Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is the property of Hiromu Arakawa, Funimation, and all related manga and anime companies in Japan and in the US. I own nothing but this fanfiction story.
Riza looked over the forms in her hands, checking one last time to make sure they had been filled out properly. Finding them satisfactory, she stood up from her neat, pristine desk, gathered up the documents, and, hugging them to her chest, walked to Roy's office.
Correction: Fuhrer Mustang's Office.
Riza couldn't hide her smile as she made her way to The Fuhrer's office door. Today was Roy's first full day as Fuhrer of Amestris. Her mind was flooded with memories….
For fifteen years after the end of the "Promised Day" and the "death" of Fuhrer King Bradley, Amestris had been led by the honorable Fuhrer Grumman (who, to Riza's shock, was her Grandfather on her mother's side). For the majority of those fifteen years, she, Roy, and their team had toiled in East City and Ishval, doing their best to restore what they had destroyed years earlier during the Ishvalan War of Extermination.
Under Fuhrer Bradley, the Amestrian State Military had been remorseless killers hellbent on creating senseless bloodshed, violence, and destruction. Under Fuhrer Grumman, they were regretful, repentant peacekeepers and advisors determined to create long lasting restoration, reconciliation, and peace.
Where they had once burned out and burned down buildings, they worked tirelessly in the scorching Ishvalan sun to rebuild and refit them for general use and for possible commercial or residential occupancy. Bombed and mined roads were cleared and repaved for civilian use. Houses of Worship that had once served as resistance hideouts now served as centers of Culture, Hope, Faith, and Community. Preachers who had once prayed to their God Ishvala to strike down the Amestrian military dogs now prayed for the sins of their former oppressors to be forgiven.
Amestrian soldiers who had once stared at their Ishvalan enemies through rifle sights with hate in their "killers eyes" now stared at their friends and allies with warmth. Hands that had once pointed guns at the Ishvalans with murderous intent now handed food, water, and medicine to them.
Even Scar, the one time priest turned State Alchemist serial killer, had returned to his spiritual roots and now assisted in the restoration of his people, serving as both a highly respected and beloved religious leader and as an advisor to Roy on Ishvalan/Amestrian relations.
To this day, the memory of Scar turning himself in to Brigadier General Mustang, demanding to be formally charged and punished for the murder of the Rockbells, the doctor couple that had treated everyone they could during the war regardless of which side they were on, shook her to her core.
Scar's admission, and subsequently scheduled public execution, had quickly become national news in Amestris and Ishval.
The only thing that shook Riza more than Scar's request was when Edward Elric, the legendary former State Alchemist once known as the Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the Promised Day, had stopped by their East City office in person to request that Scar be pardoned for the Rockbell murders.
In truth, the request was being made by Edward's wife Winry, the daughter of the doomed couple. According to Ed, while Winry could not bring herself to forgive Scar for murdering her parents, she also did not see a purpose in him being publicly executed. As a result, she, through Edward, was requesting that Scar be pardoned for the murder of her parents so that he could continue his work in helping his people.
In Ed's opinion, Scar deserved to burn in whatever Hell the Ishvalans did or didn't believe in, but, he reiterated, the request wasn't about him or his personal feelings, but his wife's. As the last surviving member of the Rockbell family (Granny Panako had sadly passed away a few years after the Promised Day), Winry felt it was only fair that she should have final say over Scar's life, and she had decided to show him the mercy he had refused to show her parents.
Scar had murdered her parents in an act of hate, and while she could never forgive him for that, she did not want to see his life taken, especially since now he was finally doing something good with it.
START FLASHBACK
"An eye for an eye makes the world blind," Winry explained to Ed, "and I don't want to become blind with hate. More importantly, I don't want the leaders of our country to become blinded with hate, or to use Scar's actions against my parents as an excuse to victimize the Ishvalans again."
She took Ed's hands in hers and stared at him imploringly. "Please Edward. I know you don't agree, and I know you have a terrible history with Scar, and I know you have a love-hate relationship with Mustang, but please, please make the request. That's all I ask. That's all you can do. Whatever the State decides is up to them, but I have to know that I said my piece, that I at least tried. Please Edward. Please."
