hi again to everyone. next chapter's pretty long, but i like it, 'specially the last few pages. and before anyone says anything--no, i dont know what i was smoking when i came up with the character for Roy's date. (u'll see, trust me XD). she's probably the most annoying character i've ever done. and that's saying something. i mean, i want to shoot her, and i created her! she's a huge steryotype, so...not to mention, she gets even worse next chaper, tho, so there's something to look foward to. XD the sad thing is, i know people who are exactly like her...i hate my town...
oh, one last thing--this chapter's by no means risque enough to be rated M, but there are a few parts that deal with serious subject matter, and the word 'sex' does get used once r twice. GASP!
Disclamer-no, i dont own Fullmetal Alchemist. if i DID, then the anime would be never-ending, and there'd be Royai in every episode! but i dont. meh.
Laments
"Bark bark bark!"
Riza could hear Black Hayate whining eagerly from the other side of her apartment door. The sound of his toenails scrapping against the door was a familiar, soothing one by now, even more so considering how anxious Riza was to just get inside and stay there for a while. After fishing out her key, she unlocked the door and hurried inside, closing it behind her. Black Hayate barked even louder, excited as always to see his master home again. He nudged up against her legs, begging to be petted. Somehow, it was as if he knew Riza was upset; he was even more affectionate then usual, licking her everywhere he could reach. Even as depressed as she was, Riza had to smile. She bent down and stroked him behind the ears, and he growled happily in reply.
"Well...looks like someone wants to be fed," she commented quietly. Black Hayate licked her hand in reply.
Riza shrugged off her coat and hung it up, leaving her still-dripping umbrella by the door. For no reason whatsoever, she suddenly remembered that Roy hadn't taken an umbrella with him when he'd left the office before.
That isn't good…he always gets moody when he has to walk home in the rain, plus it isn't safe for him to be outside alone and unable to use his alchemy…hopefully he managed to find one—
She stopped, and shook her head. What was she doing? As her dog scampered around her feet, she tried not to let herself think about the colonel. But--it wasn't that easy, considering half her life was spent making sure he was ok. I can still think about him, she tried to tell herself. Honestly, I'm not going to stop supporting just because…just because what? Just because her foolish dreams were just that- dreams?
That's it, she decided firmly. Enough of this nonsense. It's bad enough that I actually cried--in front of the Lieutenant Colonel! I'm not going to think about this any longer. It's too foolish a problem to let it come between me and my job. The colonel still needs me, that hasn't changed a bit.
With said thought in mind, she stalked past Hayate into the bedroom, changing quickly out of her uniform and into a simple button-up white shirt and a brown skirt that fell past her knees. Leaving her hair in its bun, she unbuckled her gun holster and slid the gun out. She left it resting on her nightstand, within easy reach should the situation arise. Even at home, Riza refused to allow herself to be caught unaware.
Moving out of the bedroom, she was met at the door by Black Hayate, who was whining even louder now.
"All right, I know. You want to be fed, right?" The dog yipped happily in reply, darting towards the kitchen as if he understood her.
Riza paused a moment longer, glancing around her as if seeing everything for the first time. The apartment was small, but cozy, with everything looking very neat and organized. There was nothing spilled out on the floor or lying where it didn't belong. The comfortable place fully hid the fact that its owner was a military soldier who had at least one gun loaded and ready for action in every room. Riza had never bothered much with decorating- to her, it was a waste of time and money to make a room look nicer then it really was. However, as sparingly furnished as the place was, it still gave off an aura of being lived in; it was warm and inviting despite the lack of décor. There were several large windows in the kitchen that gave off light- that is, when it was nice out, unlike today. The living room walls were lined with shelves loaded with books of every type and author, from historical fiction to books on fighting techniques. There were even a few romance novels- her guilty pleasure, of a kind- hidden amongst the large, leather-bound research journals and colorfully-covered novels. Every book had been read at least once, but they were all still in excellent condition, without any bent pages or food stains. It was certainly a nice place to live…and yet…
As Riza looked around now, she realized that at the same time, it was a lonely place, too.
