AN- flOofymikO- yeesh, it'd be AWSOME if this could actually be published. (isnt that the deal with that FMA novel that's out?) but, sadly, those dang copywrite laws get in the way Xd. ah well. mucho thanks as always!
unexpectation- LMAO. yes, that's exactly how Sloth seems to me too. Pride just doesnt seem...idn...smart enough? to be a good mastermind.
rexbandit- mm...mush, huh? I'm not really a good fluff writer, but the last chapter is more light-hearted...i think. lol. you're right, tho...royai mush DOES make the world go round!
tracycoder- welcome! lol, dont worry, i'm not thaaat cruel as to kill everyone off...usually...ahem.
xXsilentxwhisperXx- good point about Hughes, but i simply could NEVER kill him off--i love him too much. plus, in my personal opinion, roy has enough on his plate in this story! lol. thanx for the review! (my god, you read this entire thing in ONE sitting?...even i cant do that!)
whoo! about half way through this, i counted how many ms pages it was so far and came up with ten...and like i said, i was only half way through! so, i split it up again--so now there are three more chapters left, instead of two! yay! lol. the next one literally starts FIVE SECONDS after this one ends, but no one cares. either way, i'm trying to come up with another royai story idea for after this one ends, perferrably a sequal to this. i have a few vague ideas so far, but nothing really concreat...-.- o well.
cliche' title, but i had to change the original one when i split it up, and that's all i could come up with.
reviews are loved!
Life After Death
Or
Painkillers in Purgatory
Roy Mustang was having a nightmare.
The usual one, as always. Trapped in the same burning city, with the same body by his feet, with the same desperate thoughts rampaging through his mind, he grabbed the same gun and waited for the same outcome. He always woke up right about now, he knew, so all he had to do was sit and linger in his agony for something to jar him awake…
Except…the dream wasn't working out that way, not this time. Instead of waking up, he remained stuck in that hellhole. The fires kept burning behind him, the smoke kept wafting into his face, the not-so-distant crackling noise of gunfire kept going off…he waited and waited, anxiously, but he simply could not snap himself out of this. Confused and frightened thoughts ran through his mind—was it not a dream this time? Was it real, somehow? Maybe he was in hell? Maybe he had lost his mind once and for all.
Well, whatever the case was, this nightmare wasn't turning out like the others before it, and Roy didn't like that one bit. He got to his feet, where he wobbled, unable to keep himself steady. Fresh pain dug into him with every beat of his heart. He was shaking, and his mouth was so dry it felt like he was swallowing cotton.
Suddenly he realized that the world around him had changed. Instead of being in a crumbled city with death pouring out of every crevice, he was…nowhere. At least not that he could see. Everything was pure darkness, darkness so thick that it was almost solid—if he reached out far enough, he was certain he could grab it. He looked down, and discovered that there was only black under his feet, too. He was floating in this strange place, alone. Every now and then, a light breeze would float by and rustle his hair, but that was it.
Roy became aware, just then, of a peculiar stickiness on his hands, which were suddenly ungloved. He looked down to find them drenched in blood. (Whose blood it was, was anybody's guess, but Roy had his suspicions.) How ironic…here he was, in this emptiness that very well might be the entryway to what lay after death, unarmed and with his sins splayed out on his hands for everyone to see. Not that there was anyone here to see them.
But, he supposed that was the point, after all. If this was indeed his personal Judgment Day (and what else could it be?) then shouldn't that be how it worked? All your barriers and reasonings and ignorances taken away—your excuses stripped bare—nothing but your soul left to be dealt with. Roy figured that the blood covering his hands was a metaphor for all the crimes he'd committed over the years…from the looks of things, there were quite a few of them. But he'd always known that. He wondered again, distantly, if this meant he was really dead. Certainly seemed like it, anyway.
There had been an indistinct burning spreading up and down his legs for some time now, but he'd ignored it because he was used to worse. But now, the pain began to rage, shooting up his entire body until he could barely breathe. Gasping, Roy fell to his knees (as best he could, considering there was no ground to fall on). It felt like he was being burned alive himself, the throbbing was so intense, and, had he been able to focus clearly, he would have laughed at the added irony of the Flame Alchemist burning in hell.
Deep groans swelled up inside of him…shaking, he wrapped his arms around himself to try and starve off the pain, his fingernails digging into his flesh. The agony increased, lowered a bit, and shot up again in a never-ending cycle…one second down, an eternity of seconds to go…if time ever passed in this place, if there even was such a concept as time in the afterlife.