Ed looked away. "Alright, alright already." He answered, more than slightly annoyed. "I'll make the trip and ask Brigadier General Jackass with a God Complex to hear the request and see if he can do something about it, or if he knows someone who can. I make no guarantees though. Military politics are a pain in the ass, one of the thousand plus reasons I retired as soon as possible after Al got his body back."
Winry smiled and kissed Edward gently on the lips.
"Thank You Edward."
Ed sighed and wrapped Winry in a warm, tight hug. "Yeah, yeah." He grumbled lightly. He looked down at her baby bump, which was gently pressing against his flat stomach.
"We got kiddo number three in there." Ed stated. His awe, happiness, and smug male pride in becoming a father again for the third time was unmistakable.
"Yes, yes we do. I love you Ed." Winry stated, snuggling her head into the crook of his neck.
Ed rested his chin gently on the top of her head, her curtain of blonde hair tickling his nose. "Love you too Win, love you too."
END FLASHBACK
As promised, Ed made the trip, and the request. Roy had listened intently to Edward's proposal, and informed him that while he would submit a formal Request for Pardon on Scar's behalf, he couldn't guarantee anything, noting that Scar's crimes weren't just against a civilian couple during wartime, but also against the Amestrian State itself, as he had murdered and had attempted to murder several State Alchemists during peacetime, and Fuhrer Grumman was not likely to overlook these crimes to appease the wife of the former Fullmetal Alchemist.
After all, Roy reminded Ed, military politics were a pain in the ass.
To Roy's shock, Fuhrer Grumman had granted the pardon. Years later, when Grumman was personally grooming Roy to be the next Fuhrer, he had explained his reasoning behind the decision.
While the military, in particular the State Alchemists, had been understandably outraged by the pardon, Grumman had been willing to risk their anger to bridge the gap that they were trying to repair with the Ishvalans. Pardoning Scar, while personally disgusting to Grumman, was the best option in his opinion, as the public execution of a beloved priest and representative of the Ishvalan people would accomplish nothing positive for Amestris in the long term, regardless of how guilty he was. Giving Scar a pardon, extending forgiveness of his crimes in a very public way, would appeal to the deeply religious nature of the Ishvalans, and hopefully improve the very tense, "Strange Bedfellows" type relationship the former enemies had with one another.
If Amestris could pardon a guilty Ishvalan, perhaps the Ishvalans would feel inclined to extend the same courtesy to the Amestrian military.
Also, letting the Ishvalans know that the wife of the beloved Hero of the People and Hero of the Promised Day, the Fullmetal Alchemist, was a victim of Scar's violence, yet had enough goodness in her heart to forgive him for the crimes committed against her family, to the point of requesting a pardon in his behalf, well, that could only improve relations with the Ishvalans and make the Amestrians appear to be a morally strong, forgiving, merciful people.
That the State Alchemists and the Army were close to mutiny and calling for Scar's head on spike was an inconvenience that the Ishvalans didn't need to know about, and that the Fuhrer would smooth over internally.
On that day, Roy learned that while military politics were indeed a pain in the ass, national politics were a whole 'nother level and a thousand times worse.
The Pardon of Scar had been nearly a decade ago. Now, Fuhrer Grumman was an elderly gentleman living out his twilight years in peace, security, and Madame Christmas new and improved bar (courtesy of her son Roy Mustang of course), and Roy was now the newly minted Fuhrer Mustang, leader of Amestris and Commander and Chief of her Military.
Amazing how time files.
Riza shook her head as she approached the Fuhrer's door. She couldn't be stuck in the past, not when the future ahead was so bright.
Riza paused in front of the office door and knocked, gently rapping her knuckles against the door. When she got no response, she knocked again, this time calling out "Fuhrer Mustang sir? Are you in there?" When the Fuhrer still didn't respond, she became alarmed, and found herself even more so as she grabbed the doorknob and found it turned easily in her strong grip.
The door wasn't locked? Why the hell wasn't the door locked?
She turned the doorknob, pushed the door open, and found herself in stunned silence by the sight before her.
