Author's notes:
This fic was originally supposed to be just a series of drabbles concerning our couple. However, since the end product is now probably more than 200 words, that idea was shot to death. So from now on, its just gonna be a series of ficlets with no connection from one chap to the next.
Your comments and criticisms are much appreciated. Remember, every author lives from his/her own reviewers.
Enjoy.
After a few minutes, I step out of the house and begin the 'search' for my companion. As to be expected during these times, I find him staring at the roses gracing our bricked walls. I thought wryly to myself, with those minutes I've been gone, he might have even forgotten what drove him there in the first place. Then again, considering his long-term memory and by the severity of the looks aimed at me, maybe not.
"Why are you here?" He growls, words barely heard over the intensity of his eyes.
"I came to say I'm sorry." I can see that he's taken aback. Surprised that I was the one to submit, his anger vanishing in the steps of that sudden apology. "I couldn't stand to wait and watch you get hurt."
The look of surprise is now replaced with a tinge of melancholy. "I can protect myself, you know. I'm a big boy now."
"I know. It's just..." I find myself trailing off, not sure of how I can answer to that.
"Shhh... Let's not repeat what happened at the dining table." He steps closer to me as I remember the mess we'd have to clean up. Scorched walls, metals protruding from floor to ceiling, broken table and finally, the transmutated door.
Then with silent grace he finally closes the distance and holds my hand. We stand, still facing the roses Winry and Al planted, as a thought occurs to me.
"Why do you always end up here after our little fights?"
Silence meets that question, but after a few seconds his gaze lands on mine. "The roses remind me that nothing is ever perfect, I guess. Everything has its stain, a mark that can't be ignored. Look at these roses. In its absolute bloom, nothing compares. However, its thorns mar it, make it more real. Just like you and me. Our own quirks and pasts prevent us from really creating a perfect puzzle. But, no matter how imperfect we are, what we have together is just as beautiful. And that, my dear colonel, is something I'd never give up on."
Somehow, with the glint in his golden eyes, I believe.
