Royai 100 Themes:
73; Parting.
Watch out for: Post-series/pre-movie spoilers.
Anime-based.
Author's Note: Sorry for being so late with an update. School's been a royal pain in the ass, to put it briefly.
I'm not completely pleased with this one, but it holds elements I like.
Hope you enjoy. o 3o
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"So this is it."
The wind blew multicolored leaves in the crisp autumn air, a chill sent down both of their spines as they stood in front of the train. Allowing multiple people to pass them was a difficult task, for they both knew he'd have to board sooner or later. Later is what they were aiming for.
A part of Roy just wanted to get on the train and run. He wanted to get away. He needed to rethink everything.
The government was still like it used to be with its old standards and ways, yet he could tell with the fall of Bradley came the fall of false politics and false ways to living. Ishbal and Amestris were slowly becoming allies once more; the current leaders of the country were even thinking of electing another Fuhrer. But what if the new Fuhrer, if elected, did just what Bradley did? What if Hughes died for nothing?
At first Roy thought it was Hughes' fault for him leaving, but he soon had an epiphany: He needed to get away. He needed to get away from her. The way she looked at him now was so like a kicked puppy. She didn't seem to see him at all. Instead she saw the damned eyepatch – her guilt. It wasn't even her bullet, it was her timing. But time was enough to kill her inside. It was enough to prevent her from showing that golden smile all the way, enough to keep her eyes from shining like they used to, enough to hold her voice back from the sweet tone ringing within it with every word she spoke to him. And there just wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
Yet it seemed that another part of him wanted to stay, to help her heal, to help heal his country and prevent the past from repeating itself. But how could he, with his righthand woman in misery of a mistake she didn't even do?
And, in comparison, the entire whole of Riza's being wanted to cry and beg him not to go. She wanted him to—no, no, that was an understatement. She needed him to stay if she had any hope of fully living. Oh yes, she'd move on. She could just imagine he never existed. She could command the men who were once under him. She could take control of her own life and live life without Roy Mustang to lead her around. Hell, Hawkeye could so easily forget him. She was wiser than that and knew that the instant he would rise up again like a bubble in her mind, she would break like a porcelain doll. She knew that if she lost this man that she would never be the same, even if no one around her knew of the painful burden she would be carrying. For once she wasn't thinking about him. She was thinking about herself.
In the back of her mind, however, was the thought of losing someone she just began to get comfortable with. She couldn't exactly remember when – sometime after Hughes died but earlier than the Elric's going to Ishbal – but the two of them began to frequently see one another. Something happened to him after the death of his best friend; he seemed more careful of where he put his pawns, careful to keep an eye on them --- especially her. In a way it touched her emotionally. Perhaps that's why she caved in to her feelings. Perhaps she was tired of the same old thing.
Perhaps she was insane. Hawkeye knew something was going to happen between them to tear them apart. She just didn't think he'd be the one to do so.
The smoke of the train filled Roy's nose but nearly made him sick. Realizing what he was doing was leaving a grim expression of regret on his young face. Even so young as thirty, the eyepatch made him look older for some reason; more mature, wiser, knowledgeable. His navy jacket covered a black undershirt, one hand in his blue pocket, the other gripping both his ticket and his bag. His back faced Hawkeye, of whom was in a different off-duty uniform of dark blue jeans and a black mid-shirt, sleeves falling to her elbows and the collar stretching out near her shoulder. Her face appeared calm to most, but if he turned around he would be able to read the sorrow in her expression with such ease it would make him sicker than he already felt.
His eye fell to the cement below him. Of course she wouldn't reply; she didn't want this to be the end. Swallowing thickly he looked over his shoulder. Her own hazel optics were cast downwards in a saddened gaze. It felt like jaws clamping on his heart to see what he was doing to her, but he had to. She wouldn't want to see him depressed – Roy knew this. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, him leaving was partially, if not entirely influenced by her now.
If he told her that, her burdens would only crush her more and her misplaced guilt would only grow.
The windchill made her shiver for a moment, bumps appearing on her thin arms and making her nearly twitch to reach and warm herself. Roy could tell Riza's determination not to even do that. She always had to be so strong. Turning his body to face her Roy found no words coming to mind to offer her any comfort. All would be answered with wit, or would backfire and injure her emotions more than they already were. Instead a soft sigh came from him, his chest rising and falling as the breath escaped him. "It's not the end, you know," he murmured, seeing the brown in her eyes looking to him as her head rose, "it could be worse."
"I'd rather not think about the other scenarios, sir," she replied with a quiet tone. "I know there are worse situations."
The tone made his fist nearly clench. For a moment he felt himself wanting to go over to her, grab her by her shirt and shake some sense into her by yelling and begging her to knock off the sad façade she was in. He knew she wouldn't stop being depressed until he changed his mind or came home. Neither were options at that moment. Instead he closed his eye and turned, grasped his bag and took off waking without another word.
His footsteps echoed loudly in Hawkeye's mind, bouncing off the walls and making her wince with every step. Every step he took was a step farther away from her, a nail in her soul. Her teeth bit softly on her lower lip and a noise escaped her throat. It sounded more like a desperate attempt at saying something, a gargle maybe, than any words. But with enough persistence and enough realization that he was getting closer to the train made her speak. "Wait."