Roy was hunched over his large mahogany desk, reading a form. There was a large, neat stack of paperwork to his left, and a smaller, somewhat messy stack to his right. Pens, pencils, notepads, and various office supplies were strewn haphazardly across the desk. He had a large Amestrian blue mug in front of his face, the State Military insignia emblazoned on the side of the mug that was facing her, the lip of the mug hidden by his thick mustache. His expression soured for a moment, and he brought the form closer to his face.
It only took twenty years and becoming Fuhrer to finally convince him to do his paperwork. Riza thought to herself.
She decided to take a moment and drink in the incredibly rare sight of Roy Mustang being a responsible adult. He bore very little resemblance to the clean shaven, fresh faced young man he had once been. While he looked younger than his forty-seven years would suggest, there were some signs of age, namely the hint of grey in his slicked back hair and in his facial hair, which was trimmed in what she was told was the "Anchor" style, which was a full mustache and goatee connected to a chinstrap beard.
While Riza didn't quite understand the ins and outs of men's beard styles, she had to admit it looked good on him, giving him the "distinguished gentleman" appearance he had bemoaned not having in his youth.
Whether it was the casual, carefree, boyish look of his twenties and early 30s, or the older, more mature and gentlemanly look he had adopted in his late thirties and had maintained since, one thing had never changed.
Roy Mustang was an exceptionally handsome man, and not even advancing middle age could take that from him (though he did complain about greying hair and looking too old from time to time).
"You know sir, you may be able to read the form better, and with less strain on your eyes, if you would just wear the reading glasses you were prescribed." Riza stated.
Roy put down his mug and looked at her standing in the doorway to the the right side of the room. "Good Afternoon Colonel Hawkeye, nice to finally see you on this fine day. Thank You for your concern, but as I have stated many times, I do not need reading glasses. Or any type of glasses."
Roy watched transfixed as Riza made her way from the door to stand in front of his desk. Her honey brown eyes still mesmerized him and took his breath away. He would gladly spend all day and all night staring into her eyes if she'd let him.
She was still tall and strong and fit, her hips and shapely legs making his head spin with thoughts he dare not speak of as she moved, even when dressed in the drab, formless, sexless, absolutely lifeless blue uniform of the State Military (which reminded Roy- Mission Number One as Fuhrer- redesign the female uniform to be more flattering to the female form, with miniskirts as an option alongside the standard knee length skirt and trousers. Mission Number Two as Fuhrer- convince Hawkeye to be the model for the miniskirt uniform).
In Roy's heavily biased opinion, if any woman embodied the phrase "I hate to see her leave, but I love to watch her go", it was Riza Hawkeye.
Riza wore her long hair in the standard "donut" bun style now, as opposed to the flip-up she had adopted when she had first grown her hair out after the war.
She had been in her early twenties then. Amazing how time flies.
These days, her hair was grey and blonde, with the grey starting at the root and slowly spreading down her flaxen locks, creating streaks that mixed in with the blonde that remained.
She still had her signature "Hawk's Eye" bangs though.
As the saying goes, the more things change, the more some things stay the same.
Her face now displayed slight signs of aging, in particular the crow's feet at the eyes and smile lines at the corners of her thin lips. There were slight wrinkles in her forehead, the result of having spent many years staring disapprovingly at his sloppily completed paperwork.
In Roy's opinion, these signs of aging only enhanced her beauty. (Not that she would agree. For the life of him, he would never understand why she was so sensitive about her age). She was no longer the nervous young girl he had met in Master Hawkeye's home all those years ago, when he had been but a teenager. Now, she was a woman, a strong woman who had fought and lived and died beside him several times over in her life, a loyal woman who stood by him and his idealistic vision for their country through thick and thin, through hell and back, who put her life on the line to save him from himself when the depths of his destructive anger, rage, and hate had threatened to consume him completely.
On top of all that, she was a capable and dangerous woman, one who still earned top marks at the gun range and easily outshot not only her officemates, but nearly the entire State Military itself, to the point that it was she who selected and trained elite snipers, and oversaw the rehauled Basic Marksmanship and Weapons Qualification programs, which under her supervision had gone from next to dead last in graduation percentages to now competing for the top spot with General Armstrong and her infamous Briggs Bears in only two years.