Roy's thoughts were becoming very twisted and confused….fading away….all of them…everything that could take his mind off his suffering for even a moment was being leeched away. He couldn't hide it, couldn't avoid it, couldn't ignore it…
"Colonel…"
What was that? Roy jerked his head up, forgetting for a spilt second that he was trembling with pain. He looked around frantically…but there was nothing, just endless black.
But…someone was there…
He paused, uncertain. He tried climbing to his feet, but his body had long ago reached its limits, and refused to move an inch.
Forget it…even if someone was here…what could they do? What could anyone do?
Roy knew, if this really was his death, what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to fight it, 'run away from the light', all that crap. That's what people in books and movies always did—fought their asses off, sweated a bit, and woke up, perfectly fine, at the most dramatic moment. Roy, like so many other people, had always envisioned himself doing the same—after all, those people made it look so easy. Struggle for five seconds, preferably with some uplifting music in the background, and boom! You were alive and well.
Only, those books and movies left out a very important detail…it was so exhausting.
God, I'm tired…
Roy tried to fight it, he really did, but he was just so tired…he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a really good, deep sleep, and finally—finally—he was being given a chance to close his eyes and just…rest…
"Colonel…"
There it was again…that soft voice, coming from right beside him, it seemed, even though there was no one there. And yet…when Roy looked, it almost felt like there was someone standing next to him. He stretched one arm out and felt only air, but still…
He blinked, shrugged, closed his eyes…
"Roy!"
Ok, now it was just getting annoying. Whoever that was, couldn't they see that he was busy?
"Roy…Roy…please…"
He felt something light and soft gently touch his forehead for a minute. That did it. Roy was too confused to sleep. Grunting with the effort it took, he forced himself to his feet—
And opened his eyes.
The first thing that hit Roy as he groggily came to was the smell. It was sharp but sweet, and it seemed to permeate the whole area. Not to mention, it was strangely familiar, too…he couldn't help but think that he had smelled it before. He breathed in deeply, or at least attempted to—his lungs instantly rebelled, deep, racking coughs tearing through him. Okay…bad idea.
He closed his eyes again, focusing mainly on breathing. It came to him, at one point or another, that the bed he was lying in had to be the softest, most comfortable bed he'd ever slept on. He wondered dimly where the heck he was…
After a few minutes of resting, he once again opened his eyes—and realized instantly that only his right eye was working. He wasn't sure why he couldn't see out of his left, but it was definitely an unsettling discovery to say the least, and he swallowed hard. Another bad idea—it felt like he was swallowing glass. God, he was a mess.
He tried to sit up, but, as expected, the slightest movement was pure torture. Looked like he'd just have to be content with lying there, for now. Speaking of lying there…where was there, anyway?
Turning his head as little as possible to prevent further discomfort, he glanced around, slowly. He didn't recognize it at first glance, but, for some reason, he still didn't feel all disoriented and confused. This felt….nice…
It felt like he belonged here, in some weird way. Maybe it was the décor.
Everything was pretty simply decorated—besides the bed itself, the room held only a small end table and chair (both of which were by the bed) and a dresser, pushed over against the wall by two closed closet doors. On his other side, there was a window, bright sunlight streaming in. Everything felt very airy and spacious; the room was very neat, although not obsessively so, and, as always, there was that smell wafting through every nook and cranny…
It really was pleasant, that was for sure…if Roy hadn't been so damn confused—not to mention in serious pain—he probably would have enjoyed himself.
Lying back again, he tried to figure out how he had come to be in this enjoyable situation. It wasn't easy—his mind was still very foggy, and he was having trouble focusing. His thoughts kept drifting around in circles, it seemed—his head hurt so much, he thought it might split open in a second. Every now and then a wave of pure dizziness would hit him, last just long enough to make him certain he was going to black out, and then drift away, leaving him faint-headed, shaking, and sick to his stomach. And to top it all off, there was a gigantic hole in his memories.
Let's see…he tried to think back. He'd been fighting someone…the president? Was that it? And he'd gotten really mad over something horrible….what, he couldn't recall, but whatever it was had to be pretty damn devastating—he couldn't even remember what had happened, and still he felt angry tears prick his eyes. Roy quickly blinked them away, though, furiously—this was ridiculous. Why was he getting so emotional? Obviously whatever had happened couldn't have been very important if he couldn't even remember it! He frowned…what was it his mind wouldn't let him think about?