The echoing stopped. The wind blew gently again, his back still facing her. He had to have been laughing at her. Hawkeye nearly felt her knees buckle from under her as she felt her throat tightening. Don't, she begged herself pitifully. The last thing she needed was to cry for a man she knew she'd be crying for in the next few weeks, the next few months, even years if he didn't come home. Gently she took a few steps forward, testing her limits every step. After six she stopped and gazed frantically to him. No movement. He wasn't going to run from her.
Her thin legs carried her quietly closer to a man she loved, someone who was running for reasons she couldn't understand. If she knew those reasons her very soul would shatter. If she discovered that this was partly her fault then she would die on the spot, give up, never move on, you name it. Riza would never forgive herself for hurting him.
Eventually after what seemed to be a millennium she was only a few feet behind him. His once tall stature and squared shoulders sagged, his posture relaxing. Hawkeye licked her lips, trying to find any decent amount of words to say to him. Changing his mind wasn't an option anymore; it was thrown out the window and out of proportion the second she heard him say he was leaving. Yet giving him a decent goodbye was still possible.
"Can I ask why?" Riza spoke with a soft tone holding a bit of childish curiosity within each word spoken.
Roy once more turned, only to stop halfway, one arm facing her but neck craned her way. The leaves of the trees falling behind the train station and the light of the sun made her innocent yet hurt face look radiant. How he wanted to run to her and embrace her, kiss her hungrily and passionately, throw his bags away and carry her home. What a storybook ending. No ending was ever that happy. Yet she still held that same quirk about her, the quirk that always made his eyes, or eye in his current state, soften; and that it did. Mustang gave a small sigh and replied, still desperate not to reveal his true meaning. "I need to think. Central is too distracting: it's changing its ways, politics are becoming a verbal fray, and…" He shook his head with a weak chuckle. "They're pathetic reasons, ridiculous. I know that. I just need to think."
"And Central's becoming a distraction?"
"Yes."
"Am I?"
Her words chilled his blood. Yes, she was, in a way, a distraction to him – in the vaguest sense of the word. He watched her almost horrified as her expression went from curious to nearly self-loathing. "No." He heard a gentle scoff from her and saw her look away with mild disgust, disgust at him or herself he didn't know. He frowned. "What's with that scoff?"
She shrugged. "You're a liar, that's all."
His tone hinted at mild annoyance or anger. He didn't know which. "What…?" He stared at her with a pause. Roy continued. "Of all the things I am, I'm not a liar. Why do you say I am?" His hand was placed on his hip in annoyance, and sarcasm began to stain his voice. "I thought you knew me."
"I do," she growled, anger seeping into hers, "and I know that I was a distraction for you. I should have never come along with you to Bradley's--"
"Don't,--" Roy murmured, his anger growing.
"You could have calculated a plan without me," she hissed, her fists twitching for a brief moment. She sighed and looked away, now angered at no one but herself. "Maybe you wouldn't be going if you hadn't gotten hurt. Maybe you'd actually stay here and--"
Mustang took a step forward with a low grumble of a growl. "I needed you."
"'Needed'?" Her head swiftly turned to him, hurt in her eyes but strength in her face. "You don't need me anymore? Is THAT why you're leaving??"
His mistake rang in his ears and Mustang shook his head. "That's not it. I needed help on that mission and I chose you because I trust you the most, out of every other being I've seen alive today." She didn't reply. Instead she still watched him. Roy's anger fell through his hands slowly as he relaxed his expression. "Although, I think I understand where you're coming from with this 'distraction' nonsense." Her eyebrow perked in question. "You think if I had focused on the mission alone that I would have gotten out perfectly unscathed. Right?" She was silent, his words making her gaze down in a silent, but ashamed, agreement.
Roy leaned down to meet her face, her eyes looking mourning into his single optic hue. "Right?" he asked softer this time, more of a gentle tone in his low voice.
Her hands touched her elbows as she regained her pose, straightening out her back with a gently, exasperated sigh of defeat. "I should have never told you."
"Never told me what?" Mustang asked, obviously fallen off the track.
"That I loved…" She stopped and could not even finish the sentence.
It suddenly dawned upon her that their meetings every evening would be no more. Before his injury, the last four or so had been strictly planning, then going to bed without as much of an embrace or a kiss. But every meeting before that had been a mixture of military talk, dinner or lunch on weekends, embraces, kisses, even those rare nights alone that neither one wanted to forget. Those were the meetings she adored, the ones they had 24 hours a day when he recuperated at her house for the last two or so weeks. Those were the meetings where the two of them could actually act like a normal couple.
Those were the meetings she'd never see again – and she'd never be able to say 'I love you' to him again.
She nearly choked on air. Her hand traveled to her mouth and she quickly gazed away from him, emotional pain striking her face. Roy knew what was happening and his own face was filled with sorrow at her realization. A guilty sigh escaped him but was overcast by the toll of the train, the two-minute warning bell. He first gazed to the black locomotive, north bound, then to his lover of whom was slowly calming herself. He knew no military personnel were there; why couldn't he just embrace her?
