses they had shared in the desert. This kiss was sweet and tender. It was so full of pure and simple love that it made Riza's heart break.

Because she knew, she understood. This was a kiss goodbye. This was a last kiss between lovers. This would be the last kiss they ever shared. This would be the last kiss he ever gave her. This was their last kiss.

And it still hurts...