In Roy's opinion, Riza had EARNED the grey hair and the forehead wrinkles and the rough hands from handling a gun for most of her adult life. What others would term as imperfections that were to be hidden and ashamed of, he saw as proof of life, proof of a life that had been tough and hard fought, that had been forever scarred with tragedy that would never fade, wounds that would never heal, but with a Strength of Spirit that was hard to break.
For all this and more, Riza Hawkeye was a vision of beauty in Roy's eyes. She was a Guardian, a Warrior Goddess made flesh, and any supposed "imperfections" in her appearance just made her more beautiful and attractive to him.
Which was saying something, considering he had been ridiculously attracted to her since they were kids living under her father's barely functional roof.
She had been beautiful at age twenty-three, she was beautiful now at age forty-three, and she would continue to be beautiful until the day she died, signs of aging be damned.
"Anyway", Roy stated, dragging his mind back to the situation at hand, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence this fine afternoon?"
"Paperwork." Riza answered. "Which, for once in life, it seems you are taking seriously sir."
"Hah hah, yes," Roy answered. "Even I have to buckle down and get to work every now and again." With that Riza placed her small stack of paperwork on the desk.
Roy picked them up, bringing them so close to his face they nearly touched his nose, and looked over them quickly. "Nothing pressing it seems." He muttered. He looked at the clock hanging on the right-side wall. "Ten minutes to Five. These can wait till Monday."
"Of course. Sir." Riza stated.
Roy stood up and walked to one of the windows on the left side wall. He fussed with the blinds until they were secured near the top of the window. He stood in front of the window with his back to Riza, hands clasped behind him.
Riza moved to stand beside him, coping his pose as she did so.
Roy and Riza stared at the expanse of grey office buildings and city streets before them.
"We did it," Roy stated, voice full of child-like glee and astonishment, "We actually did. it., I'm the Fuhrer. This crazy half-baked goal I came up with as a broken young man in a warzone has actually, finally come true. I'm the Fuhrer now. I'M THE FUHRER NOW!" He couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.
"Everything the light touches is your Kingdom Sir." Riza stated.
"Our Kingdom," Roy corrected, "At least until I reinstate democratic order and bring everything crashing down around us so we can finally be punished for our actions in Ishval."
"Yes, but that's a long ways off Sir. You can enjoy your accomplishment even though you know it isn't going to last." Riza stated.
"Well, that exchange of conversation just left a bittersweet taste in my mouth." Roy responded.
"My apologies Sir." Riza stated.
"No, no, you're not to blame, I'm the one who brought it up." Roy stated.
He turned towards her then, taking her rough hands into his gloved ones. "Really though, thank you Colonel Hawkeye. If it wasn't for you, I would have died, metaphorically and literally, years ago. If it wasn't for the team, I'd never gotten anything done. All of you have given up so much to follow me down this path, to this outcome. I don't think there's anything I could ever say or ever do to properly express my appreciation and gratitude to you all."
"Be a Good and Just Fuhrer." Riza stated. "Keep your promise to restore Democracy to Amestris. Lead us into a bright future, and it will be more than enough. If you can do that, we will follow you to hell and back, a thousand times over, gladly."
"So long as you watch my back, I can do anything." Roy stated.
"I'm not going anywhere Sir. You'd have to kill me first." Riza responded.
"Well, that's certainly never going to happen." Roy stepped closer to Riza "I hereby solemnly swear to uphold the trust and belief that you, the team, the nation, and everyone we lost on the way here put in me. I vow to lead Amestris into a bright future, to continue the great work that Fuhrer Grumman started. I will work to restore Democracy to our country, and when the time comes, I will step down and accept my punishment for what I did during Ishval, come what may."
"I'll hold you to that Sir." Riza stated.
"You better. You watch my back for a reason." Roy responded.
Riza nodded curtly. "Of course. Understood Sir."
Roy turned back to his desk and picked up a picture, which he then showed to Riza. It was of Maes Hughes comically hugging Riza's pet Shiba Inu puppy Black Hayate.
"I remember this." Riza answered. "This was shortly after I took Hayate in. Hughes wanted a picture with him because he couldn't have a dog at home, what with Gracia and Elisia both being allergic. Poor Hayate was traumatized for a week after that hug."
Roy chuckled. "I remember that every time Maes stopped by after that, Hayate would hide behind your legs or under your desk."