"Bark bark!! Bark!!" Hayate was back, scampering back and forth in front of her, impatiently.
"Yes, I know, I'm going to feed you right now. Come on." She motioned for him to follow her, which he did willingly. As she passed by the mirror in the hall, she got a glimpse of herself- red, blotchy eyes and a pale face. Pressing her lips together edgily, she stalked past without stopping. How stupid she had been…
She reached the fridge and pulled it open, to the thrilled barks of Hayate. Pulling out a leftover chicken leg, she tossed it neatly into his bowl, and he promptly scurried over and began to gnaw at it. For herself, she reached in and chose a casserole, one that she didn't quite remember making. It was some kind of meat in some kind of sauce, not very appetizing-looking, frankly. Nevertheless, she popped it in the oven and set the timer for five minutes. Sitting down at the table to wait, it popped into her head that she hadn't, in fact, made the casserole at all.
"It was that woman from the apartment downstairs," she thought, "The one who's always giving me things like this." Remembering where the casserole had come from, though, only sunk her spirits even lower. The woman in question was an elderly lady who lived alone in an apartment that always smelled dusty, like it hadn't been aired out or used very much lately. The one time Riza'd actually been close enough to see inside, it struck her how dark, damp, and gloomy the place was, what with the ragged furniture and the heavy, cloying, mothbally smell that clung to everything. She had, as far as Riza knew, no friends or family, and she wasn't married. She lived off government welfare checks, and spent her days parked in front of the window watching other people with other concerns hurry by. She was constantly cooking, though there was no one to eat what she made but her, and she enjoyed giving some of the leftovers to Riza, who sometimes saw her as she left for work in the morning.
"Eh, you, pretty little girl," she'd call out in a shaky, dry-as-dust voice. "C'mere. I've got somethin' for you." And Riza, far too polite by nature to deny this woman what was probably her only human contact for the day, would accept her gifts graciously, feeling guilty at the look of delight that would appear in the old woman's milky eyes. Riza knew no one else ever spoke to her. She knew that no one else really knew she was there, and that they would not have cared had they known. She knew that when this woman died, no one would mourn.
The timer beeped, and Riza got up and carefully slid the casserole dish out of the oven, placing it on the table and stirring the contents. It didn't look any tastier cooked, she mused. The meat had gone from grey to brown, and the sauce it was floating in now looked whitish, but otherwise it still looked like it had when she'd first taken it out…in other words, it looked pretty disgusting.
Never one to waste food, she went and got a plate and fork anyway, and served herself, leaving the leftovers on the table. For a few minutes, she sat in silence, picking at the ugly lump on her plate reluctantly. She realized now that she wasn't all that hungry any more, really. But she continued to stir the mess around with her fork, trying to work up enough of an appetite to actually take a bite.
For a long while, there was only quiet. Black Hayate, having finished devouring his supper, had padded into the other room, leaving Riza quite alone. She paused, and listened. There were the distant sounds of cars honking from outside, and the faint ticking of the clock hanging above her on the wall. A steady drip-drip-drip came from the kitchen faucet, which leaked slightly. She could hear Hayate growling at something-probably his shadow- in the other room. And that was all. No one sat across from her; no one was there to talk to even if she'd been in the mood for senseless conversation, which she wasn't. There was only her.
It was always like this, she knew. She very rarely went out with friends, and she never invited anyone over. None of her coworkers had ever seen her apartment. Night after night, she sat alone and ate when she wasn't hungry, simply to keep the routine going. No one ever asked her out anymore, she never went on dates--though that was, in all honesty, more of her own fault. She certainly had been asked more then a few times, but she always turned the askers down. She wasn't really sure why.
Maybe it had something to do with the way they all looked at her, seeing a pretty face and not much else. Maybe it was the way the lower-ranked soldiers acted as if they deserved a promotion for treating her to dinner, or the way the new recruits stared at her, their eyes worshipping, when she went to the shooting range for target practice. Maybe it was because she wasn't the type of person to go out on a meaningless date with someone she had no feelings for whatsoever. Or maybe…maybe it was because she knew, deep inside, that there was only one man whose invitation she really wanted.