Before he could actually go to embrace her, he noticed the spot where she stood was vacant. Instead he saw her back away. Although he was curious, he knew exactly what she was doing and wish she wouldn't. She always did that.
Hawkeye rose her hand to salute him with a frown on her face. Great. She was covering her pain professionally. All he did was watch her silently, sadly, as she spoke. "I wish you good luck, sir," she murmured, shaking for a brief millisecond. "We'll have to keep in touch somehow." She tightened her pose and closed her eyes, letting the words she wished to eat come from her throat, the words she'd been avoiding this entire time; the words she wished she'd never have to say. "Goodbye, sir."
As soon as those words came from her jaws, warmth surrounded her and she dropped her arm to feel his around her, his face in her shoulder as he gently breathed her in and took in the moment. Her eyes filled slowly with a wetness she tried her best to hide and prevent from falling.
Her arms returned the embrace, chin resting upon his slightly arched back as she sighed gently, holding him as he held her – like they had done only a few nights ago, before he began to slowly fade away.
That night's embrace had been of the gentle kind, a time for a couple to reflect on just why they loved one another. The thin shirt that separated her chest from her bare lover's still did not keep his warmth from radiating to her as they shared her bed. The two were so in tune with one another she almost thought she could read every thought of that man she loved so very dearly.
This… this was a desperate embrace; one she knew would be ended shortly. She knew this was likely the last embrace the two would share together for quite some time and although that broke her heart to infinity, she felt herself touched by this last action of romance on his behalf. Her eyes squeezed shut as his arms gently tightened, hers returning the action without hurting him. His arms held her so securely that she almost felt as if he was protecting her from anything bad that would come her way. She wished she could do the same for him but how could she when he was heading over three hundred miles away?
Hearing a staggering breath from her made Mustang's eye open again and he pulled away, still holding her so close to his chest that he could feel her breath upon it as she hid her face. A tiny yet sorrowed smile appeared as his hand traced to her face to wipe the single tear that had fallen. "You don't have to be strong all the time," he comforted, her eyes looking into his once again. His hand remained on her face. "I have to do this. Even if you don't understand why, I need to." Before she could tilt her head down once more, his fingers took her chin and made her lift her head.
Riza looked into his eyes and put her hand on top of his, saying a quiet choke of words. "I'm going to miss you…" Quenching her dry throat with a swallow, she looked to him stubbornly. "And I'm going to write you at least once a month. I get busy, you know, but I need to know how you're doing."
A gentle chuckle escaped Roy as he saw a tiny smile reappear on her face. "And I'll reply – and miss you every day I don't have you by my side."
Roy was secretly surprised: her smile wasn't the half-smile she had worn since the accident. It wasn't containing guilt or sorrow. It was the true smile of Riza Hawkeye, and it was but one reason he loved her so dearly. His thoughts were interrupted by her words.
"Do what you think is right. I have no right to judge you." With a nod, she rested her forehead on his chest, taking in his scent of lighting fluid and ice cream – an interesting yet intoxicating mix much like himself – and continuing. "Please promise me two things."
"Anything," he murmured as he looked down to meet her gaze.
"Promise me you'll come home." He nodded, reassuring her enough to continue to the next request. "And don't forget me."
He nodded again, slowly this time as he took her face in his hands and gave her one last kiss. It was so bittersweet that he could feel his heart crumbling and rebuilding itself with every passing second they connected. Her taste of strawberries was fresh on her lips and sent shivers down his spine. The two broke apart yet he remained close to whisper in her ear. "I won't. I promise."
His hand took up his bag and train ticket again and he pulled away from her. To his surprise she didn't step forward and cry out his name in a desperate scream, or reach for him, or fall to her knees sobbing like they did in the old movies. Instead she remained calm, reassurance in her eyes. But still, behind that was the sorrow and the guilt – his reasons for leaving – shining clearly through. Yet her love was there was well. It was as he backed away and towards the train door that he set a time limit: no more than two and a half years. No more than that would he separate himself from the woman he loved.
"Goodbye, Riza," he said with a nod as he took one step onto the train, his head peering to her form as she too nodded.
"Goodbye, Roy. I'll see you again."
A small smile appeared on his face and reflected on hers, a mixed woman filled with so many conflicting emotions that he still felt the pain of leaving her. He still regretted ever deciding to, and would forever. Yet he needed to, not only to gather his thoughts and keep his impending depression from being seen by her, but also to let her heal her own wounds slowly. He knew that her guilt would eventually fade, hopefully by the time he returned whenever that would be.
The next time Central truly needed the Flame Alchemist would be the next time he would snap his gloves and create a spark of hope – hope of a new future, hope of old friendships, and hope for Riza to forgive him, and herself.
As he took his seat, he saw the woman turning and leaving. He could tell that she would cry. He knew this. But she was strong – and when he returned, she would be stronger still and would be there, to stand by his side without guilt, without pain, without the horror of that night haunting her every time she saw him. Hopefully every time she would see him, she would remember he loved her.
And he would answer every letter. He would dream of her and of the future. He would eventually return. He wouldn't forget.