For a minute, he felt like he was beginning to remember, but the effect of the small scrap of memory scared him. It was like drowning…just one tiny shred, and he couldn't breathe…
Not wanting to linger on something that was guaranteed to be a bad recollection, he hurriedly moved on. Ok, after…I finished fighting Pride—what then? I….I think I made it outside, and then I…I…
It was no good. He simply could not remember. That must have been when I passed out, he figured. But…where am I now? I must have died, I mean…I remember getting stabbed, so…but this doesn't look like hell to me…
No…it really didn't. Where he'd been before, in that inky and endless nothing—that looked like hell. This tidy little room was more like…
Heaven? Is that even possible?
Roy bit his lip in confusion. This sunny bedroom was certainty nice enough to be paradise, but…but there was no way he would have been sent there. He…he was Roy Mustang after all, wasn't he? A filthy murderer, with blood on his hands. What God with any brains would allow a man like him to go to heaven? Besides, he hurt too much for it to be heaven. There literally wasn't a single part of him not burning, throbbing, aching, or doing an agonizing combination of the three.
But…this can't be hell. The pain's bearable and it's so…there's no way…
An idea came to him, and he rolled his eyes—make that eye, since he had no idea if the left one was obeying him whatsoever anymore. Heh…maybe this is Purgatory.
Yeah…that's probably where he was. Purgatory. Huh…not a bad place. He wouldn't mind chilling out here for a while.
Still…
There was a very weird, unsettling quality about the whole thing that Roy was just now noticing. Sure, it was nice and comfortable and all, but, even so…lying in here, he was struck suddenly by the strangest sensation…he realized that…well…to be perfectly honest…he was rather lonely. And it wasn't because he was the only one there, but because something about the place suggested friendship, companionship…it brought back emotions he couldn't quite place, but that he remembered liking…there was a feeling as if he had once had something very vital that was tied to this room, but that he had misplaced it, lost it, because of his own blind stupidity.…
It didn't make much sense, but Roy knew somehow that the stark, miserably forlorn quality hanging about the place had to do with that incident he couldn't call to mind…he had screwed something up, mislaid something important, and the price must have been so terrible that his mind refused to process it.
But, hey, he laughed bitterly, this isn't heaven, it's purgatory. If you wanted some peace of mind after you died, you shouldn't have been such a royal screw-up in life.
His eyes fell on the end table next to the bed. It was the only thing in the room that was at all cluttered. There were at least three small bottles, a half-full glass of water, and a note pad. By straining to the utmost of his current abilities, Roy could just make out the words 'Pain Relievers: every five hours, as needed. Fever Reducers: every five hours, as needed. Take with water or…' before his shaky vision gave way. The words had been written on the note pad in a steady, neat style of handwriting that Roy was certain he'd seen before. Weird…it actually looked like someone had copied down instructions from a doctor or something, but if he was already dead, then what exactly was the point in calling a doctor? That didn't even make sense! Doctors in the afterlife! Since when were there painkillers in purgatory!
Roy sighed. It figured. He couldn't even die the right way.
Then…he heard footsteps. His eyes shot towards the door, which was closed. No doubt about it…whoever it was, was definitely coming this way. He couldn't help but wonder why it was that his stomach should clench so painfully all of a sudden. Why was his heart suddenly racing? What did it know that his brain did not? What, did he expect the devil to walk through that door? Heh, the way things have been going, anything's possible…
The door opened.
Riza Hawkeye walked in.
Roy knew instantly that he was in heaven.
It…it can't be….Riza!?
He was smashed just then with another wave of nausea, and he closed his eyes against the agony with a slight grunt. His mouth had gone completely dry, and his heart's racing a mile a minute didn't help his wooziness one bit. But he couldn't help it…Riza was there…
How…how is this possible? he thought brokenly. He could hear her walking over to him, and he could feel himself trembling as the memory finally came swimming up. Of course…how the hell could he have forgotten? Riza…she'd died. Because of him. It was his fault. He'd lost her. Of course, of course, of course. And yet…here she was…
All doubts were washed from his mind. He really was dead, and, one way or another, he really was in heaven. Where else could he be? The idea of Riza in hell was enough to make him laugh, and he couldn't be alive, not when she was…
Screw all the rules he'd figured applied to this sort of thing. Maybe people did feel pain in paradise, after all. Maybe there'd been some kind of technical fuck-up that had gotten him in here instead of hell. It didn't matter. The point was, Roy was being granted a chance to spend all of long infinity…with her.