Whatever the reason, sooner or later her admirers got the hint. Word spread that she was too cold and unfeeling to need human companionship, that she was something to whisper about, but never face. She still wasn't sure who the first person was who'd said, none too discreetly, that she disliked people in general and would rather be left alone. It isn't true, she sometimes wanted to protest--she didn't hate people, just those people who had nothing of interest to say. Given the chance to get to know her better, anyone could see that, couldn't they?
The colonel saw it, she was at the very least certain of that. He always snickered when the two of them would pass a young man in the hallway who was staring at her, his eyes idolizing and huge with awe. He liked to tease her about that. In fact, sometimes he'd deliberately bring it up, just to see her flush.
"Say, Lieutenant," he'd grin, "That new recruit with the bad haircut just passed by the office for the sixth time today. Why don't you go out and let him bow down to you already, before the poor kid dies of longing?"
Riza would always just look back down at her work, knowing full well that her cheeks were red. And when the colonel saw that, as he always did, he'd grin even wider, proud that he alone could get to her, and she'd blush all the harder. Usually she wound up shooting at him, but he always said it was worth it, with that infamous little smirk of his.
His reaction, she had noticed, was quite different when it was an older man who was trying to catch her eye. With the younger recruits, who idol-worshiped her in groups, he'd laugh, but when the man vying for her attention actually had a chance- at least in Roy Mustang's mind- he would glare and mutter about distractions. Since Roy was a bit of a distraction himself, Riza knew that couldn't be the reason why he got so grumpy and uptight. For a while, she'd thought it might have been jealousy…after tonight, she knew that was just her imagination, like so many other things she'd dreamt up.
Riza sighed and put her fork down. The blob of meat remained untouched. Outside, the rain had faded to a steady drizzle, shrouding the city in a blanket of mist. Black Hayate wandered back in and trotted up to her, making soft whimpering sounds as if he was trying to comfort her. She smiled slightly and reached down to stroke him. Tonight's dinner had been exactly like all the dinners before it, and probably like all the dinners to come.
"Is this it?" she wondered aloud. "Is this everything?" Am I going to wind up like that old woman downstairs? Working diligently until I retire, and then spending the rest of my life rotting away at home?
She looked down at her plate, watching the grease from the sauce congeal as it grew cold. Life in the military was never boring, to be sure, but Riza didn't spend every minute on duty. Although she cherished her solitude the way others pined for riches, right now she wanted nothing more then to have someone to talk to. And the only person she ever talked to freely- more or less- was the colonel. True, their conversations had to stay within the boundaries of work, but still….better then sitting here wondering what else there could possibly be to life.
Black Hayate looked up at her, and then laid his head on her lap, which brought another thin smile to her face.
"Come on, then. I'll take you out before the rain picks up again."
She got up to get the leash, getting a glimpse of the clock in the process.
6:30…I wonder what the colonel's doing now…?
The thought crossed her mind before she could control it. Resolutely, she kneeled down and fastened the collar around Hayate's neck. Who cared what he was doing? Who really cared…
The wind howled and tried to pluck the umbrella from Riza's cold hands. She shivered and looked around for Hayate. He was still sniffing at a tree, seemingly unaware of the fact that the rain had begun to pick up again.
"Come on…" she muttered, waiting impatiently for him to finish. The park they were in was only a few minutes away from the apartment, but the storm had gotten worse since they'd left, and Riza was more then ready to return. Finally, Black Hayate chose a spot and did his business, and then trotted up to her, soaking wet.
"Well, that's what you get for taking so long," she told him in response to the 'oh-woe-is-me' look he was giving her. "If you had hurried, we might have been home by now. As it is, you'll just have to survive being wet a little longer." Recognizing the sternness in his master's voice, the dog obediently turned towards home, but an ear-shattering crack of thunder roared just then, and he yelped and darted into a near-by bush.