"Yes," Riza answered, her voice wistful. "Hayate always expected Mommy to keep him safe."
"And she did," Roy stated. "And she did. Everytime. In fact, I remember Hayate returned the favor a few times over in his life."
"He did," Riza stated. "He most certainly did. Most loyal dog I ever met, with the exception of a certain Colonel I once knew."
Roy smiled sadly. "How are you doing without him? I know it's been a few years since he passed away."
"I get by." Riza sighed." It's lonely without him. I didn't realize how attached I'd get, or how much it would hurt when he got old and sick and I had to make the choice to put him down. I'm glad I was able to be there for him and comfort him in his final moments, but it broke my heart in a way I can't describe. I got so used to having him around. Now, when I go home, I'm greeted with silence and a few of his items that I held onto. It's home, but it's not the same. It's…." She struggled to say the word. "Empty. It's empty without Hayate around. Sometimes, I'll think I hear a bark, or sometimes I'll jump up off the couch ready to take him for a walk, only to remember a moment later that he's not here anymore."
Roy put a comforting hand on Riza's shoulder. "It hurts like hell to lose your best friend." Riza looked into his eyes and knew that he was referencing more than just an animal companion. "You never forget, but the pain dulls over time. There'll come a day when you can look back on the happy moments and smile. I promise."
"I hope so," Riza stated. "It's been almost three years."
"It takes time. It's been over fifteen years since Hughes was murdered, and I still miss him every day." Roy stated.
"We all miss Brigadier General Hughes Sir. We all miss him dearly." Riza stated.
"Yes, but he was my best friend, the closest thing I had to a brother." Roy paused. "When that bastard Envy killed him, it was like a part of myself died too. But I've come to a place where I can remember the good times, and even some of the not so good times, without feeling so emotional or torn up about it anymore. It's like a dull ache. It's not debilitating, and you can go on about your normal life, but you feel that pain, no matter what you do. I promise, you'll get to that point, it's just going to take some time, which is the absolute suckiest part of grieving."
Riza chuckled. The Fuhrer of Amestris just said the word "suckiest" like he's a thirteen year old boy again. She thought to herself.
"I'll hold you to that Sir." Riza stated.
Roy smiled. "Please do." He put the picture back on the desk. He looked at the clock on the wall.
"Well, would you look at that, it's Five past Five. Time for us to get going. See you Monday Colonel Hawkeye." Roy stated.
"Yes, see you Monday Sir." With that, Riza began to move toward the door, but stopped mid stride.
It's now or never. She told herself sternly.
"Sir, before we leave, there's a request I have to ask of you." Riza stated.
"Ask it." Roy answered tersely.
"Sir, there is…. a gift that I have waited a very long time to give to you. I had to hold on to it until today. I would like to give you this gift before we part ways for the weekend."
What the hell is she talking about? Roy asked himself.
"Is this your request?" Roy asked.
"No Sir." Riza answered.
"Then what is your request exactly, Colonel Hawkeye?" Roy asked.
"My request is for permission to give you this gift Sir." Riza answered.
"Permission granted," Roy answered. "Now let's…."
Before Roy could finish his sentence, Riza had cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him.
Roy's senses were overloaded and on fire.
Riza's kissing me. Riza Hawkeye is. KISSING. ME.! Oh God, don't faint, don't faint. Don't shut down brain, no, not yet, not yet….
Having regained some internal composure, Roy wrapped his arms around Riza and kissed her back passionately, a lifetime's worth of emotion poured into the heartfelt, soul searing kiss.
Finally, when neither one could breathe anymore, they pulled away, only to embrace each other a moment later in a fierce, tight, loving hug.
"I love my gift," Roy stated, still a bit breathless. "Thank you. It was well worth the wait, better than I could ever imagine, and believe me, I have imagined."
Riza smiled. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I have waited a very long time to give you your gift. You're a very talented kisser, by the way."
Roy was positively beaming.
"How about we catch a meal, then maybe head back to your place to "exchange gifts" some more, hm?" Roy asked.
Riza smiled. "Sounds good to me. Let me get my coat."
As Roy and Riza stumbled through Riza's door, kiss stained lips and eager hands fumbling in the darkness, they both had one thing on their minds.
Best. Gift. Ever!