This drabble is dedicated to the super-duper-awesome Fireun
#61 Diary/Journal
"I see," there was a slight frown on his face as the nurse continued in a sympathetic tone. She bowed sadly as Mustang asked if they could be alone for a while. He sighed, placing his face in his calloused hands. The Colonel pulled his shoulders back as he ran a hand through his messy black locks. A small fake smile appeared on his face as he went to sit down next to the depressing hospital bed.
"Are…" his voice was softer than it had been in years, "you in any pain?"
She turned her head weakly and looked at him through half-lidded eyes, "Not as much any more, the morphine has dulled out most the pain." Roy gave off a quick sad smile as he placed a hand on her cold clammy one.
"I'm sorry you have to see me in this state sir," she closed her eyes, as if it would provide some form of small protection for what was left of her shatter soul.
"Hey," she opened her eyes as she felt his warm fingers brush away her bangs from her eyes, "you know that's not true Hawkeye." His onyx eyes softened when Riza looked up at him. "You know what I see right now? I see the strongest, most self confident woman I've ever known in my life sitting right in front of me." He trailed his fingers down by her ear then along her pale jaw. If her body could of, her cheek would have flushed at his forwardness, but instead they stayed a clammy pale color.
"Is there anything I can do to make you feel a bit better?" Roy placed his hand back onto hers. She stayed silent for a while before barley whispering, "There's a journal on the table over there…could you….read an entry out of it?"
Mustang grinned as he got up to retrieve the book, "Just any old entry First Lieutenant?" He faintly heard her say that the entry she wanted was marked. He sat near her hip, on the edge of the hospital bed, draping her limp arm over his lap. He opened the small black notebook to the bookmarked page, quickly glancing over the style of the entry. He looked up at her, "Poetry, eh?" She nodded her head ever so slightly; he went back to reading the entry quickly, so he could at least recite the poem well. He cleared his throat before he began to speak.
"Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love," Roy's voice was gentle and quite so only Riza could hear.
"And let us value all the rumors of old men to be just a penny," he let the little journal rest in his left hand, and placed his right over her resting hand.
"The suns are able to
fall and rise:
When that brief light
has fallen for us,we must sleep a never
ending night," he wrapped his fingers around her nimble hand. He
angled his body so that he could look at her as the next lines rolled
off his tongue like a sweet wine.
"Give me a thousand
kisses, then another hundred,
then another thousand,
then a second hundred,
then yet another
thousand, then another hundred," he entwined her delicate fingers
with his and squeezed her hand. The words danced from his mouth as if
he had recited the poem many a thousand times.
"Then, when we have
made many thousands,
we will mix them all up
so that we don't know,
and so that no one can
be jealous of us when he finds out
how many kisses we have
shared." He had placed the little book, and now was leaning close
to Riza's face, brushing away the tears that threatened to spill
down her cheeks.
"That's a beautiful poem."
"Yes," her voice was whispered and trembling, "it was always one of my favorites."
"And it always will be," he lightly her golden hair, memorizing her auburn eyes. Riza's pulse was steadily slowing, telling Roy that she would soon slip into that never-ending sleep.
"I…..I always had a dream….that one day….I'd….get to hear you read it," her voice was barley audible. He cupped her face in his hand, and leaned down, softly placing his lips on hers. Roy pulled back just ever so slightly whispering that her dream was now a reality.
"Thank you Roy," she whispered breathily against his lips as she squeezed his hand with what little strength she had left. Riza was fading away.
"I'll miss you Riza," his body started to tremble as a lone tear fell onto her cold cheek. With her last wake of consciousness, Riza mumbled the three words she waited to say for ten long years. He gave her hand three squeezes as it relaxed.
AN: Well, I'm done with finals! I'm a Juinor now! Wooohoooo!
But I do blame finals for spurring this. I get in this funky depression at the end of the year, 'specially when friends are going away. For those of you who don't know, the poem I used here is Catullus' Carmen 5 or better known as Give Me One Thousand Kisses. I love this poem to death (I actually had it as one of my translations for my Latin final today) XD I'm not quite sure I'm happy with the ending to this...but it works right? Sorry...no omake this time, but thank you everyone for the reviews! They keep me writing these things!