"Oh, for…" she growled, more then a little annoyed. It always bothered her when people- and dogs, too- were afraid for foolish reasons. She hadn't even jumped when the roar of sound had exploded across the sky. Her calm-headed nature, intensive training, and years in the military made her able to keep her cool even during tense or uneasy moments. And besides, thunder was hardly something to be afraid of. It was a loud noise, nothing more. Scowling, she made her way over to the bush Hayate was cowering in and held out her hand.
"Here, Hayate. Come here. Hayate!" The dog was growling softly underneath his breath, but when a bolt of lighting streaked across the sky, the snarls turned to whimpers, and he dug himself farther underneath the bush. "Hayate, you are being ridiculous. It's thunder-it's a sound. Now come out." He didn't move. "Hayate, I am not going to drag you home, so either you come out or you'll have to find your own way back." He still didn't move, obviously well aware that his master's threats were as empty as she'd been feeling. Riza was contemplating using her gun to smoke him out, when—
"Oooh, Roy, it's so nasty out! I just hate it when it pours like this, plus my dress will be absolutely ruined! Let's go back to the bar."
Riza froze. That wasn't…there was no way that…
"C'mon, baby, you know the bar'll be closed by the time we get there. Besides, don't you wanna see my place?" There was a high-pitched, knowing giggle.
Riza felt faint. There was no mistaking that cocky, self-assured voice--it was the colonel. And he was coming this way.
"Don't worry, babe, I'll make up for the rain, trust me." Another giggle, loud and obscene, split the air. Riza clenched her fists. Roy certainly wasn't letting the rain get to him.
You see? She laughed, wanting to cry all over again. And here you were worried that he'd be depressed because of the weather.
Roy was putting on the best show of his life. The girl who had attached herself to his arm had no idea how miserable he was.
Because of the weather, the bar had been pretty empty, and the choice of available singles limited, so the girl did end up being blond. But, she was loud, obnoxious, and ditzy--in short, the exact opposite of Riza. Roy knew there'd be no confusing the two, blond hair or not. He'd sat through a hellish few hours while the girl got loaded and oozed on and on about shopping and fame and how she wanted to be an actress. "Or maybe a military hero's wife," she'd trilled, winking. It was all Roy could do to keep from throwing a bottle of vodka at her.
He himself hadn't so much as touched a shot glass, though he'd been sorely tempted when the girl began describing how her old boyfriend used to 'buy her lots and lots'. He'd played his part nicely, nodding whenever she said anything, acting like he cared that she 'wasn't like those other girls, oh no, she didn't flip out about clothes. If something got dirty, that was fine by her-she'd just buy new ones. Things only lasted, like, one season anyway, and blah blah blah…'
Roy'd gone to the bathroom at that point so that if he puked, it wouldn't be on her.
The worst part had been when she'd rested her head on his shoulder and asked about Ishbal. Or, to be more specific, 'that giant, like, battle thing.'
First of all, Roy didn't like her cozying up to him like that. For god's sake, I'm some random bar-hopper you just met! he'd thought in disbelief. I could be a rapist or mugger or something! He knew he shouldn't care so much--usually, he was nothing short of pleased when a girl threw herself on him like that. But this time, it just pissed him off…
He couldn't help but think of Riza- she'd never be that stupid. Even on the off-chance that she did ever end up in a bar, any man who tried to pull what Roy was pulling on this ditz was guaranteed to wind up with a bullet between the eyes. He'd always secretly admired that about her; some people called her a loner or standoffish, but Roy knew that she was simply private. And after going out with a different girl each week, and knowing more about the sex lives of each one then he'd ever wanted to, Roy could definitely respect that.
"Roy? Sweetie?"
Urgh, that was another thing about this one he couldn't stand….her insistence on using pet names. Riza never wasted her time on cutesy names; she just called him The Colonel, or Colonel Mustang.
(And there'd been one time where she'd called him by his first name, but that had been under slightly different circumstances. Long ago, in Ishbal, she'd been so mad at him that she'd forgotten herself and called him Roy, but it was an understandable mistake--she'd walked in his tent to find him pressing a gun up against his head, about to pull the trigger. Although, looking back, he had to admit she'd sounded more worried then angry…or at least, when she slugged him, it didn't feel quite as scolding. Just really, really painful. And of course she'd apologized afterwards.)
