Sapphic, Chapter 2
By Kurama Sweethart
#30 Themes for 30Nights
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Riza Hawkeye x Maria Ross
Warning: These themes follow no chronological or specific timeline and are in now way related to each other. Each of the thirty drabbles maybe very heavy with Yuri themes, or some could be viewed as just a platonic relationship, depending on the point of view of the reader.
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! This chapter hopefully will begin to take off towards their manga interactions more, as oppose to sticking with anime canon as in previous chapters.

Theme #11: You Will Never Look At Me
Words: 251

She hadn't seen the blow coming- how could she? - When the flames engulfed her and the harsh chemicals seared her eyes, beautiful and curious, rendering them sightless forever. Even now, in times of peace, a radical group planted a newly developed weapon of warfare, lovingly nestled in the pipes of Central HQ plumbing; a nuclear explosion that caused death for miles.

She was lucky to be alive, the doctors told Maria, as if that would comfort her. She wasn't even allowed in the hospital room. Family only, they said, as if that meant something to her. Lover of many years left to a sterile, unforgiving sitting room while Riza lay in a crisp, white hospital bed, alone and- and dying.

She was lucky to be alive, the doctors told Maria, even as she clumsily shuffled about the room, arms and hands and beautiful, gentle fingers outstretched and groping for something familiar and stable and comforting in the new, cruel darkness.

"There's nothing we can do." The doctors told Maria, as if that made it better. As if it gave them some sort of twisted redemption. "Her sight is gone. Permanently."

She was lucky to be alive, Maria repeated to her, kissing those fingers that had once brought death to too many. As if that was supposed to comfort her, knowing that it could have been worse. Knowing that she couldn't fire a gun or bathe herself or see the children she loved play in the park. "Then why aren't you looking at me?" Riza asked darkly, receiving only Maria's sobs as response.

Theme #12: Your Love Is Suffocating Me
Words: 217

Riza's skin was as hot as the flame she loved, burning like the bullets that bit through flesh. Her kiss was as cool and calculated as the one she loved, smug and confident and self-assured like her colonel back in East City. Her touch was as false and forced and controlled as the façade she put up, as bloody and cruel as the way her eyes always lingered too long on his back and always glazed with longing for him as Maria pleasured her.

To suffocate the fire, you must first douse the flame.

One lover was slain at the hands of another; and Riza's walls only grew stronger. An innocent accused; a pacifist turned a murderer for so-called 'vengeance', and when Maria escaped to Xing, all she could think of was the way her eyes seemed so cold and distant.

Riza's skin was as hot as the flame she loved, not cool because that's what he would have wanted. Her kiss was as smug and calculated as she was sure his was, not loving, because that's what he would have loved. Her touch was as false and controlled as his façade, not gentle, because that was what he would have needed.

No one ever told Riza that her lover had lived, and frankly, Maria didn't think she cared.

Theme #13: Paint the Night With Stars
Words: 213

It was childish, Maria knew, climbing up onto the hill, mountains of the Briggs gray and faded in the distance. She hadn't watched the sky since before she left home, before the military, before she loved her.

It was a mystery, why she felt so compelled to watch them now, science that was so bright and enigmatic and farther than eyes could see. Science that had no purpose or real meaning; Science that was only speculation and theory; Science that really wasn't science at all.

It was amazing, watching them wink and fade and glow with no other purpose than to just be, burning and dying and being born again, like a phoenix from the ashes of an abyss no one really bothered to wonder about.

But it gave her comfort somehow, as she thought that maybe she was watching them, too. That those stars and planets and clusters of rock were blessed with her attention, even for a moment, as her life went on without her and with the Elrics and the Colonel and that cute little dog she adored.

It was childish, Maria knew, climbing onto the hill with Xing behind her and the heavens before her, the only real connection she had to Riza Hawkeye, now-

-Other than her faded memory.

Theme #14: Guardian Angel
Words: 204

As a little girl, Riza's mother had told her that the angels would forever watch her, no matter who or what or where she was. She hadn't really understood what exactly an angel was or why they were always watching her, but every night after her bath she would kneel at her bedside and say their prayer, feeling her mother's hot breath on her neck as she too clasped her hands in prayer.

As a young woman, her father's fresh grave told her that she was better off with a pistol than with a bible, because angels couldn't protect her from gunfire. She hadn't really understood what exactly had her mother convinced the angels were protecting them, but as soon as she enlisted in the military she stopped wondering and started knowing.

As an adult, her lover's soft kisses and gentle touches told her that the angels were white and her pistol was black and that it was possible to swirl them together, like paint on the brush of an artist, creating a gray of love and hate and sex and war and pleasure and pain.

She didn't think angels held rifles and dressed in blue canvas, but now, at least, she had one.

Theme #15: Telling You the Truth
Words: 199

The notion of saying things that weren't true had never been something she'd understood, even in her childhood as a strong, stony girl who preferred to shoot pebbles at birds than play hopscotch with the other children in their frilly, lacy dresses and polished shoes. Telling lies was stupid, for people that weren't strong enough to take the truth.

She'd stuck by that ideal, through her days at academies and camps and training, as a lieutenant to a lazy colonel who liked nothing more than to do just what she had spent her whole life trying not to; lying and joking and teasing with false information and sad eyes hidden behind a smirk.

"Do you love me?" Maria had asked, soft and unsure and almost scared of the answer as she curled her hand lazily around the dip in Riza's waist.