He opened his eyes just enough to make out her form, not wanting her to notice that he was awake. (He had this strange fear that if she saw him, if she actually said something to him, if he was given the chance to hear he voice again, the incredulous joy would be too much, and whoever had accidentally sent him here would notice and throw him back down where he belonged. Roy knew that to miss out on this second chance would be a hell of its own, never mind the fire and brimstone one lurking below.) Her figure was blurry and distorted, (for the first time, he was aware not only of his splitting headache, but of the fact that he was sweating up a storm), but he could still make her out ok.
He studied her carefully, unable to believe that she was really here, next to him. There was just something so surreal, so dreamlike, about this whole thing.
Of course, the fact that her hair was down might have had something to do with it.
Roy had never—excluding his perverted fantasies, of course—seen his first lieutenant with her hair down before. It looked exactly like he had imagined it would- hot. Really hot. A perfect image…dazzling long strands falling in ripples down her back. He felt his face flush, and wondered how high the level of her beauty had to be to make him blush. (He had no way of knowing, after all, that his fever was at the moment spiking up around 103 degrees, and so he blamed the heat on his raging and confused emotions. He really wasn't that far off. Even when half-dead, Roy…was a pervert.)
Riza was rummaging around, pouring out what looked like a year's supply of pills from the various bottles. Roy couldn't really make out her expression, but he did note that there was a definite stiffness to her posture—if she wasn't trying to unscrew a pill cap, he knew she'd be clenching her fists.
After removing the cap and shaking out three small blue capsules, Riza turned to look at him. He felt his pulse quicken, but at the same time, discovered that being in heaven did not prevent one from feeling guilty. Her eyes, now that he could see them, looked so worried—
Wait.
Wait.
What was she doing?
Her hand was brushing up against Roy's forehead- it lingered for a moment, cool against his fevered skin. He couldn't believe how wonderful even that slightest of touches felt…swallowing, he marveled in the comfort of something he thought he'd never have. It simply became too much, though—he had to do something, to get the pressure off his chest, to calm his throbbing heart. He opened his eyes, but too quickly—the world exploded in a garish pattern of color, and he was afraid he'd puke. He couldn't help but moan slightly.
"Colonel!" he heard Riza gasp, as if from far away. "You're awake! I-I didn't realize…" She withdrew her hand, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and worry. "How are you feeling, sir?"
Oh…come on…even in heaven, she has to be so damn formal…Roy thought drowsily.
"Colonel? Can you hear me?"
Uh-huh…Roy wanted to tell her that he was feeling like total shit, but his vocal cords weren't working right. Plus, he wasn't sure what would come out if he did manage to open his mouth—words, or vomit.
"You're running a fever…" She was talking mostly to herself by now. "I'm very sorry, Colonel, I know you must be in severe pain, but I can't give you any more pain medication for another hour…" She picked up one of the blue pills. "You'll need another one of these, though, if that fever is ever going to come down…"
"Medicine in heaven…" Roy mumbled. "Weird."
"Sir?" Riza looked at him in concern. "Colonel Mustang, can you hear me?" she repeated. "How are you feeling?"
"…Like hell," he managed after a second, and it was worth the serious effort it took him to speak when he saw the relieved smile blossom on her face.
"I-I know, sir, I'm sorry…I'll give you another dose of pain killers as soon as I can, I promise."
"..Mmm…" How nice it was to hear her voice again…
"Sir?" Riza must have noticed he was zoning out again. "Sir, I'm sorry, I know how badly you must feel, but you have to take your medicine before you fall back asleep. Otherwise…"
"…Heh…" Roy laughed weakly. "R-Relax, H-Hawkeye…you act like I could die or something—" His words were broken off by a series of racking coughs that went on and on. When they finally stopped, Roy was left panting for breath, his chest on fire.
"Colonel…" Riza looked so remorseful, it was almost scary.
"'s'ok, H-Hawkeye," he groaned. "It-It'll stop soon…right? How long do-does it usually take for the….pain to fade, eh…?"
"…Sir…?" Riza was staring at him with blatant confusion in her eyes.
"I…guess the p-paradise part of…paradise is kinda...different then everyone always assumed, huh?" He smiled slightly. "It's…nice here, though." He yawned tiredly. "Oh…yeah, I…I have-have to tell you something…"
"Colonel, please, just rest." He was trying to sit up, so Riza moved to push him back down against the pillow. "Whatever it is, it can wait until after you have your strength back—"
"N-No!" Exhausted, Roy was forced to give up his endeavor to sit up, and he collapsed back down, his eyes still blazing with intensity. "No. I have….have to tell you th-this…"
"C-Colonel…"
"I'm…sorry…sorry I…sent you here….Riza."