"So, you're a colonel at your age? Wow! You must have been a real hero back in the war."
Ah yes, his lovely lady friend- if you could call her that- had also treated him to a wonderful trip down the Ishbalan memory lane, courtesy of the assorted ghosts who were lurking, waiting for darkness to strike so they could have their nightly revenge.
"Oooh, Roy," she'd cooed, "tell me about, um, like, that Ishbell place or whatever. The place where you became, like, famous. Lucky for you, too, I only date famous men!" Her statement was, of course, followed by that giggle of hers that sent shivers down his spine.
Yeah, he sure was lucky, all right. Lucky enough to be spending time with this bimbo when he could have been spending time with his first lieutenant…lucky enough to have to dredge up old and hated memories for the sake of someone else's enjoyment…lucky enough to have to sit here and talk to this girl and drive himself insane…
Yeah, he was pretty damn lucky, all right.
"C'mon, Roy-Roy"-he'd shuddered, but she'd been too drunk by then to notice- "tell me about Ishbell. All the girls I know want to hear you talk about that. Um, that was like, a war or something, right?"
And so he'd sat there, and mumbled into an empty vodka glass about his thrilling war days. About how wonderful he'd felt when he'd been promoted to Major for his glorious job out on the battle field.
Congratulations, Mustang, I heard you got promoted! And all you did was torch a few of them rats! I must have killed a dozen bare-handed, where's my advance? Ah hah, just kidding with ya, Mustang, you deserve that promotion. They say that when you were done with 'em, those rats didn't look human no more. Just a bunch of ashes and bones, right? Ah hah…hey, you don't look so good. You feeling ok?...Mustang?
About how brave he'd been.
Everyone pats him on the back, 'Good Job, Roy,' they all say—except for her, she looks at him and doesn't say a word, and he can sense the anger in her eyes. He knows she's upset over today's casualties, but like Colonel Grand says, better an Ishbalan then an alchemist, right?...Right? Anyway, he couldn't help it, he'd been under orders, under orders to kill everyone he saw, even the little children who looked up at him in terror from where they huddled next to their dead mother….but somehow, all the reasoning, the praise, the Just Following Orders, somehow all of that can't remove that sad look in her eyes from his mind, he can't get rid of that vision no matter what he does. Somehow that reproachful look is the worst punishment of all….his back is numb from people slapping it in praise, and his chest is covered in blood, 'Man, that sucks, Mustang--too bad that last little termite exploded all over ya, huh? Made a mess outta your uniform!' Yes, yes, it was too bad, it was all too bad, too bad that his uniform is now covered with the blood and guts of a human being whose life he just ended, too bad that he now has to change clothes to get rid of the grotesque slime covering him, too bad that even when he does, he can't remove the slime from himself, he can feel it absorbing into him, the blood, the guts, the agony. And he suddenly can't help himself—he throws up, doubled over and gasping. And everyone just looks away, no one wants to see the great Major Mustang admit that he was wrong, that they were all wrong. And he can't get that look in her eyes out of his mind.
"Oooh, it sounds real exciting, Roy-Roy! And now you're a big hero!"
A big hero…his stomach turned over and he was afraid he was going to be sick. A big hero….yes, a big hero, returning from the battle field with a chest full of metals, and a closet full of awards, and a soul dripping red, dripping blood. Yes, he was a great big fucking hero.
Hey, where's the Major? This whole party's for him!
Eh, he didn't wanna come. Shut himself up in his room.
Again? Man, something's wrong with him. I mean, he's the Flame Alchemist, he's usually so cocky.
Yeah, he's been acting weird lately. That cute second lieutenant's the only one he'll talk to besides the weird guy who's obsessed with his fiancée.
It's weird…why would he be so upset? He's a war hero!
"Oh, Roy, you're the greatest. Tell me more about Ishbell—oh, it's Ishbal? Ishbal, then- tell me more of these funny stories."
Funny stories?! he wanted to shout. There's nothing funny about them! What's so funny about war?! About death and murder!?