The notion of saying things that weren't true had never been something she'd understood, although now, Riza thought, she could understand why someone might.

Telling lies was stupid and childish, for people that weren't strong enough to handle the truth. Although now, Riza knew, lies weren't for the people who did the telling.

"Of course, Maria."

Theme #16: You Don't Know What You've Done to Me
Words: 225

The night was dark, darker than any Maria could remember. The storm tore at the roof, all wind and rain and lightening too close for comfort. The bed-sheets were icy and sticky and hot all at once and if it weren't for Riza's steady breath warming her shoulder, Maria knew she would have left hours ago, before their eyes had met or their fingers brushed or their lips locked without either really realizing it was happening.

Vaguely, she wondered if she smiled like that on purpose, so sorry and comforting and beautiful all at once that Maria's knees went weak and suddenly breathing wasn't necessary. She wondered if she put her hair up like that on purpose, so that towards the end of the day when lines of fatigue and worry etched her eyes her hair would fall out in wisps around her face. She wondered if she knew how curious her eyes were, red and brown and gold all at once without ever really changing.

Riza shifted and even though she was awake didn't open her eyes, only murmured and draped an arm between Maria's breasts and smiled.

The night was dark, darker than any she could remember, and even though normal, coherent and reasonable Maria would have left hours ago, she didn't think the change was all that bad.

Theme #17: Wings
Words: 219

It was quite the surprise when, after receiving yet another award for her achievements in the military, Maria asked if there was nothing that Riza Hawkeye couldn't do. For a moment she had thought about laughing or smiling or jokingly saying that there wasn't, but before any real, acceptable answer could come out, yet another idea came to mind. "Fly," Riza had said, offhandedly, and that was that.

What exactly the Technological Studies Bureau was working on, no one really knew, which also caught Riza as strange when Maria became adamant to join its ranks. There were many things shared between both of them, but for some reason, her reason, was safely guarded.

"What is this?" Riza asked years later, puzzled at the small ticket Maria had placed into her hands. But she had only smiled and shrugged and grabbed her by the hand to drag her off to a warehouse in South-Central.

It was quite the surprise when, after clambering into the large, oddly shaped machine, that it took off into the air, dipping and spinning and flying. "This is what you've been working on?" Riza asked, and it would be the second question that had gone unanswered that day.

"Now you've done everything." Maria whispered over the whir of the engine.

Riza heard it all the same.

Theme #18: Listen to the Music
Words: 182

The phonograph was given to her by her father, and it was old and dusty and chipped in all the wrong places. She didn't have any records to play, anyway, which is how it managed to get stashed in the broom closet in the guestroom of Maria's apartment. Years went by; lullabies and rhapsodies and old, tinkering love songs were long forgotten in the shuffle of military duties, paperwork and visiting East City, on occasion.

"Run away to Xing," Roy had murmured to her, placing a map and a small package into her hands. "I'll take care of everything here."

And she had swallowed loudly, as if doing so would keep her heart from leaping into her mouth. Turning the package over carefully in her hands, Maria looked up at him as he prepared her corpse. "Could you tell her something?"

Riza was surprised to find, after getting the suggestion from the colonel, that the records were ridiculously appropriate.

Almost too appropriate.

Then again, she mused as the soft, dipping music began to play; Maria was never exactly a woman of words.

Theme #19: Crying All Night for You
Words: 210

Sometimes they'd forget how much they meant to each other in the swells of time and distance and too-long letters that didn't say enough. Maria would call after duty from the little payphone outside headquarters, grinning into the receiver and talking about the weather when she meant say 'I love you' and relaying news about the Elrics when she wanted to say 'I miss you' and asking about the colonel when she really meant 'I want you'.

When they'd hang up, after goodbyes that said everything they didn't mean, Maria would trudge to her apartment feeling worse than she had and wondering if it'd be easier to not answer the letters or pass the payphone after work and concentrate on things she could have.

Sometimes they'd forget how much they meant to each other in the heat and sweat of sex that said what they were feeling and not what they were thinking and Maria wondered if this was really what she worked so hard for.

But then Riza would smile into her neck and hold her tight and kiss her lazily and slow and deliciously messy and run her fingers down Maria's spine and suddenly she'd remember why she cried every night, clinging her pillow and murmuring Riza's name.

Theme #20: Never Leave Me Again
Words: 223

Maria wasn't sure when, exactly, she had coined the term 'lovers', but it felt pleasant and appropriate on her lips. Before, they had never given a name to it, 'fucking' too vulgar and 'making love' too committed. Maybe it was when she began to discover the little things about Riza Hawkeye that weren't typically things she read about in romance novels, which were all breasts and legs and mouths and undying love.

Riza was too different, too special, Maria corrected, to be forced to fall into the rut of what made a typical lover. Her tongue never pushed or nudged; it swirled, slowly and surely and sometimes damnably controlled. Her fingers never parted or penetrated; they caressed, soft enough that Maria sometimes forgot they were there. Her waist dipped roughly and her navel was slightly turned up, but it was unbalanced and abnormal and just so wonderfully perfect all at once.

They were too different, too special, to fall into the rut of what made typical lovers.

Maria wasn't sure when she had decided that 'love' was an suitable term for her feelings towards Riza, but it tasted slightly sweet on her tongue and caused her knees to collapse in on themselves. It was appropriate, she supposed, that lovers would love one another, but it surprised her all the same.

But then again, they were too different, too special, to fall into the rut of normalcy.

TBC. Part 2 of 3.