He closed his eyes, wiped out. After a few seconds, his ragged breathing became a bit more regular, and Riza knew he'd fallen asleep again. She stared at his still-bruised (but hardly less handsome) face, even more worried then she had been. She was thrilled that he'd finally awoken, of course, but it was painfully obvious from the nonsense he'd been spouting that the colonel was still delirious—for the life of her, she couldn't get that damn fever down. She rubbed her eyes, exhausted herself. How much more of this would she be forced to suffer through?
"I'm…sorry I…sent you here….Riza."
What had he meant by that, anyway? And…her eyes widened slightly as she realized Roy had used her first name.
When Roy's eyes flickered back open an hour or so later, he immediately noticed that he wasn't alone. Riza was still there, sitting in the chair, whispering to something. It took him a minute to notice Black Hayate whining at her feet.
"Not now," Riza was whispering firmly, "you'll disturb the Colonel. Go on, you know you're not supposed to be in here right now."
Even as Roy watched the dog pad out of the room, he was aware of Riza sighing. He frowned in confusion—if this was heaven, why did she look so…unhappy? And what on earth was her dog doing here?
He coughed a few times—Riza was on her feet in an instant. He tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry, and he couldn't get the words out. Riza picked up the glass of water—which had been refilled since he'd last seen it—and kneeled down by his bedside.
"Here, sir, see if you can drink this." She repositioned herself, sliding her arm underneath his head to help him sit up enough to drink without choking. Roy drank greedily, but the sensation of the water hitting his stomach was not a pleasant one, and he winced.
"Careful, try not to drink too fast. You haven't had anything in your stomach for a while."
"Nngh…" Roy fell back against the pillow, breathing hard. "R-Riza…you're still here…"
"Of course, sir," she answered quietly. "Where else would I be?"
"I d-don't know…" He managed a grin. "I th-thought this might…have all just been a…mistake, you know? I mean…I r-really don't belong here…"
Riza paused, giving him a strange look. "…Then where do you belong, sir?"
"Oh…oh, you know…" He winced again as his head stepped up its pounding. "Anywhere but here. With…with everything I've done…heh, I'm just…just saying it's pretty…weird…that I got in here...in heaven…at all."
"Sir…" Riza looked confused. Very confused. "You, ah…you're not in heaven."
Roy paused. "B-But…then where am I…?" He chuckled hoarsely. "M-Man…if this is…is hell, then, damn…I wasted a lot of time…worrying about it…"
Riza shook her head. "Colonel Mustang…" she said slowly, "you're not—"
"N-No…" he sighed. "Don't worry…worry about it. I'm ok with it, wherever I am…I just…it's great to…to s-see you again, but I still wish you weren't—"
"Colonel!" Riza interrupted, eyebrows raised. "I'm…afraid you're mistaken, sir."
"Mistaken…? H-How?"
"You…Colonel, you're…not dead."
She had to bite back a smile at the expression that filled his face.
"N-Not…?" Roy sat up, setting off sharp flares of pain. Riza let out a small gasp of alarm.
"Sir, what are you—please, you have to lie down, you're not strong enough to—"
"I-Impossible," he breathed as if he couldn't even hear her. "Impossible! I…I have to be…I have to be…!"
"Please, just lie down, sir." Riza gently forced him to lie back. "You're delirious, that's why everything must seem so strange to you right now. Just get some sleep…"
"N-No…!" he protested feebly. "Y-You don't understand! There's no way I could still be alive! T-There's…there's no way!"
Riza smiled slightly. "I assure you, Colonel, you're very much alive. Your wounds were very severe, but fortunately—"
"That's not…what I'm talking about!" he cried weakly.
"Colonel Mustang, you cannot afford to get so excited right now, you'll do serious damage to yourself. Everything's ok…you're safe now. You can relax."
"Damn it!" Roy knew he was getting hysterical, but hey, was he actually supposed to believe that he was alive? That he was alive, and, therefore, that Riza was--no. No, there was no way—he wasn't going to fall for that. He wouldn't swallow that hopeful lie. He wouldn't swallow it…because if he did, he'd only have a nice rude awakening later on. It wasn't worth it. "I d-don't care about…Riza, you…!"
She was silent now, looking at him uncertainly, so he barged on ahead.
"You don't under-understand, Riza. I…I can't still be alive, b-because if I am, then…then what the hell does that make you!"