But instead, he tried to keep his voice level as he asked, "Do you mind if we talk about something else?"
She looked at him, confused. "But why, Roy-Roy?"
"Because I don't really like talking about it."
Damn it, he wouldn't have had to tell Riza not to talk about Ishbal. She already knew. She knew how he felt, and she never mentioned the war or his grisly role in it. She'd always known. He was never sure how, but she always did. She was the only one, besides Hughes, that he could stand to look at afterwards. During that horrible, bleakly grey period directly after the war, Riza and Maes would sit quietly by his side as he moaned and ranted and threatened the air. And sometimes, it was just Riza who sat next to him, letting him rage, but at the same time giving him something to hold on to, a life preserver to which he desperately clung. And when the waters inched too high, it was Riza who dove in and saved him…
And how had he repaid her? By hurting her. He'd been so foolish, and he was only seeing it now. It was suddenly hitting him, all at once, just like in Ishbal, what he had done. Riza had not rejected him, he'd just been too blind to see…and now the chance that had been between them was gone, destroyed, and it was all because of his stupidity…she'd never want to so much as look at him again after this…
He grabbed the nearest liquor bottle and downed the last few sips. Never mind his pledge from earlier- he'd suffered enough for one night; any more and he was afraid he'd crack. On top of everything, there was this!
His date was still looking at him, confused. "Baby, what are you staring at?"
"Hmm….?" He blinked, tried to focus. "Oh, nothing…." He forced a laugh. "It's just, I think I left some paperwork loose in the office again; my lieutenant's gonna kill me."
"Hmph." His date looked sulky. Without meaning to, Roy'd spent much of the night talking about Riza- when he wasn't in a bored-to-death stupor or fighting off inner demons, that was. Now it seemed the girl he was supposedly with was getting jealous.
"So, this, uh…girl…she's a subordinate…" Her nose wrinkled in disdain. "That's like a servant, right?"
"She is not a servant," Roy said hotly. No way he was gonna let this bitch insult Riza…he'd already insulted her enough for one day.
His date smiled, a thin-lipped smirk that barely contained her snotty contempt. "Mmm…I'm sure. She sounds very…plain."
"Riza Hawkeye is not plain! She's a loyal solder, extremely hard-working, one of the best friends I've ever had…." His voice trailed off.
"Mmm…but it's too bad she has to work so hard. She should find herself a nice, rich boyfriend and quit. I mean, it's not like you need her or anything, right?"
Under the words lay a thinly-veiled challenge. Roy stared into the vodka bottle again, trying not to lose it. Did he need her? Did he need Riza Hawkeye? Try asking someone if they need air to breath, or if they need sleep to function properly. The answer would be the same. His date, however, confident that his silence was the answer she wanted, leaned over, deliberately showing off as much cleavage as humanly possible while still wearing clothes.
"C'mon, baby, I wanna get to know you better too. I wanna get to know all of you better." Roy's stomach lurched again. Have sex—with this creature? For a minute, he wanted to get up and run…but then he thought about it. Where would he run, except to Riza's? And what was there for him? Nothing. Not after his moronic display back at the office. He'd might as well get used to these drunken bimbos- they were all he had to look forward to. Oh, God damn it, he wished he was as drunk as her!
"Well, Roy? Wanna go to your place?"
Riza's face flashed in front of his eyes, he felt one more split second of indecision, one last spurt of dumb hope…and then the image faded, and he knew that the answer had already been decided for him…that it had been decided for him the second he'd snapped his fingers and watched without speaking as a house filled with life burned and fizzled and collapsed. He was paying for his sins, and his choice had already been made.
"Sure, why not. I'd like to show you around."
AN- told you the girl was annoyingly annoying. there's a semi-reason why i didnt give the date a name coughwaytoolazytocomeupwithonecough. so whatever, she's just The Date. XD a lot of people have been reading this, which rocks! but i cant get any better without feedback, so puh-leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze review! unless ur planning on flaming, o'course...but otherwise, R+R!
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EDIT 7/12/06-- wow. the more and more i read this thing, the less i like it. oh well.