"Sir, I…I'm not sure what you mean…"
"You died," he said flatly. Amazing, wasn't it, how much it hurt to say that, even now. "You died, and you're here. So, tell me, how…am I supposed to be alive if you're here? What are you if that's the…if that's the case, huh? A fucking angel? Not like that's not ex…tremly plausible, but…you…"
"Colonel…" she stopped for a second, as if not sure how to say what she wanted to. "Colonel, I, ah…I'm afraid you're a bit…a bit confused, I—"
"H-Hell yes, I'm confused!" Roy was getting too wound up; the room started to tilt and he closed his eyes, chest heaving. "I…I…" The smell blanketing the room was even sharper now- now it was smothering, a syrupy sweet odor. In his desperate confusion, he could feel the back of his eyes being pricked again, and he didn't like it. Forcing his eyes open against his collapse, he stared anxiously at Riza, at the one person he knew he shouldn't be seeing, even as he rejoiced at seeing her. "I know that you…you died…y-you were…were killed by a homunculus, and I…I let it happen…I got you involved, and I let it happen…"
Riza stood up, dropping the glass of water back on the end table with a thunk. From the outside, she looked serious enough—true, it was a cover for what she was really feeling at the sight of her colonel's distress (something she'd certainly never wanted to see), but Roy couldn't be expected to know that. All he saw was her frown.
"First of all, Colonel," she said sternly, "you didn't 'get me involved'. I involved myself back in Ishbal, and it wouldn't make much sense for me to just back out now. Second of all"- a bit of a gentle smile appeared on her face, and she once again pushed his straining form back down against the bed- "I was never killed by a homunculus. Delayed…not killed."
"But…you never came…the prison…you never came…"
It was like someone had flipped a switch—Riza went from smiling slightly to staring down at her clenched hands with guilt etched across her face.
"I…I know, sir…" she whispered. "I'm…very sorry, I…" She looked back up at him, and Roy searched for something besides sadness in her eyes. He couldn't find anything. "I know you were counting on me to back you up—I tried to reach the prison in time, but when Sloth attacked, I was unable to…I went as soon as I could—" She paused, and her voice hardened noticeably. "I have no excuse, Colonel. I was supposed to carry out my part of the mission, and I failed. I will accept any punishment you deem fit."
"P-Punishment…?" Roy took a deep breath. "L-Lieutenant Hawkeye…you m-mean to tell me that you were not killed by that homunculus? That, not only did you survive, but that even…even after being attacked, you rushed right into another potentially dangerous situation without hesi--hesitation? It never…crossed your mind to go and get your…your own wounds treated?"
Riza looked puzzled. "I wasn't severely injured, sir, only momentarily knocked unconscious—"
"You were knocked out, and you still came! L-Lieu…Lieutenant?"
"Yes sir…" She nodded slowly.
"So. I-I'm still alive…y-you're still alive…and the…only reason I'm here is because…because you came after me when any normal soldier would have backed off without a…a thought…and you think you d-deserve punishment?!"
"Sir, I—"
"Jesus Christ, Hawkeye. Jesus Christ…" Roy was speechless. Utterly and completely speechless. Riza wasn't exactly sure what to say herself. She started to mention some meaningless thing about him resting, but found herself rather distracted when Roy grabbed her wrist.
"C-Colonel?"
"I can't believe it…" he whispered, tightening his grip on her arm. Right now, he just had to feel the touch of her skin, the strong beat of her pulse, to believe that she was really there, that it really wasn't some sick joke or product of wishful thinking. "I can't believe it…"
Riza flushed. Hesitantly--although she was pretty sure it broke every code of conduct currently written--she couldn't help but bring her other hand over his. He closed his eyes, relishing in the contact, and for a few minutes, that's just how it was—the colonel and the first lieutenant, together, quietly. And although nothing was said out loud…it was still the most meaningful conversation either one of them had ever had
AN- okdoky then. anyone know a good site for finding cute royai pictures? i havent been able to find much of anything. i was so desperet, i even googled the show...-.-;...word of advice...NEVER google for images-specially anime ones-without the saftey search on. it's not pretty. and i'm not sure it's legal, either, what you see. :sigh:. so, anyway, e-mail/im/whatever me with any good sites, if you know any. i'm just tired of looking, and if i see one more royxed...lol. no offence, royxed fans, but that paring just...gr...i dislike it. alot. or maybe i'm just jelous that there's so many pics for that, and so little for royxriza. yeah, that's probably it XD;
review! i'm so close, yet so far to the 100 mark!